#GOT THE BEAVER JOKES ON ME.

[elvisabutler]

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

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

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

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

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

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

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

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elvis… I can’t….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

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

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

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

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

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

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

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This ok, baby?”

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

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

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

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

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

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

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

“Wanna wash your hands?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

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

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

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

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

You blush and look down. 

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

Jerry’s eye brows bent in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

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

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

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

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

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

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

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

———————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

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

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

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

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

“Well, EP… I … I …”

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

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

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

“Twitch?”

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

You groan and put your face in your hands. 

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

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

“Ughh..” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing. 

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

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

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

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

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

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

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

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

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

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

“Hey, now… what she say?”

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

———————————

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

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

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

He looked down at you and winked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— ----------

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll  wanna fix your lipstick.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how you doin?”

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

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…” 

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

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

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

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

——-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

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

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

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

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

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

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

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

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

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

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Spread the shelter of your peace over us 

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Save us for the sake of your name 

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain 

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no!”

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

——-----------

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

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

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

“Have a good time tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

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

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

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

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

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

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

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——----------

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

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

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

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

“Ok, love ya mom.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“9.” You look down.

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

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @butlervol6 @ab4eva @whositmcwhatsit @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen

Stay tuned for chapter 3 and let me know if you would like to be tagged... xoxo norah

[viaviv124]

Homicipher incorrect quotes

Mc: speaking of surprises, Crawly

Crawling: yea?

Mc: i've got something up my sleeve

Crawling: is it... A banana?

Mc: nO! It's an automated gun torrent! :D

Crawling: we're going to a candy store!?

Silvair: what? No! Candy stores are closed!

Gap: WE'RE GONNA ROB A CANDY STORE!? :D

Chopped: omagod u so tall you look like a giraffe :D

Scarletella: that's why you dead built like a baked bean

Chopped: a ba- A BAKED BEAN!? *bites his foot* BAKE BEAN THAT. BEAK BEAN THAT!

Mc: you're under arrest! Scarletella! Scar-face! Scar-poopy-poopy-butt!

Scarletella: you may be the- dont you ever fucking call me that again

Mc: what would you do if i was kidnapped?

Crawling: obviously come find yo-

Hood: nothing

Silvair: wait 20 minutes until they let you go voluntarily

Machete: i killed your entire family

Mc: huh? But i live alone-

Machete: huh? Then who were these people in your house-

Mc: there's people in my house!?

Machete: well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could've died! You're welcome!

Mc: Crawly am i ugly?

Crawling: nonsense, you're the most beautiful girl in the world, i see you right now!

Hooded Child: Hood am i ugly :D

Hood: very much.

Mc: hold on, the phone's calling. Hello?

Telephone Guy: how do you say uh corn in cantonese?

Mc: sok mai?

Telephone Guy: HAHA SOK MAI NUTS *hangs up*

Mc: ... Well they're not my friend anymore.

Scarletella to MC: so i send u a lil smiley face

So you send back a lil smiley face

So i write hey

And you write back hey

And i say hey what

And you say you said hey first?

And then i say okay

Crossaint emoji

Fuck u

Chopped: smile :D

Bride: sweet :D

Nurse: sister :D

Silvair: sadistic :D

Gap: surprise :D

Crawling: service :D

Stitch: CRAWLING IS A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER

*cue music*

Mc: name a country that starts with V!

Silvair: venezuela!

Machete: FINLAND! FINLAND

Silvair: OH MY DAYS. LOW IT. YOU SAID WHAT???

Machete: finland?

Silvair: DON'T CHAT TO ME. YOU'RE JOKING

Silvair: SHE SAID F MAN

Machete: what did u say

Mc: V?

Silvair: v.

Machete: VENUS

Silvair: ARGHHH

Mc: you wanna take things up to the bedroom?

Human: sure. ...what's up there?

Mc: btw did you bring protection

Human: WHY WHATS UP THERE!?

Chopped: i am very small. And i have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that i am under.

Scarletella: and without looking up at me Hood said "You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair"

Machete: am i boring? Sure. Social skills? None. But i'm loyal if you feed me and i will never leave you because, well, i need the food.

Crawling: i wouldnt wish that on my worst enemy-

Hood: i would. I would wish it on my worst enemy and then a whole list of other people that dont even qualify as my worst enemy. I'm not "above things" and at this point i'm existing out of spite

Gap: Your uber instincts cant handle my uber autism. Observe.

[insert him being in the fucking textbox an yoinking mc through it, escaping scar]

MC: You enter the dungeon, and on the far end of the room, you see... a door!

Masque: Can I seduce the door?

MC: No you cannot.

Stitch: Can I seduce the door?

MC: ALSO NO.

Crawling: Can I punch Stitch?

MC: ... Uh Stitch you take 4 damage

Stitch: Well I transform into a beaver.

MC: You... do that.

Stitch: Now can I seduce the door?

MC: STILL, NO

Crawling: I punch Stitch again.

MC: 3 more damage.

Machete: Can I fight the door?

MC: No!

Wheelchair: I also would like to fight the door!

MC: NO ONE CAN FIGHT THE DOOR.

Machete: I FIGHT. THE DOOR.

MC: You lose!

Machete: I fight you.

MC: Machete, take a walk!

Scarletella: Is the door dead or alive?

MC: ITS A DOOR?

Scarletella: Can I enslave its soul?

MC: How would you- No!

Chopped: Can I build a better door?

MC: ... Do you want to build a better door?

Chopped: I acquire lumber from the surrounding forest!

MC: Okay you do that.

Silvair: ... Is the door locked?

MC: No it isnt!

Silvair: I open the door.

MC: You do so! Inside is one small treasure chest!

Masque: I seduce the treaure chest~

MC: NO.

[holylulusworld]

Shy Guy (5) - Present

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing: Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: teasing, banter, friendship, fluff, making out, cocky reader, virgin Bucky, shy Bucky, mentions of Steve's sex life

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and@dawn-petrichor-world​ made me do it…

Shy guy (4) - Past & Present

Shy guy masterlist

“Hmm…what else do I need to know, Stevie?” You eagerly take notes while Steve explains the complexity of asking a guy out without making him look like a loser. “I don’t want Bucky to believe he’s a loser.”

“Bucky is not a loser, but shy. He never kissed another girl,” Steve points at a picture of Bucky on the investigation wall he made for you. “That’s our target.”

You grin and lean back in your chair. “Please continue, Obi-Wan Rogers.”

He gives you a stern look. “Miss, if you don’t take my classes seriously, you can go home and watch a rom-com.”

“I’m listening,” you groan. “Go ahead. I need to know how to make a move on Bucky without scaring him off.”

“Alright,” Steve uses a pointer stick to point at the next picture. “That’s our goal. We want him to be putty in your hands but get hard at the same time.”

You lean forward to look at the picture. “Dude! Is that a dick pick?”

Steve snickers. “I googled Bucky’s name, and this was the first picture coming up.”

“You’re lying!” You stick your tongue out. “You can’t pin a dick on our investigation wall, Steve!”

“Why?” He shrugs your concern off and points to the next picture. “Before we get to the dick, we need to make him loosen up and ask you out. Or accept your invitation.”

“That’s a dog playing with a bone,” you wrinkle your nose. “Is that a metaphor or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You sank your teeth into Bucky and won’t let up.”

“I’m not a dog, Rogers,” you snap at your friend. “I wanted you to give me advice, not turn this into a joke.”

“I’m not joking about love and dick,” Steve chuckles but keeps a straight face. “If you want him to dick you down one day, you’ll need to win his trust and heart first.”

“Good, that’s a start,” you take notes while Steve tells you about all the things Bucky likes. “Hmm…that’s good. Tell me more about his eating habits and the lingerie he looked up in his search history.”

“Our boy grew up so fast,” Steve sighs and gives you a wink. “You should see his search history. He’s an eager beaver when it comes to eating pussy and fingering a girl.”

“Oh,” you nod, and focus on taking notes, not the image in your mind. Bucky between your thighs, eating your cunt. “I like me a man who can eat pussy.”

Steve laughs. “Well, in that case, Bucky is your man. I watched him practice while watching porn. He’s got a skilled tongue.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Next step, we need to talk about his erogenous zones. You need to know how to touch him,” Steve continues. He points at his neck with the pointer stick. “Neck.”

“Neck,” you hum.

“Nipples. Earlobe. Lips,” he moves to his crotch. “At last, the divine meat stick.” He grins. “The dick.”

You giggle and snort. “Meat stick, got it.”

“Y/N,” Steve’s features soften when you look at him. “You need to make a move but don’t be too pushy. Bucky will shy away from you if you are too pushy.”

“Christ, I won’t shove his pants down to suck his dick,” you grunt. “Now back to the basics. Do you have an idea for the perfect first date?”

“Alright, miss,” Steve turns back around to point at the investigation wall. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Doll, you’ve got this,” Steve whispers as he guides you toward the frat house. “He’s over there, looking for you because he wants to borrow a book. You look stunning. This outfit shows the right amount of cleavage and ass. But it’s not slutty.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath. “I’ve got this. Bucky Barnes will be putty in my hands.”

Steve slaps your ass, making you squeal. “Go and get him tiger.” 

Bucky is smart.

Like really smart.

He speaks over five different languages.

Still, he doesn't know how to talk to a girl.

It's not that he's not attractive. Girls do look at him. He's just too nervous to hit on a girl he likes.

It feels like his voice fails anytime he tries to talk to one of the girls from the frat house across the street.

Especially when he sees you.

It's even worse that you are friends with his best friend.

Steve Rogers. Quarterback. Golden boy. A girls' magnet.

“Hey Barnes," you quip as Bucky zoned out again. "Whatcha looking at?"

“What?" he slowly dips his head to glance at you standing next to him.

When did that happen?

“I was just...”

"Steve won't come back for a while. I think this week it's Carrie or was it Chanel?" you huff. "I'm telling you; he tries to break a record or something. I’m worried about his health. What if he breaks his dick? He won’t be able to win the upcoming game with a cast around his dick.”

Bucky chokes on his spit.

You giggle.

“Uh—what do you want here if Steve is not around?” He gets out before dropping his eyes to his shoes. 

“Hmm…On Friday night we will go out. Wear something nice,” you cock your head to look Bucky up and down. “Oh, and no hair gel. I like running my fingers through a guy’s hair when we make out.”

“What?” he swallows thickly. His cheeks turn pink, and he feels his heart start racing. “Y/N…I…what? Is this a joke?”

“You know how to get a girl’s attention,” you lean closer to peck his lips. “I hope you know I expect you to put that talented tongue to better use…”

Bucky gasps as you pounce on him to claim his lips. You slip your tongue inside, snaking it with his as you run your fingers through his soft curls.

“Barnes! GOOO! Barnes!” the frat boys chant behind Bucky’s back. “We knew you had it in you all this time. He will finally get laid!”

You grin against his lips.

“Aw, I always had a thing for virgins,” you coo. “I promise to be gentle, babe…”

“What just happened?” Bucky looks like a confused puppy. He runs his tongue over his lips to taste you again. “Y/N, why did you…I…what?”

“Bucky,” you place your hands on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. “I call dips on you.” You smirk. “We are friends since childhood, and I don’t want you to get laid by some other bitch. You’re mine.”

“Get laid,” he chokes out. “Oh,” his cheeks turn pink, and he chuckles nervously. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Buck?” you run your index finger over his chest. “I know you don’t see anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky stutters. “We can watch a movie or order food.”

“Buck,” you lean closer to brush your lips over his quivering ones. “I will cook, and you can decide on the dessert.” You grin. “I heard you have a very talented tongue and are burning to put it to good use.”

He blanched, and chuckles nervously. “It’s a date…”

“It’s a date,” you say and fist his jacket to claim his lips again. “See you on Friday, Bucky baby.”

“STEVE! STEVE!” Bucky stumbles inside their shared room. “STEVE! She asked me out and…what do I do now?”

“Alright,” Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulder to guide him toward the investigation wall. Steve changed the pictures to help his friend. “I have been waiting for you, Padawan. I will tell you everything about Y/N, women, and pussy…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

Louise Beavers (Imitation of Life)—louise beavers spent her whole life forced to play maids and housekeeper characters so as VENGEANCE, i am bringing forth every elegant picture of her i could find to demand justice! black vintage beauty! [pics below the cut]

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Louise Beavers:

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

64.media.tumblr.com

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

[loonie-and-proud]

Random thoughts on modern pevensie family

Today's issue: Taylor Swift

(sorry for my bad english. it's not my first lenguage and is hard)

Susan is a swiftie

She loves her but their siblings not so much

Peter wouldn't care

And Lucy probably sing her songs sometimes because Susan plays them all the time

But Edmund is a hater

I think he's was the kind of guy who just talk bad about taylor to annoy his sister

Before lww of course

When they get crowded susan admits to mrs beaver once that she kinda miss taylor

She is always quoting songs and the narnians eventually ended up covering at balls

Narnians don't exactly understand what a celebrity is so they think that Taylor is probably an important lady in spare oom

And that's how they called her Lady Taylor

The siblings find this hilarious and it's like an inside joke between them where they also start to quote taylor swifts songs like it was the Bible

"who is lady taylor" ask one young faun once

"she is a very important figure for the kings and queens" answer their mother "she is the mentor of queen Susan"

When they come back to England the lady taylor joke stays tho

I can see one them having a bad day and then the other being like "well as lady taylor says you got to shake it off"

Eventually they all ended up being big fans of her

And that's really funny for their mother, specially in edmund's case

"Didn't you hate that girl?"

"idk what you talking about. anti hero is about me"

[whoiwanttoday]

I finally got around to seeing Hundreds of Beavers which you might think is a joke about @kat-eleven weekend but is actually a movie. That ended up making me think of @kat-eleven but we'll get to that. It's essentially a missing Bugs Bunny cartoon except it's all live action. Shot in black and white and done like a silent movie, it's full of really funny gags. It entertained me but didn't blow me away, I was perhaps looking for too much from it because people have been praising it to high heavens for a while now. It deserves the praise as a feat but maybe isn't as entertaining as I like.

Anyway, among the jokes is that love interest whose dad hates our protagonist but she is way horny for him. I thought she was really pretty. Then at one point she takes off her furs to reveal very little underneath and does a pole dance to the lead's dismay because he dad could catch them. This made me think of @kat-eleven in two ways. First, she is always telling me her favorite thing is girls on long stiff poles but also I had already googled the actress, saw her name was Olivia Graves, and found her pretty huge internet footprint but looked at her content and was like, "No, this is a person famous for other things. Boy there are a lot of pole dancing videos though, I should tell Kat about her cause she seems very for Kat". And until the pole dancing happened in the movie I assumed it was a different person than the youtuber travel vlogger and pole dancer. Nope. It turns out she's a triple threat. At least, she might be threatening in other ways, it's just a cursory glance so far. She goes by the Witch of Wanderlust online if you want to find her, tumblr seems completely absent of any of her stuff. Anyway, she was attractive in the movie and I have made two gifs of her dancing because if I didn't I am pretty sure @kat-eleven would go into one of her rages. Enjoy. Today I want to fuck Olivia Graves.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Been thinking about Shinji and Momo and specifically abt them in relations to the system or the ideal of the system that kind of screwed them over. With Shinji being unjustly thrown out and no one rlly fully unpacking how much of an HR concern was Aizen’s weird boundaries with Momo. You once mentioned in one of ur posts abt Shinji that the Vizards for sure do not come back with full trust in the soul society again and have their own agendas. This makes me wonder how Shinji and Momo navigate that system together now that both of them have made the decision to continue to serve under it? Momo, herself does come across as duty bound but has shown instances of acting against it when she feels the need to for the sake of the greater good (like disobeying orders to save hisagi, or admitting that not all laws are good laws even if she’s technically quoting Aizen) Sorry for the rambling! These two just fascinate me cuz I feel like aside from the whole Aizen thing, they’re like two diff flavors of being back on the job after being screwed over. The somewhat jaded mentor and the eager beaver who got the rug thrown under her.

We joke about Gotei HR all the time, but honestly in the context of their own world and worldviews would Aizen and Hinamori come across to anyone as having weird boundaries? I’m not saying it didn’t get weird but I kind of feel like part of the nature of the thing is that it’d be hard for anyone in Soul Society to point to anything Aizen did that was notably weirder than anything else everyone else does. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be an HR violation somewhere (I just completed my state-mandated sexual harassment training three days ago, so it’s all nice and fresh, LOL) but even if the Gotei had HR I doubt it would have helped in Aizen and Hinamori’s case.

I know there are people who get very deep into canonicity debates about whether Aizen and Hinamori ever slept with each other, but I’m not personally all that interested in the genre as a whole—like, the nailing down of what is or isn’t canon. In fanfic, I figure anything goes if you can make it work for you in your story. For my part, I think Aizen would take pride in not having to have sex with Hinamori in order to make his plans work. Like an *everyone* does sexual manipulation but he doesn’t even *have* to and that’s the *beauty* of the game kind of deal.

But to the question itself!

My take on Shinji is that he is, of course, very well aware of the ways the Gotei fucked him and the rest of the Vizard, and has no illusions about that. But he’s not someone who simmers in that in the same way that Hiyori does.

Honestly, maybe a good comparison might be that Shinji treats the Gotei the way he treated Aizen as a vice-captain. According to Aizen, that was a mistake, but Shinji knows the Gotei better than he ever knew Aizen. Arguably, the Gotei is more knowable than Aizen. Shinji has a certain savvy about him with respect to the Gotei as an institution, and if you now how it works, then there are degrees to which it can be managed, and perhaps even made to work for you. And if you want that to happen, the only place you can do that work is inside it, as one of its Captains. Shinji’s known that since even before TBTP, probably since before he was even himself a Captain the first time around.

But I think another key element here is that Shinji is very, very good at separating the work from the institution from the people. He can engage his octopus brain and hold the meaning of what shinigami effect in the world separate from the ethical and bureaucratic conundrums posed by the Gotei, separate from the personalities that make it up (which are the problem and the best part about the Gotei in turns). He reminds me of this guy who’s been in my toxic-ass profession for AGES but still has a ton of energy and capacity for wonder and enthusiasm and being smart in ways that make everyone smarter, and he manages this by being absolutely ruthless about not getting all sopped up by departmental drama or overly precious about ~the profession~ and making very intentional decisions about what matters and what absolutely doesn’t. I think having that as a model was incredibly useful for Hinamori, as someone with a propensity to care deeply for and about everything.

I mentioned in the tags of another post that I envisioned Hinamori as having a healing justice orientation to the world, part of which is about locating “evil” outside of individuals. It is not inherent, but made. While this does not absolve Aizen of his actions or their supporting worldviews, a path to forgiveness is at least partly about recognizing the bigger picture that produced the conditions for the fomenting of these views/plans. (And that’s before the many ways the system failed them in ways that didn’t come directly through Aizen.) Which means that moving past Aizen is also about moving past the Gotei/Soul Society, while also continuing to work for it—in a major, responsible way.

Like, Hinamori is not clocking in to sweep the floors and then leave to her wife and kids. She’s leading the thing. So what’s the journey there? We see her reclaim her role as 5th Division Vice-Captain in the Winter War (as distinct from being Aizen’s Vice-Captain—ymmv on this, like Matsumoto’s does). In that role, Hinamori has not seemed to have much of a problem with challenging authority when she felt it just to do so, even in moments of more even temper (shouting at Byakuya over Renji’s unconscious body lol). Which I feel like lends credence to the idea that Aizen’s betrayal was probably not her introduction to the world being often an unjust and deeply painful place, or even to the Gotei being these things. Like, I think she understood that. Maybe Aizen even talked to her about that, and part of why she liked him so much was the opportunity to have these long, intellectual conversations about philosophy and governance. And what do you do at the end of these conversations? You can be bitter and angry about it; you can be angry and want to burn it down; you can drink the Kool-Aid and become complicit in it; you can naively deny it and either become complicit in it or get destroyed by it; or you can—

Do what Shinji and Hinamori do about it together, which is to resolve to be the energy they wish to see in the world, which in their interpretation also requires some complicity—being officers in Gotei—and, having made that choice, periodically needing to process that. I mean, I think that’s part and parcel of being involved in any kind of institution (I know I think about it allllll the fucking time), but I imagine the experience is further magnified by the particular histories Shinji and Hinamori have with the Gotei.

I imagine sometimes—a rough week at the office, or in the aftermath of a Blood War they wonder if they aren’t being too complicit. Or, conversely, if they aren’t echoing Aizen too much, in their resolution to craft a world of their own devising. But they were different people, both from each other and very much from Aizen; their devices and visions are different, too. And so the fear falls away.

It will come back. It will probably never leave. But sometimes it’s better to be haunted than not, and ghosts can be welcome reminders.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 3, On the hunt

Masterlist Word count: 3.2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

'There's something off about those fellers,' you state sluggishly, wildly swinging the whiskey bottle in your hand around, 'they ask too many questions.' Mary-Beth chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder to distract you as she takes away the bottle with her other hand. You look up at her with furrowed brows and lean your head against her leg. While most of the women sit spread out on the three logs that are used as benches on the land behind Sadie's house, you have always been a ground person. Molly and Karen were ground people like you but now you're on the ground all on your own. In your intoxicated state, that makes you very sad but you don't hang onto it for too long as another thought grabs your attention.  Normally you play a bit of guitar for the group but last time you all got together, you had lent your guitar to Mary-Beth who promptly broke all the strings while trying to tune it. God, how you miss that Javier feller that passed through a few months ago. He sang the sweetest songs and could make you sing as well. A quiet giggle leaves your lips.  'All men ask questions. Difference is that most men don't make you nervous,' she teases. Tilly and Abigail chuckle in return while Sadie rolls her eyes.  'You ain't got nothing to laugh about miss Roberts,' you state loudly, 'you're tripping over your own feet around that scar faced feller.' Abigail turns a bright shade of red as she tries to avoid eye contact with Sadie, but she's already seen and leans up against her.  'Oh, our sweet miss Roberts has finally found someone to bed,' she teases as she throws her arm around Abigail to pull her as close as she can. Abigail pushes her off and huffs while scooting away from Sadie.  'Ain't nothing like that. The boy is just... charmingly stupid. That's all.'  'No use in defending yourself now, sweetheart,' Mary-Beth teases.  'Yeah, we both saw,' Tilly adds. Abigail groans.  'Fine, yes, John is adorable. I don't know what it is about him ‘cause he's dumb as nails. He told me he can't even swim,' she vents to the group, 'but my stomach tingles around him. It's terrible.'  'Have they gone past the gun store yet, Mary,' Sadie questions as she looks over to Mary.  'No, I haven't seen them yet. Why? Are they all handsome,' she jokes with a teasing wiggle of her brow. You sigh, but it comes out as more of a lovesick groan. The girls laugh and you lean your head down to cover your face with your hat as you lean back against the log.  'That's one way to answer that question,' Mary-Beth teases, 'you got the hots for one of them, Lucky?'  'Piss off.'  'Weren't you sweet on that Mexican feller just a few weeks back,' Mary teases, taking your hat off your head to see your embarrassed expression.  'No, no, that was just another notch on her bedpost,' Abigail jokes, 'no feelings there, right Lucky?'  'I could've sworn she was in love the way she looked at him those nights at the campfire,' Tilly continues as you snatch your hat back from Mary.  'Same thing with that Charles feller, ain't it,' Sadie suggests with a grin, 'I heard you didn't even try to shoot him when he made fun of how you get on your horse.'  'Didn't need to,' you grumble, annoyed and blushing.  'So what is this I heard about you going hunting with Charles,' Tilly teases.  'Okay, fine, that's enough,' you bark. The mood drops for a second. You don't mind being the bud of the joke for a bit but you let them know when it's been enough and they respect it. Least they could do is respect it after all you've done for this goddamn town. 'Anyway, what’s this I heard about them looking for Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell?' The mood flips from light and careless to tight and anxious within a second. Those are not well-liked people to say the very least and none of you have good memories of them.

[ladylooch]

Hi, can you please write a timo meier imagine about reader and timo having sex and reader fakes an orgasim at night and tells some of the wags about it next day about how she really fooled him with her acting, not knowing that timo and his teammates overheard everything, his teammates laugh at him and timo gets embarrassed and upset at reader?

Eager Beaver with Timo Meier

A/N: Sometimes I write things and I’m like lmao a man would never say this, which is why we all love it 😆 Hahahaha. Poor Timo just wanted to show you a good time after he got home! Why you gotta do him like that!? Literally!

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, Angst. 

Tonight, Timo is an eager beaver. He’s been on the road for a long time, bouncing around the  East coast. He came roaring into the bedroom when he got home, flipping the covers off your body and dive bombing your breasts. He spent time kissing along the swells, but then he was dipping into your pants with quick fingers that had you reeling trying to catch up to what was happening.

“Please tell me you are close.” He moans into your hair. His thrusts are sooooo slow. And you’re nowhere near there. But his breathing is picking up. And his moans are filling the air of your bedroom. And you think the right thing to do is to perform a little bit to help him out. 

“Yeah, baby. Feels so good.” You coo into his ear, tugging his ear lobe between your teeth. His jerky hips buck into you as you heighten your breathing, moaning his name and arching your back like you’re coming. Timo finishes inside of you, melting into your body afterwards. 

“I needed that.” He confesses, running his hand along your cheek. “It was too long of a trip. I hate missing you that much.” You smile, ignoring the guilt of your conscious that pokes at you for pretending.

He’s happy. You’re happy. No harm done. 

The following day, Timo is whistling as you and him walk into the Children’s hospital visit you both agreed to. A few other team members and their significant others are joining too. He is happy after being reacquainted with you and has an extra pep in his step at seeing some young fans too. The Sharks are filming the visit for a PR video, so both you and Timo get mic’d up when you enter.

“I think this is where I leave you.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. The boys are going to do room visits while the girls are heading to some arts and crafts time. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”

“I know. Me too.” You kiss him back with a little tongue that adds a bright glint to his eyes. 

“Last night not enough, eh?” You widen your eyes and laugh off the pinch of guilt. 

“Good night, huh?” Erik’s wife, Melinda, asks you.

“Ah, yeah I’m letting him think that.” You chuckle. You and Melinda have a good relationship and it feels silly to lie to her about something so minor. 

“Little bit of a show?”

“Eager beaver didn’t know how to wait.” You joke back. 

“Babe.” Timo calls urgently. “Your mic is hot.” You cringe, looking at Melinda who covers hers in shock too. You had completely forget. 

“Sorry.” You cringe, looking at the producer who shrugs like he doesn’t care.

“We can cut it out.”

You look over at Timo who’s cheeks are red and eyebrows pulled down in agitation over his blue eyes. Can the producers cut it out of his brain too? Shit. You open your mouth to say something and he shakes his head, walking off with the rest of the group to the elevators. You close your eyes, knowing him well enough to understand he is really upset. 

The day drags on, The kids are cute and you do your best to interact with a positive attitude. But all you want is to see Timo and explain. What you’ll say, you still haven’t figured out, but it has to be something to soothe him. 

At the end of the event, he is somehow in a worse mood than before while you’re walking to the car together.

“What the fuck was that?!” He snaps at you. “I just spent two hours being annihilated by the guys for that. In front of the PR team. And young kids.” 

“I’m sorry. I forgot about the mic.” 

“I don’t..” He trails off, hands slapping against his thighs as he keeps walking to the car. “I don’t know what to say.” He completes his thought when you’re both in the car. You try to reach for his hand and he pulls away. “No, I’m really upset. I’m going to drop you at home and leave.” His tone is final. He refuses to look at you on the speedy ride home. You get out of the car and Timo roars off behind you before you’ve even gotten into the front door.

It’s agony being at home without him. You have no idea where he is. Your heart aches for what happened this morning. You feel so awful about what you did last night too. Why didn’t you tell him to slow down? Why didn’t you show him what you needed instead of pretending everything was fine? Why didn’t you remember the mic they put on you literally two minutes before that happened?

The sun has set when the garage door begins to open. You set your glass of wine on the end table and turn to look over the couch at the door. Timo comes in with take out bags for dinner and a bouquet of flowers. You hide your face in the couch cushion, feeling completely unworthy of whatever romantic display he is about to do. He puts a hand on your hair, tugging your pony tail for you to look at him.

“I was really embarrassed earlier and I didn’t know how to communicate with you about why.” You rest your chin on the back of the couch while he kneels down to be eye level with you. His thumb strokes your cheek while the rest of his fingers caress your neck. “I missed you and thought I showed you how much last night. That’s why it was so upsetting. I can take the heat from the guys. Whatever. But not giving you that experience feels awful.” 

“I’m sorry. I should have told you, but you were so eager. And it was hot. I loved so much of that but I was also half asleep when you came in and…” You close your eyes, having a hard time seeing his forehead crinkle in worry. “It wasn’t enough.” You finish, not having any other words to describe it. He nods. 

“That is fair.” He leans forward to share a tender kiss with you. “Let’s make a deal to not do that again.”

“Never.” You agree, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He lifts you over the back of the couch, standing with you in his arms. Your ankles hook together at his lower back. The hug lasts for awhile, softly stroking each other’s back, leaning heads together and sharing a few more smooches. “I love you.” You say sweetly. He smiles, the corners of his eye crinkling in joy. 

“I love you too.” He murmurs. “Come see what I got us for dinner.” 

[ninetyminutes]

Saturday Night - Daemon AU

Okay so some of these were harder than others, especially Lorne. I’m VERY open to other ideas, in fact, please give me your thoughts because I’m indecisive and love hearing what others have to say :)

Lorne Michaels - Unsettled/Clouded Leopard(?)

unsettled because he’s lowkey this mysterious enigma that no one can seem to entirely figure out, like people on SNL were obsessed with trying to figure him out but many really couldn’t. I feel like he’d switch between animals like a Fox, River Otter, Cheetah, Red Wolf, Crow, maybe even a Goose that bites peoples ankles idk

if he does eventually settle, like if I were to write this (and I might) I think I might chose something like a clouded leopard but idk y’all

clouded leopard is giving “small but mighty” vibes like you don’t realize they’re that small until you see them in person and also they just look super young no matter how old they really are

I feel like Lorne’s daemon needs to balance him out a bit like they could be something a little less high energy/ act first think later and more calm and calculated, hence the clouded leopard

but they could share some other traits like being extremely clever and confident, having this “I know what I want and I want the best” sort of vibe

Lorne is not confrontational like he seriously avoids it at all costs and feels threatened when put into those types of situations (real Lorne gets genuinely angry), which totally fits Clouded Leopard since they’re typically elusive

Others Considered: River Otter (very close 2nd, aren’t typically characterized as ambitious), Snow Leopard, Cheetah, etc.

***way more people under the cut ***

Rosie Shuster - Mink

independent woman who doesn’t let herself be defined by a man

maybe a little bit manipulative but NOT maliciously, more so clever and very convincing

more confident than arrogant, but is very witty and doesn’t shy away from snide remarks

Others Considered: River Otter

Chevy Chase - Swan

I’m not entirely sold on this one ngl so I’m accepting suggestions

arrogant and egotistical, truest definition of a pot stir-er, can be problematic, self centered

swans are loud af and also kinda aggressive which fits because Chevy is always running his mouth making rude comments and jokes about other people

Others Considered: Peacock, Coyote, African Painted Dog

John Belushi - Binturong aka Bearcat

binturongs are pretty aggressive animals tbh like do not mess with them

Gives another meaning to when Rosie tells John “with all that fur”

bearcats have the eyebrows™️

Others Considered: none because I’m too convinced with the idea of the Bearcat

Dan Aykroyd - Belgian Malinois

was originally African Painted Dog but I think Belgian Malinois might fit better

totally giving happy go lucky dog vibes

crackhead vibes for sure

Others Considered: African Painted Dog, Raccoon, Dingo, Golden Retriever, Australian Shepherd or maybe Border Collie

Andy Kauffman - Umbrella Cockatoo

idk the weird bird thing just kinda fits, you know?

Others Considered: Sun Conure, almost any parrot/macaw type bird tbh, Peacock (for the wierd factor, not the beauty), Mouse

Billy Crystal - Meerkat

def meerkat vibes

his African safari sketch

totally reminds me of Timon from Lion King, probably because he sounds a LOT like Timon from Lion King

Others Considered: none, it’s too good

Dick Ebersol - Beaver

kinda nervous and seems not super confident but is a network executive so he’s got to have some sort of backbone

a bit of a pushover until he’s not, like he can speak up for himself

very logical thinking and pretty smart I’d say, definitely prioritizes the facts which is definitely giving Beaver vibes

Others Considered: Ferret, Burrowing Owl

David Tebet - Leopard

it’s giving arrogance, ego, hotshot, top of the food chain, “I’m more important than you”, and “i can end your career with the snap of my fingers”

aggressive and threatening, overall just really really intimidating like just seeing them lurking or stalking in the background would be terrifying

Others Considered: Raven, Golden Eagle, Mountain Lion

Michael O’ Donoghue - Wolf

but specifically a darker furred one because his nickname is genuinely the “dark prince” so like c’moooon

it’s cliche on purpose

like he’s giving lone wolf but also protect my pack vibes? but a lot of lone wolf, dark horse sort of energy

Others Considered: Wolverine, Tasmanian Devil, Mountain Lion,

[wcters]

𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: brad colbert x cowgirl!reader

word count: 1.5k+

summary: in which brad learns to love country in his own way

warnings: enemies (country style) to lovers, swearing, pda, insensitive jokes, outdated grammar and humour, army language, violence, use of guns, weapons | this is based on the fictional characters from the series generation kill, not the actual war veterans. this is no way intended to hurt or disrespect the veterans

You had known how to shoot a gun since you were a little girl. Not a marine style gun, but you know how to shoot a shotgun, and damn . . . Were you good. Those skills and the fact that you were a hard worker and had tough skin got you accepted to join the marines.

It was hard, especially around mostly men, and people who judged and doubted your every movement. But you were raised by your parents to believe in yourself, and you only needed yourself and some determination to get where you wanted to go . . . And that men were stupid (surprisingly, that one came from your father). That’s how you got here, cowboy hat on your head and bag and gear in hand as you walked towards the tent where you were sleeping. You had already talked to the Lieutenant colonel and were now being led by First lieutenant Nate Fick with a reporter from the Rolling Stone beside you.

You were making small chat, talking about why you were both here when you arrived at the tent. “Pappy. I gotta be at battalion for a while, so make sure nothing happens when I'm there,” Nate started as you stopped walking. You could’ve sworn you saw everyone’s mouth drop open. “This is a writer who's gonna embed with us. He's from Rolling Stone, so be gentle. This is Corporal Y/n Y/l/n and she’ll be joining us. Keep it in your pants.” He finished and headed out.

Pappy, as he was called, didn’t say anything before he finally shut his mouth. “Hey pretty mama-“ “don’t start that shit with me.” You told him. Men around you started to laugh. “Listen up!” You yelled out. “Number one: I don’t want to suck your dick and two: i will take your dick off if you touch me,” you looked around the room. “Now, if you would show me where I’m staying that would be much appreciated.” Brad could hear the southern twang in your voice and swore that even though his dick got hard from seeing a girl as hit as you, you would be annoying. He hated country.

Soon enough, you were headed away from base after some pizza and had learned who you would be with: the reporter who’s name was Evan, Brad Colbert, Ray Person, and Gabriel Garza. You sort of knew what you were expecting from them when Ray and some other guys found out Evan wrote beaver hunt, but it was a bit awkward when you first got in.

You had your gun out the window, focusing on the scenery ━━ if you could call it that ━━ instead of the silence when Ray started to talk. “So . . .” he started as Brad mumbled a “oh no”, “where are you from?” “Texas. Small little town in the buttfuck middle of Texas.” You told them, eyes still focused on the area around you. “Are you a cowgirl then?”

You raised your eyebrow and turned to look at him. “Sure. I mean, depends on what you mean by that.” “Oh you know . . . Like cowgirl. Like close to country but not country.” “Cowgirl is country.” You and Brad said at the same time. Ray looked at Brad, and then winked. “You guys are telepathic right now.” You let out a laugh and let Ray continue to rant on.

“Headed down south to the land of the pines, and I’m thumbin’ my way into North Caroline.” You started to sing softly when Brad let out a grunt. “No country.” You raised an eyebrow. “He hates country.” Ray clarified. “Oh, I guess we might have a problem then,” you replied, “you won’t like me.”

You were right. Brad didn’t like you. He knew you tried to stop being so much like yourself, but you were a literal cowgirl. Like if someone told him “picture a cowgirl” there you were. You and Ray always broke out into country songs and the southern twang is yours was just too much for him. Brad didn’t really want to get to know you, but when you two were on watch one night while everyone else in the Humvee slept, it couldn’t be helped. That is when Brad learned about who you truly were. You were totally as “country” as he thought, but you had a normal childhood. You went to school, had friends, and everything else Brad did. You weren’t homeschooled and didn’t have thousands of pigs and chickens. You had chickens, and horses, but no pigs . . . Or cows.

He learned about your dad and how he taught you to shoot, how he encouraged you to join the marines if that’s what you wanted, having to fight twice as hard to get the third of the recognition. It was nice talking to you, he realized, and revealed a lot about his childhood than he would’ve to anyone else. He didn’t know it yet, but there were feelings blooming in his chest, and yours too.

To everyone’s surprise ━━ except for Ray, because even though they acted like they hated each other, he knew Brad like the back of his hand ━━, you and Brad started to get along. After that night on watch, you both realized the other wasn’t as bad as you both thought. You thought Brad as an egotistical asshole to put it lightly, but you would still work with him and save his life (even if it was just because you didn’t want to do a fuck load of paperwork and make him say thank you), and then you learned who he actually was.

He was a marine who cared even if he didn’t act like it, be always put people first before him, and was a gentleman at heart. You two became a duo and were always seen together. Brad had become accustomed to you songs and would sometimes join in when you weren’t looking. You two would flirt with each other, and not knowing , you both meant it.

Well, you didn’t know the other meant what they said until there was a close enough call where one of you got confident enough.

You didn’t know it yet, but it was close to the end of the war. You, Gabe, Colbert, and Trombley were surveying a field outside of Al Kut as Humvee’s drove on the road beside you. You had come across a dead Iraqi in a firing position. “They all got blankets on to

hide their heat signatures, right, Sergeant Colbert?” Trombley asked as you all gathered around the dead man. “A week ago, they didn't know we could see their thermals at night. Now they're adapting.” Brad replied. You snorted, “Brad hate to break it to you, but I don’t think it worked for him.”

All of a sudden there was an explosion in front of you and you felt arms wrap around your waist and pull you down as the person who was holding you yell “get down!” You couldn’t hear what was happening around you, only Brad’s voice in your ear reassuring you it was going to be okay.

None of you moved until the shooting stopped. Brad kept his head down as he grabbed your radio and spoke into it. “Two Actual, this is Two One. Who the fuck is shooting at us?” “I’d like to know that too.” You added. “Fuckin' L.A.P.D. cops from Delta! They fucking love shooting Mexicans.” Gabe spoke up from beside you and you looked up and turned to him.

“It was Alpha, Gabe. Alpha. Mistakes happen.” Brad looked at him, then tried to get up. He helped you up and let your waist go. “Not mistakes like that, Brad.” You replied. “Everyone likes to shoot Mexicans, even Mexicans.” Trombley said.

The group of you started walking back to the group of Humvee’s on the road. “What was that back there, Mr. Colbert?” You teased him. “Pretty handsy if you asked me.” “No one asked you.” He shot back, small smirk on his face. “No, but don’t want to know if I liked or not?” “I know you did, not shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He roughly grabbed your waist again and pulled you in, pressing your lips to his. There were sounds of whistling and “Brad’s getting some!” but you didn’t give them any attention as you wrapped your hands around his collar and pulled him closer. When you pulled apart, your foreheads leaning together as your breath mingled with the others.

“You’re a dickhead, Brad Colbert.” You smiled. “Likewise, cowgirl.”

“I lost faith in the world a long time ago,” Brad said to you as you sat on the front of the Humvee, soaking in the few moments with these people who you learned to trust with your life, “but when I found you, you were my last hope . . . You still are.” You smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around you. “Even if you are a whiskey tango fuck.”

You shoved him a little bit he kept his arm around you and just pulled you into him tighter. “Hope you know that this means you’ll have to be around my whiskey tango attitude all the time.“ “I’ve become used to it.”

[eisforeidolon]

I don't quite know whats happened over at X since I barely spend more than 5 minutes there as its so toxic but Jim Beaver has apparently deleted his account because non finale fans (we know who they are) were bothering him and also no one understood his humour or something? I didn't see all the tweets he made so maybe he did do something offensive but the way people act holier than thou as if they've never said a thing wrong yet hound another human being offline is baffling to me

I don't know if there were any additional tweets, but these reblogs of Nancy's [X][X] are what I saw.

I am not entirely sure how Jim Beaver got drawn into it, if he just happened to see it or what. But it looks like hellers were continuing to whine about the finale in that ongoing discussion about 'worst episode of television you've ever watched' and Jim responding to one suggesting they should keep that opinion to themself.

Like, without him being specifically tagged, I don't get why he decided to comment on some rando heller's post? Yeah, we all know what they're really pissed off about and how they're misdirecting it to all the wrong places, but if they haven't bought a clue yet, you can't make them, so why give them the time of day and validate their persecution complex? He then followed with a series of very obviously unfunny "joke" posts that seemed like he was trying to walk it back by describing it as "a joking rebuttal". At least that's what I think he was trying to do, but the whole thing was just kind of weird and messy for no good reason.

Which is not sufficient justification for hellers to dog-pile him to the point of deletion, but it wasn't even, like, a good enough rebuttal to be worth the inevitable blowback tantrum. IDGI.

EDIT: @candy-coated-misery0731 brings some important context to the replies. Apparently Jim's daughter is friends with hellers - which I think likely explains why he even saw it to comment on and seems to explicitly be the reason he deleted [X].

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2 Gold Panel Nolacon 2023

We start off the panel with Jensen making a dirty joke because the stage reminds him of a lecture hall. It goes: A sex education professor comes into his lecture hall, he’s carrying a banana, and he says today class I’m going to teach you how to put on a condom. I have this banana here because I have a hard time getting an erection on an empty stomach. 🤦‍♀️ This makes Jared laugh and come up with his own joke: Did you hear about the serial killer professor? He always gave a Hannibal lecture. I can’t with these men, let’s get into questions.

Jared is asked about his ACL surgery, he hasn't gotten it yet but says he needs it at which point Jensen makes a knee pun. Jared’s brother has been helping him, and he does need surgery but it's a 4 to 6-month recovery period so until they find out about Walker he can’t risk doing it because he doesn’t want to do it and then get the call that they’re ready for him to film when he can’t move. Unless the season is gonna come back to Walker in the office playing wordle which sends them into a little sidetrack because Jensen mentions he got the wordle of the day in two so Jared asks him if he saw the hat picture at 2:30am he sent to the wordle group that they have, and Jared is so cute because he wants Jensen to look at it at that moment, it was something that had made him laugh but Jensen doesn't have his phone on him but after Jared explained it to him he did remember seeing it. It was just a little moment but I found it cute. Back to Jared's ACL, he’s hoping to rehab it and his brother thinks that maybe if he gets some intense physical therapy he might be able to avoid surgery. 

So when the fan was asking Jared about his knee they said that family should not help you in situations like that meaning if you have a family member whose a doctor they shouldn’t be the one treating you, and Jensen asks why, and says Jared’s doctor is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in Austin. Jared answers that he has asked his brother about this and explains why, for those that don't know, it’s because it's a conflict of interest. Because if you're treating a loved one there's an emotional investment that makes it difficult to be objective, and doctors and surgeons have to be objective in order to do what is best for their patients. x

Jared says some dad jokes, so Jensen mentions that he started watching The Last of Us, and the young girl, Ellie, has a dad joke book and when she says one of the jokes and it cuts to Pedro Pascal's character, Joel, going god, that's so stupid, and it makes him think of Jared 😂 That one of the jokes that got to him was: did you hear diarrhea is hereditary? It runs in your jeans.

Jared makes another joke: sex is hereditary if your parents didn’t have it you probably won’t either. I'll admit that one got a chuckle out of me. x

Continuing with the questions did they steal anything from the set?  Jensen says some things may have made their way into his suitcase. Jared replies that a few times when it was their last day shooting at a specific location for example Bobby’s house, there was a bronze owl paperweight and he wanted it so when it was their last day on that set it “got lost” and then after they said that’s a wrap he went back in to see if there was anything else he wanted to take or wanted to help find a happy home and Jim Beaver was in there and told him he was looking for the owl paperweight so Jared went back and gave it to him. Jensen shares that Jared has the cap of the steering wheel of the Impala that got totaled at the end of s1, that Jared just popped it off, put it in his pocket and it was never seen again. And when he's saying this there's a little in sync moment between the boys: x

Jared says they got some stuff and there were things they wanted but understood they might need for a reshoot but the set dec, props, and wardrobe would do them the solid of checking with WB if they would ever use something again so for example Jared has his white Lucifer suit and au!Sam's purple outfit, Jensen has the lederhosen and the duster from the western episode and he also has the OG Samulet, the original heavy metal one that would try to chip his tooth. Jensen says that one had gotten retired because it was so heavy and dangerous, so they did a mold of it and cast replicas in a lighter metal. But he took home the OG one, and actually included it in the Winchesters pilot. x

The next fan just wants to let them know that fans would love for a picture of them in the Bridge scene to be included in the stuff that is auctioned by Creation. Jensen mentions that scene was an alternate ending because of covid so he's glad that it worked so well. x

There's a character in Days of Our Lives called Marlena that gets possessed, and Jensen was in Days of Our Lives, does he think Dean would have been able to exorcize Marlena? Jensen answers that he believes the priest on that show is Jim Beaver so he should have been handling this a long time ago (that character has gotten possessed more than once). That it would have been interesting to see Dean show up and yeah it’s something the brothers could have knocked out in a weekend. x

When is Jensen going to play Batman? And was it liberating to play Soldier Boy? Jensen doesn’t think you’ll ever hear any actor complaining about playing the bad guy because it is a lot of fun. He says that if you ask Jared what one of his favorite versions of Sam is in SPN he’ll say soulless!Sam because when you get to play the bad guy it’s honestly more cathartic cause Jared is a really good guy in real life so when you get to find your inner asshole it can be cathartic. That Soldier Boy was a lot of fun, and the interesting thing, and he loves talking about this because people will ask how he could play such a horrible character and how did he prepare for it, the thing is Solder Boy doesn’t think he’s horrible, he’s the hero of his own story. 

And that’s something he took from Lee Marvin who answered years ago when asked why he made a career playing bad guys that he’s never played a bad guy in his life. And he thinks if you look at it through that lens it makes a whole lot more sense, Soldier Boy doesn’t think he’s a bad guy he thinks everyone else is in the wrong so that makes for really layered character work, and scene work, it was a lot of fun not to mention the way it was written and the way he related to the other cast memebers and characters on the show.

Asked if he got to improve any of it, he answers that yes. He gives as an example that Soldier Boy pops up for a brief moment on the new spinoff and his little bit was heavily improved. He had Kripke with him on set that day so they were spitballing ideas and coming up with different takes that it's a lot of fun to work at that level with that kind of mind that can throw something out and you're like 'oh! okay I'm gonna do that one' so it's a beautiful collab on that set much like SPN and that’s a testament to Kripke and the kind of worlds he builds and the type of people he puts in them. As for the Batman thing, he doesn’t know but if he gets the phone call he’s in. x

What is something they learned while working on SPN that they’ve since applied to their future projects? They’re kind of struggling to answer and Jared starts to try but he's having trouble so Jensen steps in to give him more time to think. And he answers confidence. Confidence on set, in front of a camera no matter who he is working with says that if he didn’t have the ten thousand hours that he had playing Dean he doesn’t think he would have the confidence he has now to go to a completely foreign set like The Boys or Big Sky or a movie set. He gives as an example when he was on Rust and working alongside Alec Baldwin, who is a legend in the entertainment industry, and shares that there was a moment on set where Baldwin dropped the line and got really upset and was screaming what’s the line and Jensen was just like holding up his phone going this is cool but he thinks had he not gone through what he went through with SPN that would have shook him a bit; he has a certain confidence, not arrogance but confidence that helps him do what he needs to do and that’s something he learned and earned on SPN.

Jared seconds that, and in his head went slightly different the fan asked about projects but he'll say life in general, he’s had a lot of highs and lows in his life and it doesn’t have to be something mental it can just be that he’s tired or physically beat down. They had a great time on SPN but there were times that just sucked like it being 5am and having to do a two-page emotional scene and having only an hour to film because the sun is coming up and just wanting the day to be over those were the days they’d get home and take a shower and get in bed and realize that it felt really good, so just realize there's another side of it. There’s a saying he likes: no feeling is final. When you're feeling beat down whether physically or mentally there's another side to that, you can get through that and he thinks SPN helped get that into him. x

Did Jared have fun doing his Walker Independence cameo, and are we going to see more of that? Jared replies that he had an amazing time there, it’s an amazing cast and crew that build a family over there in Santa Fe and he had a lot of fun. That he was riding horses in between takes and horsing around, and he has an absolute blast on Walker; he hopes he gets the chance to go back to Walker Independence and hopes the show comes back, he thinks if they were shooting in the same place he would have done it more often.  x

Favorite song on SPN outside of Carry On? Jared says he will probably forever love Renegade by Styx (saaaame!) and Space Oddity by David Bowie that those two music cues he’s watched more than a lot of the other clips of SPN he’s watched. Jensen says Eye of the Tiger but he'll also throw in Night Moves by Bob Seger. x

And that marks the end of the panel and as they walk away there's a mini butt pat! x

J2 Gold Panel Nolacon 2023

[noys-boise]

hello hi hm do you mayhaps have any howard the duck fun facts that movie Fasinated me

you have activated my autism from over a year ago so Brace Yourself because this is straight up going to be a history lesson in. duck comic/movie

i think I'm just going to tell you the full history of Howard as a character. yeah sorry.

so Howard was created kind of as a joke in 1974 in a marvel comic series called Adventure into fear written by Steve Gerber. he didn't intend on using this smoking, swearing, slightly off donald duck parody of a character very much and just killed him off like an issue after introducting him but people really didn't like that. like REALLY didn't like that. they sent in dead ducks to marvel through mail as protest I'm Not even joking!

so Gerber brought Howard back in the Giant-sized Man-thing series. this is where the lore of him falling to earth from space and landing in Cleveland started. he was sort of having these solo adventures where he fought first a frog man and then a vampire cow (Bessie the hellcow my beloved!!! i love her!!) and also went to jail that was a whole thing. but basically the whole experience left him miserable and suicidal. cut to his solo comic run starting in 1976. Howard the duck comics officially start and it's with Howard contemplating suicide and he gets really close to comitting before he meets Beverly and they go through this little adventure together to escape a financial wizard and fucking Spider-man shows up?? it's a whole thing, Howard ends up moving in with Bev instead of killing himself by the end

I'm not going to explain the whole original Howard comic run I'll just say it's a wild ride that includes Howard running for president (he received actual real life write in votes!!) then having a mental breakdown after fighting a canadian beaver man and bonding with some random neurodivergent girl he met on a bus after fighting with his nemesis the kidney lady again, Beverly being forced to marry a man who calls himself doctor bong and wears a bell on his head then divorcing him after cloning him and threatening to sue for child neglect (Gerber admitted that the drug reference was fully unintentional which is really funny to me), Howard punching a homophobe in the face and etc this is barely scratching the surface.

there's also issue #16 which is infamous for being right before a very big story arc and not having anything to do with the plot because Gerber missed his deadline again and he decided to just. write an essay on deadlines instead. yeah so basically he was too neurodivergent for this and I'm not just saying that he legitimately was neurodivergent he got fired from marvel for missing too many deadlines eventually.

that is when things got.. interesting with Howard. the original run wasn't finished at all yet so they kind of had to get other people to finish it but it didn't really work anymore and then they even made a black and white htd magazine which wasn't very popular but my personal hot take is that I'm a big fan of it actually.

there's also the lawsuit where Disney caught up that this guy looks dangerously similar to donald duck so their solutions was to just.. force Howard to wear pants. well that's an oversimplification they made more rules for how he has to look but the pants thing is objectively the funniest. also this happened back when Gerber was writing Howard he just refused to comfort to these rules so instead they got implemented during the magazine in a pretty iconic storyline imo. anyways the point is there's a lot of insanity around this.

and then the movie. i already mentioned that George Lucas was a big fan of the original comics and wanted to adapt it to a movie but instead of doing it himself he asked his friends Willard Hyuck and Gloria Katz to direct it and while he produced it. except as i also already mentioned said friends knew nothing about the comics and i.. don't think they ever really read them?

there were also a lot of things they wanted to do but couldn't like they originally wanted it to be animated but didn't have the budget, they originally got Robin Williams to voice Howard but he gave up because he found the role too limiting (and I'm honestly glad for that because i wouldn't have ever gotten into htd if it wasn't for Chip Howard) and the fact that they were pretty limited by the studio they were working with into some plot beats. it was kind of just a disaster all around with a lot of creative differences and technical limitations all over the place.

also as i said Robin Williams was supposed to voice Howard originally and they had to replace him really last minute and didn't really know what to do until one of the producers decided to watch a musical called Merrily we roll along starring Chip Zien and asked him if he's interested in being in this movie, telling him he sounds like a duck. which is probably not exactly what you want to hear after performing in a musical but he took the role anyways.

and btw despite everything regarding the production, everyone involved really expected this to be a hit and then it just.. wasn't. like at all. like it's one of the most notorious flop movies today for all the wrong reasons. like there's a lot of valid criticisms one could make about the plot and stuff but I think people just choose to focus on the interspecies part a lot which is upsetting to me. but yeah most of the actors went on to just straight up deny they were in this movie. not Chip and Lea though, they own it proudly which makes me happy

i could also rant a lot more about later Howard adaptations because there's even more insane lore there but i think this is already long enough for now, I'll maybe get back to that later

[spookietrex]

Story Time with Spooky

So when I was like 14-18, my mom asked my grandma and her church to sponsor me to go to this summer adventure camp. It was pretty fun, minus all the Christianity shoved down my throat. Anyway, there was white water rafting on this trip and we had this joke for the new campers called "beaver sharks" that would bite people if you weren't paying close enough attention. I didn't even catch the first year that they weren't real. (Whoops.) BUT the most important part of the story was that my nickname at camp was "Sharkbait." 16 years later and my wife had to explain to me that "You know why they call Nemo sharkbait right? Because he's disabled." Apparently I got disability validation when I didn't know I was disabled as a kid and my own family wouldn't validate my symptoms.

[ask-hannah-blog]

Honkers: Thanks for coming in today, so glad we get a chance to talk about your mental health!

Officer: Ma’am I’m interviewing you, this isn’t a therapy session.

Honkers: Hehe oh yes of course, force of habit.

Officer: Can you state your name for the record?

Honkers: I’m Ms.Honkers!

Officer: Um… your name is Honkers?

Honkers: That’s right H-O-N-K-E-R-S! You know like these big sweater yams? HONK!

Officer: Ma’am please don’t fondle yourself during the interview.

Honkers: You’re the one fondling them, with your eyes.

Officer: No I’m not, no more talking about your Honkers!

Honkers: You’re the one who asked me about it, between that and the fondling I’d be willing to diagnose you with a Honkers fixation.

Officer: Stop with the nonsense. We’ve gotten several reports of you giving non consensual transformations to clients.

Honkers: I mean it makes since, everyone is obsessed with Honkers. I am the queen of the clowns, they’re all obsessed with me! So it makes since you are.

Officer: Not only that but we’ve taken in several clowns selling an unapproved drug that they say that got for you.

Honkers: Wait that doesn’t make since.

Officer: How so? We have you claiming the drug as your own on your blog.

Honkers: If clowns are obsessed with me, it doesn’t make since that a human would be. So you must be a clown!

Officer: Not to mention your connections to Gimmick, it seems obvious to all of us at The Agency you’re building a gang for him.

Honkers: How silly, he’s already got a gang, honey. Didn’t you know? Oof not very good at the special agent thing are we? Hehe maybe if you focused less on Honkers, and more on your job…

Officer: Ma’am this is very serious. You’re going to a maximum security prison just like Gimmick if these accusations are true

Honkers: Good job! You sounded like a proper copper there hehe. I bet you didn’t think of Honkers once that whole time!

Officer: You’re Honkers…

Honkers: Oh yeah! You did mention me didn’t you? I thought you were just obsessed with my Honkers, but it’s me you’re obsessed with! Duh! Honkers, not Honkers yeah?

Officer: What are you, talking about? I’m so confused.

Honkers: Right! It’s like I said, you’re not ver good at your job? Right?

Officer: Right?

Honkers: I don’t know, I’m not very good at being a copper either! I mean I think I sound pretty guilty from all the stuff you said, but…

Officer: I’m not ver good at being a copper…

Honkers: Exactly! You’re too obsessed with Honkers…

Officer: Yeah…

Honkers: They’re nice huh?

Officer: Honkers…

Honkers: That’s right, mmm mind if I take the girls out?

Officer: Honkers…

Honkers: Ahh there we go. They get so stuffy in my bra. Mmm this is nice. Hahaha look at you eyes bulging! They’re nice right?

Officer: Honkers!

Honkers: Oh dear, they’re leaking. Would you mind?

Officer: Honkers!

Honkers: Haha oh we’ve got an eager beaver! Haha oh yeah, suckle to your hearts content.

I let the patient enjoy a brief breastfeeding session while I coach her through her confusion about being an officer.

Once she’s fed and burped I go to the costume closet and dress her in a trench coat.

Honkers: There a trench coat is perfect for a special agent, don’t you think?

Officer: I guess, but I’m really not that good of an officer…

Honkers: Oh dear you’re right it does look kind of funny on you. Oh! Hehehe I see now! You’re not a special agent, you’re two clowns in a trench coat!

I pull the trench coat off of her, and reveal that she is now two short stack clowns standing on eachother’s shoulders.

Officers: Waaaahwoooowaaaaaah!

Both clowns topple yo the ground.

Honkers: Hehehe! Wow! What a joke! You got me guys! I really thought I was in trouble there!

Officer 1: Woooah trippy!

Officer 2: triiiiiiiipy!

Honkers: Haha no wonder you guys were obsessed with me, you are clowns!

Officer 1: Clowns?

Officer 2: Honkers?

Honkers: Well I’m impressed! If you can play a cop that well, you’ll be great security guards! The job is yours!

Officer 1: We’re your guards…

Officer 2: Honkers…

Honkers: Perfect! As cute as your chubby little bodies are, and I’ll definitely be enjoying them later, you’re gonna need a uniform. Report to Humpty-Dump-Truck and let her know you’re the new recruits!

Officer 1: What happen to that big lady?

Officer 2: Big lady giving you trouble?

Honkers: Hehehe don’t worry cuties, she won’t be bothering me again. Now scoot I got patients to help!

Officers: Aye Ate Queen Honkers Lady Ma’am!