#so i think my account will be safe. if its not i can report the accounts that did that. any links won't be clicked. images are censored for

[wickjump]

you don't have to turn your inbox off, or even anon, you can just turn images off asks and don't click on any links (<- just a smart thing to do in general). fearmongering amongst communities is something they want. it's all for a reaction and to cause distress in different fandoms. these are trolls. gross trolls, but they are trolls. they want to stir up fear into communities because they have nothing better to do.

don't close off an important part of your tumblr account in fear of attack, that is letting them win. just take measures to prevent these things if you want. you don't even have to do that, nobody's making you do anything.

i personally won't turn anything off because i really do not care about this sort of thing. i've been sent a lot worse over the years ive been in fandoms. my goal is to report any accounts that do anything, but i don't believe they will do anything to my account in the first place.

i feel terrible for people who have been targeted by this thing, and you are 100% allowed to do what makes you comfortable, including turning asks off entirely. i'm not minimizing the shit that people have been sent at all, and spreading the word is good. everyone can do what they want, including turning their inboxes fully off, these are just my two cents. people are allowed to be scared, it's scary, but that fear is what they want.

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

[kittx0kitt-diet]

! Calling all ed accounts !

I know this isn't going to be seen as much as I think it should but it is important anyway. There is an account going by fuzzypatrolking that is harassing ed based accounts. They are claiming that this isnt a safe space for us and that we use it as an excuse to indoctrinate children into ed culture.

Many of us say minors DNI and block anyone who is a minor

even my therapist isnt mad at me for looking through ed tumblr (yes fuzzypatrolking I have a therapist go cry about it)

My ed developed from physical and sexual abuse when I was just two years old which destroyed any positive thinking about my body, having other adults who can relate to my experience is helpful and counts as a safe space

If you dont want children looking at ed content thats on you the parent not the rest of the internet... parental controls exist.

Many people who have ed accounts vent and don't give tips, we never body shame each other or others, its an eating disorder that changes OUR preception of ourselves not other people

Fuzzypatrolking also claims the accounts they have interacted with have called them fat... which most likley means they are interacting with minors

We understand we are mentally ill, we never claimed to deny that. Most of us are in therapy those who arent like they claim are most likley minors who dont know how to startr conversations.

Of course I am going to get mad at the whole account reporting. I have had 10 accounts termed in the past 4 years and have then lost a lot of amazing people who knew what I was going through and could support me when I was mentally unwell (not that my feelings are theirs to control)

If they are so mad that we are harming minors why are they not talking about fake ana coaches who actually prey on vulnerable teen girls to get nudes in the form of 'body checks'

Stop harassing mentally ill people who are finding the support they need to eventually recover. You are not helping. You are harming. Instead of talking about the real causes of eating disorders you push that blame onto those who experience the same eating disorders.

[alphajocklover]

Thank you for reporting on this InstaJock app. It's been helpful to get more information. I work in healthcare and a lot of people ask me about it. So much so that I downloaded it myself to explore the app's features. I wouldn't use it on myself though. I just graduated from med school and I'm not about to waste that education. But one thing I've noticed is this "location feature" where it seems the quality of the jock it might change you into has to do with your surroundings. I have to drive through some more rural parts to get back home and the number of redneck jocks here is freaky. Wondering if you've got more insight into all that.

I’m really glad that my work has been helpful, and I’m also very impressed that you know so much about the app. I’ve never met another person who was able to get the app without falling into its enchantment. You must have protections like I do, or an incredibly strong will. I’m surprised people are interested in the app for healthcare reasons, but I suppose it makes sense. InstaJock turns anyone who uses it into a jock instantly, and jocks are muscular and healthy as shit. If I had to choose between being deathly ill and a dumb jock, I might do the same thing. But we’ll explore the interesting connection between InstaJock and healthcare some other time. Today let’s look at the location feature.

You’ve basically got it all figured out. InstaJock has a feature that tracks your location and turns you into a certain type of jock based on where you are. Or, more accurately, where you spend a lot of time, since it accesses your location history too. Just like all the features it can be turned on and off when setting up an account, or in settings afterwards, but unlike other features it is usually turned on to begin with. It makes sense when you think about it. The app may turn the user into a jock, but they’re still a version of themselves. So their new self should reflect their surroundings. Since you’re in a rural area, it seems most of the InstaJock users there would become redneck jocks.

It is strange that you’re seeing so many though. InstaJock is meant to spread, but… not that quickly. A guy gets turned by the app, maybe invites a couple of his old nerdy friends, and then enjoys being a buff, dumb, sexy jock. The jocks aren’t organized or intelligent enough to turn people on mass. So… someone must be directing them, telling them what to do. They’d have to be smart, but someone the jocks would listen to. There are only a handful of people who could do that. It’s probably the same person whose been using the app to torment nerds, who tricked that nerdy frat president into turning himself, who told that bullied kid InstaJock could help him steal muscles.

I have some theories on who it is. But I shouldn’t say anything until I have more proof. Be careful though. If it’s who I think it is, then our protections… may not keep either of us safe for long.

[scam-alerts]

🔎Scam Exam(ination)🔍

Seen as: I accidentally reported your account Scam Type: Account hijacking/take over

Platform: Discord

Hello everyone!

Today's scam examination was requested by @2broschlininahotub who was kind enough to send me screenshots of such a scam via an ask. Thank you for contributing!

Today we're going to talk about the "I accidentally reported you on discord account for <reason>" scam that's actively going on that- if you fall for it, will result in your account being taken over by a scammer who will then use it to scam your friends and/or buy things like nitro and gift it to them and their scam buddies.

If you use discord and don't know about this scam, I highly suggest reading this post so you know what to look out for.

If you don't want to read this post, you can watch a video instead!:

Otherwise let's get started!

-----

How it starts:

This scam starts with one of your friends falling for this scams.

Sadly if they can't warn you they fell for it via another platform (facebook, twitter, bluesky, ect), you might think that what your 'friend' sends you is a legitimate call for concern. But, thankfully, it is not, no matter how convincing it may seem.

If you find yourself encountering this scam, please report your friends account for being hacked. Discord will usually lock the account and hopefully contact the original owner of the account to fix the issue.

Part 1 - First contact.

If you are messaged by someone and they try to get your attention, and then say something akin to:

"Idk how to say this because I accidentally reported your account instead of someone else."

or

"hey there, I encountered a situation on discord where someone with a very similar name to your profile attempted to deceive me. Instead of reporting the deceptive user, I mistakenly reported your account. I'm sorry, it was all an accident. I didn't mean it."

or

"I accidentally reported your discord account instead of someone else. I mean im the one who reported you accidentally I'm sorry I got panicked and I lost control, its not good cause it was quiet alarming cause I told some of my friends to report you that's why I reached out to you to see what the discord emailed me and I'm scared cause I don't want you to get ban bc of me, I just really need your help so I can fix it."

Sounds familiar?

If you're at least a little familiar with the infamous 'I reported your steam account on accident because I thought you were a scammer' scam.. This is the same thing.

If you choose to reply to their grab for attention, you will receive a message like the one above paired with an image or google doc of the 'email/form' that Discord (it is fake) supposedly sent them (the victim).

Here are screenshots provided to me by @2broschlininahotub:

Another version of this fake email looks like this taken from reddit:

TRANSCRIPT:

Hello, Thank you for reaching out to Discord Support.

Discord is focused on maintaining a safe and secure environment for our community. We've found the account that you have been reported and it irregulated our Terms of Service or Community Guidelines. We need you to contact [anotherhydra] to resolve this case.

On the other hand, we suggest you to reach out the reported user and have them contact to the same corporate team for proper identity matching. We have taken steps to do this action since they will not be notified about these claims due to the option selected for this report type..

• In any instances that you are not aware about this report activities, kindly reach out to our corporate security head by filing a friend request on Discord for investigation. Username: [petercho.support047]

• Failure to validate the legality of an account within a specific time frame (12 hrs) might lead to account suspension, limited or ban.

• Furthermore, we are working with some officials on this matter so that we can record all processes taken legally and are not violating "Title 18 of the U.S Code, Section 798 (Disclosure of Classified Information)" By that, we can also perform legal actions if said user is found guilty of chargers.

• By taking the measure of this process we can ensure that your Discord is not prone to fraudulent activities and personal information is not compromised since this could lead to any malicious activities.

Case: Attempting potentially fraudulent activity

Please get in touch with the person you unintentionally reported as soon as possible so they may file an appeal and save their account from being seriously compromised

Sincerely.

Discord Trust & Safety

----------

Part 2 - The scare tactics and red flags.

Going through the above transcript I'm going to highlight some very clear and obvious red flags that make this an obvious scam off the bat. Mind you this itself isn't the entire scam, only part of it.

In any instances that you are not aware about this report activities, kindly reach out to our corporate security head by filing a friend request on Discord for investigation. Username: [petercho.support047]

Discord will never, ever tell you to add a supposed 'corporate security head staff member' or another user as a friend to resolve any issue you may have had involving a scam.

Discord will only communicate with you through their website where you fill out a ticket, and via email with the account that is linked to your discord account.

Think about this: Why would 'Discord' tell the victim of a scam via email, to then contact the person they reported, to instruct them to then add a 'staff member' on Discord to resolve the issue?

Because Discord will not, nor ever would, do this. Ever.

Failure to validate the legality of an account within a specific time frame (12 hrs) might lead to account suspension, limited or ban.

This is a scare tactic. Paired with #1, 'add this staff member or your account will be terminated in 14 hours!' If you were reported by someone (for real) and you scammed someone (for real) you wouldn't be given a count down to talk to someone.

They'd look at the evidence, and you'd be banned. End of story.

Furthermore, we are working with some officials on this matter so that we can record all processes taken legally and are not violating "Title 18 of the U.S Code, Section 798 (Disclosure of Classified Information)" By that, we can also perform legal actions if said user is found guilty of chargers.

Again, this is a scare tactic that a lot of scammers use with their victims. "Follow these rules and do what I say or you will go behind the bars."

Please get in touch with the person you unintentionally reported as soon as possible so they may file an appeal and save their account from being seriously compromised

Discord would. never. do. this.

I say banging my fists on my desk.

If you report someone I'm also pretty sure it blocks that user for you and sends discord a report. Discord would never say 'hey you know that person you reported for <thing>? Yeah contact them and tell them to contact us. Okay? :) '

In a realistic world, this would never happen. But alas scammers will do everything to try and make money or steal from you.

Part 3: The actual scam

Upon reading this message and talking with the person who 'reported you,' they will tell you to add another user (as mentioned above) who is a member of Discord staff.

Remember:

This is not a real Discord staff member. This is also a scammer.

When you contact this 'staff member', they will use markdown tools to make their text look 'legit', and will talk you through a 'validation process' to validate you are who you are.

Here is an example of one of these fake discord staff members asking someone to send them money to complete this 'verification' process:

Keen in mind this 'staff member' may even be the same scammer who contacted you to begin with, or possibly even a friend or associate, or it may be someone different. Either way they're obviously working together.

These fake support scammers will have a profile on discord that claims they’re a discord support team member, and will usually have some sort of 'badge/image' of certification they show you right off the bat to try and prove that they are 'totally legit (no fake)' and in even ballsier cases, they will straight up steal the LinkedIn links, twitter urls, names, images, you name it, of actual Discord staff members.

An example of one of these fake images:

The scammer will ask for basic information like your age, date of birth, and other questions seemingly related to your account identity.

Then- the finale of the scam:

They will tell you that in order to secure your account, you will need to 'temporarily change' the email associated with your account to the email account they send you so that they can 'screen/verify' your account. You will even be asked to give them a verification code to complete the 'verification'.

WARNING: Changing your discord email that YOU registered with to any other email will link it to the scammers email and THEY will gain complete control over it.

The code sent to you is to verify that you want to change your email, and once you give it to them? It's game over and you've completely lost your account.

Now they have your account and will use it to scam your friends and those in your servers on top of using your credit card to buy nitro for them and/or their friends.

----------

But don't lose hope!

If this happens to you, and you get an email from discord saying that your appeal was denied, it's probably because they are now using AI/Bots, and your account wasn't reviewed by a person.

Here is what people suggest you say/do when you contact Discord Support (via their website) if you are tricked by this scam:

Fill out the form as:  Title: Got Scammed Description: Is there any way I could talk to a human? They didn't send anything for mine but the original guy got an automated response. It just turned into “awaiting response” then I sent: “My Discord account's email was changed. The login page says that my email does not exist. I cannot login.”

They also suggested:

You could try just directly saying “My Discord account's email was changed. The login page says that my email does not exist. I cannot login." as the description in your ticket it could prove the same results.

Also:

REMINDER:  Don't send multiple tickets.  Don't keep asking for updates unless it says “awaiting response”, this will push you to the back of the queue.  If its marked as "solved" try replying to reopen the request if not, create a new ticket. “However, if you received a reply that our team is unable to provide additional information or support for your account then we cannot assist further. To continue using Discord, you will need to create a new account.” One of the replies I got. Just create a new ticket.

-----

Final Thoughts:

If something seems fishy, trust your gut. Never click any links sent to you by strangers, even if it's with the promise of 'free nitro', free items in video games, free anything, really. If it's too good to be true, it's probably not real.

I hope this helps those who need it, and make sure that if you use discord to let others know about this scam too so they can avoid it. :)

Here's a post on some tips and tricks on spotting scam blogs.

Helpful guides on how to spot scams. (by @kyra45)

Current list of documented scammers: Part 3

[tamamatango]

HAPPENING……MAYBE!! (Addressing the anime rumors + Keroro’s birthday plan revealed)

*holding my hand out toward you with sparkles framing me* Let’s take copium together!

Not the post I was planning to make next, but here’s a sudden update for a couple of reasons. Some very exciting rumors which you may very well have seen have been floating around for the last day or so, and while I was initially hype as fuck to corroborate it as fact, there’s a little asterisk to the whole thing that I wanna tack on before we shit our pants too much. In addition, the official accounts have revealed what they’re planning for Keroro’s birthday this year, and while it’s not that closely related, I might as well cover that too.

So, a summary of what alleged info just came out:

A typically reputable anime news/leak account, SugoiLITE, shared yesterday that the Keroro anime series is planned to be broadcasted in Spring 2025, and a new movie is planned for 2026. However, the only publicly verifiable info hinting toward this is a recently released interview in an anime magazine with animation director Fumitoshi Oizaki (from the original series, and was also credited on April’s PV), where he describes the series and movie projects but does not specify the series name. This info is per another credible reporter, blogger ryokutya.

Now, here is my translation of Oizaki’s quote as presented in the post: “Details haven’t been made public yet, but I’m working on a series to be broadcasted next spring. Concurrently, a movie scheduled to be released in 2026 has also started production.”

Sadly, the blog post does not specify which anime magazine this was in, so I don’t have the full context for the interview or the question asked. I checked a few table of contents from recently released anime magazines and didn’t see Oizaki’s name in any of them. My hunch is telling me that it’s Newtype, which doesn’t have a digital version, so there’s no feasible way for me to have it that quickly. So yeah, we’re kinda stuck with that quote floating in the void for now.

I can’t go too deep into it so you’ll have to trust me on this one, but I’ve got a little knowledge myself about roughly how and from where anime leaks usually get sourced. It is very possible SugoiLITE does indeed know this information in advance, but it’s also equally possible he only saw this same quote and extrapolated the most likely scenario from it. If it is the latter, I’d say he made a pretty safe bet anyway.

In the quote, what I chose to translate as “concurrently” can also mean “in parallel”, so the interpretation I’m getting is that the spring 2025 series and 2026 movie are connected and being developed in tandem. Ryokutya also guesses that the work in question is Keroro since it does have a project announced. I’ve speculated that the new series will air in either spring or summer next year for a while now (BNP has a mysterious gap in their schedule, with two series airing in January and the Gintama spinoff announced in late 2023 being pushed to October). A movie in 2026 also make a lot of sense, since it’s the 20th anniversary of the first movie. Oizaki does work on other franchises with recent relevancy, such as Kaleido Star which had its 20th anniversary in 2023, and some works in the Shigeru Mizuki-verse like Akuma-kun and last year’s Gegege no Kitaro prequel. But given the specific language in the quote and just Occam’s razoring it down to the fact that we know Keroro is getting things already, I think this double feature is pretty likely what’s going on. Maybe it’s the hopium talking, but it’s certainly not a reach (trust me I’ve made reaches before I was here for the nothingburger that was the anime’s 15th anniversary).

Okay, tl;dr: Given the one available source we have and the credibility of both reporters involved, I think there’s a pretty good chance the anime will really be next spring and there will be a movie in 2026 as people have been corroborating. But the probability that this is an educated guess and the probability that it’s confirmed are pretty much equal at the moment. So get excited! But not too excited. Just like a bit above average excited. You may draw the party popper pull string back about three quarters.

When I first started drafting this post, I was looking forward to saying that we’ll likely find out next month what the truth is, knowing that today the official accounts were going to reveal what this year’s Keroro birthday celebration is. But…they explicitly stated there will not be any new anime info at the event they have planned. Booooooo. Well, here’s what we are getting:

It’s actually not a physical event like they held last year. This time, they’re commemorating Keroro’s birthday with the first episode of a new live radio show called “Kero! to Radio”, featuring Keroro’s voice actress Kumiko Watanabe and Tamama’s voice actress Etsuko Kozakura. It will be broadcasted irregularly on the official Keroro YouTube channel, and next month’s premiere will be here. There will be various different segments of the show which feature messages and questions sent in by listeners. Submissions are sent in via the program’s Onsen page, which also has details about each segment. You do need an account to send messages, but I don’t think a Japanese address is required unless you want to enter the optional raffle. I’ll play around with it later and potentially do a separate post going more into the show’s structure if that’s something people are interested in (obviously you need to know Japanese to really get anything out of this, so I’d like to gauge if it’s worth it first).

While it’s disappointing that there seemingly won’t be any news about the new anime revealed on the legendary birthday, it’s pretty neat to have another VA radio show. It seems like this is sort of following in the footsteps of Keroro and Giroro’s Earth Invasion Radio from back when the original show was still airing, although Keroro Channel also had been doing its own livestreams featuring the BNP/Kadokawa staff running the channel giving updates about the series’s various collabs and stuff (the majority of these episodes were done before the new anime announcement). It’s unclear if this is going to replace those or not; this is quite different structurally. It would be really cool if they rotate the voice actors out each episode and change the segments up a little since the broadcasts are irregular anyway. I guess we’ll have to wait and see!

*Exhale* All right, that’s enough yapping for today. I know the wait for more concrete details on the anime has been excruciating, especially now that we have a very tantalizing possibility dangling right before our noses. But if spring really is the airdate, it can’t be too much longer now. We already waited over a decade—what’s a few more months, right? Heh heh... (I’m dying Squirtle.)

[thornedrose44]

20 for supercorp please?

Prompt: “Are you already dating someone new?”

“Supergirl!” The reporter yelled, pulling the hero’s attention away from greeting the crowd after stopping a getaway car. “Are you already dating someone new?”

Kara frowned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Am I… what?”

And that was all the opening the reporter needed, Kara had engaged and was locked in.

“You were seen out on the town with Diana Prince only last week, the two of you were engaged in a close conversation.”

“That… I… we… uh…” Kara stammered, her blush the irrefutable proof the reporter needed.

“And then last night you were seen with James Olsen on a date clearly set up by Superman.”

“What? Superman had nothing to do with it. When I dated James I did it all by myself. But we’re not-“

“Dated? You’ve had a previous relationship? Exes rekindling the romance? Diana Prince merely used to rouse jealousy in your once lover? Who knew Supergirl was such a heartbreaker?”

“That was a lot of questions and none of them point to the truth.” Kara huffed.

“So James was just another in a long line, hmm?”

“I didn’t say that-“

“Who will Supergirl date next? Her identity and libido now revealed and free to conquer the city,” The reporter turned to fully face the camera, completely ignoring Kara’s outrage in the background as he pointed down the lens, “maybe it could be you?”

xxx

“Watch out, everyone! Supergirl’s raging libido is on the loose!” Nia called out as Kara landed on the Tower’s balcony looking awfully put out - bottom lip stuck out petulantly.

“Eww, please don’t talk about my sister’s libido.” Alex grimaced, glancing up from the monitor she was studying with Kelly. Esme was spending the day with J’onn, giving the parents a chance to catch up on some odd tasks at the Tower before going on a date. Lena and Brainy were fiddling with some tech components on a workbench in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, Alex but the whole city is talking about it, who knows who will be next?” Nia singsonged, looking far too pleased with herself.

“I shouldn’t have engaged…” Kara groaned, banging her head lightly against a wall.

“Yup!” Nia agreed, “But you did! Cat Grant is furious!”

“Ugh…” Kara slouched, sinking to the floor.

“Nia, I think she’s suffered enough.” Lena said, approaching quietly.

Nia pouted, patting Kara’s shoulder amicably before skipping away, her and Brainy departing together to go on their regular lunch date.

“How are you holding up, heartbreaker?” Lena teased, holding out a hand to help Kara up.

“Not you too.” Kara whined, accepting the hand offered her merely to link their hands together - palms brushing and fingers interlocking - using her own abilities to hover back onto her feet. “You know this is all your fault, right?”

Lena quirked an eyebrow, “How do you figure that?”

“No smoke without fire.” Kara replied confidently, swinging their joined hands back and forth. “I have an aura.”

Lena’s gaze narrowed as she repeated slowly, “An aura?”

“Yep.” Kara popped the word, smile growing into a grin. “A happily dating aura.”

Lena smirked, “Are you sure it’s not a recently fu-“

“NOPE! Nuh uh!” Alex shouted, fingers swiftly plugging ears. “Not listening! Kelly let’s go!”

Kelly shook her head in fond amusement of her wife, “Bye guys!”

Alex bolted for the exit, Kelly following more sedately behind.

“You did that on purpose.” Kara accused.

Lena placed a hand over her chest in mock offence. “Not everything can be my fault.” She followed this up with a shrug, “Admittedly I definitely did that on purpose and will gladly take accountability for Supergirl’s raging libido.”

Kara rolled her eyes, tugging Lena closer and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You know there’s no substance to the rumours, right? I only have eyes for you.” Kara reassured, gently checking in. This thing between them was still new, still finding its feet and Kara wanted to keep it safe and sheltered for as long as possible.

“I know, my love.” Lena affirmed, hand reaching out to comb through Kara’s hair. “It’s gossip mongering, I’ve suffered my fair share.”

“I don’t like adding to it.” Kara pouted, leaning into Lena’s tender care.

“You add so much more joy and love to counterbalance it. I knew what I was getting into dating Supergirl.”

“Still…”

“I can handle your raging libido, my love.”

“That’s going to stick isn’t it?”

“Afraid so; Cat has said it is to be your punishment.” Lena explained with a light chuckle. “She trained you to know better than to engage.”

“I know…” Kara grumbled, leaning forward to rest her forehead on Lena’s shoulder.

“I have a suggestion of how to get back in her good graces…”

“Oh?” Kara hummed, turning her head to gently kiss Lena’s neck.

“We offer her the bigger story to share.” Lena offered, voice quiet and shy.

Kara slowly pulled back, brow furrowed, “Bigger story?”

Lena nodded, “Well, I hope a Super and Luthor relationship would be bigger than your libido but who knows?”

Kara blinked, “You want to go public?”

“Only if you want to. And I view it less as going public and more as…” Lena hesitated, “setting the record straight.”

“I didn’t think the dating rumours bothered you?”

“They don’t.” Lena said. “It’s the lack of rumours that bothers me.”

“The lack?”

“I spent so long thinking that there was never going to be more between us, that our relationship was always destined to be platonic - which I was more than happy with but…” Lena looked away, cheeks tinting with embarrassment, “seeing how I am always the best friend in the news… It reminds me of that time. I don’t want to be in that box anymore. I don’t want us to be.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Kara promised, pressing kisses to Lena’s cheeks which only made the light pink flush deepen to sunset red. “You were never in that box.”

“I know that now.” Lena murmured, head tilting to catch Kara’s lips in a sweet kiss.

Kara rocked back, smile dreamy and dazed, “I’ll call Cat.” Kara declared. “Let her know my raging libido has found its next and final target.”

“Final, huh?”

“Final.” Kara said sincerely.

[lowpolynpixelated]

Call of Duty and the beast that must die

Written by: Clair Beckett

Upon booting up Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 for the first time I was assaulted with a modern "Marvel" type banner, proudly declaring the expansive media franchise that is CALL OF DUTY. I was then given three different screens filled with the names of game studios swallowed by the machine in the series' long and crumbling history of game after game after game. Call of Duty claims itself a pillar of the industry. One of the many posts that hold up the very sky of the video game landscape. It stands now before me, million dollar propaganda for the US military starring Spawn and Nicki Minaj for a limited time only, but only if you can pay the price of admission.

The next thing I was told, of course, was to make an Activision account. The game then prompted me to add my phone number and restart the game twice to make sure that all the personal data it wanted from me was set to go. Modern video games have gone so far beyond what they began as and yet they still ride the corpses of the culture the executives strangled to death loudly and proudly. Remember COD4? Remember Modern Warfare 2? Well we do! And we're happy to announce that we've rewritten and re-released them for $70 with extra US warcrimes written to look like the russians did it! Buy now and get a new golden skin for the gun that will only be in the cash shop rotation for the next two weeks!

Loading into the launchers that games like Halo and Call of Duty have become is insulting. But at least Halo has the dignity to somewhat look like a game instead of a collection of repackaged and hastily made content so that you can push its cosmetics exchange and season passes safely underneath some menus so they don't bother while you try to do the thing you paid for without logging in to your Microsoft account first. No, Call of Duty loads you into a fantastic screen filled with games you COULD own and cosmetics it wants you to spend the money on first. But how did this happen? I thought we were going to vote with our wallets? Show those big companies that we're not gonna take it anymore! Well, astute video gameist, we did. Or, folks like you did, and the resounding answer was "more forever so the money we're making off these pre-order bonuses and cosmetic mircotransations." Except it hasn't slowed down? Has it? So called "microtransactions" have ballooned up to upwards of $20 for single weapon skins or character packs, art that is made at the behest of artists who are cycled out of the offices like so many reams of paper wasted on stock reports.

Call of Duty wastes 0 time showing you all the ways you can spend money every way possible. If you select the game you "own" you'll first be prompted to upgrade to the ultimate edition, then when you select multiplayer you'll be prompted to purchase this month's battlepass, when you select what character you want to present as on each team you get bombarded with skins, pricetags displayed proudly larger than the actual name of the skin. Too, damn, far. Is what this nonsense is. Far be it from me to lay down my journalistic integrity for the absolute slog that fucking Call of Duty has become, but is this really what we play now? Is this what the multi-million dollar companies have to offer? Do you think that anyone working on these games had their passion cared for? Their intent respected? The answer, dear reader, is no.

No, no this isn't about video games anymore. But your average "gamer", as it were, hasn't cared about this in about 10 years. The "gamer culture" that has been fostered within the triple A sphere of the landscape is one of complacency and non questioning attitudes of "the next big thing must be the best because it's the next and the biggest!" when in actuality it's just the biggest number of people laid off without notice and the biggest return for five people in thousand dollar suits. Modern Call of Duty props itself up on the idea of legacy. The idea that the name itself is enough to warrant the money you pay for the content it will legally take away from you in a matter of a few short years so they can save on server costs. But what IS the legacy of Call of Duty? The original titles helped shape the first person shooter landscape, and the fourth title revolutionized multiplayer action games alongside the likes of Halo, but what came after? Almost immediately after COD4's smashing success it traded any sort of message and want for things like gameplay innovation or narrative cohesiveness for an iterative cycle at the behest of a publisher in some of the early days of the triple A landscape becoming a barren sprawl of corporate greed. Mind you I said some of the early days, corporate greed has always been intrinsically tied to the video game landscape but I digress. Call of Duty became one of the first annual franchises. Swapping developer each year back and forth to make games that were baseline iterative on the last promising "bigger and better but also the same, we promise" ad nauseam until something had to give. Modern Warfare 2 is heralded as a gold standard for the series, but it mostly has to do with the most memorable levels letting you gun down civilians in an airport. Otherwise it was the same jarheaded OO-RA gun em' down action that the first game had, minus some rather potent anti-war sentiments.

Call of Duty's legacy then is one of "gamer culture", fiercely embroiled in charging the most for the least at the promise of it being the very bleeding edge of what your new several hundred dollar machine can do. The idea of the annual franchise sold more than consoles it sold promises to people, and executives loved that. The culture I speak of you can see everwhere in the mid to late 2000s and early to mid 2010s before the absurdity of it all really started to take root. From Mountain Dew cans boasting cool spec ops dudes in tactical gear and offering double XP should you buy the sugary sludge, to commercials starring then YouTube celebrities famous for blowing things up with military grade firearms on empty land. Gamer culture was and still is top priority in ensuring people don't question the quality or practices of the things they're being sold now. As long as a company can tug on the heartstrings of millions by saying things like "We grew up playing (insert late 90s/early 2000s video game title here) so we get what makes games fun." They have carte blanche to repackage, resell, and further monetize things that should not cost that much if anything at all. The idea that the name "Call of Duty" should stand as the base pricepoint to sell you a launcher to host all the games you could own while barely showing you the ones you do is that corporate greed taken to such a far extreme it's maddening to think about why people aren't more fucking angry about this.

The great Stephanie Sterling has long spoken on points like this about companies like Activision/Blizzard, Nintendo, and EA. Titans of the industry now only famous for how many people they layoff every few months and how much they charge for games that shouldn't cost that much. In a 2019 article on how Apex Legends ended up saving Electronic Arts from major stock crashes, she said the following:

"Last generation saw the rise of the “fee to pay” game. The PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 made online connectivity obligatory for modern consoles, and it was only a matter of time because videogame publishers smelled an opportunity to make money from constant access to their customers. Full premium expansions for videogames gave way to downloadable content, which in turn gave way to microtransactions appropriated from free-to-play games. Only, they never made the games containing them free.

New “AAA” titles saw their entire in-game economies overhauled for the worse in order to support microtransactions. Dead Space 3, notoriously, had to reduce all its horror elements and become a traditional action game to support a desperate weapon crafting economy. This was excused by pundits and spokespeople as offering players a “choice,” without addressing the fact that psychologically manipulative gameplay elements were not things we could opt out of in the games we were paying sixty dollars for.

Having gotten away with it, however, publishers only grew worse. With traditional DLC, season passes, and multiple special editions, many companies have more than quadrupled down on their monetization, and modern games are slowly - subtly - starting to resemble starter packs more than finished products."

-Stephanie Sterling, "How Apex Legends Saved EA's Ass... In Spite of EA", Feb. 12, 2019

In microcosm I think this perfectly encapsulates what the new legacy of things like Call of Duty is. Full and even fuller priced games being stocked with more and more transactions to pull the most out of the consumer without giving anything meaningful in return. Virtual rewards for real world currency that can be taken away at a moment's notice. Fortnite is most famous for popularizing the "battlepass" style of monetization and rotating cash shop storefronts. By having you purchase funny in-game tokens to buy your skins it hoped to have you forget about the 30$ you just spent on said tokens. Call of Duty and its piers have no such interests. No, cold hard cash is the only way it presents its purchasable garbage and that's what you pay each time you give in to one of it's dozens of FOMO inducing splash screens and reminders. You are taken advantage of for your money. That's not even to touch on the genre destroying concept of "crossover content" which only serves to further drive the idea of sales over substance, with more of your favourite characters and celebrities being added to these games in the form of poorly animated and uncanny models for 20$ a pop.

This new form of selling a legacy can only end in more of the same. More skilled artists, developers, and writers being laid off into an industry that cannot afford to hire them back. Infinite growth has already reached it's glass ceiling and is pretending that it simply cannot see it due to it's see-through nature. These giants of the industry, these beasts, must die to see meaningful creative growth return to such spheres as the triple A landscape. The old must give way to the new, the nostalgia has been wrung out like so many drops from an already dry sponge. Name's are not worth paying for, and neither are concepts. We must think and act critically of these systems if we are to escape them. Voting with your wallet is a false initiative. Participating in the market they have a stranglehold on cannot lead to their downfall. This is all to say the following: Stop buying this nonsense. Look more into the independent scene. Find your new favourite games through channels like itch.io or the "indie" spaces on the other major storefronts. Pay for the games that care about what they are. And for the love of everything stop purchasing US Army propaganda. I'd like to recommend the likes of Stephanie Sterling, as previously mentioned, who's journalistic integrity and strength has persevered through some of the worst of gaming's tumultuous history. Jacob Geller, who's introspective analysis of video games as pieces of living breathing art tell so much about the passion and craft that goes into something as commonplace as "a video game". And finally Noah Caldwell-Gervais, a man who I can only describe as one of the most earnest, honest, and just plain down-to-earth guys to ever grace the gaming landscape. These three along with countless others are avenues into further understanding the type of landscape video games exist in in the modern day. I hope you come away from either this article or their work with something new, be it a game or a thought on all this mess. Thanks for reading.

Sources and links:

"How Apex Legends Saved EA's Ass... In Spite of EA"

Stephanie Sterling's work

Analyzing Every Torture Scene in Call of Duty — All 46 of Them (Jacob Geller)

How Many Clicks Does It Take To Get to the Center of Diablo? [A Franchise Retrospective] (Noah Gervais)

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 12 - Return to Sender

Summary: After months of rebuilding her life in Chicago, Valerie is suddenly thrust back into the Elvis vortex when she's summoned for a deposition in his divorce proceedings.

Word count: ~7,800 You can also read this on AO3 here!

Four months. That's how long I'd managed to stay away from anything Elvis-related. Four months of building a new life, of focusing on my students at the community center, of pretending my heart didn't skip every time I heard one of his songs on the radio. 

I was just starting to get my life back on track and then the universe decided to go and fuck it all up. 

It started innocently enough. I was walking home from work, arms full of sheet music and thinking about what to wear on my date with Richard - a perfectly nice, perfectly normal accountant who'd never worn a big ass TCB ring in his life - when I heard someone behind me.

"Excuse me? Miss Pedretti?"

My heart did that stupid little skip it always did when strangers knew my name. These days, that usually meant one thing. I turned slowly, already preparing my "no comment about Elvis" face. But instead of a reporter, I found myself facing a teenage girl with braces and hope in her eyes.

"Could I... could I maybe get your autograph?"

I stared at her. "My autograph?"

She nodded eagerly, holding out a piece of paper. "I saw you perform at Murphy's last week. You sang 'At Last' and it was just... wow. My friends don't believe I found you walking down the street!"

For a moment, I couldn't speak. Someone wanting my autograph. For my singing. Not because I was "that girl who almost married Elvis" or "the Chicago singer who broke up the Presleys." It was almost comical.

"S-sure," I managed, juggling my sheet music to sign her paper. "What's your name?"

"Jenny. I'm learning to sing too. My teacher says I've got potential, but..." She bit her lip. "Well, you know how it is."

I did know. Standing there on a Chicago street corner in March, I remembered being her age, full of dreams and doubt in equal measure. Before Vegas. Before Elvis. Before everything got complicated.

"Keep at it," I told her, handing back the paper. "And come see me at Murphy's again. I'll save you a seat up front."

She beamed like I'd just handed her the moon. As I watched her practically skip away, I couldn't help smiling. Maybe I was finally becoming my own person again.

That feeling lasted exactly three hours.

I was getting ready for my date, trying to decide if the red dress was too much for a simple dinner, when a small avalanche of memories crashed down from my closet shelf. Literally. A jewelry box I'd shoved up there months ago chose that exact moment to commit suicide, spilling its contents across my bedroom closet like broken promises.

And there it was. The little guitar charm he'd given me one night in Vegas, after I'd told him about wanting to learn how to play. Elvis had disappeared for an hour, sending the Memphis Mafia into a panic, only to return with this tiny silver pendant. "Now you got your own li’l six-string," he'd said, fastening it around my neck. "Even if it's just for show."

I picked it up, the silver warm against my palm like it remembered my skin. Almost four months since I'd walked out of Graceland, and still these little pieces of him kept surfacing. Like shells washing up on a beach long after the tide's gone out.

*

The date with Richard was... nice. That's the thing about nice. It's comfortable, predictable, safe. He took me to a little place off Michigan Avenue, held doors open, laughed at all my jokes. His tie was perfectly straight and his conversation was perfectly pleasant. The kind of man my mother would have loved. The kind of man who'd never break furniture when he was angry or pop pills to keep his demons at bay.

"So then the client says, 'But I thought depreciation was just a feeling!'" Richard chuckled into his wine glass.

I forced a smile, pushing my spaghetti around my plate. The guitar charm felt heavy in my purse, where I'd stuffed it after being unable to just leave it on the floor. Like carrying around a piece of lit dynamite.

"Valerie?" Richard's voice pulled me back. "You okay? You seem a million miles away."

"Sorry." I took a sip of water. "Just thinking about tomorrow's lessons. I've got a student who--"

"Oh God." His eyes had fixed on something over my shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?"

I turned. The restaurant's small TV was showing footage I knew too well - Elvis outside Graceland, making his divorce announcement. They'd been replaying it for months now, but this was different. This was new footage.

"Sources say the divorce proceedings have hit a snag," the announcer's voice carried across the quiet restaurant. "Priscilla Presley's lawyers are alleging that the relationship with Chicago singer Valerie Pedretti began before the separation..."

The marinara sauce suddenly looked too much like blood.

"That's you, isn't it?" Richard was staring at me like he'd never seen me before. "I mean, I knew you'd been in Vegas, but I didn't realize... That's really you they're talking about?"

"I should go." I stood up so fast my napkin floated to the floor like a surrender flag. "I'm not feeling well."

"Wait, let me drive you--"

"No." I was already grabbing my purse, already moving. "Thanks for dinner. It was... nice."

The wind hit me like a slap as I burst out of the restaurant. Even after the worst of winter is gone, the Chicago cold takes no prisoners, but I barely felt it. All I could think about was Elvis' face on that TV screen - tired, drawn, but still beautiful enough to stop traffic. Still able to make my heart do that stupid little dance even through a television screen. God damn him.

I walked home in a daze, my heels clicking against the sidewalk in rhythm with my racing thoughts. Three blocks from my apartment, I realized I was humming "Blue Christmas."

"Fucking hell," I muttered, forcing myself to stop.

My apartment felt emptier than usual when I finally made it home. The silence pressed in like a physical thing, broken only by the distant sound of the El and Mrs. Kowalski's cats fighting next door. I kicked off my heels, poured myself a generous glass of orange juice, flopped down on the couch, and tried very hard not to think about anything at all.

The knock came just as I was pouring a second glass.

"Delivery for Valerie Pedretti?" The courier looked about twelve and thoroughly unimpressed by having to work this late.

I signed for the envelope, my stomach already sinking. Legal papers always feel different than regular mail - heavier, somehow. Like they know they're carrying bad news.

Sure enough, the letterhead screamed trouble: HENDERSON, WRIGHT & ASSOCIATES, ATTORNEYS AT LAW - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

"Miss Pedretti," the letter began, "You are hereby summoned to appear for a deposition in the matter of Presley vs. Presley..."

The words swam on the page. Deposition. Testimony. Under oath. Required to appear. April 15th - three weeks away in Los Angeles. The papers even included a first-class plane ticket. Priscilla’s touch, no doubt. Class all the way, that one. Making sure she’d look magnanimous even against a homewrecker like me. 

But first, according to the very detailed instructions, it was suggested I meet with Elvis' attorney in Memphis to "prepare for deposition." Like our relationship was something that could be reduced to sworn statements and legal documents. Like anyone could prepare me for facing Priscilla across a conference table while describing exactly how and when I'd fallen in love with her husband.

Fuuuuck. 

I set the papers down and walked to my window. Chicago spread out below, a maze of lights and shadows. Somewhere out there, Richard was probably still sitting in that restaurant, trying to process how his nice, normal date had turned into a tabloid story. Meanwhile, in Memphis...

The phone rang, making me jump. I already knew who it would be.

"Jesus Christ, how fast does news travel?" I barked without preamble.

"Faster than Elvis after three cups of coffee." Marty Lacker’s voice was warm, familiar, despite not hearing him for months. "You get the papers?"

"Just now." I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. "How bad is it?"

"Well, Crazy’s taking it hard. Been in his room for four days straight, won't talk to nobody except Billy." A pause. "He's clean though. Almost two months now."

My traitorous heart did that stupid little dance again. "Marty..."

"Just thought you should know." His voice softened. "You doing okay?"

"Sure." I watched a couple hurry past below, huddled together against the wind. "I'm great. Just got summoned to testify about the most famous man in music. Probably gonna have to face his wife in a room full of lawyers. Might have to detail every moment of our relationship while the press has a field day. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Val–"

"I gotta go." I hung up before he could say anything else.

*

I called the community center first. "Family emergency," I told them, which wasn't exactly a lie. Then I called Deena.

"Three weeks?" She whistled low. "That's a lot of time to think about seeing him again."

"I'm not gonna see him." That was a lie. I started throwing clothes into a suitcase - different clothes this time. Nothing he'd bought me, nothing he'd seen me in. "I'm going to Memphis to meet with his lawyer, prepare for the deposition, and then to LA for the… the actual thing. That's it."

"Uh huh." I could hear her smirking through the phone. "And if you just happen to run into him?"

"I won't." But even as I said it, my hand brushed against that damn guitar charm I still hadn't put away. "Graceland's huge. And anyway, Marty says he's practically living in his room these days. I’m not going upstairs." Another lie. 

"Marty says?" Now she was definitely smirking. "Thought you weren't talking to any of them anymore."

"What do you even wear to a deposition prep?" I changed the subject, holding up dresses like shields. "Something that says 'Yes, I slept with the man but I'm still a respectable witness'?"

"Honey," Deena laughed, "I don't think they make clothes for that."

*

The flight to Memphis felt endless. Maybe because this time I knew what was waiting. No more sneaking in through back doors or hiding from photographers. This time I had actual business. Official paperwork and everything.

Ed Hookstratten's office was exactly what you'd expect from Elvis' longtime attorney and friend. Wood-paneled walls, leather club chairs, and enough tchotchkes to stock a small museum. The man himself was tall, distinguished-looking, with kind eyes behind thick black-rimmed glasses that had probably seen every kind of trouble Elvis could get into.

"Miss Pedretti." He stood as his secretary showed me in. "Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."

I sat, smoothing my skirt nervously. I'd finally settled on a navy blue suit that made me look older than my years. Professional. Trustworthy. Demure. The kind of gal you'd believe under oath.

"Now then." He settled behind his desk, pulling out a thick folder. "Let's talk about what to expect in Los Angeles. Priscilla's lawyers are... aggressive. They're going to try to paint your relationship with Mr. Presley as something tawdry. Something that began before the separation."

"But it didn't," I started, but he held up a hand.

"I know that. Mr. Presley has been very clear about the timeline. But they're going to try to twist things. They'll ask about Vegas, about when you first met him. They'll want details about every interaction, every moment alone. They'll try to make you nervous, make you slip up."

"Do I..." I swallowed hard. "Do I have to talk about everything? Every detail?"

"Only what's relevant to establishing the timeline." Ed's eyes were kind. "But yes, you'll need to be specific about when certain... developments in your relationship occurred."

My cheeks burned. Great. I'd have to discuss my sex life with Elvis in front of his wife and a room full of lawyers. While under oath.

"There's something else." Ed leaned forward slightly. "Mr. Presley has requested to sit in on our preparation sessions."

The world tilted sideways. "What?"

"He feels it's important. To show support." Ed's voice was carefully neutral. "Of course, if you're not comfortable..."

"When?" The word came out embarrassingly breathy.

"He's actually waiting in the conference room now."

My heart stopped, then started again double-time. "Now?"

"Only if you're ready." Ed stood. "We can do this another day if you prefer."

I thought about it, really thought about it. I could walk out right now. Get back on a plane to Chicago. Let Elvis fight his own battles for once. Who cares if they held me in contempt of court? 

But then I remembered his face on that TV screen. Remembered Marty saying he was clean. Two months clean. Remembered how my heart did those stupid little traitorous flips every time someone uttered his name. 

"Okay." I blurted out before I could regret it, barely standing on shaking legs. "Let's do this."

Ed led me down a hallway that felt miles long. Each step brought me closer to a moment I'd both dreaded and longed for. Almost four months of radio silence, and now...

The conference room door opened.

The first thing that hit me was his cologne - that same spicy scent that used to linger on my skin. Then I saw him, and my knees nearly gave out.

He was leaning against the conference table in a charcoal suit that had to be new - the cut was perfect, highlighting shoulders that seemed broader than I remembered. The jacket was open, revealing a crisp white shirt and a thin black paisley scarf. His hair was different too - styled but not overdone, letting those natural waves I used to love running my fingers through show. But it was his face that stopped my heart. Clear eyes, sharp jawline, that intensity I remembered but this time without the pill-haze that used to soften his edges. He looked devastating. He looked amazing.

He looked every inch the nightmare I'd been trying to forget.

"Miss Pedretti." His voice was pure business, but I caught how his fingers tightened on the table edge. "Thank you for coming."

I croaked something that might have been "Of course" and sank into the chair Ed so graciously pulled out for me. As far from Elvis as possible, but still close enough to notice he'd lost weight - all of it muscle now. No more hint of puffiness from the pills. Just lean strength wrapped in expensive wool. 

God damn him.

"Let's begin with the timeline," Ed said, spreading papers across the table. "Miss Pedretti, when exactly did you and Mr. Presley first meet?"

I focused on Ed, on my notes, on anything but the way Elvis's presence seemed to fill the room like smoke and suck the air right out of me. "July 1969. At the International Hotel in Vegas. I was there to audition for Frank Sinatra's show."

"And the nature of your relationship at such time?"

"Just... friendly." My voice caught as Elvis shifted, his ring catching the light. New rings, I noticed. Different from the ones he used to wear. "We didn't become... involved until much later."

"Be specific about dates," Ed pressed. "They'll want exact timing."

I could feel Elvis watching me, could practically taste the tension rolling off him. But his face remained carefully blank as I detailed our early encounters, our growing closeness, that first kiss. Professional. Detached. Like we were discussing someone else's life entirely.

Only his hands gave him away - those beautiful fingers drumming against his thigh in a rhythm I still heard in my dreams. A tell I'd learned to read months ago, back when I knew every mood, every gesture, every unspoken thing.

"And the first time you were intimate?"

My cheeks burned. In my peripheral vision, I saw Elvis go very still.

"September 3rd," I said quietly. "At my apartment. We... it was..."

"Just the date is fine," Ed cut in smoothly. "They'll want to establish it was well after the separation papers were signed."

I risked a glance at Elvis then. Bad idea. His eyes met mine for just a second, but it was enough. Enough to see he was remembering too; that night of dim lights and whispered promises, his hands on my skin, the way he'd looked at me like I was everything...

"Let's take a break," Ed suggested. "Coffee?"

I fled to the bathroom, needing space, needing air. In the mirror, my reflection looked exactly like I felt. Wrecked. My carefully applied lipstick was bitten away, my cheeks flushed, my eyes too bright. So much for trying to forget him. One look had undone everything.

When I returned to the conference room, Elvis had relocated to the far end of the table. His jacket was off now, shirt sleeves rolled up, and I had to stop myself from staring at his forearms. Had they always been that tanned? That strong? He was studying some papers intently, but the muscle jumping in his jaw told me he knew exactly when I walked in.

Ed's secretary had brought coffee - good coffee, not the burnt studio sludge I remembered from our late-night recording sessions. I wrapped my hands around the mug like a shield.

"Now then," Ed continued, "let's discuss the living arrangements. Priscilla's lawyers will likely focus on your time at Graceland."

"I had my own apartment," I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. "In East Memphis."

"That's good. They'll want to establish you weren't living at Graceland full-time." Ed made some notes. "Though they may ask about overnight stays."

Elvis's pen scratched against paper, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I forced myself to breathe normally, to ignore how his shirt pulled across his shoulders as he wrote. Had he been working out? He looked like he'd been working out.

"There were... some nights," I admitted. "But always discreet. Always after..."

"After Priscilla had already gone back to California," Elvis finished. His voice was controlled, professional, but something in the way he said her name made my stomach clench. “Where she’s lived for the past - oh, two or three years.”

"Exactly." Ed nodded. "Now, about the Christmas incident--"

"Do we have to get into that?" The words burst out before I could stop them. In my peripheral vision, I saw Elvis' head snap up.

"They'll ask about it." Ed's voice was gentle. "It was widely reported that you left Memphis rather... abruptly. Right before Priscilla was expected to return."

"Because I thought..." I stopped, swallowed hard. "I was under the impression that..."

"That I was taking her back." Elvis's voice was very quiet. When I dared to look at him, his eyes were fixed on his coffee cup. "But I wasn't. I was trying to tell her in person about filing the papers. Trying to do the right thing. For once."

The right thing. Like that made up for the months of silence after. Like that explained why he hadn't come after me, hadn't called, hadn't...

"Miss Pedretti?" Ed's voice pulled me back. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Suddenly, my stomach hurt. I took a sip of coffee, nearly burning my tongue. "What else do they need to know?"

The questions continued - endless, specific, humiliating. Yes, I knew he was married when we met. No, nothing happened until after Vegas. Yes, I was aware of his... history with other women. No, I never expected or received any financial support.

Through it all, Elvis sat like a statue, only his hands betraying him. They kept moving - adjusting his tie, running through his hair, drumming that maddening rhythm on the table. Once, he got up to pace by the window, and the sunlight caught him just right. The sight of him outlined against the reddening sky, strong and clear-eyed and more beautiful than ever, nearly undid me completely.

"I think that covers the major points," Ed said finally. "We'll meet again tomorrow to go over–"

"Actually," Elvis cut in. He glanced at me for just a second. "I’ve got some studio time booked."

My heart squeezed. I pictured us being together in the recording booth, making beautiful harmonies.

"Day after tomorrow then," Ed said. "Same time?"

I nodded, already gathering my things, needing to escape before I did something stupid like cry. Or beg him to explain that agonizing silence. Or ask him if he still thought about that night in the rain, when he'd...

"Valerie."

I froze at the door, his voice hitting me like a physical touch.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For doing this. For... everything."

I didn't turn around. Couldn't. "Sure. Whatever helps."

The hallway felt miles long as I walked away, my heels clicking against marble in rhythm with my hammering heart. Behind me, I could have sworn I heard him say something else, but I kept walking. Some doors, once closed, should probably stay that way. Even if they held everything I ever wanted on the other side.

*

The Memphis humidity hit me like a wet blanket as I left Ed's office. March here felt like June anywhere else - the air thick with the heft of memories I'd been trying to outrun. I'd forgotten how this city got under your skin, how it made everything feel more intense somehow.

I'd booked a room at the Peabody this time, not trusting myself anywhere closer to Graceland. The hotel was exactly as grand as I remembered - all marble floors and crystal chandeliers, those famous ducks still doing their daily parade through the lobby. But it felt different now. I felt different.

"Messages for you, Miss Pedretti," the desk clerk said as I passed. Three pink slips, all from the same person.

Sophie: "Heard you were in town. Dinner?" 

Sophie: "Don't you dare hide in that fancy hotel room." 

Sophie: "Getting takeout from Rendezvous. Bringing the crew. Be there at 7. No arguments."

I smiled despite myself. Trust Sophie to know exactly what I needed.

She showed up right on time with Mary, Ginger, and Donna, their arms full of ribs and coleslaw, faces full of questions they were too polite to ask. At least at first.

"So," Ginger said finally, watching me pick at my food. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, you know." I took a long sip of orange soda. "Just had to discuss my sex life with Elvis in front of his lawyer while the man himself sat there looking like every fantasy I've ever had, only better. No big deal."

Mary nearly choked on her ribs. "Better?"

"God, Mary." I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "He's… different. Like someone turned up all his colors or something. And that suit..." I groaned. "That damn suit should be illegal in at least forty states."

"You know he’s been living at the studio,” Sophie added.

My heart did that stupid little flip it always did when anyone mentioned what he was up to.

"He looks happy," I said finally. "Healthy. Like he's finally..."

"Finally what?"

"Himself." I sat up, reaching for a rib. I was happy for him, truly. But so very sad for myself. "And I'm stupid for even noticing. For even caring. He had four months to call, to explain about Christmas, to... to anything. But he didn't."

Sophie was quiet for a long moment. "Maybe he couldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just... there's things you don't know. About after you left." She picked up a napkin, started shredding it carefully. "He was bad, Val. Real bad. The Colonel had to cancel so many meetings. Jerry says they nearly lost him a couple times."

The coleslaw turned sour in my stomach. "What?"

"Then one day, about two months ago, he just... stopped. Everything. Pills, booze, all of it. Started getting real serious about things." She looked at me carefully. It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d even known about the pulls, much less discuss them openly. How much of a cocoon was I living in?

"Don't." I stood up, needing to move. "Don't try to make this into something it's not. He's getting divorced because Priscilla wants to live in California. Because their marriage has been over for years. It has nothing to do with..."

"With the fact that he's recording your favorite songs?" Donna’s voice was gentle. "The ones you used to sing together late at night? Don’t think we weren’t listening."

I stared out the window. Far ahead I could see Beale street spread out like a carpet of lights, and somewhere out there, Elvis was in his studio, singing songs he loved. Songs I used to sing. My throat felt tight.

"I can't," I whispered. "I can't do this again. Can't let myself hope that maybe this time..."

"Then don't." Sophie stood, came to stand beside me in her motherly way. "Just... be here. Do what you came to do. And maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe this time you'll both be ready for it."

*

The whiskey burned going down. I never really drank but tonight felt like a whiskey kind of night. The first glass had made my hands stop shaking. The second was just starting to blur the edges when the phone rang.

I stared at it, watching it rattle against the nightstand like it was trying to escape. I wasn’t expecting a call, but I knew. The same way I always knew when it came to him.

"Hello?" My voice came out steady. Thank God for Jack Daniel's.

Silence. Just breathing. Then: "This is harder than I thought it would be."

My heart seized. His voice was different. Rougher, like he'd been in the studio all day. Or like maybe he'd been doing a lot of thinking too.

"Don't." I took another sip, letting the burn ground me. "Just... don't."

"Valley—"

"I can't do this with you right now." My fingers tightened on the glass. I pressed it to my forehead and sighed. "Tomorrow's gonna be hard enough without..."

"I know." He sounded tired. Human. That was always the most dangerous version of him. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

"Well, you heard it." The words came out sharper than I meant them to. Or maybe exactly as sharp as I meant them to. "Goodnight, Elvis."

"Wait—"

I hung up. My hands were shaking again.

The phone rang again immediately. I let it ring five times before unplugging it.

Later that night, my reflection stared back at me from the bathroom mirror - cheeks flushed from whiskey and something else, eyes too bright. Looking at myself, I could almost understand what he'd seen in me. Almost.

I finished my drink in one swallow and didn't let myself pour another. Tomorrow would be brutal enough without a hangover.

*

Morning hit me like a fever dream - all golden light and sticky heat, the kind of day that makes promises it can't keep. I spent too long getting ready, trying on and discarding outfits like armor. Finally settled on a cream-colored dress that made my skin glow and my dark hair look somehow deliberate instead of wild. Professional enough for a lawyer's office, but also...

"Stop it," I told my reflection. "Just stop."

Ed's secretary showed me into the conference room first this time. I was early, needing to compose myself before...

"Morning."

I froze. Elvis was already there, leaning against the window frame in a light gray silk shirt that made his eyes look impossibly blue. No scarf today, just a few open buttons that showed the gold chain I remembered all too well. He looked like he hadn't slept. Join the club.

"You're early," I managed, proud of how steady my voice sounded.

"Couldn't sleep." His eyes met mine in the window's reflection. 

Last night's phone call hung between us like smoke. I busied myself with my notes, trying not to notice how the morning light caught his profile, how his hands kept moving restlessly, how he seemed to take up all the oxygen in the room just by existing.

"About that–" he started.

"Don't." I gripped my pen tighter. "Please."

"Good morning!" Ed swept in, saving me from whatever Elvis had been about to say. "Shall we begin? We need to discuss the more... delicate aspects of the timeline today." I thanked my lucky stars that Colonel Parker had chosen to sit in the waiting room today.

Even with that small consolation, my stomach still dropped. The delicate aspects. Like how exactly we'd gone from stolen kisses to shared beds. Like when exactly I'd gone from being his backup singer to his...

"Actually," Elvis' voice was rough, "maybe I should step out for this part."

"No." The word surprised us both. "Stay. They're going to ask about all of it in LA anyway. Might as well..." I swallowed hard. "Might as well get it all out now."

His eyes met mine, dark with something that made my pulse jump. For a moment, I saw everything there - remembered heat, old promises, new regrets. Then he nodded once and took his seat.

"Very well," Ed opened his folder. "Let's discuss September third."

"September third." My voice sounded far away. "Elvis had finally come up to my apartment. We'd been... there had been moments before. Almost moments. But that night..."

I could feel Elvis's eyes on me, knew he was remembering too. The way he'd shown up at my apartment door, lean and hungry. How he'd stood there on my carpet, looking at me like a man who'd finally stopped running from something. From everything.

"Be specific about the timing," Ed pressed. "Priscilla's lawyers will want to establish--"

"It was late," I cut in. "After ten. We'd been recording all day, then I'd gone to dinner with some of the session singers. He came by after, said he wanted to talk about the arrangements we'd been working on. But..."

Elvis shifted in his chair. His knuckles were white where he gripped his pen.

"And then?"

God. How could I possibly describe it? The way the air had changed between us as he stood in my tiny living room. The easy conversation that had turned into something else entirely. How we'd gone from discussing music to... to everything.

"We..." I stopped, started again. "It wasn't planned. We were just talking, and then suddenly we weren't talking anymore, and..."

"I understand this is difficult," Ed said carefully, "but for legal purposes, we need to establish that nothing physical occurred before the separation papers were signed. Priscilla's lawyers will try to suggest otherwise."

"Nothing happened before the separation," I said firmly, though my voice shook slightly. "That night was the first time. And after... after that, we agreed it couldn't happen again. Not until Priscilla had gone back to California."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Elvis' hand tighten on his pen. He was staring straight ahead now, jaw clenched, but I could feel the tension radiating off him.

"And you maintained that agreement?" Ed asked.

"Yes." The word felt like glass in my throat. "Until she left. We both... we knew it had to be that way."

Ed made some notes. "And when the relationship resumed?"

"Approximately three weeks later." My voice was barely a whisper now. "After Priscilla had gone home to California. And I saw the papers in the drawer.. they were signed months before that.”

"Miss Ped–Valerie." Elvis's voice was strangled. When I dared to look at him, his face was tight with barely controlled emotion. "You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do." I turned back to Ed. "They're gonna ask all this in Los Angeles anyway, aren't they? About every detail, every moment?"

"They'll try," Ed admitted. "They'll want to establish a pattern of behavior. But you don't need to share anything... intimate. Just the timeline."

"September 23rd," I said quietly. "That's when we... when things changed. Well, we - you know - for the second time. And yes, I'm sure of the date. Yes, it was after she left. And no, we never..." I swallowed hard. "It was never about hurting anyone. We tried so hard not to..."

"I think that's sufficient," Ed said gently, closing his folder. "We'll take a break and--"

"No." Elvis stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. "We're done. All of it. She's not doing this anymore today."

"Elvis--" Ed started.

"I said we're done." His voice had that edge I remembered, the one that meant he was about to lose control of something. Of everything. "Give us a minute?"

Ed closed the door behind him, leaving us in a silence broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Elvis stood at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at Memphis like he was seeing it for the first time.

"You didn't have to stop the prep," I said finally. "I can handle it."

"Can you?" He turned, and something in his face made my chest tight. Not the old dramatic Elvis - just a man who looked tired. "Because I'm not sure I can. Sitting here, listening to all of it laid out like... like it was just dates on a calendar."

"That's all they need," I said. "Just the timeline."

"Is it?" He leaned against the window frame. "Because it feels like they're trying to turn this into some cheap scandal."

"Wasn’t it?" The words came out before I could stop them. "The backup singer and the married star?"

"No." His voice was quiet but firm. "We were never that. You know we weren't."

I did know. That was the hell of it.

"I’m clean," he said suddenly. "Two months now."

"I heard." I studied my hands. 

"Should've done it sooner. Should've..." He stopped, started again. "Should've done a lotta shit sooner."

The simplicity of that admission hit harder than any dramatic declaration could have. This was the Elvis I remembered - the real one, underneath all the showmanship and easy smiles. The one who could break your heart just by being honest.

"Why didn't you call?" I asked finally. "After Christmas, after... everything."

"Honestly?" He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I was a mess. Needed to get my head straight first. Figure out who I was without..." He gestured vaguely at himself, and I knew he meant without the pills, without the haze he'd lived in for so long.

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of missed opportunities and wasted time settling between us like dust.

"We should get back to it," I said, gesturing toward the paperwork on the table. "Finish the prep."

Elvis nodded, straightening himself. Just like that, the mask slipped back into place. Professional. Distant. Like we hadn't just cracked open something we couldn't quite close again.

The next two weeks stretched like molasses. More prep sessions, more carefully worded statements, more moments of trying not to look at each other across conference tables. Memphis watched us like a soap opera, every coffee shop and beauty parlor buzzing with theories about why I was back in town.

"Ignore them," Sophie advised over sandwiches one afternoon. "They'll talk no matter what you do."

"Easy for you to say." I pushed my coleslaw around my plate. "You're not the one getting death stares at the grocery store."

"No, but I did see Mrs. Milton organizing another prayer circle for your soul." She grinned. "Though this time some of the younger girls told her to stuff it. Times are changing, even in Memphis."

The flight to LA loomed closer. I decided neither to use the tickets Priscilla so graciously provided nor to fly out with Elvis and the boys. Instead, Ed had arranged everything just for me - flight, hotel reservations, a car to meet me at LAX. The Colonel's influence, making sure everything looked respectable. Like I was a legitimate witness, not some little homewrecking hussy being dragged into court. 

The night before we left, my phone rang.

"You packed?" Red's voice was gruff with concern.

"Almost." I stared at my open suitcase. "What do you even wear to get grilled by your... by Elvis' wife's lawyers?"

"Ex-wife," he corrected gently. "And wear whatever makes you feel strong. You're gonna need it."

He wasn't wrong. LAX hit like an uppercut - all sunshine and palm trees and reporters who somehow knew exactly which flight to watch for. The flashbulbs started before I even hit baggage claim.

"Miss Pedretti! How long were you and Elvis–" 

"Is it true that–" 

"What do you say to accusations–"

Ed's promised car materialized like magic, whisking me away to a hotel that probably cost more than my rent. The suite was bigger than the first floor at school.

"Remember," Ed said as we did one final prep session that evening, "just stick to the facts. Don't let them bait you into emotional responses."

Easier said than done when you're about to face the woman whose husband you... No. Not husband. Not anymore. The papers made that clear, even if my guilt hadn't quite caught up to reality.

*

The deposition room felt like a tomb. Everything was cream-colored and sterile, from the walls to the conference table that stretched like a barrier between two worlds. I was early - or so I thought.

She was already there.

Priscilla sat at the far end, a vision in cream Chanel tweed that probably cost more than my first car. Even now, the sight of her hit like a left hook. She was just as beautiful as that night at the International - all delicate features and perfect posture, making me feel large and ungainly in my navy suit that suddenly seemed cheap and ill-fitting.

They say men "cheat down," but looking at her, I felt it in my bones. What could Elvis possibly have seen in me when he had this porcelain doll at home? I was all wrong angles and wild curls that the humidity had already started to revolt against. Too fleshy, too loud, too... everything she wasn't.

Her eyes met mine across the room - cool, assessing, like she was cataloging every flaw. I forced myself to hold her gaze even as my stomach churned.

The Colonel arrived just before the attorneys, settling into a chair near the back of the room like a spider watching its web. His presence felt like another weight pressing down.

The attorneys filed in like well-dressed vultures. Priscilla's lead counsel, Andrew Marshall, looked exactly like you'd expect. Silver-haired, sharp-featured, with eyes that had probably never smiled in their life. His team arranged themselves around him like a pack of wolves circling prey.

Elvis arrived last, flanked by Ed Hookstratten and his team. He looked devastating in a charcoal suit I'd never seen before. Our eyes met briefly before he took his seat, and something in his expression made my heart stumble.

"Please state your name for the record," the court reporter began.

"Valerie Marie Pedretti."

"And your occupation, Miss Pedretti?" Marshall's tone was almost friendly.

"I'm a singer and music teacher."

"How long have you been performing professionally?"

This wasn't so bad. Just basic background questions. I felt myself relax slightly. "About eight years. I started teaching music while still in college."

"And how did you come to be in Las Vegas in July 1969?"

"I was there to audition for Frank Sinatra's show at the International."

"Successful audition?"

"No, sir."

"But you stayed in Vegas anyway?"

"I had other opportunities." The words came easily. These were simple facts, nothing to fear.

"Yes, quite fortunate how those opportunities presented themselves." Marshall's tone shifted slightly. "Tell me about the elevator, Miss Pedretti."

"Objection to form," Ed cut in. "Vague question."

"I'll rephrase." Marshall's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Please describe your first encounter with Mr. Presley."

I recited the story we'd rehearsed. "We met in an elevator at the International. Brief conversation. Professional."

"Professional." Marshall tested the word like wine. "And after that?"

"Mr. Presley offered me a position as a backup singer."

"Just like that? No audition? No formal process?"

I felt the first hint of danger. "I had to prove myself in the studio."

"Of course." Marshall shuffled some papers. "And these late-night recording sessions... always strictly professional?"

"Yes." My voice was steady, but my hands had started to shake under the table.

"Even the night of August 31st?"

"We were working on arrangements—"

"Until 4 AM?" His smile sharpened. "With no other singers present?"

The room suddenly felt smaller. Across the table, Elvis shifted in his chair.

"Miss Pedretti," Marshall continued, his tone deceptively light, "let's discuss the gifts."

"Objection," Ed started, but Marshall waved him off.

"Simply establishing the nature of their relationship."

"The jewelry, the clothes..." Marshall consulted his notes. "Quite generous for a professional relationship."

Something in me snapped. "Is accepting a gift from a friend against the law, Mr. Marshall?"

The room went very still. I caught myself too late, remembering Ed's warnings about staying calm. Across the table, Elvis's lips twitched slightly.

"Friends." Marshall's voice hardened. "Is that what you call it? These 'friendly' gifts worth thousands of dollars? This 'friendly' apartment in Memphis?"

"I paid my own rent," I said quietly, trying to recover my composure.

"With money earned from your suddenly flourishing career? Amazing how doors opened once you became Mr. Presley's... friend."

Each word felt like another cut. I forced myself to breathe steadily, to remember Ed's coaching. Don't let them bait you.

"Let's discuss Christmas, Miss Pedretti." Marshall's voice took on a new edge. "The night you fled Memphis rather... dramatically."

"I left because I believed Mrs. Presley was returning home." The rehearsed line felt hollow now.

"And why would that concern you? If, as you claim, nothing inappropriate had occurred?"

"I wanted to be respectful of their marriage."

"Respectful?" Marshall's laugh was soft, cruel. "Is that what you call your behavior in this photograph?"

He slid a manila envelope across the table. Inside were photos from Vegas - innocent moments made to look sordid. Elvis and I at the piano. Walking in the garden. Leaving the studio late at night.

"Quite cozy for a 'professional' relationship, wouldn't you say?"

I couldn't speak. Each photo felt like another nail in the coffin of everything beautiful we'd shared. Every moment twisted into something… cheap.

"But this," Marshall produced another photo with theatrical timing, "this is my personal favorite."

My heart stopped. There it was in glossy black and white. Elvis and me outside the service entrance. The kiss that had started everything falling apart. The one Red thought he'd contained.

From the back of the room, I caught the Colonel's slight smile. He'd known. Of course he'd known.

"Perhaps you can explain this particular... professional interaction?" Marshall's voice dripped with false concern.

Hot tears pricked at my eyes but I wouldn't let them fall. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"This was taken after the separation papers were signed," I managed.

"But before they were filed," Marshall countered. "While Mr. Presley was still very much married to my client." He turned to directly address Priscilla. "I'm sorry you have to see this, Mrs. Presley."

Across the table, Elvis made a sound low in his throat - the kind of sound a wounded animal might make. His hands were clenched so tight his rings must have been cutting into his skin.

"The timing of this photograph," Marshall continued, "suggests a rather different story than the one you've been telling. Phone records show calls to your apartment at all hours. Staff reports intimate dinners. And now this... very convincing evidence of a relationship that clearly began long before any legal separation."

The implication hung in the air like smoke. I sat perfectly still as Marshall systematically destroyed every beautiful memory, every tender moment, every time Elvis had looked at me like I was his salvation.

"In fact," Marshall pressed, "isn't it true that your relationship with Mr. Presley was instrumental in the breakdown of his marriage?"

"No," I whispered, but the word had no power anymore. Not with that photo staring up at me, damning in its simple truth.

"I think we need a break." Ed's voice cut through the fog of humiliation.

I stood on trembling legs, my dignity in shreds but my spine still straight. As I made my way to the door, I caught Priscilla watching me. Something flickered across her perfect features - not quite sympathy, but understanding maybe. She knew what it cost to love him. What it cost to lose him.

Behind me, I heard chairs scraping; Elvis trying to follow, probably, and his lawyers holding him back. The Colonel's voice, low and firm: "Let her go, boy. This is how it has to be."

Even through the tears that threatened to fall, I held my head high. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not Marshall, not Priscilla, not even the Colonel with his calculated chess moves. But inside, something had shattered. The last remnants of whatever fairy tale I'd been telling myself about loving Elvis Presley.

In the bathroom, I pressed my forehead against the cool mirror and watched my tears finally fall. They'd been playing us all along. The Colonel, Marshall, maybe even Priscilla - they'd had that photo in their pocket like a silver bullet with my name on it. Just waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger.

The worst part? It was such a beautiful photo. Even in black and white, you could see it - the way Elvis held me, the way my hand curled into his jacket, the perfect capture of a moment when love felt bigger than consequences. Now it was just evidence. Another nail in the coffin on our relationship. 

I could never, ever go back to him. 

I wiped my eyes, fixed my makeup with shaking hands. There were still hours of this to get through. More questions, more photos maybe, more carefully aimed arrows meant to make me bleed. 

*

Thankfully, the bathroom was all marble and soft lighting. The kind designed to flatter even the most tear-stained of faces. I white-knuckled the edge of the sink, watching water drip from my chin. My legs felt like two dangling noodles. 

The door opened. In the mirror, I saw her enter - still perfect, still pristine in her cream Chanel. But something was different now. A slight tremor in her hand as she reached for her purse. The way she wouldn't quite look at her own reflection.

Without a word, without even looking at me, Priscilla placed a tissue on the counter beside my hand. The gesture was neither kind nor cruel. Just acknowledgment, maybe, of another woman trying not to cry in a fancy bathroom.

Jesus Christ. 

I was being comforted by Elvis Presley's wife. The same woman whose marriage I'd helped destroy was wordlessly offering me tissues while I tried not to ruin my mascara. The absurdity of it made me want to laugh, but I was afraid if I started, it would turn into something else entirely.

I took the Kleenex, carefully dabbing under my eyes. We stood there in silence, two women doing the familiar dance of fixing makeup that couldn't really fix anything. The surreal intimacy of it all made my chest tight. In another life, another universe, we might have been friends. We'd have so much in common; the way he looked at us when we were too naive to know better, how it felt to be the center of his world until something else caught his attention, what it cost to love someone who belonged to everyone and no one at all.

"My attorneys that photo for months," she said softly, reapplying her lipstick with practiced precision. "They were waiting for the right moment."

Our eyes met in the mirror. For just a moment, I saw something flicker across her perfect features, not sympathy exactly, but recognition. And that was somehow worse than if she'd been cruel. Because she understood. More than anyone else on earth, she understood exactly what it felt like to be caught in Elvis's orbit, to be torn apart by his gravity.

Her kindness felt like another kind of punishment - because how fucked up was it that the woman who had every right to hate me was the only one who really knew what this felt like?

She capped her lipstick with a precise click. Checked her hair one last time. Then she was gone, the door closing behind her with barely a sound.

I wiped my eyes, straightened my shoulders. There were still hours of deposition ahead. More questions, more photos maybe, more carefully concocted accusations to make me crumple. But at least now I understood - this wasn't really about me or Priscilla anymore. This was just what happened when you loved a man who would always love being Elvis Presley more than he could ever love any of us. @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @therealslimshakespeare @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy @eapep @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo

[aziraphales-library]

helllooooo! so my fav thing to read is aziraphale getting hurt (metally or physically) (im deranged i know) and crowley comforting him, i was wondering if yall had any favs? i have read a lot and are looking for new fics with this basis:))))

We have several tags with loads of fics you can check out: #hurt aziraphale, #aziraphale whump, #aziraphale's trauma, and #protective crowley. Here are more to add...

Penance That Comes With the Lack of Proper Closure by midnightdragons (T)

“I – Crowley, I –,” Aziraphale floundered with his words, grief and guilt and sick shame burning at his chest. He wrung his hands together tightly, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he spoke, almost feeling as if he was making a confession to a priest. That same sick feeling rose in his throat, and he swallowed it back, his hands clammy where they were clasped together in front of him. “Crowley, I do not know if I deserve to be called that anymore.” He risked opening his eyes again when there was nothing but silence and heavy breathing, and he saw that Crowley’s mouth had dropped open, and his eyes were flashing something dangerous. “You – what? Called angel? You – you don’t – you think you don’t deserve –?”

After the averted Apocalypse, Aziraphale forgets himself and sends a report to Heaven. This does not go over well, and Crowley is there to help Aziraphale process through the grief of being unwanted by his God.

To Be Safe And Loved by LokisQueen01 (T)

Aziraphale hasn't been in Heaven long when he is told the details of the Second Coming. He decides he is not the right Angel for the job and tries to leave. The Metatron is not happy and Sandalphon steps into the picture. All Aziraphale wants is to go home. My summaries suck and I am still learning tagging. Mentions of Blood and Torture. This is my first Good Omens fic and my first fic in awhile. Please be gentle and kind!

To wash it white as snow by HolRose (T)

After all the noise and chaos had died down in the aftermath of the failed Second Coming, Crowley takes care of his wounded angel, and together they help each other on the road to healing. A gentle, loving Post Season 3 comfort fic

I've Been Loving You by acup_oftea (NR)

The laws of physics suggested that the Bentley shouldn’t have been able to drive more than seventy-or-so miles per hour in London. The laws of physics, however, did not account for the Bentley’s strong preference for protecting certain ethereal beings who had a tendency to overthink absolutely everything save for their own personal safety. Crowley made it to the bookshop in under five minutes, his mind racing and his heart hammering as he took in the fact that he was actually coming back. He couldn’t face this, couldn’t be in this place without sinking into its familiarity, without closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the shop, without covertly staring and staring at its owner. But he was up and slamming the car door shut without stopping, trying to calm the dull panic in his head. OR It's been seven months, & Crowley has taken to drinking himself into oblivion & solitude. But when he gets a panicked call from Muriel telling him to get to the bookshop right away, he is forced to confront certain misunderstandings he may have had as the threat of danger lurks- & he'll do anything to keep his angel safe OR The author is TIRED of reading s2 fix-its where Aziraphale is the bad guy

A Price Paid For Love by tincturedwords (M)

Angered over the events of the ruined Armageddon, the Archangels Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon argue over why Aziraphale hasn't Fallen yet. He is a traitor to all of Heaven and God Herself in their eyes. He has stopped the Great Plan from taking place and has been toeing the line of their rules for centuries, hedonistic and befriending a demon were only a few on the list they held against him. Yet the Almighty is silent on all that's happened… Thus they decide to take matters into their own hands. However, they may not have the power to make an angel Fall as God does, they do possess powerful miracles, especially when their strength is combined. So in order to teach the wayward Principality a lesson, they simulate what it's like to Fall for Aziraphale so that he may understand what his fate should have been. Except they fail to inform him of this punishment, thus Aziraphale doesn't know it's not real.

Subterfuge by The_Bentley (E)

War has come to Europe and many are suffering under the Nazi Regime of Germany. Aziraphale, unable to sit by and watch this happen, has plans to save as many as he can but he needs help. Crowley, miserable in his new mission which has him infiltrating the Nazi government to further Hell's causes, just might be the partner he requires to implement his plans. But when Aziraphale ends up imprisoned for his actions, Crowley's rage will have him raining Hell down on those who hold his angel captive. Both will also have to learn to deal with the trauma that comes with being embedded behind enemy lines as the toll the war takes on them has Crowley and Aziraphale depending on each other for support.

- Mod D

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[jkftkth]

i really do wonder what a bts comeback will mean and does every member have a plan figured out for themselves.

fan accounts going awol when some members were exploring their artistic individuality and only now resurfacing because a group reunion is closer - it makes you think. was there ever even an artistic connection? or was it more about what has been sold to the audience over musical talents - an entertaining family dynamic/bond fans can project onto. fitted roles where a member is only likeable if they’re playing it just right.

2024 changed my feelings for good on where i think i belong, and there’s probably little that could happen for me to want to be part of bts’ fandom again.

firstly, there’s only so far you can go being a fan of tae and having to witness on a daily basis the level of disrespect he faces from both company and fandom no one else has. when you see quite literally the worst of the worst, day after day, but it’s only a limited amount of fans who voice concern and make actual space for the exclusive severity of it all to be acknowledged and discussed and questioned…you either stay and pretend it’s not happening/it’s not “the actual worst” because it’s impossible to satisfy every fan, orrrrr—

i mean, everything until up to now has been with the intent of a) making us fall for the brainwashing so we stop advocating for him as an individual, or b) exhaust us into quitting being his fan so his label can turn around and say to him hey look—why did you think you could make it when no one likes you?

and i obviously believe other members are a victim in their own way too. because you would have to be living under a rock to not see that hybe does not respect its idols as workers, as money makers, and as humans. neither does it protect most of them, the actual opposite for specifically taegikook and so a fan of the group or not, anyone would naturally want better for hybes idols across the board because they deserve better than staff badmouthing them in official reports and on online platforms.

of course there are other reasons i’ve had enough, such as contractual fan service being pushed so much whilst at the same time fandom reactions being intensely watched and made note of to the extent labels are out here monitoring fanfiction and assigning tropes to members and not caring what type of delusion and hate that cultivates??! to the group motto of “us is always before me” being celebrated, to fandom not actually caring about idols’ rights, to fandom falling for a dirty pr firm’s media manipulation/fabrication so easily, to hybe basically being in all fandom spaces with their dumb ass bots to sway opinion, to i mean the list goes on.

i don’t think i’d call myself bitter, or a hater, or a “solo.”once they return i’ll feel relief for all of them that that chapter of their life is over and they came out safe and sound (🙏), but i confess i have little excitement for a group album because group songs mean one thing for fans of tae and group arrangements always do the opposite of wanting him to shine and group entertainment is hard to enjoy when you know there’s a script running more often than not at his expense.

a tour? well i know there’s sincerity in how important performing is, and it’ll probably mean a lot after 18 months of being forced away from that, so it will be nice to see them doing what they find enjoyable yes. do i look forward to the exerting schedules for the sake of making up for hybes financial losses? do i look forward to the billionaire continuing to rip them off while he carries on riding their success as his own?

i know there are contracts. i know idols’ rights are a topic of concern and few are willing to talk about it and make a change. i know their industry can get really manipulative really fast as soon as they step out of line and that can lead to a really dark reality. i know there’s always a bad guy in the story. i know the group is still important and loved by tae (and jk), i know he wants to think the best of the group’s fandom because he is still a group member, i know i’ll support him wherever he goes but like

it’s just hard to forget the least three years and stay unaffected.

[natrogersfics]

Always Remember Us This Way - A Romanogers AU

Artwork by @faith2nyc Part of the So It Goes... 'verse

Heels click against the marble, and it’s not until Steve’s own feet are moving that he realizes how attuned he’s grown to the sound, following suit without so much as a second thought and stationing himself by the closest pillar. Before him is the vast expanse of the newly renovated penthouse floor of Red Guardian’s Midtown property, its far most wall made entirely of glass windows boasting a panoramic view of the sun setting over Manhattan’s skyline and providing the perfect backdrop behind Natasha as she makes her way to the sprawling bar. Loki and Ophelia trail not too far behind her, and momentarily, he lets his eyes drift to the latter.

He hadn’t learned much else about the woman from the report Maria Hill, his contact at the FBI, had given him. There were some rumblings about her tendency to be tactless, but given the social circles she runs in, that hardly comes as a surprise to him. Nevertheless, her lack thereof of any criminal history did wonders for assuaging his concerns about this last-minute meeting – especially in light of the venue change from Natasha’s office to here.

“As you could probably tell from the gray and gold veining,” Natasha begins, looking at Ophelia as she traces the surface of the counter with a finger. “This is made entirely out of Calacatta imported from Italy. Now, obviously, this bar is intended for refreshments, but given that slabs like these are rare, I was thinking-”

“That it’d make a great backdrop for my products,” Ophelia finishes for her, and though her back is to him, he can tell from her tone that she’s clearly impressed.

“It could be a nice touch if your team is planning on taking some flat lays for your socials,” Natasha says. Her tone is cool and casual, but he catches the way the corner of her mouth quirks ever so slightly, her tell that she knows she’s on the right track. 

And she’s right. He doesn’t have to see Ophelia’s expression to know that the woman is already sold on the idea. She may not be aware of it, but what she’s currently experiencing is Natasha Romanoff in her element, and he’s observed enough of her meetings to know that it’s all but impossible to walk away from her, uncharmed, when she’s dialed in like this.

It’s as Natasha leads the way towards the center of the room, talking about the craftsmanship of the pair of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that he brings a hand up to the side of his face, tapping on his earpiece. “Give me a floor run down.”

Sam’s response comes a second later. “Floor below is clear. As is the lobby.”

“And the construction site across the street?”

“I have eyes on it,” Clint pipes in. “Lots of workers, but no suspicious activity so far.”

“Copy that. Thank you, both.”

Some semblance of relief washes over him as he puts his mic back on mute. By all accounts, he knows that having two members of his team run surveillance during a routine client meeting is overkill. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s accompanied Natasha to site visits just like this one, and never once has he required backup. Nevertheless, as he thinks back to the events that have occurred since they returned home, the part of him that believes that it’s always better to be safe than sorry can’t help but roar loudly.

It was instant, the way he knew something was wrong when he and Natasha walked down the steps of the jet to be greeted by the stoic faces of his team. Sam was the first to speak, informing them both that out of an abundance of caution, they would be taking Natasha back to her suite at The Empire instead of her apartment. It was on the car ride over that the team had started to brief them, and while his gut began to sink as he listened to their theory that someone had been keeping tabs on Natasha’s apartment while they’d been abroad, it wasn’t until he was presented with the letters – letters that were similar to the ones Natasha’s father had shared with him when he’d first sought his services – that he felt his blood run cold.

Finding the culprit had become their team’s primary focus in the days that followed, the intensity with which they had treated the objective reminiscent only of his days running covert operations in the Army. With confirmation that Natasha’s initial stalker was still incarcerated, they had set out to ID another suspect, exhausting every avenue from the CCTV footage from her apartment to leveraging what contacts they had in law enforcement. His patience (and quite frankly, his sanity) was beginning to run thin when a week had passed and they had yet to find any concrete leads, the four walls of his office becoming unwantedly too familiar to him as he spent his nights obsessively poring over all the information the team could gather, trying to piece it all together. It’s the most time he’s spent at his desk, and while he normally hated being confined to a space, he found it difficult to peel himself away. It was one thing to protect Natasha from the unknown. That was always going to be a challenge. What he couldn’t stomach, however, was how he had let a horror from her past haunt her once more.

The breakthrough they’d been desperately searching for finally arrived a few days later when a forensic analyst from the NYPD was able to confirm a handwriting match from a previous case. “I was never going to harm her,” he recalls the suspect, Sonny Burch, saying with that distinct drawl of his as he watched the authorities interrogate him from behind the one-way glass at the precinct. “I just wanted to know that if I wanted to, I could,” Burch added, unable to conceal his sickening joy. “And now I do.”

Burch was far from the criminal mastermind he’d been picturing, the man’s gel-stiffened combover that gleamed under the fluorescent lights making him look more like a caricature of a villain than anything else. And though the pursuit of infamy may have been Burch’s only objective, it made no difference to him. Physically harming Natasha may allegedly not have been in his plans, but in sending her those letters, Burch had drudged up one of the worst experiences of her life, and that was enough for him to want to see him behind bars.

He wants to say that knowing Burch has been apprehended helped him sleep better at night, but that would only be a half truth. Perhaps justice had been served. But if there’s anything the incident had highlighted even deeper for him, it’s that danger continues to lurk, and now, more than ever, it’s clear that he needs to keep his eyes open.

“Was there anything else you’d like to see Ms. Sarkissian?”

Loki’s question breaks him out of his reverie, and he blinks to see the trio of them walking towards the front of the room. Silently, he follows, finding his post close to the elevator when they pause just a few feet away.

“No, I think I’ve seen everything I needed to see,” Ophelia says, a pleased smile forming on her lips. “I look forward to Viper Cosmetics inaugurating Red Guardian’s newest space in the Spring.”

Natasha shares a glance with Loki before beaming back at her. “As do we.”

“Wonderful,” Ophelia says, adjusting her purse on her wrist. “And again, I do apologize for having to make a hasty exit, but I have to run to my next appointment. That being said, I’ll have my team contact yours to discuss getting a contract together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Loki says, offering his arm out to her. “Allow me to escort you downstairs?”

“Please,” Ophelia says, linking arms with Loki, who begins to lead her towards the elevator.

He takes a step forward to get the button when he catches Loki gesturing for him to stop, and with a nod of acknowledgement, he unmutes his mic instead. “Client is on their way down.”

The elevator dings just as he hears Sam’s affirmative in his ear, confirming that he’s already stationed at the lobby. Loki and Ophelia step inside, the latter sending another smile at Natasha, who’s come to stand next to him. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Natasha.”

“You too, Ophelia,” Natasha says as the doors begin to slide closed. They wait for the hum of the elevator as it begins to descend, and it’s as the numbers on the panel above start to decrease that Natasha turns to him, eyes expectant. “So, what do you think?”

He shrugs. “She’s demurer than I expected,” he says. “Compared to her online presence, at least. But as far being a threat goes… what?”

“I meant about the deal,” she says, and though she looks away, he catches the way her expression falls. 

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you have her ready to draw up a contract after your first meeting. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a home run.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Her company is going to be a great addition to your client list,” he adds, taking note of her less than enthusiastic response. “I’m sure the board will be thrilled.”

When she looks back at him, the smile she flashes his way doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Would be nice to get them off my back for a few days, wouldn’t it?”

His brows furrow in concern as she turns away from him to walk to the credenza where she’d set her belongings at the beginning of the meeting. It would be easy to ascribe her sudden forlornness on her being worried about the board watching her every move. But that’s a perpetual worry for her as long as she’s in this job, and he knows that for the most part, it’s something she’s incredibly adept at coping with. Whatever it is that’s weighing on her now, it certainly has nothing to do with work.

“Natasha,” he says, coming up behind her as she slips her tablet back into her purse. His hands fall to her shoulders when she doesn’t respond, and he frowns when he feels how stiff they are. “Tell me what you need.” He slides his hands down her arms, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when she leans back against him, melting into his touch. “If you’re tired, I can ask Daisy to book an appointment with your masseuse.”

She hums at the thought. “Tell her to call my bodyguard while she’s at it,” she mutters. “Tell him I miss him.”  

His hands still at her words. “Hey,” he says, gently turning her so their eyes can meet, only to find the emotion in hers difficult to pin down. “I’ve been right here.”

“Physically, maybe…” She pauses, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip – the way she always does when she’s hesitant. A beat passes before she sighs. “But Steve, ever since the letters-”

“Nat,” he interjects, “I-”

“I know you’re just doing your job,” she concedes with a nod. “But then there’s your job, and then there’s… you and me.” She shakes her head. “I just worry that maybe it’s beginning to be too much.”

“What? Natasha, no,” he says firmly. “That’s not it. Not in the slightest.”

“Then why have you been keeping your distance from me?” she says, giving up any pretense of hiding her frustration now.

It’s then that he sees it – the hurt in her eyes that’s clear as day. The anguish that’s been lingering from the moment they got back home, he realizes, flashing every single time he’s left her in the care of someone else to go and dive right back into the case. He had mistaken it for fear of the situation, and in his determination to never see that emotion on her face ever again, it seems he’s only made it worse.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, his eyes turning downcast as a curse slips from his lips. “But you having to see those letters again? Having to relive…” He shakes his head, refusing to even voice the words. “I guess I stayed away because I’ve been feeling so ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” she repeats, only to cup his face in her hand when he nods. “None of that was your fault, Steve.”

“I failed you,” he says, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat.

“No, you didn’t.”

With a shake of his head, he pulls away from her. “It happened under my watch-”

“And it’s under your watch that it got resolved,” she insists, sighing when he doesn’t look quite convinced. “Hey, listen to me. I won’t downplay the fact that the world’s a dangerous place, Steve. We both know that. But when the facts tell us that this time around, the danger is just a lunatic looking for some fame? We need to leave it at that and count putting him away as a win.” She steps closer to him, imploring him to meet her gaze. “Otherwise, we’re just living life afraid, and I don’t want that… And I know you don’t, either.”

His eyes fall shut at that, huffing out a breath that’s long and winded. Despite his never ending list of worries, he knows that she’s right. While he couldn’t stand the idea of any kind of harm coming to her, protecting her has always been about making her feel safe enough to live her life the way she wants to. It was never about keeping her in a gilded cage or making her privy to and fearful of all the dangers that lie ahead – something his actions had inadvertently done in the weeks since this all unfolded.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he says, and for the first time in weeks, he allows himself to give into his urge to pull her into his arms. She goes willingly, burrowing her head in his chest as he wraps his arms around her. He drops a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “If something happened to you...”

She pulls away just enough to look up at him. “You would never let anything happen to me.”

Her words take him back to the very first time she had uttered them to him, her hand in his as she sat in the bathtub that night after they’d finally given into their desire for one another. He recalls the certainty in her eyes then, certainty that’s only somehow been fortified as she stares at him now, even after everything that’s occurred. “You said you trusted me… Did you mean that?” 

“I mean every word I tell you,” she says solemnly, then in the same breath, she allows mischief to flicker in her expression. “Well, almost every word.” He arches a brow at that, and as she rests her palms flat on his chest, she juts her lower lip out in a playful pout. “I said you would never let anything happen to me, but seems you have no problem letting me miss you.”

He scoffs, amusement pulling his lips up into a smile. “A demented sociopath was running amuck and that’s what you were worried about?” Her shoulders lift in a nonchalant shrug, prompting him to chuckle. “Your mind, Miss Romanoff, is always in the gutter.”

“Weeks, Rogers,” she whispers, pulling him closer by his tie and looking up at him from underneath the fan of her darkened lashes. “I’ve been missing you for weeks.”  

A quip makes its way to the tip of his tongue, but before he can say it, he’s interrupted by Sam’s voice in his ear. “There’s a pileup on the BQE, Cap. Barnes will be late for his shift, but I’ll fill in until he makes it out.”

Natasha stiffens in his hold, confirmation that with their proximity, she heard Sam’s words loud and clear. “Don’t bother,” he replies, running a hand reassuringly down her back. “I’ll take the night shift.” She smiles widely at that, and as Sam voices his confirmation, he takes off earpiece for good measure as he adds, “Seems I have weeks to make up for." 

“Bold of you to assume you can make up for all that time in one night," she says, smirking. 

He tips his chin up at that, the corners of his lips quirking when he catches the little breath she takes in. 

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3

[generalpalacefishgoop]

You know the posts recently about bbh neg on twter, the timing of it with that going on, makes me want to hurl, they don't give a shit about "victims" or the real issues. They just want to dunk on the next cc they hate using the current "momentum".

You know what, I say let them go ahead and try to "cancel" Bad, really, go ahead. They're just regurgitating shit DSMP fans has said over the years again and again about Bad. Its fcking funny actually. Oh not forgetting they had to invent new ones or ones THAT THEIR FAVES HAVE DONE TOO BTW, to "cancel" Bad. To think I was looking forward to QSMP fans being "healthier" or "better" than DSMP ones, oh boy am I sorely disappointed.

Let them run their mouths about Bad. Cuz I'm 100% sure the CCs , QSMP admins, and Quackity give 0 shit about them. Etoiles knows and has already expressed how he knows that Bad is overly hated by the fandom and how he receives neg on the daily. Despite knowing that, he's still cordial with Bad. And he even expressed how he tries to not be "angry" or "frustrated" at Bad or else the parasocial fucks will come running to "defend" him from "evil" BBH when he has said a million times over that its not a fcking big deal, and hes just expressing himself NOT IN A NEG WAY. but noooo parasocial fucks be like "oh no my skunkrly wrunkly his feelings got hurt oh no" same shit with foolish fans. Fcking blind af. Esp the new ones who hasnt experienced the prank wars in dsmp. Fcking joyless fucks who cant handle a fcking block game that theyre not even playing. But thankfully, Etoiles stopped being so concerned, and well, yk with Foolish lmao same old same old.

(Disclaimer: SOME FANS NOT ALL, IM TALKING ABOUT THE TOXIC PARASOCIAL FUCKS, YES EVEN THE BIG ACCOUNTS ON TWITTER WITH THOUSANDS OF FOLLOWERS. You know who. Big numbers doesn't mean they're more RIGHT. A parasocial fuck is a parasocial fuck. Also, when I say parasocial, I mean the ones who are toxic and project themselves onto the CC. Being parasocial is fine, if it's the healthy kind, if you know what I mean)

I digress, there's no fcking unfollows or subtweets from CCs to Bad, unlike with D or F. In fact, some CCs and CLOSE FRIENDS of Bad's have always praised Bad and defended him TO THIS DAY. If that is not enough of an indication of how unproblematic he is, Idk what else to say. Just fuck off and live a life in constant misery and hatred ig. That's why don't respond to fucks like that. Just mute em. They can yap all they want but it means SHIT ALL if you don't see it. BBH's community is WAY WAY smaller than the whole fandom (and theres wayyy more toxic fucks) so bbhs community saying shit back to the toxic shits will also mean SHIT ALL. They CLEARLY don't watch Bad anyways so what's the point. Better way to deal with this shit is fight the misinformation, that's all. Spread more positivity and give ppl FULL context and CORRECT information. If you see some shit against Bad, report it and send it to whatever ban list qsmp uses. Send it to mods or something. Ik that Bagi's discord has something like that.

Oh but ppl be like /rp or /lh or "it's just my opinion", who gives a shit. Still report them. We're not dumb. The mods or whoever admins are not dumb. That negative toxic fuck smell on it, is fcking obvious enough.

STOP GIVING THEM ENGAGEMENTS. We can happily stay in each others bubbles without ever talking to each other, AND THAT IS FINE. Don't let the negative fucks in. Mute and report them, and I guarantee you, that fcking stranger on the Internet, you'll forget within DAYS. those fuckers won't even exist to you, vice versa.

THEIR WORDS HOLD NO POWER OVER YOU OR THE QSMP COMMUNITY. KEEP THE QSMP COMMUNITY HEALTY AND SAFE. Fuck them toxic shits.

[camoftarakas]

Gonna be super for real, here is my masterpost of why its important for me that you take advantage of your right to vote to choose Kamala Harris.

Section 1: Personal Issues

I am a transgender person. I live where i'm pretty sure it will be safe to do so for the next 4 years, but not only should i not risk it, i shouldn't be willing to send my trans family into danger, especially the young ones. Republicans are making a big point out of removing the Trans agenda from schools. what the fuck does this mean? right now the target is that teachers, counselors, school faculty who hear a child is trans will be obliged to report it to their home. this is a direct danger to the next generation. If you do not hide who you are, it may be ripped out of you. Children will feel they are better dead than being out. and adults who abuse queer kids will not be held accountable.

I am an autistic and disabled person. Donald Trump and his cronies think vaccines cause autism. this is absurdly hateful, but beyond that they call for pullbacks and regulation for vaccines. For an incredibly safe, incredibly guarded piece of protection against disease, regulation means less access to medicine. More epidemics, more sick people, shorter lives for the disabled.

Section 2: Domestic Issues

the full access to abortion and childcare must be restored. the two are forever linked, and both are essential healthcare. people in my life benefit from this, your neighbors benefit from this, human beings benefit from this.

whoever is in charge has the sole ability to appoint supreme court judges for 4 years. The court can not become further packed against us, whoever you are, because they are not shy about infringing the rights of your neighbors or your family on party lines.

the ability for people to only just get by under a Republican presidency will be gutted. tax cuts for the wealthy are not just immoral, but the government can not operate on less income. The burden comes down on those who deserve it least. Hunger, homelessness, freezing, overheating, death.

voting rights are the target of Republicans, especially for the most reliable opposition: Black and Latino Americans. this is happening now in states desperate to suppress minority voices, or to assimilate them into a regressive white culture of last century. If that isn't bad enough, voter suppression is sure to expand to any dissident population. The future is on the line.

Section 3: Global Issues

Donald Trump uses dog whistles to express israeli support. He calls democrats "Hamas", claims they are "Destroying Israel", calls jewish people delusional for supporting them. There isn't a perfect palestinian candidate. that is all but explicitly banned in politics. Vice president Harris will be clipped out of context saying that she vaguely supports Israel's right to self defense, because that is the most she can say without causing panic and confusion. If elected, Kamala Harris would be the most pro-Palestinian president ever, and it's not any amount of praise to say that. But she seeks solution, the end of Israel's control of them, the acknowledgement that what is happening there is unconscionable. MAGA has trained us to think that a vote to a candidate is a total endorsement of all their actions and word-of-mouth values, but it is the NORMAL and DECENT thing to do to demand better from the person you elect. Donald Trump is in Netanyahu's pocket, you won't get anywhere asking him not to rain terror on Palestine.

Ukraine has a right to self-governance as well. Republicans would pull support, and hold more conferences with Putin than with our allies across the world.

Republicans will refuse investment into clean energy. Trump's last presidency saw a resurgence in Coal, and ramblings about dead birds. Republican control will hold back any responses to the climate disaster another 4 years.

Section 4: Closing Thoughts

A US president can not fix the world. A US president can't even fix their own country. But god damn it don't give in to assured worsening. don't vote for third party; they're not gonna win, they're not gonna win next time, the point you want to make will fall on deaf ears; the time and place is not now or here. don't skip voting, 1/3 of americans don't vote because they don't think their voice makes a difference. vote in every category, there are important issues left to you. You may not turn your state, but you can turn a policy, or your city, or your county, or your representative, or make sure people in your district get a fair trail with a good judge, or that a good person is in charge of your schools. vote like your neighbors life depends on it; it does. vote like the world depends on it; it does. vote like it's the least you can do; it is. You have to participate in this one simple task, flawed as it may be, to not be a hypocrite when you ask for change, when you ask for progress, when you ask for justice. You can elect people who serve you, not who demand you serve them. You can choose to take a step forward, instead of standing still while you're dragged backwards with the rest of us. you can save lives, real lives! you fucking matter, every time, but please for the love of god, do the bare minimum at least this time. And after we're done, we'll go out, and ask for more, ask for better, because government is for us and they need to listen to us, forever, whoever.

[brettdoesdiscourse]

The anti sex work movement act as if abuse can't/doesn't happen in so called regular working environments

You can easily get abused working at McDonald's or retail

you can have a whole ass high paying career and still get abused

These people are just icked out by it and believe sex work shouldn't exist even if the environment is safe

You're absolutely correct, anon.

And you want to know something else? In my experience, I've been less protected in traditional working environments than in sex work.

At 18, I had a man stand in front of me and my manager, yelling at me for something I wasn't even on shift for. He asked if I was an idiot, if I was that stupid, etc. And I just had to take that.

When I was camming, I had full control to kick someone from my room if they were behaving in a way I didn't like.

When I was stripping, there's not a chance in hell the owner would ever let a customer yell at one of the dancers or speak to them like that.

When I was doing videos/pictures/etc, I had full control to block and delete those comments. I was even able to report them as abusive.

In sex work, I've never had to just smile and take that kind of abuse.

In my experience as well, I had people treating me way shittier in retail situations than they did in sex work. (Most the time.)

I like to compare sex work to the media industry.

There is so much abuse that happens on movie and TV sets. Physical, sexual, financial, mental, emotional abuse. They all happen and they're all pretty common with movies/TV shows.

Yet, nobody is boycotting movies/TV as a whole because this abuse happens. Hell, a lot of people won't even boycott a movie/TV show where they know abuse specifically took place.

Nobody's screaming on their accounts that you're abusive if you watch movies/TV shows. Nobody's telling "normal" actors that they're automatically being exploited if they're in any movie/TV show. Nobody's discounting independent movies where all the actors are happy and there's no signs of abuse as "still abusive" just because abuse happens in the industry.

At its heart, the anti sex work movement is anti sex.

The only real difference between porn and a regular movie is the intention. Porn is meant to arouse (in most cases), it's meant to be enjoyed sexually. And so many people still have such puritanical, conservative views on sex that this that's meant to arouse is worse because its "only" purpose is to arouse.

If you want to talk about people getting their autonomy taken away, sex work is another huge aspect for that. And not just in the way people think.

Yes, we get our autonomy taken away by predatory studios/clients. But we also get our autonomy taken away by lawmakers. We get our autonomy taken away by anti sex work people when they tell us that actually we "can't consent" to that. We're routinely told what we have to do or cannot do with our bodies, regardless of what we want to do with them.

And in my experience, most of that autonomy (in the current day) is stripped away by people who are anti sex work. The same people who hide behind "I'm pro sex worker" and "I just want to protect these poor people (usually they say or mean just women)"