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remember-the-fanfics · 2 months

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My writing is off because I had a sugar rush starting and then it went everywhere it wasn't planned to go but I went with it

◇Set before the pilot only because Alastor would kill the man before he came inside because he lacked any manners.♧

(Y/n) was arguing with someone who didn't actually wanted to work while under contract, usually would happen in their own territory but the sinner had sought them out while at the hotel.

(Y/n) and Angel Dust was sitting in the lounge, talking about their day until a sinner rushed in, loudly requested to get out of their contract. (Y/n) quickly try to deescalate the situation.

"Look if you want out, join the hotel to better yourself-."

"I ain't doing this rainbow fruity bullshit! You're working me to hard, I want out!"

"You, exactly Timothy Johnson, work less than 32 a week. That's around 6 hour a day for a five day week because you get the weekend off." Said (Y/n), getting stern.

"I just wanted the housin' and free shit."

"You knew what you signed, Timothy. I gave you multiple times to say no, you and I both set up the time for you to work. You have an easy job!"

"Customers are assholes, they ain't being respectful to me!" He said, lying which (Y/n) knew the moment he spoke. The young overlord made sure customer services wasn't a nightmare it was on Earth, sinners that live in (Y/n)'s territory knew to be respectful to each other because (Y/n) would know if someone wasn't.

"Respect goes both ways, Timothy. I know you never worked customer service before but you should atleast know not to try and fight a kid." (Y/n) said, who sat up straight. "I've already have alot of complaints, 5 from that incident alone, I could move you some other job..?"

"I want out of our deal, I don't wanna work for you." Said Timothy crossing his arms, not letting go of the topic.

"I cannot, you still have four years left." (Y/n) said, tired of arguing with the man infront of someone. "It haven't even a month..."

"You said you had a free trail-!"

"The first week was it and You said you were fine then! I checked up on you every two days, making sure everything was fine and it was."

"(Y/n), maybe you should just let him go. He seems like a waste anyway." Said Angel Dust. "He doesn't want your free shit so just drop him."

"N-no! That shit is still mine!" Said Timothy.

"It will be when the contract is over." Said (Y/n). "I made all of this very clear during the whole thing. I explained it and let you read it over before you signed anything." They stood up looking confused at Timothy.

"I must of skimmed over some parts." He said nervously. "I just wanted a place to sleep! Not dealing with a kid, who thinks that they can boss adults around."

"Nothing is for free, you either join the hotel and better yourself or stay under contract." Said (Y/n) before Angel Dust tried to ask.

"What will make him stay at the hotel-."

"Quiet, addict!" Interrupted Timothy pointing at Angel Dust. "No one cares what you say."

"Speak to him like again and no one will ever hear you say anything again." Said (Y/n) before Timothy decided to dig himself a deeper hole with a stupid idea.

"Oh. You actually care for the idiots at the dusty ass shack?" Said Timothy laughing. "I can't believe that!"

(Y/n) just glared at the sinner, they had feeling where this would go if they didn't do anything.

"Listen." They said in a voice they don't usually use, getting closer to Timothy, becoming taller."If you don't leave and go find a hole to die in, I will personally hand your soul off to someone who would find good use for it and it will not be easy like what I've been letting you do."

They were invading his personal space, Timothy swore he saw them everywhere afterwards.

"Understand? Then leave."

With a meek nod of approval, Timothy bolted away. After (Y/n) returned to normal, dusted themself off.

"I keep forgetting that you're actually an Overlord." Said Angel Dust after collecting himself from what (Y/n) just did.

"Yea- uh. Yeah, ugh that voice messes with my throat to much. But I'm sorry that happen infront of you usually sinners would wait till I get back to pester me." Said (Y/n) sitting back down.

"5 dollars he pissed himself."

"You're on."

Timothy will return for vengeance later (tomorrow) also lore on how you died because I need to write it.

#hazbin hotel x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #genz reader #like im already working on the next part #it wouldnt make sense for them to be together

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bonefall · 5 months

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while i do agree with the sentiment that bloodclan should be more nuanced as an entity i still believe it is wrong to portray them as the necessary "response" to clan injustice (haven't read the books in years but i am pretty sure that bloodclan started with no connection to the clans) / an opposition to the clan's flaws. some of the thing scourge did was out of selfishness and bloodclan isn't the other colour of the black and white debacle with the clans. the clans are heavily flawed yes, but it isn't realistic to completely say that their structure had no redeeming qualities altogether and that all outsider groups is fundamentally better than the clans.

all clans and groups are flawed in their own way and i believe we shouldnt brush past the things that other groups (the sisters and what they do with their toms *cough cough*) did solely to be able to degrade the clans and their culture.

Buddy, you're setting up a strawman. I promise you that if you look into the reduxes I've made of BloodClan, Guardians, The Sisters, and the Tribe, you will see that I don't make any of them a "flawless" alternative to Clan life.

Nor do I say that the Clans have no redeeming qualities. In fact, you can browse the "Clan Culture" tag to see the various expansions I've made to show how these traditions, values, and technological advances make Clan life so alluring.

The overarching theme of BB is that the nature of culture is change. For better AND for worse.

With respect, I think there's something insidious in the wording of "the things the other groups did." We're talking about fan responses to a work that consistently demonizes and degrades foreigners to make the Clans look like the "best way to live," justifying xenophobia. These are not real groups, they are writing choices.

In the franchise with some pretty extreme examples of misogyny, the authors said "What if bizarro world where women rule and have no men... woag..." and only includes a single Clan-alligned member of this culture, with a BAD opinion of them, who can't even do his diplomatic job because he HATES them so much.

In the same franchise that shows Fireheart getting bullied, facing prejudice, and fighting a murderous tyrant who publically executes a mixed-race character, their endgame villain is an outsider, like him, but this one IS a godless heathen who HATES love and friendship and banned families.

In the VERY same franchise which made its first non-malicious group barely able to get through an arc without needing to be saved by Clan cats, totally unable to defend themselves, framed as "whiny" for not wanting their clearly 'inferior' culture to be forcefully changed.

And I'm re-stating all this because, again, no offense to you in particular Anon, but I've been seeing a few people with a sentiment like yours lately. Complaints into a vacuum that don't make targeted critique of anyone's fanworks, gesturing at this broad "woobification" which is apparently out there somewhere over the rainbow, saying things like "well Scourge is selfish" or "well Moonlight abandoned her 13 year old" as if we haven't BEEN knew.

As if we're not all directly responding to these choices. As if I haven't written ESSAYS on this topic.

Since this was about BloodClan in particular though, and you admit you haven't read the books in years, please go back and actually read Rise of Scourge before trying to make critique of the ways fanon rewrites its origin. It's EXPLICITLY a response to the Clans, in the text, that the Erins wrote, it is canon that fanon is working with.

And you want people to take that out and approach it a different way... why? Because it's so incredulous to you that a nation forms in response to a threatening neighbor? That a common enemy through invasions is a way that people might choose to unite, and encourage their new culture to value brutality? Because you don't like the idea of Clan Culture's XENOPHOBIC BATTLE CULTURE affecting surrounding communities??

Could YOU, maybe, be doing this "woobification" thing I keep hearing about? Can I play this stupid game too? What's our stupid prize? Can it be a lollipop? Do we get stickers

TL;DR, ok.

#bone babble #Warrior cats analysis #Warrior cats fanon #Bloodclan #''Ok yes scourge is practically cold war era xenophobic stereotypes and i understand that is a part of canon you dont like.''#''But have you considered. Hes mean''#Yes. Yes i have considered it.#If I get another take like this in my inbox im gojng to fucjing add a scene where he kisses babies and looks at the screen and says #'Mmm wowow thank u for the babygirl juice fire star :)'#JUST to annoy them #People gonna be funny to me? Im about to be Hilarious.#Also ANON just to be clear im annoyed because like. Ive been seeing this around.#Sadly today you are the Genocide Frisk to my Angry Sans u.u #I am taking ur ask and turning it blue and smashing it against walls #Man it would be cool to have bone themed powers... i am a bone guy...#But anon you're fine. Just like. Think about what I said ok?

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wanderingelvis · 1 year

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Sparkly Little Thing ✨🧚🏻 | A Yandere!Elvis fic

Summary: Reader isn't dumb per se, she's just sweet but she's also the latest signing on Elvis' label. Elvis just wants to protect her, and make sure that she won't fall into the same traps that he did during the earlier years of his career - even if that means taking advantage of her.

Pairings: Late 60s/Early 70s!Elvis x Naive F!Reader

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 Warnings: Soft Yandere themes, emotional manipulation, parental abuse, potential headspace regression - if I've missed out any, please send me a message, I'll update accordingly.

Tomorrow would be your first day as the latest signing to RCA and your whole life had turned upside down. You'd come from a pokey little town, out in the country, far, far away from the dazzling lights and hustle of Los Angeles.

You grew up in a modest, converted barn with your mother, where you both got by with the basics. You were perfectly content with the basics, you liked the basics - the little lawn that backed onto the barn and the chickens you both kept, the porch that you'd sit on to read your books in the daytime, and watch stars during the nighttime.

Your mother had always wanted more though, more money, more notoriety and more everything - and you were her ticket to that. She'd dragged you to auditions throughout your childhood, neglecting your education and your personal development to prioritise photoshoots for television advertorials or small background roles in a television show. Naturally, you never saw a dime, but why would you when you were a child? But the money that your mother promised to set aside for you as you grew up, would still never appear.

Still, you'd hit the jackpot after wowing executives from RCA after a rendition of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' from The Wizard of Oz, a movie that you'd actually never, even seen. Your mother sat there, her smile was wide and her eyes were filled with dollar signs, as the executives told you that you'd be doing some backing singing for some other artists as you would be trained to grow into their latest sparkly little thing, producing your own records and performing small shows.

You never wanted to be famous - in fact, you were perfectly content with just sitting in your front lawn with your books and cats, contently watching life go by without anyone knowing your name. Obviously, you were feeling a little nervous about the whole thing. Actually, you were feeling very nervous.

You had a friend from home who was an integral part of the label. Peggy worked on the sound systems and was a little bit older than you were. She'd come from the same small town as you, in fact, she'd grown up just down the same street as you. She was almost like a big sister to you really, she'd always been protective of you and loved you dearly. Your mother knew that too, and Peggy was the reason you'd even bagged an audition.

Your mother had written to her, practically begging her to talk to her boss, which Peggy was happy to do as she knew you were a talented girl. In fact, it was Peggy that took you to your first ever grown up party, one that one of the label executives was hosting at their large villa.

"It's okay, Y/N. You look adorable! Stop your frettin', will ya?" Peggy laughed, batting her hand at you, who was just trying to smooth out any creases and crinkles in your dress. You frowned. You felt like you looked silly, you loved your outfit but you were worried about wearing it to a real grown up party, full of movie stars and singers that you admired and you felt like you were going to stick out like a sore thumb.

The party was bustling, the smell of spilled champagne and cigar smoke consumed the rooms and it was all a little loud for you, but you loved it. You were in awe of it all, the curious little thing that you were.

You and Peggy mingled with the other guests for a while, well, actually Peggy chatted away to the fancy looking people whilst you smiled nervously, not saying a word whilst looking down a double and triple checking your dress looked okay.

"Honey, c'mere. I need'ta go in the drinks room with my friend Tommy, 'kay? I need ya to stand guard for me? Not let anyone in? Can you do that for me honey?" Peggy asked you. She didn't want you to wander off into the sordid party, but she could equally use someone to just make sure her time with the cameraman wasn't to be interrupted.

"Sure can Peggy! I'll make sure no-one comes in! Promise!" You said eagerly, nodding along with her. She smiled at you, squeezing the top of your arm before taking Tommy's hand and he lead them into the drinks room, giggling.

You quietly stood by the door that was tucked away a little. You could see a long corridor near a stairwell and lots of passersby. You saw some people you'd seen from your audition and tours around the label, but you didn't run to say hello, even if you'd liked to. No, you had a very important job and that was to make sure Peggy was going to have a nice and uninterrupted time with her friend Tommy.

You looked down at your shoes, furrowing your brows when you noticed that they were a little scuffed and more worse for wear than you'd like. You were at a big Hollywood party for goodness sake and here you were with shoes that were nearly falling apart.

You - well, your mother - hadn't been paid yet so you weren't exactly in a position to be buying new, shiny, things even if you'd like them. You frowned and chewed your lips as you looked down on the shoes, trying to work out how you could neaten them up so they'd look a little more presentable. As your mind was busy focusing on your shoes, you were snapped out of your thoughts by a deep voice and two large shadows appearing to loom over you.

"Move out of the way, hon." A short, clearly agitated man, said to you. "No, no! You can't go in there!" You said, trying quickly to get between the door and the two men - particularly the shorter one at the front.

"Get outta the way, kid. Elvis can do whatever he wants." The short, little man grunted as the two stood tall over you. The man, who you quickly realised was perhaps the most famous man on the planet right now, and definitely the most important person on the label, was the Elvis Presley.

Elvis stayed silent, grinning smugly, down at you, who he thought was awful cute.

"Nuh-uh! My best friend, Peggy, she's in there! She said no-one can go I and I gotta keep guard for her so you can't go in, even if you are Mr Presley! I'm real sorry, I-I just made a promise." You stammered, not exactly making eye contact. You felt extremely nervous and cornered.

The smaller man, practically seethed at your words. "Look here kid, I don't give a damn if you've made a promise, we're going in, now move!" He said, forcefully grabbing your arm in a tight grip, making you yelp and stumble over your own two feet at the jolt, falling forward directly into Elvis Presley's chest.

"Goddamnit Billy, you hurt the little lady. Get outta here, go find me another cigar, goddammit." Elvis growled, wrapped his arms around you, whilst you tried to find your feet, your cheeks scarlet red with embarrassment at the scene. "You okay there, little one? Sorry about Billy, he gets it into his head that he's more important than he actually is. Are you hurt, sweet thing?" Elvis asked softly, once Billy had turned a corner.

"Um -" You stuttered. "I'm real sorry. I should've let you in." You said quietly, your eyes glossy.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Peggy snapped, as the door flung wide open as did her eyes when they landed on the Elvis Presley rubbing circles on your back - a sight that she never thought she'd see. "Jeez Louise." She sighed.

She and Elvis knew each other, Peggy often fixed sound problems for a lot of Elvis' recordings and they got on well. However, Peggy knew, just like everyone who'd been around at RCA for long enough, that no-one would dare to mess with Elvis. Elvis could be the most charming, charismatic man in the room, and he always was, but everyone knew that he got what he wanted and he would do anything to get it - and he could be scary.

"Oh hey Pegs. Your friend here was determined to let you to your privacy and Billy got a bit... well... he got a bit like Billy, didn't he?" Elvis chuckled with a slightly fed up tone in his voice.

"You okay, flower?" Peggy asked you in a softer tone.

"Uh-huh, was just bein' stupid." You muttered, suddenly shy at the attention that Peggy and Elvis were giving you.

"No honey, you were just doin' what I asked, I shouldn't have put you in that position. What about me and you go get a drink?" Peggy suggested.

Elvis watched as Peggy looked back at whichever fella she had been schmoozing with, he knew that she'd been having a good time and that her cute, little friend could sure give him a good time too.

"Pegs, you go and have your fun, I'll get this little lady a drink." Elvis said.

"No, I'm sure you're real busy anyway Elvis, besides, I told her Momma I'd keep an eye on her." Peggy said.

"It really ain't a problem, Matty has been chasin' me like one of 'em rabid dogs trying to get me to sing for everyone so he can boast to all his friends that he had me do it at his party." Elvis said. It was true, but Elvis also just wanted to get to know you better. "Now, I'll get her a drink, and you can get back to that fella of yours." Elvis chuckled. He'd always liked Peggy.

"Non-alcoholic." Peggy warned Elvis firmly, who nodded.

Elvis extended his hand for you to take. You glanced at it and looked up at Elvis, who just laughed a little at you. "Ain't gonna bite you, honey." He insisted with a smile.

And in that moment, you decided to trust him.

Elvis took you upstairs, where it was a little less crowded and little more quiet. Elvis spotted you as soon as you walked in with Peggy, he'd kept an eye on you and it wasn't until Peggy had finally left you alone that Elvis decided it'd be the perfect time for him and Billy to head over to you, all under the guise of wanting a drink - that's what he'd told Billy.

He'd noticed you jump a little every time a bottle of champagne was popped, or someone hollered a little louder than usual. You were a skittish little thing. He'd also noticed how you were relentless in trying to smooth out the pleats on your pretty dress and how it was so obvious that you kept comparing your dress to all the other women that were at the party. As Elvis watched you from the other side of the room earlier, he'd noticed that you were growing increasingly insecure at your appearance at the party.

But it was understandable, you looked more conservative than the rest - you looked virginal and Elvis could tell from a mile away. You didn't exactly look like a woman, you looked like a girl, like a little deer in headlights and completely out of place, even if you so desperately wanted to be there and fulfil your mother's dreams.

Elvis had observed how you'd picked up one some snickering from other women at the party at your appearance, making you feel shy and embarrassed. You really did like your dress, you thought it was so pretty but you realised it wasn't exactly the right thing to wear to a record label party and the feeling made you very self-conscious.

Elvis lead you to a quieter bar and you watched as he greeted and joked around with the barman, it was like he knew everyone at this party. He radiated an almost scary energy as you watched him, he had more charisma in a single hair on his head than most people you'd met had in their whole body. You could see why he was considered the King of Rock 'n' Roll.

"I'll take a Gin Rickey and a fruit punch for the little lady, hold the alcohol." Elvis said cooly before continuing to talk to the barman about a previous party they must've been at.

"One Gin Rickey and a Virgin fruit punch, comin' right up." The barman said, getting to work on making your drinks.

You stayed quiet by Elvis' side, feeling incredibly small and insignificant next to him, but the feelings were intertwined with those of comfort, no-one would give you any nasty looks for your dress if you were stood by Elvis, no-one would be looking at you if he was there, and you didn't mind that.

You were brought out out of your thoughts by cold glasses slamming on the wooden bar, one being placed directly in front of you. Your eyes widened at the drink, you'd never had a drink like this, it looked beautiful.

"Wow..." You whispered quietly to yourself, your doe eyes trained on the tall glass that had a cherry in it along with a slice of pineapple and had different colours layered in the drink.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Elvis chuckled, sipping his drink. You fluttered your eyes up to him, giving him a bashful smile, still a bit confused at why Elvis was so attentive to you. You quietly nodded in agreement, offering Elvis a shy smile. "How about we go somewhere a little quieter, doll?" Elvis suggested, placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a large, unoccupied couch in a quiet corner.

Elvis consumed the couch, dominating all the space around him to the point that he was intimidating yet inviting. He placed and arm on the back of the furniture, allowing space for you to sit by him.

You were nervous, naturally, this was the biggest star on the lot, and if your mother knew you were sat beside the Elvis Presley, she could quite possibly faint. Your heart rate picked up a little, knowing that even though your mother wasn't here, there was an unbearable mountain of pressure on your little shoulders to impress him.

But you didn't need to feel any pressure because Elvis was already obsessed with you.

You perched on the edge of the couch, holding your ice cold drink with both hands, the cool droplets making your hands wet but you didn't really know what else to do. Elvis could see that you were tense and nervous, but he didn't need to rush you, he could play the long game.

"That's a pretty lil' dress you got, ain't it sweetheart?" Elvis observed and your brows furrowed. You liked the dress a lot - it was the only one you had, but Elvis was Elvis, your tatty little dress was hardly impressive. But, Elvis was the first and only person to give you a compliment all night on the outfit that you'd really tried hard with, and that meant something to you.

"Really? You like it?" You said softly, your fingers delicately tracing the hemline of the skirt, being carefully not to cause and creases or mess up the pleats.

"Mhmm." Elvis hummed, leaned all the way back on the sofa as opposed to you, who was practically hanging off the edge of the front of the couch. He could only see the side of your face and you couldn't see his at all, unless you moved your whole body, but you were too scared to face him just yet.

"It's my only party dress." You told him quietly, your eyes still trained on the skirt, though you could feel Elvis' eyes trained on you. "Well, um, it's not really like the other dresses at this party." You said, your insecurity and innocence shining through.

"You're right, it ain't, it's prettier." Elvis commented, knowing the remark would draw you to him.

In some kind of twisted way, he didn't mind that other women at the party had snickered at your outfit. Elvis knew the little babydoll dress would make you look inexperienced and not fit in with the crowd, but he still thought you were the most angelic little thing he'd seen at any of these parties. Had other people at the party actually have been nicer to you, maybe you wouldn't have stayed so close to Elvis' side. Elvis revelled in the fact that you were feeling down, so that he could be the one to bring you back up again.

You turned your head to look behind you, staring at him to check if he was being serious, and oh boy he was. You blushed and chewed a little on your lip, taking in the words.

He was kinder than you thought he would be. You'd heard lots about Elvis Presley, but here he was, practically babysitting you for Peggy when he could be anywhere with anyone.

You were a bubbly, outgoing little thing who loved making friends but Elvis sure did you make you nervous. It wasn't just his status as the King of Rock 'n' Roll but his whole demeanour exuded a dominance and power that was overwhelming, causing you to be a little more shy and reserved than you normally would be - even if you did desperately want to be his friend, he'd been nicer to you than anyone else at the party.

Naturally, it wasn't the first time that Elvis had made a girl go all quiet and shy but it was a rare occasion. Anyone would've thought that many girls would become shy and intimidated by him but in reality, most of the women he met were adoring fans and women at the label that knew they had one chance with him so would throw themselves at him.

"So you're Peggy's friend huh? Or little sister?" Elvis asked.

"Oh, um, no Peggy's not my sister but I always used to wish she was, and um, I guess she is sorta like a big sister! We're friends, she used to live on the same street as me and Momma and we grew up together, she's kinda like my best friend 'spose." You told Elvis fondly, you absolutely idolized and adored Peggy. "She's real cool," You giggled angelically, making Elvis' heart rate pick up at the sound.

"You here visitin' her then, doll?" Elvis asked as he watched you shake your head with a soft giggle as you revealed to him that you were the latest signing to RCA.

You began to slowly open up to Elvis, babbling on about how you were actually very nervous about being at RCA and all you wanted to do was make your Momma proud, and Peggy too. Elvis nodded along, humming at the appropriate times to show he was listening as you answered all of his many questions.

The minutes turned into hours and you began to feel totally comfortable in Elvis' presence, he still intimidated you, there was no denying that, but equally, he was making every effort to make you feel relaxed and to make you trust him.

Eventually, Peggy found the pair of you, you were now sat much closer to Elvis, curled up on the big couch with your fifth drink.

"There you are flower! Havin' a good time?" Peggy beamed.

"Oh yes! Look at my drink! It's a fruit punch without alcohol, what was that word, um, the word that the barman called it?" You asked Elvis, looking for his help.

"Virgin, honey." Elvis said cooly.

"And it was so good Peggy! D'ya wanna try?!"

"No honey, we gotta get you home! You got your first proper day tomorrow!" Peggy said.

A little yawn escaped your lips, the sleepiness and exhaustion from the overstimulating party taking over your small body. Elvis and Peggy both watched fondly as you rubbed your eyes with your balled up fists, making the mascara that Peggy had applied for you smudge ever so slightly.

"Now, I think it's definitely time to go home and into bed, flower." Peggy smiled, smoothing out a stray strand of hair of yours.

A pout formed on your plump lips at the words, you'd been having such a fun time with Elvis, you really didn't want it to end. "Oh Peggy, Elvis was gonna tell me about his first day at RCA and I really wanted t'hear it, can we stay for the story? Please?" You said with those bush baby eyes that anyone would find it near impossible to refuse, but Peggy managed.

"Not tonight, hon, you know I made a promise to ya Momma to have you back home before 1am." Peggy smiled.

"I know." You mumbled in defeat with a hint of sadness, you knew Peggy as just doing her best by you even if you did want to stay and spend all night talking to your new found friend, Elvis.

"Pegs is right darlin', you don't wanna be all sleepy and yawnin' on ya first day, do ya baby?" Elvis chided, leaning over to comfort you by rubbing gentle circles on your back, which just made you feel all the more drowsy.

"Nuh-uh," You agreed cutely.

"Say goodnight and goodbye to Elvis, Y/N." Peggy instructed as you and Elvis rose from the couch.

You didn't really hesitate in wrapping your arms around Elvis' torso as he towered over you, the height difference appearing to be quite noticeable. You usually wouldn't be so forward as to hug somebody that you'd only met a couple of hours ago but there was something inviting and comforting about Elvis that you craved.

Elvis reciprocated your hug, cuddling a little and chuckling at your sweet action.

"Am I gonna see you again?" You asked nervously, blushing vulnerably.

"'Course baby, you're comin' t'see my studio and trailer remember?" Elvis said, reminding you of one of the interactions in your long conversation with the man where he offered to show you a tour of his recording studio and his trailer that you eagerly accepted without much hesitation.

Peggy watched the interaction between you, her little childhood friend and the most famous man in the world. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she didn't exactly like what she was witnessing.

"'Kay," You giggled adorably. "Buh-bye Elvis." You said, taking Peggy's outstretched hand.

"Bye baby." Elvis said fondly, watching as Peggy promptly led you out of the room and away from him, but not before you managed to turn back and wave goodbye to him enthusiastically.

Two things were certain as you left the party:

1. Your first grown up party had been a success.

2. Elvis was obsessed with you.

🧚

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#elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis #elvis presley #elvis angst #elvis fanfic #elvis fluff #elvis x reader #yandere elvis #elvisaaronpresley #yandere!elvis #yandere #innocent reader #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis x you #elvis x oc

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angelbaby-fics · 11 months

Text

Don't Bite

Word Count: 850

Warnings: Slight injury to the reader! Lots of comfort and fluff though of course!!

A/N: Aww this one's kinda similar to one I did for the tea party event but I've actually had this concept in my notes app for like 6 months! Hopefully posting this finally works & I hope you guys enjoy!! ❤️

It started off as a peaceful morning. Steve was in the kitchen, his turn to clean up after breakfast, and Bucky was starting up a load of laundry down the hall. You were splayed across the couch, watching cartoons and digesting your pancakes when Alpine sauntered over to the sofa and leapt up next to you. The cat took a big yawn before curling up halfway on your chest, purring and nuzzling you as you pet her silky white fur. Lost in the dancing colors on the tv screen, you aimlessly scratched behind her ears, down her back, across the length of her tail.

Too far!

In a flash of white, Alpine whipped her body around to face your offending hand and let off a warning hiss! Your precious pet suddenly transformed into a vicious predator, baring her fangs at you with fire in her eyes. Out of shock, you pulled your hand away, some of the fur still entwined within your fingers, and when you yanked back, Alpine sunk her teeth into your arm out of self defense. It wasn't too hard, just meant to admonish you like she would her own kitten, but her teeth were sharp enough to break your skin, and the sight of blood was enough to make you start screaming.

Naturally, Steve and Bucky were abandoning their respective chores rushing to your side to comfort you in no time. Alpine had fled the scene at the sound of your screams, so it wasn't immediately apparent to them what was wrong; all they saw was their baby, distressed and injured. Hearts racing, they each tried in their own way to figure out what the problem was and solve it. Steve dried your tears, carefully petting your head and whispering words of comfort to you while Bucky protectively wrapped an arm around you, jaw clenched with stress as he scanned the room for what hurt you.

When they were both certain the coast was clear, they moved you to the bathroom, Bucky holding you firmly against his chest. He kept you in his arms as he sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling your legs up onto his lap as Steve rummaged through the cupboard for the family's first aid kit. He emerged with a clear tub, which he set on the bathroom counter and opened and began unpacking. Your arms were wrapped around Bucky's neck, and he felt you grip onto his t-shirt once you saw Steve pull out the bottle of antiseptic.

"Nonononono," you mumbled into Bucky's shoulder, "no more ouchies please!"

He tightened his arms around you, soothingly rubbing your back. Both your daddies' hearts broke at your pleas.

"I know, babydoll. It's just gonna last a second, okay?" Steve tried to reassure you, but your tears were starting up again.

"Shhh.... You're safe baby, it's okay," Bucky whispered into your ear.

He reached up to untangle your injured hand from his shirt. Holding it softly in his right hand, he slowly brought your arm down from his neck and held it out towards Steve, who was looking at you with eyes like warm oceans. You met his gaze and nodded slightly before turning your face back into Bucky's chest, bracing yourself for the sting of the antiseptic. Maybe it was the gentleness that Steve applied the cotton on your skin, or maybe it was the hold Bucky had around you keeping you safe, but it didn't hurt nearly as badly as you thought it would. Next thing you knew, you were emerging from you Bucky cocoon to see Steve presenting you with multiple boxes of bandaids.

"Alright, angel, you get to pick whichever kind you want!"

You looked between the boxes, some with cartoon characters, some with animals or flowers or rainbows or stars. You pointed towards your favorite, and Steve got to unwrapping it, kneeling down to your level to softly and sweetly stick the bandaid to your skin. Then he started clapping.

"All done, baby! You did such a good job!" Steve cheered for you, smile beaming, but your eyes were drawn to something else.

Curious about her family all gathering in one room, Alpine was peering around the doorway of the bathroom. Usually she would bound right in, weaving herself between Bucky's legs or trying to get another treat out of Steve, but now she was unusually reserved. It was as if she knew that all this commotion, all this distress was because of her. Bucky leaned over to see where you were looking, Steve turned around, and instantly they solved the puzzle of what had happened to you.

"Oh baby, did Alpine get you?"

You nodded, and whispered "Piney bite."

With a steely look, Steve walked over to the cat, bending down to look her in the eyes, and he shook a stern finger at her.

"Alpine, we don't bite our friends, do you understand?" He asked her, which made you start giggling; music to your daddies' ears.

"Its okay, Piney, I forgive you!"

And once again, it seemed like she understood, because with a little trill, she was trotting over to you, pressing her face up against you and starting to purr.

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #chloe's fic

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leeeeeeeeech · 15 days

Text

Don't Wanna be your Friend Anymore

"B-Beee." I slur, leaning against the ghoul, my vision swimming behind my drooping eyelids. The alcohol kicked in much quicker than I would've liked it too. This game was a dumb idea.

"Told ya," He chuckled, tucking some of my hair behind my ear with a delicate claw. "You cannot hold your liquor fer shit, tootsie pop."

I go to argue with him, but the bile that jumps into my throat beats me to it. I practically launch myself from the couch to stumble towards the bathroom. Beetlejuice cackles, triumphant that he'd won. I come back, sweatier and a couple shots lighter, to Beetlejuice sipping on another bottle of tequila. His hair a subtle purple hue.

"Damn, Beej, you goin' through something?" He jumps, a little startled, before he jerkily shrugs his shoulders, the purple retreating into his hair line, quickly replaced by his signature electric green.

"Nah, I like the burn," He takes another gulp, making a sour face as he set the bottle down. "Augh yep! That's the stuff."

"Come on, what's wrong? You're purple."

His eyes widen, hands jumping to his hair, attempting to cover it up. "N-Nothing's wrong. I just.. ughhh fuck okay okay." He sighs, gritting his teeth. My heart breaks as the purple comes back full force, it even bleeds past his hair. His tie and the white stripes of his suit a faded plum color.

Oh no.

"I miss you." He whispers, his voice strained. I sit next to him on the couch, scooting closer until our legs bump together.

"But I'm right here, Beej." I reach for his hand, but he smacks it away.

"No! No, you're not. Ever since you took that dumbass job you never have time for me!"

"How? We hang out every night."

He shakes his head, red sprouting into the purple, like splotches of blood.

"No. We really don't Y/n. This is the first time we've had an actual conversation in weeks, and it's only happening because we're both drunk!"

My head is swimming from this revelation. Was my new job really affecting him this much? I thought that things were good between us. I... I really fucked up, didn't I?

"I'm sorry, Beetlejuice, why didn't you say anything before?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't want... fuck.. this shit is really somethin' huh?" He gestures to the half empty bottle of tequila. "It really makes ya just say anything!" He laughs, but the joy doesn't reach his eyes, or his hair, or..anywhere really. A mirthless noise.

"Beej, you can be honest, I'm sorry we haven't hung out like we used to. I've been a terrible friend to you."

Beetlejuice mutters something angrily under his breath, crossing his arms and turning away from me. "What?" I lean towards him, grabbing a hold of his shoulder to balance myself.

"I don't want to be your friend." He says, punctuating each word with a pained hiss. I feel like complete shit. I took him for granted. "Beej, I'm so sorry! I wish I knew how to make all this better."

He's quiet for a while, seemingly contemplating, his hair changes from color to color. Red, blue, purple, orange, yellow....pink. I continue to watch in silence as he broods. A soft pink remains at the root of his hair as it fades through the entire rainbow. He pauses for a moment, noticing that I hadn't said anything to him. His eyes meet mine, the pink crawling through his hair slowly, the purple sliding into the forefront of his head. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a beat.

"Beetlejuice, I know I messed up, and if you don't want me-"

"Shut up for a second."

I clamp my mouth shut, watching him carefully as he scoots closer to me.

"I-"

He cuts himself off, turning away from me with a scoff. I hear him grumble, "Fuck it." but before I can comment on it at all, his hands are cupping my face, and his lips are pressed up against mine. My eyes fluttered closed as he presses into me, my hands wandering up into his hair to pull on the ever-changing strands. He groans into the kiss, the vibrations reverberating throughout me. It makes me shiver

He leans into me further, more hands groping, pinching, pulling. His tongue, cold and wet pressing against my teeth. His heavy breaths, and little groans are too much for me to handle. I push him off, panting and wiping at the slobbery residue of the kiss. Beetlejuice looks upset for a moment, but his eyes flick to my lips again and his hair goes bubblegum pink, strands of red settling in random patches. it makes him look like cinnamon candy.

"Bee-" He holds up a hand to my mouth, shushing me. He runs his free hand through his hair, a few mold spores falling out as he did so.

"Listen, Y/n, I.. I like you. A lot. Anytime I think about you and me it's like my heart's havin' an orgasm." His confession is rushed and stumbled through, but I quit listening to him once his hair started glowing. The pink shining so bright that it cast a soft light throughout the living room. I smiled at all my things being in Beej's light. I interrupt his ramble by kissing the hand that covered my mouth. He flinched, stopping mid sentence.

"You give my heart orgasms too, Beej." I laugh, holding on to his hand with both of mine. His shock quickly fades, replaced with that flirty cockiness that I've come to love.

"I bet I can make you feel like that all over~"

I lean forward into his space, grinning as his cheeks darken at my being so close. Liquid courage or love, I didn't care. I was going to see my ghoul pink for as long as possible.

"Let's test it."

(lil note): this is also on ao3!

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice #beetlejuice x y/n #beetlejuice the musical #my writing #leech writes

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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aita for talking about fnaf to my little cousin?

so fnaf is one of my (im 21) special interests for a while. my little cousin (age 7) has been mentioning it lately, because he heard about it from kids at school. Because of this i've ended up telling him about a lot of the lore and stuff, and trying to explain things to him. Additionally, he asks me questions about fnaf, and I do my best to explain it to him. I also sometimes watch fnaf videos with him.

My mom says i shouldn't do this because he gets scared easily by stuff, and his mom doesn't really like him to see scary stuff. My mom says I shouldnt tell him about fnaf or show him stuff from fnaf.

Both my mom and his mom will go out of their way to hide scary things from him like halloween monster pictures. Part of this is because he got kind of scared of opening doors due to the Doors game on roblox. He is too scared to sleep in his room alone and always sleeps in his mom's bed because he is scared of the dark and has nightmares sometimes. And he wasn't allowed to watch any youtube on halloween because of possibly seeing scary stuff. They think that the scary stuff is what made him scared of the dark and have nightmares, and not be able to sleep in his room alone.

In my opinion, I don't *think* im doing anything wrong, because when I was a kid, fnaf came out, and plenty of kids were into it, and have been ever since. And ever since fnaf, theres been many things inspired by it that kids like. Like poppy playtime and Rainbow Friends and all that. I also loved horror and creepy stuff as a kid. I liked creepypasta, but I can relate to being scared by some of that stuff. As a kid I was really really terrified by the rake creepypasta.

Also in my opinion I think he knows and understands his own limits, because one time we were watching a fnaf video, and he seemed to think the video was too scary and wanted to stop watching it. So we stopped watching it and did something else. And he seemed fine after we stopped didnt seem scared or upset after that. I also feel like in my opinion, explaining the lore to him makes it *less* scary, because he's understanding the "how and why". however because the fnaf lore does involve child death i see how it could be bad for him to learn about it.

He seems to enjoy it though, I'm not forcing it on him and he loves to ask me questions about it, and is excited whenever he comes over to talk about it. Also we've played things together before that are "scary" like baldis basics, and then also a minecraft backrooms game which actually ended up scaring me more than him!

Basically though Am i the asshole for basically going against what my mom and his mom think he should be doing? I can see how his mom especially might think i could be crossing a line because of what she wants for her child. Obviously his mom might know him better because he is her child after all. And because of my autism I don't really understand childcare and childraising. And it is hard for me to understand their perspective. I am still very childlike and dependent on my parents so I don't have a fully formed adult perspective yet I dont think.

But at the same time I almost feel that she is being sheltering, because I've noticed its common for kids to like this sort of thing, and its not always necessarily a bad thing. Because also theres scary movies like coraline but are geared for kids. (My little cousin didnt like coraline, thought it was scary, but thats just an example.)

I feel like also they should trust him more. He seems to know what is too much. Because he is vocal to say what is too scary for him. He seems to be able to set boundaries about it, because he will say that he doesnt want to play a minecraft game that is too scary, or watch a video that is too scary. I'm also rarely the one to pick the games or videos we play, it's his own interest.

Fnaf has been something we both really enjoy, and to me that is special when we get to enjoy something together. I of course still often play with him when its something only he is interested in, but not always. The times I don't play with him are when I'm doing something relating to one of my other special interests and I can't handle being interrupted. Which makes him sad that I can't play but he does understand that because of my autism that it would be difficult on me to stop my activity. I really like that he is into fnaf now because that means its something that I can enjoy for special interest reasons and he gets to hang out and play with me.

But AITA because this is against his mom's wishes?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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daffi-990 · 6 days

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @wikiangela @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

I’ve been tagged by so many people for so many different wip games but after finishing Rival Firefighters 🚒 .. I’m a bit burnt out and the writing beans have taken a little vacay.

That being said, have something I wrote a while ago for my Daylight Series (which I would love to revisit .. just need inspiration to strike and stick around).

(Btw this is the song that Buck is singing ⬇️)

Eddie knocks on the front door, fiddling with his car keys as he waits for Buck to let him in. When he gets no response he tries again. Still nothing. Wondering whether Buck went down to the beach or if he’s fallen asleep on the hammock out back, Eddie makes his way around the back of the house.

He’s halfway along the side of the house when he hears the sounds of a guitar. Ah, so that’s why Buck didn’t hear him. Eddie is about to step up onto the porch to make his presence known when Buck starts singing, halting Eddie’s movements.

I can't tell which way is home

I've been gone for so long

It's an empty world up here

I skip stones and wonder

How long 'til I'm discovered

It's a quiet life up here

The song is hauntingly beautiful, and Eddie can hear the raw emotion in Buck’s voice that tells him the pain of the song was very real, is very real. He quietly moves forward, being careful not to interrupt Buck. The man in question is sitting on the back porch steps that lead down to the beach, guitar held comfortably against him like it’s a part of him.

What If I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

Three, two, one I miss you.

I’m sorry, I’ve got issues.

Eddie hasn’t known Buck for long, but he feels a deep ache in his chest for his friend. What happened to Buck to warrant this heartache? Is that why he came to Hartlan Shore? Buck’s told him and everyone else who’s asked that he moved because he needed a fresh start and why not Hartlan?

Eddie’s starting to think maybe that’s not all to Buck’s story. Whatever Buck left behind to come here is Buck’s business and Eddie’s not going to push him for information, but her hopes that one day Buck will trust him enough to share that part of himself.

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

The song comes to an end, Buck staring blankly out towards the ocean. Eddie blinks back the tears from his eyes and gives Buck a few minutes before stepping onto the porch into Buck’s peripheral.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @the-likesofus @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @steadfastsaturnsrings @shitouttabuck @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @captain-hen @neverevan @bekkachaos @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag 🏷

#daffi writes #daylight series #music #buddie wip #buddie #I’ve written a sentence here or there for my Eddie Breakdown fic and LA Lonely #but not too much writing happening atm #I have started playing Minecraft though 😅#my eldest is really into it so I thought I’d give it a go so we could play together #and just like with the Sims .. I love building and creating #no surprise there haha

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slightlyhopefulromantic · 10 months

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a return to the monsters and mommies au designs, this time properly lined and in color! :D posted in the middle of the night just like last time though because i have problems <3 there are some small changes to these designs, but for the most part i was pretty happy with them so this was mostly just to give myself a color reference for them all lol

gonna ramble about small decisions i made below the cut, but its not necessary at all to understanding the designs! just wanna dump my thoughts somewhere :P

for the most part, the kids' designs are the same as i do them for normal canon, but there are some small differences. i've never really done a proper reference for their kid designs either though, so i guess no one would even notice LOL

freeman family: well, firstly - nick's last name is freeman in this au LOL but its easier to refer to him as nick close so people know who i mean as opposed to nicholas foster. usually, i draw nick close with blue hair (i think he goes through a range of colors, but blue is my default), but i do this because he does it to honor morgan. since she is alive here, instead, his default is pink because thats his favorite color to dye it! morgan and nick both have various bead jewelry because i like to have the headcanon that morgan is really into pony bead jewelry; this is also why all of my nick and nicholas designs have the same trans pride necklace, morgan made it for him :] both nick and morgan wear glenn's old clothes, both of them are wearing his shirts in this piece. aaand morgan has subtle heterochromia as a reference to the split timeline! she always has it, it doesnt just magically happen or anything, but its just a small nod to that.

wilson family: its real important to me that grant got his dad's exact coloration except for his gray eyes, which are all carol. why is this important? i dunno! its just interesting to me. also, carol doesnt usually leave her top buttons undone, but upon entering the forgotten realms, she unbuttons it because otherwise her shirt will pop open while she's doing things (to be honest, as a person with a larger chest myself, her shirt probably still pops open but it does help-!). usually i draw grant with a gay pride necklace, but since he doesnt come out pre-forgotten realms in this au, i tragically had to drop it. i miss my rainbow grant. please come home, baby.

oak-garcia family: i always forget to do mercedes's tattoos in my sketches because tbh i never know exactly what to give her. but! but. this time i just went for it. these tattoos arent necessarily set in stone, but i think theyre cute. the tattoo hidden by her skirt is an oak leaf for henry :] her gem necklace is also the same color as his eyes! her skirt is supposed to be, like, tie-dye or maybe more bleach washed, but i dunno how to draw that so whatever. the twins are, like, 100% the same as usual, i just gave sparrow a pink bead necklace instead of the multi-colored necklace i use for my default canon design lol. also, i think i drew the twins slightly too tall here, which is funny because theyre the only ones who are notably shorter than their mom HDFJKGHK

stampler family: i struggled a lot with what colors to give samantha, because i wanted her to have a bright color palette but not anything garish or patterned. originally she was gonna have a white shirt, but then i realized that would make it so all the moms had white shirts and i just couldn't have that LOL so i ended up landing on red for her! it matches with terry junior, so i thought that'd be cute :] terry's design is probably the most different from my default for him? which still isn't a lot but i swapped his dark blue flannel for a black undershirt instead. i cannot explain why i did this. it just felt right in the moment. i gave him a sweet revenge shirt instead of the usual black parade shirt i give him because... well. if you know, you know. and finally, terry gets a little concert admission bracelet!! i always do that, but i just wanted to point it out because i think continuing to wear an admission bracelet for ages after a concert is a very teen thing to do. i always felt so cool doing that in high school hehe

#monsters and mommies au #dungeons and daddies #dndads #morgan freeman dndads #carol wilson #mercedes oak garcia #samantha stampler #nick close #grant wilson #lark oak garcia #sparrow oak garcia #terry jr stampler

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thewolvesof1998 · 5 months

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Inspiration Saturday/Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the wonderfully talented @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @hippolotamus @wikiangela @jamespearce9-1-1 @smilingbuckley @theotherbuckley

Okay so if you've missed it I am obsessed with the headcanon of Buck wearing Eddie's dog tags (thanks to Amanda's fic i’ll bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days too which if you haven't read yet go do so it's amazing) here is my previous rants about it. Anyway it inspired a new WIP they don’t know (your name is already mine) aka Dog Tags Fic/Mistaken Identity/Christmas Fic. Here's a little mood board and seven sentences:

“I swear I just had it,” Buck frantically pats his pockets for what he already knows is not there but he hopes by some miracle will appear in his pocket. The employee behind the desk, who already looks like she’s dealt with enough this Christmas period and wearing the saddest looking Santa hat, offers him her best customer service smile. “I’m sorry sir but without a card-” “No, I totally understand, I just,” Buck looks at the last turquoise Nintendo Lite that he’d been about to buy for Chris’s Christmas present (even though Eddie has insisted that it was too much money to spend on one present), “Can you hold it for me, I can come back later today to pay for it, it’s for my Son.” Buck doesn’t cringe at the white lie because while he would never presume anything, Chris is still family to him and explaining the intricacies of all that Eddie and Chris mean to him to a complete stranger who is just trying to do her job is on Christmas Eve Eve is not something either of them want. There must be something desperate about his facial expression because she gives him a small real smile, “We’re not supposed to but I’m here until nine, if you can make it back before then, I’ll keep it behind here with me.” “Thank you! I’ll be back, thank you, you’ve just saved Christmas!” He says as he backs out of the line, Buck sees her chuckle before he turns on his heel and races back to his jeep.

If you want some spoilers I've told @malewifediaz all about it here.

tagging: @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #thewolvesof1998 writes #buddie fic #wip #fic: they don’t know (your name is already mine)

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thelostgirl21 · 3 months

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I wish there was a way to clearly say:

I'm personally comfortable being called a "woman", only because I have the sexual dimorphism typically associated with a female of the human species, and that's how other people see me as when they look at my physical appearance; nothing more.

While making 100% sure not to accidentally bring any harm to the trans community, or making it sound like one's gender identity should always match their physical appearance, when that's far from being the case.

Because, until very recently, I'd always been calling myself "a girl", or "a woman" exclusively based on how I physically look.

To me, defining myself as "a woman", has always been the equivalent of describing an external characteristic of my body that others are able to see.

- I'm a woman.

- I'm 5'7''.

- I have brown eyes.

- etc.

It's always been exactly the same to me. It's what you can physically see, not who I am.

Somehow, it's like I completely forgot to develop a sense of personal identity tied to "being a woman" while I was growing up.

I could wake up tomorrow with a body that has the sexual dimorphism of a male of my species instead, have everyone call me a man and suddenly have to live my life as one, and I'd have only ONE problem with it.

Just the one.

My partner is a heterosexual man, so that would be a challenge.

But otherwise, I think I'd just be really curious to explore the physiological differences between my prior body and my new body, and then move on with my life without changing a single thing to the things I like, my behavior in general, personal interests, probably the way I like to dress, too, etc.

I'd just be "looking more masculine" while doing it.

It would be like having blonde short hair instead of my current brown long hair.

The rest of the world would treat me differently as a man, sure! But that wouldn't reflect how I identify or feel inside about who I am.

Just how others now see me as and choose to socially treat me.

My gender, to me, is something that's always existed outside of myself.

I have no personal use for it, nor is it a part of my personality.

I guess I've often been gender-non-conforming, too, not because I was attempting to rebel against my own gender, felt a need to distance myself from the binary, or anything... But just because I've never seen the point of it.

I've had boyfriends telling me that it was like I wanted to be the "man in the relationship", and being upset that I wasn't letting them play their role at times (that hasn't really been an issue with women, oddly enough); and I broke up with them without looking back, because what the fuck was that even supposed to mean?

I wasn't trying to behave like a man or a woman, I was just being myself, and adopting the social roles and behaviors I'm comfortable with. If you can't love me as I am, then what am I supposed to do?

Younger, I've had little boys back at school telling me that "it was weird for a girl to like certain things or express herself a certain way", and my response has always pretty much been to shrug, go "guess I'm a weird girl then", and then continue doing things my way.

(Yes, I'm aware that I've been very privileged to live in a world where I've merely been occasionally bullied or suffered verbal micro-agressions for ignoring the social standards set for "little girls"... Then again, I've probably embraced some of them!

I loved playing with my "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe set", or walking around with a lightsaber pretending to be Luke Skywalker... But I was cool with "My Little Poney" (the originals) and "Rainbow Bright", too!

Like I said, I wasn't trying to be "non-conforming", I just liked whatever I liked!

I was also lucky enough that my parents fully allowed me to go for what I enjoyed in terms of toys, games, activities, playmates, etc., regardless of gender.

And my physical appearance as a child occasionally had people mistaking me for a boy. So, perhaps, the other adults that saw me behave as one in public assumed I was one, and thus put less pressure on me to behave in a way that would have been deemed more "feminine" than "masculine".

By the point I really started looking more "feminine" (like I do now), I guess I'd moved past caring about it, and/or had reached a point where it made no sense to me that it would suddenly have been upsetting that I occasionally behaved "as a boy" or enjoyed "boy things" now when, until then, it had always been perfectly fine and well accepted that I did!

I guess there's something to be said about the influence of early socialisation, and how adults in the social environment of a child respond to a young child's gender, in the level of importance they might instinctively give to it later on.)

Like, I'm pretty sure that, if I were to ask you to determine my gender based on my looks alone (while fully giving you permission to do it), especially when I'm performing on stage wearing makeup, you'd go "you're a woman!" with a fair level of confidence!

But that's just it! To me that's just the way I look. A stylistic choice based on the way my body chose to develop, if you will.

What drives me nuts, though, is that I have zero problem empathizing with the trans community and their need to express their own gender identity, because I know what it feels like to need to be seen and respected as one's authentic self!

You tell me you identify as a woman, a man, agender, genderfae, etc., and/or feel a need to express it? Be yourself, and rock that gender! It is who you are, and it is your right to own it!

The fact that I feel like I don't have any particular use or need for gender doesn't mean that it can't be important for others, and that they don't have a use or need for it themselves.

Just because I don't intimately understand it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't matter. It doesn't mean that I can't support, and actively advocate for proper gender recognition and respect in schools and other public places.

I "get it" without "getting it", if you will.

The problem, however, is that I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea that, if I identify as a "woman", people will assume that it means more to me than "I physically look female".

That it will be assumed that I emotionally and psychologically connect with my gender, and feel a need to express it, or a sense of attachment and belonging to the woman gender.

After having called the way my physical body "looks" to others on the outside "being a woman" for decades, it's hard for me to suddenly go "being a woman is not the same as passing for a woman, it's about the gender you identify with inside..." and stop calling myself a woman, because I feel like I've no gender identity inside of myself.

But "agender" doesn't quite feel right to me, either, because I'd never had any problem with the idea of being a woman, until I learned that I was supposed to give a damn about being a woman, and personally connect with my gender, that is.

And "gender non-conforming" doesn't sound quite right, either, because I'm not trying to avoid conforming to the woman gender, or expressing a different gender than the one that was assigned to me at birth.

They basically gave me a gender based on my genitalia when I was born, and I went "Yeah, sure! I guess I can look the part... Why not?"; while ignoring the whole social instructions booklet and guidelines that went with it.

So lately, every time someone has asked me what my gender is, or what gender I identify with, I've had a tendency to freeze, panic, and mentally go:

Like the idea of my having a gender makes no internal sense to me. It's not something I can relate to, "vibe with", or identify with.

Is there a way to respectfully say "I'm calling myself a woman for convenience's sake, because that's the gender traditionally associated with the way I look, and I'm okay with having grown into a feminine appearance by default? But please, don't assume it means anything to me beyond that, or expect me to behave, dress, or do anything according to the woman gender."

I've been using "gender apathetic" in an attempt to convey it, but is that really what it means, and how most people understand it?

Basically, I feel like my answers to these questions would be:

- What physical look do you most resemble? Woman / feminine / female.

- What gender do you identify with? None.

- Do you feel comfortable being called a woman, and her / she pronouns, based on the way you look? Yes.

How do you freaking call or define that?

Non-internalized cisgenderism?

#Gender theory #Non-internalized gender issues #Gender apathetic #Agender #Transgender #My posts #My thoughts #My very very confused thoughts re: whatever my gender identity is meant to be!#Hopefully none of what I've written will be perceived as dismissive or offensive.#I'm genuinely trying to figure out where I stand or fit in all of this...#Personal

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cuubism · 1 year

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"Nice place you have here," says Desire, sliding into the booth opposite Hob.

Hob, unfortunately, recognizes them by voice alone. Desire speaks with the melody of an arpeggio, smoothed into oblivion by the sustained press of a piano pedal. Drag without release, in comparison to Dream's resounding deep notes.

"Never seen you here before," Hob says, instead of get out of my pub. He doesn't actually need to start a fight.

"I've decided to respect my brother's play set for now," Desire says archly, as if this is a huge consideration on their part. "He's been through so much recently, after all."

"And you've been so much help with that," Hob says.

Something dangerous flashes briefly in Desire's eyes, and Hob remembers how fickle they can be. Like fire, Dream had said.

Then it subsides. "Careful, Robert," they say easily, leaning on their hand, "one might think you've chosen a side."

No thinking about it, Hob thinks. "Families shouldn't have sides."

"Oh, ours isn't supposed to," Desire agrees. "And yet."

And yet. "Is there something in particular that has you breaking your self-imposed generosity today?"

It's one day before his and Dream's usual meeting, after all. That can't be a coincidence. Technically, they meet all the time now, but they always keep June 7th for nostalgia's sake.

"I simply enjoy the atmosphere," says Desire, leaning back in their chair. They thrust out a hand, and a rainbow flag flutters off the wall into their grasp, drawn by their whims. Desire drapes it over their shoulders.

"I guess that makes sense," Hob says.

Desire raises an eyebrow.

Hob gestures at them. "Desire. Isn't that your thing?"

They give him a crafty smile, a little teeth, that suggests Hob's going to learn something he may not entirely like. "Well, it is certainly of interest to me."

"Of interest," Hob echoes. Might as well say fire was "of interest" to a pyromaniac. "Isn't that what you do? Dream makes dreams, and..." he trails off.

"I am Desire," they say. "So, in a way, I feel all desires at all times. Yes, even yours, Robert." They pat him on the cheek, and wink. "I know what you feel."

Hob's cheeks heat, but Desire doesn't linger on it, thankfully.

"But, my own desire? Hm, no, not in the way you would think."

"But you--" Hob doesn't know how to phrase the confusion in his mind.

Desire runs their tongue along their lower lip. "Are you calling me a slut, Robert?"

"Would take one to know one, I suppose," Hob says before he can even think about it, and Desire laughs, bright and loud.

"You are so cute. You would be delicious if you weren't obsessed with Dream. But, no. I can feel desired," Desire says, emphasizing the past tense. The objective nature of it. "But that, while certainly tasty, is not quite the same as feeling it oneself, now is it?"

What might it be like, Hob thinks, feeling a pang of sympathy for them despite how they've treated Dream, how he'd automatically marked them as an enemy in his mind, to be surrounded by wanting and not be able to feel it?

"I... guess not," he says. "So you don't want anything?"

Desire shrugs. "I enjoy things. But if I can't have them, it simply passes like--" they pull off the flag and let it flutter to the floor "-- a gust of wind. And I move on to something else. Otherwise, I chase others' desires. Your inn is full of them. Desires for peace, for belonging, for change and magic and-- yes, lust, too, but more of an undertone. It is..." they run their tongue over their teeth, thinking. "Aromatic."

"What does desire 'taste' like?" Hob asks.

"Why don't you tell me," Desire says.

"I'm not going to lick you," Hob says, and Desire cackles.

"Open offer," they say. "Be all metaphorical like Dream, then."

"Alright, fine." Hob decides to indulge them, because he has actually learned something interesting today. "It's like... the smell of a good meal. You don't quite... taste it, exactly? But you can imagine tasting it."

"Good answer," says Desire, and steals his drink for a sip. "I knew I could count on you to listen, Hob."

Hob's not sure if it's the tone, like something long undecided has now been settled, or if it's the use of his old nickname, but suddenly the afternoon tilts, and Hob realizes with a swoop in his stomach that they're here for a purpose, and not just poking at Dream.

The Endless almost never communicate directly, Hob knows this. Goddammit.

"I've spent a lot of time in these sorts of places, you know," Desire says, gesturing around. "They are right--" they interlace their fingers in example "--in the center of my realm."

"Depending on the year, I would have thought you and Despair together," Hob says, wary now that he's realized this is coming to some sort of point.

"A common assumption," Desire says, nodding like a teacher whose student is getting on the right track. "See, people often think my twin and I are opposites. Desire, Despair." They hold out both hands separately again, then clasp them. "But they don't have it right. Hope is the opposite of Despair. Do you know what the opposite of Desire is?" They reach across the table to tap their sharp nails against his sternum. "Shame."

"And that's... part of your domain, as well?" Hob guesses.

"Indeed. Who could know shame as well as one who desires? They both--" they lay their hand flat to his heart "--live here."

Hob supposes he himself has had plenty of desires over the years, and plenty of shame too -- though not necessarily over the same matters.

"Hence," they spread their hands wide, "my presence. The duality of Desire."

"So what do you do?" Hob asks. "When you're here because of shame, I guess."

"I am always both," says Desire. "But." They smile sweetly, and it actually does look sweet, for once. "I am merely here to hold your hand."

Hob must look at them with an expression of vague disgust, for they snort and roll their eyes.

"Not you, Robert. You!" They gesture broadly at the entire inn. "Death is always going on and on about serving humanity. I know how to do my job too, you know."

They frown at him, at the idea he might think otherwise, and it's-- it's actually kind of sweet, how much they care about this. It really is.

"That's sweet," he says, and Desire grumbles. Hob can't help but smile.

"I take the charge of those who live in the heart of Desire very seriously," they sniff. Their gaze slants over Hob's shoulder, watching something across the room. "Relatedly, if that man at the bar follows through on his desire to say something homophobic to those children on their date, I am going to shoot him."

"Ooookaaayyy," Hob says, snapping his fingers in front of their eyes until their attention turns back to him. Hob's bartender will handle any issues; he would really rather not have an Endless making a scene.

Desire smiles placidly at him. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Desire and shame go hand in hand. Almost like dreams and nightmares, you might say."

Hob goes still again, on instinct. "Right."

"My sister and I are very close, even if we are not, actually, opposites. Dream and I were close, once." They drag their finger around the rim of Hob's glass. "Wanting. Dreaming. So similar, and yet, so different, too. It hurts, to really let yourself want what you've dreamt of. It hurts to desire, don't you think? It's sharp, like a blade."

"Yes," Hob says. "It is."

"Mmm. But shame... shame is like a heavy, warm blanket. It makes you want to just--" they mime pulling fabric over their head-- "disappear. My brother and I have a very complicated relationship. Perhaps, one day, we will be on better terms again, and he can tell me about his desires, and I can tell him about my dreams. I would love to know what it feels like."

Hob isn't sure if he's putting the pieces of this meandering conversation together correctly, but whatever he is picking up on, he doesn't like the sound of.

"Dream is always going on and on and on and on about the importance of dreams and it's so annoying but you know what? I'm starting to think he's right." They give Hob a warning glance. "Do not tell him I said that. But, yes, I'm afraid that desires without dreams hand in hand are just--" they slide their hand across the table and let it stop at the edge. "Impotent. Static. And god knows what good dreams even are without desire but Dream will never admit that."

"So you're what," Hob says, even though he knows this is not what this is about, "trying to mending fences?"

Desire smiles sunnily. "I just want him to call me. I'm bored, and he's spent far too much time in my sister's realm recently."

Then they stand in one fluid motion.

"What are you saying," Hob asks. He feels sort of faint, whiplashed.

"Oh, I've said nothing, I'm doing nothing. I merely don't want to have to fill an empty seat next June, that is all. I'll be far too busy." They wink, and then they're gone.

Hob sits still for a long time, after. He's still not sure he understood... all of that. He understands that the Endless aren't supposed to interfere in each other's affairs and that sometimes riddles result.

What he does understand is that if Desire, of all people, has decided to be helpful, then he definitely has something to be concerned about. Something he needs to do something about.

He shakily drains the rest of his glass, then stands. Hob has never gotten anywhere by being static.

Time to go try to do something about it.

#this might not make a goddamn lick of sense i'm sorry #i'm just thinking constantly about the idea of the endless not experiencing their own realm #the idea of hob as a person almost defined by hunger and desire as basically the personification of hunger? but who can't feel it themself?#compelling to me #and also desire and dream's relationship which is so fascinating to me bc listen there is still love there i know there is I KNOW THERE IS #also. maybe desire as a character as a sort of patron saint of queerness. idk just throwing stuff at the wall #hoping i remembered correctly that hob and dream's meeting is in june otherwise thisll be realll awkward #hob gadling #my writing #desire of the endless #seriously does this make any sense. any?#hm ok what i've determined is this only makes even some sense if you're like. mired in sandman meta XD and know a fair amount of comic #spoilers. ok i can live with that

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