#sticking this in tags because if y'all ain't going to talk to me y'all are going to fucking hear me

[magicmumu2]

All right. I have decided to go back and stick the story for Janis's side where I'm originally wanted to put it, because without that part, the story Friends doesn't make as much sense as I want it to. I don't think it had as much impact as I wanted it to have for the characters and their movement forward. So yes it's short as shit and I'm pissed about that, but maybe I can title it as like 'Fear part 2' or some shit. It goes into some of the same things that the story Fear went into, but it does point towards a sign that she's moving out of it in this part.

So since this story is based around music and playlists, I'm wondering what that word is that is used in musicals when there is a signature song near the beginning and then they go back and sing that song again or repeat the song or parts of it? Like the only example I can think of is for Le Mis where they have that big mashup of all the songs throughout the musical all in that one last One Day More mashup at the end? Is it like I think it means repeat but I don't know what the actual word is I'm going to look that shit up.

Found it: REPRISE

Okay so that may work because the last story I was going to do something similar where I wanted to call it like [redacted to prevent possible spoilers for the series] (Reprise)' because it does bring the story around to where I always wanted to end it.

So since this is going back to the themes and ideas that were in my story 'Fear' with Janis and her thoughts, maybe I can call this one 'Fear (Reprise)'. Or something. This idea actually makes me feel better about writing the series now so.

[call-sign-shark]

Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader

Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping

Words: 2K

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??

A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.

"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.

"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.

"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.

"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."

"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.

"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.

"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.

"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.

"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.

"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.

"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"

"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.

"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"

You weren't.

Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.

You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.

"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.

"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter two: prayer )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time. warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues. author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous. all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat. special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.

It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.

"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."

It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."

Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.

Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.

A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.

The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.

His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him. 

Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand. 

“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”

He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”

“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”

Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.” 

He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more. 

Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches 

involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.

Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.

It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice. 

“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”

Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”

Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.

Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”

A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.

“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong. 

“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.

“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”

Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be. 

Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg. 

"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.

Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.

“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?” 

Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.” 

In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband. 

His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”

Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more. 

“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.” 

Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long. 

“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."

Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.

“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”

A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much. 

“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”

Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”

Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.

Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization. 

Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?

He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.

She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.

Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.

Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently. 

Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"

Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."

Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."

"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally. 

"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with. 

If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.

"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"

“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”

Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales. 

“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling. 

“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”

A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has. 

"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."

Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”

“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.

“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.” 

Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron. 

Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.

“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.

Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child. 

She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her. 

“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”

Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”

Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”

There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach. 

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”

Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”

Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child. 

It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him. 

“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things. 

His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”

“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.

“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.

“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she? 

Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat. 

The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband. 

“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does. 

And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.

It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.

Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.

“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”

Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again. 

“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company. 

A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it. 

“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment. 

“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”

Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this. 

Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working. 

She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it. 

A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.

“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.

“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her. 

“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed. 

“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her. 

Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair. 

“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.

She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table. 

She calls him back over the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally,  @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.

additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?

[respectthepetty]

15 Questions

Tagged by @italianpersonwithashippersheart and @pandasmagorica

1. are you named after anyone?

Yes. First name is after my cousin's imaginary friend because my parents were wild. Middle name is after the song I was conceived to because my parents were really wild.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Externally? I joke that I haven't cried since 2009, but I really think that is the last time I cried. Internally? Every single fucking day.

3. do you have kids?

Oh, Lord, no.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

Basketball, volleyball (horrible at it), fast-pitch softball, but I love watching all live sports.

5. do you use sarcasm?

Strange story, but many educators have to get "empathy training" because we do not understand declarations of self-harm to be serious. We think they are sarcastic comments. I think as an aging millennial, sarcasm is all we have, so we do not recognize when someone else is being serious. So . . . yes, I use sarcasm.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Vibes. I travel alone, so if the vibe ain't right, I'm out.

7. what’s your eye color?

Very dark brown

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Happy Endings. Both kind. *wink*

9. any talents?

Navigation and directions. Stick me anywhere, and I will find my way to where I need to go. Metro, bus, interstate, walking. Doesn't matter. I will figure it out. Also driving. I can drive loooong distances and any vehicle is my friend, which is why I got a ticket on the autobahn because I was just vibin' in the Audi at 150 km.

10. where were you born?

Japan

11. what are your hobbies

Traveling, especially for live music. I've seen hundreds of artists individually and have been to almost fifty music festivals. Some of my favorites are Austin City Limits (Austin), Electric Daisy Carnival (Las Vegas), Lollapalooza (Chicago), Country Music Awards Fest (Nashville), Osheaga (Montreal), Ultra (Miami), Primavera (Barcelona), Mad Cool (Madrid), and Pa'l Norte (Monterrey, México). Some of my favorite venues are Meow Wolf (Santa Fe), Red Rocks (Denver), and Fenway Park (Boston), and I had a ticket to see a concert at the Palace of Versailles in France for May 2020, then everything went to hell in a hand basket. But strangely, I saw Bad Bunny, Big Freedia, and French DJ Gesaffelstein in 2020.

I could talk for hours about music, but I'll stop with this picture (not mine because none I took came out good) of Gesaffelstein who dresses like this for his shows with an all black background and all black equipment. Ah-maze-zing.

12. do you have any pets?

Oh, God, no. I'm a Disney villain. I don't mess with animals. Or plants.

13. how tall are you?

5'9" (This is a good country song too)

14. favorite subject in school?

Languages & Literature, which is why I teach English now.

15. dream job

What I'm doing now. Teaching. Except I would like to grade less than ~150 essays every month, but education is a mess right now, so y'all be nice to your professors.

[dredgen-dumbass]

Redo of my pinned post, again, because I'm indecisive.

At a glance:

No screen name, he/him. Predominantly SFW blog, tws follow the normal content of Destiny 2. I swear like a sailor. Not the type for dni lists, just don't be a bigot. Asks are open to all. I don't mind mass likes/reblogs, and dw about derailing. The rest is under the cut.

Message from yours truly,

I genuinely thought I was going to just spam Drifter content for a few days, and then go delete Tumblr again once my brain calmed down about it. As it turns out, that isn't happening. I like the community here so far, which isn't something I've been able to say about Tumblr for some time now, and it seems like I'm going to stick around a while longer. That, and I thought I was just fixated on the one character, but Destiny itself is becoming a pretty big interest of mine, and I know I'll need somewhere to talk about it, so this is going to shift more towards that. I'm going to try to be a bit more cautious with tags so I'm not filling them with every Destiny related through that crosses into my brain, so I'm going to set up an (albeit shoddy) tagging system and be a bit more conservative with what gets put in the main D2 tag. Apologies if I flooded anything you follow, I'm used to posting in a much larger fandom where things get buried really quick, I didn't realize how bad it was until I tried to go through those tags myself, and... eesh.

So, me.

I know it's Tumblr culture to put every last detail in your bio, but personally I'm not comfortable with that. If you need more than I give, then just click off and move on. I understand wanting some idea of who you're talking to, but I think the things that matter will come up naturally through my posts. What I do think should be clarified, just as a matter of perspective with all the queer stuff in this fandom, is that I'm a gay dude. Other than that, I don't think any labels are relevant to this account. If something else becomes relevant, feel free to ask for clarification, I understand that some things read differently depending on who's saying them. Otherwise, respect my privacy, thanks.

Fandom chaos & such,

I want to keep discourse away from my blog, both fandom and real-world. Especially real-world, because Destiny is an escape for me, and I want to keep this as a separate space I've carved for myself, in the same way as the game is for me. That said, bigots can fuck off to hell. Y'all ain't welcome here just because I'm not interacting with the arguments. This is a safe space for everyone, provided you ain't making it unsafe for anyone else.

Destiny stuff,

I'm a casual player, have been going for about 3 years now. I'm a solar titan main.

My favorite character is drifter, I've been pretty clear on that, I think (/s). I'm still learning the game lore and such, so at the moment he's the only character I've actually gone in-depth reading about.

My other favorites are saint-14, saladin, shaxx, and ghost.

Expect my posts to mostly be about them.

This isn't a ship blog, though I may reblog ship content occasionally. I don't have any I particularly care for, aside from O14, but to me they're different because it's canon. Again, asks are open if you want to hear me talk about a specific ship.

I have been asked specifically about drifteris because I post sm about Drifter, and no I'm not a drifteris shipper. I read their relationship as platonic, and if I post about both of 'em it's not a shipping thing. I'm glad the ship brings more attention to the characters, though.

Fanart & fics,

I'll be honest, I've written a few short pieces of my yw. I don't plan on posting them, and even if I do I'm not sure that I'll connect them to this blog in any way. that's a question for future me, whether that's tomorrow or years from now.

Fanart is a pain for me right now. I want to make stuff, and I've done a little, but I'm currently in the traditional artist picks up digital art learning curve, so I'll probably continue to post and delete and post and delete. Feel free to repost my art, just credit me. Honestly, I haven't signed anything atp because I just don't expect anyone to repost it anyways, but as I progress that may become an issue and I don't want to be updating this weekly. Fanart requests are entirely open, destiny ocs included, I need the practice anyway. I do already have some sitting in my asks, so I'll be doing those first, but still.

I don't sit and vet all every account I reblog, so if I reblog something stolen or just uncredited let me know and I'll tag the artist.

If you have m/m or m/neutral (or just platonic) fic recommendations feel free to send em over. Gotta have something to keep me occupied.

Tagging system?

I've never made one of these before. I don't think I have the time to go through all of my previous posts and set them up with this, but from now on the structure will be:

#dredgenposting - all of my destiny-related rambling, because I don't want to fill the destiny 2 tag with my post spam.

#reblogs

#mild nsft - probably just sex jokes

#nsft - probably won't be used, but leaving it here in case it is so that I'm not coming back again to edit this

#discourse - not sure how much this will be used, but I'm bound to have a public opinion on something eventually

#fanart - my own fanart

#asks

if there's something you'd like tagged to filter in/out while looking through my blog, lmk. chances are I'm fine with incorporating it.

and that's it. thanks for reading, live long and prosper y'all.

[underworld-park-offical]

BEBE: ♪ And I'm bad like the barbie ♪

RED: ♪ Barbie ♪

BEBE: ♪ I'm a doll but I still wanna party ♪

RED: ♪ Party ♪

BEBE: ♪ Pink Vette but I'm ready to bend ♪

RED: ♪ Bend ♪

WENDY: Bitch

BEBE: ♪ I'm a ten so I'm pullin a Ken ♪

RED: ♪ Like Jazzie, Stacie, Nicki ♪

RED: ♪ Grrrah ♪

BEBE: ♪ All of the Barbies is pretty ♪

RED: ♪ Damn  ♪

WENDY: Bitch

RED: ♪ It girls ♪

BEBE: ♪ It girls ♪

RED: ♪ And we ain't playin tag ♪

BEBE: ♪ Grrah ♪

WENDY: WILL YOU 711, SLUSHIE SLURPING, ALWAYS BURPING, SELFIE STICK, HUGE PRICK, STUPID WHORES, SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND??!?!?!

RED: Booooo

BEBE: Party Pooper!

BEBE: Let us sing our BARBIE WORLD in PEACE

RED: Yeah, for real!

RED: Boooooooo!

RED: Not the straight A student talking 💀

WENDY: SHUT. UP.

WENDY: You can at LEAST turn it down enough to where I won't go DEAF

WENDY: Red. What. the fuck.

RED: Take a before death selfie with me

WENDY: Wh

WENDY: WHY

RED: Idk ur the closest lmao ♪

WENDY: Ughhh

WENDY: Why did I ever join your hype house?

RED: Lmaooo

RED: Big L

RED: L

RED: Big L

RED: Raito L Loser lmao

WENDY: I hope you get flung out of the wind shield and die

RED: 💀💀💀

WENDY: STOP SAYING SKULL EMOJI OH MY GOD, YOU'RE JUST LIKE CRAIG

RED: Sorry it's in our genes 😝😝😝

WENDY: NO IT FUCKING ISN'T 

WENDY: CRINGE ISN'T FUCKING GENETIC

BEBE: Can you hoes SHUT UP

BEBE: I'm LITERALLY trying to listen to Barbie World but I can’t because y'all are SCREAMING

BEBE: Literally boutta hop over my seat and FIGHT Y'ALL

RED: Is the song on loop

BEBE: Yeah should be

RED: Just like

RED: Reset it or something 💀

BEBE: UGHHHHH

WENDY: I'M GOING TO SLAP YOU, BEBE

BEBE: DO IT

NICHOLE: Guys can we go ONE second without fighting each other??

NICHOLE: This is serious!

BEBE: Not as serious as this ASS WHOOPING Wendy's about to get

WENDY: OH NO YOU DINT-IT!

WENDY: Red, Hold my earrings

RED: OOOOH SHIT!! WORLDSTAR!!!

RED: Hey guys, it's Red, and welcome back to my channel~ NICHOLE: GUYS NO-

BEBE: COME HERE YOU BITCH

WENDY: FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW

NICHOLE: WATCH THE ROAD!!!

NICHOLE: RANDOM PEDESTRIAN!!!

RED: Extra points if they’re innocent! 😲

RED: Don't watch the road. this is really good content

NICHOLE: RED!!!

RED: WHAT?????

WENDY: Hold on

WENDY: What

WENDY: Is that

WENDY: Is that a twink in the road?

BEBE: What??

BEBE: Holy shit

RED: Ewww, wild queer

RED: Smh my head

NICHOLE: Guys, it's just Gary

NICHOLE: We should give him a ride

BEBE: Girl are you crazy?

BEBE: I don’t want the scent of computer  in my car!

BEBE: That is SO not SLAY

NICHOLE: It's so cold out here! His hard drive’s gonna freeze!

BEBE: Good! Maybe he can finally stop going “I want chicken, I want liver, Meow Mix, Meow Mix, Please Deliver” over and over!

BEBE: LITERALLY why do you think we kicked him out of the Hype House?

NICHOLE: Just pull over…

BEBE: UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BEBE: FIIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEE

BEBE: WHATEVERRRRRRR

 WENDY: Heyyyyy

WENDY: Uhhhh

WENDY: Garyyyyy…

GARY: Wе mаy nоt bе аblе tо lоwеr thе cost of gas, but wе саn do something аbоut hоw mаnу miles yоu will drive per gallon! Stop by your lосаl O'Reilly Auto Parts store tоdаy and let us help уоu inсrеаsе thе pеrfоrmаnсе оf yоur car or truck. Simplе things likе rеplасing yоur аir filtеr, chаnging wоrn оut spаrk plugs, and using fuеl injесtоr сlеаnеr саn аdd up tо bеttеr fuеl есоnоmy аnd Big Sаvings!

     There's an O'Reilly Auto Parts stоrе сlоsе tо yоu thаt hаs thе nаmе brands, low prices and pеоplе whо саn hеlp. Rеstоrе lоst fuеl есоnоmy AND eliminate rough idle with Luсаs fuеl injесtоr сlеаnеr. Right nоw аt O'Rеilly Autо Pаrts, Buy TWO аnd GET ONE FREE!

GARY: I'm Gary! The Mormon who advertises! 

RED: Ew, he’s advertising

RED: Let's bail

BEBE: Yeah, I agree

NICHOLE: No, we’re not leaving him

GARY: Writing Isn't easy. That's why Grammarly can help. This sentence is grammatically correct, but it's wordy, and hard to read. It undermines the writer's message and the word choice is bland. Grammarly's cutting edge technology helps you craft compelling, understandable writing that makes an impact on your reader. Much better. Are you ready to give it a try? Installation is simple and free. Visit Grammarly.com today!

GARY: I’m Gary, The Mormon who advertises!

RED: Shit, I think he’s broken

WENDY: Gary

WENDY: Why don’t you

WENDY: Get out of the cold…

WENDY: And into the trunk of Bebe's car?

GARY: Want a break from the ads? If you tap now to watch a short video, you’ll receive 30 minutes of free music.

GARY: I’m Gary the Mormon who Advertises!

BEBE: Biiiitch I think he's like, malfunctioning…

RED: Frfr

RED: It's creeping me out, tbh

NICHOLE: Why would you suggest he go in the trunk?

WENDY: So he doesn’t bother us with his weird ad shit!

GARY: In the U.S. RMHC Chapters, support millions of children and their families each year, with the help of caring customers like you. McDonald's Helps RMHC provide families more comfort, care, and kindness by donating one penny every time a happy meal is sold.

GARY: I’m Gary, The Mormon who advertises!

WENDY: We just…

WENDY: Put him in the trunk

WENDY: Tape his mouth shut

WENDY: And Boom, problem solved!

RED: I mean…

RED: I’m not against that

BEBE: Yeah

BEBE: Do any of you have, like, duct tape?

GARY: Hi, Phil Swift here with Flex Tape! The super-strong waterproof tape! That can instantly patch, bond, seal, and repair!  Flex tape is no ordinary tape; its triple thick adhesive virtually welds itself to the surface, instantly stopping the toughest leaks. Leaky pipes can cause major damage, but Flex Tape grips on tight and bonds instantly! Plus, Flex Tape’s powerful adhesive is so strong, it even works underwater! 

    Now you can repair leaks in pools and spas in water without draining them! Flex Tape is perfect for marine, campers and RVs! Flex Tape is super strong, and once it's on, it holds on tight! And for emergency auto repair, Flex Tape keeps its grip, even in the toughest conditions! Big storms can cause big damage, but Flex Tape comes super wide, so you can easily patch large holes. 

    To show the power of Flex Tape, I sawed this boat in half! And repaired it with only Flex Tape! Not only does Flex Tape’s powerful adhesive hold the boat together, but it creates a super strong water tight seal, so the inside is completely dry! Yee-doggy! Just cut, peel, stick and seal! Imagine everything you can do with the power of Flex Tape!

GARY: I'm Gary! The Mormon who advertises!

BEBE: Shut the fuck up, this is why we kicked you out of the Hype House!

RED: I think I have some tape here…

NICHOLE: Guys, no…

NICHOLE: We aren't putting him in the trunk, and we definitely aren't taping his mouth shut!

RED: This bitch crazy, frfr

BEBE: Yeah Nichole, do you want  to hear him the whole car ride?

BEBE: The only thing worse than this is that there's no wifi

GARY: Bring your phone & number and get $600 off our new Biz Unlimited 5G Smartphone Plans. Nationwide 5G. Types: 5G Devices, Smartphones, Mobile Hotspots, Tablets, Basic Phones. Available with Biz Unlimited Plus 5G or Unlimited Pro 5G. Terms apply; Limited time offer!

GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises!

RED: Yeah dead ass, I can't play any roblox out here 💀

GARY: Do you not have any robux? Don't worry! With roblox money tree you can get infinity robux!! All you need to do is type in your roblox username and password and play games! Then you'll get infinite robux! So don't wait! Get roblox money tree now and win infinite robux!

GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises!

NICHOLE: Just…

NICHOLE: Just get in the car

GARY: F**k you, Baltimore! If you're dumb enough to buy a new car this weekend, you're a big enough schmuck to come to Big Bill Hell's cars! Bad deals! Cars that break down! Thieves! If you think you're gonna find a bargain at Big Bill, you can kiss my ***! It's our belief that you're such a stupid motherf**ker, you'll fall for this bullsh*t! Guaranteed! If you find a better deal, shove it up your ugly ***! You heard us right, shove it up your ugly ***! Bring your trade, bring your title, bring your wife! We'll f**k her! 

That's right, we'll f**k your wife! Because at Big Bill Hell's, you're f**k*d six ways from Sunday! Take a hike to Big Bill Hell's, home of challenge p***ng! That's right, challenge p***ng! How does it work? If you can piss six feet in the air straight up and not get wet, you get no down payment! Don't wait, don't delay, don't f**k with us, or we'll rip your nuts off! Only at Big Bill Hell's, the only dealer that tells you to f**k off! Hurry up, ***hole! This event ends the minute after you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherf**ker! Go to hell! Big Bill Hell's Cars: Baltimore's filthiest and exclusive home of the meanest sons of bitches in the state of Maryland! Guaranteed!

GARY: I'm Gary! The Mormon who advertises!

NICHOLE: Uhm…

NICHOLE: You’re…

NICHOLE: You’re welcome???

GARY: Jones BBQ and Foot Massage, Jones BBQ and Foot Massage. You better come on down here and get some of this shit. You like to eat, America likes to eat! So why not open up somewhere America can sit down, enjoy a meal, and get their feet rubbed. We'll fry anything you want for $5.99 as long as it's friable and edible, we'll make it delicable. We will fry parts of the chicken you didn't even know were friable. The beak, the feathers, we'll fry candy bars!                                                                                                                                                                            ll      >>>>All that European stuff that you don't really normally eat, we'll bring it down and we'll fry it for you. Ask McDonald's to fry something other than what they normally fry. Guess what you're gonna get? Nothing! If it fit through the door, I'll put it in the fryer. Hell, this is a dinosaur! All our meats are gently tenderized to their optimum deliciousness. We got fine dinosaur meat. Took my money, made me pay child support! Come on down here and get you a slice! Once they get your social security number, it's over! Motivated, Motivated, Motivated, Motivated! So friends, let's just decide you don't want no barbecue, well that's fine too.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       >>>Why not let one of my foot specialists or myself perform my magic? Look at that, don't that look wonderful? If you really pay me enough, we'll massage your feet in any of these sauces also. Success is the rule down here at Jones Good Ass BBQ and Foot Massage. So go ahead and give me a call or find us online, on the world wide internets at the new website. That's, J O N E S BIG ASS truck rental and storage,  dot com, backslash, Jones GOOD ASS bbq and foot massage, dot, html. Excuse me, did you call number 52? Did you hear me call number 52?!

GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises!

BEBE: O…. kayyyyyy

BEBE: Slay I guess?

RED: Nahhh, not the FNAF character talking 💀

WENDY: Just…

WENDY: Nobody….

WENDY: SAY

WENDY: Anything…

WENDY: ...

NICHOLE: ...

EVERYONE IN THE CAR: ….

BEBE: Nichole, this is all your fault

NICHOLE: WH???

(Edits and GIF done by @cattpup5 (mod Jello) )

[vampirevatican]

Cruising and Coasting

pairing - hobie brown x black fem! reader

genre/tags - fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers

notes - v. self indulgent, but i hope y'all like it. the type of muscle car? a dodge coronet suits him. 520 words. first time writing hobie, many edits to come. advice extremely welcomed from fellow black writers.

summary - you and hobie go for a ride in his muscle car and he starts to pick up on little things about you. the way your deep, dark brown eyes glow and turn into honey. how you tap your fingers to the beat of the music when you have the wheel versus how you fully immerse yourself in a song you like when riding passenger... fuck, he might be crushing. bad.

lyric inspo -

ARABELLA//ARCTIC MONKEYS

“my day ends best when the sunset gets itself, behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side. it's much less picturesque without her catching, the light. the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes...”

2SEATER//TYLER, THE CREATOR

“i should slow down but i can't, cause you drivin' me wild. girl i get a rush, when we're speeding in my car, and sometimes it's too much... you can feel the beat in my heart....”

You and Hobie were driving through England's county side. After getting out of the congested cities and towns the scenery was beautiful. The sun was about to set, the breeze from the rolled down windows, and the playlist the two of you shared playing through the speakers. For Hobie it's seeing your beautiful dark eyes glow when the sunlight hit at just the right angle. How relaxed you look, yet focused because you want to make sure the two of you have a nice drive instead of a shit one. As the sun started to set you were crossing a bridge and out the corner of you eye you spotted him framing you.

As she giggled he couldn't help the smirk that grew into a smile. “Hobie what are you doing?” Glancing over at him and back at the road, driving them around winding paths. “Gettin' pictures of the moment.” He said and waved an invisible camera in the air. She shook her head, curls slightly moving with her. “Well ain't you a sweet heart, hobs.” He let out a low chuckle, “No problem, peng thing.”

Your dynamic has been like this for awhile. Occasional flirtations but nothing deeply pursued. You were comfortable crashing at his house with no bra or shorts when getting to bed and the same stood for when he stayed over at yours. Sometimes you even used him as a pillow when watching TV. Though these intimate moments, platonic as they may be, started to make both of your emotions run deeper. You didn't notice- because he made it a point for you not to-but when you walked around the house without shorts he'd steal a few glances. Bending to pick up or plug in something. It was something that'd be on his mind during those late nights without you there. Though there was smaller things he picked up on and adored even more about you. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt the dodge slow down and park.

“Your turn, take us home big boy.” The way you talked with him. You traded spots as he took control of his black dodge coronet again, driving back the way you both came, music loud enough to hear but low enough to talk, and his mind making a list of things he liked about you. Passing the bridge again at night, he stole a new glance after seeing you stick your hand out the window. The way you played with the wind outside of the car, the tapping of your fingers on the arm rest to singing along and doing a small dance in your seat with songs you couldn't help but do that to. Making it back to the apartment he followed behind you with his hands in his pockets and moving a bit slowly up the stairs. “Come on hobs, we gotta make the most of your free day” you called down to him as you leaned over the railing and smiled back at him when you saw his smirk. Before entering his home it dawns on him that he's in love.

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: *sigh* for the third time the damned app ate up the tags. This one took me too long and I'm excited for write about my man suna again. This is also pretty different from what I'm used to write, but why not? Please enjoy your reading.

Warnings: cursing, substance usage/mentions, break-ups and me trynna be funny.

I – Cancel me.

Previous || Next

He looked at them with expectation as the beats smoothly faded, indicating the song's ending. 

If he were to be honest, the pair before him was a pain in the ass, but their opinion was that important because, when it came to music, they were the best at it. He felt no shame nor jealousy in admitting it.

"Dunno, the hook sounds like a Vice headline ta me." The bleach-haired male said, hearring the song's outro blaring through the studio speakers.

"Isn't it a Kid Milli reference, tho?" The other asked while munching a chip. He frowned at them, not understanding their point.

"Whatever. You two are no help anyways." Hearring their bullshit, the brunette already regretted this collab. He paused the queued song, turning to the other two with a blank stare.

The twins before him snickered, knowing they successfully hit a nerve. They couldn't help it, provoking Suna was one of their favorite hobbies.

"The song is good, but I gotta tell ya this butt hurt phase of yers is pretty lame." The faux-blond opened his mouth again, spinning around the studio with the desk chair. 

"Fuck you, Atsumu" He snapped, almost giving in to the desire of decking them both on the face.

"Tsumu's right, ya Lil Peep wannabe. Can't believe this break up ended up that bad." Osamu said in mockery, throwing the empty Lay's wrapper at him. He scoffed, disposing the wrapper on the bin before getting back at the screen to look at the FL studio interface.

"It's not that I have a broken heart. I just wanna know what's wrong with my life" He shrugged, blindly tacting over the desk in search of his Juul.

"Yeah Samu, he's just grieving over those fancy ass Dior Jordans. Sunarin is incapable of mundane things like a broken heart." His blond friend was partially right.

Suna Rintaro was many things: alt model, music producer, cloud artist and a decent volleyball player that almost went pro. But if there was something he could never be, it was a lucky man on love matters.

With his fair share of failed relationships, the artist could never pinpoint when things went wrong. It would always be the same: he would meet a girl, they would have a good time and then, the chick would turn out demanding as fuck.

In the end, every single one of them would slap him across the face and leave his life banging the front door shut like crazy — last week, it was Mika who broke things off, but not before setting his limited edition pair of jordans on fire. He would never get over those sneakers.

"Good for him, those kicks were kinda ugly." Osamu said in a bored manner. Suna felt his soul leaving his body.

"The hell, Osamu?" He was ready to fight, deeply offended by the attack at his taste in fashion.

"Yo, you two." Atsumu butted in, checking something on his phone "Y'all are drifting away from our problem."

"That is?" The other brother asked.

"Cheer up Sunarin before he fucks up with the Album." If Suna had the energy, he would kick both Miyas out of his studio "And I gotta the perfect thing. Let's hang out at Akagi's tonight, he just invited us." The already distressed musician felt the soul leaving his body for the second time that afternoon. He was sure both twins wished his death.

"Not a fucking chance. Last time I went there I almost died because of that weird stuff we smoked." 

"Aw, Sunarin, Kita'll be there too." The faux-blonde tried to persuade. The mention of their older, responsible and straight edge friend made Suna look at them with interest. But he needed more, though. Based on the last experience, he didn't have the will to risk his life going to Akagi's house once again. A shiver descended his spine as the male recalled how much he threw up that night.

"Suna, man, I gotta agree with Tsumu. Yer feelings are showing in your music." Osamu said as if he was some kind of genius.

"Isn't art about it, tho?" He deadpanned "Expressing feelings and shit?" He asked, staring them dead in the eye. The males before him shivered because of its intensity. Suna snickered.

"Man says art, but most of his songs are about the Nikes on his feet and the Tesla in his garage." Atsumu mocked "What the fuck?" The blonde barely dodged the moleskine thrown at him.

"Don't chew on me when you do the same, asshat. This is called character development." As unnerving the twins were, he felt a whole lot better in their company "Just lemme produce my sad stuff in peace."

"Cut us some slack, ya dumbfuck. We're just worried about ya." Osamu protested " 'Sides, no wonder no girl sticks by yer side. You know what the chicks find sexy? Seizing the means of production, not yer dumb car."

"You two are so la—" The musician was interrupted mid sentence, startled by the blond figure clutching his phone with enthusiasm.

"Oi Samu," Atsumu's loud voice startled the other two, as he excitedly fisted the air.

"What the fuck?" Suna asked, dropping the Juul on the floor.

"She'll be there tonight." The blond said, looking at his brother with a new wave of joy.

"The fuck? She who?" The brunette frowned.

"Ya gotta go and find out, man." The gray haired twin said with a knowing smile, matching his brother's excitement.

The night out felt somewhat draining. The booze, the music and the company were great, but his lack of energy was a mood killer.

Cheer me up my ass, Suna cursed internally as he observed everyone getting wasted all over the place. He grimaced at the sight, realizing the meeting with the twins was enough social interaction for the day.

He didn't know what's gotten into him. The male knew it wasn't necessarily caused by the break up, but he couldn't help the feeling down.

Right now, life just felt lowkey suffocating. 

Being a public figure meant being under the spotlights the most of time.

People talked.

People assumed.

Media was all over him, ready to catch a scandall.

And of fucking course his name was on gossip headlines. It even occupied a spot on twitter trending topics for a day or so.

"Fuck me." He said before the lukewarm beer went down his throat.

"Sunarin!" He heard Atsumu shouting from his right "I want you to meet someone!" And only now he noticed the blond had his left arm over a girl's shoulders.

Oh, that's the one they were talking about, maybe? the brunette realized. What's the hype, tho? He asked himself, eyeing your figure.

"[Name], this is Suna. Sunarin, this is [Name], best girl ever and the mastermind behind the visuals of mine and Samu's last album" The bleach-haired male said with a proud smirk, ruffling your hair. You were obviously shy.

How cute, the brunette thought.

"Dumbass, don't embarrass me in front of others!" You nudged the Miya with your elbow "Nice to meet you, I saw your name on TMZ last week—" You said beaming and he grunted.

I take it back. Not cute at all, the man internally screamed, not ready to talk about the recent events. He didn't even want to listen to the rest of your speech, your cheery voice went through his ears in a white noise.

"And this makes me really excited for your album. The interview about the collab with dumb and dumber was lit." You continued, the words were genuine and you seemed really interested "And I also relate on a spiritual level because I know working with them is hell."

Oh, she's talking about the album. He realized in relief.

"Yo, I heard good things about you too. The design of their album was hella sick, even though they two suck ass." Suna snickered when he heard Atsumu protesting. You only left out a giggle, joining him on the teasing.

The blond kept ranting about how bad of friends the two of you were.

"I didn't introduce y'all ta gang up on me. Bye, I'm finding another company. Ya two suck." The blonde Miya said, leaving only you and Suna in the sofa area.

"Uh, so…" He drifted off, trying to start some small talk

"Yeah..." You both giggled at the awkwardness "Not enjoying the night?"

"Too much happening right now. Lots of people talking shit 'bout me." He sipped the beer, grimacing at the stale taste of the drink "Hope they cancel me already. So all this shit dies down." Suna looked away, suddenly shy for opening up to a stranger.

"You're a famous guy and the break-up wasn't that scandalous. It'll be over eventually, just beware the sneaker cult." Your amusement was comfort enough. You didn't make intrusive questions about the events and merely joked it off. He felt so worn out by the situation but, at least, your presence wasn't overbearring.

"How is it everyone knows about the jordans?" You shrugged it off, laughing at the distressed face he mocked. Sighing in relief, Suna couldn't deny how refreshing your presence was. Not to be a jerk, but usually, the girls either were all over him or judged every single move he made. You were just that easygoing.

"Well, I don't think you came here to sulk on the sofa all night long. Why don't we join them by the pool and down some shots?" You hopped off of your seat, pointing to the glass doors. All the boys were waving at you two and suddenly, Suna felt a wave of joy run down his body.

Atsumu was right. Best girl ever.

At some point of the night, everything became about you.

All he could hear was the sound of your voice and all the time, his eyes were drawn to your figure. He couldn't figure out a reason for it, but the rapper wasn't complaining either.

A sharp pang at the side of Suna's head broke the trance he was in. Osamu had a shit eating grin on his face, eyeing the ravenette with amusement.

"We told ya so." The younger twin mused whilst he handed a long neck of vodka to the other.

"Stop. This is dumb."

"Yer dumb. But you ain't that dumb ta dare ta mess with her." The gray-haired Miya squinted at him, menacingly pointing the bottle in his hand at the brunette. The latter shrugged it off, opening his drink.

"Nah, I'm good." And he meant it.

But how could he explain the situation he was in?

Lips and hands wandered over the expanse of his skin. Everything was too hot and too good at the same time. Overwhelming, even.

He wanted more, more and more. There wasn't enough of you.

And if it wasn't unfair enough, his body felt lethargic. He was desperate, but couldn't keep up with the rhythm you imposed. Be it the alcohol or the stress, his body gave up and blacked out, even before you could undress each other.

In the morning after, a pounding headache woke him up. Suna didn't dare to open his eyes, but the morning breath fanning over his face was unbearable.

"I can't believe a cutie like you have a stinky breath like this." The complaint came out in a raspy voice, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

Someone snickered on the other side of the room.

"Man, I didn't know you had the hots fer Samu." Atsumu was somewhere across the room, laughing at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Hearing the other, Suna's body jolted, dizziness made his head spin in the process. He felt sick in the stomach and the morning light made his eyes sting. "When did I get back here?" The male looked around, realizing he was sprawled over Akagi's floor, right beside Osamu, who didn't even squirm at the loud voices in the room.

"What do ya mean? We never left" Atsumu frowned, uncaping a water bottle he was holding "Ya puked on Kita and passed out. The boys were too wasted ta drag yer sorry ass back home so we all crashed here." The blonde was dumbfounded, trying to figure out how wasted Suna got last night.

Suna wanted to know too. After all, there was no way the events envolving you were a product of his drunk mind.

facts:

• Suna's artist name is yosemite.

• He has a Tesla Model S because of Frank Ocean.

• He takes his Nikes very seriously.

• No, not all of his songs are about the car and the kicks.

• He and the Miya twins got a sports scholarship because of volleyball, but they dropped out of school to make music.

• The three of them created Inarizaki, the label they're making music under. Kita and Aran manage it.

• Both Miya twins are beatmakers and music producers. They recently debuted as artists and now are making a collab EP with Suna, thus Atsumu's concern about the album.

[kitkatisinspace]

𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗰 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁

Hello stranger! Welcome to my blog and to my pinned post, in this case. You are probably reading this because you are stalking me or considering to follow me (if you are not you should consider it y'now?), so keep reading. Also if you see this on your dashboard this works better on the "web" blog I don't know how to say it. Like, when you go to the url.com that thing. So go, what are you waiting for?

I'll put a cut because this is infinite. I don't want you to be scrolling till death if you don't want to read. I recommend reading it though. Well, if you're already a mutual you don't have to.

𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓪

First off, you can call me Kat! I have my name in the blog title but anyway, it could be useful.

Any pronouns. I'm agender and I don't have preferences for pronouns, so as you like, I don't really mind.

English is NOT my first language, expect a lot of mistakes. I usually check a couple of times what I post, but sometimes I'm too lazy to do it. This post is the best example (I'm not checking and I won't do it).

I get bored easily. That's it that's the point.

I don't know what else to put here, I'm a dumb bitch. What do people even put on these? I'm just improvising, sorry.

𝓐𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰

Surprise! I don't know how to draw, I don't know how to write and I don't know how to communicate with people! Have I mentioned that my English sucks? No? Well, there you have, then.

I can't be on two fandoms or like two shows at the same time (in this case), so don't expect me to post about anything else that isn't JoJo's. Also, expect tons of shitpost or me just talking about things that happen to me.

Every now and then I post something interesting, but not that much. My two most popular posts are an Araki drawing of Caesar and Joseph and a comment on TikTok about Stardust Crusaders and how fucking sad it is.

I used to talk a lot about DIO. Now I don't do it much, but just wait till I rewatch Stardust Crusaders. My gallery is filled with pics and videos of DIO, just you wait.

Caejose is my current brainrot, but I don't post much about it because I suck at headcanons. I think about old Caesar in Stardust Crusaders a l o t, but I just imagine specific scenarios, so that's why I don't post them (oh shit I just had a déja-vu).

I sometimes post about my dreams, when I'm not too embarrassed of them. I once dreamed with Abbachio poledancing, another one with Bucciarati and me in a jacuzzi and the last one I had I was hiding with Caesar in some secret place, I don't remember the context. My dreams are elite I don't care what y'all say.

I love tag and ask games, so feel free to tag me. I'm bored 80% of the day. If you like you can leave a random ask, I don't mind. Actually, I like random asks. Do it.

Also, I have like "sections" of my blog, like tags. "Kat draws" where I... post my sketches???, "Kat is mad" where I just post random stuff I'm mad at, "Kat kats"... I don't know what this is about it's me in my most pure state, that's why it's called "kats". I had to invent a verb.

If you see this tag ":]" on a post (most likely to be sth about DIO), hell is going to unleash on the rest of the tags. You can check it for yourself just by searching it on my profile.

Everyone is welcomed here and I want y'all to feel safe on my blog, unless...

𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽...

(I have to fix this part but it's 1 am I'll do it tomorrow ig)

If you are or support proshippers, this is not your blog, I'm sorry. I'm not comfortable with you around here.

If you are TERF/rad-fem. I don't share your ideals, sorry. I'm not comfortable with you around here either.

If you are or support pedophiles, racist, homophobic, transphobic people. Don't be an asshole please, open your eyes.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone and you are a threat to my goal.

𝓕𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓸 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓮

Well, you can skip this, this will be long.

I'm dumb af, you can notice in many of my posts but it's important to get this clear before starting.

I'm a minor. I don't mind adults interacting as long as they aren't weird and aren't mentioned in my do not interact. Thank you.

Sometimes I'm too friendly, but please do not misundertand my words. I'm aro and I don't want any relationship. Sorry if you're uncomfortable with how I talk, just tell me and I'll stop.

I think I'm funny but I'm not.

I don't know how to communicate with people. I don't even know how to do it in my mother language, I don't know what you are expecting from me. I'd love to talk to you if you want though, I just suck and I'll probably run out of things to tell after 2 minutes of chatting.

I vent sometimes, but just trivial things. I think I do not have any TW to put like, in the general blog. If it is one, I'll put it on the specific post.

I get obsessed over a specific series, anime or book and I stick with it for months. In that time, I can't watch any other series or anime that isn't the one that I'm obsessed with at the moment. Right now I'm on my JJBA obsession.

Also, I've just watched the anime parts. I would start reading the manga, but I'm waiting for the Stone Ocean anime release. I don't know if I could wait til then though.

My personality type is INTP in MBTI and 5w4 in Enneagram. I was True Neutral in Alignment but I did the test on January. I have to do the tests again. By the way I know this tests aren't 100% accurate but it's the unstoppable need to try to know myself that keeps me inspiring me to do them on repeat, don't mind me. Annnd because I'm too lazy to read all the personalities one by one.

I don't know if anyone wants my Discord, but here it is anyways:

sakima#2527

I usually forget things a lot so expect a bunch of "I was going to say/complain about something but I forgot what it was".

I had more things to put on here but I forgot so this section will be constantly updated.

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝔂

Again, the unstoppable need to know myself. Here's my kinwheel:

If you don't know how this works, in the centre is my main kin, then medium or highkey kins and lastly, the lowkey ones.

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼

JJBA

Get my blood sucked by DI- Oh no I shouldn't say this publicly sorry

That's it that's the section.

Recommend books and songs thank you

𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻

I think that's it by now. Thank you for doing it this far! Now, can we be mutuals? Or besties maybe? I don't have much to offer, but here is my visual representation:

If you want to know about my JJBA opinions search the tag #jjba 30 day challenge. I left it on day 6 but I'll continue soon. I promise.

Well, now's definitely over. I hope you see me as a cool person because that's my goal in life. Also, I'm praying for this shit to work well on my blog, this ain't Amino.

Have a nice stay! Thank you for making it this far. And remember: you're cool, you're loved and you matter. Take care of yourself please. See ya.

Kat out ;)

PS: If you read this, you have to follow me, I don't make the rules /j

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

Ah yes, the time has come.

It's time to get your pen and paper because class is in session!

There's plenty of things I could talk about and I pretty much covered the basics down below, but I'm more than willing to help y'all out with anything specific!

I have to preface that I'm not an English major by any means nor do I have any experience writing professionally, the things listed below are purely based on my opinions and submissions I have received.

Writing is forever a learning process, there really isn't a right way of writing but there are definitely some things that will hinder your readers. Here is a list that I compiled both with my own experiences as well as some user submitted issues when it comes to reading works:

•Big blocks of text

° Typos/wrong word usage

•Using the same words

°Too spaced out/not indented where needed

• Dialogue runs into normal sentences

° Speakers/POVs change without notice

• Inconsistencies, either in general or story inconsistencies

°Lack of description/Too much description

• Bland/Artificial actions/dialogue

° Misuse of punctuation/lack thereof

• Capitalization errors

° Long winded sentences

• Using italics for actions

° Confusing formating

• Changing in Tenses

° Using wrong tags/falsely advertising (ex. Reader x Blank should have Y/N, not an OC/Authors name)

• Author notes/comics/pictures in middle of fic

° "~This is a transition~"

• Forcing a character to be OOC for sake of story

° Filler characters

• Not sticking to a specific genre/jumpy moods

Now don't be intimidated by this list! Some of these are pretty self explanatory so I won't go into a few of them. There are plenty of ways to avoid these and in some cases it is perfectly fine to use any of the above. 

Let's start off with the basics!

Sentence structure is the backbone of writing, but it's a very flexible rule. Obviously you have your subject, verb, object and whatnot, but the true art lies in word choice and length.

When it comes to sentences, size does matter. If your sentences are too short they will seem choppy and unfinished, whereas if they are long they will seem winded and unnatural. The biggest tool you can use to find out if a sentence is too short/long is by reading it aloud! If you run out of breath it's too long but if you finish abruptly it's too short.

Word choice is my favorite weapon to work with, I could describe a blue jay as a normal bird or as a mythical animal just by picking the right words!

"The blue jay flew across the field while it sang it's melody."

Or

"A creature with wings made of clouds swooped across the field whilst roaring out a devilish tune."

Word choice can easily convey tone/feeling so it's definitely an important element to writing! If you ever have trouble finding that perfect word try googling for synonyms! Also this website might help you find that one word that you just can't think of!

Grammar is also a very important part of writing. Using the right words and punctuation can be difficult sometimes but there are some easy fixes!

Spelling is an easy fix, if you forgot/don't know how to spell a word consulting a dictionary or Google is a surefire way of solving your problem. You can even find synonyms if you feel like you've used a word too much. 

Punctuation on the other can be a big more difficult, however. 

Here's a couple of sentences that helped me learn basic punctuation:

A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink then leaves. Commas are a means of sewing two sentences together to form a compound sentence. These are mainly used to list out things and to add fluidity to your works so they don't sound as choppy.

A question mark walks into a bar? Question marks are pretty self explanatory. They either raise a question or form uncertainty.

Two quotation marks "walk" into a bar. Quotations are used for both dialogue and metaphors. I personally love using them for sarcasm!

A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to drink. This one is a tougher one that I personally never learned from any of my classes. A gerund is basically a word that can act as a verb or a noun which would be "drinking". An infinitive is the base of a verb, in this case it's "drink".

The bar was walked into by a passive voice. A passive voice is when you emphasize the action and object of a sentence rather than the subject. You can find that a passive voice tends to use past tense where as an active voice uses present/future tense.

Three intransitives walk into a bar. They sit. They drink. They leave. An intransitive verb is an action verb, expressing a doable activity like arrive, go, lie, sneeze, sit, die, etc.

Some other things that I commonly see are the wrong usages of words. For example:

They: a group of individuals/pronoun "Yeah, they said he'd be here thirty minutes ago."

Their: a possessive pronoun "Leave their stuff alone!'

There: location "What's that over there?"

Then: event/action "Val went to the mall then skittered to the park."

Your: possessive "Your self esteem is lower than the Mariana's Trench!"

You're: a conjunctive "you are"

Affect: caused by actions "The fallen french fry really affected Val's mood."

Effect: caused by events "Climate change has a negative effect on my Cheerios."

Peaked: a summit "Val has peaked at 10:19pm"

Piqued: stimulate interest/curiosity "You have piqued Val's interest by mentioning food."

Do time: "Val is fixin' to do time if she keeps slacking."

Due time: "Val will come with hydration in due time."

Per say: not a thing

Per se: by/in itself "She didn't write this late at night, per se…"

There are different tools you can use to spice up your writings, from metaphors to innuendos, all the way to zeugmas! Let's go over the basic definitions of these bad boys.

Metaphor: a figure of speech that is not literally applicable. "The darkness surrounded us like a shroud." Obviously the darkness can't physically shroud anyone.

Innuendo: a sentence with a hidden meaning "Is that a gator in your pants or are you just happy to see me~" 

Zeugma: a sentence containing words that can be used literally and figuratively, like a love child of the two above. "Val and her coupon expired last week." This implies that not only did my Colgate coupon expire, but I died as well.

Paragraphs are a necessity when it comes to writing. Big blocks of text are an eyestrain to readers and it's easy to lose your place, even if it's only 150 words. It's always best to use Tab or at least 5 spaces when indenting. A paragraph should only be 5-7 sentences long, this is so it's not just multiple blocks of text

When to add a new paragraph:

° A new person comes in

• New idea/context

° Setting changes

• New person is speaking

° Time changes

• The "camera" moves

° Tone shifts

• 5-7 sentences has been reached

Paragraphs help you organize your work in a way and they make it easier for your readers' eyes!

POVs are also very important. First person and third person are by far the most common ones so I'll only touch on these two. It's very important to write a story in one strict POV as to not confuse the readers. You can however jump perspectives like Heroes of Olmpyus by Rick Rodian, as long as the ready can easily tell who is telling the story.

First person is a story that is told from first-hand experience. It's the same as if I told y'all the story on how I almost chopped off my thumb in woodshop class back in middle school. First person tends to use a lot of I's and my's

Third person is a story that is told from a narrators' point of view. Such as "Once upon a time" type of stories. I's and my's should only be used in dialogue

Dialogue is probably one of the most important features of any fic/story. Dialogue can push plots forward as well as add life to a character. Here's a simple exchanged:

"Hiya 'Splodey," Val chirped.

Katuski smirked, "M'dumbass."

Dialogue should always come with a pair of quotation marks. Commas and periods generally go inside the quotation marks whereas dashes, colons, and semicolons almost always go outside the quotation marks. Question marks and exclamation marks however can go either inside or outside, it goes by a case by case basis. Always indent whenever a different speaker is talking, running quotes into each other is a no-go because it causes confusion and eyestrain.

You have to be wary of using simple dialogue exchanges though, if they seem off try saying them out loud! Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write because you can weave personality into them, not to mention you can always hear people talking to get a better idea on how to write dialogue.

For example, I have a southern dialect, meaning I sound different than someone from the north! I use words like "y'all", "fixin'", "finna", "ain't" and have a different vocabulary than that of my northern friends. This means that the characters you're portraying should have their own way of speaking! This will not only add flavor to your dialogue but it also adds to their personalities/backgrounds.

Describing things can be just as valuable as dialogue, but it is a bit more complex. Sure we've all heard of the "show, don't tell" rule. Which is a good rule to follow, however too much showing is just as bad as telling. Again, reading out your work is a great way to tell if you're focusing too much on one thing. Another thing to keep in mind is importance, such as do we really need to know that the grass outside was bluegrass? Which in certain situations it would be! For example:

The grass around the disheveled house was brown and straw-like, with the exception of a ring of grass. Bluegrass. Which wasn't even native to this location.

This paints a pretty good spooky picture in the readers' mind and even adds the element suspense by the implied uncertainty.

I've only covered a small portion of writing so if y'all have any questions or need any help feel free to slide into my DMs or send in an ask! I love getting questions about writing and I'm always willing to help a fellow writer!

[terrablaze514]

Dear BP Fans, what category of fics do y'all want, though? What genres? I ((anxious as buck these days)) needs to make sure 'cause there's more attention for the other two. The Great Gorilla gets some love. Some. So I've made the assumption, time and time again, that I'm not meant to write him 'cause exploring his character was a failure. Failures don't sit well with me. Apologies in advance if that was ever the case; I have a growing number of WIPs with him in it, starring role or otherwise. Why? Because in my brain, there's no complete BP story without M'Baku's presence. Ironic, right? I'm glad there's a lot of M'Baku fans, though. It's just... He ain't getting enough love and deserves the right representation. I've seen y'all. Never stopped reblogging y'all doing him justice with your stories and imagines. At times, never stopped reading. Never stopped tagging as "Fic Recs" 'cause those stories deserve to be seen. Even his fanarts are impressive (until the stinking purge - good thing Pillowfort hosts them).

But sometimes I feel like I'm doing it all wrong, so... I will pursue @muse-of-mbaku 's playlist/soundtrack challenge when the time comes. Now Playing "The Rain" by Kelly Price - Before I start writing anything new with M'Baku in the forefront, I know comedy ain't lit in today's Era. I know [Black] family themes are a rarity. Friendship - that's for kids! Should I bring M'Baku to school? (for the past year IRL, most of my kids, regardless of where they're from LOVE THE JABARI TRIBE, they've always INSPIRED IDEAS - even wanted him to be my #1 hubby and their school principal), but...

I need to know what the fandom wants to see more of, because those kids don't use this site. In my experience writing fanfics or headcanons/imagines of the sort, the amount of love a piece of work gets depends on what the crowd wants to see. It also depends on whether or not the crowd is rooting for you. I root for all of y'all (even those I barely talk to) because it's nice to finally connect again (before MSN Groups shutdown). Unfortunately, these last few months (especially this one) has been tricky and triggering and... It's so easy to get hate followings for producing something unique or fly, whatever that may be. Even when it has nothing to do with fandom.

If I should show y'all my AO3 Statistics in the Black Panther (2018) category, it'll make perfect sense why it's so hard to continue bother. FFN is even worse, yet it's okay to portray him in a negative light (let's not get into that - I am not a member of that crowd). I've slipped him in a couple of times because I can't resist his intricate style, his warrior spirit and warmth that blows our backs out. I know the movie fandom is still young (two years now), but I'm not lying when I say that M'Baku gets little to no love. My green zoned side is up for the challenge, but my anxious side needs to know WHAT THE CROWD WANTS, the same way China decides what's hot (and what's not) from Hollywood in order to get new material promoted.

What's not to love about this dude? And I'm not lying when I said my kids in the past love him and his tribe (down to their very ideas). Where's the lie?

Dave Chappelle's "Sticks and Stones" ain't rescued every adult yet. In other words, writing isn't as enjoyable like it used to be. This is even harder when exploring certain characters; forms of expression are a no no and the audience doesn't want it. I appreciate the love T'Challa and Erik get when I write them, but M'Baku deserves the accolades too. Only a small crowd of y'all enjoy him. Just needed to be honest (honesty is the best policy, or did that change? Where's the Dave Chappelle GIF?). It's concerning and I'm going back to bed after losing a Sims game.

Thanks for bringing this to light, OP... Apologies in advance for going way in. I have a terrible habit of that.

M’Baku needs more love

I know we mostly write about Erik and T’Challa, but I need to dedicate a significant portion of my time to appreciating the glory that is M’Baku.

BITCH!

Like… LOOK AT THIS HUNK OF A MAN.

That strong jaw line?

That line up?

That quick wit?

Lips that could cover like half your face?!

Those thick ass arms.

THAT TREE TRUNK OF A DICK. STRAIGHT UP JABARI WOOD

A man who could fuck you into oblivion and then carry you around with ONE hand when your legs just straight up don’t work anymore?

AND DEDICATION TO FAMILY?!

I don’t think y’all appreciate his dedication to his children enough, cause you know that dick is blowing through your birth control no matter what. You’re having his babies no matter what you do.

 SIGN ME THE FUCK UP.