#especially when you’re high off the emotions of a creative work you enjoyed

[mxtxfanatic]

Mxtxfanatic I need your help 😭🙏. I have a friend who watched the Untamed, and now she's going on and on about how novel Wei Wuxian is suicidal. I've tried letting her know that he died from backlash and not from suicide. But she insisted that there's still a possibility that wwx could be suicidal.

I was wondering if you could help me with this. I really admire your blunt way of speaking, and you take no nonsense from horrible fanon tropes. How would you respond to her saying that there's a possibility that wwx could be suicidal (which he isn't, but idk how to tell her that)?

Idk, friend, has she actually read the novel? 😭 If she hasn’t, just tell her the novel and the drama are not 1:1 in themes and plot, that cql isn’t supplementary material to the novel—it’s its own source—and the only commonality they share are names and locations. If she has… ask her if she actually read the novel or if she needs a refresher 😭😭😭

And while she’s on the re/read, ask her to point out textual evidence where Wei Wuxian either says or thinks something self-depreciating/suicidal, and also any place in which he acts “recklessly” with his own life in a situation where any other action other than risking his life would have netted the same or better results. If none of that works, sorry you’ve lost a friend to cql. Godspeed 🫡

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass, Chapter 9 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Eeee! I can't believe it's finally DONE! At nearly a whopping 14k, I truly hope this makes up for me not updating this story since September! 🎉 Many thanks to my darling @ab4eva for finally helping me knock this loose and reminding me I could indeed still write! 💗💋💗

If I'm honest, Broken Glass is one of my favorite stories I've worked on. I know it's quite the slow burn and not nearly as smutty as my other works (...yet), but it really does make my creative heart sing and I'm so in love with these two and their stark vulnerabilities. 🥹

I highly recommend rereading Chapter 8 to refresh your memory, but the TL;DR is we left a jealous, ailing Elvis having just found out Lori's big secret from Sinatra and Sinatra calling Elvis out on feelings he hasn't quite been able to admit to himself until now. 😬

This chapter puts us firmly back in Lori's (rather confused) perspective. Elvis is acting weird, and she is feeling the fear of her past nipping at her heels. She's trying to manage her own emotions and health while chasing after Elvis' moody ass, which is going just as well as you'd expect LOL. And of course we have Welcome Home Elvis with Frank Sinatra! You might want to watch the Elvis portions on the show to fully get in the mood--I hope I did them justice! 🥰

Things will really kick into high gear after this chapter, so this setup is pretty important to what's coming. I really hope you enjoy! You can catch up here using the Broken Glass Masterlist ❤️‍🩹

I can't wait to hear what you think!! 💗

Much Love, 

Madi xoxoxoxo 💗💋

TW: references to SA/threats/abuse, Gianni, dissociation, emotional upheaval, nightmares/violence/blood, period-related misogyny, health issues (fainting, constipation, vomiting, etc.), Elvis being an asshole, Elvis being a damn snack, sooties 😏

Broken Glass Chapter 9

March 24th, 1960

Miami, Florida

“Just hang on, Elvis. Come on, open your eyes for me,” you say, patting his sallow cheek, the concrete biting at your knees where you’ve fallen ungracefully to the ground with him.

Your half a cigarette lies smoking and abandoned a foot away—a bad habit you picked up after needing an excuse to get outside after long, stressful shifts at the hospital. You haven’t smoked much since you left New York, not having much need for it when your current job is almost ornamental most days, except in those private, hidden moments away from the bustle of Elvis’ strange life.

But he’d pushed you to that Lucky Strike, what with his aloof behavior since Nashville and then his ridiculous jealousy over Frank Sinatra having the audacity to speak to you and you having the gall to laugh with him.

“You are. You’re jealous. Why? I’m not your girl, so why—”

“The hell you aren’t.”

Galloping in your chest, your heart betrays your tangled feelings about the way he’d acted, the way he’d said those words as if he thought for a moment you really were his girl. And before, how he’d kissed you so passionately…

The memory is interrupted by Elvis’ low groan, his long eyelashes fluttering open to reveal glassy but stormy ocean eyes, thrusting you back into the present emergency. You don’t particularly like the way he’s clutching his midsection or how wheezy and warm he is, but you can’t do much here, especially when people are starting to gather.

He starts, as if coming back into himself, and surprisingly tries to roll up and off you. “I’m fine,” he gasps, shrugging your hand off his shoulder in an uncharacteristic act of defiance.

You might be more annoyed if you weren’t so worried, but your feelings are beside the point right now. Treat him like any other patient, a voice in your head reminds you.

“You are not fine, and we’re going back to the hotel so I can get a look at you,” you whisper firmly in his ear.

He shoots you a petulant look.

“Unless you want to go to the hospital instead?” you throw at him, with a raised brow. That does the trick. His glare softens a bit and his eyes dart away as though he’s been scolded.

It doesn’t take more than a pointed look from you for Lamar and Joe to haul Elvis carefully to his feet. You may only be Elvis’ girlfriend in their eyes, but they do know you are a nurse with some expertise in these situations. And you can’t help but see concern on their faces.

Elvis clutches his midsection again with a gasping wince. The guys lead him to a bench outside the building.

“Joe, tell someone in charge Elvis isn’t feeling well. Lamar, go get the car, please. We’re leaving.”

Your tone leaves no room for questions, but the three men look at you with surprise. In truth, you are a little surprised yourself. Perhaps it’s your lack of outward panic, the calm surety of many a night on the emergency ward.

You can’t say the same for them, seeing the panic brewing in the eyes of Elvis’ friends. Along with that, none of them are used to taking orders from women, and certainly you haven’t shown much vocal backbone in these last few weeks, yet with hardly a pause, Lamar and Joe scurry off, leaving you with Elvis.

He doesn’t speak to you or try to joke his way out of the pain, which is unusual. Instead, he stares blankly at anywhere but you. A sliver of unease winds its way through your stomach, and while you don’t push him, it’s almost involuntary the way your hand falls on top of his.

There is no reaction at first. Is he trying to ignore you? Could he possibly still be mad about the Sinatra thing? Confusion washes over you at the slight, but then his eyes squint in pain and his hand finally grips yours.

You hold back the breath of relief at the response, and before you can spiral too much more into what ifs, Lamar pulls up with the car. With his help, you get Elvis into the backseat.

The drive to the hotel is mostly silent. Joe tries to crack a joke or two from the front seat, but Elvis’ lack of response beyond painful grimaces quiets the short man with the annoying laugh. Elvis continues to shut you out, his hands clasped around his middle now instead of your hand.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

He’s just distracted by his pain, you reassure yourself.

You spend the ride pushing away questions about his behavior towards you and try to focus on diagnosis and treatment checklists, going through in your head what you have to do once you two are alone. It grounds you.

Once you all arrive, the boys help him out, but he stubbornly pushes them away once they reach the lobby.

“I can get to the elevator by my damn self!” Elvis grumbles, his eyes darting around the open space with concern. He’s nervous, you think, about being mobbed in this condition. You’ve gleaned enough in the past few weeks to understand he always attracts attention and it’s almost impossible for him to say no to his fans, even when he’s in so much pain he can barely stand upright. You are continually amazed by his generosity and selflessness in this regard. It’s one of the most endearing things about him.

Luckily, the lobby isn’t busy, and you make it to the privacy of the elevator avoiding interruption from outsiders. The humid air in the small space feels stifling and heavy with concern, but no one speaks as the elevator lurches upwards.

The relief is palpable when the doors open to the penthouse, and without ceremony you help deposit Elvis on the king-sized bed in the suite.

“Should we call a doctor?” Joe whispers to you as you try to shut him out of the room. The look in his eyes shows real worry for his friend.

“No,” you snap back, wanting to avoid any doctors not already familiar with the complexity of the situation. Joe is taken aback, so you continue more gently, “Not yet, at least. Let me see what I can do, and I’ll let you know.”

You can’t close the door fast enough, finally able to rush to Elvis’ aid in earnest, grabbing your medical bag out of the closet.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask, preparing the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

Elvis doesn’t respond, looking sullen. You can’t tell if it’s stubbornness or pain that’s keeping him this way though. But the dull hurt of your near-constant headache coupled with his strange mood has your temper feeling short.

“You smoke,” he says with distaste, avoiding your question.

“What?” Distracted, you count the seconds of his pulse using your watch.

“Girls of mine don’t smoke. I don’t like it,” he adds with a petulant glare.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Okay, Elvis, I’ll stop smoking,” you placate, “but you need to tell me what’s going on with your body or I cannot help you.” The command is clear.

He looks up at you then, his eyes churning with pain and something else you don’t have time to piece through right now.

“I feel hot an’ short of breath,” he says quietly, almost clinically. “And…” He hesitates, looking down with embarrassment.

You urge him on with a nod as you squeeze the cuff. “And? What’s going on with your belly?”

He clears his throat with a grimace. “It hurts something fierce. It’s, uh, been awhile since…you know.”

You sigh. Logically, you understand how anyone—any man, especially one in his position—might feel embarrassed talking about their bodily functions with a young woman, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating that he hides these issues from you when it’s your job to know.

“How long?” you ask.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, his face going flush.

“Alright, then, lay back,” you sigh, popping a thermometer in his mouth. Thankfully, he obeys without a fuss, and you pull his shirt up. It doesn’t take much gentle prodding on his lower belly to determine the issue. In fact, you can see the distention on his normally lean frame. That coupled with his pained whimpers and wincing makes it clear that his chronic constipation is rearing its ugly head.

For a normal and otherwise heathy person, it might not cause the severity of issues you have to contend with now. But Elvis is neither normal nor healthy. His pressure and temp are too high, his asthma is acting up, either from the pain or exertion of singing, and you know he’s not going to like the solution. But if he wants to stay out of the hospital and out of the press, he’ll just have to deal with it.

Despite your headache and frustration with him for not communicating readily with you about anything he should, be it his feelings or his health, you urge him to the bathroom as gently as possible, gathering the materials needed from your bag. The caretaker in you pushes everything else away as you prepare the solution and guide him through the process of what must be done.

He goes from furious to ashamed to resigned rather quickly. You are a little surprised at how readily he becomes vulnerable to you, considering the circumstances. The treatment momentarily strips away whatever inexplicable ire he was holding onto. It feels so intimate the way you both quiet and with how carefully you tend to him, massaging his belly and rubbing his back as the treatment works its magic. And after the relief comes, you run a bath, washing him gently, watching as his handsome face finally relaxes. Never has a man looked so innocent yet so beautifully dangerous. He leans into your comfort, too, and as clinical as your brain wants to make this whole experience, you are a little frightened by the realization of your heart aching not just with him, but for him.

He falls asleep in the warmth of the tub. You don’t wake him, knowing how sleep comes for him so irregularly and infrequently, but you are loathe to leave him alone when he could easily slip under the water. Elvis Presley will not drown in a tub on your watch.

Or at least this is what you tell yourself as you take a moment to catalogue such peaceful and unencumbered beauty, knowing very few get to see him like this.

Your mind finally wanders then, back to the moment in Nashville you’ve tried desperately not to think about, when he sang directly to you in so intimate a way you thought you’d combust from the inside out with feelings and urges you barely understood. Fire and shivers cascade down your spine all at once at the memory of his eyes, heavy lidded and molten, as he sang to you about just how right it would feel to be in his arms. It was so seductive, so real, it felt like he put a spell on you. There were no secrets between you in that tiny studio—only want and need.

In those few minutes, he wanted everything from you, and you had wanted to give it to him.

That is his wonderful talent, though, isn’t it? you think. To make others believe in the words of a song. Perhaps he believed them too, in the moment. It sure felt like it.

But he became so incredibly distant after Nashville, just when you thought you’d gotten closer. It was confusing and exasperating, like he pulled the rug of logic and sense right out from under you. It hurt more than it should have to be shut out by him. He hadn’t been unkind, per say, just aloof and detached.

You purse your fingers over the bridge of your nose, wishing it would ease the dull throbbing in your head. Lack of sleep and routine has done a number on you these past few weeks, though you know it’s keeping up with the façade of a relationship challenging you the most. You’ve slowly been getting better at playing the part of the doting girlfriend, to be sure, but the switching from fake girlfriend to nursemaid and back again is altogether exhausting.

And no matter how much better you get, you aren’t an actress. You aren’t used to pretending to feel something but not actually feeling it. It’s getting harder and harder to decern if these complicated feelings you are starting to have for Elvis are just part of your new job or if they are…real.

You don’t want them to be. They can’t be. Not only would it be unethical, but it’s perilous to think—to hope—he might see you as more. You’re not the type of girl a man like Elvis Presley falls for. And even if you were, a smart, practical girl like you knows better than to get involved with a womanizer like him.

A smart, practical girl like you knows any man is dangerous.

Speaking of danger, as soon as you’d left the safety of Graceland, you’ve felt the creeping unease Gianni or your father could pop out at any moment to steal you away back to New York. They have to know by now who you are with, and you don’t hold any fantasy of them letting you get on with your life without a fight. No, they’ll come for you at some point, you just don’t know when or how, and the more you’re out in the world, the more exposed you feel. Your hypervigilance has you always on edge, and you make sure to stay by Elvis’ side as much as possible in the hope he and his entourage will protect you.

So, yes, you are exhausted. The litany of masks you’re wearing to stay functional are crushing you with their weight, and it is taking more of a toll on you than you are letting on. Perhaps that is why Elvis’ mercurial attitude towards you feels so barbed and painful because, by some strange twist of fate, he is the only one in this world who knows even a fraction of who you really are.

And with that thought, you try not to berate yourself too much for taking a stolen moment to gawk at the ethereal man, this god-like Apollo, naked and asleep in the tub. You are too tired to fight the searing memory of how he kissed you today in front of Frank, so possessive and visceral as he clutched you to him like he never wanted to let you go. The way his tongue, oh Madone, how his tongue had teased your lips to part and how you’d melted in his arms, unable and unwilling to resist his charms. He held you close and all you had wanted in that moment was to be consumed by him, embarrassingly so.

Maybe that was why you’d reacted fervently to his jealousy. It is whiplash, this pendulum of his attentions (or lack thereof), and it embarrasses you how easily you’d caved to his kiss, and in front of Frank Sinatra of all people. But then when you were alone, Elvis reminded you so clearly with his words that it was all a lie, while his body and actions screamed the opposite.

It all felt like too much, then, when he’d tried to put it on you, as if you were the one playing with his emotions. He is an infuriating, obstinate man, and it’s even more infuriating how everyone in his circle allows him to be so. It certainly isn’t fair he can also be so generous and kind and talented and handsome and vulnerable…God, it would be so much easier if he was always a spoiled brat and you could hate him for it.

But it’s not that easy.

He scares you. Not like your father or Gianni, no. Elvis scares you because he—

“You alright, Little Bird?” he croaks from the bath, eyes slits against the light.

It startles you, and you realize your head has been in your hands in lament as you spiral. You straighten, blinking away your lingering, dangerous thoughts.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. Just…tired.” It is not a lie, and you hope his own exhaustion keeps him from questioning you further.

“Well, we best get you to bed then, darlin’,” he groans, sitting up and stretching his long arms over his head. “Hand me that towel?”

“Of course,” you breathe, handing him the fuzzy, white towel, then you quickly turn away. You don’t want to leave because he may be unsteady on his feet, and it’s certainly not as though you haven’t seen him totally bare, but you feel your cheeks heat slightly anyway at his nakedness.

I’m only human.

Towel slung low on his narrow hips, you’re glad to follow him into the bedroom and not the other way around, worried the heat of his gaze might flay you open and reveal everything you are trying to hide from him. You don’t have the energy for masks right now.

It seems neither does he. He is docile and pliant as you help him into his silken pajamas and under the covers. You’ve noticed the pattern of him doing this after his episodes, putting himself completely in your capable hands.

As you head back to the bathroom to change and do your own nightly routine, you wonder if he’s ever been this way with anyone else, or if it’s just a special part of him set aside for you.

Stop thinking like that. I am his nurse and nothing more.

You keep a healthy distance between you and him when you climb into the sheets. It doesn’t take long, however, for your exhaustion to take the reins, and you quickly drift off, trying desperately not to think about the beautiful man—no, my patient—who sleeps so close by.

*

“Dolo-res, oh, Dolo-res!” The slithering sound of Gianni’s voice sing-songing your name in the dark sends your heart racing and your stomach dropping. His dress shoes click ominously on the wooden floor of your father’s house, slowly, taunting you. It’s as though he knows exactly where you are and is just biding his time. Finding pleasure in your fear.

You try to be as quiet as a mouse, but your breathing grows more ragged with each laborious step. The floor is working against you, like you are trying to run through water.

“Aye, aye, aye, Dolores,” Sinatra sings, the sound slow and distorted. Frank watches you struggle up the stairs, his head tilting and those famous blues giving you a knowing wink from the hallway beneath you.

“You can’t hide from me, Bella,” Gianni purrs from behind you, his footfalls heavy.

“What a break if I could make Dolores mine, oh, mine,” Frank continues the song as though your world isn’t collapsing in on itself, as if you weren’t running for your life. The lyrics feel all too threatening under the circumstances.

Clawing your way to the landing, a sob catches in your throat. He’s too close. You can smell his awful cologne. It makes your head pound and your stomach roll.

If you crawl your way to your room…you could lock the door. You could be safe.

“Aye, aye, aye, Dolores,” Frank croons from below.

Gianni’s hands are frigid when they clamp on your legs and turn you over.

“No, no, no, no!” you whimper.

“Did you get my gift, Bella?” Gianni smirks, feeling his way up your thighs, up under your skirt.

Looking down at your hand, the engagement ring he gave you shines menacingly, weighing your hand down so much you cannot lift it to defend yourself. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

“I was made to serenade Dolores,” the song continues, but it’s no longer Frank’s voice from below. No, it’s deeper, and warm, like velvet. And oh, so familiar.

Elvis.

He’s on the landing behind you as he sings. You crane your neck and see him upside down, towering over you, only a few steps away.

“Elvis, please,” you cry. You aren’t sure if it’s a plea for help or one encouraging him to run. He looks down at you, almost absently, like he sees you but cannot be bothered. Perhaps he does not see you at all.

You aren’t sure what’s worse.

Gianni looks up and growls at Elvis, the whites of his eyes disappearing, turning all the way black. Dark, vicious claws form at the ends of his fingers. He looks like a demonic beast, ready to pounce on his prey.

“I would die to be with my Dolores,” Elvis sings, and you know then it’s over. You close your eyes, not wanting to see Gianni tear Elvis apart just for being near you. You feel the heat of Gianni leap over your prone form, feel Elvis being knocked to the ground with a thud. A roar. Screams. The sounds are sickening and the heat of blood spatters over your face.

“NO!” you sob, uncontrollably. Every breath is tainted with your agony.

It’s all your fault.

Then heavy silence.

Your chest heaves with the speed of your panicked breathing and you sense Gianni crawling back over you. You open your eyes, even though you don’t want to.

“What a break if I could make Dolores mine, oh, mine,” Gianni sings quietly, finishing the song, his face and hands stained crimson with Elvis’ blood. He smiles at you, a terrifying white gash amongst the red.

“Mine.”

Then he digs his claws deep into your belly.

You shudder awake, breathing hard enough to know it is another nightmare that wakes you. The sheen of sweat across your brow, the throbbing at your temples reminds you that you are alive, awake, and when you open your eyes, they meet the darkness of the hotel suite. Your cheeks are damp with tears and your hand flies to your abdomen to make sure Gianni’s claws are not deep inside you.

Much to your shock, there is a hand already there, large and splayed across your belly, but completely unthreatening. No, almost comforting. It knocks away the dream, this hand, as you try to puzzle through why it is there, who it belongs to, and why you aren’t afraid. You hold your breath.

A moment passes. You take stock of the rest of you: the queasiness of your stomach subsiding some, the solid warmth pressed against your back, your legs tucked but feet tangled amongst the sheets and another set of feet.

Elvis.

And you wonder if you are still dreaming because of the way his arms hold you tight. You wait for the panic to come as a result of the embrace, but it never does. Your heart skips then slows, beat by beat as you sink into calm, protected warmth, lulled by his slow breathing against your back.

I’m safe.

Sleep takes you with little fuss.

*

Your eyes flutter open. The room is dark, thanks to the heavy blackout curtains Elvis requested, but one look at the clock tells you it’s morning and past time to get up. A shiver rolls through you, which is strange despite the arctic levels he keeps any room he sleeps in because he usually a furnace next to you. But your body already knows what your eyes quickly confirm: Elvis is gone. Not in the bed, or the suite, or in the darkened bathroom.

Puzzled, you sit up and flip on the lamp. Your memory is hazy. Blinking, you vaguely remember a nightmare involving Gianni, but blissfully cannot remember specifics. There is something else you are missing, though, something important, just outside the reach of your memory. A comfort maybe? It doesn’t make any sense. Unease settles over you as you rise, your hand falling unconsciously over your abdomen.

Elvis’ absence bothers you, though you can’t put a finger on why. Perhaps it’s just the lingering dreams you can’t quite remember that have you anxious.

Or maybe it’s because in less than a month, your entire life has been upended and changed irrevocably.

Could be that.

After a glance at the time, you rise and hasten to get ready, knowing you are running late. Elvis will need to be at rehearsal soon. The rush is a good distraction from your muddled thoughts.

When you exit into the rest of the suite, ready to go, it’s much, much too quiet. Your skin prickles at the absence of Elvis and the usual boisterousness of the group of men you’ve become used to being around all the time and the relative safety they provide.

Something is wrong, and a tendril of fear of being alone and exposed winds up your spine.

Oh, Madone, something happened to Elvis.

Gianni.

It’s then that Cliff exits the kitchenette with a cup of coffee and you jump, startled, hand flying to your chest as you suck in a breath.

“Oh, hey, Lori,” he says. “You’re finally up.”

“Madre di Dio, you scared me!” you gasp, trying not to let the panic leech into your voice too much. “Where is everyone? Where’s Elvis?”

“Oh, they went ahead to the studio. I stayed back to drive you, if you still want to go.” He says it with pity, like you’re one of Elvis’ paramours that can just be dismissed on a whim, and frankly, he seems a little put out by this assignment.

“He did what?” Red lines your vision quite suddenly, anger washing away the worry you’d felt only a moment ago. Elvis is not supposed to be without you. It’s the reason you’re even here. He knows it.

And he just left you. Alone. Without a word.

Cliff backpedals instantly, sensing your indignation, looking very uncomfortable. “Oh, I…um…I think he just thought you were tired? And wanted to let you sleep?”

“Oh, I bet he did,” you mutter under your breath. Then you grab your purse and beeline for the door. “Let’s go, Cliff.”

He scrambles behind out you, following you to the elevator. At first, he nervously prattles on about the weather, trying to make small talk, but finally gives up once he realizes your piercing glare isn’t going anywhere.

You tell yourself you’re angry because Elvis has put himself in danger by not having you with him, but you are smart enough to know it’s more than that. He’s treated you like any other woman when you are not.

It’s downright disrespectful.

Furthermore, it put you at risk. Without the safety of Elvis’ protective and insular group, you are exposed. Gianni or your father would have no trouble at all disposing of Cliff and dragging you back to New York, before Elvis even knew what happened.

Because you haven’t told him, a small voice reminds you.

It makes you sick to think of. Your pounding headache is back, and you feel a bit carsick with the intense Florida sun beating down as Cliff drives you to the studio.

Your frustration and fear have you out of the car before he has barely parked. Heels click-clacking on the concrete and Cliff struggling to keep up, you show your special pass to the doorman. You hate the way the man examines your pass as though it were fake, giving you a once over. Cliff nods at the man before he finally lets you both through, and you huff at the slight.

This isn’t like you. Before Elvis, you would have meekly stepped to the side and let Cliff lead, content to fade into the woodwork. Happy, even. Maybe Elvis’ hotheadedness is rubbing off on you because the swell of rage you feel is like nothing you’ve felt before.

Fuming, you finally reach the studio and then stop short at what you see, sending Cliff almost running into you.

Elvis looks the picture of health, none of the pain or vulnerability you’d seen last night anywhere to be seen. In fact, he has a pretty girl on either side of him, both tittering and blushing as he smiles his famous quirky smile at them in turn. Flirting.

Your nails dig into your clutch and your body goes rigid. It shouldn’t, but it makes your blood boil with betrayal.

How dare he.

It’s a stupid thought, and one you try to shake off as soon as it comes. He’s not your boyfriend. God knows he’s flirted—and done much more—with other girls around you before, and it didn’t bother you then. Not really.

But maybe it’s because he laid into you so hard yesterday about Sinatra and your supposed flirtation and about keeping up appearances and his damned jealousy, and yet here he is, blatantly disregarding all of it. Because of double standards and whatever other petty reasons he has for acting so strange with you since Nashville.

Your eyes burn into him and with the little sixth sense of his, he notices. His eyes darken and hit yours intentionally, and there’s not even a hint of surprise or regret in them. Just an infuriating quirk of a brow before the girls steal his attention again.

Like he planned this.

You grind your teeth, forcing yourself to take a breath instead of doing something stupid like slapping that smile right off his pretty face. No, you’ve got to be professional about this. You seethe, trying to reel in all these senseless emotions suddenly swirling out of control in your mind.

For whatever reason, he’s trying to get under your skin. Maybe he thinks he’s teaching you a lesson about yesterday. About Frank. About the smoking. Who knows what else.

Well, two can play at that game.

You breathe in, out, in again, forcing your shoulders to relax, forcing yourself back into your clinical mode. God knows between the last few weeks, your upbringing, and your nurse’s training, you’ve learned how to deal with difficult people.

Elvis Presley has severely underestimated you if he thinks you’ll fold over this.

In another highly uncharacteristic move, you school your features into a relaxed smile as you walk towards him and the girls. You know he senses you even though he’s barely looking, but instead of confronting him or slinking into the shadows, you clip right past him and head towards the other famous men in the room.

His eyes are burning holes into your back as Frank and Sammy Davis Jr. notice your approach. You appreciate the fact that the two men smile so warmly at you, and not at all dismissively. It was a gamble, as you easily could’ve been rejected by them, too, but your gamble seems to have paid off.

“And who is this pretty young thing?” Sammy asks charmingly, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. You don’t even have to pretend to blush under the scrutiny of both titans.

“Oh, this is the delightful Miss Dolores,” Frank says, “Elvis’ girl.”

“Ah, I knew that kid had good taste,” Sammy smiles.

“We weren’t sure if you were joining us today,” Frank says, looking not so casually behind you.

Three, two, one, you count silently.

“Oh, well, I—” you start.

“There you are, darlin’! Wanted to let you sleep in after such a long day yesterday,” Elvis says, smoothly sidling in beside you and planting a kiss to your temple.

You hide your smile at your presumption coming true and at the suggestive nature of his comment. A dismissive “Mmhmm,” is all you give him back, though. You don’t even look at him.

“You know, my mother was a huge fan of you both,” you gush instead to the other men in front of you, ignoring Elvis. “She passed years ago, but any time I hear That Old Black Magic or Birth of the Blues, I can’t help but think of her.”

It’s not a lie, nor is the sudden swell of emotion you have at the thought of your mother listening and singing along to those tunes while she made supper. You sniffle and let out a little laugh.

Perhaps you imagine the gentle squeeze at your waist.

“Look at me, getting all flustered,” you say, waving away your tears.

Madone, why am I so emotional today?

“Oh, we’re just honored to be a part of your memories like that, honey,” Sammy says kindly, and you feel Elvis stiffen beside you at the endearment.

“Frank, Elvis, we’re ready for the Love Me Tender/Witchcraftrun-through,” George, the very serious production assistant, interrupts.

Elvis starts directing you away. “Okay, then, baby, why don’t you—”

“Oh, I’d love to hear more about your mother, if you want to share,” Sammy says to you. “Don’t worry, Elvis, she’ll be safe with me.” He winks, reaching for your hand.

“I’m sure she—” Elvis starts.

“Well, how could I refuse the great Sammy Davis Jr.?” you interrupt, a little coyly. Part of you wonders when you became so bold as to flirt so shamelessly with men like this.

You aren’t feeling much like your old self these days.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

Tension ripples off Elvis and you honestly couldn’t have planned it better.

You can tell Elvis doesn’t want to offend Sammy as he hems and haws a bit too long. “Sure, sure, of course. I’ll come find ya after,” he finally gets out, a tad flippantly, and you don’t miss the amusement in Frank’s sparkling blue eyes as he leads Elvis away.

*

If you thought that would be the end of it, you were sorely mistaken. Your pleasure at winning the battle distracts you momentarily, making you think you’ve taught the man a lesson by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

You were wrong.

Instead, Elvis has doubled down on his nonchalant dismissal of you, barely even acknowledging your presence. Suddenly, there are more girls around than before and all of them seemed more than happy to be on the arm of the all-too-handsome singer, even if only for a moment.

You realize fleetingly he’d been true to his word in keeping the girls away before now because of your perceived relationship. But not anymore.

His message seems clear, even though you still don’t understand the reason behind it: You are easily replaced.

If you were actually his girlfriend, maybe that would be true. For a second, you feel the sting of his rejection as if you were just some poor girl fawning over him.

But the reality is much more complicated. Much worse is the dread pooling in your stomach at the thought of being fired and having to fend for yourself against the wolves nipping at your heels. As much as you don’t trust the Colonel, you don’t imagine he’d cast you aside so easily considering everything you know and the pains it would take to bring another nurse into the fold. And Elvis is smart enough to know it. It is a bit of a salve to the fear churning in your belly.

No, what Elvis is doing seems like some sort of strange tantrum, like he’s hurt and sending you a message the only way he knows how. What it truly could be, you have no idea, but having a slew of younger brothers, you understand that sometimes boys just need to wear themselves out with their nonsense. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating or humiliating for you, but you’ve been through worse than an adult man being immature and unable to communicate his feelings.

You almost wish his health was struggling a bit more because it would force him to engage with you. As it stands, he is the picture of health right now and he is only listening to you out of the necessity of keeping up appearances or when you have the gall to talk to another man.

It stings more than you want it to. More than it should.

It’s easy to blame it on the ever-growing fatigue you can’t seem to shake and on the fact you have less experience dealing with these kinds of relationships than most girls your age. It’s not as if you have a lot to compare it to, or even any girlfriends or relatives you talk to in order to help you try and understand what is wrong with him.

A deep loneliness sinks down over you suddenly, threatening to drown you in the overwhelming realization that you truly have only yourself to keep you steady. The worst part is Elvis is the only one who has any understanding of you at all, and for whatever reason, he is shutting you out. You force back the tears trying to spring to your eyes, swallowing your grief and resignation.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you mope as he entertains the girls the other guys have procured for the evening, you smile and keep up pleasantries for as long as you can before retiring to the bedroom to read. Not that you are able to, as the words keep swimming in your vision and you stay on the same page for much too long. Finally, you close your eyes against the emotional tide and your persistent headache, and it’s not until Elvis comes to bed that you stir again.

You don’t open your eyes, however, though you can feel him looking at you. His gaze burns through you, making your heart race. There’s a long moment of silence before he finally undresses, gets in the bed, and turns out the light.

*

March 26th, 1960

The studio is vibrating with energy. Not only are the people involved in the show bustling about, but the audience, packed full of young women, is tittering so much that you can feel it in your bones.

Surprisingly, Charlie came out and grabbed you after Elvis’ appearance in the opening. Elvis looked smart in the dress uniform he’d been so glad to be rid of those first days you’d met. While he’d been nicer to you today in general, you are unsure why he wants you backstage after the way he’d shooed you out before the show started. But there are thirty more minutes before his performance, and you are suddenly concerned he’s not doing as well as he made himself out to be.

You make your way back into the dressing room, trying to offset your own nerves. You slept terribly, thinking too much about your future, mulling over every worst-case scenario again and again in your head. But the moment you enter the dressing room, it all goes out the window.

Elvis turns around when the door opens, an absolute vision in a black tuxedo that does everything to show off his long frame. Everything.There’s no helping the sharp intake of breath you try to swallow and the way your feet stick to the floor as you take him in from top to bottom. He is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.

His dark hair is swooped back on the sides, but styled tall and soft in the front, adding the appearance of at least three inches to his height and highlighting his long, chiseled jaw. His artfully applied makeup is subtle and does everything to show off his deep blue bedroom eyes.

Eyes that just happen to be swallowing you whole. A wave of heat washes over your entire body. You feel suspended in time and know you are gawking, but despite having spent over three weeks solid with the man, enduring every quirk and his maddening mood swings, you hadn’t been prepared to see him at his best.

Oh, Madone.

He has you locked down with his gaze, and while every professional bone in your body screams at you to be normal, it’s impossible. Every reason you’d been furious with him for the past week is forgotten in the blink of an eye. It’s as if it is suddenly dawning on you why Elvis Presley is who he is and that you’ve been working for him all this time without really realizing it.

“A-alright, everybody out. I need to talk to my Little Bird alone,” he drawls, but the command is crystal clear, sending all the boys filing out behind you. His nickname for you has never sounded so utterly sinful coming out of his mouth before. Your heart thuds in your chest and you hope to God Elvis cannot hear it or see the flush on your cheeks.

The door clicks shut, and Elvis sighs audibly in what seems like relief, his shoulders sagging a bit, and as he deflates, it breaks whatever strange spell he had on you. He adjusts his cufflinks nervously, then shakes his hands at his sides, bouncing on his toes, like he’s trying to expel the nerves out his limbs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, finally able to speak again.

“O-oh, honey, I-I-I-I’m so damn scared, I feel like my heart’s ‘bout ready to fly right o-o-outta my chest,” he stutters, looking at you as though you can provide him some relief. “S’like I can’t breathe.”

This kicks you into gear, the need to make sure he is healthy enough to perform washing away the awe at the handsome figure he cuts.

“You’re okay, just take off your jacket and sit down,” you guide him gently. He doesn’t fight you at all, but you can see the way he trembles with anxiety. The change in him seems strange to you considering the easy ego he’s been coasting on for weeks.

Maybe he’s been such a jerk because he’s been nervous, you think suddenly. As quick as it comes, you push it back out again, wanting to focus on his care.

You don’t have all your things, but you take his pulse, which is noticeably racing, and his breathing seems fast but not wheezing.

“I-I-I’m not dying, am I? W-w-what i-if I-I go o-out there and p-pass out in front of—” He is stuttering so much, it’s hard to understand what he’s saying, but his fear is clear: he’s terrified he’s going to mess up this critical piece of his comeback in front of the world and some of the greatest performers out there.

“Elvis,” you say gently, grabbing his hands in yours and stilling them. Once his fearful, wide eyes find yours, you continue, “You’re going to be just fine. You aren’t going to die out there, I promise. Now, take a deep breath with me.” You inhale deeply, hold, and then exhale nice and long, then do it again until he’s matching you.

In, out, in, out, again and again.

The breathing has just as much effect on you as it does him. The energy in the room calms substantially, your fears and his dissipating a little more with each breath.

You’re not quite sure how long you sit there with him, his hands dwarfing yours, but when he opens his eyes and meets yours, you can all at once see every iteration of Elvis Presley coexisting in harmony: the playful boy, the charming but humble superstar, the fiery and moody young man. He is both the most human you’ve ever seen him, yet the most ethereal in the same breath. The vulnerability and complexity astound you speechless once again.

“You are magic, Little Bird,” he says softly, eyes tracking over your face. Your heart skips a beat, then two. You’re in freefall for a few seconds before you can tear your eyes away from him enough to regain your wits.

When you look back at him, his face is a handsome mask, giving little away. Perhaps it’s just him preparing to perform, locking some of himself away. But something tells you there is more to it than that.

His thumbs trace up and down, sweeping between your thumbs and pointer fingers in the same rhythm as your breath. Somehow it grounds you while still making you feel a bit dizzy. He says you are magic, but he is the one enchanting you and all at once you want to tell him everything. Every single thing weighing on your mind. All your fears. The feelings you are starting to have for him that terrify you. How you see him. How you’ve deceived him to protect him. To protect yourself. It’s not the right time, it never is, but it’s like he’s drawing it out of you with his caress. You can’t bear for him to go cold on you again, not when he’s your only glimmer of hope.

They say the truth will set you free.

The words start to tumble out of their own accord, “Elvis, I need to tell you—”

A sharp rap at the door interrupts your confession before it even starts, and your heart catches in your throat.

“Places, Mr. Presley!” George yells through the door.

“Thank you!” he yells back. His eyes shine with something hopeful behind them when he turns his attention back to you, almost expectant. “Save that thought, honey.”

It’s all you can do to nod, tamping down on the adrenaline pouring through your veins. He leaps up, releasing your hands, severing the connection you hadn’t realized until right now you needed so much. Pulling his jacket on, he adjusts, and you stop him, craving the sense of intimacy that is slipping through your fingers like a sieve. You step up to him, straightening and smoothing the velvet lapels of his jacket. Your hands linger a moment too long near the button and you look at them, unable to stop the heat on your cheeks or to look up into Elvis’ eyes.

“Wish me luck, baby?” he says playfully, but with an edge of need you force yourself to ignore. He squeezes your hands, encouraging you to raise your head. You school your features into something calmer than what you feel.

“You don’t need it. You’ll be amazing and they’ll love you. They already do,” you say. It comes out much more breathless than you’d like, and you look everywhere but in his eyes.

The air gets heavy, crushing all sensibility, and you can’t help your eyes darting up then. His full lips part the slightest bit, his body leaning forward enough to make your breath catch. Suddenly every one of your nerves is on fire, crawling under your skin, something new and forbidden winding its way into your belly.

He’s only ever kissed you in a performative way, playing to an audience, but this, this is different. The way those sapphire eyes drink you in is much too much. You’re drowning in them, wondering how different it will be if he kisses you and not pretend-girlfriend you. He is so close you can smell the now-familiar, delicious waft of his cologne and feel the heat of his breath on your face.

Oh, Madone, we can’t. The thought stabs through your head with a panic, straightening your spine like a ramrod, and Elvis is nothing if not observant. So expertly does he change course you doubt he had any other intention than to press his open mouth to your cheek. The soft feeling has you sighing, but you aren’t sure if it’s in relief or disappointment.

Not unlike the look on his face.

Stepping back breaks the tension in the air enough for you to recover what is left of your wits. You smooth the front of your dress. “Would you like me in the audience or backstage?” You hope it comes out more professional than you feel.

“Needja out front. Wanna be able to see your pretty face unable to take your eyes off me,” he jokes, oozing charm, but his twitching hands and serious eyes belie his nervousness.

“Oh, we’ll see.” You roll your eyes, playing into what he seems to need in this moment from you, though your heart is still galloping enough that you feel breathless. You barely register opening the door and walking back out to your seat in the audience, feeling the roll of anxiety in your stomach, both for his performance and for what you almost let happen in the dressing room.

Before you can spiral too far into beating yourself up, Frank is up introducing Elvis. The girls in the studio go so wild, they sound possessed, chants of “We want Elvis!” devolving into shrieking. You resist the urge to stick your fingers in your ears to protect your eardrums.

But then Elvis, in all his breathtaking beauty, is ambling downstage, managing to be cool, casual, and charming, but also bashful, like he didn’t expect this reaction. And it’s not a put on.

He didn’t think they’d still love him, you realize.

The way he bites his lip, then runs his tongue over his teeth before erupting into an almost embarrassed grin makes your heart flutter at its sweetness because you know just how scared he is. His skill, however, is that no one else does.

He turns to signal the band and the first bars of Fame and Fortune come in. The man who turns around to sing is someone much different than the bashful boy of just a second ago. The sultry look he throws the audience takes your breath away, but as he waits to come in, he can’t totally hold the pose, that lip of his curling up and his tongue trying to banish it in the name of being serious. The girls scream in response, eating it up, and you can’t say you blame them. He looks up to the sky, perhaps saying a silent prayer, to regain his composure before he opens his mouth to sing.

Now, in the last few weeks, you’ve become well acquainted with his gifted voice, but it is not until this very moment you understand the scope of his talent. The spell that he casts over the room feels nearly as intimate as the one he had with you in the dressing room just minutes ago. The nervousness you know is there is so artfully maneuvered that it opens him to the audience rather than pushing them away. Few other stars would get away with smiling and laughing at the reaction of their audience in the middle of their ballad but when he does it, you feel it down to your toes.

Or maybe it’s the how his voice is like silk in your ears, a contradiction of impressively light but warm and rich. The honeyed timbre winds its way down your spine, right into the core of you. It’s not just in your body but your soul, too. The hair on your arms stands straight up, a visceral reaction proving his effect on you isn’t in your imagination.

A woman could fall in love with that voice alone.

Despite the way you want to fight the hold of his performance and its battle in your mind with the man you’re getting to know, it is quite impossible. You get utterly sucked into the tide of Elvis Presley.

He is stunning.

You can’t help the way your mouth drops open and your palms begin to sweat. There is brilliance in every move and sound he makes, and you’re amazed at his ability to include everyone in the room, from the camera, the band and backup singers, to how those bedroom eyes scan the entirety of the audience in one breath. You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning every time they catch yours.

If you weren’t so dumbstruck, you might chastise yourself for feeling so carried away, but it’s hard not to feel like he’s sharing something important with you right now—an essential part of his soul, this thing he was obviously born to do. It brings tears to your eyes.

As the song winds down, you and the rest of the audience mourn its end. But in the split second he bows his head and bites his lip, you see the utter relief that fills him at the realization that he’s still got it. Then the upbeat lilt of Stuck on You comes in and he’s immediately reinvigorated.

He knows he has you all now, and it’s as if suddenly his body remembers everything that made him a star. Sure, it’s toned down some for his new adult image, but those unique movements are still there. He’s playful and energized in a way you’ve never seen him before. It’s not just in his long limbs (which you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from) but also in his voice. Flirtatious and silly, he wraps you all around his snapping fingers.

The girls are going crazy and rightly so: you find yourself having to bite down on your lip to keep from squealing with them. A bead of sweat runs down your spine and you cross and uncross your legs to try and stave off the total, uncontrolled insanity you are feeling trying to reconcile this Elvis with the one you sleep in the same bed with, the one you care for when he’s so ill he can barely function.

Nothing about this is remotely helping the feelings for him you know are brewing under the surface. It’s like being dragged under by a riptide—you can’t fight it, not now, and you just have to give yourself over to the current.

But one thing is for certain: there is nothing sane about any of this.

You can see even Frank is off kilter because when he comes out for the duet, this cool-as-a-cucumber, wildly talented star in his own right is stumbling over his lines. The man is struggling to maintain his dominance as the host and the elder, more refined performer. Sensing what you think is his competitive edge, you watch Frank rebound for control as best he can, but even he has got to know Elvis is in a class of his own. He’s upstaging Frank without even trying.

Part of you knows you are witnessing history in the making. You can hardly believe it. A month ago, you were living an entirely different life. You certainly didn’t care much for Elvis in the beginning, and now you want nothing more than to stay in his orbit. It’s strange to feel so starstruck around him.

The whole thing is madness.

You are still buzzing and a bit dazed when Charlie pulls you backstage. The prideful, overly logical part of your brain wants you to calm yourself before you see Elvis, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big head around you, but the giddy girl in you doesn’t care. That silly little girl eats up the grin spreading across Elvis’ face and falls straight into his open arms. He hugs you tight, like he means it. It feels real and not for the benefit of all those around you thinking you’re the adoring girlfriend congratulating him on his triumph. The way he squeezes you and presses his lips to your temple feels special and just for you.

“What didja think, Little Bird?” he whispers in your ear.

“Oh, well, the guys did great, and Nancy was lovely,” you hear yourself teasing.

The playful, possessive little growl he makes and the way his fingers press into your ribcage has you fighting unsuccessfully to suppress the shudder of excitement running through you. You curl your toes in your heels trying to absorb the heady feeling it leaves you with to get yourself right enough to speak again.

“Well, I’m a bit loathe to admit it, but you were wonderful,” you finally say, looking up at him and placing your hand on his chest. His heart thumps wildly under your palm and under any other circumstance you might be concerned, but you let it be. This is his moment.

“Better than Ricky Nelson?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Hmm, marginally,” you tut, trying to keep a straight face.

“’Marginally’, huh? I’ll show you marginal!” he laughs. And then he buries his head in your neck, his hot breath and soft lips pebbling your skin and setting your body aflame. You don’t recognize the gasping giggles erupting from you like a schoolgirl.

It’s all for show it’s all for show it’s all for show…a voice in your head viciously reminds you.

“Okay, okay!” you laugh breathlessly, trying to still his ministrations. “I will concede that you, Elvis Presley, are a very talented man.”

“Oooh, am I now?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, sending another wash of heat over your body.

Your mouth pops open, but before you can think to respond, someone cuts in. “Hey, Presley, quit making googly eyes at your girl and get over here!”

Elvis responds by doing the silly little thing he does with his eyes that makes all the girls scream and you can’t help but laugh.

The moment he walks away, taking his warm essence with him, you find yourself deflate a little. It sobers you quickly and the letdown of the entire experience has you unexpectedly emotional. Without his warmth and light, you feel cold and unprotected and alone.

Sneaking away to the restroom, you lock yourself in with shaking hands. Oh, God, what is wrong with me? you think as the tears well and then escape in rivulets down your cheeks. You swipe at them, fighting what you fear is happening but cannot quite admit to yourself.

You refuse to be like every other woman, falling over your own feet for Elvis. Desperate for any sliver of attention, living for his small touches and knowing gazes. Blinded by his talent and fame.

You are not that girl. Breathing in and out, trying to calm yourself, you remember he is just a flesh-and-blood man, and you cannot give another man the power to hurt you again. He is your employer, your patient, and nothing more.

Liar.

Pushing those treacherous thoughts away, you switch tacks. You need to protect him from the storm you know is coming but your survival instincts are doing everything possible to keep you safe, and Elvis might be the only person who can do that. Telling him about Gianni and your background risks his rejection. Your heart aches at the idea of him letting you go, and not just because of your safety. There’s no way you can tell him the truth about you now, not when he’s flying so high, not when for the first time in weeks you finally feel connected with him again.

Maybe too connected.

No, you’ll just have to wait until the right time. You can’t spoil this for him. Talk of Gianni and your father would destroy this goodness, and you can’t let them destroy anything else.

Forcing yourself to put it on the back burner, you paste on a smile and play the devoted girlfriend for the rest of the evening. Every little touch is like tinder catching flame under your skin—his hand around your waist, thumb grazing so near your breast, his fingers interlocking with yours—and the sparkle in his eyes makes your heart dance against your ribcage. It’s easy to believe he truly cares and that he’s yours.

He's a better actor than they give him credit for.

For once, you let yourself lean into it, pretending he wants you. You are swept up into his joy and relief and affection. It’s an addictive and glorious drug. By the time you both stumble exhausted into the bedroom of the suite, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Your body hums a little from the glass of champagne you allowed yourself, mind buzzing with the excitement of the day and from your proximity to the man of the hour. Elvis seems to be much in the same boat, riding high and energized as he takes off his jacket, throwing it over the chair in the corner. The tiny tie was lost long ago when he unbuttoned his top buttons at the studio and sweat glistens in the divot between his collarbones as he begins rolling up his sleeves. You were unaware until this very moment how attractive forearms could be.

Suddenly your mouth feels very dry. You lick your lips, watching his every movement.

Elvis looks up quickly, catching your undivided attention, and his lip quirks in a slow smirk that is both sinful and self-conscious. His eyes flash with a heat that makes your toes curl into the soles your shoes and your pulse flutter wildly.

Oh, no. No. I will not get flustered by Elvis.

Cheeks heating, you look away and focus every ounce of attention you have on undoing the straps on your heels.

Elvis starts to hum a song you don’t immediately recognize, the sound vibrating and warm and sultry. Like a siren’s song, it threatens to hypnotize you. It distracts you enough that you fumble with the stubborn clasp on your heel, unable to wrench the leather free of the buckle. You let out a huff.

“Here. Lemme help, baby,” he says, more a soft command than an offer, the sound wrapping around you like velvet. He kneels before you, placing your foot on his knee, his long, nimble fingers working the strap free. If you hadn’t already been holding your breath, the way he gently massages the crease the strap left on your ankle through your stockings might have caused you to gasp.

“How’d I never notice these pretty lil’ sooties?” he coos, rubbing his thumb into the sore arch of your foot.

You bite back the moan threatening to slip free due to the sensation, but it escapes anyway, as a tiny whimper instead. Perhaps you imagine the way the apples of his cheeks go pink at the sound. Either way, you feel like you are about to come apart at the seams.

He makes slow work of massaging your foot and then placing it back down. You suck in a breath, just as he grabs the other and repeats the action of freeing then massaging it.

“Elvis,” you gasp much too breathlessly. You want to melt into the sensation, but the rest of your body feels like it’s on fire, a molten pit growing in your belly that you can’t seem to stop. You should push him away, you know you should, because this is too much, too intimate, but you can’t seem to will yourself to do so.

“Hmm?” he replies innocently, as if he truly has no idea what he has reduced you to. His hand squeezes down your foot until he reaches your toes. “Oh, honey, why ain’t these perfect lil’ piggies painted?” he asks, near scandalized.

The question throws you. “I…I’ve never seen the need,” you stutter out. “It’s not as though anyone would see them and being on my feet all day in the ward would just ruin them…”

His brows furrow. “Not even with your girlfriends? Or for a day at the beach?” he asks, genuinely confused as to why a young lady would never paint her toenails.

Your heart aches acutely all the sudden. The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them: “I didn’t have many friends like that. Or time to spend with them. I was busy raising my brothers and then I left for nursing school….”

“Oh.” He says it so softly and full of compassion you nearly want to cry. Then, his demeanor shifts. “Well, all that changes now, Little Bird.” He gives your feet one last pat and then smoothly lifts himself off his knees, going towards the door.

“What?” you ask, confused. This man has your head spinning.

He flings the door open. “Hey, Charlie! Charlie!” he yells into the penthouse.

“Yeah?” you hear Charlie call back.

“I need you to get some nail polish. Pink is best, but red’ll do.”

You hear a long pause, then a shuffle. “Ummm, where am I gonna find polish in the middle of the night, EP?”

Elvis sighs. “Use yer brain, buddy. You tellin’ me none of those girls out there has any polish on ‘em? I have faith you can figure it out.” Then he shuts the door with a grin.

Dumbfounded, you gape at him. “You can’t be serious, Elvis. It’s late and we need to get some rest…I don’t particularly want to paint my toenails right now. And truth be told, I’m not very good at it,” you say, feeling panicked by the whole idea. The idea of him watching you trying and failing to paint your toes makes you squirm.

He just grins. “Good thing I ain’t tired, then, baby! You can relax and I’ll take care of it. Go get in your jammies.”

Your brain feels broken. He can’t possibly be suggesting what you think he is. Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“Close that purty mouth—you look like a big ol’ guppy over ‘dere,” he laughs, his accent seeming stronger than usual. “Now, go on—get ready for bed,” he orders, pulling you off the bed.

“Elvis—”

“Nope, don’ wanna hear it, honey! Go!”

Which is how you find yourself in the bathroom, changing into the modest but silky, white, button up pajamas Elvis bought for you on your shopping spree a few weeks ago and doing your nightly routine with a flock of very baffled butterflies in your stomach. You are also a little afraid for the state of your toes by the time this is all said and done.

And yet, Elvis manages to surprise you again, not only with the fact that Charlie was indeed able to get his hands on pearly pink nail polish at this hour, but with his ability to paint nails. It’s more than adorable the way he concentrates on getting it right, tongue caught between his teeth, even sticking cotton between your toes to keep them apart. Usually, you would hate having someone touch your feet, but he’s so gentle about it and you are so distracted by how unbelievable the situation is and how a dark lock of hair falls imperfectly over his forehead as he bends over your toes that you can’t bring yourself to tell him no.

As always, time seems to warp with him, and it’s so late it’s early. You find yourself yawning, wiggling your freshly pink toenails in a state of strangely pleased disbelief.

“You like ‘em, Little Bird?” he asks, eyes shining with an unexpected need of approval.

“Yes, they are lovely. If this singing thing doesn’t work out, you could open a salon. The girls would go crazy,” you joke.

He bows his head with a bashful smile, then looks up at you through those long lashes and you feel like the bed has dropped out from under you.

“Naw, this is only for the special lil’ nurses who hafta put up with me every day. No one else.” His eyes twinkle, lighting your body with electricity.

Why does he have to be so charming?

Part of you wants to scream at him to stop being so nice to you. If he knew what trouble you were, what you’ve brought to his doorstep, he’d never be looking at you like this or treating you with such care.

No one since your mother has treated you with such care.

Tears threaten to spring to your eyes, and you push your feelings as far away as you can, as fast as you can.

“Speaking of,” you say, clearing your throat, “I should take your vitals before you sleep.”

Elvis looks confused and maybe a little hurt at your abrupt subject change but recovers quickly enough. “Aww, come on, Little Bird, not tonight. I feel fine, I swear it.”

But you need your armor, and your job gives you that. It gives you space from these stupidly complicated feelings you are having. “Grab my bag and we can prove it.”

Elvis sighs, but does what you say, quiet as you take his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse. When you finish, surprise fills you.

Elvis looks concerned. “What is it? Everythin’ okay? I’m tired, sure, but I feel—”

“No, I know,” you interrupt, “your numbers are good. Apparently a wildly successful comeback performance coupled with giving a late-night pedicure was just the right medicine.” You can’t help but smile at him.

He looks at you wide eyed, then gives you a blinding smile. “Or maybe you’re just that good for me, darlin’.”

Your heart flips in your chest, beating in your throat, but you refuse to let it show on your face. “Sure, mister. Quit your flirting and get in the bed,” you say firmly, only realizing your mistake when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“To sleep! Go to sleep, Elvis!” you say, rolling your eyes. You cover the blush on your face by turning over to flip off the lamp on your nightstand.

His hiccupping laugh makes you smile in the dark when he slides into the bed next to you. You are acutely aware of the heat of him, and though he doesn’t touch you, you can’t help but sense that he wants to as his chuckles die down to silence.

After a pregnant pause, he speaks again, quiet but direct.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me, honey? From earlier when we got interrupted?”

Your heart trips, then races with both surprise and fear. Thank God he can’t see your face because you are battling the onslaught of thoughts spiraling in your mind.

He won’t understand. He’ll kick you out on the street.

No, don’t keep lying to him. He deserves the truth.

Not now, later.

Protect him, protect him, protect him…

It’s the vision of Gianni ripping out Elvis’ throat that makes the decision for you.

“No, it was nothing,” you whisper shakily, clutching the sheets in your hands.

“Oh,” he says, almost blankly, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he sounded upset.

But that wouldn’t make sense.

“Goodnight, Elvis,” you say quietly.

“Goodnight, Lori.”

Your stomach drops at how he uses your actual name, all the warmth from earlier gone from his voice. As tired as you are, shame and regret churn in your stomach—a stew of nausea that won’t seem to abate, even after you eventually drift off to sleep.

*

Three more days you spend in Florida, each one bringing even more maddening behavior from Elvis. Somehow, when you weren’t looking, a switch flipped yet again. He’s rapidly vacillating between moody and sullen to downright cold and cutting.

He keeps you close, to be sure, while going water skiing and taking long drives and cavorting with his friends, but the sweet, compassionate closeness from the night of filming the special is nowhere to be found. You feel like an accessory he strapped to his wrist, desperately trying to make sure he doesn’t run himself ragged with all the “fun” he is having. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the flirting and the inappropriate jokes and jabs not fit for mixed company. No, he does it with you at his side, like he’s trying to make a point.

Even the Colonel is distressed, confronting Elvis about spending too much and making the return trip to Memphis one by bus instead of train as some sort of power move to wrangle the star. Elvis just laughs it off, and in what seems to be true Elvis fashion, he seems to spend more rather than less just to stick it to the Colonel. All of it put together reminds you of the adolescent behavior of your younger brothers.

It’s exhausting, running after this moody man-child who acts like you hung the moon one minute and in the next ignores you. You remind him until you are blue in the face that he must rest and have some semblance of a normal routine when he can, instead of running himself into the ground by overindulging in nearly every sense of the word. The man seems to have no concept of the word “moderation” and as annoyed as you are, you are more worried this will lead to another, more serious episode.

It's easy to blame him for the near-constant headaches and exhaustion ailing you. Having to pretend to go along with his antics as his girlfriend while also having to babysit him as his nurse is continuing to run you ragged. Not to mention the emotional upheaval of trying to piece out your own feelings for him and manage your lingering fear about Gianni at the same time.

The worst, however, is the lack of playfulness Elvis had with you coupled with the brooding silence he shoves between you in your very few moments alone. Nothing reminds you more you are just his nurse. The rest, whatever it was, seems a folly concocted by your addled imagination.

You can’t shake the feeling of being punished for some unknown offense. Maybe it is just your guilt brewing under the surface, trying to make sense of this man. It’s hard to break the habit of feeling like no matter what you do and how good you are at your job, you are somehow still a burden to the men in your life.

But it isn’t just that. Every stunning smile or touch he gives another woman fees barbed and has your blood boiling, even though it shouldn’t. Every sly remark about being “tied down” he makes to the guys makes your skin crawl. Worse yet, he starts poking fun at you any chance he gets, edging more into mean spirited with each jab, and even his friends shoot you apologetic looks by the end of the trip.

And yet another full day with them all, coupled with Elvis’ ire, all the stupid jokes, and the rampant gas that all the men seem to have, this time trapped on a smelly chartered bus, has you feeling claustrophobic and ready to throw yourself out the window. It’s unusual for you to feel so bothered by such things—you grew up in a houseful of men after all. You learned early on to keep your feelings to yourself, especially to keep off your father’s radar. Patience for rowdy men has historically been one of your greatest virtues, but Elvis has you digging your nails into your knees and biting your tongue more than once as the bus slowly ambles towards Memphis.

He's just an unruly patient—don’t take it personally, you chant to yourself all the way home. You try, you do, but your stomach ties in more knots with each passing mile and with the memory of feeling cared for by him contradicting everything he’s lobbing at you.

By the time you arrive back at Graceland, you are ruing all your life decisions. Despite reminding yourself of how, logically, you are safer and more secure here than you’ve ever been in your life, you’ve reached your limit of patience with Elvis and his entourage for the day. Maybe the week. Or the month.

Oh, Madone, how am I supposed to do this for the unforeseen future if I can’t make it a month with this man?

At least here you can safely put some space between you. You fly off the bus as soon as the door opens.

“Hey! Hey, where do you think you’re goin’?” he yells from behind you.

Why do you care? is what you want to say, but you swallow the urge instead.

You keep walking down the driveway, away from the house, pretending you don’t hear him. Nothing good can come from you answering him right now, not when you are feeling so on edge. Besides that, it’s hard to think with the throbbing behind your eyes and the slight carsickness rolling in your stomach from being on the bus all day.

“Lori, stop! Goddammit, Dolores, where. Are. You. Goin’?” he shouts, punctuating each word, your name rolling off his tongue like an admonishment. You stop in your tracks. It infuriates you he deems to use your given name like you’re the one who has done something wrong, like it’s your behavior that’s been so poor.

“Away from you!” you shout back at him, unable to keep your frustration locked in any longer.

Your heart sinks, immediately knowing you’ve overstepped but annoyed enough not to quit while you’re ahead. You start walking again, hurrying away as if you can still escape this whole situation.

The chorus of men chuckling and “oooh”ing at Elvis as they amble off the bus does not help matters.

“What the hell did you just say?” he growls low, his large strides hard on the pavement as they try to catch up with your smaller ones. “Hey, don’t walk away from me when I’m talkin’ to ya!”

“Leave me alone, Elvis! It’s obvious you’ve wanted me out of your hair for weeks, so go! Do whatever it is you need to do to get whatever this is out of your system,” you snap, still stomping forward, pulling your coat tight around your middle as you try to reacclimate to the early spring chill in the air. “Go…get laid or something,” you mutter, surprised at your own crassness.

“Hey! Stop bein’ such a b-bitch and stop walkin’ away from me!” he roars, grabbing your upper arm to pull you around.

You gasp as his rough touch lances through you, sending a lightning bolt of fear down to your toes. “Get your hands off me!” you hiss, violently yanking away from his grasp. Your heart knocks unpleasantly in your chest, faster and faster as your breath heaves. Part of you wants to run away as fast as you can, but you are frozen in place.

He’s not Gianni, a soft voice whispers. He won’t hurt you.

You want to believe it, you really do, but the fact is you barely know this man. You’ve wanted to believe so badly he is warm and caring, you’ve wanted to trust him because there is no one else you can, but your hopes don’t make it true.

Seeing your distress, something besides anger flashes in Elvis’ eyes and he quickly drops his arm from you.

All your pent-up fury washes over you then and you lash out uncharacteristically. “And don’t you dare call me a bitch when you’ve been acting the way you have,” you spit back at him.

He shutters his look of shock at your outburst so quickly you barely see it before flames darken his eyes again. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You’re just crazy.” It’s cutting but it’s obvious you struck a nerve.

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding and your head throbbing with a hundred emotions threatening to tear you apart.

You’ve never felt so bold or off the rails before, but the words fly out of you with little thought of the consequences as you point your finger at him. “Listen to me, Elvis Presley: I’m not Anita or one of your sycophantic girlfriends you can play your silly little hot-and-cold mind games with. I’m not crazy. I’m here to do a job. And instead of letting me, you are making it hard every step of the way. For days you’ve been sulking around like a child who hasn’t gotten his way instead of communicating like an adult what is wrong!”

Elvis’ eyes go wide as he reels back like you’ve slapped him in the face. Then his brow furrows, eyes blazing before locking you out once more.

“Oh, you’d know all about mind games, wouldn’t ya, honey?” he says coldly, advancing on you. “Why communicate w-w-when y-you can just pretend it’s not happenin’ and run away? I’m sure your fee-an-cè and his mafia buddies would have a lot to say about that, now, huh?”

Your heart screeches to a stop.

Dio mio…he knows.

“Elvis…” you breathe out, and then you can’t seem to breathe in again. Your shock is eclipsed by the fact somehow Elvis knows your secret. Everything else is forgotten. All your panicked mind can think of is how Gianni or your father somehow got to Elvis and they must be here, now, to take you back to New York.

An involuntary shudder overtakes you as you whisper, “How?”

“Oh, your good friend Sinatra told me the w-w-whole damn East Coast of mobsters is pissed o-off. Called you some mafia princess Helen of Troy and told me to cut you loose, if I-I-I knew w-what w-was good for me,” Elvis barrels on, his handsome face dark and storming with anger.

“What?” It’s so breathless, you aren’t sure you said it aloud. Frank knew? Of course.

Oh, God, everyone knows.

They are coming for me.

The acid in your stomach bubbles, and if it weren’t empty, the contents would be spilled over Elvis’ expensive shoes.

“I-It w-was humiliatin’, not knowin’ what the hell he was talkin’ about! But you wanna know the worst of it, Lori? That I gave you every chance to tell me and you still didn’t. You lied. I thought…” Elvis keeps speaking, his low voice angry and hurt, but suddenly it sounds like he’s in a wind tunnel. All your focus turns inward, though you are vaguely aware that you are shaking like a leaf.

Elvis is going to send me back.

And he has every right. He’s got to protect himself. You were selfish and brought this to his doorstep and didn’t even have the courtesy to warn him. Then he had to go and hear it from Frank of all people.

It was no wonder he’s been acting so strange.

He’s been preparing to let me go.

Your chest constricts and your heart aches. It feels like betrayal, though you know it’s not. You are the one who betrayed him, not the other way around. You’d thought maybe Elvis was different, he’d shown you such compassion at your worst moments, but that was before he knew what you’d dragged him into. And you are a horrible for doing it. Maybe you deserve the hell you know Gianni will put you through.

There is no stopping the tears from pouring down your cheeks.

“I-I’m so, so sorry,” you sob, now a hiccupping, shivering mess.

Gianni’s obsidian eyes and horrific smile when he sees you again flash in your mind. “Hello, Bella…”

Oh, Madone, I can’t go back, I can’t. He’ll kill me. Or worse…

The air in your lungs seems to evaporate, leaving you gasping and dizzy. That weightless space, the one you go to when you can’t bear to feel anymore, awaits you, but you can’t seem to reach it because Elvis is grabbing your shoulders, the anger gone from his eyes and replaced with concern. But he is tethering you to reality when all you want to do is disappear. And you can’t help but feel like you’ve damned him.

Your stomach churns once more and you lose the battle, heaving bile off to the side and onto the pavement. It steals what little strength and air you have left, and the edges of your vision bleed black, like the shadow of Gianni is finally here to take you away.

I’m sorry, is the only thought left when your knees buckle and your body crumbles into Elvis’ arms.

Then there is just dark, blissful silence.

*

Thank you for reading and supporting my work!! As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated if you enjoyed what you read! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[loveisnotfinite]

I have been reading some comments around and just thought I would give you my two cents about a couple of things. Just for the sake of sharing and infusing some calming positivity above the fandom I hope.

I come from a long viewer experience; deeply invested viewer experience. I love tv shows, I love falling in love with them; I am kinda selective, I do not waste much time on those that do not resonate for me, but I can watch crime stories, horror ones, love stories, spies ones, as long as they have something that intrigues me. But when there’s a good love story, I am like Penelope. I can’t resist. I love to watch the relationships unfolding, I love the ups and downs, the rollercoaster of emotions. Blending comedy with drama, as well. And from time to time I love the feeling to find just my perfect cup of tea. That one show feeding my soul in that particular moment of my life. Among my favs, just to give a picture: This is Us, Jane the Virgin, The Good Place, The Good Wife, Modern Family, House, and many others.

I come from a long experience then. And getting invested, shipping a couple with the highest level of expectations can be tricky. Especially if you let PR strategy get to you.

On one level, you expect so much from the show you’re watching, you start making up fantasies of your own, picturing stuff in your head and that of course never materializes. It would be impossible. And yet some creative decisions serve a higher purpose. It’s a work of art. Some people would always find something they do not like so much, others will go along. If you don’t have expectations and are less invested, you probably end up enjoying it more, in a sense. But there’s a lot of work behind it all, so many professionals giving their hearts and souls to the project, putting their whole selves in it, to give us the best story, told in the best way they could conceive it. Doing their absolute best. And it feels disrespectful to me, destroying their efforts, just because a few things weren’t the dream come true of my expectations.

On the other hand, and this goes beyond what should be said or discussed, PR strategy is just what it is. And it adds some fun of course but actors have their lives. Although they generously share them with us, play with us, humor the fandom. We don’t have any idea how difficult that must be at times. At yet they do it with a smile of their faces, keeping up the facade even if they might feel unease (which is understandable even if they can play along and laugh about it cause they are professionals and actors to the core). That being said, despite someone might like to fantasize, whatever personal choices or people they love or date, that doesn’t diminish the bonds they create, the chemistry, the affection or the special connection we observe and love so much about them. All of these have fueled their performance, nurture it. And I believe it’s a blessing. Just as much Kanthony was so good because of the great friendship b/w John and Simone. Paraphrasing Benedict, there might be enough love for everyone. To have a special someone and yet loving to bits one of your best friends, who might even be some sort of soulmate or just a what if that nevertheless will never come true. Or maybe not. Everyone is the main character of their own life. Only they can tell. But as a friendly advice, from an older me to my younger self, and to the ones among you feeling off right now, I would say, do learn to separate fiction from reality. Characters from people. Their lives go on just the same. Yours might feel deprived of something that is just in your heads and was never truly yours. You just borrowed someone else’s alleged emotions, picking up glances and smiles, and cute stuff alright but… focus on your life. And take advantage of fiction when it can let you fly high, elsewhere, far way, and get you come back home with a different feeling inside you. Healing or filling whatever hole you felt that needed care and mending.

I want to let it sink in. And go back rewatching season 3 with some more detachment. I gave it 9 out 10 really. I feel so blessed by this tale of love and so grateful for all the fun of the press tour.

Let’s keep having fun.

[1d1195]

Normal People VI

I feel like some of you aren't going to like my "creative direction" on this one and I'm sorry for that. But if you've read any of my other work, there's not much I can do about these endings I write.

This last part kind of starts abruptly...kind of ends abruptly too. I recognize that. I just wanted to post and I've had a good chunk of this written since August. I think it's time. I hope you've enjoyed Normal People. You can read the rest here: Normal People. As much as I enjoyed the show, the book, and writing this, I'm looking forward to moving on to my next piece.

“If you break my heart, I think I’ll die.”

He smirked sadly, without humor. “I think if I break your heart...I’ll die, too,” he whispered and gently.

It was mid-October, home for the weekend. Her favorite time of year. It was warm from the fall day, but it was chilling off rapidly in the setting evening sun. That’s when she finally had enough, her favorite time of year. When Harry ruined everything. All the progress that he had made with her at university over the last year and a half...

When he was away from his friends from home, and it was just Niall and some of her friends, he was himself—truly himself.  As hurt as she felt, she was also so sad for Harry for not feeling like he could be himself around his friends. Harry was so much better at university than he ever was in their school days.

But it didn’t make the hurt any less awful.

She thought it would be different. So maybe that was her own fault for setting her expectations so high of someone that had only ever let her down at home. Without really noticing, she called Niall. Niall was one of the only people who knew the Harry that she loved so much. The one that didn’t break her heart anymore. “Hey Niall,” she sniffed into the phone.

“Oh...hey princess, y’okay?”

She nodded. “Just...uh...” there was a hollow laugh that escaped her lips at the prospect of crying over Harry and his lack of ability to keep her heart safe. “Just...did Harry ever tell you about us?”

“Yeah...” Niall sighed. Poor thing. “M’sorry, that—”

“How come I’m not good enough?” She interrupted.

Niall frowned as he listened to the sound of her soft sniffles and shaky breathing through the phone. “Oh, princess. You’re too good. He knows that.”

“Then why does he always break my heart?” She whimpered.

Shaking his head, he wanted to smack Harry. Of course, he loved the sweet girl. She was an angel. But Harry deserved her and so much more for himself, only because he had hid his true feelings and emotions for so long. But Niall didn’t want her hurting. Especially because of Harry. No one deserved that—but especially not her. “I don’t know, love. I really don’t know.”

She nodded. “Okay...m’sorry to call and bother you. I just...” she sighed and shook her head. “You know the same Harry that I do.”

“The one that loves you so wholly,” Niall nodded in agreement. He knew what she meant. She shook her head at his words and whispered a quiet no. It felt like agony. It felt almost as bad as when her mom left her. It felt awful. “He does, love. I promise. He’s just an idiot.”

But it didn’t feel like it...it never did. So, she stayed silent.

*

Harry was racing out the door. He wasn’t himself. The guy his friends knew from their school days was long gone. The guy that was just inside wasn’t the same one from university either. That was someone entirely different. Someone that had the confidence to stand up for what he believed was right and for what he thought was wrong. Someone that made a scene and someone that yelled like nothing he’d ever done before.

But he thought it was still too late.

He didn’t stop them from making fun of her again. It was just like the party nearly two years ago. Sarah did more of a number on the stupid guys and catty girls in the group. They watched her with disdain and snickered under their breath. When they finally had the whole place laughing at her expense, she finally lost it. “You’re really not going to say anything?” She asked it so quietly as she looked at Harry expectantly.

He was soundless, blank. His muscles were stiff. Frozen in this horrible moment. He should have done something. Said something. Anything would have been better than absolutely nothing. Sarah silently, telepathically, begged for him to do anything.

Maybe it was too late, but once she was out the door, he caused a scene. A loud one. One that his friends never expected him to produce. Sarah was so proud she could have cried. But there was one friend that said, “If you liked her, why didn’t you say anything?”

Harry wanted to scream.

*

It was a bit later that he found her. It wasn’t like she was missing, and no one knew where she was. It was just sad that no one was looking for her. No one really cared that she left.

But Harry did.

He always did.

She was sitting on the ground. A small blanket from her car was the only thing separating her from the cold ground. She was sitting up straight, her legs outstretched in front of her, and her neck craned almost perpendicular to the ground to stare at the sky.

“Hey kitten,” he said softly. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Do you like clouds?” She wondered.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he got closer to her, and he gazed down at her as she stared up at the endless world in front of them. Her eyes were glassy. They rotated across the view above her slowly, over, and over. He could see from her face that she was thinking so deeply about something, and he wondered what that was.

“’Ve never really...looked at them,” he admitted quietly. He wished he did. Just so it could be one more thing that he understood on her behalf. He glanced upwards now, and sure it was pretty but it was obvious she was seeing so much more than Harry. Something more. She always did.

“I love clouds,” she whispered and leaned back slowly to lie down and could stare at the sky without straining her neck, she was nearly unblinking as she watched the clouds shift before her. “I’ve always been a sky-kinda girl,” she explained. “No one ever really...” she shook her head. “No one I know understood it...except my mom,” she sighed scrunching her face sadly. “No one ever really understood me the way she did,” she whispered quietly.

Harry didn’t know what to say so he just stayed quiet. He was still looking at her, unable to move his eyes from her. She was stunning. Even when sad. He wanted to understand her, he thought he did have a pretty good understanding of her. But how was he supposed to compare to her mum? How could he get her to believe him after that horrific display?

“How can you not...” she shook her head as she trailed off changing her sentence part way through. “The sky is never going to look like this again,” she gestured toward the clouds. Harry finally looked up and really looked. The clouds were fluffy, pink, purple, gray, and yellow. The sun peeked through the thinner parts casting rays along the rest of the sky. It was beautiful. It was like a watercolor painting. “Even in five minutes...a whole new sky,” she mumbled.  It was very poetic the way she said it. However, Harry knew she wasn’t just talking about the sky. “I’ve always been in love with the sky,” she told him. Harry didn’t know that. He felt like he knew nothing about her in that moment.

“Yeah?” He murmured. It was all he could get his tongue to say.

“The sun, the stars, the moon. The clouds,” she shook her head. “M’in love with it all.”

While she stared at the sky, the air seemed so quiet, and Harry moved his gaze away from the clouds and back to her. He tried, with everything in him, to see what she saw. And yes, it was beautiful. But nothing compared to her. He wanted to say he loved her. Every part of her. He was in love with it all—but she was more than the sun, the stars, the moon, and the clouds. She was the entire universe.

“How’d you find me?”

“Huh?” He murmured sitting on the ground away from her two feet of space between them.

“Find me?” She repeated.

Harry was silent for a moment. “I... I don’t like t’be too far away from you,” he answered. It didn’t really answer her question. He hoped she would just let it go. He didn’t know how to explain to her that his heart would search far and wide for her. He wouldn’t rest until he knew where she was so he could know she was safe and okay...especially when he was the cause of her heartache.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Why?” She wondered.

He shook his head. “Something...something about you, love,” he mumbled.

There was just the sound of the light breeze whooshing past their ears for a moment. “I wish you figured that out years ago,” she said quietly. His chest hurt. He deserved that. “Y’know Harry, I always thought that you liked me,” she whispered bravely. “And I thought that was ridiculous because you were popular and lovely, and I was weird, smart, and quiet.”

“You are lovely,” he whispered. She seemed to pretend like she didn’t hear him.

“And then you kissed me, and I was so sure...and...” she shook her head trailing off, devastated again.

“Kitten,” he said softly. She didn’t need to finish her thoughts. He knew what she wanted to say.

She ignored him. “You can leave,” she said softly. She didn’t want him there anymore than he wanted to be there, she was sure.

Don’t go. Don’t leave her...again. Harry felt compelled to respect her wishes. To leave her alone and let her sit alone. But it was chilling rapidly. He had already left her once at that party and he regretted it so intensely, it still hurt even though she was right in front of him.

And the sky was almost as beautiful as she was.

And he hadn’t told her as such.

“I can’t,” he croaked. He felt so horrible for being too late. For not saying what he was feeling for not...for letting them treat her that way. Even after all these years. It made him sick. She turned her head and looked at him. “I can’t leave you, kitten.”

“M’sure I told you to stop calling me kitten,” she shook her head. She was exasperated. He watched the way her shoulders shook against the chilly air. He wanted to hold her. Wanted to warm her. The only thing he wanted was to touch her.

He winced. “Yeah...I can’t do that either.”

“Please leave,” she whispered.

Don’t. “Kitten.”

“Harry,” she sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and Harry propped himself to his knees beside her. He turned his body toward her. He wasn’t going to mess up. She glanced at him momentarily, sucking her lip into her mouth. She kept her eyes above, staring at the clouds ever changing and moving. The breeze was picking up, icing the air and surely her skin. Harry wanted to wrap his arms around her more, keep her warm and safe the way he never had before. She didn’t respond to his apology. “Kitten,” he said quietly.

“Harry, I swear to God, stop with the kitten.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I can’t. You’re my...” he shook his head. “I’m so sorry I was horrible t’you. But you’re my kitten. I can’t ever stop. Even if y’never forgive me—you’ll always be m’kitten.”

She felt her eyebrows pinch together, she stared at him soberly for a long moment. It felt like time had frozen there as the sun dipped further behind the clouds. The pink sky turning gray and dark, readying for the stars to appear.

Had he really been carrying this guilt all this time? Didn’t he know she was friends with him because...? Harry was intelligent, surely, he wasn’t this inept. “Harry... you’ve always been forgiven.”

He blinked. It felt like time had stopped. “What?”

“It was school, Harry. I can’t blame you...the hormones, the people, the...everything...it wasn’t your fault.”

Harry felt the air escape his lungs. “No,” he shook his head. “No, love...you can’t...you can’t give in that easily. I don’t deserve you and I was s’horrible t’you. If you jus’—”

“Harry, you weren’t horrible to me,” she shook her head. “There wasn’t a single day I spent with you that wasn’t the best day of my life,” she sounded irritated. “I don’t want to be in love with you, but I can’t help it. But it’s killing me. I don’t want to be in love with you anymore. I’m just...waiting for the inevitable heartbreak.”

Harry was still and silent. He wanted to cry. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her to wait for that. It didn’t have to be like that. “Love.”

 “Harry, it hurts so much to be this in love and only for you to be scared and not reciprocate it.”

He nodded. “I know,” he winced; he didn’t understand the torment she was feeling due to his lack of attention or help. But he understood the torment he was feeling due to his own stupidity. Losing her would be the worst mistake of his life. “I wish...”

She sniffled and Harry realized she was crying. “I wish too,” she whispered. “You’re...my best friend. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I think tonight was proof I would...I mean. Can you really say that you’re not worried? They’re not going to go away. And for whatever reason they don’t like me.”

“I want nothing t’do with them, then, kitten. You’re m’whole world. M’whole life,” he explained.

She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s enough, Harry. I can love you and love you and love you but it’s just...”

He felt so defeated. Keep fighting. It was one tiny voice in his head shouting at the top of his lungs. It seemed useless. She was right in some ways. She had no reason to believe Harry could change after his performance. It seemed like the fight was futile. But he wanted her.

He wanted her something fierce.

“When was the last time we kissed?” He asked.

She blinked at him; it was so sudden. “What?”

“When did we kiss last?”

The blood rushed to her cheeks turning them pink like the sky but Harry wanted to kiss her until she was redder than a firetruck. “Harry...”

“Kitten, please,” he begged.

“You can’t fix us with a kiss.”

He leaned forward and cupped his hand against her face. She gasped softly and tried to pull her head away ever so slightly. “It won’t be one kiss.”

She looked so sad. “Harry...”

“Kitten,” he croaked and closed his eyes. He felt like the air in his lungs was solidifying as he tried to breathe. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t. But I have to try,” he told her. “You’re my whole world.”

She gazed at him, his hand on her cheek, and her eyes so mistrusting. “I’d rather you be my best friend than lose you because you don’t love me.”

“I adore you.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” She asked.

“It has to be.”

Swallowing she placed her hand over his against her cheek. She turned her head toward his palm and brushed her lips against it. “If you break my heart, I think I’ll die.”

He smirked sadly, without humor. “I think if I break your heart...I’ll die, too,” he whispered and gently, with the touch of a butterfly brushed his lips over hers. Her eyes closed and she seemed to melt into him.

“S’really cold out here,” she whispered.

He nodded and kissed her a little more deeply, wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her to him in hopes of keeping her warm. “Were y’gonna sit out here all night and freeze?”

She shook her head and smiled softly. “Guess I knew you would come around,” she admitted.

Harry sighed with relief. “M’glad you knew.”

Wrinkling her cute little nose, she leaned in and kissed Harry once more. “I think your kissing needs some work.”

“M’a bit out of practice.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and kissed him again.

“Let’s get you warm.”

“I’m pretty warm now,” she told him.

He nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With his forehead pressed to hers he grinned and then kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you,” it was so simple to say. Easy. So entirely easy. From far away they looked like a normal couple. Ready to watch and wish on shooting stars. There was silence between them, the air seeming to warm around them and Harry’s declaration. He would wait forever for her to say it back to him. Even if she just said it several times over, it meant something different now that Harry could say it.

“I love you too,” she answered finally. Harry sighed with relief and kissed her more.

There was nothing normal about them.

But she wouldn’t want it any other way.

--

taglist: @feestyles @sunshinemoonsposts @matildasatellite @reveriehs @asmilinghopefullromantic @macy-tpwk

[faithfromanewperspective]

do you know how much the way certain fans feel this sense of ownership of celebrities they love and relate to pisses me off and has for years?

like I’ve been a young teen in the days one direction was big. I’ve made mistakes and said things I don’t morally agree with to fit in when I’ve been asked about celebrity crushes, artists I like etc. I learned not to trust fanfics with celebrities in them because I’ve read enough that have made me uncomfortable often in hindsight even if I enjoyed them at the time (not saying we can’t do ethical fics, but this is just an area I don’t engage with and so I’m not an expert in). I’ve had to see the same thing happen, in smaller ways, to people I love who were successful at something or attractive or whatever and as a result the people around them didn’t grant them the freedom they deserve and have a right to.

if I think too hard about it I reflect on the fact I might’ve lost the closest person I knew to a soulmate to this: they left the toxic environment I knew them from, and I knew at the time even that I was a reminder of that time of them, I had to let them go. What I’m saying I guess is this is personal, I do know something of what it’s like, I’m not trying to make it impossible to be a fan.

because I also understand the feeling of ‘no one gets me but X, I’m alive because of X, I find solace in their music or other art form and I’d die for a chance to meet them and I know I’m obsessed as a trauma reaction I can’t just stop’

like all you have to do is remember they’re a person with trauma too. and they’re baring themselves to share that, an incredibly vulnerable thing, they’re trusting us to take care of them. millions of us often who get it and are strengthened because of it as we get through whatever we’re going through. the impact is profound. and this goes both ways.

I remember when Taylor released red and I remember that it was the lucky one that made me realise the way celebrity worship culture had infiltrated into my high school. I remember even then, the emotions of the song convincing me I’d support her if she did disappear from the spotlight. That penny dropped so long ago I can’t remember it but. It’s not easy to be vulnerable with people who go crazy over you and unless you’re real intentional about it and have great boundaries, it’s not sustainable. At all. And this is where it’s our responsibility like it is with the way we tread lightly (or need to, badly) on our planet: we need to adopt the same attitude for our celebrities. Especially the ones we love.

because can you imagine being thrust into that world when you yourself are a teenager, too young to know what boundaries even are? When you’re a teenager who’s from a background of obscurity and struggling to fit in as it is, hungry for love and validation and already used to working hard and beating yourself up at everything bad that happens that you may or may not have had any control over?

I can’t speak for the background of most celebrities but I do know what it’s like to grow up in western sydney in the early 2000s, creative and sensitive and likely neurodivergent in a world that doesn’t know what that is, in a world where we don’t think of ourselves as special or deserving of any sort of thing we might need, in a world where we survive by pleasing people and working hard. It makes for the most humble successful people you’ll ever meet who know how to have empathy and care and will probably work themselves—I know because I’ve done it—into the ground at any chance to have a meaningful difference in someone’s life.

and this is a trend that happens regardless of gender. women are objectified all the time, and as a society we’re starting to call that out. Good. If you’re trans people are weird and predatory all the time, and we’re starting to have conversations where we realise that. Good. And shaming people who are so horrible to such a vulnerable population. But if you’re a man, it doesn’t mean you’re immune to it. Especially if you’re good looking.

being a teenager in the 2010s means being part of a world and generation that was insane over boy bands and when you’re a teenager going through the things and finding comfort in music, you’re not all that powerful, just a vulnerable child. But we grew up, we’re in our 20s now, and we’re adults with power and we have to be conscious of that. Stalking is predatory behaviour, thinking back to the wedding people crowded outside of a month or so back. Recording someone in their private dressing room is predatory behaviour. These are things that if they happened to you, you would call the police, and if it continued, you would get a restraining order. Celebrities aren’t any different to you in that, except for the fact that this is normal fan behaviour to many apparently.

this needs to stop. If we want celebrities we can connect with to continue existing publicly we have to remember that they’re humans first. And go a step further: think about the fact that private jets are causing so much environmental damage and we have to do something about them. But celebrities can’t be normal people commuting where they have to go. They’re constantly on display and if you want to come across as a good person you have to be friendly to every fan. Even if you’re neurotypical, and many of our most talented are not, this is exhausting. Trust me when I say the best thing you can do for the environment, for the celebrities you love, for the music industry, anything, is treat them as normal people and connect with people who find comfort in their art like you do so you don’t feel alone: rather than thinking celebrities are yours to own in any way because of the impact they’ve had on you, and then being weird and gatekeepy at other fans.

this applies to any fandom really, but especially to those for celebrities who do decide to be vulnerable in their art. who tend to be kind with a tendency to people pleasing and possibly overwork too. who capture our hearts in so many ways and yes maybe their looks might play a part in it. who we’ve grown up with and maybe that means they started as kids too, had to learn boundaries the hard way and probably have still active trauma from that experience that’s impacting them and their personal lives because that’s what trauma does. who still decide to say nice things about how much they appreciate their fans all the time instead of ever taking it out on us.

but we can see their trauma in their songs when they are being vulnerable, and their success means that there are some of us who get it. A youth that was stolen and filled with mistakes/I turned all around look for someone to blame/but I’m over dramatic and drenched in my pain. I know I’m not the only one who that hit home for. So use your heads. You say you care and yet you turn people who care for you as much as they physically can when their fan base is in the millions into objects who exist for your own pleasure without thought to whether it’s hurting them. we need to do better.

(thank you @confusionmeisss for inspiring this rant)

[thisisej]

Thanks for the tag Sam!

Q: How did you get into reading/writing/drawing femslash? A: I've been in the fic world since I was 15. Fic was a way for me to interact with my sexuality when I was closeted to everyone I knew. I didn't have any sort of queer community; the closest thing I had was the internet. It took me a little longer to pluck up the courage to share my F/F stories, so I appreciate the creative outlet that fandom and writing fic has given me!

Q: What are your favorite femslash ships? A: Korrasami, Bubbiline, Clexa, Allison/Lydia (teen wolf), and TogaChako!! I feel like there are more, but I'll probably remember after posting this! (edit: it was Catradora)

Q: Which F/F rarepair(s) do you wish got more love and why? A: Right now my main fandom is My Hero Academia, and I have to say just about every Ochako femslash ship, with a special shoutout to MinaChako, TsuChako, Ochako/Setsuna, and Ochako/Kendou! Also all the Lady Nagant ships. I LOVE Lady Nagant. If I had to pick a BNHA crush it would be her. I love her best with Inko or Ippan Josei!

Q: What is your favorite thing about drawing/writing femslash? A: I think it's being able to relate to the characters I choose to write about, even if I haven't gone through everything I've ever put my characters through. Just sinking into the emotion and romance of a story I want to see through is such a fun experience, even at the height of drama, angst, or action and adventure!

Q: What is your greatest challenge when drawing/writing femslash? A: Smut! Pacing and word choice can make or break a scene and it's constantly a learning experience.

Q: Do you prefer reading/writing femslash one-shots or longfics? A: I love reading both! As for writing, oneshots are easier to finish, but harder to write. Longfic WIPs are my favorite to start because of all the worldbuilding I get to do, but they're the hardest to finish.

Q: What is your favorite/most underrated F/F fic you have written or F/F thing you've drawn? A: I'd say my urban fantasy MomoJirou AU, Sweet, Like Red. (mind the E rating!)

Q: What are your favorite tropes in F/F fics? A: Getting together! Hurt/Comfort, Mutual pining, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers

Q: What sort of background pairings do you like to see in fics with F/F as a main pairing? A: My most read F/F pairing right now is TogaChako. I'd say my favorite background pairings in fics with them are definitely Deku and Mina ships, because they're both favorites of mine and I adore fics that feature their friendships with Ochako.

Q: What tone or vibes do you prefer in femslash fics? Crack? Angst? Fluff? A bit of everything? A: I read a wide variety of fic. Everything from fluff and rom-coms to crack, soapy dramas and heavy angst. I also really enjoy horror. When I write, I think I tend toward a more serious or dramatic style, but am trying to lean into lighter plots as well!

Q: Are there any specific F/F WIPs you are working on or ideas you’ve cooked up that you’re especially excited about? A: I'm working on two right now! I'm a big omegaverse fan, and F/F omegaverse is hard to come by, so I'm whittling away at the next chapter of a TogaChako everyone-lives-and-is-a-pro-hero AU with an omegaverse twist. Anti Gravity centers on an adult pro-hero Ochako who's sworn off relationships teaming up with underground hero Sanguine to bust a trafficking ring, not realizing her new partner (and assigned heat contact) is the very same mysterious hook-up she can't seem to get out of her head. Please note this fic is rated E, and will eventually feature canon typical violence and some dystopia. The Egg in the Moon is a KendoChako high fantasy AU complete action/adventure, dragons, and soulmate marks! When Princess Ochako meets dragonborn Itsuka on the battlefield, she must face everything she thought she knew about the tension between their people with the reality when an unexpected event brings her and Itsuka together. Please note this fic is rated M, and does contain moments of peril, graphic violence and side character death.

Q: Any fic recs?

A: Loads!!!

If you enjoy F/F omegaverse like myself, I'd definitely recommend:

NefarioussNess's TogaChako SoulMate series (T and M ratings with background BKDK)

SeasonalSaison's achingly lovely fantasy tale Run baby run (rated T. Warning that TogaChako meet as step siblings when their parents marry, prompting a lovely case of unrequited but actually requited love)

Sugar Sweet Strawberries is a MinaChako AU where mentor Mina takes fledgling sugar baby Ochako under her wing. (Warning for E rating and sex work)

For BNHA stories that aren't omegaverse:

read between my lines by FireHeartAW is a witchy TogaChako bookshop AU complete with confessions and all the sapphic love at first sight feels (rated T)

KharmtheRose has a wonderful assortment of F/F BNHA fics! (some are rated E!)

Works by Wingedpaki (variety of ratings and AUs, including omegaverse!)

long to hold you by fizzseed is a delectable established relationship MinaChako (mind the E rating!)

Non BNHA:

Measure Each Step to Infinity by paxbanana (AtLA, Katara/Azula. Rated E). 200k+. One of my favorite epic length reads!

femslash writer/artist interview

I’m trying to get back into interviewer mode for one of my jobs and classes, so I decided to make a (hopefully) fun little game. Feel free to reblog, tag ppl and answer as few or as many of the questions as u want. And feel free to tailor the questions to make them more applicable to u

How did you get into reading/writing/drawing femslash?

What are your favorite femslash ships?

Which F/F rarepair(s) do you wish got more love and why?

What is your favorite thing about drawing/writing femslash?

What is your greatest challenge when drawing/writing femslash?

Do you prefer reading/writing femslash one-shots or longfics?

What is your favorite/most underrated F/F fic you have written or F/F thing you've drawn?

What sort of background pairings do you like to see in fics with F/F as a main pairing?

What are your favorite tropes in F/F fics?

What tone or vibes do you prefer in femslash fics? Crack? Angst? Fluff? A bit of everything?

Are there any specific fics or other forms of media that inspired you to write/draw for a specific ship?

Are there any specific F/F WIPs you are working on or ideas you’ve cooked up that you’re especially excited about?

Any fic recs?

@pianogav1n @jajalala @vriska @linkyychan @thisisej

[dodo-begone]

It's the Cat's Life for Me

Pairing: Ranboo x Reader, Tommy x Reader, Tubbo x Reader, Purpled x Reader

Request: Can I have your take on the yandere boys (purpled, ranboo, tommy, and tubbo) with a cat hybrid reader? Don't overwork yourself and remember self care! <3

Word count: 1.6k words

A/n: This all platonic, nothing romantic. Also oops i didn't make it yandere- misread it.

Ranboo

He’d definitely be excited to meet you, especially since you’re a hybrid. He’s an enderman hybrid and you are? Oh a cat hybrid! That’s really cool! You two should hang out a few times- it’ll be great.

When he realizes and puts the pieces together, he gets ultra excited. Most cats don’t like water, right? So does that mean you don’t like water or- oh you definitely don’t like water! Or water in that way. Maybe water period- you know what he shouldn’t and won’t try that again.

Now you two playfully threaten each other with water. You, at least, would have a squirt bottle at the reader for whenever the moment is right. Ranboo does the same. Think old wild west style shoot off. That’s what happens.

There has to be loads of cuddle sessions with purring. Specifically to calm one of you down. Or both of you. Doesn’t matter, works all the same.

I don’t care what Mojang said; endermen can and will be fluffy.>:( They have to be. So you just pet each other to help calm down. Either be pet or pet, that is the question. Honestly it’s a “whatever you think works best for you bud” thing.

So I already mentioned how you helped with his anxiety. But I want to go slightly more in depth with it. Anytime he seems like he’s panicking, and you get his permission, you just flop on him and purr up a storm. The combination of weight, sound, heat and feeling is very comforting to him. You’re like a living weighted blanket!

Also you totally nap on him during this time, making it impossible for him to stand up and do anything. Just designated chill time.

When this man enderwalks, it’s a whole cute show. Just an enderman hybrid, slightly hunched and walking around the server, muttering stuff in a different language. Then you got that cat hybrid that’s following him and occasionally rubbing against him. Especially if they think he’s about to get into trouble.

Sometime he’ll just pick you up and carry you around with him. It’s the equivalent of a child picking up the family cat and walking around with it. He isn’t properly holding you so you do that cat slinky thing where they just elongate like a slinky. You aren’t pleased but you can’t get out of his grasp.

Tommy

Okay kinda following the headcannon that Tommy has wings here. But when he finds out you’re a cat hybrid? Oh man this is so cool! What cat things can you do? Do you know? Want to find out? Want to commit science with him?

He will drop you from great heights and free fall with you. It’s a fun activity only the two of you can enjoy together.

Before you hit the ground, he’ll do his best to grab you and land. Other times aren’t that fortunate so you just land on the ground yourself. Mostly on your feet but there were a few times Tommy messed you your angle. He’ll always make sure you’re okay by the end.

Like any bird, he will love to annoy you. There is no safe place. Look away or don’t pay attention when he’s talking? Grab and gentle yoink the tail. Loves to just attack your tail when you’re relaxed or least expect it.

Once he realizes what effect catnip has on you, it’s game over. He can get you to do whatever he wants! After you play, rub, eat and sniff the catnip. And if he can get and keep your attention. Maybe this was a mistake…

Will absolutely get you cat toys. You don’t enjoy them, yet you do. It’s Tommy’s way of patronizing you but they’re also so fun. Man what a conundrum....

His favorite toy to get you is a laser pointer. Easy entertainment for everyone! Plus it’s his secret weapon. Admittedly his newest. It was something he should’ve realized ages ago. But now? Oh it’s his new best friend- besides you of course.

Losing an argument? Pull out the laser pointer? Wanting you to do something because he’s too lazy? Point that little red dot at a point where you pouncing on it gets his job done.

Play fighting is a very common occurrence between the two of you. Happens right out of the blue. You two could literally be chilling on a hill and then you two are wrestling aggressively on the ground.

Tommy also tries to spook you. Is it effective? Sometimes. Usually not. But when he’s able to get you to jump and just bolt away screaming? Man those are the best reactions! You jump so high too!

Tubbo

Aw man, here comes another fuzzy duo!! You two can easily chill out with each other. It’s incredible. You both calm down together. And just chit chat so much. Emotional support friend? Sure.

You’re so good with Micheal too. Micheal just wants to pet you so much. Big cat? But also human? Good friend? Cool friend? Soft and fuzzy friend!! You’re like a giant talking cat to him, for lack of a better description. You can do human stuff. You just got some animal features.

Another duo that will just cuddle. Bring in Ranboo and Micheal while you’re at it. Make it a family cuddle session!! The little group will see two people cuddling and go “I must join”.

I feel he has an area to grow plants in Snowchester. He just has to. So you know what that means? He’ll grow you stuff! Load of cat grass and some catnip along with other greenery that you like to much on. He makes sure they aren’t poisonous to cats- wait how much of that will apply to you? Do you know?

Okay so you two play fight, but much less aggressively than you and Tommy would. You two also include Micheal. Very gentle play fighting then. Like ultra.

You two fight with what your instincts are telling you. Mostly acting out on the funny animal behaviors that’ll make Micheal laugh or just to have fun with it.

He will get you so many soft things. Just so much. Soft blankets, fluffy pillows and so much else man. Especially trying to get the squishy and soft stuff so you can knead it. Honestly a very endearing sight. You purr so heavily doing it.

Now you two will do gentle headbutts of affection. Very gentle, mind you. You two are very wary of the horns that peak through Tubbo’s fluffy hair. Sometimes the two of you won’t gently butt heads, but butt your heads against other body parts like the upper arm or shoulder. To grab attention and show affection.

Purpled

Now this relationship is going to be mildly different from the get go. There won’t be an innate sense of “what’s right” or how hybrids function as a being/person. See, Purpled is a human. You are a cat hybrid. Two very different species. The backgrounds and some of the body language is different, but you two manage quite well.

So he’ll treat you differently than the other hybrids. Well, only a wee bit. He’lll treat you like the others but in a different way, with a different tone to his actions. It’s very sweet, but you tell him it’s not necessary. He still does it.

One of the cat-like things he found out was that you don’t like water. People usually like water and some cats like water, yet you’re like a majority of cats. You despise getting wet. Attempts at smacking anything that’s getting you wet was what clued him in on this. Specifically when he accidentally did it. Oops.

You two can’t swim together. Napping is really out of the question because he has work and sleeping doesn’t seem like the most interesting activity. Although relaxing, it isn’t too productive.

Activities are hard to come by; stuff you’d want to do with Purpled is stuff he definitely doesn’t want to do and vise versa. After a standstill on what to do, you two started to get creative with the ideas.

Building super tall buildings? Although not safe for Purpled, you can easily take the fall. Along with that, Purpled is more than happy to build tall things. You can’t tell me otherwise because this man built a whole ufo.

Sometimes he’ll even bring you on his mercenary missions. It’s a cool way to hang out and have some more one-on-one time and you two get to work together. A very pog situation.

He tries to give you a part of the money; 50-50 for you guys. But you deny. It was his job, you just came around. Although not too happy about it, because you two worked together on this, he’ll concede. After all, he can just slowly slip the money into your house.

On these trips you not only provide companionship but you also are more than ready to work. Maybe playing coy and cute for a patron at a bar to lure them out and away from the public eye to be executed by Purpled. Or it could be a simple distraction of someone running by. Maybe you’re able to pickpocket the target and get what’s needed. You’re a cute and fuzzy swiss army knife

He loves to get on higher surfaces than you and try to pick you up. Even if it’s only enough to just get your feet on the ground. You do the little cat extension thingy and he thinks that’s super cool and funny. So he’ll do it often. Though you try to object, claiming to not enjoy the process at all. Yet that smile and giggles say otherwise.

[astrologyandlife]

your chart ruler + the stage of your life

generally speaking, where the ruler of your chart is sitting sets the stage for your life. this means that your focus will be more intense in that area. the ruler is also important, as it can indicate the nature of things occurring there! for example, having jupiter as your chart ruler sitting in the 1st house is vastly different from having saturn as your chart ruler sitting there. read on to learn more!

part i: the chart ruler

MARS

you are generally high-energy and active. you are never sat still for too long, and for the most part, you handle things head-on rather than waiting for them to wrap themselves up. as a result, this can lend itself to an almost pushy impression on others, unless mars is aspected positively with another planet like venus, neptune, or saturn.

VENUS

you act with a certain kind of grace and charm. you have a certain personal touch that you imbue things with, and you aren't one for conflict or discord. in fact, you seek harmony as often as you can, and comfort is one of your top priorities in any situation. typically, it either isn't easy to anger/upset you, or you are very good at hiding when something does.

MERCURY

flighty and restless are your most prominent qualities. in life, you easily move from one thing to another, never quite settling the way others do, and you may even find you are doing multiple things at once. you have a curiosity and thirst for knowledge that tends to drive what you do. you will also find that you are pretty good at conversation and possess natural wit.

MOON

like the moon, your disposition and emotions seemingly go through cycles. you are blessed with a form of intuition that a mother would display--when your friends need something, you just know what it is, and unspoken emotions are picked up by you subconsciously. you find it hard not to care about things, and people can usually tell when you are upset or going through something.

SUN

like the sun, you are full of vitality and light, with seemingly endless energy. you just have this glow about you. your personality is very strong and well-developed, and you have a good sense of who you are. you possess natural leadership qualities. you are just generally a very genuine person and don't try to deceive others about who you are. maintaining your health and vitality is of utmost importance.

PLUTO

you are magnetic and mysterious in a way that either draws others in or intimidates them. you radiate a subtle power that you can use to your advantage. when it comes to your passions and goals, you have a ferocity that is unmatched, bordering on obsession. you aren't the kind of person to be casual or dip your toes into things, you absolutely immerse yourself in them. you are very private.

JUPITER

you possess a heart of gold--generous, kind, and loving towards others. your view of life is positive, and you maintain a faithful and optimistic attitude whenever possible. it is safe to say you are a pretty lucky person, or at the very least, you create your own luck. you aren't afraid to dream big. sometimes you can go a bit overboard when expressing yourself.

SATURN

you are mature and responsible. people find that they can rely on you when they have your word, and it is very important to you to keep promises. it is easy for you to get stuck in negative thought patterns and to be hard on yourself, as you have very high expectations. You are ambitious and generally like the feeling of working towards your goals, knowing it will pay off in the future. you are very concerned about how people see you and your reputation.

URANUS

you are an individualist at heart. you believe in the freedom of people to live their lives and pursue whatever path they want, and if someone tries to stifle your freedom, you are quick to leave them in the dust. You also have a mind that is powerful and creative, able to learn new information lightning-fast. you like to consider the facts and have an open mind.

NEPTUNE

artistic and dreamy, you give the impression of being a sensitive, almost spiritual soul. you are particularly swayed by music and art because your mind is very abstract. you have the unique ability to be something akin to a social chameleon. you are very compassionate towards others and have a high sensitivity to your environment. your tuition is extremely strong

part ii: the stage

1st house;

you're very focused on yourself more than other people, and your dominant sign comes out in pretty much all facets of your life, but especially upon first meeting someone. if your chart ruler is very different from the rest of your chart, this can lead to someone getting the 'wrong' impression of you. developing a strong personality is of utmost importance here. you care a lot about your appearance and how you are perceived.

2nd house;

forming a strong sense of self-confidence and security is your primary focus. you care a lot about financial security and your own sense of personal comfort in a physical sense. you feel attached to the things you own. possessiveness isn't uncommon here, especially if pluto sits here. you either have strong values that you hold close to your heart, or you feel the need to develop them.

3rd house;

what motivates you very often is your curiosity and desire to connect to others. you enjoy good conversation and want to make friends. you tend to move from one thing to another, and you are very good at multitasking. you have a distinct style of speaking that is colored by your chart ruler, and people find you to have a good sense of humor and a lot of intelligence.

4th house;

there is a deep need to have a place that you can call 'home.' you are a relatively private individual and enjoy a lot of separation between work and home. your family has a high amount of influence on you, and it is very likely you will stay close to home. your background comes into play very often and informs your actions. anything sentimental has a big impact on you.

5th house;

you live your life for the things you are interested in. your hobbies can take up a lot of your time and energy, and if you don't get enough time with them, you feel drained or on edge. you love having fun and expressing yourself creatively. this could be someone who likes or wants kids. you do enjoy attention from others, especially if it comes from their admiration of you.

6th house;

your body is certainly a temple. you care a lot about taking care of yourself, and you have very specific routines in your daily life. these rituals contribute heavily to your wellbeing. you can also find yourself to be a bit of a workhorse (or workaholic if you aren't careful). you are dedicated to the service of others, even if it simply means lending a helping hand or giving advice.

7th house;

the focus in your life is other people. you define yourself based on your relationships with them, and if you aren't too careful, you can get lost in other people and lose your purpose. it's almost as if you need partnership to live a happy life. your biggest skill is your ability to create harmony, because you are a good mediator and try to compromise when possible.

8th house;

this makes you extremely private and secretive. you could live an entirely separate life and nobody would know! you also tend to know more about others than they think, and you never reveal more than you want to. i think a persistent theme of your life could be very intense situations and circumstances. transforming yourself is going to be very important, as is processing and working through your past.

9th house;

You live for the pursuit of knowledge, especially that of a higher level. You want to expand your mind through new experiences, meeting people of different backgrounds, and traveling to new places. It is entirely possible you will live your life in another country or a completely different part of your country. you view life as an adventure and are always in search of something new.

10th house;

your future and career are of utmost importance to you. you feel like you have to make a name for yourself. if you don't have accomplishments under your name, you feel like you have failed. so much of your life is spent in the pursuit of success. you shine in your career and could end up rising to the top. you make huge efforts to influence your reputation for the better.

11th house;

more than anything, you want to say you belong to some group. your friends are your life, and they are your family. it is likely you are involved in groups or organizations, whether it be through your school, a hobby you have, or something else. you also strive to create change within your community. in this house, you are always in pursuit of your personal goals and are very future-minded.

12th house;

a lot of your personality is hidden in a way, unlocked mostly when you are completely alone. you spend a lot of time in solitude and don't mind it. loss, sorrow, and grief could be a consistent theme in your life. truly, you express yourself most when nobody is watching. people see the fruits of your labor, but not the work you put in behind the scenes. you could have extensive daydreams or vivid dreams.

and if you want to learn more, here are a couple awesome resources:

https://notanastrologer.tumblr.com/post/649828538510426112/ascendant-lord-in-houses

https://cassieaurora.com/astrology-class/chartruler/ (super good if you're not familiar with finding your chart ruler)

[flower-slut004]

SOFT ABC BENNY

A - Affection (how do they show affection)

Benny ADORES PDA. He always has to have his hands on you somehow. He loves wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your head ( if you’re shorter than him) And if you’re taller than Benny, he’ll just stand on his toes to rest his head on your shoulder.

B - Balance (how do they balance you, work/school/life?)

You’re apart of the supernatural life so you two practically spend every moment with each other. In school and out of school, people can always fine the two of you in each other’s arm. When you guys are spending time apart it’s usually when Benny is with Ethan and you’re with the girls/Rory.

C - Cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling? what positions?)

Like earlier, Benny loves PDA. He especially loves it after a long day fighting monsters, he’ll come up to wrapping his arms around your shoulder and lightly put his body weight on you in a joking manner. That’s your cue to know the boy wants his cuddles. Bennys favorite positions when cuddling is either having your head resting on his chest with your arms around his waist or having his head on your lap so you could play with his hair.

D - Date (what was your first date?)

Benny would overthink everything for your first date. He wanted to make everything just perfect for you. So he enlisted the help of your best friend ( if you want Sarah/Erica/Rory/Or Ethan to be your best friend just ignore the best friend part). Your date would be in his backyard. It would consist of a picnic along with his own outdoor movie theater.

E - Excited (how excited do they get when they see you/are with you?)

Benny gets super excited when he sees you at school in the morning, he’ll drop everything to go greet you with a kiss and a pickup line. / Benny is more in awe of you dating him. He couldn’t believe you said yes when he asked you the first time.

F - Fighting (what happens when you fight)

I feel like with Bennys flirty behavior that would be the cause of most of your fights. Benny knows when you're upset when you disappear out of nowhere. Like you’re nowhere to be seen since you’re avoiding him. Benny has to track you down or pay Rory.

G - Gorgeous (pet names. what do they like to call you? what do they like to be called?)

Benny is definitely more creative for your nicknames “Sweetness, cherry, hot stuff, delicious". Anything to see you blush/ You call Benny names just to tease him by "Benny Boo, Benny Rabbit, Chipmunk, and Sweet Pea"

H - Hi (first time meeting)

The two of you met when you were asked to babysit in place of Sarah when she was "sick". You were making Jane a sandwich and having a debate over Dusk when the bell rang. Ethan was nowhere to be seen so you went to open the door. "Hey, Eth...Woah babe alert.. I mean hey! I'm Benny"

I - Intimacy (how romantic they are)

Benny loves getting you things, like flowers, teddy bears, chocolates. Bonus for him since he can practice his magic. he’s also gotten you necklaces and rings. Since you guys are still in high school he usually makes them homemade or gets a summer job.

J - Jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they react to you being jealous)

Look up the definition of jealously and Benny's photo will be there. Benny isn't jealous of Ethan but he is of Rory since Rory is just as flirty as Benny. Benny tries to hide his jealousy but fails to do so. / When you're jealous, Benny doesn't know if he thinks it's cute or hot. You don't hide your jealously. You'll go right up to Benny and make a snide comment to whoever is grabbing the attention of Benny.

K - Kisses (where do they like to kiss you/how often?)

If you're shorter than Benny, he'll give you forehead kisses, a peck on the nose, or a smooch on the cheek. If you're taller than him, he likes to give you small neck kisses, press on your hand, or just a plain kiss on the lips. Benny likes to kiss you every moment he can.

L - Love (when was the first time they said i love you or realized it?)

Benny realizes it after he almost dies after Jesse's comeback and was holding him by the neck. You were crying silently as you hid in a locker. The only thing running through his mind was you. he wanted to live the rest of his life with you, he wanted to have kids with you, that’s the only thing he could think of. thankfully, Sarah saved the day and you jumped right into his arms, crying into his chest. he whispers that he loves you over and over again.

M - Moving in (when do you decide to move in together)

You guys are teenagers let's remember that, you guys definitely talked about it though. The closest you guys got to living together was when your parents were out of town and went to stay with Benny. After college, you guys finally moved in though, rented an apartment together.

N - Newborn (their reaction to starting a family)

(If you don't kids skip over this one). Benny was super excited when he found the news. He spun you around the room and couldn't stop kissing you. Benny was already coming up with star-wars-themed names for your kid. He used this as an opportunity to practice his magic just in case your child would inherit his powers/ he used them to baby-proof the apartment.

O - Open (how open you are with one another)

Benny is an open book with you. Sometimes he shares a little too much but you don't mind. You guys have this time of the day where you go under any tree you can find and spill your feelings.

P - Photos (what kind of photos you take of them/they take of you)

Benny is a bit paranoid taking photos since the whole evil Benny situation. But before Benny would take pictures of you where you weren't paying attention, smiling at him or intimate photos of course with your consent. / You love taking photos of Benny when he's sleeping or giving you a smooch.

Q - Quirks (what random habits do you have that they love or hate/vice versa)

You have a problem with being careless, most of the time you jump into situations without thinking it which upsets him. Benny loves your quirk of randomly knowing things/ Benny tends to forget things that make date nights difficult which leads to some fights. You love Benny's quirk of puffing up his cheeks when he's in thought.

R - Recovery (how you help them after an injury/vice versa)

Benny freaks out every time but tries to hide it. (not very well ) and does everything in his power to make you comfortable./ If Benny gets injured, you’re his nurse which he’ll take advantage of in his own ways.

S - Solution (how they resolve fights)

the group usually has to get you two back together after a fight. you take a break from one another, and it’s awkward for the group. Until one of you misses the other and comes back with food/promises.

T- Touch (when they need/want your touch, what will they do? how often?)

Benny wants your touch all the time. He’s big fan of PDA and always has a hand on you or around you. Usually Benny will come up and gently grab your hand to plant a kiss but if you remove your hand before he gets the chance to, he’ll rest his chin on your head/shoulder and wait.

U- Waking Up With Them

waking up with Benny is the best. he has his arms around you every single time, he somehow manages to pull you into his arms in his sleep when you go to sleep on separate sides of the bed. if you’re still asleep, he just presses kisses to your forehead, trying to wake up a bit more before getting up and starting the day. if you’re up before him, you absolutely love playing with his messy hair and stroking his cheek.

V - Vacation (where they travel with you)

Weeks after planning and planning, you and Benny finally take a trip to ( your dream location). Benny wants to visit every corner with you as well as getting a souvenir.

W - Wedding (how they propose/where you get married/honeymoon)

Benny is a nervous wreck when he prepares to ask you. Looking around, stuttering, and tripping. You were beginning to think you were being followed and Benny didn’t want to scare you. You finally asked him what’s up and he grabbed your hands gently to pour his heart out. Benny was scared when no response came out of your mouth but a few minutes later you were covering his face in kisses and saying yes over and over again. You really didn’t have a BIG wedding but it was all your family and friends there.

X - X-factor (what about you captivated them?)

Benny loves your bluntness. He likes it how you tell everyone the truth and you’re not sorry about it.

Y - Yawning (how they act when they’re tired)

Benny tries to hide when he’s tired so he’ll be over exaggerating his emotions but when he’s tired to the point where he can’t hide it he’ll be less clingy and kinda shut off from the group. You can tell he’s tired when he begins to mumble or just stops talking overall.

Z - Zzzz (how you fall asleep together)

Benny doesn’t care about space. he wants to be as close to you as possible, breathing in your scent and feeling your warmth.

[alder-knight]

article text reads:

Have you ever tried to fix an ongoing lack of energy by getting more sleep — only to do so and still feel exhausted?

If that’s you, here’s the secret: Sleep and rest are not the same thing, although many of us incorrectly confuse the two.

We go through life thinking we’ve rested because we have gotten enough sleep — but in reality we are missing out on the other types of rest we desperately need. The result is a culture of high-achieving, high-producing, chronically tired and chronically burned-out individuals. We’re suffering from a rest deficit because we don’t understand the true power of rest.

Rest should equal restoration in seven key areas of your life.

The first type of rest we need is physical rest, which can be passive or active. Passive physical rest includes sleeping and napping, while active physical rest means restorative activities such as yoga, stretching and massage therapy that help improve the body’s circulation and flexibility.

The second type of rest is mental rest. Do you know that coworker who starts work every day with a huge cup of coffee? He’s often irritable and forgetful, and he has a difficult time concentrating on his work. When he lies down at night to sleep, he frequently struggles to turn off his brain as conversations from the day fill his thoughts. And despite sleeping seven to eight hours, he wakes up feeling as if he never went to bed. He has a mental rest deficit.

The good news is you don’t have to quit your job or go on vacation to fix this. Schedule short breaks to occur every two hours throughout your workday; these breaks can remind you to slow down. You might also keep a notepad by the bed to jot down any nagging thoughts that would keep you awake.

The third type of rest we need is sensory rest. Bright lights, computer screens, background noise and multiple conversations — whether they’re in an office or on Zoom calls — can cause our senses to feel overwhelmed. This can be countered by doing something as simple as closing your eyes for a minute in the middle of the day, as well as by  intentionally unplugging from electronics at the end of every day. Intentional moments of sensory deprivation can begin to undo the damage inflicted by the over-stimulating world.

The fourth type of rest is creative rest. This type of rest is especially important for anyone who must solve problems or brainstorm new ideas. Creative rest reawakens the awe and wonder inside each of us. Do you recall the first time you saw the Grand Canyon, the ocean or a waterfall? Allowing yourself to take in the beauty of the outdoors — even if it’s at a local park or in your backyard — provides you with creative rest.

But creative rest isn’t simply about appreciating nature; it also includes enjoying the arts. Turn your workspace into a place of inspiration by displaying images of places you love and works of art that speak to you. You can’t spend 40 hours a week staring at blank or jumbled surroundings and expect to feel passionate about anything, much less come up with innovative ideas.

Now let’s take a look at another individual — the friend whom everyone thinks is the nicest person they’ve ever met. It’s the person everyone depends on, the one you’d call if you needed a favor because even if they don’t want to do it, you know they’ll give you a reluctant “yes” rather than a truthful “no”. But when this person is alone, they feel unappreciated and like others are taking advantage of them.

This person requires emotional rest, which means having the time and space to freely express your feelings and cut back on people pleasing. Emotional rest also requires the courage to be authentic. An emotionally rested person can answer the question “How are you today?” with a truthful “I’m not okay” — and then go on to share some hard things that otherwise go unsaid.

If you’re in need of emotional rest, you probably have a social rest deficit too. This occurs when we fail to differentiate between those relationships that revive us from those relationships that exhaust us. To experience more social rest, surround yourself with positive and supportive people. Even if your interactions have to occur virtually, you can choose to engage more fully in them by turning on your camera and focusing on who you’re speaking to.

The final type of rest is spiritual rest, which is the ability to connect beyond the physical and mental and feel a deep sense of belonging, love, acceptance and purpose. To receive this, engage in something greater than yourself and add prayer, meditation or community involvement to your daily routine.

As you can see, sleep alone can’t restore us to the point we feel rested. So it’s time for us to begin focusing on getting the right type of rest we need.

Editor’s note: Fatigue can also be associated with numerous health problems, so please get checked out by your  physician if it persists. 

To learn more about Dr. Saundra Dalton-Smith and her work, visit her website. This post was adapted from her  TEDxAtlanta Talk.

my colleague (we both work in climate and are in an anti-burnout group together) sent me this article, which I thought might be interesting to other tumblrites. I think it's useful in thinking about what kinds of rest we are and aren't getting, even if it isn't necessarily a perfect guide to every kind of fatigue.

[zodiacrant]

💛Astro Notes💛

(All about Fixed signs)

(These may or may not apply to you, please keep an open mind and take it as entertainment rather than life changing facts. Please credit me if you’re going to use my work, or ask me beforehand.)

💛Fixed Sun and Rising are the most notable. You can definitely tell when some is a Taurus, Leo, Scorpio or an Aquarius Sun. In the rising it over powers the qualities of the Sun when it comes to how you come off.

💛Fixed Moons are double edged swords. On one hand they give the person endurance, patience and strong emotional capabilities. On the other hand, it incites overreacting and overthinking, running things over and over to the point of burning the mind out before physically achieving anything. This is why many fixed moons are labeled “lazy”.

💛Taurus and Leo represent the good things in life, food, money, clothes, art, fame, kids, the home, the superficial. Ruled by the Sun and Venus, respectively, they’re the rose to their opposites thorn. Whichever houses they reside in they bring security and confidence to but it can quickly get to their heads and turn into ego.

💛Scorpio and Aquarius on the other hand represents the other side of life. Fighting, cruelty, freedom, sex and death. Ruled by Uranus, Pluto and Mars, these signs speak of the grimmer side of life, some would argue its real life with no filter where we have to fight for our rights (Scorpio and Aquarius) in order to enjoy it (Taurus and Leo). Both signs bring resilience to whichever house and/or placement giving the person an edge in that part of life. Although, they’re hard to fool both signs are prone to destroy what they have built just so no one can do it first.

💛Fixed dominants are really stubborn and rigid when it comes to their ideals but they’re also facts based and would change their mind eventually.

💛This can be seen alot with Gen Z (Majority are Aquarius dominants) and Millennials (Strong effects of Scorpio Pluto) where they fight tooth and nail for something only to realize they were wrong the whole damn time.

💛Scorpio Venus is one hell of a mystery. They’re so timid in public but are very sexual in reality. They don’t see it but everything they watch is erotic or filled with sexual themes.

💛Houses that are in Fixed signs indicate deviance and possibly using sex and/or sexuality to get what you want.

💛I personally find Leos to be very attractive

💛Empty Fixed houses give a clear perspective on the house’s theme. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the person is fully confident in that part but it is easy for them to get over any obstacles or dilemmas.

💛The oppoiste is true, especially for Fixed house stelliums and those with Sun and/or Moon residing under one. Although, an indication of power, assurance, confidence, abundance and energy, it may not be easily obtained. Fixed houses can be like traps at times, they lure you in with all the money, fame, and pleasure you desire but the price you pay is your freedom and growth.

💛Even though they’re stated as “the biggest enemies with zero compatibility” in text book zodiac, but I know alot of Taurus and Aquarius married couples.

💛I am not sure the reason why but some of the biggest and most influential people throughout history were Fixed Suns. For better or worse

💛Aquarius Moons have the biggest contrast from one another. I never met one that was like another Aquarius Moon. This Moons works low key, hard to identify and explain, and even harder for the individual to analyze and digest.

💛Leo Suns talk about themselves alot more than other Leo placements. It’s not necessarily in the “all about me” tone but rather they always have to relate things back to them to let you know that they understand. Or they just love talking themselves and I got it wrong.

💛Taurus Venus is like if Taurus and Libra were a single Venusian sign. They have the class and beauty of Taurus and the youthful playfulness of Libra.

💛People with Fixed placements gravitate towards people with Fixed placements. I have yet to see otherwise.

💛Before you fight with a Fixed Mars remember that they fight for them to not lose, not for them to win. They will do everything so that you lose.

💛Scorpio Mercury is the ULTIMATE booksmart but damn are they really lost when it comes to people and the streets.

💛Fixed 10th house are more driven and career oriented than Cardinal signs. This is because they use success as way of proving themselves to the world, the hater, the doubters, their parents, that one person that looked at them weird. Simply put, they will be successful just to prove you wrong.

💛Taurus Moon is the earthy, easy going, chill Taurus that smokes weed and loves nature and colors like brown and green that people keep talking about. As a Taurus I can tell you that I am not one of those things nor have I ever liked them.

💛Fire dominant Scorpios are one of the most pretentious people I have ever met. They’re so fake deep and got it all “figured out”. Not a cute look babe.

💛All the people with Aquarius in the 8th that I have met just hate sex and talking about sexual things. It really weirds them out, which I get. Shit is weird if you think about it.

💛Aquarius Mercury can flay people’s skin with their tongue. They get creative with their insults to say the least.

💛Leo in the 11th is status obsessed. You can’t be their friend if you don’t “match” them.

💛Fixed Suns and dominants are super bougie. They love everything extra with a side of extravagance and add triple too much.

💛People with a Fixed Sun and Moon combination are victims of their big egos. They could really fall into delusions of grace and power having done absolutely nothing in real life

💛I have noticed that Leos don’t like it when someone has something in common with them. It’s as if whenever someone relates to them, they’re no longer “unique”, “different” or “special”

💛Fixed in 12th house experience crashing highs and lows. They never learn or attune to something unless they hit the rock hard cold bottom.

💛Leo Chiron is a hidden fame indicator. Many with this placement are child stars

[mieux-de-se-taire]

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - Part 1

Revenge is my favorite MCR album, though Black Parade and Bullets are close behind. You can really see how they took the intensity, emotion, and boldness of Bullets and refined and perfected it. Every single song is an absolute banger that works well on its own but is even better within the context of the album. The concept is interesting and something you can explore if you want to but also not distracting or necessary to understand in order to enjoy the album. I also really enjoy the general look and style of the album and the era.

Helena - an instant classic, beautiful and tragic and brimming with anger and pain, a song that really helped establish MCR’s place in pop culture, I love the effect on Gee’s voice at 2:07-2:32 during the bridge and how everything comes back in at 2:38 after “When both our cars collide”, overall it’s a truly elegant and honest expression of grief and self-loathing (I mean “Just like the match you strike to incinerate / the lives of everyone you know”) and that’s not even touching on the music video. The music video is iconic and theatrical and beautiful, and it demonstrates MCR’s dedication to every creative and artistic aspect of their work. If you’re interested, I highly recommend checking out the making of video, which is a lot of fun and gives some insight into the creative process of the music video, and the outtakes video, which shows several full clips of dancing and the band performing. I especially want to highlight the performance from 10:01 to 13:24 in the outtakes version, in particular 12:09-13:24, none of which appears in the official music video but which is one of Gerard’s most emotive and heart wrenching performances that I’ve seen

Give ‘Em Hell Kid - great little song, some of the franticness and intensity and noise of Bullets (but cleaner) especially at the beginning, my favorite part is the ending starting at 2:06 when Gerard says “What’d you call me / well there’s no way I’m kissing that guy” followed by a sort of cacophony and then broken up when Gee says ”Yeah” with a fun effect on his voice, I also really like the wa-oh sounds at 1:25-1:28, overall a fairly short but effective and enjoyable song

To the End - one of my favorites, super underrated, some very fun lyrics, I always love the line “She drives at 90 by the Barbies and Kens”, my favorite part is the pre-chorus (”If you marry me / would you bury me / would you carry me / to the end”), I especially like the lead up to the final “to the end” starting at 2:36, I’m a big fan of the imagery and vibe of the song, it has dark aspects but it’s very playful and witty and more approachable than some of the heavier and more aggressive songs on the album. The song is based on the short story “A Rose for Emily” by William Faulkner (The True Lives of My Chemical Romance, 103)

Prison - the most fun song on the record, the intro is great, I love the weird sound in the background at 1:02-1:05, (also, I thought the line at 1:05 was “they made me do pushups in track” for a long time until I read that it’s actually “they made me do pushups in drag”, which makes way more sense in the context of the song, but I just though it was funny he was airing unrelated high school trauma in his song about gay prison sex), my favorite part is at 2:06-2:26 with the screaming and guitar solo then followed by a moment of calm at 2:27-2:29 when Gee says “Life is but a” and then everything is brought back in at 2:30 when he yells “dream”, I also love his screams and how they work with the guitars at 2:47-2:52 and his weird little giggle at the very end, overall an amazing song and one of my favorites to listen to and also to watch live. Gerard’s intros to prison are fairly well known, and these are some of my favorites: moaning with audience, solo los muchachos take your shirts off, Detroit boys take your shirts off, and boys boys boys. Also, some fun facts, Prison was “inspired by [Gerard Way and Bert McCracken] sharing a kiss in a game of on-the-road truth or dare. (‘When you’re kissing a guy with a beard,’ Gerard said, ‘it’s different.’)” (The True Lives of My Chemical Romance, 93). And Gerard also said “‘When I sang “You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison”, I was running pornography in the room...I wasn’t wearing very many clothes either. I was in an attic that nobody was allowed into. I do remember Howard encouraging me to get pretty weird in there and I think I got weird in my own ways too’” (The True Lives of My Chemical Romance, 91).

I’m Not Okay - one of if not my favorite Revenge song (it’s so hard to choose though), immensely comforting to me for some reason, just hearing the guitars in the intro cheers me up, a feel-good song for me despite some of the dark lyrics, there’s just something deeply reassuring about it, which I guess is part of the point -- the assurance that it’s okay to not be okay and its very open and upfront nature, my absolute favorite part is of course the guitar solo at 1:52-2:06, I also adore the quiet part at 2:18-2:23, the line “I’m not o-fucking-kay” at 2:47 is another of my favorite parts, though everything from 1:52 to the end is brilliant, overall just an incredibly cathartic and wonderful song. Also, the video is just amazing, probably my favorite MCR music video, though I think Helena is more iconic and The Ghost of You is more cinematic. I love the intro and the whole fake movie trailer schtick and just everything about it. There’s also the making of video, which is hilarious (especially 2:47, 5:31, and 12:49), the outtakes version of the music video, which shows full clips (check out 4:43 and 5:56), and this kind of alternate video of the song without vocals, which shows clips of the band leaving the house to go to a show

The Ghost of You - another favorite of mine off Revenge, simple in a lot of ways especially in terms of song structure but incredibly effective, I love the contrast between the soft, slow, more melodic verse sections and the more intense, aggressive chorus, very direct lyrically but still beautiful and haunting, Gee’s voice is so expressive, my favorite part is the shift from the quiet bridge at 1:58-2:11 to the lead up to the final chorus at 2:12-2:37. The video of course speaks for itself since it’s an absolute cinematic masterpiece. The way it highlights the contrast between the chorus and the verses by switching between the dance and the soldiers storming the beach is brilliant. Then that one transition shot at 1:28, chef’s kiss, should have won an award for that alone. And Gerard’s acting (and Mikey’s too) is just incredible. My favorite part of the video is how after Mikey runs out and gets shot, Gerard in the flashback grieves as well. It’s really visceral, and I love it. The making of video is also really cool, as is the outtakes version

I was planning to just have one post for the entire album, but this got way too long. I’ll post the second half soon, hopefully.

[thewheezingwyvern]

Heres a challenge. Pixie/fairy Dabi, or even angel dabi! Something uncharacteristic for his personality xD

Oooh Nons lemme tell you I had a blast with this one. Tickled my brain just write that I was able to just bang this out in a few hours. Gotta give a shout out to @trafalgar-temptress for  helping me brainstorm on this. Really helped me get my creative juices flowing juuuuuuuuust right.

ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪

Yandere!Angel!Dabi x F!Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Noncon (implied and groping), imprisonment, kidnapping, nudity

As you can see by the warnings this is dark adult content. Minors DNI.

The first time you had ever seen him, it was next to Shouto and the most striking thing about him was his eyes. Brilliant hued sapphires that were more vivid than the sky. Ethereal almost. But every time thereafter they seemed to glow a little brighter. A little darker. A little less holy in their shine. They were almost too much to look at, blinding as they were bathed in sacred light. Shouto especially. Even his feathers shone almost like mirrors catching and magnifying the moon’s rays until they were searing.

But Touya, his light was more muted. Still bright but easier for your eyes to handle. That should have been a sign to you, for the easier an angel is to look at, the farther from grace he has become. And Shouto’s older brother became easier and easier to watch with every passing meeting. By the time you learned the truth about him it was already far too late.

The first time he saw you, it was hatred that pulsed through him. Always the favored one, you were just one more pretty thing that his brother got to have. Another way that Shouto was “better” than him. Thoughts of murder curled in the front of his mind, watching your broken mortal body fracture beneath his rage until you were nothing but a splintered wreck for Shouto to see. Until he noticed that you looked at him far more than his perfect sibling. That was the single drop of poison that bloomed in the wine, steeping him in more greed, lust and envy than he had ever tasted before.

In a way, you were the final shove to Touya’s fall.

The crashing sound of tumultuous waves against a rocky face was the first thing to greet you when you woke. Brine and breeze drifted in and wrapped around your prone form huddled under a thin blanket. The air was filled with a moan, a mournful howl that seemed to be crying for you as you stirred. You were no longer at home in the safety of your own bed, that was apparent when you drew more into consciousness and found yourself curled on a pile of thick pillows. But the detail that struck to your heart that you weren’t home was what you saw first.

Golden bars inlaid with pearl. 

They wove intricately into a gorgeous dome, twisting into a cage to keep you confined as the ocean crashed in the background. Beyond the confines of your prison you could see the open mouth of a cave that you had been tucked away into, one that opened out to face the wide open sea. Even from your spot tucked back in the corner you could tell that it was far too high for you to risk jumping even if you did manage to escape your cage. Your prison should have been a dank, dark and wet place but there were braziers placed in various nooks, burning with holy fire to help sheath the cave in a warmth that kept it cozy.

Lanterns were strung into the roof, also flickering with sacred fire to help ward off the damp. There was even some chairs, a plush rug and an exquisite tapestry strung up on the far rocky wall. Had you not been locked up, silver shackles also twisted around your ankles to further trap you, you might have enjoyed this space as a little hide away from the world. There wasn’t much to do since you were alone and the cage was far too strong for you to force open on your own. So all you could do was wait.

When the sun was sinking beyond the line of the horizon, Touya finally appeared. A dark glee curled in his chest when he saw the sheer look of relief that washed over your face when you caught sight of him. Already he could taste the hope bursting from you, a sweet little treat for him to savor before he got to rip it from your grasping hands. You collapsed against the cage, fingers wrapping against the bars as you peered out at him with teary eyes.

“Touya, I’m so happy it’s you! I don’t know how I got here but I’m glad you found me! You have to get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll let you out.”

Hope was also the thing that blinded you from the wicked glow in his eyes, the slow lap of his tongue across his lips at the thought of you realizing far too late that you were trapped by him when he held you against him. Relief was the next thing that blinded you when he unlocked the cage, completely glossing over the detail that he had the key in his pocket. Touya folded you up into his arms when you collapsed against his chest, sobs wracking your body, feathered wings arching to cover you. 

“Shouto must be worried sick!” you muttered into his chest, “How long have I been gone?”

“Two days. He’s losing his mind right now.”

Your face was buried into his chest so you couldn’t see the razor grin that had split across his gorgeous face. For good measure, he cupped a hand to the back of your head, murmuring soft comforting words to you as you quaked in his arms. It was important he savored this. It was going to be the last time for a long while before you would willingly touch him again. 

“Please take me home…”

Touya chuckled darkly, “Awww you don’t like it here?”

He watched you lift your tear stained face up, staring up at him with bewildered eyes. A thumb swiped gently at the stroke of your cheekbones before hooking down to trail along your jaw. Confusion mottled your expression before the first prick of fear flickered in your eyes. The way your mouth hung open made him want to kiss you breathless, crush you to him until you were pounding at his chest to let you go and even then go further.

“No! Why would I want to stay here in a cage?!”

“But you look so pretty in there, Dollface.”

The dark angel captured your wrists in his hands as you started to back away from him, hauling you closer. Fear burst even brighter in your eyes, your whole form quaking in his grasp. The sight made his cock twitch, breath panting ragged from his lips as you squirmed.

“T-Touya? This isn’t funny! Take me home.”

“Sorry babes. This is your home now.” the way all the hope withered in your eyes when you realized he was your captor had his blood running hot, “Poor little Shouto is just going to have to do without.”

Touya dipped his dark head down before he started leaving scorching hot kisses to your exposed neck. You trembled and thrashed but you just did not have the strength to break free of him. Just how he liked it. Roughly he whipped you around and pulled you back to chest against him, hooking his left arm around your arms to imprison them behind your back. A whimper escaped you as his free hand closed over your neck in a warning grip before sliding slowly down towards your collarbones.

“St-stop it! Touya, please!”

“God’s not here, sweetheart. So you don’t have to pretend to be so pure and innocent now. I saw the way you kept your eyes on me more than Shouto. He was too bright. Too pure for you to handle. Fact is, you craved a bit of darkness didn’t you?” he whispered wickedly into your ear, a hand groping at your right breast through the silky shift you were clad in, “My brother doesn’t deserve you and I’ve decided that I’m going to keep you. You’re mine now.”

A finger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silken fabric, pulling a choked cry from your throat. A rock hard cock rutted against the curve of your backside, summoning up his own groan of pleasure. At first he had wanted to steal you away from perfect little Shouto, the shining son, out of spite. To take away one of the things he wanted the most and wreck you. But the more time went on, the more Touya wanted you for himself. Why break such a delicious creature when he could just take you and keep you? It would stroke the wicked green eyed devil that had started to grow within his chest and also lash out the prodigal son.

“Touya please don’t do this!” you begged, a loud moan escaping you when his hand shot down to rub against your clit, “Ah-! Please! I-I won’t tell anyone if you let me go-”

The sounds of your begging unleashed a clash of emotions in him. On the one hand, hearing your voice break and plead him made his dick twitch against the curve of your ass. It was a delicious little sound and he wanted to hear more from you. But it also sparked a deep rage in him. Touya went through all of this trouble, stealing some of Heaven’s prized metal work to fashion a cage for you here. Spent months scoping out the perfect place to keep you so you couldn’t escape and no one could find you. He had even taken the extra steps to try and make it comfortable. 

“Ingrateful whore.” he snarled, tearing open your shift to bare your form to the seaside air. Any trace of gentleness he had shown before evaporated when he shoved you face first against the side of the gilded cage, “Take a good long look at this cage. Because this and me is the closest you’ll ever get to those pearly fucking gates again.”

You wondered where it had all gone wrong. Wondered how he could do something so awful to you and his brother. He was an angel, one of the holy ones, it wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. Shouto made it easy for you to forget that they could fall just like anyone else. That they could be fallible and prone to corruption.

Afterall, every demon is an angel that’s fallen from grace.

((Want to participate in Arcane April? Check out my post here about the event and send in your requests! One day left!))

[faronmckenzie]

30 Ways To Practice Self-Love and Be Good to Yourself

1. Start each day by telling yourself something really positive. How well you handled a situation, how lovely you look today. Anything that will make you smile.

2. Fill your body with food and drink that nourishes it and makes it thrive.

3. Move that gorgeous body of yours every single day and learn to love the skin you’re in. You can’t hate your way into loving yourself.

4. Don’t believe everything you think. There is an inner critic inside of us trying to keep us small and safe. The downside is this also stops us from living a full life.

5. Surround yourself with people who love and encourage you. Let them remind you just how amazing you are.

6. Stop the comparisons. There is no one on this planet like you, so you cannot fairly compare yourself to someone else. The only person you should compare yourself to is you.

7. End all toxic relationships. Seriously. Anyone who makes you feel anything less than amazing doesn’t deserve to be a part of your life.

8. Celebrate your wins no matter how big or small. Pat yourself on the back and be proud of what you have achieved.

9. Step outside of your comfort zone and try something new. It’s incredible the feeling we get when we realize we have achieved something we didn’t know or think we could do before.

10. Embrace and love the things that make you different. This is what makes you special.

11. Realize that beauty cannot be defined. It is what you see it as. Don’t let any of those Photoshopped magazines make you feel like your body isn’t perfect. Even those models don’t look like that in real life.

12. Take time out to calm your mind every day. Breathe in and out, clear your mind of your thoughts and just be.

13. Follow your passion. You know that thing that gets you so excited but scares you at the same time. The thing you really want to do but have convinced yourself it won’t work. You should go do that!

14. Be patient but persistent. Self-love is ever evolving. It’s something that needs to be practiced daily but can take a lifetime to master. So be kind and support yourself through the hard times.

15. Be mindful of what you think, feel and want. Live your life in ways that truly reflect this.

16. Treat others with love and respect. It makes us feel better about ourselves when we treat others the way we hope to be treated. That doesn’t mean everybody will always repay the favor, but that’s their problem not yours.

17. Find something to be grateful for every day. It’s inevitable that you are going to have your down days. This is fine and very human of you. It’s especially important on these days to find at least one thing you are grateful for as it helps to shift your mind and energy around what’s going on.

18. Reach out to family, friends, healers, whomever you need to help you through the tough times. You are not expected to go through them alone.

19. Learn to say no. Saying no sometimes doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you a smart person.

20. Forgive yourself. You know that thing you did one time (or maybe a few times) that made you feel bad, embarrassed, ashamed? It’s time to let that go. You can’t change the things you have done in the past but you can control your future. Look at it as a learning experience and believe in your ability to change.

21. Write it down. Head swimming with so many thoughts it’s giving you a headache? Write them all down on a piece of paper, no matter how crazy, mean, sad, or terrifying they are. Keep it in a journal, tear it up, burn it, whatever you need to do to let it go.

22. Turn off and inwards. Grab a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, wine, whatever your choice of drink, and sit down for a few minutes on your own. No TV or distractions, just you. Think about the wonderful things that are happening in your life right now, what your big dreams are and how you can make them happen.

23. Give up the need for approval from others. “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.” — Dita Von Teese

24. Be realistic. There is no person on this earth that is happy every single moment of every single day. You know why? Because we are all human. We make mistakes, we feel emotions (good and bad) and this is OK. Allow yourself to be human.

25. Get creative and express yourself in whatever way you like. Painting, writing, sculpting, building, music, whatever takes your fancy, and make sure you leave your inner critic at the door. There are no right ways to be creative.

26. Let go of past trauma and wounds. This can be a really tough one and it may be one of those times you need to turn to others for support. The truth is though, when we let go of things that have happened to us it’s almost like a weight is lifted off our shoulders. We don’t have to carry that around with us anymore. We deserve better.

27. Find your happy place. Where’s the one place you feel totally at ease, calm, happy, positive, high on life? Go to that place when you are going through hard times, or imagine yourself being there. Think about how it feels, what it smells like, what it looks like.

28. The next time you are feeling happy and on top of the world make a list of your best qualities and accomplishments. It may sound a little corny, but it can be a wonderful reminder when you are having a day that’s less than amazing.

29. Get in touch with your inner dialogue. If it’s anything less than loving, encouraging and supportive, it’s time to make a change. You deserve to be spoken to in the same way you would speak to your best friend, sister, brother, daughter, or son.

30. Have fun! Get out there and do the things that light your fire. Enjoy them, enjoy being you and enjoy your incredible life.

Words by Jessie Hays

[cancerjupiter]

aquarius moon: observations

This placement of the Moon overemphasizes friendliness, humanitarianism and kindness. Your need for emotional independence can lead to loneliness and difficulty with emotional relationships; you may brush these off with indifference. Your feeling nature can be cold because you don’t understand the emotional needs of someone else. You act warm and friendly but not especially intimate.

You likely see your mother as a friend. She raised you to stand on your own feet; she is a humanitarian and not very conservative in her approach.

The power of the Moon is muted in this sign, the greatest effect being to reduce the feeling element from the emotions. Inwardly you are detached, independent and rather cool. Although controlled and bottled up at times, you like others around you to show that they need and want you. 

You have a strong sense of self which leads you to take a calculated risk in a career or even in a relationship. Although sensible, you are not over-cautious; therefore, you accept most of life's challenges whether they put your finances or your feelings at risk. This ability to inwardly weigh and measure could confuse to those who fall in love with you because, although you discuss feelings in an articulate manner, one wonders just how much you can actually actually feel.

Your inner nature is off beat. Like Aquarius suns, you are probably educationally minded and will choose a career where you can stretch your mind and also broaden the minds of others. 

You are kind, helpful and humanitarian, but this may be directed more towards the world than those closest to you. Although you are helpful in practical ways, there could be embarrassment and helplessness when you’re faced by other people's emotional pain. You are afraid that if you allow people to latch themselves on to you they will drain you or, worse, bore you.

Being strongly independent, you prefer to cope alone with your problems, however self-destructive this may be. You could reject help in case it makes you look weak and incapable. You may even view help as interference. You're not keen on people who try to own or manipulate you, although you can be adept at manipulating others. 

I noticed some of you really enjoy cooking by yourselves, though your favorite thing is seeing others eat the stuff you make.

You can take any amount of chaos going on at work, but you need peace in your home, where you can be in control of your own environment (creating chaos for others lol). You enjoy visitors but don't appreciate people who dump themselves on you. Many of you are clever and handy around the house.

Your memory is strangely selective, easily recalling things you find interesting but 'tuning out' the irrelevant details. However, you don't run from really important issues, as you have high standards of honesty.  You really need a creative or useful outlet, or you can become bored, depressed or aloof.

Some of you are lazy and too easygoing, especially if there are planets in Libra on your birth chart; yet others can be truly eccentric, especially if there are other planets in Aquarius. Mostly, criticism brushes off you. You have a strong ego, and you feel that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, even opinions of you. You are not likely to change in the face of criticism anyway lol

In close relationships, you are kind and passionate; you could be rather romantic. Aquarius being a fixed sign suggests that you don't easily walk away from situations. You may stay in the same house, the same job, or the same relationship long after when you should move on. However, if the day comes when you move on, you do so decisively, looking mentally forward rather than backward.

If you become bored with your partner, you may look outside the relationship for change and excitement. Your famous Aquarian detachment may allow you to work out logically what would be for the best. You need a stimulating partner. Without shared interests, you would gravitate towards interests of your own, and this would begin allowing the marriage to drift into failure. You can be strangely blind to both the needs and the feelings of those you love. You may never really get to know them on a deep level.

You don’t seem keen to have a large family, but the relationship between lunar Aquarian parents and their children is usually very good. There is a natural sensitivity to the needs of children, and you would offer help without making unfair demands or smothering them. It is just possible that you could expect too much of a shy child, but mostly you make a good parent. 

People with fixed Moon signs can cope with a lot. It would take a great deal for you to break up a relationship. In relationships, as in all things, you need freedom and independence, and may show this by being deliberately forgetful, erratic and hard to pin down. If your partner started laying the law down to you and restricting your movements, your first impulse would be to get out of the relationship.

You like sex for its own sake, but are much happier when it’s in a loving relationship. You can adapt sexually to various partners and, personally, my best lover had this moon placement lol.

Your temper can be a problem when you’re young; but later you learn to sit back and control it. However, if hurt, you can wound verbally. There may be a lack of adaptability in your attitude to others. You will only go as far in order to fit in with their wishes. You think that other people ought to take or leave you just as you are. 

A lively person who has many outside interests would attract you; if they have the same sense of humour and look nice, even better. Lunar Aquarians of both sexes prefer an equal partnership, and will do all they can to promote the interests and job of the other, even trying to help the partner enjoy their hobbies. 

You take work seriously, and don't enjoy changing jobs, preferring to find a career into which you can settle. You are interested in ideas and willing to learn; therefore, you likely do well at school and continue to learn later on. You prefer doing something that’s useful for everyone.

You had a good childhood, mostly. At least your practical needs were certainly attended to, even if there is a poor background.

Your mother may have been a busy woman or poured her energies into some personal interest. Some of you will have had the kind of mother who did little outside the home, making you feel that families are definitely better off when the mother has outside interests. Some Aqua moons had religion shoved down their throats, putting them off it for the rest of their lives, at least formally.

It is possible that you loved your father, but lowkey considered him weak. He may have had poor health. Mother was the more organized and capable parent, especially as far as money is concerned. You probably come from an average family of two or three children, and are the older or more capable one of the group, or of a different gender than the others. They taught you not to make scenes or allow your emotions to annoy others. You could never feel very close to your parents. People who have the Moon in Air signs tend to be rather emotionally self-contained, though, and you may just have been born that way.

[astaroth1357]

(Yes, I still have more requests but I need a creativity break. This has been in my drafts for a while so I share it with you now)

How to Comfort Your Demon Boyfriend

Have Some Sympathy for the Devil...

Demons are amoral beings by nature. This lack of natural empathy and ethical restraint can make them appear to be heartless, but nothing is farther from the truth. In fact, your beloved hellspawn can feel happiness and love just as well as you can but that also means they can experience sadness too... When this happens it’s only natural to want to cajole your lover back to high spirits, but this task can be easier said than done. For cases when your demon has taken up sorrow, our guide How to Comfort Your Demon Boyfriend is here to help! This volume will offer you some of the best advice on the market for how to bring your demon back to happiness as any lover would want to do. With our help, you should see that frown lift right off your partner’s face just like when they torment the beings left for eternal damnation, guaranteed!

Lucifer

Lucifer will not want to make his sorrow known to you at first. He prefers to present an image of power and composure which in his mind goes against the vulnerability sadness can bring. You will have to be mindful and watch out for changes in his behavior.

If he is: avoiding your presence, working even more than usual, being stricter on others, emotionally distant, isolating himself, or listening to an inordinate amount of classical music it may be time to intervene.

Engage Lucifer on this only when he is alone. This won’t be too difficult as he will likely be avoiding people anyway.

Approaching Lucifer on a matter this sensitive should be done with caution and great care. You have very little room for error. If you make a gaff or try to speak to him in a way he deems belittling, then he may shut you out further and then you’re back at square one.

Do you best to convey concern, compassion, and sincerity. In your mind you should not be speaking to the Avatar of Pride right now. You should be approaching someone very dear to you whom you can tell is hurting.

If Lucifer is not ready to speak, he will try to console you but give you no concrete answers for his behavior. This is normal, and a tad frustrating, but not a complete shutdown. You can wait for a time (at least overnight) and then try again.

Do not interrogate him. He may not feel comfortable divulging why he's upset just yet. Simply tell him what you’ve noticed about his behavior and express concern.

When Lucifer is finally ready to tell you what has him so gloomy, take care to listen intently. He may only admit this once. 

Once the information is out in the open, assess what can be done and what advice you can offer. Lucifer isn’t one to speak idly about his problems, he will likely be seeking some kind of actionable guidance more than a willing ear. Offer all suggestions empathetically, with the understanding that he values your opinion even if he doesn't take your advise.

A new plan of action will likely soothe him the most, but if he still appears to be troubled after your discussion you can offer him further relaxation options: tea, a hot bath, more classical music, pleasant conversation, etc. 

Now that he’s let you in, he shouldn’t begrudge your presence anymore so remain with him for as long as you feel is necessary. To some extent, Lucifer needs solitude to sort out his thoughts but he’s not the best at doing the same for his emotions. Remind him, gently, that some battles take two to win.

Mammon

If Mammon is upset, you’re probably going to know about it. Where Lucifer is reserved and secretive, Mammon is overt and transparent. He may not mean to be but it is what it is. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Signs that Mammon may be in distress include: avoidance to particular topics, unconvincing denial, crying, clinginess, impulsivity, and, in extremes, desperation.

If Mammon is upset he will naturally gravitate to you for comfort. This certainly makes your task easier so long as you pick up on the signs quickly.

Physical closeness will do wonders for easing his mood. If you’re alone, I’d suggest holding him in some way but doing so in public may make him too embarrassed to actually enjoy your comfort. If you’re with others, allow him to hold you.

Get him talking. It won’t be very difficult, so just let him air out what the problem is. He may just need to complain about a bad day or some unfair treatment and that’s totally fine. Offer him a sympathetic ear.

After he’s done speaking, assess where his mood is now. If he still seems particularly gloomy, it may be the time to deploy other measures to bring him back to happiness.

Affection and humor are the best methods to use when dealing with a sad Mammon. Make a joke at the expense of whoever/whatever is troubling him then take the time to remind him of something positive about himself or your bond. He won’t accept these compliments verbally (but he won’t want you to stop them either).

If even this is not enough (and you’re feeling generous), you can offer to take him shopping or out to eat on your expense. Be warned that he will NEVER refuse this offer and you best have the funds to cover his (immense) expenses. Grimm can’t buy you happiness, but if you’re Mammon it comes very, very close.

Leviathan

Chances are if Levi is sad it’s due to an insecurity of some kind nagging at him. Like Mammon, he generally won’t be very subtle about it.

Look for these signs: melancholy, self-deprecation, envious statements, the phrase “It’s not fair!,” increased anime/game usage, crying, loss of appetite, lack of sleep, increased possessiveness.

Leviathan will periodically go through moods of self-doubt that will cause him to deflate and draw inward. He will not be able of pull himself out of these recurring regressions so it will be up to you to take notice of when he’s struggling.

If you see signs that he is falling victim to his thoughts, it's best to comfort him some before getting to the bottom of what’s wrong.

Find a way to hold him, if he’s currently playing a game then either wait for him to reach a stopping point or ask politely if he will pause so you can give him some affection. He will likely cling onto you in some way once he’s ready to speak. This is normal behavior, allow him to be as close as he needs and pat his head. He will find this soothing. 

Now gently ask him what has him so upset and assess the situation. Levi may have several insecurities but always remember that he also has many strengths. Downplay his weaknesses and bolster those strengths when necessary.

He may not appear to believe your compliments at first, but this initial denial is normal. DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED. Your words mean more to him than anyone else’s, even his own. There will be a point where he stops attempting to refute your claims, that is a sign that they have reached him.

With his self-esteem bolstered, seal the deal with more affection. Kisses, hugs, and other forms of intimacy are all acceptable as he is in sore need of all options. Monitoring Levi’s emotional wellbeing is not a task for the faint of heart, yet it can still be a rewarding experience to those who wish to love this awkward otaku.

Satan

Satan takes a little after Lucifer in that he won’t be very obvious when he’s upset, but even more so because he’s already very used to acting against what he may be feeling.

Signs that Satan is in need of comfort will be subtle, but not impossible to spot. Look for if: he’s reading at nearly all times or gravitating especially toward one particular topic (this will be in response to a problem he may be facing), irritability, impatience, melancholy, or he’s more quiet/withdrawn than usual.

It is best to approach Satan about this in solitude but you need not be in private.

There is little need to walk on eggshells when asking him about his mood. Simply present your concerns in an honest and compassionate manner. Chances are, he was only hiding his problems so not to trouble you. Being direct in telling him that he doesn’t burden you will likely get him to open up just fine.

Again, like Lucifer, he will probably be seeking a solution to what’s bothering him more than he will need to vent. It’s alright if you don’t have an answer for him right away, if he’s looking for one himself it may not be a very simple problem.

Offer your support and maybe help him brainstorm what sort of steps he can take. Knowing that you’ve noticed his emotional state and are behind him fully will reassure him greatly.

If this problem has him particularly downtrodden, offer him a good book or some sort of cat-related activity/item. This should perk him up considerably because the thing he loves second to only you, is cats.

Asmodeus

If Asmodeus is upset, you WILL know.

He is not subtle in the slightest so finding signs won’t be much of a challenge. If he is: crying, moping, acting uncharacteristically withdrawn, shying away from partying, buying excessive amounts of makeup/clothing/jewelry, etc. then he is likely in need of comfort.

Approach Asmo anywhere that you can find him and ask him why he what's wrong. There isn’t any need to hide his feelings from others, he’s very open about his emotions.

He will probably tell you immediately and may need to vent in the process. Listen patiently to what he has to say with a sympathetic ear. This is a therapeutic release for him and a very important step towards making him feel better.

Once he’s done, offer him physical comfort. A hug or kisses should suffice, but it can be taken farther to whatever level you are most comfortable with. He will appreciate any contact that’s offered regardless.

If time passes and he still seems unusually somber, offer to take him shopping or to go to a spa of some kind. This may not completely rid him of his sadness, but it will help bring him back to higher spirits. 

Asmodeus’ emotions run deep and can be very intense, both in highs and lows. Do not feel inadequate if it takes a few days to fully rid him of a bad mood. Just be there for him as best you can and he will love and be grateful to you for every minute of it, regardless.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is not likely to voice his sadness, but it can still be picked up on pretty quickly if you know what to look for.

Look for these signs: he’s eating less/smaller portions than usual, unfinished plates, general looks of sorrow or unhappiness, exercising more/in excess of what's healthy, and gravitation towards comfort foods.

The first thing to note is there’s a chance that his sadness isn’t his own, but Belphegor’s just carrying over to him due their twin connection. It may be advantageous to check on Belphie before approaching Beel just in case. (For more on cheering up Belphegor, consult the next section).

If Belphie is fine, then go to Beel and gently ask him what’s wrong. Again, there is little need to beat around the bush here. Like Satan, he probably just didn’t want to trouble you.

The chances are that he’s upset about a family matter or he’s having nightmares again. If it’s a problem within the family, first ascertain if there’s an upset between him and Belphie. If the twins are having a spat, the best way to cheer him up would be to help resolve it.

For other family related issues, please seek out our supplementary material: On Demonic Family Relations & How to Resolve Demonic Family Squabbles

If he’s having nightmares, then you should consider monitoring what food he eats before bed and stay with him while he sleeps if you are not already. It will comfort him to have you close. The nightmares should pass eventually, but be there to give him love and support until they do. 

Beel may look big and intimidating, but he has the most heart of any demon out there. If he has gifted it to you, it’s only natural for you to feel distressed if he’s not acting like his usual self. Just remember that a downcast Beel is not the end of the world, nor something that can’t be righted with a bit of love and effort to reach out.

Belphegor

In truth, Belphegor is more prone than the rest to suffer from bouts of sadness regularly. There may not be an obvious cause for these dips in mood, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things you can do to help.

Belphie is very hard to read at times so physical indicators of sadness won’t be easy to catch. It may take some added familiarity with him to know when he’s acting differently than usual. Stay patient, vigilant, and empathetic. You will pick up on it eventually.

Look for these signs: increased apathy, melancholy, excessive sleepiness (yes, even more sleepy somehow), irritability, lack of appetite, and general withdrawal from the world around him.

It may be best just to ask Belphie how he’s feeling on a somewhat regular basis, but be careful not to frame your questions as if they’re coming from a place of excessive worry. He won’t want to feel as if you pity him or find him to be overly fragile, this is just a part of his daily life after all.

Beel can also be used as an indicator of Belphie’s emotional state. If Beel is looking particularly sad, it might be good to check on his twin just in case.

If it’s not a good day for him, he may not tell you outright. You will need to read between the lines. Watch where his eyes go as he answers and how long it takes him to respond. If he refuses to look at you or takes a little longer than he should to say he's alright, he may be struggling even if he claims to be fine.

Thankfully, there are very easy ways to bring Belphie a bit of comfort. Offering to nap together or cuddle is by far the easiest method and he will rarely refuse the opportunity. You can also make plans to go some place with him and Beel. Spending time with his twin will significantly improve his mood, at least under most circumstances.

If he and Beel are not currently on speaking terms, this could be another reason he's upset. Helping to resolve the issue should bring him back to good spirits, so do so post-haste.

Belphegor is a melancholic individual on principle. Though you may want to see him be cheerful more often, to some extent that’s just not a part of his nature. Don’t blame yourself if you can’t seem to get him to appear happy most days, the chances are that just having you there is doing more for him than you could ever know. Just remember that when he says he loves you he does, in fact, mean it.