#you start talking to people in real life and its like hey everyone has a voice and opinions outside of the media they consume

[lesbuoyant]

everybodys all lets condemn people with Morally Impure Interests until all of a sudden you have an interest that is suddenly considered Impure and wanes in and out of Public Opinion for many years because nobody actually knows how to think for themselves online. personally i think we'd all be very lonely if we chose and broke friendships based on.... What Video Games They Like and like absolutely nothing else regarding the person's character

[haunted-house-heart]

living with someone with untreated mental illness is like. i understand why you're like this and i do empathize but also like. jesus fucking christ get some help before i throttle you i stg

[reasonsforhope]

hey, how do you cope with people saying we only have a small amount of time left to stop the worst effects of climate change? no matter how hopeful and ok i am, that always sends me back into a spiral :(

A few different ways

1. The biggest one is that I do math. Because renewable energy is growing exponentially

Up until basically 2021 to now, all of the climate change models were based on the idea that our ability to handle climate change will grow linearly. But that's wrong: it's growing exponentially, most of all in the green energy sector. And we're finally starting to see proof of this - and that it's going to keep going.

And many types of climate change mitigation serve as multipliers for other types. Like building a big combo in a video game.

Change has been rapidly accelerating and I genuinely believe that it's going to happen much faster than anyone is currently predicting

2. A lot of the most exciting and groundbreaking things happening around climate change are happening in developing nations, so they're not on most people's radars.

But they will expand, as developing nations are widely undergoing a massive boom in infrastructure, development, and quality of life - and as they collaborate and communicate with each other in doing so

3. Every country, state, city, province, town, nonprofit, community, and movement is basically its own test case

We're going to figure out the best ways to handle things in a remarkably quick amount of time, because everyone is trying out solutions at once. Instead of doing 100 different studies on solutions in order, we get try out 100 (more like 10,000) different versions of different solutions simultaneously, and then figure out which ones worked best and why. The spread of solutions becomes infinitely faster, especially as more and more of the world gets access to the internet and other key infrastructure

4. There's a very real chance that many of the impacts of climate change will be reversible

Yeah, you read that right.

Will it take a while? Yes. But we're mostly talking a few decades to a few centuries, which is NOTHING in geological history terms.

We have more proof than ever of just how resilient nature is. Major rivers are being restored from dried up or dead to thriving ecosystems in under a decade. Life bounces back so fast when we let it.

I know there's a lot of skepticism about carbon capture and carbon removal. That's reasonable, some of those projects are definitely bs (mostly the ones run by gas companies, involving carbon credits, and/or trying to pump CO2 thousands of feet underground)

But there's very real potential for carbon removal through restoring ecosystems and regenerative agriculture

The research into carbon removal has also just exploded in the past three years, so there are almost certainly more and better technologies to come

There's also some promising developments in industrial carbon removal, especially this process of harvesting atmospheric CO2 and other air pollution to make baking soda and other industrially useful chemicals

As we take carbon out of the air in larger amounts, less heat will be trapped in the atmosphere

If less heat is trapped in the atmosphere, then the planet will start to cool down

If the planet starts to cool down, a lot of things will stabilize again. And they'll probably start to stabilize pretty quickly

[avocado-writing]

Hi dear! I would like to appreciate your works. I really enjoy everything you wrote, Wish you have a great day! 💗

Since you're taking requests, could you please write Wade with a polite, sweet and delicate partners. He's with a person who's the definition of "Too pure for this world and MUST be PROTECTED at all cost" His partner showers him with love and validation, and always love to listen to him! Thanks! 💓

possibly based on real life events.

Wade Wilson is so in love, it must be sickening to everyone around him. 

In fact he knows it is and he does not care. He’ll say “look at this meme the love of my life sent me!” and the person who he shows will roll their eyes, as if you don’t have incredible taste in cat pictures. He’ll monologue constantly about how cute you are and how much he loves that scrunchy thing you do with your nose. He’s recited committed-to-memory facts about you so many times that his friends can parrot them too. 

“Yes, I know what their favourite film is, I know you took them to a special viewing of it for their birthday. It’s cute, Wade,” says Laura, patting him on the arm condescendingly. Well, it’s not his fault you’re so wonderful! There isn’t a single thing about you that’s not perfect. He’s constantly bowled over about just how much affection he can fit in his body for you. The other night he was going on about something stupid - he can’t even remember what now, maybe it was about the new Taco Bell menu? - and then realised you hadn’t interrupted him once to shut him up like most people would.

You’d looked over the top of your magazine at him when he’d pointed this out, brow cocked.

“Why would I want you to shut up? I like listening to you talk, Wade.”

Marry you. He’s going to marry you. Every day, then divorce you every day too so he can marry you again. 

You are probably too good for him. Most of his social circle thinks so. You’re patient and kind, when you’re not at your job - where you work at a charity adopting out senior animals, as if you could be any more of a fucking angel - you like to spend your time in his shitty little kitchen, baking desserts for him to get home to. He’ll find you getting Al to taste test for you and his apartment full of laughter and joy. 

Man, he’s definitely put on like, six pounds since the two of you started dating. He needs to be stronger in the face of your cupcakes. 

They are really fucking good though. 

He walks in that night with a plushie under his arm. It’s a cow. He remembers you mentioning offhand how cute you thought cows were, so he decided to grab the biggest one the toy store one the way home had just because he knows it’ll make you smile. You don’t need any more stuffed toys; you sleep with them all in the bed and they’re pushing him off the side at this point because of their sheer number but, well, he likes seeing you happy. 

And then he hears sobbing. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks, immediately panicked. Are you injured? Has someone come to hurt you - has he painted a target on your back because of his job? Bile fills his throat as he stumbles forward…

…and there you are, sitting in front of the TV, PlayStation controller in your lap as tears run down your face while the end of the game plays out. Wade has never felt such relief in his life, laughing as the ache of it is taken from his chest. You turn to him with wide, watery eyes. 

“Don’t you laugh at me, Wade Wilson!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But babe… are you crying at the end of Kingdom Hearts?”

“No!” you lie, trying to mop your face off with your sleeve. Then the music hits its crescendo from the crappy speakers and you start wailing all over again. 

He loves you. He’d kill a million billion people for you. It would take a hell of a long time but hey, one word and he’d do it. If anyone even lifted a finger to hurt you he’d execute them so thoroughly that every generation of their family would be wiped out of existence too. 

To put it in terms you’d approve of, he’d do anything for you. But he also knows you’d never ask him to. You’re just that wonderful. 

“… would it help if I got us take-out and you started playing the second one?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to confirm. 

“I could be in this fucking game, beat Donald Duck’s little feathery ass. Disney, make it happen.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pizza or Chinese?”

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[alphajocklover]

hey there. I—-iiii—-I’m sorry, I’m a lil a little ner nervous here. I have this uh, like, um, shy. Uh. Shy persona. Im a nerdyaverage gay dude. And I wanna be able to talk in front of like um crowds. Actually I um, had something in mind. I wanna become a big, jacked jock straight comedian. Telling hilarious and sometimes cringe and crude jokes. Getting egged on by my maybe like um, frat bros or something to tell like obnoxious straight dude joke or something. Yeah. Like super douchebag funny guy muscle straight bro who is the life of the party. Young and dumb dude. Is there anything you have that could make this a reality?

It’s nice to meet you Mike! You don’t mind if I call you Mike do you? I know it’s not your name, but I don’t love using real names in my work… also, if I do this right your name could actually be Mike soon. I think that’s a good name for a straight douchebag comedian. It’s kind of a pun actually, a play on open Mike. You could call yourself Mike Dick. Get it, cause it sounds like ‘my dick’? Not funny huh? I’ll admit I’m not the best at this, but you’re the one who wants to be a comedian, not me. And I’m going to tell you how. You need to do what everyone who has stage fright needs to do. You need to get up on that stage… and just start talking.

I bet you're probably very confused right now. I know that the very idea of talking in front of people fills you with dread, and you came to me so you could get that confidence, not some cheesy advice. But I swear to you that I’m not just giving you empty platitudes. When you get up on the stage, in that spotlight, everything will be ok. Not because you believe in yourself, but because that spotlight is being powered by a very special battery. You might remember my supernova transformations, from my earliest stories. You might also remember that I was able to take some of the energy from it using a special solar panel and put it in a battery. While it turns out that if you use that battery to power a light source… It has an interesting effect. Any guy caught in its rays has they’re wish granted, while also being turned into a jock.when I discovered this I thought maybe I had finally found out how InstaJock works, but the transformation isn’t instant, and I’m not sure if you could get that energy to travel through an app or anything, so it’s probably something else.

Anyways, head on up! At first you’ll be your regular, shy and geeky self, but as you bask in the spotlight and start to open up, you’ll slowly change. Your muscles will slowly grow, your body and face becoming more chiseled, and your sense of humor will slowly become more… raunchy. Thoughtful comedy will slowly turn into cheap punchlines about ‘stupid queers’ and crude stories about ‘crazy bitches with huge tits’. Your audience might not like your new style, but a confident stud like you doesn’t care about what losers like that think, and you’ll be certain to get a following of beefy straight douchebags in no time. Especially if you turn that spotlight on the audience. Have fun, and try to use that spotlight responsibly. The battery won’t last forever, and I’m not going to give you a second one.

[caputvulpinum]

Why can't you people be normal about slurs for 2 seconds

Just because YOU reclaimed and identify with something doesn't mean everyone else does. No one cares about you IDing as a queer or dyke or fag or whatever, people just don't want strangers to randomly assign them words that have historically been used as slurs.

Like, do you understand that people have had this word used against them by bigots? Do you understand that maybe, it's tasteless to get upset at people for having trauma regarding a word? Are you able to comprehend that maybe insisting people be okay with being called a word that means odd, spoiled, ruined or weird is not a good look?

I'm autistic and have a severe learning disability. I'm totally fine when people use the word retard, I call myself a retard, I don't care. But I'm sure as fuck not going to walk up to a bunch of other autistic people I barely know and go "lmao what is up my fellow tards!!!"

I'm not trying to start shit, I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word.

"I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word."

Gay is a slur. Lesbian is a slur. Homosexual is a slur. Every single word we have ever had has always either had its roots in cruelty and oppression or has been used against us by our oppressors. There is no term that is pure and clean and innocent and has never hurt anyone's feelings.

Let's disregard fag for now. That one's still in the process of reclamation, I'll admit. Let's just talk about queer. Queer has been the academic term for non-cisgender and non-heterosexual history for half a century now. Queer theory has been around for thirty years. Queer was the word which we shouted as a radical inditement of our treatment by our oppressors: "We're here, we're queer, get over it" and "Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you" should both sound familiar to you.

And now it's 2012 or so and queer is known as the most inclusive term we have. It's less unwieldy than LGBTQIAAP+. It's not based in a necessity of defining yourself through your oppression like MOGAI. It's, important, a deeply private word. Not in the sense that it is used privately, but rather than it grants its user privacy. If you're queer, everyone instantly knows you're a part of the community, but you aren't being forced to out yourself or give more details about your personal life and identity than you want. It was always a word about identity.

TERFs hate this. TERFs hate this so much, because it's inclusive of people they hate, like asexual people, trans women, and other freaks of nature who society needs to put down like dogs. Queer means TERFs can't as easily define you as the Bad Other. Queer means TERFs will be recognized more easily as bigoted towards the larger queer communities. So, obviously, they do what anyone would, and decide to take advantage of the language of social justice warriors of the time and attack impressionable young kids from 13-16.

The average 13-16 year old doesn't exactly have much experience in real-life queer spaces. They don't get to go to rallies or protests, they don't stay at community centers, their lives are insular and based entirely online. Their understanding of social politics is inherently rooted in the importance of posting in the right language. Their activism is one which tweets correctly. So TERFs slid into their inboxes and went "Hey, just so you know, queer is actually a slur used to oppress people and it's problematic to use since some people have been called it".

And this works, because of course it does, and now I have people like you in my inbox bitching and whining about how queer is a slur and how you've been called queer once or twice in your life. To this I say: My apologies, but fucking suck it up and reclaim it. I don't care about traumatic events you have with queer. It has been reclaimed by the greater community and was done so long before you were born if you aren't literally 50, and more importantly, by giving queer validation as a slur, you actively give our oppressors that power over you. I'm not going to let my oppressors know that if they say an identifier for us meanly enough then we'll stop identifying as that word. I'm not giving the power to silence and repress who we are to people who would use it.

Anon, I respect you enough to say that people who consider my identity as a slur should get punched in the face, because alt-right fash cunts, pig cops, evangelical christians, TERFs, and hyperconservative political lobbyists all consider my identity as a slur. Why should I treat you any different to them? What about your specific treatment of queer as a slur ends up with a meaningfully different result? The neonazis on kiwifarms won't care why you're telling me to shut the fuck up about queer. They don't give a shit about why you're saying this. What they give a shit about is if it works and if calling people queer will get them to shut up and curl up in a little ball and admit defeat and hand them slurs on a silver platter. And I'm not about to live that sort of life, so either get with the program or fuck off.

[hollowtones]

first yiik impressions?

Hi. Thanks for your message. I've been thinking about this for days. I wrote paragraphs. Here you go!

Everyone talks up how the game is bad, but I've never looked into it much myself, so I went in with an expectation along the lines of "people whose opinions I often agree with think it was an awful mess, I'll likely think something similar". Expectations were low. Even then I wasn't really ready.

"YIIK" is a game of tedium. I don't think it's a game about tedium, that's something different (though it could be, if it was a different video game altogether; "what if the world was made of pudding" etc). To some degree I think the tedium is by design but I'm not really sure what it's in service of.

I don't think tedium in a video game is a bad thing. "Morrowind" and "Breath of the Wild" are two video games I like very much, and some of my favourite memories of those games are of slowly wandering through empty expanses, or having to suddenly deal with equipment degrading or supplies dwindling because I forgot to prepare. Moments like that feel thoughtful! They're interesting moments of reprieve or of tension that feel thoughtfully and intentionally designed! "YIIK" feels like trudging through chest-deep molasses so it can shout "hey did you know you're stuck in my molasses right now? that's weird, why are you stuck in my molasses right now? did you notice?" directly into your ear.

You'll notice this is a pattern.

Combat is turn-based and involves completing little minigames, timing button prompts or hitting targets or some such. It's a cute idea that wears out its welcome when you start realizing how long every single one takes to resolve, especially when you have multiple party members, and sometimes multiple enemies (I'm told this part specifically gets more egregious as the game goes on). I don't think it's awful or unsalvageable but I'm not super into it as of the point we're at.

This is a pattern.

Leveling up is a manual process that you have to unlock, and it involves going to a save point (any save point? we didn't check), to enter the Mind Dungeon, to enter the actual Mind Dungeon, to walk down a set of stairs and enter individual doors one-by-one, so that you can choose how you want to allocate stat increases, so that you can walk down a different set of stairs to commit your choices and spend your banked experience to level up. I think "you can only power up at specific points / times / locations" and the granularity of stat growth are interesting ideas, and the environment they made for it are a charming idea, and I don't think it needed to be a "Hotel Mario" level that you had to slowly walk through. It could have been a menu. They could have used the resources for a nice background or backdrop for a menu that accomplishes the same thing.

This is a pattern.

I haven't really mentioned anything about the story or writing yet. The protagonist's name is Alex and he's a very self-important nerdy misanthropic dickhead white man (a very specific kind of guy that I've definitely met at least once or twice) who is obsessed with a paranormal message board populated by people like him and desperate to find out more about the disappearance of a woman he witnessed. (The woman & her disappearance are based on the real life death of Elisa Lam & aren't handled with a whole lot of tact, IMO, but other people have put this into better words than I can right now. It sucks. It keeps coming up and it makes me bristle every time.) Alex is a bad person. I know he is. You know he is. The game knows he is. I've seen some reviews say a negative point of the game is "the main characters aren't likeable", which I don't really get, because that's the point of the characters, as far as I can tell. The issue, then, is how much time the game takes to exposit at you how bad the characters are. It's exhausting. Every time Alex has a monologue, it feels like it sums up to 10 minutes of "I am a bad person. I am a bad person. Alex is a bad person. This character is a bad person. Do you get it? He's a bad person. Alex is a bad person. Do you understand yet, player? Alex is a bad person. You should know that he's a bad person. Do you get it?"

This is a pattern.

(I don't know how interested I am in bringing up the game's lead writer right now, if at all, but there's a well-known anecdote where he talks about wanting to write a story about a bad person who is forced to grapple with himself and do better, and how the reason why his game wasn't well-received was because people who play video games didn't get it & weren't ready for a story like that. I dunno. I can understand being upset about negative reception to something you poured time and sweat into, and saying something hasty because of it. "Final Fantasy 4" is a beloved RPG classic, though, and "Disco Elysium" came out the same year to overwhelming praise. I haven't played either of these yet, though, so I'll admit maybe I'm off the mark here.)

The characters we've met so far (i.e. the ones that aren't unnamed NPCs) are… well. There's a smarmy younger kid who idolizes(?) Alex & also made the aforementioned paranormal website. So far it seems like he mostly exists to go "hey fuck you Alex, you dickhead" and immediately say something even more insensitive. There's the insensitive based-on-a-real=ass-dead-woman elevator woman, who immediately disappeared from the narrative while still being an essential part of the narrative. There was a dead(?) robot in a bedroom, who had a choir of ominous hooded people monologue about how weird and sad and strange and uncanny the scene is. What the!? There's a woman who works at the arcade and has Powers. Her design's cute. (I feel like, generally, the game's visuals are Fine. The audio, too. That all ranges from Just Fine to Surprisingly Neat. I don't really have much issue with those aspects of the game, but I don't have much to say about them either.) Alex and Kid Whose Name I Didn't Care To Remember are constantly very uncomfortable to her, because she's a woman and because she isn't white, in the 15 or so minutes we've seen her on-screen, and she gets to tell them off, but then immediately kind of goes "well whatever I can smile and put up with this and hang out with you". It feels misogynistic. I know to some degree Alex is misogynistic on purpose, because the game is bludgeoning your skull in and yelling "ALEX IS SHITTY TO WOMEN! AND PEOPLE OF COLOUR! DO YOU GET IT? HE'S SELF ABSORBED IN A SHITTY WAY! DO YOU GET IT, PLAYER? YOU UNDERSTAND THAT ALEX SUCKS ASS YET? MAYBE 10 MORE MINUTES OF THIS WILL MAKE IT CLICK?" But for a woman of colour (the only one we've seen so far who isn't Probably Just Dead) to finally tell him off for being a shithead, only to turn around and go "well it's ok, you're cool now, let's hang out now because it's narratively convenient and you're the protagonist" is pretty damn egregious!

This is a pattern.

Writing in general feels stilted and long-winded. Most of the main characters feel like they don't talk like people do. Alex gets to feel like a person but that's mostly because he gets to talk to himself so damn much. Most of his monologues feel like overly flowery prose, like someone padded it out with identical adjectives to meet a school essay word count. There's an interesting idea or premise or setpiece every now and then. There's a spark. A glint of something compelling. Every single time this has happened so far I find it immediately snuffed out by an over-blown "oh my god!!!!!!! how weird!!!!!!', or a very long plot dump, or a Joss Whedon-ass quip. There can be no small moment of joy. No story element or visual element can stand on its own legs. There can be no room for ideas to breathe. No space for the player to wonder, to dream, to play in the space. The narrative is compelled to suffocate iself on itself, to take up all space, to swallow itself whole in its making. One very minor (so far?) side character has some interesting dialogue in this one dream world, and I think "oh that's neat", and then I learn they're lines taken wholesale from a book (and I think that's fine, reference is fine, but I have a bit of a chuckle over the fact that this character is the reason why the game has a giant REFERENCES option in the main menu). The literal first minute of the game is a bird telling you "oh my god, the title of this game, right? why'd they spell it like that? so fucking dumb, am I right!" It feels insecure. It reads like the writing has no confidence in itself. It has to make a comment about how silly and video-gamey it is, roll its eyes at itself, mock itself for the thing it's doing while continuing to do it without addressing it or discussing it or doing anything with it.

This is a pattern.

There's a specific part of "YIIK", at this early point in the game (we're only around the start[?] of chapter 2), that feels emblematic of the thing as a whole up to this point. Alex is getting phone calls from a stranger. They're confusing and weird and sound a little like something you might hear in a dream. They make references to some shared past, some childhood, some understanding of Alex, or maybe of you, the player. They've come up a few times. Every single time, I'm left thinking about what it could mean, how it fits in with everything we've seen so far & what the game seems to be talking about, with regards to connecting to other people and to yourself. It's a neat little thing. It's a neat idea. I'm charmed by it. As much as my thoughts on this game are largely negative, I still try to look at it fairly, to understand it, to talk about it, to let myself be surprised by it. As soon as I find myself thinking about this, my thoughts are immediately drowned out by Alex telling me how weird the phone call is, how random and uncanny and dumb this is, and how he's rolling his proverbial eyes about it, in spite of all the other paranormal happenings around him, for another period of Just Too Long. And I am sapped of all strength and I crumble to dust.

I'm genuinely transfixed. I'm transfixed! Maybe the fact that I wrote Paragraphs about the 4-or-5 hours I've seen of the game can tell you as much, even if you skip everything I wrote in them.

I can't wait to see more.

This, too, is a pattern.

[theblack3stday]

BELONG TO ME — Remus Lupin | part one

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Summary: You always felt like you didn’t belong in your universe. One day, you find yourself in 1977 and you meet there the Marauders.

A/N💌: Hey! I was trying something different, I hope it’s not that bad😭 I wanted to do series, but if it’s bad I won’t continue it.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: depression, mentions of anger attacks and etc

You find yourself in a place of never-ending movement, you were still a teenager, but you've already lived through so many experiences that it's hard to keep track of it all. You've seen so many places and met so many people, yet none of them seem to feel like home. You felt like you're always on the move, and even when you do settle down for a while, it's hard to feel comfortable. Instead, you find yourself filled with frustration and sometimes anger, even at the smallest of things. You've always been judged harshly, and it's left you feeling insecure and doubting yourself. Your life has been a string of disappointments, and you find yourself feeling more and more like a burden to everyone around you. You were always the second choice or felt unloved, and even though that was never true, the feeling has persisted and eaten away at you. You find it hard to build true friendships or relationships because you feel like they will always leave you, so you often keep people at a distance and refuse to let them get close to you. Even though this isn't the case, the idea that it will always be the outcome has become so deeply ingrained in you. Maybe it was crazy, but it always felt like you didn’t belong in your universe. You have this sense of not belonging in this world, like you are somehow separate from it. Like you don't quite fit in. Perhaps you feel more at home somewhere other than here, or perhaps you just don't seem to gel with the people around you. Whatever the reason, it feels like you don't quite match this world around you and that makes the feeling of alienation and isolation even stronger.

In the last class of the day, the English teacher started talking about the existence of another universes and dimensions. You've always been interested in the concept of other universes and are fascinated by the idea that there could be other realities and dimensions beyond this one. Especially, you loved thinking that there is a universe where you are happy and don’t feel like you don’t belong there. This is the first time you've heard anyone talk about it in a school setting and are eagerly paying attention to what the teacher has to say.

"So as I was saying, the multiverse is the idea that there are endless universes out there. Each one has its own unique characteristics, with different versions of us and different laws of physics." he continued talking

"So you mean we aren't the only us out there?" one of your classmates asked him.

"That's the idea. The multiverse theory states that every decision you make spawns a new universe. So there's a universe where you took the other route home, one where you picked up a different book, and so on. Every possible choice creates new realities."

Everyone started whispering and discussing the idea. "It's kinda mind-blowing, huh? There's a whole multiverse out there, and all these different versions of you. And here's the crazy part: they're all real. Even tho' they're happening out there in other universes, they're just as real as our reality. So basically, you're co-existing with an infinite number of other you's right now." he chuckled to his students reaction.

As the teacher talked about the multiverse, it hit you – there might be other versions of yourself in different universes. The idea that somewhere out there, there's a version of you who feels happy and at home gave you a glimmer of hope. It was like a light at the end of the tunnel, suggesting that things could be different in another universe. You always thought of that.

You are walking down the streets of London, headed home from school. Everything seems normal and familiar as you make your way through the city. However, after a while, something feels odd. You feel like you're walking in circles and suddenly realize you don't recognize where you are anymore. You begin to panic slightly, but after a few moments of struggling, you spot a familiar landmark and know that you're on the right track again. You find your way back home, but the experience leaves you feeling unsettled and confused. You were still confused from your encounter in the streets and couldn't fully take in the differences in your house. When you try to open the door with your keys, they don't fit. After a few tries, a redhead girl opened the door. You feel stunned and disoriented as she stares at you with a confused look on her face.

"Hello, can I help you?" the redhead's bright emerald eyes were staring at you with a look of curiosity.

"Um, I think maybe there's been a mistake. I thought this was my house." you raise your eyebrow, baffled by the situation.

"I live here. This is definitely my house. Are you sure," the redhead asks, unsure of your answer.

"Yes, very sure. But the key doesn't fit, so..." you raise the possibility of a mix-up.

"Maybe you got it wrong? Check the number." the redhead suggests a simple explanation, unsure of this whole situation.

You look closer at the number and double-check to make sure you hadn't gotten it wrong. Suddenly, a wave of dread washes over you as you realize that’s the same number as your house. But how was that possible?

"I think maybe I did get it wrong. Sorry to bother you," you begin to back away, with dismay. You find yourself walking down the street, stunned by the situation and trying to process everything that has just happened. You're feeling a mix of disbelief, confusion, and fear, unsure of what has just happened or how you got here. You try to think back on what could have happened, but your mind is drawing a blank. Nothing makes sense and it feels like anything could have happened. A rush of adrenaline floods your body. As you walk down the street, you suddenly feel drawn to a date that has been written on a sign outside of a nearby store. Your eyes hone in on the date and your heart skips a beat as you read it. It says 1977. You couldn't believe your eyes and had to pause for a moment to process what you were seeing. Could it be possible? Was it really 1977? You stare at the date for what feels like minutes, but it only lasts a second. Your mind races with the possibilities. Were you somehow thrown back in time? Was this some sort of alternate reality? What was happening? Your curiosity was building and you found yourself wanting to explore more of this strange world. It felt surreal to see that it was 1977, and you were suddenly filled with wonder and curiosity. As you continue to stare at the date written on the store, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see the redhead who had previously spoken with you, standing behind you.

"Are you alright?" the redhead asks, with a look of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, trying to mask the fact that you time-traveled or change your reality. “I’m sorry that i came to your house like that. I’m new here and my aunt lives in your street. You know all the houses looks exactly the same, which is creepy, and i was confused.” you lied, trying to not look so weird.

The redhead chuckles at your response, finding it amusing but also empathetic. It seems clear she understands the confusion and bewilderment that you must be feeling. "I can't say you aren't right," she laughs, finding the situation humorous yet also relatable. She continues to stare at you with a sympathetic smile “I’m Lily, by the way. Lily Evans.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” you smiled at her.

Lily’s eyes light up as she mentions, “You know, we’re heading to the park later to meet up with some friends. Would you like to come with us? It’s always great to have new faces around.”

A mix of hesitation crosses your face as you contemplate the offer. You were homeless and in different place, whatever it is called.

“Okay you’re coming.” she grabbed your arm and started walking you with her.

“Actually-“ you tried to stop her.

“It’s gonna be fun, you’ll love them.”

As you walk together towards the park Lily, noticing your initial hesitation, leans in and whispers, “I’m really glad you came. Trust me, you’re going to love hanging out with this bunch.” Her genuine enthusiasm puts you at ease, and you start to feel a sense of camaraderie with this group from a different era.

Lily introduces you to her friends, The Marauders. As you walk together towards the park, Lily introduces you to her friends, the Marauders. She points to a dark-haired boy with mischievous eyes and a playful grin, calling him as Sirius. Next, she indicates a boy with messy dark hair with glasses as James, her boyfriend.

“Then there's Marlene and Mary." she continued. Mary smiled at you kindly. Marlene, was more playful, but she smiled at you too.

“And this is Y/N, guys.”

As she introduces you, a quiet and serious-looking boy with brown eyes and brown hair, an air of wisdom about him, came towards you. When he was close enough, you realised his scars on his face. You can't help but feel mesmerized by his beautiful eyes, as you notice the depth of intelligence and wisdom in his gaze.

"And this is Remus," Lily says, as the boy approaches. She introduces you formally. "This is Y/N, my new friend." The boy stares at you intensely, his dark eyes piercing into yours as he tries to understand who you are and what you're doing here. He stares for a few moments, considering his next words carefully. "Welcome," Remus finally says, his voice low and almost a whisper. "I'm Remus and it's....nice to meet you." He pauses, his deep, brown eyes studying you as he considers what else to say. It was a bit awkward, but nobody mind it, everyone went back talking. There was something different about Remus, you felt it.

[gegesusu]

Sebaciel Childhood Sweetheart story：

*I had some Sebaciel fan art made based on story below:

*English is not my first language

*It is just a concept story under Modern AU, where both Sebaciel living as normal human, met each other in their childhood. In this setting, they both have a normal family, and living in a normal life.

*[Ciel] do exist in this setting, so Bocchan will be called as he\ little one in this fiction. It’s annoying not to know his real name, but I do not want to make it up :

There is a home party held in Phantomhive ‘s house. As always, the elder brother is standing in center of the spot light. His younger brother, watching the elder one, who is doted on by everyone in the party. The younger feels like he is just an audience of this party, so he escaped,going to the balcony without light turned on so that no one will see his loss.

“Are you all right?”

He looked up and saw a boy five to six years older, might came from one of his parents’s friends. The maroon eyes sparkled like rubies in the dark. The black hair reminded him of the big, scary, loyal dog in the house, but at this moment, it gave him a sense of security that overflowed.

Even so, the little one is nervous about meeting strangers for the first time, and he suddenly into panic.

“Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, I. . .”

“I know, It's boring to go to grown-up’s parties, right? I was forced to join this party , but it is so boring, so I escaped.” The boy in front of him has realized the elephant here, so he start to talk himself to clear its way. “Hey, If you don't mind, would you like to have some chat with me? I thought we two can get well .”

[Chat? A conversation with me must be further boring! There are other kids in this party, why he asked me? Oh, I see, he must have mistaken me for Ciel!]

“Sorry, I-I'm not...”

“Yes, I do know you are the younger one from Phantomhive. Oh, apologize for not introducing myself. I'm Sebastian.Nice to meet you”He reached out his hand for a greeting.

[Sebastian… our guard dog also called this name]

Since Ciel is his twin brother, people used to mistake him for Ciel, his own existence is always thin when his brother is here. But this time, someone gave a notice for him, it is so out of blue, and confused. It is his first time meet Sebastian, why he can know the difference so quickly? Maybe because he isn’t such a weak person as I am so Sebastian immediately recognized him. Is he feel pitiful for me, being alone?

He just looking at hand in front of him, trying to read the mind of Sebastian —smiling with sincerity.

A pair of ruby only reflect himself, waiting for his response patiently.

First time in his life, he felt he have been seen by another person.

Somehow....it let the little one feel kind of happy that someone could recognize him at the first place.

So he took the hand just for him.

”... Nice to meet you…too “

This is their first met.

[shradsmanifestt]

hi, im sorry for bothering u right now. ive been asking around for advice everywhere because i really need all the help i could use right now. my anxiety is flaring up like crazy because my results come out tomorrow and im so scared because if i mess this up then my future is ruined. my mental health has been horrible and that has severely affected my grades but in most asian countries they dgaf about that and basically think it's nonexistant for minors so ofc i'm still undiagnosed, and if i were to apply to a uni i wouldnt get any good chances anywhere. if i could just get 3 Bs in my AS levels it would be okay or else i'd have to retake it and it's super costly here.. i don't wanna put my family through that because they'll talk me down, degrade me, destroy my self esteem which i've managed to build back a little. they were like this since when i was the topper and thats what made me burnout. undiagnosed adhd, trauma, depression also contributed to it

im applying the law, but instead of the feeling of success that everyone else gets i feel panicked. the 'feeling' people usually get when they're in the wish fulfilled state, the feeling of accepting it and it being real—im not getting that. i dont see a clear picture when i visualize. every time i try to, i end up breaking down and feeling like a failure... but I'm still trying to go on because why is it that the people who hurt me and practically ruined my life get to live successfully, while i suffer? thats not fair... i promised myself that if i could just get 3 Bs, ill turn my life around and work really hard... but is it over for me? i want to win, im trying to, but im scared

im trying my best to visualize myself getting 3 Bs, reenacting my friends faces when i get the results, praying to God and thanking Him for blessing me and continuing to bless me, but there is this fear still lingering at the back of my mind... i feel like I'm not doing it right. i have like one day left and I'm so nervous. im going over posts, tweets, and every time I feel a little better, it all comes crashing down because of doubts. theres only one thing one my mind right now: 'how am I gonna turn it around in one day?' i know that the 3D does not matter and that everything is done in imagination, but here i feel like its not done in imagination either

right now nothings clicking in my head, whatever i read is getting scrambled in my mind, i feel so lost and empty. could u please tell me what to do in this specific situation? u can be as harsh as you want if that's what's needed to get the point across. im really sorry for the bother and id be really grateful if u could please help out, ive never been this desperate before... my life cant be over before it even started

Hey love,

I get you, I really do but trust me when I say this.

THIS SHIT IS REAL AF. Manifestation is real af. It's as real as the fact that you are a human being. All you have to do is trust yourself that it is already done. If good results is what you want then that is exactly what you'll get. You need to choose to stop having doubts because it is already done. That is the simplest answer I can give you. Persist on what you want.

I am glad to tell you this but I just got test results for a major exam held in my uni today and I got into the 95th percentile just by saying to myself that my super power is aptitude tests and that I already scored great. In my friends group only 3 of us were eligible and I have 70+ more marks then them as well. If I can do it, you can do it. You need to stop doubting yourself. Atleast stop doubting manifestation. Cause at this point you're only gonna manifest your doubts.

I'll give you a scenario - If you're worried about getting bad grades, Trust me when I say this you're gonna manifest exactly that coz you will manifest exactly what you assume. You can choose to stop that right here, RN. Choose to accept that you got great marks. I mean don't even like aim for B's go for A's. I don't care even if you left the paper blank coz if you assume you're the topper, that is exactly what's gonna happen.

If you do get bad marks and I'm gonna be harsh here - You're the only reason why! You're gonna manifest exactly what you assume to be true even if it's good or bad. Your sc mind don't differentiate btw what's good for you or what's bad for you. It only knows what you feed it.

You got this, TRUST ME

Love, Shrads.

[lemotmo]

That anon talking about Tommy trying to seem cool has me wondering if thats what Tommy is supposed to read as, or if its LFJ's approach to the character and acting. I read an interview with him yesterday (an older interview) and it was so focused on how cool he thinks Tommy is and constantly talking about him from the first person (I'm so cool flying into that hurricane). He was also talking about the queer community and calling us "the lgbtq+ spectrum" which felt so weird to me?

So now the scene just feels like LFJ trying to act like he's really cool for being both very man's man masculine (and everything in that interview reads like LFJ thinking thats the ideal/awesome) AND doing this "exciting new thing that hasnt been done before" (I'm paraphrasing) which just... makes me feel gross. (He also made the entire thing be about Tommy/himself, acting like people talk abt 7x04 because Tommy is a gay masculine man and not because Buck is 100x the man Tommy is).

And idk. In a way i feel like he was cast perfectly if they were going for "uninteresting and emotionally stunted and self obsessed asshole" but also 🤢🤮

Hey! Yeah, I don't know. Is he 'acting' to be dismissive and annoying because it was required of him? Or is that just the way he is and how he acts in real life? I truly don't know.

I suspect it might be a combination of both. The man obviously likes to talk about himself and he's very 'present'. It also feels like he genuinly doesn't have a clue what he is talking about and how important some of these subjects (discovering your sexuality and coming out of the closet at a later age, LGBTQ+ topics, representation...) are for the people watching the show.

All this could have been avoided if he had done some basic research on the topic. I realise this was all decided and taped last minute, but it doesn't take all that long to open a few websites or videos to read and watch some statements of people who came out later in life. What was it like for them? How did they feel? Were they afraid of their family/friends finding out? Did they feel uncomfortable the first time they went on a date with someone of the same sex? How did their partners feel? How important is rep for them on television or in books?

He obviously didn't do any of that, because otherwise his answers in these interviews would have been very different.

For him? 911 and the bisexual Buck storyline is just a 'great' thing HE HIMSELF got to do. He's beating himself on the chest, saying 'Look at me! Look at how cool I am! I wrote history!' He makes it about himself, while this isn't about Tommy at all. It's about Buck and his journey of coming out. Tommy is just the guy who happened to be there and acted as a catalyst.

But you know, many people in Hollywood are like that, so whatever. It is what it is. It has always been this way. He isn't the first person to act like that and he won't be the last one.

I do suspect that the script said to amp up some character traits, such as his dismissiveness towards Buck and the way he always uses bad humour and sex jokes to deflect a serious conversation. Pair that with the fact that he was asked to always call Buck 'Evan'? It all adds up.

It all boils down to the fact that the writers didn't write Tommy to be a 'forever kind of guy' for Buck. They wrote him to be the person to get Buck out of the closet. Then they slowly started revealing his less than admirable character traits to slowly show the audience that this guy wasn't a good match for Buck at all. It's all right there, for everyone to see, when you look at season 7b. You just have to open your eyes and be willing to see the truth.

[ppenguinpperson]

cardiomyocytes and connective tissue @nopanamaman

I’ve wanted to do a fic like this for some time now, a ‘thank you’ letter to PAFL and its community of sorts. I’m happy I finally got around to writing it:) 

I wasn’t sure whether I should do this or not, but, hey! It might make someone feel a bit better!! Or, reading the fic will. That’s enough reason, I think, and you don’t have to read this, of course, no matter who you are.

First of all, I want to talk about PAFL a bit.

The first PAFL song I listened to was PiP. I saw its thumbnail when listening to some other music youtube, and so, I listened to it. Oh boy am I glad I did:) I remember thinking how cool it is that someone's making songs for their OCs and that people are interested in them. I could see so much love for the characters in it. I was so happy when I discovered there were more songs like that!! This was around when Comfort Zone had first come out, a week or two after at most. That was two years ago. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I love PAFL. I genuinely love that songs haven’t been coming out much lately. Like, there’s media that comes out weekly and sucks shit. I’m glad Ferry is taking their time with this!!! Even if all we get each year is one song, that’s cool, because the community is wonderful and we also get doodles and art and now patreon stuff.. yippee yay… !!! And even if we didn’t. who the fuck caressss!!!!! I love coming up with AUs and OCs and theorizing with my friends!!! the time between songs gives us time to do all that:)

The characters are so charming. Every member of the cast has been a fave of mine at some point or another. They’re all so, real! I love them! I love how they fuck up and I love how they get fucked over and I love how they get exploded and killed and shot and hugged and saved and helped!!! They’re human… might not make sense, but i rlly do like them…

It’s so neat looking back at older songs and seeing how stuff’s changed. The art style, the music, it’s all so nice to look back on. Even if I wasn’t there for it.

And don’t even get me started on the worldbuilding..  Everyone say thank you to Boris Strugackij and Arkadij Strugackij for making roadside picnic and inspiring Ferry to make this… so lovely and neat. wonderful. I have not read it myself, but I might, just to be able to make my own pafl OCs more swagger..

So. This fic.

I can’t mention two years ago without at least mentioning my depression.

I can’t remember most of last year, speaking truthfully. Parts of 2021 are also fuzzy. Depression and anxiety are terrible, would not recommend. This feels cheesy to say, but it does get better!!! Slowly, unsteadily, it gets better!!! I don’t mean for this part of the post to be a ‘feel bad for me’ thing at all. Do not. I am safe and healthy now and I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.

Is life good now?? Sorta, but what matters to me right now is, I’m happy!!! It feels so surreal. I never thought I’d be like this. A part of me wants to be angry, to get depressed again about how I could have been happy all this time. But I won’t!!! Because then I’d spiral and forget another year, and, I don’t want that!

Which is so cool!!! I can like, fucking, do stuff now!! I can throw away the bad thoughts, embrace the good ones, encourage myself!!! I do things!!! I go outside and goddd dude that’s so good!! I go outside!!!

I’m doing stuff! I’m drawing, writing, cleaning my room, taking care of myself!!! If I didn’t stay alive to enjoy these small joys, what am I even here for?? 

And I’m alive!!! I’m here!!! I made it, I’m here, writing this on 10th november, 2023, and I’m ALIVE!!!! How cool is that??? 

And yea, the world is shitty, it sucks ass, but, my friends don’t!!!:3 and that’s more than enough for me… SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS!!! I LOVE YOU DUDES!!!

Moving on:

It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m here now only to PAFL. But, what I can say is that it’s been a wonderful crutch for me!! It’s been something to focus on, something silly, but also something I can relate to, and something that inspires me to make my own stuff! I’d most likely still be here, were it not for these silly songs.. but, not sure I’d be as alive as I am now! Unsure if my heart would feel right in my chest! And I wouldn’t have met my amazing friends!!!! Everyone here is so nice.

Dima may be a bit OOC in this fic, and that's because! This fic is based on my own experiences, which, i don’t think is bad…

I could talk here forever about how it gets better. Butttt to be quite honest I don’t wanna lol. I just wanna say, Thank you! to Parties are for Losers, for being cool. 

(Though I also wanna say, don’t put Ferry on a pedestal, they’re human, we all make mistakes, all that stuff.)

Ok time to go back to my manly Sergei ways and never talk about emotions ever again. or as anya would say: FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!

[daydreamingmia]

Walker Scobell X Reader I Series | You Belong With Me 🔱 Part 24

A WHOLE LAND?! 🌊🏰 Part 3 🩵

You were hiding backstage. The plan is to have Uncle Rick cut the ribbon to the land then you, Walker, Dior, Aryan and Charlie are gonna hide in the rides. You'll pose as animatronics then start talking and everyone is gonna freak out!

"Attention all guests! When you entered the park today you were handed a scavenger hunt map. It is now time to use it! Follow the blue arrows to find the lightning bolt- I mean treasure." You hear the announcer say

—

It was about 20 minutes later...

There was a huge crowd outside of the entrance. One of the cast members was live-streaming it so you guys could see.

Uncle Rick walks into front of the entrance and you can see the crowd processing what they are seeing. They must've figured it out because suddenly the screaming was so loud it almost hurt your ears.

"Thank you! You know when I wrote this book I didn't think it would become what it is today. With an amazing cast and crew my idea was brought to life...not only on pages but on the screen. I would like to thank each and everyone one of you for all of your support. As a token of my appreciation I hereby open this new land for all of you halfbloods." He says as he grabs a huge pair of scirrors and cuts a ribbon which causes the curtain to fall.

"Camp halfblood is now open!" He exclaims as as the crowd runs inside

You look at Walker and smile

"Ready to brave the storm my seaweed brain?" you say as he smiles back at you

"Are you ready wise girl?" He smirks as he kisses you

The two of you hold hands and take the underground tunnels to the ride.

First ride opening is the Tunnel o love

There were cameras placed around the rides because Disneyland is gonna post the videos later

You sit in the boat where the animatronics usually are

"So like should we move weird and try to look like we are animatronics?" Walker asks

"Omg yes! I love that!" You squeal

"The first boat is coming" you hear someone say on the walkie talkie (haha Walkie has a walkie talkie...yes i have the sense of humor of a 5 year old😂)

You see the guests float in...wow the first guests on this ride EVER!

"I think I've seen this before...maybe in an orthodontist's office?" Walker says movie like an animatronic

When they see the two of you they scream...VERY LOUDLY

"Walker is so cute! Even as a robot" one of the many girls blush

"Hey! He's taken!" You jokingly yell

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!! I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH!!" She squeals

"We love you too" you smile back at her

"Enjoying the ride?" Walker asks

"YES!! OMG ITS AMAZING!!" Another girl gasps

"I'm glad you like it" you smile

2nd guest

"Omg they look so real!" A little girl says

"Would you like a picture angel?" You smile and look at her as she just stares

"Hi" you smile and wave

3rd guest

Nobody was talking just taking pictures

"HEY NO FLASH DUDE!!" Walker yells at the guy and he almost tips the boat from jumping

He had a really nice camera so he was probably a content creator

4th guest (you are now in the golden chair room)

You stand with Walker and decided to look romantically into each other's eyes

"Awww that's so sweet" someone says

"I'm sorry" you whisper to Walker

You shove him into the water (don't worry there is a hug gap between the boat and where you pushed him...like 50 feet)

You just start laughing at him as everyone just looks at you shocked

"Oh no! Now I gotta kill the witnesses too" you say with a mischievous smile as you walk towards them

5th guest

You hug Walker and look at him

He kisses you and the crowd gasps

"What? You've never seen true love's kiss before?" Walker yells as the crowd screams

6th guest

You and Walker now have lightsabers...why? Because I said so!🫵🏻

Walker was standing in the golden chair and you on the floor

"It's over Annabeth! I have the high ground!" Walker yells

You can't see behind you but you can hear squeals and see the flashes of people's phones

"You underestimate my power!" You scream back

You turn around and lunge at the boat. Just missing them you land in the water.

7th

"Avada Kedevra" you yell at Walker and point your wand-less hand at him

"That's the wrong franchise stupid girl" he rolls his eyes

"Oops" you shrug and draw a sword and point it at Walker

"Is this better?" You turn and ask the guests

8th

"You know what Percy?! I'm tired of your impertinence!" You yell at him as you draw a sword and "stab" him

A girl in the boat cries out nooooooooo!!

"What? You wanna be next?" You threaten

9th

Walker got a vest and a line attacked to him

"We will never win Annabeth!" He yells

"I find your lack of faith disturbing" you smirk as you "force choke" him

He lifts in the air as you look at the boat

Everyone is just looking at you unimpressed

"Kids today...they just don't get scared like they used to" you roll your eyes

10th

You and Walker put on Luke's shoes

They had little wings that move and everything

You were both tethered now

When the boat comes in you hear people say

"Why is there nothing in this room?"

"Percy what did you do to these shoes and why are they mad at you?!" You lectured as you descend from the roof

"I don't know" he rolls his eyes

You go flying towards the boat and just start "flying" around the room

—

It was now time to play capture the flag. This show was gonna happen like 3 times a day in this land.

"You're going down kid" Dior (in character) says

"Big mouth for a girl who was defeated by a 12 year old" you smirk

The game starts!

Everyone didn't have time to choreograph a fake fight for the guests to watch so...you guys are kind of just winging it

Let's hope nobody dies🫣

"Where's your water power kelp face?" Dior taunts

"Where's your broken stick thingy?" Walker replies

Dior does her iconic scream ABCs runs towards Walker as he grabs you and uses you as a shield

"Walk-PERCY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" You scream at him

"Uhhh nothing" he says dropping you

Honestly because this fight isn't choreographed it hasn't been very epic🫣

You could probably take down everyone because of all your training for marvel and stuff but you don't wanna hurt anyone😔

Suddenly you get an idea 💡

You look at Dior and give her a look. Somehow she got it

Dior helped you train for your fight scenes. For almost everything you've been in since you've known her. You can make this fight look real!

Dior swings her sword at you and your duck backwards

You're seeing your sword back and she blocks it with her shield and hits you in the face with her shield

You stumble back

"What's the matter? Is your bark bigger than your bite?" She mocks

"It certainly isn't as big as your ego" you reply as you leg sweep her

"You see I know when I can win a fight and I know when I can't. Unfortunately for you...you keep picking fights with kids younger than you who keep beating you." You taunt back

She grumbles as you help her up

The siren goes off because you won capture the flag 😜

—

"Our very own Percy Jackson cast will be answering questions! Welcome to the stage Walker Scobell! Y/F/N! Y/L/N! Aryan Simhadri! Dior Goodjohn! And Charlie Bushnell!" He announced as all of you Walker on stage and sat down

Weirdly there was an extra seat with a cover on it

"What was it like to fall in love with Walker on set?" A cute like 7 year old said in a really sweet way

The crowd just went "awwwwwhhhhh"

"It was like a book. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to fall in love so young. Let alone fall in love with my true love in a show that we are together" you answer

"Have you started filming yet?" Another asked

"Well we haven't started filming yet but we have started rehearsals in Canada" Walker answered

"So you flew here from Canada?" Another girl asked

"Yes we did" you smile

"Do you have a favorite character?" Another asked

"Well I'm a little biased I gotta say Annabeth" you reply

"Well I'm pretty awesome. But the nails digging into my arm tells me I gotta say annabeth too" Walker jokes

"I guess you're a wise boy now" you wink at him

"Do you know who will be joining the cast next season?" A boy asks

"No not yet" Aryan replies

"What was the first time someone recognized you?" A girl dressed as Annabeth asks

"Like from Percy Jackson or like ever?" Dior asks

"Ever" she replied

"I was at a grocery store and I was really confused because I thought I knew the guy but I didn't" Aryan laughed

"I think I was out with my sister and a few girls were pointing at me and one screamed look y/n's boyfriend!" Walker jokes

"I was actually at universal studios...Disney please don't kill me! But yeah I was at universal studios and my mom and sister were in the line with me and a little girl...I think she was like 5? And she ran up to me and just wrapped me in a hug and it just melted me " you smile

"I was-" Dior gets interpreted

"I am interrupting with Q&A with a special guest with exciting news! Ladies and gentleman Rick Riordan!" The guy announced as the crowd went wild

Uncle Rick joined you on stage with a mic in hand

"Thank you! Thank you! I am pleased to have a little surprise for you all." Uncle Rick smiled

"So nobody knows the new cast members of Percy Jackson are...not even our Walker or y/n NOBODY. I am thrilled to announce one of the most exciting characters for this season. Ladies and gentlemen our very own Thalia will be played by the very talented and creative young lady Leah Sava Jeffries!" He exclaimed as the crown goes absolutely insane

A girl around your height and age walks on stage and joins you

"Hello I'm Leah and I just wanna say I'm so honored that to be chosen for this role. I love Percy Jackson so much! I'm trying really hard not to fan girl up here! I've actually never met y/n or Walker or any of you and I just wanna say I'm a HUGE fan of all of you! This is truly a dream come true and I can't thank you enough" she says as she turns and walks over to the 5 of you

"I seriously love your music and your movies so much! Your last album is literally am I listen to now!" Leah says as you hug her

"Awww thank you so much! I'm so excited to get to know you! I just know we are going to be best friends!" You smile

"Young Mr. Deadpool" Leah salutes Walker

"He wishes" you laugh

"I am young Deadpool!" Walker whines

"In your dreams kid" you reply

Leah hugs everyone and uncle Rick uncovers the chair that says Thalia

—

You all go back to your hotel room

You and Dior pull Leah into your room and close the door

"Okay so I think you should know what's about to go down" you giggle

"Ooooo!! What?" Leah asks

"I'm gonna pull a prank on Walker. So we are all gonna be hanging out in the living room watching a movie. about an hour I'm gonna come out of my room screaming saying THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE HERE!! GRAB EVERYTHING AND GO!! I'm gonna put my phone and Dior's phone to record his reaction. Now I'm hoping he will PANIC...I know I'm mean but he's mean too. You'll get used to us trust me Leah. But I thought we should tell you so you don't freak out. I promise nobody is after us okay?" You smile

"Omg that's so funny! Wait...does anyone else know besides the three of us?" Leah asks

"Nope" Dior replies mischievously

"Alright I'm ready" Leah salutes

"Oh and one more thing...can I trust you to be on my team? I need you against Walker with me constantly!" You giggle

"Duh!" She replies

"I thought so" you smile and hug her

—

You were in your room getting ready for bed

Everyone was still in the living room

"Alright. Time for chaos" you say to yourself

"WALKER!!" You scream as you open the door and he jumps up

"What wrong?!" He asks worriedly

"GRAB EVERYTHING! THEY'RE HERE! THERE'S NO TIME!! HURRY!! GRAB EVERYTHING!!" You scream and just start running around grabbing random stuff

"NOOOOOO!!! THEY'RE HERE?!" Dior jumps up and stars grabbing stuff too

"OMG WE HAVE NO TIME!!" Leah joins in

You smile subtly when you see Walker, Aryan and Charlie starting to run around after the 3 of you

"Who's here?" Aryan asks frantically

"THEY ARE HERE!! THERES NO TIME!!" You scream at him

"Honey who's here?!" Walker says stopping you

"WE HAVE TO RUN!" Leah says grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Walker before he could see it in your face

You turn and see Charlie holding a toothbrush, a seat cushion, a blanket, and

Aryan was holding the remote for the tv, his phone, a hair brush, a bowl of fruit and an almost empty glass of water

"Okay?!" Walker says as he frantically runs to his room

He immediately runs out with a picture in his hand and a suit case

"You never unpacked?!" You ask him

"No but it's handy now isn't it?" He shrugs

He then runs off to the kitchen and throws the refrigerator door open and grabs a bunch of food

You look at Dior and she's holding a curling iron, her computer and her guitar

Leah is just holding a frying pan #repunzelisaqueen

"THERE IS NO TIME FOR FOOD!!" You yell at him

"IM SORRY WHAT?! THERE IS NO TIME FOR FOOD?! WHO IS COMING?! ARE WE DYING?!" He asks shocked

"WE HAVE NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS!!" You yell at him again

You watch as he grabs a lamp, a broom, a tv, a chair...honestly I don't know hold he's carrying so much so don't ask😁👍

You can't help but start laughing

"What?" Walker asks grabbing a bag of cookies in his mouth

You fall on the floor from laughing and Dior and Leah join you

"What are they laughing at?" Aryan asks

"I don't know" Walker replies

"Bro why are you holding a tv and one chair?" Charlie asks

"I didn't wanna get bored" Walker shrugged

"Should we be scared why they are all suddenly dying of laughter?" Walker asks

"Probably" Aryan says

"Wait what about running? What about the people who are coming?!" Walker asks

"There's nobody coming" you can barely get out from laughing

"WHAT?!" Walker says as he, Aryan and Charlie all drop everything they're holding at the same exact time

"This was all fake" Dior laughs

"You've already got Leah's brain corrupted by your idiocy" walker rolls his eyes

"Girl power baby" Leah smiles

"Who did you think was after us?" You ask

"I don't know maybe you annoyed somebody and they wanted revenge" walker says as he helps you up off of the floor

"I will get revenge. When you least expect it. When you forget that we are dueling. I will win" he says mischievously

"Oh I'm so scared" you mock

"You should be" he replies

A/n: SURPRISE!! LEAH HAS JOINED THIS STORY!! Was that a good surprise or what?😜

I'm so sorry the chapter got delayed!! I am REALLY REALLY sick! IM SOOO SOO SORRY!!

(Also if there are mistakes I'm sorry😭)

I've been planing this surprise for like two weeks now and I was so sad when I couldn't write it for a while.

Sorry the prank was a little goofy! I saw it on instagram and I thought it would be a fun way of saying Leah is already on your team hehe

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS CHAPTER!! If you did please vote, comment and follow!! I LOVE YOU ALL SOOOOOOO MUCH!!🫂💞💜💗💕💓💘💝💟🩷

Tags

@mireyaaaaaa @noahkahansorangejuice

@yeeteddemigod @walker-scobell-obsessed @callsignwidow @froggyflower264

@owlscanread25

[utilitycaster]

"There is zero attempt to extend anything but bad faith."

standing ovation for tidily describing this fandom in a nutshell tbh

Thanks, but I'm talking about a particular subset, the handwringy overwrought appeals to emotion crowd for whom the gods can never under any circumstances be redeemed, so unless you are also talking about that specific small piece of the fandom, I disagree! I actually think the fandom at large has been pretty receptive to the story as it's being told. And honestly, even when I've been in fandoms that frustrated me greatly with widespread bad faith interpretations (Midst and WBN have both had problems here)* they've come around when more obvious evidence came about. Better late than never.

I do think that an issue in this fandom, and fandoms at large, is not so much bad faith but as someone else said, motivated reasoning (though in the case of something the motivated reasoner dislikes, will become bad faith). A lot of people decide how they want to the story to go very early, often in a manner that validates their own existing real-world politics (even if they're not super applicable to the situation at hand) or personal preferences. I mean, that's in the end the source of a good number of shipping bad takes - people decide two characters must be in love and so even if they start dating other people and not talking to each other anymore, the motivated reasoning shipper decides that ACTUALLY this is all a front and the actor's blinks are in secret code and the relationship will definitely break up and the True Love was Always Endgame no matter how many times the creators say "no, it never was our intention to have those characters get together." But even then I think the silent majority of most fandoms are just. vibing and happy to be here. It's just that motivated reasoning people are loud.

And I'm not setting myself apart here; I'm loud and I'm certainly not without bias. My motivated reasoning tends to be based on foregone conclusions that I think are more likely to actually play out, I think, and I try to be self aware about it, but like, I do tend to assume stories will be good and follow some narrative lines and use the hints they drop, and that is itself an assumption because some stories are poorly made. Like, for example, with the gods, I do think that there is very little chance Matt is going to tell a story that's like "hey, Ashley, you know your first ever TTRPG character, who brought you into this friend group and whose life's purpose is to restore worship in the Everlight? Bad news, Everlight's a genocidal cunt and she's gotta die." That's obviously not my only evidence here. We've got the whole opening scene. We've got the fact that the non-Aeorian NPCs who aren't divine companions we've spent time with have been a sickly old man granted peace in death, a gnomish woman granted solace after being cruelly mocked by Aeorian forces, and the beggars who didn't have food despite wagons of supplies going to Aeor, whereas the Aeorian NPCs have been guards, slimy bureaucrats, teens badly beaten for minor crimes, and a drunk cop; the defaced and forgotten temple in a poor neighborhood that is heavily surveilled from afar because its laborers are unwelcome. Hell, as I said before it aired, the fact that the main PCs are gods and not Aeorian mages is a very deliberate and telling choice on its own. But yeah on some level, while I think Bells Hells have the space to decide to kill the gods since they are those same cast members (thought I doubt that is what they will do), I do not think Matt will tell an earlier story that says "hey, everyone at the table except Marisha? your beloved character(s) whom you played for all or most of a campaign followed a rotten-to-the-core lie."

Going off the meta of creators is a bit risky - a lot of dumb D20 discourse is based on assuming Brennan's leftism is the same as Very Online I Do Not Dream Of Labor Leftism and not his actual "the BBEG is the exploitation and undervaluing of labor and the dehumanization of others; labor itself can be deeply fulfilling, you just shouldn't be forced to rely on your capacity to do labor to the exclusion of all other things to be housed and fed" leftism and reasoning from there - but it's certainly more reliable than going off reasoning of "I as a random private individual want the gods to die for whatever the fuck reason and therefore that is the correct thing to happen and any other outcome is bad."

This is very rambly because I just got up and maybe it's that it's a nice morning and I can actually enjoy a leisurely breakfast before going into work unlike most of last week and much of the rest of this week, but for all I proudly identify as a hater, I am very much a lover of fiction and I want it to succeed and I want it to not just validate me. Like, if I hate on something it's because I wish it were better, but I don't hate on something just because it presents a different viewpoint than the one I already held. And I think you have to bring that good faith to fandom as well. If people are being idiots and assholes then yeah you don't need to keep acting like they're valid for that (I mean, they're valid in that everyone has the right to their opinions, but not in the sense that you need to grant those opinions intellectual consideration on par with thoughtful and evidenced meta and theories) but I do not actually go in assuming the fandom is going to be wrong and dumb and disappointing, and I think that's why I've found such enjoyment in it. Most people are chill! Chill people just tend not to loudly say WOW I'M SO CHILL AND THIS STORY IS GREAT.

*one bit of salt to cut the sweetness here but also still weirdly positive: the way I've dealt with that and specifically WBN is that I am trying to write one piece of meta after each episode that doesn't attack people or anything, just lays out my thoughts respectfully. Be the change you wish to see. I think a lot of people in fandom see someone disagreeing with them and go "OH YOU CAN'T LET US HAVE ANYTHING" and frankly this is the cause of almost all fandom unpleasantness I've experienced (in the sense of people seeing me say I don't like something and acting like I shut them down instead of simply didn't vibe), but it's important to remember that isn't how it works. Even if you do think the fandom has widespread bad opinions, you can change this by being thoughtful and patient and putting forth better ones. I mean there's limits, and if a fandom is genuinely hateful, get out, but if it's just surface-level takes for something that should be deeper? Be the one who shows the depth.

[suraemoon]

A Starry Night in 1956

Link to Part 1: A Sunset in 1956

It isn’t necessary to read Part 1 to understand this fic but hey it doesn’t hurt. ^^^

Warnings: p in v smut, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), angst, argument, reader has a panic attack in a crowd, descriptions on uncomfy clothes, some objectification of the body?, edging, unfulfilled wishes of finishing inside a woman, teeny bit of masturbation, any more pls let me know

WC: 13k (please bear with me lol about 5k of it is smut)

A/N: The story takes place in Florida in August of 1956. But unlike Elvis’ real life Florida shows during this time, instead of a theatre I’m imagining an amphitheater, park type of venue, like a music festival? if that makes sense. This is my first time writing smut, go easy on me. My inbox is always open for requests if for some reason you trust me with your ideas. Ahhh enjoy.

The starry night’s humid Floridian air was the cozy homestead of not only the expected water vapor but altogether meaningless, patient chatter. The laughs and small talk of people all with a common goal and interest: to see the Elvis Presley perform before them. The Elvis Presley so nationally loved by friends and schoolmates. The Elvis Presley so naturally hated by parents and guardians.

A passionate performance ranted and raved about, a controversial performance complained about and loathed, fit altogether in such a delicious little package for anyone so free in their judgment and beautiful rebellious lovers who have gotten their hands on the wave of Rock n’ Roll. The bow of this gift was a handsome man at its forefront. The poster boy of it all.

You’ve had the privilege of getting to know and love Elvis ever since you were sat at desks right next to each in elementary, in the days when the world was blissfully unaware that the foreman of a cultural movement was in school learning times tables. Seats that would eventually get moved due to disruptive chatter and giggles from the two of you, but the bond built that day could never let up or separate. Now you get to share the gift that is your best friend with the world, for better and for worse.

The year is 1956. Elvis and his band are touring and performing for adoring audiences all around the country and of course he had to take you, his “bestest girl”, with him to every single stop on the road.

You remember the now-fond, then-scary day when in the comfort of your childhood bedroom of your baby blue family home in Memphis that Elvis first proposed the idea that you come with him across the country.

——————— A few months ago ————————

It was a little while after you and Elvis had come up from dinner. After putting your dishes in the sink and thanking your mother again for the meal she prepared, the two of you quickly but politely and calmly made it a mission to get back up the stairs and into your bedroom like you had done so many instances before. It started when you were little, yawning and waiting patiently to get dismissed from the dinner table to get back to playing, sometimes getting yelled at for trying to race each other up the stairs to see who can get to the top first. Now that the two of you are young adults, you are obliviously unaware at how the urgency to get to your bedroom might look to any bystander. The bystanders being your confused, furrowed brow parents.

It was a vulnerable sunset, the orange hue of golden hour pouring into your window as the only new thing allowed to enter your frilly, pink bedroom. A bedroom whose decor hasn’t changed for years.

The two of you had planned to go page by page through your copy of the high school yearbook from your graduating year, reminiscing together on past experiences and gossiping about where everyone is now. You can clearly recall the moment when you finally were able to wriggle the yearbook from your full well-loved bookshelf, dusting it off and holding it in your hands while Elvis whispered from his spot on the pink, stuffed-animal filled bed behind you his plans about going away to do performances and his hope that you will accompany him. You dropped not only the book you were holding onto the cold hardwood floor but also the smile decorating your face as you turned around to face him.

“What’d you just say, Presley?”

You knew exactly what he muttered. He whispered loud enough to know you could hear him. You were both aware of these quiet facts. Quickly, you scurried over to your bedroom door to grab the doorknob and close it, an action that your parents did not allow when Elvis was over, but at this moment the pure necessity made you not care at all.

His voice was louder and shakier now, his accent getting thicker as he hurriedly tried to explain and convince you all in a few seconds. It was as if the last train was about to leave the station and he's trying his hardest to get you on board. His leg bounces against the bottom of your wooden bed frame.

“I know, I know. It sou-sounds crazy b-bu-but Mama is worried sick about me going and I know she’ll feel better if you’re there with me. I’ll feel better if you’re there with me. You just gotta, you gotta come with me, Satnin. You don’t know how much I need ya, honey. I really do. Never needed ya more than I do now.”

You force words to come out of your mouth in response to this confession of his. He’s never needed you more.

“E-Elvis I can’t just up and leave. What about…”

The tone of his voice has done a 180 and is now trying the best it can to portray calm and certain. The falsehood that everything has been figured out, the hope that everything will be okay. The need that everything will be okay. It’s apparent to him that you need assurance in this moment but his words are not only spoken to you; they are a message of comfort to himself, a plea to the Lord that what he has taught himself to think is actually the plan, that what he has grown to believe is indeed the truth.

“We graduated a while ago. We’re grown now. Ain’t nothing stopping us but ourselves. That’s what I had to tell myself. The only one that’s stopping you is yourself. It’s all doubt.”

You start to pace around the room, your feet going from the softness of your small carpet to the stable hardwood. Every thought and uncertainty is filling your mind at rapid speed and they’re pushing to spill out of your mouth restlessly as if your brain can’t seem to keep them all contained in one spot.

When you regain the ability to form sentences you stop in your tracks to look at him, your racing thoughts are even faster as words.

“I’ve got a family too, Elvis. A loving one just like you do and your mama wouldn’t be the only mama worried. My mother would be more than worried and I can’t imagine leaving her and no way my daddy would just let me roam the country either. You know him, you know how he is.”

“Honey…”

It’s like you don’t even hear him, your brain doesn’t have the space to process that he spoke, “What about all I’ve got here, Elvis? My job at the diner? I told ya that promotion is coming soon. Oh God, I know it is, I’ve been working for a while. I can’t just quit and lose all that progress I made! Brother done moved out to live his life and my parents are gonna be here all alone without me.”

Your feet stop their parading right in front of him, both of your hands on the side of your face like they’re the only thing keeping your head on. Your eyebrows furrow in wonder of why he isn’t trying to combat your words, confused on the fact that he doesn’t seem as concerned as you are.

Elvis decides to gently take both of your shaky hands into his, leading you to sit down on the bed next to him. Your poodle skirt lifts a little in the back just for the top fabric to pool around you and settle back down on the comforter, the breath you take in lifts and settles just the same.

He consoles in almost a whisper, “You don’t gotta worry about all that. It’ll all be alright. We’ll be together.”

“I know we will but….” His thumbs start moving back and forth in a soothing motion, cutting you off.

His voice picks up more, “Please? Come with me? All we’ve been through together, we can’t lose that now. I’m s-so scared of losing that, of losing you. I need to take a piece of home with me. Something to keep me stable, to keep me going. You always do. Every new place I go, I’ll have my Memphis with me.”

He gestures exasperated to you, his Memphis.

You take a long sigh, have all of your years of friendship culminated to this moment? The only movement in the bedroom besides the rise and fall of breath is his steady thumb on the back of your soft hand.

There is a few minutes of uneasy silence before you speak up looking not at him but instead at the glow of the shaded lamp on your nightstand. “How long will we be traveling again? I need to know how much to pack.”

“Well. New dates and venues keep being added and uh—Wait a minute....That means you're coming?” He glances at you, eyes sparkling full of hope.

You stare back at him with a smile, hope matching hope. A soft laugh almost makes your words a melody, “That’s what it means.”

“Oh, Memphis!” Elvis quickly traps you into a big, bear hug as if all of his pent up emotions have been waiting to be released. He’s squeezing you like his life depends on it, his arms around you to hold and keep you close. You giggle at this sudden action as excitement fills the air and fear clouds your mind. But, it’s a good kind of fear. It’s an anticipation that cannot be tamed.

————————————————————————

That day was a while ago. The Colonel has taken Elvis and his band (you and the Memphis Mafia buddies that have tagged along, he has taken begrudgingly) around different parts of the USA. You’ve gone to venue after venue, drove mile after mile, and it was far from done. Tour life has its ups and downs for everybody and it’s proven that the lifestyle is not for the weak of spirit. You have experienced exhilarating parties and contagious laughter that made it so you never wanted the sun to set and the nights to end.

There have also been days that the homesickness stays sitting in your belly, tears threatening to fill your eyes if you thought too hard about Memphis or stared too long at the family picture you kept safe and secure in your bag. An emotional rollercoaster when you come across it while quickly taking something out.

Many had come out for this night’s concert, one of many that Elvis would perform in the sunshine state of Florida. You watch observantly as the crowd around you waited in the open-aired park venue with waiting breath and time-passing fidgets.

It managed to cool down significantly from the heat that coated the early hours of the afternoon, to which everyone was thankful because it hopefully meant less fainting from screaming girls. The fanatic women didn’t have to worry about the sun beaming down to work against them, only Elvis’ attractiveness filling their soul, making them swooningly dazed. Pure anticipation kept the atmosphere thick where the temperature had let up.

You were full of anxiety as you stood alone in the middle of the crowd. You shifted from foot to foot, hand tugging on the edge of your tight black pencil skirt. It hugged your lower half like a glove would and had to be at least a few inches shorter than what was seen as decent. You know that your daddy would have a fit if he saw you dressed like this.

These recent stops have been hardest on your heart, hardest on your mind. It has been too long since you’ve touched your mama’s face, too long since you’ve heard your daddy’s belly laugh. Too damn long since you’ve seen the familiar, calming blue paint of your Memphis home. The same home you were brought home from the hospital to, the same home you left to go on tour.

We’ll be together.

His words have seemed to do nothing but haunt you lately. You’re together all the time, that’s true, but you only seem to be wholefully acknowledged when he remembers you exist. Nowadays, the only long conversations you have are when he needs someone to vent his emotions to and happens to recall that the girl he drags along with him is not only a pretty thing to look at but is also his best friend. You don’t even know if the best friend part still holds up anymore but it hurts too much to even imagine that being the case. If you think too hard about it, you would no doubt throw up right on the lady next to you’s shiny heels.

You play with the strap of your blouse, is it tighter than when you put it on? Is that possible? Well it had to be, no other explanation. You’ve never felt so uncomfortable in a top.

We’ll be together.

He’s together with girls that aren’t you. You shouldn’t be mad about it. You can’t get angry at it, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no reason to commit to you but now your life is centered all around him. You can’t help the jealousy that fills your mind like a bitter perfume whenever you see him flirt or kiss a random girl. Several beautiful girls crowd around him at each stop, eager to get their hands on Elvis Presley. You sigh knowing that you could never hold a candle to them. If your light shined as bright as there's, why weren’t you his? You give polite, tight-lipped smiles when asked to hold the camera and snap fan photos. You stand there awkwardly shifting back and forth on your feet, playing with your hands in the moments succeeding when he starts smooching all over them with that signature Elvis-style charm after the flash leaves and the picture is snapped. Who knew that there were so many model-worthy women just sitting in Suburban towns waiting to have their lips kissed and boobs grazed by Elvis Presley?

Some nights you find yourself alone under the stars and locked out of your and Elvis’ shared motel room, the only place that you know can be yours in such an uncertain existence. In your place is a gorgeous woman from the party the Memphis Mafia insisted that you all go to after an already long night.

Well, you technically can’t say the lucky woman is “in your place” because the activities occurring on the other side of that lovely door are things you can only dream about Elvis doing to you. There have been many nights where you’ve thought about sneaking in the bed next to yours to feel him in a way you’ve never had. Even if it’s just for sleep.

The reason you two even share motel rooms in the first place is Elvis’ desire to keep you safe and in his line of vision. Away from the access of creepy men roaming around these unfamiliar cities and even some of his Memphis Mafia friend group who think it’s fun to hit on you sometimes. He keeps you close but not too close. You’re stuck in a limbo of not knowing where you stand with a man you’ve grown to know so well. You know with every ounce of your heart that Elvis cares about you, there is no doubt about that, but you don’t know how he feels about you. It leaves you feeling dumb and knowledgeable. Disoriented and understanding.

Little does he know that sometimes you do get tortured sometimes, by no one but him. A mind game he doesn’t even know he’s playing. It leaves you broken, what’s the point?

In the crowd, your hands shake with nerves as if you are the one about to perform. The expensive gold and diamond bracelet Elvis bought in New York and presented to you under the old oak tree in your backyard makes a clanging sound as it moves with your motion. It seems tighter than it was when you put it on earlier. To take your mind off of both boredom and anxiety, you use all of your concentration to unhook the tiny gold clip and you make it looser a few notches. The bracelet had looked so out of place the night he gave it to you; the shine of the metal contrasted with the pastel fabric over your skirt. Though you are sure that the little diamonds throughout the chain shined brighter that night when you were sitting next to Elvis, maybe the light from the sun, maybe the light he radiated.

The jewelry went perfectly with your look tonight. Elvis has been picking out your outfits lately. They have gotten so mature, so grown up, so sexy.

———————— A few hours ago ————————

Elvis’ jaw dropped when you stepped out of the small bathroom looking like the epitome of a Hollywood bombshell in the outfit he had bought for you. He ignored the urge to pat himself on the back with how it all came out. “Wow, honey. You’re tryna kill me, huh? Do a spin, you have ta.”

It’s a tight blouse, a lower cut than you would even think about picking up from the rack but he was glad that could convince you to put it on. Your chest is lifted and displayed perfectly among the bright, satin blue fabric.

He’s used to your lower half being covered beneath the layers of poodle skirts or swing dresses but the tightness of the black skirt was practically nude compared to your usual style.

Some of your body is left to the imagination, how he likes it, but seeing the true outline and curves of your figure was like getting a glimpse of heaven.

You giggled and did as much of a spin as the tight fabric of your skirt and your heels allowed you. “Do you really like it?”

He looked at you, shocked that that’s even a question. “Are you kidding? Like isn’t strong enough of a word. Imma have to beat fellas away with a stick.”

“You’re gonna get jealous? Maybe I should use all my flirting skills tonight. I might meet a nice Floridian boy, you never know.”

“No such thing as one. You should go look at yourself in the mirror though. Might make your head a little bigger but it would be a shame if you didn’t see yourself.”

Your jaw was the next to drop when you got a good look at your full outfit in the mirror. No way the woman staring back in the reflection was you. It had to be someone else.

“Seeing what I’m seeing now, honey?”

You made sure to do every step of the process how Elvis liked it. You had taken his suggestions on how to do your hair and not one strand was out of place. The dark makeup was his idea as well, you’d usually never apply this much. The outfit topped the whole thing off.

“Oh thank you, Elvis! You’ve got a good eye for these types of things, you really do. You’re the bestest. Should pick out my whole wardrobe, that’s how much I like it. It’s beautiful.”

He replied simply but perfectly, making your knees weak as he did it, “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes tried to meet Elvis’ baby blues in the mirror but couldn’t quite catch them because he was too busy staring at other things. You watched him scan you up and down with those famous bedroom eyes, lidded as in a trance, and you were sure that you could pass out right there. He’s never looked at you with such fever in his eyes before and oh how much you enjoy it now that you’ve had a taste of it. You aren’t sure if you should kiss him or slap him as he lustfully and not so subtly stares at your legs, your hips, your waist, your boobs. His eyes only leave the mirror to look at your backside, not visible in the glass.

Little did you know, you were the manifestation of everything he had worked towards, a physical representation of how far he’s come. His childhood best friend dressed like a leading woman on the big screen…because of him.

At that moment he remembered, a thought provoked by a thought, an incident years back when the two of you were playing and running around the plush grass of your backyard, the blue paint of the house was brighter back then and the birds chirped a little louder. The wooden swing was still intact with both ropes on the tree, aging this story correctly, and your favorite activity in those days was to swing and jump off. One day, Elvis was sitting on the ground watching you demonstrate the skill that was jumping off the swing and the precision it took to get it right. When you leaped, he watched as your skirt went up in the air to act as a parachute, giving him a view of the white cotton panties you wore under your skirt. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink. Years later he can look back and laugh at how innocent and curious he was.

You got up, grass stains on your knees from the jump, and was quick to sit next to him, “Elvis?” You stop trying to catch your breath. “Wasn’t that amazing! I’ve been practicing and yours might not be as good as mine yet cause you are just starting. You gotta time the jump just right..”

You rambled on and on not yet noticing that your friend hadn’t responded yet when suddenly you stopped, noticing his red cheeks. “Elvis? Is everything alright? You’re looking a little pink.” You poked each of his apple-red cheeks with your finger and giggled.

That was the first time Elvis saw you, or anyone for that matter, in such a way. There was a weird pang in his heart, a blush that didn’t want to tame, and a fast shaking of his head when you asked what had gotten him so flustered that he wasn’t able to speak for a whole minute. Years later, he’s the one dressing you.

He smiles to himself at the memory. You saw each other grow up. Elvis started to notice you wear makeup. Your eyelashes magically got longer, little did he know at the time that this was due to mascara, something that has since become well acquainted with. The pretty pink blush that you used to only have when you were flustered and embarrassed stayed permanent on your cheeks as if normal. Over the years, he noticed how your tops started to fill out more, something he felt bad about taking glances at in those teenage years when he had the hormonal urge to stare. Well he still has those urges at 21, but that’s beside the point. Your face has matured into its features. You’ve always been pretty but have you always been this gorgeous?

He’s taken out of his own head when he feels you turn from the mirror and hug him, he uses his hand to pet your head lovingly and follow the shape of your hair.

———————— 20 minutes ago ————————

All those thoughts he had a few hours ago while getting ready in the motel room lingered in his head when you last saw each other about 20 minutes ago. He looked over at you once more backstage before sending you out to join the crowd waiting. “Go out there and enjoy the performance, honey.”

You have gotten used to being a backstage-dweller, watching from the sidelines getting a view that few others would ever have. The only downside was not being able to see all of Elvis’ pretty face while he performed but that stunning side profile was enough to keep you satisfied.

“I can’t just stay back here? No crowds…no sweat…no pushing. It’s nice”

“You think I dolled ya up for you to hide? I wanna see you while I’m performing. Spending all your time behind the scenes you can’t get the full picture. Might forget why you’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t know why I’d say it if I wasn’t sure. Do I have a reason to lie?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But that’s what I answered, honey.”

You huff, “Fine.”

————————————————————————

This series of events is how you ended up in your current situation.

The cold barricade is the only spot of cool under waiting torsos as you are only two rows back from being able to count the dust of the stage. You take a glance at the curtain stage left, trying to get a glimpse at the man who sent you out here. It’s to no avail as you are just a little too far back and the curtains have no give in their ability to stay closed. Your right hand goes up to cover your chest in defense when while looking to the side you catch one unsuspecting girl’s boyfriend trying to pass the time by staring at you a little too intensely. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead a long time ago. Girls look at you with disgust as if you were planted as an opener for their boyfriends to gawk at; boyfriends who only came out to make their gals happy, their hair styled in the hope that she’ll pretend he’s Elvis later on tonight. Some didn’t care or acknowledge your existence at all which made you wonder if these “stares” were all imaginary. Just your mind trying to protect you from something not happening. No way they weren’t real, if they weren’t you wouldn’t be so itchy right now, and your breath wouldn’t be so heavy even when the humid air is giving you nothing to work with.

You felt so desirable and confident when Elvis was eyeing you at the motel, what happened? Maybe the realization that you’re attracting the wrong people. You aren’t desired by the man your heart yearns for most. All dolled up to be a woman created for you to be, a woman that you knew that if you thought hard enough, if you worked hard enough you can one day become. The shell had been made for you to fill in seamlessly and it was still uncomfy. And oh how much you wanted it.

The lights go down and rogue screams of excitement accompany it. The lights are back up in a few seconds and there he is in all his glory, Elvis Presley. He still has that radiating quality that can be seen in the dark, a boyish smirk that causes women to shriek, hair that except for a few pieces in the front would be flawless. His suit is a little oversized but still perfect. He didn’t look real and every time you see him perform you are taken back as if it’s your first time ever laying eyes on him. Like a flower, Elvis blossoms like a flower in spring while on stage. It’s where he shines the brightest. He’s the boy you’ve always known transformed into something more than just potential. It’s the best version of himself, being in your happy place will do that to a person.

You focus on fawning over the man on the platform as if he’s the only thing that matters. The only interior taking you abruptly out of this reality is a push….not a push, a shove. It’s the group of younger teenage girls behind you trying to get closer to the stage. Someone else bumps into your shoulder as you look over. You can feel people’s breaths around you, the sweat, the sticky warm air, the heat of it all mixing together. It was never roomy on the grass, but the bubbles of personal space subconsciously given in to everyone in the crowd popped in that moment and the people just started getting closer and closer.

It was like a sea of magnets attracted to one thing and you wanted to yell at yourself for picking a spot as close as you were to the stage. Your breath quickened as screams got louder and louder, more and more overwhelming. Are these girls next to perform? How are they getting up to those octaves?

A man holding his woman’s hand, trying to get his gal closer to the front, had to have not seen you in front of him as he pushed through. It was at this moment that the loosened gold bracelet sitting around your wrist flew off and landed on the grass next to you. As you reach to pick it up, tears making your vision blurry, the front of a lady’s heel steps on it, the delicate chain snapping. Your gasp was full of fear and surprise, it was as delicate and small as the bracelet. Either the shock was too pure to come out of your mouth and instead went down to your heart or the sound was drowned out by the noise surrounding you. Maybe both. You were too small to be heard.

The offender walked away quickly and nonchalantly as if the metal of your most beloved possession was as soft as grass. Frozen in place before continuing your mission, the seconds you spend bending down to pick it up from the ground felt like hours. Gasping for air as if you were underwater, your shaky hands reach for the bracelet, now split into two pieces of chain. You grab onto whatever you can, fist turning white and the journey back up was even tougher. It felt like your throat was closing up like the pressure changed from the ground to normal height. No breath you take is deep enough for an efficient amount of air. Why can’t you breath? Your nose stuffs up and your lips shake in a shiver. The stampede of hormones is well past by now, you aren’t squished, no ones touching you but at this moment everything feels too close. Everyone’s focus is on Elvis, no one is even acknowledging your existence but it's still embarrassing to feel the tears travel down your face, getting ready to stain the surface.

Not knowing what else to do, you start to hurriedly walk the opposite direction of the stage, trying to find anywhere to go that wasn’t there in the grass. The only time in your life that you are trying to escape that silky Southern voice. You give a small “sorry” here and a tiny “excuse me” there as you make your way past people too entranced by Elvis’ performance to notice that someone was talking to them. Your voice was so weak and shaky that your mind made you doubt if they could even hear you over the noise, doubt if the words came out of your mouth to begin with.

Your walking leads you away from the crowd and your journey ends next to the water fountains outside the restrooms. This mundane spot is where your tired mind decides is good enough refuge to sit, not caring one bit about what you would look like to an observer.

The far away side view of Elvis Presley giving his all on stage and the crowd of people elated below it is more beautiful from back here. Your head leans back against the brick of the wall of the small restroom building. There’s a hope that the act of laying your head back would allow you to take an actual full breath despite the soreness of your throat, a hope that laying your head back would prevent the tears in the corners of your eyes from flowing down and ruining your makeup despite the immense emotion filling your mind.

Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying. There is no reason for the tears. You didn’t die, you didn’t get hurt. But it still hurts. Nothing happened to you, why are you such a scaredy cat? An overdramatic pathetic girl, a jumpy sheep who’s crying wolf, a…

Breathe.

Your view is up and all you see is the stars. It’s a starry night in Florida, the type of starry night that would give Van Gogh the inspiration to paint a masterpiece. The stars are small dots, all could be mistaken for the others accompanying the dark blue. All except for one. One star is larger and burns brighter than the others, if you stare long enough it vibrates in the sky. It shimmers, it gleams, it gives warmth, it gives hope.

For the first time since it was laying on the ground you decide to look at your bracelet, or what was left of it. After opening your fist, besides a few pieces of grass, you see a gold chain split in half. When looking closely at the small diamonds decorating it, you notice that one of them is missing. All of a sudden your lip quivers and your eyes gloss over as if getting the same queue. You glance over at the stage, the one star that can bring you comfort doesn’t even know you are hurting, he isn’t here to protect you. All alone your vision focuses on him with all its might, his moving figure is a little blurry through watery eyes but he’s there and that’s what matters.

The performance takes 5 minutes and 5 hours at the same time. You watched the whole show, your knees up and head resting on crossed arms as the tears dry in your face. It’s when he exits the stage to roaring applause that you get up from your spot on the ground. You know from your time backstage that when Elvis walk’s off out of view from the crowd he is no longer a figure floating on adrenaline, he’s your tired, sweaty best friend who you provide with a water bottle and a hug. You need to see him, you’ve felt alone and abandoned for so long, you need Elvis.

Determinedly, you walk as fast your wobbly legs and painful heels will take you. You are able to easily get past security to get backstage because the man standing in all black guarding the entrance was able to recognize you from when Elvis sent you to the audience earlier. By the time you get to the crowd of crew and band that you’re sure Elvis is in the middle of, your calves are burning with exhaustion. Your eyes move frantically in their search and finally you see him, he has a beautiful glow making him stand out in the pack of people.

You run up as soon as you see him, almost rolling your ankle as you fall onto him, arms enclosing his body with a tight hug. “Elvis!” You thought the tears had run out a while ago but there was something about being in his embrace, feeling his warmth and presence, being filled with his scent that makes every emotion that you experienced alone rise up again inside of you. You sob into his blazer, not letting him go.

At first he’s shocked thinking that fan snuck her way backstage but he hugs regardless, immediately recognizing that it’s you. “Satnin? W-wh-what happened?”

“Oh Elvis, I can’t be out there anymore. It was so scary and there were so many people crowding and I was bout to fall and trip. A-and my clothes are too revealing, they gotta be. People kept looking at me but not the way you look at me, it was real different. I just wanted to be around ya so you could protect m-me but you were performing! I didn’t know what to do…I was all alone. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He’s never seen you this vulnerable, this broken. “Did someone hurt you, baby?”

You pull away just a little to look up at him, your face is puffy and red from crying and Elvis swears you’ve never looked so small. You look so young, cheeks and big eyes reminding him of the little girl he met all those years ago, not the femme fatale prototype he saw in the mirror just a few hours ago. A broken girl in a woman’s clothing. Pure Memphis was in your eyes, reminders of simpler times.

“I was so nervous, Elvis. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Honey, I asked ya a question. No one hurt you out there right? Answer me ‘cause if some bastard put his hands on ya, I’ll kill the son of a bitch.”

“No! No one hurt me. I was just so scared…I was just so scared. And look!” You show him the fragments of what once was bravely in your hand. “I broke it, Elvis. I’m so sorry. You got it just for me and it must’ve been so expensive and it fell off my hand and broke. O-one of the things is gone and I don’t even know if I grabbed every piece of the ground. That’s why you can’t buy me stuff, Elvis, I told ya that. I’m too clumsy for nice, fancy things.”

“Shhhh…shhh, baby. We’re going back to the room. It’s all gonna be okay. Forget the damn bracelet, it don't mean anything to me. You’re alright and that’s all that matters. You’re okay now, you’re safe now.”

Elvis puts an arm around your waist and guides you through the crowd, ignoring everyone who tries to talk to him except for a few words when asks, not asks tells, one of the guys to drive the two of you home. He quickly opens the door to a car, rushing you in with him to head home.

Home being the motel. You two are miles from Memphis , the home your heart longs to see again.

The ride back to the motel is quiet. The most quiet it has ever been when the two of you are around each other. The car drives there fast but the journey home always feels shorter than the trip you took to go. That is what keeps the world spinning, if not, hope would be lost too soon.

Within what seems like the blink of an eye or the very long blink of your tiny little car nap, you arrive at the dimly lit sanctuary. Giving the driver a small “thank you”, you and Elvis get out of the car simultaneously and walk silently to the room assigned for the both of you, he opens the door to let you in first.

Immediately after walking in and locking the door, Elvis takes off his blazer, the button up he's wearing underneath now on full display, and he throws it on a chair. You walk over to the bathroom, a dim shade of yellow filling the room after you turn on the light. The reflection in the mirror was horrifying, there was a stark contrast from how amazing and put together you looked earlier. Your mascara is smudged from tears and you try your best to rub the residue off with your finger. Your cheeks can be easily compared to red apples and your lipstick is in need of a reapply. Aware of the fact that you look like a hot mess but not having the strength to do anything about it, your attention goes back to the broken bracelet that you’ve had in your tight grasp ever since it was picked up from the floor.

Elvis sits down on his bed, rubbing his eyes as if deep in thought. The silence of the room can be described as comfortable only for the fact that it differs from the loud noise of the venue.

Giving up in your attempts to put all of the pieces of the bracelet together on the counter, you sigh and turn around to head to the main bedroom. It’s when you see Elvis that you’re reminded of everything and all the emotions start to well up again.

You have to tell him. Break it to him easily. Make up your mind.

Your mind stays fast and something is on the tip of your tongue, your lips quiver and in an ill attempt to display conviction in your statement, it instead comes out in a broken, quiet, and tear stained whisper,

“I can’t do it anymore, E.”

Elvis looks up, his hands dropping from his face to fall on his knees, his voice shows true confusion at your sudden words, “What?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t, Elvis. It ain’t me.” Your hands gesture to yourself, not only the Elvis-picked outfit but all the tears and tiredness apparent as well.

He shakes his head unseriously as if this is all too ridiculous to be real, “What do you mean it ‘ain’t you’? We’re making it you. You just gotta get used to it.”

“You always say that but it ain’t working, I’m not the type of girl you want me to be. I need to go home, I just wanna go home.” This last statement comes out as almost as plea, like a little kid’s complaint when they don’t want to go to school.

“So you’re just gonna leave me? Just like that?” He decides to stand up, questions coming out of his mouth defensively. You hate hearing the tone of disappointment in his voice, it’s as if you are unjustified, unreasonable.

“I’m not leaving you…”

“You’re leaving me.”

Face to face, you look up at him, tears threatening to roll down your face again at his harsh and direct accusations. “Elvis, I’m so tired, so exhausted. I wanna be here for you, I want to be everything you want…You don’t know how bad I want that, how bad I need ya to be happy with me b-but…”

“You’re going back to Memphis? This is so outta the blue, honey. This is coming from nowhere, you’re happy and all of a sudden you wanna go home.”

“I’m sorry, Elvis. I think it’s best that I go home. There ain’t no place for me here, no purpose for me being here, no spot to fill.”

“Leaving this…”

His voice is firm in his words and his hand moves around the room as if you forget where you were and then he continues, “..is leaving me. My life is different now. You can’t just quit when it gets hard. I need your support, you don’t know how much I need you here with me. Don’t just up and leave. I make sure you’re alright, I buy you all this fancy shit, I accommodate for ya and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m doing it for my folks and you. That’s what I’ve always told ya, what I’ve always told myself. It’s for Mama, Daddy, and you. That’s it. All of this ain’t for me, it’s never been. Let me satisfy you. This is your place, that’s the spot you’re filling.”

The sound of your voice raises and your tone has changed to match his in attempts to defend yourself, “Don’t act like I’m abandoning you, Elvis. I’ve supported you ever since I met you. I don’t need fancy things to make me happy, it ain’t about that. I don’t need you spending a dollar on me. I’m just a regular old girl from Memphis and for some reason your mind thinks I’m someone else.”

“You’ve always been you. Ain’t no other girl like you. You know that you’re special, I’ve known ya for so long.” He reassures you as if stating the obvious, something you should know and not be doubting. Something that for some odd reason you have seemed to forget.

“That’s the problem. You’re so focused on what I represent, how I make you feel. I’m not some memento from Memphis that you can carry around in your pocket like spare change. That don’t make me sound like a person. I’m all alone. I’m surrounded by so many people, been places I’ve never stepped foot it in, and I’ve never been so lonely. You don’t give me a second thought. I’m only here when it’s convenient for you, when it’s convenient for me to exist. That ain’t friendship. I’m only here when you’re struggling, I’m struggling, Elvis.”

His voice gets even louder and at this point it’s almost like a contest of who can outdo the other in loudness of volume and truth of defensive statements. “You don’t think I’m lonely? You don’t think it’s overwhelming for me too? Everyone thinks life is all good and dandy for Elvis Presley. Sun is shining all the time when you’re tryna support everyone. It’s all fun and games when you get all the pressure on your shoulders, the attention from everyone, the press hounding ya…”

You can’t help but roll your eyes in annoyance and throw your hands down in exasperation, “Here we go again. You’re the only one going through things. We’re all just planets going around your sun. No one else is allowed to feel? I’m trying to get you to understand what I’m feeling and it’s all about you again.”

The smart choice would be to calm the situation down but your honor can’t let you. To you he is the Elvis you’ve known for years and years, one that isn’t any better than you.

His face gets a deeper shade of red as if you have finally struck a nerve and he points his finger at you accusingly, “You aren’t gonna disrespect me like that. Acting like I’m some selfish bastard.”

“I never said that-” You back up as you realize it has started to get too serious, too real. You’ve never had an argument this momentous and your voice reflects the shock.

“That’s the last thing you’re gonna do, woman. If you wanna spend all your time in Memphis, do that. Live your whole life sitting in that same ole house, I don’t give a damn.” Annoyance seeps out of his voice and you aren't sure if it’s stubbornness or irresponsibility that makes you keep arguing.

“Why am I an extra in your life, Elvis? My whole life revolves around you and you don’t give me the time of day. I hate that I’ve taught myself I’m only good when you’re around. It makes me sick to my stomach. What happened to ‘we’ll always be together?’ We haven’t been for a long time now.”

“Then why do it in the first place? Why let me drag you around if you’re gonna nag and complain about how miserable you are? Why say yes?”

“Because I love you Elvis!” At this moment his face softens immediately.

Your voice breaks into a cry as the strong walls you have built up from the ash have broken down again, “A-and I’m so scared, I’m terrified. Everything’s changing and I’m terrified of losing ya. I wanna make you happy, I want you to love me. But maybe I’m not cut out for it. I’m not good enough for this life.”

He reaches out to hold your hands, “Don’t say that—”

“I wish with every bone in my body that I was but I’m not. I can’t be the girl that you want me to be. Maybe you’ve grown from needing me and I’m still stuck. But if that’s true I gotta sort it out alone, I can’t hold you back.”

In this moment his lips touch yours and you are taken aback for a second from shock, immediately you close your eyes and kiss him back just as passionately. The kiss is years of pent up emotions and years of confessions unsaid.

He pulls away, puts his hands on your hips to stabilize you, and speaks confidently, “I love you, Satnin. I always have and I always will. If I haven’t been showing ya that recently then I’m real stupid. You’re all I want you to be, I beg ya believe me. I don’t know what kinda girl you think you can’t be, but we’ll sort it out.. I’ll make sure we see it through because I love you. I’m in love with you and my biggest regret is not telling you sooner.”

You’re at a loss for a verbal response so your body’s natural instinct takes over and it’s your turn to kiss him, both of your hands cup his face as your lips take ownership of what they’ve always wanted. It’s just as passionate as the kiss you two shared prior, but this one is full of heat. His hands roaming up and down your body feeling anything he can as his lips focus on yours just adds to the friction.

It’s a desire that fills and energizes, a desire that refuses to be tamed just by the touching of lips and moving of mouths. The tension in the room is different from the cold atmosphere of a few minutes ago; it’s dirty, it’s sloppy, it’s sexual. The seconds of kissing turns into a few minutes of a make out session, one that has only occurred before in your fantasies. You’ve both been standing for a while but neither of your legs are tired.

The kiss is only broken when Elvis moves his hand to your ass and after a squeeze he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms do the same around his neck.

He whispers seductively in a tone you’ve never heard him use with you before, “I’m gonna show you how much I love ya. Just you wait. I wanna make it up to you.”

He carries you over to his bed and places you gently onto the soft sheets. Elvis kneels down on the ground in front of you as you lay, biting your lip in anticipation. His hands go to take off your heels, the ones that were killing your feet earlier but adrenaline dulled the pain. “Don’t want your little sooties to be all sore now.”

You blush light pink at the baby slang for your feet, the softness of his words contrasting from the passionate feelings of this moment.

It’s when he comes back up from his spot on the ground to lean on top of you on the bed, the veins on his arms showing themselves off beautifully as he holds himself up, that you realize the seriousness of what’s about to happen.

His lips move from your mouth, down your chin and to your neck. At first it starts with little ticklish pecks, then sucking on your skin that is sure to leave marks all over you in the morning. It isn’t until the first small moan escapes your mouth that you realize the seriousness of the moment. Your back instinctively arches as he moves to your collarbone; it’s as if your body has known for a while what’s going to happen, what it wants to happen, and your brain has just unfuzzed enough to catch up. He wants to have sex with you and you want to have sex with him too.

The arch in your back gives him the cue to lift you even more up to reach the zipper on the back of your top. Your heart pangs and he lifts his mouth from your skin when he notices the way you shiver at his touch on the small of your back. “I-Is this alright? Are you comfortable with this? I don’t wanna move forward if you aren’t comfy.”

“This is more than alright, Elvis. You can keep going…please.” He nods without saying a word and uses his right and unzips your top seamlessly, it’s like it was meant to be taken off this way. The only non gentle part of this process is him taking the top in his hands and looking at it before throwing the garment across the room. This took you by surprise at first but he did buy it for you, so you suppose it’s his to take off and throw. Before you know it your bra is unclipped as well and the room’s cold air hits your warm chest making you shiver again.

“Wow, honey.” Elvis’ licks his lips as he takes you in. Your breasts move up and down with your breathing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding ‘em from me…”

He bends down and gives each of your breasts a long kiss, evoking a small giggle from you. His mind compares your laugh to the most beautiful of melodies.

His eyes bounce back and forth between your giggle-induced bouncing breaths as he begins to talk to them. “She’s been covering yall up? Hiding you two from Elvis? That aint fair ain’t it?”

“Elvis stop that.” You give a small eye roll as the laughter vibrates your whole body and the smile on your face lights up the room.

He smiles as he gives your nipple a small nibble in order to get another reaction from your body before looking up at your eyes again. Your blush reminds him of a pretty picture, “It’s like ya locked me out of heaven.”

You laugh at his exaggeration, “You’re too much.”

“You’re just enough.” He kisses your lips again.

He moves his mouth down your stomach and stops when met with another roadblock: your skirt. He just shakes his head and the zipper is undone faster than the one that was keeping your top together. You lift your ass to help shimmy out of the fabric and with Elvis’ help it rolls down your legs to drop on the ground between his feet.

The sight he sees below him at this moment is one he has only seen in his wet dreams, one he has moaned about when erections snuck up on him, one that makes him get even harder in his pants then he already is.

You lay before him with the cutest shade of pink flushing your face, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him awaiting his next move, your chest fully exposed as if inviting him in, and the only item of clothing still keeping some sort of mystery from his eyes is the cotton white panties on your bottom half. It’s the only thing that he isn’t quick to take off once it gets in his way, it’s like a gift on Christmas. A special present you’ve been anticipating all year, for him longer.

Your blush gets even redder in embarrassment as you assume that he’s looking at the growing wet spot dampening the fabric, staining the sea of innocence. It’s one you can’t explain, a wetness that you only get when around him. One that makes you clamp your legs together subconsciously whenever an innuendo hits the right spot. It’s one that calls for obliviously necessary panty changes when you rush to bathroom expecting your monthly blood, to pull down your pants and find out that the “blood” is a pool of translucency.

“Can I take these off, honey?” His fingers play with the upper band of your underwear restlessly, waiting for permission to get exploring a new world. Lewis and Clark getting ready to explore Louisiana. Settlers waiting to go travel west in the search for gold. Elvis doubts that any gold buried in California is a good comparison to the teasing quality of your snatch against the see through white veil of your panties. He looks at you patiently, you’re the fucking American Dream.

You nod your head shyly at him, still unsure of the fact that you’re about to be truly exposed before him. It’s a vulnerable state in which all humans come. Adam and Eve weren’t aware they were naked until after they sinned and you’re about to eat the apple.

Unexpectedly, Elvis shakes his head at you as if you got an answer wrong in class and he’s trying to lightly break it to you. He will break it to you, firm but encouraging, dominant but soft, “Nuh uh. Gotta use your words, baby. Be a big girl and answer me, I need to hear ya say yes. You usually ain’t got no issue with that. Such a talker and now you’re as quiet as a dormouse?”

“Yes. You can ta-take them off.” Your quiet voice doesn’t beat the dormouse accusations and you can’t help but be embarrassed by your weak stutter but you are all the way sure that you want this. You’ve never wanted anything more.

“Thank you.” Elvis wasn't gonna fight you on that, he was a racing horse ready for the starting gate to open, a hungry tiger waiting to pounce. After hearing the sweetness of your consent, there never was a sweeter sound, he gently but efficiently pulls down your panties, exposing yet another part of your delicate body to the cold air. With the same fate as your black skirt, your panties start to be rolled down your legs but instead of letting them reach the ground, Elvis lifts both of your legs slightly to grab the white fabric and put it in the pocket of his pants. He knows that the pants won’t stay on for much longer but even when they eventually fall to the floor, his party favor will stay secure.

He does a full look over you again from your face down to your pussy, a sight that for a while he thought he’d never get the blessing of seeing in person. A sight that there are no words to describe quite right. His voice is breathless as he speaks to you, “You’re gorgeous.”

You’re too focused on looking at his concentrated face to notice his fingers going to touch your soaked cunt, a high pitched moan of surprise leaves your mouth. Not only surprised at his tender fingers touching the hissing heat, but surprised at how fantastic it feels. The two fingers making contact are the perfect balance of soft and calloused. They go back and forth, exploring your pillowy pink cunt like it’s a new guitar waiting to be tested out. Even with just a few seconds of touch, your arousal coats him welcomingly already. “All this slick is for me? I did this to ya? All this for Lil’ Elvis, he’s a lucky guy.”

“Al-all for you, Elvis. Always for you.”

Elvis in all his experience knows exactly where to go to make you twitch in satisfaction, the tiny bundle of nerves is the sweet spot. His fingers move in a circular motion, his fast pace never tiring. Your moans start to pick up and Elvis swears it’s the best sound he’s ever had the privilege to have heard in his 21 years of living. The moans are soft and breathy for the most part, here and there you let out a deep alto coming from your core.

“Oh, Elvis!” The first yell of his name is like ecstasy for him.

As if suddenly aware where you are, a motel room, not a floating cloud in heaven, you bite your lip to be careful. You can just imagine the weird stares you’d get from people in the morning, especially the ones that know it was your high voice disrupting an otherwise peaceful late night.

As if noticing those satisfying, constient noises of pleasure being muffled, rather terribly, Elvis looks up from your distracting pussy for the first time in a while. His fingers never stop their circles on your clit. “Let me hear ya. Don’t keep those sweet noises from me, darling. Don’t ever do that.” You're amazed at how he can multitask, a small reprimand comes out of his mouth while his fingers give the most pleasing feeling in the world, all simultaneously.

Remembering faintly behind the wispy clouds fogging your mind the loud sounds that you’ve heard from other guests while staying in random rooms around the country, your concerns manage to string together a sentence. “Th-the walls are thin. People can’t hear m-me.”

People can hear you. They can hear you well, what you meant is that you don’t want people to hear you but the words didn’t quite come out that way.

“You want em to hear ya moaning and screaming? Gonna up the ante, doll?”

“N-no, no! Don’t wanna…don’t want them.”

“Oh. Well t-those folks don’t matter none. Nothing matters right now but you and me. Me and you.”

To drive this idea into your mind, to take your worrying head off of consequences, one of Elvis’ fingers makes his way inside of you gently. Your walls naturally squeeze around his finger and his cock pulses in his pants in pure jealousy, Lil’ Elvis getting impatient for his turn. His long finger curls just a bit before sitting still inside of you for a second, your button hissing at being left abandoned. He moves his finger in and out of you gently as he speaks, “Jeez, baby. When was the last time someone touched ya? You’re as tight as a virgin.”

You freeze in that moment, for you are a virgin and he senses this immediately from your hesitation, the way your bright eyes widen and long eyelashes flutter as if a secret just became uncovered. From your reaction you’d think he started fucking you already. “Elvis…I-I…”

“Oh. You are…? A w-while ago you were with that…thought you were….Never mind that. I know I gotta give ya that extra attention now. I’m gonna get ya prepped for me, honey. Ju-just wish ya would’ve spoken up and let a guy a know…It’s a big thing for ya pretty head to keep secret.”

Having a bigger duty and responsibility on his shoulders after learning that you’ve never taken a cock before, Elvis knows he’s gotta take extra time with you and he has any complaints about that. Even if you weren’t a virgin, he would’ve been mindful with you anyways for it was the gentleman thing to do. Elvis Presley might be a horny man, a horny man who’s cock wants nothing more to be buried inside of you fucking you senseless, but he’s not selfish son of a bitch.

He wiggles and works a second finger inside of you, your eyebrows furrow and eyelids close at the sensation. As he sets his pace inside of your pussy, your moans get louder as if building up to something. You make no attempt to hold them back, but even if you tried there’s no way you could for the pleasure was too strong.

“Elvis! O-oh…yes, yes!”

“There you go…Let all that shit go, all those bad thoughts. Atta girl.”

You feel something build deep inside of your lower stomach, it’s like a fire being fed. When Elvis feels your walls start to clench, he stops and immediately slips out of you. It’s quick and easy since you are so slick.

What you didn’t expect more than his touch leaving you was an anger building inside of you. Your brows furrowed in confusion and your voice was quick to implore him for answers, “What the….? Why’d you stop? You can’t just—”

He chuckles, making you more annoyed. “Shhh….Imma give ya what you want, Imma give ya everything ya need.”

In his kneeling position at the edge of the bed he adjusts a little and moves his head down so it’s face to face with your cunt. “Such a needy girl with an even greedier pussy. Greedy for something it don’t even know.”

You whine as your body shimmy’s down further, desperate to meet his mouth. He puts his hands on your thighs, opening your legs more and keeping you stable at the same time. “Both of you are whining for me, huh? I’ll take care of ya.”

In that moment he kisses your cunt with a small peck and your mind flips on itself. His laugh vibrates your pussy. He’s amused by the fact that if that tiny kiss made you jump you had a bigger surprise waiting for you and oh he couldn’t wait to show you. He’s the only one who knows what’s coming next.

Elvis’ mouth makes contact with your cunt again, eating you out with unending strokes of vigor and passion like it’s what he was put on this earth to do, he’s close to the finish line of something he’s been dreaming of accomplishing for a long time: helping you reach your finish line.

Your legs bend around his head, encasing him in paradise. Your left hand meets and intertwines with his right one, holding hands is such an innocent gesture at a time like this but it’s so perfect. In contrast, your right hand grips the sheets with whitening knuckles. “Yes, Elvis! Just like that….Oh Lord.”

His tongue has no mercy as it devours you, he’s like a starving animal. Your hips, also chasing, buck up to meet his mouth halfway. He works you perfectly and it isn’t long before the storm starts to brew in your lower tummy again, like lightening is waiting to strike.

“Please, please, oh please, please.” You don’t even know exactly what you’re pleading for, just some release, some finish.

“I’m…I’m...oh my God.” Your words serve as a strong caffeine as Elvis starts to suck on your sensitive clit and that’s when the band breaks and you reach euphoria. A wave of satisfaction floods your body like the ocean, it's a feeling so foreign but so instinctual, new but always meant to be. Your moans are easily the loudest they’ve been so far and your legs start to shake intensely. The room seems to spin around you as you start to see the stars, the same ones you saw decorating the night sky outside. Elvis licks and sucks you through your high, tasting the sweet honey of your release on his face as your legs close tightly around his head, making him go deeper.

Moving your hips against him to ride out your finish, your body feels limp as you try to catch your breath. Elvis lifts his head and looks at you with a grin, an attempt to lift your hand to wipe his face is a failure since your hand shakes as soon as you bring it up and ends up falling right back on the sheets. He licks his lips and comes back up to kiss you.

His grin is boyish as if proud that he was the one to make you feel that way. The first man to give you an orgasm, the first man to make you writhe and moan, the first man who’s name is screamed by that parted mouth of yours. Hopefully the only man to ever make you do those things. His mind will remember this in the future when met with any of your smartass remarks, eye rolls, or teasing. Is it wrong for him to love that? Too damn bad he’d say.

He whispers in your ear, thick southern drawl and all, “You feel better, mhm? You were being so good for me, honey. You taste like some honey too, no doubt.”

Your voice is as shaky as your legs were just a second ago, “I l-love you, Elvis.”

“I love you too, baby.”

A need to give back fills your heart and you somehow manage in this jelly-like state to sit up, your hands going towards Elvis’ pants. When you cup the hard bulge in his trousers, his head falls back with a groan. “F-fuck…see what you do to me?” You nod, amazed at the fact that you are the reason for his arousal. When he unzips his pants and pulls down his underwear with them, he is as hard as a rock, standing at attention because of you.

After taking off his bottom garments, he kneels on the sheets of the bed and goes to unbutton his white dress shirt as you stare at his cock. Assuming that this is the first one you have ever seen, he isn’t all anxious but is instead proud of Lil’ Elvis and the gawking reaction he is getting from you.

The only time you had seen a penis was in middle school sex education class but that was only a drawing of one. It was 9am and the black and white non-detailed sketch of the male anatomy was met with giggles by your immature classmates. For you it was met with a yawn considering the time was 9 in the morning and your only objective in that time slot is to stay awake.

Fast forward to the present day sitting in front of a hard cock, the one belonging to Elvis Presley, was nothing short of fascinating. This one differed in some ways from the one you were shown years back in class, not only was it more detailed and quite a bit bigger, but there was extra skin covering the tip. This observation interests you and with curiosity getting the best of your racing mind, you bring your hand up to wrap your fingers around the thick of his length and pull just a little bit of skin back gently with a soft up and down motion.

When you do this, your glimpse at a pink tip and a bead of liquid forming in the slit was just a small glance because Elvis twitched around you immediately, a small moan. In fear that you’ve hurt the man you love, your hand immediately draws back as if he was a stone that burnt you.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt ya, E. I should’ve asked, I really should’ve. You asked before—”

“Honey, honey!” He cuts your worries off. “It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me. I-It’s ju-just felt really good. The way you got all shaky when I kissed ya all nice? It’s the same thing.”

“Oh.” Just a simple motion would help him reach that dream-like state you were in just a few minutes ago? It seems like women were more complicated.

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that many women took cock inside their mouths to pleasure their men. You’ve overheard Elvis and his Memphis Mafia talk about women “giving them head” which you have assumed is a girl making them fall apart with just her head. There’s only one hole on the face big enough to please so your mind decided to fit the puzzle pieces together on its own, unsure if your puzzle matched the truth.

If you knew how to perform this critically acclaimed “head giving” you would in an attempt to satisfy your already watering mouth, but in fear of the unknown you decided to stick to what you’ve been told feels good. You decide to keep pumping him, up and down, up and down. His voice is breathy with encouraging praises. “J-just like that, baby. So good for me. Making me feel so nice…so nice.”

It’s pure vulnerability sitting across from each other fully naked, you pleasing him right after he pleased you. It’s when your fingertip goes to swipe at the beads decorating the slit of his red tip that he stops you with a hiss.

“You’re gonna finish me quick if ya keep on. Now Lil’ Elvis may not mind either way, you’ll find out he’s a horny thing, but it’s better if I’m in ya. I wanna be inside ya. Lay down, honey.”

You do as he says and lay down obediently, trying to mentally prepare yourself by taking deep breaths.

Part of him wanted to take you from behind, fucking you fast and rough until tears form on your face, tears of pleasure this time. But knowing what he knows about your lack of past experience and wanting to see your face as you take him for the first time, he’ll have you lay down comfortably. He has no problem at all either way, he’d even be pleased if the night ended right here without him coming to that sweet finish. A day ended after eating you out is a day well spent in his book.

“Imma go real slow. It might sting a bit cause you’re all fresh and new down there but you’re a big girl. My strong little satnin, I know you can do it. You’ll take me.”

“Okay.” You remember his demand earlier to use your words to respond and you do so.

He leans over you, getting in a good position to enter. While rubbing his tip against your cunt in preparation, edging you both in the process, he swears that he could finish right there easily.

You look down at the spot where you are to connect with amazement. Knowing for a fact that Elvis is anything but a virgin, you trust his skill and watch his process. It seems planned out prefectures and oh how glad you are to have a perfect man. No one on earth is perfect but Elvis Presley is so perfectly Elvis Presley. The things he excels at never disappoint.

You feel the burning plunge of his entry and immediately both hands go to grip as much of the white sheets as they can. Once he has the tip in his eyes go up and down interchangeably, watching both your face and your pussy while you take him. It’s better than any movie.

He continues on his slow journey inside of you. Meanwhile, you’re a pain you’ve never felt before, no way things are supposed to go up there. No way things are designed specifically to go up there. If they were, why is it so big?

His voice is breathy and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. “F-fuck…Tight ass pussy. Sucking me in.”

Your groan is a mix of pleasure at his words and of pain at the impaling you’re experiencing. For a split second you think about looking away, like not watching the needle go in you at the doctors office, but you can’t.

He’s only about half way in when you convince yourself that there is no way you can take more.

“It hurts like hell, Elvis. S-stop, just for a second. I need to breathe..I can’t breathe.” He halts the second you say stop and his attention is strictly on your face, his eyes full of concern. Tears start to form in the corner of your eyes as your breath starts to pick up.

“Breathe, baby. It’s alright. Take your time.” The only thing he wants more than bottoming out is for you to be comfortable. He wants to go deeper, he wants to fuck you until you can’t remember your name but his love and concern for you comes first always.

“I don’t think I can, Elvis. It’s too big, it’s huge.” These comments come not as an attempt to enlarge his ego (they are in fact doing that) but of actual concern for the state of your situation.

“Shhh…it’s gonna fit. God didn’t make men and women not fit with one another, he made us perfect. You just gotta relax or else you’ll just tighten up again. Don’t mess up our progress, honey, it’ll hurt even more.”

It’s hard to relax when you’ve got the long lost cousin of metal pipe piercing into your body. You don’t say that aloud though. With a deep breath you continue, “Okay, you can keep going….just slow.”

He heeds your instructions and continues plunging into you with small rolls of his hips until he bottoms out with a loud grown, officially balls deep inside of you. You two moan simultaneously as he starts moving in and out carefully. Beautiful waves of pain and pleasure perfectly balanced move through your body.

“Fuck. Just like that.” Truth was you weren’t doing anything but moaning and arching your back, but that was all he needed. Just your body responding to his.

Your hips going up involuntarily to meet his thrusts is a signal for Elvis to go faster and that he does. He moves deeper and harder inside of you, one hand showing its veins as it grips the soft sheets next to your head and the other gripping hard onto the bone of your hip.

“Oh my God, Oh my God…” You gasp and bite your lip. Everything about this is so vulgar but so beautiful. Two beautiful bodies focused on nothing but making love. A moment like this is something you’d dream about at night and then in the morning sun pray to God for forgiveness from such thoughts. Now you are yelling up for mercy in a different way.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his rhythmic thrusts never slowing. “It’s Elvis, honey. I’m the one doin’ it to ya.” You moan from the vibrations of his voice against your skin. His lips move smoothly to your neck, sucking on your skin to mark you as his own. He’s the one who ruined you and he wants the whole world to know.

As he makes a masterpiece of your neck, your hands grab onto his back, fingernails sure to leave red tracks. You’re both making your presence known on eachother’s bodies. Your cunt makes its satisfaction known with loud gushes going hand in hand with your loud moans. There is no vibrato left inside of you.

“Elvis! Oh yes!”

The man orchestrating it all lifts his wet pink lips from your collarbone, breath heavy. “So perfect. You’re made for me, I’ve always known you were made to be mine.”

“Mmmm….”

“I’m so cl-close….I’m gonna….” He wants to finish inside you, it would be his first time coming inside of a woman unprotected and he wants that special woman to be you. But he can’t. He knows deep down that it would be one of the most irresponsible decisions he could make. It would be a selfish decision.

It wouldn’t be in your freshly-fucked best interest, it wouldn’t be in his new careers best interest, It wouldn’t be in the best interest of the fans having to wait for Elvis Presley to get off of paternity leave.

If only he could fill you up without getting you pregnant. That’ll have to be a fantasy between him and his fist.

Quickly, he pulls out of you to prepare for his impending release giving his cock a few pumps to try to replace the warmth from your pulsing walls with his hand. Finally, a stream of white liquid comes bursting out of the slit of his and you watch with short breathed awe as his immediately head leans back, mouth moaning your name over and over like a prayer.

You’re the one who made him feel so good that he reached the clouds. Knowing that it’s Elvis’ turn to see the starry sky, experiencing the same state of bliss that you were able to encounter earlier, makes your heart so happy.

Your belly now is feeling a different type of warmth. it’s his release making a mess of your stomach, spurting like paint all over you. As soon as it’s all out of his system, Lil’ Elvis giving the show its last encore, the man in front of you cups your face into his hands and kisses you. He rolls to lay his body next to yours, your lips now the only parts still connecting.

Elvis pulls away and both of you try to catch your breaths.

“I love you, Satnin.” He whispers softly.

You respond back just as gently, “I love you too.”

That was…an experience. If you got this far thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoyed. My inbox is always open for questions, comments, and concerns. I take requests but there is no guarantee I’ll get to them. (they’ll probably give me inspiration to write more often though). Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me. Adieu my loves. ✨