#this is none of the things i'm supposed to be doing

[corkinavoid]

From the passenger seat of the car, Bruce watches Vladimir Masters press the 'end call' button without so much as a change to his expression. He contemplates letting the matter rest - this is none of Brucie Wayne business, really - but he can't. Public persona be damned.

"Do you get a lot of prank calls like this?" He still threads carefully, though. Needless to say, in Gotham, one can never be sure if it's a prank or not, so that is going to be his next question.

However, Vladimir just waves him off.

"No, this is the second or third time," he answers, and then snorts a short, slightly condescending laugh, "Besides, I'm afraid this was not a prank."

...That was supposed to be Bruce's line. He takes in a breath.

"So, your son-"

"Will be perfectly fine, if late for dinner," finishes the man for him, a bit irritated. But then, he blinks, and his face twists in sudden understanding as he briefly glances at Bruce, "Are you worried?"

"I-" He starts but cuts himself off, making his best 'I am naive but I care a lot' expression, "I imagine I'd have quite a fright if it was one of my boys." That's polite enough, isn't it?

Masters hums thoughtfully, not taking his eyes off the road, and then reaches towards his phone again, turning it on.

"Call Daniel," he commands, and a few dial tones later, someone picks up.

"Not a good time, Vlad," the voice sounds annoyed, but definitely belonging to a teenager. It's a bit staticky, though, must be something wrong with reception.

"Our dinner host is concerned for your well-being, little badger, be nice," the man chastises with a quirk of his lips, and the kid - his son, presumably, groans. "You're on speaker."

There's a dull thump on the other end of the line, then a distant whimper and some clattering.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne, I'll be on time," Daniel reassures with a slightly fake cheer, "I've heard good things about your- Yeah, okay, you can try, but it won't work," he suddenly deadpans, his words followed by a few gunshot sounds and then a scream. Not Daniel's scream, however, it sounds further away and lower. "See?" The kid asks, unperturbed, "Amateurs, honestly, these are not even silver. Where was I? Oh, right, your son spoke highly of your butler's cooking skills, I wouldn't miss that."

The unfazed, flippant maner of his speech, together with the background noises, reminds Bruce too much of his own kids. No wonder why they became friends with Daniel.

"That's good to hear," he offers, smiling and making an effort to sound relieved and not alarmed, "I'll be seeing you soon, then. Take care."

"Sure will, thanks!" Daniel responds, and Bruce can pretty much hear him grinning, "I gotta take care of something else first, though, sorry. Vlad, do you mind hanging up? My hands are full."

Masters rolls his eyes as he stops at the red light. "Use more of them," he advises offhandedly, and then narrows his eyes all of a sudden, "You haven't ruined your shirt yet, have you?"

"...Uh," comes a hesitant, sheepish reply, and then there's shuffling, and the call is ended from Daniel's side.

The light turns green. Vladimir sighs.

"Seems like I made a good call when I brought a spare outfit."

Bruce considers asking how often things like this happen if the man even thought to do such a thing. Yet, instead of that, he simply smiles, "If you hadn't, I'm sure one of my sons wouldn't have minded sharing. They do that quite often."

Vladimir Masters curtly laughs at that.

Bruce feels like this friendship is going to be a lot more exciting than expected.

"We have your son."

"My condolences. Please try to die quickly, his dinner's almost ready."

[gold-onthe-inside]

asylum

n. def. the protection granted by a state to someone who has left their home country as a political refugee

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: a few months into dating spencer, you become peeved by penelope's boyfriend's constant presence at the apartment, and spencer offers a quick and easy solution. content warnings: none word count: 0.9k a/n: this was a quick little 1am fic, please enjoy

You liked your dates with Spencer, quiet little affairs, huddled in the corner of a cafe as you both swapped stories from work. You’d do your best to make your work sound more interesting than it was, and he’d do his best to limit the gore you were exposed to.

Finding quaint bookstores and hunting rare books, or buying secondhand books for the other to read. You’d always fancied more contemporary books, he liked the older classics, so trading meant expanding horizons. He had been horrified at your habit of annotating books for about five minutes, then telling you all about how Mark Twain used to do the same thing, writing in the margins of his books.

Going to foreign film festivals, Spencer whisper-translating the trickier dialogues for you, his hand laced in yours, smiling to himself when you’d nestle your head against his shoulder. This was the new normal. You were his girlfriend. He was your boyfriend.

After an awful week trying to catch a sadistic killer, Spencer was eager to spend Saturday curled up on the couch. He changed into his ‘old-man pyjamas’ as you liked to tease him, half-asleep on the couch with one of your novels propped up on his lap, when he heard you come through the front door using his spare key.

"I've gotta move out," you complained, dropping your bag on his coat stand and toeing off your sneakers before walking over to the couch. "I mean, seriously, Penelope's been bringing Kevin to the apartment almost every day, it's so weird," you said, flopping onto one end of the couch as he sat up.

“Tell me they’re not being loud,” Spencer said, grimacing a little.

"I don't want to find out," you groaned, collapsing onto his shoulder. "I really didn't think Kevin would be such a permanent fixture." It had been two weeks into dating that Spencer had found out about your distaste for Penelope’s boyfriend — knowing your best friend and roommate deserved better than some unkempt, disheveled, unhygienic (and to you, very unattractive) analyst.

"He's not that bad, is he?" Spencer asked, gently maneuvering himself to pull you onto his lap, and you let him, more than okay with physical intimacy.

“I mean, he makes her happy, I guess,” you said, pursing your lips as Spencer’s hand trailed over your arm. “And he can keep up with her intellectually, but… I dunno, I just feel like she’s settling for him.”

Spencer’s hand drifted down your side, absentmindedly rubbing your hip. “Settle is a strong word, don’t you think? I mean, she obviously loves him.”

You chewed your bottom lip. "I suppose," you agreed, reluctantly. "Either way, being around him is just... uncomfortable. And Penelope keeps telling me it's fine if I stay, but like... I don't wanna walk into the living room and see them making out... or worse." You shivered slightly at the thought of it.

Spencer chuckled, and his hand wandered back up to your midsection, massaging lightly. "Well, you are more than welcome to stay here," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "I have plenty of room."

You peered at him. "Just so I'm clear... Are you asking me to move in?"

There was only the slightest hesitancy in Spencer's voice when he finally responded. "If you wanted to. No pressure or anything, of course. But, yeah, I thought it might be nice. Living here, I mean."

You wet your lips, thinking about it. "Are you sure? I mean... we've only been dating a few months."

"What, you get sick of me already?," he asked, feigning hurt. This was a big deal that he was offering, and he desperately wanted you to say yes, but he wouldn't push the subject if you resisted. He was terrified of moving too fast.

"No! No, of course not, it's just... It's a big step, I don't want to rush into it," you said quickly. "Have you thought about it?"

Spencer smiled at your immediate denial. You didn’t have to reassure him so vehemently, but it was always nice to hear it nonetheless. He relaxed into the couch cushions a bit more, his hand moving over to play with your hair. "I have," he admitted. "I'm not necessarily in a rush, either, I just figured... it was an option."

You hummed, thinking about it. You did like the vibe of his apartment, and it was a lot closer to the station than Penelope’s place, and you always ended dates wishing you had more time with him. And you liked the mundanity of your dates, even the simplicity of lacing your hand through his while you both traipsed around Quantico’s greenery on a lunch break. The potential of moving in flashes before you — lazy Saturday mornings, breakfasts together, going to the farmer’s market on Sundays, sleeping with him more often than you did now.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking at him with a soft smile. “I wanna move in with you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Spencer realized that you had said yes, and his shoulders slumped with relief, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You're sure?" His voice was hopeful.

"Positive," you murmured, kissing him gently. Spencer returned the gesture with fervor, pulling your body a little more on top of his, his hands moving from your sides to rest on your waist. He pulled away, breathless, and leaned his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.

"I'm moving in," you repeated, breathlessly.

"You’re moving in," Spencer agreed, his eyes bright and excited.

[tricksh0t]

★ need a ride

☾ aegon targaryen x dom m reader

𝘱𝘳𝘦-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ truthfully this should've been ready like two weeks ago but i put off doing the finishing details (exposition and conclusion) bc i've been busy (tests n stuff!!)

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.28k

cw: thigh riding, comparisons to a dog, humping, finishing untouched, clothed s*x, unspecified but mentioned age gap, light praise kink, sweet thing as a nickname

It's a usual day in the Red Keep. You can only tell that today's King's Landing afternoon is humid and sunny because it streams through the windows. You are kept inside, hidden away, by the Dowager Queen's idle duties after your refusal of the position of Hand and her former sworn protector's ascension.

That is, until the King summoned you.

"Need me to take care of you again?" Aegon replied with a small nod. He's ashamed of that. You shake your head, "No, it's alright."

You settle onto one of his couches comfortably. Any servant would say you are behaving in a way unbecoming of a royal servant, a King's Guard. Neither of you care. "Come here, Your Grace."

Aegon takes his usual spot upon your lap. He doesn't even need any instructing for it.

You'd call your lap a second throne, if it weren't for the fact it was not glorious, not in his eyes. You're his respite, someone to fall back to time and time again, but he can never forget what it is that brings him to you. He can never forget how dependent he is on this.

And, despite all that shame, he always keeps crawling back with every slight inconvenience.

"They're not listening to me, Ser. Not my mother, not my brother, not my Hand. Not my Masters." Aegon huffs, trying to keep his emotions down. It's a valiant effort, for the man you know that he is. "It's so frustrating, Ser."

"You know you don't have to call me Ser." You say, already holding the back of his head and tilting his head up towards you.

"Yes, but..." It almost looks like he's pouting. You're trying to change the subject, he knows. "well, it feels wrong, you know."

Of all the manners lost on him, you're surprised this is what sticks. You suppose it's the fact you've been a knight well before he'd been born. You've always been "Ser".

"A-And you don't have to call me Your Grace." He stuttered. Was it exhaustion? No, he was nervous to say that.

"I should refer to the King with utmost respect." You say, proudly, and that makes Aegon scoff.

"You don't really mean that. I'm a shadow compared to you!" His eyes stray from yours.

You, of many feats. You, of many stories. Yes, you know he respects you, you know he admires you, but you have to make sure that crown doesn't fall from his pretty little head.

"You cast the shadows upon Westeros." You say, gripping his jaw so that he looks at you, correctly. "You, Aegon Targaryen, are the King. Not me, not your mother, not your brother."

You can see that your words are of little effect. You sigh, lifting one of his legs to make him straddle one of your thighs.

The usual position has his cock rising in his pants already.

"Go on." You coo, cupping his cheek. "Take what you need."

It's an art, almost, being able to cum just by grinding down against your thigh, clothed even. It's another art to be the one to arouse him enough for such a thing. With anyone else you'd imagine there is a little shame to this, but Aegon humps your leg like it's the best prize in the world.

What a selfless little dog, he is.

He tries to hide his face into your neck, but you won't have it. You tug his hair to stop him, causing a wince to fall on heedful ears.

"Ah ah," You tut disappointedly. "I'm sorry, my King, but I'll have none of that. Let me see you."

"Y-Yes, Ser." Aegon says shakily.

"There you are, sweet thing." You cup his cheeks, brushing your thumbs over his eyelids to make sure he knows that you do not need him to see you, that he can do anything he wants so long as he sits pretty.

The little gesture makes his cock twitch in his pants, against your thigh. Or maybe it isn't the gesture?

"Good. You're doing good."

Aegon whimpers. His teeth clamp down onto his lip soon after, to quiet himself.

He can't see the amused look on your face, with his eyes closed. He can't even hear it in your tone, mind numbed as it is. You sneak a thumb under his teeth and pry his mouth open. "Don't hurt yourself, my King."

He shakes his head. No, he'll continue biting down, hurting himself. Or..?

"No, not my King?"

Aegon's lips close around your thumb. He suckles lightly, as if in affirmation. No, probably not in affirmation, just sheer instinct and comfort. Maybe you just know how to read him.

"You'll make yourself bleed one day, sweet thing."

That gets a reaction out of him. So it's the nickname, or maybe it's how caring you sound, or maybe it's both.

Whatever it is, Aegon's hips do not stall. He has humped himself dumb on your thighs in much worse cases of exhaustion and fatigue. Tonight, he will do just fine.

Aegon has felt dragonfire before—well, at least near him; close enough to boast at taverns. Though he has never been burned, he knows the feeling of heat upon his skin.

It is not the same as heat in your muscles, not the same as the heat in his thighs begging him for a break.

He'll endure, though, wrap his arms around your neck to stabilize himself and keep going. Not because of the pleasure, no, though it numbs all rationality, but it is because that is what a King should do: endure, because he must.

"There you go."

Aegon's mouth falls open, and though it is a loss to not pacify himself with your thumb, he can't help the moans that befall him.

"Thank you."

He's all but humping your thigh. Selfish in the way he's using your body for it, selfless in the way he does not ask for more.

He's good for you, Aegon the Magnanimous.

Head tilted down, his neck gone slack, Aegon finds himself further undone the closer he gets to release. His hands don't lock together behind your head anymore. Instead, they find themselves upon your shoulders, which he grips tight to push himself closer.

The friction of his cock against each layer of clothing is like dragonfire too. It makes his cock, hard all swollen, he can feel it, burn with rough friction, but he can't get enough, anyway. In contrast, your armor is clean and smooth, befitting of your white cloak yet also making it easier to hump against. He yearns to spoil it, one day.

It burns so bad, but it also burns so good.

Aegon is so so close.

"Please what, lovely?"

Had he said something?

"Please." His lips follow along like they know what to say better than his mind does. "Please, I wanna finish." He blabbles on.

You're amused, if anything, that he thinks he needs permission. "Go on, you've been so good. You deserve it."

The praise, the permission–he is borne of ash and fire, but his nails do not dent your armor as they dig into your shoulderplates, nor do his thighs squeeze like a vice around yours, nor are his teeth upon your flesh.

He's a soft thing, a good thing. You wonder, when the Gods flipped his coin, which side he landed on.

Aegon moans one final, strong time, hips jerking then halting abruptly, then stuttering. He pants, regains his breath, your sweet thing to dote on.

"There. Feels good, sweet thing?"

He'd just finished in his pants, like dirty dog, humped you to release, like a dirty dog; but all he can think to do is collapse in your arms. "Yes."

𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ anyone notice aemond's is "need a ride?" and aegon's is "need a ride" ? i think im so clever

[ingravinoveritas]

oh my god that camera cut to gt in the opening was brutal 😭

It was pretty rough, I agree with you, Anon. But I don't think it was rough for the most immediately apparent reason.

As we know, Georgia was doing a bit, a continuation of the opening sketch that started in the dressing room with her saying "I'm just here for the goodie bag." The camera cut was then supposed to be Georgia in the audience looking through the goodie bag, but it just didn't translate, for a number of reasons. One of the biggest ones is that it didn't come across as a "bit" because Georgia seemed like she was being herself. So if she's being "so real," right away that's going to make it that much harder for it to read as a joke or bit.

The second problem was with the visuals. The goodie bag was black, Georgia was wearing a black dress (which meant that almost all of the light in the shot was on her face), and it was dark in the audience, so from a purely visual standpoint, you couldn't see what she was holding and it looked like she was caught in the middle of going through her purse. Had she held up something from the bag and pointed to it with an exaggerated/sarcastic expression of delight, that would have been funny, and would've both shown that it was the goodie bag and that she was doing a bit, because she'd be reacting in such a different way than she normally does.

Obviously, humor is subjective, and what one person thinks is funny might not be something that something else thinks is funny. But one thing that keeps getting said is how British humor is so dry/people who aren't from the UK don't get it, and so on. There is, however, a distinct difference between dry humor and something just not being funny.

In the clips of the opening that were put out by the official BAFTA social media and the BBC, the entire segment in the dressing room is cut out, and the clip starts with David singing and walking into the auditorium. So that brings us to the third problem, which is the removal of context. Again, we know that it's a bit, but without that scene in the dressing room, the only thing the casual viewer is left with is David shouting "Lucky Georgia!" and a camera cut to her looking annoyed/unhappy and seemingly no one in the audience laughing or knowing what was going on. And I know people will say "It's a bit, people just don't get that it's a bit" but the thing is, if you have to keep explaining a joke over and over again, it's just not funny.

To be clear, I don't fault Georgia for this entirely, because whoever structured the skit (as there was undoubtedly a creative team at the BAFTAs working on the opening sketch) clearly did not think it through. Nor did the editors who put together the clip for social media, or consider what the optics would be of cutting to Georgia at that moment following that specific line of the song.

None of this is even touching on the dressing room segment itself, or how flat it was in terms of writing/energy level. But what it ultimately comes down to is that when you only have a few seconds on camera, you need to make the most of it. Especially if you don't have any lines and are trying to sell a comedic reaction.

So this just felt like a lot of missed opportunities more than anything else, and if the goal was for this year's BAFTA opening sketch to have the same rewatchability factor as last year's, it definitely fell short...

[heart-of-ep]

Elvis: Through Her Lens (Chapter Three)

(Elvis Presley × OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley

Read More Here: Elvis: Through Her Lens (coming soon)

Prompt: You are Minnie Jones, an aspiring photographer working for the LA Sentinel. Your chief editor is looking for a story that will help boost the popularity of the paper, so an opportunity comes knocking when Colonel Tom Parker approaches him with a new 'snowjob.' After a tentative first meeting with the Colonel, and his star Elvis Presley, you are hired on to follow Elvis around as his personal photographer in an attempt to catch lightening in a bottle twice with the earlier success of the Alfred Wertheimer photos. Along the way, you develop a close bond with Elvis, leading to complications in your relationship when the issues of his marriage and eventual drug usage start to put a strain on your relationship. Constantly fighting your ever-growing feelings for him, you are swept up into the whirlwind of Elvis' world which forces you to see the King of Rock 'n' Roll through a new lens.

Tags: Slow burn. Angst. Drama. Friends to lovers (sort of).

TW: None. Cussing?

Rating: PG-13 (ish) (may get spicy but won't be explicit as I don't enjoy writing smut lol but cursing, possible violence, and infidelity will appear throughout the story)

Word Count: 5.6k

Author's Note: Alright yall, things are starting to kick off with this chapter, and I'm very excited about it. It's quite a bit longer than the previous two chapters so I hope you enjoy!

I have to say, I had a blast researching the Houston Astrodome cause 1970 is a major hyperfixation for me, and I actually learned a lot while looking up all the info for this chapter (and the next 👀) so I'm just gonna be living vicariously through Minnie. 🤭

I apologize in advance for the slow burn nature of this fic, but I promise things will get spicy/angsty soon! ♡

Elvis at the Houston Airport for a press conference on February 25th, 1970.

After reviewing the contract with you, and making sure you were absolutely sure that you still wanted to do it, Pierce had you sign it, hesitating to sign it himself. He was more than a little skeptical of Colonel Tom Parker, which you couldn’t necessarily blame him for. You did your best to reassure him once the two of you left the Hillcrest home.

“Don’t worry, Pierce. The Colonel might be a bit…strange, but Elvis seems interested in the project.” You told him as he drove you back to the office to collect your camera and film before heading home to pack.

“I just can’t put my finger on it, Minn. He just rubs me the wrong way.” Pierce frowned before sighing. “But I suppose Elvis seems nice enough. Though, I wouldn’t fall for his charm. He’s had a fair few scandals involving women he works with.” He pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not worried about Elvis Presley seducing me. For one, he’s married.” You reminded him.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s stopped people in the past.” He said sarcastically.

“Pierce, I’ll be fine. I’ve been around my fair share of charming men, it doesn’t mean I’ll fall for it.” You said, though you secretly knew that Elvis was very different from any other man you’d ever met.

Different and very beautiful.

You shoved the intrusive thought from your mind, refusing to let yourself get hung up on how good looking he was. You weren’t about to be one of many other women who fell for the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. After all, you were there to do a job, and you weren’t going to get distracted along the way.

Once you collected your things from the office, you quickly drove back to your apartment to get your clothes packed. Elvis would be in Houston for at least a week for the Astrodome shows and any of its corresponding press conferences, so you needed to figure out everything to take. And you weren’t familiar with Houston weather which presented a problem of its own. After a while of debating what to bring, you decided to call up your girlfriend, Vivien to get her advice, and quite frankly you just needed someone to talk to about all of this.

“Elvis Presley?!” Vivien practically squealed, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Yes, Elvis Presley.” You said, rolling your eyes as you lifted your suitcase up onto your bed.

“Wait, hold on, Minn. You can’t be serious. I mean, you’re kidding, right?” She asked, sounding skeptical now instead of excited.

You frowned a bit. “Why would I be lying, Viv? Look, it's not a big deal.” You paused for a moment. “Well, it is sort of a big deal, but it’s just a job. A very exciting job, but a job nonetheless.” You explained.

“Just a job? Minn, are you sure you’re not high right now?”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes again. “I know it’s a lot, and I am excited, but I have to keep a leveled head about all of this. I don’t think Elvis wants another screaming girl bothering him.” You pointed out.

“Hm…I suppose you’re right, but this is still a huge deal! God, do you know how much I’ve dreamed about meeting Elvis?” She groaned. “Tell me, does he look just as good in person?” She asked curiously.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to those beautiful blue eyes of his, his soft pouty lips, and that full spirited laugh that made you feel warm inside…you quickly snapped out of your daze before the thought could go any further. “I uh…I didn’t really notice.” You mumbled.

“Sure you didn’t.” You could just hear the smile on her lips.

You sighed. “Can we focus? I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear. Business or casual?”

“Well, you’re not exactly going into the office.” She pointed out. “Besides, you’ll be traveling with Elvis Presley. You have to pack in style.”

You wanted to tell her that it was silly to dress to specifically impress Elvis, but you figured everyone in his company (especially the women) dressed to fit in with his style. You recalled seeing a few photos of Elvis with Priscilla in the paper and remembered how pretty and stylish she looked. But you quickly reminded yourself that you were working as his photographer, nothing else.

“So when are you leaving?” Vivien asked as you pulled out a coat from your closet, the only coat you owned, and folded it up neatly into your suitcase.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed. “Pierce is losing his shit, you know. He thinks this whole thing is going to end up exploding in our face because of that manager, Colonel Parker.” You shook your head as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Pierce always has a stick up his ass.” She reminded you. “Besides, you’ve done celebrity pieces before this. I can’t imagine this will be any different. That is unless you plan on sleeping with him.”

“Viv!” You shot back before shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that telling you about all of this was a bad idea.” You muttered.

“Oh, trust me it wasn’t a bad idea. And you’re going to keep me updated on all of this.” She said as a matter of fact.

You frowned a bit, but realized she was probably right. It’s not like you could talk to Pierce about any of it. You glanced at the clock, sighing when you noticed how late it was already. “Thanks, Viv. I’ll call you once I get settled in at the hotel.”

“Just try and have fun, Minn. I know it’s your job, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

You nodded a bit and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll try. I’ll talk to you later.” You said before hanging up the phone. You sighed and looked over at your suitcase before pushing yourself to finish packing the rest of your clothes, placing your extra packs of film on top.

You had no idea what to expect when you showed up at the airport tomorrow, but you knew it would be the beginning of something new and exciting.

~*~*~

When you showed up at LAX in the morning, after Pierce picked you up from your apartment, you could hardly contain your excitement. “Just think about it, Pierce. We’re going to have photos that no other paper in the world will have. The LA Sentinel will practically fly off the shelves.” You grinned.

“It better, or there won’t be an LA Sentinel.” Pierce muttered. “Just keep your head on straight. And don’t let this Presley fellow distract you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Pierce, you act like I’m just going to bend over the moment I see him.” You shot back. “Elvis Presley might be the world’s biggest flirt, but all I care about is getting the perfect picture.”

“I suppose. I guess if any woman can reject his advances it would be you.” He smirked a bit.

You slapped his arm playfully, smiling again as he parked the car on the private hanger that the Colonel had directed you to meet them at. You were surprised to find out that Elvis didn’t have a private jet, even Frank SInatra had that, but that didn’t stop him from being able to borrow one to fly him and his whole crew to whatever city he needed them in. You looked up at the jet as you stepped out of the car, ignoring the general nerves that attacked you every time you had to fly somewhere, and instead focused on the excitement of the whole situation.

You immediately noticed a couple cars already parked and waiting around the jet, a handful of men that you assumed worked for Elvis standing around waiting for him to arrive while someone loaded the luggage onto the plane. Pierce pulled your suitcase out of the trunk and walked with you over to the group, his gaze immediately searching for any sign of Elvis or the Colonel.

“I don’t think it would be such a bad thing if that Colonel got left behind.” Pierce muttered, and you jabbed him in the ribs, an amused smile crossing your face. You almost wished he was tagging along so you wouldn’t be going completely solo, but you knew you didn’t have much choice. The chief editor couldn’t exactly leave the office for a week. “Looks like Presley has six shows lined up in Houston, so you’re going to be pretty busy, Minn. Remember, we need to get photos that no one else will have.” He reminded me.

You nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.” You smiled confidently.

He nodded and cracked a small smile. “I know you won’t.” He said before clapping me on the shoulder. “Keep your head on straight. Remember, a reporter trusts no one.” You nodded, though you didn’t exactly take that too close to heart. Unlike an official reporter, a photographer was meant to get close to their subject.

You turned your gaze away from Pierce and surveyed the group of men, immediately recognizing a couple of them from Elvis’ house. Charlie, the shorter fellow, was standing around laughing and talking with the other guys and standing close to one of the Cadillacs was an aging gentleman with grey hair and a small mustache. You didn’t recall seeing him at the house, nor did he seem to fit in with the other guys, which struck you as curious.

You only looked away when you heard a car pulling up behind you, glancing back to see the white Cadillac from yesterday coming to a stop. You immediately felt your heart leap in your chest (for some inexplicable reason) and quickly stood up a bit straighter as you clutched the handle of your suitcase. After a moment, the door to the car opened and first stepped out the Colonel, much to Pierce’s dismay, and then the other door opened and out stepped Elvis, glowing and smiling just as he had the day before.

The first thing you noticed was his attire, as it was incredibly different from what he had on the first time you met him. Unlike before, this outfit was anything but casual, and it much more accurately represented the stylish and over the top nature of Elvis’ more recent wardrobe from the International. He wore an all white, karate gi inspired ensemble, with a bright red ruched shirt underneath and around his neck, much like his stage wear, he wore a printed scarf that hid his exposed chest underneath. A karate style belt hung low around his waist, tied at his hip in a knot, pulling the whole outfit together with the clear inspiration. It was really unlike anything you had seen someone wear before, but you resisted the urge to snap a photo too quickly.

When you looked up at Elvis, you noticed he looked a bit more tired than he had yesterday, dark circles under his eyes and a bit of sweat on his brow. You casted him a concerned look, but he smiled through how unwell he seemed and walked over to where you were standing. “Hey, Minnie Mouse.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hello, Elvis.” You said as you shook his outstretched hand before looking at the Colonel as he hobbled up behind him, one of those comical cigars sticking out of his mouth as he approached Mr Pierce to discuss something with him in private. When you looked back at Elvis, he was still staring at you, sending a shiver running down your back. “Um…I’ve never been to Houston before.” You said in an attempt to break the ice.

“I’ve been all over Texas.” He said as he directed me toward the stairs leading up into the plane where the rest of his group was waiting. “I think you’ll like it.” He reassured me.

You glanced back at Pierce, catching his gaze for a moment before you looked forward and smiled as Elvis began introducing you to the different guys. “This is Minnie Jones. She’s a photographer that’s going to be accompanying us on the trip to Houston.” He explained before gesturing to the men. “You met Charlie already at the house. This is Red and Sonny, they work as my bodyguards. Joe, he’s my road manager. Gee Gee, Jerry, and Cliff, they help keep everything running smoothly. And this is Lamar, he’s my lighting technician and a general pain in my ass.” Elvis said, laughing a bit at his own joke, though Lamar didn’t necessarily seem amused. “And this is my father.” He added as he gestured at the older man you had noticed earlier. Now that they were standing next to each other, they looked very similar.

You awkwardly waved hello, doing your best not to seem completely out of place. “I know all of you are probably used to a bit more privacy, but just pretend I’m not even here. That’s what most politicians do before I snap a real embarrassing photo.” You said jokingly.

Elvis laughed out loud, and soon the guys were laughing too (something you noted as interesting) before he just looked at you and smiled. “She’s funny isn't she? Don’t worry, Minnie Mouse. You’ll fit right in.”

You felt a little more at ease, nodding as you followed Elvis up the steps onto the plane, the guys following behind as they carried yours and the rest of his luggage on board. Elvis moved along to his seat towards the back of the plane, and quickly made sure to keep up, clutching tightly onto the strap of your camera bag.

“Have you flown before, honey?” Elvis suddenly asked as he leaned his hand against the carry-on cubbies overhead, looking down at you curiously.

You nodded a bit and looked away, unable to meet his piercing blue gaze. “A few times, yeah. Though it doesn’t really get any less scary.” You admitted before opening your camera bag. “You don’t mind, do you?” You asked, trying to be courteous regardless of why you were there.

He smirked a bit. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He teased you before he slipped down into his chair, crossing his leg over the other as he looked out the window.

You watched him for a moment as he leaned on his elbow, chewing on his fingernails as his leg bounced up and down in what seemed to be a nervous tick. You checked to make sure there was film in your camera before raising the lens to snap a photo, smiling a bit at just how human he looked. “Does everyone know that the king of rock ‘n’ roll bites his nails?” You asked as you sat down next to him.

He snorted, turning his gaze back toward you. “There’s a lot of things people don’t know about me.” He said vaguely.

You raised an eyebrow at him before sighing. “I bite my nails, too.” You said after a moment. “Bad habit I’ve had since I was a kid.” You shrugged as you showed him your nails.

He viewed your hand, chuckling a bit before he held out his own hand. “I guess we have at least one thing in common, Minnie Mouse.” He smirked a bit.

You smiled, already feeling less nervous. Something about being so close to him just made the unease inside of you disappear. You raised your camera again, snapping another photo of just his hand before you took the opportunity to look at the rings that decorated his fingers. A beautiful golden ring sat over his pinky finger, engraved with an intricate embossing and set with a glimmering black sapphire gem while another gold ring in the shape of a lion head sat next to it on his other finger. Dangling across his wrist hung an ID bracelet (once more in gold) with his name encrusted in diamonds along the band, somehow looking perfectly sensible on him and not at all gaudy.

You looked away when you suddenly felt the plane start to move, your nerves instantly returning as you grabbed hold of the arm rest instinctively. You chewed on your lower lip as you sunk back into your seat, but then you felt something warm settle over your hand. You looked down, swallowing a bit when you saw Elvis’ hand now resting softly over yours, the cold metal of his rings grazing over the top of your fingers.

“It’s okay, honey. As long as I’m here, nothin’ bad will happen.” He said, and from the look in his eyes, you believed him. You believed he could somehow control the weather and ensure a safe flight all the way to Houston. You ignored the flutter in your chest and the way his touch sent electricity running up your arm, and instead just focused on the warmth of his hand as the plane took off, suddenly feeling a lot less terrified.

The rest of the flight ended up being rather uneventful, and once you were up in the air, Elvis had let go of your hand and went to chat with the other guys about the upcoming shows and the press conference planned for later that day. You were glad for the space, unsure of how to feel about the weird feeling he had left you with, and focused on snapping some photos from your seat. It surprised you to see how relaxed he seemed, even with a camera around. You assumed he was probably used to it by now.

When you arrived in Houston, you could practically see the excitement radiating off of Elvis as he found his way back to his seat. “You alright, honey?” He asked as the pilot started to descend for landing.

You nodded, thankful for his presence next to you as you rested your hands on the arm rests. “What about you? This is your first time performing outside of Vegas isn’t it?”

He sighed, glancing out the window at the city below. “Yeah, it is.” He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure what to expect.” He admitted. “What if nobody shows up? Vegas is a helluva lot different.”

“You’re Elvis Presley. People will show up.” You said as a matter of fact. “Besides, I’m pretty excited to see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” You teased him.

He relaxed a little, smiling as he looked at you. “Thank you, Minnie Mouse.” He said before once again holding your hand as the plane hit a few bumps in the air.

Once the plane finally landed, you were happy to have your feet firmly on the ground and breathing some fresh air that didn’t smell of Elvis’ musky cologne, which you definitely didn’t notice while sitting with him. You followed him down onto the tarmac, and from a distance you could see a large group of fans that had already gathered nearby at the small terminal in an attempt to see Elvis up close and personal.

“I thought we were going somewhere, man.” He said with a grin as he waved at them before his bodyguards led him toward the airport terminal with his father, Vernon, and the Colonel following closely behind.

Waiting inside the airport were several reporters and photographers from different news outlets where a press conference was set up. You stood off to the side, watching as Elvis sat down at a table to answer their questions. He did it with ease, and it quickly dawned on you how natural he was at speaking, despite his stutter and the nervous way that he coughed and joked through some of his responses. It was charming and instantly made him feel a lot more personable.

Once he finished, he snapped a few photos with the Mayor who had come to welcome him to Houston before he was whisked off to a car waiting out front to take him to the hotel. The Colonel and Vernon accompanied the two of you with one of the guys driving while the rest took a separate vehicle. On the ride there, you tried not to pay attention to the way the Colonel seemed to be watching you like a hawk, squirming a little in your seat at the heavy air that hung in the car. During the flight you noticed just how little Elvis seemed to talk to his manager. Whenever you overheard a conversation between them, it was always about business, and even now, Elvis made no attempt to start a conversation.

Needless to say, you were thankful when you were finally able to check-in at the hotel, already exhausted from the day of travel. Elvis made sure everyone got a room a floor down from his penthouse suite to make things easier, but when you took your hotel key and started walking toward the elevator, you felt Elvis’ hand around your wrist.

“Wait up, Minnie Mouse.” He directed his smile down at you as he flicked his wrist at Charlie. “Charlie, take her luggage up to her room.” He said, his gaze fixated on you. “It ain’t too late yet. Why don’t you come up to my room?”

You swallowed, the invitation feeling far too intimate, even if you logically knew it didn’t mean anything. For some reason, though, the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your back, his fingers still softly gripping your wrist as he waited for a response.

“Well, honey?” He asked softly.

Damn it, Minn. Just say no.

You stared at him for a long moment. “Sure.” You heard yourself say, barely even recognizing your own voice.

Jesus Christ, this is a huge mistake.

You weren’t entirely sure what had come over you, or why you decided to say yes, but before you could even process what was happening, you were standing in the middle of Elvis’ lavish suite while he sent one of his guys to grab the two of you dinner from downstairs. You didn’t hear what he ordered, but right now you couldn’t exactly focus on anything, least of all food. You folded your arms across your chest, chewing on your nails as you instantly thought of everything that could possibly go wrong.

Calm down. He’s just having dinner with you.

Logic told you that you were probably right, but you weren’t about to forget who it was that had invited you upstairs for dinner. You remembered what Pierce had said about his reputation, causing you to pace a little as you waited near the sofa. He was probably just being courteous, and knowing Elvis, he couldn’t exactly go downstairs and have dinner in public without causing a commotion. But the lack of anyone else being present in his suite made you worry that this was just his way of trying to make a move on you, his marriage be damned.

You glanced across the room, watching as Charlie left the room to go pick up the food before Elvis shut the door behind him. In that moment, you resolved to keep your chin up and not allow his charm to instantly disarm you.

He’s just a man. A very beautiful and charming man, but just a man.

When he turned your way and walked over, his long strides closed the space between you in seconds, leaving you a bit flustered when he suddenly stopped in front of you. “You can sit down if you want, honey.” He said, gesturing to the sofa.

You glanced at the lush piece of furniture and simply shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m still a bit stiff from the flight.” You said as you folded your arms. “What did you order?” You asked after a moment.

He smiled. “Steak. It seems to be the only good thing they’ve got on the menu.” He said before sinking down onto the sofa and crossing his leg over the other. “You seem nervous, honey.” He noted, looking me up and down with one sweep of those brilliant blue eyes.

You frowned a bit. “Well, a married man invited me up to his suite for dinner, alone. Most women might be a bit nervous.” You pointed out.

His expression shifted a little. “Miss Jones…I-I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” He said, suddenly the southern gentleman you had met a couple days prior. “It’s not exactly easy for me to find privacy outside of my room. I just thought this would give us an opportunity to talk a bit more.” He explained.

You felt yourself blush a little out of embarrassment, realizing you had definitely miscalculated his intentions. “Oh…I’m sorry, Elvis. I just thought…” You trailed off, quickly shaking your head before you decided to sit down next to him on the sofa. “I guess I’m not used to men having manners.” You smirked a bit.

He chuckled, glad to see you relax a little. “You’re a smart girl, Minnie Mouse.”

You smiled a little. “You must be excited.” You said, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone seemed pretty amped up at the press conference.”

He nodded. “This is the make or break moment, honey. If these shows fail…” He whistled as he made a downward motion with his hand. “Fourteen years shot to hell.”

You furrowed your brow a bit. “Why do you think they’d fail?” You hadn’t seen Elvis perform live, but you also knew that he was an absolute powerhouse. After all, this man was able to captivate audiences all over America for more than a decade through the silver screen. And the NBC TV Special was a raving success. You remembered Vivien forcing you to sit down and watch it with her when it aired. Needless to say, you couldn’t picture him failing at anything.

You watched his brow furrow a bit, as if he was contemplating what to say. “What if I just can’t bring it in like I used to?” He finally said, shaking his head as his leg started to bounce up and down in that little nervous tick of his. “There’s a lot of folks out there listenin’ to all kinds of music now. What if I just can’t shake it anymore?” He looked at you, surprising you a little with the vulnerability in his eyes.

You bit your lip for a second before sighing as you reached over and touched his hand. “Elvis, I can’t sit here and tell you what will happen, but I do know that you’re one of the most loved and adored stars in the world. I mean, my best friend just about fainted when I told her I was going to be working with you.” You smiled at him. “Trust me, you can still bring it in. Besides, I know I’m pretty excited to see my first Elvis Presley show.”

He seemed to relax a little, a boyish smile crossing his lips. “I’ll make sure I give you one hell of a performance.” He winked.

You laughed a little before looking over your shoulder when you heard a knock at the door followed by Charlie walking in. “That must be the food.”

“Better be a damn good steak. I’m starvin’.” He grinned before getting up and walking over to see the food that had been brought back.

Once we had our food and gotten the chance to eat, the rest of the night went by like a blur. You found yourself talking to him about the most mundane things, whether it be your frustration of being stuck taking photos of politicians, or the fact that living alone in LA definitely wasn’t all it cracked up to be. He listened to everything you had to say, his focus solely on you the entire time. You couldn’t recall ever having a man give you so much attention, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It left you with this strange feeling that you didn’t really want to acknowledge yet.

Elvis also opened up about his life, giving you the background of how he started out in Tupelo and then moved to Memphis as a teen before eventually beginning his rise to fame at Sun Studios. The way he recounted it felt like he was explaining something that had just happened yesterday, and he really seemed proud over his earlier success during the fifties. It was only when he began talking about his movies that his tone soured. He didn’t completely dismiss them, admitting that even his movies had fans, but he knew that he was capable of doing more. He wanted to do more. But he didn’t linger on the topic, deciding once again to speak about something he was proud of as he brought up his success with the NBC TV Special and his debut in Las Vegas.

“I missed the contact with a live audience.” He explained. “The electricity you get from performing in front of an audience…it’s like nothin’ else.” He said as he sat back against the cushions of the sofa.

You smiled as you curled up on the other end of the sofa, folding your knees up against your chest as you watched him. There was a glimmer of excitement that twinkled in his eyes whenever he talked about his music or performing. You could tell he loved it, and you knew he just wanted to give his fans the best that he had. It was so earnest and so real, something you hadn’t really experienced with any other celebrity that you had met.

“Well, I have a feeling you’ll blow their socks off.” You teased him before reaching over and grabbing your camera off the table. You raised the lens, snapping a photo of that little smile on his lips before he made a funny face for the camera and you snapped a photo of that too. “I think that one is worthy of the front page.” You giggled.

“Nah, honey, second page at best.” He smirked, but the smile slowly fell from his lips and he regarded you with a long look that took you off guard. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You bit your lip before nodding. “Of course.” You sat up a little straighter.

He looked you up and down, his blue eyes surveying you carefully as he leaned his cheek against his fist, his other hand drumming its fingers against his knee. “You said you weren’t really a fan before, so why did ya take the job? Ain’t a photographer supposed to feel passionate about their subject?” He asked curiously.

His question struck you as odd, but you figured he probably did have a point. And the more you thought about it, you weren’t sure why you had been so drawn toward saying yes. Aside from the obvious reason for progressing your career, you had never really thought much about Elvis Presley prior to Pierce’s proposition. But something about him drew you in. You just knew that it wasn’t an opportunity that you could pass up.

You were silent for a long moment, and you could sense his growing impatience as his fingers started tapping faster against his leg. “I guess it just felt like the right thing to do.” You said quietly, looking down as you fiddled with your hands. “You changed the world, Elvis. I just figured it was time the world saw the real you, whatever that may be.” You shrugged.

Something flashed in his eyes, disappearing far too quickly for you to register what it was, before he laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “Damn, Minnie Mouse. Are ya sure you ain’t a poet or somethin’?”

You smiled as you relaxed a little. “I did ace English in high school.” You joked before you glanced at the clock and saw what time it was already. “Shit…it’s almost three in the morning!” You said as you quickly stood up. He looked up at you, clearly not seeing the issue in that. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, or how inappropriate it was that you were alone with a married man for several hours in the middle of the night.

“You’re not leavin’ are you?” He asked as he stood up, taking a step toward you.

You bit your lip before sighing. “Elvis, it’s late. We’ve both had a long day.” You said in an attempt to reason with him.

He pressed his lips together, but he relented and took a step back. “You're comin’ to rehearsals tomorrow.” It wasn't a question. “Just make sure you're ready, honey.” He said before leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You blushed, your heart skipping a beat as the sensation of his soft lips sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don't worry, I won't miss it for the world.” You said quietly as you looked up at him before quickly stepping past and walking to the door.

“Goodnight, Minnie Mouse.” You heard him call from behind you. You paused at the door, looking back at him for a moment and smiling a bit as you caught the boyish grin that flashed across his face.

“Goodnight, Elvis.”

You weren't entirely sure how you even made it back to your room, feeling so deliriously tired, but also so…happy. It was a strange feeling, and you didn't really want to acknowledge the reason why you were feeling that way. But as you fell asleep in your plush bed, all you could see in your dreams was the warm smile on his lips or his ocean blue eyes that were deep enough to swim in.

Yes, you were certainly delirious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list ~

Taglist: @60svintage @moonchild-daniella @ken-kenzie-zie @presleyhearted @eapep @i-r-i-n-a-a

[kevindavidday]

What’s your favorite Kevjean quote(s) (from any book)

Currently my absolute favorite has got to be from TGR:

In quiet French he said, “I should not be here for this.”

Kevin put his hand over Jean’s to hide the half-moon marks Jean was tearing into his skin.

“Stay with me,” Kevin said, just as soft, and Jean forcibly relaxed his death grip.

But I kid you not, every single interaction starting from the first book to TGR is embedded in my head, so excuse me for the long ass list of quotes/scenes below. I have never been normal about them :D

TRK:

"Hello, Kevin."

"Jean," Kevin said quietly.

Jean's smile was lazy, but the look in his gray eyes was ashen ice. Neither of them had anything else to say to each other, but they stared each other down unblinking.

Kevin finally found his voice. "They know how I feel, but words alone won't fix anything. A team that needs this much work requires a larger commitment than that."

"You won't stay," Jean said.

TKM:

Neil considered that, then said, "Good thing you're not there anymore."

"Jean still is," Kevin answered, and Neil knew better than to comment.

"He isn't safe with us," Kevin said. "I won't give him false hope."

"Some hope is better than none at all," Renee said.

TSC:

Kevin caught hold of his face with both hands, forcing Jean to look at him when Jean tried to turn away.

“Breathe,” Kevin said, from a thousand miles away.

“My place is at Evermore,” Jean agreed, “but you did not have to slit my throat on the way out.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said quietly.

He held out his hand. Jean glowered at him for a moment, but Kevin was willing to outwait him. Finally Jean relaxed his grip and set his hand in Kevin’s, palm-up. Kevin curled his fingers gently around it so he could turn Jean’s arm this way and that.

“Your blind loyalty to those clowns is exhausting.”

“Some of them you like,” Kevin reminded him.

“Don’t you dare,” Jean warned him, unamused.

“You have a choice,” Jean insisted. “Kill me and let me be done with this.”

Kevin’s expression was forbidding. “You made me a promise.”

“Fuck you. You have no right to hold me to it.”

“But I will.”

“Jean.”

“If you tell me to follow his lead, I will cut your throat open with my teeth,” Jean said. “Go away and don’t come back.”

Jean knew how every shade of fear looked on Kevin’s face, or so he’d thought.

“You did this to us,” Jean accused him as Kevin finally pried his hands away from his face.

“I don’t trust you that close to West Virginia.”

“It’s not your call to make,” Jean said.

“I made it anyway,” Kevin said, unrepentant. “Talk to him.”

“I—” Jean started, but Kevin hung up before Jean got out the, “—won’t.”

I'm sure there's a lot more from TSC but I can't remember them all right now.

TGR (my beloved):

"When did you learn how to cook?” he asked.

“Cat is teaching me,” Jean said. He could have left it at that, but after a beat, he admitted, “I like it. It makes everything else go away for a while.”......Kevin offered Jean a second arepa, waited for Jean to reach for it, and said, “I’m glad.”

Jean went still with his fingers on the dough.

“He was not my partner. It was not his job to protect me, and I didn’t want him to. I just wanted him to die.”

“Our damage control needs damage control. I will never do an interview again.”

“Don’t lie. You like the sound of your voice too much to give this up.”

Literally every single conversation between them when Kevin was in California. If I put it here it'll get too long, but trust all of it was like drugs to me 😭😭

“You are supposed to be better than this,” Jean said, a quiet accusation.

“You have always known what I am.”

[drbased]

We need to collectively understand that our mental landscapes, how we percieve ourselves and others, and how we process reality itself are shaped by a worldview that has been constructed by the people who are motivated by, and benefit from, harming us.

It's the people with motivations to commit harm who are further highly incentivised to generate symbolic frameworks and linguistic sleights-of-hand in order to create ad-hoc retroactive justifications for their behaviour. And in turn, those who have been hurt are forced into making a choice: to either agree with the justification, or reject it and risk the psychological damage of rejecting someone who they would rather not percieve as wishing to cause harm.

Our language is absolutely polluted to the point of no return with all manner of thought-terminating cliches that take legitimate forms of wisdom and use them to justify harm: 'be the bigger person', 'forgiveness', 'you have such hate in your heart' and so on. What's wild to me is how so much of the 'logic' behind these statements is made up on the fly to erase accountability and avoid discomfort. Thus we're left with a society of people with no idea where to draw the line.

I've been very angry recently. I'm not going to go into it, but one of the things I've been struggling with is drawing the line between where anger is a healthy expression of my burgeoning sense of self - something that every member of an oppressed group will need to grapple with at some point - and where my anger is actually self-destructive. I still don't know where that line is. But people will tell you, especially if you've experienced some sort of abuse or oppression, that your anger is a result of being 'judgmental', and that it will consume you and deestroy you from within. All of these things can be true, but none of us are truly equipped to honestly grapple with the validity of that on a case-by-case basis; we're all trapped in this overton window where what 'counts' as valid anger/judgment is made extraordinarily rare.

I've had to make a stand in defense of my own righteous anger. It saved me: it's the reason I'm suddenly socially 'normal', it's the reason my IBS is better, it's the reason I've been able to think, it's the reason I've been able to write, it's the reason I'm suddenly good at things I didn't use to be, it's the reason I feel the most secure in myself I ever have, it's the reason I'm making more purposeful choices in my relationships with people. I'm a more grounded and 'full' person because of it - something plainly obvious to those closest to me. I still personally don't know where to draw the line, but I know that wherever the line is, it's going to be quite a distance away from where this patriarchal society believes my 'acceptable anger' is supposed to be.

In taking my anger seriously as a form of sensory feedback for something I value, I necessarily take myself seriously - something that women aren't supposed to do. In valuing my anger, I demonstrate trust in myself. Sometimes, my anger might be misplaced, or more than necessary - but regardless, as part of my campaign to embrace my own subjectivity I am increasingly open to allowing myself and my emotions be 'wrong'. It's not the end of the world if I've had a brief angry outburst at dropping a pen three times in a row - yes, I do have a 'short fuse' now as the result of my experiences, but this anger doesn't represent some inherent corruption of my soul: that concept is symbolic and is constructed by those who benefit from causing harm and would rather any and all anger in response is quashed. Wherever 'the line' is for my anger becoming toxic and unhealthy, that's going to be have to something that I, just like with everything else about being human that I'm deconstructing, am going to have to figure out myself.

[lightwise]

Comparing Acolyte vs. Skeleton Crew - Intro/Themes/Links

Alright guys. Deep breath. Since about the middle of Skeleton Crew airing (SC here on out to save on typing), when it was clear it was going to cement itself as one of the best live action Star Wars made so far, I realized I wanted to pick at why SC was doing so well, and why Acolyte, which premiered just six months prior, failed so miserably.

It's still kind of shocking that one, while it had the largest budget and one of the largest viewing audiences of any Star Wars show so far, failed rather spectacularly in both quality and reception, and the other, with a more modest budget and unfortunately extremely low viewing numbers, managed to be one of the best and most universally praised (by those who did watch it) Star Wars shows ever made. 

I also never gave my thoughts around Acolyte in general, so this will be a mix of contrast/compare as well as me writing out my thoughts about each Acolyte episode in the process. You guys have heard me yap a bunch about SC already and you know how much I love it, so I won't be doing a play by play for it but will use it to highlight where Acolyte where wrong.

So first, let's look at what questions are both shows trying to answer, and how (what themes and devices) are they trying to use to answer them. (NOTE: The entirety of both shows will be spoiled in these posts. Obviously 😁. Do not read if you care about that.)

Both shows hinge on three things--the perspectives and viewpoints of children, the power struggle of light vs. dark, good vs. evil and their effects on the characters we meet, and assumptions about the Jedi Order.

Skeleton Crew is an adventure show about lost kids encountering pirates and trying to find their way home, and that is how it was marketed to us. While it is set during the Mandoverse, it remains separate from the main storyline/lore of that time period, does not feature or try to rely on any legacy characters, and stays focused on its mission. A group of kids get lost out in the galaxy, encounter both good and bad people along the way, and have to overcome obstacles and grow as a team in order to find their way home. It is a show for kids, about kids, and from the kids' perspectives. However, it ends up being much more than that. The show turns out to be a mystery, on multiple levels--not only do the kids need to get home, but their home supposedly doesn't exist, and is a source of legends and pirate lore. We have to find out what their planet is, as well as where it is, in order to fulfill the story. Along the way the kids meet a variety of characters who will either help or hinder them in their journey, especially Jod. The show has a minor mystery of figuring out exactly who Jod is, and what side of things he stands on, and his journey and relationship to the kids is a major plot driver.

We also have a huge Jedi influence in the show, even though none are truly present as characters due to the time period, and the show has a very specific and positive outlook on the Jedi, their role in the galaxy, and their reputation being one of heroic kindness and protection. That theme doesn't just exist in Wim's storybook but is threaded through their entire journey, Jod's choices and background as a character, and even the hopefulness around how the New Republic comes in and helps save the day at the end. Even when Jedi are not physically present, the concept of good people existing in even the darkest places of the galaxy and helping those around them is embedded in each episode.

Acolyte was marketed as a show that was supposed to be a dark mystery thriller (forgive me if I'm stretching the definition of that genre) about finding the identity of a Jedi killer and showing us the shadowy rise of the Sith pre-Prequels and post-Nihil. The overarching galactic themes of dark vs. light, the Jedi vs. a rising darkness, are what the trailers showed as the focus. It was supposed to be a bridge between The High Republic Era (THR) and the Prequels, and to fill in some gaps in lore and storyline. Like Skeleton Crew, it does not rely on any legacy characters (and the only returning character from other media is Vernestra), and while it had a wealth of THR world-building to pull from, it did not make much effort to explain that time period well given it was the first time we have seen it on screen. It needed to balance both broad and focused storylines if it was going to succeed, based on the marketing.

Similar to how Mando Season 3 teased a specific storyline only for it to be wrapped up within the first two episodes, Acolyte ended up answering the first question--who was going around killing Jedi, and some of their motivation, within the first two episodes. The mystery is solved by the reveal of twin girls being the main characters. The confusion of Mae and Osha's identities only lasts for an episode and a half, and both a reunion and Mae's thought process are laid out fairly quickly. This left us with conflicting motivations going forward--instead of the mystery and darkness we thought we were unraveling, the mystery now being presented was "what happened on Brendok, and why are these four Jedi supposedly at fault for something terrible?" And "who is Mae's master" and also "how (if at all) are these girls going to reconcile?" While these mysteries do somewhat tie into the other two main themes of the show--the appearance of Sith and the dark side growing stronger in the shadows, and a rather scathing critique around the Jedi religion as a whole (the role they were currently serving in the galaxy, how they became corrupted into the war of the Prequels, and eventually fell to Palpatine's schemes), it is not what a viewer might think they were getting into based on the trailers. All of these themes can kind of stand in a row next to each other, but they don't nest neatly into each other the way that Skeleton Crew's layers do (although I think they absolutely could have, if handled properly).

Now there's nothing inherently wrong about any of these premises in Acolyte, or exploring them. But to me, Acolyte kind of sidesteps and then falters on all of its up front purposes, whereas SC both delivers on its marketed purpose, adds in new ones once the show gets started, and consistently hits on and delivers on all of those themes every single episode, including wrapping them up in the finale (with just a few things that could have been tied off more thoroughly--like Tak Rennod's identity/fate, or delved into deeper, like the specifics around At Attin's history). In SC, every Chekhov's gun is fired. Every metaphor is carried through. Every prop or throwaway piece of dialogue comes back around. Every theme of the children getting home, figuring out what their planet really is, and where it is, finding out Jod's motivations, and finding good people who make the galaxy worth living in even in its scummiest regions, are all consistently handled throughout the show. It shows us both good and bad sides of the galaxy, shows how people have been impacted by their experiences, including the children, and brings them together to overcome every obstacle in the end.

The trailer for Acolyte (which is really tight and invokes a drama that I hoped the show would fulfill) laid out these lines: "In an age of light, darkness rises. This isn't about good or bad, it's about power and who is allowed to use it." Not only does the show itself end up being centered around a much smaller/more personal angle than the trailers showed, (Osha as a character and the existence of the twins and the mystery around Brendok is not mentioned at all), I would argue Acolyte never actually shows us what the “light” in this time period is supposed to be, or who the Jedi truly WERE and what they stood for as a whole, and therefore its foray into the darkness feels both forced and lackluster. But we will delve into that later.

Interestingly, as I started writing this I realized for every major positive I found in Acolyte, I often had a minor or major qualm that was the opposite side of the same coin. The good and bad are linked, just like Mae and Osha. That really might be what it comes down to with this show—it’s not that it doesn’t have great moments, ideas, and even execution.  It’s that the ratio of good to bad doesn't balance out, depending on the episode, and that’s enough to tank the entire effort. 

That being said, let's dig into it.

Here are the links to each episode breakdown:

Episodes 1&2 - posting shortly

Episode 3 - coming soon

Episodes 4&5 - coming soon

Episodes 6&7 - coming soon

Episode 8 - coming soon

[silyabeeodess]

So, these aren't really theories (I guess except the last one, but I don't feel like I'm adding much to what's already out there), just things that have kind of stuck in my head that I want to get down somewhere after Chapter Four's release. None of them are really worth their own post, so I'm just gonna note them each below. The subheadings are as follows: 'False Justification and Unrestrained Evil,' 'The Importance of Kevin Barnes,' and '"Love" with Limits.'

False Justification and Unrestrained Evil

Throughout the game, we've seen several of its villainous characters try to justify the experiments "in the name of science" or in "how it can one day help a lot of people," but nowhere near as much as in this chapter. This chapter showed us cases such as how Stella Greyber got involved with them despite her supposed love for kids, how security staff members who were both aware and unaware of the truth behind the experiments would abuse the toys, and how Warrenbach Construction was pushed into maintaining its contract despite Mr. Silver's concerns over what they were building. Each of these times, all of the adults try to come up with some reason for the evils they're involved with - and even though some of them were rightfully fearful of their own lives, I will go so far as to call out all of them for being wrong.

Starting off with Stella, yes, we can say she "loves kids," but that "love" never goes behind her own desires. Reflecting on her tape all the way back in Chapter One, when she first interviews to get into the company, we already see that she has an obsession with the idea of youth. Quote: "I don't think anyone ever really feels like an adult. Your body, just gets older and older... and then you die." It's important to note that no one prompted her on this issue: She was just asked why she wanted to join Playtime and volunteered these thoughts. Even the interviewer is put-off by her remarks, telling her that they were "getting off track."

This is important because it tells us why she gives in so easily when she finds out about the experiments. She's not doing it because "it'll help out a lot of kids someday." She's doing it because the end result is something she personally desires: Effective immortality. Note that, when speaking to Leith in her VHS found in Chapter Four, she doesn't ask about the failed experiments (as if anyone could avoid seeing the literal mountains of bodies at the Prison's front entrance) or the treatment of the kids involved, she asks "Do they know when it will be ready?" Her rationalizing that "it'll help a lot of kids too" is just a flimsy excuse to spare herself from feeling guilty. For an irl comparison, her behavior and that of the other scientists who follow this justification isn't really all that different from people who murder and steal organs to sell on the black market or doctors that let registered donors under their care die--all under the idea of "saving lives."

People have and continue to donate their bodies to science. Playtime Co. could've focused on that. Even in the events of the story itself, we see individuals like Thomas Clark from the Bron video on MOB's YouTube channel willingly let themselves be turned into toys--a fact that the other toys are very much aware of and understandably infuriated by. The orphanage just gave the scientists a means of hurrying their experiments along with an endless supply of bodies no one would know went missing.

You can say maybe Stella didn't know about just how bad the Prison was, but I don't give her a pass there either. Knowing about the experiments, going out of her way to even make recordings for the kids who undergo them in attempt to calm them down, yet somehow never paying attention to how they were treated is, in the very least, willful blindness. That, and since the toys were already being used around the factory as slave labor, she doesn't get to make excuses: She would've seen them all the time, particularly the ones in Playcare. She is just as guilty as the other executives, and the fact that she pretends to care despite this, acting as one of the many "gentle voices" that Kevin talks about, makes it even worse.

The matter of the prison guards is a little more to the point. Some of them didn't know anything about the toys being anything other than monsters, as seen in Cole's notes: They followed a "you hurt us, so we'll hurt you," mindset, which while understandable, is never justified. Some guards, however, like in one of the first VHS tapes found in the prison, did already know that the toys were kids--hearing them cry out for their parents or consulars and comparing them to their own children. These individuals are just plain vile. They ignored the horrors that the toys were going through because of their own "struggles" dealing with them. These workers were callous and completely lacked empathy, evidence we see in employees on other teams as well such as the ones on clean-up from the Theatre Incident.

Now to Warrenbach, we can give them some leeway since their lives were threatened. They themselves are also victims of Playtime... but we have to note that it wasn't like they didn't have options either. In Mr. Silver's case, his life was in immediate danger--so, yes, the logical thing to do to save himself was to play along with Eddie's wishes. Key words here: "Play along." Here's a little fun fact: There is no company on this planet that can make you commit a crime. For all of Eddie's talk about the contract, in the eyes of the law, it would be nothing more than a worthless scrap of a paper--and that's not even getting into the matter of morality clauses, something that has regularly been used--and, granted, abused--to break contracts. If I were Mr. Silver, or even just a standard construction hand capable of sneaking a camera in, I would've been keeping receipts. Were they too scared to take Playtime to court? Fair enough, but how about the press? In the very least, you don't think prison blueprints would've raised a few more eyebrows and get people asking questions that Playtime didn't need? One of the worst things a person can say to themselves in a situation is, "There's nothing I can do to fix it." There's almost always something you can do, no matter how small. Giving into fear or ignoring a problem because "you can't do anything" may not be a stance many people can blame you for taking, but it is the exact kind of mindset that allows villains to thrive.

All of the adults in this series failed the kids by trying to justify their sins with these excuses. Even still, all of that doesn't even scrape the surface of Dr. Sawyer's unrestrained evil. Don't get me wrong: He makes the same "for science" excuse that the rest of his team do. However, there's also a lot that he openly admits to doing "because it amuses him." The biggest example of this is Yarnaby, who he treats as a pet, among many of the other toys as well--specifically the Nightmare Critters. A post of MOB's explains that the Nightmare and Smiling Critters once got along well, but "not anymore." It seems odd to say that all of one type of toy simply defaulted to the Prototype's side. Another thing worth noting is that, unlike the Smiling Critters, all of the Nightmares are shown to be feral by the events of the game. I wouldn't be surprised if this was Sawyer's doing. For the experiments, he may have wanted the toys to have intelligence, but the same couldn't be said for his own, personal playthings.

He's done plenty of other acts that have nothing to do with the experiments as well. He had Boxy Boo's appetite "tailored to human flesh," and while yes, this was a way to get rid of witnesses... he could've just as easily have done that by sending their body to the labs. During the Theater Incident tape, one member of the clean-up team notes that he doesn't understand why Sawyer wouldn't cover up his involvement. It's not a matter of Sawyer thinking he's in the right or that he's acting on some greater purpose: He just doesn't care. The only things that Sawyer cares about are what piques his curiosity at any given moment--and the only thing that stops him is the fact that he overestimated his worth to Playtime. Up until then, Sawyer was the embodiment of actions without facing consequences.

The Importance of Kevin Barnes

There's been enough critiques going into how Kevin is labeled a "problem child" both in and out of the story, so I won't get into that here. All I'll say on the issue that I also don't agree with that label. Instead, I'd much rather focus on what makes Kevin's role so pivotal among the three boys used to create Doey. There's a quote from the 2000's Teen Titans cartoon that keeps coming back to me when I think about him: "Having that thing inside you doesn't make you an animal. Knowing when to let it out is what makes you a man."  We can say this for Doey "letting Kevin out," but we can also say this for Kevin himself when it comes to his aggression.

Before I really get into this topic, let me point out one thing I don't think a lot of people considered. For the most part when it comes to Doey's actions, people tend to place Kevin only in the steering wheel at Doey's most aggressive/untrusting moments. Despite this, there's one more time I think we see Kevin's true self shine though, and that's in Doey's final tape. When Doey talks about his decision not to leave the factory, he says the other toys, "mean a lot to him... a lot more than [he] thought they did." This line can't easily be applied to Jack or Matthew. Jack wasn't from the orphanage, but his personality is already plenty bubbly and loving. Matthew would've already cared: He already saw himself as responsible for the well-being of others and wouldn't shut down his emotions. But a kid like Kevin? A kid that was known for getting into fights with his friends and having rocky relationships? That backstory fits this line to a tee. While he was forced to become part of Doey, Kevin came to accept that he cared. Kevin's personality doesn't just come out when Doey's angry: As much credit as we give to Matthew for this, Kevin comes out when Doey needs to protect those around him.

We see two bits of evidence for this. First, is our own meeting with Doey. Pianosaurous tries to attack the Player and Doey destroyed Painosaurous in one of the most gruesome ways possible. The second example is in the murals in Safe Haven. I don't think it can be seen very easily, but in the mural with Doey's arms extended around the other toys, he's drawn with an angry face--the face we associate with Kevin.

One of the reasons Kevin was chosen to become part of Doey was because of his high scores in "mental fortitude." This means that, while Kevin is aggressive, he's also the one who can best handle high-stress situations. Jack was just a small kid with no clue what happened to himself and would've lacked the ability to regulate his emotions like someone older could. Matthew was a peacemaker, but was someone who had already been traumatized due to losing his parents in an accident, which made him fall back on his own sense of guilt and insecurities. Kevin was someone who can put all of that aside to act fast when he needed to. He was a fighter, and I strongly believe that that fighter's instinct is what allowed Doey to be as strong a leader and protector as he was.

Everyone has the capacity for violence. Kevin being aggressive wasn't a flaw: He just needed to learn how to temper that aggression into a tool that could defend others instead of hurt them. The tragedy of his character is that he had to learn that all on his own and in the worst kind of circumstances.

"Love" with Limits

While this theme is echoed with Stella and the security guards who have kids of their own, the character I'd really like to cover with this is Elliot Ludwig. What I'll go into here follows the theory that Elliot became the Prototype, and my reasoning for supporting this theory rests largely in how the Prototype acts toward Poppy. Even when under the guise of "Ollie," he talks to her like a parent would. When he wants Poppy to explain what "the bad men" did to her in one of the VHS tapes, he prods her with the typical lines like "Is there something you need to talk about?" and "There's more to this you're not telling me." He's not really even pretending to talk like a kid: This is how a mom or dad talks, sitting on the end of your bed and refusing to leave until you give them an answer. We also have his reminder of "what he and Poppy are" and his insistence that "she come home"--back to the case, in the room connected directly to Elliot's office.

If the Prototype is Elliot, I think it goes without saying that Elliot loved his daughter. Despite how much he stressed the need to care for others and the formation of the orphanage, however... I think Elliot's idea of love had its limits. For one thing, the experiments seem to have been going on a long while, including during the time that Elliot was in control of the company. We find a report for Experiment 814 on his desk, and while that one only alluded to the possibility of involving humans, there's one more bit of evidence we need to consider: The Poppy dolls themselves. By the time we get to the factory, while Poppy is shown in advertising, we don't see any more of her dolls having been in production by the time the place shutdown. Nevertheless, we know there were more besides our Poppy at one point due to their advertisement and maintenance video. The latter is what's most important, because it shows that organs/blood were used in the toy at a very early point in the company's history. I can't find where exactly I remember this from, but I believe there was also a notice from Playtime insisting that customers not repair the dolls on their own and instead send them back to the company--likely to avoid this discovery. (If someone remembers where, please feel free to link it. Every time I look it up, all I really get is shopping pages...)

There is a good chance that Elliot was framed with the kid in the duffle bag situation, but I think it's equally as likely he experimented on others before Poppy's success. He cares about his daughter, not necessarily kids as a whole. Playcare being built underground was already fishy, something that Rich brings up in one of his tapes when he points out that the kids deserve real sunlight. The Prototype may have saved Theo, but he's also the reason Theo nearly died. There were teenagers in Playcare he could've gone to. There were caretakers at the orphanage who genuinely loved the kids and would likely fight to protect them, not to mention other employees who wanted to expose the company. Instead of turning to them, people who were far more capable of using a grabpack and/or with more access around the factory, he picked an isolated seven-year-old, someone easy to manipulate. There were kids from the orphanage who grew out of the program and added on as factory employees, just like how some of the caretakers wanted Matthew as part of their staff: The Prototype thought nothing of slaughtering them too during the Hour of Joy. And we could go on and on about all the evils the Prototype committed against the toys themselves.

Elliot/the Prototype may have shown the other kids love... when they were useful and obeyed him. Even his love for Poppy is twisted in this way. While locking her in the case can be seen as putting her in "time out," it's also treating her as an object to be shelved--ironically, just like how the Prison itself is called, "The Shelf." Like the prison cubes, there's barely any room to move in the case, little to no comfort, and nothing to occupy your time but your own thoughts in the darkness. It's abuse. He also shows no remorse for murdering his daughter's friends, scolding her for "missing the point" when she's grieving directly because of his actions. Whether he sees it or not, despite his protests that Poppy isn't a "thing" to him, he's treating her as one: A thing that's thoughts and emotions are to be disregarded, a toy that's always meant to be a sweet, obedient child.

[avalonlights]

Their picnic table scene was probably my favorite thing in ST4 besides Dear Billy, so I had to draw these two at least once! 💔

[cattnipt]

Fucked up looking dog you got there

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[theweirdestroller]

Y'all really like the Smokes and Magnus posts!

So obviously you're getting more!!

Due to Smokescreen coming into the picture later than in canon, the last key is kinda... Lost, to both factions. No one know who this guy in the last set of encryptions is. All they know is that this guy is very important and likely knows the location of the last omega key (how on earth does the rest of the omega key/lock plotline go if smokescreen isn't there?? surprisingly close to canon, but i'm still working out all the kinks)

Arcee and Jack get to meet Ultra Magnus, who Arcee knows and respects, and tumbling out behind him is- That's the guy from the omega key stuff!

Magnus is very confused as to how everybody seems to know his little buddy when his little buddy knows exactly none of them personally.

So- Breakdown and the phase shifter are kinda with Optimus at this point in time (no, breakdown does not get to steal the possible next prime position from smokescreen) But!! When Breakdown and Optimus later rejoin the Autobots, Smokescreen will get his preferred relic of choice. (in the meantime, magnus has a whole arsenal he can use as he pleases)

Oh, and, apparently, Wheeljack likes none of the new Autobots. The first is Breakdown, for very obvious reasons, the next are Magnus and Smokey. Ultra Magnus because he already hates him in canon and Smokescreen because Smokescreen is clearly very close to Magnus and respects him. They're besties! These new guys are not fun in his opinion. And he likes reminding all of them about this. (well, he enjoys reminding magus and bd. with smokes, well- smokes will look like a kicked puppy if someone is too mean to him. instead, jackie teaches the kid to gamble. it doesn't end well)

Does Breakdown want to punch Wheeljack? Kind of. Very much so. But he's an Autobot now and besides, some of Wheeljack's ire is deserved, they were enemies for a long time after all.

[spaciebabie]

you know how much easier my life would be if people just told you exactly what they wanted from a friendship out of the gate. you know how easy it would be if direct communication wasn't painted as a social failing.

[tj-crochets]

My birthday is coming up, and every year for my birthday* I try to make a thing just because I want to but this year I am not sure what I want to make. Like, zero ideas. Well, I mean I always have ideas, but none that appeal more than others? I'm not sure if I should ask for suggestions or just make a series of polls leading up to my birthday to narrow it down, what do you think? *within a few weeks of my birthday, I am bad at time

[kyluxtrashpit]

Every time I try to write lately, I just can't get anywhere with it :/ I can string words together but they feel empty. Events happen, but what story are they even telling? There's no emotion, no depth, so substance at all. I just can't make anything that's about or says anything at all and idk why :/