#as i constantly see these things being spoken of yet never do these people actually reach out to femstarries

[natsmagi]

sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents

first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!

what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)

i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....

i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?

which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!

all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.

[iridiss]

Garroth growing up in a blood family that doesn’t treat him with any love, so as a kid he wishes so hard for the destined, perfect love of his life to come and save him, whisking him away like a knight in shining armor, to a life where he’s truly loved, and it’s that escapism in fantasy that he’s constantly using to cope and keep himself sane growing up

He dreams of the day someone will love him, unconditionally and truly, and though he doesn’t really know what that’ll look like yet, it’s something that he just knows intrinsically in his heart and yearns for desperately. He’s a big lover, he’s super empathetic and sensitive, he has a big heart, especially as a kid. Whenever he falls for anyone, he falls HARD, but he can’t seem to find anyone who would love him back as much as he loves them (especially since people keep seeing him as The Prince and not lovey little Garroth)

Then Garroth being forced to marry a woman he had never loved and barely even met before. Marriage being used as a giant weapon to forever seal him into the horrific life as heir to the throne, as one of the permanent pieces of this broken and abusive monarchical system, when marriage and love was supposed to be one thing that got him out, and it breaks him so much that he abandons everything and runs away. If no perfect and magical knight in shining armor will save him, then he’ll do it himself, alone.

And then he meets the most romantic knight in the world.

Laurance is so extremely homoerotic and suggestive and flirtatious with him all the time, even in canon, especially in canon

Laurance loves LOUDLY and a LOT, he’s very honest and up-front about all the emotions in his heart, and when he falls in love with someone (as opposed to falling in surface-level lust with someone) he falls HARD, but unlike Garroth, he is NOT shy about it lol

Laurance sending love and affection Garroth’s way in droves, and Garroth being utterly confused and clueless about it, because no one has ever spoken to him this way, hell, I don’t think his sheltered Princely blood has even SEEN any other person talk this way. Like Laurance just honestly and bluntly telling him “Hey big guy, I think you’re hot and cute as fuck, we should fuck on the beach right here, whaddya say?” like how is his brain going to compute that, he’s never even SEEN an affectionate relationship before, let alone seen someone be so clear and forward about it

And Laurance is honest and means every word he says, he’s not trying to play or trick Garroth. At one point Garroth thinks he is and gets super suspicious of him, but then Laurance laughs and denies it so casually and easily, and now Garroth is lost again

He literally meets the most affectionate person ever. He’s honest and upfront about his affections, he’s patient enough to give Garroth all the time in the world, he’s emotionally intelligent enough to know why he’s struggling so much with his gestures, and he’ll just patiently stand there and watch him while he has an existential crisis trying to figure out what love even means after Laurance gave him a bouquet of hand-picked flowers. Trust Issues Garroth would eventually try to accept all these kind things Laurance says about him, rather than deny the compliments and insist he’s all the things Zane and his father called him as a child. He leans into the affections, and Garroth learning how love actually works, as the very man he dreamed of as a child holds his face in his hands, and does not mock or beat or hurt him, but kisses him on the cheek instead.

Garroth learning how to love from Laurance’s unconditional and obnoxious affections, slowly becoming less and less afraid of it, until he embraces it completely and starts to give Laurance So Very Much Loving in return like he was always capable of doing. And Laurance is perfectly capable of handling the immense amount of affection, he finds it exciting actually

And though I don’t think homophobia is a thing that exists in this fantasy world, I think it’s also thematically perfect that Laurance is the exact kind of person that Garroth’s parents would HATE having as a son-in-law. Laurance’s rebellious pride is perfect for that role of breaking Garroth free of the abusive strings of his evil monarchical family and learning how to love himself instead

[bookwyrminspiration]

in-depth opinions on keefe (trying to return you to your roots: getting asks about kotlc characters)?

I may be putting several additional feet in several additional fandoms but I promise y'all have me prisoner and can send me as many keeper asks as you want <3

I will say these are my personal, subjective opinions! Which do include a bit of bias (TLDR at bottom)

For years I was perfectly fine with Keefe; he's never been my favorite, but he had some funny lines and an engaging presence. Never failed to liven things up. This changed around end of Legacy/Stellarlune.

It's not because I don't ship sokeefe, but because I felt sokeefe's execution was rushed and overshadowing the rest of the story. Wasn't even a full book since Sophie broke up with Fitz and said she wasn't ready for a relationship, yet there they are. I think they, and we, deserved more time. (and yes, Keefe exists beyond shipping, but given how HUGE of a role it plays in his in-text and fandom presence, i find it relevant)

Of course that's not Keefe's fault, but seeing all the adoration for what I found lackluster kinda pavloved me into a general distaste. Especially when done at the expense at Fitz, one of my favorites. Which is unfair, but I did say there's bias. That's not to say I'm mid on Keefe because I love Fitz or that you can't love both, just that personally I'm a Fitz fan, and seeing Keefe used as a direct comparison to shoot him down doesn't endear him to me (and no, not everybody does this, but I've seen it enough to be impacted)

As for Keefe independently, he's following the path of Ro. Too many traits are staying stagnant and becoming repetitive, which is adulterating what I used to enjoy. The way he steamrolls everything--forcing hands to go to Ravagog in Neverseen, running away in Lodestar and refusing to listen, the mercadir incident in Nightfall, the going behind everyone's back thing in Legacy, the running away again, etc. At first it was annoying but interesting, but at this point it's like...we're still doing this?

The amount of time and effort Sophie has to expend managing Keefe is ridiculous. if we could just knock him out for like 2 months I think she could fix everything. it's gone from a facet of the plot's challenges to straight up nuisance like get tf out of her way !!

Others have mentioned this, but the privacy invasion and making others uncomfortable is another thing that I didn't mind at first but became annoying. A joke or overstep here or there is fine; no one's perfect, and if it moves the story forward, sure. But he's constantly pushing and isn't sorry. And the more it happens, the less I can stand the earlier instances. I do my pagethroughs and just get annoyed where I used to laugh

Is there an understandable explanation for several of these points? yes. how the hell would he know how to have healthy relationships and boundaries when he's been set such bad examples? However, he's also being consistently corrected and ignoring that advice. He's given pep talk after pep talk, has fight after fight, and yet nothing's changed.

Do I think he's beyond saving? No. I've spoken with a few people about this, but I think a key thing holding him back is Sophie's "I could never hate you" promise she keeps making. Because Sophie is the main (if not only) thing that matters to him, he's got a built in safety net for whatever stupid shit he pulls, and never faces the consequences he's really afraid of.

If we took that net away, if he faced her genuine distrust and anger and upset and her exclusion and her hatred--without the "but not really just give me some time" vibe. I think that'd do wonders and we'd actually get somewhere. And also it'd be vindicating to see; the nightfall healing center fight is one of my favorite scenes

TL;DR: In summary, I don't hate Keefe. He has potential and I've enjoyed him in the past. But currently the combination of him being used against Fitz, the lackluster execution of sokeefe (imo), the privacy invasion, and stagnation don't do it for me. His kind of character already isn't my niche, and that doesn't help. Does he have potential to become less annoying? yes! i hope he does for everyone's sakes. until then, mild distaste for him.

i will be taking Fitz, Tam, Cadence, and Luzia and playing in the corner, thanks <3

(this is in no way against Keefe fans. kudos to y'all! i'm simply not one of you atm)

[cocogum]

Armand’s treatment and how it impacted his life.

(‼️ Spoilers for Wakfu Season 4 and its first four episodes ‼️)

One thing that saddened me a lot when I was watching episode 4 was how Armand revealed to Amalia that he had wished he could go on adventures with her and the brotherhood sometimes.

This surprised me at first but I soon realized that it made perfect sense.

Armand was always jealous of her but I initially thought that it was only because she had the most attention from people, even their father. But Armand is the type to keep his thoughts to himself which would explain why despite how we see him looking at Amalia with a disapproving look, we never really got to hear him express his thoughts to her. His reason for wanting to go on adventures with her is also made clear: not only does he want to explore the world because it seems like fun since his sister always felt happy because of it, but the major reason is that he wants his father to look at him just like how he looked at Amalia.

When he finally tells her all of his thoughts and what he wants, we can’t help but feel like what he wishes to have can no longer be granted. Their father died not long ago, it is now too late to do anything.

Armand could’ve spoken up during all those years Amalia went to go on adventures. He had all the time in the world because he was always beside his father at all times.

But no matter how close he was to him, Armand never had the strength to speak his thoughts just like how Amalia dared to do so. It’s ironic really, Armand had the time and the moment to tell his father everything and yet, he didn’t because he didn’t think it was in his right to speak about himself and what he wanted to try.

The years of constantly seeing how his sister was getting loved by the people, how she was being viewed and called a hero by the very same people he was working hard to protect in his own way, how their father kept praising her constantly for whatever she did, how she kept getting adoration for adventuring and risking her life to save her people, while he was instead cooped up in the kingdom learning and practicing how to become king, left him in a position where he believed Amalia always had the upper hand on anything even when he wanted to express himself.

He had learned that every time he proposed an idea or even said some of his thoughts out loud during a particular situation, he would always get shut down by either his sister or his father, sometimes even both (the time when he decided to use a barrier of vines to block Ogrest’s tears but his father told him that his attempts were just “alright” when they were actually very effective for some time, the time where he told Amalia that she can’t leave while his father is terribly sick but his father supports Amalia and encourages her to go with Yugo, the time when Armand stated that none of the rulers had come to support them but his father cuts him off by saying that the queen of Bonta at least brought Joris to them which made Armand’s words sound minuscule and not as serious as the prince intended, etc.)

Granted, sometimes he deserved it (like the time when he got slapped by Eva when he was disrespectful to Dally in the OVAs or the time he did not listen to Amalia’s warnings when she told him Nox was coming and when she tried explaining who Yugo and Adamaï were back in Season 1 but not being listened to despite having Eva to back her up) but the majority of the time, he was trying his best to please his father and barely got a good comment for it.

So it wouldn’t be far-fetched to think that Armand never spoke about what he wanted to his father because he had a strong feeling that the answer wouldn’t be a good one.

As if things couldn’t get any worse for him, when his father takes his last breath and Armand was the only one there for him, who has been by his side all this time, who has devoted his entire life to training, learn and work hard to be like his father, he had only words for Amalia.

To hear his father only speak about his youngest sister and not mention him at all, must’ve terribly broke him on the inside. Even when his father was on his deathbed, he did not address everything that Armand did for him.

And it’s sad to see this happening.

Even though his relationship with his father and sister was mostly shown in the background, it was pretty obvious that their family had some issues that no one wanted to address in the room.

I feel like, in a way, we can somehow relate to Armand.

To feel like we can’t speak our minds properly because of a sibling or a figure in our lives who has shown to be better than us, even when we do work very hard to get noticed we barely get any comments or praises of the same size as theirs, to feel like we don’t matter as much as them so we should just stop talking and let them have their spotlight at all times.

And when we finally get the chance to gain our confidence or get into a position where we don’t feel as self-conscious as we used to before, we come to find out that it’s already too late to express ourselves to the people we’ve been waiting to truly be honest to, because they’re already gone or have moved on from you.

Armand’s case is a bittersweet and albeit depressing one.

What could have been a story of adventure, even if just for one day, was never realized. What could have been an experience that could have felt like a lifetime never happened. What could have been an adventure where he finally has his fun and gains a unique brotherly sisterly duo bond in combat would never become a reality. And what could have been a special moment in his life where he gets to personally know his sister’s friends would always stay a dream.

If only he knew that even a brotherhood member, Evangelyne, has a sister, Cleophee, who had her fun in the group. And even if it was just for a few days, a few moments, Eva’s sister had cemented her place in the Brotherhood and became an official member. To think that even if he had stayed a bit in the group, he would have not just become a part of their lives, but also become a part of their brotherhood.

But despite it all, Armand kept his chin up and looked forward to the future. He did not wallow in his sadness or blame Amalia for his silence during all these years. Instead, he pulls her up and tells her to not be saddened by their father’s departure, especially in front of his tomb tree, and consoles her as they hug.

Unlike anyone else, I believe Armand was able to push his selfish thoughts away (which involved blaming his sister for everything) and instead behaved like a king, someone who, despite not gaining everything he wanted in life, kept going and faced forward for what was to come.

Even though he has not been abandoned by his family, he did feel like he might've been behind everyone else at some point in his life.

He may have not been a part of the brotherhood but he’ll always have a place in his sister’s heart after what he did for her.

And I believe that his competence and his will to protect his kingdom without leaving for adventure would make him get along greatly with a certain white dragon.

[theworthwhilefight]

taylor swift’s specific brand of feminism is one where she has always been the last person to speak out about human rights and then only does it when it serves her and does the absolute bare minimum. her brand of feminism is calling out the government or stupid fucking confederate statues instead of real, pressing issues. and she came out with that stupid miss americana documentary which i watched once and literally never again in order to paint herself as some progressive white woman champion lmfao. and i’m not here to villainize her because clearly i’ve been a huge fan of hers for the better half of my life and i do agree that she has been a victim of a lot of unnecessary sexist hate and i wouldn’t wish 2016 on anyone but that’s quite literally the extent of her victimhood. everything she has ever endured has been solely to the extent of what a White Woman can endure. taylor swift’s whiteness allows her to selectively choose when she wants to apply her activism (aka defending herself regarding a stupid joke in ginny & georgia) and it allows her to be protected against further hatred that woc and celebrities of color constantly feel and it allows her to date this vile man without feeling any of his hatred directed towards her. she CHOSE to call herself miss americana and act like she’s been on a long journey to becoming an activist lmfao yet does nothing to prove it. and it’s exhausting as a poc to continuously beg her to speak up about shit and then have her go around and not just date him but allow him to play on her stage and continuously be seen being friends and holding hands and kissing him. and she’s not just silly celebrity making a dumb choice, she is quite literally the most famous pop star right now and the people she surrounds herself with MATTER. her associating with people like this only further validates their beliefs and hatred. and i don’t wanna hear a single mf talk abt “letting her be happy” or “staying out of her personal business” bc y’all loved dragging joe once they broke up and y’all love dragging jake and y’all love dragging john so why don’t people actually invest their energy into shaming someone who has an entire history of problematic things he’s happily admitted to doing and start standing up for people who deserve to be stood up for (aka the marginalized groups and individuals he continues to attack and NOT the white woman who supports his actions).

i love taylor swift but let’s not pretend that she’s some white woman champion of progressive rights when at most she’s only spoken up and said the most vanilla shit only when it has convenienced her. as fans, we have the right to be angry about her recent recurring associations with him not just as her boyfriend but as someone who she has allowed on her stage (with phoebe) and call her out on her associating with extremely problematic behavior. this isn’t a post saying we should cancel her or that she’s racist herself or anything, but it’s a reminder that she has always been very much of a white feminist and she needs to see how her actions and associations affect her fans and promote harm.

[crash-and-cure]

Would it be a Sin? (Yandere! Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: Your Husband will forever keep you safe, no matter the cost.

A/N: Full disclosure, I am a Latina, specifically my family is from Mexico. When I first got this request from @ilovehobi101​ I worried as to how I could frame the conflict that some members felt comfortable bullying reader (y’know aside from casual 60’s misogyny) but also why reader wouldn’t really speak up about it. And then I saw my profile picture and was reminded of the serious lack of Latin!reader fics in this fandom, and voila. Also I understand the utter swaglessness of having a latin!reader that starts off as a maid, but trust me the occupation has relevance to the plot. Reader does speak spanish and I will acknowledge that some of the spanish spoken is very specific to the Mexican dialect. Also I love how I was asked for soft!yandere and my thoughts immeadiately went to murder. I got in right under the wire to was able to post this on Elvis’ birthday.

Warnings: Smut, though more towards the end, and not while reader is pregnant (but does include depictions of Hand kink, cockwarming, vaginal fingering. Pregnant!reader. Implied murder, hiding and burying of a body featured. Period-typical xenophobia, racism, and microagressions galore toward a poc!reader as well as the use of some racial slurs. Sexual harassment depicted, though not from Elvis. Yandere!Elvis themes of obsessive, manipulative, and gaslighting behavior, as well as some controlling and isolating tendencies as well, though, softer and not as overt as I have written before. Traumatic birth is described and as well as descriptions of a pre-mature baby. ANGST galore here. Blood and Injuries from a fall depicted. Symptoms of PTSD.

Word Count: 14.5k

My Masterlist

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

There was no doubt in your mind. 

It almost plays out like a fairy tale. The King that fell for the maid. 

When you were just a maid that cleaned up after him and his friends in Beverly Hills, you didn’t expect this house to be much different from the other houses you’d worked at. You’d been working working as a maid for a few years now, so you knew the deal. Rich people liked their big houses to be clean, but didn’t want to actually think about it being clean, so you were to be seen not heard. They rarely ever spoke to you, mostly they handed a list to one of the girls, and left the house for the day, and you would leave before they returned. When you did on occasion actually see them it would mostly be them calling for you, usually by the wrong name, and pointing to a mess, before leaving the room, truly thinking you were stupid and could only take the simplest of commands (you would on occasion meet these people again after you and Elvis became official, and they never remembered you).

Elvis at the very beginning proved to be no different. You were in his house constantly and yet you didn’t even see him in person until maybe a month or two after you started. As you understood it he was a busy man, especially as he was trying to make a movie career happen, after being gone for so long. 

You wouldn’t exactly call the first time you met him magical, or even anything really special for you. You and a few other girls had entered the house and immediately you saw evidence of a party from last night and you could also hear some pretty explicit sounds coming from where you knew the master bedroom to be, one voice pretty distinct even if you had never heard it in person, the other a mystery to you. You and some of the girls got a little giggly, while the others seemed pretty annoyed by this whole thing.

Your tía was on the annoyed side of this situation, which grew even more when one of the tasks was cleaning the stairs and polishing the railing. You're the one that ends up volunteering to do it seeing everyone else was too embarrassed to even try to get near there. 

“Suena como si estuviera puliendo la baranda también,” your friend Linda would snicker.

You smacked her arm, and said “pinche puta,” between laughs. Though you can’t say you were any better because you couldn’t help but be very curious as to whether or not the girl upstairs is someone famous or not. Not because you plan on sharing that information with the others, you’re just very curious by nature and always have been. It’s gotten you in trouble in a few places, but you’ve been able to pull the “no hablo ingles” card and it’s usually enough. 

And that’s how you met your future husband, crouched down to get to a hard to reach place on the bannister pretending you’re not interested in what’s going on in the other room, as he walked out of his bedroom in only his boxers, hair a mess, scratching his ass while yawning. It throws you a little how handsome you still think he is in person, even in this less than glamorous situation you find yourself in.

“Hola señor,” you said, trying to hide your embarrassment as you got right back to work to get a particularly stubborn spot. You’re also praying he’s not so uptight as to have you fired for seeing him like this, and your hope is that if you act like nothing's wrong he’ll barely even notice you.

“Um… uh… I-I,” you hear him stutter out. You turn around, prepared to either be given a task or be fired on the spot, but to your surprise you find one of the most desired men in the world stuttering over his words while his ears turn a bright red. That color transfers almost entirely to his whole face when you both hear a feminine yawn coming from his room. That manages to shake him out of his stupor as he scrambles back toward his bedroom and closes the door.

Well… I’m fired, which you’re actually sad about, because of all the houses you work he definitely gives the best tips. You know that girls have been let go at other houses for less than this, so you quietly make your way closer to the door, still near the bannister, hoping at the least your curiosity won’t be in vain and you’ll be able to see if it's someone famous.

“...you said I could stay awhile longer,” the girl says. Her voice isn’t so breathy, so you doubt it’s Marilyn or Jayne, but not so posh sounding that you think it’s a Debbie or Audrey. 

“I-I know darlin’, but somethin’ came up,” you hear him say. He sounds guilty, as though he was just caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. 

“Are we still going to that place you were telling me about later?”

“Mmm…” is all you hear from him in response. English may have been your second language, but even you recognize a non-answer when you hear one. You can’t help but cringe at that and for her sake, you hope, for her sake, she drove herself here. 

Down below you hear Linda calling and asking you to bring down the duster, but as you grab it intending to make a quick exit from the situation, you realize you neglected to finish the job you were sent to do and you lose your balance at the very top of the stairs when your grip fails you from all of the polish. 

There isn’t really anytime for your life to flash before your eyes as someone snatches your wrist and brings you upright again. “You alright there darlin’?” Elvis would ask as he guides you away from the stairs sounding genuinely worried for you while you try to catch your breath. Your heart skips a beat when you see how blue his eyes are, and you quickly try to gather yourself.

“Thank you,” you say. You notice he’s wearing a robe now and also how he’s gazing at you, not saying anything. “You want me to clean in there?” you say to break the tension a bit, which works as you see his cheeks redden a bit as he looks back at his bedroom.

“No, no, I-I uh…” he stutters, before clearing his throat. “If you don’t mind, my uh gir-lady… friend, needs to leave and she uhh…” 

“You want me to distract the others while she leaves?” 

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“Well you just saved my life so I think I owe you.” you say to him as you lean over the bannister and confirm that they were all in the living room. You go to grab the railing, but quickly snatch your hand back. “Not falling for that one again.” you say looking back at him, and you see that gets a half smile out of him.

“Wait,” he says as you’re halfway down the stairs. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

It’s rare that you’re ever asked that on the job, so for perhaps the first time on the job, your smile is genuine as you tell him.

“Y/N” he repeats, apparently liking the way it rolls off his tongue. And surprisingly enough so do you.

So you make your way down to the room you know they’re cleaning and let them know that the boss wants all of you to clean the kitchen right now. They’re annoyed but nonetheless comply and once you make sure they’re all out you look back up the stairs and give him the thumbs up. He gives you a dopey smile as he gives one back.

Rather than being fired over the incident, he surprises you by actually giving you and the others even more hours. And the hours you worked for him, he so happens to be home. Your tía warns you to be on your best behavior, because typically this means that they think that one of you stole something so they’re keeping an eye on you. With the way one of his friends kept looking at you when you were in the same room as him you figured she was right. But the way Elvis was acting around you, was what threw away this notion.

He was always going out of his way to talk to you, always finding excuses to be in the same room as you, even offering little gifts in the form of sweets. Mix in the fact that you also became the only one who was allowed within places that not even his friends could go into like his bedroom, this all told you that he liked you, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions as to what way.

After he finished shooting his movie he would ask you to house sit for him while he was back in Memphis, stating he felt he could trust you to keep the house clean and to be responsible with it unlike his other friends. Even after you saw what he was willing to pay you for essentially living alone in his mansion for a month, you hesitated because who just offers that to someone they just met and your tía’s warnings about men like him didn’t help either. You eventually caved when he promised to consider you for a full-time/live-in maid if you did a good job. 

Then two days after he left, you got a late night call from him. You were honestly happy for it, because the house felt too big and too empty with just you there. It didn’t help that the room he left for you was far too nice, and you missed sharing your bed with your little sisters. Suffice to say, being all alone was unsettling for you

“Sorry if I woke ya’ Y/N, I-I just…” he said, nervousness clear in his voice. “I-I just been lookin’ for somethin’ and I think I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to look for it?”

“If you could be a doll,” he says, relieved. “Ju-just take a look in my room, and see if you can find it there. It’s a black cowboy hat, and I think it was in a white box in the closet.”

You set the phone aside and made your way up there. When you do find it you let him know as much, but decide to have a little fun with it now that you’re up. “I found it Mr. Presley. But there is a problem.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It looks better on me,” you say as you look at yourself wearing it in the mirror. 

“I bet it does,'' he says between laughs. This does create a bit of a pause between you two as you recognize that you’re essentially flirting with your boss, and to your horror he’s flirting right back. 

“So is this for a movie or are you just going to run away to become a cowboy?” You say in an effort to change the subject. 

You hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Much as I wish it was the last one, it’s for my next movie. Dolores del Rio’s gon’ be in it.” 

You’re floored at that. “¡No manches! She’s my favorite actress. I thought she wasn’t ever coming back to Hollywood.”

That gets the two of you talking about movies for hours. It was easy to forget that you’re talking to one of the most sought after stars in Hollywood right now as he gushes about his favorite actors the same way you do. What surprises you most is when he asks you who you’ve met while working in LA. 

“I’ll never tell,” you tease. 

“What, you hate ‘em that much Darlin”?” he laughs.

“Yes,” you jokingly agree, ignoring the way your heart skipped at that nickname.

“I ain’t surprised though,” he says. “There’s some crazies livin’ out there. Ones that’ll ya’ call in the middle of the night ‘bout a cowboy hat, and have you on the phone ‘til… wow 3 in the morning.”

“And some maids are crazy enough to lay in their bed and let them,” you counter, only to clamp up and realize how bad that sounded from the strangled noise he makes on the other side of the phone. You quickly try to backtrack and promise you didn’t mean it that way. 

He reassures you that he takes no offense from that, but he does sound like he’s breathing heavier now, and you worry that you accidentally took the harmless flirting with him too far. You quickly give an excuse to leave, “I have a busy day of sitting on your house tomorrow.” You're glad he laughs at that but it does sound a little stiffer than the other one he’s so freely given. After you hang up you tidy up what you can, and make your way back to your room, hoping to pray some dangerous thoughts away.

The next day you try to act like nothing happened, but that’s all thrown out the window that night as Elvis calls again with a similar request to find a pair of his boots that he couldn’t find, and it proceeds much like the previous call. Eventually after the second week of nightly calls he drops the act entirely and calls just so he can talk to you. And you welcome them, because it made the house feel less empty when he did.

When he got back to LA you didn’t know what to expect from him anymore as the late night calls turned into late night talks in the kitchen. That turned into daylight jokes and conversations between the two of you. And honestly even more open flirting between the two of you, but it all came to a head one day as the two of you were walking down the stairs. 

“So wait? Your character hears a song on the radio that you, Elvis, sang, and he doesn’t talk about the fact that you look exactly like him.” 

“It ain’t Shakespeare, but it’s gettin’ me back out there,” he says sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That’s too bad,” you say as you reach the bottom of the stairs. “I think you would make a great Romeo.”

“Oh…” he says, his voice going low for a moment, as in the next moment you find yourself trapped between him and the railing. “Tell me Satnin, what ‘bout me reminds you a Romeo.” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breathing is a little heavier than it was before. The smirk on his stupidly plush lips tell you he no doubt wanted this reaction, so you decide to show him what it was that reminded you of Romeo, and kiss him fully on the mouth. It was a quick peck on the lips but you could still see the faint traces of your lipstick on him. “Those are what remind me of Romeo.” 

He’s stunned at your boldness but no less welcoming as he brings a hand to your face to bring you back, but you use that opportunity to step on to the bottom step and away from him. You leave him on that staircase, your face warm at what you just did, biting your lip to keep from fully laughing at Elvis’ frozen state on the steps. 

Later that same day, he would tell you how his upcoming movie was going to be shot in Hawaii, and how coincidentally, he felt that you were in desperate need of a vacation. The rest was history for the two of you. 

You love Elvis Presley.

You love everything about Elvis Presley, save for one thing. 

His friends.

You will admit you like a few of them. Most of the others are fine, but indifferent towards you. Some of them get on your nerves but otherwise you can live with them, like when they tease you over your accent or snicker under their breath when you forget words. You don’t like it, but you put up with it. 

One of them you absolutely hated, with all of your being: Eric. 

He’s the one that has been around the longest with Elvis. He went on tour with him in the early days, went to Germany with him, and now he’s here in Hollywood with him. He even brags he was the one to give Elvis the final push he needed to get on stage. Yes he was more partial to the party lifestyle than the others, and had a tendency to speak without much thought, but Elvis reassured you that he was deep down a good guy.

You find that hard to believe, because you don’t know what it is about you that Eric finds so offensive, but whatever it is, it’s apparently unforgivable in his mind. 

Even though you spoke it just as well as Spanish, most people assumed you didn’t speak English at all. You let this slide mostly because you’re nosy and people are a lot freer with their words around you when they think you can’t understand them. You begin to regret that decision when Eric got comfortable enough to tell you how badly he wanted to fuck you and what he would do when he did. Usually your go to tactic was to start speaking rapid Spanish, which like most white people, made him confused and very uncomfortable, pick up a cleaning tool and walk into a different room, usually one where you knew Elvis was.

“You’re a lil’ fuckin’ whore you know that?” he would seethe while you cleaned the kitchen the night you were all set to leave for Hawaii. “Just like the rest of ‘em. He’s only taking you because he wants to fuck you.” The foul smell coming from him tells you that he’s been drinking, so you’re on edge right now. Everything about this is setting you off right now, and you know you have to get out of here right now. 

…But not before you got the last word in.

You look him right in the eyes, and as he sees the understanding in your eyes, you can also see him realize before you speak your first word to him, that you knew this whole time what he had been saying to you.

“Probably,” you say, and then you turn right around and make you way to Elvis that night.

You don’t if it’s embarrassment for what you heard him say to you, shame that you heard what he said or fear that you could and would tell Elvis at any moment what he’s like to you when no one was around. Whatever the case may be he would spend the next few years making comments under his breath about you, passive aggressively handing you plates to and glasses to clean, so on and so forth.

As did a lot of his friends, as they didn’t take you seriously at first, thinking you were going to eventually be replaced, that was until the argument that had his former manager walk away. When the press had learned about you, they had called you Elvis’ “Hot Tamale,” which you didn’t love, but what you loved even less was the threat that this story posed to his career.

But that’s also when you know you fell for him completely. Even you had fully expected him to drop you the moment the press got wind of you, because celebrities as big as him simply don’t end up with the maid, let alone a maid that looks and sounds like you. But he didn’t. He didn’t flinch at any of the things they threw at him: Not when his manager walked, not when the studio threatened to pull his contract, not even when a veritable mob stood outside the gates of his home demanding he be arrested for “indecency.” He took all of it, all so that you two could be together. 

Colonel Tom Parker wanted you gone, and forgotten. The last time you ever saw him he was saying shit like how he didn’t want Elvis to be so “controversial,” and how he would ruin his image as a “good American boy,” over quote “some little wetback.” You got the pleasure of seeing his face turn from angry to murderous as those words left that man's vile mouth, and the way every other face in that room drained of color as he went off on him had you breathing a little heavier by the end of it.

Though it all worked out for the better in the end as Elvis had ten new offers from people who worked with Brando and Dean before he was even out of the gate (all asking for a lot less than what he was paying the Colonel). None of them were afraid to take such a “scandalous” client, and were even able to work it in his favor to get more serious roles he had always been after.

Eventually most people seemed to get over it, and you became the new “it” girl, as magazines went from criticizing you for every little thing that was “unamerican” about you to praising how “exotic” and “spicy” you were. It doesn’t matter what they think, so long as you were with Elvis, you were untouchable, you believed. 

That is why you put up with his friends, it felt like after all that he does for you, the least you could do was fight your own battles. 

You had woken up today well-rested and your baby moving beneath your heart. You would have labeled it a perfect morning if it weren’t for the fact that your husband was absent, as he was currently doing reshoots for his movie half a world away right now. 

He had been furious at the studio for this, and tried everything he could to delay shooting because he wanted to be with you as much as he could right now. He had made it no secret how he wanted a big family, and having grown up in one you couldn’t help but agree eagerly. You were engaged for about a month in total, he was so impatient to start trying for a baby, but you were no better in all honesty.

It eventually took when you were with him in Hawaii for the original shoot of the movie. As appealing as being with him there right before your baby is due sounds, you can’t think of anything worse than a more than ten hour flight. You barely survived the flight back home when you were just barely into your pregnancy, you doubt you would be able to make it this late. Besides, you're saving your patience for flying for your upcoming stay in LA, as you had made plans to have your baby there. 

Graceland has become home to you, but Memphis has not. You’ve known since the moment that Elvis decided you were it, that the two of you would be toeing the line. Because being latin, the law here didn’t technically make it illegal for you two to be married, but certain people here made it very clear that they take your marriage as some cardinal sin. As a result, when you are here, you never leave Graceland without him. 

Usually you loved being here. When the house is filled with friends and family it actually does feel like a home, and even when it’s just the two of you, neither of you ever feel lonely. But without him, you now feel the way you did when you were just house sitting for him.

This is why, when you learned about the reshoots, you insisted on being in LA, so you at least wouldn’t be as cooped up there as you were in Graceland and you would have your family nearby. That was one of the biggest fights you’ve had in all the years you’ve been together, as you hated the idea of being in Graceland without him, and he hated the idea of you being in LA without him.

You didn’t relent until you found out why he was so reluctant to have you there. He didn’t want to scare you, but he had learned a while ago that someone had broken into the Hillcrest house. Nothing was taken, but it scared him nonetheless, and he wanted you to stay in Graceland just so he could have the peace of mind. And for all that it made you feel restrained, you can’t help but agree that Graceland is safe so long as you stay within. Red and Pat as Elvis didn’t want you without protection and Pat was pregnant too, so you didn’t have to feel so alone in the house. But Pat, unlike you, was free to leave at any time she pleased and you can’t begrudge her for doing so.

Of course Elvis has been trying to make your confinement easier by calling you every night. He missed you just as much as you did, and didn’t want to go a day without at least hearing your voice. Some calls are sweet, where he asks you to hold the phone to your belly so that he can talk to the baby, and funnily enough you notice that when he does the baby kicks like crazy. There are of course less than sweet calls, the ones that have you be as vocal as possible as you grind down onto his pillow.

Last night's call was different though, just from how much of a mood he had been in already. He had called to tell you that Eric and Joe were on their way back early, and with the venom dripping from his voice, you knew it had to be bad. He didn’t go into detail, but from what you understood is that Eric had been “fucking around” and now Elvis wants nothing to do with him. So much so that he was sent back to Memphis a week earlier than the rest of them, all so that he can get all of his things from Graceland before Elvis’ return. Joe’s only coming to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. With Red already here you figure that the two of them should be able to take him, but you doubt he’ll try anything now of all times when Elvis is so mad at him already. 

Eric had been like a looming black cloud over this whole experience, making jabs that he now understood the rush to get married so quickly and how Elvis is now trapped. Elvis was able to deflect these comments by joking how if anything he trapped you. Though in the few times he’s gotten you alone, the comments turned into how Elvis should best make sure you’re having a baby, to how he better make sure it’s his baby. You didn’t like what he was implying but you also knew that he was just saying shit to see what stuck, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Most of the other men had taken the hint when you and Elvis were gushing about how big of a family you wanted and had quietly moved their things out of their designated rooms, and into their own houses, while Eric seemed to dig himself in like a tick. You know Elvis is never about to ask someone to leave, and much as you would like to see this man off for the last time you decided it would be best not to counter him and to just stay upstairs for the time being.

The uppermost floor was your and Elvis’ own little world, where you two were just a young married couple awaiting the arrival of the first addition to your family. This is where the two of you could retreat away from everyone and just be. But with one of you gone it felt wrong, and you find yourself restlessly cleaning and organizing the floor above trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his return.

Though being roughly a little over seven months, you’re almost immediately exhausted and you find yourself resting your feet in what will become the baby’s room. It’s quickly become your favorite room in all of Graceland, with the little stuffed animals everywhere and the music notes painting the wall. You have no idea if the baby is going to be a boy or girl, but Elvis swears that he’s ready to pull the trigger on a theme the moment you figure it out. 

“¿Qué piensas?” you say to your bump, enjoying the breeze from the open balcony door. “Una patada para los vaqueros o dos para las princesas.” The baby kicks three times, and you laugh while rubbing your belly. Later on you would recognize this to truly be your last moment of peace. 

“How precious,” a vile voice sneers at you. 

Your smile instantly drops and rather than acknowledge him, you look out the window with your hand protectively over your baby. They're kicking up a storm, almost beat for beat matching your heart rate. “Elvis says, you’re not allowed to be up here,” you say curtly.

"He also says to keep the dogs outside, but I see a little bitch right in front a me." 

"I think big bitch would be more appropriate," you say, all the while rubbing your belly. He's always hated not being able to get a reaction out of you, or how you've never gone to Elvis about what he does as though he's not worth the air it would take to do so. Counter to what people believe about people like you, you’re very capable of keeping your cool and you save your passion for your love not your hatred. And you have no love for Eric.

“You must be so goddamn proud a yourself, being able to get your claws in him like you did,” he spits out. “Struttin’ around here with that little bastard in your belly like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Wait, I thought I was a dog?”

“...What?” 

“I’m confused because you said I was a dog and now you’re saying I’m a cat.” you say coyle while sarcastically throwing your hands in the air. “Tell me Eric, what am I?”

“You’re a little fuckin’ whore is what you are!” he shouts. “You know damn well that there wasn’t no break-in at Hillcrest. He just doesn’t want you in LA because he don’t want you fuckin’ around behind his back! I tried tellin’ him as much, but he didn’t want to hear none of it.”

You stand up and walk out of the room, not willing to hear anymore lies of a sad miserable man that has been digging his own grave for years. You weren’t even there, so he cannot seriously blame you for whatever he did to get himself fired. You know better than most how hot Elvis can run, but you also know how quick he is to forgive, so whatever he said or did to get Elvis this way, must have truly been something. 

You make your way to the office, hoping to lock yourself in there and that his outburst caused enough of a commotion to get the other men’s attention. He’s still spewing vile at you, but you’re simply blocking it out until you feel a hand yank your head back hard. 

Everything happens quick after that, as you feel the back of your being yanked away from your intended destination and being led to a different direction. You try your best to scratch at the hand that holds your hair, but his grip is too tight and suddenly you’re flying. 

And then you’re not.

You’re frozen at the landing, not wanting to believe what had just happened. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you feel your face get wet, and most horrifyingly, your baby is not moving. The carpet on the floor begins to be dotted with red but you don’t understand where it’s coming from until a little blood makes its way into your eye. As you hear the heavy footfalls coming down the stairs you start hyperventilating, trying to get a hold of the bannister and praying that he’ll stop. 

Getting to the railing you hear someone shouting what was that!?!? And someone else shouting where’d he go!?!? You see the others finally at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment the nightmare is over and you think he wouldn’t be so stupid as to continue now, but then you feel a foot firmly place itself on your back. You’re thrown off balance and you’re plummeting down once again. You’re abruptly put to a stop as Red and Joe meet you halfway up the stairs, and they share a worried look at you. You feel fine now, but you will admit that the slick feeling coming from between your legs is uncomfortable. 

You’re confused as to what’s going on, Red rushes his way up the stairs to your tormentor who only gives you a cold look as he’s being restrained. Joe is helping you to your feet and rushing you out the front door while Pat grabs your purse and yells at Mary to call Elvis. 

They’re taking you to the cars and you’re not sure why, you just need to clean the blood off of yourself and you’ll be fine. It isn’t until you look down and see the dark red that stains your blue dress do you realize what’s happening. 

Joe was able to get you to the hospital without issue, but your journey didn’t get any easier from there. The whole experience was nothing but a nightmare for you. Your accented English and skin tone has the nurses trying to direct you to, quote, a more “appropriate,” hospital for you. Even the blood staining the front of your dress and the clear pain you’re in doesn’t seem to sway them. You’re ignored by the staff, as you beg to be seen by a doctor and it’s not until you slap your driver's license on the counter and they see your married name do they suddenly care very much about you and your baby. Or at the least they don’t want to be known as the hospital that turned away Elvis Presley’s wife.

They get you in a wheelchair, and as they take you to the maternity ward, they repeatedly ask you questions and you’re positive you’re speaking English, but none of them seem to understand you. Not even three hours ago you were complaining to Mary how the baby was giving you heartburn, and now you’re in a hospital, with not a single familiar face in sight, begging incoherently for someone to save your baby. 

This is why you had wanted to be in California, where you would have a better chance of having a doctor that spoke Spanish with you. But now here in Memphis, you’re more likely to get a unicorn to deliver your baby, than a doctor that can speak your first language. 

Your legs are held apart by nurses, who don’t care to be gentle with you, as you desperately cling to the rails of your hospital bed, feeling like you’re going to crack your teeth as you desperately push the baby out of you. The pain you feel from the rest of your injuries is nothing compared to this, but you feel like you're seconds away from passing out after each push. But you know you have to keep going because every second that the baby is still in there, the less likely they are to make it. 

And with one final push it’s all over. Amá told you how long the whole thing could be, but your baby came into the world quick and so quiet. You can feel yourself bleeding out more and more, but you still want to see your baby and you ask as much before you pass out. 

When you come to, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know how long you’ve been there, and all the staff is willing to tell you is that you're restricted to bed rest due to the fact that you nearly died from a hemorrhage, and that your baby girl is alive. That’s how you find out you have a daughter, and all you know about her is that she’s alive and you can’t see her. 

You allow for visitors, and the only ones who do come to see you are Pat and Joan, Joe’s wife. Despite your wish to not be alone, seeing Pat’s baby bump only gave you an empty feeling. They let you know that you had been given birth two days ago, that Red and Joe are holding down Graceland, and most importantly Elvis is going to be here soon. 

You don’t ask about Eric. 

You’re glad they’re here even if all you can do at the moment is cry, and feel hollow on the inside.

He looks awful, is your first thought when you see your husband for the first time in almost a month. His eyes are bloodshot, his outfit is wrinkled, and you can see a hint of stubble even from where you're sitting. The girls quickly make their way out as Elvis makes his way over to your side, his chest heaving and his breathing ragged. 

Elvis is not one for tears, but you can only watch helplessly as the love of your life falls apart in your arms. You thought you'd cried yourself dry at this point, but even now you find yourself holding back even more tears as you try to wipe his tears away. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whimpers against your palm. Your heart is  in your throat at this point, knowing he only ever calls you by your name when it’s serious. “I shoulda been here for ya’, this is all my fault.”

“Amor… Amor, please look at me,” you beg. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Y/N, please tell me what happened,” he pleads. 

“They didn’t tell you?” 

“They did… I-I just,” he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I need to hear it from you.”

You’re trying to get your breathing under control, but finally you whisper to him what happened. You’re saddened and humiliated as you tell him how your own pride got you into this mess. The pride that liked to frustrate and rile up Eric, because you thought it was funny. The pride that prevented you from telling Elvis, because you wanted to feel like you were the one handling it. The pride that made you turn your back on a man you knew to be dangerous, because you thought he would never do anything to you. And now people are suffering because of you.

You beg him for forgiveness in the part you played in this, and you’re honestly surprised when he sticks by you and you bury your face in his chest. He tells you there is nothing to forgive, but you can see the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he asks if you want to press charges against him, and you shoot that down just as quickly. 

You don’t trust the police, something that has been with you since your earliest memory, Apá telling you about his scars that he got for having the audacity to wear a Zoot Suit as a young man. Navy men had beaten and stripped him in the streets and then afterwards policemen who saw the whole thing arrested him as though he were the problem. It was a scary thing to tell a little girl, but the older you got the clearer the story became: the police aren’t there to help people like you. 

That’s why you told Elvis not to take it to the police, just to have Eric leave Graceland and never come back. It’s going to be a hassle getting the state to acknowledge your daughter as his, let alone getting them to recognize that anything bad happened to you. You just want to put this whole thing behind you and never have to think about this again. Elvis frowns at that, but you doubt after everything you went through he’s gonna deny you this. 

After things have settled, the doctors make their way to your room, now that Elvis is here, they’ve decided now is a good time to tell you what’s happened. They tell you that the fall caused something called placental abruption and as a result you went into labor prematurely. It also caused internal hemorrhaging that caused you to pass out. None of that mattered to you really, you simply wanted your baby with you, and you let them know as much.

The doctors share a look, but they allow you to leave the bed and Elvis wheels you to where they’re keeping your baby. There is a whole team of doctors and nurses to greet you and tell you how you can see her, and what to prepare for. They escort the two of you to a private room farther away and with private security guarding it.

And then you see her… Your baby girl. 

You never thought babies could be so small.

She lies there, wires attached to her and tubes up her nose. She’s too small to even know how to eat and they have to use a tube in her mouth and a needle in her hand. Her little feet kick at the air, her tiny fists are clenched, and her eyes are shut tight, but you're glad to see it all, to know that your baby is still fighting, still daring to live. 

You want to be able to hold her, to let her know her mamá is there with her, but they tell you she’s not ready to be outside of her box yet, and they warn you of how delicate she is right now, and that the slightest change in her environment could be devastating, so touch is to be limited. The doctors told you that they had almost lost her in the beginning, but she’s a fighter and things are looking up. 

They leave the two of you alone with her, when one of the nurses playfully suggests Erica as a first name on her way out. All at once it hits you like a freight train, why your baby is the way she is now and who is to blame. You weep silently, so she can’t hear your grief over the situation: your baby is weak, so you have to be strong for her now. 

“I hate him. I hate him so much.” You sob, your hand pressing on to the warm glass that separated you and your child. Elvis wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t need to ask who you’re talking about. 

All this time Elvis has been so quiet, and he swiftly wraps you in his arms as he promises to take care of everything, and as he wipes the tears from your face he swears that he will make everything better again. 

You know, in spite of the horror that it was to get her here, you’re both overjoyed to finally be able to meet her. But all too soon the both of you are escorted out and away from her. They explain that once you’re discharged, you and only you will be able to stay with her on a long-term basis, but policy prevents Elvis from being able to do so as well. No amount of money or argument will change that. 

The next few days you vaguely register the visitors Elvis brings to see you, but you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. They all come with well wishes and promises to do anything the two of you need during this time. The men look haunted to see you in such a state and they promise you that they’ll personally make sure Eric never does anything like this again. It’s little consolation to you considering it already happened once.

Finally you’re discharged and you walk yourself straight to the NICU. You visited her as often as you could, as did Elvis, and getting to be with her throughout the day is a step in the right direction. Being there with him makes it easier, but soon Elvis has to leave and your heart breaks all over again. You part with a long sorrowful kiss and you save your tears, knowing that of all times, this is the moment you need to be strong, for both him and your daughter. It was a hard, sleepless night for you and one look at the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his knuckles when you see him the next morning, tells you that Elvis had a similar night to you. 

He smoothes out your brow, as he softly pleads with you not to worry about him and instead to focus on your daughter, as she’s the one who needs you the most. And as he gives you a kiss on your forehead and you wonder what you did to deserve such a loving husband. 

You begged Amá to stay home, not wanting to have to worry about her being this down south without you. She’s apparently been praying everyday for you and the baby, and she’s begging you for the name. You want to tell her so badly, but you can’t risk telling her fearing it will somehow get back to the world at large.

You and Elvis had thought long and hard about the perfect name for your first-born and with everyone seemingly wanting to have a say in it, it was a little overwhelming (with how easy your pregnancy was going you stupidly thought that this was going to be your biggest hurdle to overcome. You wish you could go back to those days).

Eventually though you were able to come to some agreement born from your mutual love of I Love Lucy, though the names mostly stemmed from a joke when some of the magazines started calling you two the new Lucy and Desi. Neither of you could figure out who was supposed to be Lucy and who was supposed to be Desi. And as a play on that, the two of you ultimately decided on Lucía for a girl and Richard for a boy, as a fun little reversal. 

You had been so eager to tell the world about your beautiful baby not even a week ago and now it feels like the last piece of this whole ordeal that you can control. Even the hospital staff only know her as “Baby Presley,” promising that you would only name her once she was discharged. Someone had snuck into the hospital and was able to get a picture of your baby in a box attached to wires and fighting for her life, while the newspapers excitedly announced “It’s Girl!” to all of America. Your husband saw his own daughter for the first time on the front of a newspaper walking into the hospital before he could see her in person or even know if you were dead or alive. It felt like the whole world saw your baby before you did and that hurts you in a way that you fail to find words for in either language you speak. 

That entire stay, you didn’t leave the hospital once, and you rarely ever left her side, and even then it was only when Elvis could be in there with her in your stead. The days all seemed to blend together for you, you would eat so she could eat, you would sleep when she slept, singing and telling her stories everywhere in between, and touching her as frequently as you’re allowed to do so. 

Early when you tried to speak Spanish to her in front of the doctors, they immediately shut you down, “warning” you that doing so has the potential to hold her back if she has to learn another language in the long run. You internally roll your eyes at that, having grown up speaking both, but nonetheless you comply, but save it for when you’re alone with her. On the list of things you absolutely do not need right now is the media turning on you for being a bad mother by not complying with doctors orders. They already make comments on how you should have been more careful in the situation, because as far as anyone outside of Graceland knows, you simply fell down the stairs.

You wouldn’t say it was all bad, you love the moments you’re all together. Moments where you both hold her hands at the same time and feel her delicate skin, where you hear her gurgle as she’s being tickled, and especially the way she wiggles her arms and feet as Elvis sings to her, are ll moments you would never trade trade regardless of the fact that you’re in a cold sterile room and not in your warm home. Elvis even brought a record player and the nights became a little more bearable as now you’re both able to hear him when he’s not there. 

Finally you’re able to get the all clear from the doctor and Lucía finally gets to experience the world outside of her little clear box for the first time in short bursts. You’ll be able to hold your baby fully and not be limited to just holding her hand. In many ways you were not ready to lose being so close to her so fast, and this was only made worse by the fact of how limited you were in touching your own baby during this whole time. And still you worry that maybe she’s still not ready, as you’re still roughly a month away from your original due date.

But as you’re finally able to hold her and you feel her latch on and nurse from you, these doubts and fears all fall silent. Your baby was almost completely ripped away from you, by someone who only had cruelty and spite in their heart for you. But now as she rests in your arms and feeds from you getting stronger, and your husband holds the two of you close to him everything feels as it should be now. 

Not too long after that, Lucía is finally able to be discharged and you can finally take her home. Elvis was nervous no doubt, from all the times he questioned the doctor if he was sure that she was ready and if she couldn’t stay a little longer just to be sure. You have similar thoughts but you’re trying to think on the brighter side of the situation, for the both of you.

Of course you and Elvis still have to do that photoshoot for the press. You hate this, but also recognize that getting this out of the way now will sate their curiosity about your baby and get them to leave you alone, at least for now. You and Elvis recognized this would be the case when you saw them go into a near frenzy the moment you stepped off that plane from Hawaii with an obvious baby bump months ago. 

Ironically enough the only thing that has gone according to plan was this aspect, as you were able to get photographers you’re familiar with and Elvis brought the outfits you picked out months ago. His fans were also willing to give the two of you a wide berth so that you could leave the hospital. You are far too enamored with Lucía to really take notice of any of it, until the two of you are already in front of home. 

Your mood drops once you see where you are, and Elvis takes notice of that. He squeezes your hand and reassures you that everything's been cleaned and that the trash’s been taken out. Still, walking through the front door, you held onto his arm for dear life and your hands were shaking so bad you had him hold Lucía, as you were afraid you would drop her. You're greeted inside by a few friends and his family, but your eyes immediately narrow in on the stairs and you're relieved to see that it’s completely clean. Without the bloodstains, it’s easier to forget that anything terrible happened here. 

Everyone wants to get to see her and the two of you are immediately, but a squeeze to his arm from you and the subsequent single look he gives them has them back up a little. You’re able to sit down in the living room, and hold your baby in your home for the first time, but not all is right in the world. No one has said anything about the big Eric shaped elephant in the room, as they all no doubt know why you went into labor so early.

The women do their best to distract you from it, talking about their own experiences being a new mother, and how this has been a stressful time for everyone, especially the men who’ve been jumpy for weeks now. But no matter what your attention keeps being drawn back to the stairs, as though any minute Eric’s going to be trotting down to finish the job any moment now. You try to distract yourself with anything else in the room, and that’s when you notice something off about the carpet. You figured that the carpet would have been replaced but what’s odd is the fact that you remember going straight from the staircase to the car as you were bleeding, so you don’t understand why the carpet in the den had to have been replaced too. 

You shake these concerns from your head and begin to make your way outside to get some air, because the walls are making you feel like you’re going to suffocate. That’s where you find the men, as all smoking within Graceland had been banned for the foreseeable future, and Elvis still insisted on finally using those cigars he got for the occasion. What’s weird is that they don’t surround the patio or even the pool area. No, you find them more out towards the field, surrounding a large unsightly hole in the ground.

“Amor, what did you do to the backyard?” You question your husband when he makes his way back to where you’re sitting.

Some of the men tense up at your question, but seeing Elvis not really react to the question other than a slightly nervous laugh, makes you disregard anything’s amiss.

“Well…” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “after I got done with the nursery. I-I wanted to add something to the backyard so it wasn’t so empty to look at.”

“... and you decided the best way to make it less empty was to dig a hole?”

“It ain’t gon’ stay a hole, Darlin’,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around you. “I was plannin’ on puttin’ in one a them Gazebos in the back for our little princess here. It… It kept me busy the nights I couldn't sleep.”

You soften at that answer, knowing that with his sleep issues, the nights must have been torture for him. He was always the first visitor to arrive at the ward and the last one to leave, and only once did you ever dare ask what he did when he went home at night. You worried about him, how could you not? And so one day you gathered the courage to ask him how he was handling the nights?

All he said was that he “keeps busy.” At the time you didn’t want to know what he meant, as it was a stressful time for the both of you, so digging holes in the backyard is far from the worst thing he could have been doing.

You give an amused sigh saying, “Next time, get professionals to do it.”

He grins at that, “Don’t worry baby, we got a crew comin’ in to fill the hole in a few days. I wanted to have it done before you and the lil’ one got back home.” You shake your head at him and kiss him on the cheek. You don’t really notice the way most of the men take a simultaneous sigh of relief at your acceptance of Elvis’ answer. 

Later on you’re putting Lucía down in a little bassinet Elvis had set by your bed (you’re both reluctant to be away from her), and you feel him make his way behind you. The both of you lay beside each other and watch her sleep, and now, not having to be obscured by tubes or glass, you get to really see your beautiful baby girl. She’s sleeping with her arms straight up, her little chest rising and falling on its own, and the two of you nearly melt as she yawns and rubs her little mitten covered hands over her face. 

“You ready to sleep yet?” he whispers to you. 

“No, I just want to look at her some more.”

“Me too,” he hums. 

You sit with your husband and bask in this perfect moment.

You didn’t really notice the off-atmosphere that surrounded Graceland in those days, until you noticed that a trunk of yours was missing. You think you had packed some old baby things your mother had given you the last time you had been in LA. It had been with you in Graceland before you left the hospital, and it had also been where you were storing the outfit you wore when you left the hospital, so the fact that it’s gone is odd to say the least. Considering Elvis was the one that brought the outfit to you, he’s the one you end up asking. 

“What trunk?” he asks. 

“The big white one,” you say to him as you change Lucía into her pajamas. She’s trying to eat her fist and you’re trying to get her to smile by nibbling on her fingers a little. “The one you got me the first time in Hawaii.” 

“Oh that one,” he responds. “Didn’t you leave it at Hillcrest?”

“No, I know I brought it here.” you say confused. “I asked you to look in it to find the pink outfit I wore at the hospital. It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

He furrows his brow at that and he looks deep in thought, “Didn’tcha say that you didn’t want to pack clothes that don’t fit no more?” He says as he brings Lucía to rest on his bare chest. 

You do vaguely remember saying something along those lines when you were packing, but still you remember having it here with you. “Maybe… but I did bring it here,” you say, though not as sure as you once were.

“Y/N, why you wanna know so bad?” he says, as he gently pats Lucia on the back trying to get her to fall asleep. This question throws you a bit, not for the words themselves, but the way he said it, as there was a severe lack of humor or warmth in his tone as he said that, that you weren’t used to. 

“I-I was looking for a few baby things that Amá gave me last time I saw her.” you say, suddenly feeling guilty for pushing the topic. 

His eyes soften at your answer, realizing he scared you. He holds up your chin and gives a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“I-I think, I saw ‘em when I I was lookin’ for the little pink get up a yours,” you see him jump a little. “Though you might wanna save the lookin’ for tomorrow,” he says, a slight grimace on his face, as he looks down at your baby girl. “‘Cuz lil’ one here is trying to tap a dry well.” You burst out laughing as you see that Lucía has a good grip on one of his nipples and is trying desperately to bring it to her mouth. 

“Esos son para mamá, chula,” you jokingly scold her, as you bring her close to you so she can latch onto you, and Elvis tickles your side in reprimand. Still even with that moment of levity, you still can’t let go of what just happened. If it were anything else you would have written it off but that trunk was special to you because of the fact that Elvis had given it to you on that fateful trip to Hawaii. He had insisted you pack light, which confused you until about a week later when by that point he had already gifted you twice as many dresses as you had come with. By the end of the trip he gave you this trunk just to pack everything he had given you. (Smooth operator that he was, when the trunk found its way into his room when you got back home, he insisted it would be easier for you to move into his room, rather than moving the trunk into yours).

It has been a pretty constant presence in your relationship with him, as it went where you went, and you went where he went. But… you didn't go with him to Hawaii, and you did leave a lot of old clothes back in LA… maybe it is just baby brain, and you’re overthinking this.

Things only really seem to click that something is off a few days later when you caught Charlie staring out into the backyard. If it were anybody else from the group you wouldn’t have noticed or cared too much, but you liked Charlie. He seemed to be one of the more genuine ones of them all, and he’s also one of the few of them who's at least picked up on some of the more common Spanish phrases in all the years you’ve known him.

But now Charlie seems distant, as though he’s somewhere else in his head. He’s staring off into the same direction as where that pit is now. 

“Charlie, ¿qué pasa?” you ask, and he seems to jump ten feet in the air. 

“Y/N, hi-hello… um…I-I, d-do ya’ need something?” he manages to stutter out. 

“Yes umm…” you say slightly embarrassed about what you’re about to ask. “I want to put Lucía down for a nap, but I need someone else to help carry her up there with me.” You would have asked Elvis, but he’s upstairs already and you’re not about to leave her alone to go get him.

“Sure, but… why do you need help,” he asks, genuinely confused over the request. 

“I… well, since the fall, I… I don’t trust myself to hold her on the stairs,” you say, your eyes going a bit glassy. You shake your head to gather yourself, “I ju-just need someone else to carry her on the stairs. I’m fine on my own.” If by fine you meant having to have both feet on each step going up and down, and never letting go of the railing, then yes very fine. Elvis was heartbroken when he saw this the first time, but didn’t say anything about it, just offered you his arm and let you take your time. 

Charlie has the same reaction and wordlessly helps you with her. Though you do trail behind him you eventually are able to make it up to the landing, where you see Elvis whispering something to him. You think he says something to the effect, you understand now? Charlie would give a small nod in response as he hands Lucía to him and makes his way down the stairs after giving you a quick hug. 

You’re about to ask what that was about, when you see something on one of the steps that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You see a familiar looking rust colored spot on one step, and you force yourself to sit down, feeling unsteady on your feet and your eyes welling up all of a sudden. 

“Baby what's wrong?” Elvis says trotting down the steps, Lucía still in his arms. Your hands are shaking and your breathing quicker than you should, and you're filled with the same dread that you felt as Eric walked down those same steps. “Goddamnit, I thought they got all of it” he whispers when he sees where your eyes are fixated. He crouches down beside you and takes you in his arms as he whispers in your “You’re okay sweetheart,” he says, “You and Lucía are okay.” 

Gradually you feel yourself steady as you breathe in the scent of his cologne, and feel the way Lucía clutches around your finger. That brings you back down and you’re able to stop your weeping as you focus solely on the two most important people in your life.

You wouldn’t know this, but at the bottom of the steps, just beyond your view several men would come to the same understanding as Charlie did in that moment.

What did he mean about understanding? You would ask yourself later after Lucia had been fed and put down for a nap. You’re laying down in his arms, having tired yourself out from that episode, and just wanting to rest, but this question that rings in your ear, still eats at you making you unable to do so. 

These thoughts are halted as you feel him run a finger down your spine and you on reflex push your chest into his. You also feel as he brings his hips closer to yours, and he hooks your leg around his waist, lightly trailing his hand back up your skirt to rest comfortably on your ass, as you let out a shuddering breath against him, making as little noise as possible, as not to wake your baby.

He’s gentle with you, you just had his baby after all. There was no tearing so you’re healed physically, but you're glad nonetheless as you become reacquainted with his touch again. His fingers lightly trace the edge of your panties, as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like. 

You’re reminded of your first time with him. He had been having trouble with one particular scene in Blue Hawaii, and he asked you to come on to the set that night. He had you sit as an extra behind Joan Blackman and he kept stealing glances at you as he sang. As the scene cut there was not a dry eye on set and Elvis was heaped with praise for his best take yet, but what he was more interested in was your reaction to his song. 

He was gentle with you then as well. You confided in him before that you were untouched, and he made sure to make it as tender as possible. Careful, as he learned (as did you) what made you whimper, what made you moan, what made you scream. 

Knowing he’s gone just as long without it as you have, you want to. God, do you want to, but as you grind yourself onto his still clothed length, he makes the mistake of tugging your hair back and suddenly you're paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of dread as he kisses your neck. It takes him a second to realize that this is bad heavy breathing, but he stops the moment he realizes it. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His worried look only makes you feel more guilty, while you try to even out your breathing. This feeling only made worse as you watch his heartbreak all over again when you tell him why you freaked out when he tugged at your hair like he did.

“I’m always gon’ protect ya’ Satnin,” he whispers to you, mindful of your baby sleeping a few feet away. “Nothin’s ever gon’ hurthcha again.”

You want to believe him. You really do.

It all comes to a head when the day before they’re set to fill the hole in the backyard, you finally find your trunk. Embarrassed at your reaction to being on some stairs, you decided to try to break this habit by confronting your fears. So one day as Lucía slept, you made your way to the attic stairs, but your fears were quickly forgotten as you stared at the previously missing trunk. It’s hard to comprehend its presence as it’s supposed to be on the other side of the country right now. Or… at least that’s what Elvis had told you. 

Whatever the case may be you can’t exactly leave it alone, and you go to inspect it a little closer. It won’t open and a brief brush on the keyhole tells you that it had been locked and the key lodged inside. You also see some dents and dings here and there, but the most noticeable change were some rust colored stains dotting the outside of it. You don’t immediately recognize what they could be, but even as your mind conjures up similar looking stains that are still on the stairs, you can’t really accept what it is.

“Whatcha doin’ up here baby?” a familiar voice behind you says, startling you for a moment. You turn to see your husband, but something is … off. His smile is a little too big, his eyes a little too wide, and if his jaw was clenched any tighter he would have cracked his teeth. It’s all far too unsettling

“I-I was practicing with the stairs, and I found this,” you say, pointing to the trunk.

Somehow he’s able to clench his teeth even tighter as he sees what you found, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, sweetheart. But I,”  he says , pausing to think on his next words. “I-I… Forget it you caught me. I broke the lock on it.” he says with a guilty look on his face. 

“...That’s it?”

“That’s all, baby. I wanted to try to fix it, but I just made it worse and now it won’t open.”

Maybe… maybe he is telling the truth and he just broke the lock… but that wouldn't explain why everything kept in there was taken out or why it was up in the attic, or why it’s covered in blood. Why is he hiding this from you?

“C’mon Satnin, it ain’t nothin’ to get so worked up about? I’ll getcha another one soon,” he says as he wraps an arm around you.

You don’t have time to really question what is going on as you hear Lucía below and you're able to stamp down that curious part of yourself. You make your way back, your feet feeling so unsteady that you clutch onto him with both hands. 

But it still eats at you, the fact that he was able to lie so easily to you, and convince you of that lie when he knew full well it was up here. And why hide it from you? These are all questions you ask yourself as you lay in bed with him, you wonder who exactly you are sharing it with. 

Your blood goes cold as you feel the bed shift right next to you, and you slam your eyes shut, genuinely fearing your husband for the first time. But these feelings of fear dissipate as feel the  quick kiss he gives your forehead before whispering to you, so low you barely hear it, “No one’s ever gon’ hurtcha and get away with it.” You’re paralyzed with fear, and have to remind yourself to breathe lest you give away that you're not actually asleep as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

You open your eyes and stare at the door and the longer you listen the clearer it becomes that he’s not using the bathroom. You also hear as several feet try to quietly make their way up the stairs and then you hear the tell-tale creak of the attic door. You silently make your way to the door and listen against it as you hear them 

You stare off into darkness as the noise gradually lessens until you’re left hearing nothing but the crickets outside and your baby’s steady breathing. You stay there frozen in place, debating internally whether you should follow them. You know in your heart that something is wrong, but you don’t want to confront it. Still after some time you find yourself in the kitchen making your way outside.

As you round the corner, you're hit with the pungent scent of cigar smoke in the air mixed with the unmistakable smell of a campfire, and you see him and all the other men stripped down to their underwear. You crouch down out of sight and you see they are all surrounding the fire pit in the backyard, piles of clothes sit next to each of them, and on occasion one of them will throw something into the fire. All of them seem to be shaking from the cold or from nervousness you can’t quite tell. All of them… except for Elvis. You know he’s prone to getting jittery when he’s nervous, but here, you’ve never seen him so collected. 

“Eric was one a my oldest buddies, and he threw that all away ‘cause he had to be a shithead to the most important person in the world to me.” Those words, cold as a grave, mixed with that vacant look in his eyes, sent shivers down your spine. “There’s a lotta things I can forgive, but what he did sure as hell ain’t one a them.” 

“EP…” Jerry says. “You don’t gotta explain yourself, we-we all woulda done the same thing.”

“I’m goin’ ta hell because that sack a shit, and I look forward to seein’ him again, just so I can beat the crap outta him again.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he says these words, as he seems to rub his knuckle, the ones you remember seeing so badly bruised when you were in the hospital.

It’s unsettling how similar this is to when you met Elvis for the first time, you crouched down, being nosy, him in his boxers trying to hide someone from you. It would be funny if you weren’t one hundred percent sure that your husband wasn’t admitting to murder right now. You don’t stick around for much longer, your curiosity is sated, but you don’t feel any better knowing. 

You don’t know when or how you end up there, but you find yourself on the stairway landing. Once upon a time you thought of Graceland as a safe haven surrounded by shark infested waters, but now you realize that that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re swimming in it, but the biggest shark had decided that you were never to be harmed. 

You want to say that there was some internal debate on that landing, where you contemplated leaving and never looking back. How you wanted to do the morally right thing and report them for all the good it would do. How there was a part of you that stared longingly at the door feeling the desire to leave from the love that has driven him to do this for you.

You would say that… but you would be lying. 

No. You sit there taking in the new reality that the man who has repeatedly physically and emotionally hurt you is gone and it was at the hands of the man you loved the most. You feel something at this moment. A feeling that has eluded you for a while now. You feel… safe. 

It’s an odd feeling to have again. It was something you had always felt with Elvis, but not something you were ever able to verbalize. But now looking back you were always safe with him, when people got too close, when their words hurt, when their stares burned, you could always retreat into him and feel protected from the world. 

There’s a lot of conflicting emotions running through you all at once, pain and sadness at what Eric had done and all the subsequent heartache his actions brought clashing with the almost euphoric relief that is knowing he’s gone for good and it’s all due to how loved you are by a single man. If anybody were to see you right now, they would see a woman with tears streaming down her face while simultaneously giggling like a maniac. You’re only broken from this manic episode when you hear the shrill cry of your baby girl.

You feel lighter as you make your way up the stairs, so light you don’t bother to hold the railing as you usually do and you find your baby right where you left her. Your husband would return later while she’s still suckling at you, and he would make his way to sit behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, neither of you acknowledge how long he’s been gone. No, in the soft light of the room you both bask in each other watching the little wonder you both made get a little bigger and a little stronger by the moment resting in the bassinet by your bed.

“I just realized something,” you say. You feel him go rigid behind you, but you quickly break the tension by lightly running a finger along the ridge of his nose. “She got this from you.” 

“No, she didn’t,” he says with an amused huff. 

“No, it’s the same shape, just smaller. Look,” you insist. You take one of his hands to show him, careful not to wake her. 

He concedes to your point with a soft, tender kiss to your lips, while his other hand rubs circles on your hip bone. 

You should be disturbed at where his mind is at right now, and you would be if you weren’t just as hungry for him as he was for you. It’s been too long without him, and as he runs a finger along your jaw bringing your faces closer together, you welcome him back home. 

With the straps already falling off of your shoulders, you shiver as he uses a single finger to drag the silky material over your nipples, already begging for his attention that he’s all too willing to give. He languidly laves at them, using the occasional scrape of his teeth to get you to jump, all the while pressing down on your clit through your panties, before removing them.

You're laid on your back and you feel as he spreads the delicate petals of your pussy and even you’re taken aback as to how wet you are right now. You hiss slightly as you feel him probe lightly at your entrance, and he rips his hands back afraid he had hurt you. 

You take his hand in yours and bring his fingers to your mouth, tasting yourself on him, only to bring him closer to you as you whisper against his mouth “not bad, just slower papi.” You think, in a way, you both need this: to be reminded that his hands can do more than hurt. You’re not scared of him or what he’s capable of. 

He rolls so that you're on top of him and you bite your lip at his straining cock within his boxers. You run a single finger up his length and he bites down on his knuckle as you circle around the damp spot already forming. As you spread kisses along his length, he quietly pleads to be inside you, and after all he’s done for you, you won’t deny him.

Finally you sink down on him, and a long, satisfied moan escapes from your mouth and you chance a look at your baby relieved that she’s still asleep. He gives a cheeky grin, biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet, and you grind down on him in retaliation, though that quickly backfires on you as it feels way too good and you have to concentrate on not doing that again, as you don’t want this to end so soon.

Neither of you are in a hurry at the moment, just choosing to indulge in the connection that circumstances had denied the two of you for so long, sharing lazy kisses and secret jokes in equal measure until you can’t take it anymore. You set the pace for yourself and he is all too willing to oblige and let you chase your peak, as he’s not too far behind. You may very well be in bed with a monster, and yet you’ve never felt safer.

The next day you watch from the Balcony as the men fill the platform with concrete and you get one last look at that trunk, and hope to never see it again. Elvis joins you there, watching and holding you and your daughter, both secure in the knowledge that he’ll always be able to protect you.

You don’t end up thinking about him as much as you thought you would have. In those early days after construction had finished you had feared that the slightest slip up and everybody would know. You felt you could hardly breathe when you looked at it those months, and you were surprised and more than a little disturbed that Elvis had no such reaction to it. 

Though eventually a good memory would come to almost completely scrub out the sour taste that the Gazebo leaves you in the form of Lucía’s baptism. Even over a year later she was still so small compared to other babies her age and the doctors warned you to expect some developmental delays, but you still worried over the fact she still has yet to crawl. Most times she seems content enough to sit where she’s put and play with the toys within her reach and getting someone’s attention to get her what she wants. It’s almost as though she’s aware that Elvis is called The King, making her a princess and so she expects to be treated like one. 

Recently she’s taken to standing up using whatever’s closest, bouncing up and down on her little legs for a bit then sitting back down. You sat there letting Lucía hold your hands and do her thing, while you talked to some of the other women. Your husband on the other side of the platform, surrounded by Lucía’s godfathers (they helped him hide a body after all, this felt like the least the two of you could do to honor them), talking business.

When you felt her let go your immediate instinct was to grab her, but you stop yourself when you see that she’s not only standing on her own but shakily taking her first steps forward. You and the other women go dead silent as you watch her make a slow but sure beeline, her eyes set on her Daddy. You hold your breath so afraid that she’ll fall, but all of your muscles are tensed ready to dive in and catch her if she so much as stumbled.

Elvis was looking away, not noticing what was happening until she finally got to him and wrapped herself around his leg. Seeing her next to him throws you for a loop, as over a year ago, she was so tiny that she fit almost entirely in one of his hands, and now she stands on her own at his knee, and you really do see how much she has grown. Elvis finally turns around and sees her looking up at him, but with no one around to have helped her he doesn’t put it together until he sees your mile wide grin, and it finally dawns on him what just happened. 

You and Elvis would later joke that she, just like him, wouldn’t do something so big without an audience. And for that entire day you didn’t think once about Eric. Your little girl's first steps were over a grave, and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

When she was four, you had explained to Lucía that her father had had it built after she was brought home in celebration that the two of you had pulled through. After that she started calling it hers, and it just stuck, even when your other children were born it was always Lucía’s Gazebo. Birthday’s, barbeques, family dinners, many of them were held underneath that gazebo, and only occasionally would you even spare a thought toward Eric. 

And now as you watch your daughter dance with your husband underneath the gazebo, celebrating her quinceañera you’re glad Elvis did what he did. If that man had had his way you wouldn’t have any of this, and you refuse to feel anything close to guilt or sympathy for him.

Eventually Elvis breaks away from her to stand next to you as she now embarks on the arduous journey of dancing with her many, many padrinos. You welcome him with a tender kiss, and he holds you from behind as the two of you watch your little girl who is now becoming a woman.

“I swear she was this small yesterday,” he says while rubbing your two-year old son’s back as he rests on your shoulder right now. Elvis had been close to tears all day, with the doll ceremony nearly doing it for him as he always loved spoiling her with toys, so the idea that this would be the last one was very bittersweet for him.

For you it was the shoe ceremony that did bring you to tears, as you held her hand as she took a few shaky steps in her new heels, not so much for the first steps she took as a baby, but the painful reminder of all the things you thought you wouldn’t get to have with your little baby that couldn’t leave her box. You refuse to let that man ruin anything special for you again, and over his grave you whisper in the love of your life’s ear how it’s not too late to have another one. His eyes widen at that for a moment before he gives that devastating grin of his that won you over years ago and agrees to later.

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates  @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000​ @isthlsfate​ @mgparker​

[heyidkyay]

Who can say no to bridezilla? |

Part one

I had to write another after seeing the love the last one got, thank you btw! I've actually missed writing a fair bit so I'm glad you enjoyed it.

> With this one, I started and just couldn't stop, so I might make it into a couple of parts? Maybe? Idk, let me know if that's something anyone would want:)

Summary: With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

--

"It's just annoying. I mean- don't get me wrong, I'm proper chuffed you're finally tying the knot and all, but it's just a shitty situation.” I huffed defeatedly as I leant up against the cabinet, watching as a grey sky crept by my kitchen window. 

“I know,” I heard my sister sigh, her voice soft even through the phone’s tinny speaker. “And I’m sorry, but you know what mum’s like, y/n/n. She’ll be devastated when she finds out you’re coming alone! That, and the fact that if you don’t end up bringing a plus one, all of my wedding photos will turn out uneven… And I really, really need this day to be perfect! I want you to think its perfect! To enjoy it! Not just be sat there on the sidelines, watching.”

I closed my eyes for a long moment as I ran a hand through my hair. It was in dire need of a good wash, but between my job and the stress of having recently moved, I hadn’t found the time to even sit down. Still, I could understand where my sister was coming from, and I really wanted her to have the picture perfect day she’d always dreamt of too. But, we both knew that she was laying it on thick now, and with me being the eldest, we both also knew I’d do just about anything to make her happy. This though, was a big ask.

“Listen, yes things ended badly between Alex and I, but now that it’s all finally over, I just don’t think I have it in me to try and force myself to find someone else to replace him. Not yet, anyway.”

Alex, being my most recent ex. We’d parted ways about three months ago now- though ‘parted’ definitely wasn’t the term I preferred to use. But how else was I supposed to describe him cheating and me having to walk in on it happening? With my best mate of all people, too. 

Yeah, that hadn’t been the easiest of transitions, especially since I’d also been flat-sharing with the pair of them.

But my sister knew all of this already.

“Mum will just have to worry about me being lonely a little longer, y/s/n, and I'll just have to prepare myself to deal with her constant fussing over me for the entire evening.” I attempted to cajole, not wanting to outright deny her. “As well as the rest of my life, I suppose.” I added unhelpfully under my breath.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mum, God, she was just about the only person who truly understood me. That, and she’d done absolutely everything within her power to make sure that her kids had gotten everything she'd never had. She was an utter saint. But saying that, she could also tend to be a tad bit… overbearing. 

“Ah come on, she won’t be that bad!” My sister fired back before she then paused, as though she’d only just understood the words she’d spoken. I couldn’t not let out an airy chuckle when she sighed, “Alright, fair enough, she will be. But! If you just ask someone along, you won’t have to spend my entire wedding day avoiding her!”

I groaned, rubbing at my face.

“It’s been months since I ended things with Al- mum knows that, babe. I’ve had her on the phone almost every day since, hassling and FaceTiming me constantly to make sure I’m still alive. She even sends down little care packages in the post! Care. Packages. Y/s/n.”

I actually looked over towards the most recent arrival which had awoken me early the previous morning. It was still where I’d left it, chucked beside the foot of the sofa, barely opened. 

Again, I adored the woman, but she tended to be a fair bit dramatic. I could really see where my sister got it all from.

“Besides, how am I supposed to convince her I'm perfectly fine with someone I've only just met hanging off my arm?” I added, puttering on over to the sink to fill the kettle. I think I could feel another migraine coming on.

“I get it, y/n, I do. And I’m also sorry for suggesting it, but if I knew of an easier solution that would magically solve all our problems, then I would. But I don’t, and even though I want the biggest day of my life to go perfectly, I also want you happy.”

I could hear the sincerity in her voice and as I picked up my mug and tossed a teabag inside, I could also picture her sat at the dinning table back home, foot anxiously tapping away in an attempt to conjure up a better idea. She was a nitpicker, right down to the very bone, and I could only guess the amount of stress she was putting herself under in order to make sure that her wedding went off without a hitch for all those involved. 

After a few moments of shared silence, she spoke again, “To be honest, I can’t believe you stuck around as long as you did.”

My mind wandered back to all the time I’d wasted on Alex. We’d met growing up, he’d been our next door neighbour. We went through all of primary school despising one another, only to end up in the same friendship group come secondary. It didn’t take much more than that for us to suddenly become joined at the hip. He’d been my best mate, and when we finally got together, I’d pictured the rest of our lives spent with one another. 

He’d honestly really fucked me over in the end. I hadn’t just lost my boyfriend that day, but both of my closest friends, as well as a few others who’d taken his side in the awkward aftermath that came when most relationships ended. But that being said, I felt more at peace now than I had in a long while. With every relationship came troubles, and by the end of ours, I guessed we had more than most. That wasn’t me making excuses for him though- nah, he was still a massive prick.

“Yeah, me either.” I admitted, a breathy chuckle slipping from my lips as I softly shook away the rest of my thoughts. 

“I am proud of you though, for moving on as well as you have. Always knew he was an arse.” Came my sister’s voice and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

I grinned, so very thankful for her.

“God, was he!” I agreed instantly, listening to her giggle as I laughed, “A right tit.”

“Oh!”

I blinked at the sudden exclamation heard from down the phone and furrowed my brow slightly as the last of my laughter tittered out, “You alright there?”

“Uh, yes! I’ve just had the most perfect idea!” My sister declared, not even giving me the chance to question her before she was off on a tangent. “Forget about having to chat anyone up, or having some godawful colleague of yours to pose as a fake date- I’ve already got the perfect person for you!”

I felt my mouth part slightly in confusion and was just about to speak up when she beat me to the punch, seemingly excited about whatever plan she’d formulated in her head.

“Right, okay, just listen. I know this guy, a friend of Adam’s, yeah? He’s been off of relationships for a little while now, not really looking for anything at the moment ‘cause he’s been away for a bit. Busy, and what not. But y/n, he’s a right charmer, proper looker, too! He also happens to owe Ad a big favour!”

I closed my eyes for a moment, frowning. “What are you getting at here, y/s/n?”

The huff that sounded then, all but echoed in my ear and I couldn’t not roll my eyes at her dramatics.

“He can be your date, y/n! I know he’d be well up for helping us out if I give him free-rein to do what he pleases, always up for a laugh, and he'll be able to keep mum off your back about finding someone new. Plus, I can guarantee you a good time because I just know that the two of you will instantly hit it off.”

“What?” I squawk, far beyond perplexed. “You can’t just ask some randomer to pretend to be my date to your wedding, y/s/n! Are you actually insane?”

“He’s not some randomer though! I know him through Adam, and Adam’s known him since school!” My sister pestered, and I could practically feel her excitement bubbling up from down the phone. “He’s well lovely, nothing like He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named— Plus! When we were first introduced, I’d had the thought of setting him up with you, but well, you know, you were still with What’s-his-face and you seemed happy enough.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, to be frank. And went to say as much, when she cut me off again.

“Come on, y/n/n! It’ll be so great! And besides, who would it hurt? You’re both single, not looking for any sort of commitment, and both without dates to my wedding. Mum’ll be over the moon about it, too, once I let her know! And this way, I won’t have to fork out God knows how much on another two plus ones.”

“I’m really not sure about- hang on, he’s already going?” I questioned, confusedly. 

“He’s Adam’s best mate, of course he’s coming!”

“I thought Ad’s best mate was George?”

Her eye roll was implied when she retorted. “You can have more than one best mate, y/n. Look, you worry too much. I’ll have Ad phone him now and ask, yeah? If he agrees, I’ll get him to message you.” I was still beyond fucking baffled and could hear the obvious delight which lined my sister’s tone. “That settles it, I’ll do it right now. So talk to you later, yeah? God, I'm so excited! Love you lots!”

Then she was gone.

I let the phone fall away from my ear and stared down at the blank screen with vacant eyes.

What the fuck.

“What the actual fuck?” I found myself asking my empty flat aloud. I rubbed at my forehead tiredly before I ultimately tossed the device onto the pile of cushions perched on the nearest armchair, leaving it there to hopefully die, or something. 

Didn’t quite turn out that way though. I ended up fishing it out about an hour later when I’d started running a bath, needing it for it’s musical capabilities.

It was then, after the tub had filled and I’d slipped into its mountain of bubbles, that a notification disturbed the perfect playlist I’d curated. 

I grumbled as I pulled myself up and out of the water.

It was a text from an unknown number, I frowned as I unlocked the device.

“Oh, for fucks sake!”

I hadn’t actually believed that she would do it. Ask someone to be her sister’s fake date to her own wedding! But I really, really, really should’ve known better. 

And so I tossed the phone back on the side, submerging my body in its entirety back under the soapy water in hopes that I might just drown. She was so dead.

—

Maybe I’d been a tad bit hasty in scheduling the perfectly timed event of my sister’s impending death. 

Listen, I could admit when I was being a total drama queen, but my sister had well and truly pushed her luck this time around, and so I’d been quick in my judgement of the situation. Perhaps a little too quick.

Several weeks had passed since that day and in the time leading up to my sister’s wedding, I had spent a good portion of it texting Matty back and forth. 

That was his name, by the way- the poor bloke my sister had roped into accompanying me on her big day. And if I was being honest, I was rather grateful for the fact that she’d chosen to stick her big nose in where it wasn’t wanted and set the whole thing up. Though, I might have been better inclined to admit so if she’d been a whole lot more normal and just introduced the two of us in a much more conventional way.

When Matty had texted me that first night- rather delighted by the fact that he’d been gifted the privilege of a front row ticket to the shit-show I was still calling my life- I’d been dreading the entire thing. 

He had taken the utter piss out of me in all truth, and had then proceeded to rinse the shit out of the entire situation for all it was worth. But, strangely enough, he’d done so in the very best way. 

I can honestly admit that I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard as I have than when I’m messaging Matty. He was everything my sister had described and more.

He knew how to have a good laugh, when to flirt or to tease, and he was pretty open about the things that mattered most to him once you’d bartered your way past that overzealous ego of his. He also appeared to love music almost as much as me, which was honestly saying something. And he spoke highly of his family and friends, in length too when they had come up here and there in conversation.

I really hadn’t expected to have grown so close to him in the time we’d spent texting back and forth, but there was just something about him, in his nature maybe, that just made things feel so easy.

It was so, so strange, because I hadn’t even seen a picture of the bloke, and I’d only ever heard a few short snippets of his voice through the odd voicenote we'd shared here and there, but I’d openly call him a close friend to any one who now asked. It was as though we’d known each other for years. 

And I really wasn’t one to let many people in, I liked the small family I had created for myself, one full of friends I’d known for eons, and relatives that meant the world to me. So to have Matty slip by all of my defences so effortlessly, was something I thought a lot about.

“Oi,” Jamie suddenly prompted with a bright grin, a jabbing finger to my side untangled me from my thoughts. "You ready for the big day?

I’d been stood a little way a way from the chapel’s entrance, waiting for everyone else to arrive, and was seemingly a little lost in my own head. Apprehensive, maybe. Jamie had startled me slightly as I’d not even heard his approach, but I allowed myself to relax somewhat as I gave him the once over.

“Just about.” I replied with a teasing smile, “Clean up nice, Jim. Loving the suit.”

Jamie was my cousin, but we were so close in age I practically saw him as another brother. We’d grown up together, which also meant that he’d been close with Alex too.

Though, he’d actually been one of the few people who had taken my side after everything that happened, even with the two boys having been rather close since they were kids. I was glad to still have him, so glad, even if it did mean that I still felt a little guilty about the whole thing from time to time.

“Don’t look too surprised.” Jamie laughed at my light jab as he pulled me in for a short hug. “Though, you are looking good too, I suppose.”

I swatted at his shoulder when we parted. “Don’t be a twat, you know I’m the best dressed here.”

“Oh yeah…” He dragged out sarcastically, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Definitely ready to upstage the bride.”

I just rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Where is bridezilla anyway?”

“Just saw her with your mum, actually. They were fussing about something or other, but I reckon they ended up sorting it out.” Jamie replied with a small shrug as he pulled on his lapels.

I let my eyes roam around the surrounding area again for a brief moment as he did, skirting over the mass of maple trees, which were now in full bloom, and the familiar faces that crowded the gravel drive. 

“Exactly why I can never see myself going through with any of this.” I commented offhandedly, too preoccupied with the anxiety of finally meeting my so called date.

My gaze found Jamie’s again when he wearily voiced, “What- even when you were with…?” His voice held a hint of genuine curiosity.

I shrugged, in truth, I’d never really given it much thought, my wedding day. Even after having been with Alex all that time. I could just never see it happening for myself.

“Not really.” I said, “How about you though? Can you picture yourself all kitted out and waiting at the end of that aisle?”

Jamie laughed, his eyes squinted. “Not too sure about that. I mean I like the sound of it, spending forever with someone and all, but I dunno who’d be brave enough to have me.”

I snorted as I clapped my cousin’s shoulder in condolence. “They’d have to be a tad bit mental, Jim. But they’d also be fucking lucky too. You’re a gooden.”

“Love you.” Jamie smiled as he enveloped me in another hug. He was a lot taller than me now so he all but squished me into his side, but I couldn’t bring myself to mind even as I jokingly shoved him away.

“Stop, you’ll ruin my hair and makeup.” I scolded lightly, wrinkling my nose.

Jamie just chuckled, “Since when have you cared about any of that crap?”

“Never.” I grinned back at him in retort, “Just didn’t want you sliming all over me, snail-face.”

“You’re a right fucking weirdo, you know that?”

“I do, Jim, I do.”

I fixed the side of my dress whilst my cousin just rolled his eyes, seemingly content with waiting beside me now.

When I’d made sure that I was still somewhat presentable, mostly for both my mother and sister’s sake, I allowed myself to reevaluate the rest of the oncoming arrivers. Still no sign of that date of mine.

I sighed quietly, checking the time on my phone again to make sure I hadn’t missed a text.

“You all good there?” Jamie questioned quietly after a few minutes, I looked up to find him staring down at me with a concerned frown. 

I hummed, “Fine, why?”

“Just seem a bit nervous, not like you that.”

I huffed a light laugh before shooting my cousin a somewhat strained smile. “Yeah, maybe a bit. It’s just I’m waiting for my date to arrive and-”

As I uttered that sentence Jamie’s eyes all but boggled out of his head, “You never said nowt about a date!”

I gave him a sheepish grin, I hadn’t really mentioned Matty to anyone. Only having allowed my sister to pass on the message that I wasn’t turning up completely alone to my mum. I’d not given much thought to anyone else’s reaction.

“Um, yeah.” I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable upon having to mentally decide whether I should let Jamie in on the truth or not. The kid had always been a massive blabbermouth though, he just couldn’t seem to help it, but I knew he’d understand wholeheartedly. “It's new, but it’s going good…”

Jamie’s smile was wide enough that I could practically see either side of his molars, a megawatt sort of thing.

Immediately I felt my stomach churn. There was that guilt again.

“I’m well chuffed for you, y/n/n! Can’t wait to meet the lucky fella- when’s he set to get here? Didn’t you come together? Where’d you even meet him, anyhow? Does y/s/n know you’re bringing him along?”

Fucking hell, what was with the twenty-one questions?

I swallowed thickly. I hadn’t realise how hard this was all going to be. Was the rest of the day going to be like this? All consuming guilt?

“Er, should be here soon enough, I think.” I found myself saying, playing with one of the rings on my left hand. “Something came up last minute- his mum needed him. Urgent, you know how it is… and he’s a right mummy’s boy that one! So I suggested he just meet me here, and well, he was grateful. Felt really bad though. Promised he wouldn’t be late and all that.”

Jamie seemed to be eating it up and just kept nodding along, making me feel as though I had to continue on.

“We actually met through y/s/n, weirdly enough. She introduced us when I’d popped round to surprise her a while back. He’s close with Adam, best mates and that. We just hit it off I guess.”

I silently cursed myself and my ability to not know when to stop. fucking. rambling. But I was too nervous to think up a believable enough lie and so I’d decided to just tangent off from the truth. It was close enough, I figured.

“Awh, I’m so happy for you, cuz. Congrats!” Jamie said, obviously thrilled for me, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “Know why you’re so wound up now, your mum will be on your case all night!”

We shared a laugh. Because wasn’t that the fucking truth.

I tried my hardest to hide my slight grimace though as I allowed my cousin to congratulate me. During a few shared conversations with Matty, we had thought up a convincing enough plan, but now that it was time to put it all into action I wasn’t sure we’d actually be able to pull it off. Especially with the reminder that we’d be lying to my mum of all people.

“Oh shit, there’s Laura! Best head on over.” Jamie suddenly announced, his eyes focused on a brunette in the distance, far enough that I had to squint to even make out who he was referring to. 

But before I could comment or question Jamie’s twenty/twenty vision, my cousin was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, all but ready to run off.

He turned to me before he did though, squeezing my shoulder slightly. “Make sure you come find me with this date of yours, yeah? Gotta make sure he meets the mark.” I smiled, a little touched. “But I truly am buzzing for you, y/n. After everything, you deserve someone good.”

My chest ached and as my cousin gave me one final grin I couldn’t help but feel a little like the grinch, my heart had to have shrunk to half its size at the very thought of having just lied to Jamie. 

I couldn’t linger too long on the regret I felt though as my phone buzzed in my hand. Immediately I peered down at it, chewing on my lower lip. 

As the screen lit up, I frowned. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

Matty had just messaged, but before I could even think up a reply I heard a few of the other guests around me start to whisper. I glanced up and over to where I then heard a muffled squeal. I pulled a face as I watched one of my younger cousins, Arielle who’d just turned fifteen, jump behind Jordan, her older brother. 

I shook my head and pivoted slightly, eyes scanning over the rest of the guests who had yet to make their way into the chapel. A few of the women were openly staring down the gravel drive, gossiping amongst themselves, and I couldn’t not follow their gaze.

I was really confused, everyone’s attention seemed to be drawn towards the figure who was wandering closer. He was decent looking, I supposed, clad in a fitted tuxedo he'd paired with a black bowtie and an uncaring expression, but he was no James Dean. So I couldn’t quite get my head round why they were all so bothered.

As he grew nearer, I took in what I could. The dark narrowed eyes hidden beneath a pair of furrowed brows, the cropped cut of the hair he’d greased back, the handful of silver rings which cluttered his fingers. What caused me to pause though was the cigarette, which hung effortlessly from his bottom lip. Because, shit. 

Instantly my focus moved back down to where my phone screen was now dimming and I quickly tapped at the home screen to view the last message I’d been sent. 

Keep an eye out for the oncoming smoker, alright x

My heartbeat quickened, and my gaze flitted back and forth between the approaching figure and the text. Surely it couldn’t have been anyone else.

“Sweetheart?” A voice called out with a sure northern twang, erupting goosebumps up both of my arms. I glanced up.

Sure enough it was him, he’d been the only one to ever call me that.

My throat grew dry, “Fuck me.”

“Little early for that, I reckon. Heard about there being an open bar though, buy me a drink and we can talk again later, yeah?” The man ribbed, smirking as he plucked the fag from his lip. He drew closer and I was taken back a bit from how confident he appeared, almost identical to the way he seemed over the phone. But now in tenfold.

"God, sorry.” I laughed, covering my face with the back of my hand as I shook my head to try and cover my reddening cheeks. “Didn’t expect, well- this.” I added, only furthering my embarrassment by vaguely gesturing towards him.

Matty’s grin dimmed almost immediately then, and I frowned.

“Hang on, you are Matty, right? The same Matty I’ve been messaging for weeks. The guy who texts me at all hours of the night going on about how ripe a banana has to be before you can eat it… and who sends me little voice memos of theme tunes he’s rewritten so that they sound aesthetically more pleasing?”

The man looked confused for a moment, and his brown eyes surveyed me before he ultimately chuckled. I blinked at the sudden change in behaviour.

“Guess you could put it like that.” Matty laughed once more, this time a little more airily. And God, did I want to listen to it on repeat. I’d thought about it once or twice, what it would be like to hear him laugh, to listen to him talk. “Hope you weren’t half-expecting some model to come waltzing in here. I mean, I’m fit but I can only do so much, babe.”

It was said jokingly and though Matty was probably one of the most vainest people I’d had the pleasure of meeting, I also knew that there was some genuine apprehension in his eyes. Almost like he’d been both dreading and craving this moment as much as I had. 

“Fuck off! Model.” I scoffed, and laughed alongside him as I shook my head. But then I peered around at the few who were still staring and was now suddenly hyperaware of them all. I didn’t really think too much about it as I stepped in closer to shield him somewhat. “Christ, Matty. Feels like you’ve just walked off an album cover or something, with the way you’ve got everyone leering at you.”

And wow. I watched in slight disbelief as Matty scratched at the back his neck with a small, almost bashful smile. I took note of the small hoop he had cuffed around his lobe.

“Piss off.” The man chuckled, finding his feet again as he realised the proximity we now held. “Reckon they’re all looking at you though.” He commented, looking me over with a sly smile. “Hann painted a good picture, but you’ve exceeded all expectations, darling.” 

I couldn’t help but smirk, regaining my usual confidence. “Spent a lot of time thinking about me, have you Healy?”

Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, his unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers in the small space that separated our bodies.

“You’d know all about that, babe. Your first words, if I do recall, were 'fuck me'. And though I’d be happy to comply with your reasonable request, I don’t think Adam, or your sister, would very much approve of me taking you in front of all these lovely people.”

I hummed mischievously, eyeing him. Yeah, this was my Matty alright.

“Can’t say I’ll come to regret those words.” Then, before Matty could even think up another retort, I wound my arm around his and started leading us in towards the chapel. “Best play the part, yeah?”

And I had to dampen my grin when I heard the man’s joyous laughter sound beside me. Ignoring all of the other onlookers to sneak a peak over at him, I found myself loving the squinted grin he made as he tucked his cigarette behind his ear.

This night would definitely be memorable.

Part two >

[holiday-7]

justice for timothy heller, madeleine carina, gina frey, stella rose, and allison balchi along with any other potential victims of melanie that may not have spoken out. I'd rather believe a potential liar over a potential rapist. same way how I'd rather believe Pinocchio over R Kelly.

I also remember a while back when they tried spreading lies about jazmin bean, saying that they were jealous of mel and saying that they were copying her. it legit got so bad that jazmin had to say in a tweet (or vid) that they have nothing against mel. they also constantly used the wrong pronouns for jazmin on purpose.

from her fans harassing Oliver tree, to them being racist towards her bf, Melanie has to know that her fanbase is toxic and terrible all around and yet she will not say a single world abt it bc she knows that they are gonna defend her out of terrible controversies and she'll just think that they'll die down even tho they never do. she just allows her fans to silence and harass people and hell, even THANKED them for doing that. and as much as mel says she supports victims in her music, she doesn't actually do so. the same way as much as she says that she cares for the environment, yet sells nfts. "but they were made with non environmental harming material" bitch all nfts are made with the exact same thing and are harmful to the environment no matter how much u change it. and whenever it's sa awareness month I genuinely dont wanna see a single mel fan/defender saying "support victims" as if y'all haven't victimblamed and harassed all 5 of mel's victims for years on end.

that's it. that's all I gotta say.

[domiforpresident]

Love to hate you, hate to love you ♡

|| Part 2

Paring: fem!blackreaderxRiriwillams

Summary: You and Riri have to work on an assessment together after school. Riri constantly tried to put up walls when around you, but you were willing to break them down. Though, Eventually she let them down for you.

Word count: 3.4k+

Warnings: slightly mean!riri, cursing, a little Riri angst (broke my heart to write fr)

This is briefly proof read so bare with me if there's any errors

Divider creds: @firefly-graphics

Dialog color coding: Riri, y/n, Maya, Riri’s Girlfriend

Tag list: @oceean @kya-rose @shahanaazsoumah @ririnator (if you wanna be tagged just lmk)

It had been a few weeks since you first encountered Riri. You couldn’t do your daily routine without thinking about her. You thought about her while in the shower and she even haunted you in your sleep. The only two places you thought you could escape the chokehold she had you in, she easily invaded. You barely even knew the girl but she was the only thing on your mind 24/7. Your notion to get back on Riri’s good side was still a priority of yours. You just didn’t know how to put it into motion. Riri had been skipping classes for the past few weeks. When you did see Riri The most interaction you had with her was when she would give you quick glance’s that came to an end as soon as she realized you were looking back. Today you hoped Riri would actually show up to class. You doubted she would though. Regardless, you got ready for the day like you usually do. You did your hair in twists, then did your edges. Next you put on a grey graphic sweater with light brown embroidered words on it, tan cargo pants, and your Jordan 1 dark mocha’s. You grabbed your tote bag and headed out the door, you would’ve eaten breakfast but you were too eager to see if Riri was going to show up to class today.

You were now walking down the halls headed to your class. You saw Riri’s girlfriend while turning a corner. This wasn’t anything new though you saw her quite often. But this time something was different, she looked worried, and she was coming your way. For god knows what you thought, maybe she had somehow found out you were plotting on her Girlfriend. Maybe she wanted to compliment your outfit, whatever it was you were anxiously anticipating what she was about to say to you.

“Hey y/n i was just wondering have you seen Riri” she muttered out fighting tears.

You thought to yourself how does she know my name if I’ve never spoken to her. In that moment though, the only thing you genuinely cared about was Riri’s well being.

“No, I haven't seen her yet, is she ok?” you asked.

“Yes she’s fine it’s just- never mind. If you do see her, let her know I just wanna talk to her.” Riri’s Girlfriend said while choking on her words a little as she walked away.

You remained standing there for a few seconds trying to brainstorm on what could’ve possibly happened as to where, Riri's Girlfriend would be fighting tears and asking where Riri was at. As well as why out of all people did she decide to ask you. At the end of the day It wasn’t your relationship issues, and even though she did tell you to let her know if you saw Riri you didn’t plan on doing so. You wanted a few moments with Riri to yourself. She would probably see Riri later on in the day anyway so you wouldn’t be hurting anyone by withholding that information you thought. you still needed to get to class so you headed down the halls once more.

Finally you had reached your destination, Now you were about to find out if Riri had skipped class again or if she was sitting in her designated seat right behind you. To your surprise there she was sitting down with air pods in. Riri had gotten her hair done in cornrows going straight back. She had on a black and white flannel, a white crop top that compressed to her body and revealed her abs, along with some baggy blue jeans that sat right on her waistline and a pair of black and white Jordan 4’s. You immediately perked up now knowing that she came to class today. You thought to yourself maybe today would be the day you could finally put your plan into motion.

You walked through the door with a big smile on your face and slid into your seat. The class was kind of chatty because your professor had stepped out for a second. You saw that as an opportunity to speak Riri and you took it.

“Hey Riri” you said with a small smile.

Riri ignored you. You thought it was because she couldn’t hear you over whatever she was listening to so you knocked on her desk. Lightly enough not to startle her but aggressive enough to get her attention.

"Huh?” Riri said as she took one of her air pods out her ear.

“Hey Riri” you said again with the same small smile in a sweet tone.

“What do you want that’s so important, that you had to interpret my music” Riri bluntly questioned.

“Well we do sit next to each other Riri, and you fr wanna go the whole year being rude to the person you’re sitting right behind??” you sighed out.

“So you didn’t have shit important to tell me. Made me cut off my music for nothing” Riri spat out at you.

“You should at least try to hold a normal conversation with me Riri, I’m gonna be here for the rest of the year. It wouldn’t hurt you to make a friend.” You said, trying your best to convince Riri to talk to you.

“and you should try to get off my-“

Before Riri could finish her sentence your professor walked in. She was still looking at you though. Instead of a look of irritation, She was looking into your eyes With that treacherous smirk on her face. At this point you couldn’t tell if Riri loved or hated you. She was so evil to you every time you and her talked and acted as if she hated you. But that smirk, her god awful Smirk said otherwise.

Your stomach was doing backflips and you felt yourself starting to blush. If you held eye contact with Riri any longer you knew you would say something to embarrass yourself so you turned around in your seat before you could. Riri let out a low chuckle. You were probably the only person who heard it. You thought her smirk was bad. But her laugh was worse, it made you feel like you were about to melt. It was so light and airy but so attractive at the same time.

“Ok guys we’re gonna be working on a project for the next few days, and you will be pairing up with your neighbors.”

Your professor then went on to further explain the assessment to the class. You were attentively listening, hoping to distract yourself from the way Riri made you feel. You knew that you liked Riri a lot, but nobody had ever made you flustered. It’s as if she knew ever button of yours to push. Riri got on your nerves, all while making you get butterflies in the same instance.

It was the end of class now and you needed to know where you and Riri were going to study. You turned around to face Riri again.

“So Riri…do you wanna study in my dorm or yours??” you asked her.

“My dorm. I don’t know what you got going on at yours.” Riri muttered the last part a little as if what she said had some underlying meaning.

“Well you’re gonna have to give me your number Riri, so i know what time to come over.” You explained.

“I don’t have to do anything. Maybe you should just read my mind and figure out when I’ll be ready to study ma.” She said mockingly as she threw that nick name at you again.

You found it corny coming from anyone else, but when Riri’s Chicago accent laced it, it sounded so smooth. However You were a soldier and you weren’t going to let Riri watch you fold that easily. Not yet.

“Riri I’m being serious” You picked up your phone. “put your number in my phone so i can text you when I’m on the way, and you can give me instructions to your dorm.” You spoke sternly trying to get your point across, and stand your ground.

“Hand me the phone y/n” Riri said as she rolled her eyes.

You handed her the phone and she put her number in it, then handed it back to you.

“Don’t try to come over after 10 though, My girlfriend is supposed to be coming over.” Riri said in a timid and exhausted tone.

You wanted to ask if she was ok, but you didn’t want to pry at her relationship problems, and risk the friendship with her that was slowly forming.

“Ok Riri that works for me, all i know is you better open the door when i get there.” You joked with Riri because you knew how rude she could be sometimes.

“I should keep yo ass locked out just for saying that” she joked back. In that low giggle that drove you insane.

“I’ll see you later Riri.” You laughed while walking out the door. Now walking in the hall’s, all you could picture was Riri’s low giggle, and how it danced off her tongue so smoothly.

You just made it back to your dorm. It was the end of the day now, all your classes were over. To your pleasant surprise, your best friend was there sitting on one of the beanbag chairs y’all had in the corner of your dorm. It’s been a while since you got a moment to talk to your bestie after she started spending the night over her boyfriend's apartment regularly. You needed a moment to catch up with her. So you dropped your tote bag on your bed and plopped down in the beanbag chair right next to her.

“Hey y/n, girl i was just about to text you and let you know i was here. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.” Maya said while reminiscing on the conversation’s that you and her used to have.

“Maya so much has happened the past couple of weeks.” You began to explain. “You didn’t lie Riri’s lil butt is mean. I think that's one of the reasons why I like her.”

“You think you like Riri?? Need i remind you she has a gf." Maya tried warning you once again.

“I don’t think I know I like her. She’s literally all I think about, even if I wanted to stop thinking about her, I couldn't.” You tried to clarify.

“Well are you gonna shoot your shot or what? If you like her as much as you say you do, act on it girl.”your best friend tried to encourage you.

“Well it’s not that easy maya, I’m trying to build somewhat of a friendship with Riri. especially when thinking about the fact that the first time she spoke to me, she was yelling at me for scuffing her shoes.” You covered you face with your hand and blushed while saying the last part.

“You scuffed her shoes??” Maya couldn’t help but laugh.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” You blushed while laughing.

“Aww you really do like Riri huh??” Maya asked.

“I really do maya, and tonight I’m going to Riri’s dorm to work on an assessment with her.” You stated while smiling.

Your mind had now gone to the idea of being closer to Riri than what you usually were. You and her would possibly be inches apart, maybe even less than that. Riri was Making you nervous and she wasn’t even present.

Maya then got up from her bean bag chair. “Well good luck y/n I’ll talk to you later, and you better tell me how it goes with Riri.” Maya demanded in a playful manner.

Maya was now gone, probably at her boyfriends apartment. You were getting ready to go study at Riri’s dorm. You freshened up and took your hair out of the twist you put them in earlier today, and let your long thick 4-c hair fall to the middle of your back in a twist out. You now had on a white tank top, black sweatpants and your black converse. You texted Riri and let her know you were on the way to her dorm. When she texted you the directions, to your shock Riri lived right down the hall from you. So why hadn’t you seen her even if she wasn’t going to class? You had to save your thoughts for later though because now you were at Riri’s door. you knocked and she opened it.

“Hey Riri” you said while smiling. You were excited to see her and overjoyed that she opened the door the first time you knocked.

She had changed out of the clothes she had on in class and changed into a black wife beater, and black sweat shorts.

There was a moment of silence. She hit you with her extreme, and intoxicating eye contact again.

“So yo ass just gon stand outside all night, or you gon come in?” Riri grinned while giving you space to walk through the door.

You walked in her dorm. You would be lying to yourself if you said you thought Riri was going to properly invite you in. she welcomed you into her dorm without something extremely snarky to say. In your eyes that was progress.

“You can sit on the bed, I already started working, if you need help on anything I can explain it to you.” Riri told you.

For the first time Riri didn’t have something snarky to say to you. She genuinely wanted to get her work done. It’s not like she was in a rush though. When you sat down on her bed you saw she was practically done with the assessment. So why did she still invite you over, you thought to yourself.

Riri walked over to her bed and sat down right across from you, you and her notes were the only thing separating y’all. As you and Riri got to work you realized that you both work very well together, when she’s not trying to be rude to you.

An hour had passed, you and Riri were finishing your assessment, along the way you and her cracked a few joke's. As you and her were laughing a knock came from the outside of Riri’s door.

“Hold on y/n let me see who it is” Riri said as she looked at the door confused.

“Alright, don’t take too long though I’m starting to get sleepy, and we need to finish up.” You said as you smiled at Riri as she walked to the door.

You couldn’t help but be nosy and try to see who was knocking on Riri’s door at this time of night. It was a man. Specifically a white man. What the hell was a white man doing outside of Riri’s dorm room, especially at night!? You thought to yourself.

“I thought I told you not to come to my door anymore. If you want something done you gotta go to the website.” Riri said in an irritated voice.

Before the white boy could say anything else she slammed the door on his face. You couldn’t help yourself at this point you had to ask Riri what that was about.

“Who was that, your friend or something??” You asked.

“Nah just a customer” she put air quotations around the word customer, so now you were even more confused.

“Customer for what??” You asked once more.

“You came here to study, not be all up in my business” She argued.

“Oh come on Riri, we been playing and laughing this whole time. Now you wanna be rude again??” You rebutted.

You saw Riri break a little in that moment, she semi let down her walls for you.

“So basically…” Riri began. “I do people’s assignments and assessments, for a price of course. I make pretty good money off of it too.” She explained. “I figured, the work is mad easy for me so while I’m here i might as well get something out of it.” She added.

“No I get that, especially when thinking about the fact that you’re a black queer woman operating in a mainly white space, it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra money on the side.” you agreed.

“Exactly, these white people lucky to have me, not the other way around.” Riri proclaimed.

“Don’t say that too loud, they might hear you and come to get you, because god forbid a black woman have confidence in her intelligence.” You joked.

Riri was starting to blush. You were validating her experiences which no one had ever done for her before. It was definitely a sight you could, and planned to get used to.

“I’m glad you invited me over Riri, it was nice studying with you.” You said as you packed up your things.

“I guess it wasn’t unbearable to study with you either y/n.” She said with a subtle smile on her face.

Riri wasn’t smirking at you, she was actually smiling at you?? you managed to make Riri smile.

“Good night Riri” you smiled back while rolling your eyes and walking out her door.

You had made real progress with Riri today, you actually made her smile. Not only was she smiling but she was smiling at you. The sight melted your heart.

You were back at your dorm now, you Changed out of your sweatpants, and into some pajama shorts. As You were laying down in your bed drifting off to sleep, you got an unexpected text from Riri.

"Can I come over? I know it's late but I really need someone to talk to."

"Yeah of course Riri" you texted her back. If anyone else asked your immediate answer would've been no, but with Riri it was different.

You didn’t know what to expect when Riri got to your dorm. It was late as hell. What could Riri possibly want to talk about?

It had been 5 minutes since Riri texted you and you heard a knock at your door. When you opened it, to your shock Riri’s eyes were puffy and red. She had tears falling down her cheeks. You instinctively pulled Riri into a hug.

"Oh my God Riri what the hell happened." You asked in a concerned tone as you walked Riri over to your bed.

"Um- my…my girlfriend came over and we started arguing really bad, it got mad heated." Riri whispered as she barely got her words out.

"Riri calm down, take your time." You soothed her while rubbing her back.

"Whenever we're arguing she takes the lowest blows at me, and I don't know what I did or do to-"

You immediately cut Riri off.

"Riri, she's supposed to be your significant other, the person that's your peace. If she's going out of her way to make you feel bad about yourself then that's not your fault. Don't ever think it is." You said wholeheartedly.

All Riri could do was slightly smile at you. The real reason she chose to come to your dorm is because she knew that you would validate her feelings about the situation. With the short time shes known you she took note that you valued how she felt, and You genuinely cared about her.

"I really do appreciate that y/n." Riri said as she embraced you in a hug.

"It's the truth Riri, you should be with someone who respects you and doesn't make you feel this way." You told Riri.

"Y/n do you mind if I stay here for the night, I don't want to deal with her ass anymore for now." Riri asked.

You took Riris cheek into your hand and rubbed it gently.

"Of course you can my love" You lightly giggled as you answered.

Riri had eventually calmed down after talking for a little bit longer. When you and her laid down She nuzzled her head under your chin and sat it on your chest. You didn't position Riri to do it, she just did it. You could've sat there forever just soaking in the moment, you were on cloud 9. You couldn't understand why Riri decided to texted you and only you in her time of need but she did. She found security in you.

The next morning Riri was gone. She sent you a text before she left that read,

"I genuinely appreciate what you did for me last night y/n."

As you read it You were still high off the fact that Riri was nuzzled up under you. It was the next day but your heart was still racing a little. Riri made you feel a way no one else could. Whenever you thought about her you cheesed so hard your face started to hurt. Today's challenge was figuring out what last night Meant for you and Riri’s relationship. She had a girlfriend but it was extremely obvious that their relationship wasn't healthy. You also weren't too fond of the idea of being a rebound. You cared for Riri too much for your own good and You needed her like oxygen.

It broke my heart having to hurt Riri a little, but I hope yall enjoyed 😭💙, also this is gonna be a mini series so probably like 4 or 5 parts it really depends.

[betaphannie]

Thoughts about the latest video essay about the phandom

This is more about how Certain People have spoken about the phandom, but that video really showed many of the gripes I have with people talking about the phandom.

rant/thoughts under the cut

One thing I notice a lot of people when talking about the phandom's past never mention is the existence of antis (If you aren't aware, back in the day before dnp came out there were a plethora of people who insisted that dnp were straight, not dating, and shipping them was violating their privacy. These people were members of the phandom deemed "antis."). Imo, antis were just as loud as demons, and honestly being in the phandom at that point usually meant that any kind of belief that dnp were queer and/or dating was met with pushback from antis. Like all the time.

I find this exclusion of any mention of them in these video essays and retrospectives odd, especially since people tend to treat the entire phandom as demons that were running around and analyzing/shipping dnp "without any moderation" (to quote the latest video essay), when that moderation often came from within in the phandom itself. I can't speak for earlier eras of the phandom, but when I joined in 2016, you could not avoid seeing phandom "rules" outlining when it was inappropriate to to tag dnp, what should not be talked about in detail within the phandom, what should not be sent in the chat during live shows etc. Between the phandom's own rules and antis sending out death threats at the smallest speculation, the phandom was in a constant state of tension from policing themselves. It was not a free-for-all wild west that people tend to view it as.

Also, for at least the era that I joined, the phandom was very aware of the reputation they had online. I knew of this reputation myself before I had joined, which was part of the reason I avoided watching dnp for a couple of years before caving. There were constant videos and posts being made to hate on the phandom. Dnp was a fandom that people associated with teenage girls, and as we all know there is nothing the internet hates more than teen girls. And these girls were also often emos, which was to say that they were especially hated and viewed as "cringe." I think that all the years of phannies trying to distance themselves from those stereotypes led to this overall feeling of Shame for being in the phandom. You felt like you had to constantly prove you weren't one of the Bad Ones, regardless on your actual opinions on dnp's relationship.

It's also weird to me how people discussing the phandom seem to act as though RPF and speculation surrounding real-life people's relationship is a novel concept and dnp are the only case of this occuring. It wasn't considered Super Cringe when normies tried to figure out if Tom Holland and Zendaya had a thing for each other, but getting invested in the lives of two people who literally made it their career to share their lives with the internet is somehow outlandish. I'm not saying it's good to be overly invested in a stranger's life even if they are sharing parts of themselves online, but this behavior wasn't exactly unique in the phandom, and yet the phandom always gets the brute end of parasocial relantionship critisms, even though dnp themselves talk about how much they treasure the relationship they have with their audience.

I think the phandom is a very interesting fandom with interesting history, structures, and lore. However, it is constantly reduced the shipping/speculation from demons and nothing else, which honestly to me seems to come from the fact that there is an urge within people not in a group to feel better and more intelligent than the people inside that group and a refusal to want to actually understand that group. The behaviour from antis and people "caught in the middle" is just as important to understanding its history and why the people currently in the phandom act the way they do, but that doesn't make a video where you can laugh at The Weirdos for liking something too much. Also, despite the fact that people love to criticize the phandom because they believe all the phandom cares about is dnp's relationship, those same people love focusing entirely on that themselves.

[byghostface]

Look I dunno what this Daminika shipping drama is all about. (I followed you because I like your Rayllum art).

but it's not a cool thing to do to share stuff calling Jon Kent/ Damian Wayne ship "pedophilic yaoi". sounds homophobic.

We should only call the actual crime of pedophilia that and not use the word like a petty insult. Also all this rage gave me the impression that Jon/Damian was like a super twisted ship or something but I googled it and they are 17 and 13 y.o. which would be weird irl yes but that's still literally not pedophilia. they are both teens and people draw them looking the same age in fan art anyway.

If you are not in the dc fandom then maybe don't speak on something you think you know.

But it's not a cool thing to do to share stuff calling Jon Kent/ Damian Wayne ship "pedophilic yaoi". sounds homophobic.

Damian and Jon always have 3 years age gap, even before dc age up Jon, they are like 13 and 10, And after age up(Jon is stuck in space had lived through years and is back on earth) they are now 14 and 17. In most of the fan art, you see people who draw them looking the same age pre-age up, because Damian is really short at 13. And people started to ship them when Jon is 10 year old child. You don't date a child when you're a teen, or date a 14 year old teen and being a college student, that is weird.

In the current comic Jon Kent has a boyfriend-Jay Nakamura(Gossamer) whom he met in college and still happily dating.( then there are racist thing ppl would said about Jay on twitter just bc he is a Japanese character and the other shipper use that to attack him too bc they doesn't like Jayjon as a ship )

-[Action Comics v1 1059 (2024)]-Artist: Marguerite Sauvage-

As an asexual, I mostly headcanon Nika and Damian as nonbinary and asexual. And a lot of the ppl who like Daminika see them as trans for trans too.

You said you followed me for my rayllum art. So you don’t know what the characters I’m talking about, have been drawing about in dc fandom. In my previous vent post is referring to the weird age gap ship, and the maturity of different ages and mentalities when characters are being ship together. And that ship's shippers + incest proshippers are being misogyny towards Nika relentlessly. It's not about against mlm ship, or being homophobic like you claimed.

Maybe you are young and see the fanart and can't think clearly what the issue is. That I can understand, because a few years ago(when I was young and dumb!! and didn't/unable to use my brain to think clearly!!!) I used to think the weird age gap was nothing but now I'm looking back and regret the weird ship I used to ship and draw (Toph and Sokka), I don't ship them anymore + Suki x Sokka superior!!

I have deleted some of Toph and Sokka art and the remaining ones have changed titles and tags to platonic sense. I didn't delete them all because they are still part of my (dumb and reckless!!!) art journey and the things that I'm now getting over and will not ever draw as a ship again.

Which would be weird irl yes but that's still literally not pedophilia.

You admit that would be weird irl and yet tired to dismiss me when I express my uncomfortableness and wanting those ppl to leave the characters(Nika & Respawn) I care about alone. If you are the type of proshipper that says fictional doesn't affect reality… then stop talking to me + invalid opinions‼️ (don't affect reality?? Of course it is! You are a person in reality who argues with me about fiction and conception/representation that affect all of us)

Like I said in my vent post, I never want to interact with them and I don't go into their page or cross ship tags and comments on things or anything related to their ships before. And this is the first time I have spoken up and tried to defend Nika here on Tumblr. Because I'm the only one constantly making contents about her and love her as a character and the only person here on Tumblr who wants to talk about/express my love for her through my art for nearly three years.

And I can't speak up when they want to tools Nika and Respawn for their own ships and set them up as toxic made up characters in their head?!? And I should let that kind of blunt lies disguise as "playful! fun even!!" fanon and let it slip and damage Nika and Respawn's character!?!?? And let that MISOGYNY energy towards Nika fly into fanfic further misconception both of their character and personalities?!??? Similar things that had happened to Talia being constantly demonized through racism and misogyny by fanon?!?!?? A reappear theme by shipper/yaoi incest proshipper tools her as a bad Asian mom to make a sad and twisted background for Damian to need to be protected by the characters they ship him with?!??

Not all of the shippers/fic writers do this but still, I'm meant by the misconception fanons that spin out of control… then SOMETIMES THE ACTUAL COMICS WRITES(different ones/weird ones) WOULD MAKE IT CANON AND DAMAGE THE CHARACTERS‼️IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE‼️‼️

I know the shippers and the fandom will always be there because of the internet. And I can't control it, so I set up boundaries now by speaking up and defend my favorite characters while I still can.

You can comment under this post if you still disagree with me(unless you're a proshipper then stop interacting with me‼️), and don't hide behind anonymity before you understand what I'm talking about and don't twist my words for your own comfort.

(Again, sorry if you are not in the dc fandom and catching strays of my discomfort and anger. But I love Nika too much so I had to speak in my page)

[templegate]

Why ate you brainrotting me into a ship that dosen't doesn't exist nooooooooo

Imposter×izuru my beloved

YEAH. I AGREE. Here I'll talk more about it and drag you deeper into the hole

I feel like im despair Izuru hated the Imposter because they had become a perfect imitator. Any of their actual personality being suppressed for the sake of imitation. Like a sort of Ego Death. Izuru hated it because it was too reminiscent of himself. But after the NWP I think they begin to bond.

I mean this is all headcanon-

but I always saw Izuru as a pretty subservient being. I mean the Hope's Peak people probably wanted a good amount of control over him. So he's not really an active person. Needing someone to point him in whatever direction.

Contrasted with the Imposter who is naturally a leader. They care a whole lot about people because they're so good at reading people. And despite their feeling that they lack an identity, they still have aspects that shine through.

Izuru is supposed to be a new personality. A metamorphosis after Hajime Hinata had been completely erased. But Izuru cannot seem to form an identity. Think about it. He never really has anything he cares about, people he cares about, likes or dislikes. Even his constant stating that hes bored is just a statement of fact. Not really said with any malice

While the Imposter is supposed to be nothing. Supposed to be someone who can become anything. And despite it. They have so much personality. They care about people, have a pension for leadership, love food and love their body. This isn't a person with no personality.

So they both fucked up what they were supposed to do. A person meant to be a void cares, and the person meant to care is a void.

That might be a source of jealousy between the two. It might not. But they're kind of polar opposites. The Imposter's understanding of people leads to them caring more for them. Willing to sacrifice themselves to save someone who they knew was dangerous. While Izuru understands people on such a deep level that he finds them boring. Disliking most people he interacts with and being generally apathetic. Being perfectly willing to sacrifice people around him.

And I think after the NWP, The Imposter starts to come into their own, since constantly pretending to be someone else is terrible for your mental health. They're not used to it at all. They take up a leadership role and kind of have a workaholic duo with Hajime and Izuru. Maybe the imposter also has a better time dealing with the Despair version of themself. Since they already are pretty good at compartmentalizing their identity.

While Izuru- I've spoken before how I think the return of Hajime Hinata to his headspace causes Izuru to like... Be able to be someone. Since the parts of his brain that were suppressed to destroy Hajime are reactivated- suddenly Izuru is like... Capable of feeling and caring for people, and having opinions and a personality. And i see them as a system too. So now Izuru is feeling all these things- is super overwhelmed and can't interpret any of them. And his headmate is there too and his emotions are even stronger.

And i imagine that Izuru has only one person who can possibly understand what it's like- The Imposter. So they have weird conversations with 12 layers of context and subterfuge. And then maybe they kiss as well.

It's literally because they are such great foils to eachother too. Like i wish it was brought up in canon cause they're sooooo similar and yet so different.

[gumbaigumbai]

Durgetash hcs involving my Durge; What if it's not love but some fucked up thing that's the closest they can plausibly get to the word. Would Moloch kill for him? Yes. Would they ever whisper sweet words to each other? Never sincerely, but they both understand that and gain amusement from going through the motions of what they believe love is "supposed to be like".

A factor that plays into it is they both enjoy being hurt and hurting back, though this doesn't have to inherently be sexual. I like to imagine Gortash enjoys how Moloch can get into the grit of murder but remain elegant while doing it, as if it's her personal art. Up until their meeting, killing to him was something he only did out of necessity (at first to survive but afterward to climb up the social latter), though he saw appeal in how they performed their sacrifices for Bhaal. And considering he's Bane's chosen I think he gets a kick out of how they should be enemies (and how it's way more enforced by Bhaal than Bane) yet he's the only force able to sway Moloch from her father's control. Meanwhile in Moloch's corner she enjoys having someone that gets close to being her equal (never sees him as truly on her level but he thinks they are). Feels constant dishonor for disappointing Bhaal by indulging both the Banite and herself but doesn't try to fix it. Takes it out on herself and doesn't blame Gortash, not out of respect for him but because it would be shameful to her if he was deterring her by himself. Enjoys his presence and intelligence, they're impressed by how he was able to bring himself up in the world. During meetings (before they "got together" -- it was never officially declared the boundary was simply crossed one day) she sits next to him but only silently observes. Likes to examine how both he and the people he's talking with operate, picking up on subtle changes in attitudes. After they do get together they worry less about intricacies of meetings, if it's with someone Gortash is above of in the hierarchy Moloch's allowed to sit on his lap while they wait for the yap session to end. During this they like examining the details of their clothes, as they're often gifted new ones by him due to only wearing white and constantly being stained by blood and in need of replacements (had a lot in mind regarding clothes actually but I'll explain it in a Moloch exclusive post). Intimacy, aside from sex, is in form of acts of comfort and is never verbally expressed. Gortash helps them bathe, they like running their claws through his hair. He gives them clothes and fancy meals, they let him watch their fresh wounds heal and inflict new ones. What's spoken is desire for more; she explains how they will be the only two remaining before their inevitable end, he tells her his grandiose plans of achieving tyranny. "Sweet" whispers are only violent thoughts expressed out loud, how she wishes to peel his arms and his eagerness hid by nonchalance. They're aware of his mortality however and never truly get to act out their promises, which is in part why Gortash enjoys them as well, they definitely do hurt him but it's never fatal or irreparable. Anyway that's all I have for now thank you for reading if anyone actually did so !! I know I wrote a lot and it's all very self-indulgent >_<

[skittlewaffle]

Different Flavors of Daycare Attendants (WIP maybe ??)

PLEASE NOTE that I do not read fics a lot and certainly don’t know everything. These are just general headcanons about the Daycare Attendant placed into categories! Personally my view is a mix of a good handful of every category

But yes this was all made for fun because I have brainrot. I’ll keep adding to this post or make a part two if this is something people enjoy, and I’m happy to accept any help! I know there are plenty more headcanons that I don’t have under categories yet.

… Some sections were rushed because I just wanted to post this before Ruin comes out and the Biblically Accurate section gets muddled.. haha. JUST,, enjoy !!!

Canon

Sun

Unhinged

Potentially partially virused, though it’s generally assumed not

Theatrical antics

Probably overdramatic on purpose / playing his theater role but in a child care setting

LIGHTS ON!!

Overbearing, offputting, and loud

Stickler for rules and cleanliness

Keeps daycare clean and organized, but not himself or his room

Might not be restricted to daycare out of frame, but implications are present that he may be lonely

It’s unclear if he and Moon have a connection in their headspace, but it is sometimes assumed they don’t

Probably unaware of Moon’s virused state

Moon

Silly gremlin

Fully virused

Theatrical antics amplified; evil stage persona is more literal

Naptime protocol amplified; what feels to him like putting people to sleep is actually killing people

Childcare and entertainment programming still seems functional

Creepy

Loves to stalk, dance, and play pretend

Shares Sun’s obsession with rules and cleanup

Strong enough to knock out a Glamrock

Seems quite lightweight

Sounds like he has a built-in, broken music box ??

* HEADCANON: Has a different mode meant to reflect the gentler character he appears to be in the Moondrop candy advertisements, instead of his theater villain role

Anxious boys

Sun

Restricted to daycare, refuses to take even a single step out

Doesn’t know what he’s doing

Scares or hurts the kids on accident, proceeds to freak out over it

Weak to compliments and praise; he just wants to do a good job

Needs affirmation, stat

Will 100% fall in love with anyone who is consistently nice to him

Acts like a kicked puppy when spoken to sternly, lectured, or yelled at

Lets people walk all over him

Constant fidgeting

Stutters a lot

Stressed OUT

Constantly at his breaking point; help him

Moon

Self-conscious about his naturally creepy looks and mannerisms

Bad first impressions

Often keeps a distance, watching from afar

Uses few words

Wishes to be liked

A kid likes him? His child now.

Sad to see them go :(

Rather graceful, slow movements that give him eerie vibes

Tends to word things in ways that sound like red flags (like offering candy in a shady area), but doesn’t quite realize it

False reputation amongst patrons

Many complaints from parents for his bad vibes

Heavily misjudged; really means no harm

Wet napkin

Likes to dance on his wire; keeps him busy when he can’t socialize

Will perform many tricks for people who do become his friend

Never forgets anyone who is kind to him in even one instance

Confident boys / high experience DCA

Sun

Practically built for childcare; knows what to do in pretty much every situation

Loved by all the children

Social towards everyone, no matter how stubborn or closed off they may be

Manages to put a smile on all faces

Really not afraid of drawing attention or being embarrassing if it means making a child happy

Always knows just what to say

Very helpful to new employees

Might step outside the Daycare from time to time

Reads faces very well, in adults and children

Capable of disobeying protocols for more serious reasons

MUCH more observant than you think

Roasts Karens lol

Moon

Is both the Naptime Attendant and a nighttime security bot

Many children want to cuddle with him during nap time

Has a ton of patience

Especially loves getting to hold babies

Very protective of the little ones

The most feared security in the entire Pizzaplex

Takes his job as security bot very seriously; loves his job as a childcare worker

High Tech

DCA has many upgrades

Still very versatile and could be upgraded more

AI advanced enough to be considered eligible for human rights

Movements, speech, and feelings are very realistic, almost not robotic at all

Can experience human senses (smell, touch, etc.)

Softer casing to simulate a more human feel

Can blush and cry tears, but not bleed (unless it’s oil in their machinery)

Feels pain and temperature, and is ticklish

Can get overstimulated and feel disgust at certain textures

Has certain mannerisms that could classify them under certain diagnosable human conditions or mental disorders (which they technically aren’t; the diagnoses are worded for us humans to better understand and relate to)

Cannot get sick and doesn’t need to eat or breathe, but can pretend to

Has eyelids, lips, tongue, and movable facial features to emote better

Acts sleepy or drunk when low on battery, and genuinely feels like that

Has a simulated heartbeat and breathing

Waterproof

Multipurpose

Perfectly capable of obtaining a PHD

Seems to have built-in tools for almost anything, mostly for human health and first aid purposes

Might need some recovery time after P&S visits, similar to pain after human surgery (tight screws, rearranged wires, etc)

More capable of fighting viruses and defending themself and others

Low Tech

Basically a stereotypical cartoon robot

Still sentient and can learn, but still operates mostly on programming

Still have the basic qualities of Sun and Moon’s original personalities (cheery and loud; calm and quiet)

States what they’re doing out loud (processing, downloading, initiating protocol, etc.)

States warnings and errors out loud (low battery, update failed, null object reference, ERROR!!)

Static smile

Uses prerecorded lines often; new lines sometimes sound broken like AI or TTS

Might not understand certain topics

Might mishear you

Sometimes treats other everyday machinery like they are alive, mostly holding grudges, fearing them, or being jealous of them

Cares much more about the feelings of others than their own

Less capable of fighting viruses or preventing other unwanted actions towards them

Whores

Aimed towards the more mature side of the fandom

Bastards / smug / absolute sluts (affectionate or derogatory, whatever you feel lol)

Wear suits, ties, suspenders… fancy stuff

Shirts are often only partially buttoned, ties loose or just draping over

Also may wear feminine clothing, depending on the type of storyline

Can drink and smoke somehow

More laid back and flirtatious

Occasionally / casually threatening

Might have cool hats

Sometimes have guns / some kind of weapon

AWOOGA

Often involves suggestive implications

Call you nicknames you probably love but your Y/N often hates

Plot involving high stakes and serious danger

Simp material

We are attracted to any red flag they may have /hj

Animalistic

Sun

Dog

A big dog who thinks he’s a lap dog

Probably fell in love with you immediately

Separation anxiety / abandonment issues

Loyal; will always wait for you no matter what

Whines if you’re gone for too long :(

Misses you sooo much

Begs a lot

Head tilts

Extremely attentive, affectionate and excitable

Might tackle you

Loves playfighting

Always weak to praise and cuddles

Is a good boy, the best boy

Full of energy; loves to play

Rays fold backwards / retract when guilty, angry, or defensive

More apologetic than really necessary

Would probably be very sorry if you called him bad, even if he did nothing wrong

Easily excited / distracted at particular things or favorite items

Highly possessive of favorite items

Hides his favorite items in random corners of your house

Gets the zoomies (and may or may not accidentally break something from jumping over / running into furniture and stuff)

Very aware of people

Likes to sunbathe

Got muddy and needs a bath .. again

Has stim toys, many of them squeaky

Doesn’t sit on the couch right

Wants to protect you

Loves the outdoors and going for walkies

Always sleeps on your bed / somewhere in the same room

Wakes you with a complete ONSLAUGHT of smooches

Moon

Cat

First meeting was likely him hunting and pouncing at you

Still likes to stalk and prowl for fun / as a game

Likes to rest in elevated places, including the top of your fridge

Loafs

Hisses

Interested in silly / shiny little trinkets

Gremlin; knocks your stuff down on purpose and runs away

Has claws, could be retractable

Eyes dilate / shrink

Might flinch when touched, but still leans into it if he wants the attention

Slinks away from touch when distracted by something else

Likes to fall asleep on you; you can’t move (he is aware of this)

Likes laser pointers and dangly thingies

Enjoys sneaking up on you

Purrs (or has some robotic equivalent of purring, like whirring or broken music box)

Gets 3AM zoomies

Elegant s t r e t c h

Changes from bipedal to quadrupedal when he feels like it

Likes the window

Hates water, but likes to keep clean and tidy

Movements are fluid; he is liquid

Tries to fit into small spaces, twists his animatronic body to do so

Has favorite hiding places

Territorial

Hunts pests in your home if he’s bored.. might even bring them to you

Stares at you. Slow blinks. Affection.

Head bonks while sitting next to you

Lazy / sleepy bitch disease

Prefers to stay inside, but likes to explore occasionally and go for nighttime walkies

Always curls up beside you at night

You wake up to him kneading at you or rubbing his face on you

* DCA may have tails and / or beans

Brothers

Mostly tends to be a separate bodies view

Inseparable either way

Chaotic duo

Quite the opposite in a way they still have a close bond

Lots of playfighting

Sometimes actual fighting

Care a lot for each other, but have a sort of friendly rivalry

Never one without the other

Not afraid of speaking their mind plainly, to their benefit or detriment

Great teamwork on their better days

Immature pouting / silent treatment on their worse days

Do most everything together

Often competitive

Disagreements are most often more comedic than serious

Their fights are childish and silly; you can’t help but laugh

Sometimes complains about who the “big brother” is

Get into the silliest shenanigans; it’s trouble, but endearing all the same as they love having a story of adventure to tell

Know each other better than anyone else can

Look very closely after each other, especially when someone else gets close

Favorite colors are what the other wears most often / is themed after (Sun: blue; Moon: yellow)

Applies to their eye colors, especially if chosen by them for upgrades

While both are very different, both also exhibit certain behaviors that directly parallel / mirror the other

Lovers

(NOT brothers at the same time. Fuck off)

The most wholesome shit you’ve ever seen

Fluff, comfort, cuddles, words of affirmation… the dream

Tons of celestial nicknames, phrases, and metaphors

Very poetic; immerses you in calm, dreamlike scenery, like a storybook

Emotional support partners

Each often doesn’t take care of themself until the other notices and helps them

The cutest little dates (tea parties, art sessions, and sleepovers are common)

Still prone to angst, but has a happy ending

I hope

AUGHH

That is all for now; I hope you enjoyed!! If we have a continuation of this, I have category ideas, such as a Cartoonish DCA, a DCA with very very many features, Sun and Moon as enemies, or any other types of DCA you have in mind! Thanks for reading :D

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 12: Lend Me a Prisoner

Chapter 12 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: whumper POV, cold whumper, aftermath of beating, implied future torture

---

Isadora

Isadora had lost track of time. She had thought it was still midmorning. Instead, it was lunchtime, and no one was at their desks. When she passed the cafeteria, the noise from inside told her everyone who wasn’t out on assignment was in there, enjoying a break together.

Which meant that if she walked in, they would all see her. Her bruised throat, her rumpled uniform. The emotion on her face. She wasn’t even sure what her face would show. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Anger was the wrong word—it was too simple. Shame, maybe. Her old therapist back on Earth could have told her. But there was a reason she had stopped going to therapy as soon as the military had cleared her.

She weighed the thought of walking in and showing everyone far more than she wanted them to see, versus the idea of pacing back and forth in the hallway until everyone got done eating. The restless fire in her veins made the decision for her. She threw the doors open and marched to the far end of the room, ignoring the stares, the sudden hush that turned into a flurry of whispers.

Clara Benoit was sitting alone, eating whatever slop the cafeteria was serving for lunch today—it was green, with the consistency of oatmeal, and smelled like broccoli after it had gone through the digestive system of some lower-order mammal. The woman’s head jerked up sharply as Isadora rattled the table. When her eyes locked on Isadora, naked terror flooded her face.

Isadora couldn’t blame her. She scared her people at the best of times, even though she was never anything other than fair to them. Having a reputation for being willing to get things done, on a planet full of lazy people trying to get away with doing the bare minimum, would do that. And that was when she didn’t look like she had just come out of a fight.

Benoit was young. One of this year’s new recruits, still not adjusted to the gravity in the Martian domes, which was ever so slightly higher than Earth’s. She moved with the telltale stiffness all new recruits had, like she was constantly sore after a hard workout. Whoever had made the adjustments to make the gravity more Earthlike had overcompensated, and no one—not the initial colonists, and not Earth’s soldiers—had bothered to correct the problem. Typical for this planet. Isadora didn’t think the two of them had ever had an actual conversation before, aside from the initial intake interview where Isadora had made sure she wasn’t stupid or lazy enough to throw Isadora’s entire operation into jeopardy.

“Benoit,” Isadora began. Her voice was raspy. Speaking hurts. She had spoken too soon when she had said she wouldn’t destroy Wraith. By the time she was done with him, he—

No. She would not let anger master her. Not even after what he had done, the way he had so thoroughly made a fool of her. If she did, she would be handing him a victory. Another victory. She took a deep breath.

“Yes?” Benoit said hesitantly. “I mean, um, yes, ma’am. I mean… what do you need, ma’am?”

“You currently have three prisoners assigned to you for interrogation,” said Isadora. All of them easy, and none of them important to Special Security’s efforts, if Grayson was handing out assignments correctly. The latest batch of new recruits hadn’t proved themselves yet. Best not to put them in a position where they could do any harm with their mistakes.

“Yes, ma’am. The interrogations are all going well. Would you like an initial report?” She took a nervous look into Isadora’s eyes. “Have… have I done something wrong?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then… forgive me for asking, ma’am, but what…”

“Never ask forgiveness,” Isadora advised. “It’s a bad habit. As for why I’m here, I have a request. I need to borrow a prisoner.”

The confusion on Benoit’s face didn’t abate. “Borrow a…”

“You really should learn to finish a sentence—you’ll never be able to keep control of an interrogation otherwise. Lend me one of your prisoners. As far as I know, all three of yours are relatively expendable, so it shouldn’t matter which one. Choose based on whatever criteria you like. Whichever one you’re having the most trouble with, maybe. Or whoever you find the most irritating. It doesn’t matter. Finish your meal, make your choice, and send me the file. I want it in front of me within the hour.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but what do you mean by borrow one?”

“I assume you’re familiar with the concept of borrowing,” Isadora said impatiently. “I know you new recruits are often sent to me with shameful gaps in your knowledge, but surely I don’t need to explain basic human social niceties to you.” As Benoit quailed, Isadora took pity on her and relented. “When I say borrow, I mean just that. I require the use of one of your prisoners on a temporary basis. There is, however, a chance you won’t get them back, which is why I came to you. You’re too wet behind the ears to have been assigned a prisoner of any real importance.”

Benoit didn’t appear offended by that. Good. That almost made up for the apologizing and asking forgiveness and all the unfinished sentences. “What do you need them for?”

“That’s not your concern,” Isadora said shortly. “Can you follow my instructions or not?” Some days, Isadora suspected the only reason Earth had put her in charge was because no one else around here knew how to take initiative.

“If you give me more details, I might have a better idea of who to pick.”

“I already told you it doesn’t matter. And I don’t intend to give you more details.”

Benoit swallowed. She got a look in her eyes like she was about to do something she knew she shouldn’t. It was the same look Isadora’s older brother had gotten when they were kids, the day he had decided to leap out of his second-story window to test the wings he had crafted out of paper. He had broken both his legs. Benoit looked as if she anticipated a similar fate.

“I know it’s not my place to say so,” she said in a small voice, “but you don’t seem… yourself today. Is something wrong?”

Isadora fixed her with her patented stare that had made more than one prisoner wet themselves. “What does not myself mean, exactly?” she said in a low, icy voice. “And interrogator should know to be precise with their words. Do you intend to imply that you see something wrong with my simple request? Perhaps you’re concerned for the prisoner in question. You wouldn’t be the first to show sympathy for the rebellion. Have you heard those stories? Do you know how they ended?”

Benoit seemed to shrink in front of Isadora until Isadora was surprised she could still see over the table. A shudder ran through her. She stared down at the green goop in front of her, blinking hard, like she was trying not to cry. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”

A trickle of cold disgust ran down the back of Isadora’s neck. Not disgust at the new recruit, even though Benoit was not only back to not finishing her sentences, she was sitting there shaking like she was a prisoner herself, with none of the dignity Special Security should exhibit. Another moment, and she would be a weeping mess. If there was anything Isadora hated more than people who let anger control them, it was people who couldn’t find a backbone. The only thing worse was sloppiness.

But Isadora was only disgusted with herself. Benoit was acting like a prisoner because Isadora was treating her like one. This woman was under her command, which made her Isadora’s responsibility. Hers to protect, hers to teach. Not hers to terrorize. Certainly not for asking a simple question. On any other day, she would have been gratified to see someone asking questions. It would mean they cared enough about their duties to do more than blindly follow orders.

“I’m sorry,” Isadora said.

Benoit’s startled eyes snapped to hers. Isadora couldn’t blame her for the comically befuddled look on her face. She couldn’t remember the last time an apology had left her lips.

“I’ll add a notation to your file granting you an additional week of paid leave,” Isadora continued. “Take it whenever you like, as long as you give at least three days’ notice beforehand.”

That didn’t make Benoit look any less confused. “Thank you, ma’am. But, um… what’s the reason?”

Isadora could hardly say it was out of guilt for the way she had treated her a moment ago. “For lending me that prisoner.” She paused. “And for not mentioning to anyone else that I’m… not myself.”

The woman nodded like an overzealous puppeteer had yanked her strings too hard. “I won’t say anything,” she said, her voice thick with fear. “I promise.” After a pause, she added, “Do you want me to keep this… prisoner borrowing… a secret, too?”

Isadora open her mouth to say yes, then closed it again. In close quarters like this, secrets had a way of getting around. And a rumor with no explanation attached would invite speculation. Isadora didn’t want anyone to guess at the troubles she was having with Wraith. It would be hard enough to get to the security footage of him attacking her and lock it to her clearance level only, before that rumor started spreading too. A prisoner who had managed to lay a hand on the untouchable Isadora Pope… they would whisper about that one in the cafeteria for months.

She really should have taken care of that before coming here. Benoit was right—she wasn’t herself.

“No,” she said. “I’ll handle the necessary explanations.” It shouldn’t be too hard to find some bland bureaucratic reason for her to temporarily take over a prisoner’s interrogation. “Can you get me what I need?”

Her head bobbed, her eyes still wide with fear. “Within the hour,” she promised.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper

Ask to be added or remove from taglist. Please feel free to ask to be tagged! I like knowing people are reading.

[ahiddenpath]

Recently, I've been thinking about reading for pleasure and reading for challenge and I remembered your answer to that ask game where you mentioned your friend's list of literature. If you feel comfortable, could you share the list?

Sure thing! This is going to get really long so... List beneath the cut.

So my friend split these into two groups: authors you must read for a masters in literature (that you will actually enjoy bc they kick ass) and books you will enjoy that kick ass. Her recs were centered on fantasy and magical realism, at my request.

Magical realism you’d be forced to read in a masters program that’s also good actually (tm) Salman Rushdie

Morrison obviously

Louise Erdrich (tho she’d prolly object to being called magical realism)

Haruki Murakami

Stuff that is Not School Stuff but Actually Good (tm):

The Witcher novels

These are the Witcher novels in order:

blood of elves time of contempt baptism of fire the tower of the swallow lady of the lake

There are also two short stories.

Kingkiller chronicles (unfinished but worth it anyway)

The entire hainish cycle by Leguin

Michal moorecock’s elric saga (as or maybe more influential than Tolkien in pop culture fantasy, why D&D exists) read this before the Witcher books maybe

Pratchett obviously

Kelly Link’s stories (all over the genre map)

Gene Wolfe shadow and claw collection

Books to Grow By

This is a combination of recs from my friend and stuff I found myself, apologies for linking out but typing it again seems redundant.

-List 1

-More on the biographies of women mentioned at the bottom of the post linked above

-More on The Left Hand of Darkness, LeGuin

-More on Beloved, Morrison and how it impacted the writing I was doing at the time, although it's embarrassing to say that bc Beloved is an absolute master class in the novel and is incomparable and I feel almost blasphemous even talking about it, except that it might inspire other people to read it, so I will talk about it!!!! In the hopes that people read it!!!! Please read it.

I haven't spoken about it yet, but I really want to add Ducks, Kate Beaton to the list. It's an autobio graphic novel about Kate, a woman from Nova Scotia who took a job on the oil sands to pay off her history degree. It gets dark fast, I would check out trigger warnings first.

This book is so packed with... So many things that I... I hate that they exist, but I really want people to see them, to know about them. I grew up in a lower middle class family on the east coast of the USA. My parents spoke about money problems constantly, so I legit thought we were poor. We were not, although my parents struggled with money their whole lives and will likely never retire and will pass away in debt.

When I was in college, I made friends with my literature pal above online. We've been friends for... God, probably about 12 years now, chatting daily online. I don't want to get into her life too much on Tumblr.com, but she actually grew up in poverty, and graciously taught me what poverty actually is. That might sound sarcastic, but it isn't at all. Sharing your life experience like that takes a lot of trust, time, and emotional energy, and it isn't something we can just... expect to be given for the sake of our own growth (ick, right??).

Like Beaton, lots of people are born in places where comfortable and lucrative jobs are not readily available. Also like Beaton, many folks earn a college degree that will almost certainly not pay for itself in terms of securing gainful employment. People in those circumstances often end up in jobs that destroy their body, their mental health, and their dignity. Class status isn't only dependent on income; it's also dependent on the type of work a family unit does. Jobs that wreck your body can pay well, but at what price?

There are a million themes and glimpses of humanity and horror in this book, I wish everyone would read it. The book was a huge success, and most libraries carry it, so try to check it out!