#and yet I haven't seen anyone comment on these two being related

[dribs-and-drabbles]

I've been debating whether to post this or not...because I feel like y'all should already know...but I also feel like we should be talking more about this if you do know...so maybe no one cares...? But like...

Y'all do know that these two are brothers, right?

Like, actual brothers. PJ is the younger brother of JJ, in case that wasn't obvious.

[theallianceofcelestials]

I think you guys know what time it isssss…YAPP TIME‼️‼️‼️

I wanted to wait a bit longer than a week because it felt too soon but I also didn’t want to wait a whole month

-Sigma Anon

Dear Sigma Anon, you don't have to wait so long between Yapp Time ^^ It's okay to talk with us!

Anyway, I don't really know what to talk about, if I'm being honest, haha! But Moongleam made me a little wheel that helped me choose ≽^•⩊•^≼

So by the power of Spin The Wheel, I shall talk about another funky AU her and I have! It is also based off of an older Disney movie, like the Treasure Planet AU, What Waits For Me, but this AU is based off of Atlantis - The lost empire!

First of all, shame on Disney for not pushing its marketing more, and "being afraid" that because it's so much more different than their other movies, it's not good, or something, I dunno, I'm just rambling

So TSAMS Atlantis AU (Moongleam version, funnily enough) was chosen by the wheel, so, for those who haven't seen Atlantis - The lost empire yet, spoiler warnings and please go watch it

So, setting is the USA in 1914, and Eclipse and Solar work at a museum as a linguist and cartographer respectively. They want to get funds by the museum to go on an expedition to discover Atlantis, a mythical lost city, but fail miserably so. So, they do what anyone in their situation would do, and just say F U to everything. That night they meet eccentric millionare Golden Freddy, who is a great friend of their uncle, Ruin, and offers to fund the expedition, persuading the twins to join said expedition, and gives the two eclipse models a book called the Shepherd's Journal, which contains not only the history of, but a path to Atlantis. The twins obviously try to pretend to not be excited as they prepare for the expedition, which lead by Commander Sven Ivanov, or as he likes to be called, Commander The Creator, and includes the Commander's second-in-command Lieutenat Felix Sinclair (the last name is taken from the movie, it is not Trashcan Man/Felix's canonical last name), demolition expert and geologist Ruin, medical officer and mess cook Sun (who is the twin's older brother), with Solar taking the position of head mechanic, and Eclipse being the radio operator, which he's very enthusiastic about (lie)

Emergency Moongleam takeover, because Sunray got sick during the writing of this, and that's somewhat my fault. He'll either finish his yappin in the comments, or just edit this thing. Sunray both asks for, and sends all the virtual cat hugs if they don't survive /jk

So uhhh... This week was shit

I lost a bunch of sleep this week cuz of different scheduling, like I had a national competition on monday which if I succeed at getting at least 60% at, I'll pass one of my exams. So I obviously study for it yeah? As does everyone else. Problem is, all the questions were bullshit. Like we got asked something along the lines of (this is a translation): The maker of Git chose that word for it because of a british slang word that reflects his personality. Who was he and why did he make Git?

Now for those lucky people not studying anythin relatin to IT, you may wonder what the fuck is a Git. Well it is a version controller, which helps multiple people work on the same project without losing any of the previous versions.

Now you may wonder, what in the hell is this question doing in a software development related quiz thing? The answer should be nothing! But it was full of shit like that! With barely any software development relating stuff! We had more networking than software developing!

So I got over that, and I probs failed it, haha. After that, on Tuesday, which is usually online for me, we had to go in for a math test because the school wanted us to decide if we want to take the advance or the normal math exam at the end of it all, when everyone fucking knows what they want by this point. And whoever made that test woke up hating all of humanity, because they made one of the sneakiest, suckiest, pettiest and spiteful tests known to mankind. I already suck at math T_T

Wednsday went normally, aside from photos having to be made which I look absolutely hideous on, and this is with me not actually hating my appearance, and then Thursday came. Blasted, blasted Thursday.

I'm online during Thursdays too, which is perfectly fine by me. More sleep to me because I don't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn. Only, while I'm sitting in online classes, one of my girlies, who was also online, writes to me, asking me if I know about the bomb threats.

So uhh, schools were threatened with bombs in my country 👍 Everyone was sent home, and the suckers will have to make up for the day by going in on Saturday or something. I'm fine on that front, just a bit shooketh cuz nothin like that happened in my lifetime before. I don't actually know if anything has been found in any school though, ours is clear.

But on a lighter note, the reason why I had to take over for Sunray: So I bought a couple of those funky instant noodles from a newly opened asian store, cuz I'm a sucker for them and so is Sunray, and I made the first one back on Wednsday. It was fine, we did our usual ritual that we do with it by sharing.

I made the second one today, and let me tell you, that shit was foul. The seasoning was fine, nothin groundbreaking but the average for these kinds of stuff, but the pasta of it was weird.

You know how these things usually come in a rectangle shape and have a specific noodle for it? Well this one didn't! It looked like the love child of angel hairs and spaghetti! This was kinda funky at first, though it should have been the first sign.

Then when I was making it, It's stench just started permaneting in the air. Like that's all I could smell from it. Sunray could smell the spices, but I couldn't, and it did not get any better when I left the pasta to soften. That was the second strike.

So I start eating, and no matter how long I waited it did not soften fully, and we was in the middle of writing this when I proposed we eat dinner, so we wanted to get back to stuff. Well, I couldn't taste anything but the pasta.

I got about halfway when I couldn't take anymore of it, and passed the rest off to Sunray. Now I'm used to shitty digestion, because I don't treat my stomach well, but Sunray isn't. So he basically immediately had a visceral reaction to it, and almost threw up. Now he's sulking in the bed

But the worst part is! The worst part is I couldn't find the time, energy and motivation to write! :(

So now I need to put my wrist murdering tendencies to good use. Who cares about that anyway? /jk

I'm also feeling sick from the soup :D

[inconmess]

You know, yesterday's comment by @gyorklady on this post made me actually realise the actual length to which Cosmo and Oscar have kind of gone and probably gaslighted people (kind of cuz I don't know how else to describe it) Kind of a long post so...

Let's face it, Cosmo bought the Antiquarian when Oscar was his father and probably people would've known Oscar as his father/brother depending on the story given.

Now a few years pass and Cosmo has grown older and Oscar still looks the same, making the "Oscar is my father" introduction invalid, and making it suspicious for the people who knew Oscar as Cosmo's father cuz the elder is not aging but the younger is?

So Cosmo lies, lies his father is dead and the one you are seeing is an estranged brother who just coincidentally looks like his father in his youth. Some may believe it, some won't. But this starts a period of "Oscar is my brother" lies, which also comes to a close after a few years cuz again, Cosmo is aging but Oscar isn't.

Now, Cosmo may have been living in a different neighbourhood, may have been living separately from Oscar but they do visit from time to time, this time under the guise of brothers, which is slowly turning invalid cuz there's only a number of times you can justify that to be because "Oscar dyes his hair" or "He has the good genes"

Then comes the next story, "Oscar is my son/nephew" which will, again, look a little strange to the regulars to the Antiquarian because while they won't know the full family history of either of them, or the personal lives, they are certain to clock that the "brother" looks exactly the same as "the son/nephew" and no matter how much they tell it is the genes, it is bound to raise some suspicion.

Years pass and the "Son/nephew" image doesn't really cut it also anymore because again, the son doesn't seem to be aging but Cosmo is so comes the grandson image like "oh, he is my grandson out of marriage" or "he is the grandson of my estranged sister" etc.

So for the two of them, essentially, it has been decades of them literally being like:

"He's my father"

to

"He's my brother- oh he looks like my father? It is the genes"

to

"Oh! This is my son. Oh he's been living with his other relatives abroad and just came back to help me. It is just a coincidence he looks like my brother" or "Oh, this is my nephew, yeah it is not my brother's, it is another estranged sister's son and he has come to live with me now"

to

"This is my grandson. He's related to so and so/is my son's son and you just haven't seen him yet cuz my son is a little private. Oh, you haven't seen them both together have you?"

Just years of discussing and making back stories and fake relatives until people believe their lies to be the truth.

And Cosmo and Oscar have to also redefine their relationship through every single stage of it, Cosmo to be careful not to call Oscar his dad in front of anyone, to practice again and again so that they don't slip up in front of people, so much so they embody the lies even in the personal conversations even as they speak as father and son.

And they did it well enough that no one but the two of them except for a few Candela member actually knew that Oscar is Cosmo's dad. Even when Madam Glask and Dr. Elsie Roberts were so close to the small family. Don't remember if Cosmo was married and if he was, if his family knew the truth.

Edit: And just to the sheer number of people who have witnessed Oscar die and either come back to life in front of them or see him roaming around the next day because he has died 7 times before Tide and Bone and I don't think any of them would've been in his sleep. Suicide, maybe once or twice but apart from that? I think there would've been witnesses.

To those who read till the end, thank you for being patient enough to read through the rant. And maybe, just maybe, if time permits, I will write a fic about the Stories Cosmo/Oscar have spun over the years for their cover story

[electracution]

Okay, so I watched "all of us strangers" in the cinema yesterday. I'm not sure if this post will reach anybody and if this will be interesting to you, since this is a Tolkien blog, but I need to get it off my chest.

This film is an adaptation of Stranger by Taichi Yamada, which I haven't read, so I'm not judging it as an adaptation, but as a standalone work. There are different things you should pay attention to while you know the original story, so if you have read it and have something to share, comment please.

Also, yes, I'm aware it came out a while back, but it had its release in my country literally last week, so it's new to me.

There are no spoilers here, if you haven't seen it yet and are planning to.

This is a movie you have to experience yourself. I always Google the plot before watching a movie, but something prompted me to not do it this time and it was so worth it.

This movie is a masterpiece, simply put. And I don't throw this term lightly. From the pictures, to the perfectly chosen music for each scene (really, one song in the middle made me freeze, such a smart choice!), to the incredible performance of every actor on screen and the subtle and patient dialog... The haunting scene at the club, genuinely made my skin crawl. It's an incredible, though depressing, experience.

Now, a little information to make you want to go see it for yourself. It's queer (contains two short explicit scenes). It deals with subjects of loneliness and isolation (there are literally only four characters in the whole story and that really drives the point across) that comes from being different. It deals with substance abuse and other heavy subjects, like death and grief. And homophobia. Both in the past, as the characters speak about the AIDS crisis, and in the present.

(There is also a supernatural element, as a little treat. For those who enjoyed The Magnus Archives I can describe it as the lonely meets the corruption meets the end and the spiral. Yes, it's a lot. But if you know you know.)

I sobbed through the entire thing. So have tissues ready. Or maybe I'm just sensitive, who knows. As a lesbian who's never been in a relationship, I related to Adam... The fear of never finding love is to many queer people, unfortunately, unavoidable. And if you do, you think you have to cling to it with all you have and never let go. Even if it ruins you.

As I've stated before, this is a heavy film, so if you think any of the aforementioned topics could trigger you, don't watch it. If you don't think it will bother you, go for it. For the beautiful shots and music at least.

I'm planning on watching it again next week, so if my opinion changes I'll update this post and let you know. Art changes with us and sometimes time away from it can change your opinion.

Anyway, if anyone did watch the movie and wants to chat, or if you want to ask for more specific CW or TW write a comment :)

[lemonhemlock]

i have to say, you guys are relentless, i only need to post one helaemond-related ask and it inevitably brings all the boys to the yard :))

don't get me wrong, i enjoyed reading your takes & i'm posting them under the cut for anyone who wants to read such rants, but, at this point, with so little content, i feel like there's not really a lot more i can personally add to fandom critique that i haven't already said (discourse and metas anyone can find if they go through my designated tag).

so i hope you won't feel offended & this is 100% a helaemond blog but i am going to pause the shipping wars topic for the time being unless something fresh hits our port or we get some kind of news / additional content (maybe like scripts? would love to see those!)

it's been more than a year since the season ended and we've made all the arguments we could possibly make, but we can't control if there are users who still rehash the same three talking points over and over

Anonymous asked: The kids theory was always a long shot and to be fair, their paternity doesn't really matter for the ship to happen. Helaemond can still have romantic feelings to each other without the kids being his, but like you said, if the ship doesn't get confirmed as canon antis and Aemondwives will all be like "We told you so!!! You were all delusional and you should've stopped shipping it!!!!"...okay? It still doesn't change the fact the writers most likely played with the possibility. Setting up potential storylines and not picking them up in a later season is something that has always been happening in TV especially when the team behind the show changes in between seasons like it happened with hotd this time (maybe those who speculated that Sapochnik came up with the idea of Helaemond were right?). Idk how many chances the ships still has if the leaks about B&C being at the end of episode 1 or in episode 2 are real (I doubt there can be a romance after the event), but whatever happens people won't stop shipping it. Non-canon pairings have always been a thing in fandoms and sometimes they may even be more popular than canon ones. It's still baffling to me how hated this ship has become in the fandom though.

Anonymous asked: it feels very obvious because a lot of these fans won’t bring the same “it’s non-canon/made up/etc” vibe to something like Aegond or Daemond, but they will to Helaemond bc they fear it might actually happen in canon. Which, if it does, has nothing to do with the shippers and comes from the writers 😭

Anonymous asked: Some antis are now making up crap about Helaemond shippers hating on Ewan. One of them even made a list and they were listed as his top haters (they also included TB stans and L*cemond shippers but...Alicent and Aegon stans for some reasons as well lmao) while another one claimed Helaemonds are currently bashing Ewan by generally making fun of him and of his looks because of the ship not happening???? I don't know whose comments made them angry but I've yet to see one Helaemond bullying and actually hating on him. Not saying nasty H shippers don't exist but why claim all of them are doing something like this when it clearly isn't the case? At most I've seen people making fun of some of the things he says in interviews but this is not hate. People are allowed to joke.

lmao, people lightheartedly joshing around and pointing out some cringe statements is not hate, dictionaries exist!

Anonymous asked: The funniest thing about the crowing reaction all of the Ewan-obsessed twitter fans had to this supposed leak is when it comes to what canonical "confirmation" Helaemond shippers as a whole most often discussed it was a type of courtly love; probably unconsummated feelings between the two. The kids theory was a niche fun fanon theory mainly used for fics and headcanons, and most people who are still participating in this fandom had little to no "expectation" that we would see that on the show. Funny to point out that expectation isn't even the correct word to use here, as Helaemonds by and large were completely fine with no type of canonical confirmation, and were mainly excited for any Aemond and Helaena interactions we may get in the new season. It's a non-canon ship, people are drawn to all of the potentials they personally see in this dynamic, and how it can be explored in fan content. Shippers like this very rarely care about canonicity - not to say they wouldn't welcome it of course on the off chance it happened, but that is not a priority of their engagement in fandom.

[serenaew]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks for the tag @danpuff-ao3, @bintemuhammad, @trueliarose, @sanctuary-angel!

Tagging (no pressure): @renee561, @somnwritessometimes... you're the only ones I'm pretty sure I haven't seen on the tag lists, but feel free to reblog with your own answers even if I didn't tag you!

Answers under the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

68 plus some anon stuff, plus quite a few drafts XD

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

151,217 words. If I disregard the about 26k of collabs where I did less writing and more podfic or support work, that amounts to about 125k.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling 

Original Work and the like (more poetry and filk but :shrug:)

Doctor Who (2005)

Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms in the sense that I use a lot of tunes from POTO.

Classical music (as POTO)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Fateweaver (Snarry)

Blooming Heart (Snarry)

A small step for a boy (Severitus)

Curatio (Snarry)

Flight of Dreams (Snarry)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do. I'm always so happy to receive the (more than 99% lovely) comments, and, well, you all know that I really like talking about my stuff, so I'm always glad to have someone reaching out to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think it's a toss-up between: Repertum (M, Snarry) for the life-threatening attack on Harry - it ends on two cliffhangers over the course of the story, actually - and Ouroboros in Tribute (T, Severitus) and the adjacent series for the angst of missed chances, of regret, as is Late Reflections (T, canon-compliant), with the exact opposite perspective, but similar premise.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Um. Again, a toss-up, I guess. Promises, promises… (G, Snarry), Fidelitas (T, Snarry) and A small step for a boy (G, Severitus).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, and I'm really glad about that!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't. I might think of changing that - I even opened an ALT account (EleanorPhoenix) for that.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Okay. How shall I answer this... If filk to the tune of a song from another fandom counts, then, yes, quite a few - POTO filk, Dracula filk, Children's songs filk, but the lyrics being from another fandom (HP, original, meta-fandom, the like) If not... I've had the idea of a Snape & 13th Doctor's fic for AGES, but, well.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not quite? it was re-archived on some random website from ffn without my permission, but it was taken down before I knew about it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! But I do have a blanket permission for translations, if anyone wants to. I'd be especially curious if someone wanted to re-translate my English fics to German or Chinese, how I'd sound in my two mother tongues if re-translated.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! (Pssssst....)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

There is no all-time favourite, IMO. I am currently obssessed with Snape and Harry positive relationships, however. I suspect that tide might change in a few months, years, whatever.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh God. Too many. Shall I list? Mostly, it's an unposted self-insert anthology for Doctor Who the Unspeakable Mysteries Verse (Snarry) and the the Fateweaver Verse (Snarry) that have been lying around for ages, but there are a ton of Severitus ideas I've also been struggling with, like: the Forget Me Not verse and the Christmas in Limbo verse For my full list of WIPs, see this post.

16. What are your writing strengths?

AAAANGST. I really like torturing both my characters and my readers.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have yet to actually write anything resembling action that isn't cringe; I'm deeply reluctant to move out of my comfort zone that consists of angst, angst and more angst, with quite a bit of introspection.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If apporpriate to the setting, definitely! -> Latin for spells and chants -> various English dialects - if only I could! -> conlangs and original languages for a certain world - a thousand times yes! -> uhhh. I have yet to encounter a situation where I put my characters anywhere they'd need German or Chinese, but if there is a chance, I'll jump!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

uuuuh. I've had a hard time deciding on five fics, never mind one.

Thanks for reading!

[tempestaslokni]

Silently, Lokni listened to Selin share her thoughts as he washed the clothes, giving her the time to breathe life into what she was truly feeling. Her sentiments, especially about missing her family, were things that Lokni could relate to, even if his family wasn't nearly as big as Selin's. Not to mention, having no answers to anything. Just when Lokni thought that he might be able to tie two threads together, a new one entirely would emerge from the tapestry of confusion; a twisted Gordion Knot. In a mixture of not knowing what to say, as well as sensing that maybe she just needed to be listened to, to be seen, Lokni opted to remain silent. So there he sat, nodding, and letting her get it all out.

When Selin voiced her fears about not knowing her purpose, Lokni felt that same tug of connection between them. "Your efforts do not go unnoticed. If anything, your efforts mean more to a lot of people, myself included, because you're not doing it for personal gain. A lot of people here seem to be trying to gain something, whether it's status, refuge, or even answers. But you- you just want to go home. That's not something that you can gain from other people, so you don't necessarily need to be kind to others. And yet you still choose to be kind. That's why reassurance from you is more valuable than from anyone else in my opinion," Lokni offered, simultaneously saying a silent prayer to The Creator that he hadn't blurted out anything insensitive. Lokni listened to Selin's explanation about where she found the dress, followed by her question about whether it was too formal or not, and he had to stifle a chuckle. She was asking the wrong person for fashion advice. "I don't know much about clothes n' such, but-" he added, experimentally lifting the dress up into the air and aligning it with Selin's form on the bank, picturing what it would look like on her, "not too fancy, I think it'll look mighty fine on you." 'More than fine,' he mentally mused to himself. Her hair color and skin tone reminded him of the warmth of nature, contrasted with the white with pink flowers, it would look like the thaw of winter into spring; the snow melting away under the warmth of the midday sun, revealing the little pink blossoms desperate to taste the light above the ice. 'Easy there partner, this is just a laundry run,' he mentally chided himself. The concept of something being "too formal" here of all places was an amusing thought to Lokni. Regardless, he casually replied, "I don't think there's such thing as formality here, after all, we're all stranded on an island, shouldn't we be free to wear what we want? Personally, I feel more relaxed wearing less, but I'm not trying to scare off the locals." he playfully raised a single eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood.

Gingerly, Lokni took the new pieces of clothing from Selin as she offered them to him. Most of them were sundresses, some casual, and some more formal looking. All of them looked like they suited the weather and temperature on the island. He handled them carefully, as if his worn hands would rip or tear the fabric. "These look perfect for staying cool, are they comfortable?" Lokni inquired, genuinely curious as he pinched the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. The fabric wasn't sheer, but it was light and thin- much different from his jeans or Carhartt jacket. These clothes felt like they weighed nothing. Wouldn't offer much protection in a fight. When she met his eyes, thanking him and commenting how do'er's were just as important as thinkers, Lokni couldn't help but beam brightly. "You're right about one thing, I haven't had to do anything out of my comfort zone yet, but I don't know about being in my element. I don't know, the whole idea that we might be being constantly watched by some unseen captives doesn't sit quite right with me. But hey now, thinkers keep stuff going, do'er's just gotta do what the thinkers think of."

Lokni was just about to reply to her heartfelt thanks when a low buzzing interrupted him. It started a ways down the river but then grew in volume, a metallic static accompanying it on the air. The scent of detergent and engine grease began to mingle, causing Lokni to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Straightening, Lokni took a couple steps backward to where Selin was, eyes darting all around in search of the source of the noise. "Do you hear that-" he whispered, his voice level just above the rushing water of the river.

What didn't she have on her mind? They've been stuck here for months by this point, no sign of any kind of rescue being imminent, while people threw around crazy ideas and theories of how to explain their situation. "I don't think I've had a moment where my mind isn't swimming with questions since we arrived." She answered with a soft but exasperated sigh. "You know, it's just...I miss my family, I miss my students, my friends. There's so many people I fear I'll never see again. And there's so many unanswered questions, I have no idea why we're here, what's going on, and I hate feeling like I have no control over my life and my surroundings."

It might have been easier to tell him that nothing was weighing on her mind, rather than letting her thoughts and concerns all spill out. But Lokni was someone Selin considered trustworthy, if she was going to tell anyone the unfiltered truth about how she was feeling, it was him. "And I like helping people, I want to be helpful. But when I'm so lost myself it feels useless. Maybe everyone is fine and doesn't need reassurance from someone like me, but...I don't know what I'm doing here. And I think not knowing my purpose scares me more than being here."

Selin didn't want her confession to sour the mood of this early morning laundry session. It felt good to say it out loud to someone, but she didn't want the entire time to be spent with Lokni comforting her. His reaction to the dress she handed him helped ease that tension. When she picked it out she didn't really give it much thought, now that he made a note of pointing it out the way he did, it made her wonder if maybe it was too much. "Oh, no that's not what I had when I got here. I found it on the ship. I thought it looked cute when I picked it up." She shrugged, trying to act casual about it even though she felt a bit sheepish looking at the dress as he held it up. "You think it's too fancy? Maybe it's a little too formal for where we are."

Trying to rummage through her pile of stuff, to find something new to pass his way, there were quite a few dresses that all fit into that cute, perhaps more formal than casual category. The bags she and Lindi opened did belong to a bachelorette party after all. But Selin continued to hand over her clothes as she listened to Lokni talk. "Well, I'll admit you do a great job of hiding it. I don't know, to me, you seem like you're in your element here. But maybe that has to do with the fact we haven't experienced anything out of your comfort zone yet." Fishing and cooking, even doing their laundry all seemed to be easy enough tasks for him to keep his cool. "And I wouldn't sell yourself short. I think do'er's are exactly what we need around here. Thinkers like me are kind of useless when there's too much to think about."

Selin looked him in the eyes as he turned it back on her again, hitting her with compliments about how she carried herself. She smiled, appreciative of his openness. Feeling more invigorated knowing her efforts had been noticed by someone. "That's really kind of you to say. It's kind of just how I've always been, I guess. But, thank you. It means a lot to hear that."

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

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[creativia10]

Touches

Touch is still a novel thing for the Fitzroy trio and the new Fitzroy (by marriage). They marvel at moments of enjoying the feeling with their respective soulmate matches.

Pairing: Roman/Virgil, Logan/Patton, Janus/Remus

Wordcount: 2202

Warnings: suggestive themes

Let me know if I need to add more.

Notes: Tuliptober Prompt 17-Touch

Admittedly, much of this came to me last night when I was supposed to be sleeping heh.

So, I meant to put this the other day but I forgot. I have some ideas for Halloween-related works at the end of the prompt days, that I would like to post in October. Since I got a bit behind and skipped some prompts. That may mean doing some in a different order than the prompt list has. But like, there aren't very many I've seen participating in this. Also, I haven't seen any others writing fics for this prompt event. Somehow I doubt anyone really cares if I do these in a different order. I figured I might as well give a heads up though.

*Same note about Roman as previous pieces' recursive fic. Roman doesn't fully know he's nb yet here so he uses he/him in here, so use he/they in comments. Ty

Let me know if I need to add anything.

@transexualfoxprince

Based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors Pieces Verse

Logan and Patton

Touch was something that Logan was not used to yet. They had all grown up being told that touching was indecent and frowned upon. It was another one of the things that Logan didn’t realize he’d been missing until Patton introduced it to them. Patton. His wonderful soulmate.

The two of them were having a picnic outside in a secluded area away from other people. It was nice. They didn’t have others watching them in the manor, and were away from strangers seeing them as well. It was always enjoyable to spend time with Patton no matter what they were doing. Yet still, he appreciated that Patton considered his personal comfort. It also made it easier to try newer things like physical contact with his love.

Some of it came more naturally, which was also strange for Logan. Something about being with Patton made it easier to reach forward to simply hold hands with him. Logan was even the one to initiate their first kiss, something he wouldn’t have predicted. Yet still, there were moments where he couldn’t help thinking about how strange yet nice the feeling was.

The two of them were sitting on a picnic blanket. The basket was in front of them, only little cakes left now. Logan leaned back against a tree they had set up in front of. A seating position that one would think was a lot less comfortable than the cushy chairs back at the manor. Logan found he didn’t mind though. Patton was leaning against Logan with his head resting on Logan’s shoulder. It felt nice. Patton’s curls tickled Logan’s neck slightly where they rested, but Logan couldn’t be perturbed. He reveled in the soft feel of his husband’s hair.

 Logan was very aware of Patton’s warmth in every place they made physical contact. It was very comforting. Logan found he could stay like this for a while and be completely content. And yet.

“I’m torn,” Logan said. “Part of me would like to stay like this for as long as we can, as this feels very nice.” Logan could almost feel how Patton smiled at that.

“And yet…I also rather much want to kiss you. I cannot exactly have both.”

Patton chuckled and sat up. Then he turned to face Logan.

“Well, how about this. We kiss, and then I go back to leaning against you.”

Logan smiled at him.

“Ah yes, but there lies another problem.”

Patton’s eyes crinkled, showing his dimples. “Oh?”

Logan reached up and gently twisted some fingers in Patton’s curls.

“I feel once I start kissing you…I’ll be reluctant to stop.”

Patton let out a bubbly laugh and threw a leg over Logan’s lap so he was sitting on him and meeting eyes.

“That hardly seems like a problem to me.”

Logan hmmed. “Perhaps you’re right.”

They both leaned forward and met in a kiss. Kissing felt very nice. His lips were soft as they moved against his own. They pulled away just barely before connecting their lips again. Patton tilted his head more and oh, that was very nice. Logan reveled in the soft warmth of Patton everywhere they touched. He was enjoying this. Enjoying this contact with Patton, his love. Patton did something unexpected then. Logan felt his tongue dip briefly into his mouth.

Logan squeaked and pulled away in surprise. Patton blinked at him and then gasped.

“Oh, sorry honey! I should have made sure that was okay.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, it’s fine. It wasn’t bad. Just- surprised me.” His face was definitely warm now. Patton looked at him for a moment before giving him a small smile.

“Oh?”

Logan nodded, unable to look him in the eyes. “Just, uh, not more than that?”

Patton softened. “Of course, honey. I always want to make sure you are comfortable with anything we do.”

Logan took a deep breath and smiled at his husband. “I know dear. Thank you.”

He leaned forward again to rest their foreheads. Patton gave him another bunny kiss. Something that always made Logan wrinkle his nose and Patton laughed. Logan leaned over to whisper into his ear,

“We can save the more for when we have our space back at the manor.”

Patton looked down a bit, blushing. “I look forward to that, hon.”

Roman and Virgil

It was almost hard to believe that Roman was married now, and to someone he wanted to be with. Virgil. His wonderful soulmate who really was too good to be true. Not who he would have expected, but still the best in so many ways. Roman felt so lucky to have him every time he saw Virgil. It still didn’t feel real. And now, when they had barely known they’d been soulmates, they were living together. He understood Virgil’s fear and wanting them to get married so quickly. Roman certainly couldn’t bare to be separated from his love of course. Yet now, with the reality of this sinking in, some factors dawned on Roman that hadn't at first.

Such as, having to share a room with someone when he hadn’t in a while. Not only that, but a bed. When he hadn’t even been with his love for long yet. It sounded wonderful…but also incredibly overwhelming.

He didn’t know what it would be like, to have someone else in the bed with him. Feeling his warmth just across the mattress. Virgil still wanted to treat them as boyfriends in some ways despite what they were legally. Roman can understand wanting things to be the way he had expected them. Even if in Virgil’s case, it was for a more positive thing. In some ways, Roman appreciated Virgil’s insistence to take things slow anyways. Although Roman hasn't admitted this.

Roman was a hopeless romantic. He loved love. He loved almost everything about being able to be with Virgil. In spite of Roman’s parents still existing in the manor. But Roman was still very inexperienced in anything romantic. He could even say he was inexperienced in even having a friendship. Roman wanted to be with Virgil and loved that he could be, so much. But, he didn’t know if he could be everything that Virgil deserved. Roman didn’t know what he was doing.

He was afraid of messing up. He wanted this to go well. So, well, he got more nervous than he would let on. It helped that simple interactions were easier. Banter wasn’t hard. He bantered with his siblings. There was a different heat to his banters with Virgil though. In fact, often times his siblings would leave if they got too into a debate. Roman didn’t understand why at first. Until he realized that the heat in their debates lead to them touching more.

So, needless to say, Roman had many mixed feelings about this new experience. He sat on the covers, already in his pajamas, as he waited for Virgil to finish up in the bathroom. This didn’t have to be a big deal. They would just be in the same bed. It’s not like he can mess up sleeping. Why was he so nervous about this? He had fallen asleep on Virgil after all, the night they met. Yet, this felt different.

Virgil entered the room when he finished up. He paused and raised an eyebrow at Roman.

“You good, princey?”

Roman briefly imagined Virgil calling him princess, that sounded nice. But he shook away the thought for now to answer Virgil.

“Y-yeah.”

Virgil watched him for a moment. He didn’t seem convinced. Virgil walked over and sat next to Roman on the bed.

“You know, you’re allowed to list boundaries for going slower too. If you’re not ready for this, we can sleep separately.”

“N-no,” Roman said. Even though picturing sharing a bed with Virgil made him feel squirmy. He really didn’t want Virgil separate from him now either.

“I-I do want to share the bed. It’s just, I-“

Roman huffed. This was embarrassing. Why was he being so silly over this?

“Hey,” Virgil bumped his shoulder with Roman’s.

“You’re allowed to be nervous, you know. This is new to both of us. I know your stinky parents practically forced us to go too fast, but I would like to sleep next to you if we both want to.” Virgil slowly reached over and wrapped his hand around Roman’s. Roman’s breath hitched a bit. Even small touches like this one felt like so much to Roman.

“The thought of waking up and seeing your gorgeous endearing face the first thing in the morning. Well, it’s uh, it sounds very nice.”

Virgil was not looking at Roman as he said this, but he squeezed Roman’s hand. Roman wondered if he was blushing.

“Aw, thanks Virge.” He very much wanted to kiss him. Roman turned and did his best to give Virgil a peck.

Virgil smiled and turned before giving him a proper kiss. Roman hummed into it.

“Ready for bed?” Virgil asked after they pulled apart. Roman sucked in a breath and nodded.

Virgil made his way over to the other side of the bed. Roman got under the covers and turned toward Virgil.

“Hey,” Virgil turned on his side to face Roman as well. He reached over and lightly caressed Roman’s cheek.

“We don’t even have to touch or anything.”

“I don’t, um, I wouldn’t mind if we did. Just a little.”

Virgil smiled and nodded. “You got it.”

They scooted towards each other. They scooted towards each other. There was just enough space to reach a hand across each so they could hold hands between them.

“Is this good?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

“Goodnight my love,” Roman said softly. Virgil leaned up to kiss Roman tenderly on the forehead before resting his head back on his own pillow.

“Goodnight, Ro.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered closed as he sighed. Content. This was nice. A good start. He looked forward to when they were ready for more.

Janus and Remus

Janus and Remus lay in bed together, on their sides so they faced each other. It was almost hard to believe now, knowing that they both actually loved each other. The natural touches they were already inclined to were completely fine. Janus had never thought he would be physically affectionate. Certainly growing up being taught most forms of touch were indecent didn’t help. Plus, with Janus’ demisexuality and occasional sex repulsion, it wasn’t something he often wanted.

Then Janus wound up with a soulmate who was physically affectionate. Even though Remus was new to touch himself. Janus found he had alternating desires. Longing for innocent gentle touches shared with Remus along with the other kind. It was new. But it was great because this was Remus.

They both scooted in towards each other so they were right against each other.

“I have you now,” Remus muttered. “I never want to lose you again.”

Janus smiled. “I share the sentiment.”

Things felt different now but in a good way. Janus started to, almost mindlessly, lightly trace fingers along Remus’s arm, up and down. Remus reached around Janus and gripped his hips.

“Is this alright?” He asked. Janus nodded.

“Yes,” He said softly.

Remus rubbed his thumbs against Janus’s hips. Why did that feel good? Janus sighed and fluttered his eyes closed. Their foreheads rested against each other. After a moment Janus felt Remus’s breath against his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. Janus sucked in a breath.

“Y-yes, of course.”

They had kissed before. Not even a few moments ago. But it had been in the heat of the moment. It felt different, thinking of it before now. His brain was still processing that they could do these things now. He guessed it could be a process to get out of the pining mindset. Like it was too good to be true.

Remus brushed his lips briefly against Janus’s, very warm. Then he connected them for a proper kiss. Janus hummed into it as he moved his lips against Remus’s. Remus ran his hands down Janus’s sides and pulled him closer. Janus loved the feel of how close they were to each other. It was a lot, but it was wonderful. They pulled apart to breathe then went back in for another. These moments were so good. After a bit, they stopped. Remus playfully nibbled at the corner of Janus’s chin, getting him to giggle and smack Remus lightly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Remus hmmed. “Yeah, but I’d like to think you like it.”

Janus smiled at him warmly. “Yeah perhaps. Don’t know what that says about me, but I can’t complain.”

Remus winked at him. “That you’re perfect?”

Janus scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Flatterer. You’re overdoing it a bit.”

Remus snorted, “Nahh.”

Janus shook his head. They lay like that for a moment, still warm between them. Remus moved his hand down along Janus’s side and started to lightly caress the side of Janus’s thigh.

“I look forward to the day we are ready to do more, physically.”

Janus looked away, blushing. But he smiled shyly.

“Yeah…me too.”

He leaned against Remus more and they lay like that in bed for a while.

[regardingjenmish]

Thank you for being a voice of reason in this whole cluster. As a bi person, would it have been awesome for Misha to be coming out? Hell yeah. But he wasn't (yet who knows what the future holds). He messed up, he apologized and meant it. It was (I believe) an honest mistake. We've all been there, said something that came out wrong or made a joke that didn't land right. We may never know why he said what he did but he knows he messed up and apologized. I've seen (and blocked) people who were acting like he ruined their lives and killed their family. And it just seemed... like overkill? I get being upset he said it, or that he seemed to be making a joke out of being bi (which I don't think was his intention). I get being sad we can't claim him as "one of us" but this one mistake doesn't invalidate all the good he's done and will continue to do. Nor does it invalidate anyone who is queer? I'm still bi even though he isn't? Him being straight doesn't make me less bi nor does him being straight ruin my life in anyway? (not that I speak for all queer people obvi) Thankfully, I haven't seen too many people overreacting (and blocked those who were), but I just wanted to thank you for being rational. I love the blog, keep up the good work!

Anon, you said literally everything that I've been thinking and feeling for the past two days. I am already sorry in advance for the long ass response this will get. (All of this is clearly my own opinion so if someone reading it disagrees, cool)

It would feel amazing if we could say that he's one of us but even if he is not that doesn't change a lot of things in my opinion.

He messed up and he will learn from it and he immediately took ownership of that fuck up. He didn't blame it on anyone else except himself. He clearly realized his mistake and you can tell he feels horrible over it just from how the apology is worded. This is a person who cares a lot about us and would never do something to hurt us on purpose. There are celebs out there who when they fucked up, their version of apology was 'my bad..but like eh shit happens' so in my book, his apology was good and enough (for me).

For all we know maybe he did retract once he realized this is getting too much attention from media and everyone else. Maybe he did think that a little 'im all three' comment would stay in the fandom. And yes maybe the reason why I am having a different reaction or opinion to this is due to the fact that as someone who is bi, I have never been able to (nor will I probably be able to) say that outside of tumblr. And unfortunately I've had moments where I said something that could've revealed a glimpse of my sexuality and Ii had to retract and turn it into a dumb joke. And it fucking sucks.

And I fully agree with you, I don't think he meant to make this a joke. I think it was just a shit ton of bad timing and bad luck. And the way some fans have been treating him is horrible. The fans who have decided that this somehow ruins their lives, need to take a step back and take a deep breath. Because like you said, it does look like overkill. I understand there are fans who are upset and I won't tell them not to be. But there is a side of fans who decided that this gives them the right to practically wish death on him. I hate to say it like this but it's not that deep. And I fully agree with you. None of this changes shit. We're still bi. People are still queer. We are still fucking amazing and loved (which we have always been). I think this kind of opens a look into that maybe we as people shouldn't measure our value by celebs that we relate to however, I'm not gonna go into that.

And this also does not erase the amazing things he has done for us. In the end of the day he's still Misha. The same dude who has fought for us and stood up for us. And has done so many other things for our community. Again I am so sorry for the long ass response but I didn't want to give you some shitty short answer because everything you said has been on my mind.

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

SO here is the other splash image that really stuck out to me:

This time not because of the Seresu arc but because of how the Infinity arc itself ends.

Here's the link to the original post the image is from if you'd like the full context, but the particular quote from that post I want to use as a reference is here:

"Syaoran also sits on the throne - which as far as I can tell, isn’t his. ... The only one ever wearing the crown they’re all wearing [on their clothes] is Sakura. Now, does it make sense that Syaoran has usurped her throne? Heck yeah! He’s stolen everything from her. He’s stolen her journey (they’re following him now, always a step behind), he’s stolen her feathers, and he’s stolen the person she’s in love with."

Where I was kind of on the right track but couldn't have possibly guessed what all the chess imagery was ultimately feeding into. Looking back now the initial liveblogs for all of these Chess-related splash images are such a big mix of different iconography, so it’s very fun reading through all my old guesses back then. I think I did a really good job of trying to decipher some of it, especially the Cinderella and Snow White imagery in Chapter 140, but the Chess was a bit trickier.

Which, like, understandable, because the chess game that was happening in the chapters was stressful as heck and did not end well, but there is a nice conclusion to it with this image which is easier to read now - especially in regards to Sakura. Because it's made very clear to the viewer that the symbol of the Queen piece is in reference to her; both in these splash images (where she wears the crown at one point, and every character wears the symbol in ways that reflect their allegiance to her) and in the plotline, where she functions as the Queen of the battles taking place. Here is another good example of the symbol being used for Sakura with it right there on her throne, and the two Syaoran's wearing the symbol in smaller ways to represent their relationship to her. But with that all in mind? I had no idea what it was really getting at with Syaoran on Sakura's throne here.

BUT NOW I DO.

If you go back to that example I just gave with Sakura sitting on her throne? It's a different throne! It still makes it very clear that she's undeniably the Queen piece, with the symbol in gold actually being a key part of the throne itself.

And the throne Syaoran sits on? It has the crown symbol as part of the decoration, but it's not representing him, it's just a small symbol to show that matches Sakura's throne. This throne is his own.

He's the King piece.

(And, important distinction; the throne is not Lava Lamp's, but our original plotline Syaoran who is now in Autopilot mode.)

This wouldn't have occurred to me the first time through because I was focused so much on what this might mean for Sakura, and how she related to everyone else, but the way the Infinity Arc ends really hammers this home. After all, Sakura is the mastermind in this arc - everything that happens is according to her plan. She's not playing chess just during the literal chess matches, but during the entire plotline, moving every character and circumstance into place to enact her final plan; to activate both Chi's at once, absorb both their feather's, and trigger Fai's curse - resulting in her pseudo (if purely physical) death. But like we see in the plotline, this isn't a loss - it's a win. It's exactly how she planned things to unfold, and it will lead her to winning the game.

Just in case anyone isn't familiar, in Chess the queen is the most powerful piece capable of the widest variety of moves - but the queen is not the endgame goal. You can lose the queen piece in any game and (besides losing a powerful piece) it's not the end of the world. You can still win the game without the queen piece. It's the King piece that's the Win/Loss condition. The King is the piece you have to keep safe at all costs, even if you lose other pieces in the process. The second the King dies, the match is over. You've lost.

And this matches exactly how Sakura played the series events. She was the Queen in control of every move, and Syaoran was the Win condition she was focused on. She foresaw Fai killing Syaoran in the future - which, for her, is the Losing Scenario. She planned everything to avoid this, and she succeeded! She lost the Queen piece (ie, her physical body) but won the ultimate goal of keeping the King safe. She won the 3D future chess game that she was playing by herself, and positioned herself in the place that would have the most benefit for the victory at the end. (Which I still haven't seen, but she was VERY confident about this having a better result than Fai killing Syaoran.)

I'm also super happy that this ties in really well with the fairy tale allusions I talked about back in Chapter 140, but in ways I wasn't aware of back then either.

I talked about Snow White and how the apple (that shows up in a lot of the splash images in Infinity) may have been referring to Sakura's tendency to sleep a lot. What I didn't realise was that Sakura was essentially about to pull the Big Brain Snow White maneuver on herself to ultimately win her chess game. While in Snow White the poison apple is a trap, here Sakura sprung the trap intentionally. Fai is the apple she bit into deliberately - she arranged it so that killed her body, breaking his own curse, and sent her to the World of Dreams (and thus, she is asleep) which also placed her in a Glass Coffin (aka The Jam Jar of Dreams - Im sorry I have no memory of what it's really called). So the Snow White metaphor is now complete.

But also Cinderella! In the image for 140 Sakura is trying on a glass slipper - so she's Cinderella figure as well. But at this point in the plot the clock hadn't struck midnight just yet - like Cinderella, Sakura knew the exact time limit she had to work with, and for her the timing had to be PRECISE. She spent all of Infinity stressed out of her mind about this plan she couldn't trust anyone else with, knowing full well that if she missed the window even slightly it would ruin absolutely everything and they would all lose. Which, funnily enough, makes Yuuko the fairy godmother, since she provided Sakura with the magic she needed to make her plan happen (via wishes). This also means that Fai stabbing her with the sword is the exact moment the clock struck twelve - and like the spell finishing, Sakura could finally drop the act and explain what she had done, even as all the magic disappeared (ie, her luck being traded away). There's even a detransformation sequence of a sort, with her body and soul going in two different directions. But either way, the Cinderella metaphor is also complete!

And with all that done the last part I want to talk about is back in the image of Syaoran on the throne. He's framed on either side with the curtains that portray the chess board, and they're tied back by chains with him in the very centre. He is visually chained to the board - which, like, of course he is. With his Autopilot programming in place he's essentially just a chess piece without any will of his own - a winning piece, for sure, but he's still being moved around without his choice. He's playing the game on auto, making the moves that will lead him to the winning gambit, but without his individual soul he has no choice but to keep playing until the game is over. The goal he's working towards isn't even his - it's Evil Wolverine's. So in the same way that everyone else was a chess piece in Sakura's strategy (if, sort of, willingly), including Sakura herself, Syaoran is a piece being moved around in Evil Wolverine's favour - though if he dies, it's game over for Sakura's side as well.

I'm unclear if Syaoran dying would be a game over scenario for Evil Wolverine, but at the very least it would end the game he is currently playing.

So, in the hyper future 3D chess game that Sakura was playing by herself she couldn't properly win the game for her side by taking out Syaoran because he's her king piece too. Syaoran is the piece at the centre of everything, and will be the key to winning the game for either side. We just have to wait and see if Sakura's gambit will pay off in the way she thinks it will.

[kozu-chan]

synopsis: keeping up with a society that expects you to be perfect is exhausting in every way possible. you're lucky enough to have found someone who relates to navigate this brutal world with.

content warnings: fem! reader, cursing, insults, bullying if you squint, mentions of insecurity, a bit of fighting, mentions of mental health, and sakusa might be ooc but that's just to make the arguments a little more dramatic.

sour masterlist

growing up, you were a perfectionist. although this wasn't necessarily your fault, was it? at the young age of four, your parents discovered that you were, and maybe still are, gifted with talent for music. this led to years of guitar, piano, violin, flute, singing, and even harp lessons. throughout the years, you went through many concerts and hours upon hours of practicing your various instruments. this led you to attend the infamous itachiyama academy in high school and that was only the beginning of your troubles.

as a perfectionist, you dedicate yourself not only to your music, but to your studies as well. sadly, even you can't manage to balance school, music, sleep, and a social life and one of those things have to give due to your busy schedule, so you sacrifice your social life. sometimes you think that this was the wrong move because that just makes high school practically a living hell for you. that is, until about a week ago.

last week, you had a regular morning. you walk through the halls of your school and people do their best to avoid you, to not get in your way. however, that doesn't stop them from gossiping about you. "wow look at l/n. little miss perfect." "i dare you to talk to her!" "she's such an ice cold perfectionist." "i could never be friends with her. she's too serious." "does this bitch even have a life?" you ignore the comments as you make your way to your first class. sometimes you just want to yell at them to stop talking about you. to tell them how much it hurts you and how being such a perfectionist is exhausting. to let them know that their comments only add to how lowly you think of yourself. that you wish that you had even one friend because you feel so alone.

after school, you spend hours in the music room practicing a song you were thinking of performing, something self-written as a way of releasing your emotions. and once you think your practice is sufficient, you curl up against the wall and cry.

once your crying session is done, you get up and walk back to your dorm. on the way back, you see someone in the gym do an insane serve that slams down that just barely makes it in. you hear a groan of frustration followed by the oh so familiar sound of breath getting shaky due to crying. your gaze follows the sound to see the figure on the floor crying and your breath gets caught in your throat when you realize it's not just any player, but one of the top three aces in japan, sakusa kiyoomi.

"sakusa-san?" sakusa looks at you with what looks like a bit of fear but anger replaces his expression before you could confirm your suspicions. "what the fuck are you doing here? this is a private practice." his tone is cold, firm, and piercing. you could feel a chill run down your spine, but you ignore the feeling because other people, especially your parents, have been on the receiving end on your own tone that sounds just as menacing. the only indicator of crying being the red, slightly watery eyes that you can't help but sympathize with. "what are you staring at?" you snap out of your thoughts to respond to him. "i saw you on my way back to my room. i just happened to see you crying and i-"

sakusa sighs again in frustration. "and you what? just shut up and leave me alone!" "i just know what it's like, okay? you really think that you're the only one who's tired of not feeling good enough? the only one who's cried because you just want to get better but you don't see any improvement no matter how much you practice?" your voice is loud and yet on the verge of tears. you glace at sakusa, who now looks angrier but you don't care. "so sue me if i come off as a ice cold bitch who doesn't talk to anyone because i do anything and everything i can to be perfect even if i always fall short and sue me for sympathizing with you."

the room grows quiet, save for the sounds of your shaky breathing as you try your best to calm down before you actually start breaking down in front of him. it takes another few seconds before sakusa stands up and walks up to you. "l/n, right? yeah well you don't know me and you should just get out of my sight. you shouldn't be trying to get someone to stop crying if you're just going to cry yourself. just relax more." relax more? "that's rich coming from you." you're no longer crying and sakusa stops in his tracks.

"you're telling me to relax more when you don't seem to have any chill... ever. and let's not forget that your crying was what brought into the gym in the first place." you take a deep breath to calm yourself. "so... the gym is like your safe space, right?" sakusa doesn't answer, clearly exasperated and silently begging you to leave. "c'mon, sakusa-san! you can tell me!" you smile a little when he opens his mouth to talk, only to be disappointed by his response. "god, you're such an annoying bitch. go find someone else to bother!" you're disappointed but you're also persistent. after all, you are the one that figures out and teaches all the schoolwork you struggle with to yourself. "if it makes you feel better..." you sigh quietly and contemplate whether or not it was a good idea to expose yourself this much to someone you just started talking to. "if it makes you feel better, my room and the music rooms are my safe spaces." "it really doesn't. if anything, it just makes me feel even more pathetic!" a small smirk graces your features as you realize that you got him. "so this is your safe space? i didn't hear a denial!" sakusa rolls his eyes. "would you shut up already" "not until you admit it." he glares at you and you just look him dead in the eye, causing him to break (probably so you would shut up as he thinks you'll do if he admits it). "fine... the gym is my safe space... that you're encroaching on." you back away slightly because he was right. and you know that you would also be pissed as fuck if someone encroached on your safe space, especially while you were crying. "i'm sorry, i just wanted to help. but, maybe we could be each other's safe spaces?"

you mentally sigh in relief as sakusa looks just the slightest bit more comfortable upon hearing that. "i mean, you know what it's like so... i guess i wouldn't be opposed to that." the two of you give each other a small smile as you sit down a good length away from him. "god, it's brutal out here, huh?" sakusa lets out a small laugh and agrees.

"sakusa, are you really gonna go pro like they say you are?" sakusa looks at you for a second and nods. you even notice his eyes lighting up a little. "yeah, that's what i want. it's what i've wanted for as long as i could remember. i wouldn't work so hard for it and get so dirty if it wasn't my dream... what about you? are you going to become a musician?" now it's your turn to pause. you freeze up. it's been so long since someone's asked you what you wanted. "i... honestly? i don't know what i want anymore. it's been so long since i've been asked what i wanted. it's been so long since someone's seen me outside of the "little miss perfect" that everyone else sees... i don't know." you take a moment to recollect your thoughts. "i just hate the thought of disappointing people that i think i've lost myself in the process. i've been pursuing music for so long that it's familiar, it's instinct, and i can't see myself doing anything else because i haven't done anything else..." your voice gets quieter as you speak. this is the first time you've ever gotten a chance to voice out your thoughts to someone and your own revelations shock you.

"yeah, i think i'm getting there too. losing myself to satisfy everyone while trying to stay true to myself. after all, who am i if not exploited?" it takes a minute to digest the words that were so simple and yet so powerful, the six words that could be used to summarize your entire life. "it sucks, doesn't it? like all i did was try my best, and this is the kind of thanks i get? annoyance and isolation? awards and acknowledges of achievement but at what cost? my social life? my mental health? ... my identity?" sakusa looks like he's going to say something but you shoot him a look and his mouth closes to let you continue. "it's literally so fucking stupid! there's literally no actual reward for me anymore, nothing satisfying. it's all worthless - meaningless, even. sometimes i wish i could disappear..."

a small breath is sucked up and you turn to sakusa. "sorry that was heavy. i've just never had someone to talk to about this. at least not properly."

"i get it. i haven't really had a lot of people to talk to either. at least not that honestly. i'm glad we have each other now, because you were right. it is brutal out here and it's good that we can stick together now."

after that, no one really bothered you anymore and it was all thanks to your new friend and confidant.

a/n: sheesh this is one of the longest things i've written. i really hope you like it and i'm really sorry that i suck at endings!!

[dayseternal-blog]

Hi Days! I'm a huge fan of your work and your tumblr blog bc you give so many naruhina fanfic recs and talk about your stories, etc.

To sum it up, you're my favorite person lol, I'm a bit shy so I'm asking this as an anon, but I wanted to tell you something random just because I've always just thought about it and maybe you would agree or comment on it.

Have you ever listened to mitski? If you haven't I recomend you do bc she's amazing, but anyways I was listening to a song of hers called "washing machine heart" and it reminded me of naruhina, like the fic "together you and I" but different you know, like naruto only married hinata because he couldn't have sakura, she was his second option and every time he looked at her he wished and pretended it was Sakura, so Hina tries her hardest to look pretty and try to be the person he wants, always getting saddend by the idea that she isn't the one he wants, she knows his heart will only belong to Sakura. She let's him trample all over her heart and use her because she loves him unconditionally, maybe cry to her on some nights because he longs for Sakura's love that will never come.

I've read so many fanfics and I've never encountered one using this concept, I'd write it myself, but I'm not good at writing, maybe I'm reaching but it could inspire an angst story made by you or just a prompt or idea/concept for anyone to use. The hurt in this could be inmaculate and I bet a good writer could bring everyone to tears if they read a story like this. You don't have to do anything ofc I'll love you either way, I'm not meaning to push you to write a whole story with this concept by any means or to even post this ask, it's just something I made up/ related to this certain song, so I wanted you to see it, perhaps share your opinion or thoughts on it or just think about it. I love pain a lot hahaha bc I'm not a narusaku shipper in any way, I actually dislike the ship a lot.

Thank you for reading this and pls keep up the awesome work!! I'll always be a fan and support you and your spectacular writing❤️❤️

GAH What an awful fic idea you have 💔

“The Ring that Binds” by softwind - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete.  Naruto and Hinata are married.  So why is Naruto calling “Sakura” in his sleep?

“Girl No 10″ by meeiwen - Rated M, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto makes a mistake with a dancer one drunk night.  Years later when he meets her again, he begins realizing his perfect life is a lie, but he’s too late to fix it.

And

“Territorial” by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated M, High school AU, Multi-chapter, Complete.  When Hinata takes advantage of Naruto’s desperation for love, they’re both a little too much for the other to handle.

Are similar to what you have there.

HERE’S MY VERY QUICK AND INCOMPLETE STAB AT YOUR PROMPT IT’S UNEDITED UNREVISED CANON-DIVERGENT AU RATED T FOR LANGUAGE BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE WHAT I COULD COME UP WITH 😘  THEY ARE NOT MARRIED BECAUSE I WOULD BE TOO SAD

...

Naruto finally makes it to the Hokage’s office, having had trouble shaking off fangirls on his way.  He can immediately tell he’s the last one there, even though it’s the eve of the Rinnegan Festival.  Tense expressions greet him, the atmosphere somber.

Sakura whips her attention back to the desk before them.  “Rokudaime, with all due respect, I don’t think Naruto belongs on this mission.”

Her behavior has confused him all night.  First moving away from him so that Hinata would sit between them at Ichiraku when Hinata could have just sat on the other side of him.  Then pushing him to follow Hinata back home.  He said aloud that he’d be seeing her later, and that he wanted to catch up with everyone first, but Sakura just glared at him...

She’s been pushing him away, more and more every day, breaking his heart to smaller and smaller pieces...whether knowingly or not, he’s not sure about that, but she’s never rejected him from being her teammate on a mission.

Worried, he meets Kakashi’s gaze.

“I understand your concern, Sakura.”  His tone is heavy.  His usual careless attitude nowhere in sight.  “Call it just my gut-feeling...you’re going to need Naruto’s strength for this mission.”

-

Hanabi was kidnapped.

Hiashi and Hinata are nowhere to be found.

“What do you mean...?” Naruto finds himself asking.  “I just saw her.  We just saw her.  Not even an hour ago.”

“When Sai reported Hanabi’s kidnapping, believe me, Naruto, we moved to notify her family immediately.  Anbu can’t find them.”

“What?”  The last memory he has of Hinata abruptly leaving dinner and running off without hardly a word nags at him, inexplicably tightening his chest.  “She’s fine.  Hinata’s strong.  She can take on anybody.  No one would dare-”

“Naruto,” Sakura interrupts, her gaze cutting sharp.  “She’s nowhere to be found.  And as much as you believe that, no one is invincible.  Not even Hinata.  We need to form a plan, otherwise we’re losing precious time.”

“No one is invincible.  Not even Hinata.”

An emptying numbness invades his insides, discomforting slickness muting him.

This isn’t his fault, is it?

-

What if she needed to tell him something?

She was acting strange at Ichiraku.

Quiet, unusual for her as of recent...

But how was he supposed to notice?  Should he have followed after her, like Sakura said?  But they were supposed to meet at his apartment later on anyway, so why did she have to come out early like that and ruin the good time he was having?  She knows how he hasn’t given up on Sakura.

She knows everything about him.  She’s been his rock after Sakura tried to shut him down for good.  So how can it be that she’d just disappear?  There’s no way.

There’s just no way that she disappeared right after she left...

-

Hours.

Hours of wandering around in abandoned, desolate, war-stricken villages in god-knows-where, and nothing.  No one.

He’s asking for the hundredth time, but he doesn’t care, he’s past the point of desperation, and anxiety-laced tension fills the air.  “Taku, you really don’t see anything?!”  The Hyuuga they have on their team led them into this godforsaken wasteland.

Taku turns on him aggressively, getting in his face in reaction, and yells, “What about you??  You think I’m not trying my best?!  This is my family!  Just because you’re Hinata’s boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re any more worried than the rest of us!  You don’t sense her??”

No.  He doesn’t.

His Sage Mode has never been so useless.  In fact, he senses no one besides them in this place, and it’s with terrible unease that he begins to entertain the thought that she’s gone for good.

“There’s no one even here besides us!  Nothing!  Why’d you take us down here?  Where are we even?!  How do we get out of here in the first place?!” he argues back.

“Sakura-san was right!  You don’t belong on this mission!  I don’t know what Hinata-sama could ever see in you, I haven’t seen her smile in months!”

“What do you mean by that?!  She smiles all the time!  I’ve never seen her act so cheerful in my life!”

“So you fucking know it, too!”  Taku glares at him with an incredulous expression.  “That she’s just acting!”

“What the hell do you mean by that-”

And he doesn’t know what happened next, but Sai’s grabbing onto Taku and he himself is locked in Shikamaru’s shadow manipulation.  Chakra’s sparking off his own hands, while blue embers warp along Taku’s.

“Calm down,” Shikamaru orders both of them.  “We’re not getting anywhere if the two of you keep fighting.”  He waits for Taku to loosen his stance.

Sai lets go of him.

Taku throws an insulting glare around before sauntering off.

Shikamaru sighs.  Hard.  “Go cool your head, Naruto.”  He retracts his shadow, and Naruto wastes no time walking off in the opposite direction, far from wherever Taku is heading.

Yet Taku’s ridiculous words ring in his head.  “That she’s just acting.”

But she said that she’s happy to be with him.  That she doesn’t mind that he’s still in love with Sakura.  She said that she’s just happy to be with him.

She said that.  She did.  And she wouldn’t lie to him, right?

She was just acting?

“You’re not going to finish your ramen?” he asked her on their date last month.

“No...”  Suddenly, she smiled brightly, something she’s been doing more often ever since he mentioned that he’s always liked how genki Sakura is.  “Do you want the rest of mine?  I’m dieting.”

He scrunched his eyebrows at her.  “Dieting?  Why?”

“Well...”  She looked thoughtful for a moment before seeming to come to a decision.  “Naruto-kun, you like thin girls, right?”

He knew she was talking about Sakura.  “...I guess...”

“I want to make you happy,...” she started.  She bit her lips for a hesitating moment before continuing, “so I’ve been trying to lose a little weight.”

“Oh.”  He didn’t know what to make of that.  Unbidden, he looked her over. 

“Can you tell?” she asked, her characteristic shyness lowered her lashes, yet she didn’t fidget under his examination, and he could tell how she was trying her best to have that confident persona he admires in his former teammate.

Despite her recent changes in attitude, Hinata’s still been so physically small compared to himself and everyone else.  Under her jacket, he couldn’t tell if she looked skinnier or not, and even if she was, he doesn’t think she really needed to be skinnier.

But then she looked up at him with that heavy, hopeful weight in her gaze, and he couldn’t let her down.  Not when she’s trying so hard for his approval.

He fibbed easily.  “Yeah.  You look really good.”

She shined another smile at him that made him feel good.  Even if their relationship wasn’t traditional, he could at least still make her happy.  He could at least tell her some sweet words and see her sweet smile and-

She was lying.

She wasn’t happy?

He never made her happy?

Then what was the point of any of it?

No, she must have been happy, right?!  She said so!  She told him so!  Many, many times!

After all, he asked her.  All of those times he thought she was faking her smile, he asked just to make sure, and she vehemently told him that she was really happy to be with him.

She said he could talk to her about all of it.  That she could take on his heartbreak because her feelings were so much bigger than...

“Uzumaki Naruto.”

The unfamiliar voice has him leaping to his feet.

A man as pale as a ghost with piercingly icy eyes is floating down to him on some strange platform.  “You’re really as pitiful as I expected.”

“Who the hell are you?!”  He readies his stance.  He’s not in any mood for games, and he’s ready to let loose some of his stress on this very suspicious character.

“Hinata’s fiance.”

“Hinata?!”  Fire races through his veins, heating his feet, and he’s ready to leap at this guy.  “Where is she?!”

“With me.”

His heart rate exponentially explodes, beating into his ears, his skin practically bristling.  “Let her go,” he demands, and the threat of his words leaks from every pore of his being.  “Now.”

The man almost snorts.  “What makes you think she wants to see you?  You only ever used her, broke her...”  His collected expression hardens, and Naruto can sense that he has no intention of releasing her.  “I’ll make her happier than you ever could.”

Several thoughts fly too quickly through his mind to properly process any of it, leaving only residual uncertainty and that deepening sense of his culpability in her sudden disappearance.  But he doesn’t linger on the unpleasant sensations.  “What the fuck do you know?!”  And he’s charging at him, a Rasengan heavy in his hand.

The enemy is far more powerful than he appeared, immediately blowing him back with some kind of focused chakra.  “Weak, pathetic.”

“GIVE HER BACK!”  He replicates himself a dozen times, each of them throwing Rasenshurikens at the man.

Yet more of that strange yellow chakra protects him.  He’s unscathed even under his shadow clone onslaught.  “No.  I gave her a choice, and she came with me.  I’m just here to get rid of you, take revenge against you for her sake.”

He hardly comprehends the nonsense spewing out of the enemy’s mouth, and he rallies his clones into close combat, but the man manages to avoid many of the attacks while landing hits of his own.

Clones poofing away only to be replaced by more, frustration and fury starting to blind him into sloppier and sloppier moves.

“I love Hinata.  That’s why I deserve her.”

He chokes on his own breath, and in his momentary loss of concentration,...

He’s falling.

------------------------*

aaannnnd that’s as far as I want to go with that.  Imagine the rest of the team arriving in time to notice Toneri making his escape toward the sky, and I guess the rest of the story would sort of follow the rest of The Last...Naruto self-reflects a lot in a bundle of depression for a long time and yeah.

...ahhh...  I encourage you to write the fic you want to see in the world ❤️

[cruciatusforeplay]

This is part two of a hella big post. Check out part one here. These are all a lot more recent, so I'm gonna try to be less spoilery, but there are gonna be some.

A not-so-brief history of Hawkeye in Comics Part Two (spoilers below the cut)

A note on events, dying and doubling down on Hawkeyes

Comics love doing big events, and I'm not covering them in here. Partly because they are huge and complex and to just focus on Hawkeye would be an injustice to the stories, but also because the amount of stuff I would need to spoil would be way beyond just a little Hawkeye. Clint was involved in Secret Wars (1984), which was one of the first crossover events of its kind. Another notable era is 2004-2009, where there is an incredible amount of superhero politics driving big narratives. If you're new to comics, you might not know that characters dying is common and rarely permanent. This is relevant because while I said that I wouldn't talk about events, I think it would be pretty uncool to not mention that Hawkeye dies and is brought back to life (Avengers Disassembled, House of M, New Avengers #26). It's around here that Clint picks up the Ronin mantle.

This is also when Dark Reign/Dark Avengers is going on. For anyone who'd like some Clint whump from this era, there's a top notch naked torture scene in New Avengers Annual (2009). Clint is involved in several other big events and crossovers over later years, but that's definitely a seperate list.

In the time where Clint is dead, Captain America is hanging out with a group of newly formed Young Avengers, including archery badass Kate Bishop. Cap suggests to her that she take up the Hawkeye mantle and gives her Clint's old bow. After Clint returns, he becomes initially her mentor, before they form a very close friendship. Clint is initially doing Ronin things, but even when he lays down ninja robes, they decide to be very Hawkeye about the whole thing and both keep calling themselves Hawkeye, despite the obvious confusion this causes.

Hawkeye's ears: Hawkeye vs. Deadpool #0-4 (2014)

This is a fun little miniseries that you could treat as a Halloween special if you so desired. It's set in the time after Fraction's run and there are a few callbacks, but nothing major if you've not read that. Clint is a little short-tempered and hypermasculine in this run for my personal taste, but it's got lots of grumpy Clint Vs sassy Wade while they vaguely attempt to team up. The thing this run does really well is Clint's deafness, despite the lack of visible hearing aids. There are comments around lip-reading, wearing aids when wearing other headgear, there's some sign language, and this is the run where Deadpool pulls his mask up so Clint can lipread and see his face while he signs (facial expressions are really key in sign language). It's lovely. Otherwise the run gives you a Kate cameo, some Deadpool and Hawkeye disaster/shenanigans, and perhaps most importantly, the return of the skycycle.

Key background: All New Hawkeye #1-6 (2015)

This run is often overlooked, but the art in the flashbacks is beautiful. We get some key information around Clint and Barney's abusive home situation - with their dad who drank and beat them, and how they ended up in care after their parents died, and subsequently their early days in the circus. There is a definite shift in how Barney is characterized as a bad influence compared to the 2003 run. It parallels with the rest of the arc which focuses on Clint and Kate Bishop working together to get some kids out of a very bad situation. The rest of Lemires run is a little weird and has no major repurcussions for anyone except Barney (which I won't elaborate on because it's relevant to the Fraction run).

Back to your roots: Tales of Suspense #100-104 (2017)

Seeing Clint cycle back and return to Tales of Suspense is really lovely. This comic is one of my all time favourites. It's incredibly tight story-telling with a great plot and really fun dynamic. The premise is Clint and Bucky teaming up to figure out the body trail being left after Black Widow's death. Clint is obnoxious and a delightful mess, Bucky is sporting a permanent scowl and is hilariously level-headed. It's a lot of fun and it's a lovely build on the tension and teamwork between these two idiots (who I, as an avid Winterhawk shipper, am completely gone for, but even without that, this is a great comic.) It also has some killer covers, and the facial expressions are absolutely hilarious.

Hawkeyes together: Hawkeye #13-16 (2017) and West Coast Avengers #1-10 (2018)

The Hawkeye run is Kate Bishops run and it has a larger continuing storyline that runs from the beginning of her Hawkeye and way into WCA, but I've listed the issues that you'll want for Kate and Clint shenanigans, and you should be able to catch up without the rest if you don't want it. These comics are ridiculously fun, especially West Coast Avengers, which has Kate leading the team this time. There's loads of jokes, and it strikes a nice balance between Hawkeyes being disasters and being hyper competent. Truthfully, this is Kate's show, and Clint takes a backseat, but their dynamic is killer here so I think is deserves a mention. There are also plenty of Clint related wardrobe malfunctions and Lucky the Pizza Dog is around.

Our most recent boy: Hawkeye freefall #1-6 (2020)

I haven't read this one yet, but it's been extremely well received by the fandom. As a result, good news: no spoilers! It's a short run, which may have had something to do with it being published during 2020, and specifically around a time when Marvel were experiencing some major distribution issues (which would have led to digital release only and as a result lower sales), but that's all guesswork because I haven't actually researched it. This run has someone dressing as Ronin and letting Clint take the blame for their nefarious deeds (oh no!). Clint makes some classic Clint (read: dumpster fire) decisions, and the art looks fun and vibrant. Can't really give you more without reading it myself 😅 If you need more Clint still, he's also rumoured to be knocking around in the 2020 Black Widow run, but I've not had the money to get my mitts on that yet either.

Notable AUs:

Marvel is a big fan of throwing a well known cast into an alternative universes, so there are a few other places to look for him.

The Ultimates universe was largely speaking a bit of a shitshow, but they did give us a very dark and gritty Clint, so if that's your jam, ultimate hawkeye is the place to be. Old Man Hawkeye appears alongside Old Man Logan, and they are both, you guessed it, old. It's not the only time we get Clint as a wrinkly dude (the second half Lemire's run also has some timey-wimey stuff happening), but this is a version of Clint who is going blind (granted we've seen that before too, but this is a darker vibe than Blindspot). Wanna know who the greatest marksman is without his sight - old man Hawkeye for you! Finally there's the Zombie 'verse: zombie Clint is a little confused, but he's got the spirit. Clint got zombiefied and then left in some rubble as only a head for 40 years before getting picked up, so he's a little worse for wear. If you need that in your life then Marvel Zombies is your universe. For a full rundown of all the universes including animated and MCU, click here.

Notable aliases:

Clint's been a few other people than Hawkeye in the 616 universe (the main Marvel Comics universe). He used one of Hank Pyms growth serums and became a giant strongman in Avengers #63 (1969) and stuck around in his Goliath form for more than a few issues. After Cap had died, Clint returned from the dead and tried on Captain America for all of one issue in Fallen Son #3 (2007). He decided (with a little help from Kate) that it wasn't right to wear the uniform, which in turn led to some interesting tension between him and Bucky Barnes when Buck did become the new Captain America. Finally, there's his most well-known alternate persona: Ronin. Clint becomes Ronin after returning from the dead, wanting a break from his Hawkeye persona and an opportunity to become Ronin arises in New Avengers #27 (2007). Clint is not the only person to have used these aliases. Additionally, Hawkeye has been used not only by Clint and Kate Bishop, but also by Bullseye during the Dark Reign.

The things we haven't talked about

Like I said at the very beginning, there is a lot of Clint Barton knocking around in comics and even with all this there's a lot of content I haven't focused on. For instance, I've not talked a lot about his relationships, beyond his marriage to mockingbird (and really I only scratched the surface with that), and honestly once you start getting into interpersonal relationships we're starting to move on from what can be done in a Tumblr thread.

There are also some topic specific threads floating around, which you might like to look at too.

@vaguelyrotten has done a run down of some great dumpster fire Clint Barton comics (some of which I haven't listed) and you can see that here.

@bobbimorses did a great summary of Clint's historical deafness for instance which you can find here.

There's also this little bit all about Clint and Bucky in canon (thanks to @nightwideopen ) and how Winterhawk became a thing (thanks to @1000-directions )

This is slight sidenote, but @clintscoffeepot did a really great comprehensive of Fraction Clint's apartment which is just a really useful writing resource and you can get that here.

There is also this website which I stumbled across fairly far into writing this post which does actually look like it might be comprehensive.

If I've missed anything major, or listed something incorrectly or you just have some Clint related opinions that I need to know about, do hit me up.

[dutchdread]

"The promised land, I think I can meet her there".

This article argues that it's unreasonable to see the line as a romantic gesture from Cloud, and that an alternative interpretation of the line as a comment concerning the impending doom is more likely. __________________________________________________

People try to use this to prove that Cloud wants Aerith ever since 1997. Now lets be clear here, this interpretation is patently absurd as soon as you think about it for more than 2 seconds. Do you really think for a second that Square would end the game with Cloud randomly telling Tifa as they're about to die, "you know what I want to tell you before we die? I don't love you and I'm glad I'm dying so I can be with another woman in the afterlife"? They wouldn't, this is the most unreasonable story interpretation I've ever heard, whatever that line is meant to mean, it wouldn't be that. Let's be clear here, the only people who think that this line is a genuine argument in favor of Clerith, are people who are already Cleriths. They see the line, and find it to be in line with their beliefs, and it is. The problem is that that's not how science is done. The question isn't whether or not a piece of evidence is in line with your point of view, it's whether it disproves the opposite point of view, which in this case it doesn't. (Also see: "The Wittgenstein test") It should be noted that arguments like these do not do Cleriths any favors, because in addition to proving nothing, they show something fundamentally problematic about the Clerith view of the story. In order to believe that this line in incompatible with a Cloti interpretation of the story, there are a number of tangentially related positions that you'd have to defend. 1: It's impossible to want to be reunited with anyone except if you love them romantically. 2: Cloud is an absolute asshole who would dump a woman he just had sex with, just as they're about to die. 3: Tifa is the worlds biggest simp. 4: This is how SE wants you to see their characters. In one fell swoop of a bad story interpretation you've undermined the importance of all other forms of love, you've undermined the importance of Clouds character arc concerning guilt. You've basically trampled on those who suffer from mental health issues by simplifying their issues into love cliches, you've made a villain of Clouds character, made a mockery of Tifas character, and revealed that you don't understand basic storytelling.

This is the fundamental problem with these arguments that cause many of us to develop a distinct distaste for Clerith as a ship, because when Cleriths attempt to argue in favor of it, it often comes in the form insults towards all characters and stories involved. You could have a story about Cloud loving Aerith, but if defending said story requires you to argue that Cloud would leave a girl with two children, one of which is dying, for no other reason besides being lovesick, then that does a disservice to the characters, the story, and the franchise in general. In a sense, by trying to defend Clerith like this you're insulting the entirety of Final Fantasy. Are there people who are assholes? Yes, are there people who get straight up "pumped and dumped"? Yes. Is that the sort of hero that SE is trying to show us? Obviously not. (for more information regarding this I advise you read: Insane hobbits article where he touches on the differences between clean and messy narratives) If SE wanted to end the game with Cloud proclaiming his love to Aerith in some way, they wouldn't have Tifa hanging on his side while he's doing it, and she wouldn't respond with "yeah, lets go meet her" like the universe biggest simp. So what is actually said? Well, I am not a translator, but as far as I can tell Japanese doesn't have pronouns and the line generally refers to meeting people in the promised land, which includes Tifa in the people going, and it's not specifically about Aerith. Is Aerith included? Of course, she's probably even the main person to meet there, she's certainly singled out as the person talked about by certain supplementary materials, but it's not a romantic sentiment, it's a tragic "we're about to die" sentiment, meant to convey a more generally positive message about being "reunited" with those who have died. The more likely paraphrasing for this scene is: "Cloud asks for an answer from the planet, the planet reveals the lifestream, Cloud and Tifa realize they're about to die. Cloud muses that he thinks he gets it now, they're all going to die and be reunited in the lifestream, both with each other, as well as those who have died, with Aerith being the most obvious and recent example." So is there any evidence for this? Well, for one there is the storyboard for the scene:

c「帰るぞティファ」 t「え？」 c「俺達も帰ってからやることがあった。まだ…あの山の向こうを見てない」 t「うん…帰ろう」

Cloud: "I'm going home Tifa" Tifa: "What?" Cloud "We had something to do after we got home. We haven't seen the other side of the mountain yet ..." Tifa: "Yeah ... let's go home"

"the other side of the mountain" is a reference to the mountains of Nibleheim, where Tifa believed the dead went. In other words, this is either a reference to them going home because they have stuff to do, which ties into the general idea that Cloud and Co had to live in order for their sins to be forgiven, as is evidenced by:

“I’m going to live. I think that’s the only way I can be forgiven. All sorts of things… happened.” ~Cloud in case of Tifa.

Or more likely it's be a reference to how they're about to die. Neither interpretation says anything about this scene being intended to be a romantic sign towards Aerith. Now, of course, the line was changed, and intentions can change during development. But if we're unsure on what the meaning of a line is, then going back to the storyboard is a pretty good way to get context.

Page 27 of the FFVII Ultimania omega:

"They're talking about", confirming that this is a mutual discussion, and not Cloud in isolation.

Page 203 of the FFVII Ultimania omega:

Provides context for the intended ideas the line is meant to convey. It calls back to earlier concepts concerning death not being the end, and is something Cloud and Tifa talk about together.

From: Final Fantasy Art Museum movie card ( https://twitter.com/dorobbongie )

These are not prescriptive canon, but descriptively they can give us some indication of how we're supposed to interpret the line.

Also reinforces the idea that the final line is meant as a more inclusive statement concerning reunions after death. Taking these points into consideration it becomes unreasonable to take the "I think I can meet her there" as a shipping line between Cloud and Aerith. If it were:

SE wouldn't have hung Tifa from Clouds hips.

Wouldn't have had Tifa agree with the idea.

Wouldn't have done it as the two were about to die.

Wouldn't have the storyboard refer to a shared journey beyond the mountains.

And most importantly, SE wouldn't have followed it up with Cloud commenting moments later that he's going to live in order to atone for his sins, and that things would be different now that he has Tifa. Clearly meeting again in the afterlife was more of an immediate danger rather than an immediate goal:

As Tifa looked away from the sky towards the ground, she was fearful of the future. However, Cloud beside her chose to smile gently. It was a smile that she hadn’t seen before during their journey. Cloud noticed her gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?” “Cloud, you’re smiling.” “I am?” “Yeah.” “It all starts now. A new…” Cloud looked for the right words. “A new life.” “I’m going to live. I think that’s the only way I can be forgiven. All sorts of things… happened.” “That’s right…” “But when I think about how many times I’ve thought about how I was going to start a new life, it’s funny.” “Why?” “Because I’ve always failed everything.” “That’s not funny.” “After this … I think I’ll be okay.” Cloud was silent for a long time before he spoke again. “Because I have you this time.” “You’ve always had me.” “What I mean is kind of different,” Cloud answered with another smile. -Case of Tifa; revised; released with ACC.

__________________________________________ thank you "thelifestream.net" for some of this information, as well as Kagesakura (https://otp-oasis-heavenxearth.tumblr.com).

[omgkalyppso]

Fanfic Writer Tag Game

I'm sure this was supposed to be done before the new year but it's 2021 somewhere. @bladesandstars tagged me, thank you for thinking of me!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have never loved and thought about a ship as much as my fe3h ot4. I feel like they shouldn't count, since 50%+ of the content is headcanon and self-generated, but claude x lorenz x hilda x fae occupy my mind and will surely represent some huge part of me if or when I'm able to set them down for some new interest. Real ships that would be more comprehensible answers: dragon age's warden* x zevran, and dbz's vegeta x bulma.

*This could be anyone's warden but if it's mine, it's my mage Illusen Amell.

How many works do you have on AO3?

When I started posting for fe3h, I deleted some past works to distance myself from a fandom I'd grown to despise. At this time, 65.

What's your total AO3 word count?

A respectable 532,632.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Please Don't Leave, an M rated overwatch, mchanzo hurt/comfort oneshot.

But How Bad An Idea Was It Really?, an E rated fe3h, sylvain x nb! amab byleth x transmas felix smut fic. It was written as a gift for a friend.

As Many Problems As There Are Stars, an M rated baldur's gate 3, astarion x oc fluff fic.

I Thought You Were Dead, an M rated mass effect 3, shoker hurt/comfort oneshot.

Eligible Means Desirable, Not Qualified, an M rated fe3h, ashe x claude fluff fic. Also written as a gift for a friend.

Do you reply to comments, why or why not?

I used to reply right away, lately it's taken me months. I feel like I have to either earn being able to reply by posting enough or feel like I need to keep the comment in my inbox to treasure before letting it go. I shouldn't do this probably and will try and get back into replying more frequently in the coming weeks.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I don't write angst. I write hurt/comfort. I have 3 fics with angst related tags but ... I'm a big blubbery baby and I need to write happy endings. I appreciate reading angst, but thus far haven't really stayed with it entirely. I'll say A Little Bit Of Memory even though this isn't one of my fics that uses the angst tag. It's a T rated yurileth fic that takes place four thousand years post canon.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I'll go with Trust Or Something Like It, which is an E rated syldue fic which was planned to be a smut fic but ended up with a rather long introduction and a very sweet conclusion, I feel. I went into it just looking to write sylvain into a compromising position and I fell in love with their dynamic.

Do you write crossovers?

I don't! But I wouldn't be opposed. I'd be more interested in writing AUs, but crossovers can be fun.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I have had to delete 3 comments off my fics. Two were only because of my My Unit OC in the My Unit | Byleth tag. But when I used to read Awakening fic everyone always used the My Unit | Robin | Reflet tag for their My Unit OC's. I stand by it. The other comment was antisemitic.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

17/65 of my fics feature smut! Which is such a smaller figure than I'd expect. I'm very proud of the intimacy I write. Always consensual. Always queer. Often featuring a trans character. And 8/17 of my smut fics feature polyamory as a feature, so I write a fair amount of group scenes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've seen my blog on mirror sites before, and so yeah, I think anything I've posted to tumblr has been stolen.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! I'd love to work with someone on this if anyone's interested.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. I talk to people and ask for their input, but not to the extent of us each writing a section or working together as co-writers would. I am uncertain if I'm ready for that but there are some people I'd trust.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but dont' think you ever will?

I don't think it counts as a WIP because I have nothing else immediately written down but my fic On The Isle Of Thunder reached a stopping point and at the time was declared to be on indefinite hiatus and still is. It's an M rated world of warcraft, lor'themar theron x oc adventure & romance fic. I was playing the battle for azeroth expansion and I just hated it so much. I don't know that I can ever go back to that universe.

What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think I'm good at finding character voices. I'll often look at / listen to dialogue to try and get pacing and vocal ticks, expressions and maybe even a canon phrase or two into what I'm writing. I'd like to think I'm good at setting the emotional mood in my smut fics. And maybe I'm good at balancing having a larger number of characters in a scene.

What are you writing weaknesses?

I'm repetitive. I worry I over-describe movement and under-describe atmosphere and setting. I worry the characters I write are unrealistic when I want them to be relatable.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think that this can be fun, but that writing in the vocal tags that the character is speaking another language but continuing the fic in the same language as originally if the perspective / narrator understands it, or not including the written dialogue if the perspective / narrator doesn't understand it, works just as well. I have used a word or two of various languages in the midst of my fics for the vibe, but I think if you had whole paragraphs that this would be annoying for people using screen readers.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

At all? On paper in a spiral notebook, I wrote a Betty and Veronica fic where they shared a bra because it made them more popular with the boys, but it was extremely Gay. My mother found it and I promised I would never write anything like it ever again (ha!), and I showed her the comic it was based on, where this was the same fucking plot but it was about a blue pick up truck (somehow gayer), because she was worried these events had happened to friends of mine.

Digitally? A wizard fandom that I don't want to mention by name that you can probably guess.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Unfinished? My E rated fe3h ot4 soulmate au I Wanna Be Yours. I will finish it this year. It's my biggest project on ao3 (135k words so far), and even unfinished, I'm so proud of it. The emotions I wrote in it, the emotions I had writing it... My obsession. My labour of love.

Finished? My G rated fe3h dedue character study written for the CHOP zine Sacred Dedication. I don't know how obvious it would be to anyone I didn't tell overtly, but I ascribed meaning to the colors in his attire based on indigenous significance placed on the colors of a medicine wheel. I studied over a dozen indigenous prayers to inform the prayer I wrote for dedue, and had another native person read it because even then I was worried I might be too influenced by xianity. But I tried to be very sensitive about putting a soft layer of my experience into his beliefs for the sake of this fic, and I'm so proud of the finished product.

Tagging: @allycryz, @sevarix-writes, @recurringwriter, @indigowallbreaker and anyone else who wants to!

Thank you to anyone who read this whole thing.