#terrified of the unpredictability of it and the passive aggression

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩

Pairings: Alastor x gn reader Summary: In which you are an annoying simp and Alastor regrets claiming your soul. Warnings/Tags: gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, really, it gets uncomfortable, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, Alastor questions his sanity, reader is annoying af, Alastor being Alastor, trash-fic Wordcount: 3.6k A/N: I had this idea for months but watching the latest Helluva Boss short made me actually want to write it. I hope you like this trash fic. I have many more ideas for funny (and uncomfortable) moments between Alastor and our simping reader. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Spin-off: 'Curiosity Killed the Demon'

Masterlist

   Alastor was a man who never felt regret because every move he made was precisely calculated, every action driven by a purpose only he fully understood. He always had an ulterior motive in mind, ensuring that he was the one who came out on top. His every decision was meticulously planned, and every word carefully chosen to keep his game running flawlessly and his grip on control unyielding. He was a mastermind at the top of Hell's food chain. One of the most powerful and feared overlords, a dealmaker at heart, with hundreds – no, thousands – of souls bound to him, all following his every command, terrified of what might happen if they disobeyed. None of them ever dared to challenge their loyalty, always doing as he said. But one in particular stood out: you.

   Some might say you were just another sinner in his vast collection of pawns, but you were different. You followed him like a dog that didn’t even need a leash. When he called, you came. When he gave an order, you were already carrying it out by the time he finished speaking. You were completely, utterly devoted to him. And oh, Satan, were you irritating.

   Alastor remembered the day he met you as if it were yesterday. How could he forget? It was a memory that had burned itself into his mind like a brand on the hind flank of a horse. While most souls came to him begging for help, trading their essence for a taste of power or security, you practically threw yourself at him. Your eyes had been wide as saucers, lips pursed with desperate eagerness, and a strange gleam of excitement had nearly brought tears to your eyes.

   “Please, please, please! I’ll do anything for you!” you had begged, your eyes so wide it seemed like they might pop out of your head.

   Alastor had narrowed his eyes, the static around him crackling with an intensity that made your hairs stand up on your neck. “Anything...?” he had replied with a slow drawl, his grin turning sharp and menacing as he leaned in closer, towering over you. His sharp canines bared in a predatory smile that would make most people flinch, but you… you only seemed more excited.

   Had he known just how annoying you’d become, he might have killed and eaten you right then and there in that dark alleyway. Alastor was a patient man. At least, that's what he let others believe. But you often pushed him to the brink of madness, testing his limits as if you secretly anticipated getting double-killed. Had he considered featuring your squeaky voice on his infamous radio broadcast? More than a few times. The idea alone was deliciously tempting. He often fantasized about the sound of your screams if he ever decided to torture you. Yet, a deep-seated uncertainty always held him back. Some kind of deeply rooted fear that you might actually enjoy it. You were so wildly unpredictable that he couldn’t even tell if you would cry in agony or, disturbingly, moan in pleasure.

   The thought alone horrified him.

   No, he wouldn’t subject himself to that humiliation. If he weren’t already plagued by nightmares, the prospect of you enjoying your torment would certainly give him some. You were already haunting him in his waking life; he couldn’t bear the thought of you invading his rare moments of sleep, too.

   Your existence felt like a cruel joke. A fucked up twist of fate or perhaps the true eternal punishment Hell had in store for him. You were utterly infuriating, a disruptive presence in Hell's chaotic tranquility. And yet, he couldn’t deny that he found some guilty pleasure in your antics. As irritating and nerve-wracking as you were, you were the most entertaining thing he’d encountered in eons. Watching you embarrass yourself without even realizing it, witnessing your clumsiness, your stupidity, and being the object of your obsessive attention, the center of your world, was better than every drug advertised in Pentagram City’s most run-down district. As uncomfortable as you made him feel, Alastor had to admit that he secretly reveled in your desperate need for attention, your never-ending search for his affection and your unwavering, completely blind, loyalty.

   You followed him everywhere he went. Like a lost puppy you’d trail after him with an enthusiastic skip in your step, hopping around like a deer on a wide open field. Alastor didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know you were there, because you always were. You followed him everywhere. To the bar, to the kitchen, to the hotel’s parlor or his outings. You’d probably even follow him to the bathroom, if you could. You were always there – eyes gleaming with devotion, your adoration conspicuous and radiating around you like the static in Alastor’s presence.

   It was suffocating.

   And he couldn’t even tell what was more terrifying: that you were so focused on him he could always feel your gaze burning through the back of his coat, or that your steps were so silent he couldn’t even hear them despite his almost preternatural hearing. Only an occasional squeak that made you sound like an excited guinea pig actually proved your presence, causing his ears to perk up and twitch in overstimulation.

   “Alastor!” your squeaky voice warbled through the corridors of the Hazbin Hotel and Alastor stopped in tracks, holding his breath in annoyance and his smile twisting into an uncomfortable grimace. With a silent sigh he turned around and tilted his head unnaturally to the side, his red and black hair swinging with the movement like a curtain.

   “Yes, my dear?” he retorted with exaggerated joy, the strain in his voice betraying the forced politeness and tinged with anything but patience. Today was one of those days he found himself regretting his decision to ever put that collar around your neck. He just wanted to be left in peace, not having the nerve to handle your exhausting presence.

   You grinned at him proudly and Alastor could feel his stomach twist, nausea creeping through his guts at the recognition of the lovestruck gleam in your eyes. When you didn’t respond instantly, he narrowed his eyes, his voice losing any of that faked patience, “What is it?”

   You shrugged your shoulders, though your grin didn’t waver. “Nothing!” you exclaimed enthusiastically, “I just wanted you to wait for me!”

   “Ah,” Alastor retorted, unimpressed, the uncomfortable feeling inside his guts increasing. “You know, you don’t have to follow me around everywhere I go,” he said, a subtle hint of irritation in his tone, hoping you'd understand that he wanted to be left alone.

   Your expression didn’t falter. In fact, it became even more eager, the gleam in your eyes so intense that Alastor could see his entire reflection in those dark orbs of yours. “But I want to be present whenever you need my assistance!” you exclaimed, interlacing your fingers in a gesture that resembled a pleading prayer.

   “I can always summon you, if that's the case,” Alastor quickly explained, still not convinced by your flimsy excuse for clinging to him like a parasite.

   “Oh, but I want to be close just in case you forget, my sweet Radio Demon!” you chirped, batting your eyelashes with saccharine devotion.

   Alastor cringed inwardly. Why exactly did he do this to himself again? Oh, yeah, right… He hadn’t yet decided if he wanted to wring your neck or keep you around for entertainment.

   “Well, that's very thoughtful of you,” he replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm. Before he could say more, you let out another joyful squeak. Alastor's ears flattened against his head as the high-pitched noise pierced his eardrums. He saw your eyes widen with delight and silently cursed himself for even attempting to sound polite – even if his words were more of a mocking jab than a genuine compliment. Yet, you seemed to take it as one. You trembled with excitement, your knees bouncing like a jackhammer. It was a wonder your vibrations didn’t send seismic waves rippling through the floor, cracking the occasional brick.

   Alastor let out a sigh. “My dear,” he said, his voice smooth as honey, “your… enthusiasm is truly unmatched. But don’t you have anything better to do than… following me around all the time?”

   You immediately shook your head. “No, Alastor-kun. I’ve devoted myself to being your servant,” you declared with unwavering certainty. “Besides, nothing’s better than being by your side!” You looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes, the adoration in your gaze both unsettling and pathetic. “I want to see everything you do, learn from you, be close to you. You’re just so… incredible!”

   Alastor let out yet another sigh. Although he found your flattery grating, he couldn’t deny the subtle boost to his ego from your words. He knew he was exceptional, but hearing it so explicitly was an indulgence he couldn’t resist. No matter how much you grated on his nerves. “Incredible, you say?” he repeated, and you nodded with such fervor that it was clear you genuinely believed what you were saying, rather than simply using your words to flatter him. “And what, pray tell, do you find so ‘incredible’ about me?”

   You blinked, obviously surprised by the question and took a moment to ponder an answer.

   Alastor chuckled softly. If you were already venturing into this territory, he might as well use it to his advantage and coax you into showering him with even more compliments. It was amusing how effortlessly he could manipulate you into praising him as if he were a deity, a god deserving to be worshiped. And it took barely any effort at all. You were so completely infatuated with him that he imagined you might even write a song for him – if only your singing voice didn't sound like a saw on the verge of breaking.

   “Well,” you mused aloud before gushing, “Everything!” You began to enumerate, counting on your fingers as you spoke, “Your power! Your elegance, your wit, your charisma! The way you command everyone’s attention with just your presence… How people are captivated by you… Your style, your old-fashioned charm, your impeccable sense of humor…”

   Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he listened, struggling to keep up with the torrent of words spilling from your mouth. He stared at you, on the verge of zoning out as he tried to manage the relentless flow of praise. Did you ever need to pause for breath? How could you talk so much without gasping for air?! It was almost impressive…

   “…like I said, everything, Alastor-kun. I mean, you’re the Radio Demon! You’re… absolutely remarkable! And I’d follow you to the end of Hell and back!” you concluded, your endless monologue finally coming to an end. Alastor’s grin widened, not from the sheer volume of praise you’ve just thrown at him, but from the amusement of your desperate eagerness to win his attention. From the moment you met him in that dark alleyway, you had craved his affection. It wasn’t that he had found you helpless – no, you had actively sought him out. Why? He had no idea. He would never understand your obsession nor the full extent of your feelings for him.

   “Why, thank you, my dear…” he forced out between clenched teeth, his jaw tightening without him even realizing it. “It’s always nice to hear how much you admire me, but… let’s not linger on it any longer…” he added, his voice betraying the discomfort that always crept in whenever you were near.

  You stared at him, your confusion practically palpable. “Why?” you asked, genuinely confused and a bit taken aback by his abrupt change in tone. “You asked me what I think of you. I’m just being honest!”

   Indeed, he had. But he hadn’t expected you to gush on endlessly like the Niagara Falls – even though, by now, he should’ve known better. Why did he even ask, knowing full well you were unpredictable and always found a way to annoy him further? Was your presence really so irritating that he tended to forget his usual caution? Alastor was a polite man after all and he valued manners above all else. 

   Manners.

   Manners, manners, manners.

   He prided himself on manners. But you? You weren't worth any of them. He needed to remember that.

   “Oh, my dear, I’m only concerned that your little brain might overheat from thinking too hard. We wouldn’t want you to strain yourself and get a headache, would we?” he replied, his tone thick with mockery, every word dripping with sarcasm. He could see your eyes widen and your pupils dilating.

   “Aww, Alastor-kun, you're so considerate!” you cooed, entirely missing the veiled insult.

   Alastor chuckled, his lips curling into an exaggerated smile while his eyes narrowed, feigning a semblance of care. Your delusion was almost painful to watch, though there was a certain dark humor to it.

   “Why, I'm simply concerned about your well-being! After all, too much... admiration could lead to a most unfortunate accident,” he continued, flashing his sharp teeth in a menacing grin, a predatory glint in his eyes. His pupils shifted to radio dials for a quick second and the static around him crackled in a dangerous intensity. The threat in his words was clear, but knowing you, you’d probably overlook it entirely, twisting it into yet another misguided belief that he cared about you. Which he didn’t. Alastor cared for very few people, and you were certainly not one of them.

   A strange sound – something akin to a dying hamster’s squeak – escaped your lips and ripped him out of his reverie as you started bouncing up and down again. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder, for a second time, how the floor beneath you didn’t give way and send you tumbling several floors down, far away from him and into a dark, twisted corner of Hell where you would never bother him again. Or maybe you would just break enough of your limbs to keep you from trailing after him for at least the next six weeks... Either way, the image in his head was delightfully hilarious, and he nearly chuckled, wishing to some kind of higher being to let this tiny mishap come true.

   “Aww, you’re so thoughtful! You really do care about me, Alastor-kun!” you chirped, and Alastor’s eye twitched. There it was – your joyful exclamation of utter delusion. Yikes.

   Alastor took a deep breath, his grip tightening around his cane. “Oh, yes… care…” he drawled. “Your well-being is... of utmost importance... so, considering you’ve been trailing after me all day… and the days before… and the weeks… and months…” he continued, his voice growing weaker with each word, “how about you take a break? Leave the hotel, spend some time with yourself, explore the streets of Pentagram City...” and hopefully never return… he finished in his head. His smile was sharp, his face settling into that same threatening expression as before.

   You waved a dismissive hand, grinning with a wide, toothy smile. “Don’t worry about me! I always feel so good around you!” you exclaimed with fervor, and Alastor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. There it was again – that relentless, infuriating optimism that clung to you like a bad stench, no matter how much he tried to wash it away. How were you always so blissfully unaware of his disdain?

   “My, my! Such dedication... I’m almost flattered. But… have you ever considered, oh, I don’t know… finding a hobby? Far, far away from me, perhaps?” he said through clenched teeth, realizing yet again that he was still being far too kind. Why couldn’t he just scare you away? Were you really so pathetic that he couldn’t bring himself to be outright rude? Your antics must have really been some kind of messed up guilty pleasure for him…

   You tilted your head and straightened your back, gazing up at him with those unsettlingly large eyes. “Oh, but you are my hobby, Alastor-kun! My absolute favorite! Watching you, learning from you, serving you – it’s all I ever want to do! You’re my senpai, Alastor! My favorite deer boy!”

   Alastor’s eyes widened, and his grin began to falter, teetering on the edge of a frown, his expression one of sheer disbelief. Your... ‘senpai’? What in all seven circles of Hell was a ‘senpai’?! He might have considered asking Angel Dust the next time he saw that spider if he weren’t already convinced that the explanation would just traumatize him further. And did you really just call him ‘deer boy’?!

   His eye twitched once more, and then something inside him snapped.

   Alastor’s eyes darkened, the crimson on the verge of turning black again, the static increasing around him, crackling with charged malevolence. “Careful, my dear,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his sharp claws scratching the top of his cane with a metallic screech. “You’re walking on dangerous territory.” He stepped closer, looming over you like a tower of deep red and black, intimidating and far from pleased. He slowly got furious, the discomfort slowly turning into something he should’ve felt much earlier. Through narrowed eyes, he watched you flinch, though you didn’t step back. Instead, you straightened your back and tilted your head to look up at him, your mouth moving in a way that indicated that you were nervously biting your lip.

   Alastor’s smile widened at the sight, his yellow teeth flashing in the dim corridor, and the lights began to flicker around you, their energy drawn off by the crackling static around him. One blink, and his eyes turned black again, ticking radio dials replacing his irises, blood-red and dangerous as the demon himself. It took him only a flick of his hand to conjure the leash around your neck, its invisible form taking shape and turning solid glowing green.

   “If you insist on being a loyal little shadow, then perhaps I should teach you some manners,” he hissed, leaning down slightly, his grin stretching unnervingly wide. The collar tightened around your neck, a cold, burning sensation seeping through your bones as his words dug into your skin like jagged glass, a painful reminder of his control. He tugged on the leash, and you stumbled forward, eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat.

   “My, my…” he continued, flicking his tongue with a repeated motion that created a smacking sound, both unsettling and provocative. “If you truly want to serve me, you’ll need to learn some boundaries, my dear. I've been far too forgiving with you, but even I have my limits.” He pulled you closer until there were mere inches between you, his breath icy against your skin. You visibly shivered as his voice dropped to a low whisper, each word laced with sweet yet deadly venom. “After all, it would be such a shame if I had to... discipline you. And believe me, I can be quite imaginative when it comes to punishment.”

   For a moment, you just stared at him, and Alastor’s broad grin relaxed into a pleased smile, satisfaction blooming in his chest. For once, your reaction was exactly what he had anticipated. You were silent.

   Frightened.

   Oh, what a wonderful sight after enduring your incessant chatter for the past several minutes – months, actually. But he also knew this calm wouldn’t last long. A brief respite before the cycle began anew, and he found himself caught once more between annoyance and amusement.

   Perhaps, in some twisted way, he was a bit of a masochist. Because despite his power, his ruthlessness, his terrifying reputation as the Radio Demon, he continued to endure your presence and insufferable behavior if it meant he could find that brief moment of satisfaction when he saw that flicker of fear in your eyes. When he could finally silence that ceaseless admiration. When he so blatantly humiliated you with his words, degraded you with his passive aggression, yet you still met him with unyielding enthusiasm, somehow convinced he was speaking to you sweetly, when in reality, all he did was use his power over you to eventually put you in your place, reminding you of who he was and what he was capable of. 

   It was a game of control, an endless cycle where he used his dominance to break you down, only to watch you build yourself back up with even more deluded devotion. And while it should have irritated him beyond measure, there was something oddly gratifying about it – about toying with the boundaries of your blind infatuation and making you dance on the edge of dread and reverence.

   Seconds ticked by, stretching into what felt like minutes, and you eventually took a deep breath, releasing it in a long, shaky sigh. You blinked, once, twice, eyes still wide and pupils constricted. You shivered under his control, slight goosebumps rising on your skin. Alastor took in the sight, his satisfaction evident in the effect he had on you.

   You took another deep breath, then whispered in a low, breathless tone, “Fuck…”

   Alastor blinked and tilted his head, caught off-guard by the unexpected reaction. Confusion spread across his face, but before he could even formulate a response, you interrupted.

   “That was hot.”

   One second passed.

   Two.

   Three.

   Then, Alastor released your leash, hastily retreating as if he had just burned himself on a hot surface. His grayish skin turned pale, and his grin faltered into an expression of utter mortification. Within moments, his shadows enveloped him, and he seeped into the floor, leaving you behind in the hallway, bewildered and flustered.

   Maybe he should actually consider featuring you in his broadcast. Because that was the most horrifyingly unsettling response he had ever encountered. Some demons hid their cruelty behind a facade, blending seamlessly into their surroundings. And you? You were undoubtedly among the most insidiously malevolent of them all.

I had so many ideas for this fic but most of them didn't fit into the plot. So stay tuned for more Alastor x Emberlynn-coded reader content...

[cosycafune]

I HATE YOU/ THIS MIGHT HURT; KATSUKI BAKUGO:

katsuki bakugo has always fucking hated you. sure, it started after you were flirting with shoto todoroki, but it always started with the littlest things. but now, it’s time for you to greet him because eijiro kirishima is unavailable, leaving you to retire your last option: him. he hates you, so holding your tongue might hurt!

a synopsis of acts: nervousness, anger bursts, numbness, slight awkwardness, shouting, fear, comfort + potential more.

Standing outside of Katsuki’s unattended to dorm, your feet lightly buckle at the reserved nature of the hall. Something earnest, longing and terrifying adheres to your ruffled mental edges. You know you should do this, as Eijiro is unavailable, but you fall lightly fearful at the unpredictability of Katsuki Bakugo.

After all, he would always refrain from attempting to greet you with a casual politeness — taunting you with seething, bubbling hatred. But, here you are now, shaking in front of his door with an uncurling fear.

Naturally, you were never really afraid of anything — but the layered nature of your history completely overwhelmed you. So much was left unsaid, undone, completely unbalanced and unethical. Everything within you bellowed to leave the explosion, quirk-yielding man alone — but it couldn’t be done by you.

Something greedy, selfish and horribly unattainable’s shifting you closer to knowing upon the vacancy of his front door.

“I-I can do this,” Encouraging yourself, holding a collecting demeanour, you diminish the roughness of your alleged fear.

A man could never scare you.

“If you’re there, Eijiro, at least have the guts to come in!” Katsuki’s muffled voice enables you to release a subtle flinch, listening to the arising nature of his ample footsteps.

“Why the fuck are you always shouting?” Mumbling to yourself, you cast yourself into awaiting for his presence — unsure of what your first words are accustomed to be.

To him.

“At least have the decency to knock—” Katsuki propels himself into spewing, only for the rest of his blabbering to fall short.

“—I’m not Eijiro!” Defensively matching his energy, you glance up at Katsuki with a detected might — your limbs planted with overworked tension.

“Why are you here, then?” Calming himself slightly, you listen to the curiosity in Katsuki’s tone — basking in the roughness of his intrigued gaze.

“Eijiro asked me to pick up something of mine from here, but I don’t have your number,” Knowing your dorm wasn’t too far away, you continue to spew your words as Katsuki gathers slithers of patience.

“I’m busy, right now,” Selfishly, Katsuki leans upon the frame of his dorm room, his thick brows stained with merciless irritation and mischief.

“I’ll just ask Shoto if he has a spare,” Gloom lightly adorns your facial characteristics as you inform him.

“Icy-hot? Hell nah,” Katsuki casts himself into passive-aggressively spewing, a dramatic array of bright booms falling from his angered finger tips.

“You always turn me away, so I’ll just ask him, B—”

“—Katsuki,” Softly, Katsuki corrects you — his wavering eyes burrowing into the vulnerability your glassy gaze mindlessly express.

“You want me to call you Katsuki, but you fucking hate me!” Casting out your pent up frustrations, your eyes increasingly amplify at the forbidden element of your words.

“Hate you?” Katsuki curls his brow with subtle amusement, seemingly enthralled by the occurring breaking point that adorns you.

“Yes,” Lulling the extensive mess of your forcefully painted emotions, you comfortably still, “You’ve hated me ever since I almost died using both my quirks and Shoto saved me.” With your quirk wisteria and moonlight, the environment you were settled within almost slaughtered you.

Your quirks are efficiently dangerous, but the invasiveness of the villains almost eradicated you — but Shoto saved you.

You know he wishes that it was him, hence why he bombarded you with mental abuse.

“I didn’t want to save you!” Katsuki loudly implies with falseness, his back steered away from you, gesturing for you to enter his room with his angered walk within the room.

The door’s parted just perfectly enough for you.

“Look at me and tell me that before I get my console and leave, Katsuki!” Angered with Katsuki’s reluctance, you steer your pleas towards his emotionally-charged physique.

“I fucking hate you!” Gasping at Katsuki’s proclaimed hatred, whilst his crazed eyes greet your own, you discover your throat growing barren and your surfacing tears a wavering force.

“I hate the way you’re with stupid icy-hot, flirting with him!” Katsuki’s eyes widen at his subconscious revelation, his fingers twitching with annoyance, “What does he have that I don’t?” Basking in Katsuki’s evolution, you are rendered stunned — wordless at his truth.

His truth. Truth.

“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t bully me and treats me with respect!” Altering your brows with an uncomfortable anger, you halt for breath, “I liked you, but you just bullied me for no reason!” Informing a shaken him, you steer nearer to him and slam upon his broad chest with a loathsome agenda.

“What do you want me to say?!” Ticked off by the loudness of your welcomed tone, Katsuki grasps both of your hands — bundling them together.

“That you’re fucking sorry, Bakugo!” Wailing, you breathlessly glimpse at Katsuki with yearning.

Attempting to pry outside of Katsuki’s stern grasp, your breathing hitches at the slight callousness of his fingers. Softness tints your jungle of a mind the moment Katsuki’s caramel aroma adorns your attentive nose, fondly accustoming you into lulling. Lulling with subtle confusion, your physique trembling as he glances into your eyes with structuring panic.

“Katsuki, before you piss me off!” Katsuki informs you, ignoring the desperation that tints your need for him to accept his liking towards you.

A liking he hones before jealousy consumed it erratically.

“Tell me you like me now or I’m leaving and you’ll never have the chance to speak to me!” Encouraging yourself to engage so vigorously, you speak with the means of a thousand unsolicited victims.

“I fucking like you! There!” Gently, you still yourself at Katsuki’s confession, your limbs adorned with numbness towards the beauty of Katsuki’s urge to be vulnerable.

“Can I get my console?” Teasing Katsuki, you observe him gasp at your dismissal, “I want to go to my room now, I’ll sent Eijiro next time since you shouted my ear off.” Smeared with triumphant, you cast yourself into closing nearer to Katsuki’s chest — pushing yourself into hugging him.

“Do you like me back?” Consumed by a furious tint of crimson, Katsuki’s blushing cheeks are admired by you.

He looked cute. He could have had this sooner if he let some of your kindness rub off of him.

“Hm, but if you weren’t an asshole, we could have done so much sooner,” Comfortably slotting yourself into Katsuki’s arms further, you listen to his heartbeat quicken at every vibrating word you spew.

“Can we play animal crossing together?” Katsuki cutely requests, his seething anger quelling — leading to a fluffy tiredness to replace his previous outburst.

“I don’t mind since Eijiro and Shoto aren’t in their dorms,” Feeling Katsuki tighten up at your bubbly sentence, you plaster yourself into coddling him — unwilling to cast yourself into letting go of him.

“Stop mentioning Icy-hot!” Katsuki lightly bellows, observing you gently chuckle — resulting in him comfortably soothing at your reassurance.

“It’s you I want, even if it hurt,” Spewing your drowsy statement, you mentally evolve — enamoured by Katsuki being reigned by you.

“This might hurt,” Katsuki smirks whilst his raspy voice adorns your ears, “You not getting your console back.” Charged, you furiously pinch him — listening to him gasp with powered annoyance.

“That’s what you—”

“I’ll get you,” Riled up, Katsuki speaks whilst you drift away from his chest — running towards his bed as he attempts to capture a fleeing you.

Katsuki Bakugo said it might hurt, but it didn’t feel like it.

—

do not copy my work, just appreciate it. vampiified, 2024. all rights are reserved, and the work is all mine.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yandere! Romantic! KNY Kyojuro Rengoku Headcanons

I sadly couldn’t find a pic that showed off his katana more but here we go anyway, Here comes the man of fire himself to traumatise all of us!🔥😍

Kyojuro as a romantic Yandere has the Yandere traits of; Overprotective, Manipulative, Loving/Clingy, Delusional, Possessive, Sadistic, Controlling and Obliviously Passive-Aggressive

In all honesty. Yandere Kyojuro is 1,000,000% one of, if not, the most scary Yandere Hashira of them all. Whilst every other Hashira are openly twisted and it is scary, Kyojuro is f**king TERRIFYING for his twisted nature fusing with that unbreaking cheerful expression of his

He smiles nonstop, even whilst gutting demons or passive-aggressively persisting that the Flame Estate is your new home with very little care over your obvious pain and a truly insane look in his flame-like eyes. He is cruel but doesn’t realise it as his vision is blurred with delusion

Kyojuro actually wasn’t Yandere straight away. He did fall in love with you in a instant, he couldn’t help it but for quite some time, Kyojuro was very normal, he treated you as he does all his fellow Hashira and he valued you as a dear friend

But, the longer he spent getting to know you, learning about the things you’d share with him. His love blossomed into an health-damaging obsession and torn apart almost everything of his perceptions. Are the people around him even his friends or are they bigger threats then demons for trying to steal away your eyes? He doesn’t know anymore. Kyojuro has grown extremely fixated on you, he became desperate to keep you at the Flame Estate for longer and eventually begun manipulating you to keep you cupped in his palms

After Kyojuro’s obsession with you has refined and been burnt into his head, he realises that he must hide it from you to ensure he wont lose his chance and he continues pretending to be the goofy, loveable Kyojuro you’re use to. But behind your back, he’s stealing your belongings, he’s going through your clothes to obsess over your scent or he’s taking peaks at your personal letters

He doesn’t want to hurt you at all, nor does he want to hurt anybody. Sharing this Yandere trait with Mitsuri, Kyojuro much prefers to intimidate, blackmail or scare away the threats(just like Mitsuri) if they’re human then raise his blade unnecessarily. However, for demons, he gladly kills and laughs hysterically at the remains turning to ash, so much that you think he’s going mad

His usually heroic mind is twisting and crumbling into pieces so quickly every second his obsession with you is enabled by you enjoying his presence

Yep. Kyojuro stalks you almost all the time, in and out of public. Though, it’s harder for him, due to his incredible but very noticeable fire-like features but he knows the way around your Estate off heart like he knows the carvings of his katana so he isn’t worried about getting caught at all

Kyojuro manipulates you very subtly in all ways to keep you in line. Emotionally, he’ll whine and cry so you feel bad. Mentally, he’ll twist your words until you believe what you know is incorrect. By the time Kyojuro is finished meddling with your head, you’ll have no choice but to trust him blindly. Though, you want to be as far as physically possible from him

As he’s very unpredictable therefore, very dangerous. He isn’t above punishing you and the way he looks at you with a deranged lovesick glare, you won’t even try test your limits with him anymore. It’s not worth losing a limb or even your life over

Like pretty much every other Yandere Hashira, Kyojuro is scarily possessive and delusional. He loves you so much that he will guard you from everybody when he sees fit and chase away all the annoyances but worse, he’s tricked himself into living in the fantasy where you also like him beyond friendship and that you’re just waiting for him to sweep you off your feet

As a coping mechanism to any lash-outs aimed at him. Kyojuro laughs, he laughs to keep himself steady, he laughs to keep himself from potentially laying his hands on you. He does have quite the powerful will but his mental health is weak to all the soft voices whispering to him. Lucky for him, nobody knows of his worsening state, nor even you for a long time as Kyojuro is extremely good at hiding his footprints

Your life has the upmost value to Kyojuro so he will gladly go down dying to protect you. Overprotective should be his new first and last name as he removes you from everyday conversations with kind strangers and even fellow Hashira. The danger of this world is off the chart and nobody can be trusted

Sharing this Yandere trait with Shinobu, Kyojuro is very split-faced and goes between his Yandere self and his normal self like a flipswitch whilst the other Hashira turn into their Yandere self permanently after a while of being their normal self. Kyojuro, however, is worse at hiding his Yandere nature than Shinobu, though, he values hiding it to better increase his chances of winning your heart naturally whilst Shinobu hides it as a means to manipulate

And when I mean he hides his Yandere self, I mean that he actively holds in rage and jealousy whilst you’re around, he doesn’t attack people unless he’s in proper privacy, he doesn’t really kidnap you but that he convinces you to stay at his Estate

Which is what he believes. Kyojuro will kidnap you eventually but also like Mitsuri, he leaves kidnapping as a last ditch effort and wants to charm you on his own. Why should he force your hand when he can win it?

Kyojuro’s quite obsessive and clingy over his beloved love interest. You belong to him and only him! He doesn’t want anybody talking to you and his blood boils when people dare to compliment you out of the blue. Yes, you are beautiful in that kimono but nobody has the right to say that but him!

On the inside, Kyojuro is like; “I swear to all the gods above, I will spill your disgusting intestines and watch your worthless life drain from your hideous eyes, how dare you lay a single filthy finger on my lovely Dokusha, you worthless flabby sack of sh—“

But on the outside, Kyojuro is like; “Excuse me. I do not mean to be rude by interrupting this important discussion but you see, Dokusha is my girlfriend and I don’t appreciate you trying to make a move on her. Please leave her be”

Going out in public post-kidnap consists of a passive-aggressive Kyojuro preventing you from communicating with anybody and clinging onto you so hard, you feel like your lungs are collapsing from how tight he hugs. He won’t break you, but he squeezes you into him every single second that it seems he wants to absorb you

Since Senjuro and Shinjuro also live in the Flame Estate, Kyojuro had to sneak you in when he finally kidnapped you and has been hiding you away from them ever since. If either his little brother or father found out about you, it’ll be all over. He won’t be able to see you again and he knows he’d snap

Would Kyojuro kill his father if the older man mistreated you and threatened you with violence upon Kyojuro bringing you to meet him? It’d be a horrible situation with Shinjuro. Kyojuro has extreme RAGE bottled up as his father screams at you to leave his house. If Kyojuro really had no self-control, he would have killed his father on the spot but he won’t, he still loves him. He just gets so furious that he must leave to vent the rising pit of fury

Kyojuro is very controlling. Not so surprisingly, he has been taking charge of your entire life by stripping you off your independence and replacing it with him in firm belief that it’ll protect you. He chooses everything for you and chimes out your protests. To him, it’s for your own good

Kyojuro is Sadistic at times… or better yet, he’s unaware of how sadistic he comes off as. Like I said before, Kyojuro is a bit cruel with his treatment of you so that combines. When he has you in his Estate against your will, he chains you up in his basement and leaves you alone at night in that cold, dark place. However, the more horrible part is when you fight back, he begins the inhumane punishments

He’s only hurting you because he loves you. You were misbehaving when you knocked him out briefly with that broom so now, he has to hit you back just as hard so you understand the pain he felt

Kyojuro is a massive affection lover. He lives off giving kisses, giving hugs and so many more gestures. His forced relationship with you is romantic, he wants you as his wife so of course, he redirects all the love his flaming heart has to you. He’ll over-take care of you and pour you in gifts, treats and his warm embraces!

Kyojuro is one of the two Yandere Hashira who strives to have children with you at the world’s current state, instead of after. The only other is Tengen. He’ll make you pregnant as soon as possible so he can begin living out his favourite fantasy; a perfect, happy little family

He’ll never get angry-angry at you nor lose his tolerance enough to be… well, overly-abusive. He loves you too much and each time he must punish you hurts him unbearably. He views the occasional half-beatings as necessary punishment and always sprinkles loving aftercare when finished

The cuts, the bruises and the fracture or two he gave you. All of them will be kissed away as if they never existed

Kyojuro carves you to enjoy your new life in his Estate, he wants you to love the peaceful atmosphere and will shape it at all causes to see you smile sincerely. Want a pet cat? Kyojuro has a box of ten kittens for you! He will bend over backwards happily so you’ll stop fighting back, stop crying

Though, it doesn’t matter how he acts or what he does to cover up his split-face. The real Kyojuro will never return, he’s gone for good and the monster in place of the sweet excitable Flame Hashira you DID have a crush on, is an obsessed psychotic beast that is twenty times worse than any demon out there.

“Good morning, my gorgeous bell! First night out of the basement! Felt wonderful to sleep in a futon again, didn’t it? I imagine you were most happy to sleep with me! I give the best hugs as Senjuro says! You enjoyed your night with me, I know you did! And trust me, there will be a lot more!”

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

Summary: Elvis convinces Becky to come out with him and she gets to know him better. Angst and smut and fluff and smut and angst ... historical inaccuracies.... for instance, I know Larry only did hair but he does make-up in this fic for narrative agility.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, gratuitous chest nuzzling, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, a toe suck if you don't blink.

Sorry about the typos I've been agonizing over this since I finished it Friday,not totally happy with how it is but it was fun to write...

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

There will be a chapter three, but for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt if you enjoy this fic.

This is playlist of music from 1970 - 1975 that I've been listening to get into the time period because I'm a huge dork.

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

You glared at Elvis over folded arms, resolve hanging on by a thread, tempted to give in and go with him, but also, stuck. The heat of irrational anger and competition burned your chest. You weren’t even sure what this contest of wills was about, but you didn’t want to loose. You looked up at the ceiling, the fluorescent light flickered, and you wicked the sweat off your arms, vaguely aware you hadn’t slept, you hadn’t showered, and you hadn’t eaten much in the last 24 hours. A notion poked you at the edge of your consciousness that these factors had probably impaired your judgement, and maybe you weren’t making good decisions. This was, of course, true. All rational thought had been derailed by a night spent drinking, smoking pot and fucking Elvis Presley. Who, unlike you, hadn’t skipped sleep in order to rush home, get a kid to school and then go to work. No, Elvis had spent his day in rock star land where he could sleep as long as he wanted, eat breakfast at 3 or 4 pm and enjoy a leisurely shower. God he smelled amazing.  

You, well, you had started to smell worse and worse and worst as the day wore on.  There was no way you were going anywhere that involved getting naked with him. No. Last night had been the best night of your life, but you know how this ends, rock stars don’t date single moms who manage hardware stores.  They date beauty queens and movie stars, usually all at once. Where could this possibly go? Just be done with him, rip the band aid off now. Stand your ground. What was he going to do, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off into the night? You looked back over. Elvis was leaning  into the doorjamb, his hands resting on the front of his hips, under the slight rotund swell of his belly, fingers spread wide over the sides of his belt. Eyes closed behind tinted sunglasses, you watching his adam’s apple bob up and down as he breathed steadily and stifled rage transformed into an eerie zen demeanor.

A minute ago he had hurled a torrent of swear words your way, it had been terrifying, yet, strangely arousing. You pushed the giddy tingle at the center of your hips down, thinking what the fuck is wrong with you? The guttural  grain of Elvis’ “goddammit” had gone straight from his tongue to your clit, igniting a fire that simmered in your belly. You had never seen such intense masculine emotion. Almost all the men in your life had been tight lipped and stern, yet very passive aggressive when angry. Not Elvis. He was a walking hurricane, unpredictable, impulsive, volatile. It was exciting and terrifying. However, right now, he was completely calm, seemingly meditating and quietly whispering to himself. Someone walking in would never know he had been screaming at you and punching the door frame moments ago. He turned to look at you, opening his eyes. They were dark, piercing, almost a purplish black through the lavender sunglasses. You could feel the air leave his throat as you watched him exhale again, and moved in your direction. The hair on your back stood straight up and you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest. Elvis’ tall frame hovered above you, his gut pressing into you with each inhale, his breath filling the space between you with warmth. Elvis’ entire body oppressively overwhelmed you. The cold metal of his rings caressed your cheek and his voice was now calm and low, yet commanding.

“You don’t know me very well.” He sighed into your neck. “Tell me I cain’t do somethin’, an’ well, honey … that just 'bout guarantees I’m gonna do it….” His lips moved closer to your left ear, he leaned on one hand against the wall next to your head, the other pulled your arms slowly away from your chest. Heat sizzled at the base of your spine as you looked down, his fingers grasped your hand tenderly.

“I can tell you ain’t never been with a real man before…. A man who treated you good …” then he whispered, “took care a’ his baby…. if you know what I mean?” He waggled his eye brows, while his fingers traced along your jaw, then down over your breast to your tummy and hips. “Took care ‘a you so good, you always came when he called.”  

His lips moved closer to your left ear as he spoke, a feverish heat tingling through your lobe, a crooked smirk raised the left side of his mouth. You say nothing, but your breath hitches in your throat as he pushes even closer, his lips almost on your neck, and you shake your head, looking down. Don’t cry you tell yourself, but you exhale with a loud, stilted tremble.

“Shhh, shhhh s’ok honey,” Elvis' left hand moves from gently rubbing your hip to trail up and down your side. ”Cuz I’m gonna show you what s’like to be with a real man.” He leaned closer, kissing the nape of your neck, his soft lips searing into the spot below your ear.  “I always take care a my girl.” You gasped as the warmth from each word hit your neck as he continued.

“I see you. I’m a seer…and I see ya, Becky, I see you. Underneath all this stubborn bitch crock of shit you putting up, you’re just a scared lil' girl… scared of being hurt, scared of being happy, scared of how good it was with me last night.” He paused, breathing deeply through his nose, and you looked down, shaking you head, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up into his dark purple eyes and the promise you saw in them to over power you, to break you, to own you completely. 

“S’ok… Cuz I’m gonna fuck ya so good, the only words you’re gonna know to say when I’m done with you are ‘yes daddy.’”  Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes remain locked on Elvis, trying to summon contempt and indifference, even as the spark in your core blooms up your chest. Elvis’ fingers work their way under your shirt, gently soothing you across your belly, and up over your bra before resting on top of your chest. A whimper escapes your mouth, and you look up, your voice cracking as you feel your resolve melting away.

“Elvis… I can’t….”

“Shhh… see, that’s the fear I’m talking’ bout right there… “

He leaned in and nuzzled the side of your cheek with his nose, gently rubbing up your jawline, his right hand over your heart, his left moving down to stroke your side.

“Shhhhh little girl…. Shhhh…. I ain’t gonna hurt ya …”

“It’s not that..” You whisper, your eyes averting his. “It’s just… I’m a mess… I haven’t showered, or ate much, or slept… I’m so exhausted… you deserve a proper date … you should be picking up a beauty queen or a play boy bunny…”

You felt the vibrations through his tummy, pressed further into you, as Elvis chuckled.

“Why, do y’all even have any of ‘em bunnies here in Jackson?” He stepped back, motioning to leave. Another chuckle, and he was flourishing a silk paisley handkerchief from his breast pocket, holding your chin up as he wiped your eyes and your forehead. The apples in his cheek formed as he matched your reluctant grin.

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

You furrowed your brow, twitching your mouth, as he reached in to his pocket.

“Stop a twitchin’, for the love of Jesus. Les try one of those ‘yes daddys’ I was talking ‘bout…”

You scoffed. “I will never say that, specially to someone who tells me to…”

He looked down at an assortment of pills in his hand, and pulled out a single, small white capsule, grinning.

“We’ll see ‘bout that… mean time, just stick out yer tongue, woman!”

With a humpf, you acquiesced, and Elvis dropped the pill on your tongue, pushing it back in your mouth.

“Trust me, you’re gonna feel better in a few minutes… s’like caffeine, but a lil' stronger. ”

Swallowing, you look into his eyes. “What was that, speed?”

“Do I look like a drug dealin’ commie? I’m a federal drug enforcement agent.” You cracked a grin, and his eyes grew serious. “That’s the god’s honest truth. This stuff is jus ‘scription medicine, a diet pill. S'not strong, ain’t gonna get you high. Trust me, I’ve studied this stuff... I’m a trained healer - told you last night….”

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

“You’re not a complete mess. Goddamn, check out this fine lookin’ belt. Man, that’s really sumpthin'.” He grinned, amusement in his voice as his hands slowly pulled off your orange work vest from the top of your shoulders, then moved to the buckle of your belt. His belt. The belt you took as a souvenir back when this was just a one night stand. Elvis soft mouth was on your neck again, and your arms somehow found their way over his shoulders. Just as he moved his mouth from your neck to lean in and kiss you, you hesitated and pulled back.

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

His finger moved up from their efforts to unhook your jeans.

“Hush now… no more guff. I’m here because something happened last night. I know you felt it. S’like we’re vibrating on the same frequency….”

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

“No, now listen… I … my bed felt so cold when I woke up and you were gone… I’ve been missin' ya all damn day…  wasn’t gonna be able to do anything else til I found ya…”

His timbre was high pitched, and you heard it crack with vulnerability. His eyes filled with unabashed desire. Somehow in the last few minutes, Elvis’ temperament had gone from indignant swagger to sweet and needy. His right hand moved lower to fondle your left breast, his soft lips kissed your ear, and you tilted your head into him. It was freeing in away, to give up pretenses, and you let out a sob, releasing all the tension you were holding in. Elvis moved his hand from under your bosom and kissed your tears away. His face was framed by the soft, plush rounds of his double chin, and you leaned your forehead into them seeking out the warm comfort of his flesh. You would be happy to sink farther and farther into him and loose yourself in his snug, inviting body. 

“Shhhh … s’ok…” Elvis’ arms encircled you, and you buried yourself head forward into his neck, collapsing on his shoulder. His hips thrust forward into you, the swell of his belly smushed up into your breasts. Steady and strong, his hands smoothed you over your back, his mantra of murmured shsshhhhs continuing as he cheekily pulled the hem of your shirt over your head. You helped him, shaking the last sleeve off your arm impatiently and throwing it on the ground.

His lips were now on yours, gently kissing you, then bringing your head towards him, his tongue sliding into your mouth, sweeping over yours, daring you to push back, to resist it. Your hands gripped him at his neck, drawing him down further into your mouth, his finger fervently grabbed your hips and lifted you up, cupping your ass and you wrapped your legs around him. 

You felt him grunt and heave slightly as he carried you to the desk at the back corner of the room, his eyes unyielding, locked on yours, anchored by stormy dilated pupils.

“Gawd darlin’…I’m getting to oooooold to sweep lil’ girls like you off your feet.”

“Next time I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“Honey, they’d be sweeping us both off the floor if you tried ta carry me across a room….” He grinned a breathy grin as he put you down.

Your bra was on the floor, followed by his jacket, and you squinted for a moment at the gun tucked into his waist. He smirked as he took it out and threw it on top of his jacket.

“There are three more, baby, wanna try to find them?”

Your breasts heave up as a guffaw slipped over your lips, but you forgot about his guns as Elvis pulled down your jeans, slowing to gently take your shoes off. He brought your left foot up to his cheek, nuzzling against your warm, soft skin, kissing the top of your arch, then following suit to take off the other one, reverently, slowly, removing the sock and then stroking the top of both feet as he looked forward into the center of your black cotton panties. You squirmed, suddenly self conscious and he bit his lower lip, hungry eyes meeting yours as his hands moved up your ankles towards your thighs. You shivered when the top of his index fingers delicately traced a line over your knees, clenching as he grasped the sides of your panties. Your hand went to Elvis’ shoulder.

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

“Figure I wanna do as much of this ‘fore I get too old,” he murmured, grinning up at you.

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

“That’s not what I meant …. I meant …. like….… you can just, ya know, I mean we can just…you don’t really have to worry ‘bout, you know, doing this for me.” 

You pulled on his collar, but Elvis resisted, swiping your hands away and slapping your hip, an expression of delight on his face as he watched your side ripple in response. He pulled off your panties, leaning closer to your muff while looking up at you.

“Listen good, this is the last time I’m gonna ‘splain this. I’m a grown man, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Now, lean back… and jus remember to breathe.“ He winked, a silly grin growing as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the hair at your entrance before parting you with his mouth and pushing in, tongue first. 

The vibrations of Elvis deep moan reverberated through your pussy, his shoulders heaved up and his whole body moved in rhythm, slowly licking you from your taint to your clit, savoring your soft, slick silkiness. 

He paused, sitting back to remove his glasses, murmuring to himself as his thumb worked in circles around your nub and you found yourself moaning out, uncontrollably. 

“You need to get me some windshield wipers for those…” he looked at you, clearly amused with himself as you giggled. “We coulda been back in my hotel room doin' this if you weren’t so difficult…. never met a more stubborn woman… “

You moan, looking off to the side, as he rounded the bend of your clit, then lowered his fingers, flicking his wrist to slowly push his right index finger inside of you.

“This ok, baby?”

You nodded, you neck arched back as you cried out. Elvis was touching you in a way no other man had ever touched you, had ever wanted to or cared to try.   

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

“So goddamn stubborn…” he shook his head, leaning backing into your hips, his mouth consuming your pussy, his tongue now stroked you softly and each flick made you shiver with a tingle. A burning fire coiled behind your belly as he moved his index finger in and out in time with the bob of his head, groaning into you. The sensation became almost too intense and your head thrust back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. Shifting your weight onto your wrists, you begin to move your hips forward to meet his mouth, surging to chase the tension building in your core as Elvis’ lapped and then sucked your clit, index finger rotating slowly within you. You found his finger somewhat distracting, and were just about to ask him to stop, when he hit a spongey nerve point inside you and your hips jerked back. You feel Elvis chuckle as he pulled up for air, his left hand holding up your hips to bring you back closer while he crooked his finger inside you. Each time the pad of his finger hit that spot you twitched.

“What is that? Ahhhh! Ughhh…” you cry out, your breath heavy because the sensation is so intense, it terrifies you. Elvis wipes his mouth on your thigh, his thumb is back at it, and he seems to delight in every twitch of your belly as you clench around his finger. 

“That… that’s the magic spot, lil' girl… Can’t believe I’m the first one to find it…” his eyes found yours, and he swallowed, deeply. “Goddamn. You’re blushing like a nun…”

You cannot take your eyes off him, even as his finger flexes and crooks into you and your mouth flinches open with a loud, insuppressible, high-pitched moan. 

“Hff, baby….you look like a scared kitten staring down the mouth of a gator…. ‘fraid he’ll snap ya right up…” he gnashed his teeth together loudly, for effect, exhaling deeply with another chuckle, before returning to lap at your clit, dragging his tongue slowly over it, up it and down it, and then all the way around it.

Your thighs quiver on his cheeks and you let out another squeak, embarrassed. The feeling of impending eruption terrifies you, and another powerful moan emerges unsummoned through your lips, half from pleasure, half from fear. You’re torn between your drive to climax and the almost unbearable sensation his tongue is beckoning from you. The dexedrine begins to take effect, and a wave of energy pulses through you. Every sensation is suddenly ten times more intense. A volcano erupting, your orgasm bursts forth and shocks you as you thrash into Elvis’ nose, crying out while the euphoria sweeps over your body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD, oh my god…” He leans back, watching with a coy smirk as he thumbs you through it, wiping his mouth again on his right sleeve this time, his left hand holds you steady at your hips.

“Elvis stop, stop! I can’t take it any more.”

“Ok honey, s’ok, now,” he beamed, slowing the flick of his wrist, gently drawing out his index finger. “Man, twitching and clenchin’ so hard thought I might lose my damn finger in there… think I’ll call you Twitch for short. ”

You let out a loud snort, slapping the side of Elvis’ head playfully as he smirks up at you, leaning back on his haunches, now wiping himself on his pants.

“You make my ….  my … my nether regions sound dangerous …” 

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down. 

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle, baby…. just needs to be tamed is all…” he winked.

“So, come tame me…” you offer, laying further back on the desk top, caressing the side of his face with your left toes. He brings them to his mouth, slowly sucking on the big toe and you moan out, not expecting how delicious the soft, wet suction would feel. You can see the bulge of his cock shadowing his thigh as he pulls his mouth off your toe with a pop. 

 “Oh Jesus, take me to heaven now cuz I really am getting too old for this.” Elvis grunts, pulling on the desk to stand up.

He brushes off his knees, then shifts between your legs, and your hands pull him down by his collar to kiss your lips, not sure how you feel tasting the salty tang of yourself there. You think maybe you like it. Feeling your way to his belt, you begin to pull it apart as you kiss him back, but his right hand moves to firmly stop you.

“Dontcha want to fuck me, daddy?” Fuck, what made you say that? You chided yourself, you hated how happy it made him as you watched his grin grow wide. He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the top.

“Honey, I didn’t come here to fuck you in some dirty, dingy store room… I came here to invite ya to supper ‘after my show, which I might miss on account of you being a spoiled, no count brat…. so we better pop to it.” He looked you in the eyes as your smile faded and self-conscious guilt swept over you. He pulled you in tight and pressed his forehead against yours. Your noses touched, and his breath was warm and comforting.

“C’mon sugar, course I wanna fuck you, fuck you so silly all ‘a Jackson can hear you call out my name.” He chuckled. “But… this is not exactly the romantic setting I like to make love in…. know what I mean? Let’s get back to my place, get you all fed and cleaned up.” He bent down and handed you your underwear and pants. “Want you down in front at the show. Imma have Joe run out and grab you a proper dress….” Now he was handing you your bra, then your shirt. “But we better scoot, I go on at 8:30.”

He looked over at the clock, and you followed his gaze, it was 6:35.

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

Eyebrows tensed, Elvis’s eyes were sharp as he looked up from tucking his gun back into his waist.

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

“I… ugh… let’s say we didn’t hit it off exactly, last night…. “

 Elvis pulled you in front of him, and then took a step back, grabbing a comb from inside his coat, then brushing your hair, clucking his tongue when your hair flipped back the wrong way. Content after fixing your part, he tucked the sides behind your ears.

“That’s better… looks good down, jus like that….” He bit his tongue in apt concentration. Comb in pocket, he put his arm around you, and led you out of the room, down the hall and towards the front of the store.

“Wanna wash your hands?”

Elvis stops, and takes his right hand off you, then brings his index and middle finger up to his lips.

“What, this hand baby?” He sucks on his fingers, his eyes dancing. “Not ever gonna wash this hand again.” He chuckles as you swat him and his hand returns to your side, continuing to walk you to the front of the store.

“So why didn’t you and Joe, uh,… ‘hit it off’?”

You pause, then look up as Elvis walks you into the store front.

“Yeah, well…. he couldn’t take a hint and was kinda being … pushy…  last night …. right before you started lobbing pretzels at me …  He told you my name was Rachel, cuz that’s what I told him…. I don’t know, I guess didn’t want him to know my real name … I…”

“Huh… I see… alright, honey, don’t worry about Joe… I’ll take care a him.”

You paused outside, locking the front door before pulling it shut, and then gasped when you saw the long, black car in front of the store with three guys waiting in it.  How long had they been there, an hour? A large man sat at the wheel, another skinny one next to him, and then there was Joe frowning in the back seat. He looked out the window after making eye contact with you. Elvis opened the back door, and barked at Joe to jump in front, motioning for you to get in. 

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

“Becky?” Joe asks, turning as the car takes off.

“Yeah, well it’s Rachel to creeps who can’t take a hint, but it’s Becky to every’un else.” Elvis barked at Joe, who started to turn. “I don’t want ta hear it, Joe, just keep your head forward an do as yer told,” Elvis said, palming a few pills out of his pocket and swallowing them dry. Joe huffed and hit his hand on the door.

The younger man in the middle seat turned, and shook your hand.

“Hey Becky, I’m Jerry.” Then he looked at Elvis. “What took you so long?”

You blush and look down. 

Elvis smirked. “Yeah, sorry to keep ya fellows waiting, decided to have a snack.”

Jerry’s eye brows bent in confusion.

“I thought it was a hardware stor—-“ The driver jabbed Jerry in the ribs and he grimaced, turning back around.

“Yeah, s’its a hardware store alright, but they have a bunch of peanuts, pretzels, jerky… what was that honey? Cold beaver ya got out for me in that ice chest in the back? Tasted pretty good once we warmed it up.” Elvis put his right arm around you, chortling as your cheeks turned bright red and you buried your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, these guys have been working for me for over fifteen years, ain’t nothin' to be embarrassed about…”

Somehow, the idea that Elvis might make his entourage wait around regularly while he was off fucking random women didn’t make you feel any better. Groaning the groan of someone who suddenly feels like a cheap, anonymous, whore, you leaned into Elvis’ armpit, and he responded by patting your back. You react to his tender rub and chortle by slapping his belly. He laughed harder, and pulled out a cigar from his breast pocket, lighting it up and humming as he rolled down the window.

“Hey, Lamar, what’s that department store downtown Jackson? The good ‘un we went to back in May?”

“Kennington’s.”  The driver in front responded, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Jerrah, you’re gonna go run in and get Becky here a few dress options, Lamar’ll come back for you after he takes us to the hotel.”

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

Joe shook his head. “Have better luck for her at the Dress Barn, they ain’t gonna have her size at that place, nothing over a 10… she’s a 14 if she’s a day…”

You shifted, sinking further into the seat and blushing again.

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

“Lamar, pull the goddamn car over.” Elvis gritted his teeth as the vehicle came to a stop. “GET OUT! Dammit, Joe, must have lost yer damn mind… if ya can’t be polite to my guests, you can walk yer happy ass back to the hotel.” Joe scoffed and looked over at Jerry in disbelief. “Don’t look at him, ya can file your complaints wit me.  Rude mother fucker, I swear…  forgettin’ your manners. Forgettin’ who the boss is ‘round here.” Elvis slapped Joe on the side of his head again, and Joe swore under his breath as he jumped out of the car and slammed the door. 

“Right.” Elvis murmured as the car drove off again. “Where were we? Oh right, let’s drop Jerrah at that store.  You know what kind of dresses would look good on her, right Milk?” Jerry turned around, looking you up and down. “Now, go ahead sweetheart, tell him your dress size, and shoes too… Jerrah, write this down.”

You look Jerry in the eyes. “Um…. dress size is a 12… 9 in shoes…” 

Jerry smiled at you, writing it in a small notepad, and hopping out as Lamar drove up to the curb at Kennington’s, yelling at Jerry, “The hotel’s just a few blocks away, I’ll be right back.”

———————————

Lamar flashed a broad smile at you as he helped you out of the car, and walked you and Elvis to the service elevator, opening doors and smiling at the staff you passed coming in through the back of the hotel. You ran your hand through your hair on the ride up to the pent house, imagining Joe walking backing in the summer heat cursing your name with each step. Great. Noticing your far off look, Elvis squeezed you into to him, bringing your other fingers up to his mouth to kiss them. 

“Nice fingers… that’s a French manicure, so you can’t be a mess all the time.” Your face softened as you look up at Elvis’ profile, flapping his left cheek with your fingers.

“Well, unlike some people, I usually don’t spend my nights awake at rock concerts followed by one nights stands. Getting my nails done, it's one the few things I do just for me. You’re welcome to admire them all you want, but…. they’re not for you.”

Elvis chuckled, lowering his arm from your shoulder to slap your ass as you get off the elevator, and you turn towards him, mock hurt through a smile as you walk backwards.

“There’s that back talk again, thought I knocked that outta ya…” he smirked, licking his lips.

“Ha! Never! You may have temporarily dazed me, but no man will ever tame me!” you announce, and shriek as Elvis raises an eyebrow and steps toward you.

“Oh, we’ll see ‘bout that…” he calls out, and you giggle, shrieking as you turn to run down the hallway, rounding the corner past the hallway you made out in last night and towards the pent house door. You can feel the thud of Elvis jogging behind you echo through the entire passage way. You sigh out as you get to the door and realize you are stuck, you don’t have the key, and you squeal out as you feel strong, hefty hands grab you at the waist and turn you around. 

“Gotcha!” He smiles, panting. “Man, what’s with you… this ain’t the Kentucky Derby baby… that’s the fastest I’ve run since I was in the army… back in 19… 19… 1916…” 

You  laugh out a “Ha, ha ha!” then feel his chest heave as he lifts you over his shoulder and starts to spank your bottom lightly. “Just you wait til I get you inside!” You slap him on his back, yelling out “Put me down you big brute,” through playful gasps and giggles. His fingers fondle your butt and thighs as he walks into the hotel room, and they glide over your backside as he helps you slid off his shoulder.

“You are a thick girl, aintcha?” He draws you into him, and you respond slapping the top of his belly.

“Ha, I’m ‘bout average… you should talk, you’re thicker than I am …” The laughter in your voice stops as you notice Elvis’s smile tighten and fade, his belly tenses up. You notice the hurt in his eyes, instantly shifting to sooth his chest. “The unfair thing is, though, men just get sexier the thicker they get.” Elvis’ eyes warmed as you played with his collar, talking into his chest. 

“Huh, that right? Well you should know honey, this layer right here,” Elvis patted the paunch protruding at his abdomen. “S’just an extra layer I keep around on purpose, as protection, it’s my bullet proof padding… really, that’s the truth.” His grin returned.

“Mmmhmmm… I feel safer already…” you bent your chin into the opening of his shirt, nuzzling his warm chest hair. “I know I’m thick, the opposite of the pretty women you usually date… Joe warned me last night, I’m not your type…”

Elvis grabbed your hips, kissing the top of your head.

“Well honey,” he laid another kiss on your hair, “ya ain’t particularly nice,” another kiss,  “ya don’t have particularly good manners… or any for that matter…” his finger traced along your neck to your collarbone. “Sneakin’ out of a man’s bed room without sayin' good bye, like a thief in the night…” you felt his fingers turning your chin up to him. “An' I do like it when my dates show up already dressed nice, wid their hair an' make-up already all done up…” he was trying to play it straight, but he couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a faint giggle through his nose. “But trust this, Joe don’t know shit, and he don’t tell me what to do or who to screw.” 

Elvis’ other hand stroked the side of your body with the back of his knuckles, the cool of his rings following as they trailed up from the top of your hip to the flap of flesh at your bra, where his knuckles lingered, tenderly rubbing that spot back and forth. Your heartbeat quickened, there was that lightening bolt rising up your spine. Elvis whistled out and you feel him stiffen against you. “Hell, you might be the most ornery, stubborn lil' girl here in Jackson… but there’s something about you -  God put you in my life for a reason - the lord works in mysterious ways. ”

“Like, through your dong?” you smirked, your hand moved down his chest to brush over his inner thigh, his hard, extended length spasmed under your touch. 

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

“Sometimes… yes. Course. Lil Elvis is an implement of the lord, baby, just like the rest of me.” He looked pretty amused with himself, a humorous lilt intoned his words, and his voice rose up in jest like a preacher. “Wouldn’t feel so good if we weren’t supposed to use it…” 

You quirk your eyebrow. “That’s a bunch of bullshit… God does NOT care about your hard ons… ”

“Oh ye of little faith. How would you know, anyhow? He sent you to me, didn’t he? And suddenly I’m in hard-on town! Honey t’weren’t no accident. Everything happens for a reason. I really believe that. He brought you to my room last night for a reason, you caught my eye for a reason. There are bigger machinations at play that you and I can’t even begin to understand…”

“So I’m just a pawn in some celestial sort of plan to help you to get your mojo back?” 

Elvis’ hand left your arm pit and moved to slap your butt, then pulled you closer.

“Now woman, see here, my mojo is just fine. It’s just... selective… You always have a smart retort, dontcha.”

You nodded up at him. “I mean, I have a brain and I know how to talk, if that’s whatcha mean.”

He pulled you even closer, clutching you from your back.

“Know what I think?” He asked, and you raised your eyebrows, stroking his sideburns. “You talk too much.”

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

“So you want me to shut up and just be, what, some sort of snake charmer, huh? Doin’ the lord’s work to bring your python out?”

“Huh,” he grinned, his hands now pulling on the cushiony curves at your hips. “By George, I think you finally got it.  Now come-a here and be quiet.” He leaned forward, you felt the softness of his mouth on yours, your upper lip caught between his, and his nose crushed into your cheek. Elvis’ fingers grip your sides as he mumbles low. “You’re not bad looking when you hush up….  Not bad feeling’ neither... s’nice to have somethin’ to hold onto…”

Elvis was just beginning to pull your shirt up when you hear a cough behind you, and look over Elvis’ jacket to see Charlie jump up off the couch, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. Charlie must have been sitting there the whole time. Elvis’ arms dropped to his sides, and he spun around.

“Charlie, goddamn it boy,” he laughed. “Why didn’t you make yourself known, huh?”

“Well, EP… I … I …”

Elvis mocked him, “I ….? I…? I what? ‘I’m a big ol’ pervert?’” He sad the last part in a high falsetto voice. “Go on, git outta here.” 

“Yeah, sure thing, boss.. ummm… it’s just that its 6:45…. probably head out to the Coliseum in an hour… wanted to check in with you ‘bout —"

Elvis held his hand up to Charlie to stop him, and grabbed you by the hand, walking you through the suite, into the master bedroom and over to the bathroom. “There’s the shower, Twitch —“

“Twitch?”

“Yeah, member? That’s my new nickname for ya… cuz you twitch so much, and so prettily too….”

You groan and put your face in your hands. 

“Oh god…that’s why I never feel comfortable letting men do that…”

“Honey, you didn’t let me do nothin'… I do what I want….sides, nothing more natural, nor more beautiful…” 

“Ughh..” 

Elvis took your hands from you face, and kissed you. 

“I wish you didn’t blush so hard, might make me tease you less….” He stroked your cheek. “We better put the breaks on for now. Gotta get me to the show on time. Go take yerself a cold shower an’ get all scrubbed up…” 

You bobbed your head in assent, turning to walk to the shower. Elvis hung on the door frame watching you undress, winking as you look back at him over your shoulder and blowing you a kiss before he closed the door. The top of your head tingled, you felt wide awake, probably the pill Elvis gave you, but your forehead ached and the back of your eyes throbbed as if they were pushing up into your skull. The hot water soothed you and your muscles relaxed as you exhaled into the steam. You started to feel human again, washing the grime and sweat and sex from the last 24 hours off. You heard the bathroom door open, the last of the soap swirling down the drain as you finished rinsing out your hair, and you peeked through the glass door to see Elvis back, an approving smile on his face and a towel in his hands. You step out and his smile widened.

“Just how I like ya, naked and quiet.”

You reach for the towel but he shakes his finger and starts to dry you off, beginning with your breasts.

“Maybe you should go find a foxy mute to date… hmmm?”

“Now there’s an idea, ya know any?�� The towel moved to your shoulders, and Elvis spins you around, gently rubbing the terrycloth over your back, bottom and legs. Then he spins you back to face him and wraps the towel around you, using it to draw you into him for a kiss. 

“Charlie and Jerry are grabbing my suit, I’m about to go get ready. I have your dress,” Elvis gestured for you to follow him back to the bed room, where he handed you a gold lame evening gown with a cowl neck. “There’s a hair dryer under the sink, honey, do you have any make up with you?” 

You shake your head.

“Man, you really didn’t do a good job planning for our date tonight…”

“Ooh, you mean my kidnapping? No, sorry…”

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

“S’ good thing you got kidnapped by someone who has a hair dresser, I’ll have Larry do you after me.”

You hear the door at the front of the room, and Elvis pats you on the bottom, again, as you turn back into the bathroom.

“Hey guys, back here!” You hear his voice call from the adjourning bedroom. “Becky’s in the john gettin’ ready…  Black Phoenix, good. Tell Lamar, I want supper laid out up here after the show, fried chicken, meatloaf, potatoes, maybe something healthy, like potato salad? Have ‘em fix it up good. Some snacks, you know, for us to pick at. Drinks. And I don’t want half of Jackson up here again…. just family.”

You tune them out, looking around for the hair dryer, eventually finding it next to a stack of boxed enema kits under the sink, an amenity that struck you as somewhat odd for a hotel to provide. But Elvis was only in town for a few days, why would he need so many? You didn’t want to think about it. Hair dry and somewhat straightened, you exhaled, taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, breathing slowly and trying to get your heart rate to slow down. Straining to get the gold dress over your bust, you suspected it is a size too small. The top was like a corset, constraining as it sucks you in, pushing your breasts up and almost out of the loose, cowl neckline. You snapped one of the thin gold straps, wondering if it would hold out for the night or break under the pressure your curves were exerting on it. Luckily, the gown fell looser at the waist, and the sleek, lame felt cool and silky over your bare legs. The shoes, at least were the right size, a set of matching gold platform sandals with a thick heel. A thick three or four inch heel. A thick heel that would mean walking may or may not work out for you, so you would need to go slow.

“Good, cuz you can’t breath anyway…” you tell your reflection.

Sucking in and moving slowly, you opened the bathroom door, finding Elvis sitting at the vanity decked out in a white jumpsuit with a black, zebra belt that has looped chains draped around the bottom. The silhouette of a large black bird in flight was stitched in black sequins on the back, and when he turned to look at you, you see the same silhouette on the front, black shiny wings rising along either side of his open chest. An older white guy stood behind Elvis, combing his hair out with his fingers and a spray bottle.

“There she is! Larry, this is Becky.” You nod at them, smoothing your hands over your belly, pulling up at your neckline.

“I think Jerry got me the wrong size… feel like I’m busting out of this dress…”

Elvis chuckled as he stood, walking over to you, hands on your waist, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they stared down at your heaving breasts.  “Nah, you look just right.” You cocked an eyebrow as he led you to the vanity and told Larry to get you ready while he sat back in the large, leather chair on the other side of the bedroom and smoked a stogie. Your eyes met through the reflection mirror as Elvis watched in amusement while Larry made small talk with you.

“Nice to meet you, Becky…  is it short for Rebecca?” You nod. “Beautiful name… a Biblical name.”

“Hmmm, I s’pose, if you go in for that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, well, I go in for all sorts of things … you don’t?”

You purse your lips slightly. “No, I stopped believing in fairy tales when I grew up…” Elvis cocked an eye brow, exhaling his cigar and smirking as he shook his head, as if to warn you that you had no idea what you were getting into.

“Oh Becky, oh man, that really hurts me to hear you say that,” Larry dusted over the top of your cheeks with blush. “Gosh, if that’s your definition of growing up, I hope I never do… what’s the meaning of life without the deeper, spiritual mysteries of the world… how do we achieve a higher plane of existence?”

You sighed, “Life has no meaning, Larry, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s all just chaos and I guess… I guess we just do our best to enjoy the way things get thrown together and figure out how to survive…”

“Oh man, oh man, in some ways, what you’re saying is very - close your eyes for a second, I’m gonna dust a finishing powder here - is almost existential, from a philosophical perspective, but I… well, I’ve experienced too many coincidences, too many psychic exchanges, almost too many dimensions to be able to even start to come back down to where you are.”

You were trying not to squint as he did a second coat of mascara.

“I didn’t go to college," you mutter, "So I’m not sure I really understand everything you're saying… but, its not like I’m miserable. I like my life, I guess...Sure I wish somethings were different, but… I don’t think I’m part of some bigger, coordinated plan… "

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

You were startled for a moment, then responded. “July… July 26, 1948… why…?”

“8 …. You hear that EP? Just like you, her day of the month adds up to an 8!” He whispered to you. “Birth dates that add up to 8, well, they’re quite powerful… what, you don’t believe in numerology either, huh? Don’t you feel hopeless wandering around this beautiful earth, thinking like that? Were you raised with any religion?”

“Sure, yeah, my folks are Jewish, I still think of myself as a Jew - I.. um…it’s more of a.. um cultural thing, I guess…  if I had kids, I’d raise them the way I was, but I’d be honest with them about how things really are….”

Larry’s face lit up, as he turned to his bag to pull out a bottle of hairspray.

“Oh, I should have known you were mishpacha, look at those dark brown eyes… Oy Rivka, it makes my heart break hearing you talk about life so cynically…. Where did you find this one, anyway, EP? She’s cute, she’s smart and I can sense that you’ll have a real positive effect on her, bring some spiritually into her life... if she’ll just open up her mind …”

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll have any probably getting her to open up for me… found her at the party last night, she’s just some groupie hanging round, wouldn’t let me be… practically begged to spend another day with me…”

Elvis stalked toward you, a smug look plastered on his face, his hand was on your shoulder as he looked into your reflection. Larry stepped back, pleased with his work. Looking at your reflection, it was a lot more makeup than you ever wore, gold eye shadow shimmered almost to your eyebrows. But you smiled, embracing the utter absurdity of it all and giving yourself over to the pleasurable of feeling glamorous. Not recognizing the tired, disheveled workaday Becky who walked into this pent house in jeans and converse an hour or so ago.

“Groupie…mmhmmm.. that’s me…” you smiled a broad, fake smile as you rose, grasping Elvis' shoulder to steady yourself. “This week it’s the great Elvis Presley, next week, Aerosmith is in town. Fingers crossed I can sneak into their party…”

Elvis grunts as he pulls you in front of him, hands on your waist.

“Ha! Not if I have anything to do with it….”

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“Told you Presley, no man can tame me…”

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

“I ain’t just any man, Twitch… mmhmmm… you’ll see…”

You turn to  Larry, saying in Yiddish, “How do you stand working with this asshole, huh?” Larry laughed, and Elvis crooked an eyebrow.

“Hey, now… what she say?”

Larry looked over at him, “Oh just how lucky I am to spend all my days with you.

———————————

Heading to the coliseum in a caravan of long black limos, you realize it’s past 8 o’clock, and you are anxious for Elvis when you arrive only 10 minutes before he is supposed to perform.

“Isn’t this cutting it close?” You murmur, taking his hand out of the limo and hanging on to his arm for dear life as you stumble alongside him through the stage door.

“Nah, honey, this is how I like it… otherwise I’m a caged animal, prowling around the dressing room. No, it’s better this way... I walk right from the limo onto the stage. Keeps the momentum going.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jerrah! I want Becky up in front, in the middle, and have someone keep an eye on her. Don’t won’t her gettin’ smashed in the stampede of women running up to get me.”

He looked down at you and winked.

“And Jerrah, I’m gonna need you to do better with the gatorrrr - ade tonight, last night my throat was so dry I thought I was Bob Dylan.”

He grinned down at you to see if you got his joke. You rolled your eyes, and he slapped your left butt cheek playfully. Again. Your butt was getting more attention in the last few hours than it had in the last ten years.

“Now, that was a good one… shudda laughed... most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here. Look at how hard she has to work to frown at my jokes. ”

You lean into his shoulder, relishing the coziness of his body enclosed around you as long as you could before you arrived at the backstage curtain. Elvis hands began to tremble slightly as he stepped away from you. Caught off by how cold and alone you suddenly felt without his arm around you, you noticed that Elvis’ breathing became shallow and panicked as he let go of you and walked toward the curtain, mumbling to himself.

”You can do this boy, you can do this….you love this…. you do this ev’ry night.”

“Is he ok?” You ask Jerry, who is now walking you around to the front of the stage. Jerry looks at you, a soft smile.

“Yeah, this is good, every once an a while we have a hard time getting him out of the dressing room. Crazy, huh? Think he’d have gotten over stage fright by now…”

Jerry pats your back, leaving you at center stage, thirty or so feet closer than where you had been last night. Tonight’s performance was similar, though it was rougher being in the eye of the storm. The music was louder, and the blare of the horns hit you in the face the moment they began. You watched Elvis propel himself on stage, where he was instantly transformed from nervous school boy to a charismatic rock star strutting and dancing and karate kicking himself across the platform. Exuding a cheerful, roguish vitality, he playfully bantered with the women who ran up to kiss him, joked with the audience, or stopped the music to ask a little girl about the drawing she brought up for him to sign. The restrictive, tightness of your dress and your unsteady heels all faded away as you were taken captive by Elvis’ showmanship. He stopped to wink down at you throughout the night. You were paralyzed when he strode over to center stage and bent his left leg back in a karate stance, then proceeded to thrust above you several times, grinning like a teenager and laughing as he sang. It brought a swarm of butterflies to your tummy, and they flew up your stomach to take permanent residence at the top of your rib cage for the rest of the show, fluttering around while you quivered. You felt yourself blush, and you knew Elvis had noticed it when he walked downstage and paused to fan himself with his own hand.

“Wheweee, this June weather is heating us up, ain’t it lil girl,” and he looked over at you. You didn't think your cheeks could get any redder, but you were wrong. Elvis grinned, then looked back out at the thousands of people behind you. “But that’s alright, that’s just the kind of show ya do on a Monday evening. We came here to be with y’all and to sweat and to hand out scarves.” 

He winked again, and you swore he was about to bend down and kiss you when he stopped just short of your position and kissed the blonde next to you, looking over at you with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle after wrapping a white scarf around her.

—— ----------

Thirty minutes after the show, and you were still sitting next to Lamar in the dressing room, waiting for Elvis to finish signing autographs by the stage. Lamar offered you a Pepsi and M & Ms from a bowl, and you crunched them angrily. 

“Five more minutes, and I’m fixin’ to just take myself home,” you whine, leaning your head back. 

Lamar chuckled. “Don’t let him hear that, EP’ll intentionally make us wait another hour just to show you what happens when you’re impatient… “

“I’ll be long gone before I spend two hours twiddling my fingers back here…”

Lamar looked at you, and shrugged, you guessed he’d seen worse. You stood up to go out to the stage. Lamar looked up from his newspaper.

“You’ll  wanna fix your lipstick.” 

You raised your eyebrows in disdain. “I wasn’t wearing any make-up when I met him last night?”

Lamar hit his knee, ”Well, I’m not gonna say it never happens… but its rare… I’ve been with him for almost twenty years, off an on, and I’ve seen Elvis go out with women of all shapes an sizes, older, younger, married, divorced, single moms, business women, sisters - one right after the other … but they’ve been … they’ve pretty much always … attentive to their appearance… let’s just say he’s never been shy to tell a girl, or any of us, I s’pose, what to wear, how to do our hair, how to look. He knows what he likes, and he almost always gets it, sonabitch… I mean, look at you now ….”

You looked at your self in the full length mirror. Lamar was right, you looked like a different person. An almost pretty one, like those old money debs who you were making fun of last night. You pulled at your neckline, vainly attempting to cover your breasts more.

“Do you think he told Jerry to buy my dress a size down?”

Lamar chortled. “Ha, at least! If not two… partly because he knows he likes the way it shows off your figure, no disrespect meant. But also partly to fuck with you. He likes to turn the screw a bit… it's subconscious, like, sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely knew what he was doing when he made Joe get out of the car on the other side of town…”

“Oh, “ Lamar popped some candy in his mouth, “that’s nothin’, he once fired Joe and left him in the middle of the Mojave dessert…” 

You gasped and shook your head, wondering if you should just go home. Fixing some stray hairs, you wiped your mouth, realizing you didn’t have lipstick with you, or anything, so if you did decide to leave you wouldn’t be able to get a cab. Maybe Lamar would take pity on you and drive you home? Or you could find a phone and beg someone to come get you. Maybe you should, the allure of the concert was starting to dissipate, the fatigue was coming back, it was 10:30 and seeing Elvis through Lamar’s perspective was making you question your decision to come out tonight…. For the thousandth time. Your pulled at your neckline once again, and gave Lamar a salute as you hobbled out to the stage to take another look at your date before deciding whether to sneak off, determined not to let these heels take you down.

Elvis’ face lit up with boyish glee when he saw you meander out. Just that quick exchange made you giddy and your desire to leave evaporated. You ambled over to lean against the stage from the grassy field, looking up and watching him where he stood ten feet away, surrounded by people waiting for him to sign their photos, stuffed animals, panties, or take a picture. Elvis bathed in their admiration, laughing and joking and pulling faces with them, while Jerry and five tired men moved them through the line. About every fifteen minutes, Elvis would turn to where you now sat on the tip of the stage, swinging your feet, and holler.

“Hang loose darlin’, just be another five minutes.”

It was 11:37 when you observed Elvis kiss the last pair of women goodbye and stomp over to you with an effected, stilted gait. A damp towel around his neck, his eyes still twinkling from the unfiltered love he’d been basking in over the last few hours. From where you sat, head leaning on your arms over the stage floor, he seemed fifteen feet tall. You gasped when Elvis suddenly plopped down on his knees about an inch from your face and poked your nose, his voice sweet and light.

“So how you doin?”

You smiled, to tired the fight his charm. Any lingering impatience or resentment you felt from waiting the last two hours melted like a popsicle in the glow of his radiance. Head still laying to the side, you responded in a breathy, dreamy voice.

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…” 

“Good… still wanna come have dinner with me?” 

You nodded, and Elvis took your hand to help you up.

“C’mon Becky Butt, let’s go get something in that sweet mouth ‘o yours …”

“You’re worse than a teenage boy, you know that?” You scowl, but nevertheless, can’t help your visceral need to seek out the warmth of his body and plunge into his side.

——-----------

You did find something to stick in your mouth. Potato chips, cheese and crackers, grapes, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, little bites of key lime pie. Sipping your second beer, you walk over to the couch and settle down. Looking around the room, you consider that, while there are certainly less people here tonight, this is hardly what you would consider a small gathering. The suite is filled with the men of Elvis’ entourage, a handful of band members, a handful of women, maybe wives, girlfriends, lovers? Your dress, thankfully, had given in to the roundness of your body and stretched out a bit, so you can at least breathe, although your breasts were still mounting their rebellion. You pulled up the neck line again, and shifted toward Charlie, who was tuning a guitar on the other side of the couch. 

“Hey, I heard Elvis during the show, he said you’re from Alabama?’

Charlie looked up at you, his fingers playing a few unorganized chords, and he nodded, then looked over towards the kitchen. You followed his eyes to Elvis, who’s back was turned. You noticed Elvis’ hand seemed very cozily wrapped around the waist of one of his backup singers, what was her name, Kathy? You watch his fingers rub her back. You sighed, he was a handsy guy and you were not into jealous drama, so you turn back to Charlie, who seemed to relax.

“Mhmm, where are you from … Becky is it?”

“Birmingham…. but I’ve lived here in Jackson, gosh for 10 years…. So,” you looked back over at the kitchen, and whisper. “Charlie, why are there 1000 enema kits in the bathroom?”

Charlie belted out a surprised guffaw, and shook his head.

“I’m not even gonna start with that….”

“Ok,” you grinned. “So, how many women you reckon big man over there has slept with?”

Charlie chuckled into his guitar again, and just shook his head.

“Too many… but I’ll tell ya what…I’ve been hanging out with that man these last 17 our 18 years or so, and I’ve eaten meatloaf and fried chicken so often I cain’t barely stand ‘em.” Charlie fooled around strumming the guitar a bit more. “Sometimes he just wants meatloaf, every night, like for six months at a time…. Sometimes he wants all his favorite dishes buffet style, all at the same time, see? He might go for somethin’ new, but even then, usually, it’s cuz its similar, like… shepard’s pie, that’s a lot like meatloaf, jus with mashed potatoes on top… then that becomes his favorite dish for a while, and he has to have it ev’ry night til it's not new any more…  see, EP, man ….he takes comfort in the familiar…”

You nodded, smiling, getting what Charlie was trying to say. I guess I’m the shepard’s pie of Jackson…

“So, where y’all headed next on this tour?” You smooth you dress as you bend your knees up behind you on the couch, and giggle as a nipple pops up and you push it back into your dress.

“Oh, well, we’re goin’ back ta Memphis tomarra, for—" all of a sudden one of the other guys was in front of Charlie, bending in his ear. 

“Crazy over there wants to talk to ya,” you heard him whisper.

“Sure, Dick,” Charlie nodded back, and looked over you, handing you his guitar. “Hold this for me, won’t ya?”

You lean across him to put your drink on the side table, and you feel Charlie tense as your breasts graze his lap, you’ve never seen anyone hop up so fast as he alights and hands you his instrument. Taking his guitar, you flip your legs back on the ground, and eyes following the two men as they walk over to Elvis, who is now very much turned toward you, a grimace clouding his face. Kathy has been replaced by another man who’s talking to him. You wonder what upset him? But you are distracted by the guitar in your lap, and start to strum a few notes, smiling up at Elvis as you start to sing an old folk song from one of your Joan Baez records that popped into your head, you don’t know why. You’re not in love with Elvis, you’ve only known him 24 hours, but he does have black hair…

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

Closing your eyes, you let the buzz from the drinks and the show and the energy of the party creep over you and you give yourself to the song, singing softly. You open your eyes to see Elvis strolling over to you while you sing, and he takes a seat next to you where Charlie had been, leaning back into the armrest. There is wonder and affection in his eyes, and you push your leg into him as he rubs you knee while you warble out the last verse of the song.

“Where’d you learn to sing these sad sack songs, mhmm?” He scoots you closer to him, his hands snaking around your waist. You lean your head onto his chest, appreciating the way your head fits under his chin, strumming the strings casually.

“Summer camp… as a teenager …. it’s actually not far from here... just outside of Jackson.”

The warmth of his fingers trace up the side of your body, and you absentmindedly lift one hand to stroke his right sideburn, pulling on the curly, rough hair. His breath is hot on your ear when Elvis murmurs.

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

“Ha…. most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here.” You call out, your voice is playful and loud, and Elvis pulls you on to his lap.

“Hmmm… you’re funny, ya know that?” He kisses your lips, and you dangle the guitar down by its neck, your other hand on Elvis’ shoulder to return his kiss, and then nuzzle back into him. “Go on now, play me a ‘nother one…” he cooed.

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

“K, here’s another from camp.” And you start to strum the chords to the folk version of an old Hebrew prayer, your head against his while his arm wraps around you. Your feet now dangle over the edge of his lap and his other hand rests over you, thumb rubbing your thigh as you sing.

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Spread the shelter of your peace over us 

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Save us for the sake of your name 

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain 

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

“That’s beautiful honey, what’s it mean?”

You look down, still cradling the guitar. “I guess its a call out to God to lay us down with peace when we go to sleep at night, and give us peace when we wake in the morning… a call for protection.”

Elvis stroked your thigh, then moved his hands over yours on the guitar. “Go head, teach me the chords… I wanna learn this.”

You feel a firm rod hardening underneath you as you show him how the song goes, fingers over fingers, his lips on your neck, repeating the words. You laugh at his Hebrew pronunciations and he slaps your hip, laughing with you.

“How can you sing this music honey, and then say you don’t believe in God?”

You thought of your conversation earlier, and looked up to see if anyone heard what you and Elvis were saying. The crowd had gotten smaller, but those remaining seemed to be paying very little attention to the two of you.

“Of course you believe in God, Elvis, cuz your life is a fairy tale… handsome, talented, successful… but it’s really just random chance… why would God make some people beautiful and others ugly? Why would he make some poor and others rich? There’s no rhyme or reason to our lives…”

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek. 

“Ya don’t really think life is pointless?”

You hesitate. “Not pointless… but any meaning it has is meaning we give it, while we deal with all the bullshit we get dealt…”

“This…” Elvis murmured into your ear. “This is why he brought you to me. We’re meant to help each other… I’m going to help you seek him out…”

“Elvis…” you whisper, “what if I’m meant to help show you that there is no God?”

“Oh baby, I know there’s a God… I’ve seen ‘im….” 

You roll your eyes, and Elvis pulls you tighter, chuckling.

“Hmmm. So you’re bringing me to the light, how am I helping you?”

“Thought we already covered that… you’re using those snake charmin’ skills to remind me how God works in mysterious ways.” You feel him thrust his hips up into you a few times. His erection is undeniable, and you cough out a guffaw as he smirks, then lifts you up, one hand under your knees, the other around your arm. You shriek and drop the guitar.

“Oh no!”

“Don’t worry, baby, jus Charlie’s guitar, don’t matter one bit.” He smiled deviously over in Charlie’s direction and kicked the instrument out of his way, before bellowing out over your lifted frame. “Alright y’all, quitting time, s’been a long day, time to hit the hay.” You giggle, blushing again, its obvious that he is about to carry you to the bed room and you burrow into his chest to hide.

——-----------

Emerging from the master bathroom, face clean, hair brushed back, you’re wearing a slinky, pink silk nightie Jerry must have bought and put out for you on the bed. You shiver, seeing Elvis in his own blue pajamas already in the bed. He pats the space beside him, and you scurry over, launching onto the bed with a jump.

“Slow down, lil' girl, this ain’t the Grand Prix…”

You nod, breath shallow and nervous as you get under the covers and lay down next to Elvis. He turns, fingers slowly stroking your tummy, his face hovering an inch above yours. You shiver, breathing in more deeply, taking in his distinct musk of sweat, tobacco and spice. His lips softly skim over yours.

“Have a good time tonight?”

“Mhmmm,” your hands move up his chest and around his neck. 

His fingers trail down your belly, you feel the flames crackling at your core burst into a fire, and you bite your lip. Elvis grins, his cheeks expanding. His fingers are under your nightie, and he grins wider as he notices you aren’t wearing underwear, growling as he pushes your nightie up. You gasp as those fingers work their way down, running through your pubic hair. He raises his eyebrows, you feel his cock twitch against you, and you nod your chin, a slight moan escaping you as you lean up into his mouth and move your hands from his neck to pull down his pajama bottoms. He chuckles into your kiss.

“OK, woman, ok…. Now let a man take his own drawers off….”

You sit up against the pillows and Elvis rolls over on his back to pull his pajamas off and throw them to the floor first, pants then shirt. Why did we even get changed? You think as you turn to him, hand on his chest, mouth on his neck, his moans joining yours as you move to straddle his thighs. Looking up at you with awe, he pulls your night gown off and you slowly grind against him. Elvis’ hands move to your waist, grasping your soft, cushy handles, and you arch your head back when he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks over it, then lowers it to your clit. Each stroke is deliberate, soft, slow, and you buck forward with a tremor, moaning out. His stiff length rubs between your ass cheeks, and you thrust against it. You halt your movements forward and rise up, using your hands to guide him inside you, then grunting out as you bear down on him, the friction and the stretch a welcome thrill as you slowly plunged further. Elvis grunts and sits up, responding to the magnetic electricity that had been building between you all night. Neither of you can get close enough, you pull each other as tight as possible, surging your hips down into him while he grips your handles. Your arms wind around his neck and his forehead is damp against your chin and his voice speaks into your neck high and breathy.

“Oh baby, sweet baby, where ya been all my life? Huh?”

Your chest heaves into him, and you ride him further, crying out with a twitch when his cock hits that new magic spot. Your G spot. Your E spot. Moaning, you kiss down on the top of his head, grasping him closer when his arms tighten around your waist. You feel the sweat dripping down through his chest hair as it chafes against your nipples, the sensation brings a gasp out of your mouth. You meld together with each clap of thunder as your hips meet his over and over, your skin is electrified and the sensation seems more intense than the previous night, your bodies seem more in tune with each other, so much so that they seem to fit together. You follow where he leads, and he responds to each movement you make, lips seeking out the nape of your neck, sending shivers through you until his soft kisses become aggressive and you try to consume each other before the flames rise up out of the bed to devour you both.

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

You call out, your whole cunt is vibrating with anticipation, you can feel electricity coiling behind your belly button.

“See honey? Its workin’ already… I’m bringing you closer to God.. ugghhhh....” he grunts as you bear down on him. You try to roll your eyes but then have to squeeze them closed when his hands work your hips up and down again and you spasm.

Another minute, and you are screaming out through the waves of pleasure emanating up your core, your rolls into each other slow, and there it is, you can’t help it, you’re sobbing again as a feverish warmth spreads over you. Elvis’ fingers are on your face, clearing away your hair, wiping your tears with his thumbs.  His hips are stilled, and he kisses your chin, your lips part with a deep exhale.

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

“Ssshhh,” he pulls you into him. “S’ok...” He murmurs into your neck, you wrap yourself further around him from above, and begin to move again. “You wanna keep goin’?

“Mhmm” you breath out, clenching around him and you feel as if he’s gone even deeper inside you, like Elvis is probing so far into you he might burst right through you. The rhythm resumes, your bottom hits his knees as you lunge up and down and you feel him gasp in a soft, weak high voice.

“Oh darlin’, let me be your baby… just take me in you and let me be your lil’ baby….?” His eyes beg you, and his mouth contorts into a pinched expression of shock and pleasure. Hands on your hips, Elvis pulled you forward onto him and you increase your pace, pushing faster into him, wet skin slapping against his chest while he holds you close, your hands smoothing over his hair and you whisper.

“There’s a good boy, ahhh! ….. course you can be my baby… my good baby... my bubbleleh…” you murmur, smoothing the top of his hair. You have never talked the way during sex, it just comes out in the moment and you go with it as you both inhabit the roles you play in all the different aspects of your life at once: mother, father, lover, child.

Elvis’ eyes look up at you from below, with his chin jutting and the innocent expression lighting up his face, he looks ten years younger.  His eyes plead for release, connection, recognition, and his eyebrows are pushed up by desire while his left hand cups your neck. Jerking back, he pushes you off him and down on the bed, pulling out just before he explodes on to your abdomen with a stuttering growl. He pumps himself with his hand one, two, three more times, then exhales loudly as your bodies still. He coughs and grunts again, shaking his head, hands rubbing your sides up and down.

You look up, a dizzy smile on your face. “I’m on the pill, just so ya know…”

“Oh?” Elvis looked down at you, moving to get off the bed, presumably to get you a towel, but you pull him back, instead wiping your self off on the duvet. You push him down on his back, straddling him once more, this time to cuddle on top of him. You lean forward over him and relish the way his chest hair tickles your breasts. He fluffs a pillow as you rest your head over crossed arms and look up in delight at the goofy grin spreading across his face. His neck swells forward, and now his mouth sits above a tower of meaty jowls. His baritone voice reverberates up into your arms.

“Is that cuz you already have a daddy here in Jackson?”

You shake your head. “Nooooo. Just cautious, like you.”

Elvis bows his chin forward. “Yeah, well, I already knew you didn’t have a man, I could tell… I know things,” he grinned, pointing his index finger at his head. 

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Yeah… I know…. You’re a seer…. what we just did was definitely a spiritual experience…” You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything… anything like that…” you tuck your head into his chest, your fingers tousling the damp, sweaty curls they find. Elvis runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, s’always better the more you do it together, isn’t it… bodies get used to each other… I’ve… I’ve had some good rolls in the hay, but it’s been a while… boyoboy…” He gently pulls your hair back so you are looking up at him, his profile limned by the soft bedside lamp. “Come back to Memphis with me tomorrow.” 

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

He shakes his head. “Uh uh, I don’t like the sound of that… woman, you just told me you had the best sex of your life. I ain’t asking you to marry me, jus come spend a few days an' have some fun… can’t tell me that store won’t get along with out you?”

You sit up, next to him, crossing your legs on the bed. 

“Elvis, you just met me… this is moving tooo fast..”

“Honey, fast is the only speed I know…”

“Elvis, I can’t go to Memphis with you.”

He pauses, brow furrowed. “This cuz you thought you were going out with THE Elvis Presssley, then ended up with me?”

You grab his shoulders, leaning over him to kiss his face as he turns in a huff, pouting.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? You think I’m disappointed because I got to see you up close? The real you?” You turn his face back to look at you and the hurt in his eyes dissipates. “No baby… no…. Look, I’ve had the best time with you. Ever. I mean it. You are…. Well, ‘m not one for making a fool of myself an tellin’ a man how foxy I think he is… you know you are…” you slap his shoulder. “And you’re actually better than I thought you’d be… you’re funny… and brilliant…. and.. ugh… I stole your belt last night because I wanted to remember this forever …. When I’m with you I… I … feel like a teenager again… all my cares and responsibilities, they melt away. And that’s nice, cuz I had to grow up kinda of early … so feeling free again… its been a dream —”

“Then why don’t you wanna come with me, baby?”

“I do. I want to. But I can’t… I have people who depend on me, people who need me… I’ve been taking over the management of my uncle’s store… I live with my aunt and uncle, they’re in their 60s…” and I have a kid I don’t want to tell you about because this is just fun and I don't want to bring the baggage from my life into this one night - two night  - stand …. “I have to go back to reality tomorrow… or today, depending what time it is?… I guess that doesn’t matter… I have to go back to my life and so … so do you…”

Elvis takes your hand, drawing you into the crook of his arm, his other hand caresses your shoulder, you can see the wheels in his head turning.

“Hmmm… let’s get some sleep, we’ll talk about this in the mornin’… jus promise no sneaking’ out this time without sayin’ good bye?”

You assent with a bow, and he kisses the top of your head, then sits up to take a pill bottle out of the side table drawer. You shake your head no when he offers you some, and watch as he gulps a handful down, no water, and turns off the light. Ten minutes later Elvis’ ragged snores lull you too sleep.

——----------

The room is black when you wake up in a naked embrace with Elvis, your hair matted down from the warm sweat of his chest. The windows are still covered with aluminum, but the bedside clock tells you it's 6 am. You gently lift his arm so you can get up, and as you swing your feet off the bed he sits up with a start, grabbing you from behind.

“Don’t leave me Satnin, don’t leave me in the dark… I can’t be alone in the dark…” his soft voice trembles with fear, and you push back into the pillows, taking Elvis’ head in your lap and sooth his brow, hushing him with a promise that you aren’t leaving, just going to the bathroom. 

Once he falls back to sleep, you get up and, finding your nighty, make your way to the en suite toilet. Looking over at him as you come back, you tip toe out of the bed room to call home and talk to Ruth in the living room. You had snuck off to a phone after the show last night, and had a long, apologetic conversation with Aunt Ida, who was, honestly, too enthusiastic about the fact that you wouldn’t be coming home for the second night in a row. You met someone, girlchik, I told you that you would, she had gushed. You had just been grateful that neither Danny nor Harriet had told their parents whom that someone was. Harriet had stayed over to help, as promised, and was going to open the store today, but you hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ruth. You leave the lights in the living room off, relieved that Joe or one of the other guys is not sitting in the living room to greet you this morning when you make your way to the phone near the pent house kitchen. You sit on a bar stool and have the operator call your house, then ask Ida to put your daughter on the phone.

“Hey baby, you’re not mad at me for staying out with friends?”

You can hear Ruth roll her eyes. “Mom… why would I be mad? You should do this more, Harriet lets me have as much ice cream as I want. For breakfast too.”

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

“Ok, good… hey, after today, only three more days of school left til summer?”

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

“Ok, ok, I just called to tell you to have a good day at school, and I’ll see you tonight, ok, sweet baby?”

“Ok, love ya mom.” 

Just as Ruth hangs up, you jolt at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and turn to see Elvis in a robe, rubbing his eyes with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Sweet baby? Thought you didn’t have a man…. “

Hanging up the phone, you throw your head back and look at the ceiling, then return to meet his gaze.

“I don’t… I wasn’t talking to a man…” you mutter.

Elvis’ brow creases, as he rubs his eyes again. 

“Well then, who were you…..ohhh…” he walks over to you, and sits in the bar stool next to you “How old?”

“9.” You look down.

“You must a been a baby yer self when you had ‘em?”

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

“An that’s why you can’t come to Memphis.” He drops your hand, getting up and pacing back towards the bedroom. 

You stand to follow him, but stop, you can tell he’s upset, but you’re not sure if it’s because he’s mad at you for not telling him you had a kid, or mad because his psychic powers didn’t show him this information, or mad because he’s not going to get what he wants, or mad because he thinks you’re some sort of tramp horrible mother and can’t believe he was attracted to you. Your worst insecurities assume its the latter one, the energy in the room has turned bitter and you want to run out of the door. You fight this, realizing clothes would be good first.

“I should go,” you offer, and he turns, hand on the bridge of his nose as he stands in thought.

“What? No… I mean.. Yes.. honey, do what you gotta do…”

You walk up and kiss Elvis on the cheek, then move to get dressed in the bedroom, finding your old jeans and shirt and converse in the closet. Elvis follows you, and perches at the edge of the large, leather chair watching you dress. He stands to grab something out of his black dress jacket, and pads over to you as you finish tying your shoe. The belt and ring he gave you are on the bed next to where you finish getting dressed, and you aren’t sure if you should leave them. He seems to read your mind.

“Take ‘em… go ahead, I want ya to have ‘em…” Then he hands you a wad of money. “And this too, for all your troubles.” 

You count it, $500. A sinking feeling starts in the pit of your stomach. Whore. You feel like a cheap whore. You crumple up the cash and throw it on top of his things, slap him in the face, and then walk out through the bedroom and leave without looking back.

Elvis rubs his stinging cheek, and turns to follow. No one has ever rejected his gifts. 

“What the devil in tarnation… crazy woman…” he mumbles to himself, still drugged and half dead from the sleeping pills and lack of sleep, his mind and body are moving slow. He hears the front door slam and he jogs after you, sticking his head out of the door to call you back, only to find the hallway empty. All that remains of your presence is the faint sting from your hand still burning his cheek.

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @butlervol6 @ab4eva @whositmcwhatsit @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley

Read Chapter Three Here

[merakiui]

Okay, to build on that romcom idea, Rollo is co-owners of the bakery with you (and maybe you used to date but found out that you’re better off as friends) and he’s constantly warning you about Floyd. He doesn’t mean to cockblock, he’s genuinely concerned and being a good friend, but oh my gosh, if Rollo doesn’t stop giving Floyd the side eyes or passively aggressively pointing him in the direction of the exit, Floyd might just have to do something drastic! Rollo’s lucky you have a soft spot for him or else he would have been in trouble…

Alternatively, Floyd pays Rollo an ungodly amount of money just so he can have “alone” time with you and some insider tips on what you like and desire in a relationship. Cue a hilarious montage where Floyd does more and more unhinged things to earn Rollo’s respect until Rollo gives in and gives his blessing since you’re an honorary sibling/best friend to him.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, hahah. I just find it hilarious to have a b plot to the fluffy romance to get some bro friendship material between two vastly different individuals.

Oh, I love that!!! I can imagine Floyd just keeps pushing and pushing until Rollo eventually gives in once he knows for sure that Floyd has no intentions of hurting you and is genuine in his feelings. Imagine the two of them meeting up to discuss possible dates and a plan of how Floyd can ask you out on said dates. Rollo gives very useful advice, which helps put Floyd on a good track for earning your affections or, at the very least, having a chance at easing into a friendship with you.

On top of large quantities of money, Floyd also pays Rollo in what he likes to call "pocket surprises," which is essentially whatever Floyd happens to have in his pockets (usually trinkets and jewelry he's taken from some not-so-great people). Rollo tells him he has to stop with that because it's disconcerting and will definitely land you in the eyes of the authorities if they think you aren't meant to have those riches (i.e. accusing you of stealing). Floyd whines about this and all of the other things Rollo advises against, which is basically scrubbing Floyd clean of his criminal tendencies.

Rollo has even made cards for Floyd to practice with so that when he does finally score a date with you everything that leaves his mouth won't sound like it's coming from a terrifying mafia boss. Situations like what do you do if someone is being rude to your date? or how should you act to make your date feel comfortable? are practiced so that Floyd can be patient and won't lose himself to his unpredictable moods if something goes wrong. Essentially, Rollo wants to prevent any murders that might happen while you're on the date with Floyd.

Floyd may seem impatient or annoyed by all of this at first, but he's a good listener when he wants to be and he dedicates his time and best efforts to preparing himself for the date, which Rollo absolutely chaperones from a discreet distance. He has faith in Floyd (not really) and wants to make sure everything will go well (and that you're safe and happy on this date). Floyd will notice him right away and give him the most obvious thumbs-up and wink, and Rollo is face-palming in his hiding place.

Floyd and Rollo end up spending so much time together that they eventually become something akin to friends. Rollo denies it with a huff if you question it, but Floyd is happy to have someone sensible like Rollo to help him out. Of course, since you and Rollo were once together, he fully expects Rollo to share the details on your sex life. He needs to know these things. After all, wasn't it Rollo who said Floyd would need to know everything about you if he wanted to charm you? :)

Also, after every successful date, Floyd always tries to go in for a hug or a high-five and Rollo denies him every time without fail. Perhaps he'll return the hug and the high-five one day (the day Floyd proposes to you and you say yes), but until then it's more practice to ensure Floyd can continue to be good, safe, law-abiding company.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

307 of 2023

Aries making bad choices texting first but not replying not following directions uncomfortable about crying extra af very competitive playing loud music leading people on trust issues

Taurus highkey sensitive very down to earth persistent efficient loves to hold grudges lazy stubborn scared of big changes sarcastic has good work ethics materialistic

Gemini loves the drama in love with 5 people at the same time moodiness   unpredictable selfish yet caring sometimes evil and dark humor lies for no reason trivia machine and intelligent good speaking skills corrects people when not required

Cancer prepared for the best and worst outcomes craves security and stability jealous crybaby bottles up their emotions trustworthy good listener caring and calls to check in heart of gold with good advice has trouble moving on vivid imagination

Leo wants more attention has lots of friends very bossy yet sensitive kind hearted and caring can’t fall asleep overthinker flirts aggressively terrified of failure has a big ego natural leader honest

Virgo over-analyzing friendships hyperfocused pretty damn intelligent puts themselves last repeating a task until they perfect it secret hoe but loyal af very helpful and kind insanely observant stuck in negative thought cycles

Libra passive-aggressiveness has commitment problems has big dreams people pleaser charming has too much attitude judgmental keeps it cute hates fighting good at giving advice

Scorpio strong emotional attachments possessive insecure pain is cool and mentally strong gets shit done secretly soft af has trust issues loyal defensive takes care of everyone has very few friends

Sagittarius optimistic with a free spirit distracted easily loves to argue for no reason open-minded plenty of friends social butterfly unbothered by emotions honest and up-front has major FOMO super confident

Capricorn always super busy way too serious high standards yet friendly has too much attitude ambitious has huge goals loves to be a control freak logical plays it safe plans for the future

Aquarius very selective loyal firmly established opinions bossy stubborn a good multitasker bad at feelings treats everyone equally realist with a pinch of optimism “I’m fine” hates clingy people

Pisces innocent energy manipulative sensitive believes in magic and destiny bad taste in boys/girls social anxiety hopeless romantic emotional prone to addiction antisocial loves their friends a lot very creative

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

LETS START WITB THE LORE!!!!!!!!!! I WANNA KNOW I WANNA KNOW I W

AIGHT KEEP IN MIND THIS IS STILL ALL CONCEPT SO.

Basically this world is just. Imagine fantasy. Theres humans and a bunch of nonhuman races. It’s like that. There’s a specific species that can use whatever’s around them to their advantage, like change the state of things. Like water to air. There’s this ONE specific member of that species, one who can change the emotions of humans to a physical state, and that opens the gate for SO much.

A bunch of the other non human races start following this dude. The emotions can be used almost like medicine and can even be used to feed some nonhumans if mixed properly. It’s batshit, and the dude starts to realize that he can USE this following.

So he starts an empire with them. There’s a human empire, and all of them are struggling with scraps while humans flourish, so why not? Empire grows and humans are extremely wary. Extracting emotions if done to an extent leaves them with nothing. Too much of it can break and destroy the brain of a person.

Thankfully, the Emperor doesn’t want war. He reached out to the humans, and they form a truce. No harm on eachother, no extreme emotion theft. They use the physical emotions for research and share what they find with the humans. The humans (who are a MUCH stronger and bigger empire) will offer peace and technology for research. Things go well. The emperor even finds a empress and has a son, and it seems like they can finally thrive.

The Nether Empire even gets special people! The 5 Nobles: The Knight, who defends the empire and the people inside and commands offense, the Preserver, who writes the history of this empire and handles the storage (like the emotions) and conservation of objects of interest, the Alchemist, who leads the research of physical emotion and tests the limits of what can be done with it, the Watcher, who observes the ins and out of the city for anything dangerous or suspicious (the snitch job/hj), and the Collector, who leaves the empire in search of anything of interest and distributes supply and is the head in trade.

However, despite this truce, neither sides feel safe. Both are terrified of the other. Both do not trust the other. Things are tense.

So the Alchemist starts their finest work: the Failsafe. The Failsafe is a formula of potions, one that can transport stuff into what he believes is a dimension hidden between dimensions. It puts the area into a sort of stasis, and with things as tense as they are, it could mean the safety of the empire. The emperor agrees. A vault of the Failsafe is built. One massive enough to take the entire kingdom if it activates. It’s simple to set off: a special pattern known only by the emperor’s family and the nobles must be pressed on the Throne and then a random hidden lever will shown and must be pulled. It takes down the edge, knowing that the empire will be safe if war starts.

Then things sky rocket.

Something happens. Do I know what? Nope! Not yet. Let’s just lie and say it was lost to time for now. The tensions snap, and it escalates into a confrontation into the Nether Emperor’s throne room. The human emperor and a few knights and a general are there. The 5 nobles, the emperor’s son, and the Empress are there. Things escalate. It gets intense. What starts as a tense conversation laced with passive aggression soon teeters on the edge to one wrong word and it’s war.

The son, VERY young at this time, starts freaking out. The Empress leaves him, going to the Emperor in an attempt to get things to cool off. The son panics. He’s not oblivious, he knows what this is going to mean. He doesn’t want war, he doesn’t want to die. So he goes to the throne, and while everyone is distracted by the heat of the argument he inputs the pattern.

The Alchemist notices too late. The way the Failsafe is designed, is not out of convenience or speed. It’s about unpredictability, in the case of a spy or an emperor who isn’t thinking straight.

The lever reveals itself right behind the human king, who is trying to keep his distance from an increasingly agitated Nether Emperor.

He trips.

The Failsafe activates.

However it doesn’t cooperate. The Empire was MUCH bigger than what they had tested on. It doesn’t get sent to paradise, it gets sent to a dimension twisted that seems to be holding on by a tether and could collapse at any moment.

The human emperor panics, and attacks. Their guards follow. However this is in a tiny world now vastly populated by Netherfolk. It isn’t what they’ll know as the Aether anymore, this is the Netherworld. The humans are slain, and now the Empire is dying in a world that isn’t habitable.

The Alchemist is given one last chance as the Empress and the Emperor try to desperately fix this. They end up discovering that emotions can stain objects, and can act almost as tears to the Aether if mixed with strong enough emotion. They find this out with the human emperor’s lantern.

It is given to the Collector, whose role is to go out and collect food and humans for the empire, bringing back people for the Emperor to drain.

Time passes.

The Emperor and the Empress pass. The Empress gets a simple burial, and the Emperor gets his remains grinded up and constructed into 5 badges that allow the wearer to use his ability on human emotions. The son becomes a recluse, never leaving the top room of the castle, never becoming the new Emperor they need.

Things change.

The Collector becomes the Ferryman, the Knight becomes the Ringmaster. All 5 roles begin to become dedicated to keeping a steady inflow of human emotions, as it’s the only thing that this dying world can rely on. The Ringmaster leads the Harvest Carnival, a carnival that is celebrated in the Aetherworld that has the goal of harvesting as many emotions and bodies as possible without leaving a trace nor memory. The Watcher observes, alerting to any Netherfolk who may have tried to sneak to a better world or a human whose gone too wise. The Watcher alerts the Ferryman, who takes care of it and brings the traitors “home.” The preserver preserves the emotions, and the Alchemist works to make the same potions.

The nobles become the 5 Holders, each holding an artifact that allows a connection with the Aetherworld and the support beams of this entire world.

As generations pass, the nonhuman races evolve into something more grotesque as they’re forced to adapt to a world harsher than any other.

And that’s. Basically the whole lore of the Netherworld so far lmao again this is only a concept so it can change

[depressedacadamia]

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops. 

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

[space-city-traffic]

yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

[shepherds-of-haven]

I'm obsessed with this dark!Shepherds AU?? Could you tell us more about it? Or in a head-to-head fight, which Shepherds would win against their evil counterparts or vice versa?

Hi there, good question! I haven’t really given that much thought to the dark!Shepherds AU, but I imagine (if we’re making it very similar to the Justice League scenario) something happens to make the majority of the Shepherds snap, and they turn against the Autarchy and instate a form of governance based solely on power and domination. They think they’re doing what’s right by preventing conflict and protecting the world from demons, just like the Justice Lords felt when they took over the world. That being said...

Dark!Blade: Dark!Blade isn’t all that different from teenage/young adult Blade, who was perfectly comfortable with the idea of assassinating and killing people for his cause, and because he firmly believed it would lead to the greater good. Dark!Blade would be like that, but even colder and more ruthless than his past self. He would rid himself of all personal attachments, such as friends, family, and romance, believing that such feelings made him weak and hesitant, and made himself vulnerable to his enemies in the way that the Autarch was made vulnerable through her sons. 

In a toe-to-toe combat situation, it’s hard to say who would win. Both have razor-sharp killing instincts and battle tactics, but I’m probably going to give it to Dark!Blade, because he would be willing to fight dirty (taking loved ones hostage, threatening kids or bystanders) and Blade would sacrifice himself willingly for others while Dark!Blade wouldn’t. So I’ll give it to him 90% of the time!

Dark!Trouble: I really can’t imagine a dark version of Trouble, not in the whole “bad Justice League” sense. I suppose he already walks a fine line between light and dark as it is; his relentless good, altruism, courage, and compassion make him a hero, but there’s that edge of temper, rage, and darkness (especially in his past--he was a criminal and killer-for-hire too, after all) that colors it as well. Like, now it’s fine for him to beat the everloving shit out of an asshole like Lazu Reen, but that could tip over to someone who’s not so black-and-white bad, too--he could turn that hatred towards an enemy who is more nuanced, like a politician who ultimately serves the people and does good, but who happened to make Trouble an enemy by personally slighting or hurting a friend, something like that. Trouble’s sense of loyalty tends to override his desire for justice in some ways, and I could see him supporting someone like Blade or MC to the end if they framed their endeavors in a way that could still be read as “good”. Like, yeah I had to kill this group of people, but it was for the greater good! And he’d be like “alright, I trust you!” He’s got your back even when the whole world turns against you, until there comes a point when he just can’t stand it anymore--but by then, he probably already did a lot of bad out of love of his friends.

If it were a death match between Dark!Trouble and our Trouble, I’m betting our Trouble would win, purely because Dark!Trouble’s desire to live would be just slightly lessened by the weight of all the deeds he committed. I don’t think he’s truly cut out to be bad, so our Trouble would probably win... 

Truthfully, though, if we’re following the Justice League formula, I could see Trouble being the one dying to trigger the domino effect that leads to the Shepherds turning bad. Like the Flash (I’m pretty sure it was Wally West in JL), in a way, he’s one of the hearts of the Order that bridges them to the civilian population and vice-versa. If he were killed, I could see them falling into the path of darkness (with a lot of other factors involved, too).

Dark!Shery: we already know that Dark!Shery and Shery are one in the same, lol. I don’t think Dark!Shery would be so much like the bad Justice League; I think what would be dark about her would be her indifference, her total passive indifference to their quest for domination “for the greater good” and their thirst for revenge. Dark!Shery is more just personally angry, aggressive, loud, forceful, and selfish, but I don’t see any world where she sets out for power or world domination. If anything, I see Dark!Shery (in that AU) being petty and mean, ripping lollipops out of kids’ hands because she feels like it and not batting an eye at seeing a beggar collapse in the street. 

That’s not to say drunk Dark!Shery is like that, I’m just taking her badness to an extreme in an AU where all of the Shepherds are bad!

In a fight, Dark!Shery would absolutely win, lol. She doesn’t have any better combat abilities than our Shery, but her sheer rage would be terrifying and would lend her crazy strength, lol.

Dark!Tallys: Tallys, too, already walks the edge of the path to darkness a little bit, I think. Obviously she’s chosen the good side, but in a different world where a demon promised her revenge for her fallen family and an opportunity to burn the Autarchy down, I think the younger her would have taken it. In a dark!AU where Trouble was killed or something, I think she would be like, “okay, fuck it” and give in to that doubtful, vengeful side of herself and just go apeshit on the world. She would be one of the people spearheading the plan to take over the world. She’d give lip service and say she was doing it for the greater good, but another part of her would revel in the blood and chaos. It wouldn’t heal the wound in her heart, though, and would only make her even more twisted and angry. 

In a head-to-head first, I’m going to give it to our Tallys 60% of the time. Part of the thing that makes Tallys so effective in battle is her ability to sever herself from her emotions and maintain a cool head; she can detach herself from personal feelings and analyze combat with cold clarity. I feel like dark!Tallys would be easy to taunt into a rage, or she would let her hatred and thirst for blood cloud her mind, so I feel like our Tallys would have the advantage most of the time!

Dark!Riel: I say this in complete seriousness: in a world where Riel decided to turn evil or fall to the dark side, everybody is already fucked. He would absolutely be the most effective and terrifying villain out of the entire cast. He will rip, slash, and burn entire countries with the easy ruthlessness of an accountant making budget cuts. He knows a dozen ways to starve, lay siege to, and lead public campaigns against the enemy. He would be the scariest Autarch the world has ever seen. If you think he’s mean to his enemies like Ebert now, wait until he has no moral code holding him back...

It’s difficult to imagine a battle between Dark!Riel and our Riel, but I’m going to guess the utter dispassionate cruelty and lack of compassion in Dark!Riel would win 90% of the time. Our Riel has a little less edge than Dark!Riel, so for that reason, I think he would lose. And so would the world...

Dark!Chase: I feel like Dark!Chase is very similar to our Chase, just colder, more ruthless, and bloodthirstier. He’d take genuine pleasure in torturing and killing his enemies, and I think he would cut out the flirtatious aspect of his personality in favor of a crueler and more sadistic sense of humor. He would also probably be batshit insane, like, somewhere on the Joker’s level but not obnoxious; in fact, quieter and calmer and deadlier, like you could never really know what he was thinking. People would be afraid to look into his eyes. I think it would take a lot more to push him to that point than the others, though; but once he tipped over that cliff into darkness, there’d be no going back or remorse for him. He’d love to kill his enemies with a kiss and a smile.

In a fight between our Chase and Dark!Chase, I feel like it would be 50/50. Dark!Chase would be more reckless, unpredictable, and have even less of a fear of death than our Chase does; our Chase would have the edge in terms of strategy. So yeah, I think it would be 50/50!

Dark!Red: I can’t even imagine what Dark!Red would be like, lol. I just can’t imagine him being truly evil or ruthless without feeling guilty about it. I guess I could only imagine it if, like, he messed around with some spell and it robbed him of the ability to feel love or empathy?? But even then, I feel like he doesn’t have any inclination to go around conquering the world or hurting people. He mostly just wants to chill and read his books. I feel like he’d be the only one out of the group (besides probably Trouble if he’s not already dead) to be like uhhh guys what’s going on here, this isn’t like us?? He’d probably defect and lead a small underground rebel force with Pan and Neon. OMG and he’d be the one to figure out worldwalking and travel to our Blest to get our Shepherds to fight his because they’d be the only ones to stand a chance at taking down the evil versions of themselves!!! OMG!!! IT ALL FITS WTF. 

Dark!Ayla: I could see Ayla Hulking out and becoming full of rage, but it’s difficult for me to imagine her doing something like supporting the death of innocents or using dirty-handed maneuvers to conquer the land. She’s also among the most independent of the Shepherds, so I feel like she’d be the most vocal of their opposition... it’s realllly hard for me to imagine her casually killing anybody except for scumbags who hurt other people, like murderers and kidnappers. In a war between different political factions or a bid to conquer the world, I just don’t think she has it in her--no matter how angry and aggrieved she was at whatever turned the rest of the others bad.

I think she would either be on the good side, such as supporting Red’s rebels, or vocal enough among the bad guys to have been killed as a dissenter; she might not be around by the time our Shepherds made it to the dark dimension. But if she was, I’m pretty sure our Ayla would win against her 80% of the time. Our Ayla still has the courage of her convictions and the scrappy desire to survive no matter what; dark!Ayla probably wouldn’t. 

Dark!Halek: Also hard for me to imagine Halek turning truly evil; I feel like, if something bad were to happen to turn the rest of the Order bad, Halek would give himself more to grief instead of rage and revenge. He most likely would remove himself from the situation rather than try to take over the world; they would probably have to go hunting for him in the wilderness, kind of like when Luke was a hermit on that blue milk island in Star Wars (spoilers I guess?). I guess dark!Halek would be sort of tired and indifferent Halek, not able to go up against his old allies; our Shepherds might regard him as a coward, but he wouldn’t be evil like the others. 

Our Halek would definitely beat that Halek in a fight, but they’d probably have no reason to fight in the first place!

Dark!Briony: did any of you ever watch the Flashpoint Paradox (another DC movie about the Justice League--well, the Flash--finding out about a really evil parallel universe)? There’s a scene in it where Dark!Wonder Woman--Queen of the Amazonians and waging a war against Aquaman and the Atlanteans--like, beheads Aquaman’s wife Queen Mera and holds her head up to Aquaman like “fuck you”. I won’t link the gif because all of the violence in that movie is pretty gruesome, but that’s how I feel Dark!Briony would initially be. Super strong, running through the enemy army like a knife through paper, annihilating whole forces and landscapes with just her fists, and not giving a shit just how many people she’s killing. I feel like there’s already a tenuous grasp on her emotions in our Briony; beneath the happy-go-lucky, sweet exterior, she feels so much and loves so much that there’s also the ability for her to snap. It wouldn’t take that much (a few more Nathes) to unhinge her and decide to hurt the world as much as it has hurt her. I think she would sort of black out into an all-consuming, heartbroken suicide run where she just decided to do everything in her power to create as much destruction as possible, to somehow soothe the destruction in her heart. 

When that wouldn’t work, I think she would come back to her senses a little and start to slowly realize how fucked up and evil the things she’s doing (and the people around her) have become. It would be slower than someone like Ayla or Red, but gradually I think she would start to nurse a secret doubt in her heart, and if someone like Red was still around, he’d be able to convince her to start working for the good guys in secret, as their mole within the dark!Shepherds. However, I feel like cleverer minds like Blade, Lavinet, Chase and Riel would find her out, and she’d probably be executed for her treason.

In a fight against Dark!Briony and our Briony, I feel like it would depend on what stage of her development she’s at. If it’s still full rage mode, Dark!Briony probably wins like 80-90% of the time!

Dark!Lavinet: I could see Lavinet turning evil, but it’s sort of hard to imagine because she takes her duty to serve the people so seriously--it’s difficult to imagine what would need to happen to make her forget that, or to make her think she knows what’s best for them, even if that means doing bad things. It would already be so easy for her to do that in our world that she’s very conscious of it, so it would take a lot for her to fall into darkness. However, it’s still possible, and I could totally see her agreeing to be installed as a figurehead Autarch in order to maintain order and peace, slowly becoming more callous and ruthless over time. She would totally execute the old guard loyal to the previous Autarch and make their heads roll publicly to instill fear and respect for her reign. She does have that streak of ruthlessness in her; in our world, it’s reserved only for her enemies, but in that world, she’d slowly start to view everyone as her enemy--even past friends!

In a fight between Dark!Lavinet and our Lavinet, I would guess that our Lavinet would win 90% of the time. In that AU, I feel like Dark!Lavinet would let others do the fighting for her, and she would get used to ruling and being behind the front lines; in a way, she’d lose her fighting edge, something our Lavinet still has in spades. So in a direct combat situation, I think our Lavinet would win! In a game of wits and politics, I’m not sure--I would give that one 60-40 in favor of Dark!Lavinet!

[linddzz]

Are you still doing the ask game? Can you possibly do Bilbo Baggins?

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you (this one got long i just love Bilbo so much hes the best tiny bastard)

How I feel about this character: The only reason I don’t get as emotional over Bilbo as I do Thorin is because Thorin just has that magnificent drama, but Bilbo is probably one of my favorite fictional characters. My favorite way to picture him is to imagine everyone else he meets reacting to this baffling little hobbit enigma. Bilbo first comes across as clever but overall uncomplicated. He’s a finely raised gentlehobbit who enjoys his pipe, food, fine clothes and books. You learn he has a gift for languages and poetry and that makes him more interesting to talk to, but it isn’t a surprise considering all the aforementioned books. He has a blustery temper and can be crabby, and seeing that come out just barely hidden under the veneer of hobbity manners starts revealing a little more backbone than you would expect from the little fella. You realize how many of his little comments are actually MEAN and wow he’s actually a bit of a snarly bastard huh??  Then this little sonofabitch who gets pale at the mention of danger goes and flings himself AT the danger. He can climb up trees like a squirrel, he kills a warg, he avoids detection by wood elves, he sees a bunch of giant spiders and hears them talk and then fucking toys with them. He plays word games with a dragon long enough for the dragon to actually have a conversation with him until he can escape! Now imagine you’re say, Thranduil. You heard about a halfling (which CANT be right) briefly spotted who was in your kingdom, who busted 13 heavily guarded dwarves out of the dungeons and then got them away while your immortal guards were running around. You meet this mysterious creature and stare at some 3 foot 2 twitchy little dude who awkwardly apologizes to you then yells at Mithrandir and what in the FUCK is this thing? Now you’re Mithrandir. Not much surprises you anymore and you’re more pleasantly surprised but also vindicated by Bilbo Baggins going around causing havoc and yelling at every king he comes across. Nothing can surprise you much. He has that magic ring that raises alarms but like, it cant related at all to THOSE rings because Bilbos cagey about it, but what isn’t he cagey about? Otherwise his behavior hasn’t changed at all. Then NO ACTUALLY. This little fucker has been carrying The One Ring, Isildurs Bane, Source of Pure Evil and Corruption, around in his POCKET for 50 some odd years. Bilbo Baggins has been using The Ring of Sauron to prank neighbors and avoid annoying relatives for DECADES. And then he gets possessive over it but is still able to just....drop it...and walk off....from the one ring that he has been carrying on his person for years. What in the FUCK.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Thorin and Bofur. Thorin never quite gets over how unnervingly unpredictable and batshit insane Bilbo and the more Bilbo fusses over manners and Doing Things Properly the more unnerved (in a very adoring way) Thorin is by him.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I also like him being buddies with Bofur. And honestly Bilbos friendships with every powerful immortal who keeps him around for the delight of the “what in the fuck” factor is my favorite thing. Elrond and Thranduil probably have petty passive aggressive battles over who gets to have Bilbo over for what Elvish holiday. You always want Bilbo at the party because he’s the best weed hookup and he can drink a wood elf under the table, which is terrifying. Galadriel and Gandalf team up to snatch him while the two kings are busy arguing about it.

My unpopular opinion about this character: People forget that Smaug was very correct in calling him a thief and a liar.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I could have gone my whole ass life without hearing Martin Freeman of all people make the most heartbreaking keening sob of loss and pain I have heard in cinema

my OTP: *gestures up at Thorin*

my cross over ship: I would be happy with just a series of Bilbo meeting various overpowered ancient beings through various media to call them stupid to their face

a headcanon fact: Bilbo can’t swim, which he did not take into account before he flung everyone into a river and didn’t get his own barrel first. He is one of those people who is so smart that sometimes his brain overtakes his goddamn sense.

[helbramstrauma]

Anxiety and Dancing

Atsumu x GN!Reader

This is Atsumu's fic for the dance thing I'm doing. Here is the headcanon for it. And got to the Haikyu x Dancers tag to see everything in the series.

You haven’t seen Atsumu all day, but you know he has seen you, the blinding stage lights make it impossible to make out anyone in the audience but you cannot mistake Atsumu’s cheer. He always makes the people around him question his sanity, which is valid, but it is still charming to know how much he loves you- even though he needs to stop or else they are going to stop letting him in. Today you are on stage three times, you have a solo, group, and trio- and frankly, you are terrified- someone in the other trio that was supposed to go got sick so your company put in an old routine.

You were not prepared for this at all, you are running through the counts in your head before you hear them call your number and you meet your partner's center stage. Luckily you are not the lead in this number so it takes the pressure off of you a little bit but you are still terrified, you lock eye contact with one of the judges before the music starts to play.

Just have fun, no one is going to blame you for messing up a dance you haven’t practiced in over a month, at least no one should. However this is dance, it is cutthroat and you know that if this doesn’t do well that means pain until the next competition. You know if you keep in this mindset it will lead to you making a horrific mistake, however, you are slowly losing track of your breaths until in the crowd you hear it, “That’s my girlfriend” it isn’t shouted, though it was certainly meant to be quieter than Atsumu intended- he doesn’t know his volume. Even though that is a little embarrassing you breathe out one last time and the music starts, and your mind is clear.

Once you are backstage you are rushed into the changing room, with a little confusion you hear your teacher start talking to the group. “As we know this competition tends to throw curveballs and this time they have added an improv level,” you sharply exhale shutting your eyes praying that you’ll get to leave the competition in one piece, “Since someone has a big supporter in the audience, Y/n, you’ll be entering” at this point you just blackout, at least it was passive-aggressive rather than regular aggressive. Although your first instinct was fear- the more it settles in the more enthusiastic you get. This is a big opportunity, of course, if you botch it, you will never hear the end of it.

You put on some pink tights and a standard black leotard with some spare shorts you had to make you identifiable to the judges, when you get to the stage door they put a large sticker that says 47 on your back and front.

The music begins to play and you let your body move, attempting to find places to put tricks, when the music stops everyone stands at attention facing the judges. A couple of minutes pass while the judges discuss, not a word is spoken through the entire building- including from your loud mouth boyfriend. After a while, they start saying numbers asking them to leave, but 47 was not mentioned.

A different song begins to play, you take a mental note- there are about 40 girls on stage and the largest number you can find is 77. With that you expect them to ask 10-15 girls to leave the next round before, and there will be another round of that before the music becomes unpredictable or fast-paced. More rounds end before there are about 15 girls. The music stops, and your heartbeat follows shortly after, “Numbers 3,7, 28, 47” you ignore the rest of the numbers before they give more instructions, “Step back” with a pause that makes the sweat build up on your palms they finally continue, “Those in the front row please exit the stage”. Everyone in the back row visibly became less tense after that. Eventually, it is withered down to three, when the judges take extra long to deliberate, “Number 47 step forward” Your heart starts to speed up, did you just win? “Please exit the stage, good job”.

Although you didn’t win the improv segment your teacher was still satisfied with the results. After a short break, you are back on stage with the lights beating down on you, you just wish you were not required to wear the company’s jacket.

“Now for senior Trio’s” the numbers keep going up but it does not place. After they announced 4th, you knew the chances of you winning would be slim- you try to hide your disappointment as you mask it with your stage smile. Your number was later announced in the gold group- meaning that practice is going to be rough for a while. Just smile through the pain. The group dance placed, although it was 8th it is still cushioning and a success none of the less. You are prepared to leave when they start announcing solo placements, that is when it became surreal. Solo’s were the first numbers to perform and frankly with the amount of stress you just endured you forgot you had one, however it doesn’t place in the senior division. Your brain cannot even comprehend the punishments that you will have to endure, that is until you are snapped out of your dark thoughts when you hear a cheer and your friend motions you to walk up to the judge.

You are handed your trophy and you bow, until the applause ceases, once you sit down you look at the inscribed part that says, Best Overall Solo. You won the competition, well the solo division overall- but it is like the best award you can get. Now things are surreal, you’ve taken 2nd before in your age group, not even first but now you earned the trophy saying you performed the best solo in the whole competition.

All of your faults of the day seem to fade away at that moment, but not nearly as much as when you are back in Atsumu’s arms. He is waiting in the foyer as always, holding like two dozen roses- where does he even have the money for that. “You looked beautiful out there,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Now let me see the trophy,” he says looking for it.

“You should know that you don’t get it immediately- they need to engrave my name in it,” you explain, “you should know this, how many trophies do you have”

He dramatically scoffs and looks away to hide his embarrassment, “Well mine were preselected, and all of the other ones go to the team”. That makes sense but you are still going to tease him about it for not knowing.

However, once you are at his house you immediately lay down on his bed, simply not wanting to have your legs hold up your body anymore. You hear Atsumu enter the room and immediately start laughing at you, “You almost make me happy that I lost the coin toss for the top bunk. Instead of responding you turn on your side and open your arms, and he gets the memo. He picks you up and places you on his lap before laying back, allowing you space for you to wrap your arms around his back and burrow into his chest more. You start to ease yourself to sleep when you hear Atsumu speak up, “You can’t sleep in your leotard” he sits up and goes to his dresser, and throws a tee-shirt at your face. After you change you go back to your previous condition, this time opting to immediately shut your eyes. That is until your eyes shoot open when you feel the familiar sensation of Atsumu’s lips on your neck, holding back a whine you can feel him take some of your skin in between his teeth. When he pulls back, he admires the reddish-purple mark he left on your skin, “I get to leave these again since you don’t have a competition for another two months” he chuckles slightly before connecting both of your lips quickly before falling on your stomach when he hears the door open.

“Tsumu you idiot, I know y/n is here, I’m just not nice enough to take the couch” You hear Osumu yell at his twin before climbing the ladder to reach his bed, “And if I even think you are doing anything- I’ll cut your d-”

“We get it”

[kaepop-trash]

I'm so interested in all your characters' zodiac placements, if you ever feel like telling us we're listening 👀

I've never sat down to think about so I absolutely had to answer this lol. I just did the main characters in the stuff I've written most recently. This ended up being funny because of course a lot of my placements showed up here. It works out because I have a chart that's spread through most of the wheel.

Let's see

Unintended Consequences Johnny is a Capricorn/Sagittarius mix. I'd say Sagittarius sun and Capricorn moon or venus? (Yes I know that's his real placement, since this was my first proper fic about him it's quite close to what I thought then he was like back then). Sag because he's so fun and bright. Cap because he values stability and admires a hardworking partner. A very "I'm planning my life with you" person so could have some cancer in their too.

The Y/N character in that is a Capricorn with some good old Aquarian independence and eccentricities drizzled in.

Chance Encounter Johnny and the Y/N character are both geminis with a leo in there. You just have to accept it. Johnny would be like a gemini sun with a leo moon I think, leo moons are actually so soft amd sulky but they try to come off as all macho and caring. You know the meme "words can't hurt me, these shades are Gucci"? Yeah that.

Y/N's like a leo venus or something because of how she's really a simp but only on the down low. Gemini moon because her unpredictable, slightly throw off your game side is very much hidden. Maybe has a serious looking rising sign like an earth rising or a Mars ruled rising (Aries or scorpio), or maybe even virgo that's gemini's sister placement so you don't see it coming.

Notorious was the one I ended up thinking about today because of the other ask. I definitely stick by Johnny being a cancer mars. It's the most terrifying mars sign imo. When underdeveloped, they can have a major victim complex but also a martyr complex along with it. Mars in cancer crave stability and strongly dislike change so it fits. Probably also a virgo something. Because he's trying to make people change themselves but he thinks it's for their better. Very passive aggressive when underdeveloped and extremely critical of themselves in silence and other people out loud. With the nature of his relationship with Y/N, I would say both have strong and probably complimentary scorpio placements. Johnny would probably be a scorpio moon and she a scorpio venus, heavy 8th house stuff. Johnny maybe scorpio moon in 2nd because it makes you think material wealth can impress your partner and it sits opposite the 8th house.

Y/N would have a Sag moon for sure, secretly all she wants is to not be tied down and just be free and her own person. I think her moon would be fun being in the 8th house because it puts both of them as odds with eachother, but it also puts her at odds with herself. Heavy north node dominance because she literally just doesn't want any roots. I also think she'd be a Aries sun and Johnny an Aries venus.

Jaehyun in this would be heavy air, but more of the Libra kind of air. Amiable, serene and cannot deal with disharmonious emotions. Libras are the kings of "if I ignore this long enough it'll go away. Let's just put it into my neat file cabinet of unexplored feelings that make me uncomfortable". Has a watery placement though and I want to say it's also cancer. But maybe like a cancer mercury that's more developed? Very much someone who's love language is acts of service. Cancer mercury are also the type of people who hold their cards close to their chest. Always second guessing whether they should express themselves and how they really feel because they're scared the other person will never get the intensity of their emotions or worse, hold it against them. Also have a victim complex.

Lastly, I must do Ambition Series (we all have our favourites). A ride or die type of couple so of course there's just a lot of scorpio going on. I'd say that the Y/N in that is a scorpio rising and Jaehyun is a scorpio sun, which is what makes him think that she's his "ideal person". Jaehyun would have his sun in the 10h or conjunct/opposite Saturn because of how traditional and career minded he is. Jaehyun is an aquarius moon maybe because that placement really gives a native this "I can turn my emotions off" ability. Also it would explain his very dedicated philanthropy. He genuinely wants to make the world a better place.

Y/N would have a Libra moon, very shrewd people when it's needed of them, socially intelligent and knows how to play any conversation to their advantage. Libra moons are also the type who crave partnership and have a soulmate searching tendency. Scorpio is a fixed sign so it explains how loyal they both are, but also only towards each other, the air moons make them intelligent and also detached enough to know what's not working.

Yuta would be a sag because of how optimistic he is, tried very hard to see the best in people. Sagittarius are also very intelligent people don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Maybe an Aries moon because he falls fast and without pretense.

Doyoung is a Capricorn with some cancer in their somewhere. Possibly a cancer sun with a Capricorn moon.

[incorrect-states-quotes]

Montana or Wyoming Headcannons?

How about both

Montana!

Owns and lives on their own horse ranch in the middle of nowhere

One of the more isolated mainland states

But of course they love their neighboring states

Try to stay out of conflict but god. North and South Dakota can be unbearable

Very passive-aggressive

Owns a bajillion horses and even tracks their lineages/parentages

Fear of cities

Super tall :)

Wyoming!

Quiet

Almost too quiet

Only slightly less terrifying than Ohio tbh

Unpredictable movements. You see them in the kitchen. You go into the living room. They are in the living room.

Has a scarily good sense of judgement

Does Wyoming even exist?

[pepperf]

For no good reason except that one of my favourite mental exercises is to map shows together to see where they meet (or don’t): The Umbrella Academy and Community.

Diego is Jeff. “I don’t care,” he says, while caring very deeply. Am I saying this because they’re both my favs? Partly, yes. Have I really thought about this in depth? No. 

Luther is Britta. Oh, sure, they both assumed at first that they were the leader of this chaotic group, but it quickly became clear that they couldn’t lead their way out of a paper bag. Supreme dumbassery. Also, I kind of ship it?

At first I was thinking that Five would be Abed, as the one with almost a meta overview of events, but the thing about Abed is that his relationship with Troy is so fundamental to the show that there has to be a pair to match, and obviously that’s Klaus and Ben. And obviously Ben is the cinnamon roll here, so Ben is Troy and Klaus is Abed. Is it perfect? Eh. 

Five

is

Pierce.

Vanya is Shirley, because you wanna talk passive-aggressive, try writing and publishing an entire book about how your family sucks and you were always left out.

Allison is Frankie (thanks @bethanyactually!), just...so done with all this. In this family against her will and good judgement.

I’m going to say Lila is Annie, partly because they’re both somewhat terrifying, but mainly because of how I ship both shows, I’ll be honest. None of this is a perfect fit.

Except for the Handler, who is clearly Chang. She staged a coup and dresses like a military dictator! Does anyone here NOT think she’s got a throne on order for her new office???

And I guess that makes Reggie the Dean. Unpredictable, mysterious motives, basically in charge of destroying everyone’s lives.

[renesassing]

Hey what’s up I ALSO adore your prequel revan au, it gives me life. I love thinking of mace trying to control revan.

sorry for the delay in responding to this, tumblr deleted the paragraphs i had written so i got kinda mad and ignored this for a while

revan is one of the weirdest shatterpoints mace has had the unpleasant fortune of encountering. whatever Force Bullshit™ brought them back is giving him goddamn hives. so of course between revan’s ‘potential’ in the force ( potential in heavy quotes because technically they’re already trained ) and these heebie-jeebies mace takes it upon himself to guide this poor kid who has clearly no idea what’s going on with any of this, because surely if they DID know they wouldn’tve been half of the little hellion they were as a padawan.

( sometimes mace swears that revan knows something important he doesn’t and is silently laughing at him. he complains to yoda over tea. )

watching revan’s growth from unruly padawan to errant knight to master on the jedi high council ( yeah you read that right, revan gets onto the council ) is sorta terrifying to watch from the outside. they are a whirlwind in the force, a storm charisma and light and dark but what truly concerns windu, and by extension the council, is how they seem to know it. this is not another young, foolhardy knight who is so wrapped up in their own childish ignorance that they do not see their own faults and folly. they are eerily aware of their own darkness and on the days where they seem to revel it in, windu fears for his padawan and for the future of the order.

but not every day is like that. most days, no matter how dark they may seem, windu finds himself dealing with a kid who, for better or for worse, seems desperately trying to do the right thing. the crux of the issue is their definition of what’s ‘right.’ so windu of course comes down hard, attempting to provide a rigid structure and guide that could help a young, unruly padawan figure out how to become a proper jedi. of course, because revan isn’t a young and unruly padawan, this backfires terribly and most of their early years with windu are terribly antagonistic and passive aggressive.

revan argues debates with windu a lot, really thinly veiling a question as ‘ignorant padawan beseeches great master for wisdom’ and dissecting whatever answer mace gives until he’s either a. exhausted enough to direct them at yoda, who will suffer the same fate, b. sort-of-but-not-quite telling revan to shut up, or c. actually pausing for a second because sometimes they make a really good point. and not just in a ‘sometimes a master can learn from his student’ way, in an actual ‘wait was revan was trying to tell me something’ way that has him side eyeing his padawan for the rest of the day.

there are actual arguments though, too, including but not limited to:

Stop Biting People Or You’ll be Kicked Out of the Order, which is really How (not to) to Deal with the Immense Grief of Being the Only Living Relic of a Forgotten Era 

Do You Really Want to Become a Jedi Because You Sure Don’t Act Like It, which is really The Order Represents a Stagnate and Declining Republic and Must be Reformed or Abandoned 

Stop Yelling at the High Council which is really If You’re Going to Complain So Much, Do Something About it

and Jedi Shouldn’t Commit War Crimes, which is just Jedi Shouldn’t Commit War Crimes Anymore

revan and mace’s methods of dealing with the dark side are inherently different from one another, but ultimately they begin to draw elements from each other. once mace figures out that redirecting revan’s darker nature works infinitely better than suppressing them, he becomes kind of instrumental in helping revan figure their shit out and actually become a someone decent person. true bond in a way comes through windu teaching revan vapaad. revan is both the best and worst person for the lightsaber form, and they absolutely love the chaotic and unpredictable nature of it. (revan also lowkey contributes to the refinement of the vapaad form a la Ancient Lightsaber Techniques)

what really blows windu’s mind, though, is how revan, especially early on, treats the jedi order (especially the jedi council) as a threat. in revan’s solid defense, their concept of the jedi order one that was capable of doing some pretty terrible shit that would give the modern jedi whiplash, and the disparity between the jedi of the current era and the jedi of the old republic causes a lot of friction between revan and the jedi as a whole for most of their adolescence. revan acts like someone deeply wounded and conscious of said wounds, and windu can’t figure out when that could’ve happened because they’ve been at the order since they were a baby. he spends years attempting to discover who or what hurt his padawan so deeply. between that and the whole shatterpoint thing, he’s one of the first ones to get close to figuring out revan’s big secret. 

if anything, when the truth comes out and mace finds out he hadn’t trained a young, troubled kid so much as he wrangled an ancient dark jedi he’s kind of relieved because holy shit, it all makes sense, he wasn’t going crazy.