#y'all don't see that tag. ignore that tag. it doesn't exist. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nartml · 6 months ago

Note

it's not "entirely made up", which is the entire reason people are complaining lol have you seen what the fandom has done to the nazi allegory?

i agree that the people complaining are toxic, but also, a lot of the changes are both misogynistic and homophobic, and there's a lot of toxic masculinity and abusive romance tropes being romanticized, are people not allowed to call them out? representation is important, isn't it?

you literally tagged your post, adding to the toxicity

most new works follow the "new model" and people who write different things are harrassed (i've seen people be harrassed simply because they don't ship wolfstar). how are we supposed to change that if we don't call it out?

discourse in fandom is normal. you can just as easily follow your own advice and not read it/block it.

Y'all are quick lmao

Okay, okay, so, to get the easy stuff out the way:

I unfortunately made another hasty post, I didn't elaborate enough, that's definitely on me.

In my defense, it's 2:30am, I need to be up in five hours at the latest, and I saw the fifth post hating on jegulus and/or other fun parts of the fandom that I genuinely cannot find anything objectively problematic about.

I got pissed.

I tagged my post, and I agree that I further fueled the discourse.

This has been something that I've done before, unfortunately. I'm used to thinking of tags as part of screaming into the void, I'll be sure to erase them after this.

But as you said, it's normal for there to be discourse in fandom.

And honestly, that's what I usually do. Ignore it. Like I do with a lot of things I don't agree with on the internet.

I don't remember contributing to this whole ordeal before tbh, and I've been here for a decent amount of time.

But I got so ticked off, I wanted to get it off my chest for once.

Lost my grip there, but I honestly didn't think too deeply about it.

Anyway, yes, yes, obviously it's not entirely made up. We have the HP series, aka the source material, in which we do see quite a bit of Remus and Sirius.

I was more referring to the fact that every single other character in the marauders era, is, in fact, made up.

It's undeniable that, despite the bits and pieces we've heard throughout the books, we can't possibly have any sort of concrete understanding of how these characters were during their Hogwarts days, before the war.

Not only because the bits and pieces don't in any way make up a whole picture, but also because some of them might've been entirely unreliable.

So these characters; younger Remus and Sirius, as well as James, Peter, Lily, Regulus etc etc etc, have more or less been crafted on very arbitrary ideas.

They are made up, and very rarely reconcilable to their adult counterparts, which makes sense from several standpoints. (E.g. their canon characters have been severely beaten down and traumatized. AUs take place in entirely different settings; the context changes entirely, and so do the characters)

Now, as for the nazi allegory, I assume you're referring to a) morons who are glorifying the death eater tattoo (jesus christ), or b) the 'Slytherin Skittles'?

In b's case, I'd wager it started with Regulus and the potential to explore the Black Family dynamics, which then escalated to giving him his own friend group and creating entertaining dynamics between them.

However, I genuinely do not see the harm in this.

It hardly matters that they're canonically deaths eaters, or that they were most likely blood supremacists and horrible people; or whatever else could've been going on with them.

They were so barely mentioned in the actual story. Doesn't matter what effect their existence had on the story and how it served the narrative, because they were barely ever directly there.

We know next to nothing for fact. So it's next to impossible for most people to care for their actions in canon, and just see them as blank canvases.

I can't really fault them for that.

People project whatever they want on characters that are firmly established and thoroughly explored; characters that are borderline non-existent are free real estate.

And yes, changes can totally be problematic.

A prime example is definitely the hyperfeminization of Sirius, to make wolfstar fit the classic heteronormativity that plagues queer ships.

As for the romanticization of abusive romance tropes, I honestly have never seen it.

I mean, I hear people complaining about it, but I swear to fuck, it feels like you guys are fighting ghosts sometimes 😭

Either it's a part of the fandom I've somehow steered clear of, despite being balls deep in it, or some people are exaggerating, which isn't out of the realm of possibility, but I kind of doubt that's the case.

As for toxic masculinity, again, I literally haven't seen it. Hand to my heart, scout's honour, I have not.

Hyperfeminization? Definitely.

Toxic masculinity? Macho men? Written in any context that's not challenging it, and is promoting it? Nope.

Representation is important, and that was the other part my post was based on.

I've seen people hate on the liberties others have taken to explore gender through these characters, which ticked me off even more.

And this is coming from a cis individual, who doesn't really fuck with he/they Sirius, they/them James, etc etc.

I don't think that there's any harm in people creating/enjoying content that is representative of their struggles/experiences with gender (or any other part of life).

Exactly because in the marauders fandom, characters are incredibly flexible, for aforementioned reasons.

Blank canvases, remember?

Usually this hate, from what I've seen, comes from people who prefer sticking to the canon part of this whole story.

In which case, totally, the 'new model' is very. Very. Unrealistic.

(There are definitely harmful headcanons out there. Even within this context, there also exists content that fetishizes the very thing I just defended. But I physically can't sit here and list off every problematic thing that has happened in this fandom. I don't have the energy. And that's not what the post is about anyway)

-"People who write different things are harassed".

Yes, glad that you get my point, even though I obviously didn't get it across.

This goes both ways. This goes all ways. Yeah, people who don't ship wolfstar get hate.

But people who headcanon Regulus as trans get it too.

People who prefer Jily get hate.

But jegulus shippers have their hands full as well.

People giggling over silly headcanons that are honestly just that: silly; can't catch a break.

What was that, you like the new model? Here's all the ways I think it sucks ass.

Oh, you prefer canon? What a loser, you're in the wrong fandom.

Ultimately, the joy gets drained out of everything.

This is meant to be fun. This is meant to be a break from real life stress.

It's not meant to leave you exhausted because you're too busy apologizing about not taking something too seriously, or defending your ship preferences.

In the end, however, I obviously get what you're saying. There are harmful changes that deserve to be pointed out.

But I never said that they didn't. Calling out the notions that are inherently problematic when perpetuated is important.

Constructive criticism is welcome. It's crucial. It only adds, it deepens people's understanding of media and brings attention to problematic aspects of certain interpretations.

That's not what I was referencing in my original post; at least, not intentionally.

I was talking about how so many people love to mindlessly complain about things they don't like, without actually bringing up any substantial points.

The only goal is to tear other people down.

As we've agreed, some of these changes are problematic.

But so is the way some people convey their disagreements.

Some of y'all use your complaints about new character developments to also hide your general prejudice against something.

Like, there's no need to get this heated over genderfluid Sirius.

In this particular instance, it's because the general concept of the 'new model' is pretty mainstream, so it's hard to avoid it. So I know that I'm being a bit unfair when I say, 'ignore it'

Ignoring it is rarely easy though, no matter how mainstream or minor.

It should be, because logically this is all fictional and it doesn't matter if someone dislikes your OTP, or if you think someone's hc is painfully unrealistic.

But we can't help it. It's impossible to care about how fictional something is when it means so much to us.

And seeing something antithetical to our interpretation can feel like some sort of personal attack, even when it's really not.

Part of it also stems from how, when you see fifty other people throwing in their two cents, you also want to.

Because it's a base instinct to want to be heard.

All that said, ignoring it, despite the circumstances, is often the best way to go, because a lot of the time it can be irrational.

Hating on someone because they don't like your ship can be irrational.

Starting a fight over someone's differing interpretation of a character can be irrational.

Think critically before you speak, and be careful when phrasing your points.

Being respectful is crucial, and if you're not getting the same courtesy, then stepping back is the smarter choice.

I'm still working on always maintaining these things myself.

I've been doing a bang-on job, broadly speaking.

I had a slight moment of weakness earlier :P

(For those wondering, I took the og post down. It wasn't anything tragic, I just said that most people who complain about the fandom's toxicity actively contribute to it when they hate on stuff others enjoy.

In the tags I went off a bit, my ultimate points being that the fun is often sucked out of everything, and that if I personally don't like something, I avoid it, stick to my stuff, and don't venture into others' spaces if I'm not willing to be open minded.

But I was definitely more aggressive with the delivery, which was my bad. I hate it when I break my own rules on how I want to behave on here.)

Anyway, so sorry for this long rant, and sorry if I've missed something or made a bad/harmful point. I'm borderline asleep.

And it's now 4:10am and I got too absorbed in this *sigh*

#i think ive gotten my point across fine this time. i also think it's a pretty good one #marauders fandom #the marauders #usually my tags are so much more fun but im keeping this concise. succinct.#i need to go to bed #sirius black #regulus black #discourse #fandom etiquette #because i think this definitely fits #damn this is pretty long #sorry for the ramble #what else #oh yea #anon ask

8 notes · View notes

zharizard666 · 4 months ago

Note

I am so sorry for the confusion. I was just so in shock when I found out about this. I was actually talking about winter melona. She worked with that lord Leone guy and drew nsfw of ness and Lucas for one of his fan fictions and when I saw it I was so upset finding out people would want to make something so cute so dirty. I don’t know if this is true but I also heard she drew Mpreg of Lucas and claus and I really hope that’s not true.

Nah its all good.

I don't really associate with nsfw accounts because that content isn't my cup of tea, so I don't find that stuff around either. Hearing about people drawing that stuff in the middle of 2024 is shocking though.

Have a nice week anon ✌️✨

EDIT:

I just remembered who WinterMelons is. Y'all coming for people who drew shit in the early 2010s, the edgy 2010s, are insufferable. Don't ever send me stuff like this again, I dislike people like you.

This is the only polarizing thing I'm deciding to share with y'all: You need to let go, you need to live in the fucking present, you need to get better hobbies.

Being the internet morale police doesn't make you great, it gives you negative aura. It makes you the target of an avoiding game.

I don't know how to make this clearer, acting this way is so fucking abhorrent. You can be 100% right and I'll still dislike you.

None of y'all are doing these call-outs because you care, you just wanna be the one who "did things right" first.

The block button exists, turning off your phone exists, for fucks sake: shunning is a thing.

You hate something someone's doing? But it's not actively harming anyone, it's just immoral? We all can do like the forum era of the internet and actively ignore that person until they go away. We can report the account of that individual collectively too, without making a fucking circus out of it.

Are they doing something actually fucking illegal? Call the authorities! It's not our job to punish criminals, IT'S THE POLICE JOB.

You're so desperate to point and shame people you didn't even CHECK if the person I was defending was the one you actively hate. How is their URL anywhere close to WinterMelons???

So I retract my good wishes, begone. Don't text me, don't tag me, don't message me, don't even think about me when y'all are playing your witch-hunt game.

You said you were surprised to find nsfw art in nsfw fanfiction. Are you reading what you just wrote?

You can be surprised all you want about who drew that is, but be for real: what the hell were y'all doing looking up nsfw fanfiction when you don't like it. Do y'all hate-watch stuff? Are y'all that bored?

I didn't know about that because I DIDN'T ENGAGE WITH IT.

See how your life is easier when you don't engage with awful shit? You wanna stop seeing shit in your fandom? Then don't dip your hands in it.

5 notes · View notes

strebcr · 5 months ago

Note

🔥🔥🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

Bonus points if you include a topic. ( IE. shipping, roleplaying, ect. )

People who make fandom discourse their whole entire personalities are annoying as shit! If you see something genuinely harmful then by all means adress it! However starting beef with every rando you see who “doesn’t like your favorite blorbo”, “doesn’t like your favorite ship”, ect is just annoying! Even I’ve been gulity of this but people are either waaaaay too defensive over the media and characters they like, or way too hostel toward the media and characters they hate! At the end of the day life’s too short to start internet beef with randos over pointless shit, or be rude to people just for enjoying something you personally think is “kinda cringe lol”. The block button, tagging systems, blacklisting, and DNIs exists for a reason!!! Speaking from personal experience getting into online spats over fandom shit 24/7 is just not good for you. It also just kinda sucks the fun out of being in fandoms! By all means set boundaries but don’t be an asshole!!

Y'all need to stop making assumptions about people's mental health and if they're neurodivergent or not, based off one post you don't like. Is there some genuinely infaltalizing and ablist shit out there? Absolutely! However, lashing out at another mentality I'll or neurodivergent person for making a silly post doesn't help shit. We all cope with mental illness and neurodivergentcy in different ways. No one person's experience is the same! You gotta stop assuming people have the same experiences as you! You are not the ceo of how people's brains work! You are not someone's therapist, if you see a post you don't like just ignore it! Dog piling someone without knowing the full context of their situation does more harm then good.

Maybe it’s beacuse of my bad memory issues beacuse autism and ADHD be that way, but I just don’t get the point of soft blocking. Normally when I block people I just hard block them. You do you and whatever makes you comfortable, if you think that you can work something out with the other mun down the line then go for it! However if someone is just being an annoying dipshit despite the soft block in my opinion it’s just easier to hard block people. :^V

#musemelodies

4 notes · View notes

white-light-on-my-prism · 2 years ago

Text

Tagged by the lovely @letters-from-transylvania 🤍🤍

Name: I go by Lavanya(he/she/they) in the football fandom because why not? Also because she's one of my favourite fictional characters moulded by the one and only Rabindranath Tagore, the love of my life.

Birthday: 28th of May!

Zodiac sign: gemini according to western astrology and leo according to Hindu astrology, but I am way too ignorant about astrology to understand what either of those mean for me.

Hobbies: wayy too many holy shit, can you tell I'm neurodivergent? I LOVE MUSIC, so... it's not a hobby it's worship for me, and I don't care if it sounds corny. I was pursuing fashion as a career but now I've switched my majors so I guess it's a hobby? And writing is a hobby which I want to transform into a career going ahead. Nail art is a proper hobby though. It just exists and I do it and I enjoy it thoroughly. Picking out gay subtext from every piece of literature I ever– *gets shot*

Favourite colour: Blue and pink on the main, but I find anything softly vibrant to be visually appealing.

Favourite book: Sherlock Holmes. Everything of Sherlock. Everything of Poirot except 'Curtain' because spoiler alert he dies and he's not allowed to do that. I'm quite into Greek myth though a lot of that shit is messed up, but so am I. Recently read the second book of 'Aristotle and Dante' series, those two books SLAY SO SO HARD.

Last song I listened to: 'Still Alive' by Demi Lovato, it just came out and it's a punk rock masterpiece. Demetria🤌✨️

Last movie I watched: 'Is love enough? Sir' directed by Rohena Gera. It's in hindi and the artistry in the film it top notch. An excellent commentary on societal class divide, privilege, dreams, hopes, love and the complications that arise when all these intersect.

Something that helps people: Some wisdom I gathered from recent personal experience– acknowledge the negative impact of other people's actions on your life, and do not be afraid to take steps accordingly. Doesn't matter if the person did it completely unintentionally, doesn't matter if everybody around you says that they're "an angel" and they would "never do that to anyone" even though they did it to you, doesn't matter if even you genuinely believe that they're a good person and they didn't mean it. It still happened. And it affected you negatively. People can be the best people ever and still act in a shitty way on occasion because we are humans, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't be held accountable. So don't be afraid to admit it to yourself, or call it out, don't feel compelled to accept their apology, especially if their behavior doesn't change going forward, and don't shy away from drawing boundaries. You may lose friends in the process, people may attack you to defend them and it may hurt a whole lot, but, you owe it to yourself to not put up with bullshit, including unintended bullshit.

Meaning behind my url: I used to be a passionate science gay bb as a middle schooler lol. Had to let go of that part of me because of some traumatic experiences which are ☠️☠️ better not talked about but... I've always thought of the dispersion of light by prism experiment as a symbol of queer liberation for obvious reasons. That's where the url is from :)).

Tagging: @neyxmessi @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @dykes4neymar @emmacarsword @krocodilf if y'all haven't already done this, I'd love to get to know you but nothing compulsory. And anybody else seeing this, you're tagged!

#tag game

4 notes · View notes

aspd-culture · 2 years ago

Note

Hullo! Sorry to bother, but do y'all have any info/resources on identification of ASPD, and/or how to come to a mutual understanding with someone who has ASPD?

I'm BPD myself, and I've suspected my sibling is ASPD for a few years (though they were too young to be diagnosed with it back then). I can relate to some of the things they experience, but other times, the same things make no sense to me at all.

I care about them, but it's hard to know what adjustments can be made when we can't communicate needs in a way we both understand.

Sorry if this ain't the type of ask ya answer, feel free to ignore XD

Don't worry, no bother at all!

Unfortunately I'm having a bit of trouble understanding what exactly you're asking me. I did my best to answer what I believe you were asking, but if I messed anything up please feel free to send another ask clarifying your questions more and I'll be happy to answer.

When it comes to resources of any kind with ASPD, they are pretty next to non-existent, at least without a lot of stigma. Your best bet is to look into more blogs like this one where pwASPD talk about their experiences with symptoms to get an idea of what it's like for the person, and then look into ASPD stigma tags to get an idea of what is stigma vs real fact, then look at the scholarly articles with that understanding of the issues the community has with current ASPD research in mind. I wish I could be of more help, but until the researchers either start actually listening to us or move out of the way and let us write the articles ourselves, that's sort of the best way I can give you to understand ASPD without accidentally ingesting some ableist views.

As for coming to an understanding with pwASPD, as far as I understand it, that can either be super easy or super difficult with BPD. In some ways, the symptoms of BPD and ASPD are almost opposites of each other, while in others they mimic each other a lot.

One thing that might help is picturing how you feel about the world while you're splitting. Many people I know with BPD have described it as feeling like people are just trying to hurt you, or to make you think you can trust them just to abandon you at the worst possible time, etc. This is sort of how many people with ASPD view the world at all times. I think a post that might really help you understand the way pwASPD see the world is one I made about the risk factors and how they affect a child who goes on to develop ASPD, as I get into detail in that post on how our world view gets shaped by our negative experiences.

Here's the link to that post:

Another major thing that might help is to remember that even if your disorders could not feel more different sometimes, at the end of the day they are just different means of coping with the same situation, namely an inability to attach securely to loved ones and especially caregivers during formative years. Whilst in BPD that can create an intense "over"attachment (as far as non CBs describe it), wherein you want to be as close to someone as possible either to make yourself feel secure that they won't leave or to try to make up for the lack of attachment during your formative years, the brain of someone with ASPD detaches because of the same circumstance. We get taught from a young age that people aren't reliable (and sometimes pwASPD even go through a period as children wherein we tried to intensely attach, and might have developed BPD if that had worked, but for whatever reason it doesn't usually due to intense negative reactions from the people we tried to intensely attach to) and that those kind of attachments don't exist in real life, or at least not in our real life, so we have to learn to both survive trusting and relying on only ourselves, and teach our brain against its better judgement that it is actually safer to not attach to anyone.

When you have gone through all of that, I'm sure you can imagine that it's hard to want anything to do with other people and thus we come off pretty cold and detached.

I don't know if I fully understood your question, so again if I didn't my bad just let me know if you want. I hope some of it helped either way.

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually antisocial #actually aspd #antisocial personality disorder #aspd #aspd awareness #aspd traits #bpd

5 notes · View notes

dabihawksluvr · 10 months ago

Text

YES, people don't understand or utilize this enough! They think anything they see, they just have to comment on. But unless someone is holding them at gunpoint, they can simply block and scroll away. Then commenting on things shows they think the internet is meant to be specifically constructed solely for their own interests.

YES! Credit should be shared, and links should be freely given. I understand that, maybe at first, they do it to gauge interest for the fic/art and then post the link after. But gatekeeping that stuff is not cool, I'm glad there are people who go looking for these things regardless so they will eventually be found and shared by the right people...but it's still not good fandom etiquette.

This needs to be common sense, just PLEASE look at the tags/filters before reading! It's understandable that some authors may not do this correctly, but it doesn't mean y'all should ignore the tags already given and then complain when you were CLEARLY warned!

I'm 50/50 on this. Some people may want to read fics that are not their usual taste, but if they have certain triggers they should filter them out. And writers should ALWAYS properly tag their fics.

I understand this point, and it's why I write mainly on Quotev for my fics. On that site, I can write drafts all I want and it won't show up on my list until I actually start posting things. I wish sites did this more, because it is super helpful.

Ugh, I hate seeing the spams of 'update plz' and how toxic people can be with it. I remember when Reitanna Seishin had 'finished' Muffins, but people kept on spamming her to write more and she eventually did...then people complained about it. And I've seen this with a lot of SU AU comics, a few good ones were eventually just dropped because people couldn't stop themselves from harassing the artists for the next 'update'. It causes authors/artists to just quit what they're doing, because people feel entitled to their time and work.

I half agree with this. If an author says to not rate, then I understand that (I will respect their request because I know getting rated is a sensitive thing for some). But if it's posted on the internet, someone is going to 'rate' or 'review' it regardless.

I agree with this 100%. If it's not your fic, don't re-post it without the author's explicit permission.

I agree with this 100%. If you post a response/comment, expect to get feedback for it at some point.

This is why fanfic is so sacred, it's in a gray area because we are using already existing (copyrighted) characters for our own writing and not getting a penny for it. Those who fic bind and sell them are absolute trash, they don't care if the entirely of fandom (which is 90% fanfic/art) gets taken down over this.

I agree, but here is my point on it. I use AI Chat Bots to help give me ideas, I don't just copy and paste the text it gives me and say it's my own writing. It's the same as using bases or references in art, or like reading a book and getting a base idea for what you want to write from that. Anyone who just uses copy/paste for fanfic is not a writer, they are using the guise of being an 'author' to be part of a community they want to infiltrate.

This is a legit issue? I had personally never thought of asking another author to BETA for me, the most I do is ask my brother and his partner for advice. Or I ask another online friend to check and see if my fic sounds good to them.

Oh, this is 100% true. Every time I see any drama with a creator, it's always from a jealous 'hater' who wants their attention 24/7. And people will even dox these creators, which is even worse.

I agree. As I am personally ok with any (legal) ships, I have no issue seeing ships I may not initially like or think about. So it baffles me that so many just get so pissy about seeing ships they dislike getting any form of attention.

This is very true, especially for fics. Popularity does not always mean your writing is being received well, it just means a lot of eyes are on it. And it's just a lot of pressure to assume that every writer has to write a 'big fic' to be taken seriously.

I understand that there can be 'universal' fandom headcanons that the majority agree with, but if someone has a different idea about a character that's ok too! (I personally enjoy Trans Bakugo and Blasian Izuku headcanons but I know it's not a strict line to follow in fandom)

YES! Authors/artists are people, they are NOT their content. I understand that internet celebs are becoming more prominent in recent years, but this isn't Hollywood. A lot of the creators we follow are just like us, they just so happened to make something that a lot of people enjoy.

It really does feel like fandom is being invaded, and not in a good way. There is specific rules we all follow in fandom culture, but these new people coming in think they can do whatever they want and cause trouble for everyone else. They may be the loud minority, but it's causing everyone else to see us as 'bad'.

fanfic/fandom ettiquite guide

Okay, I've seen some things recently that make me think there is some need to make a master post of some general fandom and fic ettiquite just because some people may not know and I think there's a huge wave of fanfic becoming more mainstream especially on apps like tiktok.

If you don't like it, don't engage with it!! I think this above all, is the golden rule of fandom. The internet is made for you to be able to mute, hide, and censor things you don't like. DO THAT! don't make a career off of hating things. This goes along with the three laws of fandom, which u should check out FIRST OF ALL.

DON'T GATEKEEP!! If you're posting about a fic, art, ANYTHING link it, credit it! Don't post a tiktok about a fic and then refuse to give the name. Not only are you failing to credit the creators of this content, but you're taking away from the fact that fandom is a COMMUNITY where content is meant for everyone.

Ao3 is an archive. You're going to see things you might not like or even find offensive or uncomfortable. But fanfic is not meant to be censored. Ao3 is made to be unfiltered, people can post anything and everything. Posting fics on other sites simply to shame their content not only brings MORE attention to it, but it's pointless. If you want a website that is censored go to wattpad. And of course, if you don't like it DON'T READ. You can filter your tags and warnings on ao3 so it won't show you that content.

Along those lines LEARN HOW TO USE AO3. There is no algorithm, it is not tiktok. You don't need to censor words in your tags. Your fics are not magically getting pushed out to people. Make sure you're using "person 1/person 2" for romantic relationships and "person 1 & person 2" for non-romantic relationships. Make sure things like non-con and underage are tagged under the warnings. AND AS A READER, know how to filter ships and tags to find the content you want. You can filter by kudos, certain tags, exclude certain relationships or characters etc. USE IT.

Do not create placeholder fics or other "non fics" on ao3. This is against their terms of service. You can (and probably will) be reported, this annoys people endlessly. We don't want to find a fic and open it to see "I haven't written this yet, sorry!" JUST SAVE A DRAFT OR DO IT IN A DOCUMENT? this seems like way to rack up hits, and it comes across as disingenuous, I don't see a real valid reason to make placeholders.

HOW TO WRITE AN ACCEPTABLE COMMENT: long is not important. A simple "loved this!" will make an author happy. DO NOT say any variation of "update pls?" regardless of how nice you think it is. Authors update when they can.I'm not the only author I've seen unhappy with this. JUST WAIT, either it will be updated or it won't, and either way you will live. If you have nothing nice to say about a fic?? MOVE ON. Don't leave a hate comment.

Do not rate or publicly shit on fanfic! A lot of authors know many people, and the chances of that author seeing whatever you're saying about their work is very high. If you don't like it, click off and read something else. If it's still living rent-free in your mind, that sounds like fan behavior to me. And there is no standard fics are supposed to meet, don't rate them.

Don't cross-post fics. Don't put fics on other sites, don't put translation on other sites. DON'T DO ANYTHING with a fic without checking with the author first. On that note, also don't post fics on GoodReads etc. unless an author explicitly says it's okay.

IF YOU DO NOT MARK YOUR BOOKMARKS AS PRIVATE AUTHORS CAN SEE THEM!! If you're going to say anything that isn't positive, you better mark that as private or better yet, move on. Don't say anything on a public bookmark you wouldn't want the author to read.

YOU CANNOT PROFIT OFF OF FANFIC, don't sell bound fics! Don't bind fics if the intention is to sell them. You're potentially creating a lawsuit for the authors of these fics and putting the existence of fanfic in danger. I've seen multiple authors debating taking fics down because of binding issues, just don't do it. AND IF YOU'RE BUYING BOUND FICS YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM. it's selfish and I wish bad karma upon you.

You wouldn't think I'd have to say this but don't plagiarize or use AI to create fics/art etc. firstly making ai write something IS a form of plagiarism. bUT ALSO just write your own content. If you can't, then writing fics etc. is just not for you. No shame about it!

DON'T ASK AUTHORS TO BETA FOR YOU!! You wouldn't believe how many people have asked me to beta their fics for them, I AM NOT A BETA. I HAVE a beta because my proofreading skills are shit. If someone wants to beta they will offer, or go find a blog or somewhere where people are looking to beta. Like @needabeta You can even make a post asking around for a beta, but don't go bug your favorite authors to proofread your fics.

Really just don't harass authors. Of course, don't be afraid to send nice dms, asks, or comments if their inbox is open, but don't spam them especially if they don't reply. Respect boundaries! Don't send nasty anons, everyone knows this is a sign of jealousy and obsession. You're only succeeding in making yourself look bad. Ask yourself why is this author living rent-free in your mind, hm??

If you don't like a ship, stay away from the content geared towards that ship. There's no reason for you to be in people's inbox harassing them over a ship. It's never that deep. If you truly hate it so much, go consume the content for ships you DO like.

Stay grounded. This goes to both fic authors and readers alike. Hits and popularity are not the mark of a good fic. Getting a lot of hits doesn't mean it's good and NOT getting many doesn't mean it's bad. I'm tired of seeing tiktoks asking "so what's the next big fic?" WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A "BIG FIC"? go look through the ao3 tag and find something you like to read, it doesn't have to be what everyone else is reading.

Headcanons are not law. People can think whatever they want about the characters. If you disagree with someone's hc, just move on... and just because a headcanon is popular, doesn't mean everyone has to abide by it. Be creative!

Don't treat artists and authors like celebs! We're all in this together! We're all losers who like the same characters and ships. Of course, compliment and be kind to all creators because we put a lot of time and effort into creating fan content for you all, but don't worship anyone. Don't treat them weirdly or make a post like "omg x followed me!" that's a bit weird. If you want to be excited, dm your friends and giggle together, but acting like authors and artists etc. are celebs only creates the room for people to stop seeing them as normal people and start acting rude or entitled. And many people are uncomfortable with it!!

TLDR; stop creating so much negativity in fandom spaces. At least in MY fandom it's just constantly shitting on ships, fics, art. It's hate anons, antis, and constant fighting about every headcanon. I'M TIRED OF IT! Learn to filter out content you don't want to see, and move on with your life instead of spreading more negativity.

If you have anything you think I should add shoot me a comment or an ask and I will add it! I'm sure I didn't get everything :) this mostly applies to my own experience being in the hp/marauders fandom for a good 10+ years, and I'm sure it varies slightly from fandom to fandom.

1K notes · View notes

officeobject · 1 month ago

Text

Okay, so like, I THIIIIIIIIINK the haunting of the soul of that (ALIVE, DON'T WORRY), teenage boy, might be getting a little ... powerful - he really doesn't like it when I ignore him despite causing me grief and then haunting me when I was getting over it, huh? My computer's ability to scroll, will vary, despite nothing being different, might even be smelling something that reminds me of UNRELATED grief today, and the drawer doesn't just let me half-close it as much as I want without, at random, pushing out, today, so, when it comes to the tags, I was thinking: would it help if I replaced this dude, with ANOTHER, teenie boy, preferably as close to him as possible? I don't know if jealousy resulting in fury (and whatever THAT may lead to, WHICH I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR), will happen, or if he'll finally take the hint that abandoning me as a human and then never contacting me again as a human, isn't something I just wanna let myself FORGIVE, but it'd at least help with the grief, right? I mean I've been WANTING a Colby 2 as well, but it ain't about replacing him as a person, but rather, HIS ROLE, or something.

So, basically, feel free to do whatever to make him jealous, and I can try reading out comments or reblogs, when he's here (like, no need to be my friend, you can just roast him, or brag, or something), and I am tagging trans stuff, because that is something that exists about him.

It feels like it makes less sense and is a bit awkward to tag OTHER stuff about him though - and besides, free gender euphoria when I inevitably say "little teenie boy"! Who can pass up on that?!

Colby if you caused that saving error just now ...

Anyways, Colby was quite generic - at least at the surface, so, you see, this way, my tagging can make it way easier to find people like Colby - like, look, I'm not saying that all boys are generic and unoriginal, but I've had my experiences when it comes to talking with teenie boys, so ...

My point is: how to get rid of teenie boy ghost? Some of y'all in the trans tags have the fact in common of being boys, so like, I don't know I'm not a boy, and I don't know what to do about Colby, so like, maybe there's a chance that there IS some teenie boy psychology y'all could help me with! But yeah that's all.

#paranormal #ghost #ghosts #trans ghost #trans boy #transgender #trans #trans guy #teenagers #vent

1 note · View note

thevoiceofthepeople · 1 year ago

Text

My Rules and About Me

POV Be Me: Dexter or Dex or Dee or whatever. (He/They, heavy preference on They tho)

Age: 32, soon to be 33.

I've been rping on and off for about twenty years I believe, I got the One piece bug after going through my old rp blog and missing my gurl boss Seda. I have adhd and a not so busy but really full list of things I should be doing most days so I may dip in and out of here when I have free time.

When it comes to rping, the key to me is fun. If I'm not having fun I'm not doing it. So that being said, I don't make overly flashy/stylized posts. Graphics design is not my passion and so I don't find any of that stuff fun for me to do personally. Same with making a Carrd or any of that. Everything you need to find about me and my gurl will be on this blog and tagged accordingly. If you are looking for something in particular let me know and I'll gladly tell you. I have maybe 4 spoons on a good day and I'm not using up my good spoons doing something I dislike when I could be doing something I enjoy.

If you need a post formatted a certain way, let me know, otherwise you are getting it raw, baby!

Just don’t ask for the text to be too small. I have dog water eyesight so I still have to make it accessible for myself.

I yam an artist tho so I'll be more inclined to include art with any post about Seda I make because I'm a visual learner. And sometimes, a quick image gets the job done.

Da Rules

1. The basics: Mun =/= Muse, Don't tell me what my character is doing, don't get overly shippy without us talking about it out of character.

2. Don't be a dick. If you are flinging around isms and phobias, then I will unfollow and drop any threads we are having. If it's something that can be talked about cause it's a misunderstanding then we're cool. But if it's a "Actually, I don't think brown people should have rights." You can fuck right off with that. I'm a black bisexual trans person, so anything that goes against my fundamental human right to exist is conversation ending.

3. Both mun and muse are in their 30s and so, if there IS any shipping, let's keep it gucci with someone close to her age range or older. And I'd like to rp with people over 18. If you are younger, I'm going to ignore you. Sorry.

4. I do adore shipping, but I'm not hungering for it if there is no connection. Same with friendships. If it doesn't feel right, let's not force it. Seda is more than willing to talk with someone she loathes and I think that's a fun dynamic to rp out. Duplicates of anything are just fine with me. In her old form, Seda was bffs with at least three different luffys and she loved them all to bits.

5. There will be talk of sensitive subject matter as is the nature of One Piece, but anything truly nsfw will be put under a read more or moved to private discussions.

6. Speaking of nsfw, I have a pathological inability to write nsfw rps in public, so very likely, anything saucy will go fade to black. I will likely draw it though, just, having to put a mirror to myself and then telling everyone "Hey y'all, look at this vulnerable display of passion and lust that I'm writing with my own two human hands with another person!" fills me with dread.

7. Because I have adhd and the brain of slug sometimes, I make spelling mistakes. I try and catch them but I'm sure there are at least 5 in this post alone. It's just gonna have to be something you accept. No matter what I do, I don't see the mistakes.

8. My main focus is on One Piece characters but I'll rp with characters from other fandoms or just fandomless ones.

9. Anything about Seda is subject to change because that's the nature of life baby. She's had a lot of play testing from my blog ten years ago so this version of her is the stable 2.0 edition, but if I see something I like or decide a piece isn't meshing right, I reserve the right to change it. (Just as we can change anything about ourselves, yada yada)

10. And number 10, don't be a dick x2. I truly am just here for a good time and to play around in this little sandbox we call Tumblr Rping. When it stops being fun for me, I'll stop. But until then:

#About the Mun #The Rules #I'm a goof ball #a jokester #Just a little guy

0 notes

vanilla-voyeur · 1 year ago

Text

Actually it is absolutely true that people will just say things are bad because they're new. Has there been a single update that Tumblr has done that people didn't hate en masse? Is there anything from Tumblr 2014 that you feel is essential and you want to bring back?

For example, when they replaced the nested threading with the linear one we have today, everybody hated it. Nowadays people are making fun of how silly it was that Tumblr ever did it that way. I personally think the current way is superior to the old way.

And that's before we get into changes that aren't great for the UI but are necessary because of some other reason, e.g. security, performance, standards compliance, servers are not free. End users are not going to understand why they're taking away something we can clearly see to replace it with something mysterious that can only be explained in technobabble.

For Tumblr to ever take into account our feedback about a change they make, there has to be some changes that they have already done that we say that we like. Otherwise it is just noise. Whether the feature is actually good or actually bad or heck neutral is going to be treated the same, so they can just ignore our outrage and judge whether the feature is good based on some other metric.

And no, suggesting features we'd rather have but haven't been done doesn't count. There's all sorts of reasons why some things get deprioritized. Some of them are even good. There's not a way they can fix the nrop ban that will both make us happy and also be standards compliant. Websites that allow user-generated content and have 0 spam bots don't exist, and we'll complain that they're not doing anything about the bots unless there are 0.

I've noticed that none of the polls going around about features we don't like include an option for "I hate this feature enough to leave Tumblr if it doesn't get reverted (put where you'll go in the tags)". If they have fewer people voting for that than people in their user studies of who aren't already using Tumblr saying they might consider joining if they make the UI update, then the UI update is going through. (And if y'all vote for that but then don't follow through, then it becomes noise too.)

Changing the layout to look a little more like Xitter is a teeny tiny update that doesn't really affect much. The way that people are up in arms is overreacting. In 6 months, you're not going to notice the difference. It breaks your workflow now, but you'll get used to it. Or use a browser extension to revert it. People are leaving Xitter and Reddit because they hate their policies, not their site layout. Most folks would feel more comfortable with just finding the thing that looks closest to what they left but doesn't have the policies of the sites they left. Staff is making this change to attract former Xitter users. Y'all who have already been here are not going to leave because of an itty bitty UI update.

It honestly just looks like staff aren’t even paying attention to any feedback they deem “negative” anymore under the guise of “the haters” or something

#Tumblr #Hellsite #Staff should cut me a check the way Im running interference for them #Aye staff! For the right price I will explain why its infeasible to ban all the terfs

15K notes · View notes

lcdyserenity · 11 months ago

Text

Hi, i hope y'all reading this right now are doing well! I have a few things i want to say regarding my blog currently.

1) I will post scenes from Sailor Moon Cosmos but with a spoiler tag until we get an international release (+ probably a little while after international release as well) I know that technically none of these scenes are spoilers because the manga existed for over 25 years (i, myself was one of those people who hated to label Crystal scenes as spoilers during Eternal hype lol) however Cosmos is the big finale we waited for years, the first anime adaptation to actually do the manga justice and overall best anime adaptation of Sailor Moon. I think Cosmos truly deserves the best treatment by fandom wise, and should be experienced in the best way. In case anyone doesn't want to come across spoilers, i'll be using #sailor moon spoilers or #sailor moon cosmos spoilers for a while.

2) As probably most of you are aware (or I hope you are) of the genocide happening in Palestine right now and i'll keep posting sources, information and anything helpful regarding Palestine whenever i'm active till all of this truly come to an end. This might be a fandom blog but i have plenty of followers here and i have to use my platform to spread the current situation of Palestine just like everyone else. It's inhumane to turn your back on a literal genocide which is ignored and further even supported by our governments and i will do the anything i can do. Hope is a big source, and the beginning of most miracles but you could never see what it can do if you give up. Palestinians never gave up for years despite everything they went through even though they are just human like all of us. If they can be strong and hopeful, so can you. Please don't turn your back on Palestine and be the voice of them. Please don't let humanity die.

Thank you for reading and i hope you can understand and do what you can do regarding this 🙏

0 notes

missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

Text

Pink Scarf - Part 19 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: References to sex. Continued ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Thank you for your patience, my beautiful lil mamas, Part 19 is finally here! We are back in Reader's headspace, and lordy, oh lordy, it's A LOT...just remember, I DID warn and promise y'all pain before a happy ending. And the end is coming soon. 😭 I know, babies, I know. 💖

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Silence.

For the first time in over a week, you aren’t bombarded with images of the past or worries for the future as your subconscious desperately tries to guide you places you are not ready to go to yet. As you stir awake, you feel somewhat rested, peaceful almost. Your eyes flutter open and even though the room is dim, you still squint and hiss at the light that pierces through your eyes and seems to rocket through your head like a spear. You can’t help but groan a little at the pain behind your eyes.

The room is not familiar, however, which sets you on edge, that peacefulness of good sleep draining from you quickly. Frantically, you try to puzzle out where you are and how you got here but thinking sends a wave of nausea through you that you can’t ignore. You groan again at the feeling and crack your eyes open the slightest bit.

A man, first crouched in the uncomfortable looking chair he’s perched in, sits up ramrod straight at your movements. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s a vision to behold. You know without a doubt he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, what with his high cheekbones, lusciously pouty lips, and chiseled jaw covered in what looks to be a day’s worth of dark stubble. Raven hair frames his face, thick sideburns curling at his ears and locks haphazard on his forehead. And those eyes, dear lord, those impossibly long, dark lashes rim his eyes. His eyes, which feel as deep and dark blue as the ocean itself, cut through the fog in your head, widening and looking over you with care and concern.

You know those soulful, familiar eyes anywhere.

Elvis.

You blink and the world starts to snap into focus. Through the pain and nausea, you take in your surroundings. The uncomfortable bed you’re in. The IV in your arm. The dreary paint on the walls. The smell of antiseptic.

The hospital. You are in the hospital.

This must be why Elvis looks positively distraught, his large hand now frantically grasping at yours on the bed. You swear he is shaking, steadied only once he touches you and a wave of relief falls over his handsome yet worried features.

“Y/n. Oh thank God, y/n,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? How do you feel? What do you remember?” he barrages you with questions that you aren’t sure you have the answers to yet, especially with the way your head is pounding so distractingly. For some reason, the whole scene suddenly strikes you as silly, what with the most famous man in the world looking at you so damn seriously. You can’t help yourself.

“Who…who are you?” you croak out quietly, your unused voice cracking.

The look on his face is priceless as he rolls through shock, terror, and dismay all at once. His face falls dramatically then and there is no way you can keep up the pretense because the little boy look that comes over him is just too much.

“Gotcha,” you chuckle, cracking a smile that suddenly makes your face feel like it’s on fire and making you regret your smile instantly.

“You little minx,” he growls, a relieved grin spreading over his face before he sees the pain on your face. “You’re hurtin’. Goddammit, I should’ve killed him…” he mutters heatedly under his breath.

It takes more than a moment to process what he is saying and connect that with the burning tightness of the left side of your face. You bring your hand up slowly, gingerly touching the unfamiliar swollen, hot flesh of your cheek. You can’t help but hiss at the painful sensation that runs over you when you do so.

You close your eyes, feeling Elvis’ heavy but comforting hand squeeze yours.

What in the hell happened?

Reaching back in your memory, you attempt to piece together why you are here, why you are in so much pain. Dread fills your heart as flashes of memory come at you:

Jack accosting you in the bathroom.

Losing his mind at seeing the hickies on your breast.

Him dragging you out and humiliating you in front of everyone.

Then…then…

Oh, god.

Jack did this. He hit you.

Your head falls back, and you cover your eyes with your free hand. A wave of shock, then a wave of deep sadness overcomes you. Hot tears spring to your eyes and spill down your cheeks and you don’t attempt to stop them. The salt of them stings the abrasions on your face.

How could he? How could he?

Sobs wrack your body, each one a pulse of pain through your head, shooting red-hot through you. You knew, you knew deep down it was over, but you never expected it to come to this. You never thought Jack had it in him to truly hurt you. But you are lying in a hospital bed, living proof that the man you once loved was truly gone.

And it feels devastating, yet also strangely relieving, in a way you could’ve never imagined.

“Oh, Satnin, baby. Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” Elvis whispers at you, clutching your hand, his concern evident but unsure.

The wave of devastation crashes over you, both the physical and psychic pain nearly unbearable as it throbs in your head. You feel utterly raw. Humiliated. Gutted. Guilty. Relieved. Furious.

The sudden image of slapping Jack’s face as he knelt bloody on the floor resonates through you, the sting still evident in your palm.

Elvis had almost killed Jack, blinded by a protective rage, you now remember. You’d stopped him.

Part of you wishes you hadn’t.

It all feels quite unreal yet simultaneously overwhelming, all these flashes of memory hitting you in rapid succession. And you know there are more troubling memories waiting in the wings, ready to knock you off your feet once again. You can sense them lingering at the edges of your mind, somehow closer than they have ever been but still just out of reach.

All at once you don’t feel strong enough to bear them.

Everybody knows, you suddenly realize. Your affair with Elvis was now out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. You open your tear-filled eyes to look at the beautiful man before you, the one you love so much it feels as though it might destroy you, because god knows you haven’t forgotten that. You cannot bring yourself to regret being with him, no matter if it led you to be here, broken and battered in a hospital bed in Las Vegas.

But something is not right. Something besides the obvious. And it’s right there, just out of view.

Your head hurts too much to dwell on it, however.

“I’m gonna take care of you baby,” Elvis finally says after what you realize is too many moments of silence. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

The way he says it so softly and with such righteous conviction strikes something within you. The clasp of his hand on yours is almost too tight, the look on his face both filled with remorse and determination. You know what he says is true—he will not leave you to face this alone.

Despite this, the uncomfortable elephant in the room lingers: you would not be here if not for Elvis, and you both know it.

But with the pain in your body and the ache in your heart, that is not a mountain you can begin to climb yet. There are too many unanswered questions that you need to figure out and this is not the time or place. So, you let Elvis hold your hand with that mournful look in his churning eyes and you try to heal.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” Elvis supports you gingerly, his strong arm holding you at the waist, as if just walking will shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“E, I’m okay. I promise I can walk on my own. It’s just one step,” you say, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone. He’s been hovering as much as possible for the past two days you’ve been under observation at the hospital, only leaving when absolutely necessary to do his two shows a night. He sent the hospital staff into a tizzy with demands for your care while still managing to be charming and effusive to all the employees in a way that only he could get away with.

You’re not sure that he’s slept in the past few days, as he seems obsessed with making sure you are alright. Your pleas for him to go back to the hotel and get some rest fell on deaf ears. Hopefully, now that you’ll be in the hotel, he will relax a little.

While your face is healing, it is still covered in a nasty bruise, which you are reminded of every time Elvis looks at you because the wince that passes over his features, while nearly imperceptible to others, is quite evident to you. It serves to remind you how you got here and how he seemingly thinks him controlling everything about your recovery is going to somehow put you back together and make everything how it was before.

But it’s not like it was before.

Not with the looks that the Mafia are giving you. You can sense their pity, their judgement, their fear. Because Elvis having a known affair with you threatens them all. What if it was their wife or girlfriend? What if Elvis turns on them the way he turned on Jack? Jack was their friend, too. It’s written all over their faces. And you can tell they’ve been put on best behavior because more than usual they defer to Elvis, and they are suddenly wildly uncomfortable around you, even though you’ve been part of the group for years.

You can’t help but feel like the king’s consort. The mistress. The usurper.

The only exceptions are Jerry and Sandy, of course. And Charlie, in his usual Charlie way, has been kind and endearing. But the rest are quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t know what’s happened to Jack. You also haven’t seen Red, though you can’t say you’re upset about it. The few times you tried to ask Elvis, he brushed you off, saying you didn’t need to worry about such things while you’re trying to recover.

All of it has you unsettled. You knew there would be consequences, of course you did, but you didn’t expect it to be this strange.

Thankfully, your headaches are becoming less frequent, but when they do come, they are intense and debilitating, and weirdly, each one brings a host of images and fractured memories that you must try to make sense of. The doctor said this should hopefully get better as your brain heals from the concussion. A full recovery, he said, but it might take some time. Elvis takes this to mean you need constant care, and honestly you don’t have the energy to argue with the man about it right now, so you let him escort you into his bedroom suite as though you are frail and fragile.

“There you go, Satnin, all set,” he says, fluffing the mountain of pillows behind you, and then he gently takes off each of your shoes. You lean back with a sigh, suddenly grateful for the comfort of his huge bed in his penthouse suite because that hospital bed was truly terrible.

“Maybe you wanna to get into your pajamas?” he suggests. “I had all your things brought up, but I also went ahead and bought you some things, since I know you hadn’t planned on being here this long, and—” he rambles. The look on his face is almost childlike in his need to please you, to take care of you. It is quite the adjustment after spending a week basking in his masculine sexual dominance. You aren’t complaining at this change in him; in fact, it reminds you of when you first met, of those early years. It’s just giving you a bit of whiplash.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m fine for now,” you interrupt, trying to keep your tone light. Bringing your hand up, you pinch the bridge of your nose as another headache threatens. Overly attuned to you, Elvis grabs one of your feet and starts rubbing, using his strong hands to knead deep into the sole of your foot.

The hurts-so-good feeling has you groaning and your head falling back onto the pillows.

“That feel good, mama?” he drawls quietly.

All you can do is nod and hum in response. You’re certain if this had happened a few days ago, that statement, this action, would be laced with a fierce sexual energy. You imagine that it would last only a minute before he pounced and worked you into a state of pleasurable bliss. That latent desire is still there—you can sense it—but with everything that has happened, it takes a backseat to your pain.

This both saddens you and makes you feel grateful. You covet your sexual relationship with him, as it is the definitive thing you know he wants and needs from you. You know this for sure, and with your ever-present uncertainty about the rest of your relationship, it makes you feel off-kilter to not be able to share that with him. However, his commitment to being by your side despite the lack of sex, has been somewhat reassuring. You desperately hope it’s not just a sense of guilt that keeps him here with you.

You sigh, your eyes falling shut, and relish in the feel of his hands on you in such a comforting way as he treats one foot, then the other, to this intimate treatment. But he is uncharacteristically quiet.

He practically has you in a stupor by the time he finishes with the second foot, managing to stave off your impending headache. Opening your eyes, you catch him looking at you, those deep blues of his taking on a darker hue in the dim lighting. You can see the wheels turning, the way his hand flexes and releases over his tailored pants, how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What is it, E?” you ask gently, almost afraid it might spook him.

“I-I-I…can I hold you?” he stutters, changing tactics midway to get the sentence out, betraying his nerves.

“Of course, baby,” you respond quietly.

“I-I just don’t want to hurt you,” he says, crawling up the comforter to lie next to you. “Are ya sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” you say, as he curls into you, his arm coming over you.

All at once, you are flooded with memory. Your teenage bedroom. Your single bed. Elvis nestling close into your side, his cheeks still salty with tears. The way your heart races at his proximity and the way his touch, though innocent, burns through you like wildfire. His breath warm on your neck, tickling your bare skin.

He shows up on your doorstep such a mess, coming to you, of all people. You don’t quite understand it. (You’re still not sure you understand it—why it’s you, of all people, at that point in his life, that he’d chosen to come to.)

You fall into caring for him so easily, like it is second nature to run your fingers through his hair and massage his back as he cries in your lap, even though you’ve never touched him like this, so intimately, before. When he asks to stay, those bedroom eyes of his begging, your heart leaps in a way you are ashamed of. Your entire body feels on fire, flustering you as you consider the implications, consider just how badly you do want him to stay, and if it’s worth it to see where this might go.

It only gets worse when you find him stripped down to his underwear, waiting for you innocently in your bedroom, a place no man has stayed before. Your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him sitting there, exhausted and emotionally spent. Before you take him into your bed, he’s so good in reassuring you he would never hurt you, that he won’t touch you like that. Of course, he wouldn’t; you know this. But your trepidation isn’t because you are afraid he’ll take advantage of you—it is because part of you wants him to.

The memory makes you blush furiously. Yet another important moment you had buried so deep that remembering it now makes it feel like it just happened.

After the initial tension of him being curled so close into you wanes, you relax and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Oh, how you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, the musky scent and heat of him surrounding you as he holds on to you through the night. You wake up multiple times, thinking you must be dreaming that Elvis is in your bed, but are pleasantly surprised to really find him there, his warm, lean, young body pressing into yours in various ways. The moonlight through the window lets you see just how innocently beautiful and vulnerable he is like this, like some kind of angel not of this world, his long lashes falling over his cheeks. You feel grateful to see him this way, tucking the moment away in your mind. Despite the rollercoaster of hormones coursing through you, you’ve never felt so safe before, not with Ted, not with any man.

Or felt so aroused. That terrified you, you think, as the wave of feeling crashes over you in the present. You want him with an intensity that shocks you to your core. But he is your friend, for god’s sake, and he’d come to you upset and trusted you to help him, and here you are, suddenly lusting after him like every other girl on the planet. Oh, yes, you are so very ashamed of yourself, for the dirty thoughts you’re thinking.

But, oh, how you imagine him waking to kiss you passionately, willing him to touch you everywhere, wanting him to run his long, calloused fingers up under your nightgown and into your panties. Thinking that, in an instant, he could easily slide between your legs, and you would let him. You’ll gladly give yourself to him right this minute if he wants you. You screw your eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the image of him slowly entering you, joining with you, rocking you into submission, into ecstasy.

Back then, those thoughts were more dangerous than anything, especially when the man in question was in your bed already, holding you close. It was a different time, and at nineteen, you were young and bound by propriety, and yet, in that moment, you hadn’t cared about that part.

But it is Elvis. Your dear friend. He doesn’t think of you that way. He’s on the brink of stardom and already has half the country fawning over him, with girlfriends in every town. You know this, logically. You know this, but for the first time, you allow yourself to think that maybe there is more to the two of you than just friendship. That maybe there is a reason he’d come to you in his hour of need.

A wave of heartache rolls through you as you recall that next morning. You blearily wake up from your fitfully aroused but somehow comforting slumber to him pulling you close, pressing the front of his body into the back of yours. The heat of him permeates through the thin cotton of your nightgown, which is quite a pleasing sensation in the cold of this late-winter morning. You sigh and wiggle back into him instinctually, before you can think too much on it, just needing to be closer to him. But then he jumps out of the bed in a flash, as if you were on fire, scurrying to clothe himself, and then he practically leaps out the window to get away from you.

He didn’t want you. Of course, he didn’t want you. He probably regrets the whole thing, with the way he leaves you lying there. He is Elvis Presley, after all. Your friend, but nothing more. You’d been foolish to think it anything more.

His abrupt absence leaves you cold, tears welling in your eyes, yearning for something you know you could never have from him (or so you’d thought, at the time). You pull the covers over your head, the scent of him on your sheets enveloping you. The grease he used in his hair left a stain on your pillow, but you don’t care in the slightest because it is something tangible, something that lets you know him holding you through the night had been real and not a dream.

Now it hits you suddenly that—oh, god—that was the day Jack had asked you out for the first time. You’d been sad all day, trying to push Elvis out of your mind and Jack had shown up at the diner, suddenly quite brazen in his attraction to you. While you weren’t entirely surprised, as the two of you had been dancing around each other for some time, the timing of it helped bring you out of your funk, reminding you that in the real world, a good man like Jack wanted you.

You’d quickly accepted because you liked Jack and there was no reason not to.

Elvis Presley was just your friend, after all.

Now you realize that in that short 24-hour period, the trajectory of your entire life changed. Maybe you’d fallen into Jack’s arms so quickly because Elvis’ rejection had upset you more than you wanted to admit. It had been easier and more realistic to date Jack, and it had taken your mind off the unwanted thoughts you had for Elvis.

Oh, no.

The intense discovery of this long-hidden memory and the emotions to go with it rocket through your skull with a shooting pain, causing you to hiss. Tears flood your eyes, from both the ache in your heart and the pain in your head.

“Baby, you okay? What can I do?” Elvis shoots his head up, noticing your distress, looking you over carefully.

You can’t explain, not now. “Bad headache,” you breathe out instead. “Can you get my medicine?” You didn’t want to take pain meds if you could help it, but in this moment, everything, pain and otherwise, is too overwhelming and you think maybe you just need some sleep.

So, you take the pill he gives you gratefully. You try not to think about how the way he looks at you now has that same boyish quality it had all those years ago when you’d taken him into your bed and into your arms, and he’d left you cold.

It’s okay, you think. He’s here now, taking care of me. He wants me now, even if he didn’t then.

And with that, you drift aimlessly away into welcome darkness.

Everything is fuzzy, the dull ache in your head muddling the flashes that are floating to the surface in your dreams.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

Not Elvis now, you think, Elvis a long, long time ago.

But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t kiss Elvis until two weeks ago.

He’s so sad, though, so alone. He needs you, he needs you, he needs you…

And you need him.

But it’s wrong, all wrong. And so right, all at once. Your body tingles through the ache in your head as you ever-so-gently press your lips to his. You’ve wondered for so long what he tastes like.

Soft and sweet, like marshmallows.

His bright blue eyes widen with shock.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this…” he whispers. The words echo and swirl around you.

He’s right, isn’t he? You can’t want this. You shouldn’t. Of course not…

You’re so angry, so sad, and he’s so beautiful.

Elvis. Your Elvis.

No, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not.

He belongs to no one. He belongs to the world.

Need pulses through you, a need so deep it brings you to your knees. It cuts through the pain in your head. It singes through your heart.

It’s unbearable.

It burns through you, from the inside out.

Those eyes, deep as the ocean, rimmed in black, plunder your soul. You ride the swell of the waves in them as they rise higher and higher and higher until they shatter underneath you.

The fall is blissful and terrifying, all at once, but Elvis is with you the whole way.

Free falling through the abyss, you are scared. It’s never-ending. You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom, and the anticipation of it runs like ice through your veins.

Guilt. Shame. That ache in your chest.

And then you hit bottom.

Your eyes pop open with a shuddering gasp. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you frantically try to piece out where you are, that you are not falling anymore.

Just a dream. Just a crazy, medication induced dream, you pray, seeing that you are in the darkened suite in Elvis’ penthouse.

But the unease remains, lurking more visibly now in the corners of your mind, trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear. Something you don’t want to see.

The door to the bedroom slowly opens and you jump, a hand flying over your chest in surprise. Elvis strides in quietly, clad in his white gi jumpsuit, sweat pouring over him. He must have just finished a show.

You had been asleep a while.

You are still amazed at how his presence fills a room, even when it’s just you here, even when there is no one to impress. He looks gorgeous and you know he’s riding the post-show high by the way his eyes sparkle and by the flush of his cheeks.

“You’re awake, baby. How’re ya feeling?” he asks, gliding over to you on those long legs of his.

You are still reeling from the dream. You shake your head, trying to clear that feeling of dread, of falling, and as he sits on the bed next to you, you are sucked into those oceanic eyes once again.

Your heart races.

“Are you okay?” He looks concerned, brushing your sweaty locks off your forehead, thumb grazing your cheek.

“Are you okay? he whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek. You sit still in his lap, saying nothing and can feel him begin to soften inside of you, the wetness of spent arousal leaking down your thighs under your dress…

The flash of memory hits you hard, because it was then, not now. Triggered by the same gesture, the same man, but it was a different time. He looked so young…

But that’s impossible. Impossible. The first time you had sex with Elvis was less than two weeks ago.

Your heart thunders in your chest because suddenly you don’t think that’s true.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, kiss the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, and then, with a strange boldness, you kiss his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

His pants scratch at your bare thighs as you straddle his narrow hips. His tongue explores your mouth, sending searing heat through you. Boldly, you rock in his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.

You need him, oh, god, how you need him.

The flashes aren’t complete, but they are real. You are suddenly so sure that they are, and you don’t understand, not at all. You look at Elvis now, wild-eyed, silently seeking answers. How? How?

His long fingers are cold as they part your wet folds, and he pushes one, then another deep into your heat while his thumb massages that ever-sensitive bundle of nerves at the front. It stings at first, this surprising intrusion, but he’s gentle, letting you adjust around him, letting you decide when to move.

Your breath is coming fast now, and Elvis looks more than concerned.

“Satnin, what’s happenin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, eyes searching you.

You screw your eyes shut. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

You sink down on him slowly, the tightness of your canal stretching around his considerable size as you try to take him all in. It’s easier now, after he prepped you with his fingers, and the discomfort wanes quickly as you bottom out. He’s hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed until this very moment.

Elvis looks utterly ethereal as you begin to ride him, his mouth open and pink, his freshly dyed raven hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him looks carved out by the gods, and his eyes drink you in in a way that strips you bare, right to the heart of you. He looks at you as though you hung the moon and the stars.

Those eyes are now looking at you in a panic.

He brings you to the brink easily and you crest the wave hard, your orgasm fracturing you into a thousand pieces as you fall. You’d never felt this way before, not with Ted, not with Jack, not even with yourself. The pleasure of it rips through you and he follows quickly, a warm, sticky heat pulsing deep as you cling to each other for dear life.

Oh. Oh god…

It was real. You know it now. You are more sure of it now than you’ve ever been.

Graceland, you realize suddenly, when he took you to see Graceland for the first time. That’s where it happened. Nineteen-fucking-fifty-seven.

Elvis and you had sex, a long, long time ago. And he kept it from you. Pretended it never even happened.

You push away from him and stagger off the bed in daze, flooded with so many emotions and sensations at once that you don’t know how to react. Dizzy, you sway a bit on your feet.

Flashes keep hitting you as you move. Waking in the hospital, not knowing how you’d gotten there. Elvis, worried at your bedside. The pills. The accidental overdose.

You think you might be sick.

“What the hell is happenin’? You’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, baby,” Elvis says from behind you. He feels so far away, but that deep seeded need to flee him is rolling through you and you walk unsteadily forward, though you aren’t sure exactly where you are trying to go.

Oh, he must have been so relieved when you didn’t remember anything about that night. That he didn’t have to take back what he’d—you’d—done. That it didn’t completely derail his friendship with you or Jack. That he got to keep being Elvis without any repercussions.

Twelve years. Over a decade built on lies and half-truths and pretending.

Tears are streaming down your burning cheeks now. You feel humiliated. Shocked at both yourself and at him. You’d cheated on Jack, with Elvis. It didn’t matter that Jack had cheated first. You’d had feelings for Elvis all the way back then, feelings you acted on in a moment of vulnerability for both of you. He’d been devastated about June, scared about his fame. You’d wanted to comfort him, but you had also wanted to prove to yourself that if a man like Elvis Presley could want you, then of course Jack should.

You’d thrown yourself at him. He didn’t stop you. And then he lied to you about it all.

If you’d have remembered…Christ, the repercussions would’ve been life altering.

Elvis grabs you then, in the present, his hot, long, ring-clad fingers circling your arm, pulling you back towards him.

And it is then that your anguish fully turns to anger. After everything that has happened these past two weeks, these past fourteen years…Suddenly, that sense of betrayal, your seeming lack of control of anything in your life, all the fear of the past, present, and future, pushes you to the brink. You feel done being at the mercy of the universe, done at being at the mercy of the lies and whims of men.

“Take your fucking hand off me, Elvis,” you hiss, venom in your glare.

You watch as his brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise, and with that, he releases you.

“Is this all a game to you?” you ask pointedly, voice shaking under the weight of your simmering fury.

“W-what?” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for years,” you throw at him. A fueled rage clouds your judgement. You are quickly becoming unhinged and near irrational, but you are unable to stop it, almost like you are possessed, out of your mind, and watching your unusual behavior from afar. It’s as though a part of you wants to blow all of this up and you are powerless to stop this destructive side of yourself.

Elvis throws his hands up in surrender and begins to turn away. “That concussion has you bein’ all crazy, honey. I don’t even know—”

“That day at Graceland, right before you bought it. When I accidentally took too many pills for my headache. You know the one, don’t you?” you interrupt scathingly.

He stops and looks back at you, that pretty brow furrowing, and you think you can sense his panic truly brewing now. “I-I-I thought ya didn’t remember nothin’ about that afternoon.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” You think now you do, but you have to be sure. “You were awfully upset that day because of June, weren’t you? Going on and on about how you’d never know if a women would truly love you. And, come to think of it, you never did tell me how it was that I fell asleep,” you add, turning the knife with both curiosity and fervor, glaring at him.

His eyes truly widen now, his pouty mouth popping open and then shuttering closed again, his pallor turning pale.

And there you have your answer. You are not supposed to know this. He’d told you about June all over again after you’d left the hospital because you hadn’t remembered him telling you at Graceland. But he definitely hadn’t told you again about his insecurity of not knowing if a woman would love him for who he really is.

It’s all true.

That realization is horrible and vindicating and almost relieving all at once. You weren’t wrong when that voice in your head was telling you he was keeping something important from you. You weren’t crazy. And you even think this isn’t all he’s been hiding, but you can’t go there now. It’s too heavy a punch to the gut, and all you see is red.

A frantic, small voice in your head tries to remind you that you should consider Elvis’ feelings about that day, how he was vulnerable and frightened when he couldn’t wake you, and that your concussion has you not in your right mind and missing pieces of all this, but your rage kicks those thoughts aside and you plow forward anyway. You have too many unanswered questions.

“We had sex, Elvis. In 1957! How could you…how dare you then pretend it never happened! How could you not tell me?!” you scream at him, in a way that is utterly unlike the passive and quiet woman you’d become over the years. The woman who had learned to cower instead of speaking up for herself. The stubbornness and fire from your youth flares, driving you forward recklessly. It hurts your head to do it, but you can’t help it.

Elvis just stands there, staring, silent, using that well-honed talent of his to make his beautiful, godlike face an unreadable mask. It kills you inside, but you wait, unwilling to let him off the hook. But he still does not speak.

“Did it even mean anything to you?” you then ask quietly, tears prickling your eyes again, “Or was I just another notch on your bedpost?”

He blinks slowly and presses his lips together, and your heart sinks because you can’t tell if being with him so intimately meant anything to him at all. You should be able to tell, but you can’t, not when he’s shutting you out like this. And that deepest fear being realized both destroys you and pisses you off even more.

Finally, Elvis breaks his silence, voice low and measured and too careful for him, like he’s reciting lines in a movie, “It wasn’t…You were high. Your judgement was impaired. I was mortified...” He trails off, looking away. Then he pauses, taking a deep breath before challenging you with his intense eyes, “And would tellin’ you have changed anythin’?”

You choke at that and shake your head as you turn away from him. The words linger in the air, and you are irate at them, at him. They whirl within you, stabbing you in their coldness. He was mortified by being with you. Good god. The wound of that cracks through you like ice shattering.

You know deep down you didn’t sleep with him because you were accidentally high. You are certain of it. It wasn’t just about getting back at Jack, or just about feeling attractive and desired. No, it was so much more than that. After remembering what you have, you know you’d given yourself to Elvis willingly, medication or no, doing something you’d sworn after Ted that you wouldn’t do again until marriage.

He presses you on this, this thing you can’t believe he’s asking. “Would it’ve? You were with Jack, you loved Jack. And I’d just gotten home and was leavin’ again just as fast. What would’ve it changed, y/n, other than to make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship? Other than to ruin what you had with Jack?” Elvis asks from behind you, his gravelly voice strained.

You’re shaking now, your whole being quaking with physical and emotional toil, another headache slamming down upon you. Yes, you’d loved Jack, you truly had. And you know you’ve fallen in love with Elvis these past few weeks. But all of this craziness—these revelations, these secrets, these memories—are finally confirming something your mind has been trying to tell you lately about all those years ago, something you suspected and feared, but didn’t want to admit:

You have been in love with Elvis since the beginning. You had loved him then just as you love him now. And if you had remembered that, if he’d wanted it, if he had asked you, at any point, you think would’ve dropped everything for him.

Even if it would’ve ruined you both.

A bile of panic rises in your throat because, besides the times you truly can’t remember because you’d literally been dying, there had been all those other moments throughout the years where you’d pushed down your love for him. Important pieces of your life that you’d just forgotten, sometimes right away, in order to spare yourself the pain of this realization, the pain of Elvis’ rejection.

Maybe it started in the diner when he comforted you after Ted broke your heart, or maybe it began even earlier because god knows you can’t trust yourself or your memory. In fact, you are quite sure that there are still things he’s keeping from you, pivotal things you still don’t remember and it’s maddening. But after the diner, it feels like every moment you repressed is a missing piece to the puzzle of your life and reminder of how everything has gone so completely wrong.

Oh, and isn’t it rich that you are laying into him about keeping this naughty little tryst from you when you’ve been conveniently forgetting all these crucial moments of your relationship over your lifetime, a logical voice in the back of your head hurls at you.

Fuck you, you throw back, dread seeping through you.

And now your deepest fears are confirmed—Elvis hadn’t wanted you, not like that. He was mortified by it, in fact. He had a taste of you in a moment of weakness, because he’s just a man after all, and got lucky when you didn’t remember. Thinking better of it, he kept it all to himself. All these years, he’d lied by omission. And for some goddamned reason, he’d swung back around to you after all this time, destroying your life as you knew it in the process.

You spin back around to face him. Nausea rolls in your stomach because, suddenly, you’re not sure you know the man in front of you at all.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything,” you say vehemently, honestly, leveling him with your stare.

And it looks like you just slapped him by the way he recoils.

You can’t stop yourself from digging deeper, too angry to care, “But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted, since you were so quick to decide that I didn’t need to know, so fucking cocksure that you didn’t even deem to ask what I wanted. No, you just got laid and got lucky and moved right on to the next girl.”

“Th-that’s not—“ he sputters, those azure eyes a little frantic.

“Isn’t it, though, Elvis? Isn’t that exactly what happened? We fucked and you decided it was a bad idea, so you didn’t bother to tell me when I couldn’t remember myself. Who cares what I thought, right?! Then you went on with your life as though nothing happened.”

As if it hadn’t mattered at all, as though you hadn’t mattered enough to bother. You can’t bring yourself to say that part, though, as the icy pain of saying the rest out loud like this sends more tears pouring down your cheeks, despite your anger wanting to keep them at bay.

As if the rest isn’t bad enough, another thought hits you sideways, “My god, you even pushed Jack to marry me, didn’t you?” You look at him incredulously, remembering how Jack had joked about it after he’d proposed. The words ache through you as you say them, as you realize the implications of that. Yet another one of your deepest fears confirmed.

Elvis looks stricken as he backs up to the bed and sinks down on the edge, putting his head in his hands.

“I-I-I w-was no good for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t get to decide that, Elvis! You took those choices away from me!” you cry at him.

You watch as he holds his tongue, as his body stiffens at your words. His jaw clenches and his breathing changes. You know the signs by now, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s getting ready to explode and that it’s you pushing him over the edge. You want him over the edge. You want him to care enough to be mad about it.

“And what? Did you finally decide after twelve years that maybe you did like my pussy after all, so you decided to come back for more?” you spit at him nastily, driving him right over the threshold.

“I was protecting you!” Elvis bellows, leaping to his feet, face red with anger. His eyes darken and flash in a way that might have caused you to pause before, but not today, not after this.

You don’t let up. “Protecting me from what exactly? A bad marriage? A man that doesn’t love me?” you laugh haughtily at the irony.

He doesn’t elaborate, just bites his tongue in frustration and glowers at you, pulling himself back.

Then, another sinking realization drags you under. “Good lord—you had your hands in my relationship with Jack every step of the way. From day fucking one. You pushed us onto each other, a-a-and then you took him away from me, over and over again. The women Jack ‘dated’…Jesus, that was when he went to Vegas to see you that first time, wasn’t it? Of course. I should’ve known that’s when he started fucking other women. Because of you,” you point at him, more fury boiling in your stomach as you ramble.

God, was it all lies and subterfuge? Every fucking thing in your life related to these men?

Elvis stands there, jaw gritted so hard he might crack his veneers, his hands fisted at his sides, his leg going a million miles an hour. But you don’t stop.

“And then you came back home to find me upset, pretended like you didn’t know why, and then you fucked me?” The memories come to you too quickly, too painfully, fractured moments flashing in your aching head, weaving back together what you’d lost for so long, fueling your pain, fueling you forward. “And that was just the beginning. You sucked Jack and me both into your world, then played with our lives because…why? Why, E?” you demand.

Still, he says nothing, eyes fierce and his body vibrating with energy, letting you continue your verbal assault.

Your heart is going so fast you fear it’s going to explode, but you continue anyway, knowing that this isn’t like you, that perhaps this isn’t truly what you want. I love him, don’t I? But you are so mad, so exhausted from feeling like a plaything in the lives of the men around you, that you can’t stop. They’ve treated you as if you have no agency of your own. As if you were nothing without them. And you are done.

You shake your head. “You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit. Nobody can be happy unless the King is happy, right? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, beside yourself with anger at him, on what he’d done to your life. In this moment, your love for him is entirely consumed by your rage, as your addled and bruised brain tries to piece together just how screwed up this entire situation is.

Elvis roars then and sweeps everything off the nightstand, sending things shattering and flying to the floor. You do your best not to wince at the outburst, unwilling to let him shake you. Then, he looks at you, like a caught, caged beast, his chest heaving and eyes dangerous. But he isn’t blacked out, and you know it because you can see the gears working in his head. You can see that the emotion in his face is not anger alone. There is a deep pain there and it confuses you.

Dread settles into a knot in your stomach because suddenly you can’t shake that terrible feeling that you are still missing something vital here, something both Elvis and your traitorous brain are keeping from you, but your head is pounding and your blood is up and you can’t think straight.

You stand toe-to-toe, staring at each other, chests heaving in the heavy silence.

He breaks first, but with an almost frightening level of clarity that you don’t expect after his outburst. “Fine. Y-you w-w-wanna make me th-the-the villain in this story, then fine, I-I’m th-the fucking villain, honey. I-I-I always w-was,” he stutters wildly, cutting, his stormy eyes narrowing like a crocodile as he levels you with them.

He doesn’t deny any of it. He doesn’t even defend himself anymore.

You don’t know what to do with that.

All you know is you hurt. Everything aches, inside and out. You feel like an absolute fool. You are infuriated with him and maybe even more furious at yourself. Then, your heart breaks, sending a wave of sorrow flooding through your chest and down your limbs.

Everything with Jack was bad.

Somehow, this is worse.

It feels like your entire world has been pulled from underneath your feet. The devastation you felt about Jack feels like nothing now compared to Elvis’ betrayal, and the weight of both together is crushing you from all angles.

There is no escape. You can’t breathe.

Somehow, you’ve lost them both. Or maybe you never really had either of them to begin with.

You silly, stupid girl. I tried to warn you.

You manage to hold back the sob that threatens to break you.

Wordlessly, you nod, clench your fists, then turn and walk out.

Elvis doesn’t stop you.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06

Reblogs, likes, tips, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

386 notes · View notes