#I want to wear nice outfits with my silly hat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sparklingchim · 2 years

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long way home 21 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.7k

genre: dilf!jungkook, friends to lovers, angst

rating: pg

warnings: jaykay being a huge simp for miss oc, he ,,, licks her lip gloss off his face ???? 🥸 don't ask plis, them lowkey acting like a couple but it's all platonic guys !!!!! don't worry !!!! , sad gukkie in the end 😔, his broken heart </3 awakens the lil whore in him 😐

summary: the one where jungkook gives up.

a/n: talking bout this jungkook look in this chapter <3 without the bucket hat tho !!

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08| 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |

masterlist | long way home masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

4 years ago

"You're early," you say as Jungkook slips out of his shoes in the hallway.

"Was bored at home so I figured I might as well come over." Jungkook bends down to gives you a peck on the cheek.

"So that's why I kept getting Snapchat notifications from you?"

He stops, leaning away from you. "You saw and ignored me ?" There's an accusatory pitch to his voice, the perfect complement to the frown that slowly contorts his features.

"I'm doing my make-up. I don't have time for your silly snaps," you huff and turn on your heels, heading back to the living room.

Tonight Jungkook, Namjoon, Seulgi and you were going to go clubbing. It's been a while since the last time you went out so you're excited...to get drunk.

You hop onto the little cushion you have placed in front of the coffee table. You've been sitting here for a while, doing your make-up while watching a kdrama on TV.

"They weren't silly. I was showing you my outfit." Jungkook follows you and sits down somewhere behind you on the couch.

You turn around. He's wearing a black t-shirt, plad shirt on top and a leather jacket. The tight, ripped jeans he is wearing accentuates Jungkook's muscular thighs and oh wow, the holes on both knees are big enough to get a glimpse of his thighs and...you actually have to gulp to think straight again.

"I like this," you point out, tugging at the plad shirt. Your voice seems a little thick so you turn back around again and busy yourself with putting on make-up to hide your flaming cheeks. You see a little grin playing on Jungkook's lips through the small mirror placed in front of you.

"You can change the channel if you want," you offer as you put on some (actually, a lot ) blush on your cheeks.

"I don't mind."

You furrow your brows. You look at Jungkook through the mirror and notice that he's still staring at you. "Came to watch me getting ready or what?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Better than lazing around at home alone."

"You should get yourself a girlfriend then."

Jungkook nudges your back with his foot. "You don't wanna spend time with me?"

"No but, you shouldn't feel lonely."

"But it's fine when I'm with you."

"What, so you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

"Well, yeah?" He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. As if he couldn't believe that you'd ever dare to ask him such a foolish question. "Obviously I am." Big round doe eyes watching you.

Instinctively, a smile flits across your face as you register Jungkook's sweet words.

"Kinda rude of you not to say anything back," Jungkook utters in the tiniest pout, mock offense leaking through this gentle voice.

"Just keep saying nice things like that and I'll consider spending my life with you."

"You act like I'm hardly being nice to you."

"You bailed on me yesterday," you remind him, grabbing the eyelash curler.

"I told you beforehand that I wasn't sure if I could make it."

"Had to get boba all by myself."

"You could've asked Seulgi?"

Yeah, you could've. But it wouldn't have been the same cause you wanted to go with him.

You don't say anything in return, focusing on making your lashes look longer.

"Watchu gonna wear?" Jungkook asks after a while, but you don't hear him. Well, yes you do actually hear him but you're in the midst of coating your lashes with mascara. Definitely not a good time to start a convo.

Jungkook pokes your side with his foot. "Jungkook," you whine and Jungkook snickers at the immediate pout that pushes at your lips.

"That's what you get for ignoring me."

You smudged the brush of your mascara on your eyelid. When you lean back from the mirror you can see how his smile has him scrunching up his nose and how he gloats over teasing you. Asshole.

"Go get me a cotton swab," you demand, tugging on Jungkook's pants to get him to stand up.

Jungkook pats your head when he brushes past you to get to the bathroom. You shoot daggers with your eyes when you feel his hand, the playful twinkle in his eyes not showing anything remotely close to remorse.

Seconds later he comes back with the cotton swab. "Want me to clean it?" He's standing next to your seated figure, looking hella tall as you look up at him.

"Need to wet it first," you answer, making a grab for the cotton swab, but Jungkook holds it out of your reach. "Huh?"

"Tongue out."

You blink.

What.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, sounding a tad bit annoyed when you don't proceed to do what he told you.

He pops one end of the swab in his mouth for a second and sits down on his knees in front of you, softly grabbing you by the chin to draw your face closer.

Your reaction to Jungkook's weird antics is a little slow - you only manage to squeak "ew" once the wet cotton touches your eyelid. Your fingers fly up to his wrist, though you don't stop him. You curl your fingers around him. "You're so disgusting." You wrinkle your nose.

"I'm just helping you." He mumbles the words to himself and you find it almost adorable how concentrated he is right now.

"Weirdo."

Jungkook tosses the cotton swab on the table after he's done. He remains seated next to you, leans back against the couch and plants his feet on the carpet.

You subtly sneak a peek at Jungkook, his ripped jeans rousing emotions in you that has your skin prickle with a thin layer of heat. Your best friend looks hot today.

Forcing your attention back to finish your make-up, you screw your lip gloss and brush the applicator over your lips. You cover the whole of your lips in the sparkling substance.

"What?" you ask when you see Jungkook staring at you applying lip gloss. You turn to him, holding the lip gloss close to his face. There's a faint dust of pink on his cheeks when you meet his eyes. "Want some?"

He shoves your wrist away.

"Tastes like cherry," you coax him, putting a little more on your lips before you smack your mouth for emphasis.

"I'll pass."

You screw the lip gloss shut and place it on the table.

"Are you ready soon? Namjoon's always on my ass when I'm running late."

"Yeah, just need to change," you reply, leaning on Jungkook's shoulders to get to your feet.

Padding to your bedroom you start to rid yourself of your clothes. You change your bra into a strapless one. Then you grab the black dress from your bed that you selected earlier and quickly change into it. It's a pretty dress you've recently bought. It has a straight neckline and is long-sleeved, but it only reaches mid-thigh and has a slit at the side.

You puff in frustration when you have trouble zipping up your dress.

"Jungkook?" you call him and try with impatient hands to close the zip yourself, but it's no use.

A few seconds later you hear his footsteps on the floor approaching your bedroom.

"What's wrong, baby?" he slowly opens the door and peers in with his head. His eyes are wide when he takes in your whole figure.

You show him the backside of your unzipped dress. "Help me, please."

Jungkook chuckles at your helpless state.

Soon you feel his hand gently pushing your hair to one side of your shoulder. He zips up your dress in a matter of seconds. You don't wanna complain, but feeling his hands on you felt nice. Made you feel fuzzy inside.

"You look really fucking pretty."

The giddy feeling grows at his gaze. You stand on tippy toes to peck his cheek and beam a "thank you".

As you pull back, you see the subtle rosy mark of your mouth on Jungkook's cheek. "Oops."

But then Jungkook swipes a fingers over the shiny stain on his cheek pops his tongue out to give it a little lick.

"What are you-" you stop yourself, looking at him in disbelieve.

"You made me curious with the cherry flavour."

You walk to your bedside table to grab a tissue. "You haven't even had a sip of alcohol and you're already acting so weird."

"Yeah but you're the one who transforms into the weirdest person on earth when you're drunk."

"Pschh," you shush him, trying to wipe the lip gloss off his face as best you can. "We don't talk about that."

Jungkook chuckles and playfully jabs you in the side.

You jerk at that. "Yah, I had enough of that today." You press the tissue against his chest and leave the room.

"Come back to me," you hear Jungkook whine in the back.

You're on your third drink of the night.

Despite your plans to get drunk, you're still pretty much sober.

Namjoon has been getting you drinks he thinks are "so goddamm delicious", but every time you have to disappoint him with an involuntary grimace after taking a small sip.

You shouldn't have told him that you wanted to try something new tonight. Because now he's coming back to your table with his fourth attempt to make you like some of his favourites.

"Here." Namjoon presents you another drink. He sits down next to Seulgi. "This one is really good. I promise."

Warily, you give it a try.

When Namjoon doesn't see you pulling a grimace he says, "See? I told you it was good."

"You said that all the times before. This is the fourth drink," Seulgi points out.

Namjoon shrugs. "My job is done here." His gaze wanders from the bar to the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor. He clasps his hands. "I'm just gonna..." He walks into the crowd of people and you hope he won't try to impress a girl with his poor choices of drinks.

You feel the glass slip in your hand as Jungkook takes it. He's been sitting next you all night.

You watch him taste it. "Isn't this a little too strong for you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want him get me another one. So I didn't say anything."

"He would've spent the whole night trying to find something you'd like," Seulgi says, sipping on her own drink.

"You think we'll see him again?" you ask Jungkook, pointing at the crowd where Namjoon has disappeared.

"Nah, he told me he needed to get his mind off things today."

You notice a guy looking at you from across the club. He's leaning against the bar counter. You intuitively you move closer to Jungkook. He immediately understands, resting his warm hand on your thigh. And as quickly as the guy eyed you up and down he spins around.

Having Jungkook as your friend comes in handy sometimes.

"Oh, me too," Seulgi groans.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. Nothing has happened in her life recently that should make her say something like that.

"Why?" you inquire.

"I'll tell you later." She pushes the glass you had placed on the table into your hand. "Let's get drunk and then dance, please."

"But..." You examine the drink in your hands. "I don't wanna drink this."

"What do you want? Lemme get you something," Jungkook offers. He holds his empty glass up. "Gonna get myself something too."

"Strawberry Daiquiri, please."

As Jungkook leaves, you feel Seulgi's gaze on you.

You cock your head to the side. "What's up?"

Seulgi downs the rest of her drink. "I don't understand you."

Scooting a little closer to her - now that Jungkook's gone, you can feel the looks of many men ogling at Seulgi and you - you change glasses with Seulgi because whatever it was that Namjoon had got for you, it was a bit too much.

"Watchu mean?"

"I just don't get why you and Jungkook don't...y'know, try to be more than friends."

You quirk an eyebrow but Seulgi remains unfazed. She's confronted you with this question multiple times - most of the times with a sharp sideway glance at Jungkook, eyebrows up on her forehead and then back at you.

"Never."

"At least fuck him?"

"Seulgi."

"You don't think he's fuckable? Y/n, please. Don't tell me you haven't been staring at those thighs all night 'cause I certainly did."

"Jungkook is handsome, but that's not the point."

"Then tell me. What's stopping you?"

You tap a manicured finger on the round of the glass. A sigh escapes your lips.

"What?" she asks. "Does he not meet your standards? Is he not enough for you?"

"I - I don't know."

Seulgi wears a questioning look on her face. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't wanna ruin what we have right now." You shrug. "I don't want things to get weird between us. I mean, yeah, I shouldn't assume what could happen without even trying but ... I don't wanna risk anything. Not with Jungkook." You nibble at your bottom lip. "I can't imagine my life without Jungkook. And I don't wanna lose him because of something stupid that could've easily been avoided."

"As long as I have him in my life I don't care in which relation to me. I just need him," you tell her.

"Jungkook's got you wrapped around his finger," Seulgi says.

"No." you frown, deeply in denial. "I just really like him."

You switch glasses with Seulgi again and take a big sip of whatever Namjoon had ordered.

"Let's talk about something else."

"I just don't get why you and Jungkook don't...y'know, try to be more than friends."

Jungkook comes to an abrupt halt.

Had he really just hear Seulgi say that? To you?

Jungkook shouldn't be listening on your conversation. He knows that. But he had to know your answer to Seulgi's question.

"Never."

Was this his instant karma for eavesdropping?

Jungkook feels something twist in his stomach with a strange pain.

It's not like he expected a different answer. But maybe there was a spark of hope that made his heart beat a little faster.

He almost starts walking again when he hear Seulgi asking, "At least fuck him?"

And that catches his attention again.

"Seulgi."

"You don't think he's fuckable? Y/n, please. Don't tell me you haven't been staring at those thighs all night Cause I certainly did."

He's noticed your glances. But he didn't think anything of it.

"Jungkook is handsome, but that's not the point."

Jungkook has spent a lot of time thinking about what he could do or change for you to make you like him the way he likes you. So what is he missing?

"What?" Seulgi asks. "Does he not meet your standards? Is he not enough for you?"

Jungkook gulps.

Suddenly the whole club is silent. And he's waiting for your answer. Seconds pass and you don't say a single word.

All at once, every cell in Jungkook's body becomes ice cold and every part of him freezes. His feet are frozen in place. He can't move. Jungkook needs to know what you're gonna say next.

He must look ridiculous right now - standing quietly in a club while everyone around him is dancing, chatting and laughing.

"I - I don't know."

Everything is silent in Jungkook's ears, but at that moment, he heard his heart breaking. Right in the middle. And Jungkook knows he isn't imagining it, because he felt it. It's deep and painful and so intense.

And that's Jungkook's cue to turn around and leave.

Jungkook doesn't allow himself to dwell on his feelings. He shouldn't be having them in the first place. It was his own fault. His own stupidity.

So he walks back to the bar, putting both drinks on the counter. He exhales deeply and stares at the marbled counter to calm himself.

In the corner of his eye sees a woman standing right next to him. Jungkook looks at her. She has a playful, teasing smile on her crimson lips. And soon, he feels himself looking at her the same way.

"Hey," Jungkook says.

"Hi." She bats her eyelashes. "Can I have that?" She points her finger at the Strawberry Daiquiri he had originally ordered for you.

"Of course." He hands her the drink. Jungkook won't come back to you anyway.

"What's your name, pretty?"

She giggles at the pet name.

"I'm Sora."

#jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #dilf jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook scenario #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jungkook x reader

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whositmcwhatsit · 7 months

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PART TWO

A/N: So, this has kind of unravelled... or unfolded... or collapsed like a... collapsing thing.

It's a silly, spooky, smutty love letter to Elvis, motels, small towns, ghosts, mysteries, and, erm, pine trees, with a ton of Elvis references and easter eggs that I think only I'm sad and nerdy enough to get.

Putting this out into the tumblr void in the hope that someone else might find some enjoyment from it too.

Catch up on Part 1

Everyone had congregated to eat in one of the other guys’ rooms. Elvis was reclined on the bed with his shoes on but wearing an entirely different outfit to the gray slacks and dark blue shirt he had been clad in while driving. Now he was all in black, but the captain’s hat was still in place.

Cheryl had heard girls outside, she was sure of it. She had even turned up the radio to drown out one particularly shiver-inducing shriek that could have only been made by someone overcome with emotion. From all the racket, she had been sure that she would see at least a hundred girls in a crowd outside. She surveyed the road and the trees beyond, trying to fashion a scenario that made sense.

After watching them devour their food like a pride of lions over a carcass, Cheryl understood why Elvis chose someone else’s room to eat in if he wanted all his guys around him. She picked at the overcooked meat and nibbled on some fries, but her stomach was too tense to allow much food inside. She had a strange feeling, like she had forgotten something or left it behind, but she couldn’t think what that would be, outside of her poor crumpled car by the side of the road.

Spreading out the paper napkin to cover her largely untouched meal, Cheryl brushed off her lap and fixed the group with a pleasant smile.

“Well, thank you so much for your hospitality. I should probably be heading back to my room, I’m going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“You can’t be going to bed yet!” Elvis teased. “It’s early! It’s not even little Billy’s bedtime yet!” The slight man he nodded towards pulled a face and made as if to swipe at Elvis, but was never in danger of making contact, especially after Elvis dodged with a raucous laugh.

“Goodnight,” Cheryl said quietly to a background of banter and manly tussling. She turned as she stepped out onto the sheltered walkway and gasped as someone brushed by her in a canvas raincoat.

“Oh, excuse m-” The walkway was empty in both directions.

Cheryl’s arm still tingled from where the stiff material of the coat had brushed against her skin, but her brain was struggling with the contradiction given by her eyes. She briefly considered turning and knocking on the room door again, but then she caught sight of neon behind the squat little motel office and made a new plan.

Forty minutes later, she was sitting at a table in the bar/restaurant nursing a martini and some barbecue wings. A couple of the patrons, men in rumpled shirts sitting at the bar, had given her a long look when she had walked in, but they had since gone back to their beers.

The waitress made conversation with her, saying that she was a nice change from her usual clientele and she got excited when Cheryl explained what she was doing in the area.

“Oh my grandma had the sight!” she whispered, glancing towards the bar before dipping onto the seat beside Cheryl. “And, you know, my folks said that when I was a little girl, I wouldn’t walk past one of the houses on our block? Just flat out refused to do it. I always said a strange man was staring at me, but there was never anyone there.”

Cheryl nodded and smiled, eager to keep her companion for a little longer so that she could stay in the warmth and light without worrying about the heavy-set gentlemen at the bar deciding that she needed company.

“How about here?” she asked, trying to look nonchalant as she blotted barbecue sauce from her lips with her napkin. “Did you ever see anything here? Or at the motel?”

The waitress scoffed as she lit a cigarette and waved it airily at the barman to let him know she was taking a break.

“Here? Nothing happens at the Cozy Pines. Just truckers and the odd tourists who didn’t stop in time in Portland but can’t quite make it to Seattle. The same family has even had the place as long as I’ve been alive. Old Bob Rochelle was manager for years until he had a hunting accident by the river. Still lives there though in the old honeymoon suite. His son Steve runs it all now.”

Cheryl thought about taking a walk over to the office and having a chat with Steve. She weighed up her curiosity about the figure in the raincoat and the screaming girls against the potential awkwardness of the conversation. She could try the reporter angle and pretend she was writing about local history for her college newspaper, that one usually worked without making people stare strangely at her. However, Steve was a businessman, a man whose trade relied on people looking at his establishment and seeing comfort and respite. He probably wasn’t going to be forthcoming about events traumatic enough to leave an echo.

“Say, did you hear that Elvis Presley is staying at the motel right now?” the waitress asked her. “I don’t know how true that is, but I heard it from Betty, whose husband is the manager. Didn’t sign in under his name, of course, but Steve thought he caught sight of him in the group. I’m going to head over after my shift and see if it’s true.”

“Elvis? Really?” Cheryl grimaced doubtfully. “Wouldn’t he stay in a fancy hotel in the city? I didn’t realize that times were so tough for him.”

The waitress ground out her cigarette and took out a compact and her lipstick from the little pocket in the front of her apron, reapplying her lipstick.

“Well, it’s probably bullhockey,” she agreed. “Still, I’m not taking the risk. My high school steady wouldn’t let me go back when Elvis did a show up this way. He was jealous, like all the boys.” She rolled her eyes and twisted the cap back on her lipstick. “I should have gone, the memories would’ve lasted longer than Teddy Davis, I’ll tell you that.”

Another couple of guys walked into the smoky, noisy interior of the bar as the waitress returned to work. It took Cheryl a little while to recognise them out of their coveralls. A lot of her work involved reading people, taking in the lines and details; she wasn’t much of a ‘big picture’ or whole face person.

Still, she was a woman alone in a bar and she sensed their interest, their attention on her as they strolled past her table. One of them took a table in the corner, while the other headed towards the phone, hung into a visored cubby beneath a stark bare light bulb.

A few minutes later, he was standing at her table.

“Hey, uh, Miss, the Boss has been looking for you. He wanted a word before you turned in.”

Cheryl smiled into the rim of her martini glass at the play pretend and the subterfuge. ‘The Boss’, ‘wanting a word’. She had half a mind to stay and order another drink, but she hadn’t been lying earlier: it was going to be a long day tomorrow if she intended to get her car at least roadworthy and travel the last few hours to Seattle.

“Of course,” she replied demurely, rising and leaving some rumpled bills on the table. She waved to the waitress on the way out, followed uncomfortably closely by Elvis’ guy.

Walking through the scrubby boundary between the restaurant parking lot and the motel, Cheryl paused as she took in the sheer number of automobiles now parked outside. There was a large mob of teenagers and even some older adults standing at the foot of the stairs to the second floor and a couple of cops looking bemused beside a tall, lean man in a striped shirt that Cheryl supposed was Steve the manager. They stopped her and Elvis’ friend/employee as they approached the steps.

“We’re staying here,” her escort informed the officers, shaking his key with the room number etched into it. Cheryl took her cue from him and fished her key from her purse. After examining the fob carefully as if he suspected her of sitting in the woods painstakingly whittling a forgery, the uniformed officer stood aside and waved her on.

The crowd started to chant as she climbed the steps and she wondered how she was ever going to get any sleep.

“You go to your room,” her charming companion instructed. “I’ll let him know you’re back.” She unlocked her door and gave his retreating back a sarcastic salute before stepping inside.

As she turned on the lamp, Cheryl had the strongest feeling that someone was waiting for her. If she had illuminated a figure sitting in the chair beside the dresser, she would not have been surprised, her sense of a presence was so strong, but the light thrown against the walls by the lamp just showed the spartan furniture and its shadows.

The interconnecting door opened again. Elvis tapped on it once he had opened it and caught sight of her. She had never known anyone to knock as a greeting instead of a request to enter.

“Come on in,” she said dryly, placing her purse on the nightstand and kicking off her shoes. He did, his vast aura engulfing the room and smothering the sense of that other presence she had felt. She raised her eyebrows as she registered the forcefully bland expression on his face and the way that he seemed to be grasping for words. He was annoyed.

“Goddamn weasel in the office ratted us out,” he snapped finally. He paused in the center of the room and encircled his wrist with his other hand, flexing his fingers. “Hate that underhanded shit. We’re customers just like everyone else, we deserve some damn privacy.” He shook his head and sighed. “Guess it don’t matter, they always find out anyway.”

“That must get annoying.” She perched on the edge of her bed. “A policeman down there tried to stop me from coming back to my room and I found that irritating enough.”

Elvis thought about it, his thick black lashes fluttering as he blinked. Cheryl felt a little fondness for the way that he seemed to consider her comment so carefully.

“No, uh, not annoying. Being sold out by that sonovabitch down there gets me heated, but people coming out… I mean they care enough to get in their cars and drive on over here in the cold and dark and everything… I appreciate that. It means something.”

“You’re grateful,” she put in, thinking back to their conversation in the motor home.

“Sure…” He knocked the side of his fist against his thigh, looking around her room. “Sure. Uh, you know, a couple of my guys saw you at the bar across the way. I tell ya, you gotta be more careful, honey. A good girl like you shouldn’t be going to places like that all alone. People might get the wrong idea.”

Cheryl’s eyebrows shot up and she had to rein in her laughter when she saw that he was serious. Deadly, earnestly serious.

“The wrong idea,” she parroted instead, glad that her voice didn’t quaver.

“Uh huh,” he shifted uncomfortably, looking somewhere near her right knee. “They might think you’re- That is-” He cleared his throat. “You just gotta be careful. You’re lucky you ran into little ole us, really.”

Cheryl’s mind was whirling with responses, most of them sarcastic and some of them resentful, but she discarded them all as he bit his lip and came to sit down next to her on the edge of her bed.

“Now don’t go getting yourself all worked up,” he murmured, fingers grazing her kneecap. “I ain’t saying nothing bad about you, baby. I know you’re a good girl-”

“I’m not that much of a good girl,” Cheryl interjected, putting her hand on one of his thighs. She felt the muscle tense and twitch against her palm.

Her hand flexed on his thigh as the other ran up his chest and grasped his collar. He wasn’t even touching her and yet her skin was tingling all over; all over. When his hand finally settled on her waist, his thumb kneading into the curve as the heat radiated through her cotton blouse, she let out a helpless moan. Then the lights started to flicker.

“W-w-well, there’s such a thing as too good,” he murmured, and they both laughed a little under their breath as they drew closer. His lips were soft, full and he used them skilfully like a tool he had mastered.

Most men, at least the ones that Cheryl had kissed, thought of kissing as a trailer for the upcoming feature: tight lips, plunging tongue, unrelenting pressure that she had to yield to.

Elvis’ kiss was gentle, not timid but playful and tender. His lips brushed against hers, nuzzling and massaging. Then he pulled back slightly, tilted his head and she caught the slightest hint of a smile as he parted his lips and his tongue teased its way into her mouth.

With her eyes squeezed shut and her mind otherwise engaged, Cheryl barely noticed, lost in a maelstrom of soft breath and tickling, warm pressure, but, as the bulbs grew brighter, they let out a loud buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. They pulled apart, looking around, and suddenly the lamp beside the bed gave off a loud pop as the bulb exploded and left them with an image seared on their retinas and a cluster of broken glass over the nightstand.

Cheryl couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened, but she sensed Elvis’ head turn from the lamp to her face and he nuzzled into the line of her throat, his nose cold against the skin behind her ear.

“Did I blow your bulb too, baby?” he rumbled in a deep bass, and they both broke into giggles. She enjoyed the way he laughed with his whole body, dragging her into it, his arms tight around her shoulders.

“What happened, do you think?” she asked, staring at the glass fragments as she finally calmed down.

“Power surge maybe?” He sounded like he was used to objects exploding and the rules of science and technology bending around him. He probably was. “The hell if I know.”

He let out a little boyish moan as he once again buried his face in her neck. The nerve that twitched at the feel of his hot breath went right down her spine and between her legs, which she was already clenching together.

“I should go out there,” he said, words almost entirely muffled against her throat.

“You know, the waitress told me that Elvis was staying at this motel,” she told him, angling her head as he nipped at her skin and then soothed it with a kiss. “I said that I didn’t realize he was that hard up.”

Another huff of a laugh right into the crook of her neck and she had to cross her legs, feeling far from being a good girl.

“Hard up,” he murmured under his breath as he rose, the emphasis he put on the words made her cheeks rapidly heat like that lightbulb. She tried to busy herself clearing up the mess on the table to hide her embarrassment.

“Hey Cheryl?” It was the softness of his voice, almost breathless, that made her look up as he turned into the doorway between their rooms.

“Yes?”

“Can you.. uh, see a spirit around me?”

Cheryl had seen that same look he was wearing countless times before on many other people, a cocktail of hope and fear, and, just like always, she tried not to disappoint.

“Well, um, let me see.” She squinted and focused on the empty space around him, letting his handsome face blur and fade with some regret.

“I can’t be sure,” she hedged, “but I’m picking up something, a strong feeling… love. You’ve lost someone you loved very much… No, someone who loved you very much…” She quickly let her eyes zoom in on his face, checking for the tiny tells, tension around the eyes, tightening of the mouth, and movement of the pupils.

This should have been easy, he was one of the most famous men in the world and every aspect of his life was publicized, but Cheryl had never been much of a fan of popular music. She had never even seen one of his movies.

“You don’t see nothing, do you.” His jaw muscle flexed as he turned away and she thought she glimpsed a sheen in his eyes, but he was blinking very rapidly. “I-I guess I knew you wouldn’t. I don’t feel-” He shot her a fast, rueful smile and crinkled his eyes. It was the smile of someone who was always careful not to make people uncomfortable with their emotions. More than the promise of money, this made her want to tell him comforting lies.

“I don’t always see what’s there, not straight away,” she said. “Especially if the spirit was very close to the person in life. They tend to cleave closer and blend with the aura of the person I’m reading, because they’re cut from the same cloth, so to speak.”

He nodded, that socially appeasing smile still faint on his lips, and she knew he didn’t believe her.

As Cheryl was scooping the last of the glass into the wastepaper basket, a communal shriek went up that signaled Elvis’ emergence from his room. Now that she had heard it, she realized that the screams she had heard earlier were not excited, not hysterical with joy and desire, they had been terrified.

“I heard you,” she said quietly into the stillness of the room. You have terrible timing, she thought very loudly in her head.

With a sigh, she jammed her aching feet back into her pumps and yanked on her jacket, peering through the net curtains at the window. It was an information gathering opportunity too good to pass up. Half the town was down there milling beneath the window, including cops who might be distracted enough by having to wrangle wailing women that they might answer her strange questions without getting too interested in her.

It sounded like a carnival as she stepped outside her door. There were car radios blaring the same Elvis songs, presumably the local radio station showing deference to their prestigious visitor. People were laughing and talking and rushing backwards and forwards like they were lining up for rides.

It took a moment for Cheryl to locate Elvis in the center of it. He seemed to have changed into his third outfit of the day before venturing out and was now accessorizing his captain’s hat with a light blue neckerchief. She found herself imagining untying it with her teeth and she flushed even though no one could have possibly known what she was thinking about.

Nearly all of Elvis’ guys were clustered around him in a knot, a tense and frowning wall of boys that could not have been more in contrast to the man they were encircling, who was grinning and laughing and glowing in the center of them. She supposed they were employed to do the worrying for him.

Hopping from the last step, Cheryl took a wide arc around the main action and scanned the faces. Finally, she sidled up to a little group of girls who were leaning against a car and giggling over a folded magazine.

“Hi,” she smiled and tried to look innocent. For some reason, she always had to make that effort, something about her natural resting face always made people suspicious. “Do you know what’s going on over there?”

“Elvis Presley!” one of the girls cried. “He’s stopped here, of all places, on his way up to Seattle for a movie!”

“Oh wow!” Cheryl marveled. She was putting on a voice, why was she putting on a voice?! “That’s wild! I love Elvis!”

“He’s really the most!” one of the girls agreed.

“I’m just so glad I was listening to the radio when they announced it,” said another. “Can you imagine if we had missed it?!”

“I’m just glad it’s happened now and not when old Mr Rochelle was in charge. My folks would’ve never let me come!”

Recognition pinged in Cheryl’s mind and she zoomed in on this girl, who was blithely kissing the scrawled autograph on her forearm.

“Why wouldn’t they have let you come?” She kicked herself for the intensity she heard in her voice, but luckily the other girls were too distracted to notice it.

“What? I’m not saying they’re true, just that people talked. They said that old Mr Rochelle was…” Even this girl seemed to demure suddenly, glancing around as if someone might overhear. “He was just creepy.”

“Because of the stories,” the girl replied absently. One of the others hissed:

“Jane!”

“Was?” Cheryl prompted, wondering how far she could push without drawing suspicion. “He’s still alive, right?”

“Yeah, but he can’t walk. Not after… what happened.”

“Jane, that was just an accident. You are such a storyteller! You should be careful that people don’t start telling stories about you!”

Seeing them descending into squabbling, Cheryl moved on in case they reconciled by uniting against the outsider who instigated everything. She tried a few more girls, but they were far too distracted by the object of their desire standing in the parking lot to put words together into sentences.

Finally, Cheryl caught sight of the waitress- She wished she had asked her name- and she wandered over, having to focus on making her steps seem casual and not rushed.

“Hi there!” she smiled. “Seems like the rumors were true!” Cheryl watched recognition flash in the woman’s eyes.

“Had to happen eventually!” she agreed.

“So, have you spoken to the great man himself?” she asked, feeling a little bad at the deception since the waitress had been so nice to her.

“Not yet. I’m biding my time, it’ll be curfew soon and the cops will chase the teenyboppers out of here. I don’t want to risk having my eyes clawed out before then!”

“Ha, yes, probably wise.” She shook her head as the waitress offered her a cigarette. “Are you from here originally?”

“Born and raised. Why? Can you see the hope draining out of my eyes?” Cheryl really liked the waitress.

“I was just wondering how much you know about the Rochelle family. You mentioned they’d run this place for a long time, and the girls over there were saying there were some stories about them?”

The waitress squinted across the parking lot. “Oh yeah, well, their mothers listen in to the party lines instead of watching television. You know how small towns are.”

“And no girls ever… disappeared or anything?” Cheryl wanted to reel the words back in as soon as they flopped out of her mouth and floundered in the dark, cold, damp air. The warmth rapidly cooled in the waitress’s eyes and Cheryl gave her an awkward, grimacing smile and edged away.

“Of course,” Cheryl murmured, though all she knew of small towns was what she glimpsed as she passed through them with her family when they were on the circuit.

“I know what the gossip says,” the waitress said shortly. “But Bob was always nothing but polite and kind to me. He gave me my first job as a maid at the motel back when I was in high school.”

That left only the police, but they all seemed very busy now that curfew had fallen and some kids were trying to defy it, lingering in the parking lot, trying to talk themselves out of having to leave. Cheryl slowly rotated, looking for a younger officer, maybe someone who looked like they had something to prove and would open up to someone willing to be impressed.

Cheryl’s eyes instead snagged on Elvis, who had glanced up from the crowd of people surrounding him, eyebrows raised inquiringly, almost as if she had called him. He flashed her a smile, not the irrepressible grin she had bathed in back in her room, but the crooked ‘Elvis’ smile that was almost his trademark. She realized she might well have never seen him in a movie or attended one of his shows, but she had certainly seen a performance now. His attention was drawn back to the older ladies who were taking their turn now that the teens had been forced back home, and she finally managed to blink.

“You should go on and head upstairs now. He’ll be done in a minute.” She flinched at the low voice to her left.

“Joe, right?” she asked of the man who had appeared at her side.

“He’ll be done in a minute,” he repeated in a flat tone.

“That’s nice,” she returned, turning away.

Cheryl’s mother always said that Cheryl’s biggest weakness was her stubbornness. And she was right, but Cheryl was obviously never going to admit that.

Likewise, she had just been about to head back upstairs to puzzle over this little mystery she had found herself wrapped up in, but now that Joe had told her that she had to, she had to force herself to stand in the cold, dark parking lot until Elvis and his gang went back upstairs. Those were the rules.

Cheryl made one last attempt to talk to one of the police officers, but after all the excitement of the evening they seemed to have got their fill of young women and coolly told her to be moving along. She risked a glance back and Elvis was still talking, flanked by adoring middle aged fans he had his arms around.

She rubbed her own goose-pimpled arms and swore under her breath. She was going back to her room because she was cold, she told herself, not because some lackey ordered her to. It didn’t make her feel any better as she stomped up the concrete steps and she kept her head high in case she looked down and saw them smirking at her. Ugh.

“Who are they to be telling me what to do,” she muttered, unlocking her door and switching on the overhead light. “I’m a grown woman, do they think-”

Tossing her jacket onto the chair, she looked up just as a girl with a swollen, tearstained face started to run at her, her face contorted by a soundless scream. Letting out a shriek, Cheryl collapsed back against the door and braced for impact, but it never came. She opened her eyes and took in the empty room.

“Stop doing that!” she snapped, trying to sound like her heart wasn’t positioned somewhere in her windpipe, racing a hundred miles an hour. “I’m trying, okay?!”

It wasn’t like people imagined, Cheryl didn’t even think it was much of a ‘gift’ as such. There were no silvery silhouettes standing in a line waiting patiently to pass on reassuring words to their loved ones on the earthly plane. And Cheryl wasn’t some mystical disk jockey taking messages and playing them out over the airwaves.

“This one goes out to Barbara from Rod: sorry for the fifty years of marital neglect, and my will is hidden under the floorboard beneath my easy chair in the den. Next up, ‘Earth Angel’ by The Penguins.”

If only! No, instead it was silent, sepia, mimed mirages and flashy, nausea-inducing replays of trauma and horror. Other times, it was voices that sounded like they were being played at half-speed while underwater in the next room. Her ‘gifts’ had never been intended for use as a career and the more she tried to pretend that she was a worker on a production line, cranking out the latest in comforting and reassuring products, the more they acted up, twisted and turned on her.

“God gave you this talent,” her great grandmother would tell her in the old tongue, refusing to speak the language of the cursed invaders. “Not PT Barnum, God.”

Unfortunately, God hadn’t given her any other talents or inclinations she could profit from, so she had been forced to disappoint Granny O’Donahoe, but then poor Granny had been disappointed from the moment she first breathed air in that little stone peat-roofed cottage back in the old country, that was nothing new.

Cheryl was still trying to shake the icy fear that she had walked into like a fog, or like a fog that had walked into her, and she didn’t hear the knock or register Elvis standing in the doorway at first. She tuned in halfway through his sentence, which was something about an autograph.

“Sorry?”

“I said, you went all the way down for an autograph, but you never came over, honey. You scared of me?”

She forced a weak smile. “No, I just didn’t have any paper… or a pen.”

“That’s never stopped me before, darlin’. Come on in here and I’ll show you.” He dipped his head, looking at her through his brows with sparkly eyes; his radiant smile half a second away from breaking out across his immaculately made up face. He was a goddamn movie star, standing in her motel room in the middle of a podunk town in Nowheresville. The screaming spirits were the least weird part of this whole situation.

She crossed the floor and stopped in front of him, still a little shaky. He seemed to see it, rubbing his hands slowly up and down her arms, soothing her even as he was leaning in to shake her up all over again with his soft lips.

The flat of his hands left the relatively platonic zone of her arms, sliding against her rib cage as he bent her backwards like they were in some romantic Hollywood epic. She gripped his shoulders for balance, feeling his palms travel the outline of her waist and hips before moving back to join in cupping her ass, tugging her against him.

When he drew back, leaving her gasping for air, all the blood rushed to her face and… other places. She could only stare at his lips, the curves and creases, as he said:

“I’d like you to come into my room. Will you do that, sweetheart?”

Cheryl’s heart gave a squeeze at the ‘sweetheart’, and the soft, gentle way he said it. That didn’t mean that she was going to make it easy for him though.

“Why can’t we stay in my room?” she asked. She noticed that he hadn’t ventured any further than the threshold. She wondered if he felt it too, that lingering miasma of terror and pain.

“I’m doing you a favor, honey, there’s faulty wiring in here or somethin’. You’re liable to get yourself fried if you stay in here.” He backed into his room. “No way, that ain’t how I’m going out, zapped by a thousand volts with my one-eyed peter hanging out.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see that quote printed up on a nice poster in the office,” she returned.

The laughter burst out of him like his body couldn’t quite contain it and he dropped backwards onto his bed, laying spread eagle.

“You are too much, honey, get over here!” He propped himself up on his elbows and wiggled his legs invitingly.

Even as she was ambivalently drifting closer, he snorted again, thinking back on her words. She paused with her knee on the bed and struck what she hoped was a seductive pose, pulling the pins and combs from her hair. It gradually unlooped and fanned out across her shoulders.

A smile, absent and unforced, tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as it was falling open, his bottom lip glistening invitingly.

With her hair now loose and unencumbered, Cheryl’s fingers trembled a little as she lifted her hand to the lapels of her blouse and began to unfasten the tiny buttons. Yet again, Elvis seemed to sense her trepidation and shook his head slightly, giving her a little closed-mouth smile.

“Come sit down, honey,” he coaxed, patting the bed beside him. “Let’s get comfy and cozy.”

“As cozy as a pine tree,” they finished together. He winked and nodded.

“Exactly.”

She clambered onto the bed as gracefully as she could in her tight knee length skirt and sat beside him, tucking her feet beneath her.

“See,” he murmured, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “Ain’t that better?” She was in no position to reply as he rained down warm, wet kisses on her face, snagging her mouth and tangling her tongue with his own.

With almost painful slowness, he cradled her across the shoulders and gradually let her descend against the pillows, even while his other hand was unbuttoning her blouse.

Cheryl shivered and tried to ground herself, exploring the shape of him with her hands, marveling at the heat that radiated through his clothes, the firm softness of his sides and the sharpness of his shoulders.

Awkwardly moving his arms around hers, he slipped her blouse off her shoulders and expertly unfastened her bra with a flick of his fingers, his twitching eyebrow and twinkling eyes almost requesting her awe. Instead, she rose slightly, bending at the waist, and entwined her arm around his neck, pulling him down onto her and hearing him moan softly, boyishly into her mouth.

It took almost all the restraint she had not to rub up against him like a bear with an itch, her core almost aching for the feeling of pressure, a satisfying answer to the throbbing between her legs. She knew, however, that her skirt was too tight to allow her to spread her legs, to entwine them around him as they longed to.

When he tugged her slightly onto her side so that he could get to the padded button at the back of her waistband, she started to unfasten his shirt, smiling slightly at the sight of the sparse hair curling against his chest. Unable to help herself, she leant forward and licked a strip from the middle of his sternum to the hollow of his throat, moaning as her tongue tingled from the salty taste. She finally got the chance to tug at one end of his neckerchief with her teeth, but all that served to do was tighten the knot and almost strangle him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she whispered, as he paused in his task of tugging down her skirt to loosen the bind around his neck. He shook his head, his apple cheeks brimming as he fixed her with a boyish smile, and deftly tied the scarf around her bare throat, using the ends to pull her forward, crushing her mouth against his own. She reached over and grabbed the captain's hat by the brim, placing it on top of her head, letting it sit jauntily over one eye.

Elvis smoothed down his hair with his hands, grinning at her as she struck a pose and saluted. Finally, he grabbed the hat and frisbeed it onto the dresser with impressive accuracy.

“You want your autograph now?” he murmured, voice almost slurred. She gazed without comprehension into his heavy lidded eyes. In response, he drew back and she whined a little, making him huff a laugh as he tugged her up too, the both of them facing each other bare chested and flushed.

With tantalizing slowness, he traced his nail along the inside of her thigh, swirling and skating across the skin as he signed his name.

“There ya go, now you’re mine,” he murmured, smiling lazily with sleepy eyes.

“Uh uh.” She shook her head; he mirrored her and pouted

“No?”

“Just that leg,” she informed him, her lips somehow both tingling and numb. “Just that leg belongs to you.”

“Aw man, well, I can’t have that.” His long fingers flicked the top of her panties and she squeaked, but then he scrawled his ‘autograph’ in large letters across her stomach, before doing the same with her other leg.

“Now, see,” he hummed meditatively, “normally I give out a kiss with my autograph.”

“Oh, you do? Well, then you gotta be fair.”

“Yeah, gotta be,” he murmured, leaning in and missing her mouth altogether. Instead, his lips and the delicious scrape of his stubble grazed the velvety skin of her breast, dragging with delicious sharpness across to her aching, pebbling nipple.

When he looked up at her cheekily through his brows, his dark blue eyes murky against the shadow of his black eyebrows and his smudged mascara, she started seeing double; it was too much for her mind to comprehend. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to succumb to pleasure or unconsciousness.

He stuck out the tip of his tongue, painstakingly slowly extending it towards her pink nipple as she held her breath and started to see stars.

“Elvis, please,” she mouthed, her voice almost gone. When he still didn’t take that final step, she tugged on his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ow, watch it!” His eyes flashed with genuine anger for a second and she panicked. Her sex-drunk brain was able only to think of simple solutions, so she petted his hair where she had pulled it, gradually increasing the territory of her hands to include his back and his shoulders and his chest. Yet even in her simplified state, she was surprised to see how he basked in the affection, the loving, tender light back glowing in his gaze.

Finally, he closed his lips around her areola, sucking her breast into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. She continued to stroke and rub her fingers into his scalp and along the lines of his neck and shoulders as he turned his attention to her other aching breast.

At the same time, one of his hands began to trail down from where they had both been pinning her hips hard to the mattress, like he had been afraid she would float away otherwise. He might have been right. She felt him slide a finger under the leg of her panty and pause, tracing along the line of her lower lips.

“Okay?” he murmured, his words damp and hot against her ear as his mouth had moved back towards her head, nipping at the flickering pulse in her throat and the soft line of her jaw. She nodded, exhaling loudly through her nose.

She felt his finger slide in deeper and her face throbbed as she felt how little resistance he was encountering. What must he think of her, dripping and clenching around his fingers so eagerly, so hungrily?! She tried to look away, craning her neck to try and bury her face in the pillow, but he grabbed her chin with his other hand and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes still twinkling, but his expression otherwise as serious and real as she had seen all day.

His jaw was clenched and she could make out the sound of him almost grinding his teeth as he pressed his pout against hers like he was trying to control himself and manage the flow against the flood of affection he wanted to give.

He grunted softly and she heard the clink of his belt being unfastened and then felt the material of his pants rustling and brushing against her bare legs. She was impressed by how quickly and gracefully he had managed to whip them off and was about to tease him about it, when she discovered that Elvis did not wear any underwear.

Because she was human, Cheryl tilted her head, trying to get visual confirmation of what she could feel, the heavy, velvety length of him poking and prodding against her slick entrance as he adjusted his position over her. Instead, he lifted her leg behind the knee and pulled it tighter against him, like he wanted to feel the pressure of her around him. It meant that her bent legs were encasing him and blocking her own field of vision.

“So pretty,” he murmured, wiping her hair back from her face with a splayed hand and tickling her cheek and ear with his prickly stubble and lips. “And you feel so good.”

She smiled, wondering if he knew he was talking; there was kind of a mindless automaticity to it, like he was soothing a fretful, wild animal. Her laughter caught in her throat as the pressure increased and a rod of heat slid inside her.

Elvis froze between her legs, obviously feeling her discomfort in the tension of her muscles as they resisted him.

“Shhh, shhh,” he murmured, “It’s okay. Kiss me, baby, just kiss me.” He caught her mouth with his and for a moment, he was everywhere and it was too much. It was just too much.

Cheryl wanted to fight him off, to separate them to reassure herself that she could, that there would still be a her left after they were done. Then, her body relaxed and she found herself again, wrapping her legs around his hips, feeling the round curves of his ass against the backs of her calves as she crossed her legs at the ankles.

Again, she lapped at the line of his throat as he moved over her, nuzzling her nose into the curve of his shoulder, her mouth watering at the musk and the salt and the faint tang of a long-since applied cologne. She explored his body with her hands, enjoying the fact that he was solid and yet soft at the same time, it seemed to fit him somehow. He flinched and let out a muffled squeak as she traced her own autograph down the length of his side. It threw him off his rhythm, but when she whispered into his neck, ‘Now that part is mine.’, his only response was to nod and mumble:

“Okay.”

Regaining his pace, Elvis adjusted his hips, tilting them somehow and the heavy, warm feeling tingling below Cheryl’s belly began to unfurl, to radiate and to send out sparks. Her toes curled, the insoles of her feet tingled and at the deepest, warmest, fullest part of her, waves of pleasure began to ripple outwards with a rush that was almost painful, it felt so good. She couldn’t stop the moan from tearing from her throat, even though she was also trying to heave in a breath. Her thighs spasmed and clenched; She arched her back, pushing her breasts, already flushed and sensitive from his close attention, against the coarse hair of his chest. She could feel his chest shuddering against as he tried to suck in air.

Abruptly, roughly, he wrenched himself free from the grip of her arms and legs. More importantly, she gasped as he pulled out, taking with him the warm, heavy feeling of fullness from within her. She watched in bemusement as he stroked himself a handful of times, before wet warmth splatter onto the surface of her belly.

“Oh God,” he mumbled, his voice soft and high, utterly free from pretense.

For a minute or two, there was only the sound of their breathing as they struggled to fill their aching lungs. Then Elvis leant down and snatched up something from the floor, handing it to her for her to wipe her stomach. It was only afterwards that she realized it was her own blouse.

He pressed a hard kiss into her forehead, practically ramming her head into the pillow, and then he climbed off her and grabbed his robe from the chair by the dresser. Wrapping himself in the dark silk, he padded into the adjoining bathroom and she glimpsed his silhouette in the bright light and shiny tile, before he closed the door behind him.

Cheryl wondered if she was supposed to leave. Was that what all his other conquests did, the Hollywood starlets and the glamorous models? She could well imagine them wrapping themselves back up in their Parisian dresses and fur coats and sweeping out the door. Those types of women probably always knew the correct thing to do.

Cheryl, for whom this had been her first time in a bed and only her third time with a man, had not quite mastered the classy departure. In fact, she was still wallowing in her inferiority when the bathroom door opened again and Elvis clicked off the light. She wondered if he was disappointed to find her still there, clutching her ruined blouse to her chest and staring balefully at the tiled ceiling.

Elvis gave nothing away as he climbed back into bed, Cheryl felt the mattress shifting beneath her as he shuffled across to her. He plucked the blouse from her hands and tossed it onto the floor, then maneuvered her onto her side, pulling her back against his robe-clad front. She felt the weight of the blankets being tossed over her and he snuffled endearingly into the crook of her neck as he got comfortable.

“Mmm, the coziest pine tree in the forest,” he yawned, his minty breath telling her that he had even brushed his teeth in the bathroom, while she was laying naked, sticky and decidedly unfresh in his bed. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

Cheryl felt him peck the outside rim of her ear and had a frightening rush of tenderness for this stranger that felt more like danger than anything else she had felt, seen or heard that day. Spirits she could handle, ghostly apparitions in her bedroom were hardly uncommon; lightbulbs exploding right next to her was a little rarer, but caring about a boy was a worry. Caring about Elvis Presley was downright terrifying.

Once she was sure he was asleep and after she had stared in wonder at his profile and taken in the details of his straight nose and pillowy lips, the curve of his chin and the slope of his forehead. After all that, Cheryl slipped from his bed, gathering her discarded clothing to her chest and hurried back to her room. She didn’t bother turning on the light, not wanting to see if a distressed ghost was about to rush her. Instead, she made sure that the adjoining door was locked.

As she showered, under a trickling, tepid spray, she let her hands follow the pathways that his had taken, scratching at the warm beard rash across her chest, pressing against the slight ache above her pubic bone, her palms flat against her still blushing cheeks. She grinned secretly to herself, thinking about the cresting of that achey, pleasurable wave, her toes scrunching against the slick wet tiles at the memory.

Taglist: @deniseinmn, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally, @missmaywemeetagain, @ellie-24, @peskybedtime, @thatbanditqueen , @lookingforrainbows

All of which shattered like a sheet of ice when she heard a shout- Elvis’ shout- loud and panicked- and something began pummeling furiously against the locked door.

TO BE CONTINUED (AGAIN) (SORRY!)

#elvis presley #hollywood elvis #60s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #whositmcwhatsit #spooky #smutty #silly

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snoringkitty1 · 1 year

Text

Octavinelle vampire headcanons

Cw: Mentions of blood. Slightly suggestive in Floyd's bit. Characters: Azul, Floyd and Jade.

An: This was another request from discord, if you want to make requests more easily you can join my discord here -> https://discord.gg/VECB9kS9uv

if it doesn't work go to my Wattpad and you can find it.

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Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was not expecting something so bizarre to occur on a simple day, he just wanted to check on a project for his chemistry class. yet when he stepped in, he was bombarded with smoke, and in the center was Jamil, wearing a mask to avoid breathing in the fumes.

Azul as a vampire is..surprisingly not too much different from his normal self. He's still a gentleman but might stare at exposed skin a little longer than he should.

He'll go out less until it wears off, meaning you'll be at his place a lot more for a week or so. But I doubt you're complaining about it too much.

When he is forced to go out for whatever reason, he'll keep his hat on, even if it isn't part of his school uniform, it's not going to stop him. If anyone asks though he'll deny that anything is wrong.

Now let's get to the good part, Azul will bite your inner wrist if he is forced to drink from you. Not like he would want to drink from anyone else, he just doesn't want to hurt you. yknow?

The usually gentle Azul kept a tight hold on your wrist as he peppered small kisses along your hand and wrist. His grey eyes open just slightly, observing you for a moment.

"Ready?" he asked, a small twinge of guilt hidden under his usual mask of confidence

His lips are soft, and the moment he tastes your blood, he can't stop himself from drinking more. It was like kisses, the more he got, the more he wanted to receive..relationships are a form of contract, and if that was an obligation, he would fulfill it until no end.

And the moment you pass out from blood loss, he'll feel like an awful boyfriend. A look of guilt painted all over his face and posture.

He'll lay you down in his bed, making sure you get the rest you need. He'll probably cuddle you but on the off chance he doesn't he'll spend some time in his office doing paperwork.

Other than that, once it wears off, he will buy you something nice.

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Floyd Leech

Floyd really just walked in and drank something he shouldn't have, and hardly even noticed a change. But you certainly did.

Floyd seemed a lot more sluggish as he dragged himself back to the lounge, his outfit as messy and unkempt as ever. Perhaps he's yawning a bunch or complaining about his mouth hurting.

The moment vampire Floyd sees you, don't expect to escape his grasp for the rest of the day..or week for that matter.

He's constantly whining about the changes he's undergone because of what he drank (Even though it is entirely his fault, silly lil guy).

When he finally comes to realize what had happened, or Jade told him because he drank something of Jades. He'll cry to you that he's hungry, and he clearly has ulterior motives.

When you finally comply and let him carry you to his room, expect a multitude of bite marks being left behind by the time he finally finds the place best to drink from.

He'll drink from the left side of your neck, (His left) and he would drink until either you tell him to stop or until you pass out. Granted, you should probably tell him to stop when you feel woozing, otherwise he might be too lost in the taste of your blood to notice that you've clocked out.

Floyd carefully laid you down in his bed with a cheeky grin as he hovered above you. "You look so nice from up here!" He cheered and grinned, leaning down to peck your lips playfully. "Shut up..." You huffed and pushed him back slightly, Making Floyd snicker as he leaned down again but this time, leaned into the crook of your neck. He sprinkled sparse kisses along the side of your neck, his eyes narrowed as he tried to use his new abilities to detect the best place to drink from. He bit down once without warning but didn't break the skin, just leaving a bite mark behind on your neck. And after a few more trials and errors he found the spot and sunk his teeth in...again without warning. "A warning would be nice, Floyd-!" you yelped in surprise and squirmed with a quiet whine. He hummed against your skin and held your wrists to keep you from moving away. "Thstop moving.." he grumbled. And after a minute or so you felt faint, holding your head and whining, "Floyd-..that's enough, please stop.." You mumbled and he almost instantly leaned away, wiping his mouth and kissing your forehead before flopping down beside you, "Hehe, sorry.." he chuckled and pulled you close, but now you'd already passed out. "Awe man..only if i made you pass out under a different circumstance..i wouldn't feel so shitty.." he huffed,

Floyd won't go to sleep immediately, he'll play with your hair and lightly pinch your cheeks until he falls asleep, holding you and making sure you're comfortable.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Jade Leech

Oh dear.

Jade as a vampire is very, very dangerous thing, because personally I think he is super sadistic.

He will leave bite marks all over instead of just your neck like Floyd, from your arms and thighs to your shoulders. No where is safe.

He'll drink from the right side of your neck, as opposed to his brother. But in the end, he doesn't care where he drinks from, as long as it's your blood he doesn't mind.

He's honest, he will tell it straight that he is hungry, and he wants to drink from you. If you deny him, he will respect your choice and suffer through the few weeks of hunger.

Naturally, you know what happens when you accept. He'd sit you on his lap and hold your face, hold your face and admire you for a moment.

Jade sat you down in his lap, holding your thighs for a moment before his hands slid up to hold your waist and pull you closer, a charming smile on his face. "Feeling alright?" he inquired and moved hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. "Mhm..I feel great." you murmured and relaxed into his touch, closing your eyes. Jade smiled and kissed your cheek, his kisses trailing down to your neck, where his kisses became prolonged to detect a heartbeat. "Well, darling..just breath, and this will be all over with." he assured softly and smiled before his teeth sunk into the flesh of your neck. You clenched fistfuls of his uniform and shivered before slowly relaxing as the pain faded away. He made sure to keep a close eye on your pulse, and when your heart sped up just a little too fast, he leaned back and stopped. You set your chin on his shoulder and shivered, and he pat your back with a faint hum, "relax..we're done. here.." he hummed and laid you down and tucked you in, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding your hand as you slowly faded in unconsciousness.

Jade just wants to make sure you're comfortable, and the moment you wake up he'll bring you water and your favorite snack. He'll pamper you and make sure you're cozy and comfy.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Thanks for reading.

#fluff #twst #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #vampire #floyd x reader #floyd leech #jade leech #jade x reader #octavinelle #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland #twst floyd

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amazingdeadfish · 30 days

Note

if you do drawing reqs, can we get mayor in different clothing from different time periods... specifically the victorian era? i'd love to see your interpretation of what he would wear, since i liked the 1950's one a lot!

The funny thing about this question is the fact that the Victorian era is in fact, a long period of time (1820s-1900s). There's a lot of differences in fashion all across the globe during this time period.

But I'm about 82% sure that you must be talking about British Victorian era clothing. And adding into that, middle class fashion. The 'educated' class. The people who owned businesses and factories and the ones who could spend their leisure time doing whatever and wearing whatever. Because that's definitely what the Victorian era fashion was known for. The extravagant upper class clothes. Not the working class, or anything below that.

So, after a little bit of a google inspo search, I think you were expecting something like this:

Mayor in middle class, British, Victorian, masculine fashion. He probably wouldn't be too bold with their outfits in order to fit in. It was quite fun to draw this guy in a top hat and tail coat (even more fun than looking at all of the different types of Victorian neck wear haha). But, honestly, if we are going to be a little bit logical about this, he would not have arrived in England (if he's ever been there at all) all dapper and nice straight away.

In fact, I think it would be more likely that for a while, he would (even if just for a little bit) wear things similar to the working class of Britian. Coal soot and all.

Look at the silly man! Like a newspaper boy. Obviously he will rise up the ranks of the class hierarchy but like, come on, he probably had to shove coal into a train furnace at least a couple ten times. I hope these designs satisfy you, they're not much, but I hope it was what you were thinking of.

I would also like to bring up the fact that, again, there are a lot of different periods of time during the Victorian era! One notably, the American Wild West (1860s-1890s)!!! Hence, I of course have a cowboy Mayor design (rather plain like the others but I haven't put too much thought into it really, maybe I should):

And then there is the fact that before the Victorian era was the age of piracy. While technically for the west that period was decades before Queen Victoria came into power (1650s-1730s), the biggest flat fleet in China (and, I think also the world), was at its most powerful during the 1800s-1810s (literally a mere decade before the Victorian Era began)!!! That decade was under the leadership of Zheng Yi Sao, one of the most successful pirates in history. And of course, I do like to think the Mayor must have encountered her at some point. He might have been intrigued by the powerful woman she was.

So of course. Pirate Mayor:

Out of all time periods I do like to think that Mayor was at his most grumpy at this point (even worse than their Chief era). Life out at sea was not very glamorous. But hey! They're a pirate! That's so cool!

If any of you are still here reading my rambling, I also want to say that this question just reminded me of an old drawing I drew last year. I kind of cringe looking back on it but I'm still just a little happy that I actually drew the thing.

You can probably spot them, but the pirate and cowboy Mayor designs are there (right next to each other too)!!! Along with, some 1900s designs. A doodle I made about the Mayor through the ages :))).

Thanks for sending in the request! It was fun to answer :))).

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk #lmk fanart #lmk mayor #monkie kid mayor #oughhhh silly man through the ages #thank you for liking the 1950s Mayor post though :DDDD #ask

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rayroseu · 10 months

Text

💚 Malenoa and Levan FanDesign Notes

okayyyy 4th post of me manifesting a reveal of Malleus DNA 😂🙏✨✨

this is based mostly on crowley is levan theory

• • • these are just mainly doodles and rambles ‼️

im. so. so. desperate for more dragons in this game. i hope u guys know that akdjkaksks cuz like,,,,, why did Levan had that eastern dragon title if he aint that....😭😭 I want it bcs its a nice reference to Halloween event!!!🐉💚✨✨

You know!! Like how Halloween event signifies Levan and GloMas signifies Malenoa (i think in terms of their clothing?) and those two events focused GREATLY on Malleus' character ✨✨

( this is my sketch design of him--- i wanted to draw Levan in the halloween costume ✨✨)

I'm really fine with Crowley being Malleus' dad😂 (convinced myself to just cope with it if it came true 😂💥)

as long as the story doesn't write it off as like a silly thing or he's written off as a jerk who left Malenoa for milk (which is most of the memes correlating for this theory lol)

(i doubt TWST will write it off like this they will twist it very tragically for sure 😭 all for their best marketing boy Malleus yk✨‼️)

But uh, Princess Malenoa wouldnt actually fall for some himbo like Crowley right... KJDKAJS

PLUS YOURE TELLING ME CROWLEY USED TO BE A

1. FUTURE KING

2. HE GOT THE APPROVAL OF LILIA??? TO MARRY MALENOA???

3. THE APPROVAL AND SUPPORT OF THE FAE NOBLES AND COMMON FAES TO MARRY THEIR BELOVED PRINCESS

4. THE APPROVAL OF QUEEN MALEFICIA TO HAVE HER DAUGHTER⁉️⁉️

so being normal WAS an option dire crowley😭 what went down bird principal 💥💥

—

(i think Malleus got his expressions from Levan hehe and also his empathetic side who wants to connect with others)

Also realizing that if Crowley is ever a dragon then his masking is on point because the crow mask covers his potential dragon scales and the silly hat can cover his horns lol

and if he's ever truly Malleus' father, i hope he has a tragic/good reason why he let him overblot and the best he could do before malleus snapped was order the students --who are obviously inferior to Mal-- to stop and fight him😂😭💥‼️

—

I realised that since Princess Malenoa is their leader in military, there's a chance that she was also in charge of designing Land of Briar's military gear--

Plus!! We know Malleus designs clothes for Groom Lilia!!

So, that means she's the one who dressed up Lilia's general garments? 🥺✨

Thus, the design I thought of her is like a mixture of Malleus' Masquerade Outfit and Lilia's General Outfit ‼️✨

I put roses on her horns bcs I love the thought she's connected to roses-- its more like a decoration on her headpiece, kinda like what Maleficent wears in the live action.

I think Maleficia and Malenoa are more welcoming in displaying their draconic features rather than hiding it like Malleus. Because that's what you really do as a dragon fae and its more comfortable✨✨‼️

also bcs i think Malleus scales are so pretty (only for him to hide it behind his bangs💔💔💔) like honey... why are you hiding them aaaa (bcs he doesnt want to look more scary right...) 😭 I still hope he actually transforms into a dragon, i dont care if hes going to be so overpowered that we'll need 20 turns to empty out his HP‼️💥💥

I desperately wish Malenoa and Levan are sweetly in love because when the scene comes where both of them perishes its going to hurt real good in my heart knowing they wouldve been the sweetest parents for malleus 🥲😭💔

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debbeh · 6 months

Note

can u give me a guide to the six idiots :33 like maybe with a picture of them n their names n who they play in the Big Three shows :33 pwetty peesse :33

UM YES!?

ok, you saw me earlier trying to format all the images so it's gonna be mostly my (ehhhh) descriptions of the characters and you gotta guess what they look like 😈

Ben Willbond

Yonderland:

Elder Vex (above): the one who says Deb-beh and has the coziest looking outfit I NEED IT RN PLZ and the Tom Cardy- esque hair and earring

Nick: the stick. Grumpy all the time cuz he's a stick >:(. Is also a portal between dimensions but whatevs

Horrible Histories

Mike Peabody :historical news reporter that wishes he were anywhere but here rn

King Henry, Alexander the Great: SkINy MaNdRiA, excellent hair, sniffed a guy

Ghosts

The captain: AKA James, makes a lotta noises, if you ever hear me going weeeahhhhhuuuueeeaaaaaahhhh, I'm referencing him, the gay one<3

Martha Howe-Douglas!

Yonderland!!

Debbie.

Debbie's evil twin sister (bossy boobs)

I just googled it: Rita, the Negatus simp AKA us, the demon that looks like how female animals are protrayed in Barbie movies

Horrible Histories!!!

Boudica (look up the song, it's rlly good), Cleopatra, every female historical figure

Pirate lady....<33333

Ghosts!

Lady Button (present day): Old disgruntled lady that pouts all the time and falls out of windows

Lady Button (flashback)

Mathew Baynton!!!

Yonderland!!!

Oracle: weird blue blob guy, Nigel, Darling

Nanny la roo: NUM NUMS!!!! - nanny that is also a kangaroo

Admiral Anous: Voldemort mf I hate him bc he hates Negatus>:(

Elder Choop: Croissant hair mf, says, "IDK WHY DON'T WE ASK UR MUM??"

Le Fox: French

THE BIRRDDDDD: AKA Thomas Payne, Batman but cooler

Oh yeah, and Elf: the elf shaped one, full name: Grintallin Gobscrew Crotell Fashanu F’naw Goplatz Holla-Holla, has multiple wives apparently and is in debt to the mob

Horible Histories (look all of them up, they are all hot)

Dick Turpin: play the song >:333, shot not one but two men dead!

D.I. Bones: the whakkus bonkkused

King Charles II: absolute party-er

Ghosts

Thomas Thorne, shot, dead! Absolute poetic simp for Allison, drowned himself in the lake ;( -cannot drown-

Jim Howik!!!

Yonderland

Elder Pressley: looks like Elvis, eats christmas tree ornaments

Crone: A sLaPper *wink wink*, has apparently gotten with everyone, goes eeeerrrrrrrrrrr all the time- sounds like a doorhinge, she is amazing

Neil: lhe most normal of the demons probably

Horrible Histories

A SHOUTY MAN!!! :does all the infomercials, will try to sell you piss

King George VI (above) : "oh yesss, dad's dead, I'm king..."

King Richard III: a sweet little guy<3 -according to the song, get's attacked by whasp

Ghosts

Pat Butcher: Greatest DJ in the AAARRREEEEEUHHHHH, killed by a child, AKA Pete in the American version

Larry Rickard

Yonderland

Detective Mounteback: very dumb detective with very large hat

Elder Ho Tan: trans Icon, doesn't like loud noises, absolute baby<3

Sue: above, the lady with the gun from the episode I showed you

Horrible Histories

Bob Hale: weather report, needs a hellicopter and a nice cup of tea, basically Bill Wurtz

Lol knight with shit on head, Aztec guy, George III friend who slays so hard; "ConGRatu-VerY-LaTiOns your... *MAgEsTy*"

Ghosts

Humphrey: keeps getting left on roofs and shelves, does NOT know French smh

Robin: 5,000 yo ghosts, once saw a cool butterfly, KNOWS FRENCH! Got stuck by lightning and now he can turn on lights

and finally... the moment you've been waiting for...

Simon Farnaby!!!

Yonderland!!!

Negatus<333: Silly guy try to take over Yonderland but is just a lil guy, has an evil lair, uses The Font of Orris (cauldron thing that lets you see everything) as a hot tub, get's bullied by all the other overlords, wears pjs with houses on them.

Elder Flowers!!!: Long hair and lack of shirt, vegetarian hippie of the group, wants his clothes to be veGONE, "all you need is love, brothers... oh, and food"

Horrible Histories

Emperor Caligula: the wakkus bonkkus guy

Marcus Licinius Crassus: Knockoff Bassline Junkie song

Ghosts:

Jullian!!!: Died conducting an affair with his secretary!!!, is eternally sorta drunk, does the hand thing, only ghost that can interact with stuff, makes silly EEERREREEEEE noise when he's trying to move something, his name is Trevor in the American version, sad when there's no porn on da TV ;(, has no pants BTW

Thanks for coming to my TEDTALK!!!

Lemme know if I missed anything!

#yonderland #bbcghosts #negatus #sixidiots #themthere #ghosts

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linabirb · 8 months

Note

Go ahead, Lina, talk about why you like Rollo. I need a reminder on why he's the best ever :DD

SORRY FOR A LATE REPLY AURORA I GOT HOME A FEW HOURS AGO AND NEEDED TO REST and the power went out while i was typing this. why is this world so rollophobic

warning for lots of rambling under the cut!

first of all, his design.

"haha funny boy with a bowl cut and a huge hat" virgin vs "literally the most fun design to draw" chad. yes i'm the second one.

of course his design is heavily inspired by his counterpart but i just love it a lot! i really like the colors (some of them lowkey remind me of a bi flag JDKDLSLSL) of his outfit and i like how the color of his hair and his eye color look with them!

i actually disagree with people who say that he'd look better with longer hair or a more detailed/"unique" hairstyle bc i think in that case his design would feel very overwhelming? meanwhile here it looks much more balanced! when i draw him, it feels really nice bc i don't have to do much when it comes to his hair, i can just focus on the outfit! (though i had to get used to drawing his hairstyle, bc my art style is just. floofy hair.. soft hair..)

speaking of his hair..

I'M STILL NOT OVER HIM HAVING MORE MESSY-LOOKING HAIR AND EVEN HAVING AN AHOGE. I'M STILL INSANE ABOUT IT THIS IS SO CUTE. i've talked about it with my other friends and i hc that his hair is like that simply bc he wears a hat most of the time and.. yeah, your hair can become like that after you wear a hat. and like, maybe his hair has no choice but to look like that no matter how much he tries to take care of it and make it look better, so he also tries to hide it with his hat HDJKDKSLD.

also, i find it so funny how on some images it looks like he has really bad dark circles, meanwhile on other images you can clearly see that he wears makeup, so here's my rollo headcanon number 420 (i have so many of them. so many. literally about any topic. i am going insane): rollo tries to hide his dark circles with makeup, but fails miserably and he's really bad at it and nobody has a heart to tell him that he's actually not really doing a good job.

HIS CHIBI VERSION IS SO. SQUISHING AND BITING HIM. WHAT'S THAT EVIL SMILE FOR. YOU SILLY GOOFY MAN

now, his personality.

HE'S SO. SIFGHDHJFBDFBHDJNDVFDNM!!!!!! i love how rollo isn't just a "cold and emotionless anime guy". HE HAS EMOTIONS!! HE HAS SO MANY OF THEM!!! LITERALLY THE WHOLE MASQUERADE EVENT CAN BE A METAPHOR FOR EXPRESSING ALL THE FEELINGS YOU HAD REPRESSED FOR SO MANY YEARS AND ENDING UP DOING SO IN A WAY THAT'S HARMFUL FOR OTHERS (and probably you).

okay, i've said it before in my other post (the ask game one) but the fact that he's literally one of the few characters (if not the only one) who actually says that yuu must feel weird being the only magicless student and that it can be very scary and tiring. man. and like, when everyone has to split up into groups, rollo is the only one who asks what yuu will be doing. i could try my best to not go "this man is in love with them" at least for a second, but no, this man is in love with them. "oh it's only because they're magicless" shut up. so what if it IS because they're magicless. what if yuu is so pure to him, nobody can touch them. what if he wants to protect them from magic users. rolloyuu can either be the cutest and softest ship ever or they can be the most toxic ship BUT IN A GOOD WAY. IN A WAY THAT MAKES YOU GO "waittttt 👀👀👀 that's kinda. that's kinda. hold on a minute" LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYINGGGGGG. all variations of rolloyuu are good. all of them. his ghost room voicelines are also so. it's like, even if he's studying at nrc currently, you can clearly see that he still has favoritism for yuu. it really feels like he sees them as the only "good" student here. it feels like he's a little bit more.. um.. maybe he's more of a tsundere now, since now he knows that yuu likes magic? such as him being surprised when yuu shows him that they want to be friends with him and thinking that it's all just some kind of evil scheme and then being shocked that they're just genuinely nice and saying that it just makes everything even worse. OTOME GAME LOVE INTEREST BEHAVIOR. and him also kinda scolding them for "asking for a present" from him but then saying that birthdays really are important and that he hopes he won't disappoint them with his present. man. m a n. AND HIS OTHER VOICELINES STILL MENTION HIM FEELING SORRY FOR MC AND SAYING THAT THEY CAN ALWAYS RELY ON HIM AND ANYWAY ROLLOYUU ARE MARRIED-

but i should go back to the topic of his personality! you know what makes me insane. it's that rollo, no matter how hard he tries to look like this serious and organized person who has everything under control is canonically a dork in the most affectionate way. HIS FLYING LESSONS VOICELINES ARE SO FUNNY. the fact that he goes "WHY WON'T THIS THING LISTEN TO MEEEEE" when it's not working out, but when everything is fine, he immediately goes "oh, it's quite simple actually"?? i'm going to kiss you on the mouth, you idiot SJKDKDLSLS. he's also canonically a horse girl, which makes sense bc of his counterpart, but also HORSE GIRL ROLLO REAL. i need his lab coat sr. or at least let him take alchemy classes with his current card i want to know what he'll say.

his battle voicelines are so cool, i'm literally obsessed with them. HE LITERALLY SAYS THAT HE HAS UNFINISHED BUSINESS TO TAKE CARE OF AFTER BEATING UP SOME GUYS. HOW COOL IS THAT. some of his voicelines totally didn't make me giggle and kick my feet. totally. don't look at me. me reading "good, how obedient" and "it seems you still desire punishment" and choking on my tea

also i love how his vignette exceeded my expectations and didn't just make me go "i love him <3", it made me go "i need to take care of him, i need to give him a blanket, i need to force him to go to sleep when he needs it, i need to kiss his stupid face, i need to tell him that he's enough-". like what do you mean he eats the exact same things (and not just food, but also the exact amount of it) for lunch and i'm pretty sure he does the same with breakfast and dinner. what do you mean he wakes up BEFORE SUNLIGHT to clean the bell and the gargoyles. what do you mean he likes the bell of salvation (yes, i'm sticking to fan translations) because "it rings when it's supposed to", meaning that he likes predictable things and things that he "already knows" (i think you can say that it's also implied in one of his voicelines where he can't understand why mc is "acting so familiar with him". they're being unpredictable. it's too hard for him to understand them.) what do you mean even when he knows that it will be easier/more convenient for him to do something different, he still does it the same way that he always does. i need him to go to therapy, this man has at least one mental illness and i'm like 100% sure that he's neurodivergent. (i've said it so many times on discord but he's ocd-coded. i say that as someone who has ocd. that's it. i do so many of the things that he does, it actually was a little uncomfortable (but also validating) to read his vignette, i was like "?? DUDE?? PLEASE?? PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW UNHEALTHY IT IS?? wait i don't have a right to say that". the bit where he says that he eats the exact same foods to "avoid unnecessary desires" especially reminded me of my own behavior, because my brain often makes me stop taking care of my needs because "otherwise the Bad Stuff will happen". but i won't go into detail)

also i like how he's loved by literally all nbc students?? say whatever you want, call him manipulative and all that, but it takes hard work to make people like you and admire you and rollo is definitely hardworking.

now, his role in the story. sure, him and idia have very similar backstories, but rollo's past resonates with me much more, because i really wish we had more characters that express their grief and other negative emotions as anger. of course, some people cry, some people isolate themselves, some people become afraid of everything, but in those cases those characters are usually portrayed as sympathetic, meanwhile those who want to punch people, want to fight back, want to scream and yell at everyone, often get portrayed as unsympathetic, scary or even abusive and toxic or just evil. which is.. not good. not good at all. anger is a valid and understandable emotion and it's actually good to be angry about things. i actually was shocked when my therapist told me that i SHOULD "bite and scratch people more" (as i've said it myself) right after i was describing to her how easy it is for me to get angry we also found out that it's actually one of my alters' doing and i was like "i sound like some kind of monster don't i". so it's really nice and actually kinda healing to see him just steal everyone's magic, set the town on fire (with flowers, but whatever) and still hate magic and not really getting a redemption arc. it's okay, he'll get there someday. him immediately starting to sob the moment he remembered what happened to his brother also broke me.

however, there is one tinyyyy problem with his backstory, though that's just me, probably. you see, idia blaming himself for what happened to ortho was more.. i wouldn't say understandable, but it makes sense story-wise. he really was involved in it, even if it really wasn't his fault and he was only a child, i can still see why he'd blame himself. but in rollo's case, him secretly blaming himself.. doesn't really make sense to me? i mean, his brother just wanted to show him his magic, sure, rollo could blame himself for just standing and not being able to help him, but.. i don't know, it just feels a little bit weaker to me. so when the story goes "hey, look at him, he's blaming the magic users for not saving his brother, when he actually thinks it's his fault"! i'm like ". okay. what do you want me to do. do you want me to give him a hug and tell him that it really wasn't his fault." like, according to him, other mages really couldn't help and they ignored him, so what do you want me to do?? do you want me to point at him and go "HAHA SO IT REALLY IS YOUR FAULT"?? i'm not gonna do that!!

also, the thing is that rollo isn't selfish at all. i don't think he thinks that highly of himself. i actually bet that his self-esteem is horrible. when idia tells rollo that rollo wasn't trying to save other people, but he actually wanted to save himself, rollo is genuinely confused and can't believe it and idia himself says that it looks like rollo really did think that he was doing it for others. and even if he secretly wanted to do it for himself, i don't think him saying that he wants to save others and end their suffering is selfish. and he also says that he'd love to lose his magic too and he doesn't like using his magic.

his parents also being worried about him and making sure he's fine in the vignette also breaks my heart.

soooo yeah! that's all i can think of right now, but of course, there's most likely much more, my brain is just a little tired, haha.

maybe none of this makes sense and i'm just biased and i'm projecting, but who cares. at least i'm having fun.

if you've read all of this, thank you and congrats! have a pic of my croissant plushie (+ a bnuuy!!) :)

#[ 💌 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 ]#[ 💕 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 ]#[ 💫𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝: 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐚 ]#eh you know what #twisted wonderland #rollo flamme #twst rollo #i'm probably gonna regret it later but rn. i'm too sleepy to care and i need to do my hw

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Note

Hmm, I've been thinking about MC who can knit/crochet.

I thought this up with specifically Asra in mind since we know he can knit as well. Maybe on lazy days they both lounge around and make silly clothes for Faust (and maybe matching lovers bracelets?). I also think they get really unique yarn textures/colors on their trips, cant wait to come back home and brainstorm what to make with them(Fausts wardrobe never runs out. she's a fashionesta, all the others snakes stare in envy!)

Though I can also see MC knitting tiny hats and socks for Malak, and maybe a human sized version for Julian so they can match. julian insists MC make one for themselves as well so they can all match together. (I see him as an enjoyer of cheesy matching couples outfits, if MC makes one with an inside joke/romantic phrase on the shirt, he will not take it off until its basically a part of his skin)

Or maybe crocheting an elegant lacy sash for Nadias lovely owl (I'm sorry I forgot the name😭), and I think if MC made a similar one for Nadia she would not pass an opportunity to wear it, she styles it beautifully with casual outdoorsy clothes. (She was debating wearing it to a formal meeting with other world leaders, it so pretty she can't help it!)

And making tiny sweaters for Pepi? Portias in love. I think she would either 1)also know how to knit 2)make MC teach her how to so she can reciprocate the love by also making MC sweaters. They all end up warm and fuzzy at the end of the day. (Definitely makes MC and Pepi have a photo shoot/painting shoot?? Something to eternalise the memory basically)

And also, knitting a matching set of cowls for Innana and Muriel to fight off the cold in the forest, it's easily his favourite thing to wear, if it get caught on a brach and tears, or Innana accidentally claws through it he will be eternally guilty, even if MC reassures him that they can just mend it or make a new one. (Would also love if MC made little sacks for his herbs and protection charms)

And I can see Lucio clipping little crocheted charms on his gold arm, what do you mean? it cute and his MC made it for him of course he's wearing it! Also asks (forces) MC to buy neon red yarn so they HAVE to crochet stuff for him. (He went in public one day with little frogs and ladybugs and ducks dangling from his arm, got many stares, refused to give one of them to a child who then started crying, it was a whole thing, im not sure how he would feel if MC made a goat charm though)

Expand/add onto these if you want (i would like to know your opinion about the goat charm thing) , thought they were too sweet not to share, also had to get them outta my system😅, I love your content (just as much as Julian loves the sweater) sorry this is a long one and i hope you have a nice day<3

-🐍

Hello, snek friend!

Don't apologize for the long message, these ideas are all lovely! I can definitely see Faust and Malak flaunting their outfits whenever they can wear them. You already know Asra would set up a catwalk (or should I say snekslither?) for Faust to model her looks.

Careful with Julian though! He's better with his hands than he lets on, if you give him a crash course he might get even better than you are and start showering you with odd little crocheted inventions.

I expect Mercedes and Melchior would be better off if MC finds a nice, tough twine to make chew toys with XD

And oh goodness, you already know in Muriel's route how long he wore the scarf MC got him at the marketplace, if it was homemade he'd store them on the mantle with his tapestries.

Both Portia and Nadia would definitely find a book of patterns and gift it to you to help you explore new ideas! The difference is that Nadia would shower you with supplies, while Portia would challenge herself to master every pattern you can. ^.^

As for the goat charm, oh dear. He'll wear it because you made it but he'll clip it somewhere less noticeable XD

Thanks for sharing these wonderful ideas with me! They're so fluffy it makes me wanna melt :)

Cheers!

- brainrot

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana hc #the arcana headcanons #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #lucio morgasson

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janort · 8 months

Note

So Janort your my clown knowledge mutual so do you have any tips to dress as a clown (or anything similar) this Halloween?

Yep! Thank you for the ask, I’ll share my best advice!

There are multiple ways to achieve a clown look, the 2 big ones are to order a premade costume from a Halloween store, or build your own out of outfits you already have. You could also commission a custom costume or sew your own (expensive), but you obviously don’t have to.

Personally, I don’t think buying a premade clown costume is for me, but the pros are that you get the whole package for a cheap price, and you don’t have to think very hard about it. Unfortunately that also comes with all the downsides of buying cheap Halloween costumes, the itchy material, smelly and dull makeup, ect.

To piece together your own costume without too much crafting or sewing, here’s a few things I’d recommend:

-figure out how you wanna do your face, clown makeup is hard to pull off unless you’ve got real face paint and can paint on your own face, (I cannot lol) most novelty face paints are very bad quality and need white base layers to show up well. I like to wear clown masks. you can get a plain plastic mask and paint clown features on it with acrylic, it cost very little and will last for the whole night even if you don’t seal it with varnish or whatever. You can also find premade clown masks at Halloween stores I think, I just prefer to make my own.

-find your brightest, most obnoxious clothes. Anything with patterns, plaid, stripes dots, rainbows, neons, graphic prints. Vests lend themselves to a clown aesthetic as well.

-mix those patterns in the most obnoxious way, plaid over stripes, polka dot shorts over pajama pants, whatever you want. Layer to your hearts content.

-use clothes in whatever way you want, not necessarily how they were meant to be used. Pin a skirt into a scarf, tie a sock as a bracelet, wear a shirt as a sash.

-find some accessories, silly rings, Mardi Gras style necklaces, cool gloves, earrings if you have piercings, pins/brooches, a cape if you want, a hat (dollar stores have nice birthday hats that go with clown costumes), a bag, two bags, ect. Pin whatever you want to any part of your outfit, a belt works well, tie small stuffed animals or toys on there, you can also buy a cheap hat and hot glue stuff onto it. Anything goes.

-you can get a cheap wig from party city or online if you’d like

-if you don’t like how the outfits looking, shuffle it up however many times you want to.

-and lastly, be silly, have fun!

#clownblr #clown posting #clowns #clowncore #Halloween #:o)#clown

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allzelemonz · 5 months

Text

Finding and Feeling (3.1): The Move

Pairing Type: M/M Rating: M/Language, sexual themes Warnings: Wingwoman Mary-Beth, mention of gelding, Kieran being nervous, shopping, sapphic Mary-Beth and Tilly, mention of brothels, gift giving, theft, girls and the gays Summary: New camp means new clothes and a new chance. Other Chapters

Kieran never really imagined he’d get the opportunity to get new clothes, but when the gang got to moving camp he was all but thrown into the wagon by Miss Grimshaw. She claims that he stinks worse than the horses. Mary-Beth is all too enthusiastic to drag him into the general store of Rhodes for some clothes.

“I was thinkin’...” She mutters as she digs through the shelves. “Since ya ain’t too mad at Bill anymore-”

“Who said I ain’t mad at ‘em?”

“Well, yer back ta starin’ and blushin’, now aren’t you?”

Kieran’s cheeks heat at that. “Shut up…”

Of course, Kieran is still terrified of the bear of a man. However, after he caught Bill watching him open a bottle of coat tonic with a grin on his face, he’s gotten over the worst of it. Once he told Mary-Beth about it, she said she’d seen Bill snooping around Branwen quite a bit and that was more than enough proof for them both that Bill was the one leaving little gifts. Kieran insists it means nothing, Mary-Beth is certain it means Bill is smitten.

“I know Bill likes blue.” Mary-Beth mutters. “He wears it a lot at least. And he’s got this awful suit for fancy heists, blue too.”

Kieran shuffles awkwardly on his feet, wishing for just a moment that his eyes were blue.

Mary-Beth suddenly hands him an overshirt. “This one, perfect with that shirt he wears all the time.”

Kieran takes the shirt with a scrunched brow. “Ya think me matchin’ will make him not wanna geld me anymore?”

“It’s all about subtext.” Mary-Beth says, standing to look at the accessories. “I read a book last week and--”

“Aw, ya ain’t makin’ me inta one a’ them damsels, are ya?”

“Do ya want his attention or not?”

“Not if yer gonna make me look silly.” Kieran says, trying to forget the image of himself all dressed up in what Bill might like.

“Oh, you’ll look nice.” Mary-Beth smiles. “Pretty even.”

“I ain’t pretty.”

“Sure you are.” Mary-Beth shoves his shoulder lightly. “If I liked boys, you’d be my first pick.”

Kieran’s cheeks heat again and he looks at his shoes. “Just don’t go too crazy.”

“Just this.” She hands him a neckerchief and pushes him to the counter.

After a few minutes of fumbling with the new clothes in the alleyway, Kieran emerges feeling very unlike himself. He’s dressed in browns and blues, not unlike Bill’s typical outfits. New everything aside from the gunbelt he took off that O’Driscoll at Six Point. Like a new man.

It’s the squealing that makes him feel odd though.

Tilly has rejoined Mary-Beth in time to see him come out and both girls are chattering away at how he looks so much better than before. Karen, not quite one for squealing, just smiles and knocks his hat crooked.

“Aw, what’s the fuss.” Uncle mutters, woken from his sleep in the wagon.

“Go back ta sleep, old man.” Karen scolds. “Ain’t no brothels in this town.”

Uncle sighs, mindlessly finding the newly bought crate of whiskey and taking a bottle, paying nothing else any mind.

“Got an idea.” Karen mutters as she grabs his wrist.

They walk around the side of the general store, leaving Mary-Beth and Tilly to their own clueless flirting.

“Yer gettin’ Bill some presents of his own.”

Kieran furrows his brow and shakes his head. “I don’t got money.”

“I know.” Karen smirks. “And the feller in the store don’t got any sensibility.”

“What’s that mean?”

Karen stops, turning to Kieran and looking at him like he’s some kind of annoying clown. “It means, I’ll go in there and show off a few things while you find something nice fer Bill and slip out with it.”

“I-I thought Dutch didn’t want any trouble here.”

“Won’t be trouble.” Karen smiles. “Long as you don’t get caught.”

With that, Karen slips inside. Kieran waits until he can hear her boisterous fake laughter, then he naked his way inside. The owner is obviously enamored by the busty blonde snapping his suspenders and pays Kieran no mind. Looking over the shelves, Kieran finds that the only things he knows about Bill are his drinking, his affinity for torture, and his love for his horse. He doesn’t want to make Karen flirt forever, so he settles on the safest bet, alcohol. He can’t read the labels, but he finds the bottle that looks the fanciest and grabs it before making a hasty exit.

On the ride back to camp, Tilly says it’s some kind of rum she’s seen at rich folk’s parties. Mary-Beth takes the ribbon out of her hair and makes a pretty bow around the neck of it. That night, while Bill is on watch, Kieran leaves it on his bedroll and hopes for the best.

#burn month #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #slow burn #fanfic #fanfiction #bill williamson #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x bill williamson #bieran

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tea-you-later-losers · 8 months

Text

OKAY SO!!! pspspsp @guyandremy please meet my two Stardew farmers Georgia a.k.a George and Bee :))) i have little artistic skills atm so i instead used this stardew portrait maker

GEORGIA:

nicknamed George. Grampa George finds this funny but wont ever admit to it. Calls her Grandma Evelyn calls her the young Georgie :)))

TALL!! STRONG!! WIFE!!!! Former athlete who settled on her grandpa's farm after college because she didn't want to go professional and thought it'd be nice to keep the farm in the family (rip gramps things are well taken care of)

best friends-eventually-girlfriends with Bee who joined her a year or two after George gets the farm fully up and running again

Likes her eggs scrambled and adores her favorite chicken is a brown hen named Lucille

Much more organized than her partner, and if it wasn't for her the farm would subsist on foraging alone woman is the most competent

Enjoys fishing on the occasion but mostly its spent looking at the things Bee finds in the tide pools to show her

Friends with Alex and Shane bonding over Sports Balls on the weekend

Favorite clothes: works in an old t shirt and jeans, hangs out in a hoodie and athletic shorts her mom has told her are too old and need replaced but if its not falling off of her than whats a few holes? its still good for lounge wear, mom

adopted a german shepard and named him Rooster - he's the best farm dog a girl could ask for <333. The farm's horse is named Tornado after the beanie baby horse she had as a kid (former horse girl? yes!)

BEE:

they're so silly lmao

a gremlin for sure, a little messy, but good at detail work since they can focus on lots of small things (oddly enough the one to cover the finances of the farm while George does more of the actual labor)

They met George when they were teens and they've been best friends since, then in college they started to date and know they live together :))) life's beautiful like that sometimes

a dinosaur autistic thru and thru this totally isnt me projecting onto them ANYWAYS the little dino outfit you can make your farmer is their comfy clothes for rainy days and any other day they can get away with it

Made fast friends with Jas and Vincent while playing with them in the Forest. They sometimes help Penny with lessons and activities.

loves foraging its like a scavenger hunt with no checklist and more dirt. as above likes to join Georgia on her fishing trips so they can wade through tide pools and see what critters are hanging out

dabbles in the different artisan goods but doesnt really stick to one overall - it gets boring after a while and you can only eat so much jam (although they will never say no to a jar of blackberry jam tyvm)

in college got a cat named Skateboard and brought her with them to the farm. She loves the porch and hates the sprinklers

(they like to put Skateboard and Rooster in little hats and outfits much to the delight of the dog and distaste of the cat)

if you read this far you are 100% encouraged to ask questions and tell me more about yours

#stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #im sitting here daydreaming about their domestic life together in the valley instead of actually playing on the farm #on both farms ive got about uuhhh 300 hours logged????#getting covid in 2020 really fucked me up man i played nonstop for 2 weeks and then continued more in college

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purrincess-chat · 1 year

Text

Fashion Faux Paw CH4

This chapter is where things start to change a little bit! The art was done by @insertchatnoirpunhere Thank you so much for working with me, Boots!! Please show them some love for their art, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

The following morning, Marinette silenced her blog updates to prevent her phone from overheating. How did celebrities put up with it? Not to mention, her comments section threatened to burst with inquiries about Chat Noir’s identity, a detail she didn’t want to think about.

It was a quiet Saturday in Paris, the warm weather drawing Marinette out onto her balcony to design more outfits for Chat Noir to model. The options were endless now that he was detransformed, but Marinette couldn’t quite pin down a look she wanted to show off. What would people want to see more — a bomber jacket or a set of overalls? Which one complimented Chat Noir’s lanky limbs more? Should she design a hat to go with it? What about his cat ears? The cat ears were essential! Maybe she could incorporate the cat ears into the hat?

Marinette chewed her lip as she sketched a beret with cat ears sticking out of the top. Examining her work, she stifled a laugh at how funny the cat ears looked with the rest of the ensemble. Perhaps the outfit didn’t need a hat, but even though the ears didn’t match the outfit on the page, Marinette found them too amusing to erase. What if she designed a sweater to go with them? And little cat mittens!

Biting back a smirk, she sketched several cat-themed accessories as well as t-shirts, a dress, socks. After an hour, she had a whole page filled with silly cat designs fit for the silly cat king himself. They were a fun distraction, but Marinette couldn’t seriously make any of them. Unless…

She jumped up and crawled through her skylight. Chat Noir was always pranking Ladybug, so perhaps it was about time she pranked him back. Granted, no one would know it was revenge except her, but she was content being satisfied in secret. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

***

That evening, Marinette’s cheeks ached from the effort of containing her grin. She paced the floor of her bedroom, checking the time after every loop. Her prank outfit was already folded neatly behind the screen, ready for her goofy cat boy to wear them. Of course, she’d prepared a serious outfit as well. She didn’t want her blog to suffer just for a few laughs. The cat outfit would be a little bonus.

Footsteps squeaked on the stairs leading to her trapdoor, and Alya poked her head through with a mischievous beam.

“I brought some bargaining chips!” She sang, holding up a wooden board with an assortment of fancy cheeses. “I might have taken some of them from the Grand Paris kitchen where my mom works, but I figured that little kitten wouldn’t talk for just any old store bought cheese.”

“Alya-”

“What? You said I couldn’t speculate about Chat Noir’s identity, which I’m not, but I have some questions about how the Miraculous works. This is for my own personal research, not for the blog, I promise.” Alya held up her right hand. She crossed the room to set her cheese board on the desk. “So, what do you have for boy wonder to model today?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Marinette bit back a smirk.

Three taps sounded on her window as if on cue, and Marinette paced over to open it. Chat Noir leaned into her face with one of his boyish grins, perching precariously on the top of his baton.

“I’m ready for my close up,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Marinette stifled a giggle, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ve got the purrfect outfit for you today.”

“Nice pun! You really know how to make a cat feel at home, Marinette,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both hilarious. Hurry up and get changed. I have questions for your kwami.” Alya ushered him behind the screen and pulled it closed.

Green light illuminated the room, and Plagg floated out from behind the screen, b-lining straight for the cheese. Alya slid the board out of the way and cocked a hip.

“You get cheese if you answer my questions,” she said.

“You drive a hard bargain, lady!” Plagg moaned. “But fine, what do you want to know?”

“What does it feel like when you fuse with the ring?” Alya asked, wasting no time.

Plagg crossed his arms over his chest, so Alya offered him a piece of cheese.

“It’s kind of like having one of those dreams where you can fly or do anything you want. You’ve got so much energy, at least, until your holder uses their power. Then it’s like you’re on the final stretch of a marathon, and you’re doing everything you can to keep going.” Plagg shoved the whole wedge of cheese in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before adding, “The best part of the whole ordeal is getting to eat a delicious wheel of Camembert afterward to recharge. I’ve never met a finer cheese.”

“Fascinating.”

Marinette’s leg bounced while Chat Noir changed, heart racing. She could already picture the memes she was gonna tease him with on their next patrol. Maybe she’d bombard his cat phone with them as payback for all of the memes he sent her on a daily basis. And for all the LadyNoir forums she was sure he started.

Chat Noir burst out from behind the screen, landing in his signature pose with a wide grin. Green pawprints adorned the buttons of his black overalls, a long-sleeved green sweater with black cat heads trailing up the arms underneath. Surprisingly silky blond hair peeked out from under a black cat-eared beret — he wasn’t kidding about the conditioner.

Marinette threw her head back with a laugh.

“Okay, now this is the best thing you’ve ever designed!” he said.

“Wait, you like it?” Marinette sobered.

“Yeah! It’s awesome. You really captured my sweet sense of style.” He turned to admire his outfit from all angles in the mirror.

“It is pretty cute.” Alya concurred.

“You can’t be serious.” Marinette giggled. “The cat outfit was supposed to be a joke.”

“I dunno, Marinette. Making Chat Noir merch might actually be good for you. You could even set up a shop to sell some stuff and bring in some cash on the side. With as much attention as your Chat Noir photos are getting, I think people would be more than willing to buy some things to match their favorite superhero,” Alya said.

“Alya’s right. The people of Paris love showing their support for me and Ladybug. I’d be happy to give your designs the official Chat Noir seal of approval.” He winked.

Marinette blinked a few times to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. They couldn’t be serious, could they?

“I guess I can put the idea out there and see what people think…” She pursed her lips.

“Totally, it can’t hurt to- ahh!” Alya’s hands flew to her cheeks. She crouched beside Marinette’s desk where Plagg laid on the empty cheese tray, patting his swollen belly with a belch, all of her ammunition consumed in mere minutes.

“Hey, you were supposed to answer questions to get those!” She chided, but Plagg paid her no mind.

Chat Noir placed his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Told you. He’s a pig.”

“This isn’t over.” Alya crossed her arms over her chest with a pout. She stood up and retrieved her phone, swiping open her camera. “Let’s get some pics of your merch. I’m telling you people are going to go crazy for this stuff.”

“Your prank was actually a genius idea, Marinette. I can’t wait to wear your designs openly around Paris with everyone,” Chat Noir said.

Marinette smiled. It wouldn’t hurt to put the idea out. Who knew? Maybe people would be interested in buying her designs, even if she found them silly herself.

The next day, her blogs comments were full of inquiries on where to buy the Chat Noir merch, just like Alya predicted. Marinette didn’t really get it, but she supposed Chat Noir was a symbol of hope among Parisians. Wearing their support wasn’t a bad idea, so Marinette spent every free moment at school coming up with more designs.

“Are those for your Chat Noir collection?”

Marinette jumped at Adrien’s voice over her shoulder. She’d been so lost in her work she hadn’t noticed him leaning against the table watching her. He offered her an apologetic smile and turned his attention back to her sketchbook.

“I think selling hero merch is a great idea. More people will see your clothes and ask where they came from. Pretty soon everyone in Paris will know your name,” he said.

“You don’t think it’s too silly? I want people to take my brand seriously.” Marinette sat back, examining the cat-eared headband she’d just finished shading.

Adrien shook his head, perfect blond strands shaking side to side. “Not at all. I think it’s a smart way to get your name out there.”

Marinette sat up straighter, her cheeks warming with delight. If Adrien was on board, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He’d look so cute in a set of cat ears! And a little cat sweater. Maybe with a pawprint belt to match… Oh, she had so many more ideas! She couldn’t wait to see Adrien in her clothes. She’d have to stitch his herself, then she could gift them to him in person and tell him she made them special for him because he’s so special to her. He'd see how lovingly she’d crafted each piece just for him and fall madly in love with her. They’d go on a date, eat Andre’s soulmate ice cream and be bound together forever!

“Marinette?” Alya snapped her fingers in front of Marinette’s face. “The bell rang, girl.”

“Oh, sorry!” Marinette scrambled to shove her sketchbook into her schoolbag.

“Got any designs we can sell?” Alya asked as they walked.

“A few.” She nodded. “I kinda wish people cared this much about my other designs, but if this gets my name out there, then maybe I can introduce other stuff in the future.”

“That’s the spirit!” Alya draped an arm over her shoulders. “I’ll totally help you set up shop and keep track of orders. This cat merch is gonna sell like your dad’s hot croissants.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Marinette pursed her lips.

Everyone was right. Merch would be good for her, but deep down, Marinette didn’t want her name to be associated with Chat Noir forever. The whole reason she agreed to let him model was to get her name out there, but it felt like she was making Chat Noir more popular every time she posted. Sure, her blog got a lot of hits, but most of the comments were about Chat Noir looking cute instead of her designs. Maybe she was being paranoid. People were complimenting the cat clothes, and they’d get the word out about her brand, like Adrien said. It irked her, but building a reputation took time. At the very least, goofy cat-ears were a start. So she told herself.

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #my writing #mlbigbang2022

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