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Let’s Fall Out of Love
Divorce Part 1
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Fully co-authored with @elvisabutler 💋
Thanks: are due to so many friends on here who helped craft this timeline and concept and helped me hone the motivations into something I trust our readers will find evocative and sympathetic. Y’all know who you are, thanks for being my buddies
Warnings: 18+ for thematic and sexual material. Strong language and bitter accusations between spouses, mentions of drugs, divorce proceedings, lying to spouses (for their eventual good???) mentions of past infidelity, Colonel Parker being the worst, poor Elvis being in a bad place with his health and mentally -and dub con smut. It is in no way non con but the context, the lack of voiced or implied consent and the aggression make it dubious. It is fairly clear both parties are engaging in hysterical bonding, still the scene is dubious as is the language used by the man regarding a wife having no say in it. So please heed that.
Note: it was the attempt of the writers to craft a rather cinematic experience with this fic, one aim was to skip times and have plenty of fade to black moments. Please note the time stamps above each scene to keep track of progression. Anything that is not clarified in this chapter will either be clarified in the next part or else in others. You’re of course welcome to ask questions.
|| 10th, APRIL 1977 ||
Divorce. Lil Tink is divorcin' him. Lil Laney is gonna be his ex-wife.
The thought rattles around in his aching brain as he chases her up Graceland’s stairway, past the portraits of their children and the plaques celebrating their successes and haunting likenesses of younger selves. Both of them home for a brief stint after Vegas Showrooms and California Courtrooms.
Home -it won’t be his home much longer, she’s gonna see to that.
Divorce.
It had taken up half his year already but he was so sure, so damn sure all she needed was to make a fuss and threaten like she does and then it would cool down, smooth over. He was ready to humor all sorts of shit and then she went and pushed for more. More money, more assets, took out a damn lien. His Tink who happily chucked half of custody at him without a fight has now drug this little show on for months, all for a couple more bucks.
She’s takin' everythin' he's worked so hard for, takin’ it all, going back for more even, just to make sure she can still be taken care of in the conditions and standards he had raised her to.
Spoiled lil middle class girl grown into a spoiled, hardened rich woman.
“Till death do you part”, he hurled the promises at her over the phone, as soon as that court order had landed in his hands -but if ya ask Elaine, he's been dead more times than she can count. Maybe he's dead to her in everythin' but body. Ain't that the other joke, he feels half dead even in body.
"Elaine Presley! Turn 'round when I'm talkin' t'ya! Ya know I hate it when people do that” As if she’s required to listen to him or required to pay attention after two decades of focusing so much of her attention and time and energy on a man who has forgotten all of that. On a man who’s forgotten that he’s married to her. That’s forgotten he has children with her, a life he promised her, and not to his manager who's twisted so much of what was between them into this. Whatever this is.
"Why?" She spits still climbing stairs she's climbed a thousand times before. Faintly she hears Marie playing in her room and a surprising amount of silence from Jack's and her heart twists. They don't need to hear this. None of her children do but her youngest- oh her youngest deserve to think their father is still something resembling a good man.
"Why?" As if Elvis is some sort of parrot, he repeats the question back at her. His confusion colors his face, warring for control with his anger and frustration as he follows her through the padded master doors. "Why? The hell kinda question is that?”
“I told you come by and grab those things you said you needed so badly.” she hauls open one of his drawers and the thing squeals on its track from her violent tug. “So do that. If you wanted to chat then we coulda chatted somewhere else. Or, you know -a year ago? Ten?”
“I’m just askin’ why.“ He embraces her own wording and tries to get nearer her, hem her in against the dresser like he’s done countless times before in this very room with dazzling success.
Elaine slips away between them like water and he’s left bracing himself on the smooth wooden top.
“I’m not actively trying to be a shrew.” she murmurs as she turns away and goes to the other side of the room, opening the wardrobe, “No matter what you believe. I told you that you’ll be welcome in this house no matter what, so that’s why.’I’m not allowing you to come around -you just can, it’s your mama’s house still, for all I’m concerned.”
“No, no I mean- why’re you throwin’ this away?” He emphasizes it with his hands, a pleading gesture that sweeps the whole room and its host of sacred memories. He’s used this before but that was back when he figured it was all one big tantrum. Signing custody papers has rather shaken that hope, delusion, comfort.
Tink purses her lips and he notices her face has gone so white this summer, rarely in the sun and addicted to wearing black like some melodramatic Prima Donna. She does look stunning in the papers all decked out in veils and heels, he’ll give her that. He doesn’t know when she turned from being the heart of the operation to the glamor of it all -and he the opposite.
“What’s my favorite color these days?” she asks him instead.
He stares at the sable color he’s seen her wearing for months now and sighs in exasperation, “Shit I dunno -black?” he swings, knowing it’s a miss the second he says it.
“I can’t do this anymore.” she informs him, like color has broken up a twenty year long marriage and he grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he cracks a filling. The pain adds to his headache that matches the pounding in his chest and the roaring in his ears builds to such a degree he’s honestly terrified for them both.
“Stop this.” he warns her, quite sure she knows the red hot fit she’s stoking with her callousness and hurt that she won’t help him out of it like she used to, that she’ll let him go into a blind rage and then blame him for it, no doubt. “I know when you’re lyin’, woman, and I ain’t ever seen a more lilly livered liar than you right now.” he snarls and tries a last appeal that comes out as a barb anyways, “You wouldn’t be goin’ on so rash if your daddy were still alive,” he jabs a finger at her, “guess I can be grateful he ain’t, so he’s not breakin’ down my door for explanations ‘bout a offense you won’t admit to me!“
Elaine absorbs this blow with a wavering face before the nonchalance cloaks her features once more and Elvis would resort to smacking it off her if he were a different sorta man. “Black is practical, that’s why I wear it. It’s not my favorite though.” she simpers, clutching at the shoe she’s picked up from the floor, something for her hands to worry, to hide her own anguish at having to keep him in the dark. To lie repeatedly to him as he breaks apart, she didn’t know it would cut him up so much.
It’s a mess, this web of connections that used to prop them up, used to be a community. Now it’s a den of tattle tales and if one of them suspects she’s anything but angry at Elvis, that this this divorce and seizing of assets isn’t a scorned wife gone nuts, but rather a calculated endeavor to get at his manager once and for all -well Charlie will spill to Vernon and Vernon will spill to Elvis and Elvis will have all the fuel he needs to plead her right back into complacent heartbreak in his arms -before he goes on tour again and murders himself from the workload.
“I’m on orange kick, actually.” her voice is hoarse.
“Then I’ll buy ya some fuckin’ orange curtains and you’ll stop divorcin’ me.” he jabs a tinged finger at her and he looks like he might fall over, his face is so flushed and sweaty, from pills and passion. Elaine readies to catch him, break his fall if he tips. At least here there’s carpet, unlike the hotel hallway that busted his head last year.
“I’m rather in the mood to buy my own from now on.” she lies and sweeps past him to get to the closet.
She never gets past him. His hand darts out and engulfs her dainty wrist, tugging her back and in a spin like he practiced in his movies so many times, a romantic, gallant, possessive gesture that lands her smack against his broad chest, locked in with an arm around her shoulders.
"Buy your own, hm? Gonna sell my mama's house to do that? Gonna sell ya children's home to do that?"
“Elvis, you get your damn hands off me.” she bites back, throwing her weight on his forearm that might as well be made of steel, so little room does she gain from her effort.
"Never minded my hands on ya before. Even 'fore I married ya, it was fine for me to touch ya. To inspect that lil house of yours to make sure it could have all those lil babies ya wanted. Gave 'em to ya didn't I? Gave ya every last one and two've ‘em are even still with ya till they leave." Never mind that Jack's been bouncing between here and California in an effort to do what he's wanted to do since Elvis would play sharks in the bed with him. "But now you're wantin' my hands off. Goin' on 'bout gettin' new curtains yourself."
His words are punctuated with spit and a hissing anger Elvis doesn't normally indulge in. The bitter anger she used on the road with champagne making her head float in a sea of lies and wants and needs and a twisted sort of love till she had to call it. She can feel her jaw tensing up at his calloused fingers finding their way under her chin, tapping at first to try and have her look up at him before clenching around it and tilting it upward instead.
"Who is it, Laney? Who's the person who's gonna take care of ya? Gonna help ya buy those curtains? Get Marie those cameras? Help Jack and Rosie pay for those commie schools of theirs?" With each passing word Elvis’s voice drops lower and lower in octave until he's reaching levels Elaine's never heard. Against her will, her body shivers in his arms. A sneer crosses his lips- a twisted version of his raised lip that everyone knows and loves. That raised lip she's kissed before with laughter and jokes on how "if you keep doing that your face'll stay that way, Naughty." It shouldn't be there like this and yet it is. "That why ya dragged me to our lil Ella Bella's weddin'? Figured the Martins could spoil our daughter rotten away from you and your new caretaker? Your new piggybank? Don't get shy on me now, Laney! Who's the lucky sonuvabitch who gets to have my wife?"
Elaine's learned how to be composed in every situation with Elvis. She'll shoot at the Colonel over love handles and movies that killed her Elvis's spirit. She'll titter at army wives mocking her house and implying she couldn't keep up with being Mrs. Presley and growing a second set of twins in two years. She'll handle losing little Joesphine with a body that betrayed them all and with a smile on her face because Mrs Kennedy had just lost hers and then John died and the US can't handle their Irish Catholic and their Southern Baptist Camelots falling to pieces all at once. But this, this is too much. This is her soon to be ex husband mocking her. Like she'd have had time to find someone else who would take care of her, like taking care of Elvis and their children allowed her to seek any other comfort than in the aging movie star her husband sought to emulate once upon a time before realizing he's just a man too. The aging movie star she considers one of her nearest and dearest friends and who'd- who would be her caretaker if she let him.
Knowing her luck it'd end up worse than this.
No, this is Elvis throwing out an insult to her character, the one he'd have defended till his dying breath except for when she turns on him like Red and Sonny did. Their book's gonna be coming out sooner rather than later and- she's made it obvious he can't trust a soul any more.
It won't do either one of them any good to react. It's not going to help her escape from his grip that's a vice around her. It won't help him see what she's doing and how she’s doing it for him. But she is only human just as he's only human and her lipstick covered mouth opens in defense of her own honor.
"What makes you think you deserve to know?" He can't see through everything to see why shes doing this, so why should he get an answer. "You won't have to worry, we'll all be taken care of. And you can be rebranded! A seasoned entertainer who's free as a bird to do whoever and whatever he wants. Or oooh -maybe the colonel will pick you out a new wife. Pretty little fool to take my place, without trappings like children -or brains."
“I chose my wife.” it sounds like a beg, anger and hurt battling for the upper hand in Elvis’ heart, his hand squeezes her chin stronger, watching her lips pucker just that little bit. Such a soft mouth has no right being so stern and derisive as it’s been these past months, once upon a time he knew how to make it gasp and smile with a word, a kiss, a mere glance. “I chose you, and you promised. It ain’t me breakin’ that promise, ain’t me sayin’ I can’t do this no more -I-I-I’ve spent my goddamn career givin’ you all this, I gave up w-women for you, I gave up movies for you, when you come to me with what’s wrong I do my damndest to fix it. Now you won’t tell me nothin’ but orange curtains, and if I thought those’d fix us I’d be out the damn door right now, headed to find you the best in the country. I would, Laney, you know I would. I’ve given-“ he stops to gasp in a ragged breath, unsure of what part of himself he hasn’t poured into his Tink, entrusted to her once caring little hands, vulnerability poured like so much oil into her heart for safe keeping, his flaws and secrets tucked safely in the little nooks and crannies of her generous mind. “I’ve given-“
-So Damn Much.
“I’ve given you my life.” His Laney stares back at him entirely unmoved, her eyes hard and sharp with their ebony liner, the squish of her lips beneath his fingers barely dismantling her disdain for him, “And seven children from my body. I never said you weren’t a good man,Elvis, or that you're not generous, but we both know we don’t want to go toe to toe in measuring costs for twenty years in heaven. And I’m saying, -I can’t do it anymore.”
“Anymore?” it’s bothered him all these months, that word and he wonders what she thinks she’ll have after this, like they’re not so intertwined and connected that, like twins, they will forever feel what the other feels, want what the other wants, a string tied between them from countless, immeasurable amounts of time spent merged as one, “I ain’t ever not gonna be in you, woman, once mine -always mine. What’s there for ya after this, huh? Seven children -twenty years! -Goddamn I’m in you!” he shakes her at that and sees a spark of something he knows light up her eyes.
Elvis slides a hand from her shoulders, down over her sternum and feels her heaving intake of breath at the missed feeling of his hands on her, down past the tie at her waist, down to the planes of her firm belly, just a little swell and some soft skin that speaks of the souls they once made with their love. He presses his hand, large and warm and cupped to that precious sanctuary, kneading it, lifting it, weighing it just that little bit in his palm.
The little house is empty.
Elvis outright laughs at his mistake then, a booming, jarring laugh at having forgotten just who he’s got in his arms. He can feel Elaine’s violent shuddering along the entire length of him at the strange sound in their gloomy bedroom. Or maybe it’s from the dig of his fingertips at her womb, like he’ll claw inside it from the outside if he’s barred from plundering her the natural way.
Sweet Miss Phipps, Elvis thinks, with her hungry mind and starved body, so damn eager to be possessed, to be made good use of, to be pumped full and burdened with child again and again. He shoulda kept her swollen this past decade, prioritized her hunger over the tours and then, maybe then, she’d not have gotten notions like this.
“God gave me a remarkable woman.” he murmurs to himself in realization, his hands loosening their grip on her jaw to run the backs of his fingers against against the soft swells of her cheeks and Elaine’s heart speeds up in recognition of the shift in his demeanor, that thrumming resolution taking over his body behind her and helplessly her own responds to it.
As if she's another person, someone she would counsel to resist, to stay strong, Elaine feels her face turn towards the caress of his ringed fingers, towards the admiring touch that’s been her joy to wake to a million times, a touch that’s brought her purpose and comfort for twenty years. Her mouth falls open with a surrendering quiver and she makes no move to avert her mouth when his fingers sweep over her face and across her lips in a revenant mapping of his wife’s well known features. Her tongue darts out to taste even a sliver of his salt, she tastes metal instead as his ring glides by. It’s a heady feeling for anyone to realize Elvis Presley intends to fuck them, it’s entirely heightened by a familiar knowledge of his capabilities and a divinely witnessed right to his person.
It’s no villain staring down at Elaine, pressing himself to her -the distance has been necessary all these months to keep her anger and fear prominent, to remind her of the need for such dire action as divorce, the slightest, kindest of touches from him would dismantle that resolve, that garish image in her imagination. Now she’s close to the finish line, so close he’s fully panicking and she can feel the lightness of soon being free of her deceit. He’s no villain, he’s just a good man who has hurt her, who hurts himself more often and worse than how she’s hurting him. And soon they’ll be able to save each other. Just not today.
His hand slips to her throat and he kneads it, contemplating the give and delicacy of her pale flesh, and her responses, the languid subjugation of her body to his touches, just like he’d taught her in this very bed across from them.
She sees when his eyes flick up from her throat to their marriage bed and it’s like a million hummingbirds erupt in her belly in disbelief, in panic, in a frantic sort of hopeful missing.
“Elvis-“ she doesn’t know if she’s trying to warn him, trying to remind him of the wrongness of what he’s thinking, or if it’s a beg for him to ignore her sensibilities, to take her and make her that new little wifey with the carefree face and the mindless little head.
His face is dark and flushed like he gets when he’s aroused, his features seeming to get richer with the heightened intensity of his feelings and she can feel the sweat break out behind her through his silk shirt, slicking up her own back through the gauze of her dress. Elvis’ eyes drop back to her face, remaining there with a million intentions painted therein but not a single flicker of wavering shows.
Elaine had no reason to be as startled as she was when she felt his hands drop to her waist and spin her around, picking her up beneath the ribs with his astounding strength and tossing her like he would rag doll on his karate mats. She landed with a silly bounce amongst the bedding. It could have been romantic if he had any blue left to his irises as he looked down at her, sauntering to the foot of the bed himself and surveying her where she lay.
“Wife.” he greeted before taking hold of a footsie in each hand and spreading them apart for him to step between her legs.
"Elvis." A whisper as if saying his name any louder would unleash something they might both come to regret. As if it'd cause the dam she's locked her emotions in this entire ordeal will finally break. If she calls him husband it's over. He knows her inside and out, every crevice and dip in her body and soul has been mapped by him. The lie will come apart with a simple utterance of his title that he still has in this moment. The title he still has for three more weeks.
"Elaine." Her name comes out in a shaky breath that she can tell he's attempting to control, to rein in. Those blue eyes she's fallen in love with more and more as years had gone by are an inky void, pupils covering every inch they can and not just because of some pill he had to take or because she had watched him die right in front of her. Both their tongues dart out to wet lips and catch errant drops of sweat before she hears the *clink* of his belt.
That noise isn't new to her, the jangle and clanging of the metal a familiar sound. In the quiet of the room, in the quiet of the house? Of their home? It steals a breath from her lungs as sure as his body pressing down on her would have. The belt sounds like one of the heaviest ones he owns and a shiver unbidden rolls through her body as the cacophony of that gaudy belt gets louder and louder in her ears. Each breath takes effort, forcing air between the two of them that threatens to stifle any calming thought or action. A final puff of air- of his breath- warm and humid runs across her hair, forcing a loose strand of it to move.
Elaine doesn't. Elaine doesn't move an inch even as his belt finally comes off in a subdued flourish and a minor curse. Her eyes focus on the gaudy little harem lamp above them even as Elvis drops the belt ever so gently next to her body. It still clangs against the rings of his hand and its own golden links.
Sweaty and warm, his bejeweled hand moves to cup her cheek. "Mrs. Presley." he breathes her title into her lax mouth like it’s Holy Spirit anointed before slotting his mouth against hers with firm conviction in the rightness of his claim to her.
"Elvis."
It's not fair that all this force, all this passion, all this wanting that has -if she’s being honest- waned for her at times over the years is coming out of him only now, now when he thinks he’s lost her. Now that he’s more fool than he’s ever been. They’ve been alone too often in their marriage, if not separated by miles and oceans, separated by intent and interpretations of it.
“Still mine, for a few more months you’re still mine. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. You jus’ take it, jus’ take me, Laney”
And if she weren’t blinded herself by a heartache the proportions of which were only matched by losing a child, she might think every grip and clash of their bodies tells her he wants her every bit as bad as she wants him.
Still.
Mindless and hazy she waits for him to notice how every give and shudder of her own frame declares her want for him. He thinks he’s forcing the matter -but all he’s doing is giving her some false hope to curl around and cry over when the fissure finally splits apart.
I wanted you. But I thought I was alone in it, she thinks she hears them both saying it with every lewd squelch and pant.
It’s cruel confirmation of how entwined they’ve become, how much knowledge of the other they’ve collected over the years that he can make her writhe even under these circumstances, have her shattering beneath him effortlessly like older, kinder, gentler times. It’s made worse when she can feel him slow, stopping partway in that familiar way when he’s edging himself, intending to make her go round the loop once more, the familiarity of it makes her want sob, not from any hurt of the present, but at the notion this may be the last time she feels it -they both want this to last. And that unity is a mocking thing, all context considered.
He’s sweaty and she’s trembling, there’s so much warmth coming off his angry frame that she feels like curling inside the furnace and letting him make her forget anything beyond this physical connection that was never in doubt, the sheets are cold and dry and foreign against her back by comparison and she thinks of sleeping alone amongst them for the rest of her life. Elvis seems to sense this weakness of hers, one he wished he supported sooner, taken advantage of back when she looked so indestructible but was privately fraying at the seams, trying to hold the whole fairytale together. He shoulda done this sooner.
Old dog, new tricks, maybe, but Elvis has always been clever, opportunistic even, and he keeps his thrusts shallow and tantalizing as his wife gasps back to life beneath him and he keeps her close, his hands wound into her hair, hairy forearms beneath her shoulders, her ankle caught somewhere near his ear and his sweaty nose dripping onto her cheek.
“C’mon now Tink, you’ve thrown your fit,” he reasons to her in a coo that is underscored by the cajoling gait of his hips rocking into her, it has her clenching around those first few inches of him again, “ya made your point. Don’t -don’t do this to us baby. You c’mon back now. Ain’t anythin’ out there that’d satisfy you like us. Ain’t nobody else needs ya more dan hims does, satnin, don’t leave hims, baby.”
A good fuck, that’s all she needed, he’s sure of it. Or a couple of ‘em. He shoulda started dishing them out in Palm Springs but he’d been so angry when she filed and she’d been so cold. A couple of good fucks, that’ll solve it.
And to be heard. Which -she’s gotten that, all of America’s been hearing how he can’t keep his own wife.
Whatever bit of sentimentality he’s feeling right now, the sort that makes him wanna spill over how pretty she looks, vanishes in the angry tumult of his recalled humiliation. It fires him up instead and he snorts in his breath above her like an angry bull, perfectly capable of making her pay, making her see some sense, too. The longer she doesn’t reply the more this feeling surmounts the gentler ones and if Elvis were being honest, he knows denial had given way to rage and now bargaining and he’s full on panicking, trying to keep a woman who he shouldn’t have to chase.
She’s his wife.
“Elaine?” even to his own ears he sounds frantic and rough.
She is crying beneath him now, he thinks, that’s not all sweat making her face shine and her lips are taut like when she’s trying to hold it in and he wonders why the hell she’s the one crying. He feels like crying, he’s being left without an explanation or a pot to piss in. And all that while he’s still perfectly capable of proving he’s the best she’ll ever get. It’s like she’s agreeing with him when her hips start to move on their own accord, disagreeing with his teasing thrusts and instead she impales herself up on him, rough and sloppy to the rhythm of her fits of crying.
“I loved you.” Elaine sobs into his neck and he could wring hers for the confusion of it, for the way he just doesn’t get her after a lifetime of trying and how only this, this communion, this passion, this fucking is the only thing they make great sense at. Back when it had a purpose, back when it was to bring joy, to make a baby or five, and even now -to tie her to him somehow.
He folds her body viciously and plants his foot on the bed, thrusting so hard into her with all that wild abandon he knows she’d been jealous of him expending on his audience and not his family. “You greedy lil bitch, you love me,” he growls, “-what a revelation.”
‘Just an ounce of all that passion would go a long way, Elvis’ -he can hear the echo of her stupid little voice even now.
Passion? You want passion, Tink? He doesn’t think he’s ever been so passionately furious when he’s climaxed before ever in his life. For once it’s quite obvious he’s not ‘made love’, war maybe, but not love -and ain’t that another joke, he’d meant to make her love him again.
Elaine tears at his back with her fingernails and hears him snarling at her that he won’t stop, can’t stop, why can’t she stop this nonsense? She grips him harder, she seizes herself as he starts to slow, claws at his back with each vicious pump -seems they’ll both be shifting in their seats next time in the courtroom.
“Elaine?” he sounds so broken, like he does those times when they bring him back from heaven’s gates, it’s mumbled into her neck again like always but this time there’s no drugs to blame, not directly, not if she’s honest. She’s the one killing him. This little plan of hers to save him, just might finish him.
She prays God will be kind, prays he’ll keep her man alive long enough for her to finish this ugly business and restore his freedom, prays that maybe the hot slosh of spend coating her womb won’t be a waste. That she’ll have something of him left, just once more, please just one more. Something left of the man she married. Something to remind her of why they married and of what it was like to be happily married. Maybe just once more she wants to carry his entire world inside her.
“No, Elvis. I-I’m sorry, no.”
When he pulls away, it's not just sweat coating his lashes and his face. This plan of hers might just finish them both.
_______________________________
Every day in that courtroom is another layer of pride and image stripped away from Elvis and her and their perfect Southern Camelot. Every day is another headline for the papers with pictures of Elvis making a fool of himself in a way that can’t be smoothed over by anyone. Every day has cameras being shoved in Elaine’s face as she leaves with another hickey on her neck, bruising and blossoming in a way that looks grotesque when she sees it on the news later that night. The black outfits don’t help the contrast.
Every other day is being thrust against a bathroom stall’s wall with heels digging into Elvis’s back.
“E-Elaine-" He’ll stutter out, the feel of her clenching around his cock making it hard to focus or maybe it was the bite of her nails through his dress shirt. "You stop this. Been grovelin' 'n I deserve to have my wife listen."
"Ex. Wife." Elaine will huff out, words slurring into a quiet mewl as his cock brushes that one spot.
"Wife." An argument and a fact that he'll hammer home until the very last second he can. She never corrects him after the first time, too worried the knowledge would crush him to the point of everything finally giving out.
Jesse has taken to looking askance at her, worried and haunted little looks with fluttery hands at shoulder level that remind her of Elvis before he married her. If she had Elvis’ grit she’d ask her son if he had something to say and tell him to say it.
As it is she just pats his elegant hands, a man’s hands, she realizes, and thanks him profusely for his support, for being there at court with her day after day, missing practice and missing dates, letting a youthful spring and summer slip on by. They’ve been at this for close to a year.
“It’s nothin mama.” Jesse insists, almost offended at the idea he’d be anywhere but by her side.
________________________________
|| 5th, JUNE 1977 ||
When Ann makes her call, Elaine’s heart fills with all the old butterflies and girlish excitement of a past decade. They’ve kept in touch, of course they have, but between the touring, the marriages, and the unspoken acknowledgment of life falling apart from one and coming together for another, there’s less common ground to chat about compared to the days when Elaine used to share her husband and two little vixens named Thumper and Tink got to pick him apart in gleeful adoration like girls with their crush.
“Can I come by?” Thumper asks her, soft and kind but without the playful undercurrent that precipitated all her other visits.
“Well of course you can, you know you can.“ Elaine puzzles, finger worrying the wire in a nervous tick that has nothing to do with anticipation, dread pools in her belly instead.
There’s no children to greet Ann when she comes to the door, Marie at school and Jack away at his apprenticeship in California, Jesse has taken to spending his days in the studio when he’s not needed elsewhere, Daisy on the road and Rosalee in College, Ella married and attempting to assimilate with her in-laws. It feels like a ghost house compared to what Ann recalls. Maybe it’s just the passage of time but something terribly wrong and lonely strikes her at the lifelessness of the grand house, like it’s become haunted without a single death.
Unless it’s the death of the Presley’s as a whole. That would do it.
Elaine stands at the top of the stairs like old times, but there’s no gambit of children to wait for and so she speeds down the stairs at a breezy gait, smiling soft and subdued even as she refuses to be coy with her hug. She wraps Thumper up in a deep embrace and Ann squeezes her back, saying a million things at once by their clutching hold, murmuring little half sentences of condolences and “missed you’s”.
“What’d you come for?” Elaine asks her at the dining table after having supplied ice water and coasters for her guest. Ann turned down the saltines Elaine devoured with peculiar relish.
Always a straight shooter, Elaine. It makes Ann sigh and smooth out her skirt, clearing her voice to repay her candor with like. “I came to see what on earth was going on. To see if you were ok. And, I guess I came to see if it’s really happening. Nobody really thinks it’s happening. Or -I don’t know.”
“It’s happening.” Elaine replies with grim resignation.
“I don’t understand because Elvis says you’re the one divorcing and I always thought if one-“ Ann stops herself to scoff, “-I actually never thought either of you would ever divorce. You’re sincere?”
“It’s happening.” Elaine repeats, shielding her saltine chewing with a manicured hand. The action also flashes her still worn wedding band.
“So it’s not a threat?” Ann marvels, “When Roger insisted it was true, I thought it must be some drastic measure, something to get Elvis’ attention. His cooperation, you know, something to just-“
“-I’ve tried many drastic measures to gain that.” Elaine responds, “ all of them failed. I’d never ‘threaten’ something as horrible as this.“
“But…you’d do something…this horrible.” Ann murmurs, scared to play devil's advocate but utterly confused.
“You don’t know what I’ve been dealing with and, what you saw in the early days of residency, even the stuff on the film sets, it’s like aspirins compared to what he’s on now.”
“So it’s the drugs?” she whispers, heartsick, “You can’t handle being…around them? Around him?” she asks, then adds after careful consideration, “I have noticed you seem, seem still very tactile with him. I see the-“ she waves her finger at Elaine’s collarbones, “-I see the marks. Are you scared of him?”
It is unthinkable of Elvis. It really is, and Ann knows her face must show disbelief even when presented with her friend's mottled skin, and she hates herself for doubting a woman’s account, but if Elaine were to say she’s scared, Ann isn’t sure she’d be able to buy that. Not of Elvis. Even under the influence.
“Gosh no.” Elaine scoffs, a beat too late. “I just can’t do it anymore. All of it. Just the typical little things that build up in a marriage, I suppose.”
She tries to grin and Thumper thinks it’s the weakest acting she’s ever seen. Elaine more convincingly played a virgin in their home movies when deepthroating cucumbers for Elvis’ enjoyment.
“How’s Roger? Elaine asks, through with defending herself and Ann feels lost, adrift and unable to get near like she once did.
“Roger is fine.” Ann replies, “He sends his best. How is Ella?”
“Tell him I’m sorry they brought your name up, last week.” Elaine sighs, no apology offered to Thumper. They both know she’d be offended at an apology for being associated with them. “Ella is decidedly pregnant, that’s what she is.”
“Is she?” Thumper coos, followed by an alarmed quavering of hope and concern on her face. “Elaine, that’s-“ it is wonderful despite the circumstances but Elaine’s brittle posture suggests a to-do about it might sink her. “Congratulations, Grandma Tink.” Thumper settles for, daring to reach across the table top, seizing Elaine’s hand and squeezing its saltine dusted elegance.
“Thank you.” she whispers hoarsely, “She calls me everyday. Reminds me of you and me back when … her man he -he sounds sweet. Of course he’ll be gone awhile and so I’m all she has got to talk to about throwing up each morning and watching things swell.” None of this is how they expected or intended, Elvis and Elaine should both be hovering about and annoying their first grandchild before they’re even out in the world. Instead Ella’s perched down in Texas, no doubt terribly homesick, and Elaine’s talking about grandbabies like it’s another addition to the carport. “Tell Roger we’re sorry they brought your name up. Please tell him.”
“We don’t care.” Thumper insists and Elaine hopes that’s an accurate representation of Roger’s feelings. “He only asked-“ Ann stares out the front windows and down the drive towards the gates, summer colors brilliantly lush outside the house, she’s seen this view so many times it hurts, “-he asked that I make sure that…any…videos, and such, were disposed of.” she winces as she gets it out, once her manager, always her manager that man. “I wasn’t sure which of you to ask about them.”
Elaine stares at her intensely as if trying to read her soul. “I’ve most of them upstairs. Ruined by pregame juice mainly but the labels are sentimental so I’ve kept them.” Ann wonders if they’re ruined at all, and if they are she wonders if it’s by orange juice or by something far more lewd. Elvis never had great aim, “I’m sure Elvis has the ones we sent him under lock and key. Either way, you know neither of us would endanger you. You know that, Thumper.”
“Yes, yes I do.” Ann breathes, resting her chin in her hand, mournful at having insinuated otherwise.
“So you can tell Roger they’re not a worry.” Elaine prods with the shadow of an old smirk, “And you never know, in future it might not be so hard to track Naughty and I down at once.”
“Oh?” Ann squints at her in confusion.
“Mhmm.” Elaine just hums and shrugs her shoulders, the purple little mark on her clavicle shadowing with the movement. “Are you saying the night, Thumper?”
Ann leaves that evening more bewildered than when she arrived. “You were right, Roger,” she tells her husband as she settles beside him late that night, “she didn’t tell me a thing. Not really.”
___________________________
|| 9th, JUNE 1977 ||
“They’re gonna stop pressin’ ‘bout Thumper,” the murmur of his voice registering before the hand on her arm does as they both find themselves heading to the bathroom. It’s a flimsy sort of an excuse and one she’s beginning to think the papers and the news cameras see through.
“That’s good.” Her voice is a little too airy but today’s been a back and forth of yelling and excuses and all Elaine’s thinking about is how one of Daisy’s bandmates called her up from a payphone telling her that they almost couldn’t wake her for the show. The show she shouldn’t be doing but the show that Elaine let her do because she’s been playing being an adult for so long that who was she to argue against it?
“Told her we’d make sure it was- nothing came out. Roger was worried about it. For her image and for his, maybe.”
After all, it’s one thing to just be married to Ann-Margret, another thing entirely to be married to Thumper who’d rolled in the hay literally and figuratively with the Presleys at their lowest point. He’s never minded her continued friendship with them but that was before whispers of infidelity turned into whispers of sexual romps that were taped and stored or pictures that were taken and used as masturbatory material. He's never minded until Joe E, bless his soul, implied he might've seen copper locks in a video from Circle K that Elvis had shown a few of the members of the Mafia. Not that the court or anyone could find such a video.
The lock to the bathroom clicks behind Elvis and he turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Now hold on a minute, she- Thumper thought we’d- I’d never-”
“She didn’t. Roger was concerned. She knows us well enough, Elvis.” Still reassuring him as if they’re not going through what is turning out to be the messiest divorce the world has ever seen and likely will ever see. “I told her as much and she felt bad about asking.”
About the tapes and the photos, not so much about their divorce, Elaine reasons. As much as she wants to fault one of her oldest friends -it’s understandable. That was the purpose of the divorce. To come out of left field and appear to all concerned as if the faithful wife has finally grown unable to force herself to put up with Elvis Presley any more. The Colonel wouldn’t question that and had wanted it for years, if anyone were to ask him. Ann- their lil Thumper wouldn’t have been able to keep her plan a secret, her loyalty to Elvis and Elaine would have put her in a spot that Elaine didn’t dare want to shove her into. No, it was better for her to question the same as everyone else. Maybe if this went well they could all have a laugh about it in Hawaii. Or at the very least, Ann could forgive her.
“Don’t know why she didn’t jus’ ask me, ‘m the one who-'' Elvis's voice trails off when it hits him. Why would she ask the person who likely doesn’t hold most of them. Who’s fixin’ to lose everything in a divorce he desperately doesn’t want. “Least she knows now."
Elaine should agree with him, she should agree with him that at least Ann knows now, but she only knows part of the story. She only knows that the man she fell in love with on a movie set and his wife she maybe sometimes loves as more than a friend won’t damage her the way they’re damaging each other. How even Elaine had to joke that maybe it would be easy to run into them together in the future. Even during these hellish days in court they can’t escape each other’s orbits.
Pretending to not love and care for Elvis is an impossible task when what she’s doing is because her love and her care for a man who is sometimes brutish and stupid and selfish is so overwhelming it threatens to choke her.
At her silence, Elvis allows himself to crowd into her space, hands grasping at her hips ever so gently. "How's Rosalee?"
They're both too tired to fight in this bathroom, their energy having been spent outside of it for everything else. Asking about his favorite daughter, the one who's lived and breathed for her daddy for years feels safe.
"Not- she's not very good, Elvis. It's been- she hasn't really been the same." Since what happened. If things were different maybe she'd be taking the time to relax at home and maybe Daisy wouldn't have run off from guilt and - no. Elaine can't dwell on that even as her eyes start to water.
"It's hard on them." His tone isn't accusing, instead managing to just state a fact. This whole divorce has been hard on all of them. Even if Elaine's the one instigating everything he sees how unhealthy she looks. Feels how her body seems to be breaking down in ways that aren't as flashy as his body but the signs are there.
God knows he's not always been the most pious of men in action, that somehow all his good intentions and gospel songs haven’t managed to pull him back as he skidded down the road to hell, yet he’s got such a hankering to hide in the cleft of the rock once again. Acknowledge he’s a man, a failing man, a wayward husband, a prodigal son.
He finds himself reaching for Laney’s hand, palm up in a way she recognizes without a word. She clasps it without hesitation, in a time worn manner they’ve used before marriages, births, trips, shows, bedsides of sick and dying friends and here in this tiled little haven of the courthouse where they’re allowed to be as vulnerable and broken as their Heavenly Father knows them to be.
They bow their heads and Elvis finds himself begging his Almighty not for a return of fortunes but merely a cessation of tragedies. Elvis’ hand twitches, a pinky disentangling from Tink’s clasp and tickling her belly, like a presentment, like a benediction of nothing more than a heartbroken hunch on his part.
_____________________________
|| 29th, JULY 1977 ||
Elvis regrets answering the door to his penthouse the moment it swings open to reveal Johnny Cash with that sort of frantic and half crazed look in his eyes that Elvis thought he'd given up at the beginning of the decade. Wasn't that a hoot, the two of them swore up and down they had gotten clean for their women, the loves of their lives- the ones that God blessed them with to live out their present and future everlasting lives with- only to fall back into those old habits. What a cosmic joke.
"You're a fool, Presley." Short and to the point in a way that only Johnny can manage. Elvis exhales, wondering what exactly he's done to God to earn one of his oldest friends calling him a goddamn fool at the closest thing he's got to a home nowadays. His lil Schnucki comes to visit him, and Jesse's called once or twice but ever since that- ever since he realized how serious his Laney was about leaving him- Graceland ain't his home anymore.
"Ain't gonna say anythin'? No fight left in you?" The door to the penthouse is kicked in and if Elvis was any other person, or Johnny was any other person Elvis might've jumped. As it is, all he manages is a shrug as he pinches his nose. His head's achin' and his eyes hurt and all he wants to do is sleep. Take something to make every whisper floating in his head die down. An older brother telling him how he's ruined his life isn't remotely something he's got the patience for. Not after today's courtroom.
"Whatcha want me to say, John? Ya know everythin', so whatcha want me t'say, hm? Laney's leavin' me, takin' what she wants and leavin' me poorer than I met her."
Not monetarily, no, Elvis figures he could handle that better than the reality of his Laney, his Tink, the bjggest part of his soul other than his mama leaving him. Elaine's leaving him a man with barely any soul left in him to fight and go on. And he swears- lord he swears he felt something different about her recently. Something swelling that shouldn't.
"What I want'ya to say is that I'm gonna go back to my hotel and me and June are gonna tell each'otha that this whole thing's jus' you all been stubborn as a pair o'mules. Cause if it ain't, I gotta be real concerned June's gonna up and do the same thing on me." Johnny's always been someone who doesn't let Elvis get away with half the things everyone else does. Maybe it's because of how they started things together or how Johnny knows that half the reason he's got June is because of Elvis. Or maybe it was some misplaced need to be a brother to Elvis- to fill in a spot he figures his twin would've.
"June ain't gonna-" Elvis starts before Johnny uses the two inches he's got on Elvis to his advantage, staring the other man down as he cuts him off.
"Lane wouldn't've. Shouldn't've. Yet she is. This ain't- this ain't 'bout whatever damn excuse she's got. Can't be. There's somethin' you ain't tellin' everyone."
More and more Elvis has to laugh at his life and how everyone seems to think he's got some power over his Laney. That this whole divorce and the way he's embarrassing the both of them day after day is just another show. A snow job as the colonel would put it. This would be so much easier if that was the case. It isn't the case though, it isn't the case and Elvis feels his laughter escape him like the boom of a cannon.
"If there's anythin'- The whole damn country thinks I'm an idiot who can't keep his wife and here- I don't need you to be thinkin' 'm an idiot who don't know some grand plan his wife's cooked up. Ain't no plan. Ain't nothin' I ain't already groveled about and cried about in those hallowed halls. Laney jus' don't want me any more."
A silence settles between the two men at that revelation with Elvis breathing sounding so labored that even through the haze of his own drugs Johnny levels a look at his friend. It’s only after he’s sure that the other man won’t pass out and die on him that he actually speaks.
"You- You ain't me. She ain't Vivian. She- Elvis there ain't no way she's- that ain't it. You're both- you two can't keep your hands off each other even divorcin'. She- she still wants ya.”
“She wants my cock, John. Wants my money. Wants my house. My mama’s house. Know I said it was hers the moment we got hitched but- it wasn’t ever supposed to be hers. It’s- It’s ours.” Elvis isn’t one to break down, not in front of certain people and Johnny might be one of his friends that are near and dear to him but he doesn’t want to lose it in front of him. Doesn’t want to cry and blubber like he has been in the courtroom, pleading and begging for Elaine to just see sense. “We don’t- She don’t love me any more. T-That’s all there is to it. No grand con-spear-ah-see. Jus’ my wife wantin’ to be my ex-wife. Don’t know if I blame her. I ain’t-”
“You been a better husband than I was. Better husband than a lotta men. If- if 'Lane wanted to leave ya? She'd have done it back in the 60s. When you were carryin' on wit' what's her name- Swedish girl- fire hair. But she went 'n made friends wit' her. That woman's supposed to be yours till Kingdom Come 'n beyond. This doesn't make a single lick of sense and ya know it!"
One would think that nothing could echo in this penthouse and yet somehow Johnny's booming yell, filled with bass that Elvis is sure have made men greater than him bend and cower, echoes and reverberates in his ears. A stark reminder that Elaine and him seem to affect everyone around them for better or worse. Elvis's heart pumps a little harder as he tries to wrap his aching head around everything for what feels like the millionth time.
"I-I know it don't. This- you know these things don't take this long, John. I've-I been draggin' this out. Stickin' my damn heels in the mud. Anythin' to get her to come back, to see what- anythin' to not lose her. And she's jus'- ain't none of it workin'. Daisy up'n'ran off, Rosalee jus' wants me to be near her mama or her mama near me. Jesse's lookin'-"
"That what it is? Her doing it for the kids?” Johnny’s question has him tilting his head, not entirely unlike the millions of dogs Elvis’s children have had over the years. He ought to be offended Johnny cut him off so easily and without a care in the world and yet Johnny’s one of the few people he’d let do that. “She’s doin’ this for your kids.”
For once, Elvis has to look at Johnny and guess at what he means whether it’s because the man is too stunned to put it into words or because he doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, Elvis doesn’t know. He can hear his heartbeat going a bit too and a bit too hard in his ears as he answers.
“Ya mean- have i been failin’ them too? Have a been as bad of a father to ‘em as ‘ve been a bad husband?” The laugh that leaves Elvis sounds more like a sob than anything else. Johnny purses his lips even as he listens. "Ya mean how I found out I'm havin' a grandbaby through Laney? Or how Daisy's worse than you’n’I together on whatever she's takin'? Or how my boys acted like superheroes for their sister? How my lil Schnucki had- how I had to find that out from the Harrisons and my boys? ‘N I wasn’t there to blow those fools’ heads clean off their necks?”
Johnny realizes right then he’s made a mistake coming here. Or maybe just made a mistake pressing this point like it’s honestly any of his damn business. “You haven’t-”
Elvis cuts him off with a wave of his hand as he steps away, trying to feel less like a caged animal. “That’s right, I haven’t. I haven’t, John. Haven’t been there, haven’t given ‘em what they need. I had one job. Take care of all of ‘em and love ‘em. Failed so- I don’t blame her, John. I- I love her. Ya know I do. You know this sorta love but I can’t, I can’t make her love me again. S-she ain’t gonna love me again. Not the way she has.” His breath comes in short pants as his hand shakes and his leg jitters like he’s a man twenty years and nearly ten children younger. “I tried fixin’ this. The kids- the kids tried fixin’ this. But they can’t- can’t get through to her, these days! They’re all beggin’ and cryin’ and torn up and the Tink I know wouldn’t’ve lasted a week after causin’ such hurt to our babies. Well this new edition of her’s done made it close to a year.”
Johnny opens his mouth to speak only for Elvis to hold up a finger and force himself to take a deep breath, like Laney told him to those times after she thumped his heart back to life for him. Laney’d get what she wants if he died but he’s got a grandbaby he’s gotta see. Wants to try and see. “A year. Been nearly a year and it ain’t workin’. Nothin’- been tryin’ to remind her’ve what we had. What I give t’her. It-” Elvis starts to trail off, the fight that Johnny had put inside him slowly deflating till all he’s left with is the shell of a man who’s bone tired. Bone tired and losing everything no matter what fight he puts up. His shoulders slump.
Watching someone who’s as larger than life as Elvis Presley seemingly fold in on himself feels wrong in Johnny’s mind, but it gives him the answer he needs. It gives him the answer he’s looking for when it comes to just what’s going on with this whole divorce and what’s going on with Elaine and Elvis. His legs cross over to where Elvis is in only a few steps and without missing a beat, his arm wraps around Elvis’s shoulder. Elvis might not be his brother in blood but they’ve gone through enough that- that he wouldn’t leave him out in the cold without a hint of comfort.
“You gotta make peace wit’ it, then. Gotta- The Lord ain’t gonna want to see the two of ya fightin’ till ya keel over and die. Gotta give- If what she wants is to not be your wife any more, ya gotta give it to her. Just to make peace.” His voice isn’t much louder than a low rumble and yet Elvis can hear him clear as day.
“She won’t be my Laney any more. Won’t be my Tink.” A response as if he's a child being denied his favorite toy. Johnny doesn't stop himself from huffing out a laugh.
"But she'll still be Elaine, your children's mama. It ain't like you won't ever see her, EP." But that’s not the problem, that’s never been the problem and from the way Johnny’s looking at him, he knows that. “But ya gotta- it’s not doin’ either of ya a bit o’good to be draggin’ it on and on. Not after everythin’. Been livin’ ‘part for so long-” Johnny trails off, hand moving to rub at his eyes as he shakes his head. “Nothin’ you’ve done’s fixed it. Might not be meant to be fixed in those ways.”
“I-I- I don’t have anythin’ to fall on, John. I leave her it’s jus’ me and-” The medicine I got coursin’ through me, is what he should say. “I don’t know how to not be her husband.”
A silence settles over the two of them, punctuated only by Elvis’s heavy breaths and Johnny’s sharp and quick ones until Johnny settles himself against the wall, crossing his arms and raising his leg to press against it.
“Never said ya had to stop actin’ like you were.”
__________________________________
|| 6th, AUGUST 1977 ||
It’s a supreme irony that after a year of wishing for a cessation of that old stubbornness, that bitter pride of his, when such submission comes in the form of a mute and sullen husband opposite in the courtroom, Elaine feels her heart hammer in her chest, bewildered and terrified as he concedes one settlement after another in quick session.
Jesse gasps beside her at the change, even looks ready to beg her to reconsider her greediness as 90% gets handed over without a hint of the raging qualms her opposition has been voicing for five months.
Only Colonel Parker appears scared as shit, angrily grabbing at Elvis’ limp arm and trying to interrupt his directions with the lawyers. Each new verdict gets waved through by a lazy flick of a bejeweled hand and Elaine thinks the repetition of the gavel granting her all she wants could make for a decent backbeat in the studio.
After an agreement to give up 90% of his catalog, Elaine and Jesse both share a look, heartbroken and relieved that he’s really, truly, finally given up.
It’s obvious to all that it’s a bodily wearing out, Elvis looks awful and no amount of jewelry or eyeliner or Snow Job paraphernalia can hide the fact Elaine’s husband is a sick man. Even the papers who’ve found him easy pickings for ridicule and blame suddenly find some heart for his obvious suffering, even if the compassion is wedged between headlines about his expanding waistline and her latest money grab.
“What’s with you?” she demands and this time it’s her hand around his wrist, the unsteady clop of his boots following her heels after the click of the bathroom latch. When she drops his wrist his gold studded hand lands heavily by his thigh, he makes no move to crowd her, to grip her hair and kiss her like old times. “What was all that about?” she finds herself angry instead of relieved, mimics his lazy hand waves and scoffs in his face. She knew and planned on this day coming, but it doesn’t make it less unsettling as she takes in the victory of her spirit over his. He’s her man after all, her daddy and her provider, tough and proud and one of a kind and she’s beat him at the game of wills. She can feel her eyes pooling and angrily runs a hand under her nose as he stares at her with a blank, droopy expression.
“M’tryin’ to make peace.” Elvis shrugs, it was Johnny’s advice. Whatever it took, even if it meant giving in, he’s the man of their house and he’s here to make peace. Maybe if they end on a kind note he’ll be thought of, invited into the inner circle even even, by the time Ella pops out their grandbaby. “Never cared about the fuckin’ catalogue Tink, was only ever about buyin’ time to convince you to stay.”
The colonel’s panic at this latest settlement, one that finished the final prying open of his carefully constructed facade, one that’s exposed him to years of investigations, jail time maybe -though few outside of Elaine, Mr. Corleone and the FBI know that yet- is like sipping a mojito after a long day baking in the sun for Elaine.
Two decades of her saying he wasn’t right and Vernon telling her to go mind the carpet bill, change a diaper, redo a curl.
It should be refreshing, it should be a tonic to the way she feels shaky most mornings and ravenous in the evenings. Instead she finds herself trembling and laying an icy hand to Elvis’ burning forehead, registering the unnatural heat even in this chilled bathroom. It’s not just the stupid velvet coat, one blue eye is far more dilated than the other now she’s pulled his glasses down. He flinches from it, whether from the brightness of the bare bulbs or her touch, she isn’t sure.
“What’ve they got you on?” she sounds like a frog, throat all constricted and voice thin. She cares, she still cares so much and it could’ve been just yesterday she folded her handsome young groom into that bathtub in Germany and held him through the shakes. She wishes she could ask him ‘why do you always waste my love?’ But somehow, even after all her cruelty, that feels a little mean. “Baby, talk to me, what’s -“
Elvis grabs her hand, gently this time and he folds it with her other in both of his, a tan, sparkly little cage, she wonders how long it’ll take him before he pulls his wedding band off. Will he discard it before they make it out of the courthouse today? “Don’t you fret yourself, lil mama, those days are over.” he rumbles as he squeezes her hands and she wonders if he means days of fretting or drugs, they coincide often enough, “You jus’ take care of y’self, ok?” he sucks in a trembling breath and his glasses pinch between her fingers in his squeeze, “Without me there to nag ya bout it I-I -you take care of y’self.”
“Oh Elvis-'' she whimpers, moving closer, wanting to beg for some forgiveness, all clever plans and well timed revelations beginning to fray as she watches him rally his old magnanimity despite his grief.
_____________________________
|| 28th, SEPTEMBER 1977 || >>
He’s not alone in this concern, Elaine doesn’t know if she has Jesse or Daisy to blame for the way Marlon shows up in Memphis like that Yankee son of a bitch belongs that land bound. There’s never been a reason to see Brando except on one coast or another and it’s jarring for Elaine, seeing him take up space that’s so uniquely Elvis’ property, even if it’s under her name.
To see him in her home. Her true home.
She’s no good at hiding her nerves or the exhausted paranoia of wondering how Elvis will react when he hears of this visit. Marlon reads her like a book and leans against her kitchen counter, acting like Mary isn’t throwing them a million side eyes over the biscuit batter, and asks after her well being.
“Pretty terrible, thanks. And you?” she shrugs, wringing out a dish towel over and over. She doesn’t know when she became so fidgety, nowadays it seems she’s always betraying her nerves with restless hands and she never had that trouble before. Always a baby to hold if she needed the excuse, she guesses.
Her last baby is nine years old. And so she wrings out her dish towels and stares back at an old lover with the weary openness of a woman who doesn’t really care anymore. Elvis has been her one goal, and saving him is killing her as effectively as it is him. Those last days she wasn’t sure he was going to keep making it into the courtroom, shifting in his chair not from her nails furrows but from the repeated shots in his rump. The ones that have killed him a few times over.
Jesse made a visit to him in Vegas. Elaine doesn’t know what he said but her boy has barely spoken since. She asked her son how his father was, quite aware she doesn’t know the particulars from his fevered attentions in the handicapped bathroom of the Santa Monica courthouse. Her man would crawl out of his grave for the chance to make love one last time, it’s not a good gauge. Jesse said he keeps the curtains closed constantly. That he’s not letting anyone up. Charlie barely let Jesse up. His eyes are bad, so bad the curtains stay closed, otherwise Jesse couldn’t tell, couldn’t get a good look at him. He didn’t stay for the concert. Cissy says his voice has held up this time, at least.
“Pretty terrible.” She tells Marlon, because he’s always been more friend than lover, and that’s why he’s in Memphis when it’s a fool's errand anyway.
For all Marlon will speak his mind about this that and the other on things he cares about- yet God does he *care* about Elaine and so he bites his tongue at the first thought that pops into his head. *You've been pretty terrible for years and now you decided to care and do something about it*.
Instead: "You look terrible."
Which is a gross oversimplification of his feelings, but Elaine doesn't watch as his eyes slide over her pale and wan cheeks that look thinner than he's ever seen them. She doesn't watch how his eyes drift downward to breasts that are pressing against the dress she's wearing.
They remind him of when she was pregnant with Marie. They remind him of her breasts when she cried out beneath him against her tiki bar. If he closes his eyes he can picture them bouncing in front of his face, begging for him to bury his face in them. The boy- her oldest boy was right. Marlon doesn't even need to look at her stomach and yet some sick twisted masochistic tendency compels him to as if that'll change things.
It's small. Smaller than he figures any of her bumps have been and yet it's there. Mocking and growing at its own pace.
Proof that Elaine Phipps wants to remain Elaine Presley till one of them dies and maybe even beyond. Marlon can't help the way he exhales through his nose, unable to look away even as Elaine talks,
"Marlon, are you even listening?"
No. But he needs to.
"Mind wandered off, you know how I get, Elaine." He straightens up and tries to stay alert, “So, all this really fixed things for ya, eh?” he quips sardonically and she smiles, rolls her eyes, fully aware he’s not mocking her, he’s mocking the hopelessness of it ever working.
“Yeah. It’s all coming up roses.” she snarks.
“I uh-“ he stipples his fingers on the counter and weighs his next move, “-I heard that Colonel Parker’s recently landed in some seriously hot water. Something about the audits during the divorce and how certain things don’t match up. Got it from the papers, you know how long they stretch a few vague facts. I had to read two whole pages to get ‘fraud’ and ‘debts’ out of them. Anyways, I thought you’d find that nice -hot water, all that.”
“So hot it’ll boil his coat of lies right off with any luck.” Elaine seethes and her sudden passion takes Marlon by surprise. Stirs an old appreciation for just how much verve is always bubbling beneath her doll-like exterior. His fingers itch to let out the excess in a gush around his fingers. “Illegal alien.” She expounds, warming to her argument in the way of someone long overdue a listen, “Would you believe it? All those endless homebound tours -runing Elvis into the ground on the same circuit simply because that greedy fool couldn’t tag along. Couldn’t step outside the country. Always wondered why he never crashed our time in Germany, knew he would if could. Fake, heartless, toad.”
“Fuck him.” Marlon agrees vehemently and Elaine looks up with the same appreciative eyes of a decade past when she got no arguments from him, unlike all the menfolk surrounding her most days. Marlon abides by a simple rule: if it pisses Elaine Presley off, he needs no further research to say it ain’t shit.
“Yes, well, I’ll leave that to the Justice Department, I’ve done my bit.” Elaine sighs, her little victory crow short lived and even with his bias for the unattached Miss Phipps, Marlon can see how hollow her achievements are without Elvis to pat her pretty head for them. “It’s been weeks and I- I’m afraid he’s angry Marlon.” they’re not talking of the Colonel now, Marlon can tell by her love-sick face, “I knew he would be, with the divorce and probably with framing Parker but -he was so kind that day. So kind I thought he might’ve forgiven or just, I don’t know but now, now he won’t even answer my calls. Marie hasn’t gotten through either and -it’s not like him, Marlon, it’s not.”
“You got something pressing to tell him?” Brando asks and doesn’t even bother to hide the way his eyes flick back over her ripening form, pondering if her boy hadn’t been silly after all, going on about her not noticing. If he were a woman, a pretty woman like Elaine still is, Marlon would be weighing those growing tits each day with pride and mesmerization -but then again, Elaine’s had more on her mind than appreciating her own assets like a horny old star who never learned to aim for his own league.
“No I only wanted to-” she bites her lip as if unsure or else what she wants is unspeakably optimistic for a woman who just threw it all away. “I missed his voice.”
_______________________________
<<< || 16th, AUGUST 1977 ||
The knock at the door startled them both. Elvis pulled his back from it and faced it like he was gonna defend his wife from the mob he suspected was outside. Old habits die hard.
“Y’all?” Jesse yelled through the thick wood, “There’s half the city crowdin’ outside, there’s not gonna be a path to squeeze through soon.”
“Yeah alright son, thank you.” Elvis cleared his throat as he dropped her hands, straightening his posture fully. “You ready?” he asked dully, eager to get the worst moment of his life over.
“I gue- I- yes.” she stumbled over her meaning and smoothed out her black jacket.
"Daddy?" Jesse's voice was heard over the wood once more and both Elaine and Elvis took matching deep breaths, sweat droplets falling on Elvis’s eyes with a wince.
It's not pity that had Elaine putting the glasses back on Elvis’s eyes, her fingertips brushing against his temples in a simple gesture she's done a million times before. No, it's her last hurrah as his wife, her last action as his wife. They may have signed the papers within the past hour and legally she may be Elaine Phipps once more but until they walk out of this bathroom and this courthouse she was Elaine Presley, wife of Elvis Presley. A low hum reverbated against her chest before she pulled away, a soft smile across her lips.
"There there, Mopey, all better," she whispered in the sort of tone she only uses for the children when bandaging a hurt. "Let's- let's go face the music."
“Got me more nervous than any curtain I’ve been behind,” he joked even as it falls flat and his breath comes quicker and quicker. This was the beginning of their new life as separate entities. As an ex-husband and an ex-wife.
The door wasn’t that heavy when he shut it earlier and yet it felt as if someone had remade it out of concrete as Elvis tried to push it open once the lock clicked open. He could already see the flashing bulbs from the cameras and the press of the mass of people outside waiting for them. They were no stranger to crowds but this one was one none of them wanted to face. A look was exchanged between the three of them as their shoes clicked against the floor of the courthouse, a silent acknowledgement to try and get to their waiting cars as soon as possible.
"Jess! Mama!" Elvis and Elaine looked up through the mob of people as they pushed and pulled at each other trying to catch a glimpse of the former couple with their oldest son. They found themselves half blinded by flashes of cameras and the sun's own light, trying to find the source of the bellowed words. "We're over heyer!"
Jack then. Jack who was growing more and more into Elvis’s twin if not in bulk but in charm and whose shout sounds something like Sargent Presley’s in the army. Elaine looked at Elvis, biting her lip as she did.
"Soundin’ more like me everyday." Elvis commented as if he was commenting on the weather. It had never been hard to talk to Elaine. Yet in this moment, Elvis found himself at a loss for words. And from the way Elaine was looking at him, the feeling was mutual. Matching pink tongues darted out to wet dry lips and Elvis opened his mouth, his arm outstretched as if he was going to grab at Elaine's only for his oldest son to pop up between them, taking Elaine's arm without a second thought.
"I've got you mama. I gotcha, let's go."
The look he leveled at Elvis made every single moment in this courtroom for the past five months seem like child's play. To have his oldest son look at him like he did with any suitor that tried to come Elaine’s way, hurt. But that was his life now wasn't it? That's Elvis Presley’s life without Elaine Phipps. That's Elaine Phipps's life without Elvis Presley, protected only by her sons and her daughters from a man she once called husband. The man she once loved with every fiber of her being or so Elvis thought. Make peace with it, Johnny said. Make peace with her, Johnny said. Elvis didn't think that it would feel like this.
“I know you do, Jesse. Let me say goodbye to your father.” Elaine said as softly as she could in order to avoid the prying ears of every journalist between here and her car. “Jack and your siblings aren’t going anywhere. Not in this crowd. Even if Jack’d run them over to protect me.”
A smile unbidden crossed Elvis’s lips at the joke between their eldest and Elaine. She wasn’t wrong, but that was his boys and their love for their mother in a nutshell, wasn’t it? Capable of murder to protect her the same as him. She- she would be alright even if- even if what he suspected to be true was.
“Jack drove us here, all of us.” She explained as her eyes flitted across his form one last time to check for imperfections and for signs he might be needing anything. “I’ll make sure Ella calls you about-”
“It’s fine, Elaine. Made my bed, gotta lie in it now.” His eyes scanned across the crowd, even as he winced from the light of the sun and the flashes even through his sunglasses, finally settling on his car with Colonel Parker in the passenger seat, waiting for Elvis with a look of pure displeasure and mild panic on his face. “Gotta get him and I outta here ‘fore I give him a heart attack.”
Elaine’s face hardened at the words, and Elvis, in a fit of nostalgic responsibility for her happiness, moved to place a soft kiss against her cheek, squeezing at her hands as he did.
“S’been the joy of my life knowin’ you, Miss Phipps.”
🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. 🌹
@eliseinmemphis
@ab4eva
@foreverdolly
@powerofelvis
@crash-and-cure
@elvisabutler
@heartbrake-hotel
@stylespresleyhearted
@thatbanditqueen
@crazymadpassionatelove
@myradiaz
@ash-omalley
@arianatheangelgirl
@steph-speaks
@burningloverdoll
@angelface-555
@lookingforrainbows
@missmaywemeetagain
@coolgirl462
@kingdomforapony
@18lkpeters
@richardslady121
@from-memphis-with-love
@lillypink
@artlover8992
@pennyroyalcreep
@notstefaniepresley
@ellie-24
@renaissingle
@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme
@presleyenterprise
@marriedtopresley
@ashtag2887
@dkayfixates
@vampireindistress
@ashtag6887
@i-r-i-n-a-a
@obsessedvibee
@peskybedtime
@goth-cowgirl-03
@stephthestallion
@fav-fanficssss
@loving-elvis
@honeyorangess
@soloangel
@xenaspace3-blog
@60svintage
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agendabymooner · 7 months
Text
matilda ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)
“you showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days.”
summary: sylvie ford wasn’t fond of the older men who stuck around in her life and those who didn’t even try to be there for her, but she couldn’t speak for him. one thing was clear, though: there’s a silent agreement that they’d take a different route from those who brought nothing but pain into their lives. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)
content warning: angst angst hurt/comfort, use of explicit language, mentions of emotional traumas, brief description of paternal relationship issues (character’s father and max’s dad), emotional breakdown/crying (max) and support (ofc), “you talk of the pain like it’s no big deal”, christian horner is funny- ofc just hates him but he's cool
note: posting this because i want a lil context for the post after this lmfaoooo. i am sharing my view on max’s relationship with jos based on what i experienced btw— i have problems with paternal figures so 🫡 cheers enjoy xx
masterlist
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She never once liked any older men to exist in her life. All but one, but it was mainly because Toto Wolff truly cared for Tilly. Otherwise, older men were the shittiest people to exist and they can choke for all she cares. 
The distasteful feeling that she got from knowing Christian Horner had subsided as she continued to work with him and the team. She was outspoken and passionate about what she believed in for that moment. She told him upfront about how she respected him but preferred to keep her personal life separate from her work. She never shared anything about her family. Everyone around them only got the gist of her life, but never did she share to everyone who she was. And with her dislike for her employer, she preferred to keep it that way. 
Toto merely earned her respect as he treated their relationship as if there's no man’s land. At least that was what had happened at the beginning, when he and her sister became official.
The end of the term exam ended and coincided with the summer break of the 2015 season. She wondered who he was as a person and had asked her chauffeur to take her to the Mercedes factory. Toto had surprisingly picked her up from the lobby when the receptionist called him about a “college student who would like to get an interview with him” named Sylvie, asking her if she actually needed some help with her research. 
To which she replied, “It’s nice to know you’re a considerate man. No, I don’t. I don’t have any paper to write. My term just ended, in fact.” 
She then spent her days in the factory with him being stuck on his desk. Oftentimes, she followed him like a duckling and asked him questions left and right about how communications between drivers and the public worked. 
It started there and she continued to visit the factory, now gaining a special access ID just in case she wished to barge in to pester the Mercedes staff with questions. Well, not to harass them but rather ask questions or observe here and there should they allow her to sit in.
Now the frown that she etched in her face while she worked became a permanent part of her routine. Christian once joked that she was Toto’s clone, to which her frown deepened in annoyance before she continued to work on whatever task she had in hand. 
She wouldn’t admit to Christian that she found it hilarious few hours after because her pride was bigger than her fondness of him.
But she was proud of herself for reaching that phase of mentorship. Toto was the only older man she tolerated. Having to grow up with no father and with only sisters — while both your stepmother and mother coparented — would give you that feeling. 
There was just something about father figures that made her feel so little and stupid. Perhaps it was her father’s expectations to make her a prodigal F1 driver — to put the Hearth name back to the motorsports community after being absent from the tracks for thirty years.
Julius wasn’t subtle when he’d put Sylvie in a private schooling program just as she started karting at the age of 5. He’d long given up on Tilly and Stevie, but Sylvie was his star driver. How her mother never got full custody of them, she didn’t know, but she disliked the fact that she had to attend driving classes with her father during his week and somehow still had to take the classes despite not living with him. 
She could remember having her piles of books being stored away once after she ended up on the 7th place of their tournament. He said that she didn’t need all of that kind of intelligence and that her education was an easy thing to pursue— it wasn’t a big deal to him. Everything that she wanted, he’d refuse. He wanted her to focus on racing, because the next time she ended up in such a position he’d burn the books. She began to race and fight against other competitors to get a good shot at winning trophies. She became somebody that she didn’t want to be. 
Maybe it was his arrogance and greediness that made her think that all fathers were the same. That… or maybe because she’d seen how Max’s father acted towards him after landing on 5th in Monaco. She felt her heart breaking at the sight of a defeated Max. She had seen it all before, but to hear it up close this time— it was even worse. She could feel his heart pounding, his need to clear his head and possibly cry it out— she could feel it. Because she was in that position before, and it takes a traumatized child to know one. 
Sure, Sylvie had grown a backbone to tell her father about leaving the academy without his knowledge and had somehow loosened her grip on her own ambitious thoughts, but she didn’t think that she’d witness a version of herself in the form of her best friend. This was what she didn’t see after abandoning her friendship with him. But it wasn’t as if she did it just to spite him. 
She merely needed the courage. At some point, Max Verstappen managed to win against his own father — but there was something about the father figures they’ve had in life that were too determined to keep their children on a tight leash. 
She pretended as if she didn’t eavesdrop on Jos’ berating and merely gave him a curt nod and a stink eye before she approached Max’s drivers room. She could hear him throwing his bag in rage… then silence.
He was seething in disappointment. He wasn’t disappointed in anyone but himself. And the anger that he had told Sylvie that he needed to sit down for a moment. By himself. 
There was just something about their fathers that drove them mad. They’re always too greedy and arrogant, and they both damaged their bloodlines at a young age because of their vile desires and lack of empathy towards others and their own children.
Thankfully, his father had flown back to the Netherlands right after the race. Max, from what Christian had told her (with a sympathetic smile), had retired early to his room instead of partying. Good, she told herself, because he needs someone and some ice cream right now. 
Marinara was going to sleep in Stevie’s room tonight. Sylvie was very good at begging until others cave in to her pleading face, and it obviously worked on her older sister too. So after dropping her dog off, her fluffy sandal-cladded feet made their way into another floor and directly to his room. 
She patiently waited for him to open the door after knocking, her plaid pajamas hanging on her hips while she wore a blue jumper over her white cropped shirt. She could hear the faint footsteps gradually moving their way to the door. She was met with Max’s reddening eyes just as he swung the door open. 
Her hands held a tub of ice cream as she shuddered at the cold water the dripped down her hand, “It’s melting. And there’s less calories on it so you’re not gonna fully ruin your diet.” 
He stared at it for a moment, then looked back at her as he stepped aside to let her in.
The night they spent together consisted of watching Miss Congeniality and Easy A (again). While Sylvie laughed along at some jokes, she could hear how he took deep breaths before regaining his composure. It happened every other minute. 
She decided to put the ice cream on the table and turned to look at him. He, acting as if he wasn’t grounding himself ten seconds ago, asked her with a croak, “W-what?” 
She didn’t answer, observing all of him. His facial features. His surprisingly messy bed hair. His bloodshot eyes. His lips were more plump than usual. His cheeks were tinted pink. She could just tell that he wanted to let it out. But he grew up being told that, “his feelings wouldn’t be a big deal when he’s competing.” 
Sylvie pushed her sleeves back and wiped the tear away from his eyes, smiling faintly at him and breathing evenly. She was more grounded than he was, and her simple gestures helped him get back. Somehow. 
Then his deep breathing method didn’t work out, now quietly sobbing as Sylvie hugged him on his side, her hand circling his back gently. Sandra Bullock’s voice tampered his sound of defeat, but it wasn’t as if it mattered. He could cry for as long and as loud as he wanted. 
She hadn’t even realized how late it was until he fell asleep in her arms, head resting on her chest while she ran her fingers through his hair. She could barely see the digital clock and couldn’t figure out if it said eleven or one, having to squint and adjust a little to look closely. 
These days, she has been able to sleep before midnight. After that intimate moment she shared with her best friend, she had been able to close her eyes peacefully. He’ll have to figure out what helps him sleep better. It’ll be easier if he sought help from professionals— that’s what the team was for. He’ll give them success and in exchange, they make things easier for him. Nobody really knew what eased Max off, because he seemed more calmed and relaxed for the past few races. But that was because he knew that she was only a few footsteps away from him.
It was as if they had their little sanctuary that nobody could find. They couldn’t find themselves in the arms of other people, already used to each other’s affection and the solace that came with it. As if it was normal for friends to be this… considerate. 
Everyone who knew the two as a pairing would simply laugh when you tell them about the peculiarity of their “friendship.” You would think that they’d have intervened by now, but their relatives and friends merely shrugged it off. They returned to their old routine, except they’ve grown. It was normal for their families to see the two together, much to Max’s father’s dismay, knowing that whatever they may have planned was already thought of and agreed on. 
Their closest friends laughed at the thought of their relationship being platonic. What a fucking dream it would be if best friends can just casually buy a house together, or decide to adopt a puppy together (which happens more frequently than not). It would be a wild experience for anyone if their best friends would just platonically steal glances from their other half. 
And friends don’t create their own little family like that. Just the two of them, and their dog. They don’t play mum and dad while they’re just “friends.” No friends would silently agree with raising their kids the way their fathers hadn’t treated them before, just to avoid that pain all over again.
So no, if you were to ask anyone who knew them well — they’d say that Mustang and Cadillac being friends would be a load of rubbish. Even the two knew that the thought was ridiculous. 
Peering down at the Dutchman, she sighed softly while snores escaped his mouth quietly. His weight on top of her was comforting, immediately lulling her to a dreamless sleep. 
They really need to work on not bottling their feelings up.
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ilikedyourablogithere · 3 months
Text
My Dislyte 2023 Awards
Same as last year
Time to rant about the things I liked this year
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if you had things you liked this year go ahead and make your own post
anyways
The Element of The Year
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Flow
From Intisar to Liam, 4 or 5 Star, every Flow Unit this year has been a banger and very useful
Pantheon of the Year
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Greek
while not my personal go to, it is very obvious this was the Greeks year. Having the spotlight on them through out the various stories and bounties
My Favorite Character of The Year
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Falken
you don't get any points for guessing Falken is my favorite esper of the year again. And if you're disappointed he's my pick for another year... tell the dev team to make a character I will like more than Falken ?
But it's not that hard to see why. He got his Universal +20% Speed lead, great in boss fights, the new equipment gave him even even more viable builds you can make with him and of course his divinate allows him to do what he does even better
There was more fun to be had with this guy than last year and for that... he's the best
Best Boy of the Year
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Javid
Was once told good cops don't end up staying "good" cops. They usually either end up quitting or worse happens to them
and Javid is no exception to that
As chief marshal he ended up forcing a whole marshal department to defend the citizens against a monster swarm, sending them all but him to their death. Meant to die along side them he somehow survived and now riddle with guilt of surviving he's been imprisoned where he also keeps the citizens safe and the miracle a bay
It takes alot to stand by your values especially during the bad times. And that's the thing I like about Javid, he stands by what he mean. He believes in fairness even when if means he ends up on losing side of being fair. He could have left and abandon everyone and everything and saved his own skin but that wouldn't have been fair to all those who died now would it?
He's not winning any popularity awards tho, he's still a hard ass stick in the mud at the end of the day. And his fairness can border on cruelty but that's part of what make him interesting
Best Girl of the Year
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Ain
Tragically there no deep reason for choosing her, she's simply a kind person. She has a bit of a temper and apparently a bit of a prankster in her but she's part of her community and is making it a better place for herself and those around her.
From helping those down on their luck, sharing her knowledge and passing down what she knows, being a cat lover or simply being a quirky event in another's life. She's very much a part of her community
It's something the majority of us can do and even strive to make a part of our own lives
She's very inspirational and for that she's 2023s best girl
Husbando of 2023
N/A
yee same as last year, no one has resonated with me like yet. But I'm always open to being surprised
Waifu of 2023
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Aquafresh
my dearly beloved who is named after a toothpaste brand for some reason I will never understand
She's so mysterious ... by which I mean I do not understand this npc
Best Billboard Event of 2023
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Sea and Song
I mean it made me feel
Norah is an excellent main character with a relatable story of an artist who lost her art mojo
The npcs were very likeable and just make you want to help them and save the day
and while my like of Anna has greatly soured since her released Norah sure make her seem like a cool person and while their ending is sad, I'm glad they got to see each other again
Pretty satisfying end to the Cube Miracle arc
Best Track of 2023
youtube
Without You - Northside Nate
it's song that fills in a spot in the musical taste buds that rarely gets satisfied
Best Boss of the Year
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Barros
an interesting esper, on one hand he's doing his best with what he can get his hands on the help his lil' nephew. But on the other hand "doing his best with what he can" is him gambling the rest city's citizens to accomplish this and seeing how he's the mayor...it's probably for the best to stop him
Also he's a pretty cool 2 part boss fight
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I'm surprised they haven't put him in towers or cube miracle or something
But ya that's my best of 2023 awards for dislyte for anyone who was curious
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soupbabe · 1 year
Note
Hiii, before I say anything else I love the new theme. I saw you were looking for requests so obviously I had to send one in. How about a reader (he/him) that brings them gifts all the time (a cool rock, a flower he picked while on a walk, candy he thought they would like, ect) with Louis Ives, Bo Sinclair, and anyone else you feel compelled to write
Male! Reader Bringing Various Characters Crow Gifts
Featuring: Louis Ives, Bo Sinclair, and Edward Nashton
Thank you!! I couldn't help myself and added Riddler, I missed writing for him! 😅
Tagging: @slaasherslut , @the-pinstriped-hood , @bugginbeetlew
Bo Sinclair
- I think Bo just didn't get it for the longest time
- He'll give his thanks and put them in his pocket, but that never stopped him from watching you from afar and going "what the hell is that boy doing"
- See's it as junk at first, but he starts coming around to it eventually
- Sure it's a rock but you beam everytime you give it to him
- Who's he to kill his man's happiness?
- Still thinks it's kind of weird, but he just accepts it
- Keeps all of his little treasures in a drawer
- He likes it when you bring him old, rusted tools and hardware. His whole demeanor brightens
- You give it to him and ask what it is, and now you're stuck sitting on the gas station counter to him explain to you the difference between a ratchet and a wrench
Edward Nashton
- Oh he's head over heels for the little gifts you give him!
- Takes everything in him not to squeal over it in all honesty
- Oh yeah. It's all going to the shrine made for you
- Oh no creepy incel guy is doing creepy incel things who would've thought/lh
- Expect Edward to return the same energy, but it's less "oh I found this thing that just reminds me of you" and more "oh I've tracked down every single one of your interests and sought out this specific item that I'm playing off as a coincidence"
- He's so red and the face and shy, it's easy to play off his uncomfortable demeanor as him being nervous
- One time you found a newspaper with an empty crossword and gave it to him and you swear you've never seen Edward smile that hard
- You two ended up solving it together, with Eddie feining ignorance so you could help him with the clues
- He'd play dumb for as long as he can, all of it meant spending extra time with you <33
Louis Ives
- She's a little confused, but she gets the memo quicker
- She flushes every time you bring her something, she's never met someone, let alone a man, who's so dedicated to giving her gifts
- SHE HAS A LIL BOOK FOR ALL OF THE FLOWERS YOU GIVE HER !!
- Louis presses them herself, writes the date of when you gave them to her, and what kind of flowers they are!!
- If you can't tell she's very sentimental
- Omg she'd gladly give you little gifts back !!
- They'd be books about different types of rocks, your favorite animal, or all the other interests you have!!
- If you give her candy that she likes she's going to be so bashful
- Fr how did she meet a man so thoughtful?? She's immediately going to deflect any attention on her by asking if you'd want some too, it's only right if she does
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sassafras--manson · 2 months
Text
Tagged by my friend @weirdness-is-good to do 15 questions and tag 15 friends 👽
1. Are you named after anyone?
my first name’s from a non recurring character in a soap opera my mom had watched since she was like 14. she swore that’s what she’d name her first girl and kept it a secret so no one could steal it for That Long (and i have 2 older brothers and i’m rly glad they weren’t girls cuz idk who i’d be without this name) // my middle name is after a close family friend that i rly don’t know much about, other than seeing a photo of her holding me as a baby. she passed when i was super young so i never met her when i was any older. i should ask my dad about her.
2. When was the last time you cried?
i’ve started coming off my ssri so i been at least tearing up if not full on wailing every day of january so far hahaha effexor withdrawals are no fuckin joke
3. Do you have kids?
i could see myself fostering kids some day. otherwise being the cool aunt is perfect for me (and i just got a brand spankin new niece on the 12th!)
4. What sports do you play/have you played?
i did gymnastics/dance, basketball, track, and cheerleading growin up. i wanna get back into gymnastics/dance classes tho (i wanna do pole dance so bad) cuz my muscle memory and flexibility without practicing or stretching is still crazy
5. Do you use sarcasm?
fosh
6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?
their style and like their attitude
7. Eye color?
green
8. Scary movies or happy endings?
i love scary movies and movies that get me all soul searchy and weird, but sometimes you need something happy that’s not that deep. i just love movies. i should keep a letterboxd. i got one and just never use it cuz i haate ranking/scoring things. but i watch so many movies
9. Any talents?
turning cigarettes into smoked cigarettes 😤
but fr i’m a pretty decent singer. some friends’ band broke up recently so a couple of them and i are talkin bout startin a band where i get be somewhere between a punk and the 80s hair metal star of my dreamsss
10. Where were you born?
in a small hospital in a snowstorm
11. Hobbies?
goin to shows a lot. stick n poke tattooing. i wanna do every art n craft imaginable. but mostly i take film photos (i wanna take more AT shows but i get self consciouss), make jewelry, paint, upcycle clothes. watchin movies (usually while i’m doin art). one of these days i hope i’ll start writin poetry again like i used to but it feels awful far away as a concept
12. Any pets?
2 black cats, my fluffy lil spunky lady Elvira and my slinky v sweet and polite boy Houdini
13. Height?
5’9”
14. Favorite school subject?
i’m not in school, but it was always art, even tho i barely got to take any art classes
15. Dream job?
i’d love to be a tattoo artist and stick n poke for a living, traveling to different shops or just traveling n poking independently (help me gain traction plzz n follow me @ stab_worthy on insta 🥺) and honestly i think i could make it happen. pointillism just *made sense* to me when we did a project in my one high school art class and in the same way stick n poke *made sense* as soon as i started doin it. it’s one of the few things i don’t feel weird about saying “i’m good at this”. i’m self taught and always learning, but yeah, i’m good at this :3
tag 15 ppl
idk if i even know 15 ppl on here now that i’m rebuilding, post blog deletion 😭 so even if we’re kinda new or distant mutuals ur still makin the list (plus then i won’t be as new or distant) 🤡
@sea-wolfe @tangledupinblue8 @inertiatic @carbonfootprince @wastedefforts @ectrica @msf-diamond-dog @diegc @wonderfulcaricatureof-intimacy @oneafter909blues @corpest @lily-of-elysium @venusmolting @vulpeasera @delusionsofamor
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nightthinker-08 · 6 months
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lil DOS2 rant?
Le sighhhhhh Finally finished DOS2 again, and I do adore this game a lot and has easily become my favorite. I love the combat of the game and the implementation of magical and physical armor really makes you think on your builds and strategies. And I know some might disagree cuz not a lot like turn based combat apparently? The story is so rich from start to finish, absolutely no parts of it bored me. The dialogues are fun and witty, catching me off gaurd and making me laugh way more than I thought it would. And the characters are so well written, you fall in love with almost all of them, especially the origin characters and the people you sail with in Lady Vengeance. But for all that praise, whenever I think of the romance in the game I can't help but feel its more than a little lacking. I love the characters to death I, wouldn't've have played the game twice already and have over 200+ hours on it if I didn't- but interactions with them are so few and far between. You don't even have one quiet moment with them. Well... I mean you do get one moment alone with them, but to call it a quiet one would be so... hilariously untrue for a number of reasons Anyway me being me took the little romance I can get in stride on my first play through, thinking "oh if I progress their quest they give me important dialogue!" So I focused a lot on the one person I wanted to romance (it was Sebille) and absolutely eating up any romantic dialogue that pops up (most of them catching me off gaurd cuz again we didn't talk much through out our journey and suddenly she's cozying up on me-). Only to have missed a lot in my first playthrough (not really a big complaint cuz I like you can do a lot of different things to get to the same point), and accidentally not progress one of my companions stories and have a small betrayal at the end. But then by the end of it all, while the ending I got was mostly happy, the ending I had with my chosen partner was absolutely bittersweet. While yes- I did make a lot of mistakes in my first game cuz I had no idea what the hell I was doing :D So it could absolutely be chalked up to me just missing a lot of key things to ensure a better ending with us. Hence why I played it twice in a row, and believe me I missed A LOT especially in forth joy, the first chapter. I tried my best to be as thorough as I can. Exploring every inch of them map, talking to almost every NPC I come in contact with, finishing every quest in my log book, talking more instead of fighting to get more dialogue. And while I can safely say I was absolutely more thorough this time round, I'm pretty sure I still missed a few things. Its a long ass game- there are a lot you need to keep track of, and I can be very forgetful. But I think I completed well enough to know this is the general scope of what an average player—or maybe not even averege, but a slightly more avid player—would get. So what did I get after all that? Well... Roughly the same ending with only minor differences... Was the entire game more different the 2nd time round cuz I knew what I was doing and found a lot of new and cool things through out that gave it more charm? 100%! Without a doubt! Did the companion I got together with get a happier ending? Also yes. But am I still a bit disappointed at romance and how that side plot ended? Sadly yes. Spoilers below for people who haven't played or haven't gotten to the end game.
So somewhere in the late game there's a choice to have Sebille rooted into the mother tree, I dont want to have to overly explain it but it basically bounding her to elven duties for the rest of her days and also she turns in a a tree once she dies :'Dc. Now I was an idiot and actually rooted her even when I had 2nd thought on it cuz I thought that was just her duty. And bit me in the ass at the end and was mostly what made the ending so bittersweet for me. She wasnt free yet we still loved each other so we had to part ways. Of course she said she'd always love me and never forget me before sharing a sweet kiss but it was still sad... Me being the simp I am I made a completely new game just to ensure she gets a happy ending (preferably together with my character) and she did and it was nice but... It made the whole end game conversation with her a lot shorter, it wasn't explicitly stated we'd stay together but in the epilogue nothing about our romance was mentioned. She was just happy traveling and living her best life and don't get me wrong- like Go girl! Live your best life! No need to get tied down! But I just wish the bond you form not just with your romance partner but with all your companions didn't feel like such a forgettable chapter of their life. There could have at least been a mention where at least one, or preferably all, of your party members would gather to together to meet up every now and again in the new world. Maybe its just makes me sad cuz I thought of my party as being a found family towards each other, so to see them be so ready to leave each other, split off and never talk to each other ever again really pained me. The origin characters are one, if not, my top reason I want to keep coming back to this game and replaying it but every time I just keep thinking of how it all ended, my heart sinks.
Minor complaints up ahead.
Poly? Where poly? No poly?? Give me the ability to romance both Sebille and Lohse you cowards!! so like at the end of my 2nd play through I made a save where one onf them I chose to be the new devine, made ifan sad and was generally a more sad ending- but also made me spilt with Sebille again cuz she was like "can a god mingle with us mortals?" and Im like oh shit so this is the wrong choice. So I reload my save and spread the source to everyone. and this time round it was happy again but she was still like " what happens with us is up to you" Like girl what you mean? We're on even playing field neither of us have responsibilities we're both free, what am I missing here? BUT ALSO SHE DOSENT KISS ME IN THIS ENDING?????? maybe I messed up the dialogue?? She says she wants me and love me but doesnt lean down for a kiss like my save before that or in my first game play either so I was left so confused-
another Sebille centered minor problem, after you kill her master her story kinda just ends there- Like there's nothing for her in Arx at all. And before you say it yes, we meet with Saheila when we get there, she's talking about elves wanting to rise up to start that war. And she just dismisses it and chalks it up to Saheila being insane(which you know true) but that's it? you don't want to figure out why your kin who's been through almost the same things we've been through suddenly underwent an over night change?? you aren't going to talk to the hostile elven people in arx?? People's opinion of you after killing the mother tree/ being prime scion doesn't get touched on here??? It just another one of my little disappointments in her story. She was very prominent at the start but nothing in Arx, which despite being the last chapter is still a long one. So to just have her there with nothing important to progress with her or our romance it just left me a lil bumed :/
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angxliquel · 1 year
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TOH AU!!
Quints a human who magically ends up in the Boiling Isles (to be determined exactly how he gets there) and wants to learn magic because. of course he does. He's overall fascinated by the coven system but also just how magic in general works. He falls into the care of (you'll never believe it) Yursl!! I don't know if she'd be something different than the owl lady, but the owl lady would be cool because imagine Johnny Steve as Hooty or something 😭
I don't know if there'd be a "King" in this au since it's technically just if the tlkoe kids were inside the TOH universe, and it's not necessarily a "Quint is Luz" or "___ is King" AU. Quint IS kind of like Luz but their motives for learning magic are slightly different, and besides Yursl being a bit of an insert of Eda, that's kinda where it ends. (watch me contradict this in like two seconds) Mainly what I'm trying to say is that this storyline doesn't follow either the toh or tlkoe cannon ones to a tee, but still has elements of both
Jack is in the Illusion Track, but I feel like later on he would start to dabble in Abomination (since it's the closest thing to his zombie powers). He's still an orphan lmao, and lives at the Boiling Isles Orphanage. He transfers to Hexide from another school about a year previous to Quint's arrival. He comes across a poorly disguised Quint who was on a supply run for Yursl, and is absolutely AMAZED by him. The boys get along immediately and begin to hang out. Jack then tries to convince Quint to enroll in Hexide, which Quint finally does later in the future. Jacks Palisman would def be Rover, who, when not in palisman form, can (maybe,idk) switch between the normal palisman size and normal Rover Size.
For June, I'd say she'd be In Abomination or Beast Keeping. I say Abomination because 1: it's cool, and 2: Blasty could be like the spiky abomination glove Amity does in Eclipse Lake when fighting against Hunter. June wouldn't keep it on as near often as she does with Blasty in the books, but she would bring it out for fights. And if she WAS in Abomination, she'd be able to help out Jack when he starts to get into it (again, doesn't follow the tlkoe canon). She's still head of the Newspaper Club, and her Palisman would be Neon
Dirk is easily the Plant Track. He COULD be Construction, but idk I just see Plant more. Imagine him doing the Plant/Whip thing Willow does in the beginning of "Any Sport in a Storm." Almost like how he was into lassoing and cowboy stuff in Book Three (I wanna say three) His palisman is Drooler!!
So basically, how everyone would meet:
Quint arrives at Hexide under the disguise of a regular witch with Jack's help. (Quint pretends to be a witch during the entrance exam, in which he barely scrapes by. Obviously this only makes him more determined) Jack brings Quint to the newspaper room (since jack is still in the newspaper) and introduces him to the club. Quint catches Junes attention cause Quint sucks at lying and she can tell somethings up. She doesn't pry into it then and there, but still keeps it in her mind. At Lunch, June talks to Dirk. Dirk and June are friends; they have sort of a sibling dynamic and confine in each other. Dirks not really a bully per say, but he still gets into trouble and June's always there to get him out of it. (As she'll do with the rest of the group, until later when she unmasks a bit and gets a lil silly too) June proposes her theory to Dirk, and of course, she's right. At first, Dirk's like "You're ridiculous", but then he REALLY starts to look at Quint and thinks it may be possible. They both decide to look into it and go full sleuth mode- or rather June does and Dirk enables it- and find out that Quint is, in fact, a human. Chaos ensues.
"You're HUMAN??"
"Uh- yes."
"I knew it!! Dirk, see, I told you-"
"June. Not the time. "
"Right, sorry."
More Chaos- June and Dirk both swear not to tattle, but uh oh! Someone else overhears the conversation and gives the principle (tbd) the headsup. All four of them are called to the office and interrogated, before Quint's disguise falls apart and they make a run for it. Like in "I was a teenage abomination", the school goes on lock down and the gang has to use their magic to get them through the school and out the exit. After all is said and done, they don't really go like "we should be friends!" but rather they start hanging out with one another more, and soon they're thick as thieves and getting themselves into all sorts of shenanigans.
(Quint is still allowed to stay at Hexide, but he tries to stall getting assigned into a coven for as long as he can. This half-works because since there's no inspector like there was in "The First Day", there's not really a need for him to pick a track immediately.)
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bas-writes · 7 months
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Kinda feeling down and blue but comforter by the idea with the fact that 90%of the one piece character would be so sweet and comforting when they learned your friends forgot your birthday. (This happened to me a few times)
Luffy and the stawhats!? Luffy wouldnt understand how your friends can forget such a special day! It doesnt take much for the other stawhats to join into help plan a party for you.!!
Law and the heart pirates? You know Penguin the other will hop in and plan a surprise party for you. Law acts all cool about it but he pulls you aside and just gives you the thing you've been going on and on about.
And because I'm a sucker for platonic relationships. Whitebeard crew totally spoils you for your birthday and you have Ace who's instincts kick in to just comfort you/distract you while the other plan a massive surprise party.
Sorry not a request just cant sleep and feel a lil inspired by some angst and comfort
Aww, I'm sorry to hear you didn't get to spend some birthdays the way you wanted 🥺 I don't know your friends nor the situation, of course, but I myself am a person who is bad at remembering dates (this includes my own birthday LMAO) or rather: keeping track of passing time. Forgetting about something is not always a sign of malice - and I truly hope it was the case here ❤
This being said, I loved those little headcanons! I'm sure they all would throw you a party you want 🤭
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talesofourworlds · 7 months
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POSITIVES & NEGATIVES.
fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OCs still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.
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MUSE.
MY MUSE IS: canon / oc / au / slightly canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated. (headcanon heavy)
IS YOUR CHARACTER POPULAR IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO / IDK  / KINDA.
IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED HOT™ IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO / IDK / KINDA.
IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED STRONG IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO / IDK / KINDA.
ARE THEY UNDERRATED? YES / NO / IDK / KINDA.
WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN STORY? YES  / NO. 
WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.
ARE THEY WIDELY KNOWN IN THEIR WORLD? YES / NO.
HOW’S THEIR REPUTATION? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (kinda?? people think he's annoying)
HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? 
I try to stick to canon as much as I can, but my Ivar is also pretty headcanon driven at times because canon doesn't give us a ton to work with. He's just such an interesting character to me. Just as interesting as Jude, but even more so since they're like two sides of the same coin. I try to take his views on Jude into account but also try to focus on a bit more than that. Like... boy has a one track mind, but there's more to him than just being hyper focused on Milla or Jude. You know?
SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.
My lovely mutuals, I present to you one good boy chosen to be the handmaid of Milla Maxwell!
He's devoted, he's loyal, and he's willing to drop everything in the name of doing his duties. He is a beastcrafter, meaning he can communicate with animals! He dual wields daggers! He's funny!
He's also good with kids and animals. Could be a good babysitter (maybe). Also, he has cool sunglasses! What's not to like?
Also he's (maybe??) near unkillable to some degree? Boy lodged a piece of his own dagger into his head and survived.
Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).
Okay so let's get this out of the way. Ivar is a dingus supreme. That willingness to drop everything to fulfill his duties? The downside to that is that if he thinks his duty to protect Milla is more important than say, protecting Nia Khera, he will drop the latter in favor of the former. Much to the annoyance of anyone involved.
Ivar can be pretty intense when it comes to how he decides who he doesn't like. Sorry, Jude, but you're the best example here. Boyo was going to try and kill Jude because how dare Milla have someone else that she puts a lot of trust in instead of him. Boyo got so focused on fighting Jude that he allowed Milla to start crawling away to get to her destination on her own.
So, yeah, he's got a short temper. That can lead to him doing dumb things, especially if he thinks it will lead to him one upping someone he doesn't like.
Also, don't let him anywhere near guns. The fact he accidentally fired one while trying to teach Ludger how to use one should be all you need to know.
WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?
I've always really liked Ivar as a character. As stated above, I love the fact that he and Jude basically are two sides of the same coin. The fandom thinks he's annoying and while I can at least see where they're coming from, I think there's a lot more to him than what the fandom sees. He's fascinating to me. I feel like he could have made an interesting addition to the party.
Mostly, though? I just wanted to give him some love. So I grabbed him as one of my many muses. Because he's my silly little guy.
WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?
Just thinking about this dingus is enough sometimes. But also like?? Plotting and chatting with my friends is also a big help. Just having other Tales writers to bounce off of, especially other Xillia muse enjoyers, is just the ticket.
MUN.
DO YOU THINK YOU GIVE YOUR CHARACTER JUSTICE? YES / NO / KINDA.
DO YOU FREQUENTLY WRITE HEADCANONS? YES / NO / KINDA. (I really should write more headcanons!)
DO YOU SOMETIMES WRITE DRABBLES? YES / NO. (not for Ivar specifically, but that might change!)
DO YOU THINK A LOT ABOUT YOUR MUSE DURING THE DAY? YES / NO / KINDA.
ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR PORTRAYAL? YES / NO / KINDA.
ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR WRITING? YES / NO / KINDA.
ARE YOU A SENSITIVE PERSON? YES / NO / KINDA.
DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL? 
YES ABSOLUTELY. As long as it's not just 'Lol, your Ivar sucks' and doing nothing to elaborate on how I could improve, then by all means throw your critique at me!
DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU TO EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER? 
YES, YES, YES!!
IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? 
I mean, it depends on the headcanon. Like I headcanon Ivar is very distantly related to the Kresnik Clan based on tiny things I picked up on in my most recent playthrough of Xillia 2. Mostly just in relation to the Maxwell stuff. But I could see people seeing that headcanon and going 'Um?? No, that's dumb' and I would be fine with that. Different interpretations, it's all good.
Now if it was my headcanon that Ivar's got a forehead scar from the aforementioned dagger piece getting lodged in his head that people disagreed with, that would be something I'd like to hear about.
IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT? 
I mean, honestly? There's always going to be people that don't like how people write canon characters. If someone disagrees with how I write Ivar? That's all good. So I wouldn't be too bothered.
It only would become an issue if someone disagreed with my portrayal and then like... proceeded to be nasty about it. You know?
IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?
So far I've not come across anyone who actively hates Ivar, which is good. But I know the fandom is pretty quick to call him annoying which, honestly, I could see as people just jumping to hating him because of how he's presented. Especially in Xillia 1. So if you hate Ivar? That's cool, man. Just let me enjoy my funny little dingus.
ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS? 
YES. YES, PLEASE. That and spelling errors. I like to think I'm pretty thorough with checking my replies, but sometimes I'm not. Please feel free to point out errors. I'm not perfect.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?
I think so? For all I know, though, I could be wrong.
tagged by: Stolen from @mathcs tagging: Whoever wants to!
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brutal-nemesis · 2 years
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Time Day 2022: Castys Gets Grounded
This ain’t your average Castys torture 🤠 It’s set in a collab between me and @galaxywhump where Castys is stuck on SV-240 in the care of Motherfucking Daniel Rooney along with Wren (if you aren’t familiar with her series this is your sign to go read it pls thx (or at least read the synopsis so this makes a lil more sense ehe)) So uh yeah Daniel and Wren and the whole universe belong to Marti Castys just got reverse-isekai’d into it alrighty baby-
Castys Masterlist - SV-240 Masterlist
Ingredients: buried alive, immortal whumpee, suffocation, some head trauma and cracked ribs, starvation mention, muzzle, there is some dirt in the ol’ eyeballs, claustrophobia vibes (like Castys does not have claustrophobia but he is def in that kinda situation ya dig (omg im so funny)), worm on boy shenanigans but with extra spice
Castys wished he could at least find a comfortable position, but that was pretty hard with his wrists tied tightly behind his back, and the muzzle strapped to his face wasn’t helping matters either. Because god forbid he talk to himself while he was trapped in a fucking closet. And the worst part was, this wasn’t even the big boy punishment! Daniel, Danibus, Danimal, the dumb stupid Dan Man, had literally just tossed him in here with the verbose command to “wait” and left him to stew like a pot of soup. Castys wasn’t really stewing, though he was kind of hungry, now that he thought about it, because “unkillable vermin” don’t need to eat much, apparently. He was learning so many cool new things about his biology while he was stuck in this other world!
When the door opened, he was relieved for a second, because his boredom was over, but then he saw Daniel and remembered everything about Daniel and what Daniel thought was fun, and he wished he could ask him to just shut that door again, oh please mister sir Daniel sir I’ll be the goodest best boy for you if you’d just shut that so I don’t have to see your face for another half hour. Alas, he could not speak, so all he could do was stumble along as Daniel yanked him to his feet by the ring of his collar and pulled him out into the backyard. Wren was there, refusing to look him in the eye, covered in dirt and…and holding a shovel. There was a large pile of dirt next to him, too, and that meant…oh.
Castys stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, because Daniel would, he fucking would, this wasn’t an empty threat, he was going in that hole, going to have dirt thrown on top of him and be left alone in the dark for far too long. Stonefaced, Daniel just pulled harder, throwing Castys down into the unnecessarily deep hole. He landed hard on his side, the muzzle stifling his cry of pain. He quickly squirmed onto his back and tried to sit up, but Daniel hit him on the head with a shovel, causing pain to erupt in his forehead as he fell back onto the dirt, the clang of the metal colliding with his skull ringing in his ears. Before he’d collected himself enough to try again, a huge fucking rock landed on his chest, definitely cracking a few of his ribs. He glared up at Daniel, cursing into the muzzle as he struggled to breathe, but his captor simply began shoveling, dumping dirt right onto Castys’s face.
His eyes filled with the sting of dirt, Castys risked a glance at Wren, who quickly looked away and began shoveling, though he was much less aggressive than Daniel and also not actively trying to dump it on his face, which was greatly appreciated. Of course, he’d appreciate not being buried more, but sometimes you had to take what you could get. Which, in this place, wasn’t a lot. 
He quickly learned it was for the best just to keep his stupid eyes shut, finding it impossible to blink out the dirt that was already in them, resigning himself to a whole lot of uncomfortable stingy eyeball time. Pretty much all of this was uncomfortable, anyway, so he could switch up the focus to keep it fresh. Let’s see, there was the throbbing in his shoulder from landing on it, the itch of the ropes around his wrists, the sharp pain of his cracked ribs, the raging agony in his head from being hit with a shovel, the burn of his lungs as he lost access to fresh air, the ache in his jaw from having to wear a muzzle for so long, but, hey, at least it was keeping dirt out of his mouth and nose, so there was that. 
The weight pressing down on him had been growing heavier and heavier, the sound of shoveling getting quieter and quieter, and it suddenly awoke some kind of desperation in him, they were getting farther away from him, leaving him behind in the cold darkness, and he couldn’t try to keep still anymore, squirming as much as he could in the tight cocoon of earth, eyelids twitching, fingers curling, packing dirt under his fingernails, splintered chest heaving under the weight of the rock and the earth above him, his breaths coming out as whines, pleas, screams, don’t leave me down here, you can’t, please, please, but soon enough he ran out of air, left gasping weakly, only the sound of shovels scraping above him, getting fainter, fainter, fainter, and until there was nothing, nothing but the sound of his own pathetic wheezing, and that was dwindling too, sinking further into blackness, until finally…silence. 
No, no, there wasn’t silence. There was anything but silence when he woke up again. His own breathing aside, there was some sort of cracking noise, a faint rustling, scratching, popping, some other sound he didn’t quite know how to describe. He shuddered as much as he was able, the dirt pressing in on him from all sides making it nearly impossible to move at all. S-so…this was it, huh? This was his new reality for the time being. Still, he wouldn’t let it break him. That bastard Daniel seemed to want nothing more than to control every hair on Castys’s head, quite literally since he’d cut Castys’s hair short with that freaky buzzing tool of his, and controlling him completely was the last thing Castys would ever let anyone do. 
Well, okay, he played along sometimes, but not because he actually wanted to follow people’s orders or whatever, he either did it in pursuit of greater comedy or because he was just biding his time. Inside, he was always the same, perfectly himself, and that was something he’d never let anyone take away from him. Which, maybe now was a good time to reflect on what heinous in-character actions had gotten Danny so mad at him in the first place. Like, he was usually annoyed with Castys for just existing (which begs the question: why the hell was he so set on owning Castys, then?), but this time, well…
Really, it was simply because Castys had dared to wear a cat ear headband on Daniel and Wren’s precious date night. But, what, was he really going to wear that stupid fancy waiter outfit with its stupid suspenders and stupid too-tight bow tie and not do anything to make it more bearable? He supposed he also messed up the names of the dishes, but how the hell was he supposed to know anything about Mediaterrian cuisine? He’d never even heard of that country, let alone what everyone ate over there. So if that part wasn’t his fault, then he really was just being punished for wearing cat ears and “ruining the romantic atmosphere”. Since when were cat people not allowed to be romantic and serious, huh? Wren had seemed to have a great time, smiling and laughing more than usual, so clearly Daniel’s racist-ness against cat people was the issue, not Castys. Though it did make him wonder, why did Dannimus own cat ears in the first place…?
Was that the kind of reflecting he was supposed to do? Probably not, but it passed the time, and oh my god he had so much time. Really, he was surprised he’d been able to keep that chain of thought for so long since he’d suffocated and died like three times during it. Or maybe four, he wasn’t really counting, because why bother. Okay maybe it would help him keep track of how long he’d been down here, just so he’d know. But…that really wouldn’t do him any good, would it? It wouldn’t get him out faster, wouldn’t make the pain in his eyes and lungs and wrists go away, wouldn’t save him from the blackness and the noises and the crushing weight of the earth above him.
He shuddered, trying to take another useless breath. The air had gone stale long ago, leaving him with the barest moments of full clarity before a pounding headache set in, before his breaths grew rapid, hot air pushing out the edges of the muzzle, far too warm when everything else was far too cold, his fingers and toes tingling, numb, and he could hardly shiver, too tightly wrapped in the cool earth, time cycling through the same monotonous moments of agony, dragging him unwillingly along with it, losing his grip, falling, falling, and yet staying so completely still.
There was a light pattering above, too faint to be footsteps, and it wasn’t until Castys felt an ever deeper coldness seeping into him that he realized it was rain. How long had it been since he’d been buried? He didn’t remember there being a single cloud in the sky when he’d been thrown into this hole, so…he didn’t know. He didn’t know how long it had been, how long he’d been stuck down here, in the cold and the dark and the unending pain, and he didn’t know how much longer he still had to go, how much more of this he could take. Some of the water on his face was warm, now, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, there wasn’t anything he could do at all, and that wasn’t fair, none of it was, but all he could do was wait.
He wasn’t sure how long the rain went on for, just that he was thoroughly soaked by the time the pattering stopped, but even then the water around him dried up so slowly that for a while he wasn’t even sure it was going to dry up at all. That, at least, was some indication that time was passing at all, that he wasn’t just dying and waking in the same moment over and over again. Not that there was any kind of magic here, no way for Daniel to actually put him in a time loop, not that he was sure it was even possible back home. Here it was all just strange machines powered by electricity, which was a type of magic, anyway, so that sort of made sense to him.
Castys was jerked out of the changeless void he’d settled in by something new, something small, something hot, contrasting the bone-deep chill that’d been surrounding him for what felt like ages, and from the way it was moving, it felt…alive. He squirmed as much as he was able to, trying to get it off, but it just kept going, creeping along up the skin of his arm, leaving blistering heat in its wake. A whine sounded in his throat as it crawled under the sleeve of his shirt, and as his consciousness faded once again, all he could do was hope it would be gone when he woke up.
It was not gone, sitting somewhere on his chest now, unmoving, its heat burning his skin more and more with every passing moment, hot enough that he was certain it was going to blister. Not that it mattered, really, since he would probably die dozens more times at the very least before they dug him up. 
If they dug him up.
No, no they had to, they would, Daniel wouldn’t just leave him down here forever, he liked tormenting him too much, right? A-and even then, Berkeley and Wren wouldn’t let him do that, they couldn’t, he was going to get out, he was going to see both of them again, he was, he had to. 
The little spot of flame on his chest was crawling around again, and as much as it hurt, he was almost grateful for it now, a factor of unpredictable change among the constancy of the suffocating darkness and his familiar deaths. The way it moved, how it hurt wherever it went, that was time, proof of every minute that passed by, that things really were moving along, as tortuously as they went. Still, he couldn’t help but be unsettled by it, by some weird unknown burning thing crawling around on him. Not that other things hadn’t been crawling around on him this whole time, because that seemed very likely, but because this one was impossible to ignore or write off as dirt shifting around him or tingling numbness.
    When it left him, though, quietly throbbing burns the only evidence that it had happened at all, he wished it would come back. Soon enough he died and the burns were gone and he was still there, still stuck, with no way to tell if that had even happened at all. He was so used to the pain and the cold now that he didn’t even notice them anymore, so nothing was changing, he was just lost in the dark again with no way to tell if he was getting any closer to getting out of this hell. 
    After…he didn’t know how long, that wasn’t something he could know anymore, just that it happened after the burning thing, if that had happened at all, there were noises, louder than the usual ones he had grown used to, above him, scraping, and it took him a moment to register what they were, what they meant, but once he realized it, he felt the first spark of happiness he’d felt in…hours? Days? Weeks? No, it didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that it was over, he was getting out he didn’t even care what was waiting for him out there because he was-
    The tip of the shovel plunged into his stomach, just as he got enough air to scream.
Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​
#i wrote something#time day#time day 2022#castys#wren rackham#daniel rooney#ew daniel#featuring: hot worm#buried alive#immortal whumpee#suffocation#muzzle#castys in the martiverse crossover#danimal and danibus are canon now i did it#so you may be wondering where in the hell and fuck did this come from because it is not a natural sort of crossover#castys literally gets yeeted through spacetime#it exists because castys and marti's berkeley (who isnt even IN this :( berkeley come home) were literally destined to be buddies#we've had a smattering of berkeley and castys collab aus for a while but recently it evolved into this#and oh man are we having the most fun with it#daniel and castys is just. supreme whump combination. like wow so fun#there are so many ideas for this thing and marti and i might write more for it in the future if y'all enjoy#this one was all me tho marti did help with ideas and ovbs i borrowed her shit but i did all the writing part 🤧#but yeah this is the gutter my brain has been stuck in for a phat minute i cannot think about any other whump#hopefully y'all enjoy!! it's probably kinda out of the blue for most of ya tho lol#this is me hitting you on the head with a frying pan to go read sv 240 if you havent yet that shit so sexy#probs start in the ''with slavers'' section tho that is the best place (and you get to see Berkeley sooner 😩)#berkeley is castys's bff they care each other so much......they make pun.....they con and then dash....#yes daniel literally did this because castys wore cat ears. he sucks#the funny is the cat ears exist in the first place because i came up with the horrible idea of cat ears wren photoshoot and marti agreed#no i did not misspell ''mediterranean'' castys just doesnt know geography he isnt from here 😔
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regardsandregrets · 2 years
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Alright I have been neglecting my spamton followers my pologies guysxx, I will actually share my headcannons and context for the spooky one so that’s down below for a bit of a read if interested
Been wanting to finish/make visual examples for some, but er, drawings tough and I’m a neat freak
They will probably popup at some point whoops haha! And sorry for any flaws ya can see I’m no writer!
While he is most often referred spooky spamton since I have two
He’s just the regular one for me, not quite an alternative version, just my take
On my first dr playthrough when the sprite popped up I thought it was super cute! Then his dialogue came on and oooohho I didn’t trust him at all, whoooo asks to see a soul?, didn’t help that I struggled to understand the text.
And look at that I was right not ta trust him, I saw the creepy opportunity right away so I made him more of a desperate villain and a “humble” salesman
Now I release the hoard
-A lot of repressed emotions this guy is under so much stress, who wouldn’t be mad and such to wake up in a dumpster every morning?
-Repressed violent anger, delightfully mischievous and malicious with goofy slip ups and occasional character breaks where he just loses his cool,
-He’s graceful, but not? When under control and not glitchin n flinching out he will smoothly unintentionally break and spill things, may or may not care, who knows. He often pretends or delusionaly think a lot of things aren’t a problem to lessen his already stressful state
-A dick to other darkners or anyone he can’t get anything out of, but is nice and friendly to lightners tho it seems it is a means to a end. A one track mind amplified by maddness, a grin fueled by the hopes and dreams of becoming big again and leaving his actions behind to heaven.
Now context on the physical
-Hes a shrunken Addison with no skin! I’m definitely taking the acid route
-All hollow with no blood or organs! which is normal. Red thin muscle does cling in the inside of the mannequin body and ball joints acting as well, tendons, and physical connections inbetween parts. Like gums in teeth. (Also gums visually appear on addisons only when under stress or when angry, so lol guess who most often has them,) Also the muscle can be stringy. Beyond that it’s all magic void and the heart
-He does have eyes, rectangle and dark saturated blue like all Addisons, he’s got this pop up situation goin on with them like gaster and jevil (My second drawing of him way back on whiteboard kinda hinted that he does have eyes) I’m debating whether to make them just lights like jevil and gaster or the full ball (and then there’s the lids and red lids hmmm)
-In my Addison lore they often keep them closed or hidden to public (popup eyes are a bit unsettling!) So his default is to void them out since he’s got no skin, he can see just fine. Just a neat lil side effect from being gasterised, he looks unsettling either way so might as well go with it
Besides some further notes on the Addison anatomy
Thaaats the basics of the lad
Feel free to drop by a question if so want!
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twordish-k · 1 year
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Alright I've honestly only just figured out the whole college time management thing and this is gonna be year 3 for me so here we go:
- USE A WHITEBOARD
a big one. Write down due dates, important milestones, weekly homeworks (those lil weekly quizzes always slipped under my radar), etc
- PHONE CALENDAR
don't just use it for the actual due date, give yourself weekly reminders of "X many weeks/days until due" to help you keep track of time
- APPS
currently I really like 'School Planner', it's a little blue notebook icon. But honestly any app like that will do
- DOT POINT DAY
Set one day aside each week to just put down a few basic dot points towards your next assignment. I find it keeps the assignments in my head, and makes it easier to actually make a start cause I'm not going into a blank page.
- USE OTHER PEOPLE AS ACCOUNTABILITY
tell people about your assignment. Even if it's complaining about it. The more people who know, the more (at least for me) there's a little bit of pressure to get through it (which is the only way my lil ADHD brain kicks into gear
- STUDY TED TALKS
if I'm not feeling in the mood to study it can be impossible for me to start. Beginning a session with some entertaining or interesting video about studying or the topic of your assignment (e.g. crash course history if you're doing something for a humanities class) works wonders for my brain to be like YES LETS LEARN MORE AND WRITE THINGS DOWN
- NOVELTY ITEMS
I get such a kick out of new stationery or new notebooks so UTILISE THAT BURST OF WANTING THINGS TO BE COOL AND NEW AND NEAT. I know this doesn't 100% work but even buying a new pen or mechanical pencil every once and a while makes it just that little bit easier to work
Sorry this is so long but hope something helps <3
all of these are amazing tips tysm!
one thing i am finding helpful as a planner is using Notion! it’s the only thing keeping me organized rn lol.
i definitely will be using all of these :)
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willowpudge27 · 1 year
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okay hit me with #8, #13, #42, #75, #99, and #100! gimme the söngs
Oh hell yeah let’s go
8 - Sehorn’s Farm by The Meters
To help me build up a daily bass practice routine that I can actually keep my dumb lil brain invested in I’ve just been learning songs, memorizing them, & running them daily to get that process to be a routine! This is one of those songs & it’s got a sweet guitar solo that translates to bass real nice!
13 - Exquisite Corpse from Hedwig & the Angry Inch (the broadway recording)
Back in the summer I played in a local production of Hedwig that was an absolute blast! Because the band was onstage for the show we got to do a cool thing on this song where the guitarist & I came out into the front for the big breakdown at the end & smacked our guitars together with fuzz & distortion running to make it super cacophonous & wacky
42 - Rain is a Good Thing by Luke Bryan
For the last year & a half I’ve been playing in a country band & this is one of the songs we do that we play a lot, usually as one of the first couple of the set to get the crowd’s energy really high. It’s a dang goofy song & it’s got a neat chromatic passing chord in the chorus that’s nice cause you don’t see that a whole lot in pop writing. It’s also my mom’s favorite country song
75 - The Grid by Tigran Hamasyan
Okay so this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn. Right before I graduated I played on a percussionist’s senior recital & he wanted to do like 4 songs by Tigran, who is a jazz/metal fusion pianist who makes some of the most rhythmically wacky music I’ve ever heard.
99 - Nada Surf Hotel by Autonomics
Oh boy do you like pop punk by dudes with depression? Because I have the thing for you! One my favorite tracks off one of my favorite albums hands down, a great mix up upbeat driving music with crushingly apathetic lyrics. If I ever start making uquizzes I’m gonna be pulling from this!!
100 - You May Be Right by Billy Joel
Look…dad rock is great
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financead · 5 months
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Targeting the Right Audience: A Key to Effective Financial Advertising
Have you ever asked yourself, "Who's the audience?" when trying to market a product? is typically the first question you ask yourself. If you're a small financial business owner or in charge of PPC for financial business, the answer to that question can make a world of a difference.
But how do you make sure your financial ads are reaching the right people, and more importantly, enticing them to buy in? Well, let me tell ya—all it takes is a sprinkle of strategy, a handful of creativity, and a healthy dose of perseverance. And a little bit of help from yours truly. Let's dive in, shall we?
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The Art of Defining Your Audience
First things first, who's Jerry to your Tom? The peanut butter to your jelly? Essentially, who is your financial advertisement trying to engage with? Defining your audience involves a wee bit of detective work—researching demographics, studying market trends, understanding consumer behavior. It's like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, but the end picture is the ideal customer for your financial business.
Here's a wee tip for you: don’t fall into the trap of thinking your service is for everyone. Focus on a niche audience who truly benefits from what you offer, rather than casting a net that is too broad.
Crafting the Perfect Message
Once you’ve identified your target audience, it's time to set the stage. Think about what makes your financial business unique. What sets you apart from the competition? These are your unique selling points (USPs) and they should be the heart of your financial advertising strategy.
Speak directly to your audience's needs, fears, and desires. The more specific and tailored the message, the more likely it is to resonate. Financial subjects can be a bit boring for some folks (not me and you, of course!), so use relatable language and tie in real-world examples.
Psst, here’s a cheeky lil secret: People love stories, and they love to feel understood. Bridge these two points, and voila—you’ve got yourself one compelling financial ad!
Strategic Use of 7SearchPPC
Ah, we've reached the part where I spew some wisdom about PPC for financial businesses. So, grab your popcorn, cause we’re delving into the world of Pay-Per-Click advertising making good use of the fantastic platform that is 7SearchPPC.
7SearchPPC offers oodles of targeting options, ensuring your financial ads reach the right audience at the right time in the right place. With this platform, you can target your ads based on the potential customer's location, browser type, and even the time of day. Quite cool, huh?
And you just have to pay when someone clicks on your advertisement. So you’re not just throwing money around like confetti at a wedding—you’re investing in high potential leads. Now, that's what I call smart financial advertising!
Cracking the Code of Advertising Analytics
Lastly but by no means the least, you need to keep track of the performance of your financial ads. And guess what? It's not as dreary as it sounds! Treat it as a thrilling episode of Sherlock Holmes, with you in the lead role, deciphering hidden meanings in data.
Pay close attention to metrics like click-through rates and engagement levels. These can provide insights into what's working and what's going the way of the dodo. Many platforms, such as 7SearchPPC, even offer real-time analytics, making it easier to adapt your strategies on the fly. If that isn’t exciting, I don't know what is!
Can’t make heads or tails of some data? Don’t be afraid to experiment—A/B test different approaches, play around with your target audience, vary your messaging. After all, advertising is part science, part art.
There you have it! A roadmap to effective financial advertising. Now go forth, armed with your newfound knowledge, and may the conversions be ever in your favor!
FAQ
How do you target the right audience?
Targeting the right audience involves several steps. Start by defining your ideal customer based on demographics, interests, and behaviors. Utilize data and analytics to identify potential customers who align with this profile. Tailor your advertising content and channels to appeal specifically to this group, ensuring that your messaging speaks directly to their needs and preferences. Regularly monitor and adjust your targeting strategies based on the performance data to refine your approach continually.
Why is the target audience important in advertising?
The target audience is crucial in advertising because it determines the effectiveness and efficiency of your campaigns. By focusing your efforts on individuals who are more likely to be interested in your products or services, you can maximize the return on your advertising investment. Understanding your target audience allows you to create content that resonates with them, resulting in higher engagement, conversions, and customer loyalty.
What is a target audience in advertising?
A target audience in advertising is a specific group of individuals who are the intended recipients of a particular marketing message or campaign. This group is selected based on various factors, including demographics, psychographics, location, and behavior, to represent the ideal customers for a business. Identifying and understanding the target audience is essential for crafting tailored advertising content and effectively reaching the individuals most likely to become customers.
Conclusion
Financial ads must be both persuasive and reach the people who are most likely to use your services. By honing your approach and focusing on the specific needs and interests of your audience, you can maximize your advertising budget and achieve meaningful results.
The world of finance is complex, and the key to unlocking its potential is to reach the right customers. With the power of precision, you can elevate your financial advertising efforts and steer your business towards success.
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captains-simp · 3 years
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Carol Danvers ~ Put On A Show
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(This isn't what she looks like in this fic but it is the ✨I'm gonna make you see the stars vibe✨)
Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut
Word Count: 3,569
Includes: lil bit of public teasing, thigh grinding, edging, gagging on fingers, praise, strap on, overstimulation and oral
[ masterlist ]
Buy me a coffee ☕
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Being an Avenger taught you to handle a lot of difficult situations.
You knew how to take down a state of the art quinjet in a minute. You could survive on an unknown planet. You had played a significant part in tracking down and rounding up the last Hydra agents.
And yet no one had ever prepared you to be stuck in a room with a hundred arrogant business men who were desperately trying to impress you with what they thought was power.
You were certain you could have better conversations with a caveman.
You weren't a superspy like Natasha. You couldn't fake interest, put on a realistic smile and pretend to enjoy yourself like she could.
You weren't Tony who genuinely enjoyed himself at those kind of parties and thrived at being the center of attention.
And you weren't Carol who didn't need either of those things. If she didn't want to talk to someone, she wouldn't. It only took one of her looks to make any of the leaches hurry away. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions of doing so because there weren't any. Non of the guests would ever be willing to admit they were intimidated by a woman.
Not that you were jealous of what Carol had. Carol wasn't the kind of person you wanted to be, but she sure as hell was the kind of person you wanted to be with. And that woman was one of a kind.
The distraction of the Captain was definetly not helping you keep your cool. She wore a tight fitting dark blue suit that you had been struggling to stop yourself staring at ever since you had first seen it. Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and had become messy from the amount of times she had run her slim hand through it. That alone had your mind reeling of what other ways you could get it to look like that.
You had been lucky so far, everytime you stole a glance at the Captain and her attire she happened to be in convosation with someone else. Although that meant you two hadn't exchanged a single word that night.
Thankfully, you had soon learnt that half of the guests never actually noticed if you zoned out, perfectly content to continue rambling about themselves. While others could zone out themselves as they talked...while they stared at your chest and feuling your urge to smack them.
You were in a dress that you hadn't bought and were far from comfortable in around these people. A thin glass of champagne was clutched firmly in your hand and you predicted it would shatter by the end of the night. You had lost count of how many you had downed with your back turned, stopping once you felt lightheaded.
You had regretted it at first, but you became internally grateful you had saved your heightened senses when you felt a familiar hand rest on your lower back.
Training almost everyday with the blonde Captain had familiarised you with her firm grip and reassuring touch. It was the only kind of contact you had gotten from her until that moment and you treasured it greatly, praying Carol hadn't noticed your slight faulted at the knees.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal this one." Carol stated in a very unafraid tone as her hand pressed into you more. You wanted to melt into her touch.
The man you had been not-really-listening to (because you could not for the life of you remember anyone's name) opened his mouth to speak and probably try to get Carol to stay, was ignored by the blonde who was already guiding you away with her hand.
Of course you didn't protest, throwing a party over it in your head while the butterflies in your stomach danced along to the music. You didn't even realise Carol was leading you to the bar, too focused on the fact her hand never left your back as she walked beside you without a word.
You did however, realise when you almost walked into the bar stall before gracefully (that's what you told yourself) sliding onto the stool. Carol sat down next to you and said something to the bartender you didn't hear or really care about.
When she did look back at you her gaze was piecing along with her usual confident aura. Anyone who pulled off a suit the way Carol did had every right to some arrogance, especially as it somehow made her even more attractive.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Carol said with a knowing smile.
"I don't think you'll be seeing me in one ever again." You respond as you glance anywhere but Carol, unable to hold her intense gaze.
"I'll have to treasure the memory even more then. You look beautiful." Carol compliments and watches you blush.
"You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Captain."
You don't fail to notice the way her jaw tightens slightly at the title, but she's quick to pass it off when the bartender places two bottles down on the counter.
You realise you're still holding your champagne so you put it on the side to swap it with small bottle of beer, already taking a sip to have something to do instead of figiting under Carol's gaze.
"I didn't need you to say it, you know? You undressing me with your eyes was telling enough." You choked slightly on your drink the moment those words left her lips, embarrassment shooting down every last butterfly in your stomach.
"I-I wasn't- it was an accident- I mean! I- um..." Carol watched you ramble with an amused grin and took a sip of her beer herself.
You could feel your cheeks heating up and your fight or flight instincts kicking in.
"I was enjoying the attention." Carol smirked as she moved closer to you so the faint smell of her expensive perfume overtook your senses.
You had been so sure the whole night that Carol hadn't noticed what you were doing. You thought you had gotten away with it all. Natasha's tips on concealing emotions and thoughts were clearly paying off on Carol more than you.
"And its not like it's the first time." Carol almost whispered as her voice dropped in a way that went straight to your core.
The Captain placed a gentle but firm hand on your bare knee as she studied you. Her brown eyes flickered across your face while your own y/e/c eyes stayed fixed on hers.
"Is this a test?" You whispered under your breath.
"Perhaps." She whispered back as her fingers stroked your bare skin slowly. "I'm sure I could test you some other ways though." Her hand was along your thigh now. You desperetly wanted to grab it and pull it up further but you had to remember you were in a room full of very important people.
Carol noticed you glance around the room and must have known what you were thinking because she smirked slightly before withdrawing her hand and standing up from the stall.
"Come." She ordered. You felt goosebumps across your whole body and hoped it wouldn't be the last time you heard her say that tonight.
You restrained yourself to waiting a few seconds before following Carol in the most subtle way you could manage when you wanted to sprint over to her side.
You weren't really aware of where Carol was leading you, but once you rounded the corner away from the party you sped up to close the distance between you both.
After rounding a few corners of the complicated hallway you realised you had lost sight of the Captain. Just as you were about to risk calling out her name a strong hand gripped your forearm and pulled you out of the corridor and into Carol's arms.
Her lips were on yours instantly. She had you backed into a wall before you could comprehend any of what was happened but her kiss was so eager you returned it without any thought.
The blonde's lips were unbelievably soft. They felt perfect against your own as you tried to match her pace.
Her hands were cupping your face with surprising gentleness so you wrapped your hands around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, accidently pulling on a few strands and earning a low groan from her.
She bit down on your lip harshly, making you moan audibly until you were muffled by her tongue invading your mouth.
You could taste the beer both of you had barely started and something else that was strikingly Carol. It was intoxicating and you didn't want it to end.
The friction Carol sparked when she pressed one of her muscular thighs between your bare legs was sinfully blissful. You moaned into Carol's mouth when you felt her very deliberately press against your heat and apply a teasing amount of pressure to your throbbing clit.
"Carol." You whispered her name like a chant. She smirked against you as she turned her attention to you jaw then neck, nipping and sucking at the skin exposed to her. You arched your neck to give her more access and felt your breathing become laboured.
This probably wasn't helped by Carol's hand on your bare thigh, gripping the skin in a much firmer way than she had at the bar and venturing further up.
Her hand disappeared beneath your dress in no time, massaging every inch of skin she came across.
You couldn't help it. Her warm lips, her strong hands and invasive thigh made you feel lightheaded and you couldn't stop your instincts of grinding yourself on Carol's thigh.
You desperatly sought more friction that your Captain's thigh could produce. What started as small rotations of your hips soon turned into full on desperate grinding. Your thin panties were soaked and clung to your skin, you were sure you were going to leave patches on Carol's expensive suit trousers but both of you were far from caring.
You could feel Carol continue to smirk into your neck with each mewl that left your lips. She grabbed your hands and pinned them against the wall above your head and that somehow made you needier.
The beautiful friction against your clit was one that had you moaning Carol's name continuously. It didn't take long for the familiar coil to tighten in your power abdomen and making your movements increasingly erratic.
You bucked against your Captain as you sought you sweet release only to have it pulled away from you.
Carol stepped away with a shit eating grin as she watched you struggle to hold yourself against the wall and give her a confused look.
"Why?" Was all you could manage, embarrassingly out of breath.
"Because I can." She smirked. "Did you want to cum, baby? Do you want to feel your release?"
"Please." You said shamelessly as you gave her a pleading look from your vulnerable position.
"Then be a good girl and bend over that desk for me."
You hadn't even noticed you were in an office, too busy trying to get yourself off on Carol's thigh than take in your surroundings. You didn't hesitate to place your hands on the far side of the desk and bend yourself over it so your ass was out for Carol. You glanced behind you to see Carol smirking as she took in your appearance in the new position.
She stalked towards you and placed a hand on the back of your thigh while the other pushed your back down further into the table. Her hand trailed up under your dress before she ran her fingers over the material covering your ass. Her movements were slow and teasing, trying to enhance your desperation to a place you wouldn't come back from that night.
Her slim fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties and gradually pulled them down, subsequently allowing her fingers to brush over your ass.
Once the thin material dropped to your feet Carol had you spread your legs for her as far as you could while she lifted your dress over your hips.
You guessed she really did like the dress.
Your pussy pulled around nothing as it was exposed to the cold air of the room and Carol's teasing fingers ghosting over your skin.
"Eyes front." She said as she stood back. It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and look when you could hear Carol undoing her belt buckle.
You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan when the blonde brushed the silicone against your folds. You were both shocked and aroused at the discovery that the Captain had been packing all night. You wanted her more at the thought that she had planned this.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt two slim fingers against your lips. You opened your mouth to allow Carol to slip her fingers in and tried not to moan around them at the heated gesture.
You sucked eagerly on Carol's fingers in an attempt to please her and hope it would give you some preparation for the girthy strap. It wouldn't.
You were caught off guard again when Carol continued to push her fingers forward, further than you were expecting at first then more than you could take. You gagged around her fingers and heard a chuckle from your sadistic Captain.
"Good girl." She whispered against your ear before biting down softly.
You were so caught up in the praise you almost forgot about the strap until Carol nudged it between your lips. You tried to grip onto the table more as she slowly pushed the head into your soaking pussy and moaned around her fingers still tickling the back of your throat.
You were extremely unprepared to take something that size, but that only spurred Carol on more and added to your arousal that had your lower lips slick for the strap to ease into you.
Once Carol was half way she paused when you started breathing heavily through your nose as you continued to suck her fingers. But the break was short and without any warning, the Captain thrust the rest of the girthy toy into your cunt.
You moaned around her fingers and pressed your head further into the desk. Carol barely gave you a chance to adjust to the filling of being so full. You're reminded of her impatient nature when she pulls the silicone toy out to the hilt before snapping her hips back against you and causing the strap to burry itself deep inside you again.
You knew Carol was strong and you had seen her doing hip thrusts in the gym before, but you had never imagined the force she would be able to muster when slamming the fake cock into you over and over.
Carol eventually took her fingers away from your mouth and wiped your saliva along the side of your neck before gripping it in her hands, threatening to cut off your breathing and blood flow.
Her pace never faulted. It brought you an intense amount of pleasure everytime that had you stumbling over your words.
'Carol...please...it's- I...so good." Was all you were able to say.
Her name fell from your lips over and over as your cunt clenched around the invading toy. It never failed to hit the hilt of your pussy and brushes against your most pleasurable spot, every movement made it brush some incredible nerve.
You moaned louder as you tried to fuck yourself back on her strap. You were so close to your orgasm and it had already been set up to be the best fuck you ever had so you were so desperate to finally reach it.
"Are you gonna cum for your Captain?" Carol asked as her thighs continued to slap against your own.
"Yes Captain! Please...I'm gonna-"
"Cum for me." She husks as she brings you over the edge and flying through your orgasm. You completely slump against the desk and Carol fucks you through your high.
White blanks appear in your vision but you're too out of it to care.
You're moaning, almost screaming, in the pleasure that's overwhelming you and you don't realise how sensitive you are until Carol continues to pound the strap into you.
"Carol..." You whine at her perfect pace. She's still going so hard, so fast, and fuck she's so deep inside you.
The vigor of her first fucking already had your pussy overworked and sensitive, and yet you can't stop yourself from incoherently begging her not to stop.
"Please Captain! Don...don't stop...so good- so good!" You cry out as another orgasm crashes over you.
You're shuddering now but still swimming in pleasure. You can't stop yourself from bucking yourself back against her.
Carol holds your hips down firmly as she thrusts the strap into your overworked cunt. They're less coordinated this time, more about establishing the control Carol has over you.
You can't form any words this time. The only sounds in the room is Carol's thighs slapping against yours, your whorish moans and the thick strap fucking your leaking pussy. You were vaguely aware of the audible sounds of your pussy before you break into your third earth shattering orgasm.
You're completly limp against the desk and trying your best to breathe normally.
Your pussy is throbbing and pulsing around the strap that Carol very slowly eases out of you and leaves you feeling extremly empty and sore. You know you're gonna be feeling it the next day.
"I don't think I can stand." You finally muttered weakly, not trusting your legs to even attempt to let go of the desk beneath you.
"You don't need to. Get on your knees." Carol ordered from behind you. You shivered at her words and tried to take a moment to compose yourself but the blonde was apparently growing impatient...again.
She held your hips with an iron grip and flipped you onto your back to see her towering over you. You used your arms to help you into a sitting position on the edge of the table before falling down onto you knees infront of your Captain.
Your knees ached from landing on the hard floor but you were much more focused on the smirk playing on Carol's soft lips.
"So obedient, such a good girl for me." Carol cooed as she ran her fingers through your hair and pulled you towards her now strapless core. You could see her pink folds glistening in arousal and you wanted nothing more than to taste her.
"Use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum, baby." Carol instructed.
You wasted no time. You licked an eager strip through the blonde's folds and moaned against her as you collected her wetness on your tongue. She was so sweet and you were instantly addicted.
You did this a few more times, pushing your tongue further between her folds everytime until you couldn't hold off anymore.
You gripped the back of Carol's thighs and sunk your tongue between her folds. The moan she gave in response made your stomach flip and swell with pride. It was like discovering a new song you wanted to listen to on repeat.
You retracted your tongue and began sucking softly on Carol's wet folds to taste as much of her wetness as your could. You then switched your attention to her throbbing clit and sucked it harshly into your mouth.
"Fuck so good! You've got such a good mouth." Carol praised continuously as you pulled out all of your tricks in hopes of pleasing her.
You kept alternating between fucking her with your tongue as deeply as you could to taking her neglected bud in your mouth. Your efforts soon paid off.
Carol grinded herself against your mouth as she cursed and praised you amongst moans. She was gripping your hair so tightly you couldn't help but moan into her, aiding her pleasure.
"I'm gonna cum, fuck!" She gasped out as you sucked as harshly as you could on her clit.
Her bundle of nerves pulsed in your mouth and you could feel her cunt clenching around nothing as she came with a cry of your name.
She sounded so good when she came. You wanted to hear it again, to see her. But once Carol had finished her high and you had lapped up every last bit of her white liquid she pushed you back gently.
She sat back on the dest as she regained her steady breathing and tapped her lap as she smiled at you.
You had just about enough strength mustered in your legs to allow you to stand up from your position and sit on Carol's lap.
She wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your cheek with her hand to pull you in for a kiss. She smiled against you as she tasted herself on your lips and kissed you longingly.
"You were everything I dreamed you would be, baby. You did so good for me." You blushed under her praise and buried your head in the crook of her neck in exhaustion but mainly comfort.
Neither of you had any intentions to return to the party after that.
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Text
The Covid Crush
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Evan Buckley x Reader 
Warnings: mentions of covid, injures and fires, a lil steamy make out session, mentions of babies and pregnancy, chim being disgusted by y’all (jokingly)
Category: fluff 
Word Count: 2k
Author’s Note: based on Buck’s “covid crush” 
---
The line rang a few times before he picked up. “Buck’s phone, you’ve reached.. Buck” he laughed making you smile. Even though he couldn’t see you, he always brought a smile to your face. 
“Hey you” you said, pushing the door shut with your foot. 
“Hey! Aren’t you at work ?” he asked, you could hear the voices on his end getting quieter with each step he took. 
“I’m on a break, I thought I'd call and check up on you. How are things at the station ? Is everyone okay ?” 
“Yeah, everyone’s alright for now. I’m good too, thanks for asking” you could practically hear him roll his eyes over the phone. “Oh, forgive me. How are you doing today, Evan ?” you laughed, “I'm good, I'm off at-” the bell went off. 
“That’s my cue, talk later?” he asked, the sound of his heavy footsteps jogging down what you could assume was the stairs. 
“Of course, be safe Buck” you said, “always.” he replied, ending the call.
Although you and Buck weren’t together, you still worried about him, especially with everything that was going on now. It was like your heart was out of your body and running aimlessly into fires everyday. You originally met Buck though his sister, Maddie because you worked with her at the call centre. Buck had come by to see her or pick her up, ending with the two of you bumping into each other. Over time, you became friends and hung out a few times, seeing each other at Maddie’s for game night too. You weren't sure when it turned into something more but you wouldn’t want it any other way. 
Maddie walked into the break room, “hey” she smiled at you, “hey” you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. 
“Is that coffee ?” she stopped in her tracks. 
“Yes it is, there’s a fresh pot” 
She made her way over to the coffee pot, “one cup Maddie, you know the rules” you mumbled, she shot you a glare. “not you too” she groaned, pouring the hot liquid into a mug. “Hey! I'm doing baby Buckley a favour here” you raised your hands playfully. “yea- wait, what did you just call my baby ?” she looked over at you once more, “baby Buckley ?” your brows furrowed, it wasn’t anything strange. 
“Y/n, have you been hanging out with Buck ?” 
“Your brother ? No, why ?” you lied to her, you didn't want to but the two of you made a promise to each other to keep your little conversations a secret. 
“He calls the baby, baby Buckley” she laughed
“Well it is a baby and you are a Buckley, so that makes sense” you smiled at her and got up, “gotta get back to work, see you out there?” you asked, she nodded. 
“Enjoy your coffee, one cup remember!” you hear her groan at your reminder as you walk back out. 
--
The phone rang, you were driving home from the call centre. Tumbling through the console in the middle, you find your phone. Buck’s cheesy contact picture popped up. It was some selfie he had sent you during the holidays of him dressed as Santa to help Eddie surprise Christopher. 
“Hello Evan” you answered his call, he groaned rather loudly. “Everything okay there, big guy ?” 
“y/n, what did I tell you about calling me Evan ?” he asked you, you laughed, “nothing worth mentioning my darling, how was your call ?” 
“It was fine, the regular day for me, pulling people out of burning buildings” he sighed. 
“Any injuries?” 
“Just a few bumps and bruises on the family but they’ll be fine” he replied made you smile, he could be so oblivious. You truly wondered how he was a firefighter sometimes. “That’s good but I was asking about you” you turned into your building parking lot. 
“Oh,” he laughed, “I'm fine, also a few bruises but nothing too bad” 
“Heading home for the day ?” 
“Uh, no. Eddie wants to get home to Chris so I'm picking up his shift for him.” 
“Oh, that's sweet of you Buck” 
The door opens on his end, you walk up the stairs to your apartment. “Is that your little covid crush?” you can hear Chim ask him, Buck groans. 
“Stop harassing me Chim, why don’t you go call your girlfriend or something?” Buck mumbles, Chim laughs. 
“Hi Buck’s friend, I'm Chim!” he shouts so you could hear him which made you laugh. “I’d tell you to tell him hi but I feel like that might get us in trouble won’t it ?” you asked as you kicked off your shoes. “Yeah, I'll talk to you later hun ?” he asked you. 
“Yeah, if you work overnight, call me tomorrow ?” 
“Of course” 
“Oh, Buck ?” 
“Yeah ? 
“Be safe” 
“Always.” 
--
It’s the crack of dawn, literally and your phone rings. The only person that could be calling you now had to be Buck. Squinting your eyes at the brightness of your phone, you pick up and groan. “Hm what is it ?” you mumbled, rolling back onto your side, your phone against your pillow. 
“Oh my bad, I thought you had work this morning, that’s why I called” he whispered, now realizing that he woke you up. “It’s cool,” you yawn, “going home now?” 
“Yeah, what's the plan for today ?” he asks, you hear the Jeep’s engine come to life. 
“Uh maybe some grocery shopping and catching up on Netflix. I have a shift tonight. What about you ?” 
“Maybe some sleep, a shower and back to work. Oh I also have to do groceries, Chim keeps eating everything in the house” he groans making you smile. 
“Why don't you just send him home? Maddie’s working too, he’ll be fine.” 
“I don't want to be mean, you know? He let me crash at his place. Speaking of Mads, how’s baby Buckley doing? you see her more than me” he chuckled, as do you, remembering your conversation with Maddie 
“Good, they’re both good. You know, I called the baby, baby Buckley and she asked if I had talked to you recently” 
“Hm, did you tell her no?” 
“No, I told yes” 
“What?!” 
“Buck, I'm kidding, relax” 
He let out a sigh which made you laugh. It wouldn’t be horrible if she knew but you guess he wanted to keep it on the lows, it's only fair that you respect that. There was a pause in the conversion, Buck was humming along to the song on the radio, soon enough he started singing. He was 100% off-key and you could hear the tapping along to the beat on his steering wheel as well. You laid in bed listening to him sing off key for a good few minutes until he called out to you. 
“You know, I could pick up some stuff from the store for you, if you wanted ? I can just drop it off later” you offered 
“That would be nice, thanks. But uh- maybe you could actually stay when you drop the stuff off ?” he asked 
“Don’t you have work?” you asked, the sound of his footsteps thudding up the stairs, you figured he got home. 
“Yeah, but if I’m an hour late, it’ll be fine” once again, there’s a pause in the conversation but it comes for your end this time. 
“Y/n?” the shower is running on his end, he sounded distant, the phone was on speaker. 
“Just checking my schedule, what time does your shift start ?” you question him
“9, what about you ?” 
“9:30. I’ll see you tonight Evan, enjoy your shower” 
“Sleep well babe” he hung up, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and went back to bed. 
-- 
Buck opened the door, taking the bags from you. “Come in, thanks for these” he raised the bags and rested them on the counter. 
“How much do I own you?” he asks, your back turned to him while you wash your hands. 
“Don’t worry about it” 
“No, c’mon, this is a lot” Buck leans against the counter, you turn towards him. There’s a little bruise on his cheek and a scratch mark by his chin, your hand comes up and cups his face. His hand wraps around your wrist as your thumb rubs the scratch mark on his chin, Buck turns his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 
“I’m okay” he whispers, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chest against his. 
“I know, doesn't mean I don’t worry” your hand comes down from his face to his chest, both of your hands now resting on his chest as you look up at him. Buck’s arms wrap around you as he picks you up and spins you around. 
“Evan! Stop it!” you laughed, grabbing at his shirt, he sets you down on the counter. Buck stood between your legs, his hands rubbed at the sides of your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist as his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “I take it, you missed me?” you mumbled with your face squished against Buck’s chest. “More than you know” he kissed the top of your head. 
Your phone buzzed, ruining your sweet moment. “Who is it ?” he asked, holding up the phone, the time was 8:45. “Alarm, I gotta go sweets, I have work soon” 
“Oh come on, you can be late one day, right ?” He kissed your forehead
“You have work too” you reminded him, he ignored your comment, kissing down from your forehead to your cheek. 
“Buck, don’t” you muttered as your hand came up to the back of his head, your fingers tangled in his hair. You knew the game he was playing and it was a dangerous one. 
“10 minutes” he mumbled, his lips against your skin, now moving down to your neck. 
“5 minutes” you bargained with him. Buck laughed and shook his head, “you know we’re gonna be here for more than 10 minutes right ?” His hands cupped your face as he leaned in for a kiss, one of your hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you. Buck’s hands slid down from your face to your chest and then to your stomach, ending up on your hips. You pull on his shirt, he lets go of you for a moment to pull it off and then his lips are back on yours. 
The two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don't notice the front door unlock, Chim walks in to find the two of you making out in the kitchen. Buck’s shirt is on the floor, Chim picks it up and tosses it at the two of you.
“Are you guys serious ?” he groans as he shuts the door. You pull away from Buck, a blush across your cheeks. “Hey Chim,” Buck laughed, pulling back on his shirt. “Thought you had work ?” Buck asks, Chim shakes his head. “I’m done, shift changes in an hour.” 
“You guys couldn't have made out in bed or something ? Like a normal couple ?” Chim asks, you and Buck reply at the same time, “we’re not a couple” the two of you look at each other and smile. 
“Whatever, but c’mon! I eat breakfast there guys, that’s gross” his face screwed with disgust making you laugh. “Sorry” you gave him a smile, looking over at him, now on his way to the bathroom. Buck’s hand comes up to your chin, pulling your attention back to him, his lips are on yours again. 
“You guys do know you're breaking the social distance regulations right now, right ?!” Chim shouted from the bathroom, you could hear him laughing. 
“Shut up!” Buck shouted back, his hands cupping your face and pulling you back in for another kiss. 
--- 
taglist: @ssa-volturi​ @dralexreid​
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