#but jacks answer is so much more valid than will's

[hail-brod]

A Tale of Woe

Masterlist

Jack Sparrow x FReader

Summary: Gibbs tells Will about the time he saw Captain Jack Sparrow fall in love, betray, and shatter from his own undoing.

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A/N: haha I'm back. Just a short one and it's a Captain Jack Sparrow fic! Didn't see that one coming, eh? You can probably expect more of it. Soon. I'm rolling with so much love for this pirate and other Johnny Depp characters. They'll come around, don't worry (✿◡‿◡)

For the meantime, lemme just release this into the wild. I can't keep suffering like this anymore and not post something TT

Credits to the owner of the GIF; got it from Pinterest.

Warning/s: light angst, betrayal, break-up (heartbreak), alcohol, bit of self-deprecation.

WC: 569

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William Turner could not believe his ears. Hearing the tale Gibbs was relaying unto him was nigh unimaginable.

The Captain Jack Sparrow, reckless and mad and unpredictable, was once a man who could love a woman, leveling his love for the seas. Not a one time thing, but quite a serious one.

“The betrayal part, that I can still imagine. But what exactly happened?” he asked, leaning and intently listening.

The old man darts his eyes around cautiously before answering his question. "Left her alone by the hands of the navy. An’ he just fled from there, choosin’ treasure over her darling freedom. Noble she was. Her family wanted her back. But she didn't want to.”

"So this woman," he started with a frown. “sailed out just to be with Jack?”

“Aye," Gibbs agreed. "Lovely woman, I say. Shame i’ had to end that way.”

The man swigs a drink from his tankard as it clanks back down on the table. Will prances at the thought as he strayed his eyes somewhere behind Gibbs. Could Jack actually do that to someone that's dear to him? To be honest, there shouldn't be much faith given when it comes to him but surely there are some things that could be excused. Maybe a valid reason that could justify his actions?

Even a heartless choice at that?

Who is he kidding? Why should I even bother defending that mad pirate?

“Did Jack even regret it?" he asked once more.

But all he received was a bubble of grumble as it erupts into a chuckle. Hints of redness spreading on his cheeks from the alcohol. “Of course he did. Even more so when he saw the lass again. Shattered him real good. Or bad.”

That perks Will’s attention up, brow raised. "Why?”

"Funny how I don't remember allowing you to share my sob story, Mr. Gibbs.”

The pirate himself stood before them, elbows tucked at his sides as he slightly swayed, eyeing one of them. Eyeing Will.

He didn't look upset, but it unnerved Will seeing the cold expression Jack wore. It was so unlike him. But it was also quite sad. Somehow.

Before he could utter an unflattering apology, Gibbs himself beat him to it.

“My apologies, Capt’n. Rum’s might've gotten through me head too much than usual.”

Even as Gibbs tried to explain himself, Jack didn't break his stare on him. The man walked closer towards Will, staring him down under his nose. At this point, Will isn't even sure if he's actually pissed or just being the unpredictable person that he is.

Moments after, Jack was now bending down onto his level. “Curious, are we?"

Will eyed him suspiciously, wondering what's going through the pirate's mind. “What if I am?" he bit back, tipping up a nod.

Jack Sparrow just smiled. One that can easily be mistaken as satisfaction, but Will can see it. The tight creases at the ends of his smile and the empty hollowness that resided in his eyes. He didn't know Jack Sparrow was capable of such emotions.

The said man leaned back up again, standing on his always wobbly toes. The front of his expression daring to fall.

“Right,” Jack said. "Why don't we start with her good ol' merry family of both husband and children? Sounds about right for self-condemnation, aye?”

Maybe Captain Jack Sparrow is not so heartless as he seemed to be.

Ko-fi?

[adickaboutspoons]

Fuck me, I have more to say about this moment:

And it's gonna get ugly, folks, so buckle in. As important as it is to understand this scene as a moment of Character Growth for Stede? It's also key to understanding Why Shit Went Down the way it did during the negotiation of the escape plan in Act of Grace. So Stede stands up for himself and draws some boundaries. Good for him! Love to see it. And how does Ed respond to "I don't like who you are around this guy?"

And what does he say when he chooses to leave with Jack?

It's a through-line. In this moment, Ed is calling back to the conversation on the beach. I don't think he is being intentionally cruel - to him, what he's saying is more of a reflection of his struggles with feelings of worthlessness - but how can Stede help but make the association; the ONE TIME he draws boundaries with Ed, Ed leaves. Not only does Ed choose to go, rather than stay and respect Stede's boundaries (which, I would argue are completely reasonable here; Don't wantonly kill innocent animals), he is aligning himself with the man that has spent the entire day tormenting Stede ("This" - Jack killing Karl - "is who I am"). Again, I'm not saying that he's being intentionally cruel; I don't think he fully understands how awful Jack has been to Stede. But, surely you can see how, from Stede's perspective, this is absolutely DEVASTATING - much more than JUST the heartbreak of the man that you had so recently made tentative plans to join your life with ("Co-Captains!") breaking up with you. But breaking up with you AND CHOOSING ONE OF THE WORST PEOPLE YOU KNOW OVER YOU.

So now we come to the Act of Grace and the scene on the beach:

No, AFTER that.

Ed proposes a plan to run away together. And Stede... doesn't say yes. In fact, his first instinct is to push back, THREE TIMES.

"But you said there was no escape."

"What about the English? They'll be all over us."

"China? That's quite far away."

Every time Ed dismisses his concerns - comes up with a reason to make the plan A Thing. Ed is clearly not going to take "no" for an answer.

And what happened the last time Stede told him no?

Ed left.

Ed broke his heart.

Ed sided with the kind of person that validates Stede's every insecurity about not being enough.

So is it any wonder that Stede gives in? And not even with enthusiastic consent. With the most tepid positive-leaning neutral responses possible.

"Yeah."

"I think so."

"Mm-hm."

(Which is to say nothing about his body language - the incredulous-bordering-on-disgusted face he makes when he talks about China, his lips pressed together when he says "Mm-hm", the way he starts the conversation leaning in toward Ed, his body twisted toward him, but quickly shifts so his body is angled straight ahead with his head awkwardly twisted to the side to look at Ed)

The seeds of tragedy were planted when Ed left Stede. Because, by doing so, he accidentally reinforced a lifetime of Stede being taught that his wants and needs are secondary to those of others, and that acceptance is conditional on compliance.

[mdhwrites]

Sunday: As Exciting and Concerning as the end of a Weekend

Sunday is, rightfully so, a decisive character. For some, he is the peak of all Star Rail writing. A nuanced villain with grand thematics, imagery, a tantalizing moral quandary and a gray to his morality that is rare to see. To others, he is a narcissistic man with delusions of grandeur that embodies the excesses of Penacony. That he takes too long and too many words to finally get to his point, all while still just being someone who in the end wants to, you guessed it, rule the world. But where does he lie in reality?

That... Well, doesn't have an actual answer because both viewpoints are equally valid. It's akin to how Aventurine suffers from the fact that even when he's good, the writers are so worried about you GETTING. THE FUCKING. POINT. that they hammer it in in a way that is genuinely unpleasant and reveals the hand of the author. Like as a reminder, we get told the story of the Charmony Dove at least three times, in excruciating detail, before we get to the festival to actually have that come to a point. Three times in the SAME. PATCH. To the point of being detrimental to building up his relationship to Robin, which is both more powerful when brought up with his ideals but also just more important to the character in the present in general than this one story. We get it, it's his backstory but how that has compounded over time is far more fascinating.

But on the other hand, I was genuinely invested when he posed the question to us: If you know pain and suffering is the extremely likely outcome of a situation, would a gilded cage be better than the freedom that will lead to death? Should those better and stronger than those around them take on the burden of protecting them? Made even better by the fact that Sunday would have been an invisible hand in it all. Entirely alone and so the only joy he could get would not be adulation and worship but just that of a job well done. It's genuinely compelling and something that is hard to answer and the characters themselves recognize it's a tough conundrum and the final point that tips things one way or another being that people deserve a choice, and that choice being what gives us even a chance to win, is all very effective thematically.

But that's not the only problem here. When I say he's an encapsulation of the issues of Penacony, for those the planet wronged, he really is a big problem for them. Robin's character suffers for the sake of Sunday, just like Acheron is given less attention than Aventurine. He is given a shocking death as the end of a patch... Just like Firefly and Robin the patch before him to the end result of... Jack shit. They were all fake deaths because fuck you. Even if technically had a point, it was a lie to the audience for cheap drama and a false cliffhanger. That's going to leave a pretty bad taste in your mouth.

Buuuut for those who like Penacony, he's also a wheeler and dealer who's quite good at his job, only beat by Aventurine because Aventurine had help above and beyond what could have been expected and Sunday was essentially working alone. He's an antagonist but it's hard to call him a villain, like any of the major players in Penacony, because he genuinely doesn't wish for harm and is operating off of a complex set of goals that he has set in motion and needs to meet. He's got more depth to him and his relationships than would be expected, like how Jade hides parts of herself from her protege or SAM and Firefly's connection, while also being a genuinely entertaining fellow to watch as he goes through his scheme and has brilliant VA work to back up his scenes.

Way... WAY too much VA work in my opinion, the script for Penacony NEEDED to be trimmed down, but that is probably my most firm stance on Penacony as a whole. I think the only patch in Penacony with proper pacing throughout is 2.3 (and now 2.6).

Where do I fall on Sunday though? Well... I don't. Not yet. This is mostly because we know he's about to come back and he's to some extent repenting. How much is to be seen, his stated goal is to still make his paradise after all but that's also Robin's goal and Robin isn't evil so shrug. I think Star Rail is nuanced enough to write him well but...

I've kind of been burned too many times to be too hyped. I've seen charismatic villains lose a LOT of themselves after their fall and that usually comes with losing a lot of what was interesting, compelling or evocative about them. It's very easy to think that the way to redeem a character is to strip them of all traits that made them negative before instead of asking how those traits could instead be used in more constructive ways, or how those traits would interact with noble goals. I don't even know if this next patch will give us enough of an answer one way or another. I literally saw across three movies for My Little Pony one of their most compelling characters go from a charismatic force of personality, to the personality of a brick, to getting some of that initial personality back and it playing with her world in interesting ways and even recontextualizing the second movie's more languid period as essentially her figuring herself out.

Sunday's biggest problem in this regard is that his devotion to the themes of Penacony may now tie him down from being able to stretch his own wings. He did have a personality but it was so dedicated to that version of his dream that I don't know what to expect of a Sunday who is willing to seek other answers to his goal. It's part of the problem with a methodology as blunt as Penacony's. It's very easy to hyper dedicate a character to their narrative role, or even to a specific scene, and leave them lacking as a whole because of it and I feel like that has the potential to happen to Sunday.

I want to end this on a different note and that is him mechanically since the livestream has happened and we know those details. A lot of people think that because he pushes summons forward, he is not a hyper carry support but a summon support. But... No. He's a hyper carry support. His kit is all about maximizing damage. He can make other summons go faster but if he's making a support summon go faster... That support summon needs to be doing better work than he would by supporting the main DPS in the team because your team at that point is a single DPS, two supports and a sustainer. You know: The hyper carry setup.

There is a reason why Acheron mixed with Pela and Jiaqiou is called Acheron Hyper Carry. It's not called debuff, despite that being a core part of the strat, because the debuffs are just the version of support you're going for in order to maximize damage with Acheron. Sunday supporting Jing Yuan is not some new summon meta, it's a hyper carry setup where the best option for the hyper carry is a summon. As such, we may indeed end up with a lot of summons in 3.0... But he'll only be useful for the ones that act like Jing Yuan who is a DPS.

That's why I'm not pulling for Sunday. He's hyper carry in a way I am not interested in so I'm not planning to pull for him and I think that is the correct way to look at him if you are feeling mechanically pressured to pull for him. Just remember: Meta is not individuals in this game, it's teams.

I hope this was all a little insightful and helps you understand people on either side of the Sunday debate. See you next tale and good luck on your pulls!

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[cecil-marethyu]

My Totally Unserious Thoughts on the Mass Effect Trilogy (after playing it for the first time in 2024)

Mass Effect 1

Ma’am- Ma’am please- Ma’am, I need you to look to the left for me please.

Holy shit, I think I actually look pretty good.

Me during the Citadel View conversation: Okay Kaidan, I see you. I'm picking up what you are putting down.

But we’re trying to romance Garrus. Everyone’s up his ass, so I got to see what that’s about.

It has come to my attention that neither Garrus nor Tali are romanceable in the first game… Kaidan, I choose you.

NPC: It’s terrible what happened on Akuze.

Me: Oh yeah, Akuze, the Akuze where something happened, that Akuze (what the fuck happened on Akuze?)

…

THRESHERMAWS!?!?!

If I have to drive up one more steep-ass mountain to get to some minerals, I will lose it.

Kaidan: It seems you have quite a connection with Liara.

Me: I do????? I’ve talked to her one time. Like many things in this game about myself, that is news to me.

Ashley: something, something, something, scuttlebutt

Me: Who the fuck is scuttlebutt?

My brother: Kaidan (neither of us actually understand what scuttlebutt means)

I miss Nomad conversations.

Don’t mind me, I’ll just casually bypass this door on Noveria–

YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME TO COMPLETE ANY OTHER MISSIONS HERE

Andromeda Interlude: I went to go read my emotional support Jaal/Ryder fic, glanced at the author’s bookmarks, saw FemShep/Zaeed. This detour has taken an unforeseen turn and will take much longer than expected.

Okay, I’m back.

Time to go to Virmire, I know what’s coming

What the hell is that loud-ass noi- It’s Wrex. He is shooting his loud as hell shotgun at the water.

HOLD THE LINE

If I some how get Kirrahe killed, I will be very upset.

Oh, I guess I’ll take Kaidan and Liara with me to Ilos…. What do you mean I can’t change my party when we get to the Citadel? Wrex and Garrus want to shoot Saren in the face. They deserve it.

Here's my first Shepard for the hell of it

Mass Effect 2

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY EYEBROWS?????

I.. I can live with it. I don’t want to go through the whole character creation again (the concept of writing down a face ID has not yet registered)

Cue two hours of me being appalled by those eyebrows

She could not live with it

Okay, let’s try this again

Time to save Archangel…

The pyro vorcha has killed me three times, maybe even four. I’m making a terrible first impression on Zaeed.

I like talking to Jack, but she doesn’t like talking to me. (I like talking to everyone, but I yap too much, so they don’t want to talk to me anymore.)

We’re on Horizon. Kaidan is very salty, which is valid, I just like to be dramatic about it. My brother and I compare the reactions of Ashley and Kaidan.

LOYALTY MISSION TIME

Do you even remember that night before Ilos?

I accidentally talked to Jack one too many times and hit on her. I am so sorry

Kelly, I want you to feed my fish. Why don’t you want to feed my fish? (Apparently I was supposed to say “I’d embrace you” at the beginning)

Shepard’s dancing is terrible.

The Illusive Man wants to talk to me, I guess I’ll go do that– WE’RE IMMEDIATELY GOING TO THE SHIP. WHAT THE FUCK?? I haven’t even picked up Thane yet T_T

Jane “where my hug at” Shepard has entered the chat

Thane apparently has the probe upgrade, that would have been greatly appreciated several hours ago.

I deserved to get a long dress out of Kasumi’s loyalty mission.

I had reach, she had flexibility

Thane actually wants to talk to me >_<

Nevermind, he called me siha and decided to never speak to me again

Time to go fistfight a yahg.

I have once again yapped too much, an no one wants to talk to me anymore.

I brought Mordin and Miranda with me to the derelict Reaper. Good conversation choices, not exactly good husk destroyers. How many times did I use shockwave, you ask? Yes. The answer is yes.

Yaay, we finally got Legion.

I rewrote the heretics. I sense this may bite me in the ass.

Time to go through the Omega 4 Relay.

Mentally writing a fic where Shepard leaves a video message for Kaidan/tries to call, but he doesn’t answer

I know I have all the ship upgrades, and everyone is loyal, but I am stressed.

We made it.

I finally went back to the Shadow Broker base and talked to Feron. I’m in love…

There are only six fanfics for those who are curious.

I only recalled this because of a video I was watching, but… the cuntiness of Garrus in his recruitment mission. Like sir, what the fuck?

Second/Partial Third Playthrough

Already?! You may be asking yourself. The answer is yes apparently. I finished Inquisition, and my brother started his second playthrough of Mass Effect, and suddenly I’m here again.

I have spent a ridiculous amount of time debating whether I’m going to romance Thane or Garrus. I know I’ll romance the other eventually, but who will I pick first. Do I want to hurt my feelings or have fun?

I picked Thane. I have another save for when I get around to romancing Garrus.

I miss Kaidan, but not in a “damnit, Ashley’s here” kind of way. I just miss my man.

Mass Effect 3

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FACE

I tried to fix it. I think I made it worst.

What the fuck is up with Shepard’s arms?

The entire Mars mission: Kaidan staring at Shepard when she isn’t looking. Shepard staring at Kaidan when he is halfway across the room. This is great.

I had to restart. I fucked up her face too much. She still doesn’t look like herself to me, but I’ll push through it (fucking weirdass mouth shapes)

Once again, what the fuck is up with Shepard’s arms.. And chest, and run?

I really should visit the council, but baby girl is in the hospital with his tits out. I gotta go

Shepard finally has her hoodie again, the weirdness is less noticeable now.

Saved the Primarch, so it’s time to see baby girl again.

Thane’s here too (don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry)

They actually go me , I thought I got Kasumi killed for a second.

They go me with Grunt too. I am stressed

The Primarch sure like to get in Shepard’s space

We have now lost Mordin and Thane.

Also, Kaidan during the coup stand-off “Don’t make me regret this” Bro, don’t make me fucking fight you.

Cortez, Jack, Joker, and EDI were all at the bar at the same time. Time to get lit

…

Got blackout drunk. Woke up on Aria’s couch

Kaidan has rejoined the Normandy. Shepard checked out his ass to an absurd degree

Everybody wants to come up to my cabin. I am constantly worried I’m going to accidentally hit on someone.

Kaidan is leaning

Me while Kaidan talked about EDI: 0_0 This is Jaal all over again

Had the Apollo lunch. I am constantly surprised by how horny Shepard is.

You weren’t there when I woke up this morning. Y’all fucking? Without my permission?

 Tali on Thessia was honestly kind of funny. I’m pretty sure that is a Prothean, Liara. Hey Liara, don’t you think that is a Prothean. PROTHEANS. I’ll bring Javik next time.

Citadel DLC was fun. Still wish Shepard had a fancy dress like everyone else, but that’s what daydreaming and writing fanfic that will never see the light of day is for.

I unfortunately didn't dress up before going to dinner with Joker, so when Kaidan was like, "Nice outfit." Shepard was standing there in her hoodie like, "... Whatever you say man."

James terrified me when he took his shirt off, but it was fine. And I beat his pull-up record.

Shepard and Kaidan obviously got it on. I don’t think I really need to say anymore on that.

I wish Thane’s picture stayed on the piano.

I obviously invited everyone to the party even though I wanted Zaeed to call me beautiful. Apparently that only happens if Javik isn’t there.

As much as I wanted to enjoy the moment with Kaidan before the Cerberus base, I could not because I am very self conscious and had an audience of three people in the room with me.

Me the entire time I was talking to hologram Zaeed: Why are we so up in each other’s grills?

I should have had Kaidan with me for the race toward the beam to experience the full drama of that. I had Javik instead, which was pretty dramatic anyways. I never expected you to reach for me like that bro

My brother chose synthesis when he played, so I went with destroy to see what that was like. I didn’t want to do that to EDI and the geth, but I did want to see Zaeed drinking beer on a beach.

I’ll preface this by saying, I didn’t go into this blind in any way, so I knew in the final scene Joker would be followed out by two “favored” squad mates, your love interest and second favored squad mate. I was expecting Garrus or James, so I was very bamboozled when Javik walked out.

Second Playthrough

Shepard is so much more defensive with Ashley, and accusative in a way. “Can I trust you to have my back?” What? Why is this even a conversation?

Ashley feels very underutilized in general. Like, her Normandy comments after bigger missions feel more vague and generalized compared to others. She only has one thing to say while others have three or four before they are done talking to you.

Talking to James during the Citadel DLC is a lot scarier when you don’t have a current romance. I don’t want to accidentally seriously come onto him. He doesn’t need that.

Also, why couldn't James have been an option to swoop in after Shepard's fall through the fish tank. Why is Liara the only option if you don't have a squadmate romance? Like, he already has that unserious flirting thing going with femshep. He would totally say, "Nice outfit"

I did want James to be the person I had my beam run moment with though. It was Ashley instead, which didn't make the most sense, but I was cool with it going that way too. And Garrus was the one holding Shepard's name placard, and Javik was the one who exited the Normandy after Joker and EDI, so really have no idea who my true ride or die was. I wonder if armax matches count as missions in the counter.

Speaking of armax arena, it makes no logical sense, but I wish Feron was a potential squadmate, or Bailey

The Thane romance has definitely hurt my feelings on several occasions. It’s great. I got to talk to him after the party too, so that was nice.

WHY AM I FIGHTING ALL THESE SHEPARDS? THIS FUCKING SUCKS

Because trophies, that’s why

There was probably something else, but tumblr decided to not save my edits, so I'm beyond the point of caring anymore

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Even Goldish in the Privacy of Bowls do it

A Sarge & lil Mama episode

circa 1966 (yes this got moved a little from original shooting time of the movie hinted at here-in, shh)

Elvis Presley x original character -chart refresher for kid’s ages HERE

Warnings: 18+ -y’all, this is perhaps my most unhinged attempt at chaos yet. Finally we’re getting to see more of the kids, maybe more than wanted when a man’s just trying to grab a quickie in the shower with his wife. Warnings include unhinged family chaos, filthy smut, Elaine using firearms, brief mention of animal death by gunshot, brief mention of implied young children sleeping in their parents bed/bedroom while past sexual activities may have taken place, and -PLEASE NOTE- multiple references to an eating disorder on Elvis’ part. Troubling issues like this are integral to him and his mindset at the time so I include them, but please be aware there’s language in here that’s dismissive and condoning at times by certain individuals, just as it’s pleaded against by others. Along with brief body issues and shaming. Just a caution.

Word count: 12k -hope ya missed my tomes lol

Thanks: ever so much thanks is owed to many for their help and support but particularly to the dolls who made this so much better worse with their suggestions. Calling out @missmaywemeetagain @elvisabutler @eliseinmemphis @ab4eva @stylespresleyhearted

Summary: when Elaine visits the Colonel’s bungalow early on a Hawaiian dawn to defend her man and his appetite for her fried chicken -bringing along a loaded firearm for emphasis- the pelicans aren’t the only things startled.

Seven o’clock in the balmy hours of a Hawaiian morning, a solitary gunshot broke the peaceful silence and sent the beach birds squawking into the jungle’s dense foliage.

As seven AM was an ungodly hour of the day to expect anything from a human being, Elvis Presley was still in bed, asleep, and finally settled into that sorta circadian rhythm that helped him sleep through nightmares, alarm clocks, voracious wives and the pokes and prods of three to five children in his bed.

But a gunshot was jarring enough he swam to the surface of consciousness long enough to fling an arm out and pat Laney’s sweet ass and mumble an inquiry as to wether she had any clue why someone was shooting a gun in fuckin’ Hawaii. Especially as he, the only one likely to do so, was, quite obviously, in bed with her.

Except Laney’s sweet flesh wasn’t anywhere to be grabbed the more he flailed his arm in the cold sheets and, with a sudden bolt of terror, Elvis sat up and searched about the room only to find her gone. Jack was, predictably, still clinging to the same pillow Elvis had mistaken as her. He felt a little validated by that.

Two more gunshots punctuated his growing alarm and before two seconds had passed he was flying out of bed despite the way Jack’s legs clung to him and he exited the bungalow door with nothing but his silk night shorts on and espadrilles.

“Laney? The hell are you, woman?” he bellowed out the veranda with caring bravado.

No answer. Which didn’t mean much but it was harder to shake shit like this since the recent uptick in hate crimes and the way those girls had jumped her at their own gate last summer. His knuckles ached at the mere memory of the pummeling he’d given those tarts’ car hood. Nothing funny or harmless about it.

“Laney!”

Jesse barreled out shortly after and stood beside Elvis with a mimicking pose of concern, staring out at the beach with his hands on his hips, surveying the glittering water in the fresh sun’s rays and the undisturbed sand for miles. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen for that long stretch of golden beach.

“You seen your mother?” he asked Jesse sternly.

“No sir, didn’t hear her go out either. She not in bed?”

“No, and I didn’t hear her either. Neither did Jack and he’s always wound round her like a sloth to a branch.”

“Maybe she’s the one doin’ the shootin.” Jesse ventured with a mild expression of hope.

Father and son were both recalling when Elaine had given Elvis ample complaint and ample warning to do something about his reprobate pet chimp and when nothing was done and a child was harmed, Laney stalked into the den where Elvis and the boys were going over rehearsals and asked if he’d like to do the honors of shooting the damn monkey. When he laughed her off she trumped upstairs and the next thing Elvis knew was Tink clipping past the den and out the front door in her heels with his shotgun in her hand, while poor, unfortunate Scatter was being carried by the scruff of his sailor costume.

By the time Elvis caught up with her she’d put five holes in the hairy little pervert. To be perfectly honest he was aghast at such overriding of his jurisdiction but it didn’t prevent him from appreciating that when she meant business, she meant it.

So, it was plausible Laney was shooting something at seven am, and that was one of the reasons Elvis loved her. The only trick was, there was no Scatter here, no enemies in the general vicinity for her to be shooting at.

Elvis commented as much to his young son in grave deliberation.

“ ‘Cept for the colonel.” Jesse pointed out blithely and at that excellent observation all of Elvis’ blood felt like it rushed to his brain and pounded within like a tribal drum.

“Oh sweet merciful Jesus-“ Elvis wheezed and took off from his porch in a sprint along the beach hedges, towards the colonel’s adjacent bungalow, the roof of which -now that he was looking- appeared to have smoke coming out of its abnormally saggy thatch.

“She didn’t like it when he called ya fat yesterday!” Jesse was still hell bent on a little redeeming PR and Elvis waved at him with the back of his hand in acknowledgment that, if Laney was murdering, it would be for him.

And his fat self.

And for the reputation of her fried chicken that Elvis had been laying off of ever since he got so damn pudgy no director would hire him without contractually asking for a little casual bulimia on the side.

It was all part of the business, the snow job of an available and attractive man made harder by the real life presence of a wife and brood of children. The addition of a decidedly fatherly gut wasn’t gonna make them money.

He got it. Laney didn’t.

He tried to jog faster through the sand before she put her fingerprints all over the scene.

Inside the bungalow Elaine fanned the smoke out of her face with red tipped fingers and kept her diction very clipped as was most effective with this self consumed weasel.

“Am I understood? No more sedation and no more starvation and stop recommending those damn uppers that keep him buzzing while his body goes undernourished.”

Elaine still gripped the shotgun barrel, right there by the racker thingy but Parker had watched this woman long enough to know that if he agreed, then she would be pacified enough, he’d live to see another day.

“I get you, Mrs. Presley,” he assured in a pleasing tone, one that always suggested she started this long war between them, “no more. It was the business I was thinking of, it is my role. And yours is to nurture. You cannot expect me to have the same leniency as a wife, but I bow to your superior discretion.”

“You’ve kept him from home, colonel, robbed him and my children of valuable time together just because he knows he’ll be tempted to eat when he’s home. You’re a cruel, heartless Scrooge, that’s what you are. And this ain’t over.”

“It was merely business, Elaine.” he looks close to crying and she feels tempted to blast another shell into his roof.

“It's not your fault Colonel,” she steadied herself and he always liked how she was not so emotional like some women, even if she was icier than Elvis would ever admit, “I wouldn’t expect you to know what appeals to women, you never had the chance to appeal to them yourself. But I’ll tell you now, just for your excelsior betterment, some women like a sturdier man, some women like more cheeks on their husband, and your gravest omission when thinking of his appeal -a slight ponch rubs ever so delightfully on a woman’s clitoris when making love. You have heard of those, haven’t you? Maybe not, I’ll leave you to peruse the encyclopedia. It’s under C.”

Elvis got smacked in the face by the opening door as she stepped out right as he barreled in.

“Good morning honey, why on earth are you awake?” she greeted blithely as the door swung behind her and she raked his bed head back into place with her hands.

“Because you were shootin’ up the damn island.” he cried, “The hell’s goin’ on, Tink? You kill the colonel?”

“No. Of course not.” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just on a roll, keeping varmints in their places. It was his turn.”

“What’s he done wrong?” Elvis was aghast.

“Oh honey we haven’t got the time for all that on such a perfect morning.” she laughed instead, “C'mon back to bed, when you wake up again I’ll make you your favorite.”

“I can’t have flap jacks right now, Laney, you know that.” he mumbled sullenly as they turned back to the path leading to their own bungalow.

“Yes you can.”

“Says who?”

“Says the woman who owns ya before God, that’s who.” Elaine retorted sharply and he sucked in a breath in appreciation of the vindictive mood still clinging to her. He should chastise her for her language but right now he didn’t wanna shift the mood. The racked gun at her side may have added to the thrill a little.

“You’re real pretty totin’ that thing around in just your kaftan.” he complimented

“Oh Naughty.” she breathed, a little blush flaring on her face. His simple little sweetnesses still getting to her far more than any of his wiles or spice.

“Really, just so pretty, sun’s gettin’ in your hair like it’s what it got up to do this mornin’. S’all gold.”

“Oh naughty, hush.” Elaine felt a fit of compliments coming on and was a little rusty at receiving them, truth be told.

“Why can’t I tell ya you’re pretty?” he laughed.

“You can.” she shook her head in amusement and tried to keep walking but his narration stalled her a few steps down the path.

“Your legs are gold too.” he was saying “Is this like your witchin’ hour or somethin? Do I gotta get up at ass crack a’dawn to catch ya like this?”

“I am in a kaftan, Elvis. And this is hawaii, hardly a new sight.” Elaine laughed herself.

“Yeah, and the sun sure goes right through it.” he was admiring the way her legs were shapely shadows under the cream linen, the illuminating ball of fire in the sky giving him a little show. “Is this how early I gotta get up to see this?”

“You’re sleep deprived, that’s why you’re so astounded by a woman in a kaftan, c’mon and I’ll help ya get back to sleep.”

“No, no I don’t wanna go inside yet.” he objected like a child in the middle of his construction when the dinner bell goes off, “There’s kids inside.”

“Yeah there are.” Elaine’s lip curled in wry amusement.

“Colonel gets ya alone but I don’t.” he wasn’t saying it accusingly, just a contemplative pout and Elaine shaded her eyes to watch his face as he stood in front of the glittering ocean, so bright its reflective rays were almost painful this early in the day. “Why’ve we got so many damn kids.” he joked, “Hardly see ya.”

“Aww well I’m here now.” she was touched and a little confused by this mood but she sauntered up to him, leaning the shotgun against a dune marker, and put her arms around him.

That seemed to be the right course of action as he gave her one of those soft little expressions that weren’t smiles so much as they were bashful little cheek scrunches of recognition. The extra cheeks on him made the expression almost intolerably cherubic. “You got up to blow his roof off but..” he can’t accuse her of not getting up to be with him, that was a damn lie, Elaine somehow managed a schedule that fit both the normal world’s waking hours and incorporated in his bizarre nocturnal clock, he very rarely was awake while she was asleep although the same couldn’t be said for him and this morning it nagged him, what little pleasant nothings he might be missing at seven in the morning.

“It don’t make a habit of it,” she reminded softly, “he just needed a talking to. It’s like spanking or putting a child to bed, never meant to disturb you and was gonna slip right back in next to you.”

“Yeah well, three gunshots kinda have the opposite effect, woman.” he shook her shoulders playfully.

“Well I think I got the message across.”

“What was the message?”

“I-“ Elaine paused to restructure her complaint into the mildest terms possible to preserve his sleepy temper and the peaceful scenery around them. “It’s kinda like you were saying with me! I miss you, the children miss you and it’s got nothing to do with movies and making money. You’re tired from the pills and from the starving and -lord, if I see you excuse yourself after one of my meals one more time just to hear you gaggin’ it right up, I’ll-“ she couldn’t quite finish that, wasn’t sure what she’d do but the most constructive thing she could think of after hearing it last night before bed was to visit the colonel and put some fear of God in him.

“How’d you-“ he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Oh heavens Elvis!” she pinched his cheek, “It’s the oldest one in the book for us women, when I didn’t shift the weight in two months after having a second set of twins it was recommended to me by all the other wives. Just because it’s old or common doesn't make it healthy and I’m just saying that if you’re unhappy and wanna fit in your old slacks then so be it, I’ll feed ya salads and cut down on the butter but there ain’t a single movie producer I’m gonna let stipulate or pay you to starve yourself. Sweet Jesus I- I know you like looking pretty but for god’s sake! You are! You are pretty, you’re Elvis Pretty Presley for the love of God and what are your children gonna think growin’ up watchin’ you treat yourself this way? It isn’t business, no! No! It isn’t! Hush up! It’s not! Business can be constructive or destructive and Christian business only builds up. Actin’ like a pagan by starvin’ your bodily temple that the Lord gave ya isn’t gonna sell us more movies.”

“You done?” he asked her after letting out a long whistle.

“No not quite,” she cooled her tone a little but stopped her hug to cross her arms and hug herself defensively, “Marlon told me they’ve been asking the same from him and he told them to go- well, you know. And they did. They’re still casting him in serious roles even if he’s not a breathing Adonis. They should be castin’ you in movies about human life not posin’ you like some cut out in a storyline.”

“Brando told ya this?”

“Yeah.” she said, “Because Brando’s manager does what he’s supposed to. I was just reminding the colonel that he is *your* manager which means he’s supposed to be your advocate not your damn jailor!”

“Sheesh alright,-“

“Elvis! It’s serious! I mean if Marlon-“

“God!- stop all this talkin’ about Brando, dammit!” Elvis bellowed and Elaine flushed bright red for an instant and it made him do a double take, thinking he saw a flicker of something new there but in an instant it was gone and -this was Laney, it couldn’t have been there in the first place, “Lord ya need to cool off.” he muttered.

He saw Elaine heave in a deep breath and cup her hand over her nose in that tell-tale way she had when she was regaining her control, started with the nose then the hand would go to the lips and then drop as she shook it out like casting out the damn emotions it collected before it fell to her side, diamond ring glinting in the morning light.

He wanted to say he missed her again, but that felt redundant. Instead he busied himself with observing how pretty she was and before he could voice that again, her eyes cleared and she smirked at him.

“Last one in is chicken.” she dared him before taking off over the sand, headed for the decently violent surf.

That was an old trick of hers, when shit became too real she just- played, instead. He felt it was for his benefit but maybe not, maybe it kept them both sane. He was as fond of the old trick as he had been the first time she pulled it in the studio back in ‘56. Elvis caught up to her about three paces from the surf and managed to swing her up in his arms and crash into the water together. After that first gasp inducing plunge and the salty sting up the nose, the water became a sparkling friend to them, and holding onto each other they surfaced and bobbed for a brief time, enjoying the sounds of the island waking up.

“So I guess I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn to do this with ya.” he griped again and pouted into her neck.

Elaine laughed and stroked the curling hair at the base of his neck, “If you want to escape the heat of the day and catch this lighting, then yes, yes you do. Otherwise, I’m here anytime you want me.”

“Why’d we make so many people!” his face puckered playfully for a moment, “I miss you!”

“I dunno, just sorta happened.” she fibbed herself and after a moment of disbelief he caught the joke and laughed too.

“I-I mean I try to be a good father-“

“You’re an excellent father .” Elaine butted in sternly.

“a-and part of that is bein’ with ‘em and I do try,” he laid his head back partially and let the water buoy him, “whatever you may say, I do try, but when I try I-I well, I let Daisy give me a haircut because she had her heart set on it and then when I get to the film set I’m told that was a ‘dis-reee-spectful’ thing to have done. I just can’t figure out how to manage what everyone wants from me. Just can’t figure it out.”

“Elvis, I don’t know why you’re caring so much what a half a dozen crusty old men say.” Elaine murmured, “Especially not when your wife finds your haircut rather fetchin’ and thinks the meat on your bones feel real nice when you’re up against me.”

“Oh?” Elvis tipped his head back up and seemed to register their close proximity for the first time. As if a switch had been flipped it seemed to be all his eyes could process, the material of her transparent kaftan clinging to what parts of her torso he held out of the water by his hold on her thighs and- Elaine thought it sweet how sometimes her man had a singular track in his mind and that was for sex, but just as singular could be some other focus and a near naked woman wouldn’t strike his as suggestive at such a time until he was made to notice. “Oh, Laney!” his eyes lit up as he surveyed his wife and then the coastline behind her, “Hell, baby, we’re alone, we’re genuinely alone!”

“I know.” her voice couldn’t keep from pitching low as she tightened her legs around his padded hips and watched in awed appreciation for the way his face’s coloring looked like it belonged in the blush splashed sea. “Seven am, for the lighting and for -the solitude.”

“Oh I like the lighting.” he muttered as if to himself as he swayed closer, eyes glued to her wettend lips. “And I like not havin’ all those damn people around. You get it don’t you?”

“Yes I do.”

“You tired of our friends?” he asked.

That could be trick question so she carefully shrugged it off, “Not really, you?”

“Not really just-“ Elvis pondered for a bit, his full cheeks squishing his mouth up and he looked the closest to his babyish self when he had married her than he had in ten years. “It’s just always so crazy ‘round us and I -I want more of this. Just not at seven am. I’ve got a naked woman in the ocean and I’m so sleepy I can’t even stay on track to get in her!” and he laughed ruefully.

“You can just kiss me?” she begged, “Kiss me and we’ll get you back to sleep.”

As if he knew what kind of his kisses she’d been missing most in this fast paced life -for Elvis Presley had many different kinds of kisses for Mrs. Presley- Elvis brushed her hair off her face with gentle care before thumbing at her throat, making her pulse jump from the swipe of his thumb before he brought his lips nearer and nearer as her own trembled and puckered in anticipation until after painful restraint those two plush pillows caressed her own. And stayed. And stayed.

Stayed until the screech of a car peeling out on the path they'd just abandoned made Elaine look up and she saw the Colonel’s conveyance speeding inland after breaking to view their little rendezvous.

“I’m sure we cut a rather scandalous figure in here.” she realized.

“Where’s the scandal when you’re married?” Elvis scoffed. “Besides, not even the paps want a picture of me when I’m this fuckin pudgy-“

“-oh not this again!” Elaine growled, kneading said pudge with vigor as if it would get her point through him better.

“Laney, you're sick in the head, we’ve established this already.” he replied, teasing yet not entirely unserious, “What appeals to you ain’t a rule for the rest of the world.”

“Ha.” she tossed her head back, “Let’s talk about trends then. The trend is towards beefier, hairier men, less of this pristine crooner image, more of the beefcake -Redford, Bogart, that sorta thing.” Learning her lesson on the beach, she omitted Brando from the list.

“Neither of those men are fat.”

“And neither are you.”

“But I don’t look like a star no more-“

“-oh, oh trust me,” she crowed, “if you got yourself a role where you could play a man, a real , raw, gritty man, theaters would be forced to change their seat cushions.”

Elvis scoffed again but asked again with helpless curiosity, “W-what kinda man? I mean, I’m playing real men, honey. Whadda ya even mean, Tink?”

Elaine kneaded his shoulders and pondered the earthy, sultry lines of his face and the heft of his chest beneath her hands, “A working man.” she admitted. “Salt of the earth working man. A man they show working. That’s what I mean.”

“Want me to play a mailman or somethin?” he rolled his eyes. “Real innovative, honey. I’ve been a race car driver, a-a-a Cowboy, I-I’m playin’ a pilot now-”

“I mean a hefty, strong working man who crawls out from under a sink he just fixed and lays a lonely housewife on her husband’s table and gives her something to keep her company at night.” Elaine rasped in his ear.

She felt the gust of his shocked gasp against her wet ear. “Hell, Laney,” he choked, “this-this somethin’ you wanna play?” he sounded scandalized and eager all at once.

“Always, when you’re ‘in this state’, my dear.” she murmured, thumping at his back significantly.

“Hell mama, I could lay you out good.” he swore, going back in for another searing, messy kiss.

“Is everything alright boss?” a yell from the shore startled them both and Elvis fumbled with his grip on Laney’s ass to lower her further in the water for modesty’s sake.

“You’re a lil late, Jerrah.” he snarked back at his friend who was investigating gunshots from fifteen minutes ago. “But yeah, yeah all’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah ok,” Jerry hollered back, slowly backing away from the beach and up to the hedges, “I can see that. That it’s alright, I mean, like, I can see y’all are very alright. I mean, yeah ok, I’ll go.”

“Why’s he actin’ so prissy.” Elvis grumped but began to ease them both out of the surf anyway.

“You know why it is.” Elaine’s color heightened and Elvis’ grin grew wildly proud. “We were mauling each other a bit.”

“Oh you’re thinkin’ of those early days, hmm? Fresh back from Europe and alllll the world clutchin’ their pearls over how much we loved each other. Fuck ‘em.”

“Elvis!” Elaine prostested, amused yet aghast, “We gave them some cause!”

“Yeah buddy we did.” his tone held masculine admiration for the memories of leading Tink away to a darkened alcove in her pretty jewels and silks and taking her up against one of the ‘Cabana’s marble pillars. He’d had to move so slowly not to attract notice that it was practically cockwarming with a little jive to it.

“Don’t forget the boat.” she pointed out as if she knew he was hung up on another memory.

“Ooh, oh the boat.” he clutched his chest as if she’d brought up the fondest of memories and he was an old man reviewing the best in the twilight of his life, “God you looked so damn good in those photographs, Laney.”

“Elvis! It’s not a proud thing to be the first “indecent” photograph on the cover of Life Magazine.”

“We were fully clothed! They’d no idea what-“

“Yeah, yeah just a man casually playing hoola hoop behind his wife, I’m sure. That stupid captain’s hat,” she pretended to bemoan, “if you wouldn't have been wearing that I coulda resisted and we wouldn’t be on Life.”

“Five years ago, ‘bout time to give ‘em a refresher on the faces you make when lil Elvis is hittin’ the spot.” he snickered at his own joke as she swatted him towards the stairs to their bungalow.

“Five years is not sufficient to dim for me the awful talking to the colonel gave us that night.” Elaine retorted wryly and watched Elvis’ broad back shiver at the recollection before he jiggled up the steps in just his soaked silk night shorts. She stayed below for a moment just to enjoy the dripping, meaty sight of him.

“Lord mama, what was all that for? Was that you?” a wall of young voices hit them as they stepped into their house, five children in various stages of undress and sleepwear scattered around the front kitchen area and worked up by excitement to an ungodly level of energy this early in the morning.

“Yes, that was me.” she admitted cheerily and Elvis loved her for it. “Oh heavens, we forgot the gun-“

“I’ll get it mama!” Jesse was up out of his seat in a flash. “What’d you shoot with it?”

She kissed his forehead in a good morning greeting and soothed, “There was a varmint out back, kept me awake all night so I took care of it.”

“Oh, that’s real cool, mama.” Jesse’s eyes filled with admiration before he backed outta the screen door and flew down the path to get the gun in a blur of blue swim drawers.

“Cool.” Elaine repeated and tested the compliment on her tongue as Elvis laughed in a tired rumble that reverberated against her back as he clung to her like a sleepy child, one hand around her waist, his chin on her shoulder and his other hand busy stroking a clinging Rosalee’s head.

“Yeah, you’re real cool.” he insisted, his voice warbling.

“Outta sight.” Daisy offered from her place on the floor amidst a pile of crayons.

“Mhmm!” Elvis grunted, all gritty and revved up in her ear and she shuddered from something besides her wet kaftan.

“Alright, alright thanks.“ she batted the air like she could knock the compliments down that way, while trying to spin in Elvis’ hold. “Your daddy needs his sleep. Woke him up with all that racket, y’all be good and I’ll be back to fix food. C’mon Mopey, let’s get ya tucked in.”

“But Jack’s in our damn bed!” Elvis bawled.

“Not for long! He’ll be up for breakfast, come on baby, let me tuck ya in.”

“Can’t tuck me in the way I need when he’s there.” Elvis grumped.

“Oooooooh.” Elaine drew it out in understanding before turning back round to address their sleepy little audience gathered round the kitchen table, “Y’all get the flour and maple syrup out for me, your silly daddy dunked us in the ocean so we’ve gotta shower off. I’ll be back.”

“I know how to make pancakes mama!” Ella piped up, suddenly very awake.

“Alrighty then, pancakes it is.” Elaine smirked and saluted her before leading Elvis into the adjacent master bedroom.

“You’re showering with daddy?” Jack grumped from their bed, his stuffed whale toy clutched and his blonde hair scattered across the pillow, “I need a drink, mommy.”

“There’s this great thing called a water faucet in the kitchen, son.” Elvis snarked, now he was the one tugging Elaine.

“Well I can-“ Elaine began before finishing with a little scream as Elvis hauled her bodily into the bathroom with him.

“S’real bad to let the salt stay in your hair for long, Laney, you know this.” he tsked before addressing Jack as he slid the door closed, “Mornin’ Trouble, hope that pilla kept ya good company.”

“You’re awful.” Elaine snickered behind him as she adjusted the faucets. “Having a rivalry with your own son!”

“You like gettin’ fought over, don’t you even try to deny it.” he murmured, coming up behind her to kiss her neck -and help her remove her kaftan. “And I can dance better than him. So it’s a clear choice, lil mama.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give me half the trouble you do.” she grinned, making fun of his nickname for the poor kid.

“You’d be bored to death without it.” he growled and it sent sparks down her spine as his damp and slippery silk shorts rubbed against her butt.

There was a knock at the door. Elvis quickly left off his romancing and bodily picked up Elaine and set her behind the shower curtain in the steaming bath.

“What?” he asked of Jack, because of course it was Jack.

“You’re not in yet.”

“Thanks t’you,” Elvis laughed, “now what?”

“My whale wants to go swimming with you.” he held up his fuzzy sea creature.

Elvis took a very nasally breath and held it, “Jack, there’s a whole goddamn ocea-“

“Elvis!” came a rebuke from behind the curtain and only the thought of Elaine naked and slippery back there gave him fortitude to begin again, although in a mockingly patient voice:

“Jack, there’s an entire ocean out there for you and your whale to swim in. He swam yesterday and I’m sure mama’s gonna take ya this afternoon. Now go eat Ella’s pancakes. Good mornin’.” and he shut the door.

He tore into the shower so fast he didn’t even shuck his swim trunks, spurred by the image of Elaine lazily wetting her hair under the spray. She looked at him and at his dripping silk shorts and the outline of little Elvis poking needily out the waistband and bit her lip to suppress a grin. It was pretty gratifying to be so wanted.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked breezily and saw the exhaustion cloud his face once more.

“No.” he admitted and stared at the shower curtain while contemplating the door beyond it, “Nope, and if he comes in, it’s on him what he sees.”

“The kid has seen a lot and it hasn’t deterred him yet.” she laughed.

Elvis still stared at the curtain, “Yeah, maybe we should take him to see someone ‘bout that.”

“Oh hush,” Elaine smacked his belly, “couldn’t be hereditary or anything, could it?” she joked.

“I did not cockblock my father at every goddman opportunity!” he railed, playfully backing her into the tiled wall.

“Oh?” Elaine grinned, “That’s not how Vernon recalls it.”

“Vernon’s a bastard!” Six years after Jack’s birth and Elvis was still aggrieved by the suggestion that his doppleganger was anything like him. “Just makes that shit up to justify remarryin’ so fast, actin’ like mama weren’t the best thing that ever happened to his sorry a-“

“I know, I know.” Elaine soothed, regretting this line of conflict. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease.” he begged, kissing her under the spray, “I’m tired and I don’t want it.”

“Ok.” she assured, returning his smooches, “No teasing it is then. C’mon now, help me, step outta of them.” she kneeled under the fall of water and peeled away his shorts.

It was a gift every time, pulling the fabric away to see her man and that alluring place that all his costumes and paraphernalia teased but only she got to see at the end of it all. Those deep and skimpy tan lines that marked her territory versus the rest of him that the world saw, like a sovereign country’s borders. Thighs thicker than usual and soft brown skin stretching over his fuller belly, that dark thatch of hair so fastidiously trimmed and leaky lil Elvis collecting shower droplets on his bubblegum pink head. She shifted on her knees and licked her lips, so impatient to taste him she had to force herself to finish the task of untangling his shorts from his feet.

“Think he’s gone?” she asked Elvis as he stroked back her hair in anticipation, spreading his feet to get a stance that didn’t make him knock his knees and crumple at the first throat tickle she gave him.

“Awful quiet.” he shrugged, a whimper caught in his throat as Elaine shifted closer on the hard tile and peppered his stomach with kisses, kneading those handles of his on his fleshy hips and nuzzling the little crease he’d begun to show where he’d once been cut and firm. Her tongue darted out and traced those lines lovingly and the way she held him so firmly to her attentions and the sweet arch of her back beneath the spray convinced him to view such things a little gentler, a little less obnoxious while his Tink’s mouth was worshiping them so gently.

Down she went, lovingly nuzzling and licking a path across his creases and up his thighs, nosing as his balls and rubbing her cheek against him before opening her mouth and letting Elvis guide his throbbing length onto her tongue. He clasped her head and started a rhythm, a gentle and steady pump to the back of her throat which she knew by heart, and when the cadence had been perfected he let her be and grabbed the shampoo and lathered his own hair before tipping his head back in the water and washing the suds out. Then he poured out a dollop again and, rubbing it between his hands, began to massage it through her locks, lovingly swiping any run-off away from her eyes and swirling hypnotizing little circles into her scalp.

That made her moan. It sent the damndest spark to his very toes and he thrust in harder, hissing and smiling down at her. She was smiling back -around a mouthful of cock. And she looked so pretty doing it, there wasn’t a sweeter or lovelier face to be found when she was hollowing her cheeks and stretching her lips and batting her sparkly eyes. Savoring the feel of a man’s meaty weight in her mouth, letting him gag her with aplomb. The suds squished under his grasp as lewdly as the slurping sounds Elaine made when her gasps grew short and she tried to sneak in a breath or two between his thrusts.

“Hell laney, you’re prettier than you ever been.” he realized with his chest fit to burst from love for her, her and the way she massaged his thick sides and the way she always smiled when sucking cock. The way she blew the Colonel's roof off over a point of honor, “How’d I ever get so lucky.” he muttered, realizing suddenly that she reminded him of those early days, before the babies -any of the babies- back when she was toned and lanky and bare faced. She had the prettiest smattering of freckles when her makeup was gone, he swiped the shower spray from off them.

She looked a girl again, the girl who gave herself to him for safe keeping.

She was trailing one hand down her stomach, flat and firm again, and down and down till she was playing with herself, he could tell by the way her arm moved in time with her head. He rubbed at her scalp again.

Another moan. His toes curl. His spine ran like hot lava.

It had been three years since…a baby. That would account for the toned and lean look, he had a sudden epiphany. Felt a fool for it immediately after.

It maybe wasn’t what they wanted but something a little feral and fond flooded his chest at this old Tink. Something told him to marvel at her, marvel at her like he had in her soaked kaftan at the beach. He had a beautiful wife. Damn stunning and he just -he didn’t see her enough, he felt. Odd, that.

“Laney, laney, hold up.” Elvis tapped her jaw and pulled her off him, chuckling as she wheezed in a breath, spit and precum sputtering thick and shiny off her lips and caught herself against the slick tile wall as if she had sparks in her eyes.

“What baby?” she gasped with eagerness, playing with the suds on her breasts and looking up at him coyley, knowing that tone meant her man had a notion up his sleeve. Probably a dirty one.

“I-I-I w-wanna, I-I wanna see you.” he begged and when she still looked lost he clarified, “I w-w-wanna w-watch ya p-play wi’yeself.”

Elaine’s face flushed crimson in pleased gratification at his adoring tone and with one last look of skepticism at his bobbing and visibly pulsing cock, asked with soft eagerness, “How’d’ya want me, daddy?”

Oh lord, it had been awhile since they played this game and his heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “Want ya to lay down on the tile, baby,” he instructed and watched as she sank back on her haunches without argument, slowly spreading her legs and scooting down until she was laying amongst the swirling suds, “Now, I-I-I w-want ya to spread your legs, baby, nice and wide f’me.”

Elaine did as asked, her hair swirling out in the eddy of water, her belly a canvass of sprinkles, letting her right foot push into the encroaching shower curtain a little, feeling a draft of the cold outside air rush in. “Like this?” she asked, her mouth dry from the sight of his bulk standing in a straddle above her.

“Jus’ like that.” he nodded down at her, his eyes darting all across her beautiful shiny self as the spray pelted down on her after breaking across his body, “Now this next part’s important to get right, Tink. Ya gonna be a good widdle bitty f’me, ain’t ya?”

“Yes daddy, I’d do anything for you, anything at all!” her voice rose.

“Then you spread those pretty pussy lips for me,” Elvis directed, “wanna see your itty bitty rosebud, gonna let the water do the teasin’ for us. Wanna see ya cum from the drip.”

Elaine did as she was told and stretched her labia, sucking in a breath as a small jet of water landed on her teased vagina. “Ooh, l-like this?” she hoped, sucking at her lip, trying to get on top of the teasing sensation.

“Fuuuck yeah, oh fuck, ‘xactly like that.” Elvis’ eyes were glued to her wobbling little petals, battered beneath the shower stream as he began to strip his cock with cruel, tight jerks of his wrist. Elaine nuzzled his ankle and glued her own eyes to his heavy sack, swinging above her in perfect view as it tightened up, guarded by those delicious, meaty thighs and her mouth hung open in craving. A drop of water ran off his heavy balls and landed on her forehead. “Oh Laney, you’re just perfect honey, jus’ perfect.” he praised. “It feel good?”

She was pretty sure if they kept this up he’d be spouting down on her face in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, it really does.” She craned her head back and stuck her tongue out in optimism.

—————-

Back in the kitchen a disgruntled Jack wandered into the little gathering of his siblings who were eagerly dishing out advice and praise to Ella as she capably flipped decently fluffy pancakes and stacked them onto a steaming plate.

“There, that should do for a start.” she declared and even Jesse and his ever growing appetite assented as he set the kitchen table with forks.

“Rosalee.” Jack sidled up to the auburn haired little girl trying to make a swan out of the paper towel Jesse had laid down as her napkin.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Daddy said he’s gonna take us swimmin’.” he lied with the most guileless tone, “You wanna come?”

It was a calculated move, and a stunt Jack had pulled often to back up his own devices regarding monopolizing Elaine.

Rosalee went nowhere without her father and everywhere that her father did go, she went. And Jack knew this. She had meltdowns when she was escorted off sets and had meltdowns when she arrived at sets to find him holding his young co-stars instead of her. Jealous and sensitive, there was nothing more precious to her than time with daddy and at this news of an impromptu frolic, Rosalee clambered off her barstool so quickly she nearly split her head open.

“What are you up to, Jacky?” Nine years old with a head twice older, Jesse was onto him and stared his towheaded brother down with slanted gray eyes, “How is it daddy’s takin’ ya to the ocean when he’s washing the ocean off him as we speak? Don’t sound like somethin’ he’d do before going back. Waste a’time.”

“I’m just bearin’ the news.” Jack held up his hands, “It’s what he done told me.”

“But daddy’s gotta sleep, Jack!” Ella protested, always so keenly aware of her father’s irregularities and fiercely protective of his health.

“Ooooh leave off, he promised!” Rosalee whooped in joy and tore back towards the master bedroom with a maniacally gleeful Jack following on her heels.

Ella dropped the pancake plate onto the tabletop with a thump and Daisy immediately grabbed her fork and skewered four at once.

“Where y’all goin’?” Jesse cried out after trying to get a pancake of his own, abandoning it in favor of running down his two rogue little siblings who were about to start banging at the bathroom door like they had a death wish.

——————

Inside the shower Elvis felt his climax hit him like a freight train and bracing himself with one hand on the tiled wall, he watched with flitting eyes as his thick ropes of come joined the water shower to spatter across Laney’s chest and then down to the pattering of the stream against her pink house, then back up again. His thighs quaked and his belly shook and he kept stripping himself as wave after wave took over him from the sight of her down there, looking up at him with a pleasured grimace as the jetstream wiggled her nub. She had to be close, he could tell from the lines on her forehead and he managed to lift his foot and press it gently on her lower belly, jostling her womb like he did with his hand when he was inside. Her toes curled.

“Ya almost there, ain’t ya pretty girl?” he gasped, his own toes curling as lil Elvis didn’t seem content to flag after one shot alone, still standing stiff and interested in the proceedings below him. Elvis’ hand started to cramp.

“Elvis-“ her pretty pink tongue came out and touched her upper lip, her breasts jiggling with every big heave of breath.

Just then a round of knocks sounded on the door and if Elvis was any judge of distance -and he was a good one- he’d wager they were coming from someone about three feet off the ground and blonde as satan himself. “Not yet!” he barked, well past being patient.

“Elvis!” Elaine fretted below him, so close her eyes looked scared from desire. “I’m -“

“That’s it, that’s it you just take your time and feel it, sugar pie, that’s it.” he cooed to her and stepped over her, turning round in between her legs and running his foot further down, pressing on her little mound and after observing her hesitant moan, slipped his big toe along her soft seam.

The way her legs snapped closed like a trap spurred him on, as did her happy gasp as she thrashed and gripped at her chest like she was trying to hurt herself with the squeeze. He wiggled his toe in further, snagging her lil hole and plunging in, his leg shimmying in that controlled way he’d perfected on stage and she shrieked, happily, he was sure, except Jack didn’t know that-

“Mama I know you’re in there!” He demanded from behind the door, driven to outrage by neglect.

Laney was gorgeous when she was coming, and while often a moaner in the moments leading up to it -when propriety allowed- she was a silent screamer in the throes of it. Elvis kept up the merciless jimmying of his leg all the way through it and watched with distinct enjoyment a sight he rarely got to see from this removed vantage point. Caught in the vice grip of pleasure Elaine couldn’t humor her little brat any more than she could call on Jesus for help and Elvis just smirked down at her evilly as he kept the stimulation up. Kept it up until he was getting kicked in the gut by an overwhelmed wife.

The faucet stabbed his back as he stumbled backwards, laughing those hiccuping laughs of his and jostling his throbbing balls in one hand as Elaine cupped her mouth and tried to get her breath back. “You ok?” Elvis giggled as he knelt down and crawled over her to cup her wet cheek and bring her back down to earth. She was giggling herself, unable to voice anything but giving him a thumbs up to assure she was ok. He smooched her cheek vigorously.

“You’re still-“ she tried to form a full sentence but couldn’t.

“Those diet pills.” he whispered in explanation, gingerly still stroking his hard cock but over-sensitive cock. “It won’t go down, Laney.” he whined a little as he humped her slick belly, conscious that this was a lil pathetic to do on the shower floor but this is what he missed, moments like these where they could trust each other with all of it. He couldn’t stop himself now just to make it a little less animalistic, a little less needy. Truth was he needed her terribly and he didn’t mind her knowing.

Elaine’s hands came up and clung to the backs of his meaty thighs, as high as she could reach over his hips and she begged in a hoarse whisper that underscored the way her eyes were heavy and half mast “Sit, please, sit on my face, Daddy. Wanna taste you, I’ll get ya drained.”

She’d seen the chafed markings on her little friend from all the tucking and taping the wardrobe department had put him through, she’d tended to them with Vaseline and kissed the booboos goodnight. From the way she had her mouth open and her chin tipped back -Elvis knew what his wife wanted and with a weak moan he crawled over her again and at her insistent hands, turned back around till they faced the same way.

69ing he’d heard it called from a co-star. A filthy sorta indulgence that his ingenious wife had discovered on her own without the benefit of co-star gossip or ‘new wife’ magazines. “Gosh yes, yes that’s it, smother me baby, you're a hunk like this you know?” She gushed, gripping his hips firmly.

“Mama?” got yelled through the door along with another knock and a small racket as if there were reinforcements approaching -wether for Elvis’ cause or Jack’s, was yet to be seen.

“Go eat your pancakes!” Elvis hollered over the noise of shower spray.

“I need mama to cut them up!” Trouble hollered right back and Elvis looked down to see his fair temptress waiver at the sound of her son’s dire plight.

“Oh no, no you don’t, don’t even think it.” Elvis corrected her as he settled over her, a hefty thigh on each side of her face trapping her where he needed her, hard tile and grout lines digging at his knees. He patted at her belly and rubbed her hips as he stared ahead at the wall and slowly, almost apologetically, lowered his package over her sweet face. One ball slotted into her waiting mouth perfectly, aided by her eager little hands as she snuggled it onto her waiting tongue and with a contented grunt he muttered, “All you need to think about right now, my lil Tinkerbell, is how full and stuffed your lil mouth is with daddy’s sugar plums, how nice he is to give ya a treat n’how good you’re lil mouth is gonna make daddy feel, so good I just might kiss your lil kitty in thanks.”

Laney always got a little woozy when he didn’t give her a choice, told him it made her feel like goo inside and like she was a baby again -not in a bad way, mind. She loved it and he capitalized on it on occasions like this. After years together he’d come to understand she enjoyed a little sternness so long as he mixed it with affirmations and gentleness after. Something his younger and randy self may have been pitifully short on in his eagerness to sample her. So Elvis found himself able to squash the shame of teabagging his wife in the shower rather speedily, the obvious and untampered joy she took in the act helping him, as well as the feel of her rolling the damn things, one at a time due to size, in her mouth like his nuts were a Listerine swish.

How someone could enjoy gargling ballsack or having their noses smashed to an asshole was a little beyond Elvis, but when he said as much to her, Tink had told him she didn’t get how he could eat bloody pussy for hours.

After arguing this they had to call a truce. No accounting for taste. And since then, as a treat, Laney gets to suck his balls with the only addendum being she can’t lick his ass.

Never stops her from kneading it though, digging at the plain globes with her nails and pulling it apart -for his sanity’s sake he likes to assume she spreads it so she can get some air down there. He wishes he didn’t like that feeling as much as he does but hunched over her in the shower he has to admit the stretch of it feels rather good, combined with her suckling his sack. Little Elvis begins to pulse like he gets the memo. The better it gets, the greater the sensation becomes, the more he moans and shifts and bends double till he’s biting her thigh to keep quiet. In doing so he stops sheltering her little house from the spray with his shoulders, and with malevolent delight, he notices her jerk from the water jet.

It’s fun to watch from down here, her pretty pink petals getting battered and he adds his tongue into the mix on occasion and she thrashes and screams around his balls and he keeps his thighs locked against her cheeks, muffling it almost completely. He’s missed this, not just the filthy want for each other but -but the selfishness to do it. Sure he had been a cad in their earlier marriage, using her more like an animated glory hole than a cherished child of God, but they’d both trade the exhausted lassitude of the past year for that rigorous idiocy in a heartbeat. There’s gotta be some middle ground. He just can’t come up with the right balance with Tink mouthing at his balls like a feral harmonica player tearing up the riff to Orange Blossom Special.

“Daddy! Daddy when are you takin’ us swimmin?” That’s Rosalee’s voice, coming through the door and Elvis’ heart thuds to a stop for a moment in complete confusion as to why his lil pet expects that of him this morning, “I’ve been waitin’ patiently! Please daddy!”

She’s been waiting, by the door, this whole damn time while Jack’s been doing his regular, moronic behavior. She has been good. And somehow there’s been a mix up. He’s had little enough time to play with the kids on this set and Rosalee always takes that absence the hardest. The tile is unyielding beneath his knees and his resolve waivers.

“Oh sweetie I-I-“ he brings his fist up to his mouth to try to steady his wrecked voice, “sweetie I didn’t say nothin about that, did I?”

Elaine, callous succubus that she is, ignores his fatherly plight and begins to strip the base of little Elvis like it’s gonna spurt pixie dust for her. He falls down a little more in his kneeling posture from the intensity of it, forehead banging against her shin as he claws at the slippery grout lines.

“Jack said you promised to take us swimmin!” Rosalee sounds close to tears and it makes Elvis plan on wringing Jack’s little neck while the desperate need to cum rattles in Elvis' head until he’s humping Elaine’s mouth like a maniac. She digs in harder and he hides a sob as a cough.

Angrily he peels her pussy wider and let’s the jets sting her little nub, locking his legs resolutely against her cries until he sees a stream going in the opposite direction of the shower flow, a pretty little arc of fluid straight from her pussy and if it weren’t so diluted by the shower he’d know it tastes perfectly salty sweet. Satisfied with his revenge he covers her again with his back and lays his face on the tile between her legs, trusting her to either let him get up and console his poor daughter or else finish him fast.

Going with the first option becomes entirely necessary when he hears the door crack open and a cold gust of air rustles the shower curtain.

Panic gives Elvis’ voice a thunderous edge as he shouts:“The hell are you doin’? Don’t you dare open the curtain, don’t do it! Do not!”

“Oh daddy please don’t hit me!” Rosalee wails this idiotic plea like it’s a line from some dramatic afternoon Soap Opera, and Elvis is quite sure that’s where she learned it.

“Oh, s-s-stop the d-d-dramatics!” he begs, half to his children and half to Laney who seems convinced he can come from ball sucking alone, while he’s quite sure he can’t today.

“You promised!” Rosalee continues crying, very near the shower but not touching the curtain.

“Jack!” Elvis' voice thunders shakily.

“Yes Elvis?” the kid replies very calmly from the sink area.

“G-get out! Both of ya- get out.”

“I just wanted to take a bath with you!” Rosalee stays from sheer horror at having provoked such temper from her ever-loving father, “I’m sorry daddy! I-I-I didn’t mean to make you mad, honest I didn’t! Jack said-“

“Guys, what the- come on, get out!” That’s Jesse’s beautiful voice resounding in the bathroom, sounding like a general at nine years old and Elvis is gonna have to buy the kid another motorcycle for always being such a swell fella in times of need.

“But Daddy promised to take us swimming-“

“Guys out!” Jesse grabs ahold of Jack’s tshirt and starts tugging.

“But swimming-“

“Only Mommy’s and Daddy’s swim in showers, sometimes-“ Jesse insists.

“I just came to tell mama that Ella has caught the stove on fire-“

“Jack, liars go to hell.” Jesse reminds.

Elvis realizes then that maybe his thighs are squishing all the sound from Laney’s hearing and that perhaps she’s just coasting while enjoying her favorite hobby, unaware of exactly how nuts it’s gotten in here. Nuts was a bad word for it but- he starts to pull himself off her only to feel her teeth snap in protest at the thin base of his scrotum.

He can’t help his yelped,

“Laney!” that in turn spurs Jesse onto a frantic beg,

“Kids come on! Really, we need to evacuate now!” The poor boy sounds frantic and Elvis wishes he had the moral fiber to get off his wife’s face this close to the finish line. But he doesn’t, not for Jack, not even for Rosalee and any other sweet idiot spawn who didn’t obey the closed door policy.

This isn’t the first time.

Hovering as he is, balls clamped in a toothy prison, it’s like Elaine finally hears it all, processes her children and their proximity, finally gets it without the soundproof padding of Elvis’ thighs. She responds accordingly. Instead of abandoning their tryst as he expected, like a ninja geisha, she simultaneously grabs his cock and bends him backwards between his cheeks into her mouth, while raising her foot for Elvis to muffle his impending scream around some perfectly manicured toes.

To a chorus of wailing youngsters and one very admanet eldest son who sounds like a shell-shocked veteran encouraging the green troops to pull back, Elvis feels the persuasive suction of Laney’s mouth around his throbbing head, a flick or five to his weeping slit and he’s giving into her efforts, biting her toe to keep silent and smacking at the shower curtain in an attempt to stifle the need to move with his release.

Elvis shakes to the floor with an exhausted splat as his orgasmic loss of reality gives him a blissful five seconds of escapism where he lays, cheek down in the swirling shower drain, thanking Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit for his wife.

Elaine surfaces from beneath him with the invigorated gusto of a woman satisfied with her work, pulling herself out from beneath her man’s inert form only to be hit by a toy whale that’s been hurled over the curtain and onto her wet head -a last little defiance by a growling Jack who is getting tugged out by Jesse. An impressive throw, one Elvis is responsible for helping Jack perfect with the football many a summer’s night on Graceland’s lawn.

“Oh you silly thing!” she shouts with a laugh, “If any of you sprites are still in here, make yourselves useful, hand me those towels on the countertop.” she adds as she leans over Elvis, straddling him to turn off the tap, sticking just her hand out the curtain and making grabby motions with her fingers till the feel of fuzzy cotton meets it. “Thanks, sweets.”

“Why’re you so short mama?” Rosalee’s voice asks and Elvis groans beneath her on the floor.

“Cause I’ve been playing with sea creatures.” she explains without missing a beat and Elvis’ slick back starts heaving beneath her from suppressing his laughter.

“Oh.” Rosalee accepts it with a sniffle, having spent many hours in the tub or hot tub on her knees, the better to help her toys swim around.

Elvis rolls over beneath Elaine’s straddle and smiles at her with eyes still crossed from going to the grown man’s neverland. “Alright Rosalee, you run on now we’ll be out in just a minute. Promise.” he speaks up.

“And swimming?” she begs as she retreats.

“Well, uh, we’ll talk about that over breakfast.”

Elaine makes a sad face at the realization he’s not going to let himself go back to bed after causing so much heartache in their little people. “S’ok.” he insists, reading her mind and patting her thighs.

Hearing the latch click and the silence of privacy restored, Elvis clasps her by her neck and brings her face down to his, kissing her passionately, licking at her tongue and the traces of his spend on it. “You sure know how to love a man, Tink.” he murmurs, clinging to her warm body as the shower tile turns cold.

“All I ever wanted was to learn to be the best for ya.” she whispers, sweet and gentle.

“Born the best.” he insists, “The rest was just…a bonus.”

She brings the towels she’s been balancing out of the wet, onto his chest, and sitting up they rub each other dry, soft smiles and drowsy affection making them clumsy and open.

They stagger upright together and Elvis throws his towel around her and she throws hers around him and they’re cocooned in terry cloth this way, standing in the dripping shower, snuggled together and nipping at each other’s lips.

“How’s my lil friend.” she asks, sneaking a hand between them in the damp warmth of their burrow and cupping his harmless, shrunk little appendage.

“He’s good, he’s real good.” Elvis giggles, his cheeks turning pink, “Gentle with him now, he got wrung out by a cruel, lecherous gal.”

“He sure did.” Elaine grunts satisfactorily and it’s the most masculine sorta sound Elvis has ever heard her make, full of smugness and a dirty, gritty edge he can’t quite believe came out of his woman, his woman who is so polished and elegant most times. As if to underscore this departure from demure normality and diminish it all at once, Elvis feels her hand move again beneath the towel before an electrifying sting slices up his spine and down his leg from his freshly smacked ass.

“Laney!” he cries again, utterly aghast and pink as a baby and she can’t stand it anymore, standing on tippy toes to neck him some more, vigeorusly smashing her lips to his as she yanks the shower curtain open with her free hand

She steps out while Elvis lingers and bends down to retrieve Jack’s sodden whale plushie. He may wring the poor creature out more violently than necessary but it makes his wife titter.

“God! - I love you.” she insists, surveying her man as he steps out, his wet hair dripping in a boyish mop down his forehead and his lips kissed and bitten puffy pink and his cheeks bunched in a grin despite their bashful blush and the soft accumulation of fluff and good living filling out his chest and swelling his belly just that little bit. “Sometimes I think it’s gonna kill me, gettin’ to enjoy you, getting to look at you so much. Feels indulgent somehow, like you oughta be rationed to a gal, the same way you’re dosed out to your fans in little bits, one movie a time.” she laughs at her own silliness and he shakes his head shyly as he tucks his towel into a covering around his waist. “One day they’ll find me keeled over from palpitations brought on by starin’ too long.”

“That’s what the obituary’ll say,” Elvis snarks, “but you and I’ll know the truth of the matter, that you’re a lil squirrel who likes her nuts so much she don’t take time to breathe. Mark my words, that’s how you’ll go if you keep this appetite up.”

“Then I hope they accuse ya of manslaughter, right after.” Laney grins and he stalls with his comb in hand, raised to coiff his hair back, waiting for the punchline, “Because I don’t wanna be up there without you for too long.”

“Laney!” he repeats for the upteenth time this morning, but this time it’s hushed and his lower lip wobbles with emotion and his eyes swim, touched by the sentiment. Clearing his throat he adds, “I still wanna uh, sometime -yeah, uh sometime do that thing you were t-t-talking about in the w-water.”

She makes a puzzled face as she wiggles into a tiny pair of shorts Elvis bought her last month. She’s fit as hell, and he’s envious of it, and has to admit Jack’s overdue weening did serve one purpose at least, it thinned her out like nothin’ else coulda.

“Play handyman or-or whatever.” he blushes and turns his face away as he hangs up his towel, aware that they haven’t the time to linger over this with the kitchen possibly on fire and his children eager for a swim. “Ya recall? -what you were sayin’? Me uh, playin’ a handyman or plumber or, uh, whatever. Come visit ya.”

“Oooh that,” she goads playfully wrapping her arms around his belly once more, chin in his shoulder blades, “you wanna swing by Graceland and fix a pipe or two, find the rich and spoiled Mrs. Presley wasting away in her gold cage, rich but wanting in the worst ways? Hmm?” she runs her finger down the shell of his ear and it’s flaming hot to her touch, he must be red as her nails in the face, “Wanna take her on the table and give her what her posh movie star husband can’t? Wanna do that, huh Naughty?”

“God y-yes.” he stutters, head thunking against the wall in desperation at the mere

concept.

“Wanna make a movie of it,” she whispers into his ear, “like those ones Thumper and I made? Wanna make a movie so Elvis Presley has to sit and watch it later, hmm? Watch his wife get taken by a workin’ man?”

“Nghhh…” he growls smacking the wall, overwhelmed by memories and prospects.

“I see, well, that’s settled then.” Elaine murmurs before stepping away from their embrace, flicking his bare butt one last time as she laughs, “Only you would get the hots for cuckolding yourself.”

“Anything involving rearrangin’ your guts on a table gets me hot.” he mumbles defensively and Elaine smirkes at him with a promise in her eyes as she makes her way past him. He snags her back to him briefly by a finger in her back pocket, “Hey you,” he says adently with his hand cupping her jaw, “I love you too. I love you somethin’ fierce.”

~~~~~

“Daisy!” Jack’s voice warbled with betrayal as he entered the kitchen, “You didn’t!”

“Daisy!” Ella chimed in, whirling around from the stove to survey the kitchen table and her demolished stack of pancakes, “There was enough there to feed uncle Jerry and us besides!” she cried out as her little sister swallowed down the last of her syrupy goodness with a shrug,

“Oh, oh Daisy, oh my, that’s gonna -that’s gonna bite ya later.” Jesse sighed as he pulled up a chair and pushed around his abandoned, now cold and half eaten single pancake on his plate. “Your stomach’s gonna kill ya, Mae Mae.” he explained to a remorseless Daisy Mae.

“I was hungry.” she defends as Rosalee sullenly takes a seat next to her twin, “Sorry Rosalee, I shoulda saved one for ya.” she conceded but Rosalee shook her head.

“I don’t feel like eatin’ anything.” Rosalee moped.

“Why not?” Ella turned again from the stove, affronted for the reputation of her irresistible pancakes. “I’ll put blueberries in them and everything for ya!”

“I’m not hungry!” Rosalee repeated close to tears and her little chestnut bob swayed with her head shake.

“What happened to you?” Daisy grunted.

“Daddy got mad at me.” she whimpered.

“No he didn’t.” Jesse sighs, settling Jack into a seat by the scruff of his t-shirt, “He’d just told y’all not to come in and you disobeyed. He ain’t mad. He’ll be right as rain in a minute, hold tight.”

“He sounded mad! He sounded sad!” Rosalee’s tone grew in emphasis.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his empty plate as Rosalee’s whimpers grew from just that to outright crying. “No, no look it’s-“ he glanced over at the stove to his twin who was industriously cooking another batch but not fast enough to circumvent Rosalee’ meltdown, “it’s like, when we all used to sleep in the big bed,” he chose his words carefully for optimal grief assuagement, “you know how some mornings you thought daddy was cryin’?”

“Yeah.” her little voice was garbled by snot.

“Yeah but he wasn’t, was he?” Jesse pressed his point, “He was just tryin’ to hold in his laughs so he didn’t wake you, while mama or Ella was ticklin’ him.”

“Yeah.” Rosalee cracks a small smile.

“S’like that.” Jesse reminded, “He ain’t sad. You ‘member how he’d start bawling when we started ticklin’ too?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled in reminiscence of mornings when they’d all pile on top of Elvis and tickle him while Mama held his shoulders down. “But I know you don’t tickle people in the shower.” Jack fired back with six year old conviction, “Elvis hisself told me it wasn’t safe.”

Before Jesse was forced to choose between explaining further or else sullying his daddy’s reputation for safety ethics in the shower -or in general- the man himself and Mama breezed through the door, hair wet and as smartly dressed as always.

“Alright, alright, kids what’s groovin’ huh?” Elvis barreled in like his kitchen was his stage and topics of tickling and sadness were shelved, much to Jesse’s watery eyed relief, though he couldn’t quite meet his mama’s eyes when she scootched past him with a kiss to his head on her way to the sink. “Hey you I’ve got a present for you.” Elvis addressed Jack before plopping a very sudden and deformed whale plushie on the boy’s plate.

“Thanks a lot Elvis.” Jack muttered.

“Look on the bright side Trouble,” Elvis laughed while reaching down Jack’s back to grab a handful of his jean’s waistband, “all ya had to do was wait fifteen minutes and now mama’s got your glass o’water and your pancakes’ll be cut in triangles. Imagine that, patience.” and with that laughing admonition Elvis hefted Jack out of his chair by his waistband and proceeded to jostle his second born son in the age old manner often referred to as a wedgie. It even made Rosalee laugh and Jack hiccup from something they all suspected was enjoyment, although the kid would never admit it. “Alright, everyone alive and well? No fires?” He took stock of the place and found it comparatively tidy -little wonder as the kids didn’t have time to wreck anything, too busy knocking on his door. “Ella Bug those smell amazing and- Daisy, why’re you actin’ put out?”

“M’fine.” his daughter protested even as her face was folded into the identical sorta scowl that sold him a lotta records back in the early days.

“Is everyone mad at me?” he balked.

“No, she just ate fifty pancakes while everyone else was… busy.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Should enter her in a contest.”

“Oh Daisy, no!” Elaine swiped back her black curls and knelt by her, “Is your belly hurting?”

“Startin’ to.” Daisy was forced to admit through clenched teeth.

“Lordy, Mae Mae, that’s impressive,” Elvis murmured as he took his seat and, in a well worn routine, opened his arms and lap in welcome to a still sniffling Rosalee who catapulted into him, “what got into you?” he marveled as he tucked Rosalee into a snuggle and peppered her now glowing face with kisses.

“They were very good.” Daisy insisted and Ella beamed with pride over the stack of freshly made ones she carried to the table.

“Bet they were.” Elvis praised, tongue poked through his teeth laughing, “Glad ya enjoyed yourself at least.”

“Come lay down sweetheart, here on the couch.” Elaine led her to the adjacent wicker lounge. “Get you some ginger ale or something. Heavens, girly, the appetite on you!”

“Are you gonna eat with us, daddy?” Ella spoke up timidly as she took her own seat, the rather novel concept of her daddy at morning breakfast and the pride she took in her own cooking warring to make his verdict overly meaningful to her.

Elvis stared for a moment at the heaping piles of fluffy goodness with its melting pad of butter and sparkling syrup trickling to the plate as Jack voiced the very worry he had rattling in his head:

“That’s a lotta carbs.”

The whole table’s racket of pancake stabbing screeched to a halt and Elaine fumbled the glass bottle of ginger ale she had retrieved from the fridge to the very ground in her shock. “Jack!” she chatsized with more vehemence than the little stinker had ever elicited from her in his life, “Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

Jack shrugged, although the combined weight of his family’s horror and Elaine’s blazing eyes made him timid, “It's just what the Colonel said. Last night. To daddy.”

“And why would you ever wanna sound like that good for nothin’ scallywag?” Elaine cried, “We appreciate a good appetite in this house, plenty of folks don’t have what we’ve got and we’re not about to thank the good Lord for his generosity to us by listenin’ to the worn out gimmicks of a corpulent glutton. Carbs! Maybe he should count some carbs-“

“Laney, laney.” Elvis moderated her with a shushing wave of his hand and she stilled, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way Jesse had learned from her and clipping over to Daisy with grief stricken eyes she hid behind her ire.

“Sorry.” Jack croaked while giving his mother the stink eye even as Jesse in turn glared at him, “I said I was sorry?”

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about Jack.” Elvis insisted, eyeing his strangely cold wife as she tended to Daisy and got her a preemptive barf pan. “You were just statin’ nutritional facts and if you’re gonna be a scientist one day, your interest in ‘em will serve ya well. Now Ella, dish me up some a’those sticky carbs, won’t ya?”

Ella beamed and quickly stacked up a steaming pile on her daddy’s plate, presenting a blushing cheek for his kiss just as Daisy lost her battle with the bellyache and puked into the bowl Elaine held for her.

“Well that’s an appetizing sound.” Jesse pushed his plate away with a joking grimace and he and Elvis shared a silly moment that almost made Jesse forget about the shower and his subsequent vow never to look his daddy in the eye again.

“Poor Mae, Mae,” Elvis sighed, stabbing his pancake and making a show of chewing it obnoxiously for Ella’s benefit.

Elaine couldn’t help but smirk, even as she dabbed at Daisy’s mouth with a cloth, amused that her man was moaning louder over pancakes than he did from her attentions in the shower.

“So,” he spoke up as he scarfed them down, “what’s this about swimmin’? Hmm? For the record I never promised anythin’ of the kind but, loathe as I am to award bad behavior,” and here he gave Jack a pointed look over his poised fork, “since we’re all together, why not?”

“Really? Really?” Rosalee screamed so loud in his ear he shook his head just to get the ringing out.

“Oh daddy, it’s gonna be so fun! You there! Oh yes yes yes yes!” Ella was spinning in circles, having gotten out of her chair at some point to celebrate.

“Mhmm,” he hushed them and went on, pushing his plate away, “is it swimmin’ you’ve really got your hearts set on?”

“Well, no- we just wanna be with you.” Rosalee admitted.

“What? No! We wanna go swimmin’, just us and mama-“

“Jack, please hush up.” Jesse begged.

“See I was thinkin’,” Elvis rose above his six year old’s sharp remarks, “we could certainly go swimmin’ but then again, ya can go swimmin’ most anytime, near anywhere. But ya know what ya can’t do?”

“What, daddy?” a hushed chorus of anticipation went up from his little audience, even Daisy showed interest as Elaine doted on her.

“How would you Tiddlywinks like to fly ‘round in a helicopter?” He asked with a brilliant grin.

“No way!” Jesse nearley fell out of his seat and his eyes filled with excitement.

“Yes way, perks of the job, boyo.” Elvis sat smug at the head of his table as his children gushed around him in a frenzy of anticipation, Elaine watched their adoration with a pleased smile, praying only that he wasn’t going to be the lone pilot. “Now who’s glad daddy works for that ‘corpulent scalliwag’, huh?” he goaded and Elaine’s smile turned brittle as the kids laughed and cheered.

Elvis eyes met hers above the den of kids clearing plates and his sober, cobalt stare put her right back in her place, a place that more and more had little or nothing to do with his creative processes and business deals - a far cry from the production and artistry that first brought them to together. She bit her lip and walked the vomit pan back to the sink, receiving a wide berth from the little revelers as she did. “Alright well, help your mama with this mess and get yourselves sorted.” he clapped, “We’ll leave, soon as we’re ready. Gotta go brush my teeth.” he rose from the table, his hasty exit unnoticed by any save Elaine who postured herself to be in his path as he turned to go into the master bedroom,

“E,” she murmured softly as he brushed past and he didn’t stop, but she knew he was listening by the tilt of his head as he went “while you’re at it, be sure you don’t accidentally brush your tonsils again, silly man.”

This loaded tease met with a titter of laughs by the couple clueless kids who overheard it and this time it was Elvis’ face that grew brittle, his step halted and his lip was close to sneering as he lowly rejoined,

“If you know ‘nother silly man who can get you a helicopter ride, an all expenses paid for vacation to Hawaii and satisfy your particular tastes, then be my guest Elaine, you tell him how to brush his teeth.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

Taglist:

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

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@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

[heavyhitterheaux]

Private Show (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: PURE SMUT AHEAD 🤭🤭

Synopsis: When your husband is upset and misses you, you will do absolutely anything for him.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a dream that I had last night lol

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You had just taken off your dress along with your shoes and plopped down on the bed when your phone rang indicating a facetime call. When you grabbed it from the nightstand, you saw that it was Jack and quickly answered.

"Hi baby!" You excitedly said as his face came into view, but he was simply sporting a pout which had you confused.

"Pookie, is everything okay?" You asked growing concerned since he had yet to say anything.

"Today was just a rough day and it doesn't help that I miss you." He quietly said and a sigh escaped your lips.

"Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you do."

"No, I just wanted to see your beautiful face and make sure my girl was good."

"Well, I'm fine, but my husband isn't and I don't like that."

"It'll be fine, baby. I'm probably making it more of a big deal than it has to be."

"Your feelings are valid, smush. I always tell you that. No need to hide the way you feel."

You were now taking off your jewelry and had propped up your phone in front of you when Jack finally took in the sight of you.

"Is that bra new?"

"It is, do you like it? Rih sent it to me along with a bunch of other things, but I'll save those for when I see you in person." You answered and Jack instantly smiled.

"You should have saved that one. You know how I feel about lace." Jack commented and you noticed that he kept adjusting and you raised your eyebrow.

"Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"You're bricked up right now, aren't you?" You asked while smirking.

"I'm always bricked up around you because my wife is sexy as fuck. I thought that was understood and besides it's been like three weeks since I've been in you." 

"Then I think your wife needs to help you with that. I got an idea."

"What is it because the last thing I need to get is blue balls. You about to play with that pretty pussy for me and make me cum by watching you?"

"If that's what my man wants, I'll do it. Hold on a minute."

The bottom drawer of the nightstand contained all of your toys and you immediately opened it to reach in and grabbed your dildo that was a mold made of Jack's that he got for you one Valentines Day.

When you came back in the view of the camera holding it, Jack immediately bit his lip and you could tell he was palming himself through the comforter since you could no longer see his hands. 

"Take it out, I wanna watch you. I don't know why you're acting shy around me. This is nothing compared to other things we've done."

"I'm not, I-...."

"Take it out." Jack finally complied and once you saw the precum leaking from the tip, your mouth was watering.

"Much better." You said as Jack was slowly starting to jerk himself off.

"But I need that bra off. And are you going to use the toy I made for you or simply hold it? You know what? Get your vibrator too."

Reaching over once again to the drawer, you took out your pink vibrator happy that you had charged it the night before. Once you came back into Jack's view, you slowly slid your bra off along with the panties that matched it and moved to the top of the bed spreading your legs for Jack to have a full view of you. You could already feel the river forming down below and you took it upon yourself to place the dildo in your mouth to make it wet so it would be easier to insert it.

"Got damn, baby." 

"What? I have to make sure it's wet enough so it can go in easier." You responded while laughing.

"I can guarantee you that you probably didn't even need to do that. It's like the damn ocean down there."

"Well I can't help it if my man makes me this wet all the time." You put it back in your mouth and spit began to leak out of the sides falling onto your chest.

"Play with your nipples for me. Spread that shit on them."

"Mm my baby is eager tonight isn't he? But I can do you one better." A smile graced your lips before you brought your left nipple to your mouth and lightly sucked on it making a moan escape from Jack's lips.

You looked back up at Jack after you had switched to the right one and was trying to figure out when he had lost his shirt, but there were more important things to worry about.

You were determined to do whatever your man wanted in order to get him to cum. 

The dildo left your mouth with a popping sound and you slowly inserted it letting out a quiet moan.

"Mmm, baby it feels so good." 

"That's my good girl. Take that shit." 

"Oohh, oh fuckkk."

"Is my good girl going to cum for me?" Jack asked you as you immediately nodded and focused on the task at hand while increasing your pace.

"Use your words, baby. And stop holding back. I wanna hear you."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy. I'm going to cum for you."

"Put that vibrator on your clit." 

You reached with your left hand to where it was and put it on the lowest setting before hearing Jack's voice once again.

"I know your ass didn't just put it on the lowest setting. Turn it up. I want to see those legs shaking."

You complied as you placed your left hand to hold the vibrator on your clit while using the right to keep your dildo going at the same space.

Your eyes were closed, but you opened them to see Jack jerking himself off to your movements and the moans that he was letting out was putting you over the edge.

"Oh shit, baby I'm about to…." You breathlessly said while turning up your vibrator to the highest setting that it would go to.

"Fuck, me too."

Within the next thirty seconds, you squirted all over the sheets and your phone and it took you by surprise since the only time it ever happened, Jack had been the reason for it.

Jack was coming down from his high, but was looking just as surprised as you were because of what just happened.

"Well shit. Look who taught herself how to squirt." 

"I.. don't even know what I did differently. But I'm definitely going to try to do it again." You said while taking the dildo out and inserting it into your mouth once again and sucking on it.

"Fuck, I can't wait until that pretty little mouth of yours has my dick in your mouth."

"Technically it already does baby seeing as this is a mold of yours. But I get it. Do you feel better?" You asked while setting the dildo and vibrator to the side.

"Yes, thank you baby."

"You know I'll do anything for you." A smile graced your face as you simply looked at him and he smirked.

"Right back at you, baby."

You couldn't help but to notice that it seemed like Jack wanted to say something else. 

"Smush, is something wrong?"

"Do you have one more in you?" 

"Hmm, depends. What's next baby?"

"I want you riding it this time."

"I expect a generous tip when I see you in three days." 

"You know that you're about to get a lot more than that. You got some Louboutins waiting for you. Be a good girl for me and I just might throw in a Birkin and another Givenchy outfit."

"Let's get to it then."

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

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@chtkmyharlow​

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@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think that the important thing to consider, when writing about Ed and violence, is to do some self-reflection to make sure you're not giving more weight to Ed's violence than that of other characters (and white characters especially).

OFMD, as a show, does not pass moral judgments on violence, other than "if you're a bigot you deserve what you get," which is very sexy and cool of them. Ed, who is horrified that he is defined by his capacity for violence, does not feel the same way, and has invented little rules for himself to get by as the best in a very violent profession. At the start of the story he NEEDED to be able to look himself in the eye and answer the question of "have I killed anyone since my dad," honestly, with "no," even though he's a smart man and he no doubt knows perfectly well that the other equally valid answer is "yes."

I do think that Ed's hang-ups around violence extend to more than just killing itself - Ed's a social chameleon and is excellent at fitting into what the situation demands of him. Prime example is him shouting "that's what you fuckin' get!" at the Swede when Jack hits him with the whip, and then seeming extremely ashamed and embarrassed when he tells Stede "this is what I am" before he leaves the ship. It gives me the impression of a guy who has been very, very good at fitting into a violent culture, even as he becomes ashamed of it when he gives his behavior more thought. I think Knife Parade is an example of the exact same situation - Fang was ""playing along,"" just like the Swede, and Ed was playing a role just as much.

There's no question that Ed is willing to use violence as a tool when needed, but for him, we always get the impression it's more of a tool than something he enjoys. Ed is genuinely very difficult to goad into anger, and his violence is always an extremely controlled reaction (think about him threatening the boat captain to tell him where the loot is - he just flipped that persona on no problem, and shut it off just as easily). But where lovable characters like Roach genuinely seem to enjoy violence, Ed's jaded to it and seems to prefer to delegate the necessary violence whenever possible.

So the important thing to keep in mind, I think, is if you pass judgment on Ed for things like going on raids (where we don't ever even see him participate), why should that get more weight than when Stede does the same (with much more enthusiasm)?

And my biggest thing, always, is that Ed's violence is a tool he uses in service of his job. Unless your modern AU has Ed formerly being in some similarly violent occupation (which I would approach with caution and care), he's not going to be a guy with three murder charges and a double-sided rap sheet. Not every AU where Ed has a violent past is racist, and there are some that are done very well, and, hell, I'm planning one myself! But I think it's worth being thoughtful about Ed's relationship to violence and how you're mapping that into your AU.

[simplyender]

You previously mentioned that Johnathon probably had a less than ideal childhood. If you are still in the mood for headcanons, would you mind sharing your thoughts on his upbringing/childhood/adolscence? The good, the bad, whatever comes to your mind. Thank you! (I wonder if he was still roommates with Quentin Beck in the movieverse)

Thank you so much for asking!!!! Sorry about taking so long to respond, work has been exhausting for me, and I really want to give my best answer, hence why I stew over asks quite a bit, lol

ANYWAY,

• Apparently, The Spot from the comics is originally from Spokane. Yeah, I'll incorporate that one in to my personal beliefs.

• He reads to me as having come from an upper-middle-ish class family.

• Only child, but his parents were frequently busy with their jobs, and when they were around, they didn't exactly have or bother to make the time for him.

• Pretty judgemental parents in general.

• Despite that, he still spent a fair amount of time trying to prove himself worthy of their attention, a difficult task with...Mixed results, mostly leaning towards failure.

• One of my friends was once like "There was definitely a time where he wanted to show them something he made and got snapped at for bothering them.", and yeah I totally agree with that.

• Over time he became more reclusive, spent more time in his room than anywhere else. He preferred reading, learning to code, and working on his own little projects over socializing, something he wasn't all too skilled at. It wasn't like there was much to socialize with at home, anyways, considering he would either be ignored or treated like a nuisance a solid 90% of the time.

• This was a double edged sword, though, since he'd also been yelled at for "being in his room all the time" a few times.

• Was used as a scapegoat quite often.

• After a certain point he moved on to trying to get his validation through other means. High grades, impressive science projects, plans to become a scientist and making the biggest damn breakthrough ever seen, do something that will change the world forever. Because then nobody could ignore him or treat him like he's less if he managed that.

• But obviously they're not the worst in his mind because they helped pay for college, so,,,,,,

edit: actually thought about this some more and he probably got a scholarship. oops lol idk high academics.

• Saw the 1933 Invisible man at a young age and absolutely loved it, he spent a short period of time trying to figure out how to make himself invisible, and kind of wished that dr. Jack Griffin was his real dad and that also maybe he'd kill his parents, healthy and not worrying thoughts from a probably 8 year old. It's been around 25+ years since then, but he'd still get seriously embarrassed if somebody brought up his old attempts.

• Had a massive growth spurt in his early teenage years, which automatically put a target on his back for even more bullying.

• Started experimenting with his fashion and putting some more work in to his appearance close to the end of high school. Still sucked at keeping up with haircuts and remembering to shave, though.

• Was probably at his peak in college, honestly. Nicest place he's been in. Least bullying he's experienced. He even made a friend or two!

• IMO he was totally roommates with Quentin in this universe too, they were on different tracks, but all in all, they got along pretty well! John was happy to help him with with whatever he was working on, although, John mostly kept his personal stuff to himself (still appreciated the extra hand with carrying things...), or at least tried to. Whether he was listened to or not is another matter entirely. When they collaborated, they were a real dream team. Unfortunately, they kinda fell out of contact after college, so it was a pretty big surprise to John when Mysterio got caught and it was released that his old college roommate had become a supervillain.

....Which only further entrench him in the "I'm meant to be Spider-Man's nemesis" mindset, by the way.

[boom-butterflyeffect]

Hi, idk if you do until dawn girls requests but if you do and Iyou don’t mind can you do a NSFW alphabet for Sam or Ashley? Thanks :)

Sure thing! I'll make a Sam one at a different time!

this one will most likely be unsatisfying i can't lie because my brain just keep yelling "asexual awkward virgin ashley" at me

Ashley Brown NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare

Lots of cuddling afterwards, and she may feel a little bit shy or embarrassed.

B - Body Part (Her favourite body part on herself and you)

I think on herself she'd like her hands, specifically her nails, or her eyes, because she thinks they look pretty. On you, I think she just thinks all of you is really neat, but if she had to choose a favourite maybe it would also be your eyes.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

uhhh I feel like Ash wouldn't like to be messy, jesus this one is hard...

D - Dirty secret

Ash definitely thinks big hands are a turn on, but would never admit she does because of a certain glasses-wearing blondie who has big hands. He specifically comes to mind when she thinks "big hands are sexy".

E - Experience (How experienced she is)

Virgin. I'm sorry. But I'm right.

F - Favorite position

She likes the intimacy of missionary I think.

G - Goofy (Is she more serious in the moment?)

Definitely a bit silly, cracking jokes, just wants the whole experience to be lighthearted and enjoyable

H - Hair

These ones always feel like weirdly awkward to answer for some reason, idk

I - Intimacy

Yes! She loves all the sweetness and affection.

J - Jack off

I don't think she'd do it often, but she does do it occasionally.

K - Kink

Hmm... I can't imagine Ash being super kinky tbh, I think she just wants to be held really gently and treated really softly <3

L - Location

I imagine Ash would be very private about this stuff and keep it in the bedroom.

M - Motivation

I can't imagine her having a particularly high sex drive, or there being anything in particular that gets her in the mood, I feel like she sometimes for her it's just a nice way to blow off steam or relax after a stressful day

N - No (Hard limits)

I feel like Ash keeps things very simple, and wouldn't really be up for much experimentation, which is valid!

O - Oral

Imo, Ashley wouldn't really do giving or receiving. The sexual stuff with her feels pretty minimal.

P - Pace

Soft and slow, just super gentle and romantic <3

Q - Quickie

I don't think so tbh, again, when she does do it I feel like it's more for the intimacy and romance of it rather than out of sexual desire

R - Risk

Nope. No risk. None. All safe and comfortable and cozy in the bedroom.

S - Stamina

Low stamina, one round and she's ready for cuddling and a nap.

T - Toys

I feel like she'd own a small vibrator or something, but she'd never use it with a partner or anything, it would be a secret.

U - Unfair

Playful teasing at best, like the "please tell me you're gonna take a vow of silence." joke

V - Volume

I think it would mostly be gasps and heavy breaths and sweet words of affirmation.

W - Wild card (Random NSFW HC of my choosing)

I kinda hc Ash as the kind of person who would be a bit more sex-repulsed. She'd jokingly be like "smash" and read fanfics of fictional characters, but actually having sex would seem awkward and uncomfortable for her, I think.

X - X-ray (Size)

uhhhhhhhhhhhh

Y - Yearning

Not a lot in terms of sex, I could see her being very cuddly and affectionate though, always liking to hold your hand, or hold onto your arm, be close by your side.

Z - Zzz

Would most likely end up taking a nap after the post-sex cuddles with you

[ryttu3k]

You may have answered this already but, what VTM clans would you asign to the dracula polycule?

Ohh, great question! Let's see!

I think for the sake of a more thorough analysis, I'm actually going to ignore VtM canon, since Dracula actually is a canon character who encouraged Bram Stoker to write a fictionalised version of his adventures. He has a signed first edition copy that Beckett sees. It's kinda hilarious.

In VtM canon, he's the 5th generation childe of Lambach Ruthven and has a host of disciplines at very high levels (seriously - Animalism 6, Auspex 5, Celerity 4, Dominate 5, Fortitude 5, Koldunic Sorcery 5 (with Earth, Fire, and Spirit all at 5), Potence 5, Protean 4, and Vicissitude 5). Hilariously, this means he actually doesn't have Mist Form, since that's Protean 5. Lucy and Mina are/were Tzimisce as well (Lucy dies, Mina survives to modern nights), Renfield was a ghoul. But let's adapt straight from the novel instead!

Dracula: I mean, obviously he's still Tzimisce, the clan is literally based on him. If we're just going off the novel, I see him more as Old Clan, the archetypal Voivode (also literally Voivode, that was Vlad Țepeș' literal title, he was Voivode of Wallachia - hilariously, he had no association with Transylvania other than being born in Sighișoara up until Stoker's book). He has the soil association, he clearly has Auspex and Animalism, and I feel he uses Dominate a fair bit, especially in the context of memory erasure, luring Lucy, et cetera. He also shows clear signs of Protean (Shape of the Beast bat and wolf forms, Mist Form), but, notably, not Vicissitude proper, and some alternate magical abilities, especially weather/fog manipulation, which can tie in with Koldunic sorcery, especially Way of Wind. So, a straight adaptation would be Old Clan Tzimisce with Koldunic sorcery and Protean. He also has the Folkloric Bane flaw where he takes agg damage from running water, and we'll ignore the sunlight thing XD;;

Jonathan: If we're directly adapting from the novel, then Dracula is the one who Embraces Jonathan, Mina, and Lucy. By default, that makes them all Tzimisce. Using my homebrew because I have no shame, his bane and connection to Home would be to Mina (yeah, he was having a rough time until their reunion). I do think Tzimisce could work well for him, he's a fairly fluid character and exemplifies Change more than any other character in the novel. Even if he was Embraced as technically Old Clan, I like the idea of spontaneous emergence of Vicissitude - and lo, a sudden change of hair colour!

Mina: Also Tzimisce; again, it's a fairly good fit. She and Jonathan share a mutual blood bond, too. Her Home is Jonathan, but she also has a secondary connection to trains and railways, and can avoid the aggravated Willpower damage by riding the rails. She would fit it well as well; like Jonathan, she's a fluid, adaptable character.

Lucy: Poor, poor Lucy! Definitely Embraced as Tzimisce, definitely not a great fit. I feel she'd be a much more natural fit for Toreador, with a love for beauty and a strong connection to humanity and people. She just wants to spend time with her coterie ;_;

Jack: Okay, two options here. One is Malkavian, often found in mental health settings - I'm thinking of Richard Dunham here specifically, but also Netchurch (even if the latter is more focused on physiology). He'd have a more subtle derangement, I think - possible OCD, definitely depression. The other option is Tremere, and I think that might be the better fit. He likes an Experiment. He would have so much fun with Thaumaturgy :D (Slightly terrified :D !)

Arthur: Man's one of the few valid Ventrue. Nobility? Check. Money? Check. He's quite aware of his privilege and considers it an honour and a duty to look after his coterie, even if he recognises that, lbr, Mina is really the one running the show. Also has out-of-clan Animalism so he can chat to his dogs, thanks to…

Quincey: Gangrel! Like yes he is absolutely playing up the Cowboy Thing to make Lucy smile so that could be a Toreador thing, but he does genuinely still fit it even after her death. He has an understanding with horses and bats, and bats do not act like that tyvm.

Van Helsing: He's Jack's sire (therefore Tremere) and Jack has never, ever gotten over the brief blood bond they shared. They have. A dynamic :D (No genuinely the sire-childe thing actually works really well here for their simultaneous familial and psychosexual relationship.)

Renfield: If we're going straight canon, he's a ghoul. If we actually give him a clan, there are also two possible options here! One is Malkavian - he's definitely got a derangement or two. The other, of course, is Nagaraja, although I'm actually feeling Malkavian here moreso than Nagaraja. He doesn't need to eat flesh, he just… has that fixation with it. Either way, I feel he has a blood bond to Dracula. Like that bit is 100% whether he's a ghoul or a Cainite. Hashtag Renfield deserves better!

[bemusedlybespectacled]

re: Jenkins' tweets about how Buttons is a witch and there's no show without Izzy, IMO there are three possible ways to interpret that:

He's being cryptic because he in fact has no intention of resurrecting Izzy (outside of maybe being a guilt ghost, like Nigel) and is trying to mollify the fans.

He's being cryptic because he wants to keep his options open in the event that he does resurrect Izzy somehow.

He does actually plan to resurrect Izzy, via Buttons' sea witch magic or something similar.

I think it's #1, at best #2, because I think him resurrecting Izzy would cause more narrative problems than it solves.

Longer explanation under the cut:

So, okay, Buttons being kinda magic was hinted at throughout season 1 but, importantly, it was never actually confirmed one way or the other.

The fact that he can identify ships on the horizon as Spanish with his naked eye when Izzy needs a telescope could be proof of sea witch powers, or he could just have good eyesight and/or guessing ability.

His ability to talk to birds could be a legitimate skill, or it could be a figment of his imagination, like ghost!Nigel is for Stede.

The hex he puts on Calico Jack could be real, especially since Calico Jack gets hit by the cannonball after Olivia has her standoff with him... or it's a complete coincidence.

Even in season 2, we never actually see him transform: he walks off into the woods, the bowl falls on the ground, and we hear a seagull, but we don't actually KNOW he's turned into a seagull. There's no Swan Princess-esque transformation scene here.

The same ambiguity is present in the curse episode. It's never confirmed one way or the other whether the curse is real, because that ambiguity is part of the point (i.e. "it doesn't matter how you feel about it, Stede, you need to validate your crew's experiences and not be a selfish ass").

So say Jenkins ends up leaning hard into the magic thing, makes it explicit and unambiguous, and ressurects Izzy. That opens up a whole host of new problems for him, like:

If magic is real, what are the rules? How does it work? What can it do? What are its limits?

Who else in this world knows about it? Obviously Auntie does, but it doesn't seem like Zheng or anyone else does: why?

If it is known by other people, how well known is it? Why do so many people (like Stede and Izzy) not believe in it?

Who else in this world is magic? It can't just be Buttons, since he needed the scroll to turn into a bird and that presumably came from some other magic user.

How much of what we've seen is magic and not plot convenience/rule of funny? Are the Loony Toons physics magic? Is the ship staying afloat despite no one knowing how to sail magic? Is the characters' ability to row anywhere they want, including places they do not know or even have a reason to try to find in the first place, magic?

And, the most important one: if magic exists in this universe, and people know about it and believe in it, and if it's been underpinning the story this entire time, why does Izzy need to be resurrected at all?

I'm not saying these are insurmountable questions Jenkins has no way of answering. But they are questions he would start having to answer, which is not only a lot more work but also very easily verging into the ridiculous if not handled well. It's an incredibly difficult needle to thread. Like, even if he's not slapped with (honestly, valid) accusations of trying to do a do-over because of fan pressure, he's going to be veering off in a direction that is way more difficult to write in a way that feels authentic and satisfying and not forced.

And I currently don't trust him to handle it well! Since we just saw how well he handled killing off a main character and navigating the cast's romantic relationships, which are both way less complex in terms of world-building!

Fanfiction can absolutely handle this. The OFMD fandom has already picked up the magical realism ball and ran with it, which is one of the things I like about the show: a lot of tropes that are often kind of jarring to me in certain fandoms (not just magic in a world with no magic, but certain whump and angst tropes that sometimes feel a little overwrought) aren't jarring here, because there's some basis for it in the canon. Like, the fandom has already written a lot of stuff more complex and better understanding of the universe's rules than the S2 finale (even, dare I say, much of the second season in general).

But Jenkins and the writers team right now? Nah.

[adarkrainbow]

Hello there. First of all thank you for all the analysis and in depth look into fairy tales.

I stumbled upon a take that was utterly surprising to me about how fairy tales validate women through submissive beauty while the men are portrayed as active and violent and how fairy tales are tools to reinforce gender roles and patriarchy.

And I wonder how did we end up here? I seem to remember you talking about how a lot of fairy tales authors were women, but even in the Grimm brothers fairy tales the women are active, it's not only the men who go through trials.

Anyway I was wondering if you had any thoughts on this?

A most interesting, complex and yet simple question!

Do not be surprised by this take: it has been THE dominating take on fairytales until very recently. It was the big 20th century idea about fairytales - and in fact, it was one of the ideas heralded and massively shared by Jack Zipes in his famous book. This is also partially thanks to him that most Americans share this exact same view. Now we know, thanks to today's research, that this is not as true as people like to think and that this only applies to some fairytales - but the idea that fairytales can actually be subversive, can actually challenge an established society's codes, structure or hierarchy, is in truth fairly recent - or rather has only been accepted fairly recently.

A part of this is definitively Disney. There is no denying that the "Disney fairytale" marked forever popular culture's view of fairytales AND that as a result it inclined a lot of people to look at traditional fairytales under a certain angle. Remember - to make a Disney princess an active character, with the likes or their Rapunzel or Tiana, was seen during the movies' releases as a MASSIVE breakthrough for Disney.

That being said, to well answer this, I think a look at the French literary fairytales can be interesting. (Especially since... it is much more of my domain than the Grimm fairytales for example Xp)

Now Jack Zipes expressed this very theory by talking of Charles Perrault fairytales. In his book he clearly said that, through his stories, Perrault taught girls to be passive damsels waiting to be saved ; and boys to be active heroes. The typical "prince saving the damsel in distress ; knight rescuing the princess in the tower". And on a first, superficial, quick glance... Zipes is right - and many, MANY people read Perrault's fairytales as such.

Indeed, female protagonists of Perrault share a distinct passiveness and earn their happy ending through patience, pleasing people and looking good. Cinderella endures abuse without talking back, only has to look pretty for a prince thanks to an outside interference, and her marriage is what saves her - before she even forgives her wicked stepsisters! Sleeping Beauty spends half of her story sleeping before being saved by the arrival of a prince ; and then the second half she is the helpess victim of the ogress and only is helped by either the butler or the prince. The wife of Bluebeard cannot save herself, it is her brothers that save the day, while in Diamond and Toads the good girl is rewarded for just being nice and helping a poor woman, and it is again through a wedding she gains happiness. Many people also like to invoke the semi-fairytale Griselidis which is... a whole another topic to go into.

Meanwhile the male protagonists are "active", industrious heroes and vanquishers of evil. Puss in Boots is a trickster who hunts animals, actively runs around, and devours an ogre. Little Thumbling also puts together all sorts of plans, actively changes the crowns and nightcaps, steals away the ogre's boots, and once again runs around... The brothers of Bluebeard's protagonists are the big heroes that come in the end to murder the persecutor.

So far, it all seems right... And somewhat, yes, it is true. Because of the context, because of the society, culture and time these stories were written into. In 17th century upper-class France, women were only valuable if they were pretty, if they didn't cause trouble, if they could be good wives or good mothers ; men on the contrary were expected to be sportsmen, warriors, active members of their community or of the government... But as usual with Perrault, nothing is as simple as it is, since there is joke and satire hidden in his texts that many fail to see, and when we look a bit closer at all this, we see hidden behind the apparent dichotomy the traces of a more nuanced take.

Yes, Puss in Boots is an active male character... But the marquis de Carabas is just as passive as another Cinderella or Donkeyskin, as he literaly does NOTHING but look good, obey the cat and follow everybody around. "Puss in Boots" is Cinderella told through the eyes of the supernatural helper - the talking cat is the fairy godmother, who is the one that brings beautiful clothes and meeting with the royals and the seeds of a romance to his passive, useless master. In fact, the "morals" of both stories are eerily similar: Perrault jokes at the end of Cinderella that anything is possible as long as you have a powerful or well-placed godparent ; and Puss in Boots moral is also about how "If you can find the way, you can trick the system, and become a prince when you shouldn't AT ALL". Both stories aren't in the end about someone being rewarded for being pretty or enduring suffering - but simply about having enough hidden resources and trickery to use the very flaws of the system used upon you.

Again, let us take Cinderella. She endures her suffering, according to people, she does nothing for herself, the fairy godmother does everything, and her salvation comes from a prince marrying her... She is pointed out to be so naive she chats with her stepsisters as if everything was normal when she is at the ball. She proves to be the ultimate goody-two-shoes when she forgives her persecutors at the end... And yet, what does the moral point out? That openly forgiving your enemies is the best way to put them in your pocket... because as such they'll be indebted to you, and you forced them into depending on your kindness. The idea of a sly and more cunning Cinderella is also highlighted by the ambiguity of when Cinderella loses her shoe. Perrault writes it so that it is unclear if she loses the shoe by accident... or if she deliberatly drops it. Same cunning with Donkeyskin - she does have on her own the idea of dropping a ring into the cake for the prince, ensuring her marriage with him...

So while the female protagonists of Perrault are definitively NOT active, it does not mean they are dumb or just pretty faces or that they are just rewarded for being "nice". They are intelligent, they know how to go around, there is a certain celebration of the "feminine cunning" if you will. Diamonds and Toads' moral isn't about actually being nice ; it is about learning when to be polite and when to do flattery when needed. Perrault's fairytales truly are about glorifying inventivity, intelligence and tricks. And the "passive character only good at being beautiful and married" does not exclusively apply to women. The marquis de Carabas is a good example, but what about the prince of Sleeping Beauty? All he does is literally... come in. Arrive. And that's it. How does he save Sleeping Beauty from her sleep? He just enters the castle, and suddenly she wakes up, not even a kiss. How does he save his wife from the ogress? He comes in and asks what's going, and everything is solved immediately. The actual heroic force of the tale is the butler, who is the one that saves the day - but again, not by using power, but by using tricks, deceiving the ogress that he cannot possibly fight (ogres embodying brutality and violence). In fact you have no monster-killer or dragon-slayers in Perrault's fairytales - the closest of a monster killer is Puss in Boots, but only because he tricks the ogre into turning into a mouse. Little Thumbling does not defeat the ogre by strength or violence - again it is all tricks and deception... and theft.

Because this is the other side of the "active male character". Yes, male heroes in Perrault's tale are more active than their female counterpart. But are they moral or "deserving" because of it? Certainly not. Puss in Boots lies to a king, threatens poor peasants so they say lies, usurps the castle of its legitimate lord and deceives the king into marrying the princess well under her rank. Similarly, Little Thumbling tricks an ogre into committing an infanticide, steals his boots from him (but so far it is all excused because the victims are the worst kind of ogres) - and then he scams a grieving mother into giving away all her fortune, before becoming a personal messenger for adulterers... And the narrator himself points out the immorality of those actions. Once again, it isn't because the male characters are more active that they are supposed to be praised for it... Perrault's tales are ultimately, deep down, hidden under a fake veneer of politeness and romance and galant things, trickster tales.

But to get that, you need to read carefully the stories and place them back into their proper context, and many people failed to do it in the 19th century, wrote a lot of misinformed texts that influence the people of the 20th century, and Disney was yet another relay of this misconception, and from generation to generation it all piled up... Claiming that Perrault was SUBVERSIVE in the second half of the 20th century was something seen as a genius and fresh take - when in fact it is just... just a truth people had failed to see.

However we can't reduce everything to Perrault. I mean the 19th and 20th centuries did reduce everything to Perrault, but let's see at the mother of the French fairytale, madame d'Aulnoy. Each of the female authors of fairytales had their own take and twist on gender norms and gender stereotypes, but given the scope and influence of madame d'Aulnoy (still felt in the 19th century), we will focus on her.

Madame d'Aulnoy's fairytales ARE the ones from which the idea that a fairytale is a "knight saving a damsel in a tower from a dragon" comes from. And, again, from a quick glance, madame d'Aulnoy seems to perfectly embody the dichotomy of "A heroine has to be patient and pretty and saved and pleasant and passive ; a hero has to be an active, vigorous, strong savior and monster-slayer". Graceful and Percinet? (Also known as Graciosa and Percinet). It is Psyche's myth told all over again. The Yellow Dwarf? A king keeps searching for his missing fiancee trapped away, and confronts all sorts of obstacles in-between. The Benevolent Frog? A prince kills the dragon that wants to eat his future wife, who literaly does nothing throughout the tale. The Doe in the Woods? The princess spends her time locked away, turned into an animal or fleeing, while the prince is a warrior and hunter who actively keeps going around.

And yet, once again, this just a watered-down, simplified, 19th century-glasses on vision of madame d'Aulnoy's fairytales. She had a wild, WILD life that led her to understand being an obedient good girl and passive meant NOTHING (in fact I do plan on making a series of posts about the craziness of these female French fairytale authors) - she conspired to have her abusive husband killed, she had to flee the country to escape authorities, she knew more than anyone that women had to be active to save their skin in life. And all throughout her stories, she kept having strong, active, female characters that broke the "passive mold", and on the contrary men that failed to be the "active ideal". All of it wrapped into the craziness, madness and exhuberant firework of animalistic fairies, enormous giants, multi-headed dragons and other clownish looking wizards, so that it looked less obvious at first glance. The princess of the Yellow Dwarf spends her time attacked by the titular dwarf and locked within his domain waiting for a rescue, but the story begins when she decides on her own to undergo a dangerous and perillous travel to find out what her mother suffers from, while the prince is shown to be quite helpless against the magic of the Fairy of the Desert and needs the magic of the mermaid to escape. In the Benevolent Frog, the prince kills the dragon... But at the very end, after being given all sorts of magical artefacts and an impossible horse, and they do the trick instead of him (similar to the prince's so-called "victory" against Maleficent in Disey's Sleeping Beauty, where it was truly the fairies that did the work) ; meanwhile the princess' father, the king, also proved utterly useless at saving his wife and daughter spending several years just... sitting by the side of a lake ; all the while his wife and daughter had to become amazonian huntresses, and the fairy-frog is shown doing all the behind-the-scenes work of saving everybody, using a lot of resources, and performing hard feats such as going at the top of a long staricase made for giants WITH THE BODY OF A TINY FROG, which is why she spends years doing so.

And many more are the tales breaking the mold! Cunning Cinders? The girl literaly CHOPS OFF an ogress' head with an axe, right after pushing an ogre into the oven - and it was no small feat given the ogre was also a giant. In the Pigeon and the Dove, the first time the giant imprisons the princess, putting her in his bag, she gets out by herself, without anybody's help. The Orange-Tree and the Bee? The princess does all the work - saves the prince, hides him, feeds him, nurse him, takes him away ; while also doing all the heroic and clever feats, tricking the ogres, stealing their magic wand, performing magical transformations. No wonder the final transformation is passive for the prince (the orange-tree) and active for the princess (the bee that stings anybody getting too close to the tree). In fact, the fairytale "La princesse Printanière", (Princess Mayblossom in English), seems to be an explicit and literal deconstruction of the passive-active model: the titular princess acts like a typical "good princess" (following her heart's impulses without thinking about it too much ; giving kindly all her food to her lover on a deserted island), only to be met by the harshest of realities (following an unknown pretty boy around is not good, and her lover is a selfish and brutal jerk). She only can escape the bad situation she created for herself by STABBING HER EVIL LOVER IN THE EYE, and then she is greeted by the positive sight of her fairy godmother in a war attire, beating the crap out of the wicked fairy of the story in a celestial duel. In fact, this tale contains a double message about women being active to change their life, because before her "passive episode" on the Island of Squirrels that gives her all sorts of misery, she is active, oh yes. She forces the random boy she just met to follow him, and she plans a whole escape at night - because, like an active character, she wants to determine her life, she wants to just do as she pleases, she show who's in charge... But this is proven bad because as it turns out acting impulsively and harshly without prudence or thought - taking away the hand of the first pretty boy that passes, fleeing rashly at night on a whim without preparing any substantial thing - only leads to disaster and misery (being stuck on a deserted island with an abusive companion). And this is opposed to the good "activity" in the end, one thought about and that is a just reaction to the situation, or well-equiped for handling its problem - the princess killing her would-be-murderer ; the good fairy getting a chariot, weapons and an armor to destroy the old, wicked, rusty Carabosse.

This all comes very clearly and strongly in d'Aulnoy's fairytales - if Perrault wasn't so much about gender as he was about tricks, cunning and cheating the system with well-placed connections ; madame d'Aulnoy clearly had some ideas of how women should learn to be active queens, great warriors, trained travellers, well-equiped survivors and, if need there is, monster slayers. Is it then a wonder that when the authorities and minds of the 19th century took a good look at fairytales, they decided that madame d'Aulnoy should be erased in favor of Perrault, where the ideal female models are a girl sleeping a thousand year, another girl that gets hit without answering back, a princess that becomes a cleaning-girl and a cook good ; or even a nice girl with big diamonds?

What happened? In the case of French fairytales: this. First all the openly subversive authors were pushed aside and buried in oblivion ; then the more subtle ones had their tales oversimplified or read the wrong way until it entered a mold they were not supposed to fit. Madame d'Aulnoy was forgotten, and people took Perrault's jokes seriously.

[feliciawriter]

Deep as the Pacific

A Phryne/Jack fanfiction

By Felicia Ferguson 

Note: I recently discovered Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries thanks to a friend and soul sister, Tammy. I am a writer by trade, soul, and heart. Characters draw me in, and Jack and Phryne not only drew me, but enchanted me from the first episode. After a second binge of the series (minus the movie since the reviews weren’t that keen on the storyline and the characterization), Jack and Phryne’s conversation over martinis at the end of series 2’s “Death Come Knocking” and Jack’s devastating attempt to save his heart by letting Phryne go in “Blood at the Wheel” wouldn’t leave me alone. Characters have a way of talking me into writing, lol. 

This story could be set anywhere in the canon, but I believe it works best pictured after Game, Set, & Murder. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

1/1

Whiskey swirled in an amber eddy as Jack rolled the crystal tumbler between his hands. His drinking partner sat, as she always did, in the accompanying arm chair, sipping her own selection. Tonight, it was champagne. Appropriate, given they were cheering the successful end to another case. 

And yet, his mood was more considering than celebratory. This whirlwind of a woman had torn into his world with all the force of a Tasmanian dervish, completely upending his life professionally, but even more so personally. 

War had frozen him, scarcely allowing him to feel for fear that he would feel too much and then what little remained of him would be lost forever. Yet, she’d blown in, a warm, healing wind, melting his self-prescribed ice, luring him to not only feel again, but to feel deeply. To drink freely of the wild freedom in which she lived. He had tasted, reluctantly at first, and then returned, helpless to slake his craving. And now he longed for more. To fully embrace not only all of the emotions he’d tried so hard to avoid, but also Phryne herself. And as a woman loved not merely as a savior needed.

His voice was soft, but not tentative. He had committed to the endeavor and would see it through—no matter the end. “You once described me as having a heart as deep as the Pacific Ocean.” 

“I did,” came her lilting reply. Her eyes longed to tease, but awareness flickered under the impudent gleam as if she sensed the gravity and import. She took another sip of champagne, her gaze never leaving his. 

He broke the contact, tilting his glass and watching the whiskey move like those vast waters. Dipping, swooping. His lips twitched in wry amusement. “I must confess that you are right.”

Her mirth and satisfaction at his admission didn’t need to be seen. But still she said nothing, giving him the space to find the words he needed to speak. 

He took a quick breath. Man up, Robinson. Even Collins wouldn’t dither this much.

He found her gaze again, thankfully still patient, and open. Surely, she would know his next words. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already spoken them over and over, both in subtle looks and doubled entendres. But he’d reached the end of both, and it was time for plain speaking.  He and his heart needed a forthright answer. “I must tell you something you probably already know. Though it may be as deep as the Pacific Ocean, it is also a heart that fully loves you.” 

He paused, allowing the truth of his confession to sit between them. Her eyes had widened, and for a just a moment, fear had flickered in their depths. Having seen Rene Dubois for himself, her deep-seated reasons for the emotion were valid. Surely, she knew him well enough by now that there was no comparison between himself and that monster. But perhaps reassurance and clarity were in order. “I told you once that I didn’t want you to change. That I wouldn’t ask you to change. So let me simply ask this. Can you find some part of your heart that is just for me?” 

She sat, staring at him with those expressive gray eyes, a treasure box of emotion. The silence stretched. She would either be the end of him … or the beginning of them. 

##

Jack’s earnest, heartfelt face blurred in Phryne’s gaze. His simple, direct request waking her from a type of sleep. Phryne Fisher, a woman who threw herself into entertainments and adventures for the thrill and pleasure they afforded, claimed to know herself so well. But as it happened, she didn’t know a thing about her heart—especially as it related to one, John “Jack” Robinson. 

She enjoyed investigations with him—relished them really. The partnership toward a common goal of arresting killers. The thrill of discovering clues and especially tweaking him when she found them first. Her personal investigations of cheating spouses, thieving staff, or disappearing persons weren’t half the fun, precisely because one-half of her was missing in those solo endeavors. 

However, that was John “Jack” Robinson, Detective Inspector. What about the man alone?

In truth, though, could she separate the one from the other? He himself had tried after the car accident, telling her he wanted her to stay, but needed her to leave. She wouldn’t permit it then, so why was she giving place to the same thought now? 

Yes, Jack was a delightful playmate who matched her wits like no other. But he was also a deeply caring man. A steady rock at Janey’s grave. A wry flirt whose impish teasing could catch her off-guard. He possessed a poet’s soul, a gentleman’s bearing, and he was worth more than all the aristocracy put together. But what was he worth to her heart? When he had spoken of giving her up because the thought of her death was unbearable, his self-sacrifice had come the closest of any words to breaking her. 

So what did that mean for her heart? She recognized and accepted that it was large and leaped where angels feared to tread. She had given pieces of it to many over the years, cherishing Veronique Sarcelle, Mac, and Dot and others dearly. Holding a deep fondness for Mr. B., Aunt P, and Arthur. Even those unfortunates, mired in the unfairness of low birth, abuse, and despair, were given tokens automatically out of its deep well of compassion. All had been freely given, without request.

 But here sat Jack, asking for a piece of his own. 

She searched that emotional vessel and surprise greeted her. But what she found was absolutely and unshakably true. She blinked rapidly, and Jack’s dear face solidified. The care in his eyes had turned hesitant during her contemplative search. He leaned back, once again pulling away. His mouth opened on what was sure to be an apology. She grabbed his hand, barely wrapping his long fingers with her own. 

The earlier light flared in his eyes, and she spoke the truest words she had ever said. “You’ve had the largest part of my heart for the longest time.”

[headgehug]

beat generation dash simulator

📝 windblownworld

I need to run away and live on a mountain fr

#jack.txt #my buddy gary @ dharmabum has a good gig lined up for me next summer. #feels like forever away #fuck my life

( 1 note )

❕️This post has been flagged for the following community warnings: mature

📚 starvinghystericalnaked

okay, you know what, fuck you. fuck. you. there's nothing "obscene" about my poem. in fact the bible is more "obscene" than this. maybe if you had the guts to read it you'd understand that YOU are the problem. WE are the movement WE are the people WE are the answer.

🔁 🐒 oldbulllee14

Allen, I completely agree with you. Customs officials are a load of cock-sucking bastards. Next time you are in town, come over. I just got back from Mexico if you know what I mean.

🔁 📚 starvinghystericalnaked

say less 👀🍃

#like for real say less LMFAO if the feds are on tumblr we are so fucked

( 30 notes )

🚗 coloradocarjacker-deactivated04011948

"Well it's about time you wrote, I was fearing you farted out on top that mean mountain or slid under while pissing in Pismo, beach of flowers, food and foolishness, but I knew rhe fear was ill-founded for balancing it in my thoughts of you, much stronger and valid if you weren't dead, was a realization of the experiences you would be having sown there, rail, home, and the most important, climate, by a remembrance of...

read more

🔁📝 windblown world

needed this right now. missing you, brother.

#does anyone know if neal remade or is he just gone? #did he say anything to anyone? he told me he was just remaking

( 2,396 notes )

🎶 bopaholicedie Follow

happy 1 year anniversary of the official annulment of my marriage

#if you're reading this jack go to hell. I wish you'd rotted to death in jail with that m*rderer #after all these years and not even a fucking thank you

( 2 notes )

📝 windblownworld

logging off indefinitely. my editor needs a draft of my book by the new year and I already blew my advance so there's no way I can ask for an extension. if you see me online tell me to fuck off

#mutuals can still send letters

Pinned post

( 0 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

feeling blessed for all of my good friends today. real ones know — rip d.k. '44 — keep the hustlers and parasites at arms length, we'll get through this!

#this one goes out to you jack! 🙌 hit me up sometime

( 74 notes )

🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

what's up motherfuckers! remade from @coloradocarjacker

🔁 📝 windblownworld

neal? holy shit. is that you? are you busy tonight?

🔁 🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

kerouac my boy my lad my good man for you I am never busy I have to just drop carolyn off at the motel and procure a fine feast dinner for her and the kids and then maybe an hour two just setting around making sure she's and they're alright and then if you pick me up at 10 no I better say 10:45 not a minute later than ten forty five pm jack I will be fired up and ready to go out with you

( 4 notes )

📝 windblownworld

SAL AND DEAN ON THE PROWL TONIGHT JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! if you want to party with the OGs first rounds on me.

#NYC beat scene #jack.txt

( 12 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em horny."

#quotes #beatnik #beat literature #deep #counterculture #new york city #on the road core #kerouaquette #writer #writing advice

( 500 notes )

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

i wanna hear you yap about newsies more!!! literally anything about it/related to it that you want!!!! i love seeing you yap about it, you always have much more eloquent ways of saying things than i do lol

Thank you so much for the kind words! I love sporadically spewing my thoughts on Newsies, and it means a lot that you and others enjoy it :)

I confess that I've been hording this ask for a few days now waiting for inspiration (or insanity. but you know, potaytoh potato) to strike. At last, I have decided to talk about a female character who I feel is very often overlooked. That is, Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

I've heard time and time again that people don't like Medda from the original film and that they prefer stage musical Medda, and while I do understand why stage Medda is so popular, I think it's a shame that the original Medda is so readily pushed aside.

I think Medda Larkson is an intriguing character. When we meet her, we are immediately introduced to two Meddas. The first Medda is the act, the "Swedish Meadowlark" complete with a fake accent. The second Medda is the woman who owns Irving Hall and knows Jack and who grants this boy and his friends sanctuary because of "a little problem outside." The second Medda is the woman who complimented Les's acting skills and told Toby the candy butcher to give him a stomachache all the sweets he wanted.

The second Medda is also the woman who knew Jack's father. Now, it's hard to tell whether Jack was telling the truth or improving it when he tells the Jacobs boys this, but I'd like to say that Medda did in fact know Mr. Sullivan. I say so because you have to compare this assertion to the lies we know Jack told and the honest answers we know he gave:

Jack lied about his name. This is the first example of lying in the course of the film, although the way Jack spins it he might have really told the truth. "That and a lot of other things including Jack Kelly, which is what my mother called me," isn't exactly a lie, but it's certainly improving the truth. Later, when Snyder calls him Sullivan and David calls Jack out on it, Jack becomes defensive and outright accuses David of accusing him of lying. Which, at this point he definitely is, but he makes up for it with:

Why he was in the refuge and how he escaped. Despite David's extreme skepticism, the story Jack tells him about Snyder, the refuge, and Teddy Roosevelt is all later releveled as true. Perhaps just with a few careful exclusions of certain details.

Jack lies about his family. When asked by David about his family, Jack spins a tale I'm sure he's long perfected about his parents being "out west looking for a place to live." In a more subtle way, Jack also becomes defensive about this subject, validating his story with his dime novel to illustrate Santa Fe. Later with Sarah, Jack again feels the need to justify his story, "You should see Santa Fe, everything's different there..."

The point of this mini analysis is: Jack has a tell. When he lies, he backs up his claims or attempts to defend them. And I think it's safe to say that David caught on at least partly to that fact. But while the things he told David and Les on that first day was a mix of fact and fiction, I think what he said about Medda was all true. He doesn't attempt to explain why his father knew Medda, he doesn't spin any story. Jack simply answers David's question - and quickly redirects the conversation away from any other detail on his father and Medda, which is pretty telling in itself.

So, Medda Larkson knew Mr. Sullivan and she therefore knew Francis Sullivan. She may even be the only character in Newsies we meet who knew Francis Sullivan (not counting Snyder, but he doesn't really count anyways). Medda knew Jack before he was Jack and Medda knew Jack before he was sent to the refuge. She knew his family before it fell apart.

Medda Larkson is also an interesting a character because she is a vaudeville actress at the turn of the century. She's also an older unmarried woman at the turn of the century, evidenced by the fact that Medda owns her theatre (married women could not independently own property in 1890s America).

If you know anything about the history of theatre, you probably know that, like many other professions, acting was a boys' club for much of its history. In its birthplace of ancient Greece, female characters in plays were always, without exception, played by men and boys. Over the years this changed, and by the 1890s an actress was not such an unheard of oddity, however they were very taboo in polite society and often equated with prostitutes.

An actress was in direct contrast to the era's ideal vision of femininity. While society dictated that a women be domestic and modest, actresses found the freedom to be loud and independent. Just like their male counterparts, actresses took care of their own bills and negotiated their own contracts. Theatrical costumes also gave women a chance to challenge convention, shocking audiences with the image of a woman who was confident in both her mind and her body.

Now, Medda in both the film and the stage musical is a force to be reckoned with. But I think that the film Medda isn't as appreciated as she should be because modern audiences just don't realize the significance of her costumes or of her more flirtatious stage acts. Medda Larkin (the stage musical Medda) simply presents a more modern portrayal of feminism that is more easily identified by today's audience, which isn't a bad thing! Sometimes it is better to present historical ideas in a way that contemporary audiences will understand so that they achieve the same impression. But this can also skew our understanding of historical views and make us blind to historical context. (I've written in the past about the different portrayals of Medda here if you're interested.)

To wrap things up, Medda Larkson is the one person in Jack's life who really knows him, and she's the person he goes to when he's in trouble. When Jack Kelly arrives with David and Les in tow at Medda's theatre, Snyder is long gone. But he ran to her anyways.

Apart from her connection to Jack and his family, Medda is a compelling character in her own right even with the few scenes we have of her. She is an actress and the owner of her own theatre. She is confident in herself and isn't afraid to cause ripples, whether that means living life on her own terms or standing up for the newsies and supporting their strike.

There's a lot we just don't know about Medda, but we do know this: Miss Medda Larkson is a badass.

[raythekiller]

oiie! pode escrever um cenário onde o leitor é ftm e esta se sentindo disfórico? eyeless jack :D! <3

🗒 ❛ Dysphoria ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Eyeless Jack x FTM! Dysphoric Reader

#Notes: so many transmasc asks AGH /pos

pronouns used: none, but male! reader

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YOU were starting to regret everything that led you to this moment. Jack had finally asked you to a date and, in your excitement, you immediately say yes without even having time to think. Now the date is about fifteen minutes away and you're sitting on the floor in front of the full body mirror in your room with your knees to your chest, rejected outfits scattered all across the floor as none of them made you feel good when you stared at your reflection. You hated what you saw. In your mind, Jack would hate it, too. The curves, the chest that was never perfectly flat no matter how much you binded it, the narrow shoulders and bigger hips, the feminine face and voice - it all felt like a death sentence. Tears prickled in the corner of your eyes and you buried your head on your knees, trying your best to keep them at bay. That's when a knock came at your door.

"Y/N? Excuse me, I didn't mean to bother you, but it's already the time we agreed on." Jack's soft and polite voice was muffled by the closed door. You didn't answer. He knocked again after a minute or two. "... Y/N? I'm coming in." You heard a creak as the door swinged open and a few light footsteps as he came to your side, crouching down next to you. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed lightly. "... Bad day, huh?" He asks and you nod, head still hidden in your knees. He pulls you close into a hug, both of you still on the floor as he combed through your hair in silence. After a few moments, he spoke again. "... I'm not going to say I understand what you're going though, because I don't. I was... Fortunate enough to be born in the 'right body', so to speak. But I need you to know - you're more than valid and you're beautiful just the way you are. This doesn't change anything." He uttered so softly it almost sounded like a whisper. You grab tighter onto his hoodie, tears pouring out, except their weren't entirely out of despair this time.