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yolowritter · 11 months ago

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In Offense to Emilie Agreste

Hello there everyone, and- ...okay, put down your pitchforks, I haven't even started yet! Before an angry mob gathers 'round my blog, allow me to explain what today's rant is about. Unlike Lila Rossi, whose existence makes me want to hurl bricks at my screen whenever she appears, Emilie Agreste is actually a pretty interesting character. However, there are things about her (both canon and implied) that have me giving this picture-perfect gal a very intense side-eye. So today I'll be talking about what I think of her character, why I think she could have been written better, why she absolutely isn't a good person, and how the narritive does her a diservice by reducing this poor lass to an insignificant plot device, just so her clinically insane husband can have a reason to bully teenagers in spandex!

Firstly, let's quickly establish what we know about Emilie. I'll explain why I believe anything that isn't directly stated later, now it's just the basics. She and her sister Amelie are coming from a well-off family in England, presumably with quite high standards and expectations. We know little about her early life and it frankly isn't important, but she does at some point take an interest in the creative arts. She firsts meets her husband-to-be Gabriel when she arrives in Paris to further her education, and it's easy to assume they become friends due to similar interests. Then, later down the line, they meet Nathalie Sancoeur, with whom they scour the world to find the Miraculous jewels. After they do find the Butterfly and Peacock in Tibet, they all return to Paris and she creates Adrien Agreste, her son, using Duusu's powers. About twelve years later, she falls ill and "into a deep sleep" because the Peacock Miraculous was broken. This kicks off Gabriel's descent into madness and his crusade as Hawkmoth, which slowly drove him to insanity for reasons seen in this post. But still, this vague timeline leaves us with a lot of questions as to who she was as a person, and how she lived her life.

Before I delve deeper into this, I would quickly want to clarify the sources for the above information. We know from Represenation that Emilie met Gabriel when she went to Paris for educational reasons. I honestly don't remember if her field of study is mentioned, but considering she later stars in Andre's film "Solitude" it isn't hard to derive that said studies could be related. The high expectations from Emilie's family come from the fact that Gabriel had to change his name at some point in life, possibly because Emilie's parents wouldn't accept her marrying some "lowborn". Additionally, we know Amelie's marriage to Colt was arranged, so there definately is a sense of "securing the family lineage" here that exists in what remains of aristocracy today. In Passion, Nathalie is implied to be a treasure hunter of some sort at the time she meets Gabriel and Emilie, though how long she's been at the profession isn't clear. Still, they do work together to find the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous. We see in Evolution that they are occupying the Agreste Manor with the Peacock in hand, so it's possible they purchased the house either right after their trip to Tibet or before. Other relevant information comes from the thumbnails of Emilie's videos and photos from the Passion episode.

As an aside, Astruc better give us that Tibet special, because I need more Agreste family Lore! These people made their drama the entirety of France's problem and while I respect that, I need to know more! Also, Thomas' quote of "a lot can happen when three people are in close proximity for a long time"? Pretty sure that's from Twitter btw, if you want to look it up. I see you, Thomas...I see you...

Anyway, onto exploring Emilie's themes as a character. From the very start of the show, we have a lot of clues that point to her being an angelic, kind and can-do-no-wrong type of character, at the very least in Gabriel's eyes. There is a whole other topic here about him being obsessed with the past and looking at it with rose-tinted glasses, but I digress. The portrait of Emilie in the atelier, her photo in Adrien's room, and Gabriel's fond remniscing all give us the idea that she was a wonderful, lovely person! In fact, we even get a bit of personallity added to her in the Simon Says episode, where Gabriel tells Chat Noir "you have some of her (Emilie's) flair for dramatics". So of course, she was goofy sometimes, which is a trait we see Amelie share at least a little of in the Felix episode, what with her Elsa-style entrance into the manor. For Season 1, we got plenty of information as to her character, even if we didn't know her name quite yet.

In Season 2 we get more of these examples of her being a wonderful person who is dearly missed, such as the whole plot with the above-mentioned Solitude movie, and Adrien wanting to go see it. Why exactly Parisian cinema is playing this movie in the first place considering what we know about Andre abandoning his career as a director is completely unknown and reeks of a plothole to me, but then again so do half the episodes in general. Point is, from very early on in this show we get a positive perspective on Emilie's character. Sure, there's a lot we don't know about her, but I'm sure her wedding day, her early years with Gabriel, their actual relationship, whatever she had going on with Nathalie, and the whole drama with her parents and later Amelie's husband isn't important...right?

Yeah no I'm not letting her off the hook. Aside from the obvious Adrien stuff that I'll get into in a bit, it seems suspicious to me that nobody can ever come up with anything negative to say about Emilie. And I don't mean a genuine character flaw, even if nobody is perfect, I mean just...something embarrassing? An old joke shared between friends from college, a little detail that sheds light at her sense of humor, even a fond recollection of something silly that happened in her youth. There's nothing. Aside from Gabriel saying she had a dramatic flair, which I will talk about, we know nothing about Emilie Agreste as a person. She barely feels alive, almost existing solely to be the "dead wife" archetype of the show. And okay sure, some of that is the fault of whoever was in the writing room when they try to bring her up. But come on, you're telling me Nathalie doesn't have a single memory or photo in that large stack of recollections that shows her being alive for once?

And of course I don't mean Emilie being literally alive, we see plenty of that. But think back to the photo with Gabriel, Audrey, Emilie and Andre for a second. As an example. I can't recal the exact details, but Emilie is standing to the side, closer to being out of frame than anyone else. In the middle of the shot, the other three seem to be having a good time, but she's only giving a polite, proper smile to her friends. Naturally, not every person out there is extremely expressive, but this is a safe space. Emilie is with close friends and everyone is enjoying themselves, yet her face looks like she came out of a portrait. When I noticed that little detail, I went running to find more. Aside from the videos that she left behind, we've never seen her speak or interact with any character excepting that Evolution scene where she first gets the Miraculous. So can we please think about this logically for a second? What kind of person is Emilie Agreste?

She was born in high society, with a lot of expectations on her shoulders and only her sister for company in her formative years, if Adrien and Chloe's sibling-like bond is anything to go by. And yes that's another post entirely, but they were childhood friends and he had almost nobody else his age to talk to, so I'm drawing a parallel. I won't speculate at all about Emilie's childhood, because frankly it's irrelevant to today's conversation. What I will say however, is that everyone we meet who has interacted with her has fond memories and good things to say about her. And every depiction of Emilie we get, even those not made by Gabriel, she seems to radiate perfection. And that right there is her character's theme. Being perfect. She presumably was the perfect daughter, the perfect (or at least a good enough) student to go to France in order to further her education, so on and so forth. But her family life very much isn't anything close to that. For one, her sister is stuck in an arranged marriage with an abusive a-hole who seems to have been spat directly out of a Texas steretype. There is no indication that Emilie knew about this, but...she also eventually let Colt borrow the Peacock Miraculous to make Felix. Clearly she entrusted Colt Fathom of all people with a magical artifact that can make sentient life, because sure, that seems perfectly reasonable!

Of course signs of abuse are hard to notice even when directly pointed out, but for the purposes of Emilie and Amelie, it seems fundementally against the good, pure and angelic character that Emilie has been presented as to even consider handing Duusu over to Colt. I'm ignoring the issue of Tomoe since that hasn't been explained, but there's clearly something wrong here. And now...now we come to Adrien's home life. We know that he has never been to public school before Origins, which happened only because Chloe enrolled him by the way, and Gabriel does allow him to go at the end of the day. We didn't know at the time, but it does seem reasonable for Gabriel to refuse him completely here, seeing that in hindsight, Adrien's class specifically becomes a hotspot for Akumatizations. But despite this danger, Gabriel still allows Adrien to remain in public school. Additionally, it's completely reasonable to assume that a pre-teen and later teenager would want more freedom to explore the world, and I find it incredibly unlikely that Adrien only expressed this after Emilie keeled over. Surely, this child would have wanted to make friends before then, especially if Chloe would brag about how many friends she has in school, which seems like a thing she would absolutely do to impress him. Sure, that last bit is speculation, but Chloe does act like this all the time in Season 1, so it's natural to consider that she did so before too! The thought of Gabriel being the permissive parent here, and therefore not the one keeping Adrien inside all the time...it really frightens me.

And just to be clear, this isn't a tinfoil-hat "Emilie is secretly evil" theory or anything like that. I'm just saying that she isn't perfect, never has been, and actually made a lot of mistakes during her life. Especially with Adrien. Because doesn't it seem like a loving mother's attitude to want to spend time with her precious son, showing affection and being with him at all times? As a reminder, unless the concept of adoption was never invented in this universe, Emilie Agreste could have just grabbed a child out of an orphanage at any point during her lifetime. But instead, she specifically wanted this one, Adrien. And what does she do to get her precious, perfect baby boy? Why, she scours the entire planet with her huband (possibly to-be) and her definately-not-side-chick Nathalie the treasure hunter to find a magic brooch that gives her the power to make him herself, exactly how she wants! Plot aside for a minute, doesn't that sound a little bit insane to you? The desire to have a child alone wouldn't drive anyone to go to such lengths, and this is assuming she is infertile or has some other problem that a good night under the stars with her pals Gabriel and Nathalie won't fix!

Clearly, Emilie had something very specific in mind when going through all the magical, mystical and half-maddening hoops that she had to go through in order to make Adrien in the first place! She practically dragged her husband and their friend on a worldwide trip just to find some tiny bird goddess stuck in a brooch! Are you reading this correctly? And then after Adrien popped into existence (presumably by being carried to term, etc.) Emilie made sure to shower him with love and adoration. But she also kept him isolated, and secure. This isn't as much speculation as it is just reading between the lines, but Adrien seems constantly awestruck throughout the show when presented with new experiences. Not to mention another disturbing thing, she was put inside the life support pod with Adrien Amok on her finger! That's a huge red flag, right in front of us, but it's been ignored because Gabriel is the one who uses it on-screen. Consider that by the time he does use the Ring, Gabriel is well on his way to utter insanity, considering that Shadowmoth is already unhinged enough to quickly evolve into Monarch once the conditions are right. Gabriel has absolutely no chill when it comes to terrorizing innocent people, or using Adrien's Amok to control him when need be. So why is there an implication of Emilie doing the same when she should have been perfectly sane and not driven to desperation because of a loved one's loss like her husband? Again, go check out this post for a full Gabriel analysis.

I'm not saying that Emilie was evil or crazy or a psychopath or anything of the sort. I'm telling you all that she had control issues. Among all the other stuff we know, and with said information pool being tiny to start with, Emilie Agreste seems so intersting! There should have been a whole plot point about removing the rose-tinted glasses that her death cast down on Gabriel, Adrien and Nathalie! There should have been flashbacks to when she was alive! We should have seen her interact and show love towards Adrien! To her credit, Emilie did see that her death was going to mess with Gabriel's head tremendously, and left him a little video politely asking that he doesn't become an internation terrorist. You know, just as a failsafe. It sure is a shame that she never had that conversation with her husband when she was still awake, or that to our knowledge, never said goodbye to Adrien. The public narrative is that she "disapeared". Are you joking me? Of course Gabriel covered everything up, but this is never adressed!

The writers have a ironically perfect character in their hands! Emilie is a mystery to the audience, she has a complicated relationship with both the show's main villains (Lila doesn't count if she's in barely a dozen episodes), one of the titular characters, and is also literally the reason why the show's events kick off in the first place! But we are shown nothing of her for over one hundred episodes of Miraculous! Even Ephemeral, one of the episodes I hate the most in the whole show, could have given us a glimpse into whatever Gabriel's restructured world would have looked like! It was the perfect oppurtunity for us to see Emilie up on her feet and actually having a role to play, instead of just discount Mrs Freeze! Yes I know her name is Nora, I know it's not the same situation, shush, I'm making a "Emilie is in the basement fridge" joke. The writers and Thomas did this woman so dirty it's not even funny! And I am offended at her, because at the end Emilie serves no purpose than to have Gabriel be "sympathetic" in Season 2! There are a dozen plot threads just dangling around for them to rip out of the ceiling and play with, but Emilie's very existence amounts to absolutely nothing! A gravestone would have served as a better character, because at least there could be something useful writen on it! Some kind of descriptor that gave us any insight into her personality!

But no, she's a blank slate! She's just some gal that showed up, found a magic peafowl and keeled over, ultimately leading to Adrien's sheltered home life, social awkwardness, and mommy issues! Because you cannot tell me that Emilie's parenting, no matter how well-meaning, didn't screw Adrien's early life up! She could have been the best mum in the world and it still wouldn't have mattered, because she considered him her perfect creation! Can you see the irony here? Can you observe the myriad of metaphors and the hundreds of ways this can get included in a story? Does Thomas Astruc and his team want me to have a mental breakdown??? Like, excuse me, honestly excuse me, but the sheer amount of offense I take both on Emilie's behalf and to her utter uselessness in this franchise is astronomical! I love this character! I really do! Wrote a whole alternate backstory for her where she and Nathalie are college roomates and everything! Heck, I love her so much that I did make her into a crazy psychopath in one of my AUs just so she can play a key part in that story as the Hawkmoth-equivilant! My love and adoration for Emilie Agreste reaches the god damned moon and back, but unless she actually has more than ten seconds of dialogue in some kind of flashback or prequel, I will continue to be offended! I'll continue to be pissed! And I'll continue to pray for the day where she becomes more than a practically irrelevant plot device!

Anyway, I need to cool off. I need to have a drink. I need to relax and take a break before making the post in defense of poor Chloe, because she too got shafted by the narritive, just like Adrien's mum. Expect it sometime soon, or at the very least when I'm not going insane over the fact that despite directly causing every major event in this franchise to occur, Emilie Agreste is a bigger question mark than the dude in a banana costume. Seriously, what the heck is up with Mr Banana anyway? I'll be seeing you all soon, but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

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911buddieweek · 1 year ago

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Buddie Week Q&A

You might have some questions, hopefully you'll find answers here :)

Is using AI allowed?

No! It has been proven that using AI is stealing from original creators' works. To me (and lots of other people) this is unethical. If I find out something is made with AI, it will be removed from the AO3 collection and the account will be blocked by this account.

I'm aware I can't do much to prevent people from using it anyway. I will try my absolute best to prevent it from happening. All I can do now is give you a tip I've seen going around: posting your works for registered users seems to protect against AI programs from finding it.

Which brings us to the next question

Can I post works on AO3 for registered users only?

Yes you can. Especially with AI going around so much, it is completely understandable that you want to keep it away from people without accounts. I myself also only post for registered users. There's no rule against it. Same with the comments, you can choose whatever option you want

Do I have to post on AO3?

No, you can post wherever you want. However, there is only an account for this event here on Tumblr and a collection on AO3. Posts on Twitter, Instagram or other places won't be shared by me.

But this is for everyone, so you can still create for it! You don't even need to tag me for it.

Will you reblog my work?

This is my first time hosting an event so I don't know what to expect. I want to reblog everything I find! I'll keep an eye on the Buddie Week 2024 tag and my mentions and will do my best to reblog everything.

With AO3 I want to share links on this blog too, but I don't know if everyone feels comfortable with that, so I don't know yet. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable or feel exposed to an audience they don't want.

Depending on how many works will be submitted, it might take some time. I'm currently experiencing a burnout and am still working, so I don't always have the energy. However, I will try my damn best. So even if it's five weeks too late, I'm planning on reblogging everything I'm tagged in!

Can I write graphic/dark topics?

You can write whatever you want, BUT!!!! Tag accordingly. Buddie Week is for everyone - including writers and readers under 18. Be aware not everyone is comfortable with some topics, make sure it's obvious these are in your work so that it doesn't trigger someone. Tag it on AO3, Tumblr, or wherever you post so that people who have blocked/muted those tags won't come across it. Lets keep this a safe space for everyone!

What do I do if someone harrases me?

Tell me!

I want to make clear: NO HATEFUL COMMENTS. Even if you don't like someone's work. Move on. Click away. I'm sure people will write things I personally hate, like bashing fics, but I'll decide not to read it and move on.

If someone is hating on you, contact me. If they are (I will ask the opinions of other people - keeping you anonymous) then the person will get warning. If they do it again, they'll be disqualified - which means their work will be removed from the event and their account blocked by this account.

Please, don't hate on each other and let this be a fun and exciting week!

Can I combine this with other events or challenges?

Of course! If they allow it too.

Is there something else I can't write?

I think it's obvious to say that discriminating isn't okay. There's a difference by showing the reality of it (a character going through it) and writing it from a discriminating view. Thankfully I haven't rum into anyone who does write discriminating fanfiction, but I've heard about racism against 911 characters or homophobia.

If you notice this, don't be afraid to contact me!

When does the collection open?

A few days before the event starts. I will post something about it on here. However, works won't be shared by me until the event starts in my timezone (Central European Time)

My question wasn't answered by this

Send me an ask! I'll try my best to answer ASAP. I might need time to think about how to answer something, so don't worry about me ignoring you if you see me posting on my regular blog after you've sent something. (Though sometimes Tumblr doesn't immediately send me the notification)

#buddie week 2024 #buddie #911 #911 buddie #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #911 abc #911 edit

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talokanda-forever · 2 years ago

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Oh boy.

I intentionally avoided posting any thing about the allegations against Tenoch yesterday because I require time to process information. I needed time to give my brain a rest. This still feels a bit too soon. I will never be one to say Tenoch or anyone else would, "never do something like that." Because I have no idea. I'm hoping that the allegations aren't true. This post is my way of venting. It is in no way meant to persuade anyone else on what they should think or feel about this situation. And certainly not meant to be proof or evidence of why it happened or didn't happen. I don't know. None of us knows.

1. The framing of the dissemination of this information as "news." My biggest issue is that I've seen a lot of Twitter accounts pick up the same link that appears to be the outlet that first brought the Tweet by Maria Elena Rios to light (reforma.com). I don't know what journalistic standards this outlet follows, so I won't speculate. I did check to see if any well-established US outlets had Tweeted anything (Associated Press, Reuters, CNN, MSNBC), and as of roughly 30 min. ago they had not.

So far, all we really have are glorified Retweets, not a news story. There are A LOT of accounts with well designed pages that have all the hallmarks of looking like "official" news organizations, but they are not. It takes virtually no time or effort to Retweet something and start an avalanche. It's a trend that has bothered me for the last decade or so. Journalism requires independently verifying information you have received. It's going to multiple sources to corroborate the information. It's at the very least attempting to reach out to the involved parties to get their statements. It's reviewing public records and court filings to see what has been officially documented. And not to say that WON'T happen at some point, but it sure as hell isn't going to happen within 24 hours. It will take time and we STILL may never know the full story.

2. We should believe victims. ABSOLUTELY! In this particular instance and from this vantage point, Maria is only his accuser. It has not yet been established that she is his victim. I understand that she is a victim involving another individual, and thank goodness she survived that horific attack. However, as it pertains to Tenoch, I don't think interjecting alleged sexual assault in a Tweet focused on a different issue is enough to automatically leap to saying she was absolutely, 100%, without a doubt victimized by Tenoch. If it happened I would hope Maria would take legal action, given she was comfortable enough to make the accusation publicly under her name. Even then, she is not required to do so (which is why I say we may never know what did or didn't happen). I would imagine navigating the justice system in Mexico is no less stressful as navigating the justice system in the US. There are valid reasons for women not subjecting themselves to (potentially) years of legal struggles. But I also hope she wouldn't be so reckless as to throw out an allegation and not allow Tenoch to formally defend himself, assuming he denies these allegations. Once again, something that requires TIME.

3. To all those I have interacted with over the past few months on this site, know that I luv ya! I value our time together here. Regardless of what you've said or haven't said about this situation, that hasn't changed. I'm choosing to reserve judgement because that's how I am and how I will always be. I respect that everyone is not like me (thank God). Like many others, I will suspend posting here because, if for no other reason, I know how to read a fucking room. Let's all be kind and respectful to one another. To those folks who interact with me regularly, don't hesitate to DM me.

#tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta mejia #jose tenoch huerta mejia

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xceanlynx · 1 year ago

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Hi! It's me, waking up from a nice nap to give my lovely mutuals, but especially @khaofirsts @hushedstars @drama-nonsense (the amazing people who accepted my letter-delivering proposal lol) my detailed experience in the FirstKhao fanmeet in Brazil!

So, I only got there by 3:45pm, and the gates would open to the general audience by 4pm (only the people who got VIP1 — the ones y'all probably saw taking solo pictures with First and Khaotung — got to enter earlier) and oh my God the lines were LONG. It was a bit more organized than how it was earlier (in the morning there was only one giant line that was divided by sectors in the afternoon) and the temperature was very nice, not as nearly as hot as it was the day before. Here, it was just a few minutes before it started:

One thing I want to emphasize so much is that there were so many different kinds of people there! Usually in events like this, with asian celebrities, the crowd tends to be more white, female presenting, more emo/punk vibes, and definitely more lgbtq+, but my guys, when I say there were people of all types, I MEAN IT. There were some nice ladies (that were probably 50+) cheering so much in the line, at first I thought they were mothers accompanying their kids but NO, they were fans! There were also a lot of men too, and gender non conforming people, trans people, you name it!

There were also many black and asian people, although white and white presenting people were still the majority (also, many photos may have you think there were only white and whiteish people but the lights that lit the crowd were so strong they basically made everyone look pale lol).

There were also many people from other countries. There were two guys (i believe they are a couple) that I have no idea where they were from, they only talked to staff in english but to each other they spoke some language I have no idea. There were also many latam groups, I saw some girls from paraguay, I know there was a group from Chile too, and there were probably more that I haven't seen. The crowd was DIVERSE!

But enough of all this pre fanmeet talk, let's get to the real stuff!

My moots. Dear moots. I almost lost my hearing /j. We were so loud, and we always are, it's basically cultural of Brazil to be louder than the artist, but last night was something else. Everyone was so excited, really, it is a different atmosphere.

The boys were so, so nervous! It was very easy to see how nervous they were in the beginning, but I think they got a lot more relaxed as the fanmeet went on. When they first entered singing, oh my god... They really got so surprised we were singing so loudly, I bet y'all have seen the footage already, it's all over twitter. They couldn't believe what they were seeing lol

Just a tiny video I took of part of their introduction (IN ALMOST PERFECT PORTUGUESE MIGHT I ADD) — bear with me I own a 6-year-old samsung and I was in the box seats, the quality won't be qualitying lmao (I made a friend while waiting in line and she'll send me some of her videos, thankfully)

I was kinda shocked, yet not really shocked, when I noticed that First wasn't singing live. Like I get it, we all know he isn't really a singer, and considering this was their largest event (by number of people: ~4k), they probably thought that it would be better that way. In any case, I don't think people really minded at all. We scream so loudly anyway that live or not, we would barely hear it lmao and he was such a charismatic performer, he interacted with everyone he could in the standing crowd. Mr. Kanaphan is a tease, you all!!!

Idk if that was just me but Khaotung sounded a little bit rough in his song, which he sang live. Maybe he had a sore throat? No idea, but by the last song (let's try) he sounded very good. Maybe it was recorded, but I really didn't noticed. Their stage presence got better and better at every song. AND RAPPER KHAOTUNG? OKAY! GIVE ME SOME MORE OF THAT!!!

The questions and games were very fun! I'm not the type that like much fanservice (all of this was fanservice, I know, but like, those obvious one, you get me?) but they were really nice and not much forced. The questions were also very nice and well-curated (no nonsense ship questions), although I think there were a couple of questions the translator didn't understand fully (also, we were screaming so much I can't blame her for not hearing) and she probably translated to them wrong/not complete, so their answers were a bit weird but we understood what they meant. Also, they tried to samba! The crowd singing Zeca Pagodinho! So random... poor boys were so, so awful lmao but we can forgive them because they're cute

The game interactions with the two fans were also really nice! The girls were very polite (one of them was very young and timid, poor thing) and yeah, it was cool *alexa, play "That Should Be Me" by Justin Bieber*

The surprise fan video was so wholesome. I was almost tearing up lol and when, in the video, a deaf fan appeared signing how much she loved them I lost it and just started crying. Really, they are such great people and their talent has entertained and inspired so many different groups, it really is heartwarming.

Okay, now for the picture: Look, I was in a trance like state. I have absolutely no idea how I got on that stage to take the photo. I was the last one of the group so I couldn't sit next to them, but I believe I got to be somewhat behind Khaotung? I remember seeing the top of his head. Oh my god I really blanked out

As for the hi touch, it was so fast I kinda also did not register much? My brain really was malfunctioning. What I can remember is: They aren't as tall as I thought? Like, I don't think they are lying about their height, I just realized I'm not as short as I thought lol I am 168cm and, with the shoes I was wearing I was probably ~171cm. Still shorter but not as short as I somehow thought I would be.

Their hands are soft. Very soft. Also, their skin literally is flawless, everyone was commenting how perfect it was, just like porcelain. I don't know what treatments they do, and what makeup they use, but I need the detailed list right now!

Also, fuck my life: I can try to say anything, literally anything, but when I get in front of celebs the only thing I can mutter is "hi" with a giant smile. What the fuck I couldn't even say something like "i love you" or "you're handsome".... NO. I JUST SAID HI AND LEFT 😭😭😭

Okay, that's pretty much how it went. Oh, and as I was waiting for my uber to arrive, and I was more distant from the venue so I could avoid the crowd. I was in the street right in front of the gates of the venue, but still more distant, there were probably like 10 people around me. I heard so many people screaming at the entrance of the venue — firstkhao were going back to the hotel (you can see the van in an earlier post of mine). They entered the van and then the van was signaling they were going to turn left to the same street I was waiting the uber. Oh. My. God. I started waving like crazy, they could not have missed me looking like those gas station inflatable men lmao I couldn't see them because the window was very dark but boy I just know they saw me again 😂😂😂😂

To finish up, as the official photo wasn't released yet, let me show where I am in the gmmtv pic. Look at top left where the arrows are pointing. See the two hands? That's me, baby

#firstkhao #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #I almost forgot to make this post guys #but here I am

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stacywaters · 2 years ago

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Purple Ink (RM)

[Words in bold are in Korean]

I begin another doodle on my arm. It's nearly filled now with sketches from my ballpoint pen.

"Seriously, I can't believe your soulmate's never asked you to stop. Your drawings are everywhere at this point" my friend Stacy laughs.

I finish up the rose I'm drawing, "I'm sure they love my drawings. They've told me themself."

Stacy sighs, "I wish my soulmate talked to me more.. do you think I'll ever find them?"

"Easy. Just write your name really big on your forehead, they won't miss you."

"That is FAR from a solution, Y/N."

I laugh and look back down at my arm. A small heart appears next to the flower.

----

A Weverse notification interrupts my thoughts as I walk through the door. "RM started a Live" I open the live.

Namjoon and Hoseok are painting. I giggle as Namjoon spills some ink on his arm. Shutting my phone off, I go to take care of the pile of dishes in the sink.

As I pull my sleeves up, I notice a splatter over my wrist.

"What the.."

I run over and grab my phone. Pulling up the app again, I stiffen at the sight.

Namjoon's purple ink stain covers his wrist, a few splatters on his palm. Exactly like mine.

"No way... it can't be" I mumble.

Slowly, I grab a pen and write a small note on my arm by the splatter. Like clockwork, it shows up on his arm: "Namjoon?"

-----

The next few days, twitter had been blowing up about us.

"Namjoon's soulmate is an ARMY?"

"Guys! She knows! She found him!"

"Aww, that's sweet. Let's be happy for them."

"Wait, you mean they haven't met yet?"

I sigh, bringing my head to my hands.

"What do you want to do about it?" Stacy asks.

"I don't know.. I'm happy but I'm sad and I just don't know what to do. I'm surprised that he's someone I've admired for so long, but I feel dumb for not ever noticing. And I never imagined meeting my soulmate would be like... this. What if ARMY hates me? I don't want to cause him trouble. What if-"

"Relax, girl. I've only seen supportive comments so far. Everyone knows that you can't control soulmates, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Yeah, I just, i dunno." I slump down in my chair, "it's not like I'll ever get to meet him anyways. It's a lost cause."

"Hey! Chill out. What you need to do is give him a way to find you."

"Such as?" I grumble.

"Such as posting your art online. I've been telling you forever, your creations are too good to keep to yourself! And if you post them, soon enough either he'll find you or ARMY will"

"That's... that's not a bad idea."

And that's how you got here. You'd been posting for two weeks now, but only had about 12 followers.

"Trust the process! He'll find you. It takes time to build an account." Stacy assured you.

"I just feel like the art should be for me, not a faceless algorithm."

"I'm sure he'll find you. He sees your art every day."

"I hope so" I mutter.

-----

I scrolled on my phone half-awake. I couldn't fall asleep, so I decided to explore my feed on instagram. Suddenly, I received a like. And another like. And a follow. And soon enough, a message.

"Who..." I mumbled.

My eyes widened as I see the message they sent me. (Messages by them are in THIS COLOR, messages by you are in THIS COLOR :))

"I'd recognize your art anywhere"

I shiver at their words. Looking at their account, it doesn't help in figuring out who this is. A part of me carries a small hope. It must be Namjoon! He must have found me! But I don't want to get hurt.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Namjoon :) You draw on my arm all the time.."

No... no way. It can't be. What am I supposed to say to my soulmate? What if it's just Stacy pulling some sick prank on me?

"Hmm, prove it then."

Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation on my wrist as words begin to appear. 'Hello artist'. I quickly scratch out a message in our chat room.

"Oh my god, it's really you! I never thought I'd find you.."

"Well you did :) I love your drawings by the way. I'm a big fan."

"No, that's what I'M supposed to be saying. You're music is seriously amazing. I can't believe I get to be your soulmate.."

"You're so cute"

I blush. Not sure what to say, I wait for him to speak again.

"How long have you known?"

"That I'm your soulmate haha"

"Oh, uh, I was watching your live with j-hope"

"Ah, so when I spilled the paint on myself? That isn't very romantic..."

"Well, I'm glad you did regardless."

A question sits at the back of my throat. Suddenly my fingers begin to type it.

"How did you find me?"

He begins to type.

"It's actually kind of similar. I've been following you for a while now. I found your page maybe, two weeks ago? You didn't have too many posts up at the time but as you started posting more, I guess I just kinda realized one day. Like your drawings felt like home to me. And one day I was looking at your art on my Lock Screen, and then down at my arm, and it just hit me. So I decided to message you haha"

"Dfbivaldhflvahf ok wait you made my art your Lock Screen?"

"Shoot. Shouldn't have sent that part"

I giggle.

"Um, I guess where do you live?"

"No no not like that-"

"I feel like I'm messing this whole soulmates thing up already??"

"Like do you also live in Korea or..?"

"Ah, no.. sorry. I live in (INSERT COUNTRY NAME)"

"Don't be sorry! Y'know.. we're actually going to be doing a comeback soon with a tour :D"

"I'll talk and see if we can go there!"

————

I shiver in the cold hallway. He told me to meet him here, is he still coming? Maybe I should leave.. NO! That's silly. He's coming, Y/N. Just be patient.

Suddenly I hear sneakers squeak against the tile. Turning to my left, I notice him. Him. The boy I've been messaging for 7 months now. The one I've been waiting to meet. The one I love.

His dark hair bounces as he runs, star-like shimmers glimmering in his eyes. He slides in front of me, skidding a bit on the slick floor.

"It's you, you're here, I" He pants.

"Hi Namjoon" I smile.

Suddenly my head goes blank. All those months of texting, and I have nothing to say.

"Erm, good luck with the concert."

He checks his watch, "Oh, right, haha. I was so excited to meet you that I forgot about the concert."

"Hey! ARMYs paid good money to be here tonight. Don't forget about them because of me"

He smiles and pulls me into a hug. We swing from left to right as we talk. After around 15 minutes, a staff member informs us that we have to go for him to perform.

Once he leaves I sink down to the floor, clutching my phone to me. I daydream about reality, the moments only seconds ago that somehow already feel so distant. Wonder when I'll see him again. Wonder if it'll be soon.

"I can't believe she's his soulmate"

"I know, right? I mean, is the universe sure that they're destined?"

Laughter from the two staff members pulls me out of my lovely daze. Why are they so rude? What did I do? Do they assume I don't know Korean just because we spoke in English?

A third girl working there spoke up, "C'mon guys, let's not be so mean. We don't even know her yet!"

"Yeah, but like, have you seen her?" The previous staff questions.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"She's just... not what I thought she'd look like."

"She could be listening now," the third girl said, "I think she seems perfectly nice. You should give her a chance."

Without another word she walks out of the room and into the hallway, where I was listening. I look up to her from the floor, my eyes glistening with tears.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! You must have heard them. They're like that to everyone, don't worry."

I nod and turn away, "Yeah no, it's just... old insecurities coming back"

"Well don't let them," she smiles, "I, along with I'm sure Namjoon, think you're gorgeous."

I laugh, "Thank you. You are too"

"I have to be! It's hard keeping up with my worldwide handsome boyfriend" She jokes.

"Wait, are you?"

"Minji, Kim Seokjin's soulmate" She grins.

We talk together while we watch the concert from the waiting room. Apparently she's been with the boys for 2 years, which is a little intimidating. Am I going to have to meet them later? What if-

"Everything alright?" Minji asks.

"y-yeah!" I nod.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay"

I turn to her. Did she know? Suddenly, Namjoon and the rest of the members pour into the room.

He pulls me into a hug, "How did we do, baby?"

I blush at the nickname, mumbling, "You guys were amazing"

"Were you nice to Y/N?" Seokjin asks Minji.

She sighs, "yes, but Ari and Chaeyeong said stuff about her"

"What did they say?" Namjoon yells.

"They were just being rude. Talking about what she looks like and if she's good enough for you, and...y'know"

Unknowingly, I had begun to tug harder at Namjoon's shirt while tears threatened to form. He pulls his arms tighter around me, "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're perfect. Don't listen to them, Minji's right. They're always like this. We are all here for you, we love you. None of the things you're insecure about mean anything to me. To me, you are perfect."

"I-I.." He pulls away to look at my face.

"You're crying but you're smiling.. I don't understand"

"They're happy tears" I grinned, "Because, I can't believe the universe thought to give me the luck that is you."

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chaifootsteps · 2 years ago

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Okay so I watched the latest episode leak, and I have to say that out of all the episodes I've seen so far this one was relatively competent which is... surprising. I do think that a lot of the issues other people are having are extremely valid but some of them I do feel are just a bit nitpicky ---but overall as far as events unfolding and then getting resolved..... which is....as you know, the very basic competence for a storyline- this one pretty much did exactly that. Something tells me that the reason why it was relatively watchable is not because of Vivienne. I was actually surprised they had Blitz apologizing and owning up to a mistake, usually he's supposed to be bad but still "deserving" of forgiveness for no reason. Just a UwU untouchable bby. so that was actually nice. The flashback sequence for their childhood was done very well....and I actually disagree that it needed a whole episode, because I actually think this was -exactly- how flashbacks should be functioning in shows. They should just give brief context that enlightens the audience to what is currently happening in the present moment that both the characters know about, but that the audience doesn't. And they did just that, surprisingly.

That being said, there was never a need for a flashback episode in the first season, especially an entire episode dedicated to a bunch of uselessness scenes. Like the other anon said earlier if there had been some kind of foreshadowing, then perhaps it would have been warranted. Anyway I think that if that episode never happened, then this would probably have more impact, cuz this would have been the first time we saw Blitz and fizz as kids.

For the first and probably only time the whole thing with Blitz apologizing and owning up to his mistake, and then making up felt earned.... But even with the things that this episode did right it's still overall felt.... meh, vapid, and shallow with all the other unnecessary things happening in it. Striker and crimson being the antagonistic party in this was just random/ unnecessary; a simple throw away villain would probably have worked in this one episode. And that entire distraction song was..... so so so unbelievably dumb. Insultingly dumb.

But hey whatever. I could go on and on but let's just say that I also agree with the overall feedback that was given by a lot of the previous anons too. But I thought this would be hopefully a different take that you haven't had before.

So this episode was not good because none of the episodes in this pointless web series are ever good..... Ever.

But as far as being relatively competent it did surprisingly an okay job. One particular thing that I found pretty cool was when another fire started and Fizz was back in... Well, another fire basically, and Blitz actually saved him this time, kind of like a redemption for what happened in the past. Although that scene seems a little..... too suspiciously decent to have been from Vivienne alone but...hey I guess we'll see.

Anyway I can't wait for Viv to go on another Twitter whine sesh. Normally I would not be happy to see a Creator upset about something like this but knowing her past track record this is pretty deserved. Enjoy the early episode everyone!

I think it was one of the better episodes of season 2, but that's an extremely low bar to clear. I've got to disagree on the flashback sequence however...rapidfire flashbacks like the one we had here work for some things, like Moxxie's backstory, but Blitzo is our main character and Fizz and his mother are some of the most important people in his lives and it was just too important a scene to rush. To bring it back to BoJack, it would be like if The Old Sugarman Place were to be condensed into a minute and change.

Agreed that the little redemption bit at the end was cute until Vivzie ruined it with of course yet another sex joke.

#Anonymous #oops spoilers #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #actual blog post

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saltysuicune · 2 years ago

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I don't like Evolution so far...

You know, I've been watching evolution and I gotta say... I don't like i so far, at least not the start I'm at ep 16. People keep hyping it up as the greatest season ever but I feel like it's just blind fanatism for Free and Silas. I made a whole ass thread on Twitter about why I don't like it, but I still want to share my thoughts here, so buckle up people.

Also like, please remember I've only gotten to when they go to México, so I can't take into account any kind of character moments or character development that happens after that 'cause I obviously haven't seen any of that yet unless I got spoiled.

It's actually a single very simple issue, but it bothers me a lot 'cause this wasn't a problem in season 1, or at least it wasn't so big; I feel they misuse so much of their time, like, let me explain. They had like 15 episodes of a whole arc, to introduce around 12 new characters and I don't even know who half of them are supposed to be (counting only the guys back at BC Sol).

Season one had also 15 eps of the first arc, but around numeber 5 you already know the basics about every big player in that arc and even most side characters. Those being the main 6, plus Hoji, Orochi, Xander, and both Valt and Daigo's families.

Wakiya and Daigo had more impact in this arc than most of the new characters on Valt’s side, I care more for the French team than the new supposed deuteragonists. Why do you make so many new characters if you won’t do shit with almost any of them? How do you make me care more about the secondary characters more than the main gang?.

Most of these eps were incredibly boring to me because they just got rid of the thing I loved so much about season one, every character had something that made them different from the rest or a reason to care about them, but during this arc most characters are "literally who"s.

Like, I might for example not care about Zac or Ukio that much, but I have friends who do. But Honey? Django? I don’t know a single person who even remembers them. And there was no improvement to anything else from Season 1, so there’s nothing to make up for this issue.

They should have actually taken the time to introduce everyone and show you just who they are. Who’s Django for example? Because right now he’s literally just a walking stereotype, not even a character, give me a reason to care about the fact he’s leaving. Stan got incredibly upset when that happened, clearly it was supposed to be an important thing, specially looking at how much it changed Stan's own character into an abrasive and resentful shit stain of a guy for a while.

Like I said, I think they should use the first few episodes to properly introduce Valt’s new friends. Show Django and Stan’s supposed friendship and how they were supposed to be among the strongest bladers besides Free, show me Valt befriending the new people, show them Honey interacting with her sister, HOW does she not have any chemistry with HER SISTER. Just make them feel like actual characters instead of replacing already loved and established characters with boring different nationality versions of themselves.

THEN you bring the plot. They don’t even need that many eps, they’ve clearly proved they can give them that treatment with just one, look at Cuza or Gashem, for example. They established them perfectly, why can't they do that with the characters you're supposed to see every episode? The story would be so much better if they made you actually care about these people, but they just didn't.

So many moments in the later half of these few first eps would be vastly improved, the few times someone decided to leave, that one time everyone got mad at Valt and Rantaro after meeting with Daigo, Silas rejoining, the little conversations Kris and Trad often have.

I just wanna care about whatever is happening, like I did in season 1. Kris and Ange's conversation in that one ep, Kit following Valt to the royal's place, everything Free did, those are great examples, I needed more of that, just give me character moments, tell me who these people are, please, I wanna care.

#beyblade #beyblade burst #beyburst

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literaticat · 1 year ago

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Hello!! There is something I have been wondering for a while, as someone newer to the publishing world: is Twitter / X still the best / maybe only place to really participate in book industry conversations and show folks your work? Given all the changes, and the openly transphobic nature of a lot of them (removing trans harassment protections from the code of conduct, designating "cis" and "cisgender" as slurs) I really don't feel comfortable there. Buuuuut— I'm keenly aware as a trans book maker that I have a smaller reach anyway so I don't really want to give myself extra barriers to cross if that's where all the book folks still are! I guess my question is, should I suck it up and join anyway? Is there another platform that folks are starting to migrate to that you've seen? And, sidenote, please let this also serve as a gigantic thank-you for having a voice here on tumblr!! Your presence is so appreciated!

I don't really go on twitter anymore and I think lots of people are in the same boat. It's just... vile. I haven't deleted my account because, well, I like my account and spent 15 years building it, and I want to be able to read other people's tweets if need be which is harder to do if you don't have an account -- and who knows, I just can't bring myself to erase it entirely -- but if I log on at all, it's to dip on for like, A HOT MINUTE and then go away again.

So yea, there ARE still people on there, but I don't think it's the "vital community" that it used to be, at all. IMO, if Twitter makes you feel grossed out, unsafe, or anything else negative, you shouldn't subject yourself to that, regardless of what other people might or might not be doing.

No one platform has taken its place, though there are lots of bookish people on Insta, BlueSky and Threads from what I have seen -- none of those platforms reaches the greatness of what twitter once was, but also, neither does twitter, so... IMO, you should dabble around in the different places and see where the vibes feel best to you and the most of "Your People" are, however you define those things. And then ACTUALLY USE IT. Because the reason no one platform is rising to the top (yet) is because everyone goes on there for thirty seconds, posts "um, is this thing on???? where is everyone????" and then they go away. Like, everyone needs to make an effort to engage if anyplace is going to be engaging, you know?

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redwineconversation · 5 months ago

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and the interstate was so loud, there was a lot to drown out (Lyon - PSG Postgame Thoughts)

There was good and there was less good, but there wasn't really "bad". So let's pour ourselves a cup of coffee and have a good and proper chat about things.

I wouldn't really describe this game as memorable, and I think that's what's upsetting a lot of people. It wasn't chaotic, there was no blood drawn, there were no exceptional comebacks. In many ways, it was a really, really boring game. Not much happened. Or did it?

Lyon's finishing is obviously still an issue but it's not as bad as I think certain people on Twitter are making it out to be. Lyon shot at goal almost 30 times, 11 of which were on goal. People will complain that Lyon "only" won 1-0, and I agree it should have been more. BUT this isn't like the game against Paris FC where it genuinely felt like Lyon was shooting for the sole purpose of saying they did. Here there was intent. It could have/should have been more, but Lyon hit the post I think it was three (3) times, Katoto - a striker - saved twice off the line, Earps actually came up with good saves. Like this wasn't a team who was shooting with no intent, they were shooting and coming up with a good defense. So yeah, it was "just" 1-0, but it could have been more if not for PSG defending like their life was on the line.

It's not to say Lyon always made the right choices in front of goal. I still remain on the fence about Dumornay - girl, just keep your head down and do your job; Hegerberg's shot was awful but at least she felt enough shame to apologize for it. Chawinga scored, cool, but there's still some issues there which need sorting. And again I am not buying the excuse of "well she isn't used to being around technical players" because PSG can be a technical team. She just needs to make better decisions. I think she'll get there eventually.

Damaris was my player of the match, you're allowed your wrong opinion. Lyon is just so lucky to have her and we're lucky that she describes Lyon as the club of her dreams. It's easy to romanticize a team when the players do it for you. Damaris suits Lyon the same way Lyon suits Damaris. And the cool thing is, Damaris is only going to get better with experience. We don't have the polished version yet, and that's super exciting. If Henry molded Lyon into her own image, I think we're starting to see Damaris do the same. I hope she stays injury free this season and we really get to see what she does with the keys to a Maserati.

People were bitching on Twitter about van de Donk/Horan in the midfield and honestly I think they were bitching for the sake of bitching because it is fashionable to hate on those two players. Neither of them did anything which raised my blood pressure. Horan missed a couple of chances, sure, but if you're going to hate on Horan for that, then I expect the same criticism towards Durmonay and Diani, who also missed clear chances. If anything I thought van de Donk played a little handbreak-ish, so if you're going to bitch about her performance, bitch about that.

Defense was stellar. Look, I'm not going to deny it, I probably had the biggest head loss out of everyone when Svava signed with Lyon and she has proven me wrong every single week. I was very, very vocal about how there was night and day between Svava and Bacha, that recruiting a backup LB was beneath Lyon, etc. But look at us now. You could make a genuine case that she has been the best defender on the team so far this season. And it's not to say the others have been bad, because they haven't been. She is just very consistent, which is something I really appreciate in a player. She doesn't showboat, she doesn't do more than she is capable of. Someone said she is aware of her limitations and so stays within her perimeter. So we definitely need to give her credit.

I've also seen a lot of head loss about Montemurro and I have to say, I don't really agree with it, and he was not in my Top 5 choices for head coach. I think there is a bit of confirmation bias - a lot of the time the ones screaming #JoeOut are the same ones who think Lyon should focus on being an academy development team and stuff like that. No. I don't give a fuck if academy players get playing time or not. I just want to win.

And I honestly think Lyon, barring the Paris FC game, has been playing well this season. Compare to how stale the performances were under Bompastor at the end to how they're playing now, there's an obvious difference. Lyon is playing with purpose again, it seems like they're enjoying themselves on the field, etc. If your criticism is that he is not benching Horan/van de Donk and isn't giving academy players playing time ... Maybe your problem isn't with Montemurro, maybe it's what you want from Lyon.

And again I do have issues with Montemurro, he's made decisions that I don't agree with. But I don't think he is a bad coach and I think none of the realistic criteria for him to be fired are being met. Lyon is playing well. They are winning games. And he hasn't lost the locker room and believe me, we will know when that happens (because yes, all coaches lose the locker room eventually). Whining that he should be fired because he isn't benching Horan or isn't playing your favorite academy player isn't a good look. The fact of the matter is, Lyon is playing and is winning. Renard and Hegerberg aren't calling for his head. You really want him fired, take it up with them because they're the only ones who really have a say about his job security.

So what did we learn from this game? Not much, except that under the right circumstances, Lyon-PSG games can be boring after all. A PSG fan pondered that maybe the intensity dropped once Lyon realized that PSG wasn't actually going to do anything threatening. Lyon definitely took their foot off the gas in the last 15-20 minutes (which coincides with Horan and van de Donk coming off, but that risks upsetting the Twitter fanatics).

Lyon's press is really, really difficult to handle and I do think PSG struggled enormously with it. Now it must be said PSG was decimated by injuries and this wasn't their strongest 11, and some of their players just don't have the necessary level/experience to handle a press like Lyon's. Though to be fair, neither does Becho. But the press was very, very intense. I saw some criticism towards Leuchter basically ghosting the entire game but in her defense, Lyon wasn't letting her anywhere near a CPR kit either. On the rare occasions she got on the ball there were immediately 4-5 Lyon players swarming her. Realistically she wasn't going to be able to do anything except maybe jump to Lyon at the first opportunity @kang

Was it a good game? Ehh. Was it a bad game? No, and that's kind of the point. Lyon got three points and didn't really step out of second gear, and didn't play badly. We owe ourselves to acknowledge that much.

#all good love stories start in the rain

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ennas-aesthetic · 2 years ago

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Retired!Dream as a Librarian AU part 2

I am SOOOOOO glad that the reception for the retired!Dream as a Librarian AU was so enthusiastic and sweet! Thank you so much for that (and if you haven't seen part 1 one yet, click here). More snapshots of the AU will be added as we go, because a retired!Dream experiencing the full range of human emotions in a place of community has brought so many stories to tell.

Anyway, a good friend on Twitter asked what happens when Lucienne finds out that Retired!Dream has become a librarian (or at least, a library volunteer) in the Waking World. I DO, in FACT, have a headcanon locked and loaded for that, so here we go:

Sometimes Dream wonders how on earth he has gotten here.

It wasn't like he hates the job. Dream LOVES the local library - loves the staff and the stories and the people. It's the best outcome he could have ever hoped for, really. Like someone has given him a second chance, a renewal. A new purpose where his existence could transpose into a life worth living.

But, OH, the circumstances that it took for him to get here. If only his former subjects could see him now. If only LUCIENNE could see him now.

Dream understands, more than ever, how much painstaking effort goes into even MAINTAINING a functioning library. Running the vastest library he knows in existence WHILE managing the Dreaming when he runs off to brood must have been a herculean feat. Morpheus resolves to be more appreciative of her work over the millennia, if he ever sees her again.

And see her he does. Lucienne comes to the library one day, on the guise of looking for a mislaid book. Her face is wreathed with smiles, looking sharp and dapper in her suit.

"Greetings, my Lord," she beams, eyes alight with fondness and mirth. "You look to be in good health."

"Please," he says, and surprises himself by laughing out loud. Laughing comes easier to him now, he notices. (The first time he did this in front of the library staff it was in response to an incredibly macabre joke he found hilarious. Dream had slapped a hand to his mouth, but the damage had been done: the library staff looked on in ACTUAL suprise, and then they cackled in earnest, delighted that their strange new colleague had a fucked up sense of humor and an absolutely ridiculous laugh. So many more attempts to make him crack up started since that day. Not that he minded.) "Call me Morpheus. I am your lord no longer."

"Hmm," Lucienne says. "Very well. Hello, Morpheus." And all of a sudden she envelops him into a bone-crushing hug.

"That was not a breach of protocol and conduct, I hope," she says, mischievous, as she lets a rather staggered Dream go. "Seeing as I am your librarian no longer."

Dream smiles wide. He does not think he has ever smiled this frequently in his entire existence.

He gives her a tour of the library, introduces her to the people behind the counter. After a few conversations the staff has agreed on one thing: Lucienne may be the BEST librarian there is. Some of them had already asked her to stay. Dream has to interrupt quickly, saying that she is already a hotshot librarian somewhere else, before steering her away from her new admirers.

"They adore you, it seems," he tells her. Lucienne rolls her eyes. Even as his librarian she had always been frank with him, but seeing her be openly candid with Dream, without the barrier of his Nobility and his Lordship between them, pleased him to no ends. If any outsiders could have seen them, they would have thought they are just extremely close friends (and they are. They are.)

"And they are COMPLETELY enchanted by you," she shoots back, grinning, "which is honestly quite the miracle."

She teases him about finally being able to handle his books, and jokingly chastises him about not doing it sooner. Dream, to her (non) surprise, takes this seriously, and admits, rather abashed, that most of his bookkeeping skills are only existent because of her. He concedes that she is still the better librarian between the two of them. Lucienne is very smug over this confession (as she should be.)

"I am forever indebted to you," Morpheus says, and finds himself a little choked up at the last syllable. "You have given me a lifeline, in more ways than one." He shakes his head. "I do not know how I may ever repay you."

Her eyes are overbright, but when she speaks her voice is steady.

"Just live, Sire," she whispers. "That's repayment enough."

It's a blessing, almost. An anointment of old, except his birthright is now renewed. Just live. Dream nods, determined to make the boon stick. To keep the oath for as long as he can.

Before Lucienne leaves she hands him a gift. "To complete the librarian regalia," she winks. And just like that she's gone.

Inside the box is a compilation of all the "Sandman Stories" he has adlibbed for the kids during Story Time Tuesdays. A note taped on the book: 'Matthew is gloating because he gets to be a dragon. Name a raven after me, will you?' Dream laughs out loud.

(Sure enough, on the next Story Time Tuesday a new character -- Lucienne the Raven Librarian -- was introduced. The kids instantly fell in love with her, and the book feverishly codifies the stories Morpheus comes up for her.)

But that's not all. In the box is another pouch - he opens it, and a pair of spectacles tumble out. Another note: 'from one librarian to another.'

Morpheus wears those spectacles till this very day.

---

Want to know more about the Retired!Dream as a Librarian AU? Read part 1 here and part 3 here.

#dreamling #sandman fic #dream of the endless #lucienne #dreamling au #retired!dream #retired!dream as a librarian au #dreamling fic #public libraries #RETIRED!DREAM IS A LIBRARIAN AND HE IS HAPPY #librarian dream #this was such a fun time oh my god I love Lucienne so much and writing this was very cathartic for me #bec i get to give them the closure they deserve

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 1960

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, dear lord.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, darlin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

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

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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