#put some goddamn characterization in there!

[micamicster]

Was saying to my sister yesterday that one of the most important differences between a good and bad tv show is like, the amount of dead space? By which I mean a scene should feel full. A shot should feel full. Not in terms of stuff physically in it but in terms of meaning. There should be Stuff Going On and there should be Layers… a scene should never be about just one thing. No more “this scene is for exposition, delivered to the camera” and more “in this scene the exposition is delivered with characterization” Every character in a scene should be doing something and every actor and writer should be paying attention to what that character is doing! No more dead space! Put Stuff In Your TV Shows 2024!

[literallysatanofficial]

well dennis losing the titty poll made me watch all the way up to mac and dennis move to the suburbs, i didn't mean to binge that much at once but honestly kinda hate most of 11 anyway so i had to keep going,,,

[aroaceleovaldez]

okay last one for the night but. honestly i really hate how the franchise has been using loyalty to Rick as a shield for so long. If Rick was involved in a project or not doesn't matter, especially not anymore.

ReadRiordan and the publishing for the franchise has been using this tactic for ages - they obscure if any writing related to the series wasn't written by Rick unless it's special circumstances. It's near impossible to find out who the ghostwriters are (Stephanie True Peters and Mary-Jane Knight). TSATS was promoted as the first time we got a non-Riordan (Rick or Haley) author working on one of the companion novels despite having seven already existing ghostwritten books in the series. The only reason Mark Oshiro was emphasized so heavily for TSATS was because they also work as a sensitivity reader for topics such as queer identity, and Rick had received backlash in the past for being a Straight Cis Old White Guy repeatedly falling into bad habits (that he hasn't broken out of) with certain characterizations that he kept doubling-down on or retconning into oblivion. The show emphasizes that Rick was involved, but the LA Times article brings into question exactly how much he was involved, and it doesn't even really matter either way. The ReadRiordan site actively avoids putting any writing credits on their articles (or art credits...) or anywhere on their site.

Practically the entire fandom unanimously agrees the musical - which had zero involvement from Rick - is the best adaptation of the series so far, including the TV show. Some of the best writing to come out of the series recently was the stuff ghostwritten by Stephanie True Peters (Camp Half-Blood Confidential, Camp Jupiter Classified, Nine from the Nine Worlds, etc). And yet when promotional stuff is posted about CHB:C, there's clearly coded language used to hide the fact that Rick himself didn't write it. Yes, that's how ghostwriters work, but at this point we should really stop pretending "Rick Riordan" isn't just a pen name for a group of authors like "Erin Hunter" and that Rick is actually writing everything in the series. I can easily look up and see which Animorphs books were ghostwritten, and who those authors were. I can find every "Erin Hunter" easily listed on official sites. And yet most people don't even know the Riordanverse franchise has ghostwriters at all.

And the franchise is still trying to use the "Tio/Uncle Rick" stuff. Author loyalty and marketing parasocial relationships isn't going to save the franchise when the author himself can't hold up his own original themes or even keep basic series bible details straight, and especially not if the editors are barely if at all doing their job. And please at least get a goddamn series bible by this point.

[altocat]

I'm curious why the fandom seems to think Sephiroth is obsessed with his mother. He just wants Jenova for power purposes. He controls her after Nibel and he's mostly just using her power to become a god.

Sephiroth is and always was obsessed with his mother, before AND after Nibelheim. His mommy issues are literally the core root of his character beneath all the smugness and arrogance. I know lots of people really don't want to think about it, but Sephiroth really is a lot more depressing than the face-value side of the fanbase would have you believe. And his conflict over his missing mother is really just the crux of it all.

His love for Jenova isn't strictly just him being high off the power she gives him, it's actually genuine. It stems from spending his entire life searching for his mother, being denied his right to a proper answer, and subsequently psychologically linking his need for his mother to his need for identity as a result. Sephiroth essentially grew up without a childhood. He had to grow up very, very early. As a result, it makes complete sense that his internal needs and desires, even as an adult, are very childlike, despite the calm facade he puts on as a First-class soldier. There are some arguably EXTREMELY Oedipal bits of imagery when it comes to Sephiroth, characterizing Jenova as a figurative return to the womb/regression. That's not even touching anything related to Lucrecia and the cycle of abandonment that Sephiroth experiences throughout his life starting from being forcibly taken from her directly after being born. You could honestly write several long texts exploring the root of Sephiroth's psychology stemming from his mommy issues. They are arguably some of the most important aspects of understanding his motivations and characterization.

The point being, Seph is edgy and cool. That's perfectly fine. But beneath all that edgy coolness is a LOT of unexplored familial trauma that has shaped the person he becomes both as an adult and after falling into madness. He LOVES Jenova. He worships her. He wants to become ONE with her. He sacrifices his entire adult identity as an individual just for the chance to become her son. It's creepy and sad and oozes potential for further exploration. And I just think it's time we all admitted to the brutal truth of it all:

Sephiroth is a goddamn mama's boy.

[lurkingshan]

My Love Mix Up Episode 2

I have just finished the episode and I was not pleased, so this is your warning to look away if it's going to hurt your feelings to read a serious critique of this show.

I was trying to give it some space last week, but this is an offensively bad adaptation of a beloved Japanese work. I could not believe my eyes through the final part of this episode, and I was already feeling pretty down on the episode before I even got there. The team at GMMTV has stripped most of the important themes and the unique aspects of these characters away and replaced them with monetized drivel that is basically just a MSP redux in Kieta Hatsukoi drag. Let me make a quick list of the bad changes in this episode:

Rather than accepting Atom volunteering to play the lead role in drag and rallying around him, the class shoots him down and forces Mudmee into the role

Which means not only that Atom does not perform in drag, but also does not spend time properly rehearsing for this role on stage with the rest of the cast (put a pin in that one!)

Atom doesn't struggle much with getting over Mudmee and starts making moon eyes at Kongthap much earlier on--there's no real arc, it just suddenly is happening

Kongthap is somehow comfortable starring as the lead in a musical despite the fact that he is meant to be a socially awkward and quietly intense dude

Oh yeah, they made the play a goddamn musical so they could make a series of MVs within the episode and monetize the OSTs (they were going to make Mudmee, a girl with intense stage fright, sing and dance onstage???)

Atom runs into the play at the last minute (somehow in a costume for a part that didn't exist) and hits all his marks, performing flawlessly in a role he did not properly prepare for instead of comically struggling to carry out a passable performance

Kongthap (who you may recall is supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable with romance and uncertain of his feelings for Atom) smoothly performs a love duet and ballroom dance scene with Atom, rather than awkwardly delivering a few stiff lines

Rather than the whole class teasing Atom about a drag performance in a way that displayed a subtle form of systemic bias, they had three bullies be blatantly homophobic and get singled out as bad apples

These choices are not just bad because they're different, they're bad because they undermine characterization and the internal logic and themes of the story. Some of this just plain doesn't make sense, and I no longer wonder why Fourth and Gemini are struggling in these roles when their characters are not consistently grounded. If they wanted a generic high school show to make more quick money off this cast, I really wish they would have left Kieta Hatsukoi out of it.

[usbshitake]

What (most probably) would be with Gavin Reed after being knocked out by Connor in archives?

Being knocked out by Connor would significantly impact Gavin Reed, triggering his insecurities and amplifying his aggressive tendencies. His response would be characterized by heightened hostility, a desire for retribution, and potentially more reckless and isolative behavior.

What would happen in exact?

FBI agents, who have discovered him, approach cautiously. One might ask, “Detective Reed, are you alright? What happened?”

• Gavin, still seething, might snap, “I’m fine. That goddamn android blindsided me.”

The agents help Gavin to his feet and suggest he gets checked by a medical professional. They would likely also inform him that an incident report will need to be filed.

• Gavin, irritated but recognizing protocol, might reluctantly agree to a quick medical check, saying, “Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with.”

• Gavin is escorted to the medical bay or a nearby clinic for a brief check-up to ensure there’s no serious injury.

• During the examination, he remains impatient and curt, eager to get back to the station and confront the situation head-on.

• Gavin heads to Captain Fowler’s office, knocking briskly before entering.

• Gavin remains standing, too agitated to sit. “Captain, that android—Connor—he knocked me out cold in the archives. We can’t have machines attacking officers. This is crossing a line.”

Atmosphere in PD

• Many of his colleagues, who likely dislike him due to his arrogance and abrasive nature, would find some enjoyment in seeing him taken down a peg.

• Comments like, “Finally, someone put Reed in his place,” or “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” would be common.

• Conversations might include questions like, “Did you hear Reed got knocked out by an android? How does that even happen?” and “I wonder if he provoked it. Wouldn’t be surprising.”

• A small number of colleagues might feel some sympathy for Gavin, recognizing the seriousness of an officer being attacked, even if they don’t particularly like him.

• These individuals might express concerns more diplomatically, such as, “No matter how you feel about Reed, getting knocked out by an android is a serious issue.”

Reaction on gossip

• When Gavin first hears the gossip and whispering, he would likely feel a surge of anger and humiliation.

• He might initially overhear comments in passing or catch snippets of conversations when entering a room.

• True to his confrontational nature, Gavin would probably confront those gossiping directly. “Got something to say? Say it to my face,” he might snap, glaring at the whispering colleagues.

• His aggressive stance would likely silence some, while others might smirk or make sarcastic remarks, further fueling his anger.

How would his behaviour change (spoiler: he would get worse)

• Internally, Gavin would feel a mix of rage and determination. The gossip would reinforce his feeling of isolation and mistrust towards his colleagues.

• He might also feel a need to prove himself even more, pushing him to take on riskier tasks or confrontations to demonstrate his toughness and capability.

• His behavior would become more hostile and defensive, particularly towards those he suspects of gossiping about him.

• Gavin might become even more aggressive in his interactions, using intimidation to assert his dominance and deter further gossip.

• The incident and subsequent gossip would likely increase Gavin���s isolation within the precinct. He might find himself working more alone, distrusting his colleagues even more.

• Any remaining professional relationships could become strained, as Gavin’s defensive and aggressive behavior alienates even those who might have previously been neutral or sympathetic.

• Gavin’s reputation as arrogant and disliked would be reinforced by his reaction to the incident. His confrontations and aggressive responses to gossip would cement his image as someone difficult to work with.

• Colleagues might avoid him more, both out of dislike and to avoid potential conflicts.

• Driven by a need to prove himself, Gavin might throw himself into his work with even greater intensity. However, this could lead to reckless decisions or burnout.

• His focus on proving his toughness could result in taking unnecessary risks, potentially leading to more dangerous situations or further incidents.

[sufferu]

Did you read that WHDAAA spin-off fic by Vyazov23 called Watching Arc 4 in The Theater of Despair ? Any things you liked and have problems with?

I did! I appreciated that the guy managed to actually FINISH a react fic lol: I’m realizing more and more that these things are a pain and a half to actually write. SERIOUS props to the one who actually managed to pull it off, I’m not even being sarcastic.

Though, to be entirely honest…I disagreed with the entire main premise regarding how the characters would react, lol. I actually don’t want to shit on a singular work, though — especially not one that had so much effort put into it, like goddamn the guy actually FINISHED that one — so I’m gonna go ahead and use this as a segway to talk about the most common usages of this trope that I disagree with in this fandom.

The idea that anyone would learn about Return By Death and go “Okay! This is a good thing, and Subaru is a hero!” — I feel like it goes against the themes of Re:Zero, as well as a lot of established characterization. (And also the harem subplot that often seems to go alongside that idea, lol.) And I feel like a react fic that goes over the experiences of Return By Death, furthermore, should be centered around the characters coming to terms with (or grappling with, anyway) the fact that they FUCKING KILLED HIM. Like, SOO many times. Rem and Ram, in particular, should be characterized as absolutely, irreconcilably devastated by what they did in Arc 2. In fact I actually have a lot of criticisms about how these fics tend to characterize a lot of these characters in general, especially Julius, Ferris, Wilhelm, and Rem. Rem is simple — I don’t agree with the idea that she is actually a good influence (or that the other characters would see her as such, more on that in a sec) — but for the other three…I think a lot of these fics tend to twist themselves in knots trying to make them approve of Subaru’s self-destructive behavior, despite all three of them having canon moments contradicting it.

Julius’ first appearance was him desperately trying to save Subaru from getting slaughtered and most of the subsequent scenes with him have included something about him either trying to be a good role model (that will help Subaru Not Die Horribly) or taking some step to actively keep him safe (whether that be going out of his way to teach him a hands-on lesson about self-awareness the moment they meet up again post-Whale or quietly sticking Ia on him without letting him know). Hell, it’s heavily implied that he associated Subaru with his beloved, sickly, baby brother pre-Gluttony. The knowledge that Subaru has apparently been not just getting regularly put in mortal danger, but not even getting out of it ALIVE in a lot of cases — I think he’d have a way worse reaction to that than is normally shown.

Wilhelm, too — not enough focus is given to the fact that Subaru’s situation is basically just a worse version of the one that Theresia was forced into by being the Sword Saint. Wilhelm went and dueled his wife specifically to free her from the shackles of being forced to wield a sword when all she really wanted to do was care for flowers. Hell, in canon he already has a scene where he refuses to keep training Subaru because he realizes that Subaru has no actual interest in the sword and does not want to facilitate that kind of self-destruction. Wilhelm would have a fucking seizure if he learned that his beloved not-grandson was being forced to die repeatedly in order to keep his loved ones safe. And he’d probably have a really horrible reaction to the idea that some of those loved ones were straight up RESPONSIBLE for some of those deaths. This is the man who spent 14 years hunting the White Whale, he’s second only to Otto when it comes to revenge schemes (and even then it’s debatable who comes out on top over there).

Ferris, though, gets it hands-DOWN the worst. First reason is that the fact that he would almost certainly have the absolute worst reaction to the PREMISE of Return By Death out of the entire cast (due to his strong value of life and pride as a healer) is — often completely glossed over. This is the same guy who grieved suicidal Witch Cultists, was referenced as one of the two bleeding hearts of the Witch Cult elimination squad (the other being Subaru), who (in the LN) had what sure looks like a breakdown at the idea that Subaru wanted to die during that one Arc 3 loop where he went into shock, to the point where Crusch had to step in and speak (even joke) on his behalf as he basically sat in the corner with his head in his hands, cursing Subaru for not valuing his own life. If Ferris ever finds out about RBD he’s gonna fucking kill himself. But then, on top of that, he so often gets reduced to this — purely antagonistic force that just hates Subaru for no reason, who needs to learn to respect Subaru as a hero for his sacrifices, in a way that just — not only is kinda mean spirited, but completely glosses over some of the most fascinating parts of his character.

Also — I feel like a lot of these fics have the characters reacting like Subaru is an anime character to them rather than their friend, if that makes sense. Like, some of the reactions we see end up being like…the typical fan reaction to scenes? Instead of how someone would react if that were a Real Person up there doing that shit. Rem, in particular, is cut WAAAAY too much slack in most react fics, with everyone pretty much losing their anger towards her after hearing her tragic backstory and then glossing over everything she does in Memory Snow and Arc 3 with “Hah, that’s cute.” Like — I’m sorry, I think there should be a bit of a reaction to the revelation that the person who tortured Subaru for HOURS on end spent the next month sneaking into his room to watch him while he slept, following him around constantly, and enabling all of his bad behavior (which is now very obviously just a collection of trauma responses) like the world’s most dedicated Yes man (with the singular exception being the “From Zero” speech). Also, so much of what she does to him pre-Gluttony is just — horrible? And would be seen as such by the other characters, who do not have the same sense of naïveté/love of waifus/lack of self-preservation instincts that Subaru does to prevent him from seeing Rem for the danger that she is.

And well — I don’t think there’s enough consideration given to the fact that, most of the time, these characters already know how things are going to end, since they have their own memories to use for reference. Most of the time, they already KNOW whether Subaru is gonna survive or not, and that should impact how they respond to what they see next.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Featured Fic Friday!

Welcome to Featured Fic Friday! A day where I, or someone who suggests one, tell you about a fanfic that I really enjoy! Spoiler's under the cut! Today's featured fic is...

Don't care 'bout my Bad Reputation by Insecuriosity (Teen And Up, Complete)

Every monster in Snowdin knew that between the two Skeleton Brothers, Sans was the soft one. He never dusted anyone, always hid behind his brother’s legs like a coward, and had the stats of a newborn whimsun. The only reason nobody had dusted him yet was because only Sans could extract some mercy from Papyrus. It was goddamn hilarious, how wrong they all were, but Sans wasn’t about to correct them.

Although a short fic, I love the way the author takes the concept of Underfell & puts their own spin on it! The way they write the characters & the interactions between them feels very understandable, if that makes sense! Like it's something that I could see them doing!

Spoilers ahead!

I don't think I've seen a fic before that has Fell Papyrus be unable to dust another monster, despite his best efforts, & I think that is a shame since it was very enjoyable to read this fic!

I really like how the author keeps aspects of the original Papyrus in how they characterize Fell Pappyrus! Not to mention having Sans being the one to kill the monsters that his brother can't, it's such an interesting concept I can't believe hasn't been done more!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Do you have any more Cooper fics or thoughts on him? Pre-war and also post, I love the way you characterize him

Oh, don't you worry, my friend. There's so much Cooper in the pipeline it'll make you sick. Mostly smut, but some fluff and some light angst, as well. Multiple Cooper items in the pile of posts I'm about to push out over the next several days. I have what feels like endless thoughts about him in particular, though, so maybe to tide you over I'll share what I've been thinking about Pre-war!Cooper the last couple days:

Roosevelt would be such a cockblock in your relationship with him, sometimes. He loves that dog so goddamn much that he would feel absolutely awful banishing him when you're trying to get cozy.

He is allowed in the bed (you aren't heartless, after all), and he likes to laze around in it with you in the evenings when the two of you are getting ready for bed. Generally, he vacates when the two of you are ready to turn in, finds one of his preferred spots to spend the night in. However, if you're looking for some alone time, an "early turn-in", he does not appreciate it. How dare you infringe on his daily schedule?

You've lived with Coop and Roosevelt for several months now, and he's grown quite accustomed to your presence. You love the little guy. However, when you emerge from the en-suite bathroom, freshly showered and wearing some comfortable lingerie you'd snuck past your boyfriend, smirking as he eyes you up and down, you can't help but really notice his presence. Settling beside Cooper, you pepper the side of his throat with kisses and kitten licks, smirking when he squirms and hums in response. After a moment, you pull away a few inches, diverting your attention.

"It's time to go, bud." you tell the little guy sweetly, petting his head and jerking your own towards the door. However, he stays put, looking past you and at Cooper expectantly. He's smart. He knows how much sway he has over the older man.

"Aww. Look at him, honey. He doesn't know any better!" he says, both man and beast together giving you two pairs of the most pitiful, pleading eyes you've ever seen.

"I know." you huff, mostly playfully, rolling your eyes as you toss yourself back down, trying your best to splay yourself erotically across the sheets. "I don't mind him being here. I just want some alone time with his daddy and he's taking up about a third of the bed."

The former cowboy's neck flushes as he continues to drink in the sight of you, and after a moment he sighs.

"Come on, bud." he says, rising from the bed and disappearing into the hallway. The dog follows, pausing at the doorway to double check if you're also coming along. When you don't move, he leaves you behind. For several minutes, you're alone; tunneling your way underneath the sheets, you curl up on your side and sigh, waiting. Fortunately, when you hear the older man's footsteps coming back down the hall, you can't hear the clacking sound of canine nails on the hardwood accompanying them. He pulls the door shut behind him as he enters the room.

"Alright, where were we?" he asks lasciviously, sliding beneath the covers beside you, spooning his body along yours. Wrapping his arm around your waist, his lips move to your nape. You giggle at his demeanor, at the ticklish sensation of his breath gently moving down your spine.

"Is he settled down?" you breathe as his softly calloused hands begin to grope across your skin.

"Yeah. I gave him a little treat and sat with him for a few minutes. He was falling asleep." he murmurs in response, grinding against you just a bit. Your lower lip creeps between your teeth, and you feel yourself begin to relax back against him, ready to get lost in your lover.

However, after another minute or two of gentle foreplay, there's a scratch at the door. Freezing, the two of you lock eyes. Cooper's small smile is as guilty as you've ever seen him. Sighing much deeper than before, you roll over onto your side. You suspect you might not be getting laid tonight.

Or maybe the two of you are fooling around on the couch as Roosevelt sleeps like the dead in the corner, curled up in an old bed that he's had longer than you've been around, longer than Janey's even been alive. The living room is filled with the quiet sound of his little snores mingled with the soft pants and sighs of the two of you. Up until now, you've kept things fairly PG-13, but he can tell that you're getting more and more worked up, and the way your hands grope and pet at him is inflaming him, as well.

However, the halted little groan he lets out when your tongue draws a thick stripe up the side of his throat is met with a cessation of the snoring, and it draws his attention to where his little four-legged companion is resting, cringing when he realizes he's now awake and watching the pair of you.

Cooper tries his hardest to let you do what you're looking to do, he swears, but as your lips trail down his chest, your delicate hands moving to undo his belt, he can't look away from the border collie in the corner, whose white face is now gazing back at him with rapt attention. His little head even quirks to the side, as if to say "What's up? Are you having fun without me?"

It's all too much. He almost feels like his child is in the room, watching him without really understanding what's going on.

"Wait, sweetheart." he interrupts you, his hands gentle on your wrists as he stops you from lowering his zipper completely. "I can't. He's lookin' at us."

"Coop!" you whine softly, your head dropping backwards in playful frustration.

"Just let me hold you for a few minutes and he'll go back to sleep." he responds, pulling you flat to his chest as you struggle lightly. "Then we can sneak upstairs."

"Can't we just be quiet? He doesn't know what's going on."

"That isn't really the main problem." he chuckles awkwardly, though he sort of disagrees with you, anyway; his erection is also flagging majorly. "I think I might need to warm up again."

The way you roll your eyes at him in response stings just a bit, but you cuddle yourself up closer against his chest anyway, your lids drifting closed in the dim light. He knows you don't mean anything by it, and he understands your frustration. It's not like he doesn't want to watch you gag on his cock or anything.

But, at the end of the day, both of you have to prioritize the pup you agreed to love and care for, and neither of you minds all that much...even if you have to sneak into the bathroom for a quickie in your own house from time to time.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 27 – NO POWERS

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: nanasekei

Hello, my name is Kandi and I like warm hugs in the form of fanfiction. Which is why I absolutely adore nanasekei's No Power AUs. The fluff is just fantastic, it always puts a smile on my face, and Steve and Tony are both completely believable in their characterizations. I love their fics, and I bet you will too!

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

sweet like honey

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 3,624 Tags: Domestic Fluff, Pre-Serum Steve, Misunderstanding

Summary: Steve wakes up in his boyfriend's Malibu mansion. However, Tony is nowhere to be found.

Reasons why I love it: This fic has so many things I love – a misunderstanding that leads to mild angst and gives ample reason for schmoop later on. And oh boy, the fluff is fluffing, it's amazing. Plus, JARVIS is just the absolute best. I adore this one, and if you're having a bad day, reading it will leave you smiling, guaranteed.

and you look so divine

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 8,236 Tags: Pre-Serum Steve, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings

Summary: Tony blinks a few times, seeming startled. “That’s – I mean, don’t me wrong, that’s great to hear. But, uh – Steve? That.... Kind of sounds like you think I’m dating you despite your looks.” Steve just stares. Tony’s eyes are wider than ever when he opens his mouth to talk: “Holy shit."

Reasons why I love it: I really feel for Steve with his massive insecurities, poor baby. It's a good thing that Tony makes it his life's mission to convince Steve of his attractiveness. I love this fic, and I bet you will too, so I hope you give it a shot!

i'll take care of you

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 2,272 Tags: Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Pre-Serum Steve

Summary: “Hi.” Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise. He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely sodden state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days. “Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, this fic makes me so soft, I love it. It's like the words are wrapping me up in a duvet too. Tony being an absolute human disaster with a heart of gold is fantastic, and I love how Steve thrives on taking care of him in the aftermath. This fic is wonderful, and I hope you give it a read for yourself!

Drunk Talk

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 3,660 Tags: Meet-Cute, Bad Flirting, Fluff and Humor

Summary: Tony gets thrown out of a strip club and talks to the bouncer. A lot.

Reasons why I love it: Tony's drunken babbling is hilarious, I love it so much. And of course he can't help but completely charm Steve, even when he's sloshed. Also, Steve IS a goddamn angel, Tony got that right. I adore this fic, and I bet you will too, so I hope you check it out!

roll with the punches

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 4,829 Tags: Pre-Serum Steve, Homophobia and Bullying, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting

Summary: Tony Stark first meets Steve Rogers in kindergarten.

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, I'm squealing, this is so fucking cute!! Steve standing up for what he believes in even all the way back in kindergarten is just perfect, and Tony being utterly enamored with him even more so. I love everything about this, and if you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and hop to it!

[fabbyf1]

Hi!

I’m not sure of this is how to go about this correctly.

I’m not sure what your position is on others drawing inspiration/directly from your incredible fan fiction writing but, on Ao3 there is a fic called ❤️lestappen- One shorts💙 by lestapeeen. The most recent chapter (14) is very similar to the monza chapter of long live(twwct) specifically the piggy back and proposal promise. some of the dialogue is exactly the same.

I figured you should know. If it’s a cool with you or if you knew already, sorry to be a bother.

DISCLAIMER: This post, by no means, is asking for ANYBODY to send this author mentioned (and tagged) below hate. On anon or main. I have been pretty damn clear with my feelings on the matter below. They know what they've done, and I won't stand for it. Nobody needs to make this worse by sending them death threats. With that out of the way, let's deep dive, shall we?

YOU KNOW WHAT?

First off, god bless you, bestie. God BLESS you. I want to smooch you on your incredibly wonderful forehead. Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention. I cannot be everywhere at once and cannot possibly read every fanfic posted to AO3, but it's not fucking cool for people to straight-up plagiarize my shit.

Secondly, I'd like to ask that if ANY of my followers come across something that looks very suspiciously similar to my fics, please let me know. You can for sure send it on anon, or send me a dm.

Now, with that being said, I clicked on this fucking fic not knowing what to think. I went into it with a pretty open mind, knowing that there are quite a few authors currently posting fics that are verrrrrrrrrrry similar to my writing style. I've gotten pretty close to calling a few of these authors out but haven't for a few reasons.

Fanfics based on the same ship, in the same canon setting, are always going to be... let's use the word "similar" here. The plot can only change so much when you're following canon events, you know? I don’t write AUs, so I’m only going off canon-inspired fics. My fics generally follow along with canon timelines and therefore, other author’s fics that follow the same timeline are going to be... similar. I get that and accept that.

Characterizations are bound to be... well, fuck it, let's use that word "similar" again. I'm gonna be pretty forgiving when someone's Max is damn near the same as my Max because one: I'm a good and forgiving person, and two: I think my characters (while totally fucking fictional) are very life-like to the real person. So, with that in mind, when I read a fic with characterizations similar to mine... I will usually give somebody grace... and accept that maybe, just possibly, they see Max Verstappen (the person) the same way I do (fictionally) and it’s a big old coincidence that our fics read so similar. You know? Does that make sense?

But with all that being said, I’m not a fucking idiot. 

And honestly? I give more grace than I should on this goddamn website. (lmfao, respectfully.) This is sadly not the first time that somebody has very much written in my likeness, and I know it won't be the last. But this is definitely the boldest version of plagiarism I've seen. I haven’t clicked on any chapter except for 14, and I heavily skimmed the first part, but let’s take a little deep dive into some of the highlights. Because I will show the receipts, bestie.

from their story:

from long live:

..... right, let's move on.

from their story:

from long live:

okay................. sure

from their story:

from long live:

If you're going to plagiarize my shit... you could at least put it in a different font, so to speak. "Hey, can I copy your homework?” “Sure, but change it up a bit.” 

Girlie pop, you stopped even trying to change it the fuck up. 

Let me be clear: I do not authorize anybody to translate, re-post or distribute my work without my written consent. This is in a disclaimer (that I will post below) in every single one of my fics. Taking MY dialogue is NOT okay. 

Direct quote from the beginning note of Long Live:  DISCLAIMER #4: This is 100% fictional, and I do not own any person, team, or sponsor referenced in this story. I mean no offense to any person(s) mentioned and characterized in this story. I am not affiliated with any part of Formula 1 or its subsections. Please do not translate, re-post, or distribute my work without my written consent. I will cry.

To sum up, writing is not easy, and it takes time and effort. Time away from my friends, my girlfriend, my family. Time away from my job and my other hobbies. Long Live is 76 thousand words and took me countless hours to write.

To have somebody so blatantly and disrespectfully post MY SHIT as their own and not even try to give me credit? To not write a note that said, “Heyyyyy go read long live, which I [clearly] really enjoyed!” or even a “Some of this dialogue was inspired by @fabbyf1” or even just a “lmfao some of this i didn’t write but the rest i did” really pisses me off.

Why did it ever have to come to this?

I am SO disappointed right now.

Happy fucking Friday, I guess.

For full transparency, here is the link to their fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55255699 and here is the link to their tumblr: @l-estappen

Here is the link to MY fic, which was posted on April 2nd, 2023, and written in Google Docs with revision history about a month before that. I have receipts out the fucking ass, my dear. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46190509/chapters/116284915

Be well.

[ddarker-dreams]

I'M GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT!!

I absolutely adore your characterization of Blade and DESPERATELY HUNGER FOR MORE LIKE SOME STARVING VICTORIAN CHILD!!!

Your writing style is JAW-DROPPINGLY AMAZING!!

I wish you an amazing 2024 because GODDAMN do you deserve it!

THANK YOU SO MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH i love writing for bladie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's difficult to say whether i prefer him yan or not, both versions are blessed imo. yan blade isn't honestly the worst option (comparatively) since he just... exists in the same area as you and kinda leaves you alone. you're his enrichment. he's either coexisting with you and thinking about how you smell pretty or absolutely going rabid at the tiniest threat to your existence. personifying his mara is a must for me in every blade fanfic. you get an additional yandere added to the mix with him, all for the price of one!

then there's non yandere blade. diligently carrying your shopping bags and putting the fear of god (aeons?) into anyone that steps in front of you without saying 'excuse me.' i adore the man.

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

im rolling around and trying to decide how much i care about characters being in character, given my stance on death of the author. on one hand of course i love these characters very much and want to try to stay true to them. when they're horribly misconstrued it genuinely irritates me, and i dislike to think i might be doing that myself. ofc this characterization exists largely in my head, i'm not the original author, though i hope that the ideas are well-informed and supported by canon...

but on the other hand going through the number of times ive tagged saiki as ooc and have had a goddamn good time bending and twisting that little pink guy... he is not canonically a yandere. not even a little bit, though his habitual stalking and obsessive tendencies and

could potentially inform such a nature. canonically he works himself into the ground trying to AVOID hurting people. even the thugs he assaults aren't physically traumatized, only terrified enough that they're put off capturing both him and the meras. you could legitimately make a case for self-harm given how terribly he isolates himself because he considers his very presence around 'normal' people dangerous. to himself, yes, but largely to THEM. saiki looks at his crush, looks at the effect his presence has on his crush (or rather the cliches around said guy), and promptly nopes tf out and never approaches ever again, even working to set satou up with suzumiya.

and yet yandere!saiki, my favourite lil guy :( rip tear and kill my dude

essentially i have two very characterizations going on for Mr. Nikiforov. Viktor 'Doesn't wanna hurt anyone but has severe foot in mouth disease' and Victor 'I will ruin your whole life just give me a reason'. It could be fun reconciling the one into the other. There could be a case of denial going on. you'd expect either version would sooner swandive out a window and run away before trying to deliberately hurt yuuri. and yet.

Mr. I came here to seduce you but I will literally leave if you don't lose weight. Mr. I won't kiss anything but a gold medal. Mr. We're not getting married for silver. Mr. "Oops, watch the nose blood!" and then Yuuri crashes face first into the floor. Mr. I'm trying to motivate you and choosing the meanest way to do it every single time for the lols OOPS IT SHATTERED

Mr. I'm clearly still attracted to you even though I just made it apparent your waistline is a deal-breaker for me, so your weight actually isn't a deterrent even a lil, I still think you're super sexy let's fuck right here right now. You're single, right? Look at my tits.

Mr. Mixed Messages!

Mostly, people like to think of themselves as 'good'. Where do you fall on that scale, Mr. Nikiforov?

I'm writing the break up fic largely because I've read other ones where I was pretty dissatisfied with the characterization therein. The goal is, absolutely, ultimately, the ego death of both parties. There's going to be some pretty extreme circumstances leading into that.

But, kicking over the body and examining it, how to make it believable enough it doesnt stretch my own sense of disbelief...

it could be a matter of just needing to write more to see where it goes. it all makes grand sense in my head! but translating that into a document has proven a bit challenging.

im looking at teruhashi and understanding how she couldve possibly thought she had a crush on saiki when she clearly didnt care for him at the start. i'm thinking about victor so much and he's literally not even my favourite guy, but maybe it turns out he is lmao

come to me, wonderful fanfic where yuuri does nothing wrong and is a perfect angel and takes everything from chris to makka in the divorce because victor fucked up so badly and It's Still Believable, COME TO ME

[beatcroc]

turns out i have to make an unnecessarily wordy thoughtspost about doombox too bc there is nothing about this character that isn't fucking ridiculous and also really funny and i'm kind of really obsessed with all of it. ordinarily i would just start firing but in this case I need to just. paste his bio and then go through it step by step because every phrase here is absurd when looking at how he's handled along with the other characters and the world as a whole. here we go

first sidenote: i should also add 'nonsensical' to the list of descriptors up there, because this is a fighting game and no doubt has the typical Bad Fighting Game Writing at play that doesn't really hold up when put under scrutiny as i'm about to, but understand that this is something i've come to love about the genre and its typically batshit lore, and it further enhances the experience for me. it's all utter nonsense and its my favorite shit ever.

the biggest thing to me that makes his entire shtick ridiculous is that he was explicitly made to be a weapon. like his express purpose is destruction and/or killing people, and he certainly has the disposition to be doing that. except that he is not doing that. he's out there playing Ball Game, evidently of his own volition.

i feel it is also important to highlight that he was not originally or intentionally a boombox; he just kinda lives in there. his own bio frames it as happenstance, but sonata's dlc skin lore** implies he isn't permanently stuck in there and can kinda just hop out and take control of whatever he wants whenever he wants. there is an entire goddamn tank just sitting there in the background of one of these stages. he is a weapon. there is heavy artillery readily available to him that he could be commanding if he wanted to, but he's not doing that either. he is still a boombox. i think he likes it in there. *there's an argument to be made that maybe he's not powerful enough to control something that large, or maybe just that switching hosts is really tiring or risky. im just saying though there's like a bajillion host devices better suited for A Fucking Weapon than a boombox, but he seems really committed to this for some reason. while im here btw it's fucking terrifying that he apparently can possess thing that are Not tech as well **as a side note from that the specific mention of her boomhammer is interesting. i don't think it's an intentional implication but i enjoy the idea he has an affinity for sound-based devices; i like to think the boombox left an impression on him with its being the initial thing he possessed and got used to

and then there is the berserking. the 'rampaging', as it is otherwise called. not exactly strange on its own given his temperament and designation, but strange for the way it's characterized as only a tendency. it's only that he's prone to rampaging. he rampages often, but not all the time. just often! what is he doing he is not rampaging? getting a custom trimmed jacket with his own logo emblazoned on it? like a nerd? and on the flipside, what exactly do these rampages even entail? because it's apparently not anything destructive or disruptive enough for anyone to care about stopping him under normal circumstances.

like how are you a giant angry "not exactly stable" weapon of a guy and everyone's like 'yeah that's fine. that's our doombox!' toxic's specific wording regarding his getting unfucked postgame is "back to his old raging self", which implies to me there's almost a certain fondness, or at least amusement, at his being like this. i know one of the core themes of lethal league is letting these oddball misfit dudes do their thing and freely be who they are, but like. is doombox sincerely just not a threat for that? like really? dice's interactions also sort of imply that his actually trying to kill someone is really out of the ordinary for him so truly like. db my man what ARE you doing out there. * re: toxic and dice's talking about him; i do also find it amusing that one of his defining traits is just being pissed off all the time. again, not surprising given his purpose/designation as a weapon, but funny in that it's like. how he's KNOWN; in the sense that it is immediately noticeable and a cause for concern for other characters to see he is Not angry. fuckin social barometer of a guy. local angry guy isn't angry, something's wrong.

the "reasons for playing in the league unknown" bit also strikes me as a little odd even though it REALLY shouldn't. i'm like 97% sure it's just written like that to make him seems mysterious and unpredictable and dangerous, but it's a weird thing to call attention to when you consider that...less than half of the other characters' reasons are known? raptor is there trying to get info on his dad, that one's well out there. dust & ashes i think have some kind of implied reason for being there as well but it of course isn't elaborated on, and grid is like trying to impress "the youth" and establish a profile or something. nitro seems like he might not actually be IN the league as an official competitor? it's just helpful for him to know how to ball for the situations he gets into with his investigations. everybody else's "reason" pretty much seems like they're just out there to have fun. and toxic says as much in the story mode intro! the game was developed for people to escape the monotonies of shine city! so to imply doombox has a separate, non-recreational reason for being here is weird. the easiest read on it for me is just that he was drawn to it cause it's intense and destructive but at the same time.... if all he wants is an excuse to wreck shit....why are you competing in a structured sports game with rules and shit my dude. you are a weapon. just go attack people. except that we've established that he doesnt really do that. so. once again. what IS he doing out here

----

aside from the bio though, there's of course random little tidbits of characterization throughout the game itself and they are all also likewise ridiculous.

he refers to himself in third person, which is always an amusing choice for a character in general. it carries with it a certain sense of ego, an awareness of and and pride in one's presence and gravitas. this was mostly just surprising to me bc before i started looking at everything, i'd assumed he was more or less mindless and, yknow, robotic; without much personality/reason for being there beyond being the Biggest Baddest Best At Ball Game Guy doombox is already very imposing, so this is frankly a well-earned sense of pride for him to have.....but it still doubles back to being funny again because, as i've established above, he could stand to be a hell of a lot scarier! but he doesn't seem to notice or care that there are many readily-available options for becoming more powerful and/or establishing himself as unquestionable top dog. so instead he is a boombox. third-person is also often used for characters who are a little dumb, and i think this applies to doombox as well. he is a weapon, and clearly a brute-force-over-precision type of weapon at that, he doesnt need smarts. i think this is also sort of hinted at with his voice lines; where the other characters have some kind of snarky phrase or one-liner for their kill/score voice line, doombox just goes "bye-bye". Which is still appropriately Disrespectful, but it's also very, uh... simple. again i just think there are... more imposing things a guy like him could be saying there, but i guess he hasn't got anything more than fucking. bye-bye.

anyways the ego thing i think is well-echoed by his stupid fucking jacket. none of the other characters have their logo as part of their design and i'm pretty sure the rest of the symbols are just game abstractions and don't exist in-universe, but like. doombox is just going around wearing a jersey with his own damn face on it. ok. to be clear i love his jacket but it is literally so silly for him to have that. imagine being the guy having to custom-fit a fucking boombox. did db pay for it? how? we're getting into unproductive territory here but you could ask a million questions about that jacket and they all have hysterical implications. while im on the topic of designs i'd also like to say that while i don't count any of the other blaze redesigns as "canon" like actual events the characters went through between games [like raptor in particular would have already had to have the stitches since that's his backstory, it's just they weren't a design point before], doombox is in a weird spot since the first game's design for him was very specifically referencing its HUD in a meta way for his flavor and that was pretty much the entire extent of his flavor; while in blaze he and the HUD are very much separate distinct things with their own flavor. there's more to talk about here later but as it pertains to design what im saying is i think he just went out and found a better and cooler boombox to be in between games. and also got a funny jacket. *actually i have no idea if there's even a Timeline here. the gut vibe i had been running on was that blaze happens a couple years after the original, but looking at it now that doesn't seem right. does blaze Replace the timeline of the first game? are there even Events in the first game to count as a timeline? do they run concurrently?

alright anyway the last point here is the 3rd-person thing is even moreso interesting to me though bc i was under the assumption that 'doombox' was something akin to a codename he was given when other people saw this big fucking Thang rampaging through the streets. but seeing as 1. he's definitely aware of it, and 2. not even the damn scientists who made him knew he was in a boombox [as implied in his dlc skin lore], i'm led to believe he came up with the name himself. the fucking tape in his cassette player does just say 'doom' on it so i am choosing to believe that's either where he got the name, or that he put that on there himself.

MOVING on, another really good thing is that he does this

i just think it's funny he's continuing to use the thing as an actual boombox; i feel like that isn't something he necessarily Has to do. obviously he's susceptible to certain quirks and limitations of being a boombox re: mind control tape, but i don't think that means he has to play out its every function. i think he's doing that on purpose and i am filing it under "he likes it in there". hes listening to his jams.

also on a similar note,

this is also not important and i realize it's mostly just a quirky videogamey way to get around saying the robot kinda character is "asleep", but i do enjoy the implication that shine city's biggest terror is like out there running on 4 D-cells.

also i'm making this guy out to be a city street menace, and the vibe i had assumed for him before was like, a random encounter in the back alleys that you super do not want to run into; but his associated stage/hangout seems to be the desert/scrapyard? which i don't really have anything interesting to say to that, but it's definitely a different vibe for his character if he typically hangs out in more desolate areas.

---

i think maybe the most baffling thing doombox has going on is the apparent "rivalry" with dice. this is also bizzare from dice's side of things. what the fuck does it even mean to be "rivals" with doombox? what are they competing for? what kind of things does dice get up to that doombox would even give a shit about in the first place, let alone to be considered a rival in? i mean, like, the league, probably, but why dice specifically, out of everyone? would doombox's league rival not just be whoever's the [second] strongest there? i believe dice when he says they're evenly-matched, but there isn't really anything that implies dice is of particularly high prestige within the league so it feels like he shouldn't hold much interest as a target. to be fair dice doesn't seem like the type that would care about prestige, but again, if he's not out there flaunting his shit or trying to claim he's the best or whatever, why does db care? this would be a lot easier to understand if it was a one-sided thing on doombox's part like okay maybe dice pissed him off one day and he's still mad about it. whatever. that's the vibe they go for in story mode, but then there's dice's dlc skin description, which seems to run entirely counter to that and has dice as the aggressor:

when deprived of his usual sense and restraint, dice's first thought is I Gotta Go Fuckin Kill Doombox? even if he's over it under normal circumstances, it's clear both of them have some deeper-rooted beef in this exchange. there is yet another layer to this in that doombox is, weirdly enough, not really shown to be the kind of guy that's interested in revenge. again, going back to his own dlc description, he- and i quote- "couldn't care less" about the guys who made him capturing him and chaining him up. his only interest there is breaking out and getting back to doing his thing. if you want to be really generous, you could also read this vibe from the story mode epilogue: doombox was not the one hunting down the safety league, that was nitro. doombox was simply, as stated before "back to his old raging self". both of these to say, he simply does not seem to give a shit about people who have directly wronged him and only wants to Do His Thing. so. once again. what the fuck is going on with dice that they both have lasting beef here. i truly cannot fathom what either of them did to be so mad specifically at eachother. this rivalry is something they reference a LOT too like it's a big deal in-universe, or something otherwise really important to portray. like

lore so strong you gotta put it on an achievement!!!!! really!!!!! and there are no details whatsoever about this????? * while i'm here i'd just like to say have more questions about dice than fucking anything else in this game. sadly there's practically nothing to intuit from the game about any of his situations so i don't have much for coherent thoughts to post on him, but my god. what the fuck, dice. this rivalry is arguably the single strangest thing doombox has going on but it doesn't even break top 5 weird things about dice.

anyways, the final section and MOST interesting thing to me in all this is that, coming out of the first game, i was really under the impression that doombox is just the arbitrary final boss monster you gotta kill; no real purpose or personality his own to speak of, and most importantly just synonymous with the game itself and its aesthetics re: mirroring the HUD design. he certainly still holds the role of big scary final boss monster in blaze too, but blaze 1. has him much more fleshed-out as his own Guy, and more importantly, 2. doesn't really consider him a Problem like your typical big angry final boss monster. or at least not moreso than anything else going on in the game. he's not a threat to be eliminated, he's respected as a character and as a competitor in the league; and more than that he just seems to be... liked? as in, liked by other people in-universe? and he's liked enough that they'll readily help him out so he can keep doing his thing? i do think latch fixed him up postgame mostly bc he felt bad about being the one responsible for getting db brainwashed in the first place but like. the game could have just as easily gone "and then doombox was defeated yay" and left it at that. instead, they seem to have a vested interest in keeping him around. most transparently this is likely just a "we can't get rid of any of the playable characters or else story mode would be noncanon", BUT the point of this post is trying to read cohesive narrative sense into places there probably isn't any, and my read here is that doombox is a sort of inadvertent guardian of the league. for 1, he does still very much embody a lot of what the game [both The Videogame and the league itself] is about, but more importantly i think his presence is just really good at keeping a lot of the more minor threats at bay. if you try to fuck with the league, you will eventually be squaring off with doombox, most likely having freshly pissed him off in the process, and i can't imagine that goes well for who or whatever is in that situation. there's probably not much that wants to stand up to him by himself, and there's even less that can challenge the league as a whole unit; he's really just a good guy to have on your side like in general when you are running an illegal sports operation. i think at Worst toxic might see him as the league's funny little mascot but realistically i think she has more respect for him than that. either way i don't think he's going to care and it doesn't affect him much regardless. for this, doombox simply gets to keep doing his thing, whatever the fuck that may be. there are certainly still forces beyond his control at play here [as demonstrated in story mode by the safety league], and when these come into play, the league in turn looks out for him and keeps him on top of his game. i'm not sure if he has the, uh.... kind of cognitive ability that he could be grateful for this, but if nothing else, we know he seems to enjoy playing in the league, so he probably at least recognizes that he's not going to meet a lot of resistance in it and/or that it's a good environment to keep doing as he pleases. i don't mean for this all to sound so transactional, but it's hard to say whether he has much charisma in-universe for people to want him around for more "legitimate" reasons. likewise, there's also still a lot up in the air on how like... sapient doombox actually is. whether he can have complex motivations about anything or if he has some concept of "having friends" or if he can experience emotions besides rage; i tend to lean to "no" on those because i am really trying my damndest not to woobify this guy, but ultimately i don't think it matters much; in the end, he and the league are still mutually beneficial for eachother, and they still enjoy having the other around. and i think that's pretty cool :)

[atopvisenyashill]

general thoughts

the way joffrey still refers to sansa as his lady….him being almost impressed with her supposed cruelty towards dontos…the fact that we literally don’t see dontos again………cregan 0.5 omg

i love how much myrcella loves her uncle tyrion tbh i do think they capture the very weird lannister dynamic of only cersei & tywin being hostile to tyrion quite well hu giving him scenes where he’s just chillin w the little ones

i love this first convo between cersei & tyrion. tyrion is like, Almost trying to do a “it’s us against your problems cersei don’t you see i’m trying to help” but as always he is too sharp & sets her on edge & makes her fearful she’s about to be made powerless again when she just rid herself of robert. he tries to put her at ease, and you see her relax just slightly. also love how peter has clearly started getting a handle on the accent lmao the way he quickly drawls out “you love your children, it’s your one redeeming quality THAT AND YOUR CHEEKBONES” hilarious. love how tyrion can’t help but call cersei beautiful even when he’s annoyed with her.

BRAN LEARNING HOW TO RULE SCENE.

we really got two sex scenes back to back omg. this scene with ros was so stupid. i hate sexposition i think it’s so fucking lazy.

I LOVE THE RIVERLANDS KIDS I LOVE A GAGGLE OF RASCALS I LOVE ARYA SETTING UP HOT PIE FOR GENDRY AND GENDRY GOING FOR THE KILL SEAMLESSLY I LOVE THAT HOT PIE AND LOMMY LEAVE ALL HUFFY I LOVE ARYA FOLLOWING GENDRY AROUND AND BADGERING HIM AND HIS GIGGLE WHEN SHE PUSHES HIM I AM A GENDRYA TRUTHER they really did their big one casting the kids

can i say something about yara……i think gemma whalen was really miscast for this part

“You want me to have a god? Fine. King Stanis is my God. He raised me up I’m blessed me with his trust. He gave you a future I could never have imagined.  You know how to read. You’ll be at knight one day.  You think a fire god commanded all that? No, it was Stannis. Only Stannis.” <- WAIT WAIT WAIT. DAVOS KILLING STANNIS HIS GOD FOR BURNING SHIREEN CONFIRMED❓

changes i noticed

the way they only gave rakharo some characterization so dany could cry more about his murder is absolutely goddamn nauseating. they had the perfect opportunity to really dig into dany’s feelings in her khalasar and bloodriders specifically here and passed it up for cheap shock value murder. i’ve always found rakharo fascinating because of his devotion to dany - it goes so against the culture of the dothraki to be not just so dedicated to a woman but willingly subservient, and rakharo is not only fond of dany from the jump, he’s the only bloodrider who attempts to comfort her when she proclaims herself leader of the khalasar. i’ve always felt that like arys oakheart, he likely was raised with a mother who had some semblance of control & power and it made him predisposed to respect the backbone he sees in dany, to feel sorrow for her frustration at being forced to the dosh khaleen, and giving him that “you’ve never failed me before” “now would be a bad time to start” COULD have been something interesting wrt the dothraki and specifically irri & rakharo helping her release drogon in astapor and sack the city, and rule meereen but they waste it and elyes gabel’s amazing face and acting chops. annoying.

“i haven’t seen a girl in six months” once again. why must we make sam this horny.

and then following it up with my favorite sam line & the funniest delivery kit ever does aksjdj the way he goes “hello gilly. what are you doing sam” always kills me, and then following it up with “i can’t steal her she’s a person not a goat” that’s my baby!!! it’s so annoying that they adapt sam so badly but they get the sam/gilly dynamic down okay. he’s just like. the perfect person to be there for gilly, the perfect person to never give up in just trying to help her however he could.

theon is so pathetic lmao. i get some of the changes - big cast and all that - but i think cutting down theon’s journey on pike so he’s not dealing with the botleys & doesn’t get wex pyke makes the iron islands feel so much less real & lived in.

I know everyone hates on the change with joffrey ordering the killing of the bastards and not cersei BUT i think it’s fine, i get it even. they’re using it to show joffrey is escalating, not even cersei can control him, AND cersei will cover for him always. she looks unsettled when tyrion brings it up but she rationalizes it away and then turns the conversation back on tyrion. also-

THEY DESERVED AN EGOT FOR THESE ROLES!!!!!! GIVE THEM A PULITZER!!!!!

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 6

Summary: Bess spends a Friday evening with Elvis on base, and gets excited for the party he invited her to the next day. We learn a little more about Bess' family as she gets ready to meet Elvis' friends, however, things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Fingering, dry humping, descriptions of the ever elusive female orgasm (not when Elvis is around....), and discussions of mental illness.

WC: 8.4 K i tried and failed to stick to my 5 - 6 k goal

My writing is very much influenced by the other women I write with, my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll give me suggestions, answer my research queries and help me find the will to live and write. Also, thanks to @ab4eva and @lookingforrainbows for their enthusiasm because honestly yes I thrive on engagement with other Elvis fans.

Special shout out to @whositmcwhatsit from whom I have stolen her characterization of Elvis learning what an OC likes as he pleasures her in bed, changing his voice when he is alone with an OC vs. in front of others, using his thumbs to rub OCs backs.... basically I subscribe to the belief that all art is deriative and collaborative and I pinch things unwittingly from everyone who I read regularly so thank you, and sorry, no, I won't ask for permission. I am a bandit queen after all. But if you have read @whositmcwhatsit's stuff you might find some of my characterizations of Elvis familiar and you should probably go read some of her stuff instead. She also alpha'd this for me and gave me lots of feedback and dialogue/plot ideas. But no Jade, I am already too jealous of your talents to give you co-author credit so stop begging me (in my head).

You can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

This is the playlist I made for this chapter. Kewl kids do that.

Chapter 6: Guided Missiles

Friday, April 11, 1958

7:07 p.m.  on the grounds of Fort Hood, Killeen, TX

Guided missiles, bound to explode

Destroying my heart is your goal

You have succeeded in making me blue

Now I know the enemy is you

The Cufflinks’ “Guided Missiles” played over the radio as Bess navigated her car along the base road, she had just begun to relax her thigh into Elvis’ leg while enjoying how he crooned along into her hair with the song. Then she felt his hand on her inner thigh and bolted upright with a gasp, trying to wiggle him off as she changed gears.

“You are making it hard for me to drive, Tupelo.”

Elvis snickered under his breath, enjoying the way Bess shivered from the way his hand moved her hem up.

“I’m jus’ being helpful, Moo Moo, this skirt’s so goddamn tight, don’t know how you can change gears.”

Bess shook her head as she pulled into the PX parking lot, sliding his hand out of her legs.

“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

“Zat’s me, baby.” Elvis’ lips were nibbling her ear. “I’d open your door any day.” Somehow his hand was back between her legs and she gasped when it feathered over her panties.

“My door,” she pushed him off and put the car in park, “is just fine where it is, soldier.”

He grinned at her, and the way he looked down, biting his lip, was so naughty it made Bess tense with longing. She instantly regretted coming here with him, blushing when his eyes met hers, his fingers now caressing her elbow. Their soft touch did not feel any more innocent on her arm than they had on her thigh and she coughed nervously.

“Um, uh, alright, fork it over.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?“

“You were the one who wanted candy.”

“Bess, I’m not able to carry my wallet during field exercises, an’ I came to meet’cha straight after.”

Bess rubbed his knee playfully and waggled her lips.

“Hmm, Mr. Chivalrous, indeed. Ok, guess I can spring for some Reese’s -”

“Get a bunch, and a few Pepsi colas?”

Bess couldn’t even summon one sarcastic smart aleck retort, her mind was dulled by the way his cheeks lifted up in a boyish excitement. It made her want to grab his face and cover him with a thousand kisses. Instead, she nodded dumbly and managed to make her way out of the car intact, pulling down her skirt. If she tried focusing really hard she was able to walk upright into the commissary.

Once she was a few feet inside, away from Elvis’ hands, her wits returned and, in a matter of minutes, she was at the soda fountain asking the girl behind the counter to add a few more peanut butter cups to her paper bag. 

Walking back out of the shop, Bess folded the top of the bag over itself a few times, enjoying the feel of the sharp crisp edge under her hand. She smiled to herself, thinking of Elvis’ silly grin as he conspiratorially looked around after dinner and whispered in her ear that he was in the mood for something sweet.

Studying Elvis over the last two weeks, Bess found he was not at all what she had expected. He was smart and funny, yet also childlike and sweet and simple. His face greeted her with the same genuine excitement every evening when she met him at the bottom of their dirty, dingy back stairwell. He had asked her to bring the same meal the last three nights in a row, homemade meatloaf on challah bread. And he was content to do the same thing every night: drive around listening to the radio and necking in her car. This trip to PX was the first time they had deviated from their familiar routine and gone anywhere remotely public together.

“So, this is how movie stars indulge in the finer th -”

Bess stopped talking as she sat down and realized Elvis was not in her car. Peering around the parking lot, she saw his side profile a few cars over, sitting between two girls in the back seat of a white Buick. Two giggling girls. Two very pretty, young giggling girls. 

Bristling, Bess took a deep breath and calmly placed the candy next to her, then calmly pulled the handle and then calmly but forcefully slammed her door with a bang. She saw one of the girls look over, a blonde, but Elvis remained lost in conversation, laughing at something the brunette had said. 

Bess wondered if he was even aware she had returned to the car. Not sure what to do, she settled on acting nonchalant and proceeded to fix her lipstick in the rearview mirror, trying to conceal how hard she was straining to hear what they said.

“Course I do, honey, scout’s honor. Yes, that’s right, 16 cars. Well now, what’s the point of making money if you can’t spend it? Wait a minute, huh, now, actually, it’s 15, I just gave my Messerschmitt to my tailor.”

She couldn’t make out the girls' muffled, breathy voices, just Elvis’, which was, for some reason, deeper and much more pronounced now that he had an audience.

“Oh, well now, most people ain’t heard a it, but it’s a German car, a small ‘un, rides on three wheels and goes real fast, boy, real fast, on account of how light it is. Feel like you’re racing in a bubble.” He whistled a high note. “Whooeee, goes right past all the suckers in their regular cars.  But, well, heck, I hardly got to drive it, though, so naw, I don’ miss it. I was away so much, when the guy who makes my suits wouldn’t shut up ‘bout it, I finally told him, I said, ‘Bernie,’ I said, ‘Ya can have my Messer but you have to let me pick out ev’ry thing I want in ya store here. Today’… Yeah, it was a good deal, man, I cleaned him out.”

Bess rolled her eyes and sat there waiting while Elvis chuckled and answered more questions from the girls. Then, ever the chivalrous, attentive gentleman, asked them about themselves, wondering where they went to school, what they did for fun, and whether they had any boyfriends

“Don’ lie now.” She heard his voice get flirty. “I don’t believe it, pretty girls like you? I bet you’re breaking all the guys' hearts here.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one asked him, and Elvis laughed.

“Nah, no one special. See, I'm so busy, and I’m always on the move, it wouldn’t be fair to any gal to for me try and settle down now, ‘specially now I’m off to Germany. I’m just playin’ the field. Why, are you asking me out? Honey, ain’t fair to tease me like that.”

Elvis sat and talked with them for ten more minutes or so, but Bess was only half listening. His words about how he didn’t have a special girl played over again in her mind. Bess started eating the peanut cups impatiently as the idea of how insignificant she was to Elvis snowballed in her mind. She was just a girl he met during basic training, one of the many girls whose car he felt he could just walk up to and sit in. One of, what, hundreds he had probably kissed in dark corridors, movie theaters, recording studios, cars, motel rooms? Completely interchangeable with any other girl. Completely interchangeable with these silly, stupid girls he was flirting with while she waited.

What the fuck was she doing with her life? Baking bread and meatloaf and packing a picnic dinner to schlep on base every night? Curling her hair before bed and waking up early so she could take extra care to look nice?  While he treated her like a pathetic doormat he could send off to buy him candy and then keep waiting for what now, twenty minutes? Bess had half a mind to drive off, and the only thing that stopped her was her pride. She would not let him know that he had upset her, she was not going to have a tantrum like a child.

The peanut butter and chocolate had hardly begun to melt when Bess threw another candy in her mouth and told herself she was being silly. Those girls had probably called him over, everyone in Killeen was on Elvis alert, and he was probably just being polite and humoring them. She ate some more of the candy and felt a little better, telling herself it was harmless. And what, she expected him to spill his guts about his love life with two kids? And so what if it was true? She knew he had other girlfriends,  she’d seen pictures of him out around town with stars like Natalie Wood, Yvonne Lime, and Anita Wood in the movie magazines. Elvis' playboy lifestyle hadn’t seemed to matter this morning, because she knew they were just having fun. She was having fun, she reminded herself again, and she shouldn’t get worked up.

But it was ten more minutes before Elvis said his goodbyes, and Bess’ ire rose again as he lingered over their car window, making them promise to meet him at the base movie theater next week.

“What about you, Moo Moo, you like Danny Kaye?”

Bess looked at him coolly as he got into her car, then back at the windshield as she shifted the car into reverse.

“Sounds like you’ve already secured companions, one for each side.” She elbowed him off as he leaned to put his arm around her.

“I reckon you’re right.” He attempted to put his hand where it had been before, lightly trailing his fingers over the back of her neck. “Guess I’ll just have to put you on my lap,” he hummed in her ear, grabbing the bag of candy as Bess navigated the car out of the parking lot. 

She could tell he was joking around with her, but she scooted away from him nonetheless, sitting up straight and rigid as she drove, the bitter taste of his indifference still fresh on her tongue despite the half dozen chocolates she’d eaten in the last ten minutes.

“What happened to the Reese’s?” Elvis’ voice trailed off as he popped the last one in his mouth, and he took a longer look at Bess’ stiff stance.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in them anymore.”

Elvis sucked on the candy and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the six pack below his feet, opening the cap with a pop.

“You cheesed off ‘bout them girls back there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a free world, you can go around speaking to whomever you like.”

 Elvis sipped his Pepsi, looking sideways at Bess.

“Huh, so you hugging that steering wheel like you tryin’ to marry it for no reason, then, huh?”

Bess glanced over, her terse expression breaking. “Well, it doesn’t feel particularly good to be left twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes.”

Taking another swig of his Pepsi, Elvis began to message the base of Bess’ neck.

“Aw, hell, honey, I didn’t even realize I was over there that long.” His fingers massaged the base of her neck. “Time got away from me, now that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Bess grunted as Elvis' thumb rubbed slowly over her shoulder blade, moving to her waist to pull her towards him.

“Hey now.” He kissed the top of her head, and Bess could feel her anger dissipating. “Scoot in here, let me show you how I feel ‘bout you, Moo Moo. Those girls don’ mean nothing.” He squeezed her waist.

“Seemed like something,” Bess whined, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth, she sounded needy and pitiful. 

“Aw, Moo Moo, don’t be like that. I spend my days driving ‘round in tanks with forty other men. When those lil gals called me over, almost felt like my old life again. I love my fans, honey, but that’s all they are. Ain’t special to me like you are.”

“Hmmmm.” She could feel herself giving in as his thumb worked its slow, rhythmic magic in circles at her waist. His thumb's movements made all her blood rush to her core, and a throbbing need mingled with the anger in her chest. He sensed her mood shifting and kissed her neck as she drove.

“Always so jealous, Bessie baby, might start to think you like me.”

Bess sighed out as he pulled her towards him tighter.

“You’re wrong, Elvis Presley,” she murmured halfheartedly. “I am just bored, passing time ‘til I get out of this hell hole. You could go off with a car full of girls and it wouldn’t bother me.”

His hand was at the side of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, stroking her hair.

“You’re so pretty when you get all riled up, Moo Moo, your cheeks get so red. It’s how I imagine you’d be -“ He paused, his voice was tender and babyish now, even as he spoke with an impish smirk, giggling at his own innuendo. “ - after chasing me down in that car fulla girls.”

Bess sat up, slapping his hand off her, no longer really mad about the girls, just his teasing. Elvis' arms were around her again in a flash, and he kissed her cheek.

 “I’m jus’ teasin’, honey. Now come on, be a good lil girl and find us a nice place to park.”

He turned the radio on, tapping once he found a station playing a song he liked, and waggling his eyebrows at Bess as he began to sing with The Clovers to “Blue Velvet.”

Bess shook her head to herself, enjoying how the night air cooled her warm, red cheeks. She had sworn that once he got back in the car, she would drop him off and not let Elvis charm her into spending the rest of the night with him. But here, now, she knew she was a goner. Her body betrayed her and the need to feel his lips on hers, as soon as possible, overrode any sense of pride or logic. She drove her blue Ford into the first dark alley she found among the armory buildings.

Awkwardly smoothing down her blouse, Bess tried not to seem excited or in a hurry as she sighed nervously and watched Elvis tilt his head toward the back seat. They wordlessly got out, and she stumbled into her open door. It was pitch black, the air was thick with anticipation, and Bess trembled as she edged along the leather. After two weeks, she still got nervous alone in the car with Elvis.

His lip hung down as he moved over and he caught her knee, lightly trailing over it before pulling her legs onto his lap. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved up her leg, sucking in his breath. Each night, without fail, his face would fill with awe when they began to fool around. He always looked like he had never touched a girl before, like she was the first woman he had ever met. Just the slightest caress seemed to light a fire in his eyes, and he slowly, reverently removed her shoes, one by one, swirling his fingers over each ankle.

They had left the radio playing, it was a doo wop program and the slow beat of a bass guitar thrummed in Bess’ ears as Elvis’ index finger begin to roll  back and forth at the edge of her skirt. His eyes met hers, looking her up and down as he sighed.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo.” A goofy smile spread under his half-lidded eyes, and he bit his lip, looking as though he had just unearthed a secret. His hand was now on her knee, and a charged tremor flared up the back of her calves. “I’m crazy ‘bout you, honey. I need you to know it.”

The longing in his voice made Bess want to wrap her legs around Elvis’ waist and pull him on top of her. Draw him as close as possible, flip over and crush him into the leather seat, getting as close as she possibly could until the car shook with the sounds of their love making. Instead, Bess took a deep breath and tried to embody an appealing, modest restraint.

“I’m sorry, Elvis, sorry for giving you a hard time. And for eating all the chocolates.”

He leaned over her, and his warm breath hit her ear as he whispered.

 “I know baby, s’ok. I forgive you. You gonna be a good lil girl from now on?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She answered in her own babying voice, not questioning where that affect came from or why she suddenly seemed to find their childish repartee so enticing.

Elvis’ lips brushed over her neck, followed by a succession of kisses that started out soft and slow and then gradually became deeper. Bess fell down onto the white leather seat, her breaths loud and shallow as she unbuttoned his work coat, lifting her bottom to help Elvis as he pulled her nylons off. She laughed when they got tangled and he had to turn and look at what he was doing, swearing as he threw them to the ground.

 “Damn mosquito netting. Where were we?”

Bess cupped his cheek, bringing him back to her lips.

“Here.” She swallowed into his smug expression while his right hand moved up her thigh, teasing her over her panties before he smiled wider at the way she rolled her hips to welcome his touch. He dragged his knuckles delicately over her center and Bess felt a bulge growing against her knee when Elvis looked down where his hand was.

“Man oh man.”

He raised his eyebrow as his fingers slipped inside her and she responded with an upward thrust, turning her face into his left arm at the sensation. Elvis kissed her check, gliding his fingers further into her, slowly probing her delicately and lingering over her bundle of nerves, repeating the movements that provoked a response.

Bess tried to remember the last time a man had touched her. This was no impatient swiping on the way to quick sex. Ben had made the effort to please her, though he had always seemed preoccupied, like he was making a grocery list while he muddled along with his fingers. She had had to do a lot of work twisting and turning to get the angle right. Elvis was right there, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every clench as she pivoted his fingers toward what she liked. No one had ever touched her like this and it felt so satisfying that Bess couldn’t stop herself from grabbing him as she moaned out. Her hands were on his back, through his hair, in his mouth while he watched with concentration, his lips opening and closing with a gasp as she moved her knee back and forth over his groin.

“You are so soft, Moo Moo.” He brought his fingers out momentarily and Bess’ jaw dropped as she watched him suck on his index and forefinger, covering them in his saliva and grinning as he brought his hand back to slide easily inside her. “Sweet, too, baby, sweetest girl I ever met.”

Bess blushed, deeper, harder, redder than ever, and buried her head into Elvis' forearm. It was almost too much, to feel Elvis’ finger rolling over her slick nub, slow and steady, like he was canoeing them intently down a lazy river, strumming her like a banjo. Each stroke brought her closer to home, and a warm tingling sensation hummed up to her throat and made her moan out a guttural melody just for him. His eyes never left hers, and his chest pushed harder and harder into her with each exhale. It was the most intimate, vulnerable and intense experience Bess had ever had. She felt him grind harder against her knee, breaking their eye contact to drop his forehead on to hers with a loud groan.

Their bodies shifted back and forth together and the car swelled with the sound of their savage breathing. The smell of aftershave, Chanel No. 5 talcum powder, tank grease and sweat filled Bess’ nostrils, and heightened the aching, sparking heat in her chest. She pulled Elvis to her, meeting his lips as he stroked her until the bow broke and waves of electricity vibrated through her body. She cried to heaven above and hell below, drowning out the sound of the music playing on the radio, the sound of the car seat heaving up and down, the sound of Elvis’ chuckles as he held her, looking down at her with wide puppy dog eyes full of satisfaction and appreciation. As if she had been the one pleasing him.

Bess realized how much she had satisfied him when she noticed a wet, gooey stain on his pants as she lay in Elvis’ arms, nuzzling her forehead against his chest. She palmed her hand over it, smiling up at him.

“Maybe I should keep an extra uniform in my car for you?”

He played with her hair, grinning into her eyes.

“Nah, it’ll dry. Sides, it’s dark, no one will know what we been up to.” He took a deep breath, another chortle escaped his lips. “S’nice a you to offer, though. Guess I know what I have to do to get you to be a nice lil girl for me.”

“Hush.” Bess hit him, but she couldn’t help but sigh affectionately. “Though, gee whiz, Elvis. I never felt like that before.”

“Aw, there she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.” He kissed her head. “Why, she’s the sweetest lil Moo cow in the whole wide world. Gotta take care a my Moo Moo, cuz she takes such good care me.”

All Bess could do was sink into him further, allowing his babyish voice to lull her into a calm, relaxed state. She started playing with the lining of his undershirt, asking him about their plans to be together over the weekend. 

In her more reserved moments, Bess stopped herself from prodding Elvis for future plans because she did not want to seem needy or anxious or too invested. She left it to him. She didn’t want to give him the power of knowing how much she liked him. This tryst was temporary, she knew how this worked: he would go on leave back to Memphis, and then, before she knew it he’d be off to Germany.

But when she was with him, in his embrace, all of her worries seemed to dissolve. Bess didn’t think about her mother’s troubles, her father’s expectations, how Ben had broken her heart or anything upsetting. Here, in the cozy afterglow of loving making, she felt completely at ease and her subconscious snuck out, seeking opportunities to be with him as much as possible. Her hand smoothed over his shirt as she looked up at him with a breezy, carefree grin.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Nah, honey, my friend has my new white Caddy, so I’ll be coming’ round to pick you up from now on.”

“What time d’you think you’ll come by?”

“Don know, ‘zactly, but I’ll call you. Reckon it’ll be after 5, most likely.”

 “I should write down my number.” She started to sit up, but Elvis held her tight and kissed her nose.

“Nah, Moo Moo, jus’ tell me, I’ll ‘member it.”

Bess squinted up incredulously, but soon he was repeating it back to her, tickling her and telling her to be a good girl and trust him.

“I got it, locked down up here, baby.” He pointed to his head, and Bess shrugged, sitting up and swaying to the sounds of the song “Devil or Angel.”

“Aw, I love this song.”

Elvis followed suit, joining her upright on the bench seat and grinning as he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie as he sang along. Bess smiled inwardly at his silly, melodramatic expression, he was clearly trying to impress her. She grinned wider when she realized that they were on opposite sides of the seat from when they had first moved back there, and she smooshed into him with a light kiss. He returned it, and they started to paw at each other again, tongues meeting and gently exploring each other until Bess pushed off, trying to be sensible and move them out of the car.

 “You better go, Tupelo.”

Elvis followed her, kissing the knuckles over her hand as they said their goodnights against her car, hips pushing up against hips.

“Always takin’ such good care a me, Moo Moo. I jus’ know. God sent you to take care of me. Wish I could just stay with you always. I hate to leave.” He murmured, pouting. “I don know how I’m gonna make it through the night without you, baby. Gonna be dreamin’ ‘bout you.” His lip curled up at the left side. “And how sweet ya taste.”

Elvis dodged her had as she tried to hit his arm. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, Moo Moo. Mmhhmmm, better have that sweet lil honey pot all dressed up and ready for a party. Wanna show you off to my friends.”

Bess blushed and waved him away, though she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet from excitement. This last week she had felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of last summer’s devastating heartbreak and all the self destructive behavior that had followed.

Being with Elvis was a restorative tonic, and she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him Saturday. It meant something that he invited her to meet his friends; it was an acknowledgment, a validation, a way of telling her that he didn’t just see her as someone to fool around with in a dark car. It meant that he really liked her. That she really was special to him.

 ********************************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

9:47 a.m.  The Schwartz Residence

The house smelled like spiced ginger. It was one of those days when Mama had risen at dawn and baked enough food to feed the entire base. There were loaves of ginger bread, banana bread, rugelach, oatmeal cookies and some sort of roast was slowly cooking in the oven. Their kitchen had always been the heart of Bess’ family, not only was it where she learned to cook at her mother’s apron strings, but it is also where Mama taught her to draw, read and knit. Papa had taught her and Kay German by only speaking German to them in the house until they were fluent. However, it was at the kitchen table with Mama where Bess perfected her German. This was where Mama had helped her with her German homework and essays. With all of her work, with all of her problems. 

Mama’s parents were second generation German Jews, and before she met Papa, Mama had played piano in Zayde’s Brooklyn vaudeville theatre, where all six kids in Mama’s family had eventually gone to work. Papa enjoyed regaling his daughters with the story of how he had met a dark, beautiful woman on the Coney Island midway who had captured his heart when she helped him buy tickets after no one understand his broken English. She had spoken to him in German, and it was the first time he’d felt welcomed and safe in America. Two weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Mama had thrown herself into domestic life after the wedding, and then into factory life during the war, always somehow managing to keep things taped together through military moves back and forth across the country.

Bess often wondered when Papa realized how different Mama was from other women, because most of the time, her mental condition was fairly obtuse and could be understood as harmless whimsy. For Bess, it was a mainstay of her childhood. 

Mama had always spoken so casually of the hidden meanings she saw in the world, the faeries and demons that spoke to her, that when Bess was little, she had assumed something was wrong with her and waited impatiently for her own visions. It was not until she was twelve, after Mama had dug up the whole back yard one night and chopped off all their electrical wires to stop the demons from tormenting her, that Papa took her and Kay aside and explained that Mama had to go live at a health farm for the summer and Aunt Rachel would be coming from New York to take care of them.

Thus began a long series of stays at different experimental sanitariums and institutions over the last ten years. The most recent had been in November, a month-long stay at a small resort in Eureka Springs Arkansas, and Mama had returned fatter, calmer and filled with zeal about the wonders of natural hot spring bathing. But Mama was still Mama, and the battle for good and evil was still playing out in front of her eyes through the words and whispers and visions that she alone experienced. Bess was grateful that, for whatever reason, the demons had been staying mostly at bay. The faeries, on the other hand, had been quite vocal.

Mama turned as Bess entered the kitchen, and brought her daughter some coffee while she caressed Bess’ cheek with her hand.

“Oh Bessie, you’ve been looking radiant lately. The faeries have been murmuring.” She trailed her fingers over the large curlers in Bess’ hair. “They tell me you have a new beau.”

Bess blushed, responding sheepishly. “No mama, I’m  - I’m - just going out tonight. With friends. Where’s Papa?”

“Oh he went fishing with some of the German studies instructors, they took three barrels of beer and a tent, so they might stay at the lake. “

Mama kissed Bess’ forehead and then sipped her own coffee.

“It is going to be a full moon tonight, Bessie. You are positively glowing, my girl. I think the moon goddess wants to have her way with you, you have to be careful. She is a tricky one, she plays with us mere mortals for amusement.”

Bess blushed, thinking of Elvis and her own hopes and desires for the night. A shiver of anticipation went through her body and she giggled, nervously.

“Hmmm, well, we’ll see, Mama, maybe I can outsmart her.”

Mama stood, following as Bess took her coffee and bread to the secretary’s desk in the hall, and winking at her daughter.

“No one can outsmart the mistress of the moon, Bess, she controls the oceans and with it, the waves within us. The water that drums in our ears and thrashes us forward. The current that pulls at our heart. And her power is strongest at the full moon, beware her riptide.”

Bess watched as her mother turned into the living room with a flourish and then filled the house with Rachmaninoff’s loud, romantic piano music. 

Bess couldn’t help going into her evaluative mindset and pondering whether Mama was having a good day, baking and playing the piano, or whether she was hurtling towards a manic episode. She looked at the clock, and decided she would have to wait and see, but she prepared herself to cancel the whole night if need be. Right now, she would go ahead as planned, and called her friend James to beg him for help finalizing her outfit.

“I need a man’s opinion, that’s why.”

“Bess, trust me, whatever dress you wear, Elvis’ only thought is going to be how quickly he can get it off."

“Jameson!” Bess spoke in a hushed murmur as she rocked her chair back against the wall. “I don’t even know what is going to happen, he is an odd duck when it comes to fooling around.” James was silent. “Great, so you’ll be here at 5?”

“Bess, I love you but I am not getting involved. Didn’t you say he’s picking you up at 5?”

“He said he would call after 5, and I’ve been thinking, you should pick me up and drop me off, then I’ll get a cab home or something. I don’t want my folks to know about Elvis -”

“Bess, the General probably already -”

“Just be here at 5, James. I’m going to get my nails done and pick up a few things. Wait, better make it 4:30, just in case - ok? Please? You know I never ask for anything.”

Bess looked at the nails on her right hand, turning them over, trying to banish James’ suggestion that her father probably already knew that she was spending time with Elvis Presley. Yes, he trained officers to gather intelligence, but Papa could be quite blind about their home life. She rocked back and forth on the chair, noticing that her mother’s piano serenade in the living room had moved from Russia to Brooklyn. She was playing Gershwin now. 

This is good sign, Bess thought, happy, lighthearted Gershwin was one of Mama’s favorites. Then Bess realized after a few bars that it was “The Man I Love,” and she pursed her lips at her mother’s teasing.

“But you always ask. For everything. ‘James, take me to the dance, James, let’s go out dancing in Austin, James deliver me to Elvis Presley’s motel room - ’ ”

“Stop, you know you love it. Otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind, as you refuse to have a love life of your own.”

“That’s what you think, Schwartz. I have a vast, secret love life that I keep from you.”

Bess grinned. “Good, you can tell me all about it when I see you at 4:30. Make that 4. And if you don’t show, I’ll inform the General that you stood me up!”

Smiling wider at her friend’s groans, Bess hopped up with purpose, thinking that it was time to wash off her facial mask and make a list of all the things she needed to do to get ready by four.

“It’s settled then. James, you’re a dream, see you at 4.”

***********************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

3:58 p.m.  The Schwartz Residence

It was Kay who opened the door when James arrived, smart and debonair in his officer’s uniform with his hair coiffed and parted perfectly. Bess bounced down the stairs, beaming wide at James’ high whistle as she twirled around for him.

“Gee Schwartz, I think you might need to drive tonight. That dress just kicked me in the head.”

Bess did a two step in her cocktail dress, trying not to notice the way her sister rolled her eyes as she shut the front door.

 “You don’t have to be nice, Captain, you can tell her she needs to wear something more colorful, more over the top, more like what Elvis wears in civilian life. I’ve been telling her all afternoon.”

James tilted his head towards Kay, “So I’m guessing the kid knows.”

Bess shrugged, “Yeah, oy. But thank god Papa took Colonel Zimmermann and some of the new teachers fishing. Mama’s out back painting, she’s been on one today. Baked up a storm, if you want something sweet.”

James shook his head, letting Bess lead the way upstairs. “Your mom is too smart, Bess. So is your pop. I’m happy to be your beard, but if they don’t already know you are dating Elvis Presley, they are gonna get wise sooner or later.”

Kay laughed, “Mama already knows something is up, Bess has been putting way more attention into her appearance this week and coming home late every night. Just today, she curled her hair, then decided to go to the salon and have her hair set anyway. And she tried on about 100 dresses, just so everything’s perfect.” Kay said, in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not dating Elvis, you guys. I’m just spending time with him. And, Kay, I think you are exaggerating. I was having my nails done at the beauty parlor anyway.” 

Bess held out her hands for James’ inspection. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the dark burgundy color, and she had liked it so much she matched her lipstick to it. There was something about a fresh nail lacquer that always made Bess feel more adult, more confident.

“Let me show you the whole get-up with these low heeled pumps on, though I have some other shoe options.” She slipped on her heels, and twirled around again, as James went to sit on her bed next to Kay. “There, now, James, as a man, what do you really think? Too simple? He said to dress up.”

James looked Bess up and down as Kay snickered, prompting a quick kick to her shin.

“No, it’s perfect Bess. With that neckline? And the way it crisscrosses in the middle, and your hair? You look like Ava Gardner. It’s not too simple, it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. But you need a necklace.”

James stood, and went to Bess’ vanity, pulling out her pearl necklace from her jewelry box, and beckoning her over. He fastened it around her neck from behind, then put in the matching earrings, carefully, before stepping back with a whistle to let Bess look at herself in the mirror.

“There now. You're a goddess. I dare him not to whisk you away and ravage you the moment he sees you. It’s wholesome and it’s sexy all at once.”

Bess smiled and took her friend’s hand, whispering a shy, blushing thank you. They sat up there, listening to records as Bess modeled a few other shoe options and asked whether she should wear gloves. Ultimately, all parties involved agreed gloves were too formal for a motel party.

It was 5:15 when they went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen, sampling some of the rugelach as they waited for Elvis’ call. 

By 6:15, they had moved to the living room and Papa’s bar, where Bess made Tom Collins for everyone, which now included Mama and Dickey, who had come by to take Kay out to a drive-in movie. 

At 7, Mama began to ask if James and Bess wanted dinner, she was slow cooking a roast for Sunday, but could fry up some cold meatloaf sandwiches.

“No thanks, Mama, we’re just waiting to hear from the friends we’re meeting.” Bess stumbled through a sorry excuse for a story about two friends from high school who had to work later than expected. James gave Bess a supportive look, and after her mother left the living room, reassured her that a number of things could have happened with the drill sergeant overseeing Elvis’ dismissal.

“He could be stuck on KP duty, maybe he got held back because the others played a prank on him. You know how unpredictable those battalion sergeants can be. Let’s relax and turn on the boob tube.”

Bess nodded, made another round of Tom Collins, and settled in to watch Art Linkletter's amateur comedy show, trying very hard not to think about how it was almost 8 p.m. 

At 9 James began his campaign to convince Bess something must have kept Elvis on base, and that they should get out of the house. Get burgers at Millie’s Diner or go for a drive out to the Waco Wet Dog. 

At 9:30, Bess caved, and ran upstairs to take off her pearls and change into a more casual, purple swing dress. While changing, she began to mull over a secondary plan that was forming in her head, and she carried the entire display case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d bought with her to James’ car.

“What’s with the candy?” James looked over his shoulder as he careened his car around towards downtown Killeen.

“It’s sort of a joke, I um, I ate all his peanut butter cups the other night. I- I thought it would be a gas if I showed up with an entire case.”

James looked over at Bess, and rubbed her shoulder. “And what, you think we should eat them instead?”

“Well, what if he couldn’t get to a phone? Or got too caught up with his friends or whatever? He was pretty insistent that he wanted to see me tonight. I was thinking...” Bess looked down with a sigh, then back up at James, her eyes dark with determination. “What about just driving by the Star Motel on the way home. What do you think, as a man, how would you feel if I just showed up?”

James could see Bess’ confidence waver, but he couldn’t bear to talk her down, not after everything he had watched he go through over the last year. So he banished his own misgivings and squeezed her hand. “Honey, any man upset to see you walk in would be crazy. But let’s get some grub first, ok?”

***********************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

11:05 p.m.  The Star Motel, on the outskirts of Killeen TX towards Waco

The air was cool now, and Bess’ mother had been right, it was a full moon that shone over them, illuminating the farms off in the distance on the road to Waco. The Star Motel was a two-storey building with rooms along the inside and outside that wrapped around a large pool. 

Bess sat in the car, stomach churning, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea. They had definitely spotted a new, white Cadillac packed in the back lot with a temporary license plate. Which was both promising and unsettling, because it meant Elvis was probably there but hadn't called her. Bess suddenly wished she hadn't found it, but she was also unable to just slide back and tell James to take her home now that she knew Elvis was probably here.

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and the cocktails had dulled her inhibitions.There was a giddy, bubbly feeling at the top of her head that egged her on and told her that he had invited her, had been adamant about wanting to see her, “show her off,” telling her she was special to him, that he was crazy about her. 

Maybe it was the full moon after all. Whatever it was, every cell in Bess’ body compelled her curiosity and her desire. She had to know, and she needed to feel his touch once more; that voice and that face and those hands that took her away from her difficult, tiresome existence. 

Taking a deep breath, she felt almost like a force behind herself was propelling her out of the car, and she only hesitated at the sound of James’ voice.

“Bess, come out and let me know, ok? This place is always crawling with creeps, so if you don’t come out here and give me the old heave ho in the next 15 minutes, I’m going to come find you. I won’t care about locked doors.”

Bess nodded back into the car with a bright, broad smile, and then strode over the grass and into the side corridor of the motel, avoiding the office. 

Walking past the first set of rooms, she came to a breezeway and paused, leaning against the decorative, concrete screen in the middle to calm and prepare what she would say to Elvis. She was certain they were a few doors down, she could hear a group of male voices jamming and she perked up, clutching her box of chocolates closer to her bosom at the sound of Elvis’ low voice singing no more than twenty feet away. 

That was when she heard heels clicking down the breezeway, and turned to find a small, petite blonde in a pink dress walking towards her with an exaggerated flounce in her hips and an ice bucket resting at her waist. Bess' chest tightened when she recognized Anita Wood from the movie magazine photos. Magazine photos of Anita Wood out on dates around Memphis with her boyfriend Elvis Presley.

Anita flashed Bess a dazzling grin that displayed the whitest, straightest teeth Bess had ever seen. “I swear, I walked all over creation looking for that dag gum ice machine, and you know where it is? Where these rocket scientists thought to themselves, why this is the best place to put it? Up behind the cigarette machine, on the back of it. Completely outta sight. Can you believe that?”

“Um yeah, I mean no, ugh. Idiots, I bet it was cheaper to wire it back there, or something.”

Bess wiped the sides of her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not to linger on how this proved that she was just another girl to Elvis, and definitely not preferable to the gorgeous beauty queen in front of her. Anita’s face fell as she looked up at Bess.

“Oh honey, are you ok? Why, you know you’d just feel better if you just let it all out.” Anita pulled a pink handkerchief with lace trim from her bust, replete with a monogrammed A.W. “Here, now, you can cry with me here, ain’t no one but us chickens.”

“Is it that obvious I'm upset?” Bess tried to chuckle, watching Anita’s face change to a confused frown as she noticed the box of Reese’s.

“Hey - what’s with the candy? Are you meeting someone here?”

Bess shifted, working against those cocktails to think on her feet and also play dumb about the suspicion she saw in Anita’s eyes. “Oh, ha, no. These are for me. I, um, I live here in town with my folks, and I just checked in here because, well, I needed to get away for the night and drown my sorrows in chocolate, if you know what I mean. Just learned my fiancee married another girl he met in Germany. Men, huh? What are they good for?”

Anita stepped forward and rubbed Bess’ shoulder as more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Well, God made men for a reason, sometimes I think it was to test our womanly resolve. Oh honey, I cannot imagine what that would feel like, to have a man wrong you so. Ain’t no dirtier dog than a man who breaks that sacred promise. But I tell you what.” She took the box of Reese’s from Bess' arm. “You cannot sacrifice your figure over a man. Nu huh. No way, Jose. Why, that won’t do nothing to get back at him, it’ll only hurt you and your future prospects. My heart is telling me that I cannot stand by and let you go eat all this candy and feel sorry for yourself, honey. That is the devil whispering in your ear.”

Anita trotted over to the trash can and Bess groaned inwardly as she watched a woman dispose of Elvis’ chocolates for the second time that week. Though she conceded that Anita was right, she didn’t really want to go home and eat them all. Well, she did. But she knew she would regret it.

What could she do, offer them knowingly to Anita to take to her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, which Anita, of course, assumed was a reaction to her kind, Christian gesture. Still holding her ice bucket, Anita patted Bess on her shoulder.

“See, I can tell you’re feeling better already now that the temptation has been removed. We women have to stick together. You should take a nice long bath, it will do wonders, much more healing than candy. Whenever I get upset, I have a good cry, get it all out, then take a nice hot shower.” She winked at Bess, and Bess wondered if Anita did the same things in the shower that Bess did to make herself feel better. Maybe that was why God made showers?

Anita smiled wider as Bess wiped her eyes, and mustered a feeble grin, which encouraged her to continue dispensing advice.

“Yessirree, you’ll feel better once you wash that man right out of your hair and start over again. Pretty girl like you, why, if you lost five pounds, you’d have your pick of the litter.” Bess flinched when Anita pinched her waist playfully, and was lost for words as her heart jumped into her throat with embarrassment at how much thicker she was than the petite blonde. Insecurity clouded her head and she was almost unable to hear the rest of what Anita said.

“Just stay away from big boxes of candy, and other temptations Satan might throw at you. Then, I bet you dollars to doughnuts, that boy will regret his decision. The best revenge is to find someone better and shove it in his face. Make sure to take out a big ole wedding announcement in the paper That'll make you feel much better.” 

Anita left Bess with a wink and a parting squeeze to her arm, as Bess murmured a low thank you. She wiped her eyes and gathered her wits, then, when she was sure Anita was gone, she dug the box of chocolate out of the trashcan and tucked the rescued candy under her arm.

Straightening her dress as she sat down in James' car, Bess popped a Reese’s in her mouth and decided on how she would respond to her friend's questions.

“I ran into one of his girlfriends in the hallway.”

“Oh Bess, no, he didn’t! I’ve half a mind to go back and beat that hillbilly senseless.”

Bess shook her head, extending her arm out of the window and dropping Anita’s pink, embroidered handkerchief into a puddle of mud on the side of the road as they drove back to her house.

“Don’t, Elvis did me a favor. He reminded me why I don’t date soldiers.”

**************************************************************

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