#Thank you so much to everyone reading this. You've no idea how grateful I am.

[rainymoodlet]

🌧 rainymoodlet is in full hiatus mode! 🌧

hoo... absolutely sick to my stomach writing this. ✌ for more information, please read below! thank you all for following my stories, loving my bachelor challenge, and loving my little pixels as much as i do. 😊

Well, my darling fellow simblrs... it's happened. It's been a bit of a long time coming over the past few months, but I've finally decided to put my blog into a permanent sort of "hiatus mode". I am a person who is riddled with executive dysfunction and lack of self-control, and I know that if I don't legitimately cut myself off from Simblr™ and the disassociation it's allowed me, I will. not. quit. 😅

I originally joined Simblr back in 2021 during a really difficult and isolated time in my life. I haven't been able to speak much to it because of the legal issues it's tied up in, but Simblr became my escape whilst in the throes of seeking justice against my abuser in a time where my entire family had abandoned me, and my fiance and I were living alone in my parents' house with only the two of us to swirl in deep and massive depression. Sims has always been my escape; from 2004 onward, it has given me narrative control and visual fantasy for as long as I can remember, and it will always be a deeply comforting and "safe" game for me.

But when I joined Simblr, it was out of many of the reasons that I think we can all relate to as writers and creatives. I had the idea for Loved by the Sun, and as I kept imagining and writing and building this world, I thought: "I deserve to show this to people. I really want people to see this. And I really want them to think it's good." I had been existing on the fringes of Simblr on my own personal Tumblr blog: I've seen countless legacies rise and fall, countless dramas spread out across blogs that are no longer active and haven't been for years. I wanted people to wake up and roll over and check my blog, desperate for updates, eager for more.

And more than anything, I wanted to escape the day-to-day hell I was living in.

But as the years went on, I've noticed that the excitement and creativity that drove my creation of my account has dwindled beyond measure. And I will put that on myself - starting a Bachelor Challenge like Kiss Me in Komorebi was one of the beginning nails in the coffin of my creativity and enjoyment of Simblr. I do not regret it one bit, and I am so grateful for the following it's gained and the genuine enjoyment you've all had with KMiK. It's my proudest achievement, it's pushed me to be a better editor and a better screenshot-taker, it's challenged me in my way of playing and it's introduced me to so many wonderful people.

But of course... I me'd it up. 😎

I've become obsessed to an egregious degree with the perception of my handling of this challenge. I want everyone to feel as though their sim gets enough screen-time, I want everyone to feel that the creative effort they put into submitting their sims was respected, and I desperately don't want anyone to feel left out or as though they're being ignored in favor of other contestants. It became so much less of telling Dan's story and journey, and all about how I was appearing as the Master of the Game.

And to be honest, my obsession with "staying relevant" in the fast-paced scroll of the Simblr Dashboard, believing you all would stop caring or stop reading if I didn't post as quickly as possible, was my own doom from the start, fkdfdjk.

In my life, I've had countless opportunities to turn my life around and start changing for the better. And time and time again, the energy that could have gone toward improving my situation or bettering my relationships has gone toward Simblr, and this online environment. I have practically no life beyond the screen: my days off are spent taking screenshots or spending four hours on builds that I still won't finish, obsessed over every angle, desperately seeking out that ~sparkle~ of simplicity and not-trying-too-hard I apply to all of your screenshots.

I am a dopamine and serotonin fiend, and though I can pinpoint in my life where trauma and isolation has pushed me to my online spaces, I was hyper-aware of the reality that in a few years, I won't be involved in Simblr. I won't be posting constantly, I won't care about the mods or the updates or the custom content.

And the stories I've written will be monuments to the time I've wasted, working on chasing the serotonin monster instead of bettering my own life and my own situation.

And now, I've got a real chance to do something better with my life. My fiance and I are at a crossroads of choice - we can change our lives for the better this year, or we can accept that the years of inaction we forced ourselves into out of the fear of moving forward have doomed us to a life we're not happy with. And I am one stubborn bastard when it comes to giving up.

The friendships and connections I've made here are some of the most meaningful in my life, and I hate that I've pulled back in the way I have. Along the way, it became much more about the notes, the numbers, the interaction, the reblogs over likes - and I lost myself and my friendships to my own mismanagement of my time and energy. I could spend five hours on one build, going from 7am to 12pm in a lightning speed of disassociation and obsessive Alt-clicking, and at the end of the day sit there and go...

What the hell have I done today? I could have messaged someone, I could have chatted with my friends, I could have done something. But no, I built a science lab, or a date location, and fretted the entire time until my stomach felt sick that it just "wasn't right" or wouldn't "look the way I wanted it to" in my screenshots.

I deeply, deeply love my stories, and I am so proud of them and what they've done for y'all and how you all have enjoyed them. I am incredibly lucky for the experience I've had on Simblr, and I know that there are plenty of blogs out there that sit with little interaction when they deserve so much more.

And yes, I will admit. The tendency of a 15-minute slapped together CAS edit of mine getting more notes and spotlight than the posts of my stories I've put legitimate effort into has fucked with my brain.

Simblr has changed from the story-laden place it was when I was following y'alls stories and legacies from 2015 onward. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that! Online spaces shift and change just as much as the social media sites like TikTok and Instagram, that go through trends and phases and fads and memes the same way we do. We are not above other social media in that regard, and I think there's a general sense from Simblr that we're some isolated island; we don't follow trends, we don't have fads, we don't have audio trends that get slapped on every other six-second video.

But I will raise you the Blender Phase and the Edit Phase as evidence every time.

I need to take some serious introspection time, and commit a lot of my energy to things that can bring me positive change outside of this online space. I hope to be able to come back as a better, healthier person, but to be honest, I don't really know when that will be. (Even this post is something I feel I have to do to be responsible, not just disappearing in the middle of this Challenge, leaving you all hanging djfh) I hope this doesn't come off as some high-horse rant, or leave a sour taste in y'alls mouths.

I just... I'll really miss this space. I'll miss the sims, I'll miss you guys, I'll miss your posts and your legacies and your sense of humor. I want to thank so many people, but I don't want to tag you all and shove this post into your activity streams dkfd.

I can't give any commitments to appearing more in Discord or even being present on this space - I've gone to the point of disconnecting the Chrome browser that's for rainymoodlet from my main icon bar, like I am going straight cold-turkey. I'll still be playing Sims, but I'm going to try and reconnect with it for myself - not for the screenshots, not for the stories, and not for the desperate want for people to understand what I'm posting or for it to make sense or satisfy, dfkj.

I am so, so incredibly grateful for every single one of you, and I hate to just drop this out of nowhere. But I need to do this, for me and for my future. And now I'm just sitting here like "Shannon, it's simblr, fucking chill." dkjfd I JUST... this space has done so much for me, and I genuinely feel a sense of loss in leaving. Especially in the middle of a story, fkgjfkg.

I really do genuinely love and care for you all. Please take care of yourselves, okay? Mama Shan does genuinely want the best for you, and I can't thank you enough for letting little old dorky ass me be a part of your community and your lives.

'Til next time, y'all. I'll see you soon. 💛

#txt #this will be my new pinned post. #going to go lay down on the floor for a long time now. #i feel sO SICK FUCK. #i really will miss you all so much. but i need to do this. it's like cigarettes at this point. if i don't go cold turkey... i won't quit. #i'll keep stressing abt how i'm not posting kmik or how i'm not interacting or how people are waiting and it will keep #affecting how i choose to spend my time and energy #and i just can't afford that anymore fff. #but ofc my blog will still be up!! you can still read kmik and my tjolc and everything i've posted #because gdi my contestants put a lot of effort into their sims and they deserve it #i hope i can come back to y'all in a better place 💛 #2024 IS THE YEAR OF CHANGE MY DARLINGS AND I ALREADY WASTED JANUARY SO LETS GOOOO

[missmaywemeetagain]

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, he’s cared too much.

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

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

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

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

He��s too late.

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

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

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always be alone.

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

You can’t seem to escape him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn him and Sandy both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

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

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

 At all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

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

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

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

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

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

He’s loved you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

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

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

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

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

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d called her last night.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On your knees,” you command.

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

“Did I stutter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me,” you command.

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words,” you order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s all yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your back,” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” he nods back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

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

He can only manage a whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still sensitive, you think.

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

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

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

“I love you,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

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

Here, with Elvis.

*

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

*

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

#Pink Scarf #Pink Scarf Part 20 #Pink Scarf THE END #elvis #elvis presley #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis sm #elvis presely smut #elvis presley imagine #elvis imagine #austin elvis x reader #austin butler #austin elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis angst #happy ending #missmaywemeetagain #elvis x y/n

[willalove75]

Rebecca x fem!reader, where Rebecca keeps calling reader pet names in a different language and leaves reader curious as to what they mean.

Also, how does it feel to carry the entire Rebecca x reader fandom on your back???💕💕

The way I literally laughed SO HARD when I first read this hahahahah

I have absolutely no fucking idea how this happened but I am SO grateful that everyone has liked my fics so much 😂🥺

And I LOVE this idea! Thank you so much for the requests! 💕

Translations (in order of appearance, also I used a lot of Google translate so apologies for any incorrect translations.):

Cara mia - Italian - My Beloved (yes its an Addams Family reference, I would be insane to pass this up such a perfect opportunity)

Bichita - Spanish - Little bug

Ti piace quando parlo in lingue diverse? - Italian - You like when I speak in different languages?

Mon petit chouchou - French - My little cabbage

Draga mea - Romanian - My darling (yes this is also a reference to Lady Dimitrescu, once again I would be insane to pass up the opportunity)

Tu aimes quand je parle dans différentes langues? - French - You like when I speak in different languages?

Ti accende l'amore? - Italian - Does that turn you on love?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a few weeks since your relationship with Rebecca went public, the news spread like wildfire across the office. It was uncomfortable for the first week or so, you got a lot of weird stares and head a bunch of whispers as you waked by, more buzzing emerged whenever you were spotted with Rebecca, which was often since you were her assistant.

"Cara mia don't pay them any attention." Rebecca says, looking down at you with a smile on her face.

You lift your gaze from the floor up to her and gently smile at her, she wraps her arm around you and you make your way to her office.

"You would think there would be new office gossip for them to move on to." You say, a little frustrated.

"Love, you're sleeping with your boss, I'm sleeping with my assistant. I don't think it's going to be one of those things that blows over quickly."

You cross your arms and frown, it's been exhausting trying to dodge everyone's stares and gossip, you just want it to end. She stands up from her desk and wraps her arms around you.

"Oh bichita, it'll be okay. Just give it some time."

You look up at her and smile, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"What?" She asks.

"Noting, I have no idea what 'bichita' means, but I love hearing you speak different languages. It's pretty sexy actually."

"Ti piace quando parlo in lingue diverse?"

"I have no idea what you just said, but I could listen to you say it all day." You say with a laugh, she laughs and leans down and kisses you.

She sits back down at her desk and you take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her. You open up your notebook and go through the list of meetings she has for the rest of the week, as well as plans you've added into her calendar for after work.

"Three meetings Wednesday, one at 11am, the other at 2pm."

"Ugh I'm not looking forward to those- wait, what's the third meeting?"

"Well the third is kind of a twofer, 7pm and 9pm."

She gives you a look.

"Dinner at 7 and," you look back through your notes "miscellaneous physical activity at 9pm."

Rebecca starts laughing and puts her hands in her face, you start laughing too along with her.

"What am I gonna do with you?" She says shaking her head, still laughing.

"Anything you want." You say as you playfully stick your tongue out at her.

She rests her face on her hand and looks at you with a smile on her face.

"Oh how I adore you." She says with a smile. Her eyes shift to the door and she sits up. "Leslie, good morning."

"Good morning Rebecca, y/n, I heard some interesting scuttlebutt on my way in this morning."

"Please tell me they've stopped talking about Rebecca and I." You say, although you already know the answer.

Higgins looks at you and back to Rebecca. "I'm afraid not, it actually is scuttlebutt about the two of you." He says cautiously.

"Ugh." You say as you put your head down on Rebecca's desk.

"Aw, mon petit chouchou," she says as you feel her fingers run through your hair.

"Aw." Higgins says, sounding like he understood what she said.

"What does that mean?" You ask as you look up at Rebecca.

"My little cabbage." Higgins says, you look over at him and he has his hand over his heart.

"What? A cabbage?" You look back at Rebecca, confused.

"It's a French term of endearment love." She says with a smile.

"French is fucking weird." You look back over at Higgins. "So what did you hear?"

"Well, the rumor is that Rebecca is moving in with you."

You look over at her and she chuckles. "Oh no, we're not there yet, plus, when we do move in together, y/n will be moving in with me."

"I feel like I should be offended at that." You say with a laugh.

"Oh please, you and I both know my house is much bigger and nicer than your flat." You give her a look. "As charming and lovely as it is." She quickly adds.

"I guess that's fair." You say rolling your eyes at her. "Wait, did you say 'when we move in together'?"

"I did." She says with a smile.

You both chat with Higgins some more and you get on with your day.

A few days later you're walking through the hall and you see Rebecca walking towards you.

"Ah, there you are." She says with a smile.

"Hi baby!"

She wraps her arms around you and you wrap your arms around her waist and look up into her eyes. A few of your coworkers walk by and you hear whispers as they pass by.

"Ugh." You say as you rest your head on her shoulder.

"Come with me." She says as she grabs your hand. She walks a few feet down the hall and looks both ways to see if there's anyone nearby. When the coast is clear she pulls you into a supply closet and shuts the door behind you.

"What are you-"

"Shhh." She says bringing her finger to your lips. She holds your face in her hands and gazes into your eyes. "I couldn't wait until later." She whispers.

"Rebecca-" your words are cut off when her lips meet yours, you melt into the kiss, your hands holding onto her hips.

She flicks her tongue across your lips and you part them, letting her in. You gently moan into her mouth when her tongue meets yours and you feel her smile as she kisses you. You gently suck on her bottom lip and kiss alongside her jaw and down her neck. She takes a sharp breath in as you nip at her neck and then suck on the spot, you're probably going to leave a mark but right now that's the last thing either of you are thinking about. You kiss further down her neck and over her collarbone, she runs her fingers through your hair and grabs at the hair at the back of your head. You kiss further down her chest and between her breasts, your chin resting on the lowest point of her v neck shirt. You kiss and suckle on the exposed skin of her cleavage and she throws her head back.

"Mmm, draga mea, you are perfection."

"Don't stop, talk to me in every language you know." You purr as you kiss every inch of her exposed skin.

"Tu aimes quand je parle dans différentes langues?"

You smile as you kiss your way back up her neck.

"Ti accende l'amore?"

Your lips meet hers once more and she kisses you hard, her tongue immediately exploring your mouth. She pins you against the shelf behind you, her hands gripping your hips, she moves her lips to your neck and begins kissing and gently biting at your skin. You grab the hair on back of her head and bite down on your lip desperately trying to hold back a moan. One starts to slip out and she catches it in her mouth, pressing her lips against yours. You're desperate for her touch but you don't want her lips to move off of yours. You both feel like you're in your own world where only the two of you exist, you usually feel like this when you're with her, especially when you're being intimate in any way.

You're blinded by a bright light when you realize someone opened the closet door, you and Rebecca jump and you see one of your coworkers, completely in shock. They immediately close the door and you hear their footsteps quickly walk down the hall. After the initial shock, you both look at each other and laugh, you lay your head into Rebecca's chest.

"Oh nooo." You whine.

"Nous sommes baisés." She says as she wraps her arms around you.

"What does that mean?"

"We're fucked."

You both laugh as you hold each other, your burning face buried into her.

"We sure are."

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #rebecca welton fanfic #willalove75 #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #wlw fanfic

[kiitoskiitos]

My copy of mutilation grindset arrived today. When I initially ordered, it was entirely because of the recent august comic and I knew nothing else of your work - I was simply moved, and suddenly I needed it.

I'm reading through the rest now, particularly the essay that begins with the Preciado quote and I'm so very grateful I've been able to read this, despite not expecting it. I hate gender - when it comes to me, personally, and my inability to align myself with it. I've always been trans, but not trans in the way I felt was expected of me, somehow incorrect. Always looking at trans people who seemed to be able to pick a side and fully commit to it, and cis people who never needed to, and finding myself wanting *that* surety but unable to take it.

I think I can be whatever I am, though. I think I'm going to stop searching for the labels that fit my gender, my sexuality, my everything.

You've helped me immensely on this random Thursday of no particular importance, slipping through my letterbox with the usual ads and flyers. I'm still a work in progress, but now I feel I actually know what I might be progressing towards.

Apologies if this is too personal for your ask box. Just know you've helped me, I don't need a response.

I'm very grateful, thank you.

this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a long while because i didn't know how to word how much it means to me. thank you so much for sending this! one thing that's really important to me is to change the idea of identity only being solid and secure when labeled.

tho the increasing popularity of "queer" as an identity is a sign of progress, having no label is still often misinterpreted as questioning or not discussed at all. it took me years to finally understand that feeling connected to labeling is a subjective and not objective experience, that i propably wouldn't ever find "the right one" since to me labels in themselves felt foreign. even though just like you, i have always and will always be trans. obviously i don't think everyone should be non-label, but i've actually been a bit surprised how rare gender abolitionist etc. thinking is among queer discussion. though maybe im not looking in the right places, or interpreting these very subjective and hard to word ideas wrong. but anyways, so glad to find someone who relates to some of these thoughts, this text is very touching :,,,3 sending love <3

my life has many times been altered for the better by queer people before me, so it's very meaningful for me to see myself now take my part in the chain of information and ideas. thank you again <3 going to prolly write more about labels and why we have this craving toward them, i think it relates to western thinking, assimilation obsession and medicalisation, at least.

[ardenrabbit]

i am a little embarrassed to talk about this openly so i am doing it anon,,, but holy shit you have no idea how much your fic means to me. last year i was diagnosed with a life-altering illness in my bone marrow, and i've lost so much since then. i used to be muscular, and love my body, and just. augh. i've lost nearly 60 pounds to the date and all my muscle. some days my bones hurt so bad from the inside out that i feel like how you've written xie lian--pushing through every screaming fiber in my body to take just one more step forward. i can't recover fast enough. some days i feel strong and then get reminded that just vacuuming my floor leaves me a trembling, sweating mess. it's so frustrating.

you don't have to publish this but. being able to read something that feels so? accurate? so,,, i'm not sure how to describe it. i just feel seen, with the added bonus of your portrayal being written so beautifully and featuring my favorite little guys right now. i love it so much and i just wanted you to know that. not to be dramatic but your writing just. feels like home. qwq

Anon, I hope it's okay with you if I do answer this, because damn, I really want to try and give this a worthy response.

I'm so sorry that you've had to go through so much, and I hope that things get easier for you in any ways that they can. I'm not going to say I know what it's like, because everyone's experience with chronic illness, pain, and fatigue is different. I sincerely wish you the best in your recovery and ongoing management of your condition.

I'm so truly grateful that you've been able to find something cathartic in what I'm writing. Most of my fics end up as self-therapy projects, so I try to be realistic and compassionate about the topics at hand in case someone else relates to it. I know one of the big differences between this fic and real life is that Xie Lian is eventually going to make a relatively full recovery, where people with chronic conditions will usually have to manage them for the rest of their lives, so I worry that the ending might feel frustrating or like wishful thinking to some people. Most of us don't get that kind of closure. But I really hope that this story can offer some sense of relief and validation to people who are going through their own recoveries or learning how to manage chronic conditions.

I really had no idea that so many people would find the story so relatable, so I really hope that I can do a decent job of helping people feel acknowledged and that they're not alone. Maybe most importantly, I hope that I can help offer some hope to people going through this sort of thing, because things do tend to gradually become more manageable as they navigate their conditions. There is a grieving process involved with diagnoses of chronic conditions, but it is a process in the end. 

I truly believe in the hope that life can still be full and fulfilling even if the illness or injury won't go away. That might sound ominous, but it's important to remember, wherever you're at.

Thank you for telling me what it means to you. I've learned that fics can have a marked impact on people's lives (my first big fic got me a wife, who is the coolest person who's ever lived; writing has helped me manage my own mental health like nothing else possibly could; I've made amazing friends and been able to share mutual support with them) so I take this seriously. I hope this makes sense and doesn't come off as patronizing (I would be the worst kind of liar if I said everything's going to be okay for everyone, and the "you're so strong and brave, I could never handle going through that" stuff makes me wanna scream) and I just. It means everything to me if I've successfully offered some comfort. Thank you.

I hope you have a really good year, anon. 💜

#anonymous #god i hope this makes sense #i hope its actually helpful or useful #and doesnt just make me sound like ive gotten a big head from the response that people have been kind enough to give me #idk i just hope this isnt annoying or too much #seriously #thank you anon #tgcf #my writing #alasr #oh look it talks

[morallyinept]

HAPPY SUNDAY LOVELIES! 🖤

Howdy y'all! How have you been this week?

My week, despite flying by, has been so busy! But now I have a whole 10 days off of work - wahoo!

Aaannnd, its a certain someone's birthday on the 29th, 😏 so stay tuned for a lil' somethin' somethin' to celebrate. 🎈

Okay Jack, you ready to crack that whip, cowboy? Yee-haw! 🤠

Catch up on last week here, sugar

☆ Things I've posted this week

Chapter 4 of Five Days - I am so thankful for everyone's comments, re-blogs and general feedback on this story. It warms my heart to know you're all excited for each chapter as it drops.

H I M - A Marcus Pike one shot. My submission into the Pike Puddle and I gotta say, I have a few more delicious ideas brewing around in the ol' noggin for this handsome Agent. 🥰

My Protector - A Joel Miller GIFLET

Sent a hug from Frankie, Marucs Pike & Javi G to @avastrasposts on the first day of her new job. Hope it well, lovely! I am sure you smashed it!🖤

This week's Self Care With Dieter & Jett focused on identifying the signs of oncoming depression. Poor Dieter was sick from the rollercoasters.... and I spoke about everyone being welcome at Jett's place too this week.

Tuesday saw the first release of a new weekly feature called Jett's Writer Wow, where I'll feature a writer each week in the fandom who I think you'll fall in love with. Debuting on the first feature was the lovely El, otherwise known as @secretelephanttattoo and you can check that post out here with links to my favourite works of hers, and her full masterlist. Go give her a follow and show her some love. She is absolutely amazing and so creative. 🖤

☆ Things I'm currently working on

So much! Just know that there's a whole bunch of GIFLETS, one shots and further chapters of Five Days being queued up.

I also have another series I've been working on in the background ready for when Five Days wraps up (although, we've a while to go yet). It features a different Pedro Boy...

☆ Things I've read this week

I've updated my Pedro Character Fic Rec List this week with so many new stories that I can't wait to sink my teeth into now that I've got some vacation time.

Admittedly my reading dropped off this week due to a busy work week. But I'm excited to catch up on all your works.

Shout out to lovely @chronically-ghosted who recommended my fic rec lists this week. Thanks to the anon who recommended my work to sweet @planet-marz1 to read, and also to the awesome @suzdin who wrote this awesome Javi P drabble inspired by the concept of my GIFLETS. And a big thank you to @elvinaa who was inspired to start her own Writer Wow.

I am so humbled and grateful that you've been inspired by me in any way. I love how sharing and loving this community is. People supporting and shouting for one another, and it's just divine. Really feeling the love.

I did squeeze in a couple of amazing fics on my lunch breaks this week:

Joel Is Such A Sap After Sex by @inklore A lovely, smutty drabble that left me wanting more of some sappy, post-coital Joel.

Scar Tissue by @wannab-urs The next instalment of her fantastic Dave York series Starving Season. Honestly, you need to read this - all of it. Stop looking at me and go and read it. You can come back to this weekly whip round after. Go on, shoo.

Very much enjoying reading @for-a-longlongtime's Pena & Rockford WIP and I can't wait to read the finished thing. I just know this is going to be legendary!

☆ What have I been watching/listening to this week?

Finally watched Strange Way Of Life! Oh my gosh, I am totally in love with Silva 😍 (ssh, don't tell Ezra!). What an amazing little film. You can read a full review of my thoughts on it here.

Earworms this week:

Mostly work, it's been a real busy week for me wrapping up things before my vacation (I am now off until the 31st - woo!), so admittedly it's been difficult for me to write and post as much as I've wanted to, but now I have a week off planned with some hiking, some writing and a whole bunch of R&R. 🧘‍♀️

👆🏻This is a great song to workout to, if like me, your workout playlist consists of nothing but headbanging, screechy metalcore... 🤘🏻

I'm a big fan of Depeche Mode, have been since my mom played them on repeat constantly, when growing up. This is probably my fav Depeche Mode song.

☆ What have I been up to this week?

Well, that wraps it up for this week, lovelies. Thanks so much to everyone who sent Asks and DM's. And it's been real fun joining in on Discord with some of you too! 🤘🏻

Until next week, this is Jett & Jack cracking the whip on this week's whip round.

Stay kind & stay creamy 🖤

🖤

#jett's weekly whip round #agent whiskey #agent whiskey kingsman #agent whiskey jack daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's pedro boys #jett's giflets #jett's writing #pedro pascal cowboys #silva strange way of life #marcus pike #Spotify

[dirty-bosmer]

20 questions for writers

Thanks to @thequeenofthewinter for the tag <3

Tagging: @elavoria @atypicalacademic @gilgamish @nuwanders @ladytanithia @sheirukitriesfandom @throughtrialbyfire @lucien-lachance @miraakulous-cloud-district @bostoniangirl21 @terendelev

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

6

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

704,291 😅

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Elder Scrolls and probably only ever the elder scrolls. Mostly Oblivion but I have one Skyrim lonngfic in the works. I read fic in several other fandoms, but this one has me by the throat.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Well, I only have 6 in the first place so it's not saying all that much.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do the best I can to! Sometimes one slips by me on a particularly busy week, and then I'm too mortified by the lapse of time to answer. I don't think it's happened too often, but please know I read them all and am always grateful for them ❤️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haven't finished either of them yet, but it's gotta be The Illusionist Part 2, which is an Oblivion novelization with emphasis on the Dark Brotherhood and Mages Guild, or Beyond the Break, which is just me crying about Mathieu Bellamont.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Treacle which is still hella angst lmao, but Scar-Tail does live happily ever after, and it's all thanks to @atypicalacademic for the inspiration ❤️❤️❤️ I have also vowed to make my Skyrim fic, Slither and Writhe happier 😤 Thus far, it's going... well, it is going.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't, and the few dissenting opinions that I have received I wouldn't consider hate either. They're just opinions. I hesitated to mention this, but since I was LITCHRALLY talking about Lucien Lachance on one of Ray's posts a few minutes ago, in the past I have receive messages detailing how my interpretation of Lucien is distasteful, given he is unabashedly a villain in my story and 1/2 of a toxic relationship (also he's... kind of pathetic lol). It's a darkfic and not for everyone, I'm well aware. Fortunately, many of my very lovely, talented friends and mutuals write great Lucien fics that are different from mine, so at the end of the day we all get what we want :D Variety is the spice of life, and you can pry grossnasty Lucien out of my cold, dead fingies.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write sexual content (idk what counts as smut). Originally, I wrote all the sex scenes as fade-to-black, and while they're not super graphic, while editing a few months ago I thought "you know what, this needs more cunt." So yeah. The sex scenes have become a bit more explicit now than they were in the first iteration.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah, and I don't think I ever will.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and unless people are out there lifting passages of my writing and inserting it into their fics, I'm not going to claim ownership over ideas. We're all playing in the same sandpit, and while the execution is my own, I find it quite difficult to say the stories are totally original or novel because all my writing, from concepts to style, have been influenced in some way by the works of others.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I've tossed around some ideas with @zomboidatomic that may or may not one day bear fruit...

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I've worked them all out of my system at this point, tbh. Romance doesn't really do anything for me on its own without compelling characterizations and intriguing plot. I select by other tags over ship most of the time too. That said I've been driven crazy by some of my friends ships with characters I've never even spoken to before. If it's good it's good, you know. (Though I am currently re-watching Hannibal and I will confess that I am still ill about Hannigram ajkfhalg)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm going to finish them all, dammit!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization, I think, especially when writing people who are awful lmao I've received a lot of compliments when it comes to writing villains and morally grey characters.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ugh, I am so self-indulgent. Sometime last year I edited The Illusionist part 2 and trimmed out 60k words. It was so BLOATED (probablly still is). I think there were times when the plot got sidelined because I had an idea for a fun scene. Yes, I love writing Lucien and Nim hate-fucking and tearing each other apart in some weird mashup of Tommy Wiseau in The Room and the alien in The Thing. No, I did not need three chapters of this back to back, but I wanted it...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If the plot calls for it, then by all means 👍

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hmm, now that I think of it it may have been a Fallout 3 Harkness fic that I kept in a composition notebook when I was 12. It will never see the light of day, obivo.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

OoOoh, that's tough. Slither and Writhe already feels stronger to me because I'm a more experienced writer, and I actually planned it out, but The Illusionist is my first baby.

#tag games

[smallpapers]

Updated profile pic!

Thanks to everyone for your support through the past year <3 I can't believe TOH has ended...

Some updates/ personal notes under the cut!! Like, its really personal its almost narcissistic!

PRONOUNS: I go by she/they now!!! I've always had a lowkey gender crisis (fueled by an existential crisis really) so I am FINALLY trying this out. Feel free to refer to me with they/them pronouns :) (I guess I should have seen something coming when I made my first proper OC over a decade ago as an aro ace agender lol)

TOH ENDING: I'm really sad that the owl house is over...but I'm so glad I got to meet so many cool people in the TOH fandom!!! I even had the pleasure of sending a few friends stickers as a small token of appreciation. I'm like super grateful for all the encouragement and notes! I don't talk much here but I do read the reblog tags :) The brainrot was so serious that it made me draw basically everyday the past year (even if its a small doodle) and i really feel like i grew as an artist, and I honed my skills although I still have a long way to go! I can see improvement in my framing and colouring skills :) I think I might do some funny compilation video in the near future...

A BREAK/MINI-HIATUS: I am considering taking a small break from fandom. It might be a few weeks or maybe less, depending on how quickly I get out of this slump. I am guessing its a burn out from all the negative news regarding AI 'art' and being tussled round by the twitter algorithms. Also maybe because i did two epic pieces back to back... I have a lot of ideas and I really don't want to stop posting art online! I want to do sort of a post-WAD/pre-epilogue HW comic series, as well as a grom animatic :)

THANK YOU HUNTLOW ugh they mean so much to me... I know its silly because its a silly little fictional ship. But its really unlocked some creativity in me that I lost? Along with such a lovely community, it has really inspired me to keep drawing! Maybe its a right place at a right time thing, but after watching ASiaS, it gave me brainrot so much that it kicked my other bad habits out the window! I got to do so much cool stuff i always wanted to do including making an animatic, comics, being in a fan zine, epic pieces, making stickers... I can't believe they are canon now its been such a journey to watch this ship and the shippers blossom :)

THANK YOU!!!! If you've ever liked or reblogged any of my drawings, especially leaving funny tags, I just really want to say thank you <3 I really do cherish all the comments I get!!!! and if you've read this far, I'm super impressed!

That's all from me for now!!

<3 papers

#smallishpapers #its a lot of personal stuff and some thoughts hahaha

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Guess what. More replies~

artfulhero-m asked:

Ryu I don't know how else to explain this but your condoms headcanons read as so chaotic to me, and the chaos was beautiful lmao. Like the way my brain, while reading the headcanons, conjured up images of everyone in chaos clearly understanding that it's just a safe sex practice but either ends up trying to be safe but breaking the rubbers anyway or not wearing them AT ALL was hilarious to me. And by the end of all the chaos, Malleus is just in the background, calmly, watching the chaos unfold as he thinks "ah how fascinating" despite having no clue wtf these rubber cock confiners meant to prevent disease and pregnancy even look like (i.e., he doesn't get it lol).

THANK YOU SO MUUUCH at this point I’m just clowning everyone in every single headcanon post lol but these guys are cursed enough to deserve such treatment. I am super happy you enjoyed that silly post, and oh my god your imagination!! The fact that you pictured all of these idiots while reading it lol

“Rubber cock confiners” sounds like the most amazing way to describe a condom, and honestly, at least Malleus has an excuse – he is a fae prince who lived in isolation… But the rest of the guys…

You know I want all of them to draw a condom now, just to make sure that they know what they’re talking about. Malleus surely doesn’t lol

Anonymous asked:

Just wanted to send an ask saying I appreciate seeing how much you've grown over the years! I started following you awhile back when you were still into Hetalia/posted it, and stayed for the TWST content. Thanks for continuing to post your art and may it continue to thrive ♡

Ahh thank you so much, Anon! This is so incredibly sweet of you, I am very happy and grateful to hear that. Thank you for your support, and I’ll do my best to keep improving! <3

With Hetalia it’s funny though, because we’ve been having a lot of random outbursts of it over the years, the last one being a year ago (and then there was one in 2016…and even earlier than that…), so I can’t even say for sure for how long you’ve been here. But I’m super to happy to hear about it nonetheless!! <3 The last year was definitely very fruitful when it comes to changes to my art lol and it’s great it’s noticeable…

Anonymous asked:

I just wanted to tell you that my friend group jokes about the “Jack will rail him” post all the time and think it’s the funniest shit ever. It has become such a core part of our humor that whenever Jack or Deuce is mention we have to bring up the railing that will take place. Please caption more art this way. It’s hilarious.

HAHA THANK YOU, ANON, I’M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT. I love our captions a lot, because it’s Katsu who comes up with them; and I usually have no idea what they’re going to be until the post is... posted. So the “Jack will rail him” thing got me laughing too, I’m happy you and your friend also loved it lol

Katsu tries to be careful and not to overdo it, just so the caption doesn’t take too much attention from the drawing itself, but honestly it’s 100% worth it in my opinion.

I am so happy that the railing that will definitely take place has became an inside joke of sorts!

Anonymous asked:

I want to sexualize Ortho but I'm too busy and have no time 😞

I feel you, Anon… :( This is the biggest problem in our lives.

It’s okay, Ortho is a patient guy, he can wait… until he gets capricious lol

hipsterteller asked:

I though Idia is top

Idia is a character from a sfw game, so he doesn't have any fixed position.

In my art, he's always a bottom.

Anonymous asked:

I found out there's a 32 year old in the server that joined before I did I think I'm good

(related to some previous asks)

Oh good to know! :) I’m glad to hear that

#replies

[reidsaurora]

You Are Invited To:

OfWilliamAndWalter's 1K Cocktail Party ☆

𝐓𝐡𝐞 ��𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬:

🍸 Spencer's Sauvignon Blanc - send me a character + prompt from this list and i'll write you a small blurb!

🍸 Penelope's Pink Whitney - send me a character + a scenario and i'll make a moodboard for it!

🍸 Ale for Aaron Hotchner - send me a character + a scenario/au and i'll tell you some headcanons i have!

🍸 Prentiss' Planter's Punch - send me a character and/or scenario and i will make you a short playlist for it!

🍸 Agent Rossi's Rum on the Rocks - send me a couple of your favorite things and i'll tell you who I'd pair you with! (please specify your gender preference if you have one!)

🍸 Greenaway's Grey Goose - send me a couple things about you and i'll tell you what character you remind me of! (one CM character and one non-CM character)

🍸 Morgan's Modern Gin - send me a character and i'll send you a fanfiction recommendation!

🍸 Jennifer 'Jack and Coke' Jareau - send me a series of things and i'll cast my mutuals as those things!

🍸 Aperol Spritz for SSA Alvez - send me an ask game! FMK, Would You Rather, Top Fives, anything you'd like!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬:

🍸 This will be open to anyone! - despite being alcohol themed, you do not have to be 18+ to send a request! However, since this blog is generally 16+, I would appreciate no overly NSFW requests. Requests are always open on @hornyhornyhimbos if you do have any NSFW requests!!!

🍸 Please be respectful to the blogger and to others! - use your noggin when requesting things. if it sounds offensive, it probably is so just keep it to yourself. treat people with kindness!!!

🍸 Please be understanding when putting in requests! - writing blurbs and headcanons and such can be time-consuming so please be gracious when leaving requests! i will try to answer everyone's asks in as timely of a manner as possible!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡:

🍸 As I always say in these types of posts, thank you. Whether you were my first follower or my latest follower, this wouldn't be possible without you. Whether you just arrived, or whether you stayed through my big mental breakdown during the summer, you are so very loved and I am so very grateful for you.

🍸 Of course this wouldn't be possible without my mutuals, who also function as my promo team!!!

🍸 @theghouligan You are my absolute favorite person on this earth, and that's saying a lot because you're a gemini 🤪 no but seriously, you are one of my people and I could never thank you enough for it. You help me through LITERALLY everything. In fact, you were the one who told me to start this blog and release my babies (fics) into the world to help me through a very hard time in my life. I could never thank you enough. I love you with every inch of my being. ❤️

🍸 @dungeons-are-too-cold GG. Georgia Georgia. Oh, the things I could thank you for. thank you for being my best friend, like ever. You fuel me with new writing ideas every day and you beta read things I send you at 3 am and you literally have pulled all nighters with me before, even from over 2,000 miles and a time zone away. Words could never express how happy I am that you've been a part of my tumblr journey and just this journey through life. I love you so damn much.

🍸 @reidsbookclub MY SWEET GRECY GIRL, MY CHICA, MY DEAR, AND EVERY OTHER TERM OF ENDEARMENT I COULD EVER POSSIBLY THINK OF!!! You are one of my favorite humans ever. You were one of the original inspirations for my blog actually!! Anyway, a huge shoutout to you for beta reading everything, no matter how big of an inconvenience I am ik i'm annoying ajsgsshshs and also just for being you!! You put up with me every day and you're just the sweetest person ever and I could never express how thankful I am for you.

🍸 @rupsmorge Rups, my darling!!! You were one of my first friends on tumblr and I will forever be grateful for it. You inspired me to start writing about mental illness and physical disabilities and I am so glad you did. Plus you're just really fucking cool yes, a hot air ref and i think that's enough of a reason to shout you out 😉

🍸 @writer-in-theory JAY!!! You. Oh, you. You are one of my favorite humans ever. You will scream with me about Steve Harrington or Spencer Reid or literally whatever at any given time of the day and I am so thankful for it. You have helped me out of writing slumps before and you have listened to me complain about being a bad writer and you're just... ugh, I love you. You were also one of the original inspirations for my blog and i think that's so cool! So thank you!! 🫶🏻

🍸 there are of course so many other people who have helped me through this and made this possible! @nomajdetective @reidselle @lunar-affection @lcvingprentjss @lukeclvez @writingquillsandpainpills @sadgirlml @will-on-the-internet @spookydrreid @gold-onthe-inside @ssahotchnerr @gay-prentiss @clarawatson @samuel-de-champagne-problems @foxy-eva and literally so many more!! you all mean the absolute world to me and i am so thankful for all of you!!!! ❤️

↳ icon in collage is by @lilacprentiss

↳ other pictures featured in the collage are from pinterest.

↳ dividers are by @anlian-aishang.

#celebration #follower celebration #1k followers #1k celebration #1000 followers #ask game #ask games #inbox game #inbox games #spam my inbox #flood my inbox #my inbox is open #inbox open #request #requests #send requests #spencer reid #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #elle greenaway #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #luke alvez #criminal minds #blog milestone #tumblr milestone #ofwilliamandwalter's 1K cocktail party

[ipsen]

On the Easel (Blank Canvas Side Story): Tatara and Houji

Context: The Chì Shé Theater Company is showing its Japanese production of its new play Iron Tongues, which is, in part, written by Tatara, the lighting director of the Japan branch. Takes place during Chapter 9 of Blank Canvas. Under the cut.

The curtains fell on the final act, and people applauded. Tatara, in the darkness of the theater, sighed with relief. It was over, and it was well received. That's all he could ask for.

He tried to look for Sen as people cleared her out. He wanted to ask her what she thought, try to understand the fog around her mind that he still had yet to pierce, but the crowd, much like that fog, kept him away. That head of fern hair he was so fond of was nowhere to be seen, and he gave up. He'd see her afterward anyway, along with that artist she liked to drag around for whatever reason.

He still didn't understand what she saw in him. Sure, his art fit the aesthetic of her work, but it wasn't the best he'd seen. Plenty of the artists she'd brought for him to talk to had done better, more informed work, so what made Haise Sasaki different?

He feared he'd never know, but before he could dwell on that idea, a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"Xin."

Tatara turned around and glared. The face it belonged to had gotten older, with more wrinkles, but he still recognized it since Yan's funeral.

"Houji," he said, not caring to suppress his disgust. "Why are you here?"

"Work has me here in Tokyo for the time being, and I heard your play was tonight." Houji smiled slightly. "I wanted to see how far you've come."

Tatara scowled at that. "Is that so? Well, now you know."

Houji sighed. "Xin, we don't have to do this. I'm tired, and I'm sure you're tired, too. I'm sorry-- I truly am-- but this is getting us nowhere."

But Tatara dug in his heels. "It's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to live with the fact that his brother is dead every day for the rest of his life. You're not the one who has to look at your sorry mug and remember that his brother chose a stranger over his own life."

"Xin--" Houji began.

“My brother cared about you enough to save your sorry ass, and clearly, you’re grateful, as you should be. But don’t pretend I feel the same way. Yan was irreplaceable to me— to everyone at Chì Shé— and he’s gone forever because he picked you over us.” Tatara leaned forward, making sure to memorize the building anguish and regret, burning like fire, in Houji’s eyes. “Thank you for coming to tonight’s performance. Don’t speak to me again.”

Houji’s mouth was a thin line. “Of course. But, first... might I be allowed a congratulations?”

Tatara squinted. “Fine. Accepted.”

Houji bowed before turning to leave. His continued nonchalance about the whole thing ticked Tatara off. At least pretend to feel more than just a little bad. Houji was the entire reason Tatara was the lighting director and not Yan. But Houji's posture betrayed nothing as he disappeared back into the crowd.

Tatara tried to scoff, but it turned into a sigh. It was good Fei wasn’t here to slap him upside the head; he wouldn’t hear the end of it if she learned Houji had shown up.

She was always asking Tatara to forgive him, as if there was anything to forgive. Houji hadn’t been the one to choose, hadn't been the one to survive of his own will. Yet, every time Tatara saw his face, he just saw Yan being consigned to the flames for a man he barely knew.

He clicked his tongue. It was pointless to think about it; Houji would never show up again if he knew what was good for him. Tatara had more important things to focus on, like the resort and finding Ayato.

He stalked off in the opposite direction.

----

Thanks for reading!

#shrugs #something short to try and combat this fucking writer's block #also wanted to dig a bit more into tatara; still learning how to write him of course #also yeah i just sacrificed yan and not fei sorry #tg #tokyo ghoul #tatara #kousuke houji #blank canvas

[aemiron-main]

hiiii I just want to say sorry about all these people jumping down your throat about your edward creel posts. Regardless of whether you're right or not (i think you are lol), your theories and posts are VERY well researched and well written, and also soo entertaining. how can people be upset that you've been consistently creating content during a hiatus? would they rather everyone just shut up and let the fandom fall to the shadows? truly unfathomable to me. yours and henrysglock's posts have been the only thing keeping my interest in stranger things all these months. anyway sorry I sort of rambled I just wanted you to know I appreciate the thought put into your posts and I'm really thankful to have people in this fandom who are still creating new ideas and theories even after more than a year of no new content. have a great day 🩷🧡

AHHHHHHHHHHH HELLO THANK YOU THIS IS SUCH A SWEET MESSAGE OMG 😭💗💗 YOUVE MADE MY DAY!!! First of all, HELLO FELLOW EDWARD TRUTHER 🤝🤝🤝🤝 a d second of all THANK YOU AGAIN HEHEHDH IM KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING!!! I really appreciate that because I do try really hard to keep my analysis (not the fanon stuff which ppl seem go somehow conflate with analysis sometimes) evidence-based and well-researched but also relatively easily/fun to read, so I really really love hearing that!!

And right?? I genuinely don’t understand why people are so upset about others delving into things!!!! I really think many of them would rather that people just shut up & let things fall to the shadows & take everything at surface value. Like even if I’m 100% wrong about every single thing, at least I made an effort to look deeper, yknow? That’s the thing for me, it’s not even about right vs wrong or dumb vs smart, it’s about being willing to take the time to even try to dig a little deeper into things before committing to surface level judgements. IM GLAD YOU AGREE BC ITS TRILY UNFATHOMABLE TO ME TOO LIKE I LOVE SEEING ALL THE THEORIES AND THOUGHTS FROM PEOPLE!!!!! Like I’ve said before, I don’t mind a super long delay for S5 because it means i get to keep having fun making theories and seeing other peoples’ theories!!!

IM SO GLAD THAT ME AND JAMES HAVING BEEN KEEPING YOU INTERESTED IN ST OMG <<<333 I have SO many more analyses in the drafts (seriously, like, content drought WHO??? i could analyze this show for the rest of my life) and so there will be lots more to come!! And James really does have such great posts, I am 4ever grateful for his brilliant analysis and friendship, seriously, i probably wouldve just stayed in my hole not posting very much analysis after the initial backlash if i didnt have james and stav to rant to!!! (and on that note I also recommend the beloved and iconic stav @heroesbyler for some more wonderful posts!!! stav is very much Onto the duffers/a fellow edward enthusiast)

Omg no worries at all about rambling/no need to apologize!! This is such a kind message to send and I really appreciate you taking the time to send it to me!!! Just!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <<333 I’m also so thankful for the fellow theorists who keep putting out their thoughts & for people like you who are so thoughtful, kind, and supportive!!! Stranger Things is so rich with subtext and things to analyze and it’s really a shame that some folks are so opposed to digging into it. Like i said, even if I’m wrong, I still had a blast digging through the show and trying to piece things together!!!

Thank you!!! I hope you have a great day too!! <<<3333

#stranger things #st anons

[gffa]

just wanted to say thank you so much for ur batfam fic rec posts!! been a while since i’ve read any and i’ve been so happy this past weekend rereading old faves and discovering new ones! hope u have a great week!

ps. that last one with bruce/diana fics was *chefs kiss* i’m so happy to find fellow enjoyers of those two together!!

I'm glad you enjoyed them! I have no idea how much help I am in finding new fic for people to read, especially if you've been in fandom for awhile, you'll probably have scouted around, but sometimes it's nice to see an old favorite pop up for a reminder to reread or sometimes more casual fans might want some tips on where to start or maybe I can even drag a few new people in, because god knows I never met a hyperfixation I didn't want to drag people into it with me. The thing that's been amazing is just. Like, I was reading Batfam fic 10-20+ years ago, you know? I got into fandom as a wee little thing and I headed straight for fic as soon as I discovered it existed, and there were some absolutely incredible authors back then! But it's been a little mind-blowing to see just how much fandom has exploded in the ~10 years since I stepped away from DC, just how many novel-length fics based on the exact kind of iddy and well-done dynamics that I want to see! And I'm really grateful because I've loved these characters a long time, but also I've really needed a comfort fandom the last couple of months, and Batfam fandom has really provided, so thank you to everyone who has been really nice to a clueless returning fan who is extremely loud and opinionated regardless, and thank you to every writer who is doing the lord's work, and thank you to everyone who has been willing to let me drag them in with me, I promise we at least have cookies here and comics aren't actually as bad or as confusing as you might think, some of them are legitimately good!

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam

[askadrianalucardtepes]

[OOC] A big note of appreciation

Hey guys! I've been thinking lately and talking with some of the people running the other ask blogs that are currently active, and I realized just how much I appreciate all of you. This community has been one of the most friendly and welcoming I've ever interacted with; everyone has been kind and respectful, absolute sweethearts through and through. I've gotten massive support when I dealt with something unpleasant on the blog and I've received kindness, encouragement and affirmation whenever I post something. I've been and am involved in some incredible roleplays and I've made lots of great friends here thanks to my blogs. I just want to give a thorough shoutout to my friends and the people that have been supporting me here, you all make me feel so appreciated and I cannot even begin to express how much that means to me. in the ask blog category: @lastofthebelmontsrp : You are the one who I blame for starting this all. You were here first, and when I'd just moved my account to tumblr from instagram you reached out with a fun rp starter. That rp evolved into what I now consider to be one of my closest friendships. appreciate you so much, you are an absolutely amazing person with great art skills and writing skills to boot. If you haven't checked out Trevor (or their other blog @asklisafromlupu) yet, I highly recommend doing so!! Addon: And before I forget! Happy birthday, homie. <3 @askcarmillaofstyria : You're an incredibly fun person to chat with, and ever since we got to talking you've been a great friend and someone I greatly appreciate. You're sweet and incredibly skilled in botht he art and writing department, with creative ideas and infectious enthusiasm that not a soul can resist. To everyone who hasn't checked out Carmilla (or their other blog @askthewinterprincess), go for it, you won't regret it!!

@asksyphabelnades-belmont : You've been really sweet since we got to talking, and you seem like a really fun person to be around. Hearing your dnd stories and seeing your mini painting work has been super cool and I really enjoy reading them and seeing your work!! You're a very kind soul and I look forward to seeing your blog grow and get even more attention because it deserves it through and through. If you guys haven't checked out Sypha yet, go for it!!

@forgemastery : You are such a sweet bean omg, you're creative and enthusiastic and it shows in everything you do. You're fun to talk with and bring really great ideas to the table, plus you are a formidable roleplayer. I've been enjoying our budding friendship a lot and enjoy our plotting and shenanigans, it's great fun and I hope we'll get to continue it for a long time! For those hwo want to show Hector some love, do it!!

@askisaacforgemaster : I haven't spoken with you that much yet, but the times we have spoken have been incredibly pleasant and I admire you greatly. You seem like a very kind individual with a great writing style, and your roleplay skills are equally as fun and good! I hope we get to talk more, because you seem like a really awesome person. For everyone that wants to check out a great Isaac, here's your chance!!

And now for some askers that I've interacted with and really really appreciate: @flame-bloom : God I love you so much. You have been the backbone of my askblogs, ever since I started out with the comics I drew. You have been my number 1 supporter who has cheered me on every step of the way, who has indulged me in my interest and taken an active interest in it as well and who has been nothing short of just plain incredible in every single way. Every day I wake up feeling grateful to have you in my life and, as I've told you many times, you are the highlight of my day both in and outside of my blogs. You are the best girlfriend I could've ever asked for and I love you so, so much. Thank you for being so supportive and thank you for showing so much interest in what I do. I appreciate your existence every day and I can't even begin to describe how happy I am whenever I talk to you, see you or get to be with you. I'm rambling, I know, but I just really fucking love my girlfriend guys. She's amazing and you guys should all show her the love she deserves, she's just that incredible. Even now just writing this has me all giddy, can you see yet where Drac gets it from?

@blurree-face : You are someone who I've seen around my blogs frequently, and I am so happy that I do. I love your asks and your interactions with my blog, you help me bring the characters I portray to life and you're just generally fun to interact with. You also seem like a nice person in general with great writing skills and a lot of creativity, and I hope you'll keep that up! Thank you for being such a cool bean around here!!

@ariawen : You are also someone I've seen around my blog frequently, and you're just so damn sweet. Your asks are incredibly fun and I love the comments you send on my posts. The interactions we have are very fun and I'm just really appreciative of what you do with this account. Thanks for being so awesome!!

@iheartfireemblem : You've been around for a long while, and your asks have always been enjoyable. Building the little familial bonds with Drac and Alucard with you has been fun and you've been very sweet with your asks! Thanks for being so kind and sending in such fun asks for me to work with!!

Also a small special shoutout for @striga-official, who just joined us! She's a friend of mine and really sweet, go give her a look and send in some asks!! You guys won't regret it, promise. :D

If I didn't name you here, know that I do also appreciate you so so much. Every single one of you here has been nothing short of delightful, with only a few exceptions that honestly aren't worth mentioning here anyway. You all are amazing and I am super, super appreciative of all of you, seriously. You guys don't know how motivating and encouraging it is for me to log on to tumblr and see my inbox filled with asks that I can unleash my creativity upon. You all rock and I am thankful for all of you every single day.

Tl;dr: I love you all so much. Thank you all for being so cool and making this a fun experience. I appreciate every single one of you to bits! Much love, Valentine/Adrian

#shoutout #I love my friends #and I'm a simp for my girlfriend and unashamed of it

[moondirti]

hi i just found animalic down my dash n holy fuck i have never seen such pretty writing

i'm so baffled n in awe w ur style n vocab n the symbolisms u use, like, it's making my head spin while also like, idk, hypnotizing me or sth?????? i literally don't know, i'm just so speechless by ur writing style u might just get me to start trying to write again bc i've been suffering from my worst block ever fr

ur usage of symbolisms n metaphors and how u describe things is just so like, UGH MY GODDDD—my only comparison to that is like, when painters splatter paint on their canvas messily but in a way that they know exactly what they're doing so it's like a strategic mess but it's not a mess at all it's like something so polished n eloquent or sth i literally don't know i want ur vocabulary so bad bc then maybe i could start to properly describe just how absolutely amazing ur writing style is

anyw i would go on but i think i should stare at the blank page on my notes to force myself to write bc u've inspired me n i may be anonymous but just so yk i will not disappoint u mother i will bring pride n joy and hopefully spawn miggy blurbs—or i could just study anything u've written bc once again u hv inspired me and i need to relearn how to write bc i'm so rusty

but yes so basically i love ur writing style i love miggy n i may be agnostic-ish but i want to seek any one god just to be able to have someone to thank for the miracle that is u n ur talent n the fact that life has led u to write bars on bars of shimmery golden poetry for a hot hunk of fictional irish-mexican man—like u hv no idea how grateful i am to hv found animalic i would like to absorb any body of writing u hv made ever

anyw i think that's it yes um

soz for long ask n if this is a bit annoying🧍‍♂️(ily)

if you pay really close attention, you can hear me sobbing thro the screen

i woke up yesterday, as always, so excited to read everyone's thoughts on the new chapter. and what a delight it was to find this lovely lovely message in my inbox. goodness, anon, you've no idea how happy this made me. i was a mess all day, grinning ear to ear and unable to focus on anything other than your kind words.

fuck, i'm so glad my writing was able to inspire something within you. oftentimes it feels like i'm spewing out barely coherent sentences, isolated on my laptop, so it's such a nice reminder hearing how it goes on to affect people. hardly any of it is intentional, and that should reassure you if anything. humans are so good at making happy accidents. don't let your fear of your work not turning out the way you want hold you back – i believe in you! you can do it! write and surprise yourself, and remember there will always be people supporting you every step of the way

and never EVER apologise for sending long asks<3 nothing means more to me than you guys and i always delight in hearing your thoughts. i hope you're able to start writing again, and perhaps share it with me when you're ready xx

mwah mwah. thank you so much

#༄dee answers #darling anons #animalic

[vivelarevolution13]

For the ask game ;)

🏜️,❄️,🥐,🌻 aaand 🥤

Hope you are having a good day!

Hiya, thanks for the retaliatory hit! (affectionate) hope you're having a lovely day too :) 🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? Ooh, can I just say any? Kidding, albeit I am very grateful for everyone who takes the time out to comment, even if it's just a string of emojis or something! But I am eternally grateful for long, detailed comments and especially love when people point the things that they related to in my work or things that clicked for them (particularly the ones I thought might be overlooked or alternatively, too heavy-handed to land) or even line up certain things or parallels that didn't fully register to me while I was writing except as a vague ~vibe~. I just appreciate it a whole lot, and it makes the whole exchange feel like a conversation. ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

Hm, I don't know - I don't think I have one specific dream theme/plot. That said I have been thinking a lot about Red Room/Department X plotlines recently. I really love the throughline of the struggle for identity + shifting ideologies/definitions of what it means to be a good person + autonomy & free will vs. wanting to belong dichotomy in those stories. Especially when it's grounded in interesting dynamics that aren't very black and white (i.e. Nat and the other widows, the handlers, the WS.) That era is also just very interesting to me in terms of real world circumstances and events, and the scifi potential to explore trauma and psychological fuckery in general is endless. So I guess I'd really love something that deals with Natasha's memories as a child + teen in the war and how that shaped her both before the Red Room even got their hands on her, as well as during and after; how she became this kind of mercurial person who is still (maybe surprisingly so) solid at her core. Something a la Name of the Rose, if you've read that run.

As for who I'd like to write it, I am in fact attempting to write something to that effect into my current post-CATWS wip, so I guess me? Not to say I wouldn't love to read something similar by someone else - there have been several fics out there that dealt with Natasha in a way that had me staring into empty space for an hour (in a good way) - just that I enjoy the process of developing ideas like that in my head differently than I do reading about them from another angle, if that makes sense!

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

that vine with the two guys with heavy NY/NJ area accents screaming at a duck. wait no - any patrick william charlton vine where he suddenly acquires a german accent. wait no - the can I PLEASE get a waffle one.

oh man. any one vine really. I'm very nostalgic about vine. 🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

I feel like if I started doing that I'd end up spamming way too many people haha. I do wanna say I very much appreciate everyone I've gotten to interact with and follow during this CATWS10 event and over the past two months I’ve been on here more!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love Oh, god. GOD. This is so tough, I'm really blanking right now. I've been around for a loong while lol and there are so, so many insane, brilliant ones. It doesn't help that I really haven't read that many in the last few years as much as I've been writing them.

Off the top of my head though, I recently went back to Speranza's All the Angels and the Saints. One of the all-time old school Cap greats. All of their stuff is just wonderful, foundational Steve, Bucky & SteveAndBucky content. Also everything by magdaliny. I don't even know what to say there, except maybe goddamn.

I’ve also been reading a couple Red Room fics that I can’t find right now but that were great, so I’ll have to dig through my old laptop bookmarks and get back to you with a personalized list, hehe 🫡

#sorry this took a second and thanks for indulging me with these again<3 #vostok3-ka #asks #ask game