#i think im hitting my limit with a lot of things and one of them is my parent dumping their problems on me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartbrake-hotel · 1 year

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Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

#blurb #ask #goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.???#sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore #also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎#halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic #on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.!#if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes #or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au #to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰#GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL #knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones #but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit #since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄#so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj #MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH #also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec #oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳#pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME

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gyusrose · 29 days

Text

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

——————————————————————————

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

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cranberryjuice-posts · 2 months

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Hi!!!!!

I need some more protective Clarisse kind of angst in my life. Maybe something when it’s not an established relationship, but it’s obvious Clarisse wants R. But since Clarisse isn’t doing anything about it R just goes on oblivious. Until one of Clarisses brothers starts hitting on R doing the bonfire. Clarisse comes up angrily and stills R away but then reader is mad. Anger confession core pls. Feel free to make it your own. I love your writing!

- my flower -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Reader

An - im struggling so fucking much writing fics rn 😭😭 my recent works haven’t really been the best and I’m sorry abt that I’m just having major writers block rn

Beauty was an important thing at camp. Being beautiful brought all sorts of things, from an extra s’more at the bonfire to having charmed guys around camp to do your bidding.

Charming guys wasn’t just the limit however: which is how clarisse found herself in your cabin watching you model different cut up camp shirts.

“What do You think of this one?” You asked wearing a shirt you had cut into a halter top. Posing yourself in-front of a mirror you hadn’t realized the daughter of ares over looking your curves and chest in the top.

“I think it looks just as fine as all the other shirts you showed me” she rolled her eyes leaning back on your bunk. You shot her a dirty look while mumbling something under your breath.

Taking the shirt off you tossed it in clarisses general direction. “You are the worst person to ask for clothing advice I swear”

“First of all I know a lot about clothing”

“You wear camo military pants”

After a moment clarisse threw your shirt back at you causing you to laugh. Rummaging around through a pile of cut up shirts you eventually grabbed one that was off the shoulders.

Throwing it on and looking at it critically you just shrugged your shoulders. “This is Fine i guess”

“Thank god” Clarisse complained (much to your dismay) standing up, placing a hand around your waist she gestured her hand to the door. “Now can we please go to dinner”

You shook your head following her out. Breaking free from clarisse once you arrived to the dining hall, she kept her eyes on you.

Everyone knew she liked you, everyone also knew she wouldn’t do shit to ask you out but would beat down anyone else who tried to.

——

“Clarisse” silena tilted her head while rolling her fingers on the table beside the curly haired girl. Receiving a harsh stare the daughter of Aphrodite just smiled.

Sitting down beside clarisse , she took a moment to observe how the ares kids behaved. Half the table was arguing while the other half was debating up coming camp events and how to win them, though Henry a newer member to the cabin was over at your table. Sitting beside you and well to put it bluntly, flirting with you.

Silena looked back at clarisse. Having to resist laughing as she gave a hateful glare to her brother. “Who the hell does he think he is” she muttered under her breath. “I mean honestly how does he think he even stands a chance with her” sitting up straighter clarisse scoffed.

“Maybe he’s just trying to find a relationship here at camp” silena softly teased.

“He should already know that she’s off limits though”

“Is she though? You’re not dating her”

Silena had a point. You weren’t dating but still she didn’t want anyone else to be with you. As much as clarisse wanted to love you she couldn’t, take a look at her. She was known as the camp bully, arrogant and with the amount of pressure she received from her father clarisse knew she couldn’t contain her anger well and would ultimately lash out on.. clarisse didn’t want to think about that.

“I don’t need your smart ass mouth silena” pushing her plate forwards clarisse quickly mad her way out of the table.

——

It made her sick how causally you flirted with Henry. Crossing her arms she didn’t even bother paying attention to the bonfire, rather clarisse was more focused on you.

Your laugh, your hair, you. All things she knew Henry didn’t or couldn’t appreciate like her.

Once she saw him leading you away towards the woods most likely to make out. That was her final straw.

Making her way over to where you were clarisse grabbed Henry by his shoulder and shoved him back. “For fucks sake clarisse— what’s wrong with you”

“I could ask you the same question who do you think you are flirting with my girl”

“Your Girl? Pfft as if clarisse you wish she was yours”

Quickly stepping between the siblings you tried to deescalate the situation. Placing a hand on clarisses chest with the other on Henry’s arm you were starting to tell that the woman before you wasn’t going to back down anytime soon.

The two continued their argument, throwing petty insults at eachother. You let out an aggravated sigh before grabbing clarisses Hand dragging her away.

—

Quickly finding the ares cabin, you threw the door open before forcing clarisse in. Taking a moment to collect yourself you let out a deep breath.

Finally facing clarisse you held your hand up before she could speak. “What.. the fuck is wrong with you”

“Henry was being a creep”

“Not every guy I go off with is a perv!”

“Yeah but if their from my cabin they sure as hell are!”

The argument continued to grow louder and louder. Clarisse was determined to prove she was right and you the same.

“Why do You Care if I want to make out with someone? Every time I show Interest in someone you are always on my ass”

“Because nobody actually deserves someone like you!” She moved some your way. She tried to make her stance show that she was innocent, that she was right, and it pissed you off even more

“What is that even supposed to mean” scoffing you shook your head looking away. “And why in what situation did you think it was ok to call me your girl?! We’re not dating clarisse”

“But we could be!” She shouted back. The room went quiet.

You furrowed your eyebrows confused, now realizing how close both you and clarisse were it flustered you. “Clarisse do you like me” you mumbled.

She just nodded, huffing you wrapped your arms around her. Hugging her tight you spoke into her neck. “You’re the stupidest person at the camp I swear”

Pulling back and placing a hand over her mouth to keep her from responding; you tilted your head up softly kissing your hand. “I’m going back to my cabin. And tomorrow morning I expect you to be at the door ready to ask me out got it”

She nodded her head once again. “Good” you pulled your hand back but not before patting her cheek. Leaving the ares cabin clarisse walked to her bunk in shock, with how fast everything had moved it didn’t click in her mind that she now had a girlfriend.

———

Clarisse - so do You want to go out with me

YN - no

Clarisse - oh.. I Just thoug—

Yn - yes Dummy I want to go out with you 😭😭

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

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venusandsaturnsrings · 2 months

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Okay lemme just

I have jjk brainrot and lemme just try to categorise my thoughts instead of letting them go !!!!!!!!

GOJO:

-Special grade teaser, this man will have you begging and edging you till you're crying

-def into letting you wear his blindfold, bonus if you're tied up

GETO

Pet play, corruption kink, need i go on- also if going with bottom Geto, def whimpers if you tug on his hair

MEGUMI

Purely basing this on an rp i had with a friend- lactation kink. Absolutely down for 3 somes with his SO + Yuji, we stan a bi king

SUKUNA

Blood kink, marking, anyway he can show off that you're his. Prolly bites you on the darn daily

MAHITO (making this extra long for you <3)

Hear me out- virgin but freaky AF

Watersports, spit, blood, cum, he's down for anything

Def has fantasies about carving his name into his fav human toy (you <3) preferably on the chest for all to see

Wil push you to your limits, prolly sucks at aftercare but can be bribed ibto beibg the best with it jn return for some new games and toys *nudge nudge wink wink*

Bonus-

Geeting double penetrated by Mahito and Foul Legacy Taru <3

IM LISTENING IM HEARING U OUT IM BRAINROTTING WITH U!! i’m crafting up a silly au where everyone lives and no one suffers and everyone gets to be happy and go to uni together and and and… so given that, i’m writing gumi n junpei as over 18!! crazy to think about but in canon time im younger than all of them… fucked up how time works huh… ANYWAYS…

includes: this is just general headcanons building off what you said my dearest + adding a couple of my own thoughts!! has Gojo, Geto, Megumi, Sukuna, Mahito, and Junpei bc he is so special to me <3 i am one of 3 Junpei kinnies on this planet i swear…

i’m not a major Gojo fucker, if anything we have hate sex that is fuelled by pent up arousal and being big time touch starved… but the idea of him using his blindfold on you?? oh dear oh my… it’s both a big step in trust and vulnerability. given that he finds not having his eyes covered to be immensely overwhelming, i imagine there’d be a strong bond between him and his partner to do this. he’s used to seeing you through the way he detects energy, it’s second nature to him, but he’ll never quite get over what it’s like to actually see you with his real eyes. his fingertips are shaking and he can’t seem to look at anything other than your face twisted in pleasure as he denies you your nth release of the day; it’s a carnal satisfaction. he tends to be very mouthy and loud whenever you’re going at it but with you splayed out in front of him like this, your body shielded by absolutely nothing, he’s rather quiet as he takes in every inch of you. it’s a form of depraved worship, in a way, that he feels so compelled to hardly even breathe to appreciate you and only you as much as he possibly can.

i’d be a liar if i said i wasn’t terribly down bad for Geto. long-haired men get me good and he’s no exception… he’s 100% into pet play and corruption you hit the nail on the head!! it’s half a control thing and half a desire to please, he doesn’t feel a lot of power over his life and being able to get some of that from what you two do together his cathartic. he’s partial to cat girls, having a little kitty for him to play with and to kneel at his feet brings him satisfaction like nothing else. Geto is also the best at aftercare!! he’s very tender in how he treats you, already having a nice warm bath and a glass of water ready… anything you need, just ask, he’d give the world to stay by your side as long as he possibly can.

prior to this ask, i’d never actually thought of Megumi before… but, hear me out, going off of his thing of sharing you with Yuji, i think he’s into being cucked. i’m sorry to be the one to say it but to my core i believe this is true and canon… when it’s just the two of you, Gumi has the tendency to get a bit nervous and lost at times so seeing someone he trusts so deeply take the reigns and really work to make you feel good without hesitation gets him going. sometimes he does get a bit jealous of the way Yuji palms at your tits or the way he gets you to squeal so loud but ultimately he knows you’re his. even if Yuji offered to snag you away, you wouldn’t accept because Gumi is the one you want (reassure him from time to time though). plus, after watching so many times, he gains a better grasp on what to do!! i think he also likes letting Yuji instruct him on just how to fuck you proper. <3

Sukuna… you are a man of many wonders and arms. he is absolutely the biggest biter of them all!! will use his normal mouth most of the time but really enjoys using his stomach mouth to nip at your ass when he’s plowing you from behind as the way you yelp in surprise never fails to get him going. he loves that having four arms means he can keep your hips still, choke you, and grope at whatever skin he wants all at the same time; there’s never a part of your body that goes missed. despite his claims of not caring about humans, there’s nothing that he loves more than having you dangle off his arm and getting to touch you in a way nobody else ever could. also, two cocks absolutely. prepare yourself to be stuffed full, he’s partial to having them both balls deep in your pussy.

FREAKY VIRGIN MAHITO IS REAL!! he’s all about experimenting so there’s really nothing he wouldn’t try honestly, it’s more of a challenge to convince him to not do certain things *shivers*… but that does come with a lot of bonuses seeing that he won’t write off anything so it’s free game for you!! odds are he’ll enjoy anything so long as he learns something from it, if it gets him off then even better. he’s naturally most interested in anything that’ll induce pain, emotional or physical, and things that allow him to be in complete control (submitting to a human? fat chance). Depending on how exactly he sees you, and how ooc you’re willing to take, you’re either going to be a good ol fashion pump n dump that he brutally slaughters OR you’ll end up being his forever pet that he won’t let out of his sight for more than fifteen seconds… both are a unique form of suffering but it’s Mahito, so there’s really no white picket fence ending option… regardless, prepare yourself to be used in the grossest ways. he’s got a particular fondness for watersports and anything that results in blood, with a preference for knife play and good ol aggressive biting, simply because he likes seeing you become a filthy depraved mess even when he’s being so cruel. i have a vague concept for a human au but even then he’s a nasty freak with no boundaries!!

adding Junpei onto this because he’s so dear to my heart and also the biggest incel. affection doesn’t come easy to him especially when it’s sexual, he finds being on the receiving end to feel as though it’s only because you pity him. try as you might, convincing him otherwise is going to take some time but he has no problem understanding his own feelings to be true although he’s shy… major panty sniffer alert, he’s too scared to actually try anything with you but he’s got his needs!! stealing a cute white cotton pair from your hamper is the next best thing to him and he’ll spend the next week with them pressed to his face whenever he’s alone, dick rutting into his hand messily. it’s subconscious but he also has a habit of stalking you around a little bit when he’s too nervous to actually talk to you but he swears it’s an accident!! he didn’t mean to learn your whole schedule it’s just that he sees you doing certain things more often!! he’s supposed to be on the other side of the city at that time for work?? you’re delusional, he was just… sent there for some sort of project, nothing weird at all he’d never!! huge whiner btw, babbles a lot when he’s finally fucking you.

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

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thinking abt cowboy!reader now after that fic. i imagine him just being all nice and offering to do stuff without being asked and people constantly thinking he's flirting or something of the sorts and he's just like ???? what. im just treatin you right? and then i imagine he is a very horrible/reckless driver ESPECIALLY when they're running down an unsub.

Warnings: minor car accident (no one gets hurt), unsub is not a nice man, mentions of killings (super brief)

A/N: So I got this not too long ago and the words just kind flew out lmao. Also not me tempted to do a series of this because I'm falling in love with his personality aha *cries* ((I feel like the team need to meet this man's parents))

"Allow me," You gave them a smile as you jogged passed Emily and JJ, tilting your head as they walked past. You caught up with them, making sure to get the door ahead of them as well.

You watch as they both sit down, massaging their temples - presumably from stress. Without a second thought, you headed into the breakroom.

"I thought you ladies could use a drink," You give them a smile as you placed a coffee in front of each of them.

"And what about us?" Morgan asked, Spencer crossing his arms next to Derek as they both stared at you.

"If y'all wanted one, you could have asked," You smirked before you made your way back to the break room, emerging with another two cups. "I'm just toying with y'all, I couldn't carry all at once,"

You stood up when JJ and Emily walked into the room, taking your hat off for a moment in greeting. When they reached their seats, you drew the chair out for them.

"Are you flirting?" Emily asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching up and removing your hat, "What makes y'all think I'm flirting?"

"You're always offering to do things, always holding the doors open, you always bring us coffee-"

"Mama didn't raise a man who overlooks the feelings of a woman-"

"And you say stuff like that-"

Concern flicked across your face, "Am I making y'all uncomfortable?" If they didn't know any better, they would have thought you were nervous, "Because that was never my intent-"

"No, no, not at all," JJ is quick to reassure, "We just wanted to make sure that you weren't flirting,"

"I'm just treatin' y'all right," You reply, "I can tone back if y'all want,"

"That's okay, we just wanted to make sure it was friendly rather than-" Emily's cut off by JJ.

"Flirtatious."

"No, Ma'am," You respond. You made a mental note to try and limit the actions they had listed, not wanting them to feel uncomfortable.

You took a seat as the rest of the team filtered in, ready for a briefing of the case.

Fast forward a few days, the unsub was beginning to speed off down the street in his truck.

"(Y/N), you're driving," Hotch states.

"Hotch, I don't think it's smart to let (Y/N) here drive," Morgan said with a grin.

"Why not?"

"He's... not the best driver," Morgan laughed.

"I am wounded by your harsh words," You responded.

"We don't have time for this," Hotch presses, everyone into the car.

You slide into the car, driver's side. The moment the last door shut, you pressed the gas. "What the fuck?!" Spencer yelps.

"Morgan, I don't say this often, but you were right," Hotch says from the passenger seat.

You roll your eyes at the lot of them and continue to chase the unsub. Until you served (you didn't want to hit a pothole) and swerved into the unsub's car. Your eyes widened as you breaked quickly. You were the first out of the car, helping the unsub out and assessing him for injuries as Morgan clapped handcuffs on him.

"Sorry sir, I didn't actually mean to hit you with my car," You apologise, gripping your hat in your hands.

"Is he for real?" The unsub turned to Hotch in disbelief.

"Sir?"

"I killed seven people, what-"

"And I hit you with a car-"

"Why are you-?"

"What do you mean-?"

"Okay, I'm intervening because this is too painful to watch," Emily chimed, gently taking your shoulder and guiding you away from the unsub.

"I feel bad for hitting him with a car-"

"I know." Emily mumbled, sharing a look with JJ.

#cowboy reader #x male reader #x reader #reader #male reader #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #bau x male reader #bau x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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generalluxun · 6 months

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Hey. Asking about how Chloe was abused. My knowldge of abuse is fairly limited to general pop knowledge so I'm curious as to what abuse was done to her.

Okay caveats first:

I am not a medical professional, I am simply someone with a vested interest in the topic who has done more research than the average person.

There are many definitions of abuse. Legal definitions are rarely useful, as they are limited to concrete, provable, gross violations. Just as you can inflict a lot of pain on someone without leaving the marks to prove assault, you can do a lot of damage to a child without it being legally 'provable'. Medical definitions are much more helpful for discussions.

Lastly some level of extrapolation is required as it is a show. We take what we are shown. For example:We actually only have Felix's word that he was ever abused, and his first character traits sre being deceitful and manipulative. We still take his word though, because it's a show. (And also we should give weight to victim accounts!)

So both parents are guilty in different ways. We will start with Audrey, the simpler one. There's clear verbal and emotional abuse demonstrated on screen. Mis-naming your child is a form of abuse:please ask the trans community about the impact of deadnaming even in full grown adults.

Beyond that she is constantly dismissive and belittling of her child- to the exclusion of all else. Style Queen/Queen Wasp is rife with examples. There is also the clear behavior shift in Chloé. The wheeling, approval seeking, hunched posture expecting rejection. This is a *pattern* not a one off. Audrey may live in NY, but no fashion movil would be away from Paris for 13yrs straight. We are simply seeing the most recent interaction. This culminates im a child having to ask 'Why don't you love me mother?' and the response is telling

Audrey barely chokes out the strange word when trying to contradict the question. It takes Marinette literally making them both mad at her to get a bare minimum of interaction on Audrey's part. It doesn't last though. Audrey falls back into her negation behaviors and is now present to inflict them more regularly on Chloé, while also being a constant target for/model of behavior for Chloé. (Seriously it was such a misstep to write Marinette reuniting a victim with an abuser) We know the show itself considers Audrey'ss care as a bad thing because the original script had André divorcing her and takin Zoé because Zoé 'doesn't deserve you' so Chloé being in an abusive parenting situation in Representation is supposed to be 'punishment'(ewww)

André is not off the hook either. People look at him 'spoiling' her and leave it at that. Well, 'spoiling' can in fact be abusive too. Let's look at what we see:

André has been her primary caregiver for 14 years now, so he has had the most responsibility in molding what we see for good or bad(mostly bad). She does learn from him too. Darkblade she proudly announces she learned everything about winning elections from watching her father. He's also excessively arrogant (I'm the symbol of Paris!) and quite willing to abuse his power for his own ends(having Roger round up protestors etc) which explains where Chloé learned where power is to be abused.

André is also extremely neglectful as a parent, extreeeeemely. Let's hit a bunch of points in the order they come to me.

Chloé lives *alone* in a hotel suite. There's no shared space, no family area. It's not even really her room. It's commercial, sterile. Where sre her hobbies? Posters? Even her *colors*? She is so used to being ignored at home that the girl who is loud as heck everywhere else doesn't make a single mark on her living space.

A hotel employee seems to think he needs to step in to raise Chloé. Let that sink in. An employee can see how bad it is and tried to make some kind of change, (he's working against a lifetime of ingrained behavior and is not very good at it himself). He doesn't even think to you know... Get Andre in to do this.

André was unaware or didn't care his daughter hasn't done schoolwork since Sabrina *learned to write*(5/6 yrs old) that is a shocking level of disinterest in your child. 6yr olds aren't criminal masterminds.

Andre supplants actual attention and affection with *stuff* he gives material possessions in *place* of parenting. This is somewhat similar to spoiling but not the same. André's method denies the child something vital. You see- things aren't a substitute for affection/attention, developmentally. And so while they may delight they never satisfy the need. They never validate the emotional attachment. So after the shine wears off, the hole is still there. So, like someone with an addiction, the child needs more, and more, and more. Since the needs are never met, it is never enough. And this is what the child views as *normal* this is simply *how it is*. They rarely know they are being given inadequate care because it's just life to them. Seeing something different in a one off doesn't make a dent vs a whole life.

This sort of thing makes a potent cocktail when mixed with the abandonment issues from her mother too. See- if her mother left, and daddy doesn't pay attention, anyone can leave. This leads to a cycle of pushing/demanding/hurting. The child expects to be left and let down, so they both try to reassure themselves it won't happen, and *make* it happen on their own terms (because they believe deep down it will) so more outrageous demands, because when those demands are met, it shows that you are still 'loved' and when they are not met, then there you go, you are not loved and they will leave you. It's a self-destructive spiral.

You see it play out with her interactions with her classmates and Sabrina specifically. How does she express affection? Gifts. What does she do? Push. Push and push and find the breaking point because if she can make Sabrina actually leave then it shows that she herself is worthless and her mother was right to leave her and her father is right to ignore her. Pretty messed up right? Yeah. Child abuse does horrible things to kids.

We're not done with André yet. Some people might say 'he expresses love for Chloé!' and to that I say- performatively.

André likes the idea of being a father. It's what respectable people do. It looks good on camera. It's someone to love him unconditionally. It's an ally against his wife.(broken home dynamics are horrible too) André just doesn't like having to parent for more than a snapshot.

We can see his interactions with Zoé highlight this too. He's delighted she's here!(a potential person on his side vs his wife and daughter) what's his first parenting advice? 'lock your dreams away and get on with life' A+ André.

What's he do in Queen Banana? He uses his power to let Chloé manipulate the movie *kicking Zoé out of it* This is the guy who is supposed to be supporting her? He only draws the line when it comes to sending Zoé away... Why? He doesn't want to lose an 'ally'. It's power dynamics. Not parenting. Where was he when Zoé was stuck in boarding school? He was going to keep Zoé in the divorce so clearly Mr Lee isn't in the picture, Audrey probably forgot Zoé existed, why didn't André bring Zoé to France and let the sisters grow up together? Oh, right, that might be work.

André likes Zoé because she comes pre-raised(boarding school was probably better than either parent) he doesn't have to put in work and he gets a free good kid to make him look like a father. She's his 'do over' as he throws the one he raised in the trash.

André shows his true colors when he's lamenting to Gabe about his corruption and abuse and blames ot on his 'heartless daughter' you know... The child he raised. The grown man is actually shoving his own corruption and misdeeds onto his child. You really don't need much more than that.

So, via neglect, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse the Bourgeois parents raised an incredibly messed up child. Chloé is not a 'good victim' like Adrien, she doesn't sulk quietly under abuse. She lashes out. She is hurt and angry and she passes the pain on. This is why they call it the cycle of abuse.

The end of Revolution illustrates this perfectly. Audrey throws verbal abuse at her on the plane. Angry that Chloé embarrassed her(not that she did wrong, Audrey loved the power grab) and calls her a loser by implication. You *see* it hit, the physical cringe. Then Chloé immedietely goes to try and pass on the pain. She is hurt and making someone else hurt is the only way to lessen it. She calls Marinette. Marinette breaks the cycle though, and good for her. But the show seems to have forgotten there's still one hurt child in this scene, and it doesn't seem to care.

I'm going to stop here for now. I probably left a bunch out, but I do have other things I need to do. Feel free to ask more questions. Thanks for taking the time to seek answers.

#ask #chloé bourgeois #child abuse is never okay #child abuse is not justice #andre bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #zoe lee #miraculous ladybug

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tiredkiwilol · 2 months

Text

okie time to scream about the latest lu update!!

one thing u wanted to point out first is that when sky said that there was some mail, he raised three letters rather than the four he was given. i’m going to make an educated guess and say that one of the letters were for him. (from who? i have absolutely no clue. sun? maybe?) this is still supporting my idea that the next hyrule they end up in will be sky’s and they’ll meet his friends.

next i wanted to talk about the more pressing issue. ✨warriors✨ because we all know he’s gonna snap soon.

most of the time in the past few comics warriors and time have been co leading the group, with time being the main leader. however, wars is a captain in his hyrule and has been disappointed in the way a few links (cough wild cough twilight) have been acting, directly calling out a few people because of it. however, i don’t think that he’ll blow up. this past update time has begun to transfer back into his role as the main leader, shouldering some of the pressure on warriors. i do however think that warriors is going to have a serious talk with wild and maybe twilight soon after this.

next i wanted to address the fact that originally, the lizalfos wanted to attack warriors with his weapon first, as revenge from when the captain had attacked him. the only reason twilight was hurt instead was because he had chased the shadow and injured him. (also look at the panel with warriors and sky looking all cool, two knights i will always love) so i’m mainly wondering if wars is still a target for the lizalfos.

then there’s the talk about not holding back anymore. clearly they all have their own fair share of items and power (as proven by the december art) i think then there will be a lot more time for maybe the downfall duo to shine. they were focused on a lot when they were talking about stronger monsters, and they’re probably used to them considering they come from the downfall timeline. legend obviously has a lot of items and power from his adventures and if i’m not mistaken hyrule carries the entire triforce right now. he’s also proven to be incredibly powerful with his spells (when he healed twilight). so yeah, im very excited to see them all at their full power.

also, godslayer sky, godslayer sky, godslayer sky, godslayer sky

the only other time we saw him this angry was when wild broke fi (see first picture)

okay, there’s more i want to talk about, but i’ll need to make a separate post for that because i hit the picture limit on mobile so…

all art credit goes to the amazing @/linkeduniverse!!

#linked universe #lu time #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu sky #lu wild #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #lu headcanons #kiwi headcanons

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etherealkissed88 · 5 months

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i asked you something and you not only were mean, but you are also making fun of me on twitter. i felt so embarrased that i had to delete my account. you made me feel so bad. i did nothing to you. you had no reason to be so mean. english is not my first lenguage so i also have trouble communicating, i understand half of what you post here. karma will hit you so hard.

lets quote what i said “no i dont believe they are possible 🥰 which is why i have a whole page dedicated to manifesting stuff 😍”

this isnt mean, this is sarcasm. you communicate very well actually but heres the thing: i looked at ur account and you repost a lot of loa content. if you read all those posts especially the ones about desired appearance which is what you were asking about, it doesnt make sense for you to ask me “do you believe its actually possible to manifest a desired appearance.”

and do not use your language barrier as an excuse to make me feel bad because i rly dont. if you were so bad at communitcating, you wouldn’t be able to communicate to me both this time and the previous time, plus y would u read and repost loa content if u had an issue w language? i know you understand loa but when ppl keep searching and searching for outside answers and validation, it doesnt get them anywhere. believe me - ive “coached” ppl who repeatedly asked me the same questions over and over again despite my whole account and posts being right there. they still struggle because they only ask questions and never apply.

the same fingers you used to type the question, you could have used those same fingers to scroll thro my page like you did with the other content creators. i get it if you are new to loa (even tho you could have read the content that was already there and even tho u already reposted content answering ur own question) but as someone who creates loa content everyday, its disrespectful from my point of view that i work hard for these posts and ppl dont even look at it and instead ask the most limiting questions ever. its almost like “why would i waste my time w these posts”. if you dont understand this, its bc you arent someone who gets 20 repetitive asks everyday meanwhile their answers being right on my page. it can be stressful and so annoying.

now back to my original answer: “no i dont believe they are possible 🥰 which is why i have a whole page dedicated to manifesting stuff 😍”. if u think this was mean, its bc you knew the answer was yes, it is possible. why else would i have a page dedicated to manifesting if it wasnt possible to “actually manifest a desired appearance”. my answer simply guided you to your own answer and to search my page if you still had (better) questions. what i said was literally not mean😭 and if you still believe so then thats fine bc its never that big of a deal. and i wasnt making fun of u on twitter, i simply said the exact thing i originally answered you with💀

idk if ur a beginner in the law or not but either way, you should know that anything is possible w the law. if u didnt know that, then now you know (and ik you know based on ur reaction to my original answer). and karma isnt real so it will not “hit me hard”🥶

im sorry if you rly have a language barrier issue but from my pov, that was the best, most appropiate reply i could have given. even other loa content creators can agree bc they know how ppl can get in their asks inbox. reread this whole thing if theres still an issue.

and dw u can just make another account like you did just now🤭

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the-s1lly-corner · 3 months

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Anon who asked about the mpost/the one who had sent the tadc x wolf reader request here... Here's my new and improved version of the request!! And not on anon so I get the notification for it being completed :3

Okay so, tadc characters of your choosing (if you need specific characters then Jax, Ragatha, Caine, and Gangle) x a wolf!reader who is really shy, tends to be self deprecating, is a people pleaser, and underestimates their skills. Preferably platonic but romantic is fine!!

Caine, Ragatha, Jax and Gangle x wolf!reader who is shy w/ low confidence !

writing this then imma go work on my silly art eheheheheh unironically listening to hit my spot by ur pretty (do NOT listen to it without headphones if youre not alone it is literally gay sex song) on loop it has no reason to be so catchy gawd DAMN admins yapping aside i hope you enjoy this !! written more leaning towards platonic !!

CAINE:

i think he would try to hype you up and make you more confident in yourself! i think he would be a little confused on why you arent too.. self assured, i mean he thinks youre cool and talented and skilled and-

he could go on for hours.. i think sometimes you might cave into him and what he wants due to you being a people pleaser and it might take caine a while to catch on to that and try to pay attention to those smaller things, especially if theres something making you uncomfortable... the good thing about being a wolf is that you have ears and a tail, which do a lot in conveying how youre feeling in the moment! usually he pays attention to those things if youre the type to not like.. vocalizing your discomfort. hypes you up to everyone who will listen, stops just short of picking you up and showing you off to everyone/hj

RAGATHA:

similar to caine she uses your ears and tail as a means to gauge your internal feelings about things. ragatha is a lot more low energy and calmer compared to some of the other characters on this list... has the least issues of reading you. pulls you away if youre getting uncomfortable in any situation, and oftentimes stands up for you if someone is trying to push you something you dont actually want to do... a lot of the times those people tend to be jax.. but we'll talk about that in his part. I like to think she would try to give you little pep talks when she notices you're a little down.. makes frequent compliments to you and the things you do (skills, hobbies, ect). her room is always open to you whenever you need an escape!

JAX:

really a lot of his "coercing" is just him teasing you and, in a somewhat mean way, trying to subtly push you to get a backbone and find your limit. he wont say it or really express it, but you guys are friends and he does want to see you be able to speak for yourself... its just how he goes about it can be a little... erlrkgkh.... you know? since HES the one trying to test your boundaries and get you to snap at him. i dont think he would go as far as make fun of your hobbies and interests to make you stand up for yourself.. thats just. a smidge to mean, since youre his friend. definitely calls you wolf/dog-based nicknames, most of them dont fall into the "im trying to make you stand up for yourself" thing and more so "haha i think its funny and genuinely lighthearted"

its a little odd but there are good intentions in there

GANGLE:

she gets it, she really does... you two probably talk to one another about your problems to one another... you both find comfort in it and in a way it makes you both feel better. seeing you uncomfortable or anxious kind of empowers gangle to come and help you out, regardless of which mask shes wearing. i like to think it would to the same for you if the roles were reversed... its kind of like how you stop being anxious momentarily when you see your friend struggling and being anxious themselves and you back them up or speak for them, you know? or maybe thats just a me thing... shrugs. probably gives you bows and ribbons to put on your tail to accessorize it

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #caine x you #caine imagine #ragatha x reader #ragatha x you #ragatha imagine #jax x reader #jax x you #jax imagine #gangle x reader #gangle x you #gangle imagine

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totallynotaraccoonindiscuise · 29 days

Text

HIHIHIHIHIHIHI >:D

post limit: hit as of 3:21 pm april 28th

queue: in the hundreds

my names Casper and i use he/they/bee pronouns!

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random things about me but i made it less messy :>

i ship a lot of different spesifically mlm ships!

my queue is forever full of things so sometimes a post seems outdated but I queued it in the actual day :/

i am a casboy :>

dming me out of the blue is fine but i would like it if you sent an ask first if you're worried ill be uncomfortable!!

i like Minecraft and mcyt

i am transmasc, bigay, and arospec!!

you can tag me in any post you think id like or in tag games!!

i have two ocs, francis and lucas, who are gay and in love and i talk about them sometimes!!

if i reblog something from a bigot/that was reposted/forgot to tag something with a trigger warning please tell me!!!! i swear i didnt do it on purpose!! and im sorry of i reblog an undescribed image aswell i just dont know how to do image ids :/

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#caspers art - is my art tag!!

i plan on opening a paypal for commissions soon!!

heres my carrd for queer microlables

THINGS IVE WRITTEN MASTERPOST IS HERE!!!

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I do lgballt requests!!! 1-10 flags and any accessories you can think of!!!!! Please tell me what flags you would like on which accessory if u send me a lgballt request ^↓^ requests are free!!!! just send me an ask with flags and accessories in it!!! If something you want on your ball has multiple different flag variations please specify which one you want if you have a preference:>>

examples of an lgballt i did here!!

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below this cut is my dni and user boxes for anyone interested:>

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heres some stuff about me so you follow your own dni along with a bit of my own dni :>

• i am anti proship

• id rather detrans or forcefem blogs carefully tagged their posts for dysphoria reasons :>

• black lives matter

• sex workers are also human beings

• women are also human beings (INCLUDING TRANSFEMS!!!)

• men are also human beings (INCLUDING TRANSMASCS!!!)

• nonbianary and agender people are also human beings (REGARDLESS OF ANDROGYNY!!!)

• intersex people are also human beings (EVEN OF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THEM!!!)

• YouTubers are also human beings

• kids are also human beings

• free Palestine

• trans and gay rights are human rights

• war bad. no war for any reason thanks

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[NONE OF THE USER BOXES ARE MINE!! CREDITS TO ORIGINAL ARTISTS!!]

this↓ one was from @cyber-therian

these↓ ones are randomly found and i cannot find the sources

these ↓ ones were found off of @lgbtq-userboxes

#intro post #lgbtqia2s+#lgbtq+#lgbtq #transgender #trans #queer #transmasc #lgballt requests #lgballt #cw eyestrain #tw eyestrain

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kivaember · 13 days

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Not sure if anyone's asked you this yet but PLEASE drop the walt/mich essay!!!

OKAY i went crazy and did an actual essay. im not joking this fucker is long. i'd open the read more in another tab, just to warn you.

ALSO ALSO! This was just me sitting down and rambling about things. It's a summarisation of my thoughts, and I pared it down since it was hitting 5k (it's about 4.4k words long lmao). If this essay has you thinking of specific questions and the like, feel free to ask and I'll try to answer them!

Now without further ado, my ramblings below:

THE WALTER/MICHIGAN SHIP ESSAY!

INTRO

That's right baby, I'm giving this an intro and everything. Alright, this essay is all about exploring and explaining my version of the Walter/Michigan ship using the characterisation I gave them for the APV verse. First I'm going to drill down into the individual characters, what makes them tick, their backstory, etc, before finally going into detail about how they mesh together as a ship and why they're both good yet terrible for each other.

THE WORLD LORE

To understand Michigan and Walter, we need to understand the type of world they were born into. Furlong Dynamics is a major powerhouse on the Jupiter colonies, owning several shipyards and carving a specific niche for themselves as the weapon-dealer for interstellar craft. They may not be as well-known or successful as Arquebus or Balam in the defence industry in terms of MTs or ACs, but if you're arming an interstellar craft, you sure as shit are going to use Furlong Dynamics weaponry.

Problem is in post-Fires age, that corner of the market is stagnating due to a lack of new interstellar craft being built. Prior to the discovery of Coral as an energy source, humanity had to do long-stasis and slow-walking their way across the galaxy, which meant trade and the like was incredibly limited between extrasolar colonies. With Coral, however, they were able to make tremendous technological shortcuts to create what they called the "C-Wave Drive". It functions a lot like the hypothetical Alcubierre Drive, with Coral producing the insane amounts of energy required and running the equally insane amounts of calculations needed to ensure the craft doesn't crush itself into a singularity (also, Coral has a very strange relationship with spacetime, the scientists found...). An added bonus as well was that these "C-Wave Drives" required no refuelling.

The interstellar craft needed crude fuel for sublight travel and other functionalities on the ship, but as for long-distance travel? There was no need to make pitstops or set aside cargo space for fuel, so many ships got used to just carrying a small amount that would allow them to travel as needed locally, as it would be easy to refuel when arriving at their destination as and when was needed.

Post-Fires changed this landscape drastically. Overnight, the interstellar craft market was rocked by the realisation that the previously thought limitless and abundant miracle substance that made FTL travel easy and convenient was now extremely finite had them all scrambling. The UEG openly seized every single galactic store of Coral from the corporations, citing "galactic security", and all orders for new interstellar craft - amongst other Coral technologies - instantly halted.

By Young Jupiter time (ten years post-Fires), Furlong Dynamics is beginning to feel the strain. They built their empire on focusing predominantly on interstellar craft - their designs, their weaponry, their engines - and their frantic R&D into solving the energy problem the Coral had shortcutted wasn't going very well. All that could be done was continue to maintain the existing ships that existed, as theoretically the C-Wave Drives could run indefinitely until some sort of mechanical failure happened due to wear and tear. As for new ships, the only ones being built were those utilising the old "slow-walker" engines, which meant bigger, bulkier, slower ships, with less room for ammunition fabrication and storage, and more for stasis compartment and fuel storage. Corporations that had specialised mostly in stasis technologies enjoyed an unexpected windfall, while those like Furlong Dynamic began to languish.

But as they say, shit rolls downhill. With the Corporations struggling to adjust to the Coral shortage and the UEG viciously hording the few galactic stores that remained, the working class found their workload increasing - heavily.

Factories that had benefited from the automation of Coral technologies found themselves in the position where they needed heavy reliance of human productive power. Yet they didn't want their productivity to lower thanks to human limitations, and neither did they want their profits to dent by either hiring too many workers, or paying the few higher wages to make up for the harder work. The few worker protections that had been steadily built up over the past few decades were immediately torn down and rescinded, and the working class were forced to work to maintain the corporations' and the UEG's productivity in their factories and fabrication facilities on basically starvation wages.

So, we have a world that has suffered from a fatal blow to the comfortable status quo. Furlong Dynamics is desperate to try and stem the bleed from their profits that the Coral shortage had started, and the boot has never been heavier on the working class's neck. It's an atmosphere that creates considerable tension within the various stratas of society, and the Jupiter colonies especially - known as the industrial powerhouse of the solar system - have become a bubbling pot. Any socialist talk or gatherings are viciously cracked down on by the corporate and government forces, and the workers are becoming increasingly frustrated and antagonised.

So it makes sense why Walter and Michigan initially have a bit of a rocky start, coming from these polar opposites of society. Michigan, the son of a Furlong Dynamic's director, and Walter, a Rubiconian refugee clawing his way out of the slums.

But alright, world context has been laid down, it's time for the character context. First up:

MICHIGAN - THE PRINCE WHO WANTS TO BE A PAUPER

So, Michigan. G1. Hell On Four Legs. Where did he come from, and who is he? To answer that, we need to look at his family... and Furlong Dynamics' leadership.

Every corporation is unique in its structure and the way it handles leadership. For example, Balam is well-known for its unusual meritocratic selection process for its CEO, though that hasn't exactly escaped the nepotism that pervades the upper echeleons of corporate society. Those with advantageous beginnings normally win the meritocratic race: they just have to work a little harder than most. Furlong Dynamics, however, are upfront about their leadership roles being hereditary.

Five families sit on the board for Furlong with one presiding as a CEO, a role that rotates every five years in a set pattern between the five families. This is a system that has worked for almost as long as Furlong Dynamics had existed (almost 300 years by this point), and needless to say that those five families were old money. They're the equivalent of an aristocracy in a hypercapitalistic galaxy.

One of these families is Rivera, which Michigan was born into as Gabriel Rivera. It was expected of him to succeed his father and sit on Furlong Dynamics' board as a director, so from a very young age he was prepped for this eventuality. His father dictated everything in his life, from his hobbies to what he wore and right down to what he ate. He was drilled in everything to do with business, politics and the interstellar industry, as his father was keen for Michigan to be ready and prepped for when he succeeded him, especially as Furlong Dynamics was entering a critical slump for the first time in its long history due to the Coral shortage. He didn't want his son to be the weak link.

Michigan despised this. He hated the people his father forced him to interact with, he hated the two-faced communication and backstabbing schemes he was encouraged to learn and inflict on others, he hated how boring yet stressful this kind of life was. Contrary to his personality later in life, Michigan was reclusive and anti-social when he was young - a direct result of his father's overbearing and relentless micromanaging - and when possible would hole himself up in his room and escape by watching classical films.

Classical films being... war films and action movies.

Though plenty of media had been lost when Earth suffered from ecological devastation, many had been salvaged throughout the centuries. It had begun from Michigan pilfering from his father's collection, something to put on display and boast about possessing rather than watching, and found himself hooked.

Brave soldiers heroically saving their comrades, taking charge of their destinies, denying fate, overcoming the odds, starting from the gutter and rising to the top from their own merits, making fire-forged friends that were genuine and not shallow transactional facades... this type of fantasy entranced Michigan, giving him a craving that he couldn't quite itch with his luxurious yet empty life. He desperately wished he had been born as some poor bastard whose only option was to join one of the corporate militaries, and distinguish himself by commiting acts of heroism, have people awed by him because of his own merits, and not because he is a Rivera and surrounded by brown-nosing sychophants.

It was a delusional dream driven by an intense desire to escape and forge a genuine connection with anyone, and after years of burying himself deeper and deeper in the propaganda belched out by these old action films (the message of 'war is hell' from the more solemn ones flying miles above his head), Michigan decided: he was going to disown himself and become an MT pilot.

Which he managed. To cut a long story short, Gabriel Rivera became just Michigan, the Rivera name used sparingly and only for legal reasons. He left behind the comfortable executive life to start at the very bottom of the pilot ranks, working his way up with grit and determination, denying any advantages or opportunities that came his way due to his blood or name. He wanted to emulate those heroes that he had watched in those films, he wanted to start with nothing and become something, all with his own efforts, and leave behind the Rivera name and reputation for good.

He started acting more like those gunslinger heroes, loud voice, boisterous personality, easy-going nature and possessing a masculine charm. He's always seeking that big, heroic event, that euphoric moment of victory and achieving the impossible against the odds... but he never really found it. Even after abandoning Furlong Dynamics entirely to jump ship to Balam, he realised that it was just more of the same, his battles against downtrodden workers protesting against their inhumane treatment, or furthering corporate interests over some useless moon in the middle of nowhere. There was no glory or higher purpose - just the company's bottom line.

Michigan started his piloting career as a rich kid craving adventure, naive to the true gritty nature of the galaxy. After decades of piloting under his belt and with an intimiate insight on both sides of the corporate ladder - both at the bottom and the top - to say Michigan was jaded by the time he landed on Rubicon would be an understatement.

He learned that there's no such thing as big damn heroes in this shitty galaxy. All the titles and medals he earned were just window dressings to whatever shitty advertisement his corporate master touted to bolster its reputation or sales. He hated his "Hero of Jupiter" title, and he took great pleasure in launching his "medals" off a cliff and into the ocean like they were frisbees. He hated that in the end his father had been right, that becoming a pilot wouldn't let him run away from the corporate lifestyle, it'd just throw him down to the very bottom and get him trampled

In short, Michigan's a man who tried to forge his own destiny by following a childish dream. His naivety resulted in him being trapped in a life that only had one escape - crawling back to his father and retaking the name Gabriel Rivera - and he viewed that worse than being a corporate attack dog with no real freedom. He'd rather die in some shitty hole in a random ditch somewhere over some pointless resource that meant nothing to him. Was it pride by that point, or stubbornness? He really didn't know.

He just knew that he was just another guy suckered in by the corporations' glitzy and false promises.

WALTER - THE AVENGER WHO KNOWS HE'S DIGGING A GRAVE FOR MILLIONS

Walter, meanwhile, was born to a privileged family of a different sort.

A good few decades before the Fires, Rubicon had done the unthinkable in human history: it had broken away from the UEG and declared independence, becoming a self-sustaining colony with a distinct identity - and able to negotiate with the fuming UEG on equal footing due to its sole access to Coral and its development of the C-weapons. The UEG couldn't take Rubicon or its resources by force (though it surely contemplated it from time to time), and so begrudgingly dealt with them as a peer, legitimising Rubicon as an independent colony and allowing it to forge its own desinty on the galactic stage.

While UEG and its many colonies functioned as a hypercapitalist ogligarchy, Rubicon became a technocracy, with the Rubicon Research Institute having considerable sway over the Rubiconian central government - to the point where it was understood that despite the elected 'president', it really was the Institute that was in charge. This gave rise to the 'intellectual elite', the scientists and academics who ran the Institute - the class that Walter belonged to before the Fires.

His parents were both scientists that worked on the Xylem and lived on-site. They were passionate about their work with the Coral and highly respected within their community, but while they clearly loved Walter, he was always second priority to their research and ambitions. Walter was the only child growing up in the labs (at least, the only one that wasn't a test subject of some kind), and only ever interacted with adults - all of whom were scientists or the security staff. He had never left the Xylem either, his concept of the 'outside world' being the small, sanitised courtyard with the lone tree, and the street he could see past the bars of the labratory's secure and gated exit. While he had some freedom of movement within the facility, there were areas he was barred from entering due to sensitive experiments, or to minimise his interaction with detained test subjects.

As a result, Walter became scarily self-sufficient from a young age, and came across as taciturn or emotionally stunted. He spoke like an adult but struggled to navigate social situations in general, unable to sugarcoat his words and coming across as rude or abrasive when speaking to others. While he found himself occasionally curious about interacting with people who weren't harried scientists that barely tolerated his prolonged presence, Walter genuinely found himself unbothered about his isolation. He was lonely, yes, but he occupied himself well enough, and filled the long stretches of time in furthering his education - determined to become a scientist like his parents and continuing on their work, as what was expected of him.

Then his father began the augmentations and everything went terribly wrong.

His mother volunteered to be Gen Zero, the prototype used to present to the Institute to have the augmentation project greenlighted. Initially, things went well. His mother suffered no significant drawbacks, and demonstrated an incredible boost in mental acuity and calculation power that current neural implants couldn't even begin to compare to. Once the Gen Ones were well underway, however, with a significant death rate at that, his mother began to rapidly degrade, physically and mentally. Walter's last memory of his mother was her unable to recognise him and talking to people who weren't there, knowing that it was the Coral's fault somehow.

His father was driven to perfect the augmentations to ensure his wife's sacrifice wasn't in vain. In Walter's words, he began a carnival of horrors within his labs, killing and mutiliating hundreds within his labs in his pursuit of the refining the augmentation process, with the Institute pumping unlimited resources, funding and test subjects into the project. The glimpse of the future Gen Zero showed them had them eager to achieve that perfection, no matter how many bodies they had to stack up.

It disgusted Walter. While he had never been emotionally close with his parents, he had still respected them, and to see his mother reduced to a crazed husk of herself before dying and his father turning into a monster, destroyed the pedastal he'd put them on. Walter found himself fostering a near irrational hatred for the Coral, rationalising that none of this would've happened if Coral had never been discovered - if it had never existed. He wished, vehemently, for it to disappear.

He got his wish with the Fires.

While the augmentations had made Walter view the Coral with a negative lens, seeing the damage it could do in the wrong hands, the Fires cinched it as a traumatic avatar of destruction in Walter's mind. The Coral was too dangerous to exist in their galaxy, not with how greedy humans could be, and blind to the dangers in pursuit of power. But his motivations weren't noble: he absolutely despised the legacy it represented, how he couldn't hear the word 'Coral' without thinking of his father, his mother, and how everything was robbed from him. It seeded in him an obsession, a hateful, vengeful obsession, because focusing on that, on gunning for a tangible entity that you've vowed to destroy, is far easier to stomach than processing the fact that your life was utterly ruined by selfish ambitions and a freak accident.

Overnight Walter went from part of the very prestigious intellectual elite on Rubicon, to a penniless refugee on one of Jupiter's colonies: Ganymede. It was a shock to the system to find himself in a world where food wasn't simply there whenever he desired it, that shelter wasn't a given, and that clinical cleanliness was a privilege, not a right. He fortunately had Carla with him, though, and while the first few years were rocky, they managed to find their footing by creating a scrapping service in the Ganymede slums, Carla using her previous experience in R&D at the Institute, and Walter his education, to repurpose old tech and mechs or salvage somewhat valuable tech to sell on.

From there, they began to plot, to focus their shared hatred and distrust of the Coral to really make sure it was gone for good, that it wouldn't come back. In the filthy slums beneath Ganymede, with a promise made between two emotionally exhausted yet furious Rubiconian refugees, Overseer was born.

But that's its own story.

Walter's endless conga line of misfortune did well to harden him and make him adaptable to unpleasant surprises. He always expects shit to go wrong at the most inconvenient times, he doesn't trust a single person to do the right thing even if he's known them for years (Carla, who all but raised him, he only trusts to a certain extent), and he realised how hypocritical most people could be. Though he was born as one of the intellectual elite, witnessing and experiencing first hand the oppression and indignity the working class suffered in UEG territories genuinely sickened him - and cemented in his mind that this galaxy couldn't be trusted with the Coral at all.

He had to destroy it for good. He had to make sure it could never come back and hurt anyone else. He had to erase every drop of legacy his shit-for-brains father had built and let history bury him forever. Walter, for all of his outwardly cold and emotionless masks, feels deeply and intently, and all of it is bitter rage.

Walter just doesn't know how to process his emotions well - he was never taught, and he missed those vital milestones with his lonely childhood, locked away in an ivory tower filled with nothing but scientists and test subjects. He feels so much over his father, the Fires, the Coral, but has no idea how to sort through it all. So he stuffs it away. He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon where his mission to destroy the Coral hangs. He tells himself that once he destroys it for good, it'll all go away: these incomprehensible, heavy and painful emotions. The source of them all will be gone.

Imagine that: condeming millions to death because of crippling, unaddressed daddy issues.

THE SHIP ITSELF

Right, with all that context given, onto the part people really care about: so, why does the Walter/Michigan ship pair well? Or at least, why does APV Walter/Michigan pair well.

Michigan's POV:

From Michigan's side, he's fascinated with Walter. Everything about him just doesn't make sense. He's a 'sewer rat', a working class drone that managed to claw their way out of the muck and elevate his social standing through stubborn grit and determination - but his demeanour belies that. Walter demonstrates a level of education and sophistication that the working class just don't have. Michigan has grown up on Ganymede, and despite the high-ranking executives living in their gated communities and busying themselves with the day-to-day running of their businesses, they do keep an eye on what the working class are up to.

The corporations have perfected subjugation and propaganda to an artform. They can only achieve this if they know their target audience. Michigan knows, as any self-respecting Rivera knows, how the working class tick, their current worries and desires, the statistical trends of their few purchases and which style of propaganda they're most receptive to. Walter fits none of the established norms for Ganymede working class - he doesn't even have a recognisable Jupiter colony accent - so he already presents himself as an interesting puzzle for Michigan to break down.

There's also some genuine respect there too. Michigan acknowledges that Water had to work hard to get where he was, and he appreciates that Walter doesn't mince his words or beat around the bush. He's blunt, direct and isn't in the business of brown-nosing or fawning to ingratiate himself. You always knew where you stood with Walter, or so Michigan felt, and admittedly, Walter reminded him a lot of a certain character achetype in his precious films: the underdog, the guy you ended up rooting for just because he worked so fucking hard for what he wanted.

So, to Michigan, Walter's interesting, he's mysterious, and he's a representation of what Michigan wanted for himself. He wants to be like Walter: a poor as shit refugee making something of himself, with a whole future to distinguish himself and build his own reputation, to forge himself in fire! Michigan is mildly envious, but thinks as well that if he sticks close to him, he'll be able to live vicariously through him, to get a taste of dream he really wanted to achieve...

And because he's so fascinated with Walter, he starts to learn all of his tics and mannerisms too. He begins to understand the minute shifts of Walter's expressions, what he leaves unsaid and knowing when Walter is feeling but just doesn't know how to express or word himself. Michigan is the more emotionally intelligent of the two, and very perceptive despite how he acts. Combined with his easy-going nature and his respect for Walter's hardworking nature and competency, this helped him break through a few of Walter's walls - despite Walter doing his best to rebuild them as fast as possible.

Not to say they don't butt heads: they butt heads a lot. Arguing is their favourite pasttime. They challenge each other, and Michigan knows that he can say whatever and Walter can dish it out right back. Walter doesn't give a shit about any potential ties Michigan may have to the Rivera family - he just gives a shit about Michigan waking him up at 6am and asking him to go running with him. He snaps at him, argues with him, insults him... he treats him as Michigan, and this is what Michigan cares about the most.

Walter's POV:

Meanwhile, Walter's feelings towards Michigan are very complicated. He's irritated by what he sees as Michigan's nosiness towards his private affairs, and he doesn't appreciate him trying to figure him out. Mostly because he doesn't want him figuring out his true identity. Walter wanted to sever any and all ties between him and his father's legacy, and he and Carla took great pains to have no one realise that he was the famous Dr Kohler's son. And the disowned heir of the Rivera family? Definitely in the best position to connect the dots.

But Michigan's also the first person to ever just... treat him normally and roll with his verbal punches. People are usually scared away by Walter's cold attitude and sharp words, but Michigan gave as good as he got, and always shrugged off Walter's meaner comments. It left Walter at a bit of a loss, and after a while he slowly desensitised to Michigan's presence. He rationalised that it's just pointless wasting energy trying to chase off Michigan, but the fact was he... ended up liking his company. He had no idea socialising could be so enjoyable, once you learned to tolerate their more aggravating parts.

There's also a colder and more pragmatic side too: Michigan is useful to him, as a son of an executive, disgraced or not. Walter is aware enough to acknowledge that a small chunk of his tolerance is proportional to Michigan's use for him, but in his mind he sees it as an expected part of their relationship. It's transactional, what they share (or so he tells himself). He offers entertainment to Michigan, who in turns offers the same - and lets Walter take advantage of the few perks being "friends" with an executive's son offers.

He tells himself he can't get attached - he has his mission after all - but by this point Walter's good at ignoring his feelings and burying himself under six feet of concrete denial. He clings to the rationalisation that they're just "friends with benefits" for years, that from the beginning they were only making use of each other - there wasn't really anything there. Even to him that sounded hollow when he finally cut ties and left, to pursue his hopeless and doomed mission. He never really stopped thinking about Michigan, the what-ifs.

He hated it.

...

Also they both share a hatred of their respective fathers, so they Get That. They're part of the Dads Suck club.

CONCLUSION

So basically........ they're gay, your honour.

#armored core #armored core 6 #handler walter #g1 michigan #ship essay #i finally wrote it...#i don't write essays often but this was kinda fun to do #even if just to put my thoughts down or something #welp i hope people enjoy uwu

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