#so y'all might be getting some new writing in different fandoms soon

[angst-fairygodmother]

Me, in a fit of insomnia-fueled inspiration, starts writing Veilguard-era angst where the Inquisitor gets blighted:

"This will be some great hurt/comfort angst for Thom and Thirrin, and then magically we'll cure it because I want them to be happy ultimately."

Three paragraphs in..."Oh. Oh. This is Solas/Lavellan angst. Well fuck me, this is going to be fun."

[perotovar]

my favorite things i've made 2024

tagged by @jolapeno @almostfoxglove @morallyinept @schnarfer @iamasaddie

@kedsandtubesocks @chronically-ghosted @moonlitbirdie and @arcanefox207 ♥

alright, y'all, i can't believe this year is ending soon 🥹 as we all know, this year has had a lot of ups and downs, but i can't help but feel like pedro did when he got his sag award, y'know??

i'm so grateful for all of you, and i can't wait to see what the new year brings. new p boys, new premieres/press tours?? sounds like heaven to me ♥

now, i've been tagged to toot my own horn a little bit and i guess i can, fine :P i don't normally like to, but i've been tagged by some wonderful, lovely friends to do so

below, will be both fics and gifs i've made this year that i'm pretty proud of!

before anything, i just wanna say, i'm super fucking proud of my Offering of Frith writing challenge. y'all did such an amazing job on every single one of the fics. i worked super hard on that and it was SO fun. i'd love to do another challenge in 2025, so i may do some brainstorming ✏️👀

fics:

bloody kisses -> alright, i'm gonna be real with y'all. this is my favorite thing i've ever written. okay, maybe not ever, but it's definitely tied with itbotn. i really love how quickly and easily this universe came together for me, and the little cult following that it has makes me so happy. they've almost got a little life of their own. i really, really wanna get back to them. i've got an idea that i'd love to get down, and now that a lot of the pressures of school are a little lessened, i might make it happen soon!

into the beat of the night ch 7 - "in my side" -> this chapter didn't get as much attention as the rest of the series, and that's okay, but i'm still proud of it for stepping out of my comfort zone. it was an area i was afraid would be a little taboo (since it covers deadnaming, misgendering, and past abusive relationships) so it's a little more serious than the series tends to be. i like what it means for river and frankie's relationship and it cements how they feel about each other, y'know?

into the beat of the night ch 8 - "deeper and deeper" -> and now for something completely different lol i like this chapter because it could've only happened after the experience with river's ex. they're completely comfortable with each other now and this was the last of frankie's walls coming down. i love them ♥

gifs:

the pedro pascal fandom moodboard that i made for the friendship exchange cat and han hosted ♥ i love how that turned out because it's the exact experience i have in this fandom lol

gideon @sp00kymulderr 's birthday present ♥ i adore our little disaster bi raccoon man and i love making these silly sets like this. i also love gideon so i'm glad they were the recipient for this!

silly pedro during the gladiator 2 press ♥ again, i love making these goofier sets. they're super fun to make and the end result is always really rewarding. and maybe i just like making myself laugh LMAO

i love you guys and i hope the new year treats you all well ♥

np tags: @for-a-longlongtime @schnarfer @iero @userparamore @djo

@miwtual @tomshiddles @gasolinerainbowpuddles @mrsmando @ghostofaboy

@missredherring @cavillscurls @beardedjoel @beefrobeefcal @quinnnfabrgay

@hellishjoel @max--phillips @oonajaeadira @wethairjoel @pedgito and literally anyone that wants to/sees this! i'm sorry if you already have done this or i missed you, it wasn't on purpose 🥲

[violetasteracademic]

Hey bestie, was just wondering when chapter two comes out 🙂‍↕️ been refreshing ur page once an hour for dayyyyyys. 💓

Hi my friend!! So funny you should ask, it will be ready to go up by early evening tonight! I will let you know as soon as it is posted! (I'm in US central time zone. So about 6-7 hours from now)

I'm so honored and delighted to have you reading the new fic 🥹 I don't like to share toooo much of my personal life on here because this fandom is sadly not always kind to artists and writers when it comes to the hostility of the ship wars, but I do want to give a heads up that A Court of Twisted Fate will not be coming out *quite* as fast as Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow. I blacked out and wrote almost 100k words of Golden Doe in a total disassociative bender in under a month and a half while I was in between homes, closing the final chapter of my old life after a long fought for divorce, and set aside my 10 year long business and career. I was in a weird little vortex and could easily get a chapter out every few days. I want to be honest with myself and all of you that I will not be able to match that pace right now without massively sacrificing on quality and thorough edits!

If I haven't said it enough, you guys truly have no idea what the response to Golden Doe meant to me. Writing that fic helped me survive a very difficult time. I had never written a fic before and didn't even have an ao3 account, I had to wait a few weeks to be allowed in. I had no idea anyone would read it, and sharing that story wound up being one of the most special and joyful times of my life, which seems impossible when I look back on what I was going through! I just... Thank you. I don't know what else to say. Thank you a million times, every day, forever.

I am starting life completely over in a new city and a 1940's bungalow that has had a few catastrophes since moving in 🫣 I'm hard at work job hunting in this nightmare economy and fixing up the urgent items in the house! So it's a different kind of busy filled with lots of fear and anxiety and mental exhaustion. Thus, I'm also trying to give myself lots of time to heal and recover. I'm hoping for a chapter once a week this round, but I might need some grace for up to two weeks!

This might be a good opportunity to answer some other questions I've gotten. Some have noticed the new rating is M instead of E. There WILL still be smut, but this is more of a dark and spooky old school style slow burn and very story forward. And while I hesitate to say the spice will be more vanilla, it is not as kink forward as Golden Doe! It will still be spicier and more detailed than what SJM would typically write (y'all she's tame in my book) but a different style. That being said, the piece is not finished. Sooooo.... 🦇 we'll see if kinky Azriel body snatches me again and demands that the spice be freakier and more frequent. In which case I'll update the rating.

Golden Doe started as an M rating and 15 planned chapters, and we all saw how that worked out!

I'm pushing myself to create a unique world and characters that are not just a carbon copy of Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow. Of course, it is still canon Elain and Azriel! But I'm focusing on different sides of them. I hope you all enjoy it just as much, but if it winds up not being your vibe, do know I have a few ideas bouncing around for Golden Doe continuations, additional Elriel fics, and my inbox is always open for ideas and prompts/requests!!

[anarchictemptation]

So, I've had a bit of an emotional journey when it came down to getting these trolls uploaded and, uh.I'm sort of in a venty mode, so I'm doing a read more cut just so I don't bother people (TW for Drug Abuse and Suicidal Thoughts mentioned)

It became less of "lol, look at all these trolls I've had over the years, let's sell them" to a bit of a crippling "I did this to cope with what was happening to me and this is the financial repercussions of that"

When I joined the Homestuck fandom, I was 16. A long ago ex-friend had gotten me into it because he was an obsessive fan and I REALLY liked astrology at the time, so obviously what was gonna stop me from getting into this silly little webcomic? (Nepeta my BELOVED! Leo's for life!!!)

I've never really shared this with anyone outside of my CLOSEST of close friends, but I was in a really nasty situation. My parents were on drugs, deeply into it at the time of me joining Homestuck, and were basically nonexistent at that point of my life. They'd disappear for days at a time with no sign of them coming back anytime soon, so, while looking after my little brother, I'd get lost in this fandom and obtaining fantrolls was my own sick little kick

I wasn't creative at the time to really make my own, I'd just use sprite bases and all my own guys were basic as hell, but, when I found out troll adopts were a thing, I was OBSESSED

Some oldies might remember me being EVERYWHERE back in the day on DA under the unusualKitten alias. I was on every single page I could find trying to get at least ONE fantroll that someone had posted newly in the groups. It was amazing! I could drown myself in these guys I was getting and bury myself in art of them so that I could avoid the world that I was stuck in

Honestly, without that "distraction", I probably would've killed myself years ago

It was all I had in a shit world, it even led me making a short-time friend in my final year of high school, but it was fun

And then I grew up

Some things happened that involved me being the fucking savior of my family by dragging them out of that hell with my own two broken hands only for the sake of my brother. My mom got clean, my dad died because he couldn't get clean, I had been working a job in which case they'd have stolen my money almost every time I got it (like THAT was anything new), and we were just sort of stuck in limbo for a long time after that

I was still a part of Homestuck, but I wasn't A part of it anymore, if that makes any sense. Most I done was win a spot in the For Fans By Fans design contest with my Heir's Tears submission (Only 1 or 2 people bought the shirt and, two those people, I FUCKING LOVE YOUUUU, y'all are so cool), but I was pretty much dead in the water

Until I reconnected with my bestest friend

She helped me to regain the love again, as we'd rp a lot with all our different versions of canon characters bc we're maniacs (Which will ALL be featured in MSCOTT once I get back on the ball for writing it!)

And, as I sit here today, looking back on everything that happened 11 years ago, I've realized that things are a lot different now. I'm no longer the heavily traumatized kid I was back then, I have a life outside of the fantrolls I've hoarded over the years

And, yeah, it hurts seeing a lot of these guys go, it feels like a bit of myself is leaving with them, but that's not a part of my life anymore, that was a part of HER life

Don't get me wrong, I STILL love fantrolls and still have a handful of my own that I'll fight ANYONE over, but. I think it's time to let go of a past that I don't really want to be haunted by anymore

(But I hope this explains why I generate a LOT of fantrolls and then suddenly they're being given up as soon as something's done with them, hha, old habits die hard)

Thanks for readingggg, time to go cry a bittt!

[cinderella-ish]

Fic Reading Bingo: Blackout!

I finished with a blackout!

Okay, two caveats:

I've been dealing with the logout issue recently, so as I've been going back to make sure I've commented and left kudos on everything, I haven't been able to do so for every fic. I will keep at it until I get them all, though!

I'm actually still reading my fic of choice for "vampire AU" but I'm going to include it anyway because I'm pretty sure I'll be reading straight through to the end as soon as I'm done writing this post. (It's really good, y'all.)

This summer, I read 70 fics in 2 languages, 11 different fandoms, and by 67 authors, and that's an undercount, because A) 3 of those "fics" are actually entire series, and B) I read countless oneshots from OnigiriCat4Ever's various collections, but it was hard to figure out which ones I read this summer just by going through my history. I also found 2 new-to-me favorite authors (AO3: AveSolace and ohmygodwhy) and wrote or started 10 of my own fics while continuing my 2 WIPs.

I filled most of the squares without trying, just by doing my usual reading (okay, a bit more than my usual, since I don't work summers). Some were outside my comfort zone, like Omegaverse, or hard to find, like a fic with multiple authors. I probably still won't seek out Omegaverse in the future, but I don't think I'll avoid it, either. I enjoyed the fic I read, and I did mark a couple of others for later.

I very much avoided crossovers before this summer, but the one I read for this was beyond delightful, I marked several more for later, and I started writing two of my own!

Additionally, I met my goal of using only fics I love to fill out this card! I moved some around since last time to fill different squares, and swapped a couple out so I could let a few more fics shine. I'm sure you'll be seeing most of these in my next fic recs post!

List below the cut! Fandoms included are as follows:

Astra Lost in Space

Fruits Basket

The Hunger Games

JuJutsu Kaisen

Ouran High School Host Club

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Spy X Family

Crossover | of cats and curses, by faerialchemist Fruits Basket & She-Ra and the Princesses of Power | Tohru/Kyo, Adora/Catra | 6666 words Catradora meets Kyoru. As you might expect, chaos ensues.

Small Fandom | a piece of the sky, by evitably Astra Lost in Space | Luca/Ulgar | 2840 words Every person has a place they can claim as their own. Ulgar's happens to be another person.

Oldest Fic | Loophole, by Geoduck Fruits Basket | Gen | 463 Words Kyo has lost the bet. Akito demands that Kyo meet the terms of the agreement. There's only one teensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy problem...

Whump | End of the Banquet, by AveSolace Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo, Machi/Yuki | 55,197 words* (WIP) All the geopolitical tension in East Asia has come to a head. China has invaded Taiwan, and Japan is immediately drawn into the conflict. The Sohmas' lives are thrown into chaos, even as the Zodiac curse remains unbroken.

Character Study | 5 Times Shigure Claimed to be Selfish + 1 Time He Admitted the Truth, by TolkienScholar23 Fruits Basket | Gen | 1838 words* (WIP) Shigure insists he's the worst kind of man, and most people don't question him… and yet, somehow, his younger cousins tend to find themselves on his doorstep every time they're in trouble.

Rarepair | Setting Sail, Coming Home, by redelric Fruits Basket | Momiji/Kimi | 11,673 words Momiji claims his stake in his father’s business. Kimi is his secretary.

Multiple Authors | About Midnight, by CSHfic, VSfic Spy x Family | Loid/Yor | 2222 words The Forgers are invited to a party on New Year's Eve.

Magic | bone-white, soaked through, by chuuyasoup JuJutsu Kaisen | Geto/Gojo | 5166 words Satoru does not survive his fight with Toji. He doesn't stay dead, either.

Canon Compliant | Fourth Trimester, by AveSolace Fruits Basket | Gen | 6741 words Four and a half vignettes about the Zodiacs as newborns.

Omegaverse | Made Together, by Moonstorm69 Fruits Basket | Machi/Yuki | 13,121 words Yuki, a Beta, has spent most of his life hating his secondary gender. Yet when Machi enters her rut for the first time, Yuki is the perfect man to help his anxious, terrified girlfriend through this, if only she'd let him in…

Secret Relationship | All That, by himawaribees (series) JuJutsu Kaisen | Megumi/Yuji | 80,776 words* (WIP) Fushiguro Megumi and Itadori Yuuji first meet at a frat party and proceed to have lots and lots of sex.

Secret Identity | The Cost for Silence, by AveSolace Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo, Machi/Yuki | 56,711 words Someone has an axe to grind with the Sohmas, and they've managed to find the perfect piece of blackmail to use against them. And this person is willing to keep the incriminating evidence to themselves--for a price.

Free Space | an inch away (from more than just friends), by ohmygodwhy Fruits Basket | Kakeru/Yuki | 12,034 words Six years after high school graduation, Tohru and Kyo finally get married. Kakeru tags along as Yuki's plus-one. Reunions, bonding, and eye-opening revelations ensue.

Short Fic | La fièvre de Tohru (Fr)/Tohru's Fever (En) by Soffya Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo | 576 words (Fr)/588 words (En) Kyo took off his shoes, the house seemed empty. He went up when he heard a noise. Apparently, he was not alone in the house. Someone was coughing.

Take Your Fandom to Work | My Brother, by OnigiriCat4Ever Fruits Basket | Gen | 58,867 words Momiji has made a new life for himself in Germany. He has a job he enjoys, a boyfriend he loves, and a life that makes him happier than he'd felt in a very long time. It wasn't perfect, but it was happy, and he was satisfied…until Momo asked if they could talk.

Old Favorite | inertia, by miss_coverly (series) Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo | 59,032 words Kyoru Friends With Benefits AU

Unfinished/Work in Progress | desiderium, by tessohma Fruits Basket | Kakeru/Yuki | 22,502 words* (WIP) Yukeru Friends With Benefits AU

BIPOC Main Character | reaching across years, by ohmygodwhy Fruits Basket | Gen | 4559 words Shigure asked Ayame to collect some of Yuki’s things. Ayame said: okay. I’ll do it. I’ll do it tomorrow, in fact. 

Vampire AU | Bloodlust, by Aa_chanFan Fruits Basket | Tohru/Akito | 13,852 words* (WIP) Girl meets beautiful stranger, beautiful stranger turns out to be a vampire. Yet Tohru Honda is not as easy prey as she seems…

5+ Year Old Fic | Due Diligence, by galaxysoup Ouran High School Host Club | Gen | 1841 words Kyoya goes to Haruhi for parenting advice.

Under the Influence | Think we kissed, but I forgot, by cold_flame Fruits Basket | Kakeru/Kyo | 38,163 words Kakeru and Kyo meet at a party. Things escalate quickly.

Future AU | The miner's wife, by MockingJayFlyingFree The Hunger Games | Katniss/Peeta | 142,741 words In an alternate universe in which Prim was never reaped, Katniss married Gale at the age of 18, and Peeta Mellark became the lone victor of the 74th Hunger Games. What happens when their paths cross for the first time since that fateful incident with the bread?

Unhappy/Bittersweet Ending | In a Year or So Fruits Basket | Akito/Kureno | 3786 words A bleak look at Akito and Kureno’s relationship.

Ghosts | Magic, by alchemicink Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo | 1867 words Kyo helps Tohru get ready for Halloween

Soulmates | our dreams are not our own, by AnxietyAvocado Fruits Basket | Tohru/Kyo | 1460 words they say that your dreams are your soulmate's memories

@ficreadingchallenge

[theonethatyaks93]

Sketch Showcase Time!!!

Sooooooooo, these are days two and three of my "Learning How-To Draw Pinky and Brain Phase." And, y'all, I think I found my groove! This is attempt 2 of drawing Pinky:

Already, I'm very pleased with this. I mean, this was my attempt to re-create Pinky's design by @goosieboosie. I'm not a digital artist, so I couldn't capture all the majesty of this design perfectly, but I did a decent job. This style allows me to draw Pinky's face a lot easier, and I can get more creative with facial features. I was really happy when I finished this, I kinda freaked out because, he looks great!! I even drew my gender/sexuality headcanons for Pinky beside him, as well as his signature because, why not? I tried to re-draw this picture a few hours later and I made a new discovery:

Sorry for the blurry pic! But yeah, I think I invented my own unique style!! This is the first version of this; there a few changes from my first re-draw. The main changes are Pinky's eyes being rounder, and his ears a little bit larger. I think the base shape of his head is also a little different. I think he looks so derpy!! I was instantly in LOVE with this updated design, so I decided to draw it again and:

The design is a little different again! And also, my first expression!!!! (Ignore the weird as hell erased Pinky head you see; it was a massive failure and I couldn't erase it all :( ) I really think the Pinky on the left turned out better than I thought!! I love his cute little face and his extra floofy head. The second pic is another kind of model pic, but I added a little tongue because it looked cute. I also added the mind bubble and the little blurb just for added effect. I think he looks cute, what do you guys think?

On day three/attempt 3, I actually doodled a Pinky without looking at a reference in one of my books because I was in school. Here's how it turned out:

I LOVE IT!!!! I was so shocked when I finished with this because I think Pinky looks amazing!! It's not perfect, but when compared to day one, it's like night and day. This is my favorite Pinky I've done so far, and it only took my like 25 minutes; what an improvement when compared to over an hour just for one drawing lol! I've made some small changes here, and I will continue to make changes for the time being. I'm still finalizing my style.

Later on, I did something I'm very proud of:

My first full-body Pinky!! I drew the body first and then added a head in later. I also marked certain areas that I might improve upon later, and little personal touches that I added for fun. Yeah, I think his head is a little too tall, but I'll fix that. I implemented some unique elements such as his muzzle area being based on the OG show, the tufts of fur on his head being longer, the chest fur, his feet being stuffed-animal like, his short legs (which will probably be longer in the future), and his tail being from the reboot. I am currently working on hands; they're just not ready yet. I'm very excited to see my own personal style being formed. I like all the touches I added and I'm excited to maybe work on some screenshot re-draws and other things like that.

Here are some hand sketches. Hand are EXTREMELY HARD for me so I'm trying to get an idea of what I want to do. I was either thinking of the one on the left (larger fingers, rounder shapes) or the one on the right (more angular, slimmer fingers). Idk, which hand style do yo guys think would work better?

I'm very proud of the progression I made on these designs. I'm currently planning on drawing Brain very soon and I will be doing screenshot re-draws, experimenting with changes to eye shape, and more expressions. I'm also writing still (new fic currently a wip), and I'm very excited to be contributing more to the fandom!! Let me know where I can improve and some tips on how to draw their hands. Also, special thanks to @cosmicangel139 for the drawing tips for Brain!! You are amazing and I will definitely keep those tips in mind!!!!

[litcityblues]

Doctor Whoquest Part Fourteen: The Whoquest Never Ends

OF COURSE, the Whoquest never ends y'all. That's the nature of the Whoquest. There's always going to be another regeneration and a new chapter to write and although we dipped back in to rank the 60th Anniversary Specials, Part Thirteen was never going to be the end... we've got a new Doctor to consider (Ncuti Gatwa) and a new (old) showrunner taking the reins once more. (Russell T. Davies).

And you know what? I'm not sure it's fair to judge this new Doctor's run quite yet. Every new Doctor- at least in the modern show- takes at least a season to really get stuck into the role. The possible exception to this may be Matt Smith whose debut episode (The Eleventh Hour) probably ranks as the strongest debut of any in Nu-Who. But Capaldi followed this pattern--I genuinely wasn't sure how to feel about him at first, but by the end, he had somehow managed to knock Smith off the top of my list. Whittaker also followed this pattern-- the Centenary Special was genuinely good and an excellent way for her to go out and even though the Flux was kind of a mess, it was a Whovian mess which is important to note.

So, I'm going to withhold judgment on Ncuti Gatwa's overall run as the Doctor for now. It's too soon to tell and as with any modern television show involving any kind of fandom, there's an instant helping of 'Durrrrrrr hurrr, it's gone WOKE!' that makes me cringe. That's not effective criticism, because a. you're dealing with an alien who regenerates their body every so often, and b. because of that, you shouldn't impose human hang-ups or beliefs about sexuality onto a character that's non-human. It doesn't make sense.

But, there are two lines of criticism I'm... leaning toward? (Pending subsequent seasons.) First: the whole big reveal on Ruby Sunday didn't land well with the fandom and while I get what RTD was aiming for, he didn't stick the landing at all. It didn't feel earned. It felt disappointing. There was such a build-up around the character and the snow and the DNA and then Doctor Who of it all that you were expecting it to be one thing (because we've seen RTD on Doctor Who before) and it turned out to be something else. I get it though: RTD wanted to zig where we were expecting him to zag and it's a good thing, if not well executed. (And I don't know: Mrs. Flood is still an open question at this point, so maybe there's a larger story at work we don't know about yet that could make this seem brilliant in retrospect. And maybe the whole 'secret hints of something big for the season finale' is either quintessentially Whovian in ways I don't know about or it's just how RTD structures all of his television shows. Either way-- it would be nice to see something palpably different structurally speaking from RTD, but I like the fact he wanted to try, even if he didn't stick the landing.)

Second: I'm curious about: The Doctor showing his emotions... you see this a lot in Trek Discourse these days too. One of the knocks against Discovery is that the characters spend so much time talking about their feelings and dealing in therapy-speak that it annoys portions of that fanbase and I'm curious about how Ncuti's portrayal of the Doctor is landing in Whovian discourse. I don't mind a Doctor who gets mad. I don't mind a Doctor who gets upset. But a Doctor crying? A Doctor screaming out of the TARDIS? I'm... curious. It could be that this Doctor is still finding their feet. I'm willing to go there and if we see the Doctor grow into the role even better. And honestly, it didn't really bother me in the context of watching the show, I just saw some criticism of it and I was like, 'huh, I guess that's true'.

All right, so let's break down Ncuti Gatwa's first season (Series 14 in the Nu-Who chronology, Season 1 for Disney/International Production-related purposes.)

Three Episodes I Liked

'73 Yards': This might be my favorite episode of the season. They land in Wales and the Doctor accidentally breaks a fairy circle containing messages for someone named 'Mad Jack.' He then disappears and Ruby realizes that she's being followed by a mysterious woman who maintains a constant distance of 73 yards away from her. Anyone who approaches the woman runs in fear from both her and Ruby which causes no end of distress to Ruby at first (UNIT tries to help but runs away. Her Mother does the same.) But gradually Ruby comes to accept the woman's presence and grows older, doing her best to maintain a normal life until she figures it out. I loved this-- in fact, I love it so much I won't spoil it for you.

'Boom': Steven Moffat returns and this time the Doctor steps on a landmine and has to stay there for the whole episode or risk triggering it. He's got a time limit to fight. He needs to save Ruby. He needs to figure out just who the hell is fighting who on Kastarion 3. It's tense, it's nervy, it's very good stuff.

'Dot and Bubble': Might be the best example/reassurance that Doctor Who still has it. Young, privileged people, in a happy alien bubble world, obsessed with being online all the time after being helped to freedom by the Doctor and Ruby because they're being eaten one by one thanks to their social media dots becoming sentient and generally becoming homicidal at the superficiality of it all and creating bugs to eat them. The twist at the end is delightfully dark.

Two Episodes I Didn't Like:

The Legend of Ruby Sunday/Empire of Death: I said it up top: RTD didn't stick the landing on the big reveal of Ruby Sunday. It fell flat: don't get me wrong- I like it when Nu-Who goes for the deep cuts and the return of Sutekh is a very deep cut from the vault. I loved that. The whole Doctor meeting a random lady in a desert because the universe spends months/years slowly dying feels a bit too much like Martha Jones walking all over the world before defeating the Master. It was broadly okay with hints at plot points to be explored that I'm curious about. (What did happen to the Doctor's granddaughter? Who the heck is Mrs. Flood?) But it just wasn't my favorite.

Space Babies: Love Golda Rosheuvel. (Queen Charlotte from Bridgerton.) The 'Look Who's Talking' Babies? Not so much.

One Episode To Consider:

The Devil's Chord: Jinx Monsoon was excellent as the Maestro. I loved the idea of the Doctor and Ruby dropping into the 60s only to find a world without music- or at least one that doesn't have good taste in music. I'm assuming the references to 'The One Who Waits' are about Sutekh, but... what if they're not?

Overall: Put a pin in it and let me see Season 2. There was a lot of 'oh, RTD is back' to this season, but there were definitely bright spots as well and plenty of room for Ncuti Gatwa to really grab ahold of the role and make it his own. (Which I'm not quite sure he's done yet-- whether that's because of the writing or just getting to grips with the character, I don't know-- but I'm also not worried about it because he's got time. It does take some people time to get stuck into this character.) My Grade: 7/10

[superherorobots]

Hello everyone!! I am back for REAL this time!!

I am deeply sorry about the SUPER long hiatus that this blog was on, I had a lot going on at the time but now I've got everything figured out and under control so I think I'm finally ready to be active on this blog again! And there are a LOT of new things I'm going to be trying out too and some old stuff I'm going to bring back as well, such as:

More of my own art! I'm going to start posting some of my sketches and WIPs instead of waiting until I have digitally outlined and colored them because that always takes AGES for me to finish XD

Analysis and headcanon posts! This is something I have ALWAYS wanted to do but was too shy to because everyone has very different headcanons and interpretations, but I've realized that there isn't really anything to fear about sharing my own thoughts and headcanons, especially since this fandom is generally very kind and accepting of different headcanons and opinions and interpretations!

More memes! Anyone who's been following this blog since its very early days probably remembers that I used to make a lot of simple memes and character alignment charts. I stopped doing that because I ran out of ideas, but now I have way more new ideas since I know practically everything about Mega Man at this point!

Polls! Ever since I learned of tumblr's new poll feature, I've been brimming with ideas for Mega Man related polls! I'm thinking I might make it a weekly or biweekly thing and I can't wait to make some soon!

YouTube Recommendations! One thing I've learned about myself in this past year or so is that I LOVE finding and listening to remixes and covers of Mega Man themes, especially my favorite ones! I am just absolutely obsessed with it, I even have a whole playlist of my favorite ones that I found! And because of that I think it would be a really cool idea if I made posts linking each one of them and putting my commentary either in the post or in the tags! They are just SO GOOD, y'all, I just HAVE to share them so you can all hear them and so I can talk about them!!

And I think that's everything! Also just because I have a lot of new original stuff I plan to post doesn't mean that I'm going to reblog stuff any less, I still plan on reblogging everyone's amazing content all the same and there are a LOT of posts that I've been meaning to reblog that I wasn't able to get around to doing before. I'm thinking of setting up a queue that will post like 2 or 3 reblogs a day and I may post more or less on certain days, but that might take a little while since I still need to write tags for a least a good few posts since all of them have either no tags yet or only have very few tags. But I know everything's going to work out in the end and I am very excited about getting this blog up and running again!

[glassbugs]

im so happy you'll write itws again aaaa!! the story is too big and too juicy not to expand some parts in more details. and don't feel pressured to pump out a new chapter so soon, timestuck ford is already enough we're SEATED and waiting to get fed whenever ur ready <33

pstt i was visceradevine as a guest on ao3 so if u see some stupid snarky comment while rereading that was mayhapss me

and of course the whole story had me going feral? two beautiful old men and a freaky triangle are bound to get that nasty dog out of me. i am but a curious girl w desires of flesh

pre portal ford my beloved <33 even tho im a certified old men enjoyer something abt a little pre portal curious a little too egotistical ford makes me wanna tear him apart but also hug him forever at the same time. aahhh ford before his life went completely to shit <33 he just needs a baddie to humble him lmao

as for the OTHER little annoying nuisance... im telling u girl don't write that one shot unless u wanna pay my medical bills bc i WILL be having a heart attack. lmao jokes aside i think u could totally incorporate his own little side story b plot type deal in the new timestuck fic, i mean it WAS his prime time when he was freaky and curious. either way i cant wait cuz i could yap abt him alllll day my fav little pathetic wet cat loser

nonetheless im so excited its literally my fav part being expanded on, im screaming crying throwing up ur a blessing fr. just happy to see one of the funniest most talented writers in the fandom still hyperfixate on GF. I NEED THE AUGUST/SEPTEMBER HYPE BACK Y'ALL

I got so many ideas for some spin off chapters/scraped ideas that I need to sit down and write out eventually ;v; (Mostly Bill related antics as well as some more of the softer domestic stuff with Stan/Reader)

yesyes I remember seeing your name a few times!! :))

Nothing wrong with being curious and indulging in a little old man smoochin' here and then, it's good for the soul 😎

I'm torn between my love for the grouchy old Stans and the "My thirty's are kicking my ass so bad I'm about to crash out" Stans because what do you mean you trusted Bill?? Stanford buddy you're a genius and you didn't take one look at that thing and think 'this is the most unnerving and suspicious shape I've ever seen in my life'

I MIGHT END UP POSTING THE ONE SHOT BEFORE THE TIMESTUCK THING AT THIS RATE BECAUSE I KEEP REWRITING THE FIRST CHAPTER AAURGHAISUDFHKASJD

I want Bill and the reader's relationship to be different this time around like??? idk ITWS Ford meets the reader first and Bill tries to weasel his way in but THIS TIME around he's already working on journal 3 so I'm pretty sure he's already in the picture maybe??? I could be entirely wrong and I need to reread it here before I start getting to in my head about potential plot lines-- Idk I'm undecided if Bill's going to be 'indulging' in some of the stuff he was up to last time lmao (Not that he won't be a freak)

THANKYOUSOMUCHTHOUGHAAAAAA I KNOW THE FALL HYPE WAS SO GOOD BUT I'M STICKING AROUND UNTIL THIS OLD MAN SICKNESS LEAVES ME BE

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - Part 20 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N:  🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

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

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

*

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

**

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

 At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded.�� You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips. 

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.   

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

*

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

*

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[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[stonerbughead]

stonerbughead's year in writing 2021

i wanted to take a moment before 2021 ends to say a huge thank you to all the bughead and nace fanfic writers - and to all the readers who reblogged, messaged, left kudos, or left a comment on my fics this year! y'all truly kept me going in these trying times, and i'm hoping for a better 2022 for all of us!

anyway i'm proud of how much i managed to write this year despite riverdale canon providing very little inspiration, so i thought i'd do a round up.

right back where we started from (3/12) i started a new WIP this year! my bugvarchie the O.C. AU feat. core four friendship has been so fun to write tho the slowburn has been killing me. can't wait to make varchie and bughead smooch. bugvarchie endgame!

I posted two new chapters of my ongoing WIP Exhale (18/23) in 2021, chapter 17 and chapter 18. i'm so grateful to readers who have been invested in this story since 2018!

@riverdalepromptathon gave me a reason to write a few different codas to existing fics that i'm proud of:

familiar places (1/1), a fluffy bughead moment within the Pop Tate, Working Class Hero universe (in which Pop's is worker-owned.)

do you think i'm being foolish if i don't rush in? (1/1), a dinner party with Bughead and the gang three years after if it feels like a home

feel it all around (1/1), a prompt fill for @lucivar showing Bughead through the years as seen, told, and observed by the ensemble cast of do you like or like like me?

other fandom events gave me inspiration to expand my horizons too!

under the boardwalk (1/1), @riverdalepocweek gave me a great excuse to expand on a universe i created for the @riverdaleprideandjoyzine. i love my gurl Melody Valentine and it was fun to write some more about the Pussycats and my boy Munroe.

four years later (1/1) the @aceandnancy @nancydrewcentral Nace Appreciation Week event inspired me to finally write my first Nace fic! Private investigators going undercover as lovers felt like a good way to kick off writing for that pairing ;)

and the holidays gave me an excuse to get festive, including the time honored tradition of Bughead Secret Santa!

friendsgiving 2012 (2/2), a Thanksgiving coda to do you like or like like me? set during Bughead and the gang's freshman year of college.

you can count on me (2/3), my fake dating tropefest @bugheadsecretsanta gift for @theheavycrown, which i'm working on finishing as soon into the new year as i can (the last chapter is set during new years so I'm soaking up all the inspo I can and going out with a writing bang!)

2022 writing plans:

Exhale: i don't make too many promises when it comes to this fic anymore, but i do plan to update. i'll do an annual 4/20 update for sure, but hopefully more!

right back where we started from: i plan to finish writing chapter 4 early in the new year, and am hoping to make some progress in general! there are a lot of exciting moments in the ch 4-5-6-7 territory of my outline, so excited to write it.

Write more Nace! I'm really hoping to write for Nancy/Ace more in the new year, bc it was very fun and i'm hoping canon Nancy Drew is gonna deliver some serious inspo when it returns in January. also you can catch all my nace ranting @acesnancy, my ND sideblog

i have a longshot hope that i'll write more in the if it feels like a home universe but we shall see! you never know where 2022 might take us!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, and lots of love to everyone who makes fandom great! (Too many people to tag, i already tried.) 💖

[henqtic]

heyyyyyy okay so, i’ve never actually done a sleepover type thing for any milestones or anything like that just because it seemed like a lot of work + i was super scared of no one really interacting because i didn’t have that much of a following but now that i’ve missed many opportunities and i wanna make myself feel better about going back to school— i’ve finally decided to :)

personally, i love back to school, the grwm videos on YouTube, buying new supplies and stationary, getting my hair and nails done, seeing my friends in person on a regulus basis again, finding a new hallway crush, even getting into some of the new work— just everything back to school that doesn't involve excessive assignment and those kids that shout that you’re talking too quiet when you’re doing a presentation (hate them)

going from august 28 — september 6 closed !!

(extended date// closer to the day i go back 🤧)

who/what fandoms i write for | i’m trying to expand my masterlist so feel free to request for any character from those fandoms listed and i’ll try my best :)

navigation post | to see which fandoms i’m in for ships and headcanons !!

all can be sent to my ask box—!! hope you enjoy this going back school dialogue themed sleepover <3

🚍— “honey you need to get up, the bus might come early.”

cym! | send in any thing and i’ll cast my mutuals based on it, flowers, quotes, shoes in my closet— anything

🛌— “just give me two more minutes.”

blurbs! | send in a character along with a prompt/trope/any general ideas you have and i’ll write a blurb on it— no limit on these for now because school is starting soon and writing short things will help me procrastinate work

prompt list if you need help with ideas, please specify which list if you decide to use one !! ✎ kisses. touching. hand holding. wordless ways to say i love you. casual affections.

🗣— “girl look, dude in the white tee, he’s fine right?”

ships! | send me some facts about it you— these could be random from what milk you prefer, favorite day of the week, hair length/type, favorite color, hobbies, something incredibly dumb you’ve done and other things like that (no need to include all of that, it’s just suggestions lol) and i’ll ship you with a character from whatever fandom/s you want :)

*please include your gender preference if you have one and preferred pronouns— incase i end up writing some type of drabble/headcanons

🍽— “the foods bad but at least we get a break.”

headcanon discussion! | send me any headcanons you have of any character or opinion (sfw pls) and i’ll either add onto it or agree/disgaree with it

📖— “can you believe we can’t just sit around and read wattpad all day?”

fic reviews! | send me anyone of your fics (sfw) and i’ll comment my thoughts on almost every single paragraph like i would on wattpad

📰— “did you read what was in the school newsletter?”

wips! | send me this emoji with a number 1 — 200 (dude i know) and get a sneak peak at that draft/work in progress

🗞— “yeah, i don’t get how they think we’ll make friends by stuffing us in a hot gym though.”

talking! | my life is extremely boring so feel free to talk about anything in yours 😁 ajshaaj but seriously, if it’s like a crush you can’t get off your head, something you want to get off of you chest, complain about, gush over, generally talk about because you’re excited/happy about it— i’m here to listen <3

my lil message or whatever 

a few weeks ago i realized i like never mention my follower count on here and honestly, i kinda like it because i feel like not knowing makes it better you know ?? only referring to my blog because i absolutely love when people celebrate theirs and seeing all the different themes and things they try out, it’s so cool— this is just my own person preference lol

but anyways, i feel like i haven’t appreciated y'all enough because of that so i just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support and growth on this blog in only about eight months of being here

as cliche and overused as it sounds, i never expected to get to 100 followers but now we’re at three zeros like hello my bank account has never been that high— my love for y’all can not be expressed in only a few words but let’s just say my heart grows so many amounts from it,, kisses for all of you <33

tagging some of my incredible mutuals who made tumblr better <33— @kpostedsum @dracodear @mvdbldd @ameliasbitvh @l0vely-lupin @natashxromanovf @silverdelirium @cupids-crystals @selenesheart @eunoniaa @destourtereaux @gothboutique @ur-local-reality-shifter @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @dreamcxtcherr @draconisxcaput @desiredmalfoy @sarahisslytherin @mellifluousart @harmqnia @mendesxruel @babydraco04 @dracosathenaeum @dreamy-clousds @el-imaskingforyourlefthand @holden-caulfield @gxtitobxby @ang9lic @arcaneslut @fredshufflepuff @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @magicchai​ @maybanksslut​@dracossweetprincess @buckysbiota @disartrous @ladyvesuvia @gwlvr @amourslover @with-love-anu @pogueslandia @mauvea @hellounicorn @rosaliepostsstuff @slvt4fakerealities @velvetcloxds @messrsmoonee @eloquenceflores

sorry for anyone i missed, i hit the 50 tag limit— if there was an @mutuals button, i would've pressed that. i appreciate all of you + the people who took the time to follow me and read my fics even when they were terrible and now thinking of them makes me want to run away 😩🤌🏽

here’s all of my love: 💗💞💖💓💝💘💕💗💞💖💓💝💘💕💗💞💖💓💝💘💕💗💞💖💓💝💘💕💗💞💖💓💝💘💕💗💞💖💓💝💘💕

[nightswithkookmin]

GOING ON A HIATUS

Thanks to everyone who's taken the time out to read my posts and has enjoyed it so far. It's really been fun and entertaining exchanging thoughts and having these much deeper ship discussions.

I thought this issue was gonna go away but I woke up this morning to more people messaging me about finding my last video analysis on several other platforms without appropriate credit.

But that's not disturbing. The disturbing part is the people sliding into people's DM'S on other platforms to get them to take down my video because they don't want people sharing my content on other platforms as they believe it would only make my blog popular.

For those worried about this whole credit business, thanks for showing this much concern for me? I really appreciate the love and concern if it's from a genuine place of concern. Thank you...

I think some of you already know this by now or might have figured it out, I am a law student, I am very much well aware what is and what isn't within my rights? Lol

I honestly didn't see this whole credit thingy as a big deal. It's not. Not to me. Lol. I repost people's photos without credit too all the time. Often, it's because I don't know who to credit and most time my lazy ass just forgets to. Lol. I think it's normal? It's inconsequential I mean.

The videos I use are usually often water marked by the appropriate owners so I don't go through the hustle of figuring this whole credit business out. If I should decide to come back here again I will check that habit of mine?

While this whole credit business is not a big deal to me, malicious slander and defamation to my character is and I don't take it lightly.

It has been brought to my attention that some Jikookers from Tumblr have since been sliding into people's DM's on other platforms asking them to take down my video and or remove the credit they give to my post.

They are telling people I am problematic, calling me the Taekook Lives of the Jikook community. That I have been spreading lies about Jikook, that the Jikook Tumblr community hates me or something like that and to further caricaturize me and make me appear more evil in order to get people to turn on me and hate me, they make up the most ridiculous lies about me claiming that I believe a notorious serial killer is innocent.

Now I have since deleted my YT account because I don't want my colleagues to find out I am into shipping too lol- shipping is a guilty pleasure of mine and I know how this fandom works unfortunately. I've been a silent part of it since 2014. I mean it's started already. The Doxing and shit.

The original post under which these replies are from couldn't save sadly as my account has been deleted but you can see from my notifications the general feel of what my interests outside shipping looks like.

I am interested in a myriad of topics, from literature, Aliens, writing, Harry Potter, history, activism, advocacy, philosophy, law, politics, NASA, and mystery and murder among other things.

My quora is mostly filled with notifications from my Book community and True crime community and often I do share my thoughts and answer questions with regards to the psychology of murderers, legal evidence, notorious villains in literature- well I guess now you know the kind of lawyer I want to be if and when I'm able to complete law school.

But what has my interest in these topics got to do with Jikook and shipping please?? How does this prove I hate Jikook and spread lies about them?

This Kookie Min Monsta person slipped into someone's DMS and asked the person who had put up my video analysis to take it down or discredit me because to her I am problematic. She is not the only one.

You want so bad to paint me black- no pun intended just to win an argument? You claim I am the evil malicious person here but I am not the one sliding into people's dms trying to take credit away from people for their hardwork, spreading hate and negative energy, making things up to manipulate people's perception of others and get them to hate and turn on them- and all because of A SHIP? Damn. This is pathetic.

Who died and made you the gatekeeper of the jikook shipping community? Honestly antics like these don't work on me try again.

I made a video commentary on my Booktube YT account- yes I am part of the book YouTube community as well sue me or better still slip into their inboxes and tell them I voted for Trump therefore I hate chipmunks.

The commentary I made on YT months ago was when I was in the highs of finding a new passion and it was on Ann Rule's book, The Stranger Besides Me- a true crime novel on Ted Bundy which I found so poorly written that at the end of the book it left with me wondering whether or not Ted Bundy was guilty at all!

The Author's writing style which deviates from most writing styles of True Crime novels I have read gave me trust issues as I stated in the video. It felt more as if she was writing a made up fictional novel than an actual True Crime novel but because she knew Ted Bundy in person she made it seem as if we just had to believe her account.

Then there was this whole thing about the police not being able to match the DNA samples taken from his rape victims, to his own Semen because his Semen was DNAless- in lay man's terms. I'll spare you the technicalities involved.

As I stated in that video, I do believe Ted Bundy was guilty but I do not have much faith in the Judicial system, or criminal procedures or even the Author of that book- a sentiment most people within the true crime community share as well. We just had differing views on whether the writer's style took away from the narrative and waters down on the extent of Bundy's guilt.

We had a Similar conversation about Chris Watt. If the community I was engaging in didn't have a problem with my commentary why do you? Please don't meddle in things you know nothing about. It's embarrassing.

The conversation about whether or not Ted Bundy is innocent is moot but a philosophical one. It has nothing to do with Ted Bundy's guilt but more so the criminal procedures involved in his case and the different accounts that exists surrounding his case.

He was electrocuted, he confessed to his crimes no damn person with brains would think or assume he is innocent and I never said anything of that nature drew any conclusions to that effect.

Besides, I moved on from Ted Bundy a long time ago. Now I am into the Serial Killer who writes death poems and signs it off with drawings of the size of his dick at his crime scenes- mind your own business please or don't and let's have an intellectual discourse about him? Lmho.

I am also into cat memes if you care to know and have a whole IG dedicated to cat memes. I believe human beings are the most dumbest species in all the galaxies and when the Aliens arrive I am snitching.

When my mind is at rest, I often wonder if Aliens have masculinity complex and if they do whether or not their masculinity is contingent on the size of their dicks or whether they have to engage in a battle to the death with an alien grizzly bear to determine who is the man.

I love BTS memes too- a little too much and often end up debating over the internet with random people over whether BTS memes are funnier than cat memes- I'm weird, true. But how does all of that make me a bad person?

It's crazy how these people can go on these other platforms to ask people to take down the credits to my posts as well as my posts itself but can't ask people who run to these other platforms with misinterpretations of my work to take those down.

Instead they come on here to call me out for people's interpretations of my work?? It doesn't work that way. You are the author of your own opinion and interpretation of other people's work. You don't call out the original author for someone's opinion of their work. If that were so I would be emailing Stephanie Meyer for Anna Todd and her After series. Get some education.

I have since blocked this person and others whose Tumblr I have been able to find thanks to all those that's helped me finding them on here.

My gf also tried reaching out to the persons who shared my post after we realised this was becoming an issue and had asked them to credit her or my blog- but honestly I don't care about that yet she won't give it a rest. Lol. My ride or die this one. Sigh.

However, we realized soon that this is not about 'stealing' credit- can't call someone out for not giving credit when I suck at that myself. Lol.

This is about people's malicious intentions and their attempts to silence me and take away my right to freedom of expression however way that they can. This is wrong and evil.

I honestly don't care for all these ship politics these people are engaged in. I've had enough intelligent conversations to know the distinction between arguments that flows from bruised egos and actual conversations around a subject matter.

This whole I am right, she is wrong politics... y'all get that the point of having an opinion is not to be right, right? We all cant have the same perspective and you can't call someone a liar for holding views that is different from yours. That is a bizarre mentality to have.

As I stated in my post, that content I made was a rebuttal to the Taekook theories running around on the internet alleging JK glared at Tae when he pulled on his shoulder because he was jealous Tae and Jin were having fun behind him. He wasn't. He was worried Tae was gonna expose him and JM holding hands behind Suga.

If you don't think they were holding hands then Taekookers were right and his reaction was because he was Jealous of Taejin I guess...

But thats your truth. That's not my truth. I don't believe Taekook is real. JK isn't jealous of Taejin he is not Twelve- but then again he was sneaking around behind Suga holding his boyfriend's hands so I guess he is twelve? Lol. Jikook!

Do you.

But please stop the evil malicious attacks and seek immediate help. There is such a thing as right and wrong and this is just plain wrong. Your Karma and chakra are in the negative nodes and you need to fix it. It is not funny anymore.

Thank you to everyone who has shown genuine concerns for me in the past few days and thank you so much for trying to stand up for me. There are good people on here and I have met and interacted with a lot of them and thank you so much for such a wonderful experience and insightful discussions.

I don't hate people because of our differences in thoughts, beliefs, opinions. There's always room for dissenting opinions in every sphere. At the very least, we can agree to disagree and shake on it. But You can't make up shit about people just to prove your opinion is right and their opinions and views which differ from yours are 'wrong.

I am not a victim though, and they are not bullies, psst. They are just vile pathetic human beings exposing the greens of their insides. What you do says more about who you are as a person and human being. And this is who they are.

Just be a nice decent human being. That's what this world needs. Fix whatever is broken inside of you and free your mind and spirit. Hate is never the answer.

I'm going to be away for a while because I have studies, work and other interests I want to pursue at the moment- it's just my AADD flaring up so if you see me henceforth raving about Nana at least you'd know why. Lol. She's wrecking my Jimin bias. Lmho.

Spread positivity, do the right thing, stand up for a good cause and keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Until we meet again.

Signed,

GOLDY

[generallybarzy]

1 Year

January 22nd, 2020. That was the date it all started.

Now, it’s been a year. 

(Sorry, you don't get a read more, this is too important)

I started this blog last year, after attending a local hockey game that we get to see every year and realizing how much more I was into it than my other friends there. I went home, logged onto my other tumblr account, and started looking through random hockey tags from my [redacted] blog (y'all don't gotta know the fandoms I was into haha). For a week or so, I lurked. I saw bits and pieces of the all star game, of some of the games that were being played, but I was too scared to interact with anyone because I was joining the community so "late". I wasn't late to anything, its not like hockey is a new thing or something with a time limit, but it felt like I was behind. I wasn't a lifelong fan like some people I saw post about it, I didn't even understand what people were talking about. But I saw the game, eventually saw the cute players everyone loves, and got excited. I finally decided to make this blog, wanting to make some new friends in the hockey community. I kinda floated around hockeyblr for a while, rebloggong a few things quietly but not interacting too much because i didn't feel like i could, until my school closed down in March. After that, I turned to writing- specifically for barzy, who I had just learned about on this site. And with that writing, that very first fic that I tagged bigger writers in, trying to get some recognition, I started to gain followers. And friends.

Since i started, my followers on here have traveled with me through life. Literally. I got my drivers license, i embarrassed myself with that guy at the beach, got my first job, started (and hopefully soon finished) my senior year of highschool, and got accepted into my dream college. I didn't have online friends before this, so when I stopped be able to see my irl friends irl, you guys became just as necessary as them. We've been through highs and lows together, both irl, personally, and in this community, but honestly, i still love it here. I couldn’t be more thankful for all of you, the old and the new.  I genuinely wouldn’t have been able to get through the past year if it weren’t for this place. 

I have a whole appreciation post but some of the people who either ARE constantly in my messages or had been in the past but we haven't talked in a bit, all of these people helped me along the way. @matbaerzal (one of the very first writers who followed me on here, wow. The 10th person out of 1000 to follow me. I adore all of your stuff and look up to you so much) , @mbarzals (I think I convinced you to post your first fic, and I wrote all of Opportunities just for you, but we haven't really talked a lot in a while), @thirteenisles (mom! Helping me out a bunch, especially when I was way smaller on here and didn't have many friends, and we haven't talked in a bit and I'm so sorry), @d-cozens (has always been a solid reader, I remember you under a different user haha I've been seeing you in my notifications for the longest time), @fallinallincurls (we always talk the best concepts!!!!! I always come to you about fics!!!! In the long run, we just started talking a bit ago but you're like the sweetest person ever and I'm so happy we're moots), @softboybarzal (I can't even begin to describe how much you've helped. I'm serious. Thank you so much. Not to mention the amazing things we talk about, always making me so soft), @folkloreflyers (tk and nolan, we have the matching jerseys what can I say. We also come up with some of the best ideas), @barzzal (I deadass look up to you so much, your theme and content is god tier thank you for helping me with my header. I hope we can talk more smt), @dembenchboys (omg baby. Baby. Your messages mean so much to me and I literally light up whenever I see them. We literally don't deserve you. You're too pure and amazing for this world. An angel. I think I've forget to respond to you a few times and I feel so bad but I love you so much don't forget it!!!!!!), @canadianheaters (why do we always have the strangest conversations like idk what here but there's some cursed energy baaagghschhd anyway we come up with the best shit together like monkey suit mat), 🥔 anon, 💙 anon, 😌 anon, 🖤 anon, BLUE SHORTS ANON (I REMEMBER YOU WHERE ARE YOU) and all you other lovely followers i have who have been so supportive over the past year 💕💕💕

Now that all that sappy stuff is out of the way, here's what we'll be doing today to celebrate!

Send in your stories on how you came to find my blog and what made you stay!! Or just any stories you have about here

Request little hcs not about mat and s/o in scenarios but about small things like "does mat like coffee or tea?" or about what cute habits he might have. I feel like we don't discuss about my hc version of him enough

Also, respond to other anons and send your own hcs!!!!

The final thing is that I will be taking requests for short, personalized blurbs where you send me a prompt, a name, and stuff about yourself and I write YOU and mat instead of reader and mat.. I'll make another post about it when I'm ready to do those, probably around 2pm est.

Once again, lemme just drill it into your heads how happy I am to have all you guys, and how proud I am of where this blog has come to in a year. I couldn't have done it without any of you.💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

Could we please get some relationship headcanons for Ezra, Juvia and Mira?

Hello! I’ve been taking so long recently it’s soooooo annoying but the good news is that camps almost over and so is my algebra class. Hopefully I’ll be able to write more soon. I really loved this ask anon so thank you so much for being patient. It’s not as long as I would have liked but I think it does it’s job. Anyways I think I’m gonna take some time after cleaning out my inbox to write up something in a different fandom cause I haven’t had the chance yet. Hopefully if I write something fresh I can get back in my mojo and open up my requests again. Anyways I hope y’all like these since I really enjoyed writing them.

Erza:

- It’s no secret that the armor changing red-head known as Erza Scarlet was a fierce warrior but what nobody ever knew was how she was with her darling s/o

- For such a wild and commanding woman, Erza was surprisingly gentle with you, letting you take control of the situation more often than not

- Date locations, meals, clothes, activities, jobs even, all of it was your choice

- Unless of course you wanted to do something that was to dangerous or risky

- That was when Erza stepped in and helped you consider another option

- Still she appreciated anything and everything that you decided to do

- It was quite obvious that Erza loved you very much

- Everytime she went away on a job she would make sure you had a communication lacrama and something to eat for the week, money and other essentials

- Then she kissed you goodbye and left for her mission

- Erza was never gone long so you never had to worry but you still found a way

- When she came back from her job she always brought you a gift

- Sometimes it was flowers, sweets you could share, a monster horn, jewls, silks and other expensive things

- And everytime she asked if you liked them you told her that her coming home was the best gift of all

- Y'all had an unnecessarily sappy relationship and it seemed to annoy many people around you but the knew better than to speak up lest the great Titania raise her blade to their necks

- Being together with Erza meant you had a close friendship with the rest of team Natsu, even going so far as to help Erza sneak into Lucy’s house with the rest of the group and have sleepovers

- Y'all had fun together but at the end of the day it was just the two of you laying together on the floor pretending that Natsu and Gray weren’t snoring

- As you fell asleep Erza would watch you and thank whoever was out there that she had gotten so lucky, even with such a nasty start her life was turning out to be perfect ❤️

Juvia:

- Juvia is a… unique kind of lover

- She talked in third person, acted suspiciously when you were around other guys and girls, and was always giving you anniversary gifts when it wasn’t really an anniversary

- But this was just another part of her charm and another reason you loved her

- It took very little time to get together at all since she is so persistent with her attempts at wooing her beloved

- In the beginning you were a little nervous since you guys rushed into a relationship but once you were together Juvia let you take it as slow as you wanted

- It started with nervous pecks on the cheek and maybe hesitant hugs that you should have limited but wanted everyday

- Soon you became more comfortable with physical affection and all the praise she gave you constantly

- You didn't need any reassurance that she loved you but Juvia did

- Her whole life people found her rain gloomy and she was worried that you would find rain to be gloomy as well but she was pleasantly surprised to find that you enjoyed the rain

- Maybe you didn't want to stand in it for hours on end but watching the rain through your windows with a mug of something warm and a blanket around your shoulders was very peaceful

- Juvia would join you and you would tell her that you loved the rain and that you loved her more

- She would probably pass out afterwards with hearts in her eyes

- This water mage is a hopeless romantic

- If you give her flowers or chocolates she might die of happiness

- Forget that if you give her anything she’ll die of happiness

- Expect many at home dates where no one can look at you or ‘flirt’ with you or steal you from her

- (she’s got some lowkey yandere vibes but there only minor lol)

- You’ll probably watch some pretty exciting movies together so she can watch the emotions on your face change

- Maybe even something scary so you can grab her or she can grab you (whether or not she’s actually scared ;)

- Dates will be super chill over all and even though she’s not the most chill person it’ll still be a chill relationship

- All Juvia wants is for you to be happy and with her that's the happiest you’ll be ❤️

Mira:

- Mirajane Strauss would be super fun to date

- Like really fun

- You probably had a crush on her for a while before she pulled the classic ‘my shifts over at ??:?? You wanna go grab a bite’

- She would take you to a casual but still nice restaurant (the kind where you don’t have to dress up but it’s got good food)

- You guys would talk and eat and you’d tell yourself over and over again it was just a friend thing cause obviously someone as cool as Mira wouldn’t like you but then when she walked you home she would say “that was fun we should go out again sometime”, kiss you on the cheek and walk away

- Mira is smooth

- Y'all almost fainted when she did that

- After that you guys would go out regularly and when you didn’t have time to go out she would let Kinana take the reigns and Mira would make you your favorite drink for free 

- You guys would chat and flirt and everyone in Fairy Tail would give you guys looks and winks

- People still catcalled Mira but anyone smart knew that you were hers and stay away from you cause the she devil is possessive

- Friendship was fine but the second some random guest crossed a line Mira would probably shoot him/her one of her famous glares and they’d head for the hills

- And if you were hurt… dear god help their souls

- Mira would probably go full devil on them

- She wouldn’t hurt them too much though but only because she knew you didn’t like it when she did that

- Afterwords she’d take you home to her know private apartment (Lisanna got herself her own place) and snuggle with you and make you food

- And gosh is Mira’s food good

- If you guys have a fight and Mira wanted to apologize she would do it by making your favorite meal and dessert

- You could never say no to Mira’s cooking yet somehow you never gained any weight 

- It was magical (probably literally)

- The other Strauss siblings came with Mira

- It was a full package and you didn't mind, in fact you enjoyed the sister like bond you had with lisanna and the laughs you shared with Elfman

- Friday was family night so all 4 of you would get together and play a game or watch a movie

- Mira loved you most in those moments

- When she looked around and saw the pure domesticity of the situation it helped her forget all the nasty stuff in the world and focus on what was important, the people that she loved

- Including you ❤️