#(see i was gonna just make the peters quotes but theN I... I THOUGHT ABOUT MAKING IT TWO HALVES OF A LYRIC... AND REMEMBERED BROTHER

[incorrect-spideytorch]

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about spideytorch lately (as I am one to do) and a question popped into my head:

What is the most important spideytorch comic panel?

There’s a ton of great options in my opinion, but I think there also is an answer (at least for me) so now I am going to subject all of you to my thought process. Get ready for a way to long post breaking this down.

The most obvious starting point has to be this classic

Johnny Storm is going full house husband for Peter Parker, I mean c’mon! add in the fact that he’s in his undies and the way that he’s leaning over peter… yeah this is a classic. This might be the most famous spideytorch panel out there, but I don’t think it’s the most important one.

Another classic (but more antagonistic?) one takes place, of course, at the usual place.

To me this is peak identity shenanigans and the stuff that fanfics are made of. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the complications that go into the conflicting way these two view identity, oh boy I could talk about that shit for hours, but as an individual moment, it doesn’t really crack most important for me, it needs a bit more affection (they’re very bad at affection sometimes).

Another panel that came to mind very quickly for me is this set.

Johnny literally only had to say his name and Peter knew exactly what he meant and what he needed. This is top tier levels of communication, both between them and from the creators to us. I think this is another one that I could talk about for hours. That being said, it doesn’t feel important enough to me.

A friend in the spideytorch discord server posed this panel as the most important spideytorch moment in the comics.

I’m just gonna put their quote in cause it’s great. “I think this is one of my favorite panels cause Johnny was just speaking generally and Peter was like ‘oh my god! Actual wise words form johnny’ but also, I love that this was a more important moment for Peter than Johnny.” I must say, this entry is extremely important to spideytorch and gave my choice a run for its money. I don’t have a huge reason for not making this one the most important, other than personal taste. For their relationship, this is a key moment and sets them on the path to actually being friends (at least on Peter’s end), but idk it just wasn’t doing it for me.

Another panel I was reminded of thanks to this submission was this moment.

It’s not quite as impactful as the past one by a long shot but I do think it’s important. After being rivals for so long, to see Johnny give a genuine heartfelt compliment to Peter is fantastic (haha). This feels like the other half of the previous set of panels. There we had Johnny encouraging a stranger and here he’s encouraging his friend.

Some other friends in the discord server suggested the moment that Johnny invites Peter over to watch his sex tape (yes this is canon).

(Not pictured, Peter swinging away and saying he needs to take a cold shower). Now I’m not saying that the most important spideytorch moment needs to be serious, but I think this moment might be too unserious to claim that title. This moment was huge for the fanbase because holy shit did, he actually say that, but for their relationship, I just don’t think it was as important as it was to us.

Now I do want to knock out a few honorable mentions that I would hate to miss.

First, this look given to Spidey by Johnny, I mean yeah, he’s in love.

And to balance the lovesick flirty scales I must expose Peter as well.

Next, this heartbreaking moment that basically admits to the audience that Peter’s world becomes chaos when he loses Johnny. That shit hits.

Of course, the moment that gave us the ship name.

A panel that lives in my head rent-free because honestly marvel what were you attempting to convey here other than the fact that Peter really wants to have hate sex with Johnny Storm?

To take us outside of our duo, this quote from Ben Grimm (EDIT: it’s was Peter’s clone Ben Reilly, which honestly only adds more drama), because honestly same.

And of course, I have to include the panel which showed us the first time (on page) that Peter told Johnny he loved him AND gave us canon proof that these two have “date night,” many a fic writer was fed well.

And how could we forget! THE USUAL PLACE! Literally any panel mentioning this is top tier because its so good, like the core of the fandom honestly.

Lastly, before moving on to my own more serious contenders I have to share this parallel that @sciderman shared because I love it.

Now to my serious contenders for the title of most important spideytorch panel (please remember this is all my opinion and I mean no shade). This will be a top 5, but just know some of these rankings are pretty flexible (even flexible with some panels from the beginning), and this question should not be taken as seriously as I am taking it, I am fully aware of that.

Number 5!

So, I know that I discounted the sex tape scene earlier because I didn’t think it was serious enough and it didn’t do enough for their actual relationship, but I had to include this one I’m sorry. A lot of this is personal taste but the implications here are *chefs kiss* The first time I saw this panel was actually on Pinterest with the caption “wait a second, did spider-man and the human torch have sex?” which says it all for me.

Beyond that, this moment also shows how they reach out to each other when they have problems. Strange children show up in Peter’s life and the first person he calls about it is Johnny. Again, this is not the most serious, but I love it. This moment shows the banter of their relationship, how they care about and rely on each other, and also potentially reveals that they’ve had sex. There’s a lot to take in.

Number 4!

I will be honest with you all, this moment is here almost entirely because Ben’s quote lives in my head rent-free. Everyone around them sees how they feel about each other besides them. When they were rivals others could tell they actually liked each other and when they became friends others could tell that it was deeper than that. I think I especially love this panel because it conforms that we’re not crazy for thinking there’s something there but also because Ben specifically cites the way Johnny looks at peter. That is very specific and says a lot. I can’t imagine Ben would say this if the looks Johnny gave Peter were purely platonic, and just ahhhh, there’s so much said here just in one line from Ben. There was of course the Ben moment earlier, which I also love, but something about this one, the more specific phrasing of it I think just shoots it up my rankings a lot.

Number 3!

If you’ve been following me for a while I don’t think this is a surprise at all, I have already done a very in depth post about this panel so I’ll keep my thoughts brief. Red Skull knows that hurting Johnny will hurt Peter, Peter’s Spidey senses go off FOR JOHNNY, and we are given so much angst potential, I love it.

Number 2!

This one is probably a more popular choice than my number one, and I totally get it. The excitement and joy bursting out of Peter when he finally realizes that Johnny is here, he’s real, and he’s alive really gets me. Plus, the added context to the uniform comment being that Johnny literally left Peter his family and his spot on the team in his will. The amount of pure love in this moment and its larger context is abundant, platonic or romantic, it’s there. I feel like everything I could say about this panel has probably been said before, but it is definitely worthy of being the most important spideytorch moment, even if I have one that beats it for me.

Number 1!

For those of you who don’t know, this panel comes from Peter visiting Gwen’s grave and talking to her. That fact alone breaks me in half but then the things he says to her shatter me. Every spider-man fan knows how much Gwen’s death broke Peter, it destroyed him to lose her. Just the fact that Peter admits Johnny brings part of him back is amazing (haha) because that is a hug feat. But then he shatters me even more with his final sentences. After Gwen’s death, we often get a peter who spends too much time as Spidey in order to avoid having to cope with Gwen’s death as Peter, but also as a way to cope with the loss (he’s a complicate man). Spideypool also gets a lot from that arc because of Wade’s reaction to Spider-Man not holding back as much and becoming less of a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and that’s true. The fact that Peter feels like he’s becoming who Spidey is supposed to be again when he’s around johnny is huge! But then! He corrects himself. He’s not Spidey again, he’s Peter. The real person, the man behind the mask, comes back. And then you get the final correction. He’s not just peter again, he’s *Gwen’s* peter again. He is the him that existed with Gwen when he’s with Johnny. That speaks volumes and breaks whatever parts of me are left. How am I expected to read this and not think that Johnny and Peter are soulmates?

Now, I will acknowledge that this is much more of a peter moment than a joint spideytorch moment, much like the moment suggested by discord friend earlier. If that disqualifies it for you as the most important spideytorch panel, I get it. However, for me that doesn’t matter mainly for one key reason. So many classic spideytorch moments show a lot of Johnny having feelings for Peter or making a move on Peter. There have been a lot of times when I’m trying to get a friend into spideytorch, and I feel like I have to clarify that its not as one sided as it seems. Johnny is much more out there with who he is and doesn’t hide his feelings very well (except maybe from himself). So, when we get any spideytorch moment that hones in on peter’s feelings and love for Johnny, that feels so huge to me. This moment alone proves that it isn’t one sided, Peter has deep feelings for Johnny, even if he’s not sure what they are yet, he knows that what they have is special, he wouldn’t be telling Gwen about it otherwise. While it may not be as famous of a spideytorch moment, its an important one, and for me it’s probably the most important one.

Anyway, this has been a way too long post about this topic but if you made it to the end thank you so much! I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this topic so feel free to share those. Also, just a reminder that these are my opinions, and I am not in charge at all so don’t take it too seriously (unless you want to).

If you’re interested in hearing me, go more in depth on any of these panels (or any other spideytorch panels) shoot me an ask because I could honestly talk in depth for a while about most of these panels and I would love to do so. Thank you again for reading this way to long post and good night spideytorch nation.

[cressthebest]

Art Heist, Baby! Thoughts pt. 8

chapter 22:

1. sirius is fully committing to the heist, and the hole in my heart is slowly patching itself

2. sirius being challenged with the heist again after going so long with the poor substitute of catching art heists- this does something to me

3. regulus is proud that sirius got to grow his hair out like he wanted. sobbing still

4. Oh. it’s the museum again. with THAT painting. this. this is *the* ahb painting AGAIN

5. OH REG IS SHARING THE NIGHT SIRIUS GOT SHOT STORY TO JAMES GODDAMN

6. regulus will try to be good, just for james. he wants to be enough for james, and will never stop trying, but james always knows that reg is enough

chapter 23:

1. james tbinks that getting to know regulus is a privilege. holy shit hold up.

2. they’re so soft, wait

3. atp it’s a necessity to hear reg’s voice

4. james teasing regulus while reg is driving is 😳. ALSO reg is not good at driving to begin with. lord help them 😭😭😭

5. 😳😳😳 they’re getting spicy. but also, like, so me fr

6. okay, the way that they all make references to their canon animagi are fantastic. i particularly like how remus compares sirius’ stubborn attitude to a dog licking his wounds.

7. WOLFSTAR IS CURED WOLFSTAR IS BACK TOGETHER WOLFSTAR IS CANON

8. 😳😳 now wolfstar is getting at it

9. also, do yourself a favor and go read chapter 23 end notes. masterpiece.

chapter 24:

1. starting the chapter off with jegulus smut i see

2. james’ antler tattoo 😳

3. james is the only one for regulus, i’m sobbing

4. “Most of anything Regulus thought about these days revolved around James. That’s what he gets, he supposed, for falling for the sun. It was only natural.” AHHHHHHHHH. there’s a million things i want to quote from ahb, so i have to be selective, but WOW

5. they’re planning their house together in brazil. sobbing fr rn. arguments over green or red shutters. they’re gonna live together. i’m about to start blubbering wiat ajesjfnsksjdsldj

6. 😳 remus caught them. uh live laugh love

7. REMUS AND JAMES ARE GOSSIPING ABOUT THEIR LOVE LIFE, ALL IS RIGHT IN THE WORLD!! both of them proud for scoring the black brothers. goddamn, that’s an accomplishment

8. DORLENE!!! getting married in italy!!!!

9. barty calling jegulus sluts <3

10. ahb peter <33333

11. SHOVEL TALKS. i live for these

12. barty and evan are reg’s found family brothers and i stand by that for life.

[backtothefanfiction]

Kinktober '23 | DAY 2: The Bet and the Costume Contest

Prompt: RolePlay

Summary: You enter into a bet with your couples costume contest partner.

Warnings: SMUT!! Roleplay, costumes, PinV, upskirt, frat!Peter

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Day 2, here we go!!! I did watch Buffy as a kid but have yet to watch properly as an adult despite it being on my list of things to do but hopefully still reads okay. Also I just rushed the second half of this so apologies if the tense is messed up.

It was just your luck. Of course you would have been paired with him. It was Brianna’s fault really. She was the one who had come up with this whole idea of partnering with your Theta Beta Pi brothers to do a couples costume contest as part of this year's Halloween Bash. All the girls had put their names into a hat and each of the boys took turns picking a name out and of course you had been picked by Peter Parker. You had decided to go as Buffy and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or at least you thought you had until you turned up at the house in a mini skirt, wooden stake in hand and a bleached blonde, leather clad Parker, ran down the stairs and straight into you.

“THERE’S MY BUFFY!” he beamed.

“What did you do to your hair?!”

“I’m Spike. I thought it would be more fun. Plus I figured we’d be a shoe in to win due to my dedication alone.” He said pointing to his head.

“Oh my god!” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

As the night went on you had to admit, the blonde, although it did make him look quite sleazy, was actually quite hot. You also had to commend his dedication to the character and the bit as he kept shouting out Spike quotes the whole night. “AND YOU’RE WHAT? SHOCKED AND DISAPPOINTED? I’M EVIL!” He shouted when the two of you won at beer pong against a pair dressed as Mario and Princess Peach.

“Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got shagged, cup of tea.” he said as he handed out drinks to your small congregated group as you sat sharing a joint in the garden.

“First I’ll kill her, then I’ll save her.” he said, wrapping an arm around you and dipping you over it as he showed off in front of his fraternity brothers.

“PETER!” You squealed.

“Peter? Who is this Peter? There’s no Peter here, my name is Spike.”

He had called you Buffy for the whole night too. “Where has my Buffy gone?” he would cry as he moved through rooms in the house looking for you. “BUFFY? Excuse me, have you seen the chosen one?” he asked one girl.

“What Harry Potter?” she responded. He just bared his fake fangs and hissed at her.

“Yo Parker!” One of his frat brothers, Josh, called to him across the room, directing him back to the group of you sat around the coffee table in the living room.

You budged up a little on the seat, giving him room to squeeze in beside you (he won’t sit anywhere else).

“So Parker, you’re pretty confident about winning this costume contest.” Josh said. He’s dressed up as Sonny, Alannah is somewhere else in the house dressed as Cher.

“I mean, yeah. Look at us man.” Peter shot back confidently.

“You willing to put a bet on it?” Josh taunted.

“Oh we are not winning.” You mumbled from your seat beside Peter. The only thing he’s got going for him is the hair, apart from that the two of you look basic compared to other costumes, there’s a really good Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein hanging around somewhere.

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble with placing a bet then.” Josh drunkenly goaded.

“What and you think you’re gonna win?” You said back.

“Oh no, I know we aren’t going to win. I’m talking about you two. You know Parker’s always had a crush on Buffy.” 

At Josh’s words Peter squirmed a little beside you but tried his best to hide it, eager to see how you’d react.

“Is that so?” You questioned.

“Yup!” Josh said confidently. “If you guys win, Parker gets his dream come true and gets to fuck Buffy.” He throws out.

“Fine. Deal.” Your drunken brain responded hastily. There’s no way you guys are winning. “Okay and what if we lose?”

“Okay, what do you want?” Josh asked on Peter’s behalf. He’s being uncharacteristically quiet for this whole exchange.

“If we lose the contest, which we will,” you reassure, “you guys have to bring a litre bottle of vodka to every party just for me, until the end of the year.”

“Deal.” 

“And by end of the year I mean school year, not just Christmas break.”

Peter and Josh hesitate a sec but Josh is quick to solidify the deal, holding his hand out for you to shake. And that was how you ended up with Peter Parker tied to your bedframe with the tie from your bathrobe. You were sure it had to have been rigged, there really was no way you should have won.

“Peter, I feel silly.” 

“Just go with it, I promise it’s all good.”

“Pete, I haven’t even seen that much of the show.”

“It’s vampires and magic and supernatural stuff, it’s all cool just, make it up.”

‘Fine’ you thought as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been checking Giles’s books and there's only one way to cure this type of evil.” you said as you began to slowly walk across the room to him. He gives you a devilish look and you have to admit, paired with the blonde hair it does make you weak in the knees. 

He watches you closely as you come to a stop beside the bed. His eyes follow your fingers as you slide them up your legs and underneath your skirt, hooking your thumbs into your underwear and pulling them down your legs. He goes to frustratedly moan as you tease him but the moment his mouth is wide enough, you shove your panties into his mouth.

“UUUhhh FuuCK!” his voice mumbles into the fabric as his head lulls back.

You climb up onto the bed, hooking your leg over his hips to straddle him. You reach behind you for the stake, sitting at the end of his bed, running it down his chest. “You need to hold still okay. Do you trust me?” you asked him in character. He nodded.

When your hand trails down to undo his trousers he is hard and he whispers slightly as his sensitive tip brushes past the fabric of his boxers as you pull them down far enough to release him. You reach for a condom, rolling it down onto his length before you lift yourself to hover over him and slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

His eyes watch intensely as his length slips out of view underneath your skirt. With the way he’s looking at you, you have to admit, maybe you were getting more into this than you first thought you would. He moans as you ride his cock, grinding your hips down into his pelvic bone before lifting back off again, his skin dragging across your slit and it feels so good. His cock feels so good as he fills you out. 

You know you told him to stay still but you don’t have it in you to punish him when he starts rolling his hips and thrusting up into you. You quickly realise though he’s close, his thrusts getting quicker as he chases his high. He mumbles words around your panties. You are reluctant to do it but you remove them from his mouth to hear what he has to say. 

“Thank you.” he sighs first and just pants for a little bit between grunts as you continue to ride his dick, your walls tightening with every up lift before you slam your hips back down again. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes Buffy. Fuck that evil out of me.” he says and if it wasn’t for the fact you were actually so close you would have just got off and left him hanging but you are so close now you want your own finish. “Lift your skirt, let me see.” he asks. You raise your eyebrows at him. “Please.” he quickly adds and you oblige lifting up the sides of your skirt so it sits above your hips. “Oh yeah.” he moans. “Touch yourself.” he says and you don’t know why but you do as he says, your fingers moving to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends you over the edge and he cries out “OH FUCK!” as your walls clamp down around him. 

You can feel his hips stutter, once, then twice, then he stills as you feel him fill the condom inside you. 

He lets out a long sigh of relief as you begin to ease yourself off him. “What do you say, Parker?”

“Thank you Miss Summers.” You just roll your eyes.

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

kINkToBEr taG LiST

you want the tag, you have to tell me in writing!

@jakobsdump @https-laiyana @tarzinnia

[multi-muse-transect]

Cyberpunk Jinx AU Headcanons

Basically how I think Jinx's story would go if she ran into Ciri from the Witcher who can travel dimensions and chose to hide in the Cyberpunk universe to start a new life.

Jinx got her new lease on life when she met Ciri who showed her a place to get away and it was the Cyberpunk universe. She arrived in Ohio first and fell in with the Bakker Clan under the name V. There she bonded with the Nomads and even got some chrome until she saw her new family finally disappear after they integrated into Snake Nation thus causing Jinx to head to Night City for a job.

She actually thrives well in Night City with Jackie as she was a natural at fighting. Jackie pointed it out and she says she has chrome in her system when it's really shimmer.

Jackie, Viktor, and Misty are basically Jinx's new family with Viktor remind her of Vander.

After the heist, Johnny looked deep into her mind and thought he was on drugs again when he saw her past then kept quiet about it. It wasn't until he brought it up to her at the motel. My bet is that he would say "You were like me but got cold feet! So when the deed was done, you upped and left everyone!" And that causes Jinx to fall silent with Johnny saying "What? Are you gonna forget me like how you did with Vi, Clogger, and Milo?"

Johnny and Jinx would talk about their situations and how they are alike in many ways leading to alternate conversations.

The relic ends up making Jinx even more unstable cause she's basically dying or her mind is getting rewritten.

She would definitely have sick guitar skills when she's playing with Kerry Eurodyne.

Judy and her would do a lot of flirting.

Jinx has PTSD flashbacks when she meets Panam cause her and Vi are alike in so many ways. She fears getting attached to her but ends up getting attached anyway and she gets a new sister.

Jinx just gets too much bad Caitlyn flashbacks when she meets River yet opens up to him in the end. Even solving the whole Peter Pan case with him.

In Phantom Liberty, Solomon Reed does a scan on Jinx only to find out there's no registration or information on her at all which makes him infinitely suspicious cause the NUSA keeps tabs everyone while there's nothing on Jinx. Even Myers is puzzled about this when he tells it to her alongside Songbird who is just as confused.

If Jinx chose the Devil ending, her last memories and words are her sister's name as soulkiller zaps her and turns her consciousness into an engram. She's later brought back in a new body that has shimmer in it then leaves the Cyberpunk universe when she meets Ciri again and returns to her universe where she works at the bar and meets Vi again who of course doesn't recognize her but the two become friends alongside Caitlyn and Ekko. Jinx sees the mural and says goodbye to her former self before heading off.

In the Tower ending, Jinx ends up with no more chrome but still has shimmer inside her veins which grabs the attention of Myers and Reed. She returns to Night City where things have changed but beats the hell out of Terry to showcase her strength and doesn't combat implants.

The Star ending is Jinx going with the Aldecaldos with a new family to start another life. Jinx makes her peace with her past and finally settles down.

Temperance ending is Johnny who is now Jinx meeting Ciri again as she tells her to find Vi and take her to Night City to the Columbariam where Johnny has set up a niche for her. The niche reads "Powder-the woman who saved and changed many lives. Even mine. Thank you." Vi and Ciri arrive there with Vi finding said niche before sadly and angrily demanding to be left alone with it while Johnny leaves Night City.

Suicide ending is the same as before but Misty implies that she knows where she's from.

In the Sun ending, Mr Blue Eyes hints he knows that Jinx isn't from their universe at all and drops hints to her. Even quoting Silco as well. Jinx takes up the Crystal Palace job and flies off.

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

Finale!! Let’s go!! (Gonna write as I watch)

1)The scene with Luke was so cute but also a little creepy. What was up with that?? Also!! The initial narration of episode 1 is Percy quoting Luke?!?! My heart, I love them so much 🥺

2)Omg!! The fight was good af! Did... did Walker's eyes change color???? Not Ares trying to kill them with his " true form" as a last resort, sore loser.

3) mom??? Bro, you just saw her statue in the Underworld.... holy shit!!! Mrs. Dodds!!! The helm looks cool af ngl. Percy is so cool, like damn. Oh, yeah, the deadline passed, which means Poseidon & Zeus are definitely at war!!! That's what started WW2?!?! Gods being petty bitches... damn... He's done running from monsters 😭 (I love the implication that Zeus is a monster. You're right and you should say it.) Annabeth gave him her necklace 😭😭😭, that's so cute. An email, Grover 😂��

4) That's one way to get Zeus's attention, damn. Just dropped the bolt in front if the doorman 😂😂. What do mortals see when they see the bolt??

5) Olympus looks cool af!! Oh, Luke & Percy again! Annabeth is terrified of spiders! Things that are small and scary get squished. Oh Luke is in his big brother mentor era!! Love to see it!

6) the council room!! The thrones look cool af, I can't wait to see all of the God's sitting on it! Oh, I have no idea how they're going to replace the actor, he is perfect as Zeus!! Yes!! Read him to filth Percy!!!! Holy shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Poseidon surrended for Percy 😭😭😭😭, I'm- Oh, Toby Stephens always eat. Omg!!! They're speaking Greek!! Is it Greek Greek or ancient Greek. Does anyone speak ancient Greek. Everyone?? What are Apollo, Artemis, Dionysus, and Demeter??? 😭

7) Percy and Poseidon!! Omg! Patrus 😭😭. Poseidon's smile about Sally... Bro... Ares is a moron 😂😂 (they've done the family vibe of the Olympians so well! 😂). Answer the question, Poseidon!!! Do you dream about her!?!?!

8) I wonder if thet planted that tree specifically to be Thalia's tree or if they just found a cool tree they liked lol. They hugged!! Holy shit, Clarisse is still here??? What is happening?!?!?

9) Luke being a responsible leader! We stan!! Annabeth being all cool, I see her!

10) fireworks! So cool!! The mommy issues in Luke are through the roof. Wait does Luke look like he's crying?? Wait what??? What do you mean she didn't???? Wait what?!?! Wtf. Luke?!?! No. LUKE SAY SOMEGHING! NOT THAT!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!?! HOLY SHIT. IM CRYING. NO.

Oh, he's making some good points. This are some valid points. Episode 1 Percy would be eating this up ngl. I mean, not to be a bitch, but like... Luke sounds like those girls that have been groomed... all like "he loves me! He's gonna take care of me!" Like... are you sure???

Are they trying their best Percy?? Are they really?? I'm not an expert, but maybe don't mention his dad to the kid you know has daddy issues, if you don't want him to kill you, just a thought. I kinda of want Percy to say he's and go apeshit on the Gods ngl. He apologized for hurting Luke 😭😭😭. Wait, what??? Annabeth!! No!! 😭😭😭 she heard everything, Luke's face, my heart 😭😭😭 I was not ready for all of this emotion

11) Armed escort lol. He doesn't want you dead, he wants you next to him. Very persuasive... sounds manipulative to me.... Mr D! He's funny af. I'm 90% sure it's Peter😂. I don't think so 😂. Kicking them all out, I can't, bro...

12) Annabeth is going to see her dad?!?! Omg her hair looks so cute!! Her talking to Thalia's tree is cute. Her dad is taking her to Disney world 😭😭. Percy telling her to be a kid 😭😭😭 Grover is gonna search for Pan!! Percy is gonna help him search the seas!! (The next one is called sea of monsters right?? Maybe that's the "main quest"???) The hug!!! 😭

13) I hadn't realized it earlier, the beach is Montauk!! Where his mom went missing! It's the beach house they came to. She's here!!!! Look at her!!!! 😭😭 hugging her baby boy 😭😭wait what??? No, Sally!! Where are you?!?! Wait, is that kronos?!?!??!?!?!?!?!? Is he sassying time itself?!?!!?! Bro.... 😭😂😭😂😂 what does he mean?!?!?! What?!?!

14) Sally!!!!!! She's here!!! The fact that he's only just starting 7th grade is wild... he's baby. Percy calling Kronos grandpa, I can't 😂😂. Sally is done with Percy's shit , I can't. "Kronos, Lord of the Titans, said that?" I love her 😂

15) blue pancakes?? They look good af ngl. It's a storm!! Poseidon is also there for Percy's first day of school 🥺. Didn't percy have a step-dad?? The asshole one? What happened to him??

16) oh, there he is. What an asshole. Sally changed the locks 😂. Good for her!! What a dick. Wait.. is that.... is that Medusa??? Omg! Holy shit!! That's hilarious!! 😂😂 good riddance!!!

I have no words. I need a new season now!!! This was by far my new favorite episode!! I love this so much!!! I'm heart broken. I need more!!!

[blackbullet99]

Mary Jane Watson From The Spider-Man Trilogy Is Ridiculously Overhated

I keep seeing a bunch of stuff online about how the Raimi Trilogy MJ sucks, how she’s “the real villain” and a horrible person, blah blah blah.

Truth be told, I don’t have that much of an attachment to this character, I’ll defend people like Katara from the unjust hate she receives because she’s one of favorite characters and heroines EVER! But MJ (in these movies anyway) is merely okay. I much prefer the leading ladies of the other Spider-Man films, Gwen Stacy and Michelle Jones.

They have more personality, better relationships with Spidey and aid him more in his heroics. In the original trilogy Peter and MJ are often at odds and usually the later always has to be rescued (not that it’s her fault). There are legitimate reasons to dislike this depiction of MJ (i.e. her personality isn’t exactly comic accurate). But a lot the hate she receives is relatively unfounded and definitely in misogyny, coming mostly from incels.

Like, seriously, this just screams incel loser syndrome right here.

First and foremost, MJ is a fairly sympathetic character, she’s generally a kind, friendly individual for the most part, which is why Peter is drawn to her, but she’s also deeply insecure due to her abusive father and thinks her worth is determined by whom she’s in a relationship with, only for these people, such as Flash and Harry to mistreat her or demean her respectively.

People often get mad at MJ for her treatment of Peter, but really think about things from her perspective. He’s the only guy who treats her with sincere genuine kindness for the most part, then out of the blue, after he indirectly confesses his feelings about her and she directly confesses her, he states they can only be friends, then to quote TV Tropes, we the audience have a…

Then Peter tells her he wants to be with her after she’s publicly announced she’s engaged and the later when she comes close to considering it tries to back out of it, again we the audience know why, by MJ doesn’t.

However, I will say ditching her fiancé at the altar was messed up and I can’t really defend it, probably the worst thing MJ did especially because said fiancée was a genially nice dude. But hey, it’s sweet to see her and Peter finally admit their feelings despite her knowing he’s Spider-Man.

She also gets a lot of flack in Spider-Man 3, which I also find kinda unfounded. One big reasons is her essentially cheating on Peter by kissing Harry, but people tend to forget:

She quickly realized what she was doing was wrong.

Peter also kissed Gwen right in front of her, without much thought, you could argue that kiss was staged, but still it’s rather hypocritical.

I’m not saying MJ is a flawless woman who can do no wrong, but her that her vices are overblown by so called fans. It can only be due to misogyny seeing as Peter and Harry also do pretty jerkish things. I already mentioned some of Peter’s actions earlier, but in the first movie Harry essentially goes after someone he knows his best friend likes as soon as she breaks up with her ex and doesn’t even tell his best friend about it, then his dad pretty much calls his girlfriend a slut and that he should just do her while he can (something people actually agree with) and he barely defends her. But neither he or Peter get as much flak. Granted I really like both characters myself, but still.

I just don’t get why people are so obsessed with villainizing MJ in these films. Isn’t the whole point of these films is that anyone even good people can make bad or selfish choices, but sometimes all they need is forgiveness, understanding and compassion. That’s one of the core themes of the trilogy, especially the final film. So I’m gonna leave you with this…

[generalallxsanjishipper]

Some incorrect\extremely correct quotes for my EXTREMELY FAR AWAY IN THE FUTURE ADP FIC (and in part in TIALAMYDK LMAO)

***

Alice *after entering Douxie's mind for several minutes, on the floor*: Oh, wow. Your brain is a disaster

Douxie *also on the floor*: Yeah, I know

Alice : Ever thought about doing drugs?

——

Zoe: Casperan. 

Douxie: Ashildr.  

Zoe: Clumsy dumbass. 

Douxie: Angry Chiwawa. 

Claire: *confused* What are they doing? 

Archie: Insulting contest. 

Claire: Ah. 

Zoe: Old Man. 

Douxie: Dwarf. 

Zoe: Flat ass.

Douxie:  Useless Half Lesbian

Zoe: Knucklehead

Douxie: Mosquito

Zoe: Peter Pan

Douxie: *Suddenly grinning* Pinky pie. 

Zoe: EXCUSE ME?

Douxie: HA! *Claps hands with a smug face* I WON! 

Zoe: HOW DID YOU JUST CALL ME?! I'M GONNA FUCKING END YOU! 

Alice: Now, now… 

——

Douxie: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces.

Douxie: *waves his fingers and sings like he is in a Disney Channel intro*

——

Simon: Why are you on fire?

Douxie: This is just how my day is going.

——

Douxie: Everybody shut up, please! I'm thinking.

Zoe, patting him on the back: Well, don’t think too hard. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Douxie: Oh, for the bloody sake, Ashildr!

——

Jim: I’m here for the cult stuff.

Alice: How did you find us?

Jim: I saw your ad on craigslist.

——

Alice: To be honest, I'm kinda pissed that I'm not asleep in bed next to the love of my life in a cottage with no obligations other than watering my vegetable garden.

——

Archie, looking at Douxie, Alice, Simon and Zoe: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

——

Simon, on the phone: Oh, hey man… Sorry for accusing you of murder last week.

——

Alice: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Zoe: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Alice: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Douxie, on a mic that he brought by himself: This is Douxie, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

Douxie:*drops the mic on the floor and leaves, muttering about being a third wheel*

——

Zoe: Mom liked to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

——

Jim: Who's in charge here?

Zoe, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest. So, me.

——

Barbara, seeing both Douxie and Alice on wheelchairs: I hope you have an explanation for this.

Alice: We have three, actually! :D

Douxie: Pick your favorite.

——

Alice: *venting endlessly to Simon about her week*

Simon, every once in a while: *in a monotone* Wow, that is so wild.

——

Alice: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that Gods or... God are real.

Nari:*appears*

Alice: WHAT THE FLIP

Athena:*appears too*

Alice:*looses her flipping mind*

——

Zoe, to Claire: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it’s not going to be me.

Claire:

Claire: Yes, it's you, actually.

——

Alice, *talking about Zoe*: She's the girl of my dreams!

Douxie: You say to most of the girls that they are the girl of your dreams.

Alice: I have a lot of dreams.

——

Douxie: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

——

Simon: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you, it'd ruin the mystery.

——

Zoe, *talking about one of her first meeting with Douxie*: And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife several times.

Jim: You mean you stabbed him?

Zoe: He ran into my knife.

Douxie: She ran into my knife, too.

——

Zoe: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are.

Jim: Okay?

Zoe: …

Zoe: …

Zoe: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so...

——

*Zoe and Alice are texting*

Zoe: Your ass is like…

Zoe: Spacious

Alice: WHAT

Zoe: Sorry, I didn’t want to say fat because it might trigger your ED

——

Bastard number 1:*sarcastically, while leaving* I hope you all make it to adulthood.

Jim: That’s... a great prayer.

Simon: A needed one.

Douxie: A needed one indeed.

——

Simon: I will send my army to attack!

Simon: *makes roaring noises*

Simon: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

Jim, next to his Vespa: WHOA

Jim: THEY WERE YOURS????

——

Zoe, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it-

Douxie, whispering: Should we call the exorcist?

Alice, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick.

Simon, appalled, but looking apathetic: Call the exorcist.

——

Zoe: Alice and I are no longer dating.

Alice: Zoe, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

——

Zoe: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

——

Alice: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Alice: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies.

Toby: Socks are Feetie Heaties.

Jim: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties.

Douxie: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies.

Claire: Stamps are Lickie Stickies.

Zoe: I hate you guys so much.

——

Alice, looking through their clothes: Has anyone seen my top?

Simon, grabbing his mint gums without looking at her: Zoe's in the kitchen.

[pnf-n-mcu-is-life]

Marvel Quotes I liked (gonna gradually add)

Avengers, Age of Ultron:

Strucker: “Keep going.” 

Agent: “But sir, They’re the avengers!”Literally two seconds later: 

Strucker: “No surrender!” *Turns to person* “I will surrender.” 

Nat: Could someone help with the bunker? Hulk: literally runs through the bunker, breaking it

Nat: thanks.

Tony, as the science dork he is: please be a secret door, please be a secret door, please be a secret door, yay! 🎉 

Scott, in Tony’s suit, instructing The Ants tm

Tony: who’s speaking???? 

Scott: it’s your conscience. We don’t talk a lot these days.

WandaVision: 

Ep. 5

Vision, turning back into human Vision: oh, Agnes, I was just fluffing this pillow, with my,….face. 

Ep. 6, Halloween:

Vision: *makes a pose like he’s about to shoot an arrow* I smell crime…

Darcy: Hey, there he is. The guy who almost got murdered by his own murder squad.

Director Hayward: You work for me?

Darcy: I actually don’t know.

Monica: *sighs*

Ep. 7, Breaking the fourth wall/ Wanda is having an existential crisis: 

Wanda: Look, we’ve all been there, right? Letting our fear and anger get the best of us, intentionally expanding the borders of the false world we created.

Billy: Do we have to go, Mom? Someone needs to be here to take care of you.

Agnes: Don’t worry, I don’t bite! 

…I actually did bite a kid once.

Ep. 8, Previously on:

Agnes/atha: C’mon. *Going to see Wandas worst memories*

Wanda: No.

Agnes/atha: Did you forget who’s got your kids locked away in her bewitched basement?

Dr. Strange:

Some bad guy: Mr. Strange…

Stephen: Doctor.

Guy: Mr. Doctor?

Stephen: It’s Strange.

Guy: Yes, I know that it’s strange.

Iron Man 2: 

Coulson, walking in: We need you for something.

Pepper: Oh hi Phil!

Tony: His name is Agent.

Spider-Man, FFH:

Peter: I-I can’t do this! I’m just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

Fury: Bitch, you been to space.

Peter: Wha-no- that was by accident!!

Fury: Too Bad.

Spider-Man, NWH:

Norman Osborn: Where exactly are we?

MJ, to the villains trapped in the sanctum: You’re in a wizard’s basement. 

Otto: What?

MJ: There’s no way to sugarcoat this. You’re trapped in a wizard’s basement.

 Tobey’s Peter: okay, Peter 3.

Andrew’s Peter: What? I thought I was Peter 2.

Tom’s Peter: Okay, okay. You’re Peter 2 (Tobey) and you’re Peter 3 (Andrew).

Green Goblin: *stabs Peter 2*

Peter 3: You okay?

Peter 2: Yeah, I’ve been stabbed before.

Peter 3: Ok, good good good.

[Just-the Peters. They’re so…brother. Y’know? And I live for it.

Also, I have resorted to calling Tom’s Peter Peter-Man.]

Wakanda Forever:

Riri: If we could find a way to dry his ass out, he won’t be as strong.

Shuri: Yo, that’s it.

Deadpool:

Wade, counting the bullets he has left while shooting people: 7, shit. 6, fuck, 5, shit-fuck.

Ant-Man and The Wasp, Quantumania:

Scott: You gotta jump and tap. *Knocks out a few people* See that?

Cassie: No, you were like, this small.

[WHY DOES REALISTIC MODOK LOOK LIKE THAT AhhhHHHHhhHHH]

Hawkeye:

Kate: Hey look, that one’s you. *points to Avenger cosplayers*

Clint: No, that’s Katniss Everdeen. Now, let’s go.

Jack: The secret to a good risotto is to…agitate it. Just enough.

Kate: So, how exactly?

Clint: *flashbacks to explosion after explosion* …

Guy with a thick accent who kiddnapped Clint: Kate Bishop is guy, bro.

Clint: Kate Bishop is not guy.

Guy: Kate BIshop is guy in costume.

Clint, Karen Edition: Can I speak to your manager? This is like talking to furniture.

Gotg Vol. 3

Peter: People on Earth die when they’re like, 50.

Mantis: They die when they’re 50???

P: I dunno, something like that.

M: What’s even the point of being born?

P: Exactly! [You good dude]

M: Are you about to die?

P, shocked: I’m not 50!

Mantis: What colour button did you push?

Peter: Blue, for the blue suit!

Nebula: Blue is the open line for everyone.

Mantis: Orange is for blue. Blue is for orange, Yellow is for green, green is for red, and red is for yellow.

Drax: No, Yellow is for yellow, green is for red, and red is for green.

Mantis: How do you know that?

Drax: Try it then.

Mantis, to Peter: HELLLOOOOO.

Peter, feedback ringing in his ears: How the hell was I supposed to know all of that?

Drax: Seems intuitive.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 3

Summary: Colonel Parker's sudden entrance and news of on-set rumors worry Elvis, who tries to ignore them. Francesca, though falling for Elvis, fears getting too close. Their love, tested by fame and personal wishes, reaches a peak during a romantic night where they share their true feelings. Facing a potential turning point, one has to ask: Can their love withstand the challenges of their public lives, or will the spotlight's glare be too much?

Read chapter one and chapter two to get caught up. Word count: 9,400 Warnings: Intense romantic and sexual situations; medical emergencies; substance abuse; emotional vulnerability.

Colonel Parker stormed into the dressing room. He had a penchant for crew-blindness. If someone wasn’t a star, he simply didn’t acknowledge them. As far as he was concerned, the extras weren’t even there. 

So, he didn’t have any qualms about laying everything out in front of the nice makeup girls, who did their very best to pretend they definitely didn’t hear a word Elvis and his agent were saying.

“Did you see what she said? In her little press blurb?” He slapped a gray, rolled up newspaper on the desk, rattling the brushes. 

“What who said?” Elvis half-heartedly passed a glance to the unfurling paper. It was just a local paper, who cared what some reporter had to dress up and slant and make malice? That’s how most of them were. Twisting words to suit their stories, to sell their articles. But when the Colonel flipped a few sheets in, to a long article filled with quotes, Elvis couldn’t help but check again, even if his eyes couldn’t discern the lettering.

It read, “An anonymous tipster has it that Elvis can be a challenge to work with at times due to his overwhelming presence on set, and that some of the female members are finding friction alongside their co-rockstar, and not in a good way.”

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Elvis laughed. He didn’t care. He wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t wondering which female members. What friction?

“It goes on. I mean...” the Colonel’s voice was high strung. Insinuating. “There’s some nice stuff in here. Most of the crew seems happy, but it just looks like whoever spoke to the reporter might not be. Hm.” Like he was pondering on it, in a thoughtful way. “Best to take care of that. You don’t want directors thinking you’re hard to work with or even too wild on set. They don’t like that kind of party animal stuff on the clock no more, my boy. What you do at home is your business. But while you’re here, you might as well try and take it seriously. It’s what you wanted, isn't it?” He kept his tone light, almost consoling.

Elvis’s fists balled on the studded leather arms of the make-up chair. Application of his pancake makeup had petered off as the girls nervously fidgeted, pausing awkwardly before continuing with the finishing touches. 

“Gonna pat your face all over one more time, Mr. Presley.”

He shut his eyes in anticipation and exhaled, getting locked into place.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal, but I’ll make sure everything’s running smoothly. I’m agreeable. You know that.” He diffused, diverted, decompressed. Always the one that had to tactfully take up for himself while simultaneously maintaining the peace (which usually meant kowtowing to whatever it was his heavy-handed agent wanted).

The Colonel put his stony hands on Elvis’s shoulders, encouragingly in his bumbling way. “I just don’t want to see you make a fool of yourself.”

Elvis nodded, but in agreement with the decision to remain steadfast in his calm. If he blew up now, it would just make things worse. And he wondered. That reporter had been hawking Frannie, waiting for the moment to strike. Had she still been mad at him at the time? Had she let something unseemly slip? That just… didn’t seem like her. She was so humble, so reserved in her professionalism. Glamour and grace, she was the essence of class. She never said a bad word about anybody.

He just needed to talk to her, smooth things over like he said. That’s all.

“Good luck out there kid, better get crackin’.” When the Colonel left, Elvis’s mind was truly left to ramble. The paper had been left open. That wasn’t all she said. 

He feathered the pages between his fingers, bringing it up to read.

"Some say more than sparks are flying high on the set. Are tensions mounting as well? When social lives dance with professionalism, can everything truly be conflict free?"

He rolled his eyes. The drama. Like conflicts in a movie set were the most headline worthy bits of news to grace the media. When did journalism become more sensationalism and less reality? Pushing the papers away wasn't enough; he plunked them into the trash, dusting his hands.

*

There was a spring in her step, a lightness that lifted her clean off the ground. Francesca was floating—cautiously, carefully—on the surf of infatuation. It was a giddiness that followed her throughout the day. It drew patterns that she otherwise wouldn't have noticed. Young couples seemed more affectionate as she glanced at them on the street, leaning on one another, hands clasped tight. The sun felt brighter on her face. But she wouldn't use that accursed, powerful four-letter word, even if her mind whispered it like an omen.

You're falling, falling fast.

Elvis surprised her the other night, classic pebble-against-window style. He had the Mafia in tow, whooping, spilling out of the sides of the pink Cadillac. She’d opened her window to hear them loudly, chittering and then shushing one another.

"Heeeey, Francieee," Billy waved, hiccuping and covering his mouth.

A bunch of unchaperoned young kids, giggling drunk with Elvis the sober pilot.

"To what do I owe this star-crossed meeting?" She laughed and called down, the night wind catching her dark curls. Stories away and she could see the twinkle in his eye from up above. Elvis waved and then reached down beside him, pulling up the neck of his guitar.

Oh, no. He didn't. He was going to wake everyone on the street! The moon was high, and the city seemed to hush in a quiet whisper, anticipating the tinny strum of his acoustic guitar. The sound was haunting, like a dove cooing his loneliness.

Francesca was a proper Juliet, waiting to be serenaded.

"Any requests?" He asked, tickling the strings, adjusting the tension. 

"Leeeet me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with YOU!"

"Billy, goddammit." Red bickered.

Frannie grinned. "Oh, I do like Bing Crosby," she said, watching Elvis's shoulders roll back.

"Hmp. Well, I've got something better than that," Elvis retorted, clearly a nerve twinged. Was he jealous? He fanned the strings hard, kicking the neck up. He pointed right at her, announcing to a made-up crowd with a fake mic gripped in his hand, "This song is for a very, very special little lady."

“The summer wind came blowin’ in from across the sea. It lingered there to touch your hair and walk with meeee.”

Call it corny, but she had to admit it made her heart melt. 

*

Today, they were filming the scene that set the mood for the film’s romance: when Josephine and Jake first meet at the casino under the overwhelming sun of the dazzling lights.

Her hair couldn’t settle right; it kept tickling her face and she’d have to brush it away. And maybe the new air conditioning system was stirring up a lot of dust. She blinked, rubbing the corners of her eyes, trying not to muck up her make-up. The first chapter of filming early scenes consisted of a lot of retakes and so far in, her co-star had been surprisingly… good. He didn’t bring his little gang of rowdy boys in tow with him on set, even if they waited outside for him some days, revving to go. He’d actually been practicing, rehearsing his lines in his alone time. She’d caught him once or twice after hours, taking up the stage to practice his part. 

In the script, his character was supposed to be somber. Low-key. Indistinguishable from the next guy. But Elvis couldn’t help but exude a humble confidence that somehow brought his character to life. He wasn’t method acting, he was bringing himself to the table. There was almost a vulnerability in how he was playing. She had to admit that some days, he might even be outshining her. Well, most days he outshined her in his own way. No one had really gotten used to having him on set yet and they were already a good few weeks in. He was still waited on hand and foot, every female extra and crew hand stirring for a chance to snag his attention.

They played it cool. “They” being a rigid definition for what Frannie and Presley were. “They” were just having fun. Fun that had to be secret from the prying public eye. She wasn’t ashamed of dabbling in under-garment petting with a guy she was going steady with. It was a high-strung tight rope that she balanced with her own spill of emotions. Like a vase filled with water on her head. One wrong step and it would all come tumbling out. She wasn’t ready to commit her heart to anything, to anyone—especially someone as… carefree as him. So, she just relied on the safe alcove of fun.

He was talking to Cassandra now. The director was showing him the photos of her and her friends on vacation in Italy and he glanced over at Frannie with a polite, silent scream in the form of a forced smile. She snickered, trapezing her way towards him.

“Did you see the photos of her holding up the leaning tower?” Frannie came to his rescue and his face instantly softened. He smiled at her.

“Yeah, I always wanted to take a trip and do that one myself,” he lied.

Cassandra belly laughed, flipping to another photo of her and her closest friend in a tiny boat floating down the canals. “You have to try it out. We wanted to book a river cruise back home but there’s just nothing to do on those things. Nothing but old geezers shambling around in their robes drinking martinis. You guys have to go. It’s beautiful. And the locals are so darling.” She flipped to photos of a glass maker and Frannie recognized from her own time in Cassandra Conversation Penitentiary that they were near the end of the bulging photo album. Poor Elvis had been trapped here for a good ten minutes at least, hunched uncomfortably with his hands in his pockets. She glanced up at him and stifled a laugh.

“Ready to get this show on the road? I’m sure Cassandra would love to get started instead of entertaining you, Mr. Presley.” She put her hands on his shoulders to gently steer him towards the casino set.

He nodded along in an apology to Cassandra. “Oh, I’ll talk your head off if you let me.” 

Extruding himself from the conversation with a long-held sigh, he leaned down to whisper to Frannie, “You think they’ll let you take that dress for a spin off camera?”

She shoved him playfully, her face flushed. This was a pretty hot red dress. It pushed the girls up and squeezed her midriff, cascading halfway down her thighs with a pair of nice gold heels to tie it off. Josephine liked glitz and glam, the inescapable lure of high rolling her shots, risking it all.

Grabbing at the choker around her neck, she fiddled with the clasp of it, loosening it a little when it started to get noticeable, a bit harder to breathe even. She coughed, finding that her throat wasn’t clearing. Her eyes started to water. Her mascara, surely it was running. She coughed into her fist and turned away, embarrassingly fanning her face. What on Earth was she choking on?

Frannie could hear Elvis worriedly saying something to her. His hands were on her upper arms. “Hey, you’re awful red, Frannie. Do you need to sit down?” He swiveled his head. There was a stir from onlookers, spotting her distress.

She tried to tell them that everything was okay, but when she spoke, her throat was dry and tight. She wanted to clear it, but every tickle made her throat painfully raw. And she was itchy. So very itchy. It was like her hair tickled her face but every stray, frustrated swipe brushed bare skin. She rubbed her face with her palms to soothe some of the itch. A seat found its way underneath her rump and she sat in it. Her mind was absolutely awhirl. What was happening? Was she allergic to the makeup? She’d worn it yesterday just fine. The brushes, were they infected? The air conditioning couldn’t be ruled out.

“I just can’t quite—” she rasped, trying to swallow. Her tongue was swollen. Now real panic had begun to set in. Someone put a glass of water in her hands and although she tried to get some down, she merely sputtered and choked more, giving it hastily back.

“Is she choking on something?”

“She was just talking to me fine and now she’s—now she’s like this,” Elvis hurriedly explained. “Someone get an ambulance, it looks like she’s been stung or something.” He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “And she’s burning up. We need someone here, now! Isn’t there a medic on set?”

People were scrambling. Her heart was racing. She focused on her breathing, slowly dragging in and out, doing her best to ignore the overwhelming urge to scratch at her face, her neck, the lobes of her ears.

“My god, Frannie…” Elvis murmured, petting her head. “It’s okay. Someone’s on the way to help. Did you maybe eat something or…?”

She shook her head, loosely pointing to her face, tongue too swollen to talk. She didn’t have any allergies that she was aware of. Whatever reaction she was having had plateaued. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears like a machine. Whoom. Whoom. Whoom. She was gripping Elvis’s hand so tightly, but he didn’t complain. 

It felt like ages for medical personnel to arrive on set. Cassandra had a shirt tied up full of ice she was using to try and keep the swelling down, the cool actually soothing some of the flare. 

The paramedic whistled, dragging up a rattling military green can of oxygen. The mask was fitted over her face and she eagerly inhaled the cool, sterile air. It breathed in easier and she managed to sedate some of the race in her heartbeat. But she still clung to Elvis while they assessed her, escorting her into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher. She was able to remain sitting up and managed to eke out, “You don’t have to—”

“Save it,” he assured her in two words, a finger held up before his caring smile. He was stricken with worry. It was cutting lines in his brow, darkening his handsome face. He leaned over her, helping her loosen the side zip of her dress so that the paramedic could see how far down her redness went. She glanced down, seeing it taper away. 

“You must have gotten into something, sweetheart. You maybe mess around with any poison ivy? Get any chemicals on your skin?” the paramedic asked. His blue gloved hands uncapped an indiscernible bottle of pills that at first Frannie adamantly avoided, turning her head to the side.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just an antihistamine. It’ll make you feel better,” Elvis cajoled, turning her head back so gently. “S’okay. They’re gonna take care of you.” She could hear it in his voice.

Somehow, she managed to swallow down two tiny red pills that clung and clawed at her throat. She felt them plunk all the way down into her stomach. She went through her entire day, nothing different, nothing out of the ordinary. But the one thing she could parse that’d touched her face the most had been the make-up, the brushes, the working hands of the ladies. She was starting to lose sight, her cheeks swelling up and pushing against her eyes. She squinted, blinking slowly.

After a grudgingly slow ambulance ride and a few fumbling medicinal tryouts—Ana-Kits were more painful than she’d thought they’d be—the doctors finally surmised that somehow she’d crossed paths with poison ivy in some way, shape or form. Although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been traversing anywhere near wild foliage that wasn’t picked, shorn and manicured at a public park. She had an immediate, gut sinking thought. That someone had tainted her make-up. Before, it’d been a tiny sewing needle in her red lipstick, and now it was poisonous extract meant to make her very face look as unappealing as possible. Someone was trying to sabotage her!

For fear of not being believed and for tipping off whomever was tormenting her, she kept the secret tight lipped. She wouldn’t tell anyone, not until she had evidence along with her suspicions. She needed to confiscate that make-up before it could be tossed out.

After a few hours, the swelling had gone down immensely. She touched her face, shoulders sagging with relief. If she’d had to perform looking like this… she shook her head. It was entirely out of the question. She could tell that her skin was already flaking and dry, it was so tight against her skull.

Cold salve was applied to her skin, painted down to her chest, thick and sticky like tar. It melted with her body heat, magnifying her discomfort as it tickled her skin, running down in rivulets into the swathes of bandage they used as a levy. Never had she felt more unappealing and yet, steadfast by her side: sleeping Elvis. He was propped back, legs kicked open, head canted to the side, hands steepled in his lap. A glance at the wall said it was near a quarter till ten. And an anxious peapod stack of faces at the door said the Memphis Mafia was woefully a man down. She could hear them talking amongst themselves.

“What do you mean ‘he’s asleep’? You mean Frannie or Elvis?” Red West asked.

“You deaf? He. He’s conked out in the chair, upright stepdad style. Probably drooling and everything.” Marty quipped back.

“Is Frannie awake?” Jerry peeked through the glass.

“Yeah, she’s looking at me.” Marty said.

“Like, looking, looking at you? She’s awake? Coherent? Alive?”

“Get the hell out of the way.” They all tumbled into the room. 

“I’m the only one who even checked in. See, Frannie. Look at my visitor’s pass. Heh, told ‘em I was your cousin from Brooklyn ‘cuz we both have New York accents,” Marty said.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Frannie laughed, her voice stuffy in her ears.

The boys laughed, the sound rousing Elvis instantly with a snore. He cleared his throat, blinking at them, his head snapping to her, eyes wide, scanning. His hands balanced on her bedside as he stood up, looking over her. 

“Francesca, are you alright?” He looked like he’d had a bad dream. Spooked. Displaced. He touched her, seeming to ground himself. “How do you feel?”

She was sheepish to be in the spotlight thusly. Without letting on, she said passively, “I must have had a reaction to the foundation.”

“How long do you think you’ll look like…” Jerry trailed. “Like you’re hankering for some aloe vera.”

There was a stirring of snickers. She licked her teeth and grinned. “Well, about two or three weeks. In the meantime, I have to stay out of the sun. I can’t have any beauty products on my skin for at least a month, even after I’ve healed. They’re worried I might develop an allergy to any irritants. So, it’s safe to say I won’t, uh—,” She swallowed, feeling a punch well up in her chest. But she didn’t cry about it, no sense in that. Just keep pushing forward. She blinked away the tears, the room stark silent. Still.

“Chess, it’s alright. You don’t even have to worry about that. Cassandra will put everything on hold for you.” Elvis, sweet Elvis assured. 

Chess. That was a new nickname; leave it to Elvis to shorten Fran-ces-ca to Chess. She loved it, even in her blurry antihistamine haze. And although she knew he was only trying to comfort her, assuage some of her deepest concerns mid turmoil, she was in pain. Someone was messing with her. On what should be her red-carpet debut film. She thought of her mother, of her warm, round face in the sun, telling her to make a wish on her birthday as a child.

“What’d you wish for?”

“For dance classes, Mamma!”

“I don’t want things put on hold for me. I want everything to be perfect, despite knowing very well that it isn't realistic. Filming has its flaws, critics have their teeth, ticket sales can disappoint. And sometimes the leading actress can turn into a crawfish days into filming.”

Elvis patted the back of her hand, urging her to peer up at him. “Well, prettiest little crawfish I’ve ever seen. Ain’t that right fellas?”

“Oh, you bet, boss.”  “Most gorgeous crawfish.” “I ever tell you guys that crawfish are my favorite food?” ���Boys, get a load of that.”

They were all talking over one another in a cacophony and she was stuck laughing at them, those tears she fought off rearing their vengeful heads, blazing down her sensitive cheeks, out of sight before anyone could catch them. 

*

Filming commenced almost like usual. It could always be done in any order. Cassandra was more than happy to wait out Francesca’s bout of illness and told her not to push things, to return when she was good and ready after much needed rest.

The entire collection of makeup had been trashed and there were lacquered, shiny new replacements all glimmering in their place. Brushes and applicators were all replaced, leaving no wiggle room for cross contamination, just in case. Frannie had informed everyone that it was an allergic reaction, but Elvis knew what he’d heard. That EMT spotted it dead on, and even he recognized it when it was pointed out. The clouds of red, raised gooseflesh. The itching, the swelling. It was poison ivy. And a really bad reaction to it, at that. 

Had someone tainted Francesca’s makeup? Elvis absently touched his face. Surely a brush would have displaced some of that residue onto him, no? She’d gone to makeup after him, even. Things were starting to seem odd.

“Hey, Mr. Presley!” Eddie wretched him out of his pondering. He waved his newly healed arm flawlessly.

“I told you, Eddie, you can just call me Elvis. I’d prefer it if you did.”

The young man had come down to earth a bit, seeing Elvis humanized in his presence and not just some ideal. It was a nice, slow change of pace that he rarely got to experience with people unless on the set of something. He could get to know them, the real them. Sometimes that was nice. Other times, it could be daunting.

With Eddie, it was just pleasant. He was a nice, shy kid. But there was something there, a somber turmoil lying just underneath. The kid had sad eyes—his smile just didn’t quite reach them. 

“How’s Frannie? She looked real bad in the hospital that day.” He shook his head while heading up the scaffolding ladder to adjust a shoulder high light. 

“Better than ever. She wanted to come back today, but her agent wouldn’t let her.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best. She pushes herself so much already.” A live bulb popped in his hand and he barely flinched, taking another from his utility belt to replace it.

“She asked about you, wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into any trouble.”

“Only all the time, Mr.— Elvis.”

Speaking of trouble, he was thinking about getting himself in some tonight. Only the good kind, though. Francesca was feeling better. Although he hadn’t given a damn about some dry skin, her self image had taken a plummet. 

“Just when we were really getting to know each other…” She’d lamented over the phone, her velvet voice stroking his ear through the receiver. He missed spying on her dancing. He couldn’t wait for their moment to film a love scene together. One with some pretty smoking lines and heavy petting. It would be a short, passionate foray to leave the audience enticed, roused, wanting more. 

He’d shown up at her loft with gifts each day, fistfuls of tiger lilies and gladiolus, jewels to compliment her eyes, sweets to grace her mouth. He lingered in her doorway, where she wouldn’t let him in. Her apartment was gorgeous. Feminine. Art nouveau in black, gold and pink. 

Elvis asked her on a date. A date date. Somewhere he knew they wouldn’t be bothered with paparazzi, a fancy restaurant where other A-listers mingled under the pretense they wouldn’t be hounded by cameras while they tried to enjoy a pleasant meal.

“What’s this place called again?” Francesca asked.

“The Experience.”

The upgrade from waiting out on the street to waiting in her apartment hallway was drastic. He felt ten feet tall and bulletproof, and that was before she peeked her towel-wrapped head from the door and asked, “Would you like to come in? I still need to curl my hair, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all.” He practically jumped at the chance. He felt a giddy sense of boyishness to have achieved the feat of passing into her domain. It was so very Frannie inside, decorated lavishly with a touch of class. Everywhere his eyes fell, there was a new painting or statue to admire, a new glass menagerie of animals to be mesmerized by, a fluffy white cat nervously darting past his ankles! 

“That’s Stella. She’s shy. Don’t try petting her though, she’ll just bite you.” Frannie warned, while said “shy” girl looped in between his ankles, purring like a tractor. “Oh, well that’s new. She probably smells you on me.”

Elvis watched Frannie disappear into the bathroom. She had an Italian record playing. He had no idea what the lyrics were saying, but the song was warm.

É l'uomo per me,è sicuro di sé,da uomo so già,

i progetti che ha,i sogni che fa...Ma ciò che amo in lui,è il ragazzo che,nasconde in sé...

When she emerged, her dark brown hair in shiny gun barrel spirals, her body poured into a black wiggle dress, dainty feet strapped into red pumps. Stunning. She wore a pair of ruby studs in her pretty ears, ones he’d bought for her. On her neck, a string of gold adrip with a heavy blood garnet, another gift to her. It gave him a furl of pride, having her draped in his fineries. His gifts. He was growing erect just thinking about her parading about in lingerie he purchased. His mouth ran dry. Did she even know what she was doing to him?

“You know, you’re lucky I don’t feel like getting my bike out of storage.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, staring at her approach. Her hips swayed when she walked, her natural gait alluring him.

“Hmm, because I’d smoke you. And I don’t know the way. And I’d lose you and therefore, get lost out in the city. Probably have to ask for directions. Hey, has anyone seen Elvis come by here? Probably making this shocked face because his date made him eat her dust?”

Elvis laughed. “Alright. Alright. I’m intrigued. You know you’re going to have to show me up one day. You do have an unfair advantage though, being so small. The bike probably barely touched the road with you flying on the back of it.”

She tucked her arm in his, grabbing a dark leather jacket before scooting out the door with him. He admitted that he wanted to toss her over his shoulder then and there, find out firsthand what her bedroom looked like. But instead, like the true gentleman he was, he presented her with her own helmet and off they went, uptown, into the blinding lights where it looked like day.

An added bonus of the helmet meant that his identity was concealed up until the very moment he rolled up to the flabbergasted valet.

“Eh—El-Elv—,” his eyes were wide with shock and then his expression disappointedly fell. “Oh, I… I can’t drive one of those, sir. We have a gentleman who can, but he’s off tonight, you see.”

“Say no more, we can park it ourselves.” Not a bother. But it was a portent for things soon to come.

They were met with absolute professionalism; the star-struck gaped jaws stopped at the door. There were whispers, eyes, and head tilts once inside but nobody outright said anything. Still, he wondered if this was a bold, careless move. Would word get out? Did he mind? He minded if it bothered her. He checked her intermittently as they waltzed through the opulent dining room beneath a cascade of golden chandelier light. But she never seemed distressed. In fact, she appeared happy, with her hand in his.

The waiter took their orders with haste, showering them in complimentary drinks that mostly went undertaken. She sipped a sunset-colored drink a bit, already feeling a little flushed halfway down the flute.  

“Mr. Presley, your prime rib. And the chef sent these for you and your lovely date, on the house of course. We do hope you enjoy them.” He set out a sparkling pewter tray with a modest hunk of steak. Not exactly a belt adjusting meal, but he wasn’t about to look unrefined in front of his date.

That was until her meal arrived.

“Your Peking Duck, ma’am.” The waiter sat down a gleaming silver down, uncapping a waft of steam that revealed a marvelously pitiful cut of greasy, dark duck against a wilted pile of steamed vegetables. A ruby sauce cut across the two-bite meal and Elvis was glued to Francesca’s stunned expression.

Frannie’s eyes widened. Her lips thinned. The corners pulled up in the barest hint of a smile. She was struggling not to laugh. They’d waited over an hour for that little poot of fowl.

The waiter rubbed his gloved hands before reluctantly extracting without another word, hurrying off to avoid explaining exactly where all that money had gone. Elvis wasn’t a stranger to fine dining (though he always preferred the down home Southern cooking of his youth), but these portions were almost comical.

He looked at her and caught her staring right back and before either could say anything, Francesca burst out laughing, immediately covering her mouth, but nothing could cage that birdsong. She snickered, cutting her serving in half and offering him a spoonful. “Well, would you like to try a little of mine? I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish all of this on my own.” She sighed, picking at it playfully. Her foot glanced against his. He felt heat rush to his face. Been a long while since he felt such butterflies.

Elvis took her offering with gusto, but the bird was as greasy as it looked and the breading was staler than the salad croutons. He swallowed it down with a little choke, comically thumping his chest and taking down a gulp of seltzer water. Was the kitchen just having an off night, then? Did he crack wise about it? Was this the norm and he wasn’t aware?

But no, Francesca was almost in tears, taking her time with making a show out of slicing little slivers off to eat. Her eyes sparkled when she saw the complimentary desserts though and she gladly scooped up goopy, white panna cotta, reflecting that it tasted almost as good as her grandmother’s recipe. Strawberry dripped after her on the white tablecloth and she flinched, glancing up at him with an expression that said it all. His heart lurched in his chest. She was so… cute. Real playful like. The panna cotta, she ate with no qualms, no snickering. She even staked out his portion, which he gladly forfeited saying, “Like I said, already full up.” He patted his stomach, finishing the frustratingly teensy dish he’d been served. His stomach lurched, growling loudly in contest to the brassy piano.

She heard it and leaned forward. “I know this killer burger joint just a couple of blocks away from my apartment. I mean,” she made a gesture with her hands, showing how big around these sandwiches had to be. “Let’s get outta here. Leave that poor waiter a nice tip.”

“I’m already on it,” he flagged down the check and wiped his mouth, tossing down a wad for the waiter who nervously peeked at them from the kitchen door window. He waved, happily grabbing Frannie’s coat and draping it over her elegant shoulders. He got a heady waft of her perfume and it almost took him to his knees. The effort not to lean into her was grand, but he managed.

Out the door they went. The rain cleared, leaving just a misting in the air that glittered like diamonds in the streetlights. He watched her stroll towards the valet, he watched her settle on her helmet, he watched her lithe wrists slipping in under his elbows to cradle his waist, to hold tight to him while he rode with her. Never had he driven so slowly, so carefully. He made each stop with precision, gingerly pumping the brakes. 

The full moon followed them on a journey with no real destination. He just wanted to extend this moment with her, make it last for as long as he could. He didn’t want to go home yet. Not when nights could be spent like this. He felt her rest her head against his back. He felt her trusting him.

“You know,” she said above the rush of wind, “I’m not made of glass, Elvis. Unless you’re scared of going any faster? Pump it.”

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing, stirring him up like that. He gripped the bars, feeling the smooth stretch of highway extending into the star-studded night. The wind through his hair. The spray of cosmos fanned above them like God’s hands, brighter the further they drove from the city. Passing cars thinned until there were only a set of headlights every ten minutes or so. Out in the country, where all would be black if not for the milk light of moon, the prairie was lit up, cast in jagged mountain shadows. Streetlamps bounced like marbles in the distance, disappearing from sight.

He strolled the bike to a stop, pedaling his feet against the asphalt. Dismounting, giving her his hand, he’d brought her out to a retired cow pasture, left to see wildflowers and clover for the soil in the future. Probably not the ritziest location, but it beat a hell of a lot of other shit he’d been getting up to.

For the first time in days, he wasn’t itching for anything but time. More time with her.

She hadn’t said anything yet, she was just taking in the view, wide eyed and maybe even a little skittish. He helped her down a thrushy knoll, leaving the road and any hint of civilization behind as they danced through open terrain. It was like walking in a dream.

“Where are we going?” She asked curiously, watching him as they passed brambles. He stomped down the sagging barb-wire fence enclosing the wide, wide pasture and escorted her over.

“After you.”

She patted his shoulder and he could see the moon on her red, smiling lips. So beautiful it made his heart ache. “Such a gentleman. And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Alive and well, Chess.” He guided them deeper in. 

“Where did you find this place?” she asked.

The wind had picked up and in the hills they could hear the wail of coyotes intermittently yipping as they cut across the dark, unseen. “It’s a long story. It was the first time I went to Vegas with the boys, and I got drunk out of my mind. I mean, if someone handed me a beer or something that night, no questions asked, I was drinking it. I don’t even know why; I never drink. Anyway, so I wake up, completely alone, completely naked—”

Frannie snorted, spinning, crouching, pointing. Sweetly joyous at his expense. “No!”

“Yeah. Had my socks and my shoes on, but nothing else.” 

She couldn’t stop laughing. “What car?”

He gawked, “That! That’s what you ask me?”

“I just— haha!” She had to lean against him for laughing so hard. “I just want to picture it accurately! Were you working on your tan with the top down in the Cadillac?”

“No, no. I was driving this, okay, it was a Cadillac, but an “Eldorado Biarritz”. I hated that thing. The top leaked, she steered like a boat. There was this smell, like syrup had been spilled somewhere and I want you to know I got on my hands and knees smelling the inside of that damn car, trying to find what that smell was. Never did. But anyway. I’m naked, yeah, sprawled out like I’m tubing.” He posted his arms up, kicking up one leg. 

“You’re killing me!” She squealed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. They’d stopped now and they were both unafraid, undeterred by the darkness around them. Like no one else, like nothing else existed right in that moment. “So, you wake up absolutely cooked, right?”

“Bingo. Like a lobster, from head to, well, ankle. And I’m out of gas. I can’t even get her to turn over, I must have left it running in park, because I’m neatly pulled over in the shallow ditch. Just like the one we walked across now. I have absolutely no idea where I’m at. I’m thinking that I could start walking that way, or maybe that way. Don’t know where I’m about to end up. I could probably hitchhike, but I hadn’t seen any cars pass. I’m absolutely dying of thirst, my mouth was just like this.” He opened his mouth comically wide. 

She grinned, rapt on his every word, bundling up in her jacket. “Well, obviously someone comes to your rescue.”

Elvis pointed dead ahead to a fissure in the ground, a tiny creek carved its way, whispering through the meadow. Large, low flat boulders peeked from the ground.

“I keep walking, but I don’t take the road. Cause to my right, I see all the cows. Chewing, looking at me with their big ol’ sad eyes. At this point, I’m talking to the cows. Asking where their handler is and lo and behold, like some John Wayne yankee doodle comes down from the heavens with a canteen and a way to get me back to town, but only if I helped him out around the farm a little bit before I left.”

She tilted her head in that curious, bird-like way. “You’re kidding. Elvis Presley, rolling up his sleeves to lend a little elbow grease? I’m charmed by this new side of you.”

“Well, don’t fall in love yet, ‘cause I made that up. The boys and me just wanted a low-profile place to mingle a little uh, more…” He coughed. “Intimately with the ladies. Or just partying it up on a more reserved scale.”

His vision had adjusted to the dark and he watched her roll her eyes. “You’re unforgivable,” she said forgivingly, brushing her index finger down his nose. “You should direct something.”

“I’m not into that whole part of the deal.”

She shrugged, “You have a knack for storytelling. I was hooked on every word. You know, I’m still gonna tell people this story like it was true.” She laughed, clearly joking, but at the mention of her telling stories to anyone, he felt his collar constrict, his throat dry. Did she find him hard to work with? Was he making something out of this that he shouldn’t? He had to make it up to her then. If she saw him that way, it was up to him to change that, right?

Elvis looked along the creek bed a minute before spotting what he was looking for. He’d been up here just a few months ago, doing donuts in some cars and lighting fireworks with the boys. But now, he wanted to enjoy this with her.

A weary little woodshed housed dry twigs and branches. More than enough to build a small campfire. There were remnants of the old bonfire here, charred bottles and Roman candles laying in the ashes. Surrounding the pit were large rocks, hand-picked and tirelessly rolled up the embankment to make for rustic seating. She sat on one, looking like some fairy queen, moonlight a diadem on her dark locks. Heavenly.

He used his zippo to spark some leaves and within minutes they had a nice bundle of flames licking the damp wood, crackling moisture into the embers.

“Red found this place. He had to keep telling me that I was driving the right way. He used to work for the rancher that owns all this and got permission to search the cow patties for them magic mushrooms. But it’s also just a pretty clean spot just to unwind.”

He grew bored of clubs quickly. Parties were best thrown at his own place, and he didn’t feel like planning any damn parties lately. It was frustrating and tenacious, pushing away efforts for social interactions, even if he deeply craved them. He’d almost fallen into a rut lately. Flop after flop. But with Frannie, something was markedly different.

Breathing was easier. Going to filming on time, easier. Sleeping at night, knowing he’d get to see her again in the morning, like the sun rising, like the sun setting. She was always with him. It started with infatuation, tapering into obsession, and now he felt something roiling like a wild maelstrom inside of him. Feelings that left him unsure of what to do with himself, so he could only gaze at her, wringing his hands, wishing they were around her waist, pinning her wrists, caressing her face. He wanted to be so much more than a fun time to her.

“I really like it here, Elvis. When I was a little girl, I was in one of those programs where they’d take the poor city kids and plunk them into the country for a few weeks in summer. Y’know, to show us there was life outside the concrete jungle and stuff. That’s how I used to go on camping trips all the time. When I started making a little money and my career was just taking off, I’d take my family out to scenic places with me for every occasion. It was my go-to, pick-me-up. My kid brother got good grades in school. Road trip to Nevada! Mom’s birthday? Niagara Falls! Dad came down with the flu? How about spring break in Yellowstone?” She didn’t lose an ounce of her humor, even in telling him such vulnerable utterances. He didn’t know. “When I was little, I didn’t realize that I was so poor, and a tent and some cans of chicken noodle were maybe all my parents could afford to send me off with at the time. They were immigrants, you know. But they always made the most of it. I lost my mom a year ago.” She winced. Elvis understood how she felt, for he too was exceptionally close with his family—his late mother most of all. “And my dad is getting older now. Even though now it’s much harder for him to get around, he still sits in his garden back in Brooklyn, greeting all the new cicadas and weeding his veggie beds. He taught me how to can tomatoes. Which berries were safe. Did you know every multi-bulbed berry in North America is edible? All of them!” She was alight, sharing these things with him. He didn’t know it when he brought her out here, but maybe this was the best date he could have picked.

“So, you’ve been to Yellowstone?”

“Never. I was just joking about that one. My Mom actually wanted to go before she... anyway, I never got to go.” 

“Let’s go. As soon as filming is wrapped up. Ditch the red-carpet premiere and—”

The look she cast upon him made him icy at once. “It’ll be my first. I wouldn’t dream of missing the premier. My family will be there.” She blinked slowly and he realized that he’d made a mistake. “Sorry, I just…”

“No, no. Nothing to apologize for. I didn’t mean to make light of it. I know what a big accomplishment this is for you, Chess. I’ll share that moment with you. Promise.” He looped his pinkie finger in hers, making amends as quickly as he could, steering them back on course. Don’t fub this now, bozo. “But as soon as our butts are out of those seats, we’re taking a road trip straight to Yellowstone. I’ll bring a boatload of film, we can take all the pictures, make all the memories.” Was he rambling? Losing her? Floundering? 

“So, how much of that story was true? They say there’s something genuine in every imitation, an artist can’t help but leave a piece of himself behind.” She kept taking pieces of his heart, one stunning smile after the other, leaving her calling card in the wake of her theft. Did she know the effect she had on him?

He leaned in, telling her honestly, “Okay, I did wake up naked with nothing but my shoes and socks on one time, but no one knows how I got there or how the car got to the Denny’s parking lot.”

“See, that wouldn’t have been nearly as glamorous as an abandoned cow field.”

“I do have a way with these things,” he puffed up his chest and she deflated it with a push to his sternum. When he exhaled, his lips pursed, she closed their distance suddenly with a quick kiss. Her lips were soft in that moment, pressing against his. He was stunned when she retracted and he almost forgot to breathe. They were alone, out in the dark of night beneath pale moon beams aside a crackling bonfire, their desires stirred; he knew that the moment this started, it would be near impossible to stop. He didn’t trust himself to have the self-control necessary to curb his arousal. He wanted her. Badly. Deeply. 

“You look intense, Press,” she teased. “Are you worried you might mess this up?”

Press and Chess. He liked the sound of that. His hands instantly magnetized to the dip of her waist. His forehead was pressed against hers. Licking his lips, he told her, “If I’m honest with myself, I’m not even sure what “This” is.” To me. To you.

“What’s it feel like?” She asked, her breath fanning him, sweetly scented like rose water candies. Her fingers played with the baby hairs on his nape, breaking pleasant shivers along his flesh. 

“Feels like one wrong move and I could mess up a real good thing.” If his dream grew too fanatical, he’d jolt awake, dripping with a cold sweat, clinging to the sheets just to realize it wasn’t real. That it never had been, even if it’d earnestly felt that way. Touching her now grounded him in that reality. She’s here and she doesn’t seem like she wants to run for the hills. 

Francesca whispered, even though for miles and miles, only they remained. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

But he of all people knew how easy it was to fall out of that hazy paradise of affection and into bleak, tolerant monotony.

Elvis could see it in her eyes. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And if that was the case, she wouldn’t have any complaints if he dipped in for another smoldering kiss, taking her breath. She gasped, letting him gather her into his arms. Her fragrance wafted over him, suffusing him. He was dizzy, inhaling her, burying his nose in her neck when he kissed her gorgeous nape. 

Frannie couldn’t hide the shy pull of her shoulders. He knew she was still self-conscious about the poison ivy that’d marred her skin, but even without his love-struck bias, he could hardly see anything beyond a flush of pink, hidden beautifully by her own rosy glow as she bloomed underneath his ministrations. She was like sugar, melting into his touch. 

He laid her down by the firelight, the sway of flames painting them in dancing shadow. They were about to join in an atavistic way. Her kisses became feverish when he had her pinned. Intoxicated on a whole new kind of high, he couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted divine, better than any ambrosia. He licked his tongue against her, cajoling her to join him. Eliciting a little whimper, she did, canting her head to the side, lashes fluttering shut.

Elvis learned that Frannie’s ears were sensitive. His nose brushed across one and she shuddered beneath him, her nipples straining against her dress. She wore no bra. Kissing her ear, nibbling the curved shell, she was wiggling, sinking him like quicksand, till they were hip and hip like in her dressing room. He beat off to that on more than one occasion; it kept him company when she forbade him from seeing her healing face.

The real deal couldn’t be beaten. He was enthralled, wrapped around her finger. He wanted to coset her, give her anything she could ever ask for. Her dreams were great and if she wanted to be a star, he would do his utmost to manifest that with everything he had.

He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to ruin this moment or break the spell. Maybe he would wake up in his bed, alone. Maybe this was a dream after all. But Francesca felt very real in Elvis’s arms, returning his kisses, rocking her hips against him. He felt her heels on the backs of his thighs and it made his dick pulse unreasonably hard. She felt it, purring, tossing her head to the side.

“Push that against me,” she rasped, spurring him with a nudge. 

He happily obliged, thrusting against her. Heaven. He caged her beneath him, tongue in her mouth, cock throbbing against her silk panties. The clanging of his belt was muffled by his heartbeat. She freed him, her soft palms cradling his cock excitedly. Her eager eyes laid on him and she wetted her lips, amazed when a thick bead of pre-come beaded on his crown. She daubed her finger to it, bringing it up to her lips for a lick, almost absent mindedly, like she hadn’t realized what she’d just done. She was too erotic for her own good, pulling the thread and undoing him at her leisure. 

The fire tumbled, sending a shimmer of cinders into the air. Like the blaze she’d set in his heart, burning him from the inside out. He kissed her hard, hard enough to bruise and she didn’t glance away. Always step for step with him, perfectly in stride. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known.

He rolled her panties down and she helped, until she seemed to catch up with his own fervent pace and realize she might be going too far, too fast with him. Her words rang in his ears. 

No sex.

Elvis hadn’t done something so needy since his high school days. Feeding into her plump thighs, wedged in the snug warmth, he felt the tell-tell draws almost instantly, that lick of heat against the base of his spine. He was done for and not stopping to curb his indulgence one bit. He hilted deep, cock throbbing. When he started to thrust his hips, the tension coiled white hot with every drawn-out pump. Weight propped on his arms, he isolated motion solely to his pelvis, rocking against her in rhythmic strokes. 

“Ooh, I love the way you move your hips,” she stammered, holding onto him.

He sputtered incoherently, brows knitting as he slowed his roll to keep from spilling mid-sentence, mid thought when he said, “Now, just imagine how it’d feel buried deep inside of you.” 

Francesca moaned, turning to kiss him. With each drop, her hips rose up. He could feel her getting wet, could feel the heat radiating from her slick core. He couldn’t stop picturing it, just one adjustment and he could slam right in, would she hate him so much? Not a chance in the world he’d shatter her trust in him like that. But it was an amorous fantasy, Francesca begging for him to give it to her. His body was made for pleasuring hers, they were just so compatible.

She angled her hips and he felt his shaft glide between her lips. When he peered down at the dark thatch of curls, at the endless pink that did beg to envelop him, his resolve wavered. 

“Francesca, you’re going to ruin me.”

She signed his heart with her impish smile, acknowledging his agony with an eager pitch forward. If he let her move all on her own, she did so with serene grace, mesmerizing him with the sensual roll of her body. Her arms stretched up, her elegant back arched, her thighs drew him deeper against her. Even if she didn’t admit it, even if he busted clean across her pretty dress instead, he knew for a fact that she wanted him. She was glistening wet, cool air kissing his shaft the brief seconds their sexes would uncouple. 

It was the most intimate experience of his life and he wasn’t even having penetrative sex. He thrust against her and she cried out, “If you keep moving, just like that… you’ll make me see stars.”

Oh, that was the plan. He wanted her in the throes, cast out to choppy waters, he wanted her just as helpless for him as he was for her. He took measured lengths not to come, not until she got hers. His pace hitched and he sputtered, quickly getting back on track, listening to the even rise of her moans, strung deliciously together. Making music.

They held on, clinging to one another for dear life, kissing like young lovers, bumping teeth in excitement, lips mashing. Maybe he had fallen along the way, because he was losing himself in her.

“Frannie, you’re going to pull it right out of me,” he groaned, cradling her face in his hands while he plunged, losing grasp in one slip. But she was beyond words, her body arched on a soundless cry. She was beautiful in his arms, coming on him, because of him, wringing him dry across her creamy abdomen. Gorgeous, heaven sent, all his. He nosed her hair, he muttered sweet nothings, he kissed her damp brow. He wanted to tell her all the things he felt, about how he was both scared and elated that he was possibly tumbling deep into the maddening abyss of love. But he didn’t really know how yet and suspected that she might be the one to show him how to express it, to love someone. 

For now, he’d rest on his laurels, swimming in the tepid oasis of “fun,” where they might be something committed, but they weren’t an official couple. Like their names didn’t sound perfect together. His mind was a whirl one moment and then drained the next. He collapsed on top of her, holding his weight aloft while he just breathed her in, noting how her scent changed when it mingled with his.

“Did you see where my panties went?” She reached around on the ground but before they could both say anything, silently, they both spotted said panties go up in a hiss of flame, escorted in by the shifting wind. It was picking up now, getting colder, their breath clinging in the night air.

Frannie’s hair was mussed, her lips were parted, her dress was still askew (and now dirty on the back, but he wasn’t going to tell her about that part). They kicked dirt onto the fire, a haunting scene, leaving them to scurry back to the roadside with just the stars lighting their way. He felt her chilly hands trembling, but she told him later that it had been with excitement.

The moon was high in the sky and there was no telling what time it was. He didn’t care one bit as they saddled up, taking the scenic route all the way back to the city. Where the night sky all but disappeared under the haze of streetlights and skyscrapers, billboards and neon signs. It had an untamed beauty all on its own, the concrete jungle. 

“Tonight was amazing, Press,” Francesca said, kissing him goodbye, firstly on the cheek. “And you are an amazing experience, all your own.” Then she kissed his lips.

“You’re a once in a lifetime, Frannie.”

Elvis knew as he watched her leave that they’d have nights like this again and again.

[ackermanbitch]

Teenage Dirtbag (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) Part 6.5?

a/n: so this is honestly just filler (which is why it's so SHORT) before the part of the fic that takes place during the beginning of homecoming. i dont see the point in writing for the rest of civil war when realistically this is as far as reader would be involved. also not using (y/n) bc i dont like it anymore :D

warnings: arguing?? but it's kind of funny, reader being very much tony's daughter and repressing very real and important emotions

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5

word count: 730 (augh its so short im sorry, next chapter will be the normal length dw )

"Ross wants you in juvie, and honestly, I can't totally blame him! You were assisting war criminals. War. Criminals."

The teen groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to lean as far away from the boy sitting next to her, wondering why the hell he chose to sit right there when there was an entire private plane for him to roam. "Why didn't you have this conversation with me before I left?" She whispered angrily, adjusting the phone in her hand to speak directly into the microphone.

Regardless of where Peter sat, he would've heard Tony's yapping through the phone in response to being interrupted during a lecture.

"Oh I'm sorry my scolding doesn't line up with your schedule young lady, but this is the only time I could fit in to talk to you, what between all the meetings I'm having in an attempt to keep you out of jail!"

"Can't you, I don't know- tell them I happened to be going for a-... a nice stroll? Walked into the crossfire by mis-" She stumbled over her words, eyes darting to Peter who snorted at her idea before she even finished. He quickly cleared his throat, head turning away so quickly she thought he might've pulled something.

Tony brought his palm up to his forehead, some measly attempt to soothe his growing migraine, "This is not a joke, we're talking about you potentially doing prison time-"

"I've hardly done anything deserving a real charge Dad, they just think I'm going to do something and I obviously won't, seeing as my team of 'war criminals' are in fucking Alcatraz-"

"One, you need to watch your damn language and two, you think I don't know that? Of course I think these allegations are a load of bullshit, it doesn't make it any easier to shut them down." Tony sighed, checking the time on his phone before bringing it back to his ear. "Listen, I have to go, call me when you land and don't let Happy fall asleep. Can't have you two teenagers unsupervised on my private plane."

She glanced at Happy's snoring figure on the other side of the jet, "Yeah, sure, he's wide awake. Love you, bye." She deadpanned, hanging up before Tony could finish reciprocating the sentiment.

She may have forced a mask of indifference, even carelessness, when faced with the consequences but behind all that, her brain felt like a fucking circus. A circus with multiple tornado sirens going off, fires and mass hysteria. Oh, and every clown wore her face. Her stupid, 'rebel against dad' at any chance, war criminal assisting face. She'd rather end up in prison than have to face her dad again. What if he never forgives her for this, what if he never moves on, what if this isn't like every other time she's done something stupid, this could change the course of her li-

"You're not.. actually gonna go to jail, right?" Peter interrupted her raging thoughts, giving her quite the worried stare.

She sighed, fiddling with her phone, "No, he would never let that happen. Not with his troupe of lawyers. I'll get let off with a 'hefty warning'," She emphasized with air quotes, "AKA forty torturous minutes of Cap telling me how I need to make better choices. Though he's stuck in the clink right now so I don't know."

She tried to hide the slight shake to her voice, how it sounded more like she was convincing herself rather than explaining it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Don't tell Mr. Stark I said this but uh- Y'know, he's Captain America, he'll probably break out of there in no time."

She slowly turned her head to look at him, slowly letting a smile break out across her face. "Yeah, maybe. He's pretty crazy. Suuuch a rebellious guy, very anti-government."

Peter shrugged with a hopeful smile, "I don't know, this whole thing started over him not wanting to sign a peace treaty, that seems extremely anti-government."

"I guess you're right Parker, as always." She grinned, ignoring his flushed cheeks at her compliment and letting her eyes drift to Happy.

"You got a marker?"

--

taglist: @preciousbabypeter @lily-sinclair-2006 @b-barnes04 @ink-stained-eyes

[drpsps]

Random shit I said while watching different saw movies!!! Pt1

Spoiler Warning

Saw - “Adam isn’t THAT fine” (lying right through my teeth).

“Teehee Larry you naughty boy” (was extremely high).

“Y’all their actually gay” (chainshipping bitches)

“I just know if Adam survived he would NEVER stop fucking with Lawrence” (Annoying bf who?).

“My pookie John is so silly!” (Besties hear me out, sometimes the pookie is a crazy old man).

“I hate you Lawrence.” (During the whole “I gotta go get help” thing).

“Adam’s thoughts were “Why is that body throwing it back?” during the scene where John gets up.” (I am crazy).

Saw 2 - “Y’all fuck that kid.” (I’m a hater fr).

“His dad is a fucking dick and I hope he DIES!” (He indeed does not die).

“Amanda you’re so silly.” (She was being crazy).

“I hate everyone but Amanda and that dumb ass kid.” (It was that first scene where someone died).

“Okay okay just can everyone calm down.” (Literally any fight scene).

“Damn HE’S BALD AND TORTURING PEOPLE WITH HAIR!” (Gotta quote a good ole tiktok).

“Shit man’s is beating an old guy whose dying.” (I thought it was funny).

“I’M SO GLAD THE KID SURVIVED!” (Me before the reveal).

“Oh fuck that.” (Me after the reveal).

Saw 3 - “Amanda calm your tits.” (Teehee).

“John what the fuck.” (I think he said some dumb shit).

“Okay bitches calm down.” (Anytime Amanda was beefin with the doctor chick).

“Shitttttt!” (x20 because y’all wtf).

“I thought he was gonna change!” (Dude remained vengeful).

“Well everything is fucked now.” (Amanda montage).

“Girl shut up.” (The doctor chick said something super cunty).

“Yas queen!” (Amanda said something super cunty).

“NOOOO!” (any fucked scene).

“YASSSSS!” (Any good scene).

Saw 4 - “OMG IT’S MY POOKIE BEAR MARK!” (Mark appeared on screen).

“I wonder how they didn’t know it was Mark. The constant side eye was a dead giveaway.” (We were barely a few minutes in and he did it three times).

“My pookie wookie isn’t crazy.” (Mark hoffman is extremely crazy).

“His delulu became trululu.” (Mark casually killing).

“If John is dead, then why would Mark join now?” (Before reveal).

“OOOOOHHHH.” (After reveal).

“Mark definitely listens to slipknot.” (Casual observation and definitely not a projection).

“I would NOT survive a Hoffman trap.” (Bitch rigged everything).

“Oh pookie…” (Near the end of the movie).

“I’m glad Eric died..” (Randomly remembering he’s there).

Saw 5 - “IS STRAHM HERE YES HE IS!” (That’s my genuine reaction when he showed up).

“Perez get your dog on a leash.” (Strahm was being a little asshole).

“Meow.” (Anytime both Hoffman and Strahm are on screen).

“I wanna eat them up.” (Me at Hoffman, and Strahm).

“He’s delulu.” (Talking about Hoffman).

“He’s trululu.” (Talking about Strahm).

“He’s not that bad.” (Talking about Strahm).

“Sorry he sucks sometimes.” (Talking about Hoffman).

“Eat shit asshole, die in a trap.” (Hoffman at Strahm).

“Y’all I’m so cool.” (Me on liking all the apprentices).

“My pookie wookie is trying.” (Me about Hoffman).

“HE NEEDS LOVE!” (Me about Strahm).

“I HOPE YOU ALL DIE.” (Minus Strahm and Hoffman).

“I’m so sorry baby girl..” (Me anytime Strahm is on screen).

“He’s cringe but he’s free.” (Me at Strahm and Hoffman).

“Damn someones salty.” (Angry Hoffman scenes).

“Bro is down bad.” (Strahm investigated Hoffman).

“Y’all this shit is crazy.” (About the traps).

“I’m still mad at hoffman.” (About the trap he put Strahm in).

“Okay what the fuck!” (end of film during Strahms death scene).

I need to watch 6-9 and I’ll make a second post.

I love these films with all my heart and you can definitely tell that my faves are literally every jigsaw apprentice (Including Logan from the later films) and most of the male characters (I.E. Adam and Peter Strahm). I honestly think the first three movies tie in together better than the later movies (seeing as we keep this crazy shit going).

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this shit.

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S6E02: See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Smell No Evil

Storylines

Shirley guest narrates

2nd day of riots after Mayor Loewen is on trial; Loewen is convicted; Seroy is pinned for the murder of Beecher’s father; Loewen is placed in Unit J with Beecher and Yood; Beecher saves Loewen from choking, so Schillinger vows not to fuck with his parole; Beecher is released; Lopresti informers Keller

Penders, White, and Martinez fall ill; Glynn doesn’t want the news to get out even though Gloria wants to send him to Benchley; Brass menaces Martinez

Morales wants to be transferred to the hospital and hears about Martinez; Morales worries about Martinez jabbering

Rebadow and Stella bond; Stella explains her backstory and interest in working at Oz

Busmalis refuses to see Norma but Rebadow tells him he should;

Kirk continues his Satanic act; Mukada comes to compromise but Kirk buckles down; Eleanor arranges for a Death Row photoshoot for Maxim magazine; Hoyt forces a lightbulb into Kirk’s mouth during the group shot and then goes crazy; Mukada is off the hook but feels guilty because he prayed for Kirk to die

McManus and Said finish reading Hill’s book; Redding has a breakthrough in the meditation maze; he decides to get the Homeboys away from dope slinging by getting them into telemarketing instead;

Morales tries to recruit miguel to spy on the Homeboys; Miguel’s mom visits; Miguel calls Maritza

Peter scares Ryan with the evil eye stuff; Ryan manipulates Pancamo into killing Peter; Pancamo tries to kill Robson; Robson tries to get protection from Cutler; Robson meets with Sister Pete;

Sister: Ohhh, this time it’s different.

Sister: (as Beecher) What about my father?

Sister (jabbing at screen): Don’t you dare mess it up for him! I see your eyebrows knitting an evil little sweater….

Sister: (gasp) Is she giving out STDs?! All getting sick? Same symptoms? Damn… what did she give them…

Sister: Why would he say that… “Books for the dead”? Me: He’s feeling the Halloween spirit…

Sister: I’m just looking at all the things that have here that can kill people. This ain’t going to end well.

Sister: You wanna lay down some quotes for us to judge or are we telling not showing…

Sister: Close up! Let’s see how evil this lady looks…

Sister: What, she got family there? She got stock? Murphy: For Chrissakes, Howell, what do you got stock in Kentwell Communications? Howell: No, a brother. Sister: I’m so good at this.

Me: I still think they should’ve make him a communist… Sister: He’s not a communist? What is he, a socialist? Me: He doesn’t have a concrete ideology, really… They never gave him one… Sister: I just assumed he was a communist this whole time, to be honest.

Sister: Crapped his pants.

Sister: Wrong! That’s the problem with people in this place. They’re always telling each other their plans… (also tbh i included that first screencap because i always thought it was cute that Peter was trying not to laugh there)

Sister: Girl! He’s only 36?!

Stray Thoughts

Hecht and McArthur are mentioned as minimum security prisons

Plymouth House is mentioned as a juvenile hall

Sister was disappointed to learn last week that Adebisi never guest narrates

Sister thinks Beecher will die before he gets out

It’s mentioned that Said makes 2.50/wk at R&D

Final thoughts: Sister: So sad about Antonio… forgot his name… Michael? Good thing I didn’t decide to become his guardian angel again. That would’ve been so embarrassing… Very confused about why, um…. Mr. Linguini believed the guy who always lies when he came to sell his wares. Like that guy’s never just coming over to gossip normally, but oh, let’s hear him out? How tiny does your brain have to be to still believe him. He’s like the pied piper, he’s gonna be pying those pipes. Don’t listen to him, little rat… And I’m so disappointed they didn’t do an STD episode and expose that lady so she can finally get fired.

[thislovintime]

"I was booked in here [CBGB, on July 31, 1977] by a journalist friend of mine who’s helping me do a book on the Monkees trip, and after it’s over I’m gonna go back to California and teaching." - Peter Tork, Village Voice, August 8, 1977 (more about that gig here)

“As to my tell-all book, well, I don’t believe that’s going to happen. Never say never, of course, but I’ve thought about it off and on for years, and I never seem to sit down to the computer and start writing the thing. Meanwhile, I do make music, and that’s where my heart is. These days, it’s just about all about the blues.” - Peter Tork, Ask Peter Tork/The Daily Panic, 2008

Below the “read more” cut are some quotes from the unpublished interview transcripts for Peter’s potential autobiography, transcribed from the auction preview images. The interviews were conducted in circa 1975/1976, and listed on eBay some years ago. (I’ve taken the liberty of correcting spelling errors as I’ve spotted them; see words in square brackets. Although, a final editor’s note: can’t help wishing that the transcripts had been given to Peter/Peter’s family instead of being sold on eBay.)

“Davy had [smoked some marijuana] on Broadway, kind of, but he didn’t dig it. Micky had absolutely never had it [marijuana] before. […] [At] my house. We smoked, we had smoked something pretty good, I don’t remember what it was, and there was a Ray Charles record on, and Micky just stretched out flat on his face, and was gone, for the entire time the record was on. And then it was over, he got up, and just this look of amazement crossed his face. […] Michael did smoke, he may have smoked beforehand, just a little now and again, and for a while he was smoking it with us when we were smoking it in rehearsals and so on, and then he faded out of that. I don’t think it ever really attracted him too much. It meant too much. He didn’t like to really lay back that way, the way grass makes you lay back. 

[…]

[While living with Mike and Phyllis] I wrote a banjo tune called the Monkee Breakdown. It’s pretty good. […] You had to walk up a huge flight of stairs. His address was actually on the sidewalk, the Something Terrace, Stoneview Terrace, I don’t remember. Michael had a garage and you drove in and you had to drive up a windy little road for a short whole just to get to the garage and then you had to climb about 120 steps. I remember when I walked in after the pilot I arrived separately, arrived back home, as it was, Phyllis walked in from the show, stark naked, scared the shit out of both of us.

Q: Out of her, too?

PT: Well, we were both quite startled.

Q: Oh, it was just you and her.

PT: Mike hadn’t come in yet. I hope it’s not too embarrassing to her to say that. Maybe I should ask her, I think I can reach her.

Q: Got anything else?

PT: Nah.

Q: Do you remember in more detail what you did when he picked you up that day?

PT: No.

Q: Let me backtrack a minute. Where were you when Phyllis walked out of the shower.

PT: I had just opened the door, dropped my bags, moved a step and a half to my left and plunked myself down on the chair.

Q: And was this the living room?

PT: Yeah. And Phyllis came walking out of the bathroom and through the hall, and to the living room. Off the living room was the a door and then there was a hallway with the two bedrooms and the bathroom off of that. i heard her in the shower and I might have told her, but I didn’t happen to say anything at the time.

Q: Ok. How did you meet David Pearl?

PT: I don’t recall. He was just like a guy on the set, a Texas friend of Mike’s. 

Q: When you were living together were there any habits of his that annoyed you or vice versa[?].

PT: No. We were pretty circumspect. We kept out of each other’s way. We made it a point not to get involved with anything that would be destructive.

Q: But you didn’t have little fights over who would clean out the toilet that day and things like that?

PT: No.

Q: Were you uncomfortable living with a couple?

PT: No. I was circumspect as you know about that.

[…]

[8/15/76]

For Pete’s Sake was real handy. […] I was upstairs in my living room. You take a C7 chord and move it up 2 frets. And [what] happens is you have a D9. Cos the C7 chord leaves the high strings open. The high string is the one on the bottom. That is to say, the musical top string is the gravitational bottom string. So that string is an E, which is only a part of a regular C7 chord. But if you add it onto a D7 chord, that chord becomes a D0. And there was this note. This great big 9th note. And it seemed to hang in the air.

Love is understanding. That was what was on my mind at the time. I was into flower child lyrics. And it just seemed natural to rhyme. Love is understanding. Don’t you [know] that this is true. Love is understanding It’s in everything we do. Well, it sort of fell into place. It kind of sounds like doggerel now. 

[…]

[10/13/76]

Q: [You’re] flying to the East Coast. So tell me a little about that. How long it took, what you did there.

PT: Well, I had a strange feeling when I was in New York, on the East Coast. I had fully expected the thing would be picked up, and that I would hurry back. I don’t know why. I didn’t even expect it to have as much trouble as it did. Although, I guess that shows my ignorance. Anyway, I wandered around the old haunts, looked in at the old places, played a few sets here and there, I think, and told some friends that I’d had an opportunity to make a thing happen, that it might happen, and so on and so forth, and I hung out at the house.

Q: Do you remember anybody’s specific reaction to that?

PT: Everybody’s reaction was, ‘Oh, that’s very nice,’ ‘Yes, that’s quite nice,’ ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ ‘Well, good luck, I hope it turns out all right for you.’ It was a kind of lightheaded time. I would wander around and I was so sure. Like, I WAS SO SURE, when you say that, like in italics, that’s the kind of expression you use when it turns out wrong, and what I was actually thinking was, well, it just seemed like that natural thing to happen.”

* * *

In connection with Phyllis:

“The first time I met Peter was at the Troubadour where he performed, long before the auditions. I’ve always liked his warmth and honesty. And he’s always been very kind to me. Both Davy and Peter have lived with us and Peter was always very considerate, helping with the dishes and all.” - Phyllis Nesmith, Fave magazine, January 1968

[iiseult]

Day Off: Jerry Pascal x Vanessa Riggin (part 1)

Note: This is my first time writing anything for this fandom and probably nobody will gaf but i also dgaf so im posting it anyway!!! I needed a break from my other ongoing fics and im kinda obsessed w Jerry rn so this was an easy write.

CWs: Smut, fluff, oral, gas station sex, jerry is lichrally in love, mentions of alcohol consumption, idk just yeah man it's hot stuff

The first time Jerry met Vanessa, she was drunk on a Sunday afternoon. Not that he was judging.

When he heard the little bell above the front door jingle, he looked up from behind the counter and called his usual lackluster greeting of, “how can I help you?”, but it died in his throat and petered out into more of a “how can I- ha…” when he got a good look at her. She was wearing a yellow t-shirt and a pair of hello kitty pajama pants, and a pair of huge black sunglasses covered most of the top half of her face. She made a beeline for the alcohol aisle and, with her left hand, she grabbed the first six-pack of cheap beers she saw. In her right hand she held an empty coke bottle, which she placed in front of him on the counter with a grin.

“D’you think you could get rid of this for me? Couldn’t find a recycling bin outside.”

He kind of knew he was done for once he got a whiff of what was actually inside the coke bottle, and it sure wasn’t no coke. He was never one for professionalism, so he didn’t think twice about nodding dumbly and ringing her up without checking her ID, even though she was pretty obviously underage. He also didn’t think twice about shamelessly chatting her up– a conversation which ended in her appointment as a new part-time employee for the summer. Jerry didn’t actually have the power to hire anyone, but the way he proposed the idea to the owners on the phone later with such dignity and aplomb left them unable to refuse.

“Hey, please buddy, come on, I’m on my knees here! Look, I know you can’t see me, but if you check the security cameras you’ll see that I am literally… literally on my knees!” Jerry cried, tilting his head to the side and holding up prayer hands towards the camera, like a grotesque caricature of the Virgin Mary. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned for what felt like the millionth time in the past hour, turning around to avoid watching.

“Jerry, besides the fact that she was drunk for the entirety of the… ‘employee interview,’” he air-quoted, “we don’t have enough money to take on another employee! How are they gonna pay her?” Jerry put his hand over the receiver and shushed Jack viciously, a little spit flying out of his mouth, before returning to his conversation.

“Uh-huh…uh-huh…yeah, no, I completely understand, no, totally. Right, right. Of course. For sure. Definitely. Indubitably. Could you just give me one second, please?”

Jerry slumped against the side of the counter and sulked, covering the receiver again and sighing. He looked up at his friend with kicked puppy eyes. “But she’s so hot, dude, I’d hate to disappoint her…we gotta figure something out,” he muttered, when suddenly another brilliant idea struck him. “WAIT! I have had…a thought!” He declared, suddenly jumping to his feet and uncovering the receiver.

“You can give her half of my paycheck!”

So about a month and a half into working side-by-side at the gas station most days of the week, Vanessa and Jerry had grown quite close. He started picking up extra day shifts on top of his usual nights to make it up to the owners, and to spend more time with Van. It sounded like a great idea on June first, but by the time the fourth of July rolled around, he was really starting to look worse for wear. He often worked 24 hours in a row and only had eight-hour breaks between them, during which he’d sleep on a hammock in the dry storage room, not seeing a point in driving all the way home just to come back as soon as he opened his eyes. Jack didn’t seem to mind; all he had to do was remember to knock before restocking the chips. And Van was none the wiser to the entire situation, clueless to the fact that Jerry was sacrificing so much to keep her around.

Despite the fact that it was her day off, Van swaggered into the gas station, cheering when she saw Jerry behind the counter. A goofy smile spread across his face. Even though it was the twenty-second straight hour of his shift and his eyes actually wouldn’t open more than halfway, he felt a warm tingly feeling spread through his body at her presence.

“Hey, what’s up, Van?” he called. She sidled up to the edge of his counter and leaned her elbows on it, gazing into his red-rimmed eyes absently.

“Thought I’d pay you a little visit since I got nothing going on tonight,” she drawled, and the fact that Jerry’s eyes were glued to the neckline of her low-cut top was not lost on her. In fact, it made her feel good inside. He nodded, and without looking back up he said, "Sure glad you did.”

Before she could say anything, the little bell rang and she turned her head to see an actual customer enter the store– a middle-aged man with a poorly concealed beer belly and a backwards baseball cap. She quickly walked around to the other side of the counter and planted herself next to Jerry, their shoulders brushing slightly. He shivered and glanced at her sidelong. She was staring ahead, watching the customer as he approached the counter with an assortment of items in his hands, a large grin on her face. He wanted to say something, to ask what she was up to, but that thought was dashed from his mind when the customer dumped his things in front of him with a loud ‘clunk.’

“Hey, how ya doin’ today,” Jerry said quietly. He rang up the items one by one. The customer grunted in acknowledgement. And below the counter, where nobody could see, Van slowly slid her hand up Jerry’s leg, starting at his knee and settling on his upper thigh. His breath hitched and his face began to heat up. Alarms were going off in his head, and he suddenly worried he had stayed up too many hours at a time and finally lost his mind, but when she gently squeezed his thigh, he swallowed hard. No, it was real. And there was really a customer in front of him, a matter of inches away, watching him attempt to do his job.

“Can I also get a pack of smokes?” the customer rasped, pointing to a pack of reds to Jerry’s left. Van squeezed harder, getting dangerously close to a sensitive area. Jerry cleared his throat and grabbed the cigarettes quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Yeah, n-no problem. That’ll be $17.80,” he replied quietly, accepting the twenty from the customer and handing him his change. The man gathered his things and grunted once more, turning around and heading for the door. As soon as he was facing the opposite direction, Jerry let out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut, and discreetly shifted his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Have a nice day!” Van called as the customer disappeared out the front door. As soon as he had, Jerry’s eyes darted around, making sure there was nobody else in the store. There wasn’t. He turned his body to face her, one hand gripping the countertop for dear life.

“Jesus, Van,” he muttered, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. And also in his jeans. She turned so they were facing each other and her hands flew to his hips, holding him at an arm’s length.

“Aww, big boy, you’re so cute when you blush,” she said softly.

Jerry could feel his face getting hotter, could feel the entire room getting hotter. Despite this, he scoffed.

“I do not blush. I just… overheat sometimes. It’s a guy thing- a, a man thing,” he clarified, looking down at her sternly. She only smiled and patted his hip affectionately.

“Yes, you do, Jer, and I love it. Such a pretty boy,” she cooed, rubbing her thumbs over his hip bones. He let out a small sound that was something between a grunt and a whimper.

“Stop it, Van, you’re driving me crazy,” he complained, his voice tinged with amusement. In response she let out a groan, which turned into a low laugh as she noticed how his pants had magically become at least two sizes too small between the legs.

“Aww, pretty,” she chuckled, looking up into his half-lidded blue eyes through her lashes. He blushed deeply, trying not to look into her eyes, his heart stuttering in his chest. This is what he’d wanted so badly since the day he met her, and yet he was paralyzed. He couldn’t tell if she was just playing with him or if she actually wanted him to make a move, but he was betting on the first one.

“Van, please don’t tease me like this,” he pleaded, his voice coming out croaky and low. He stared down at the ground, his golden hair falling around his furrowed brow. She felt a pang of guilt and decided to change tactics, gently sliding her hands up from where they had previously been resting on his hips, and finding a new spot around his slim waist.

“But I’m not teasing you, honey…”

His heart skipped a beat and he shivered, his skin breaking out into goosebumps under her touch. She called him honey, and it left his head spinning. He wanted to believe her, to touch her back the way she was touching him, but he wasn’t yet totally convinced he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

“You… you’re not? 'Cause I don't really wanna act like a fool right now,” he replied, his throat dry, and she shook her head. She, on the other hand, loved when he acted like a fool. They did it together all the time! She considered saying as much but decided against it, thinking that maybe she should save that one for later. Instead, she squeezed his waist and urged him to take a step closer, whispering, “No, baby, I’m not teasing.”

There was only a little sliver of space between them now, her chest bumping up against his, and the tent in his jeans brushing almost imperceptibly against her thighs. His hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, unable to decide if he should ask permission before touching her or just do it. He started to speak, to ask “then what…” but the words died in his throat and all that came out was a soft, “Huh?”

She grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her own hip, looking up at him darkly and all but confirming what he so desperately needed to hear– that she wanted him, too. He moved his thumb experimentally up to the hem of her low-rise jeans, brushing the pad of it against her flawless skin, and both of them sucked in a sharp breath, simultaneously experiencing the same shock of electricity. Her reaction filled him with a wave of confidence. He knew he wasn’t just imagining things, that she really wanted him, and that by the looks of things, it was pretty bad. He gently tugged her hips forward, pressing them against his own and grunting softly at the contact. He thought he was ready for it, but he was so hard it was almost painful and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into her soft, yielding flesh. She let out a harsh breath through her nose and closed her eyes.

“Jer…”

He craned his neck down and got in her face, breathing heavily and looking at her through his lashes. Those pretty blond lashes framed his big blue eyes so well and she just melted when he looked at her like that.

“You want me, pretty?” she whispered sweetly, gripping his hips a little tighter, possessively. He clenched his jaw and nodded rapidly, whispering back,

“Please, can I have you?” She grinned and nuzzled her face against his neck, pressing kisses to his scruffy jaw and the skin around it. Her lips brushed his ear as she murmured,

“Yeah. Take me to the storage room,” and Jerry sucked in a sharp breath and dug his fingers into her soft hips. When he spoke again, his voice came out rough and strained.

“Y-yeah? You mean it? You want me… right now?” She slid one hand up under the hem of his t-shirt and spread her fingers out over the warm, bare skin there. His body was aching for more, practically vibrating with the need to be closer to her, so he grabbed her smaller hand softly and led her to the dry storage room where he slept. Thankfully, it was only a few steps away, and she quietly closed the door behind them. Jerry leaned his back against it, his chest heaving as his breath came in shallow gasps. Vanessa pressed her body against his, practically draping herself against him, and cupped his face softly.

“Jer, you’re gonna have to be quick,” she muttered. He laughed heartily.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t need much time.” She bit back a goofy grin and slid her hand down to his collarbones, feeling the tingle of heat as it radiated from his skin and invaded her own. He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“Van, lady, please…” his voice rumbled deeply in his chest, and she felt the vibrations against her bosom. She shivered and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Do you want me to touch you now?” she whispered, cradling his stubbly cheek in her hand and letting the other one fall to rest on his waistband. Jerry nodded frantically, eyes still closed, jaw clenched. She took one last deep breath and blew it out before leaning forward and capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, moving her mouth against his slowly and languidly. His arms instinctually encircled her waist and he held her carefully as he furrowed his brows and kissed back. All the tension, all the months of pent-up frustration and need poured out of him suddenly.

He moaned into her mouth, and she took the opportunity to lick past the seam of his lips and slide her tongue against his, making sure he couldn’t go anywhere by grabbing the back of his neck. She breathed his scent in deeply and pressed every inch of skin she could into his body, and all she could think about was him. In her mind’s eye she saw him, the last expression she had seen him make, his face flushed and brows furrowed. In a frantic attempt to get closer to her, he pressed one palm against the small of her back and another between her shoulder blades. Every flick of her tongue sent a wave of heat through his already overheated body.

When the kiss finally broke, they were both panting, and Jerry had a strange expression on his face, like he was using every ounce of his concentration to make her clothes turn see-through.

“God, Van…” he said, his voice deep and rumbling. She pressed one more short kiss to his lips before dropping to her knees in front of him, and his heart jumped into his throat.“You don’t have to…” he protested weakly, even though his hips were pointing towards her like a magnetic force. She swatted away his words and scoffed, already fussing with his clothes, swiftly unbuckling his belt and undoing the button of his jeans.

“I’ll do a better job later, but this’ll work for now,” she said, grabbing his pants and pulling them all the way down to his ankles in one swift motion. Jerry’s breathing was ragged and desperate, and the promise of there being a ‘later’ to look forward to sent a pang of lust ripping so strongly through him that the room momentarily spun.

“God, Van, I’m so…” he began, his cheeks flushing even deeper as he looked down at her face hovering only inches away from his throbbing need, “…hard,” he finished. He was painfully aware of how badly he wanted her, how sensitive he was, and he was glad this was only meant to be a quickie, because he’d be done for in a matter of minutes. Van kept one hand planted firmly on his hip, and with the other she palmed his bulge through his boxers, unable to look away from it.

“My God, Jer, what is this, like, seven inches? Fuck,” she swore, her mouth already watering. He shivered, already so sensitive that the slightest touch set his nerve endings on fire, threatening to overwhelm him. His length bobbed and strained against the thin fabric, leaving a small wet spot on it.

“Y-yeah,” he managed to gasp out, “About that, I guess.” He was suddenly slightly embarrassed at how much her words obviously affected him, when normally he would have had no shame at all about his body, but there was no way for him to hide his reaction. She pulled down his boxers quickly, his rock-hard cock springing up against his stomach, and her jaw dropped as she finally laid eyes on it, pink and swollen and fat. Jerry’s skin burned under her gaze, the way she was looking at him making him crazy. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but as her eyes widened at the sight of him, that confidence from earlier came back and he couldn’t help but reach out and run a hand through her hair and mumble, “You’re so pretty.”

She grinned and wrapped a hand around him firmly, spitting on the tip, and Jerry couldn’t stop the strangled moan that escaped him, or the way his hips bucked into her fist. He couldn’t believe she was actually smiling, actually volunteering to blow him. It was like she was a wet dream come to life. She pumped him a few times just to get the blood flowing before bringing her lips down and pressing a wet kiss to his tip. As soon as her soft skin made contact with him, he let out a filthy, pornographic moan, his head falling back against the wall. He felt his legs tremble, and he was sure he’d collapse by the end of it if she didn’t stop, but he was also sure he never, ever wanted her to stop.

“Van, ah, that feels so good,” he gasped as she flicked her tongue around his sensitive head, drawing more and more sounds from his lips.

“Good, honey, so good,” she whispered, flattening her tongue against his shaft and dragging it all the way up to spread around the moisture. Once she was satisfied that he was properly coated, she looked up through her eyelashes and swallowed about half of him, keeping her hand curled firmly around what didn’t fit. The way his cheeks flushed and his knees buckled encouraged her to start bobbing her head up and down, her lips still wrapped around him firmly. Jerry had to press his back harder into the wall to keep from falling.

“Ohmygod you’re so pretty,” he repeated, unable to tear his eyes away from her face and the way his cock completely filled her mouth. As a thank you, she started moving her hand in tandem with her head and sucked hard, creating the max amount of friction she possibly could without hurting him. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, his whole body tense with pleasure, and with the effort of forcing himself not to buck into her mouth. Though his hands were buried in her hair, he was gentle, never pulling on it too hard, only holding it to help ground himself. Vanessa began picking up the pace, moving her head faster and continuing to swirl her tongue around the head, occasionally letting it flick across his sensitive slit to make him yelp.

“A-ah!” he cried breathlessly. She hummed around him and tried not to smile, bringing up her free hand to play with his balls. Her finger accidentally grazed his perineum in the process, making him moan out her name, long and deep. She pulled off him for a second and couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, you like that?��� she asked, gently dragging her finger against the area again. His legs wobbled and he groaned, and she squeezed her hand a little tighter around his base, starting to pump him again as her mouth went back to work. She was going fast now, gagging a little as she swallowed as much of him as she could and continued stimulating him with her finger.

“Holy shit, Van!” he moaned, threading his fingers tightly through her hair as his thighs began to shake. “I’m- I’m gonna c-” His sentence was cut off by a loud cry ripping through his throat, and the sound of Van moaning in pleasure around his shaft as he shot his load into her mouth. His entire body shuddered and he had to catch himself before his knees completely gave out. She slowed down a bit but kept going for a few more seconds despite his whines and gentle tugs to her hair, wanting to make sure she milked his cock for everything. She didn’t hesitate to swallow everything he gave her, sticking out her tongue to show him afterwards. Once again, he had to fight to stay upright after seeing that.

“That was…I’ve never…it’s been so long since…” he gasped, looking at her with pure adoration as she got to her feet and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He could taste himself, musky and slightly bitter, and made a mental note to include some more pineapple in his diet.

“You taste pretty good, huh?” she teased, running her tongue along his bottom lip.

“Ugh, fuck,” he moaned, face going slightly red at that. His heart was beating a million times a minute, his body still buzzing with pleasure as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He wanted to give her some of the warmth he was feeling, show her what she really did to him. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. “Van, you’re so good at that…” he mumbled stupidly, a mindless grin plastered on his lips. Jerry was drunk a lot of the time, but somehow this was not one of those times, no matter how much it seemed like it. Maybe he was drunk off lust, or desire. Or something else. Who knows what kind of chemicals one could inhale while working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town. Van melted into the hug, relishing the feeling of his thick arms caging her in, keeping her warm and safe. But she knew he was in a time crunch.

“Break’s over, sugar,” she whispered, and he made a noise of discontentment and buried his face into her shoulder.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled against her skin, his voice half-muffled. She laughed quietly and stroked his dirty-blond hair, almost petting him. He pressed his face into her neck and breathed in her gentle scent, the scent he had come to associate with tenderness over the past month and a half, and a sense of contentment washed over him.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d do a better job later?” she cooed.

“Yeah, but now I don’t think I can wait,” he muttered. Van gently let go of him, pulling back a little so she could look into his eyes.

“I’ll make it worth it,” she promised, “I’ll come by your place after your shift.” Van knew where Jerry lived, and she wasn’t averse to the fact that it was quite literally in the back of an abandoned school bus that was probably illegally parked behind the old Mathmetist compound. She’d been there to play shitty knock off video games and grill various meats a few times before, and it really wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. Especially once Jerry brought out the beers.

He gently released her, his body already missing the feeling of her against him. His mind had already conjured up at least three different scenarios about how the night would unfold later, and at least two of them involved a blindfold and cherry flavored condoms. He gave her a lopsided grin and nodded.

“You better,” he said, his voice still a little raw from earlier. He couldn’t wait for his shift to be over.

[bison-appreciation-club]

wait how have you been hated on for liking Native American history??? That's so weird 😭😭

oh boyyyy do I have stories for this.

I've never received any online hate, for which I am extremely grateful, but people have been exceedingly weird about it in real life, ranging from bizarre to just plain racist. I can't remember all of it, so I'll just take you through the highlights.

My grandmother never quite knows how to introduce me to her friends (because she has a lot of friends and is quite the social butterfly) so she often introduces me as 'her grandchild, who knows a lot about Native American history'. Which isn't really true. I know a little (well, maybe more than a little) about a very specific area of Native American history. So most of the following things have come from my grandmother's friends.

Native Americans aren't actually American *smug face* they actually come from Nepal. *smug face again*. She seemed so pleased with herself to know something I didn't. And honestly I didn't know how to react. I think that one was more funny than anything. Why are you trying to out-knowledge someone sixty years younger than you. why.

*Accusingly* I suppose you hate Columbus, then. Yes. Yes I do

You're only interested just because you like the aesthetic the what now?

It's just because you're woke why do conservative people have to use the word woke so many times. hey, sorry folks, researching cultures different to your own is WOKE. Proper right-wing fellows are INSULAR. they don't CARE about the rest of the world.

You're disrespecting and abandoning your white heritage ok. Tbh if you consider yourself peak white heritage, I'm glad to be out of it. Seriously tho, how do you think race and nationality works? I can be white and interested in Native American history. The two don't cancel each other out.

Similar to that one, is my personal favourite:

You're committing cultural appropriation by being interested in Native American history. What. This was also said to me by some rando in a bookshop when I was buying a book on, well, guess what topic. I thought they were one of the staff at first, but looking back at it I think they were really Just Some Rando. Why would you say that to someone who is just trying to buy a book. You don't even know me. I don't want your opinion.

That one really worried me for a while, I'm gonna be honest. I had to send a particularly grovelling anon to some Native American I found on Tumblr. And they said it wasn't cultural appropriation. AND they gave me book recommendations. So yeah.

(PS I can't remember who you are, but if you see this, then you metaphorically saved my life and literally saved my dignity)

That's all the specific incidents I can remember, but there have been a lot of other things. Jokes, mostly. Quoting westerns. Speaking like the Native Americans from Peter Pan or some shit whenever I enter the room. I once had someone make those western style war cries at me for five hours.

Making fun of their names is a big one. (Guys, there are only so many times you can make fun of anyone's name, and that amount is zero. even if they're called some shit like techno mechanicus -looking at you, Elon Musk. I literally don't see what's so funny about the name Black Kettle anyway. Either I've been reading about him too much, but it's not a weird name?? Also. He got fucking murdered. I'm researching how he got murdered and you're taking the piss out of him. Get some respect and dignity).

Also. If I have to hear one more joke along the lines of 'did you ever have any reservations about studying this topic' I am going to wring your neck.

So uh I'm sorry I turned your question into a bit of a rant but if I've learned one thing it's this: researching non-white history really shows you people's hidden racism. The amount of shit people have said to me about the Native Americans. My guys your opinions belong in a Victorian dime novel about the frontier. And that's not a compliment.

[cinnamon-bunni]

❄️ and ☔ (if you want to share any!!) for the ask game!!!!!

AHHH THANK YOU FOR SEND THIS!!! ^^

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing. ohhhhh, im having a hard time choosing which wip i should choose from...as much as i would love to have a part of my tmnt fic, nothing much is happening in it yet </3 (im like a few paragraphs away from the Shit Hitting the Fan part lolol but oh well) so! instead, i shall do a snippet of a ghostbusters fic i have, featuring a (ghost) oc, a fic which i may or may not finish, not sure yet (probably the latter sadly) but i am still quite happy with this part! so here <33

Jack couldn’t breathe. “Too fucking dark, I can’t-” You can, please, go over there, let me see him, let me- “Can’t fucking do this–shit, Venkman, please wake up, don’t leave me in here alone. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry-” Calm down; breath, slowly, in your nose and out the mouth. Come on, I know you can do it- He squeezed his eyes shut and, for once in his life, listened to his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he whispered out once more. [...] The reality of it all, after saying it aloud, came crashing down around him again, and the walls suffocated him and the dark consumed him. “Fuck, I killed you, didn’t I? I killed you and you’re gonna rot in this basement like me-” NO. No, he’s not dead, please move, please let me back in control- Jack opened his eyes again. It wasn’t as dark now, as his eyes adjusted to the new set darkness. But the room was still suffocating, still the same as the day he died, still haunting and horrible and distressing. [...] His eyes fell onto Peter’s unmoving body. He quickly looked away before squeezing his eyes shut once more. “Listen Venkman, I promise you, if you wake up right now I’ll go into that box of yours, no complaints. And I’ll go happily into where ever the fuck you store your ghosts, no matter how cramped it is, as long as you wake up right now and be fine. Please.”

(in which a ghost, possessing ray, may or may not have possibly and accidentally peter and is panicking about it) (peter isnt dead dont worry but oh boy jack does freak the fuck out for a bit over it <3)

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it? ngl i feel like i could share so many ideas here, it's so hard to tell if i would ever get around to finishing my wips and ideas...

i have many tmnt ideas i wanna write! four to be specific, a fic centered on each turtle, all multi-chapter fics, which sadly lowers the chance of me ever finishing them ^^;;;; the first one (which i'm close to finishing the first chapter of!!) is where Donnie makes contact with an alternate version of himself! the two donnie switch places (which normal donnie did not agree to this, he was kinda sorta drugged, knocked out, and woke up in the other universe), and is forced to try his way back home while also pretending to be someone he isn't so others in this new world won't be suspicious of him. while i love this idea, im very unsure abt posting this one;;;

my other tmnt fics include: raph being kidnapped and being thrown into an illegal underground mutant fighting ring (underground nexus my beloved); mikey being sent into the spiritual plain without his consent and his chilling as basically a ghost while his brothers scramble to try and bring him back; and then one where leo is stuck in a time loop, because i HAVE to do a time loop for like every fandom im in lmao <3 these three im less confident i'll get around to writing, but i really hope i do!!! (i also have a transfem leo fic i wanna write, a oneshot, but im really hoping that i'll at least finish that one)

moving onto my other wips, i have quite a few for ghostbusters! im not really sure if i'll get to finishing any of them though--i really hope i do, but gb for me is something i easily get in and out of the mood to write for one of the fics i wanna write, but very much doubt i'll finish, is the one i quote above. ray and peter go deal with a ghost haunting, until it then possesses ray. story stuff happens (revealed that ghost was murdered, egon and winston get held at gun point, all very fun stuff <3), and its a bit of a long oneshot! since it involves an oc, im not too sure if i'll finish it i have another ghostbusters fic that features an oc, two in fact, and is multi-chapter. this still goes into the category of where im not too sure if i'll finish it, BUT it does feature vampires!! and also peter may or may not also be vampiric as well!!! and damn have i fell in love with that concept!! I also have a short lil' soulmate au i wanted to write that's kinda cute <3 and finally (a fic which i'm most likely to finish, or at least for the first chapter for lol), i originally wanted to write a cute oneshot about Elon and Egon and their relationship (when i first learned abt elon i just absolutely fell in love lmao), but now it has turned into a multi-chap story about Elon, his work, the ghost that sorta haunts him bc of said work, his differences from Egon, twin telepathy, and finally of course his relationship with the Ghostbusters in general (he deserves to be a little antagonistic, me thinks. as a treat <3) i am so excited to hopefully finish and post it, i so badly wanna explore their relationship <333

okay im done now!!! i couldve gone on but this is way too long to begin with so! thank you so much for this ask ily <33333