#young women need to leave the damn house

[fallenangelontheceiling]

I’m breaking my No Tumblr For Lent rule because I really have to share -

I’m 65 pages into Mansfield Park and I can’t stand Edmund. He’s objectively a Good Person (which I can already tell is going to be a rarity in this narrative), but god is he insufferable.

The Crawfords are flakes, but at least they’re entertaining flakes so far.

Austen is always scathingly snarky but this is the first time I think she comes off a bit self-righteous??

[wormtoxin]

ok. Narrative obfuscation in House Of Leaves. It’s a relatively simple story about a man who moves into a house with his wife and kids, and the house is haunted. That’s it. The core themes are very transparent.

Except, that story is documented by a famous war documentarian, then published as a series of rare tapes, which are discoursed by film buffs, then interpreted from viewings and reading film critique by a blind old man, then his thoughts are transcribed into a manuscript by a series of young women, which is then compiled from scattered notes by the most mysoginistic, damaged, toxic pothead drop-out who won’t stop talking about his life, which is THEN edited and published by some vaguely nefarious agency who soberly refuse to provide any clarification or context.

It’s not simple, but there are so many different hands on the wheel with wildly differing opinions that you can’t discern the truth.

Johnny Truant is such a miserable hopeless fuck up. He has no sense of academic rigor or archival professionalism. Any interference he provides only muddies the waters and taints what would otherwise be a gripping piece of metaphysical film criticism. His neurotic rambling and personal anecdotes cloud an otherwise reasonable story.

If he wasn’t in it, if we could read Zampano’s manuscript directly, WE would be able to understand the truth. We would get it completely, and we wouldn’t have to encounter so much violence, so much miserable graphic detail. It would be a better story.

And fuck it, if we didn’t have to read all of Zampano’s tangents and analyses and interpretations, if we could just find a copy of the famous “five-and-a-half minute hallway” vhs, if we could SEE it, we’d understand. We wouldn’t need endless pontification of what Navidson and Karen’s marriage might entail, or recitations of what a director once said in a Rolling Stones article. We’d see the hallway itself, stretching out into what should be the backyard, and we’d get it. Hell, Zampano is blind in his old age. He can’t even watch the damn movie! But we could. We’d know instantly, the second we saw it. The impossibility of it, the gravity of it, the weight of that dark abyss.

And well, the VHS recording is a little dark, and the quality is poor, and maybe the white balance isn’t so perfect. And actually, VHs tapes could be manipulated. We can’t be sure that Navidson isn’t just using clever videography tricks to invent a hallway. If we were there, if we found the house (it’s in virginia, isn’t it? we even have the address). If we GO there, we could look down that hallway. And it’s dark, so if we just brought a flashlight, maybe took a few steps inside-

[thinkinonsense]

old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl *mdni

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something smutty so if it sucks im sorry lmao also if any writers have any tips please share! :)

logan has been around for long enough to know when a woman is attracted to him. there was a certain essence given off that was always a dead giveaway. usually it came from women close to the age he looked like and it tended to be brief moments of lust before all hope was lost. this was until he met you.

the pretty young girl working at the diner during her time off from college. everyday, he came in and ordered a black coffee. the coffee wasn't even that good but logan would spend two dollars every single day of his life if it came with the view of you bending over in that tiny uniform skirt.

logan would watch you for hours while he drank and skimmed the news paper alone in a booth. your hair was always up in either a ponytail or held together with a hair clip. he loved seeing your pretty handwriting as you scribbled on your notepad, taking orders. it was part of your job to be nice to everyone but you were especially nice to him. even your friends began to notice how you would linger by his table, constantly topping off his coffee mug and making small talk; sometimes giving him a slice of cherry pie on the house.

"don't you think he's kinda old for you?" one of your friends whispers to you behind the counter.

it's stung but you suppose she had a point. what would a man old enough to be your father want with a young wild girl like yourself?

"i-i guess so?" you stuttered, embarrassed at your previous attempt at flirting with him.

the rest of the night, you hoped he would leave before close so you could have some time alone with your feelings. summer was almost over and you would go back to the city soon. it was time to forget these silly fantasizes.

by ten, all the other waitresses went home except you, the older woman in the back who counted the drawer every night, and a few of the cooks. the only customer still there was logan. he flipped through one of the books he brought with him; still sipping away at that damn coffee.

"isn't it getting a little late for you, sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, not even looking up at you as you bent over to scrub the table next to his. the fifth table you've cleaned in the last hour and the second time you've cleaned that specific table. logan noticed but you didn't.

"need the hours." you mumble, frustrated by a stubborn stain. all logan could focus on was your scrunched nose and how your tight top pushed your boobs together just right for his viewing. "college is fucking expensive plus grants and scholarships only cover so much."

"hmm.." logan grunts. grants? scholarship? what a goody fucking two shoes, logan thought to himself. "if you bring me piece of pie, i think i can help you out."

you lean off the table and go get what's left in the glass container. it's probably a little hard so you definitely didn't plan on charging him for it. you sit the plate down in front of him and before you could turn around to walk away, logan reaches for your wrist softly.

"join me." he offers.

you knew you shouldn't but what was really the harm? at least your friends weren't here to make fun of you. the radio played quietly on an older station while you watched logan take a bite of the pie.

"why did your friends leave you here alone?" he asked, watching your face turn sour at the memory of them.

"don't wanna talk about it." your voice was small in the empty diner.

"why? think an old man like me can't relate to it?" logan chuckles. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. so much for not embarrassing yourself.

"no, no, not that." you shake your head and a strand of hair falls from your bun. "just sort of juvenile, you know?"

logan could tell that you were trying to come off more mature around him. you didn't want him to see you as some college kid.

"juvenile, how?" he eggs on, pushing down his glasses a bit.

god, those glasses got to you; and logan knew it.

"they don't understand how i feel about someone." you sigh.

"how do you feel about this person?" logan noticed you now avoiding his gaze, not liking it one bit. "eyes on me, princess."

the nickname caught you off guard like a dear in headlight; blinking and trembling up at logan. something logan enjoyed very much and could get used to.

"it's not important, just some stupid crush." you lie through your teeth. "they will forget about me in a month."

"why don't you think it'll work?" he cocks his head to the side a bit. "you're a pretty young thing, dollface. anyone of those college boys would be lucky to be wrapped around your little finger."

"i don't want college boys." you mumble, slightly annoyed by the memory of your friends.

logan felt himself getting hard at you admitting you had a taste for someone older. his eyes grew dark as he leaned in a little over the table.

"then what do you want?"

your moment to answer was interrupted by the older woman from the back, releasing you to go home for the evening. this was your chance to get up and leave before you admitted anything else that you would regret.

both of you stood up. logan threw down some cash while you went to collect your stuff behind the counter.

"i'll see you tomorrow, lo-"

"you didn't answer the question."

"i must go now if i want to catch the last train."

logan worried about you taking the train back to your apartment alone this late at night. usually you drive back but your car has been in the shop for almost three days now. he would watch you get to your car every night to make sure you were safe.

"i can drive you home." logan offers.

you shouldn't be this excited to be sitting in a strangers truck alone at night but here you were. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before logan brought up the conversation from the diner again. what did you even want?

"i want someone who understands me..." you begin rattling off the first things that come to mind when you notice logan's hand on your knee. you don't dare move.

"someone who is responsible..." with every word, his hand creeps higher and higher up your skirt. logan is more than pleased when he notices your legs spread on their own.

"someone who is m-mature..." logan's fingers inch towards the delicate skin of your inner thigh. there's no way this was happening, you thought as his index finger plays with the lace on the center of your pink underwear. he smirked at the wet spot front and center, waiting for him.

"treats me r-r-right." every word was a struggle to form as he stroked you softly. back and forth. back and forth.

logan nods along, not letting up down below. his index finger hooks onto your underwear, pulling it aside. you weren't even sure if you were breathing at this point; all this teasing was torture.

"p-p-please, logan..." you whine. "touch me."

his thumb rubs tiny circles on your button, adoring the way his name pours from your glossy lips. your hands fly to his wrists, needing more; nails digging into his skin in the most delicious way.

"where did this greediness come from?" logan groans, dipping his index finger inside of you. "what happened to that good girl from the diner?"

logan's finger barely fit in the tight space. your head fell back and a loud moan escaped you.

"oh, you weren't letting those college boys touch you at all, huh?" logan mocks, adding another finger and creating a steady pace.

"n-no!" you whine, lifting your hips a little.

"you were waiting for a real man to have his way with you, isn't that right, pretty girl?" he growls, pushing your hips back down.

you completely missed logan pulling off to the side of the road until now. his pace increases becoming rather rough now that he isn't driving. logan leaves deep purple bruises down your neck and across your chest, praising you to no end until you gush around his fingers, completely soaking his palm.

your heart pounded like you had just finished a marathon. logan allowed you to catch your breath as he carefully removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. he can feel your dazy eyes staring at him as he does so, making a real show of it.

"i've been wanting to do that for months now." he admits with a smirk.

"me too." you said, leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss; tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. logan wraps his hands around your hair, pulling you back a little when another moan falls from your lips.

"and we aren't even close to being done."

[kairolee2004]

I feel like this would be impossible but— HEAR ME OUT!

Imagine if- as a young child, you lived in Texas and had a close friend that you would even consider your best friend. Thomas Hewitt..

And when your younger teenage years came around, your parents moved you out of Texas and all the way to England.

You live there still in your mid twenties and decided to get a job. A Nanny job to an English family by the name of the Heelshires. Of course you thought is was for a real child but it turns out the nanny job is to take care of a life-sized porcelain doll. The two parents tell you that the “doll” is named Brahams… Supposedly, the real Brahms perished in a fire 20 years ago, and he had apparently rejected several nannies prior to being introduced to you. As Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire leave for their vacation, you are given a list of rules to follow in regard to their son.

Turns out, the bastard wasn’t dead but better yet, living in the walls and stalking you. He had become obsessed and in love with you. How couldn’t he? You were so damn perfect and gorgeous… you needed to stay forever. He tried to keep you all to himself. But you got away with only one suitcase.

You tried to think of a place where you know Brahams would never think to try and look for you. Somewhere completely different from where you were right now… how about Texas?

Making your way all the way back to Texas, you decide that it wouldn’t hurt to see some old family. And head on over to the Hewitt family house. When you arrive, you of course see Luda may and charlie (Hoyt) but you don’t see Tommy anywhere. You ask about him to Luda May and she calls for him… you weren’t ready for what you saw.

Tommy wasn’t the same old little boy who was shorter than you, smaller than you, quieter than you- no.

This was a full grown ass man with 2 feet towering over you and more than 200 pounds of muscle to over power you. And when you say he was “quieter than you.” You meant it. As kids he didn’t talk much and now he still didn’t say a word. It was his eyes.. yelled and screamed with ruthlessness. His eyes seemed as if he saw stuff. They weren’t innocent like they used to be. If looks could kill, you would have dropped minutes ago.

Yet his actions spoke other wise. When he first saw you, he was stiff, kinda like when a bull walks around in a china shop. With the intention of not breaking something so precious and fragile. He didn’t want to break you.

Next thing you know, your body without mind, walks towards him and hugs him. He is stunned for a second before he engulfs himself around you. In a protective manner, a way of saying ‘I’m not letting you go…’

You felt off when you hugged him. Sure it was nice when you saw your childhood friend once more but then again… he wasn’t at the same time. This place was different, this family too. They all were dark souls that were covered with a normal family persona. It was wrong.

Luda May promised that you could stay one night and in the morning you could hit the road again. You felt no reassurance behind those words.

As you got ready for bed, you opened the one suitcase that you took from the Heelshire house, you were frightened… you had some clothes in there and some essentials but one thing was out of place. Brahams porcelain mask. You knew how much this mask meant to him… and he would do anything to get it back. Even if that meant going 4,669.21 miles just to get it back.

Later that night in the bedroom, as you were about to fall asleep, you heard blood curdling screaming coming from the basement. As you made your way down from your room, you saw a young woman burst through the basement door and she was covered with blood. Not far behind her, followed Tommy. He looked at the pathetic women, then at you. He looked terrifying… you didn’t move, only stared.

The young woman screamed at you for help, that was until Tommy revived his chainsaw and killed her with it. This couldn’t be real- right?

Reality hit when all of a sudden, Tommy came over to you and held the side of your face softly. And looked into your eyes. He didn’t want you to be scared of him.

You over lapped your hand over his and held it without saying a word. Slightly leaning into his touch. He helped you stand up and held the back of your head, with the other hand on the small of your back.

You let your head lean against his chest. This was wrong on so many levels… you both knew it. Yet it didn’t stop both of you. This was a silent moment needed.

Well… that was until you heard his voice again. The fear of which you knew was bound to come once more.

“(Reader), Why did you leave me?” Brahams child voice appeared right behind of Thomas. When he turned around, he was there. Brahams of course didn’t have his mask but rather yet, pieces of the porcelain dolls face glued together. It was a sight to behold.

Both men stared at each other… you couldn’t tell what they were thinking but you could definitely tell what was about to go down.

Oh no …

Could you imagine that?

I swear! These two men got me by the throat- ;/;

I absolutely adore these two masked men, and I mean come on how could you not!?! <333

[adoresmiles]

His Concealed Obsession

Chapter one.

"I just don't get how you two still have a job when you're both always at my place."

"We just came by to check in on you since the news about your neighbor broke out in the news this morning."

"Oh yeah , I saw it on the news. I feel so bad for her kids. She was always spoke to me whenever we come would come across each other . Invited me over to dinner , go out for lunch and hell she even invited me to spa dates with her and her daughter."

"You talking about Nicole?"

"Yea Jax , the same Nicole you slept with before you married your wife."

"Jaxon Tyree!"

"It was an accident Nani and I don't even know why KP brought it up."

"I hope and pray that my nephew doesn't turn out like you as he gets older."

"With all the amazing women in his life , he's going to come out a thousand times better than me."

"Anyways you need to be careful Kanani, your neighbor who was a well known attorney was murder inside of her."

"Maybe you should come and stay with one of until KP and them get everything done. Cause I be damn if my baby sister gets murdered next."

"I understand you are worried about my safety but if mom and dad haven't said anything about it yet to me then you guys shouldn't either. I'm safe here and I have an alarm system and cameras inside of my apartment."

"Now you know damn well them cameras and alarm systems ain't going to save your short ass."

"You need a guard dog and damn gun. I keep telling you to go ahead and get a gun and take classes on how to use it properly."

"Nope , I refuse to get a gun. You know how I feel about them ever since that damn party."

"Kanani you're killing us right now right now."

"I know and I'm sorry. Look how many who have guns out here and they don't even use it properly?! You have kids going to school shooting their teachers , grown ass adults who went to school coming back for revenge, young black men taking each other out."

"Hate to say this, but it's this shit happens everyday and everywhere Nani."

"Yes but also if we stop giving the wrong people guns and do a fucking throughly background check then it wouldn't be problem. Lock your guns away from your children. It's more  gun violence out there than love and I just refuse to be apart of it."

Kanani stated to her two older brothers as she walked around her kitchen counter to get herself a glass of juice.

"Think about it from our perspective. What if you were in that situation? Would you have fought back ? Call the police ?"

"Calling the police and locking them inside the closet. The closet doors lock from the outside and plus in order to even get inside you need my finger print and the code to get inside the door."

"Not saying I'm on her side here but trying to break down these doors are heavy as hell."

"It sounds like to me you're on little KP side right now. I don't suppose to say this but this per- hold on ... hello? Wassup uncle Mike?"

"While detective KP over there chatting away. Let's talk about where you are going to be staying."

"I'm not leaving my house because of some killer is on the loose. If I feel like I am in great danger then I'll show up on either yours or KP door step."

"You're going to give me gray hairs before Jordan even turns eighteen."

"That sounds like a personal problem Jaxon. Why are you trying to control something that you're not able to control yourself?"

"Because you're my baby sister Nani. If anything were to hap- if someone were to hurt you , I'll gladly sit behind bars for killing them. That goes for KP too! I'm yall older brother and it's my job to make sure that you both are good at all times. Yeah KP a detective and all but that don't matter to me."

"Jaxon I appreciate you and I know you're concerned about my safety but you have to trust me. If I feel as if my life is in jeopardy then you'll be the first one to know. Plea-"

"Aye Jax we got to go , uncle Mike and uncle Marcus need some help with this case. I can drop you off back the fire station or you good?"

"I'm good , Nani can drop me off back at the station."

"Nope , sorry can't do it. I have to go get ready before my friend comes over for our lunch date."

"Damn it's like that?"

"Sure is , now can you guys go so I can go get ready? I need at least two hours to mentally prepare myself."

"We didn't even finish our conversation."

"I'm staying home and that's final. Please don't forget that one of you has to pick up mom and dad from the airport tomorrow afternoon."

"Well I can't do it since this is my weekend it work."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm the one who dropped them off and plus I have back to back meetings for my store grand opening."

"Oh yeah I forgot , yeah I'll pick them up tomorrow then. I'll have Jordan tag along with me to keep me entertained on the way there."

"Aight now, we out! Be safe and don't be out here grown. We locking the door behind us since yo ass wants to walk away without giving hugs and shit."

"And share your location too, love you big head!"

"Love you too, now bye!"

Kanani expressed to them both as she walked down her hallway that lead into her bedroom. She loved her brother's but after dealing with them for long , she needed a mental reset. Their conversation regarding the circumstances of her neighbor was not necessarily needed. Yes , the situation is sad but it doesn't involve her. She could see if she was there and witnessed it but she wasn't.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on her door. A look of confusion displayed on her face as she looked down the hallway of her home. Kanani wasn't expecting anyone until the next couple of hours. So she was confused on who or what could it possibly be . Dropping her unfolded blanket onto the ground , she decided to go and see who it could be.

"This better not be one of these neighbors kids knocking on my dam- oh hey David, what brings you by?

"These are for you señorita Kanani."

"My favorite flowers, they're so beautiful. Do you know who sent them in?"

"Frangipani plumeria. I unfortunately don't but they did leave a note for you. I have to get going , the other set of flowers are placed on your table."

"Thank you David!"

"Anything for you señorita Kanani. It seems like you have a keeper in your hands."

"That it does , hopefully this note tells me who it is."

"Have a good day."

"....hmmm who the hell sent me two sets of frangipani flowers. Dile si al cielo dime si a mi. Well that is cute of them to put my favorite song on there. Seems like this person really paid attention to me."

Kanani smiled once again as she smelled the freshly picked flowers. Frangipani flowers were simply her favorite since they reminded her of Hawai'i , where she was originally born. Now cheesing ear to ear Kanani quickly arranged the flowers to her liking before rushing off to prepare for her day.

"Today is going to be a really good ass day for me."

Translation

"dile si al cielo dime si a mi" : say yes to heaven say yes to me

[nerdypuddincup]

“You cannot be serious Christine!” Growled the Viscount. At that moment, the charming young man that had plunged into the sea to fetch her scarf was gone. A man now stood seemingly unfamiliar to the Prima Donna. She took a step back, she felt that she was back in the lair of the Opera Ghost again. This violent and sudden mood swing that had overcome her betrothed.

It had been three months since Christine Daee had been rescued from the bowels beneath the Opera Garnier Since she had been rescued by Raoul and the mysterious Persian man. Well, in truth it was her that truly rescued them. But it mattered little. Since that time, she had felt something within her. Or perhaps a more astute observation that she did not feel something within her. There was a hollowness in her chest ever since she had left her mentor a crying mass upon the ground of his house on the lake. She was so overwhelmed at the time that these feelings had not fully registered with her. When she again breathed fresh air it all came to her, she prayed silently that these feelings would subside. Yet they would not no matter how hard she tried.

A letter had arrived for her while her fiancée was away for the day. Upon opening it, a chill ran down her spine. The parchment paper and the childlike red handwriting were dead giveaways. This message was from him, her poor Erik. It had been a letter that she had dreaded to receive for quite some time. It was the announcement that he would soon be departing from the Earthly plain. He would finally succumb to that which his visage reflected. The Phantom of the Opera was dying. The letter asked only to see her one last time. He wrote that he wished for his final moment to behold beauty. She wanted to refuse but knew that she couldn’t. Something deep within her knew she would never feel whole again if she did not properly say goodbye.

And that was how it came to be. Christine expressed her intentions upon Raoul when he returned home. She didn’t want to hide anything from him, not ever again. But when she explained she was not at all prepared for the look of disgust and anger that crossed upon his usually soft features. His nostrils flared even as he spoke. “You are to be married soon Christine, and you want to go galivanting about with that inhuman thing!” He roared.

“I am not galivanting anywhere with anyone Raoul. I simply have to do this.” Christine said, feeling rather offended at the accusation.

“Have to do this?” He parroted her. “Go see the man who murdered my brother in cold blood? The thing that locked me in a torture device and made you play some sick game so he could lie to himself and say he won you? Absolutely not!” Raoul’s fist came slamming down upon the table he stood beside. “I forbid you from seeing that beast.”

“You forbid me?” Christine now getting mad. “I am not yours to control anymore than I am his.” Christine yelled, trying her very best to hold back the tears that were threatening to come spilling out. “If you want some puppet who will do your bidding then maybe you’re not the man I thought you were.” With that, Christine turned and ran out of the room. Raoul just glared in her direction and sat down in his chair.

“Damn women.” He grumbled. Ever since the death of his brother, Raoul had taken on the responsibilities of House de Chagny. He was the last male of his bloodline who could. His older sisters already married off and his dear Phillippe now dead. He was worn out from carrying out the tasks of a count. Raoul never took much stock into his title, merely using it when it suited him. But now, with actual responsibility he would have to grow up rather fast. He snapped his fingers for a servant to fetch him some much needed wine.

Christine had managed to hail herself a carriage and bring herself back to the Opera House. Upon entering she was greeted by the managers who questioned why it was that she was here. A quick lie about leaving something behind easily brushed them off. She made her way to her dressing room where the entrance to the Phantom’s world lay for her to descend into.

She had been taught the trick to opening her mirror and with ease she slipped behind the illusion and found herself at the top of a large staircase that went down into the darkness below. By now she knew the way, she could do so blindfolded. Which would have only been slightly hampering as the void that lay before her was thick and seemingly endless. Taking a deep breath Christine was about to take a step when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She whipped around to find a man that she recognized but did not know well.

“Ms. Daee.” The Persian said. “You have come. Good, he is expecting us.” He said, pulling a nearly identical letter to her’s from his jacket. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced…” He bowed his head. “I am Nadir Khan, an honor to finally meet you.” Christine took a deep breath and nodded. She was surprised and comforted by his presence here. It would be better if they would not be going alone. Even better was that from beneath his cape he pulled forth a lantern to light their way.

The trek down into the depths below was silent aside from the sound of their footsteps. The small boat had been left behind for them to use. A small ride across the glassy lake and they were once once more at Erik’s house upon the lake. The place where the deformed and half mad genius lay, and was dying. Nadir called out to his old friend but there was no response. Now the silence was cold and ominous. Christine could feel her heart wanting to beat out of her chest. Then she tried, she called out into the seemingly empty house. After a pause that felt like an eternity a response came. It echoed and swirled around her head. However, it was not the hauntingly beautiful tones of the voice that she had once known. Instead it was horse and strained.

“The bedroom.” The voice spoke. Nadir and Christine shared a look between the two of them and then slowly began to make their way. Behind the curtains there lay Erik, in his white coffin. He never looked more like a corpse than he did when he lay there. His chest rising and falling was the only indication that he lived at all. His yellow eyes opened and fell upon the two. Slowly and weakly he lifted himself up and was now sitting within the casket. He hadn’t even bothered to place a mask upon his horrid features.

Where once there was a yellow pigment to his thin skin like that of an Egyptian mummy, now the features were more sunken and pale. His once careful and delicate hands shook as he gripped the sides of the coffin. “I...apologize… for not greeting you...properly.” His voice came out in slow and ragged breaths. “I am...not myself.”

“Shh do not speak Erik.” Nadir said, walking to his side. “We are here now.”

“Daroga...my friend...oh what a friend I have been to you.” Erik’s eyes moved down as he shook his head. Then he turned his head. “And my...my Angel of Music…” He tried to reach a skeletal hand out to touch Christine but pulled away before touching her. To his surprise, Christine had taken it before he could recoil fully. His eyes widened and from within those deep sockets tears began to stream down. “I am so so sorry...to both of you...but to you Christine...oh the horrors I have inflicted…”

“Erik...please, there’s no need for that now.” Christine cooed. “We are here because we care. If we did not, we wouldn’t have come.”

“Care?” Erik whispered. “Never in my life have I been cared for…” His thumb gently caressed her soft and warm hand. His was deathly cold to the touch no matter how long Christine held onto it. “In my final hours...I am finally blessed.”

Nadir took a step back, allowing the two of them to speak. Christine reached her other hand out and cupped Erik’s cheek. “Oh my poor Erik, you will get through this sickness.”

“No...this is a sickness that has poisoned me from my first cry.” Erik insisted. “It finally comes to claim me now that I have known true happiness and redemption. Ironic is it not?””

“You should save your energy.”

“For what purpose? I serve none other than….other than bringing misery and misfortune to others. Like you Christine…”

“It is in the past now, I forgive you.”

“But I do not forgive myself...for the rest of my short life I never shall. I hurt and kept hurting...the one person whom I would have...burned down the world for…” A weak smile formed upon the death’s head. “I love...you...so...much...words cannot…” Before Erik could finish he began to cough rather violently. He clutched at his mouth and fell back into the casket. When his hand moved away a bloodstain was revealed upon his palm.

“I love you too Erik.” Christine whispered, a sad smile upon her beautiful face. She leaned down and just like before she planted her soft lips upon his forehead. She wanted to cry, to pull him close and embrace him. But, she knew that this could never be now. “Goodbye Erik...my Phantom. You will forever haunt my mind.”

“Then...I shall truly be immortal...I thank you for...your kindness and...and...I…” With that, Erik’s eyes closed and his chest ceased rising and falling. The Opera Ghost was dead. Christine let out a cry that echoed throughout the house. Nadir tried to console her but it did no good. She fell down to the foot of the casket and gripped tightly at her dress. It was truly over, he was gone.

“May you finally know peace my friend.” Nadir said and then recited a Persian prayer over his body.

[hitlikehammers]

there is a tree as old as me

rating: teen tags: future fic, outside POV, trespassing, established relationship, engaged steddie💍 ✨for @kallisto-k at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: To Build A Home—The Cinematic Orchestra: 'and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust // out in the garden where we planted the seeds // there is a tree as old as me

She catches the trespassers by chance, really.

She’s awake early even for her routine, age doing nothing for the capacity to sleep in on a good day but her hip’s been a trial, and she needs buy a new mattress but Richard’s insistent he can’t bear to sleep on a stone slab, Patricia, good god—she wants to get one of those Select Comforts that splits their settings between two sides as a compromise; he argues those are for lesser mortals, which she’s long learned has evolved in recent years to mean not just that he thinks he’s above something in general, but more now that he thinks he’s better than technological advances.

And Patricia Harrington has standards, certainly, but she can also recognize when

She’s also old enough to remember when ‘new’ was an opportunity to throw her Black Card and gloat a little in the rush of the novelty, the momentary shine until the next new thing appeared to repeat the cycle.

She might be feeling her years, but she doesn’t understand when her husband got so damn old.

At least he’s still savvy enough to the time that they’ve got an airtight security system for the house itself, given the trespassers—more likely would-be-burglars, given the evaluation they’d just paid taxes on for the property—that she spies out the window, hears where she cracked the window in the kitchen to light a cigarette as she brews an early coffee.

Maybe Richard will agree to motion sensors for the yard, if she tells him about these…miscreants.

They’re moving carefully, like they don’t want to be seen, or more likely caught—suspicious, obviously—but they’re also moving like the know where they’re headed, as if they’re familiar with the space they’re traversing even in the pitch dark: even more suspect, really, and she wonders if they’ve cased the home, adds full-property camera surveillance to her list of proposals for reevaluating their security.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to—“ she barely catches the hiss from one of the criminals from across the yard, but it doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last because the second party drags the first close and: the lighting’s horrible, the moon’s crescent at best, but there’s really only one thing to be doing when two bodies press close, and then break apart with a pop she makes out on the breeze and, well. She was young, once.

“Believe it, baby,” the second trespasser rumbles low, and, oh, good god: “we gotta hit all the landmarks.”

They’re men. They’re both of them men and they were just—

“Landmarks?” the first one hisses sharper, this time, and Patricia…she doesn’t care nearly as much as Richard does about what people do in their bedrooms that she personally doesn’t agree with.

But this isn’t anyone’s own bedroom. This is her lawn.

“Of our story,” the second one, he—he—has got such curly hair she likely would have assume it was a very tall women, if it weren’t for the voice; “all our highlights.”

“What, exactly, was—“ the first man, he sounds a little exasperated as he whispers, but…fond. Fond like Patricia hasn’t heard in…well.

A very, very long time, at least.

“Here,” the curly haired fiend traipsing her property stops at a redbud tree Richard had always despised, said it looked tacky, common. Patricia canceled every removal service he’d had whichever secretary he instructed to send.

The second man turns, moves slow toward the tree before reaching, placing a hand on the trunk almost carefully, reverently. There’s something…familiar about him. The shape of his face, the way the the coif of his hair catches in shadow—

“My nanny used to tell me this tree was planted the year I was born, that it grew up with me,” and oh, oh, that’s, he’s—“so that I’d have to eat my vegetables and stuff, if I wanted to see it grow.”

He sounds so nostalgic, so soft at the edges; Patricia doesn’t know if she’s ever heard her son sound like that.

Because that’s who it is; why he seemed familiar even at a distance.

Even if she hasn’t seen or heard from Steven in nearly twenty years.

“And look at you both,” the other man, with the curly hair, he’s holding Steven by his arms, and the motion, the body language is…tender even before she hears the words filter over:

“Big and strong,” the man says, and then he’s cupping Steven’s cheek and Steven leans in so quick, like he trusts deeply, here: “fuckin’ beautiful.”

She can’t see it, not in the dark, but something tells her Steven’s smiling for the words. It makes her feel…uncomfortable.

Because it’s not as if they hadn’t seen it; she doesn’t know where Steven’s moved, where he ended up when he moved out while they were gone, left his key and a simple, terse little note about the furnace needing looked at—she only knows he’s nowhere near here, anymore, and she suspects there are some, like the former police chief and his wife, who know where he went but she never asks. She’s too proud for that.

But the point is: Steven doesn’t live in Hawkins anymore, and likely lives nowhere near Hawkins. But when The Post ran the engagement announcement it had only been implied, she’d never have been able to place is, but: when and S. Harrington and E. Munson announced their happy news in print, in a town that didn’t house people by those initials, even if it still housed residents by those family names?

Well. Patricia had suspicions. And she remembers the Munson boy largely because his hair was an unmistakable mess.

Apparently some things didn’t change.

“This,” the Munson boy, because that’s who it is, that’s who’s still cradling her son so close and so gently: “this was the first place I knew you wanted me.”

Steven’s head, she sees, still tilts just so when he’s baffled.

“What?”

“I knew you loved me like I love you, I knew that way before but you,” and the Munson boy, he pulls his hand across his face like the night isn’t doing the hiding for him. Preposterous, really.

“The urchins were inside, we were going to grab more pop to bring in and you pushed me up against this very tree,” and the boy—man, they’re men, they’ve long been men and Patricia doesn’t want to pry up the implications of how she saw no part of the becoming part of that process with her own eyes—but the man’s voice is so warm, so…smitten.

It should be nauseating. Another thing she doesn’t want to pry at is why it…isn’t. At least not quite.

“Couldn’t wait, you said, couldn’t keep you hands off me,” and he’s turning Steven, walking him back against the tree as he speaks the words, like he’s reenacting something nigh-sacred.

“And I knew that I was out of my mind with wanting you like that, on top of loving you more than fucking life baby, but,” and Munson, she can see the way he breathes in his deep for the heave in the line of his back, and she can see the way he…brushes the line of his nose back and forth against Steven’s.

Who still has her father’s nose.

“You were hard as soon as you pinned me,” and Patricia frowns at the glass, when she hears that; and she barely hears is, in fairness, it’s pitched low even as they think they’re alone which is the least they can do but they are not alone and Patrician does not need to be subjected to—

“And it was like a light switch, or a lightning bolt,” the Munson boy—they’re boys they are still boys—but the Munson boy whispers it, and sounds like he’s wondering at it;

“He loves me,” he breathes, the line of his back breathing so deep again; “and he fucking wants me.”

And no, Patricia does not need to hear that at all, but.

There is a part of her, buried somewhere, who…does miss the idea of wanting. Of being wanted. In the abstract.

“You’re absurd,” Steven snorts and oh; oh, she remembers that tone, that testy little snark that always riled Richard enough that he’d largely stomped it out of the boy but oh: Patricia did love when Steven failed to rein it in.

Because it always reminded her that Steven was her son.

She doesn’t intend to start rubbing at her chest, but it…it feels kind of tight, there, just now.

It aches, there. Just now.

“I love you,” and Steven’s voice, she’s never heard him speak with that much feeling, and it’s difficult not to…to react to even just overhearing, to eavesdropping, though in fairness: it is, again, her property.

“And I want you,” Steven leans in, and kisses at Munson’s cheek with such affection, a devotion that’s obvious, near-blinding even in the dark; “just as much now as then,” and then Steven, Steven—

He laughs.

He laughs and it’s such a light and carefree sound and it’s so foreign to Patricia’s ears that it almost makes her anxious, or something of the like.

“But then so much more, baby,” and the warmth in those words: those are foreign too.

Those feel strange to hear, not least in Steven’s voice which…

She thinks she may not have recognized, if the first thing she hear were these words, in this tone.

She’s not wholly sure how to sit with that suspicion.

“Ten days,” the Munson boy’s hands go to Steven’s hips and he rocks them back and forth a bounce in the motion, a levity.

“Ten days,” and Steven…no.

No: she would not have recognized that voice.

She would not have known her son.

“You’re gonna be my husband,” the Munson boy whispers, Patricia only hears because she’s trying to, now, she…she wants to even if it hurts unexpectedly, the tightness under her hand in her chest a pain, now, a small little stab when this man cups her son’s cheeks, cradles him so careful and so…so loving, undeniable even like this, and says what she suspected from that notice in the paper.

Steven is getting married. Steven is getting married and he is proud enough to flaunt it in a town who could never prove it, where he no longer has tied; to a a partner who is proud enough to do the same just as brazen, and she doesn’t know if she’s proud or put-off, but she does know here, now—

Steven is in love. And he is loved deeply in kind. And the person who loves him sounds in awe at the idea of pledging forever not as a contract, but maybe more as a privilege.

She wasn’t paying attention for a strand of seconds as she acknowledged this, and decided ultimately to stop trying to do anything deeper than just that.

But she sees them pull apart; they’d been kissing the entire time she’d been thinking it through.

She isn’t even interested in acknowledging the…niggling little feeling of that kind of prolonged affection, let alone the way they reach for each other, steady each other in the coming apart, as if they have no desire to wholly come apart.

The idea of trusting another pair of hands like it looks as if they do, in the dim of these early hours, is…another foreign thing.

“Okay, okay,” the Munson boy laughs, no, giggles; “let’s get out of here before the owners notice.”

And he turns, would meet her eyes if he could see her; she knows he can’t, knows she’s standing just beyond the capacity to be caught and how absurd, caught inside her own house.

But then he’s turned away again; the house, and whatever it holds, far less compelling than the man at his side.

“Wayne’s place?” Steven’s asking and the Munson boy grabs his hand, lifts it to his mouth.

“Yeah,” the Munson boy says so low, so soft and sweet; “we can hit some more landmarks before that bagel joint he likes opens, we can take him breakfast.”

“More landmarks?” Steven sounds baffled, but so very fond and his partner doesn’t let go of his hand once, reels him in to peck his cheek.

“Of course, sweetheart,” the Munson boy nearly…purrs, how ridiculous; “so many. Because we’ve got one hell of a story.”

But ridiculous or no: the moon shifts out from the clouds as they make to scamper off the lawn and Patricia sees her son’s face for the first time in decades, now, and oh.

Oh: she’s never seen him smile like that. Not…not once.

She turns away, because the sting in her chest burns behind her eyes, a little; because the joy on Steven’s face is…

It feels private; like something she’s not meant to see.

She goes to pour herself the coffee she’d largely forgotten, and, well.

She’s still going to talk to Richard about security, but maybe…

Maybe not just now.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

[reticent-writer]

Hi Can I Ask Gojo, Megumi,Shinobu,Sanemi, Tengen, Mitsuri and Itadori With The Father Figure Reader How They Would Act If They Discovered Pictures On The Internet Of Their Dad At The Club Drinking And Basically Being The Life Of The Party Picking Up Lots Of Women.

And The Other Day S/O Not remembering anything

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ

Kimetsu Academy

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

»»————>Demon slayer&lt;————««

Shinobu

She found you passed out on your kitchen floor

She didn't know why until a few days later

Her classmates saw the video and immediately showed her

They thought it was just some drunk dude and not her father

She's not mad just disappointed

She watched you chug an inhuman amount of beer then have a contest with another drunk to see who could (seemingly) dance better, sing, you even jumped on a pool table

the table didn't break but it sure did leave you sore in the morning

"Dad, are you serious?" She approached you with an unusual frown.

"What'd I do."

"What didn't you do. There is a video of you drunk out of your mind going around." She angrily pulled out her phone and showed you. She didn't give you time to speak before she went off again.

"I wouldn't be mad if I didn't see you drink so much. You drank like it was your last day on earth. You not as young as you think you are, you need to watch what you do." She started to sound worried and it made you feel bad.

"I'm sorry Shinobu. I won't happen again."

Sanemi

Sanemi was waiting for his students to arrive when he saw the video

He didn't know how to react

The who he called dad was dancing half naked to a crowd of people cheering him on

You were singing and everything

The only thing you had on were pants and socks

Everything else was nowhere to be seen

He was on his break when realized he forgot his lunch and like a good dad you brought it for him

He wasn't going to say anything but he just had to tell you

You were about to leave when he stopped you by grabbing your arm.

"Wait umm... Did you go out recently?" He asked nervously, not making eye contact.

"Yeah. Why did something happen?"

"You could say that." He showed you the video.

"I-i don't remember any of that." You swore as you cringed at your attempt at singing.

After the video stopped playing the both of you sat in silence. It was awkward.

Tengen

He thinks it hilarious

He was in the middle of making his explosive arts when he got a message from Makio saying "Get your dad before he hurts himself"

He had a good laugh watching you dance like there was no tomorrow

You had a chugging contest, played strip poker, made out with men and women

then blacked out

He couldn't be mad when you looked so happy

When he got home, you were being lectured by all three of his wives

"What would possess you to be so reckless? You could've gotten hurt." Makio says with Suma holding her back. You looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"But I'm perfectly fine and besides I don't even remember." You tried to ease her anger but it didn't work. She was about to explode when tengen helped Suma and Hina hold her.

"Whoa Whoa what's going on?"

"You saw the video. You saw this idiot."

"I think it was flashy. He was having fun and living his life to the fullest so I see no problem with him drinking every once in a while... With that being said you're not drinking without me there ever again."

Mitsuri

If you're happy, she's happy

but damn

She's never seen you act out in anyway

In her eyes you were a sweet and kind second father

Obanai found you when you went to the wrong house

He called Mitsuri and she came running

"Y/N I WAS SO WORRIED." Kanroji clung to you like her life depended on it.

"Worried? What happened?"

She pulled away and looked you up and down.

"You got drunk and blacked out." Obanai explained.

"Really?" You thought for a second. "I don't remember a thing."

"I bet."

Mitsuri hugged you again but this time tighter.

Who could refuse a hug from the love Hashira.

(Obanai stood to the side wishing it was him)

»»————>Jujustu Kaisen&lt;————««

Itadori

He was scrolling on TikTok when a caption caught his eye

"DILF still knows how to party"

It a collage of 3 photos with a video at the end

first photo: You taking shots

second pic: A young woman in a crop top and mini skirt (?) grinding on

third pick: You taking body shots off the same woman

The video was You dancing with a woman on each side of you and another throwing it back on you

Gojo posted it

You were sitting on the couch when Yuji approached you.

"Uh dad... is this you?"

You watched the video completely confused you even took the phone from him to get a better look.

You go to the page to see Gojo's profile

You were gonna kill him.

Megumi

He was woken up by you drunk (with the asistance of someone you met at the club) and knocking at the door trying to find your 7 y/o son

he's 16

A few days later Nobara sends him a video on insta

You didn't have a shirt on and was making out with someone in the back of a club

He texted "..." to nobara

He sent the video to you

"When was that"

"I don't remember going to a club"

"I swear I don't remember anything"

Megumi remembers it

(the night in question)

*knock knock knock*

Megumi looked through the peep whole of the door to see you leaning on an unfamiliar woman.

When he opens the door the woman is quick to hand you off.

"Hi, is this your dad he's okay, just really drunk. Sorry for the intrusion." She said as was steadily backed up until she was out of sight.

"mmmmmegumi when did you get so tall." You try to stand up straight to compare you height but you end up falling backwards and falling.

From your spot on the ground you get a look at his face.

"Toji?"

"Who?"

*silence*

You passed out.

Gojo

He took you to the club and expected you to drink a little and go home

When things got wild he didn't have a heart to stop you

"But you looked like you were having so much fun"

If things did get too out of hand he would've got you

He took videos and pictures

He saved one as his home screen

"Who knew an old guy like you could party that hard." Gojo casually dissed you as he scrolled through his phone.

You ignored him thinking he was just pulling your leg.

"I've never seen you drunk before."

You ignored him again.

"You even flirted with a woman. You promised you take her home, she was into you too."

You were going to ignore him again but he played a video of you talking to the woman.

You couldn't help but check it out.

You could barely recognize yourself and Gojo was eating it up.

He was so proud of himself.

[marchtomydrums]

You're Safe Little One

Cordelia Goode x Ally Mayfair x Wilhelmina Enable x reader (mother/daughter)

“What are we going to do?!” Zoe shouts looking down at Madison who is passed out on the bathroom floor.

“I’m going to have to call my mom.” You sighed reaching for your phone.

“Are you insane?!” Zoe shouts grabbing your phone.

“Cordelia will be so pissed, and Mina might kill us all.”

“I know that’s why I’m calling Ally!” You yelled at her snatching your phone back.

Zoe rolls her eyes “You think Ally isn’t going to tell them?”

“She will tell them but at least she won’t freak out on me until tomorrow. Plus we need to get out of here those guys Madison met are giving me the creeps. And I’m feeling dizzy, I think they drugged us, Zoe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know something just doesn’t feel right. I’m calling Ally.”

Zoe nods as she goes back to Madison to check on her. Meanwhile, you waited for Ally to pick up breathing heavily as the phone rang.

“Hey, honey.” She answers.

“Ally.”

“What’s wrong love?” She asked.

Damn, how did she know just by your voice? You think to yourself.

“Can you please pick me, Zoe, and Madison up? I know you’ll be mad but we’re at this party and there are some guys here and they’re giving me bad vibes. And they gave us drinks but Ally I don’t feel good. Something is wrong. And Mads is passed out and I can’t wake her up.”

“Where are you?”

“I can send you my location. We are all three locked in the bathroom. But ally..please hurry. And please don’t bring Mom and Momma. I know you guys will be mad but I don’t feel comfortable here.” You tell her.

“I’ll be right there,” Ally says hanging up the phone. You let out a breath of relief as you ended the phone call.

“So we’re good?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. Ally’s cool. We will be fine.” You said giving her a small smile as you tried to center yourself.

It was not fine an hour later you felt worse and then you heard the door slam open and instantly you knew.

“Y/n y/m/n y/l/n!!!” The voice echoed throughout the house.

“Fuck.” You mumbled unlocking the bathroom door to see Cordelia, Mina, and Ally standing there.

“Ally.” You whined.

“Don’t blame her you know better!” Cordelia shouts. Looking over she sees Madison lying on the ground.

“Shit Madison.” She sighs walking towards her and leaving you with Ally and Mina.

“Did those boys hurt you?” Mina asked looking over at the group of young boys.

“No ma’am. I just got a weird vibe from them so I called Ally to bring us home.”

“Well I’m proud of you for that but I’m also extremely disappointed in you. Not only for drinking but for calling Ally and putting her in an impossible position.”

“I know.” You whispered bowing your head.

“You and Zoe go to the car. We will be there in a few.” She says.

You and Zoe nod your heads as you walk past her towards the car. Walking past Ally you stopped and whispered “I’m sorry Al.”

Ally nods as you walked past her sighing a bit as she watches Mina and Cordelia yell at the group of boys. Once Cordelia was able to lift Madison she walked to the car putting her in the back seat. Before they can leave Ally stops the older women.

“Listen I know she’s in trouble and she could have gotten hurt but let’s try to remember that they’re just teenagers before we make any decisions.”

“What’s your point?” Mina asked.

“My point is go back and remember what it was like to be 15. When I was her age I never would have called my parents. No matter what was going on. I didn’t trust them enough. All I’m saying is cut her some slack, please. She knew something was wrong and she called.”

“She called you!” Mina shouts.

“And maybe you should ask yourself why!” Ally shouts back.

“Because she thought you would lie to us. Because you’re the cool parent.” Mina scoffs.

“She knew I would tell you both eventually. She called me because she knew I would come no questions asked.” Ally says.

Cordelia sighs” She’s right Mina. We can both be a little hard on her. We expect a lot from y/n.”

Mina sighs “Clearly not hard enough. Look where we are. She could have been hurt!”

“Yes, but she called before it got that far. So maybe Ally is right, she should be cut some slack.”

“Let’s go home,” Mina mumbled walking to the car.

The ride home was spent in silence. The three women each had thoughts running around their minds. Madison and Zoe were passed out but you couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the drugs or your anxiety but you couldn’t close your eyes.

Once you reached the academy Zoe and Madison wake up enough to walk to their rooms with the help of Myrtle and Misty. You stayed behind because you knew the night was nowhere near over for you. The three women sighed a breath of relief before heading straight into the living room.

“Y/n come here,” Cordelia calls out. You sighed walking into the room.

The three of them were sitting on the couch. Cordelia opens her arms out to you. “Come here, honey.”

You nod as you sit in her lap and she wraps her arms around you.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head no. After everything that happened tonight, you finally broke once you realized you were safe.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have gone to that party. But it was fine at first until they gave us the drinks. The boys kept looking at us and asking if we were okay but I knew something was wrong. The room was spinning and once I realized Madison passed out I told Zoe I was calling Ally. I knew Ally would tell you guys but I didn’t want you to come and see me like that. I just wanted to come home. I’m sorry Mom.” You said crying into her shoulder.

“It’s alright baby you’re home now. You’re safe.” Cordelia says softly.

“I know I disappointed all of you. I’m so sorry.” You cried.

“Honey, you're young things like this happen. But I am very proud of you for calling me.” Ally says with a smile.

You returned the smile to her as you looked over at Mina. The thought of disappointing any of your moms was hard for you but especially when it came to the redhead.

“Momma... I…I’m sorry. I know you expect more from me and I let you down. I’ll do better I promise.” You tell her looking down at your feet feeling ashamed for letting her down.

“Little one look at me please,” Mina calls out.

Lifting your head slowly you make eye contact with her.

“When Ally told me what was going on I was so angry. I went there with every intention of yelling at you and causing a scene. And yes I was disappointed. But more than anything I was scared. Scared that something had or was going to happen to my little girl. I felt out of control and that scared me. Because I never want you to get to hurt. The thought of those boys hurting you frightened me. I know I’m hard on you. And I know that you worry that you’re letting me down. But that is far from the truth. You make me so happy and so proud to call myself your mother. And tonight I was extremely proud of you. Not only for calling for help but for taking care of Madison and Zoe and keeping the three of you safe until we got there. I love you sweetheart and I just want to always keep you safe that’s all. “

“I know. But still, I’m sorry Momma.”

“I know dear. Come here.” She says opening her arms out to you.

You crawled into her lap laying your head on her shoulder as you cried. The three women sat in silence as you cried. Each thanking the gods that you were safe but also thinking about what could have happened if they hadn’t gotten there in time.

“Momma I don’t feel good.” You whispered.

“How much did you drink?”

“Only one. I swear. I feel sleepy. “

“It's the drugs,” Ally states looking at the other women.

“They drugged them for sure. We all know Madison is a heavy drinker and she was out cold. Zoe mentioned Madison only had two drinks. Those boys had an agenda for sure.”

“ They’re lucky I didn’t kill them.” Mina growls.

“Agreed. But for now, let’s focus on the girls. I’ll have Myrtle and Misty stay with Zoe and Madison and we will take y/n to our room for the night. “ Cordelia says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ally says standing up.

“Let me carry her Mina,” Ally says taking you out of the redhead's lap.

You groaned trying to focus on Ally but your eyes were too heavy.

“Ally?” You questioned.

“I’ve got you sweet girl. Everything is okay.” She cooed carrying you upstairs to their bedroom.

Once Cordelia and Mina checked on the other girls the three women laid down in bed with you. They watched over you as you slept peacefully.

“Some many things could have happened tonight.” Mina sighed caressing your cheek.

“True. But she’s safe now and that is all that matters.” Cordelia whispered.

“I know but..”

“Mina,” Ally calls out to her holding her hand tightly.

“She’s safe love. She’s alright.”

Mina nods her head as she bends down to kiss your forehead.

“You’re safe little one.”

[whositmcwhatsit]

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 11: To Know Him is to Love Him

A/N: I'm so sorry to anyone who still enjoys this or even remembers it! I deeply appreciate you taking the time to share it with me. If writing is an act of communication, consider this a love letter from a bruised and broken heart.

Thank you as ever to @thatbanditqueen for supreme alpha services. Grammar fixes, clarification, cheerleading, and tough love, she's got it all.

Gratitude to my fellow Elvis nerds/sister wives: @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @from-memphis-with-love, @missmaywemeetagain, @peskybedtime, @lookingforrainbows for letting me sit by their brilliance and share its reflection.

Previous Chapter

The phone started ringing just as Chancy returned from overseeing a final fitting for a cotillion dress. The mother had made passive aggressive comments throughout about how she hoped it fit, because Chancy’s departure for the tour had  meant that there was no time to make any major adjustments before the ball.

Luckily, the girl had not given in to her mother’s sideways criticisms or helpful hints on how to starve herself, so the dress fit perfectly and Chancy was walking across the parking lot of the strip mall, rubbing her cheek muscles to compensate for the fake stretched smile she had to wear, when her assistant Lynette came to her side and said her grandmother was on the phone and it sounded important.

Chancy went straight to the office at the back and snatched up the receiver.

“Grandma?”

“Oh Chancy, there’s a big truck just shown up in the driveway and I… I have no idea where to put it!”

At first, Chancy thought her grandmother was crying and her spine went cold. She had never seen her grandmother cry, not when her own two children, Chancy’s mother and uncle, died far too young, and not even when she fell five years ago and broke her shoulder.

Chancy imagined that whatever had finally managed to make her cry had to be horrific. That was when she realised that Grandma was laughing, in an overwhelmed, slightly hysterical way.

“Where to put what? The truck? Grandma, what’s going on?”

“He already gave me a car, and now this.”

Chancy closed her eyes slowly and nodded to herself. Elvis, of course. Only he could provoke that kind of helpless hysteria in women of all ages.

“What’s he done now?”

“It’s a piano. He bought me a piano.” Right, the birthday present that couldn’t be delivered right away. Because it was a damn piano. “They’re saying they might need to take out the side window to get it in.”

“Get it in where?!”

“Inside the house.” Grandma’s voice sounded far away and Chancy listened to her pleading with the delivery men not to drop whatever they were snatching out of harm’s way.

Chancy rifled through her day planner, but knew that she couldn’t cancel or postpone any of the appointments because most had already been rearranged once when she rushed off to join the tour.

“Uh, will they put the window back once they’ve taken it out?” She could hear Grandma ask the question in the background and a low, rumble of an answer.

“They said they can recommend a carpenter… No, Harold said that he could probably do it as long as they leave the frame intact.”

Chancy massaged her face with her fingertips, trying to breathe out evenly.

“Okay, let them do it,” she sighed. “If- if it doesn’t work out the way Harold hopes, can you get him to make it safe at least, board it over or something? I’ll deal with it later.” She hoped she sounded confident because she had no idea how she would deal with it.

That evening, as her car bounced along the road to her house, Chancy was imagining the entire front façade of her home in rubble at the foot of her porch. She told herself that her grandmother would have probably called her again if that had happened.  

At first glance the house looked intact and she let out a shaky sigh of relief. As she climbed from her car, she could hear toneless banging on the keys of a piano. She sighed and climbed the steps of the porch.

Alicia was standing in the doorway of the kitchen across the foyer, a pained smile on her face as she clasped her arms, watching her four-year-old daughter ‘play’ the new piano.

The piano itself was a beauty, a black lacquered upright, far too large for any room in the house, especially the homely living room in which it now stood in the centre.

“Hi, we got a piano now!” Alicia said loudly over the top of the clanging.

“Yeah, I can see- hear that,” Chancy replied, nudging her out of the way so that she could get into the kitchen. Grandma and Ruth were preparing dinner and they smiled back at her as she entered.

“Well, we still have a window,” she observed, “so that’s good!”

“The boys were just wonderful in the end,” Grandma nodded. “They even helped Harold put the window back in. And you have to see the piano, Chancy!” She gripped Chancy’s arm and tugged her back into the living room.

Faye had got bored and was now watching TV on the couch, the sound of clanging replaced by cartoon sound effects. Chancy watched with a faint smile as her grandmother approached the piano, putting her hand reverentially on the lid and patting it gently.

Ever since Chancy could remember Grandma had played the piano at church, not for services, but social events and fundraisers. She couldn’t read music, but she had learnt all her favourite tunes by ear and never seemed to forget how they went. The church piano was a battered, scored, over-varnished instrument that was frequently in need of tuning. This was different.

“I wish I could call and thank him, but I don’t have a number for where to reach him,” Grandma murmured. “Maybe I should send a note. What do you think?”

“A note sounds fine,” Chancy assured her. “We can send it addressed to Charlie or Mr Presley, they’ll make sure he gets it.”

Grandma contemplated her gift a little longer.

“If you speak to him tonight, be sure and tell him thank you for me.”

“Of course, but I don’t think I will. He’s going to the movies.”

Chancy knew this because he had invited her and, when she hesitated, told her to just think about it. Then he got Charlie to call her first thing in the morning as she was leaving for work. She was beginning to feel guilty for continually making Charlie the bearer of bad news, but not guilty enough to go.

Here, now, in the sober clarity of her day-to-day life, Chancy had no intention of walking back into that situation again, no matter how well Elvis kissed. And he kissed very well. Which was why she was flagging after working on two hours of sleep. And that was just the physical repercussions of a relatively mild evening with Elvis. No, she couldn’t live like this, any entanglement with him was out of the question. 

“I can’t believe you’re not going,” Alicia said, shaking her head as they ate dinner in the kitchen. “What if he meets someone at the movie theatre?”

Chancy gave her a knowing look. “I have no doubt that he will. He could meet a new girl sitting in the chair at the dentist, Ally, he’s Elvis!”

“And that doesn’t bother you? I saw the way you two were last night. Something happened on that tour, you don’t even have to tell me that.”

Chancy pulled a face and looked sideways at Grandma and Faye, trying to convey ‘shut up’ and ‘I will cut your hair in your sleep if you don’t stop talking’ with just her tired eyes.

“I’m telling you right now, the best thing that could happen for both of us is that he meets another girl at the movies tonight, okay?” She pushed away her plate. “I’m tired, I’m turning in early.”

Brushing her teeth, Chancy glared at her reflection in the mirror with its curlers, scarf and comfy brushed cotton nightdress. She knew was making the right choice taking care of herself and thinking of the future. Because whatever being around Elvis brought: excitement, extreme emotions of all kinds, and so much pleasure, it did not bring a future. She was too much of a grown up now to live the way he always had, immersed in the moment with any consequences a problem to be faced (avoided) tomorrow.

They had left things relatively friendly the night before. Hopefully, after some time, everything would go back to normal and she could return to her habit of intermittently showing up in the outer circle without being dragged too far into his orbit. Until then, she had to be strong and stay away.

Several hours later, Chancy was snatched from a dream about pianos raining from the sky by her sister grabbing her by the headscarf and whispering in a terrifying harsh voice that she had to get up right now!

“What’s going on?!” She shot up, imagining fire, burglars or sickness, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth.

“Elvis! Is downstairs!” Alicia hissed. “He just showed up out of nowhere! I look a mess and I just ran upstairs. You need to go down. Chancy!”

There was a long beat while Chancy’s body registered that there was no threat and stopped pumping her full of adrenaline, only to then realise that there was a fight or flight scenario of a different kind and release more panic in her bloodstream.

“Elvis is here?”

“Yes! C’mon, I left Grandma down there on her own with him and the guys.”

“Why’d you leave him?! You know he could just decide to walk on up here by himself! Dammit!” Chancy tugged off her scarf and stumbled out of bed as she yanked out the large curlers, as well as a fair amount of her own hair.

Alicia darted off to her own room to try and make herself more presentable, while Chancy threw off her nightdress and pulled on an A-line minidress, trying to brush her hair and apply eye make up at the same time.

Tugging on some underwear, she hastily brushed her teeth again and padded across the hallway to the top of the stairs. To her left she could hear Alicia blow-drying her hair. Faye’s door stood open as well. It looked as though Elvis’ arrival had managed to wake everyone apart from her; she wondered what that said about her.

As she tempered her speed to at least pretend to be casual while she descended the stairs, the sound of the piano began to resonate through the creaking old house. Not Faye’s inexperienced clanging this time, but the measured and careful tones of someone who drew such overwhelming joy from the keys that they had to touch them sparingly.

As soon as she heard voices begin harmonising on Peace in the Valley while Grandma played, Chancy sank down to peer through the bannisters. Any irritation she felt at being woken at- she checked the hall clock- 1AM- dissipated at the sound.

Elvis was leaning into the lower notes like he always did on this song and it made her stomach clench as she focused on his voice over the others. It was magic, the things he could do to her with just his voice alone. She rubbed her arms to stop the goosebumps from tingling and then wrapped them around her legs as she crouched on the stairs like a child sneaking out of bed to spy on an adult party.

From her position, she could see only his back clad in a black three-quarter length coat and the bluish gloss of his hair in the lamplight as he leant on the top of the piano, looking down at Grandma. 

What was he doing here? He was supposed to be at the movies falling in love with some young girl with endless legs and large, admiring eyes. She had been torturing herself with that image for most of the evening, but he never did what he was supposed to do!

Almost as if he could hear her thinking this nonsensical rant, he whirled round and leant forward so that he could see her through the doorway of the living room. His eyes obscured by his sunglasses, his cheeks brimmed and a radiant grin slid across his face as he caught her peeking through the bars of the bannisters.

He left Charlie and the others to finish the song and walked slowly across to the staircase, his footsteps alternately clomping and muffled as he crossed the floorboards scattered with an assortment of rugs.

“Naw, you weren’t really in bed,” he commented with playful derision. “What are you, eighty years old?!”

Chancy opened her eyes wide and gestured to her grandmother, who was busy accompanying Charlie during his solo. Elvis ducked his head as he laughed and pulled a sheepish face, reaching out through the bannisters to wrap his long fingers around her bare ankle.

“Well, c’mon down now, baby, we gotta try out your present.”

“Grandma’s present,” she reminded him.

“S’what I meant.” He tugged at her leg, eyebrows raising and head tilting as the motion straightened her knee and made her skirt slide up. She pretended to frown and yanked down the hem, tugging her ankle free as she stood up.

“I thought you were going to the movies,” she said, hopping down the last step.

Barefoot, she had to bend her neck to look up at him, which was when she felt the errant curler poke her in the back of the neck. Casually, she slid her hand under her hair and attempted to work it out without ripping out half her scalp.

“Yeah, we were, but I got to wondering if those guys followed through on their promise to deliver that big old sonovabitch and since I didn’t get no phone call or nothing, I figured we should check up on it.”

“Grandma doesn’t have your number,” she replied, deliberately misunderstanding his subtext. “She was going to write you a thank you letter. She’s really thrilled with the piano, though, Elvis. It was a great gift, so thoughtful.” 

He shrugged and nodded diffidently, eyes boring into her even through his dark lenses and his front teeth worrying at his ripe bottom lip. 

Under the guise of stretching, she gave the curler at her nape a tug and tried not to grimace at the burning in her scalp.

“Well, that’s good,” he murmured. “I guess we should go rescue her from Charlie’s yodelling.”

As he turned, she gave the plastic roll one final sharp yank and yelped a little as she palmed it, tossing it into the drawer of a side table while she followed him back into the living room.

“Oh my, I didn’t offer you all anything to drink!” Grandma was saying, rising from the piano bench and smoothing down her skirt. “Can I fix you some sweet tea, or perhaps you’d prefer something hot? For your throat, Elvis?”

Chancy’s eyes narrowed and she turned to him as he politely and sweetly accepted her grandmother’s offer of sweet tea.

“You’re sick?”

“Just a cold, honey,” he demurred and, now that he said it, she could hear a slight grate to his voice like he was pushing through sounding hoarse, straining his voice. Which was fine, it was not like he relied on it for his livelihood or anything.

“You do sound sick,” she returned, reaching up to touch his forehead. He ducked away before she could register anything other than he was sweating and even hotter than normal. “Elvis, I think you have a fever.”

“What a lovely way to burn,” he sang back at her, before snorting. “Didn’t even know I was gonna do that, man, guess I’m brainwashed that way now.” The guys laughed uproariously on cue.

“I’m serious, you should be in bed.”

“That an invitation, honey?” She tried to fight the smile his saucy twitch of the eyebrow brought out in her, but it was impossible, and her attempt to evade the arms he wrapped around her waist was cosmetic at best. She wasn’t about to embarrass him in front of his guys and he knew that. 

“Resting!” she insisted. She turned to Charlie, Sonny and the new guy, Dave, who were grinning at their carrying on like kids who had schemed to get their mom and dad back together. “And you should know better than letting him gallivant all over town when he’s sick!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Elvis cried, giving her a sharp tap on the butt, “what’s with all this talk of lettin’?! Nobody ‘lets’ me do nothin’. I make the damn decisions round here. Anyway, honey, what was I s’posed to do, stay home with Charlie playing nurse?” He curled his lip to show how appealing that sounded to him and Chancy gave in and laughed, enjoying his self-satisfied smirk in response.

Alicia appeared in the doorway, the knowing, triumphant look in her eye telling Chancy that she knew she had been onto something during dinner.

At the same time, Grandma returned with drinks, so Chancy broke free of Elvis’ arms and moved until there was a gleaming new piano between them.

In spite of his obviously sore throat, Elvis encouraged Grandma to run through her repertoire on the piano, gamely singing along to everything she could recall. When she made an off-hand comment about wanting to learn how to play her favourite song, ‘Reach out to Jesus’, from his last gospel album, Elvis immediately dropped down onto the bench beside her and started working through the chords, humming the melody under his breath so that she could hear the changes. He was so gentle and patient as Grandma faltered, giving her reassuring nods as she frowned over the keys and glanced up questioningly at him. 

“That’s it, Grammy, you got it. Hold on now, you missed- Naw, that’s okay, it sounds better your way anyway.” 

Chancy watched the two of them, both so serious and quiet in the eye of the larger hurricane swirling around them. Faye was thrilled to be out of bed in the middle of the night and was running loops around the house, bringing every toy she owned to Sonny, who had made the mistake of pretending to be interested in her doll. With much the same energy, Charlie was doing his whole corny vaudeville routine for Alicia, who was too polite not to laugh. Dave just sat looking slightly bemused by it all. 

When Elvis excused himself to go to the bathroom, Charlie broke off from hassling Alicia and turned to Chancy.

“Hey, darlin’, could I grab a coke or somethin’ to run out to the kid in the car?” 

“What kid?” she asked.

Charlie looked immediately awkward, realising he had said something he was not supposed to. When he didn’t answer, Chancy marched into the hall and swept aside the lace curtain at the window. Despite the heavy darkness, she could make out the silhouette of someone sitting in the backseat of the moonlit car.

“Who is that?” she asked over her shoulder. “Is that, is that Ricky? Y’all left him out in the car?!”

“Well, we cracked a window,” Charlie shrugged, trying to play it off as a joke. “Look, don’t say nothing, Chance, you know how he gets about you and the kid.”

Chancy raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Well, why’d he even bring him if he wasn’t going to let him come in?”

“We none of us knew we were heading out here when we got in the car, darlin’.” He explained that Elvis had been edgy all evening and kept putting off leaving for the movies. When they finally set off for the theatre, he had abruptly pulled away without a word from the cavalcade of cars filled with the guys, girls and fans and drove off at speed, eventually arriving at her place.

“Well, he seems okay now,” she commented, as he walked back into the room, laughing softly at a comment Alicia made, and looking immensely comfortable bracketed at the piano by her sister and grandmother.

“Yeah, now,” Charlie replied pointedly. She thought she heard an entire novel in that answer.

After surreptitiously passing Charlie a bottle of pepsi and some of chips to deliver to the outcast, Chancy returned to the living to to find Elvis crouched by their shelving unit with Faye next to him in her Sesame Street pyjamas, flicking through their records. Chancy shot Alicia a curious look.

“Elvis offered to autograph Grandma’s copy of his album,” Alicia explained.

Chancy watched him with his record in his hand, still rifling through the row, tilting his head to read the artists and titles.

Somewhere in the background, Grandma was talking about making everyone sandwiches, finally hearing the clarion call of her natural instinct to stuff everyone full of food at every opportunity.

Charlie made some tired old joke that Alicia started to laugh at, but lost energy for halfway through.

“Hey Grammy, you want me to put ‘love Elvis’ on this? I don’t want to start no rumours and get you caught up in those movie magazines,” Elvis asked, his increasingly croaky voice almost cracking as he raised it to be heard in the kitchen.

“Well, that would give those biddies down at the sewing circle something to gossip about!” Grandma called back.

Alicia and Chancy pretended to look shocked as they always did whenever their grandmother said anything less than saintly.

“Grandma!” Alicia cried. “Those ladies are your friends!”

“’All my love’, I got ya,”  Elvis said with a laugh, scribbling away.

“You’re going to be the talk of the town, Grandma,” Chancy warned.

Finishing his autograph with a flourish, Elvis hesitated as he returned the record to the shelf.

“It’s looking pretty lonely there, man,” he observed with a self-deprecating huff of a laugh. “All by itself.”

Chancy’s cheeks flushed with warmth as she heard the hurt buried beneath his light tone.

“Well, these are mainly Alicia’s records. She’s not known for her good taste.” His mouth quirked at the corner, but he didn’t say anything, rising to his feet with a grunt as Grandma announced the food was ready.

In spite of the usual Elvis-induced chaos, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt stilted and subdued to Chancy.

Grandma had performed her usual magic and filled the table with food like a souped-up Julia Child. Charlie busied himself narrating as he constructed his sandwich, breaking into loud laughter at his own jokes. Faye, overtired and overexcited, bounced in her chair at having the opportunity to eat Grandma’s leftover coconut cake at nearly 3 a.m., while Grandma and Alicia fussed over the guys, making sure everyone had enough to eat.

All of Chancy’s senses were tuned to Elvis. What had he called it? Communicating soul to soul? She didn’t even have to try, her body naturally filtered out everyone else. It always had to some degree, but, before, she was at least able to function normally when he wasn't around. Now, when she couldn’t hear and feel him, everything around her stayed muted and cold.

Elvis was uncharacteristically quiet while they were eating and, even more out of character, only picked at his food. This of course alerted Grandma that something was off, and she asked if he needed some Tylenol for his throat and fever. 

Chancy coughed to cover her snort at the thought of his body deigning to notice the presence of Tylenol.

He gave her grandmother a small smile and assured her he was fine. His gravelly voice contested that, but no one was inclined to argue with him.

After a few more minutes, he excused himself to get some air and stepped out the back door.

Chancy tried to play it cool, pushing her food in swirling patterns around her plate, but the sound of someone sharply clearing their throat made her glance up. She blinked at the sight of so many eyes pinned on her. 

“I guess I’ll, uh, just-” She winced as the feet of her chair screeched against the linoleum. 

Night was beginning to loosen its grip outside. The sky showed faint signs of light in silvery blue veins against the black-grey velvet and katydids were screeching against the rustling whisper of the trees moving slightly in the faint breeze. An owl hooted as she scanned the sagging porch and only caught sight of Elvis after the moonlight hit one of his rings as he reached up to adjust his glasses. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” It was a full sentence, an instruction and an explanation, all in one word.

Chancy hesitated, looking back at the door and wondering if she should give him space, but then she reflected that someone wouldn’t show up at another person’s house in the middle of the night looking for solitude. 

Scrunching her toes against the damp of the old boards beneath her bare feet, she joined him at the railing, looking out at the garden. Back when the house had been a working farm, everything that could be seen from the porch had belonged to the farmers that lived in this house. Now, the black silhouetted tree line of oaks and maples marked their boundary, enclosing the yellowing lawn. 

“You know, the phrase ‘the still of the night’ has never made any sense to me,” she remarked, as a bullfrog made itself known. “There’s nothing still or quiet about it.”

“Well, not with you around,” he murmured, so softly that he was almost drowned out by the ambient orchestra.

She nodded, chewing on her lips, before turning back towards the house. 

“No, wait, I was kidding, honey, I was kidding. Don’t go.” He grabbed her wrist a little too tightly and tugged her to his side. He leant against her slightly as he threaded his fingers between hers and squeezed, turning back to the dark.

Her first instinct always was to solve problems and the urge to ask him what was wrong nagged and worried at her, twisting her gut as she soaked in the sound of his sigh and the pressure of his coat against her bare arm. She knew he wouldn’t tell her if directly questioned. Rushed or confronted, he always withdrew like a ghost hiding behind scripted words and the crooked smile he wore like armour. 

“You shouldn’t live out here, it ain’t safe.”

Ten minutes of thick silence had passed between them, leaning into each other as they listened to the birds tweeting as they gradually woke. It was a jarring thing for him to say. 

“I don’t know, it’s a good neighbourhood. Nothing to worry about really apart from the odd rock ‘n’ roll singer roaming around in the middle of the night.”

He nudged his shoulder down at an angle against hers and twitched his cheek in a faint recognition of the joke. She suppressed a worried sigh and frowned at the trees. 

“Honey, if you only knew the kind of sickos and crazies that wander around this county. Hell, I was just talking to Sheriff Nixon just the other day, and it’s like goddamn Sodom and Gomorrah out there. Y-you think all the freaks and the rapists and all those motherfuckers are in the city, but that ain’t the case. Just ain’t. And I think about you, and-and Grammy and Lil’ Alicia with her baby. I bet you ain’t even got a gun in this old place, have you?” 

“We do just fine,” she assured him. “Ray, our neighbour- that’s his barn there through the trees- he’s a deputy himself and we have his number if there’s any trouble. And we got Ed and Marie who own the farm just down the road. They own more guns than you do, probably. We’re fine, honey, really.”

He just shook his head vehemently, biting back whatever heated retort had been burning on his tongue. 

Charlie had been right, it was a strange mood he was in, as many emotions roiling within it as colours on an oil slick, all sliding together and gleaming at different points. He wiped some sweat from his forehead and released her hand to snatch off his sunglasses and rub his eyes. 

“Man, I ain’t feelin' worth a damn,” he muttered. “My goddamn eyes are killin’ me, my head, throat… I’m just fallin’ apart, Cha Cha, everything’s goin’ to hell in a fuckin’ handbasket.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, while she reached up to rub his back. 

“You need to be resting,” she said gently. “You push yourself too hard.”

“You tell that to- to the old man, and goddamn RCA Victor. They’re on at me day and night to get down to the studio and cut some third rate shit records that ain’t nobody gonna wanna hear. I tell ya, it’s like walking on broken glass going into those damn sessions. You should hear some of the crap they try and palm off on me, like they think I ain’t got standards, like it don’t matter.” He wiped some sweat-damp hair away from his face. “Hell, maybe they’re right. Maybe no one’d buy it regardless.”

His chest was heaving as he flexed his long fingers, clenching his hands into fists and releasing them just like she had seen him do countless times backstage when he was overwhelmed and overexcited.

His mood and his suffering was almost corporeal, like a case of spikes enclosing him. She could feel the prickles on her skin, niggling and digging into her. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see blood. 

Wordlessly, she stopped rubbing circles into his back and moved her hand around to take his, giving it a tug. 

“I wanna show you something.” 

Almost like a lightning strike, the dark expression on his face was instantly superseded by a grin, though it didn’t reach his slightly puffy eyes, wreathed in dark shadows. 

“Well, I want you to show me something too, baby,” he returned smoothly as they stepped back into the now empty kitchen, “but I was trying to be a gentleman about it.” 

She screwed up her face, feeling it throbbing as she blushed and that seemed to cheer him up further because he smirked down at her and stepped into her personal space. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, like standing too close to the sun. 

“Stop that!” she murmured with no force behind it.

“Stop what?” he asked softly, breathing hot against her ear. She nudged him with her elbow and then immediately felt bad because he was sick and grabbed his arm as he pretended to stagger.

“C’mon.” She nodded towards the stairs and did a quick survey to make sure that no one could see them.

“It ain’t my fault, Grammy,” he said softly. “She ain’t giving me a choice… I tried to say no!”

“Stop!” Her words quivered as she laughed.

As much as he was fooling around, she did feel nervous fluttering in her tummy as she led him upstairs as if she was a teenager trying to sneak around under Grandma’s nose. He didn’t help at all; she could have sworn he was purposely stomping on the stairs to get everyone’s attention.

Elvis had to duck to get through the low doorway of her bedroom and, combined with the extra width added to his shoulders by the half cape of his black coat, his presence almost engulfed the room. As he drew closer to her, his gaze fixed on her mouth and she almost forgot why she had invited him up there in the first place.

“Wait a minute.” She put her palm against his chest, the wool of his coat scratchy against her skin. Who else but Elvis would wear a wool coat indoors in the summer? She shook her head in answer to her thought.

“What? You’re the one who keeps draggin’ me into your bedroom,” he remarked, dropping down onto her unmade bed and reclining back onto his elbows. “Can’t blame a fella for thinking it was for a good reason.” He pulled his sunglasses down his nose and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Chancy snorted as she crouched down beneath the cabinet holding her record player.

“Maybe I just wanted your autograph too,” she shrugged, gesturing to the cupboard she had just opened. He sat back up wearily, frowning, and came to kneel next to her. She watched him run a bejewelled finger over her large collection of his records.

There was a long pause.

“I was only kidding, you don’t really have to auto-” She let out a muffled yelp as he turned and kissed her hard, knocking her onto her butt. His hand clasping the back of her neck and head was the only thing that kept her upright. She grabbed hold of the lapels of his coat though just in case.

“Honey, you know you didn’t have to pay for those, I could've got ‘em for you for free,” he said dryly, when they breathlessly broke apart. “I know some people.”

“Aw, if only I’d known that sooner.” 

“Hell, maybe it’s better this way. With you buying ‘em it probably doubles my numbers.” 

Chancy frowned as he nuzzled her neck, feeling his dark mood lapping yet again at the edges of their conversation. She worried that teasing him would only speed up the tide and she wished that she knew the real cause so that she could navigate with more confidence. He might just be feeling sorry for himself because he was under the weather, but equally, something soul-destroying could have happened and he could be trying to bear its weight until he sank beneath the burden.

She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb running down the crease from the side of his nose towards his mouth, which was unusually closed and not smiling. He tightened one side of his lips, but it was almost an impersonation of his usual crooked smile, and she felt vaguely insulted that he thought she of all people would be fooled.

She scouted around for something to say, some way to usher him out of his gloom without accidentally rousing his temper, the triggers hidden better than landmines. 

“You know, I didn’t really invite you up here just to see my record collection.” 

“Why, Cha Cha, you naughty lil girl. I tell ya, I’m shocked.” He was saying all the right words, but the energy and humour were missing. They were like empty clothes flapping on the line, imitating movement. 

“I also wanted to-” She shrugged and started to unfasten a slightly strained button on his coat.

“Hey,” he said quickly, almost under his breath, “what are we doing, what’s goin’ on?” His large hands clasped her shoulders and he looked down, watching her work. 

“You know, I’d never question your outfit choice, honey, you always look so good, but you’re making me feel hot looking at you. Let’s just take this coat off.” She had only managed to undo three buttons, but she could feel him tensing, ready to withdraw.

“C’mon now,” she teased gently. “I’m probably not even the first girl to try and rip your clothes off this week, am I right?”

“Well, you sure are the most determined,” he murmured, as she sped up.

“The prettiest!” she tssked. “You’re supposed to say I’m the prettiest, Elvis! Jeez! I’m gonna let you off for that just because you’re sick, but my gosh!” He huffed a laugh and cleared his aching throat. 

“It goes without sayin’,” he replied with a tone of playful irritation. She lifted his coat off one shoulder and moved around to do the same to the other, folding it over her arms. 

“What does?”

“That you’re the prettiest.” He sighed as he dropped onto the end of her bed. 

“Ha, I knew you were in there somewhere.” She took in his blue silk shirt and how the back was almost soaked through with sweat, the front taut against his round stomach. She turned on the lazy overhead fan and gave him a helpless shrug. “It’s better than nothing, I guess.” 

The look he gave her pierced right through her, his eyes narrowed and twinkling, cheekbones arcing and his lips giving just a glimpse of his teeth. It sent her temperature shooting up in spite of the fan. 

“Get over here,” he instructed, his hoarse voice making it sound almost like a growl. “C’mere woman.”

She approached, still clutching his coat to her front. He took it from her and tossed it onto her chair. Then he wrapped his fingers around her legs just above her knees and started to lift her skirt. She squealed quietly and feinted a move away.

“What? I thought we were taking it in turns?!”

“I was trying to help you cool off!” she pointed out, her face aching where she was trying to not smile. 

“W-well, me too,” he insisted dryly. He hooked a finger under her hem at the front and started to lift it. 

“Elvis!” she couldn’t help the giggle that tremored through his name. A lot of it was nervous relief that the airless gloom was beginning to lift, and that she could reach him again. He quickly snatched the material of her skirt in his fist and pulled it back down.

“Naw, I’ll be good,” he said, putting on his baby voice. “Promise.”

He tugged on her skirt, pulling her towards him until his forehead was flush against her sternum.

Letting out a loud sigh with a hint of a wheeze to it, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her hips, turning his head and pressing his cheek against her stomach. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton. 

“You’re not falling asleep there, are you?” she teased gently, smoothing down his hair.

“Mmm, wish I could.” He looked up at her, his eyes watery and bloodshot but bluer than usual, digging his chin just above her belly button. “You know I wouldn’t mind staying in bed if I had a nurse like you, baby.” 

“I’d be a terrible nurse,” she returned, shaking her head. “Almost as bad as you would be as a patient.” 

“I don’t know, maybe we should get you a uniform, just to be sure…” He snickered into her stomach as she blushed. She wanted to hold him that way for as long as she could, knowing that he was safe from the problems and worries that consumed him, the humiliation and harm that preyed on him, and most importantly safe from his own dark, self-destructive urges. 

Again, the atmosphere was muted when the group finally converged again to leave just as dawn was spilling over the horizon. This time, it was a feeling of peace rather than suffocation.

Elvis had insisted on wrapping himself back up in the big wool coat and he held Chancy’s hand as he said goodbye to Alicia who was cradling a limp, sleeping Faye in her arms and Grandma who, despite her age, looked more spry and alert than the lot of them. Dawn was her time. 

Standing on the porch, the guys climbing into the car, and her family drifting back indoors, he turned to her and she clasped his arms as they enfolded her. 

“I hope you can get some rest,” she murmured, “and you feel better soon.”

He nodded and leant down, finally pressing his lips against hers. She jerked back and he hiccupped a painful, hoarse laugh. “Well, maybe we can both be patients together.” 

“Always scheming!” she sighed, before drawing back in and giving him a long kiss on the cheek, tasting the salt of him. It made her mouth water.

“I’ll see ya,” he murmured, looking reluctant as he stepped away from her and heavily descended the porch steps. She stood and watched the car turn in the drive and slowly navigate the rutted road. 

“No, there’s nothing going on there at all,” Alicia remarked loudly from the hall. 

Chancy sighed and rubbed her gritty eyes. 

“I guess there’s not really any point going to bed,” she remarked, pointedly ignoring her sister. “There’s only an hour until my alarm.” 

Alicia groaned loudly as she stomped up the stairs and Chancy snorted as she heard her apologise to Faye and try to hush her back to sleep. 

Just over an hour after she watched the Lincoln leave, the phone rang. 

“So, I’ve been thinking about how you don’t feel safe at your house.” His voice didn’t sound as scratchy now, but maybe that was because it was hidden behind the slur. 

“I don’t?” she asked, frowning at her reflection as she applied her make-up for work. 

“There’s these guys I know, police officers, they, uh, do security sometimes for me on the side. I’m gonna send a couple out your way to keep an eye on everyone. They’re good guys, the best.”

“Well, that’s really thoughtful of you, honey, really, but I don’t-”

“And that way you don’t have to worry while you’re gone.”

“I’m- Where am I going?” She felt completely off-kilter in this conversation. 

“I gotta do this recording session, baby, they’re on my back about it. The Colonel's talking broken contracts and lawsuits. They’re doing my damn head in. And, you know, I figure I might need a nurse to take care of me when I get sick of the bullshit…” She could almost hear him doing his little boy smile into the phone, the one that always got him what he wanted. 

“Elvis, I can’t go- I just got back-”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” he snapped thickly and loudly over the top of her. “Wait, before you come up with all your bullshit excuses, ‘cause I got ‘em to agree to me recording here in Memphis. You don’t need to go nowhere, just stay here. Hell, you can even work during the day if you want. I just- I need you here. I-It’s better when you’re here, honey.”

Elvis was a smart man, he wasn’t delegating to Charlie anymore. She thought about how she would work the logistics of working during the day and being with him at night. She considered that the commute to her storefront was shorter from Graceland than her house. She thought about that gutting ache she had only just managed to shift after her ignominious departure from the tour. And then she thought about his pale, feverish face gazing up at her just that morning. 

“I can come stay for the recording sessions,” she said, closing her eyes so she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror. 

“Thank you, baby.” He mumbled, breathing heavy into the receiver. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” She listened as she heard a faint snore and realised he had fallen asleep. 

“Sweet dreams, honey,” she whispered. 

Tag List: Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list. And any scream from the void is always cherished.

@richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith . @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis . @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts

[theromanticrationalist]

My Thoughts: Young Sheldon 7x02 A Roulette Wheel and a Piano Playing Dog

Look how cute he is! Cute as a button! 😙 Awwww! Baby! It is so difficult for me to watch Sheldon struggling. Imagine being a fish out of water your entire life where your one socially acceptable trait is your intellect, which surpasses everyone’s, only to be thrown into A WHOLE OTHER COUNTRY, taking the fish metaphor to a whole other level, only to discover THE one quiver in your arsenal is utterly moot.

Damn. My poor baby string bean! But he handled it so well. He pushed through! I am proud of my Shelly! It is the aspect of why YS is better than TBBT because they allow for Sheldon to be a more complex individual and don’t treat him like a child, even though he is literally a child. The show allows circumstances to push against him, to make him stronger, and the narrative isn’t constantly belittling him as if he can’t handle life at all. It is actually quite a big deal that Sheldon was able to keep his mouth shut and humbled himself under an authority in order to learn what he needed to. And he did this by HIS choice! He listened to what those around him where telling him, and chose the wiser path. He didn’t have to be coerced, manipulated, or browbeaten into it, which was often the route TBBT took.

Well, his tutor DID use physical reinforcement, but a wrap on the hand is good for the boy. 😁

Which brings me into my next thought, I don’t think this moving back and forth from Texas and Germany is going to work really well for the storytelling. I want to see how the whole Cooper family is doing, of course, but I am primarily watching this show for Sheldon! I don’t feel like they are able to spend the amount of time necessary to really explore this experience he is having. It feels so rushed. I don’t like it. I want more time to process Sheldon’s life lessons here and how he is feeling about it. It is the same old story! This is literally one of the biggest problems with American media.

They. never. give. enough. time. to. the. story. EVER. !!!!!

🤦‍♀️ Why are you the way that you are, American Media. I hate so much everything that you choose to be.

Anyway, I did love the heart to heart chat between Missy and Georgie this episode! That was so sweet! They are learning what it means to have responsibilities and that growing up requires so much thankless sacrifice. I love the bond that Missy and Georgie have, and I am glad we got to see them process this experience together. And way to go Missy for not only stepping up, growing up, and being so mature and on top of things, but she also is learning about boundaries! Damn girl! 🔥 I know Mary Cooper loves serving her family so I love that aspect about her, but the boys definitely shouldn’t leave all the house stuff to the women folk, as if they have to be served and waited on. Missy is killing it! 💪

Missy and Sheldon, two sides of the same coin! I hope to talk more about that later! 😉 Now it’s time for...

My Favorite Sheldon Cooper Quotes: Sheldon: "And they laughed at me for not knowing something they knew! Who does that?!" Mary: ". . . you do." Sheldon: "This is no time for a teachable moment! Your child is hurting." Mary: "Sorry." *pats him on the arm* "There there." Sheldon: "I guess that'll do. Now how about a hot beverage?" Mary: 😑

Sheldon: “Oh! I see the problem! This is stupid! You can’t just invent dimensions. There is this one, this one, and this one.” Mei-Tung: “You forgot the dimension of time.” Sheldon: . . . Sheldon: *holds out his hand* Mei-Tung: *slaps it with a pencil* Sheldon: “Ow! . . . Thank you." Sheldon Prime: "I wanted to give up and runaway. But I had read enough comic books to know that heroes don't quit. Instead of running I decided to stay and face the biggest challenge I've ever had: keeping my mouth shut. This turned out to be a pivotal moment in my life. By being open to people smarter than me, I grew as both a man and a scientist. Humble. Brilliant. I really am the whole package!"

[jessiexcorner]

‘Destiny is she.’

Kerack.

 Just a small town with not much going for it, though it was known for its alcohol and the pirates that used to raid the people there centuries ago. 'Not anymore.' Yennefer thought as she drank. After the red death, the once-powerful kingdom fell into shambles. At least they still had their beer going on for them.

"TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!" Yennefer winced, hearing the familiar song buzzing in the back.

  "Ugh. If I have to hear that blasted song one more time, I'm going to kill myself." Yennefer turned to see the drunk bard who wrote it.

  "Jaskier?" He turned his head to look up to see the sorceress. He gasped.

  "You! Oh No! I've had enough of you! Y-you harlot witch!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"What? Your girlfriend dumped or something? Also, I'm a sorceress, not a witch."

"No, you ruined my friendship with my only friend! Just cause you had problems in your relationship with him didn't mean you had to ruin mine!"

"We didn't have a relationship."

"It doesn't matter now! I don't need him; I have plenty of friends. And women who want me!" Yennefer turned to order another drink. She didn't want to deal with this right now. A few gulps later, a young girl with blonde hair walked straight toward them.

"Hey! I know you!"

"You do? Oh no. Did I sleep with you?" The girl ignored Jaskier and continued talking to Yennefer.

"You're Yennefer of Vengeberg, aren't you?" Yennefer sighed.

"Look, kid, I don't sell magic anymore. Find someone else."

"Actual, I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"I think you will be-"

"Get lost, kid, before I put a curse on you."

"Weren't you the one looking for a way to conceive?" Yennefer froze. Yes, it's true; that is what she wanted a way to be able to have a child again. But it's not as if she announced it to the world.

"Who told you that?" The girl shrugged with a smug smile.

"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.

"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.

"Everyone knows about her. There's a legend on her. They say that if you ever want to change all the bad that has been done to you; change the fate you've been given, then follow the river upstream to the cottage in the woods. There be a woman, full of grace and beauty, but be careful what is said to her for destiny is she."

"First of all," the drunk bard who had been listening in began, "that doesn't rhyme."

"It's not supposed-" the blonde tried to argue.

"Second of all, who's 'they'?"

"What? No- Look, that doesn't matter, I'm not even talking to you!"

"You know he has a point," Yennefer said.

"Huh?"

"Who is this 'they'?" She said with a cheeky smile. The blonde girl turned redder than the drunken bard and stomped in anger.

"You know what! I don't care! I did what She told me to do and delivered the message! I'm leaving!" She marched out of the bar.

"Say, did you catch her name? I think she fancies me." Jaskier mumbled. Yennefer took a deep breath and finished her drink. 'let's find out who this destiny person is.' She thought, heading out.

                                                       . . .

'Well, what do you know there is a house.' Yennefer thought. She noticed there was a protection spell around the house covering it like a thick fog. She walked towards the house, trying to create a pathway for herself. 'Damn,' This was harder than she thought it would be. 'Why would anyone need such a potent protection spell?' As she tried to move through, it became harder to breathe. Yennefer could feel a headache coming on, it felt as if something was pushing her to fall asleep. She falls and gets knocked out by the gas. Before she falls completely unconscious she notices the end of a flowy robe walking towards her.

Yennefer wakes up feeling as if she has the worst hangover of her life, she notices a blanket covering her and a bed. "What the fuck?" she mutters noticing her surroundings for the first time. A bedroom with a fireplace, cozy and warm but what stuck out the most was the fact she didn't remember how she got here. The door to the bedroom opens before Yennefer can investigate her surroundings more thoroughly.

"Ah, you're not dead. Good." a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a simple white flowy gown exclaims. Yennefer startled immediately turns defensive shooting a gust of magic toward the woman who waves it off as if it were nothing, almost as if, annoyed by Yennefer's reaction.

"Now, is this any way to repay hospitality Yennefer?" The woman says practically scolding Yennefer like a misbehaving child.

"You knocked me out!"

"No, you knocked yourself out." She sat next to the violet-eyed woman, raising her hand near her making Yennefer flinch from the unexpected movement. 

"Relax, I'm only helping your body get rid of the poison from the mist." She sighs moving away after she is done, Yennefer does feel a bit better, less like she had a massive hangover. The woman stands and walks near the fireplace, lighting it with a flick of her fingers, sitting down on a couch with a tea set on a table. "Well? come sit," She points at the other chair meant for Yennefer. Yennefer gets up and slowly walks to the woman sitting on the chair. "Cream?" She offers the raven-haired woman.

"..No," Yennefer declines not wanting any other foreign substances in her body.

"Suit yourself." The woman shrugs, pouring some cream for herself, and lifts her cup taking a sip.

"Why did you want me here?"

"Oh, did my little birdy not tell you?"

"No, well, yes but- that's not- look do you really have a way for me to conceive or are you playing games with me? Because i should warn you i am not in the mood." Yennefer huffs.

"Of course!" The (h/c) haired woman claps her hands making the tea set disappear, with a small vial and a contract replacing it. "This little bottle of magic can bring back anything that was lost. It'll fix you right up, grow back your uterus, and let you keep your good looks," She winks with a smile at Yennefer, who looks at the paper carefully.  

"And I’m guessing this contract I am supposed to sign ensures I do your bidding?" The stranger's grin widens.

"Clever girl. it is fair, after all, i am only asking very little in return for a high reward." Yennefer scoffed but then again she was desperate she wanted this, badly.

"And what would that small favor be?" She questions the woman. "Am i to find you someone and bring them to you?" she rolls her eyes sarcastically commenting.

"Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do."

"Right. Sounds simple enough."

"Hm, simple." she hums in agreement, "I just need you to bring me Geralt of Rivia."

...What? "No, no! Absolutely not! What could you possibly need him for?" Yennefer protests, making the other woman rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to eat him, or kill your lover boy,"

"He's not-"

"Come on Yen! All you have to do is bring one witcher here, and I'll give you the ability to conceive again, don't you want that choice back?" The woman circles Yennefer, "They took everything from you, yen. They took your right, your decision. Not only am i offering you your freedom, but i am also giving you an option that doesn't require sacrificing your beauty or power." She twirls a lock of Yennefer's hair around her fingers. "and all you have to do is bring me one measly man." Yennefer hesitates. This can't be real, this had to be a trick, but what could she do? the dragon plan didn't work, Geralt was an arse and she had nothing and no one left. "Tell you what, since you have so many issues with me," The woman picks up the vial and hands it to Yennefer. "You can try the potion of mine, and once it works, and it will believe me you will know if it does. You will bring me Geralt." Yennefer's face reads of worry. "Come on you, poor girl, what do you have to lose? You already tried everything. What, you're worried about your man? What do you think I will do to the witcher? Think I will kill him? He's more likely to end me before I can touch him." Yennefer lets the words of this woman influence her, but she couldn't understand what she wanted with Geralt.

"..Fine, deal, if this works...I'll bring you your witcher."

"Lovely!" The woman smiles waving her hand making a feather appear and floats into Yennefer's hand. Yennefer pauses, feeling the softness of the feather. 

"...Before I sign this, I want to know your name, your real name. I have a feeling it isn't 'destiny'" The woman chuckles once again walking behind Yennefer, placing her soft hands onto her shoulders.

"(Y/n), a pleasure to meet you, Yennefer."

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Alto/Landgraab Household

Splits

It's now evening and Holly is back from her daily outing. “Oh man, that's so unfair"/ ”What's unfair again, Holly? “/ “You know that very well, mom! I'd love to give the juice to the people here instead of letting him drink it all. “/ “hh… You know…”/ “I don't know anything anymore. Some people are already thinking about getting together for the winter months so they don't have to freeze”.

Holly was really pissed off. After all, she and her family had everything they needed. “Great…if you would at least cook your spaghetti for everyone…”. Vita tried to remain calm. Despite all the circumstances, her daughter's words really got to her. And now that she's pregnant, her nerves are even more frayed than usual. “How's the school set-up going?"/ ‘We're still missing a few tables and books’….

It was almost too late to build a small school for the children. Now that winter is coming, a well-heated room will be needed. But maybe they'll find a solution for that too. “I'll bring my easel at the school , so others can use it"/ ‘Yes, Holly, that's a good idea’.

Since you never knew when a good time was, Gerhard seized the moment anyway. “Would you have a moment to talk after dinner, Nick?"/ ‘How important is it, on a scale of 1-10?’/ ”Cut the nonsense, will you? “. Nick looked at him blankly for a moment. “You've got 20 minutes then, after that I have to go to the bedroom.” Gerhard and the others knew what that meant.

“Don't eat so fast, Malcolm, you had a tummy ache earlier…"/ ”It's all right now. Can I really have my own room, Mom?"/ ‘When we find the right house, then yes…’. Vita looked at her a little skeptically. “Are you sure you'll find something there, Nancy?”. She just looked at her with narrow eyes “You haven't really looked around yet, Vita! At least you don't have to worry, your house is still standing!”.

Vita was piqued. “Oh please, our house hasn't stayed quite intact either, our bedroom is now in the office and the kitchen is just a makeshift"/ ‘at least I helped you build a new kitchen and besides… when we're gone, at least you'll have one more room for the little thing’, Nancy looked at Vita's stomach with a movement of her head. And she just looked at her again with narrowed eyes “Do you think it's better somewhere else than here? I don't think so!"/ ‘That shouldn't be your problem, Vita.’.

The room was silent for a brief moment. Then Nancy continued. “Where have all the good times gone? We were young once too, Vita. Nothing was laid in our laps.” Vita looked at her hesitantly and with one eyebrow raised. “You had a rich mother who left you a lot…"/ ”Leave my mother out of it, do you hear me? And besides, there's nothing left of that or I would have made sure we didn't have to live under one roof with you any longer. I'm sorry, Vita, but we're out of here tomorrow”.

While the women were talking animatedly in the house, the men were talking to each other outside. “When are you going to get some sense, Nick? Can't you see how the others are doing? It all depends on you, why can't you just give in?"/ ”Because then I'll have nothing left but the house."/ ”as you know, money is slowly becoming irrelevant here, only you're still holding on to it”.

“It wasn't just you who built this city back then, don't forget that. My wife also contributed a lot to making the city what it is… Was. And now look around you. Do you really want to go on like this forever? You're going to be a father again, Nick, maybe you'll think about it? Or do you want to raise your offspring to be the selfish asshole you are right now?”.

Nick turned to him and got a little louder again. “Do you think I give a shit? No, damn it…"/ ”Then finally put an end to all this. Give them your shares and finally accept the help of the military. The people here have done a lot on their own by now. And almost got themselves killed in the process. There have already been enough casualties, Nick… And it won't be long before they'll be here on your doorstep because you're not cooperating, believe me.”

“Man Gerhard…"/ ”No… I'm getting sick of hearing it. It would be so easy if you just had a little compassion. And sorry, I'm not going to be a spy for you any more… When's the next delivery coming by the way?"/ ‘I think it's Sunday…’/ ”Then make sure we're not the only ones who benefit from it. Did you know that VJ Alvi has now shot two deer? He distributes the meat among the people… The boy is going to be something”.

“Yes, I… I've heard about it… I need a break "/ ”Nancy and I will look for a new place to stay tomorrow. She can no longer be under the same roof as your wife. And think about your daughter, she's more of a Samaritan than you two ever were. “. Nick had to admit to himself that Gerhard was right. His daughter had taken very good care of the other inhabitants since the meteor storm. “Yes, I know… Now please excuse me”….

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

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover 😊

[novankenn]

More than meets the Eye

(A/N: For anyone looking for the "Master List" click on the post title, or check out my Fem!Jaune Story Collection)

Mel and Mil moved closer to the dance floor as soon as they noticed Joan trying to make a hasty exit through the press of people, and in short order the identical twin bouncers were escorting Joan to a nearby vacant table.

"You okay?" Mil asked as Joan took a seat. Joan responded with a nod of her head.

"Do we need to eject her?" Mel asked her eyes locking onto the fashionable brunette that had approached Joan. Joan just shook her head.

"If you say so, but if she keeps pressing you... don't hesitate. We've got your back."

Joan shot the normally very severe looking twins a warm smile as a thank you.

"Oh, almost forgot. Gorgeous wants to talk to you." Mil informed the pinkish haired blond. Who replied with a questioning look. "Something about an event or contest you might be interested in."

Joan nodded and took a look around the club, easily spotting the figure of Gorgeous sitting at her customary table, sipping on a glass of wine. Joan stood reached out, and pulled the twins into a quick hug as a thank you before moving off towards Gorgeous, leaving both young women kind of blushing and sputtering.

Gorgeous had introduced herself several weeks ago to Joan, mistakenly guessing that Joan was transitioning from male-to-female like herself. To say she was a little surprised to find out that was not the case, would be fair. Though Gorgeous never once treated Joan any different than the girl she was presenting herself to be.

Like Joan, Gorgeous was more than passable. Years of treatments and living as a woman making her completely indistinguishable from any other woman. Joan was a girl-next-door while Gorgeous presented herself as sex personified... but in a tasteful and publicly acceptable manner.

Joan waved as she closed in on Gorgeous' table, prompting the older woman to get out of her seat and pull the younger into a hug. One that Joan reciprocated. After a few seconds the pair sat down.

"Something to drink? My treat." Joan replied with a shake of her head. Gorgeous chuckled in her musical voice. "You know the offer is still there. I'm willing to give you vocal lessons to help complete your persona."

Joan gave Gorgeous a smile and shook her head.

"Fair enough." Gorgeous giggled, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a folded sheet of paper. She passed it to Joan as she spoke. "The Oyster is holding a little event slash contest in about a week. Nothing serious just some fun for people like me and you."

Joan unfolded the sheet to find a rather professionally done flyer advertising a charity fashion show, that also included awards and prizes for participants.

"All the door cover charges, plus half the house take is going to the Vale Food Bank." Gorgeous informed her companion.

Joan gave the older woman a questioning look.

"No pressure, just letting you know about it in case you're looking to change things up for a night. There will be outfits there, private dressing rooms... and no judgements." Gorgeous informed Joan. "I really think, personally you should take part. It would be a shit ton of fun, and you my dear could really strut your stuff in a safe place."

Joan shrugged her shoulders.

"No pressure. I'm just getting the word out to you."

Joan shot Gorgeous a warm smile and then bit her lip. Gorgeous saw the minute action and let out a soft laugh, which of course caused Joan to pout.

"You are just so damn cute!" Gorgeous commented with a mirth filled voice. "My scroll umber is on the bottom. Let me know if you even just want to have the night out and enjoy the show as spectator, let me know and I'll get you and back safe and sound."

Joan smiles again and mouthed "Thank you."

"No problem, Joan." Gorgeous returned the smile. "The offer for a drink is still on the table, or are you planning to take off?"

Joan pursed her lips, and tilted her head, an obvious pantomime of her thinking. After a few seconds Joan smiles and makes a drinking motion with her hand.

"The usual?" Gorgeous asked as she waved a server towards her. Joan nodded in response.

Having returned to her original seat, Coco frowned as she watched the pinkish blond haired cutie sit down with an older woman. She knew better than to approach. The body language of the two suggesting that they knew each other, and considering what had just happened Coco was nod willing to further upset the young woman, nor get herself kicked from the club, for not taking "No" for an answer.

So she resigned herself to getting another drink and letting her eyes partake in the display of eye candy still on the dance floor. So time passed and the night grew late. Coco didn't even notice that the cutie had left, before checking her own scroll and seeing she had missed the last bullhead to Beacon.

"Damn it." Coco muttered as she made her way out of the Club and on to the street outside. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"Hey, babe... what's with the silent treatment?" came a slurred and rough voice. The tone of which caused Coco to turn her attention towards. "Me and my girl just want someone to join us for a few more..."

[abarbaricyalp]

Fill for the @samsseptember prompt Figaro! // Rated G // CW: Grief, depression (wow I did two sad fills)

Magnifico

Sam wasn't sure if the term caterwauling had any relation to cats themselves, but he was beginning to suspect it did. For the third time that morning, he got out of bed and went to the window, wrenched it open, and stared at the stray cat outside. It literally stopped its mournful cry as soon as Sam was back in its sights. It was a sad looking little thing. Dirty enough to look grey and brown instead of black and white. It had a little scar over its nose and a snip on its ear.

"You need to be quiet," Sam said. "Aren't you worried about attracting dogs to you?"

It had not been a good morning. Or night. Or week. Or really most of the days beyond that. The last thing Sam needed was to listen to a cat howl outside his window all damn morning.

"Quiet," he repeated. "Go back to sleep."

The stray had appeared about a week ago. It didn't have any collar and its little nose scar was more red back then. Healed fast, Sam noted the next time he'd seen it. He was pretty certain it had come from one of the other apartment complexes around. He knew there were always people gushing or bitching about the local strays in the neighborhood page. This cat was young enough that Sam figured it was booted out of a stray colony for being a boy. Did cats do that kind of thing? Or maybe it just wanted to sow wild oats or something. Well, not that either. The ticked ear meant it was fixed.

Sam pulled his window down again and turned to face plant on the foot of his bed. He did not get the chance. The cat let out another long mewl and Sam may have let out a cry of his own.

"Samuel Thomas, don't you feed that stray," his mama's voice echoed in his head as he stomped into the kitchen and pulled out too many slices of deli ham from the package. "It won't never leave, if you do that," she finished as he came back into his bedroom.

Well, his mama was the best of women and people, but she was hypocrite here because Sam had seen her feeding all the neighborhood strays on more than one occasion.

He ripped the ham into pieces that would probably be too big for the semi-kitten and then threw them out the window. The cat clearly didn't have Sam's concerns about the size of the ham. It scarfed down the food without chewing.

"Good, now be quiet," Sam said again. But before he could close the window, the kitten had jumped up onto the window sill. It pushed its head against Sam's hand for a second and then jumped down into his bedroom and carried on through the house.

Sam stared after it. "Um, excuse me," he called after it. "You don't live here."

This did not faze the cat. It poked its head into each doorway and genuinely seemed to be examining the rooms or closets. It was comfortable walking through the hallway and into the bright, sunlit living room, where it jumped up into the couch, turned in a circle, and then laid down.

Sam followed after it, feeling a little dumbfounded. "That's not your spot. Come on, let's go." He crossed to the door and opened it, then gestured outside. "Back to where you belong."

The cat looked at him and then the door, then let out one of those long plaintive cries again until Sam finally shut the door. A creature that small should not have that much air in it.

"Okay, listen. You're not staying here," he said. "But I'm exhausted and my chest hurts and I don't want to fight you right now. So if I go back to sleep, will you not destroy my apartment?"

The cat blinked at him and then started making biscuits on his cushion. Sam sighed. He didn't have anything to give a cat. He hadn't had a pet since Sarah begged their parents for hamsters when she was fourteen. Those had been enough of a spectacle, much less an entire feral cat.

He opted for some canned tuna in a Tupperware lid and some water in the bowl of it. He had to Google what an acceptable cat litter substitute was. The last thing he needed was for this cat to spray his entire house right before he was planning on packing up and moving out of DC and away from all the memories it brought with it. Evidently, there were plenty of foods that could be used, but Sam had half a bag of potting soil and that was probably better than filling a shoe box with rice.

"This is yours," he told the cat. "Don't scratch anything."

It took until he was laying in his dark bedroom again--curtains drawn back over the windows--for it to occur to him that he was giving the cat instructions like it could understand him. He'd fully lost it. This must just be a wild dream, concocted from the sound of the cat outside and a late night binge through the neighborhood app and its drama.

None of which stopped him from falling right back asleep anyway. Right back into the same nightmares and tossing and turning that left him so damn exhausted all of the time. It was funny, the trajectory of his sleep patterns. As a teenager, he could sleep through hurricanes, his mama said. And then in the military, he’d become accustomed to jumping at the slightest sound. And now he was stuck in some perpetual torture chamber of the middle. Awaking at every creak in his old house on the good days and sleeping so hard he fell right into the waiting arms of nightmares on the bad ones. He was exhausted all of the time. And when he woke and had to deal with the walking nightmares, rest never managed to find him then either.

DC had been his idea. This house had been Riley’s. And now, again, Sam found himself in a relentless middle. Stuck in a house that was haunted by a man who had only been in it for the tour and stuck in a city where none of his dreams were accessible anymore. The only reason he’d said DC was because they were supposed to be growing the Falcon program. Lobbying for a bigger team, better tech. Training with other branches. Making a name for themselves. Together. And now the program was dead and Riley was…

Sam was so damn tired.

Hours, or maybe minutes, later, Sam woke up, choking on a cry. And the weight on his chest. His hands fell from their wild grab towards nothing at all and settled on the furball using his chest as a bed.

“You had the whole couch,” he said. The cat did not care that his voice was watery. It didn’t even look up at him. “And you chose the two feet of space I’m taking up?”

The cat’s purr just got deeper, burrowing down to Sam’s bones. He wasn’t as tense as he normally was after a nightmare. He couldn’t be with this thing vibrating it all away. Idly, he stroked his fingers over the cat’s fur until it tucked its head under his hand and he stilled again.

“You’re gonna stay, aren’t you?” he asked with a sigh. The cat purred. “Yeah, you’re gonna stay. I’m gonna keep you.” It would require more googling. And he should probably actually walk into a store to get supplies, rather than wait for it to ship to him. God, that was going to suck. It’d involve a shower and clean clothes and digging his keys out from wherever they’d been last time he’d thrown them across the room because the house key was supposed to be Riley’s. He’d have to plaster on a smile and make small talk. Small talk was like salt in the open wound of grief, he’d found.

Still, the cat needed litter and food. Canned tuna wasn’t good for anyone long term.

“You need a name too,” he told the cat. “I’m gonna bother you for a second,” he added and then picked up the kitten and looked under its tail. “I assume you’re a boy. I’m not really a cat guy, I dunno. Maybe you’re just weirdly fuzzy. But probably not.”

The cat mewled and chirped until Sam set him down on his chest again. Then he went right back to purring away, though now he was looking up at Sam as well.

“What about the cat from Aristocats?” Sam suggested. “Ah, nah. I don’t remember his name. What about Max? Oreo? Is that too on the nose? Sir Crumpet Von Fox Huntington III. Fox? It’s kind of funny when animals have other animal names. Would be an ode to the fact I haven’t done anything except switch out X-Files DVDs all week.”

The cat crept up Sam’s chest and he worried he was about to be attacked in the face. But he just settled down against Sam’s throat and started up his purr motor again.

“Okay,” Sam conceded. The kitten’s weight turned his own voice into a rumbling purr. “We’ll figure out a name a little later. Maybe something from a song. Marvin? Bowie? Freddie? Franklin?”

The cat licked the underside of Sam’s jaw and it was both extremely unpleasant in texture and delightful in sentiment. “You can’t eat me yet,” Sam said warningly. “Give a guy a few days to make a good impression. Let me clean first, y’know. Treat you to some fancy food.”

The cat purred his agreement and Sam smiled for the first time in days.

[imaginedreamwrite]

A Permanent Claim: Part 3

He could still feel the hit of his last cigarette on his tongue, the buzz from the nicotine placing him in a well enough mood to face the potential nanny that Pari had talked to.

The buzz from the dart that he’d finished before leaving the club was easing his aggression, halting his dire mood at least until he had taken stock of the woman that would be responsible for his twins when he wasn’t there.

It was a process to find someone who wasn’t willing to tamper down his kid’s excitement and eagerness to explore the world around them.

There had been a number of nannies that had come into the house only to quit within days or weeks, driven out by his twins chaotic and wild energy or their dislike of the ridgid women who tried to control their entire day.

Curtis had been through almost every nanny agency and every available caretaker without finding any long-term care for his twins, through his sons actions or his dislike for the women. They were young, they didn’t need ridgid schedules and mandatory quiet hours, and they didn’t need some nanny to enter their home attempting to reshape them into something they weren’t.

Going through the agencies that regurgitated the same kind of caretakers over and over had left Curtis angered by the lack of coordination for what he needed and what they thought he wanted. It was endless, having nanny after nanny come through his home only to be pushed away or quit because his boys were unhappy because of how they treated them.

His twins were his entire world, his twins were the most important people in his life and that had driven Curtis to find someone who would care about them in the same way he had. He didn’t want someone who looked at them like they were some problem that needed to be corrected or fixed, he needed someone who gave a damn about the little boys that he would die for.

I found a nanny, she’ll be perfect. Don’t be an asshole when you meet her — Pari

Curtis received the text a half hour before he had left the club, the message coming across with a subtle warning that both Pari and her boyfriend would give him hell if he tried to intimidate this new potential nanny. Curtis had felt momentary relief by the threat that was made, between the lines of Pari’s text, with the thinly veiled threat meaning that this nanny could be the one he was looking for.

It was weighing on his mind from the time he left the club and started making his way home, the hopeful draw of having someone good to watch his kids. Since his ex had walked out on him and his boys when they were just over a month old, denying any parental rights for them, Curtis had been working his ass off to give them everything they would ever need.

He was a single parent though he had a strong support network from the close members of the club and their significant others. They had all adored Theo and James as if they were their own, and there had never been a singular moment where Curtis had regretted doing it without their birth mother.

His ex walking away from him and his boys was the best damn thing to happen to him. He had never contacted her about coming back, he never tried to rekindle the sexual relationship that led to them having twins. He had let what happened between them die and turn to ash, and as far as he knew she was off on the coast living with some guy she met online while sleeping around on him.

I mean it. Don’t be an ass — Pari

The second message had come through his phone while he was reaching for the doorknob of the garage, his hand hovering above the sleek silver metal while he read the message. Without responding Curtis slipped his phone back into his leather jacket and then turned the handle, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He kicked his boots off to the left not caring where they landed and slammed the door shut, just as quickly taking his phone out of his pocket before shrugging his jacket off and letting it drop where he stood. He stepped over the rumpled leather, following the sound of the quiet conversation coming from the kitchen where he found his boys huddled by the table and Pari standing by the fridge.

“Daddy’s back!” Theo stopped what he was doing, dropping the crayon in his hand to the plain page he had been colouring on and then scrambled across the table.

He jumped from the edge and scurried toward Curtis, launching himself at his legs to squeeze him tightly. Curtis had hugged Theo back while watching James focus on the drawing he was creating, admiring his son when he stuck his tongue out in order to concentrate on what he was doing.

“Where’s the nanny?” Curtis questioned Pari, raising an eyebrow when she turned to face him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Did she leave already?”

“She is amazing by the way,” Pari hadn’t answered his snarky question, instead she stepped away from the fridge and walked toward Curtis, first brushing Theo’s hair back and then she rest her hand upon Curtis’ shoulder, “I mean it, if you be an asshole-“

“That’s a bad word.” James piped up from the table, raising his head to look at his aunt with furrowed brows. “That’s a bad word right?”

“What’s a bad word?” As he heard someone else speak, Curtis glanced over his shoulder toward the potential nanny Pari had mentioned.

He knew from first glance that this nanny was nothing like the others who had shown up, the other women who had an air of sophisticated arrogance about them. All it took was a first glance at this potential nanny to know that she was different, almost cathartically so, from the others.

“Asshole, that’s a bad word right?” James innocently tilted his head as his mouth pursed, one of the crayons he was using placed between his upper and bottom lip as he waited for an answer.

“That’s…” Curtis studied you, the corner of his lips twitching as a smirk threatened to form when you seemed not to notice him. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“See, bad word.” James shook his head, glancing at his drawing with a look of complete and utter focus before he shrugged. “Daddy’s back.”

Curtis had bent to lift Theo from the floor, resting his oldest twin against his hip securely holding him in place. As Theo rest his head against Curtis’ shoulder, he had gotten a better look at you.

When you had finally realized he was there, you turned slowly to face him giving him a full and unobstructed view of you. He had raked his eyes over you in a slow and calculating way, from the mismatched socks that were both patterned to the pair of jeans you chose to wear that fit you like a glove.

The material clung to your thighs and hips, so well fitted to you Curtis wondered if they weren’t painted on. And as his speculative gaze rose further, a smirk had tugged on his lips when he watched you squirm and avert your eyes with anxiousness that was fuelled by his heady stare.

One look was all it took to get a full picture of who you were and what you were like. You were a good girl, someone who was quiet and bashful, almost skittish and afraid to have a lot of attention on you all at once.

“Curtis-“ Pari addressed him, her honey-laced brown eyes narrowing with a warning as her jaw ticked, the threat lingering on the back of his mind.

“So you’re the new nanny?” Curtis drew your attention back to himself, your eyes briefly meeting his though it was quick-lived. “Do you have a name?”

“Y/N,” you spoke quietly, mumbling your name while you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You were intimidated by him, though he couldn’t discern if it was his appearance that scared you or if it was his reputation that frightened you. Regardless, he was overtly aware of the rise and fall of your chest with every tempered breath and the skittishness that you felt when he stepped toward you.

“Couldn’t hear you, wanna repeat yourself?” He was amused by you and your bashfulness, the way you wouldn’t or couldn’t look at him for longer than a few moments felt incredibly exhilarating.

He had come across more women that couldn’t stop looking at him, more women who were bold and emblazoned by their attraction to him. It was arrogant of him, he surmised, to be so immune to the way they had stared. But you, right now, unable to look at him was addictive. He was far more interested and immediately taken by your shyness than he ever would have been with a bolder woman.

“Y/N,” you spoke more clearly, finally looking at him although he could see the uncertainty in your eyes. “Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” He spoke your name with a half-smirk and simmering eyes.

You were quiet, like a little mouse caught in the vision of a cat on the hunt, unable to move without fear of being caught in the clutch of sharp claws. You weren’t aware of his reputation, he knew you couldn’t have been or else you wouldn’t be here in this house. If you had known what he was capable of…

“Have you been a nanny before?” While Curtis was questioning you, Theo had squirmed in his grasp and he relented to crouch down and let his son go, watching him as he moved back toward the table and his drawing.

“I have…I’ve never been a nanny but I have a full education in-“ you looked toward Pari, nervously licking your bottom lip with bubbling anxiety.

“She’s got a degree in early childhood education, she’s certified in first aid and she knows CPR,” Pari answered for you, her eyes becoming knitted and her lips turning to a scowl. “Dickhead.”

Curtis bit back a laugh and drew his hand to his face, running his palm over the edge of his beard to stifle a smirk.

He watched you from the corner of his eyes, reacting with shock at the way Pari had spoken to him in such a brash measure although he couldn’t blame you for your reaction. You didn’t know how close Pari was to Curtis and his twins. You didn’t know that beyond her being their non-blood-related aunt, Pari was also like a sister to Curtis.

Of the few people who could’ve talked back to Curtis and call him every cursed name under the sun, Pari was one of the few who could get away completely unscathed. He trusted her not just with his kids but with the process of choosing a nanny since she had helped him out with the constant shift in nannies that came through like a revolving door. Curtis knew that Pari wouldn’t have threatened to kick Curtis’ ass if she hadn’t thought you were worth keeping around.

“Are you in a relationship?” Curtis next question had caught you off guard, and he could easily picture the wheels in your head spinning as you pondered why he asked in the manner that he had.

“Umm…” Again, you looked at Pari and Curtis was struck by another jolt of amusement over your reaction to his question. “Are you allowed to ask me that?”

“I can ask you whatever I want.” Curtis crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles contracting and straining against his plain black shirt, tattoos peering under the hems of his sleeves.

“Curtis is being a dick.” Pari shot him a dangerous look, venom radiating from her warm honey-laced brown eyes.

“I’m keeping my kids in mind, Pari. I’m not going to have some random man-“ He countered Pari’s argument, the two of them verbally combatting each other.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not…” you swallowed and drew out a short breath, wiping your hands on your jeans. “I’m single and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t bring them around your kids. That’s…that’s not okay.”

Curtis looked past you toward his twins, watching the two of them colouring on pages that had been blank and now were filled with the works of their imaginations.

While Theo had conceptualized the image of a ship on the ocean with sharks and fish swimming in the water, James had drawn his idea of a forest with overhanging trees and snakes hiding in the grass. The two were almost oblivious to what was going on around them, they were in their worlds enjoying something they loved to do.

“This is a live-in nanny position, you stay here until you’re not needed-“

“Curtis she knows, I told her everything.” Pari was adamant about coming to your defence, it was clear that she liked you and believed you would be best for the role even without Curtis truly grilling you as he should have.

“I’m okay with that. Being here I mean, as a live-in nanny. I was kind of expecting it…” you shifted your weight from your left foot to your right and chewed on the inside of your cheek, one of the many nervous habits he was sure you had.

“Pari take her home. Theo, James, upstairs and get ready for bed.” Curtis spoke with finality, ending the conversation and what little interview there was.

“I don’t-“

“I better see you here tomorrow, new girl. I want you here at 8:30, don’t be late.” He spoke with gruffness, giving you a curt demanding start time for your first day with underlying expectations that he wouldn’t listen to bullshit excuses if you were late.

“Should I-“

“Dickhead.” Pari rolled her eyes at Curtis as he passed by you with Theo and James running off ahead, scoffing at him then ushering you toward the front door with her in tow.

Curtis climbed the stairs to the upper level and stopped, glanced over his shoulder to witness the front door closing and then drew his lips into a crooked grin.

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