#It's actually depressing now that I think about it

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[anthurak]

So by this point, I think many of us are likely familiar with the idea that the breakup of Team RWBY at the end of Volume 3 is meant to thematically parallel the breakup of Team STRQ in the wake of Summer’s death, ie; Ruby falls into a coma for a few days while Summer disappears and then both their teams fracture. Along with a popular sub-theory that Blake leaving Yang after the Fall is meant to parallel Raven leaving Tai.

But the thing is, if Ruby falling into a coma at the end of Volume 3 is meant to parallel Summer’s (supposed) death and the way this loss caused the fracturing and breakup of their respective teams, then Raven’s actions DON’T really parallel Blake nearly as well as a lot of people think.

And in fact, I feel like Qrow could potentially have paralleled Blake’s actions FAR better.

Like people talk about how Raven ‘abandoned’ Tai just like Blake ran away from Yang after the Fall of Beacon. Except if the point of parallel to the Fall of Beacon is Summer’s death, then the parallel doesn’t work because Raven was ALREADY GONE from Team STRQ by the time Summer disappeared. To the point where Tai, Qrow and Ozpin had (and still have) NO IDEA she was even involved in whatever happened to Summer. Raven can’t exactly have abandoned Tai just like Blake did to Yang if Raven wasn’t even around.

Instead, as I’ve discussed in the past, I think Raven’s actions following Summer’s ‘death’ potentially line up far better with WEISS. Like if it turns out that losing Summer was what actually drove Raven to return to her tribe, then that lines up very nicely with Weiss being taken back to her family/Atlas in the wake of the Fall of Beacon: Both return to the shitty, abusive family that raised them. And given how much of Weiss’s character is tied up in her family and their ‘legacy’, then the way Raven eventually took over her tribe makes her an ideal foil; effectively representing a Weiss who did eventually take over the Schnee family and company, but in the process internalized all the pain and trauma her family gave her.

And as for a cherry on top; if Ruby falling into a coma after the Fall of Beacon is meant to parallel Summer’s supposed ‘death’, then what was one of the last things Ruby did at the Fall?

Run off on a special mission with Weiss, just like we now know Summer did with Raven.

Now going back to my point about how Raven was not even around to abandon Tai just like Blake did to Yang, you know who WAS presumably around when Summer ‘died’?

Yeah; Qrow.

Let’s consider what exactly Blake actually did following the Fall of Beacon beyond just a surface-level reading: Yes, she did go back to her family, similar to what Raven may have done, but given that the Belladonnas are NOT actually shitty and abusive, I maintain that Weiss is still the better parallel to Raven. Instead, let’s consider Blake’s whole arc across Volumes 4 and 5 relating to the White Fang: At first being depressed over loss and perceived failure before being inspired to start working for a better cause, in this case pushing back against and stopping Adam’s takeover of the White Fang.

So I have to wonder; what if this reflects what Qrow did with Ozpin and the conspiracy following Summer’s ‘death’? Maybe Qrow and his teammates had helped Ozpin in the past and knew what he was doing, but what if THIS was the point where Qrow became fully committed to Ozpin’s cause and joined the Ozluminati full-time? Perhaps seeing it as a way of ‘honoring’ Summer’s memory.

Instead of staying with the one teammate he had left (and possible partner) who was now in a massive depressive spiral AND had two kids to take care of.

It starts to make Qrow and Tai feel a lot like Blake and Yang, doesn’t it?

This is one of the big reasons why I think Qrow and Tai are the REAL foil to Bumbleby on Team STRQ. They effectively give us a look at a version of Blake and Yang whose relationship failed. Or rather, were never able to ‘take the next step’ and actually form their relationship.

Qrow is a Blake who fully internalized her self-loathing and belief that she didn’t deserve Yang or that Yang was better off without her and has simply been pining for Yang from afar.

Meanwhile Tai is a Yang who likewise fully internalized her fears of abandonment and fully resents Blake for leaving her or may not have ever even fully recognized her feelings for Blake in the first place.

Essentially, Qrow and Tai are the version of Blake and Yang who weren’t able to work through all the problems, issues and baggage which allowed them to actually start their relationship. Like a Blake who didn’t get that vital pep-talk from Sun at the end of Volume 4, or a Yang who likewise didn’t get that vital talk from Weiss in Volume 5.

Which in turn leads us to what I brought up earlier with Qrow joining up with the Ozluminati full-time, essentially representing a Blake who threw herself into reforming the White Fang instead of returning to Team RWBY and reconnecting with Yang. Meanwhile Tai simply throws himself into a deep depression, grief and ‘moping’, ironically all the things he would later accuse Yang of doing (at some point I’m going to do a post on just how much PROJECTING Tai has likely been doing…)

So now Qrow and Tai have this low-key toxic relationship where Qrow is more-or-less aware of Tai’s extremely dysfunctional parenting but has also been enabling it and a lot of Tai’s unhealthy coping mechanisms over the years because he’s been pining for Tai ever since their Beacon days and still is pining in a very depressed, self-loathing ‘I don’t deserve him/to be happy’ way and also doesn’t want to risk conflict with his former partner and also the only teammate he has left.

Thus Qrow keeps his distance and just goes along with Tai’s dysfunctions and/or lets Tai push him away. Which in turn just reinforces Tai’s abandonment issues.

And Ruby and Yang are still stuck with utterly dysfunctional parental figures.

Oh, and if you need more proof about the deliberate parallels between Blake and Qrow…

Then how about the whole damn song where they sing about how they’ve always felt terrible about themselves but now things are looking up for them.

[604to647]

Sniffles

1.5K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

A/N: Inspired by @bebsjo’s ask about Tim wanting to take care of Shutterbug when she’s sick. I answered it but couldn’t get the thought out of my brain; thank you for the ask, love - please consider this a more complete answer! 💕

This is our The Rockford Portfolio couple but as always with their stories, can be read as standalone (though there is a relationship milestone in this one 😊).

Summary: You’re sick and you don’t want to give Tim your germs.

Warnings: None! Fluff. Snot. Soft!Tim, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 / Series Masterlist

Tim is just putting the finishing touches on the arrest report for a pair of mid-level Pie henchmen when his cellphone starts to buzz with an incoming call.  He picks up upon seeing from the caller ID that it’s you, “Hey Shutterbug.”

“Hey baby,” you croak.

“What’s wrong?  Where are you? Baby, are you okay?” Tim stands up, ready to sprint out of his office to get to you.

Laughing at your sweet boyfriend’s reaction to a simple cold, you try to talk him down from the ledge in a soothing, albeit scratchy, tone of voice, “Don’t worry, Detective - it’s just a cold!  But I left work early so I wouldn’t spread my germs around.  I took some medication and I’m just getting into a bed with a hot cup of tea right now.”

“Can you FaceTime?  Need to see you, gorgeous.”  Not that he doesn’t believe you, Tim would just feel a lot better getting visual confirmation that you’re all tucked into bed, getting the rest that you need.

Your tired but still cheery face lights up Tim’s phone screen, and he exhales a little sigh of relief to see you already in your pajamas even though it’s still early afternoon, “Do you have everything you need?  Soup?  Drugs?  Tissues?  Throat lozenges?”

“I do, Tim – thank you, but baby,” the you on his screen chews your bottom lip and looks at him apologetically, “I don’t think you should come over tonight.”

Tim tilts his head, confused, “What do you mean?  Who’s going to take care of you?”

You start to laugh but it immediately devolves into a coughing fit, “I’ll be fine, Detective!  It’s just a cold – I’ll take drugs, I’ll sleep, I’ll get better.  I don’t know how contagious I am, but I don’t want to get you sick, Tim.  I know you.  You’ll insist on going to work even when under the weather and you’ll be miserable.  While I’m sick you should stay at your place, just to be safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, Detective.  It’s not my first cold!  I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tim is about to respond when his Captain peeks her head into his office and gestures with her hand for Tim to follow. 

“I gotta go, Shutterbug, but text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it over, okay?  Feel better soon, baby.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Detective Rockford.  Be safe!”

Four days.

You’ve been sick for four days.  Tim takes some solace in knowing that you’ve taken the time off work to properly recover, but still… it’s been four days.

After the first night back at his house, Tim takes to sleeping on the couch in his office.  Even though the mattress in his master bedroom is indisputably less lumpy, the couch is less depressing.  At least his office is something: it’s work.  His house constantly reminds Tim of what it is not: it’s not his home. It’s not with you. 

Every time you and him talk on FaceTime, you’re decidedly still sick (are you actually getting worse?!) and the tiny bit of hope Tim harbours that he’ll be able to come home to you soon evaporates.  He decides not to tell you where he’s been sleeping - you’ll just worry for his back, and then he would have to explain how miserable he is without you and make you feel bad.

Instead, Tim listens as you tell him you took yourself to the doctor to learn that you have the flu, not the cold, and listens at your wheezing laugh at how ironic it is that you had your flu shot scheduled for next week.  Tim nods approvingly when you confirm that you’re having groceries and meals delivered and bites his tongue from saying that he could - wants to - do all that for you.  He watches as you trudge to the kitchen in your bathrobe with your runny nose and messy hair to make food, and he tells you you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen - because you are.  You tell him he’s silly but still give him the biggest smile you can manage in your exhausted and achy state.

You fall asleep every night while still on the phone with Tim as he tells you all about his work day and his current case, lulled to sleep by his soothing baritone voice.  Even after you’ve nodded off, Tim doesn’t hang up right away – partially to make sure your breathing doesn't get too laboured through your stuffed up nose, but mainly so he can look upon your peaceful visage for a little while longer.  He misses you so much.

By night five of sleeping without you pressed up against his chest, Tim has had enough.  After work he makes stops at the grocery store and pharmacy before heading to your place.  Laden down with bags full of soup and frozen lasagna, cold medication, ice packs, a new hot water bottle, cough drops, plus one plushie (something called a "Squishmallow"? Its "bio" on the tag says she’s a nurse) among other supplies, Tim turns his key in the lock of your apartment for the first time in nearly a week.  Immediately, he’s hit with the familiar scent of your perfume and the peppermint of the tea you’re currently making; he knows you're in the kitchen just from the soft shuffling and sniffles he hears - all of it a comfort to his senses.

Now all he has to do is see you and hold you and he can finally feel complete.

At first you think you’re hallucinating when your big, burly detective appears in the doorway of the kitchen.  You must be sicker than you thought - or maybe you accidentally took an extra dose of flu medication?  But the strong, thick arms that wrap around you feel real.  And the rough hands that cradle and massage your head feel soothing.  You melt right into that hard but cushiony chest despite not being 100% sure it isn’t a figment of your fever addled imagination.

“Whhhharrhwudoongnhrrrrtm?” you mumble.

Petting your hair indulgently, Tim chuckles, “Want to say that again, Shutterbug?”

You tilt your head back to look sleepily at your handsome boyfriend, “What are you doing here, Tim?”

“I’m here to take care of you, baby,” Tim says matter-of-factly, “You’re not getting well fast enough for my liking – I’m missing you too much.”

You melt a little at Tim’s puppy dog look, but sigh, “Baby, I miss you so much, too.  But if you’re here, you could get sick.”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hot forehead, “Shutterbug, when we live together, we won’t be able to escape the other person when one of us is sick.”

Your gasp transitions into a cough and you have to wait until your throat clears before you ask, astounded, “You want to live with me?  Even with all this snot?”

Tim nods as if to say, even with all this snot, adding, “Only if you want, Shutterbug.”

You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this, “When were you thinking would be the right time for you to move in?”

Very aware that you haven’t actually agreed to live with him, Tim answers with truthful, but carefully chosen words, “I’m ready whenever, if ever, you’re ready, baby.”

You look up at Tim wide-eyed, trying to make sure that he means it - that he’s serious about taking this next step in your relationship; when you see nothing but eagerness in the softness of his eyes and the steadiness in his bright, reassuring smile, you throw your arms around Tim’s neck, germs be damned, “I’m ready, Detective!! As soon as I’m better, please move all your stuff in!”

Tim hugs you back tighter than he probably should - absolutely over the moon that he’s never going to have to leave your side again, that he and the woman he loves are going to make a home together.  So lost in his own reverie, he’s jolted back when you let out a whimper of pain, “Oh fuck, Shutterbug, did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you’re still beaming at your considerate boyfriend, “No, I’m just achy all over, all the time.  You could never hurt me, Tim.”  You genuinely believe this with all your heart.

“How about I run you a bath with these bath salts I bought and you have a nice warm soak while the lasagna heats up?” offers Tim.

“Will you sit with me while I’m in the bath, Detective?”

“Of course, gorgeous.”

“And we can make plans for the big move in?” You grin, eyes twinkling - you haven’t felt this energized in days.

“Nothing I would like more, baby,” Tim smiles as he hands you the plushie cat he bought you, grinning even wider when you squeal with excitement and crush the stuffed animal to your chest in elation.

You titter with happiness, grabbing Tim’s hand to lead him towards the bedroom. But when he doesn’t come readily, you turn back and to your confusion, you see Tim wincing, the hand not in yours reaching behind to press against his lower back as he arches in a painful stretch.

Eyes narrowing, you place the hand that’s still clutching Cassie the Nurse on your hip and tilt your head suspiciously, “Timothy. Where have you been sleeping?”

Btw this is Cassie the Nurse:

[vidavalor]

How do you think the Ineffable Husbands reacted to the 1914 Christmas Armistice?

Also, it is autumn now and very cloudy and soggy, so here is a seasonally-appropriate recipe: https://www.hairybikers.com/recipes/view/caramelised-apple-cheesecake

Aw, a recipe! You're lovely. 😊 That looks amazing!

I envy you being in one firm season over there. September is a transition month here in New England. Half-summer, half-fall. It's very strange, though, not terrible. One day is lemonade and watermelon and the next is where's my blanket? and I need an apple something and looking up what day Bake Off starts to air over here. Another week, though, and it'll be pretty much fall from here on out. Definitely going to make that cheesecake. 😊

I think they probably reacted to the Christmas Armistice the same way many of us do when we learn about it-- that it's both beautiful and morbidly depressing at once. It showed people coming together to express a sense of shared humanity but then they went back to killing one another afterwards. It wasn't a new story for Crowley and Aziraphale because they had seen that in people all throughout history but I'm sure they found the same mix of hopefulness and sadness in it that a lot of people do.

The one who understands what it takes to bring about peace now best in the series is actually Gabriel, imho. It's because he understood the deeper meaning of Sandalphon's words that Sandalphon didn't actually understand himself: "you can't have a war without war."

Some short thoughts on ties between war, frozen peas, and one of my favorite of Agnes Nutter's prophecies beneath the cut.

When Sandalphon said: "you can't have a war without war", what he meant was: "Look how clever I think I am to use this word twice in two ways in one sentence! You can't have a war without War: The Character! Mirelle Enos is playing a character that shares a name with large-scale killing and destruction and I pointed it out! I'm so smart!"

Gabriel, though, heard the potential of bigger ideas: "You can't have a war (a large-scale military conflict) without war (people willing to fight in a war and, also, a person's inner struggle leading them to be willing to fight in war)."

Meaning: A war can only happen if people are willing to fight the war.

Meaning: No soldiers, no war.

Gabriel knew Aziraphale heard it like that, too, and was like lol Aziraphale, this guy thinks he's a poet omg let me flatter him enough that he won't notice that I just tried to help you sell more erotica and didn't murder you for having a lover and then we'll get out of here...

Gabriel saying that he "might use that one day" about what Sandalphon says is a line that-- delightfully-- ages quite differently the more we get to know Gabriel.

We know he said it in that moment to make it sound like he was telling Sandalphon that what Sandalphon had said was just so profound that Gabriel was tempted to use it himself... but we also know that Gabriel is neither as dumb nor as vapid as he strategically lets people think he is and that he understood the deeper way of looking at what Sandalphon said more than Sandalphon did.

Looking back on it, it's Gabriel actually joking about mutinying in front of Heaven's most fervent Metatron-worshipping fascist in a way that is very much going over Sandalphon's head. Gabriel is all can't have a war without war-- yeah, true dat, Stasi a Fond. I'm slowly losing it over here and my favorite fantasy is just peacing out entirely of this whole 'Commander of The Heavenly Host' shit and wouldn't that really completely eff up The Ineffable Plan? Oh, my secret daydream... if only I could...

Then, what happens, though, by the end of S1?

Gabriel sees a kid do just that.

The eleven year old spawn of Satan is all yeah, no, you can't have a war without war. I don't want to start a war. I like the world. I've got enough on my plate dealing with my own life-- I don't want to rule over everyone. I want everyone to feel at peace and be happy and take care of each other.

Gabriel was freaked out because of the consequences of this and the fact that he, at the the time, thought The Metatron might kill him for failing to start Armageddon but, after the day was over and Gabriel had a moment to breathe and think about it, you can't tell me he didn't hear Adam saying that it was too much pressure to be in charge of every other living being in existence and he just wanted to chill with the people he liked and live his own life in peace and let everyone else do that, too and think to himself:

Yeah, kid. Me too.

The dude who is told he's responsible for everyone in Heaven and who sees angels falling as partly his fault and whom the humans deify and to whom they make statues was like fucking hell, the little antichrist brat was right.

He realized that it's not about Armageddon, it's about living and building a life until you have all the world you need. It's about what Crowley and Aziraphale have been trying to do and about what he and Beez were as well. Gabriel's proposal to Beez is a simple one:

What if, instead of Armageddon, there was no Armageddon?

What if, instead of war, there's no war?

So, he ended up fulfilling his own prophecy a bit when the one day came when he used what Sandalphon said-- just not in the way that Sandalphon meant it but in the way that Gabriel himself and Aziraphale heard it: you can't have a war without war... no war exists if enough people refuse to fight it.

That's the way to stop Armageddon.

Gabriel came to realize that the best thing he could do as a leader in Heaven and commander of its armed forces was to refuse to fight, come what may. He quits the army and defects to the embassy of the only independent country that exists in the supernatural world: the United States of Crowley and Aziraphale.

As Agnes said:

...the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Black and Pale approache to Peas is Our Professioune.

In this case: Redde/Red (Crowley), Whyte/White (Aziraphale), Black (Beez), Pale (Gabriel). To profess: to state. Peas = the talking of frozen peas because homophone: peace.

The calm cometh when Crowley, Aziraphale, Beez and Gabriel talk and each get closer to their own peace and to peace with one another and help each other to spread that mentality throughout all those willing in Heaven and Hell and Earth.

That's what you feed the other ducks-- your frozen peas. Your own stuff that is disturbing your own inner peace and creating inner wars and small-scale conflicts that, if left unchecked, can build into larger-scale ones.

If you break that shit down and talk about it, there needn't be any war.

Sometimes, it means shedding some armor, keeping an open mind, and admitting that you were wrong-- all things that can be difficult...

...especially for those are secretly tender-hearted but put up that armor to survive in worlds steeped in toxic masculinity...

...and, sometimes, it's maddening because people are scared and get set in their ways and do dumb shit and you have to upend power structures and reinforce more positive behaviors to get them to shut up long enough to start listening to one another...

...but the more who learn to unlearn the harmful stuff at the core of their own struggles and who open their minds up to listening to others, the more we're professing our peas to our fellow ducks and getting closer to peace within ourselves and within the world as a whole and that's what it's all about. It might always be approaching Peas is Our Professioune rather than a perfectly peaceful world but the point is the effort of the approach and to just keep making steady progress as much as we can while we're walking the Earth. After all...

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 5

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 4.2k ish

TWs: Gloria's filthy mouth, angst, infidelity, blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, possessive kink, size kink, spanking, Elvis is quite dominant, think that's about it.

Elvis spends that afternoon’s filming trying very hard to concentrate on his lines and not daydream back to his lunch break, him almost dragging Gloria back to his trailer, both of them giggling like naughty kids and probably making what they were about to do incredibly obvious to half of the film crew. Going through additional takes of some of the opening scenes in the gas station, he fights the urge to think about the feeling of Gloria’s mouth all around him as he leant breathless up against the wall. Tries to forget for a few minutes the puzzle of what it was she’d done with her mouth and hands that had made him come so quickly right down her throat. Between takes, chatting to Shelley about how hot it is and whether that makes LA seem more like Florida, he repeatedly pushes the thought that this was the second time he’d left Gloria full of his come out of his mind. 

Gloria also finds herself a little distracted, her mind drifting back to the fun they’d had at lunchtime. But, as she walks back to his trailer at the end of the day, a little later than usual because she’d got so stuck into what she was doing, she reflects that maybe she’s actually learning enough to get herself a proper job. Or at the very least, enough to make those stuffy old men think that she knows what she’s doing. She bites the skin beside her thumbnail a little, thinking briefly about going back to San Francisco, and then her mind drifts back to Elvis in the trailer earlier, his hand over his mouth so everyone on the film set wouldn’t hear him moaning as she sucked him off. She’s pretty impressed with herself for somehow stuffing all of that dick into her mouth and down her throat, it’s definitely a record. 

“Where you been, honey?” 

Elvis is sprawled on the couch, taking up the entire thing. She looks down at him. 

“Got sucked into editing. I’m really enjoying it, I can’t believe how interesting it is when people actually let you do things rather than just making you get them coffee.” She picks his feet up just enough to give her space to sit down, replacing them on her lap. “Thanks for making it happen it for me.”

“No problem, Glory.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You okay?”

“Hmmm. You ever been to Hawaii?”

“Family vacation in Honolulu a few years ago.”

“Did ya like it?”

She nods, her hands resting on his shins. “Mmm yeah. Beach life. It’s definitely a nice vacation spot. But there are beaches here!” 

Elvis frowns. “Can’t really go to the beach here. Too busy.”

Gloria doesn’t miss a beat. “Not if you went in disguise,” she suggests. “Why don’t we sneak off now and go to the beach and get dinner there? Instead of just sitting in here and eating burgers again.”

Elvis is briefly completely baffled by this turn of events, and he’s about to say he probably needs to take at least one of the guys with him, and that he doesn’t know if there will be food he wants to eat at the beach, and that he really doesn’t go places that are so busy… and then he just doesn’t say any of those things and instead just says “okay.”

Gloria sits for a few seconds blinking in confusion. She had been expecting a little more resistance, but since she hasn’t got it she just pushes his legs out of the way and leaps up off the sofa. 

“Let’s go!”

***

They take her car, and he hides in the backseat as they drive off the set. Gloria has a hard time keeping a straight face driving through the gates, thinking of him in shorts and a denim jacket she’d somehow found for him to wear, lying down as flat as possible. Once they’ve got far enough up the road she pulls over and he gets out and into the front seat. She can’t help giggling at him. She’d jammed a baseball cap on his head and made him wear his shades too, and he looks successfully nothing like himself. He had complained a lot, looking at his reflection in the long mirror in the trailer, but he relented when she put her arms around him and kissed his neck and told him she thought he looked sexy. She wasn’t lying. Looking at him now, once the giggles have subsided, she thinks he looks really good. More casual than usual, which she likes. And he’s not wearing too many clothes. One of her main gripes with the movie, whenever she stops to watch a take or two, is that they’ve over-dressed him. Since it’s meant to be set in Florida, she’d have expected him in shorts and a t-shirt a bit more often. And more sensible shoes. She does have a soft spot for that all-denim outfit, especially remembering him changing out of it and giving her her first glimpse of the outline of that fucking huge dick, but it still seems an odd choice for the movie. 

“What’re you thinking about, Glory?” 

She shakes her head a little and looks over at him. “Your fantastic outfit.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“I like it.”

“Even this?” Indicating the baseball cap.

“Even that. In fact, you can leave that on later if you want, in bed.”

She starts to giggle again. Elvis shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He smiles as he looks across at her. She’s just put the top down on her car so her golden hair blows gently around her face under her sun hat. Her hazel eyes are shining with amusement and he watches her tanned arms on the steering wheel. She drives comfortably, seat back, keeping her eyes on what she’s doing but never looking remotely bothered by anything that happens. The car never jolts, the whole journey is a very smooth ride and Elvis wonders if he’s ever been driven by a woman who is this good at it. 

“God must’ve sent you to me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. 

“God?” She asks, spinning the steering wheel quickly as she looks for a space to park. “I’m agnostic, I don’t know if he’d have sent me. Probably would’ve wanted you to have a true believer.” 

She sticks her tongue out slightly in concentration as she backs the car up into a space. Elvis frowns slightly. 

“Agnostic?” 

“Hmm yeah. C’mon, we’re good, I’ve just seen a hot dog stand over there too. I bet you like hot dogs.”

“You don’t believe in God?” Elvis asks, following her as she bounds out of the car, barely stopping to lock it before she runs over to get in the line for the stand.

Gloria shrugs her shoulders. “Don’t think we can know so I don’t try. Maybe there is one, maybe there isn’t. Presumably I’ll find out eventually. Two hot dogs please, one with extra mustard.”

Elvis blinks at the heady mix of theology and fast food. He puts his arm around her as they walk down to the beach together. There are a lot of people, but none of them give him a second glance.

“I read the bible every day,” he tells her, somehow becoming deadly serious. “God is an important part of my life.”

She nods. “That’s cool. I wish I could believe in God but I just don’t have it in me. What about here?” She gestures to the bit of sand just in front of them. 

“Sure.” 

They sit down and start to eat. “You just believe in that white bearded guy up in the sky, or anything else?” She asks, with a mouthful of food. 

Elvis laughs and finds himself suddenly less serious again. “I’m interested in a lot of things. I’ve got this book which shows you how to calculate your number, and once you do that you can find out about your destiny and…”

“Numerology!” Gloria declares, completely interrupting him. “I love that shit.”

Elvis is immediately torn between loving her enthusiasm and being embarrassed by how loudly she just cussed.

“I’m a five, look,” she shows him the bracelet on her arm which has the number 5 hanging off it in the form of a golden charm. “What’re you?”

“An eight.”

“Oooooh we’re so compatible!” 

Elvis laughs. He finishes his final bite of hot dog and looks into her eyes. “Well it makes sense that you’re a five. It’s the number of freedom.”

“Yeah and I am still free from my panties, which I have to say is a very dangerous situation on this beach.”

“Oh. You could’ve brought a swimsuit.”

“Well no-one told me that!”

Their eyes sparkle as they tease each other back and forth, getting in a little play fight which ends with Elvis lying on his back in the sand, his cap knocked off, and Gloria half-sprawled on top of him. 

“Okay, so what are eights like then?” She asks, once she’s got her breath back.

“Great leaders,” Elvis replies, then giggles. 

“Oh, great leaders. I see. I’m just a mad impulsive girl who came to the beach with no swimsuit and you’re gonna be the president or something.”

He pulls her closer to him with the arm that’s currently wrapped around her shoulders. 

“It doesn’t look like I’m going to be the president right now, does it? No-one here has recognised me. Not one person.”

She puts her chin on his chest. “You’re in disguise.”

He huffs. “I was wearing a hat.”

They lie there for a while longer, talking about their respective numbers and debating whether Elvis wants to be recognised or not, and then he looks at his watch. 

“Think we should be getting back, Glory. The guys will be wondering where I am.”

***

Gloria notes the look of disappointment on Elvis’ face when he discovers that far from sending out a search party for him, no-one had even realised he hadn’t been in the trailer for the whole evening. 

“Can’t even pay people to give a shit about you,” he mutters, throwing himself melodramatically onto the bed, even though it's still early. 

Gloria kicks off her sandals and tries to dust the sand off her feet before getting onto the bed next to him. “I give a shit about you,” she says quietly, into his neck. 

Elvis is startled into looking down at her. He can’t see her face, buried as it is in the crook of his neck, but she sounds sincere. “I’m sure you do, honey.” He runs his fingers through her hair. 

She doesn't like his tone. It sounds like he’s dismissing her feelings, which had sort of snuck out of her when she wasn’t looking. She does give a shit about him though. It’s hard not to. 

“Well I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Elvis isn’t sure how to respond. He had thought that she just liked sleeping with him. But she has spent a lot of time listening to him over the past few days. 

“Um, thanks,” he mumbles, awkwardly. 

Gloria sighs quietly. Never mind her feelings then. Back to being her usual fun, sunny self. Only one day of filming left anyway. There’s no point in getting deep. 

***

The final day of filming is a busy one for Elvis, and he barely has a moment to himself. He looks longingly at Gloria from time to time, but there’s no opportunity to talk let alone anything else. He keeps thinking back to what she said about giving a shit about him. Running the conversation over and over again in his mind, he feels like he should’ve said something better than thanks, but once he’d missed his initial opportunity she had just started prattling on about numbers again. And not long after that she’d taken her dress off and he’d forgotten all about anything she might’ve said. 

“That’s a wrap!” 

Elvis sighs with relief at the words. It’s fairly late and he’s desperate to be alone with Gloria, on their final day together. Then he remembers the wrap party. There’s no way he’s going to get away without going, and probably staying for most of it. He doesn’t have any excuses. 

***

Gloria flits about the party, talking to anyone and everyone. She loves an opportunity to socialise, and this is even better because she’s making contacts in the industry too. Contacts outside of her daddy and his friends. And because no-one knows who she is, they treat her differently. With respect. She can see Elvis out of the corner of her eye, his flirting with Shelley getting almost completely out of control. She knows he’s trying to get her attention, but she doesn’t care about him flirting with actresses. After all, it’s not as if they’re going to be together after tonight. He’s going home to marry Priscilla. 

***

Elvis is pulling out all the stops with Shelley. Laughing loudly at everything she says that’s remotely funny, leaning in close to her when she’s talking quietly, carefully brushing a strand of hair from her face. Even going so far as to wrap an arm around her waist. Shelley’s enjoying herself but she’s not daft. She can see Elvis’ eyes flicking across to the pretty blonde on the other side of the room to see if she’s noticed what he’s doing. Shelley is amused that Elvis Presley is trying to get a girl’s attention, and in such a roundabout way. She decides to help him out a little. 

“Do you think it would help her notice if I did this?” She asks, putting both of her arms around his neck and looking up into his slightly surprised face. 

“Ah-I-I… I dunno what you’re uh… talking about,” he replies, stumbling over the words but putting his hands on her hips instinctively. 

“Ah come on, yes you do. You’re flirting with me to get her attention!”

“Oh no, baby, I wouldn’t do that… I-I-” 

“If you wanted to talk to me you just had to come over.”

Elvis looks away from Shelley’s amused face to see Gloria standing next to her. 

“Oh-Ah-I… honey, I jus’...” 

Both women laugh as Shelley removes her arms from around his neck. “See you later. Nice working with you again,” she tells him, giving him a kiss on his now burning cheek. 

“You looked busy,” Elvis tells Gloria, sheepishly. 

“I was networking.”

“Networking?”

“Yeah, you know. Making friends who don’t know who my daddy is.”

He nods. “I’m dying to get out of here.”

“Me too. Think you have to do a bit more though,” she nods at a man with a moustache making a bee-line for them. “Let me know when you’re ready to go. You can just come over and tell me this time.”

***

They finally get back to the trailer in the early hours of the morning. They’re barely through the door before they start pulling at one another’s clothes in an attempt to get them off. 

“I’m disappointed I was too busy filming to do this earlier,” Elvis pants, between frantic kisses. 

“Me too,” Gloria moans as he starts to kiss her neck. “And I hate that the party went on for so long. God, I thought we’d never leave.”

He unclasps her bra now that he’s taken her dress off. “When Bill started that speech…” he groans, then slides his mouth over her nipple. 

“The world’s longest, most boring speech, you mean?” She arches into his mouth as her hands find his belt and undo it. 

“Mmmm. Worst. Speech. Ever.” He punctuates each word with kisses that get lower and lower until his mouth is just above her clit. 

She squirms, her hands in his hair trying to push his head further down. He smirks and kisses his way back up her body again, lips finding hers. Moaning into his mouth, she grabs one of his hands and tries to guide it to where she failed to get his head to go. He chuckles as he pulls away from her again. 

“Needy little girl, aintcha?” He teases. 

She nods. “Been needy for you all day, big boy. Feel.” Finally managing to get his hand between her legs, she directs his fingers to run over her soaking pussy. 

He groans. “Bet ya ruined that skirt you were wearing earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s actually a great way to give yourself extra laundry,” she jokes. “As I’m sure you know, Mr. I Don’t Wear Underpants.” 

“Don’t do my own laundry,” he replies, before picking her up and putting her over his shoulder. “Right, you. Bed.”

Gloria squeals and kicks her legs and he gives her a quick sharp slap on the ass. She squeals again, in surprise and delight. Walking the few steps to the bedroom, he throws her down onto the bed so hard she bounces back up slightly. 

“Oooh Mr Dominant!” 

He shakes his head, trying to look stern but unable to keep himself from smiling. “It’s Mr Presley.”

She throws her head back and laughs uncontrollably. “Oh, is that what you want me to call you?”

Still giggling until she finds him on top of her, pinning her hands above her head, his eyes full of lust. “No, you know what I like you to call me. My needy girl.”

She moans a little at the name, trying to wriggle her hands free but unable to get away from his firm grip. “I want you… so bad… big boy,” she whines, arching towards him, desperate for more contact. 

“Think I might want to tease you a little first.”

She can’t resist trying it, despite what he just said. “Yes, Mr Presley.” 

He feels his dick get immediately harder at her words. He hadn’t thought he’d like it, usually people calling him Mr Presley made him feel old. But her cute west coast accent, her fluttering eyelashes and the slightly desperate tone in her voice have changed his mind. He leans down, kissing the skin just beneath her ear. 

“You can keep doing that.”

She bites her lip and rolls her body into his, now he’s that bit closer. “Yes, Mr Presley.”

He groans. Fuck. It’s going to be more difficult to tease her than he thought, if she keeps saying that. It’s going to be very hard for him to not just come in his pants. He kisses her again and then shifts so he can take the rest of his clothes off. Leaning back over her, he starts kissing gently down her body, enjoying watching her squirm trying to get him to move more quickly, deliberately stopping and peppering her with kisses just below her belly button until she’s groaning in frustration and begging him to move lower. 

“Please. Oh fuck. Please. I’m dripping for you.”

His eyes roll back in his head at the description and he decides to give her what she wants, spreading her legs with his palms and kissing her soaking wet pussy. She moans pornographically, hands grabbing his head as she grinds her hips up into his face, completely ignoring the fact that he’s only gently kissing her. He growls against her, vibrations making her moan even more loudly. Grabbing her hands and pulling them off his head, he looks up at her. 

“Don’t think my girl is doing as she’s told.”

She whines and wriggles. “I just want you to touch me…”

Shaking his head, he suddenly grabs her and wrestles with her until he has her over his knee. He brings his hand back and then slaps her hard on one ass cheek. She squeaks. 

“Feel like my girl needs to learn her lesson.”

Gloria rubs her thighs together, desperate for some friction. She’s so turned on she can barely stand it. She’s starting to wonder if she could just just come from him spanking her and calling her his girl. 

“Yes, Mr Presley,” she breathes. 

He bites his lip and tries really hard not to let on how much he’s enjoying this, though he’s sure she must be able to feel his erection digging into her. Slapping her ass again, he watches it jiggle and get red and listens to her moan and whine. Then he slides two fingers into her pussy. 

“Oh, fuck.”

Her head flops down onto the bed as she feels his fingers slowly thrust in and out, pleasure building inside her. Just as she’s starting to really enjoy herself he removes them and slaps her again. She screws her eyes shut and tries to control the noises that are coming out of her mouth as he continues alternating between touching her and spanking her. Eventually she completely loses control. 

“Oh fuck please Elvis please I want you so bad I’m sorry for being a bad girl.”

He chuckles and gently lifts her head with his other hand. “I better put ya out of your misery, huh?”

Her head flops back down again as he starts rubbing her clit quickly, pushing his thumb inside her, listening to the pleasured noises she makes as her orgasm builds quickly and then completely overpowers her. 

“FUCK.” 

If he thought her cussing on the beach was too loud, this was on a completely different scale. He puts his hand over her mouth as he gently rubs her through her high, shushing her. Her hot breath and mumbled curses against his skin. He doesn’t let her lie there for long though, he’s so desperate to have his fill of her.

“On your knees, baby.”

She gets up slowly until she’s kneeling on the bed, looking up at him expectantly. 

“No, not like that. Hands and knees.” He gestures at her to turn around so she’s facing away from him. 

He strokes her ass with one hand and his dick with the other. “All that looking at your ass made me want you like this.”

Her moans start off soft and soon crescendo again as he starts to push inside her. Groaning as he finally bottoms out, he pushes her head down onto the bed. 

“I need you to be quiet.”

She whimpers a little at the feeling of being so stretched in this position. “Yes, Mr Presley.”

Trying his best to hold it together at those words, his hands grip her hips as he starts to move inside her. She presses her face into the bed to muffle the noises she makes as he pulls almost all the way out and then slides in again, repeatedly. Elvis is driving himself crazy too, the intensity of the feeling of her all around his dick is almost too much. He gives up on moving slowly, his thrusts hard and fast now, making her body rock with each one. Her fingers dig into the mattress, trying to stop herself just collapsing on the bed with the force of his movements. He’s pounding her so hard she can feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. But it feels so good too. So good that she can feel her second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach.

Elvis is so close it’s almost killing him but he really wants to feel her walls squeeze him again. “Is my good girl going to come again?” He pants. 

“Y-yes… yes Mr Presley…” she pants back, getting up onto her forearms and pushing back against him with every thrust. 

His eyes roll back in his head and then all of a sudden he feels it, the squeeze of her walls around him as she falls forward onto the bed, only the force of him gripping her hips keeping her from collapsing completely. 

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs, and just like the last time it’s only one or two more thrusts before he’s coming too, deep inside her. Letting go of her hips they both collapse in a heap, breathing hard. 

He rolls off her and then pulls her into his arms, covering her face in kisses. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck. Breath still uneven, he looks at her with grave seriousness. 

“Are you okay Glory? I don’t know what came over me then…”

Her mouth curls into an even bigger smile. “I’m great, thank you, Mr Presley.”

Wrapping a leg around his waist as she watches him cringe a little and blush.

“Oh God you’re never going to stop with that now, are you?”

“Never. Thought you were enjoying it. I know I was.”

He moves to kiss her neck. “Yeah I was,” he murmurs against her skin. “You sure I didn’t take it too far?” He looks up, his face worried. 

“No way. That was so hot. You can throw me around like that any time you want.”

She watches as his face changes from worry to a look that’s almost pride. Then it changes again to sadness as he remembers that “any time” will be over in a matter of hours. 

“Do you have to go back home tomorrow?” He asks, urgently. 

“I don’t have to do anything,” she replies. “But um, no I can stay, if that’s what you’re asking?”

Is that what he’s asking?

“Yes please. Please stay.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog

[crimeronan]

If Hunter ever had a breakdown about how depressed he is and how much he NEEDS Luz and Him and Amity out of the castle, like, Yesterday, how would Luz react? I can’t imagine she’d immediately drop everything but I can imagine her expediting her plans for ending the Empire in ways that aren’t as air tight as she’d like that she’ll have utterly restless guilt about later.

Or honestly, better yet, how would AMITY react?? For their entire relationship all Amity has ever known about Hunter is that A) he’s a gigantic dick and B) he would do ANYTHING for Luz without question or complaint. I’d love to see her reaction to him having a panic attack in a broom closet somewhere going “I can’t do this I can’t do this I need to get her out! _I_ need to get out!!”

GOD.

i think luz's immediate first response would be to try to arrange some way to get hunter out of the castle, even though she Knows he won't leave her. she's like no no this is different, i can just trust the people in my inner guard to take care of me, it's not an abandonment, we'll keep in contact, i'll call you every night for hours and--

hunter would not take this well.

in the most IDEAL world, luz goes to darius to beg him to talk sense into hunter, & then darius gets to be like. you should discuss this with raine actually. love and light <3

amity's reaction would depend on exactly how hunter phrases things, i think. because if he's still framing luz as his top priority then she Knows she can't separate them. but if he's like "i have to get out, i can't do this, i have to get out" then i think she'd be like okay. i can smuggle you out of the castle. luz won't hold it against you and if she does she's not worth following anyway--

hunter would also not take this well. but it would clear up his intentions pretty fast!

honestly i think the most likely thing that would happen is that hunter would pull himself together after a panic attack, pretend it never happened, and swear amity to secrecy like. luz cannot know about this. she has enough to worry about right now and i cannot burden her. Do Not Bother Her

while amity is like. I THINK SHE'D MAYBE WANT TO BE BOTHERED????

[pynkhues]

https://x.com/snow_droplet/status/1836806686041944275

lots of people see this scene (louis reading madame bovary) as a one more confirmation of louis = housewife = mother. just as the yellow painting depicting mother and child. why do you think he relates to these works so much? and what do you think it says about writers' intent wrt his character?

Mm, I can see the thought process, but having read Madame Bovary a number of years ago, I'm a little surprised at the interpretation of Louis as Emma, who cheats because she finds monogomy boring, provincial life even more so, and dislikes motherhood - three things that I'd associate a lot more with Lestat than I would with Louis given a) Antoinette, and the fact that Louis never cheated on Lestat given he only had sex with Jonah when the relationship was opened up, b) Lestat spent most of his mortal life trying to escape the French countryside when Louis has only ever lived in cities, and c) his Whole Deal with Claudia.

I do think that it's worth noting too that the copy of Madame Bovary Louis' reading is actually Lestat's, not Louis':

It also shows I think a real sense of taking Louis' self-assessment when he's at one of his lowest points of depression across the course of the series, as an actual representation of himself? Claudia calling Louis a housewife was pretty specifically about trying to emasculate him into action, and we're sitting with Louis here where he does feel emasculated. Louis does find purpose through work - he's an ambitious man and a capitalist from the moment we meet him - and him being forced out of the upper echelon of earning capacity due to his race is both, of course, racist, but I think also is something he does find emasculating.

Louis always took his role as provider seriously with the du Lac's, I think both as eldest son and patriarch (and I kinda touched on it in my post about Grace, but the show flirts a little with gothic themes of a perverted family structure there in that Louis is both father and brother to Grace and Paul, and son and husband to Florence), and I think even having the illusion that he was providing for at least Claudia, if not Lestat (who of course is cashed-up from Magnus), was still a crucial part of his identity. It's why it's easy for him to fall into a (again, perverted) version of that role with Armand.

That's even without getting into the Capitalism of it all, haha. I actually forgot this and just caught it again on my (very slow) re-watch, but The Azaelia isn't Louis' only business at the time when it starts getting targeted. He's invested in, at the very least, grocery stores and millineries, which Lestat points out to him when Louis' making his No Whites Allowed sign:

This - - again - - is emasculating. Grocery stores and hat makers are very specifically pink-collar industries, and Louis' been making a fortune not off women's quote-unquote 'interests', he's been making it off women's bodies. And again, one day, I'm going to write my Louis-is-a-misogynyst post, but for now, my point is that it's the insult of this that fuels Louis' (rightful!) anger, not his relation to it.

The painting I do think is a bit different, but that's kind of harder to talk about given visual art is so subjective (and honestly I know less about it / can speak to it less). I do think it's significant though that the artist is a Black man, and someone who's still pretty up and coming. The maternal side there I can see, but I don't think it's as absolute as others, just personally.

[ghostly-wisteria-tea]

I have this morbid idea, for 616 Marc to spread his "madness".

Like his new friends? I keep seeing how much they mirror Marc's own history of finding a purpose. And I have this funny prompt where it affected the familial relationship of all of them.

It's a weird turn, where things went to a bit dramatic. There is no magic or space mumbo jumbo. It's a bit more grounded than my previous posts.

Warning, it's a bit...not exactly hunky dory. It's actually pretty bad in a way. I'm weird like that.

Badr tried to stop Marc since it clear that Khonshu is not happy at both of them. But Marc roped him to ignore Khonshu's orders. This made Badr uneasy but he trusts his brother's word more, so he donned the suit again. Until he keeps falling on his face for no reason and the statue in his office suddenly cracks and exploded. Showing that Khonshu is not pleased with him even more.

Now he got a full-on mental breakdown and end up choosing to go to Wakanda and get some spiritual training from the head priestess of Bast.

T'challa noticed that Khonshu is acting more and more like how Bast would act so he contacted the head Priestess in his home, but she refused to leave. Saying that if they truly want her help, then they should put the effort to actually seek her than have everything given in a platter like they are babies.

Marc is still in denial about Khonshu firing them and is a bit upset that Badr left. Blaming it on Khonshu.

Reese's own studies start to get compromised as she is get more and more worried about Marc, and her parents start questioning her devotion to Marc. She doesn't realize as she is getting more and more distant from them. Her family chose to respect her privacy and they didn't say anything since Marc seams to be good for her.

At least, at the beginning.

Now they are noticing Reese barely stays in the house anymore and they can feel this uneasiness every time she leaves.

Reese fights back, defending that she is much safer with Marc. This results in a rift with her family.

Her father eventually got targeted by one of the angry gangs Marc pissed off. And Reese end up getting kicked out when she lost her temper and attacked her mother when the woman blamed Marc for getting her husband's legs broken.

Her mother though, didn't turn to a vampire. No one noticed as they are too busy trying to stop the bleeding from Reese's claws. This is another one of Khonshu's doing, but he didn't show himself nor demand that Reese's mother become a priestess. Just reversed the vampirism.

They just wave it off as being very lucky.

Reese eventually moved back with her parents. But there is a permanent cold wall as her parents now see her as less of a daughter and more of a stranger who can kill them anytime.

The only reason they accepted her back is that they Marc talked to them, and expresses his disappointment at them for making Reese sad. Though it's more like an intimidating threat since he is in a bad mood and is subconciously finding anything to get angry at. Even if he tries to be polite, there is an undertone of uncontrollable anger there.

To which Reese's actual father ask why Marc is acting more like Reese's father now, expressing how distant and disconnected Reese have become ever since she started working for Marc. Almost as if she don't see them as her parents anymore.

They tried to explain the attacks, threats and dangers they have been experiencing as someone manages to trace them after they saw Reese staying with Marc for months.

Marc tries to assure that he will do anything to protect them, but they don't believe him anymore. Especially after the news that he is no longer Moon Knight and don't have the protection of a god.

Eventually, they decided to move away as it is too dangerous for them anymore. And that Marc seems to be doing a better job of being a parent to Reese, so they just gave up.

They explain that Reese can go with them or stay with Marc. She chooses Marc and expresses how disappointed she is on her family for choosing to move. Calling them cowards.

Reese's parents remind her that they are ordinary people, not mercenaries and have no knowledge on how to fight. And as much as they love New York, they will just end up dead. Reese tries to reason that Marc won't let it happen, but then they point out that they can see that Reese is starting to have this semi-blind devotion on Marc. One that they are very worried about, but they know that they can't win against the Midnight Mission. And that they can't always depend on Marc for protection all the time like he is some god

It ends in a fight, but Reese was suddenly blown a few feet behind before she did a fatal blow on both her parents.

Reese then explode on how they are useless, ungrateful sh*ts. And how Marc is way better as he actually did something to help, giving her a job and helping her with her new powers, unlike her parents who only acted distant and expressed disappointment.

There is now a silent agreement that they will never talk to each other again as she pretty much rejected her birth family and chose a new one.

Then she realizes what she said to her parents, and greatly regrets it. To cope with that, Reese practically devotes all her energy to Marc. Mostly cursing her parents for not understanding Marc the same way she does, while trying very hard to not hate or blame herself. For both attacking her parents and saying those things.

Edit:She eventually dropped put of college to work at the Midnight Mission fulltime. Moving into the hotel, refusing to set foot on her old now empty house that only gives her bad memories of a life she left behind. And like Marc, she buries herself in doing Marc's work until it is starting to weight down on her as she refuses to make amends with her past.

And since she doesn't have the backing of a god, (or one she can just put all the blame on since she willingly accepted Marc's help by her own accord) she got in too far with a job that is too dangerous, went full Vampire crazy as a last resort, and eventually failed a mission that got more innocent people killed.

This mirror's Marc turning away from his birth father Elias and picking Khonshu as his new "father".

Soldier's mother's illness is getting worst, he copes by attaching himself to Marc more and more. Pretty much to a point of co-dependence that is getting eerily similar to Marc's unhealthy dependence on Khonshu.

He eventually decided to try and turn his mother to a vampire to stop the cancer. Though Marc told him it is a horrible idea, but this did not stop his anxiety. If anything, it made it worst since as a vampire, he is practically immortal while his mortal family/friends will all die and leave him. A fact that Soldier is still having a hard time accepting, and chooses to ignore it as much as he can.

By burying himself on Marc's work to forget his problems, just like Marc himself.

It reached a point that he start slowly having suicidal tendencies when he would rescue others. Since he can no longer die like a normal person, he would chase after death recklessly at the guise of altruistic behavior so that one day, he will die, be free of this curse that is immortality, and be at peace like his mortal family.

His mother eventually starts to ask if Soldier will keep staying with Marc, as she can feel herself dying and wants to spend the last moments of her life with her son. Soldier though, have grown way, way too dependent on Marc's presence and would leave before he got an emotional panic attack, saying that he can't leave Marc alone to suffer. When in actuality he is the one suffering inside as he stays further away from his emotional rock called "Marc Spector". That and he is still feeling guilty at the fact that his mother is dying while he is practically immortal.

Soldier's mother does explain that she is glad that Soldier have someone to look up to, but it seems that it is only creating a bigger rift between them as while Soldier was a henchman, he wasn't emotionally attached to his old boss. But now he is an emotionally dependent acolyte, and his mother can see it as her grandfather used to be a fanatical member of a doomsday cult in the mid-west.

She easily noticed that Soldier would sound like her grandfather when the man would talk about Marc. And this only alarms her even more as her grandfather once tried to kill his wife to "save" her. All she can do is pray to anyone listening, that her son will be safe, loose his unhealthy dependency and come back to his senses.

Someone is actually listening in the shadows.

Tigra's son starts to notice his mother's growing fixation on Marc, and feels a bit bothered at how her mother is trying to push Marc to be a new father figure to him. Even bringing the boy to the Midnight Mission one night to visit. William is just too polite to voice it out, but he can feel something wrong in the air inside the building, like someone telling him to leave. Yet everyone tries to act like it fine.

William is intuitive enough to see that they are all lying.

He is also seeing less and less of his own mother as she spends more time taking care of Marc.

Tigra hopes to get a solid relationship with Marc but it just won't reach that point of perfect commitment so she keeps trying and refuses to give up. But she doesn't see that she is slowly starting to leave her son behind in her endeavours.

William also tries to investigate about his father more, but Tigra changes the subject and tries to get him close to Marc. To keep them distracted as Marc is starting to get more anxiety attacks as the truth starts to officially sink in.

Eventually, William got tired of his mother constantly pushing Marc that he starts to cry at night. Wishing to have his old mother back, before Marc got her attention more. Creating this emotional rift where he asks to be dropped off at the daycare instead than stay at home. Hiding everything behind a smile but slowly breaking inside.

One night when he got tired of his mother pinning on Marc almost to a delusional degree. Even he is starting noticing this and decided to wandered into the streets just to get away. Deliberately getting lost for hours since he knows that his mother is too focused on Marc the entire night to even call anymore. Which got even worse when Marc died as Tigra practically became distant towards Wiliam. Choosing to be silent to avoid lashing on to her own son. But to William, it's like his mother was replaced with someone else.

William even nearly getting targeted by thugs. Said thugs would suddenly find themselves sucked backwards by a strong wind and get impaled with some metal rod stick that just so happens to be on the right spot.

William then found himself wandering back on his home unscathed, even though he really didn't know where he is going and was just following the lit streetlamps, unaware that he was nearly attacked.

Later in the day, street officers went to fix the streetlamps that were actually broken for 3 days straight.

[haunted-xander]

Who's the "real" me?

+ some references for the Rise-related things I included <3

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[territorial-utopia]

Huzzah! It's birthday time! I'm slowly accumulating more and more things I like (latest additions this vest I made and a travel typewriter! Still need to fix the latter one though)

Sure has been a year.

[vegaseatsass]

You know, these past two episodes I was thinking to myself, Su Yin is almost perfect in every way, simply the ideal devoted, protective, loyal, dedicated sworn brother, call him Da-ge indeed!!!, but my one piece of constructive criticism is that he needs to learn how to give real hugs - he does a lot of manful shoulder clasping, but Xiaobao is a shivering chihuahua desperately in need of cuddles and body heat, you gotta HUG THAT BOY - but now I see that Su Yin's hugs are simply reserved for his horrible little gremlin of an imperial cousinwife.

[moeblob]

Look, I just think it's VERY funny and on brand that I thought of an entire premise of colorful characters for half the cast and immediately drew the only one void of color.

[nei-ning]

Pharmacy worker, earlier today, also recommended me female doctor's blog. She writes a lot about the lack of iron in woman's blood / body. I've been reading the said blog now a bit, finally coming on symptoms (lack of iron). And guys, holy shit!

Tired, out of strength *

Dizziness / fainting *

Cold fingers and toes *

Muscles get tired, weaker recovery *

Restless feet *

Feeling of lacking air and increased heartbeat *

Difficulties to find words, stutter *

Wounds at the edges of your mouth, stinging on tongue

Stinging on feet

Hands and legs becoming numb

Bleeding and easily bruising *

Hair lost *

Weaker immunity system

Flaking nails *

Dry skin and itching *

Pale skin *

Trembling

"Brain fog" *

Behavioral disorders

Dryness of the eyes

Headache *

Sleep disorders *

Depression, Anxiety *

PICA symptom (the need to eat something which is not made to be eaten) I got 16 out of 24! To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if I lacked iron. After all in my family we never ate anything else than potatoes, wheat and maybe some sausages. In my adulthood, I'm not eating much better... Blood test in next month will tell me more.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

sits up in bed. so lana and ema definitely thought they were responsible for edgeworth "choosing death", right?

(the rest of this post was supposed to go in the tags, because it's not very well organised or written, but it got too long so. here are the slightly edited tags for your reading pleasure (or otherwise)):

i was going to make this solely about ema because she's the obvious one with her open adoration of edgeworth, but the thing about rfta is that it goes to great lengths to emphasise the connection between lana and edgeworth as well.

the sl-9 incident showed that lana grows attached to people deeply, hence angel starr's comment on how, when neil marshall died, 'she (lana) felt like her own brother had died.' with edgeworth, i think it was similar but worse. because he's not just a coworker or subordinate who's dear to her. he saved her life. and it cost him his own.

at the beginning of the case, edgeworth says he was mistaken for thinking that lana was always looking out for him post sl-9 (a statement interesting on its own because that's when everyone else says she grew distant), and, later on, he brings ema fingerprinting powder because lana asked him to. then, of course, there's the 'lady luck' comment he makes.

similarly, on lana's side, you obviously have the end of the trial when she says he did well, but there's also that additional moment post-trial where she's the only one to notice — in a group comprising her, ema, phoenix and gumshoe — that he's 'hiding', listening to their conversation. point is, there's enough to suggest that she might have been the nearest thing edgeworth had to a mia; his 'chief prosecutor' to phoenix's plain 'chief'. they're as close as two people can be in a relationship where one of them is constantly lying and the other is von karma's star pupil.

rfta is pretty straightforwardly depicted as the case which solidified edgeworth's resolve to do what he did; i don't think i have to prove that. rumours about him have reached new heights, his car and knife were involved in goodman's murder, he makes an unprecedented mistake in court by failing to connect the evidence room and carpark incidents, thus forcing the chief of police to enter the trial to do so himself, and he's publicly revealed to have relied on falsified evidence to secure a conviction in the sl-9 case, all of which only happened because of lana. jake marshall even claims that from the beginning — that if you trace edgeworth's rumours back to their source, you end up meeting one person: lana skye.

and it gets worse because at the end of rfta, she thinks he's fine!! she literally says, 'i was afraid the pressure would break you, but you rose above it,' and reminds him he's nothing like gant because he's not alone. she leaves the case thinking he will be okay. and then, what, like a week passes, and she finds out that he wasn't, and that he's gone, and it's her fault. even after she was freed from gant's control, even after she had finally stopped lying, she couldn't prevent herself from claiming another life. so much for 'lady luck', i suppose.

and the game reiterates this multiple times. gumshoe states at the start that edgeworth's ties to those higher up in the department have made him the subject of constant rumours, and phoenix says (in front of ema) that he shouldn't be held responsible for the forged evidence because that was all lana's doing, which then leads to edgeworth commenting (again in front of ema) that he feels as though 'something inside him has died.' it all goes back to lana. we can argue and say that it was technically gant's doing that caused all of this, but lana still took actions that led to it. even her complicated friendship with edgeworth isn't spared; it's that closeness between them that exacerbated those rumours. how could she not feel responsible in some way?

and with ema, it's rather obvious, isn't it? if she hadn't gone poking her nose into things, none of this would have happened or come to light. and, of course, she'd never choose anyone over her sister, not for anything in the world — it's simply not a question, but that's the problem, isn't it? it's not a question. it's not some hypothetical moral dilemma. it just is. she may not have killed neil marshall, but she still has one king of prosecutor's blood on her hands. and now she has to live with that. she just. has. to live with it. no matter if he chose otherwise.

moving on from that a little, i think it's actually wild how much of ema's journey to becoming a forensics investigator is paved with bad memories. neil marshall's death and her subsequent inability to testify are what drives her to begin pursuing it, her first proper investigation results in her idol's "death" and when she finally graduates, the person who saved her sister has been disbarred, and she can't even help because she isn't allowed to. all that pain and constant pursuit of her goals, and she's still the same ema skye, still that girl shrouded in darkness, always one step behind the truth, one step a little too late. no wonder she was angry in aa:aj. i would be furious.