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qqueenofhades · 6 months

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Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but its one that I've been reminded of in the few weeks since things have escalated so severely in Israel and Palestine-- I feel like the pressure for random, average individuals online to be vocally political is not only entitled and uncomfortable, but also just an example of misplaced priority.

Like, I have people on twitter right now that are flat out saying if you don't talk extensively about I/P you're truly, irredeemably evil. I've had mutuals say that silence means you're complacent in genocide, that you have blood on your hands (exact words). But it just doesn't make sense? Most of the people who I've seen being flat out harassed for being silent are teenagers who don't have money to donate, working class folks who don't have time to spare, and normal people who just don't have enough of a following online to even spread any word effectively. Of course, the ones doing the harassing are also poor/busy/not-popular, but they don't see the irony. (I've also seen them say that talking about war constantly is taking a toll on their mental health, saying they've cried, had nightmares, panic attacks, etc...but they also say that taking a mental health break from social media is "selfish" and genocidal, so.)

The whole interaction leaves me with so many questions. If stepping away from social media because politics are stressing you out (which they are known to do), are you obligated to use social media? Do you have to use twitter to be a good person? What does that say about people who can't afford a phone, or live in a country where it isn't quite possible? (Are homeless folks inherently genocidal, or is that an "obvious" exception that was never clarified because no one uses nuance anymore?) If you have to talk about world events, lest you side with the oppressor, at what point is something so catastrophic you *must* talk about it? Is there a number of lives lost that is low enough you can get away with being quiet, and a certain amount too high that you're obligated to talk about it? Is it your duty to have the news on 24/7 to make sure you don't miss anything and catch all the global disasters as they happen? How much do you have to talk about something for it to be considered "enough"? Is there a quota??

It just feels like a lot of people are acting as if people who aren't chronically online aren't 1. doing any activism, because the only important activism is social media networking (sarcasm), or 2. are inherently bad people for *not* spending 6 hours a day on their phones. Like, I had someone I thought was a friend say I was a bad person because I was trying to cut down my social media usage, because the timing was "too convenient"... as if that's a normal thing to say to someone, ever. Sorry if I went on a little bit of a rant, it wasn't my intention. I dunno, maybe it's just me; I've seen a lot of people saying this sort of stuff so maybe they are the majority. It just feels really weird to let people that are addicted to social media take charge of who online is "good" or "bad" based off their internet usage. As if we were all catholics or something. If I were to say that current takes on morality were very catholic-seeming, would you know what I mean?

As recently noted, I am myself on an embargo from answering asks related to this topic. I will make one exception because this is important. Please note that any wank in replies or reblogs will be instantly blocked (and I won't hesitate to disable reblogs if necessary). I will not be answering follow-up asks or getting drawn into Discourse. I do not want to do it and it will not be happening.

I have said it before, but it bears saying again: thinking that the only way to Do Activism is to be constantly on social media and immersing yourself in terrible things nonstop and then posting the Most Correct Opinions (and then viciously attacking anyone who is even slightly Not As Correct as you) is absolutely bullshit. If you're engaging with this content so much that it's giving you a mental breakdown or otherwise plunging you into a spiral of anxiety that you take out on other people who are just as far removed from actually doing anything about it as you: why? Do you really think that you and you alone, one random person on the Internet, are the only way anyone else is going to find out about these things? Or do you think you have to perform the Most Correct Opinions nonstop, viciously harass anyone who isn't responding in exactly the same way, and this is the sum total of what your response should be? Especially in a situation as bloody and complicated as this, dealing with reams of religious, social, cultural, and political history where the average commentator on this conflict knows only what's been fed to them by propaganda on TikTok? How the fuck is that useful or constructive for anyone, aside from perpetuating the idea that you have to be angry all the time on social media about things you essentially know nothing about? I can't see that it does.

What's happening to the Gazans right now is no qualification or equivocation, a genocide. It should rightfully be opposed and called what it is. But unfortunately, I have spent too much time around Western Online Leftists to believe they actually care a whit about stopping genocide as a fundamental principle, and only want to be seen to loudly care about what their Ideology has told them to care about. If it means hand-waving aside genocide and atrocities when committed by their preferred polities, so be it. Why haven't these same people been wall-to-wall up in arms about what Russia has been doing in Ukraine, or for God's sake Syria for the past ten years, if they're really concerned about the rights of innocent Muslim civilians attacked by a far-right imperialist power? Why not the Uighurs in China? Why not [insert the blank] of all the terrible things happening in the world as a result of far-right fascist genocidal imperialism? Why only this conflict? Why now? Why does it involve so much excusing of terrorism as long as it's committed for the Right Ideology? Why are some of the most loudly pro-Palestinian accounts on here also the most rabidly pro-Russian? How does that make sense? To put it bluntly, those genocides are being committed by nation-states that Online Leftists like for being "anti-Western," and therefore their activities are actually fine and should even need to be defended.

My point is not to say that what's happening to the Palestinians is not bad. It is. It is awful and inexcusable. However, I seriously doubt the motives and morality of those who are being the loudest about screaming on social media and attacking everyone else for not instantly repeating their views. I seriously doubt that the Online Left actually opposes genocide and accelerationism as fundamental principles, because they proudly demonstrate every day that they don't. Until those vast factors can be dismantled and shown for what they are, and this can be placed into its larger context, I don't buy it and I don't believe this wall-to-wall social media outrage factory is actually aimed at helping the Gazans or anyone else suffering the most as a result of this. It is just to show that they can be counted on to Perform Outrage and harass anyone else who doesn't do the same, and that does nothing for anyone whatsoever.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #once again any wank will be blocked #reblogs will be turned off if needed #i will not be elaborating further #the end

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wanderingelvis · 1 year

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First things first, in love with your writing style! Have a little request for you: teenage!Elvis taking a bubbly!bookworm! reader to a high school dance at Humes. The reader lives at Lauderdale Courts as well and he often spots her reading on the grass in front of the building. The two bond increasingly over books (he could listen to her enthusing over novels for hours) and this led to his asking. A very cute, softhearted romance overall. Thank you, let me know what you think! 💜

i love this request sm, it was meant to be short but i got carried away and now it's the longest request i've written! 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 4,762

pairing: 50s elvis x bubbly, bookworm female! reader

Oh Lord, Elvis adored you. You were practically the human version of a golden retriever and he thought you were awful sweet.

Elvis had a tough time at high school, he was a bit different, he liked to style his hair differently and enjoyed different music to most of the folks at school. Girls loved him, but finding friends was a challenge.

It meant that Elvis was fairly reserved, which was often mistaken for stand-offish and intimidating, when actually, Elvis just wanted to make sure he was surrounded by kind people.

Your mother and father had warned you about the boy from Lauderdale Courts, the one that looked "rebellious" and sinful, even if they actually quite liked Gladys and Vernon Presley. But you knew that Elvis wasn't a mean spirited person, he'd never made fun of you at school like some other people had, when he'd had every opportunity to do so.

You didn't let mean comments from school get to you. You knew that it was just a reflection of the whoever had said the nasty words and that they'd learn better eventually. That's what your book had told you, all the characters that had been the subject of harsh words never let it get to them and you decided that you wouldn't let the words get to you either.

You loved books, they were your passion and you would rarely be found without a book in your hands. Between classes, at the breakfast table, on the lawn in front of Lauderdale Courts, you always managed to find time to start reading your latest favourite novel.

And that's how Elvis first approached you, on the lawn of Lauderdale Courts, under your favourite tree with your nose buried in a book. You hadn't even noticed him standing over you until he coughed to get your attention.

Elvis had been through a rough day, he was graduating high school along with you, but he'd started talks with a record label and there was a possibility of even touring and performing some songs. It was exciting albeit stressful and there were a lot of people applying a lot of pressure onto the young star.

Elvis just wanted to relax when he arrived home after some meetings, to unwind and calm down a little, and when he spotted you basking in the warm, golden sunlight, giggling adorably at the book, he figured that whatever happiness you held was infectious - and he walked over straight to you.

He'd always noticed you but you'd never exactly paid him much attention as your stories were your top priority.

"Hello darlin'," Elvis said, crouching down by you as you peered up at him, squinting a little to avoid the blinding evening sun. "Mind if I join ya?" He asked.

You were a little taken aback at first, no-one ever approached you, especially when you were reading and you knew that Elvis was popular with the girls at school, so you wondered why he wanted to spend time with you. Nevertheless, you didn't question it too much, he was friendly enough.

"Sure!" You smiled, turning your head back to your book in your hands, it was Little Women, a book you'd read before but you really couldn't get enough of it, this must've been the fourth, no, fifth time you've read it?

"You're Y/N right?" Elvis interrupted, making you turn your attention back to him.

"Yup. You're Elvis Presley." You said softly.

"You know who I am?"

"Sure, you're in my History class, you sit next to Jonny Albright. You live on the floor above me!" You said gently.

"And you're the girl who loves books ain't ya?" Elvis pointed out, not in a mean way, just observatory as he laid down on the grass, propping his upper body up by leaning on his elbows as you sat with your back leaning against your favourite tree.

"Guess I am." You giggled. "Do you like books?" You asked after realising that Elvis was wanting a conversation.

"Sure I do, maybe not as much as you do, but I like 'em, I see you a lot out here readin' y'know." Elvis said, making you feel an odd sensation for the first time and you blushed a little at him admitting to noticing your habits.

"I love books and stories, my Momma and Papa, they say that it's good to read but I gotta try to make some friends more and I know they're right but I just can't help it, I start readin' a book and I can't put it down until I know what happens at the end!" You said with a soft smile, you did want some more friends but you felt like you found friends in the characters of all the stories you were reading and you didn't actually mind if they weren't exactly real. You looked up at Elvis who was just watching you with sheer interest and intrigue. "You know, my Papa even put me on a ban from buyin' any new books the other week. I just been readin' all my old ones all over again." You confessed.

"So that one ya got there, that ain't a new story?" Elvis chuckled, you were very sweet, he was starting to regret not having approached you sooner. His thoughts about his meetings were already slipping away.

"Nope, this is my favourite book, it's Little Women, have you read it?" You asked.

"No, but I'd like to, when I got some more time maybe." Elvis said, he wasn't exactly sure if he would like to read it, he didn't really know what it was about truthfully, but he was starting to like you a little already, and when your face lit up with a smile at him suggesting he might read your favourite book, he knew he'd said the right thing.

"Oh wow!" You said, excited at the prospect of sharing your love of books with someone. "Well, I'd let ya borrow this copy but my little dog, Basil, he tore out a few bits of a few pages, it's not too bad because I've read this maybe five times or somethin' like that, so I can understand the missin' bits, but it might not make sense otherwise. But maybe, um, maybe you could try the school library! I could even look for you tomorrow at school if ya wanted me to! I really wouldn't mind!" You said, beginning to ramble, but you were just so excited.

"That copy is sure lookin' worse for wear sweetheart." Elvis chuckled, the spine was torn and chunks of pages were missing and you'd sure like a new one but your Papa was right, you couldn't be spending anymore money on new books.

"I know, but it's my favourite story." You said fondly. "The main character, Jo, well she wants to be a writer ya see, and that's kinda what I wanna do when I grow up, maybe." You confessed.

"A writer say?" Elvis said, raising an eyebrow, impressed.

"Uh-huh! A writer! I ain't written much yet but I got dreams and I got ideas and I think maybe, one day, other people would like to read what I got to write." You told him eagerly.

"I'd read anything you wrote darlin'." Elvis said, being simultaneously flirtatious and sincere.

You blushed at the words, no boy had ever said such kind words to you, let alone one as handsome as the one laid out in front of you.

You babbled on some more in the sticky summer air, explaining why you loved certain books, giving Elvis recommendations and answering all the questions he had - which were a lot. It was only when your mother hollered at you from your window that you had to bid Elvis goodbye and scurry in for your dinner. Elvis watched you dash away, turning back whilst running to give him a wave, knowing he was smitten with you.

You were adorable in every sense of the word, cheery, chatty and charming. It didn't hurt that you were awful cute looking too.

After spending all night thinking about your amazing evening with Elvis, you decided to make a beeline for the library during school the next day. You loved the library and librarians and whilst you wanted to be a writer, you sure did want to be a librarian too. The idea of looking after so many books and being surrounded by like-minded bookworms was such an exciting idea for you.

It didn't take you long to find a copy of Little Women and you took it out straight away. You didn't really know where Elvis would hang out but you decided to wander around the hallways looking for him.

You eventually found him, standing next to what you assumed was his locker. He was chatting to some friends who you would later come to know were Billy and George. Tentatively, you approached him, tapping his arm to get his attention. He turned around, looking down at you with a smile when he realised who it was.

Standing next to him, you couldn't help but notice how tall he was compared to you, you felt so little and the way he spoke to you sometimes made you feel that way too.

"M'sorry, I don't wanna interrupt," You said as you realised he was in the middle of a conversation.

"Not interrupting anythin' important sweet thing," Elvis said, making you blush at the pet name. "Billy, George, I'll meet ya at gym." He said, dismissing them before turning his attention back to you.

"I just went to the library, they had a copy of Little Women, well actually they had three copies, can you believe it!?" You enthused, making Elvis chuckle at how cute you were. "Well, um, anyways, I got one for ya, I figured you might be busy, my Momma said last night that your Momma told her that you got a lotta meetin's and stuff so I thought I'd get ya this! You don't gotta read it but it's real good!" You explained, trying to catch your breath from speaking so quickly.

You were a little nervous in front of him and you weren't sure why, he was very attentive in the short time you'd spoken to him, he didn't make you feel bad for being a bookworm, so you were a little confused at your feelings. You supposed you just didn't want to bore him.

"Slow down lil' mama, you gotta catch some air honey." Elvis laughed at your rambling and you giggled. "But that's awful thoughtful of ya honey. Y'know what I'm gonna do?" Elvis said, as you shook your head, waiting to find out. "I'm gonna come join ya after school by your favourite lil' tree and read some of this with ya, if that's okay of course, I know it's ya favourite lil' spot." Elvis said, as you placed the copy in Elvis' large hands.

"Of course it's okay Elvis! I'd really like that y'know! Oh! It will be like a mini book club, kinda! I always wanted to go t'one of them! We could talk about our favourite characters! I mean ya already know that mines Jo, but you might have a different favourite, I like Laurie a lot too, actually, I kinda like all the characters in a way!" You babbled, beside your little self with joy at the prospect of Elvis reading with you.

"This is awful kind of ya, baby." Elvis acknowledged.

He really was taken aback at your gesture. Lately, he'd been in many situations where people were looking to see what they could get out of him and he was finding it difficult to trust people and accomodate everyones expectations of him. It seemed like you were something of a little guardian angel, finding him at just the right time, with no bad intentions, just a whole lotta love.

"S'okay! You got three weeks until I gotta give it back or renew it but Barbara, the librarian, she's real nice and she lets me keep 'em for longer sometimes, especially when they're my favourites, so, um, so you don't gotta read it right away or nothin'!" You insisted, not wanting to pressure him.

"Thank you, Y/N, I mean it, this is awful kind. I gotta get t'gym, but I'll catch ya by your tree?" Elvis checked, he really wanted to spend his time with you. You were oh so bright and bubbly and it just radiated off you, onto him.

"Sure! Bye Elvis!" You beamed, waving at him again cutely, dashing off, not wanting to waste any of your recess time away from your books.

Elvis watched you leave once again and he shook his head, he was falling and falling hard.

Like clockwork Elvis met you by your tree. You were dressed in your little linen white dress, a smock scarf around your hair, protecting your head from the beaming sun and your bare feet with rested on the cool grass as the sprinklers would dust you with droplets of water, instantly cooling you down from the heat. You were practically in heaven, but the heat was a little much for you, even though you usually loved it. It had just been a tough day of classes, you were finding them a little harder as they went on, so you'd concentrate extra hard, giving you a bit of a headache. Mixed with the head, you were finding the words on the page a bit challenging to focus your attention onto.

"Hey darlin, how's ya book comin' along? Think you can guess the ending yet?" Elvis teased, knowing you'd read the book a million times over already.

"Can't really focus, my head kinda hurts." You admitted, feeling kinda frustrated. All you'd been looking forward to during those difficult classes was coming to your tree to read and now your head wasn't letting you.

Instantly, Elvis' protective and attentive attitude kicked in, he was already feeling attached to you and he just wanted to make you feel better.

"Shit honey, can I make you feel better? Can I get ya anythin'? You want some lemonade doll? My Momma just made a whole jug, it's real nice, a bit sweet but you'd like it." Elvis said, suddenly quite worried about you.

You couldn't help but softly giggle at his reaction. You hadn't actually heard anyone you knew curse before, you'd heard strangers do it but never someone you were friends with. "It's okay Elvis, just a little headache from school and the sun s'all. I just wish I could focus on my book, I'd been looking forward to it all day." You said, gazing up at him, admiring the golden glow the sun was giving him.

Elvis instantly removed the light jacket he had on, he didn't need it in this heat anyway. You watched him curiously as he draped it over one of the branches of the tree, offering you a decent sized patch of shade near where you were sitting. Elvis moved to sit down by you, taking the copy of Little Women that you'd got him earlier in the day, with the patch of shade covering his lap.

"Here, lie down honey, it'll help stop the headache if ya rest, you can put ya head on my lap like it's a pillow or somethin', so it's in the shade. Y'know if it's a bit cooler, it'll help stop the pain?" Elvis cooed. "And I can read the story to ya, as long as ya don't mind me startin' from the beginning?" He quizzed.

You felt those funny feelings coming back into your body again, making you feel happy, fuzzy and confused all at the same time. You obediently laid down, resting your head in Elvis' lap as he smiled lovingly down at you. You'd never been so intimate with a boy before, but you felt like you'd known Elvis so much longer than just a mere 24 hours, and Elvis felt the same way too.

The pair of you had such a kinship already that it was hard not to feel utterly relaxed in each others company.

"See? Not so bad is it?" Elvis said, tenderly brushing some hair away from your face that had clung to your temples from the summer air.

"It's nice." You said quietly.

You turned your head to look out at the lawn, watching as the sprinklers periodically spun around, hydrating the surrounding area. It was relaxing to watch as you listened to Elvis' deep voice reading you your favourite story.

You never wanted the moment to end, you finally found a friend who wanted to love everything you loved, and you were in nothing short of paradise.

It was near the end of Chapter 2 that you dozed off in the golden, evening sun, the droplets from the sprinklers hitting your exposed, tanned legs as well as the white little dress you had on, making your thighs appear through the damp wet fabric.

Elvis stumbled on his words after his eyes caught the sight, you were everything he wanted and he wanted all of you.

He paused, noticing the way that your chest rise and fell peacefully as you slept, completely relaxed and headache-free after everything Elvis had done for you. Elvis continued reading the book in silence, enjoying the story and realising why you loved it so much.

It wasn't until a while later that your Momma hollered for you yet again, signalling that your supper was ready, that Elvis pried you awake, your cute little whines making him smile.

"Aw, I'm sorry lil' mama, but you gotta go feed that belly of yours." Elvis chuckled softly, as you pushed yourself up from his lap, a grumpy yet adorable little pout plastered on your face from being woken.

"I gotta go already?" You mumbled sadly, realising you'd drifted off during your time with Elvis.

"Afraid so baby, but we can do this again tomorrow, we can do it whenever you like, kid." Elvis insisted, hoping that you'd ask him to spend every waking second with you.

You nodded, rubbing your eyes.

"You feelin' better now darlin'?" Elvis checked and you gave him another sleepy nod of confirmation.

"Uh-huh. Wanna stay with you." You said shyly.

"I know doll, I wanna stay with you too, you gotta go get your food though, otherwise you won't have any energy to read all your stories." Elvis said and you nodded, knowing he was right. "C'mere." Elvis said gently, opening his arms, indicating for you to let him give you a cuddle - one that you needed right now.

Despite being hesitant, you'd never actually given a boy your age a cuddle, you molded yourself into his arms, relaxing with a soft sight, inhaling his scent of Old Spice aftershave.

"Catch ya later, kiddo." Elvis smiled, kissing the top of your head, making those funny little feelings escalate.

"Ba-bye Elvis." You said, adorably, making Elvis' heart flutter. You were just precious.

Days turned into weeks, and every day after that you and Elvis would meet outside Lauderdale Courts, reading and chatting. He wouldn't often say much, he just loved listening to you enthusiastically babbling away at the current book you were reading. He was impressed at the speed of your reading, you could put away a short novel in an afternoon sometimes and Elvis would try to keep up with you but you'd read more than anyone else he knew.

He loved listening to you every day until you were called in for your dinner. His feelings for you were growing stronger with every word that came out of your mouth and the same went for you, you figured you maybe had a crush on Elvis and you really did hope that he liked you back. He'd never made you feel like a weirdo for being a bookworm, in fact he tried to emulate your passion, just to be able to spend time with you which you thought was awful sweet of him.

You would both look forward to seeing each other in the late afternoons every day, watching the clocks go by in the classroom and counting down until you saw each other. You'd even started walking home together, sometimes Elvis would even drive you if he'd gone for another meeting, which was a special treat for you.

It wasn't until a couple of months later in mid-July that Elvis finally mustered up the courage to ask you a question that had been on his mind after your head hit his lap on that second day, all those weeks ago.

"Y/N?" Elvis said, taking the book that you were reading out of your hands and placing it down on the grass. Elvis was sat against the tree, with his legs opened wide so you could sit in between them and rest your back against his chest.

"Hey!" You said at him taking away your book, you were just getting to the good part.

"I gotta question for you, it's serious now, I'll give you your book back in a minute but you gotta listen to me carefully honey." Elvis said as you sat up and turned around so you could look directly at him, curiosity painting your face.

"What's wrong? Did I give ya a bad book? I can replace it if ya want? Or are you sick? That can happen with the heat remember! I can try and make some shade if you are, or get you some water! You shouldn't be out here if ya-"

"Baby, I'm okay, you just gotta listen, okay?" Elvis said, taking your little hands in his large ones as you watched him intently. Elvis sighed deeply, his nerves getting a little better of him. "Here goes nothin'" He said, partially to himself. "Y/N, I wanna take you to the dance next week. What do ya say?" Elvis said, watching for your reaction.

You felt your heart skip a beat. You had decided you weren't going to go, even if secretly you'd wanted to. You knew it'd be filled with couples and you hadn't really wanted to surround yourself with that if you were going to be on your lonesome.

"Can I bring my book?" You asked shyly and Elvis beamed.

"Of course ya can, sweet thing. Can I take that as a yes?" Elvis chuckled, petting your soft hair.

"Uh-huh!" You giggled, biting your lip excitedly. "Oh boy, I've never been to a dance, I know there was a Spring one last year, but I just didn't have anyone t'go with, and I kinda, actually, no I wanted to go real bad to this one! And I didn't really wanna go with just anyone either ya see, but I just would've thought you would've had loads a girls to ask, I see girls tryna talk to you all the time at school! Especially Sue-Ellen, she sure does like you, sometimes it makes me feel-" You paused, realising you were rambling and maybe saying just a little too much.

"Makes you feel like what, little un'?" Elvis asked curiously. He thought Sue-Ellen was nice, sure, but he and her only talked so much because the pair of you were partners for a Lab test.

"No, it's silly, forget it." You said, brushing it aside.

"No, I wanna know Y/N. How does it make you feel when you see me talkin' to other girls, tell me." Elvis insisted, starting to enjoy seeing you wriggle around. He knew what your answer would be, he just really needed to hear it.

"It makes me, I don't know, I guess, it just makes me sorta wish that, sorta wish that it was me that you were talkin' to," You said gently, looking down at your lap as your sun-kissed cheeks started turning a little pink. "It makes me sorta, maybe, jealous." You practically whispered, but Elvis heard every word.

Elvis took your cheeks in his large hands, lifting your head so you would look directly at him.

"You know you're my number one girl, don't ya?" Elvis grinned, making your tummy do somersaults. You recoiled with giggles at the words, you were just putty in his hands at this point.

You ended up chatting away as the evening drew on, telling Elvis about the perfect dress that your Momma wore to her own dance, you'd actually tailored it a little so it would fit you and be able to attach a corsage onto it.

When your Momma called for you at the same time as usual, you gave Elvis a hug, telling him that you couldn't wait to go the dance with him and you thanked him for asking you.

You glanced at him momentarily before pushing yourself forward and placing your pink lips on his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss. It was the most forward thing you'd ever done but you felt so comfortable around Elvis that you didn't mind.

Elvis was a little stunned, he watched you as you giggled and crawled off his lap, running towards your Momma with bare feet on the grass and your dress flying up every now and again, exposing your thighs as usual.

Elvis would be the first to admit that he'd never experienced love in a romantic way but after today, he was sure that had changed.

When the dance finally came around, you were naturally a little anxious, even skittish, constantly fiddling with the corsage that Elvis had given you, as well as the lilac tulle of your dress. Elvis kept reassuring you throughout the evening that not only did you look completely beautiful but that you were both going to have a great time and that there was nothing to worry your pretty little head over.

"Y/N, I wanted to give ya somethin, it's nothing big or anythin' but I wanted you to have it." Elvis said before the pair of you arrived at the dance.

He placed a familiar shaped item in your hands, wrapped up in brown paper with a wonky bow on it. You glanced up at him, looking for him to give the go-ahead to open it, which he did. You didn't waste any time in taking off the wrapping, only for a gasp to leave your pink lips.

"Elvis..." You said, little tears pooling in your eyes, touched at the gift. It was a brand new, latest edition of Little Women, one that didn't have half of the pages ripped out.

"Is it the right one? The lady in the store said it was the best one they had, and I know you love that raggedy old one ya got but I thought my little girl should have one that at least has all the pages intact." Elvis said, hoping that you'd love it.

You'd never had anyone do anything so thoughtful for you before. You looked up at him with your glassy eyes and he immediately cooed. "Oh baby, don't cry now, it's just a book." Elvis said, thumbing away the tears.

"It's more than a book, Elvis, it's the nicest thing anyones ever done for me." You told him with a wobbly voice. Elvis leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you blush. Little did you know, that Elvis went to the store the day after he'd met you and bought that book for you, all those weeks ago. "And I can fit it in my purse!" You said with pride, showing Elvis who laughed at how adorable you were, as you looked forward to taking it to the dance.

The pair of you began to make your way to the dance, with Elvis holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand soothingly as you entered the dance hall. Your eyes lit up as you looked around, admiring how beautiful and pretty everyone looked as well as all of the pretty decorations.

"Wow..." You gasped as Elvis chuckled, looking down at you and watching your reaction. "I feel like a real grown up Elvis." You whispered to him.

"Not quite lil' mama, the fruit punch ain't got no alcohol in it just yet." Elvis laughed. "Wanna dance with me?" Elvis offered, leading you to the little dancefloor.

The pair of you slow danced to the music, Elvis occasionally pulling a funny face to make you do that giggle that he would now hear in his dreams, he loved it so much. You felt your spine tingle as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Neither of you noticed all the eyes on you, the odd pairing of the up and coming rock 'n' roll star student and his little, bubbly, bookworm, but as the night went on, everyone got a little more used to it and no-one even noticed when you two headed off in search of the library in your party dress and Elvis' smart jacket, desperate to curl up together with that sparkly new copy of Little Women that you'd stashed in your bag.

#elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis #elvis fluff #elvis presley #elvis x reader #yandere elvis #baz luhrmann elvis #austin butler elvis #70s elvis #50s elvis #60s elvis #elvis x you #elvis x oc #innocent reader #little reader

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drewharrisonwriter · 8 months

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On the Mend - Ch 2: Let Me Sleep On It

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: After seeing Joel Miller for the first time in months and revealing your little secret, Tommy Miller ran after you to the parking lot.

Word count: 1,972

A/N: I done did it, folks. Here is chapter 2 lol And it's lengthier, too but I'm still not sure what's gonna happen next or when this will end but hope you all like this chapter.

She hurriedly paid for her purchases and rushed to the parking lot.

It had already been a long and arduous day in general. Seeing Joel Miller had been the last thing she needed. All she wanted was to go home and put this dreadful day behind her, and hopefully, never see Joel again.

But based on their last conversation, that wouldn't be a problem.

She just wanted to avoid having to explain anything to him if it ever came to that. She didn't owe him an explanation; he had made it clear he never planned on marrying her or having a family with her. She understood that his priority was Sarah, and she loved Sarah deeply but she had left to give herself a fair chance in life, a chance to be a mother to her own child, and maybe one day, to find love and get married.

At the moment, she was satisfied with the life she had been living since her breakup with Joel. It had been tough, especially going through the pregnancy alone, but she was doing alright, she thought to herself. She missed him, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on that because it only broke her heart, remembering that Joel had kept her for five years, only to tell her that their relationship was essentially a dead-end.

She fumbled for her car keys, her mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with Joel. The wounds from their last confrontation were still fresh, and seeing him again had sent a shockwave through her emotions. But she did her best to calm herself down. It's going to be alright. She assured herself. You'll be home soon, and you can pretend that you never saw him. It's just one bad day.

As she slid into the driver's seat and turned the ignition, she couldn't shake the image of Joel's stunned expression when he'd spotted her unmistakable baby bump. She didn't know whether it was anger, sadness, or some mix of emotions that clouded his eyes, but she knew one thing for sure: she saved herself from even more hurt by leaving him and not telling him about her baby.

Just as she was about to pull out of the parking space, a familiar figure darted in front of her car, causing her to slam on the brakes. It was Tommy Miller, Joel's younger brother and one of her closest friends that she essentially ghosted along with Sarah when she left Joel. Tommy had always been the peacemaker (as much as he is a troublemaker, ironically), the one who tried to mend fences and bring people together.

She rolled down her window, and yelled, “Tommy what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed as he walked towards her.

She sighed, her frustration evident. "Tommy, I'm really not in the mood for catching up right now. Can we do this another time?"

"Well, it's nice to see you too, stranger," Tommy began, his tone cool, accompanied by a friendly laugh. "I spotted you in the store, and I couldn't help but notice... Well, that you're expecting."

"Yeah, I am. What's it to you?" she snapped. Tommy let out an apologetic huff, and his expression turned serious as he glanced at her belly.

"I get it, you're going through a lot," Tommy said, "but I saw Joel's face back there. He looked shocked, confused, and probably a hundred other things. You can't just leave it like that."

She clenched her fists on the steering wheel, her emotions swirling. "Tommy, I don't owe him an explanation. I don't owe anyone an explanation."

Tommy nodded, his voice gentle. "I understand, but assuming the baby is Joel's, he would surely want to be a part of their life."

She sat there for a moment, torn between her instinct to protect herself and the undeniable truth in Tommy's words. Her gaze remained fixed on the steering wheel, her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.

Finally, she let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him. "Tommy, I know you mean well, but you don't understand how painful things have been for me. Joel and I... we were never going to work out. We wanted completely different things in life. Now, I have what I want, my baby, and Joel can focus on giving Sarah a better life without me weighing him down."

Tommy reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, his touch comforting. "I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I do know that this baby changes things. You have a right to make the best decision for yourself and your child. But consider this, not just for Joel, but for you too. Closure, even if it's painful, might be the first step toward healing."

She blinked back tears, and tried her best to keep her emotions at bay afraid of breaking down in the parking lot of the biggest grocery store in town in front of Tommy Miller. The day has already been rough enough.

She finally smirked, cocking her head as she did. "Never thought I'd hear anything like that from you, Tommy." She joked and he laughed along with her.

"I'll think about it." She said finally after a beat of silence.

Tommy gave her a reassuring smile. "That's all I ask. Whenever you're ready, just let me know. And... I never changed my number, so if you can please unblock me from your phone that would be great." They laugh a little again, "You can always call me if you need anything especially for the baby,"

She smiled at Tommy and thanked him before she drove off.

As she arrived home, she parked her car and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Despite Tommy's suggestion, she couldn't bring herself to even think of reaching out to Joel. After all, he made it clear that he never saw her beyond being a girlfriend. She's sure that Joel wouldn't even want anything to do with her and her baby, they can just continue living their own separate lives.

But fate had other plans.

A week later, there was an unexpected knock on her door. She grunted as she struggled to get off the couch. "Just a second!" She called out as she waddled towards the front door.

"I'm so sorry it's taking a while to--" She rambled but cut herself off when she saw Joel standing on her front porch with a black eye.

She blinked in surprise at the sight of Joel, her emotions a tangled mess of shock, confusion, and lingering anger. It had been months since they last spoke, and she hadn't expected to see him on her doorstep.

"What are you doing here, Joel?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, darlin'," he mumbled, his tone subdued. "Can I come in for a moment?"

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to anybody, Joel," she replied. "Just... go home, or go to the ER or something."

"Please?" He pleaded, and she looked at him, unsure. Finally, and reluctantly, she stepped aside, allowing him entry. As he walked into her living room, she gestured for him to take a seat as she walked down the hall to the kitchen. He looked around as he sat on the couch and took in his surroundings. He smiled to himself as he saw the shelf of records and the countless books in her living room, and the familiar scent of santal and citrus lightly mixed with her perfume. It's all so warm and familiar.

She finally stepped back into the living room, breaking his moment of nostalgia as she handed him both a glass of water and whiskey. "I don't know what you want," she said blankly, and he took both glasses as he muttered a thanks.

"What happened to your face?"

Joel sighed, downing the glass of water before taking a sip of whiskey. "Tommy and I had a disagreement."

She raised an eyebrow, "You boys are always having a disagreement. What is it this time?" The Miller brothers, despite the fact that they'd kill for each other, can also be killing each other with petty arguments.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally met her gaze. "About you. He told me he talked to you and that I should know. I didn't take it well, and things got physical."

"Joel," she let out a sigh and buried her face in her hands. She felt a pang of guilt, realizing that Tommy had probably acted out of concern for both of them.

He nodded, his expression a mix of regret and understanding. "I know we left things on bad terms, and I've had time to think about it. I should've handled it differently, and I'm sorry."

She bit her lip, her heart aching as she looked at the man who had once been her everything. "Joel, I appreciate your apology, but we want different things in life... And now we have it. This isn't necessary."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you, you know. Ever since that moment at the grocery store and seein' you pregnant... I couldn't help but wonder if... well, I know it's mine. It has to be, right? I wanted so badly to go after you then, but I was too scared to talk to you," he confessed. She listened intently, sitting across from him, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

Tommy told him about the parking lot conversation and that she had no intentions of ever telling Joel about the baby. He was so hurt, he got mad at Tommy instead for not telling him right away. It was rash, and he was sorry, but he wondered if he could be there for her, for the baby.

"Joel," she began, her tone firm but tinged with sadness, "I appreciate your offer, but I don't want anything from you. I don't want you derailing your plans for me or my baby. It was incredibly difficult to accept that our five-year relationship had no future, and the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated or guilty. I've got this on my own, Joel. This is what I want, and I understand it's not what you want. I can't drag you back into my life; it just wouldn't work."

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes downcast as he processed her words. He knew he had hurt her deeply, and the weight of his actions over the past months was now crashing down on him. He couldn't let this end here, not without trying to make amends.

"Please," he began, his voice shaky. He's on his knees now, kneeling in front of her. "I can't change the past, and I can't take back the hurtful things I said. But please, just hear me out. I've had so much time to think, and I realize how wrong I was. I was scared, and I ran away from my responsibilities, from you. I was a fool, and I'm just so sorry, darlin'."

He reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on her arm, seeking any sign of forgiveness in her eyes. "I don't expect you to welcome me back with open arms, but I want to be there for you and the baby. I'll do whatever it takes to make amends, to earn your trust again."

She met his gaze, her expression softening as she looked into his remorseful eyes. The wounds were still fresh, but she couldn't deny that a part of her had missed him terribly.

"Joel, I need time," she replied, her voice gentler now. "I can't make any promises right now."

Joel nodded, grateful for even a sliver of hope. "Thank you. That's all I ask for."

Next Chapter 👉🏻

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gothichorrorshow · 1 year

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Queer youth autonomy protest!

Are you a queer person in the USA under 25 years old who wants to fight for their rights? Join the protest!

The Basics

This protest is a nation wide protest happening at every state capital and in Washington DC. The date will be March 31st, but there's much to do before then.

The website is queeryouthassemble and the tumblr account is @queeryouthautonomy I am not the official spokesperson or anything like that I just joined the State March Committee and am very passionate :D

If you reblog this post please head over to the official blog and give them a follow and reblog their pinned post! I made it easy for you by tagging them

State Marches

To get information on the locations, times, etc of your local state marches be sure to check this map for changes. Alternatively here's a link to the state march masterpost by the official blog.

While DC and state capitals are the priority, other marches will be held in various places. So hopefully you can find one close to you that you can attend!

DC March

The DC march will be the biggest march and the focus. The goal is to get people from all fifty states to attend. The focus is queer youth, but anyone who cares about queer rights can attend.

If funds are available, hopefully queer youths' trips to DC will be covered for those who can't afford it.

The march path will be mobility aid accessible and the speeches will be accessible for HoH and vision impaired folks!

List Of Demands

The list of demands is now complete! Click here to sign, whether as an individual or for an org.

Committees

The committees are entirely led by queer youth. The committees help organize the protests. There's four committees,

General March Committee: Provides input and suggestions for the general march, helps create a list of demands.

Resources and Guides Committee: Creates resources for safe protests and walkouts, advertises the resources on social media.

Washington DC March Committee: Contacts orgs and politicians to contribute to the DC protest (the biggest protest)

State March Committee: Organizes protests in the state capitals, updates website with state marches information, advertising the state marches.

Here's a direct link to the committee info and sign up!

Walkouts

Along with the protests they're also looking to organize peaceful walkouts at schools nation wide for the goal of having schools become supportive of queer youth.

If you want to organize one at your school, I personally recommend working with your school GSA club (if you have one, if not maybe you'd want to work on organizing one!)

Alternatives to walkouts are available too, there's plenty other ways you can organize an event at your school if walkouts would be too difficult.

Here's a link to further information on alternatives to walkouts and walkout safety.

Donations

Donations are needed to fund the protests! If you've got some spare money and want to support queer youth, please consider donating here!

Organizations

While I doubt I have this kind of reach, especially on tumblr (maybe if enough people reblog idk), if any orgs see this and are interested in supporting the protests,

State orgs: If you'd like to help organize/support a march in your state capital (or other important places) there's a form for you to fill out here.

Nationwide orgs: Your platform is needed for advertising. To find some flyers or pamphlets to use, look here. (I used one for this post)

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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I assume that engineers are very busy, and so they don’t necessarily have time to make the things they design serviceable. I get it – you’re not building a masterpiece to survive all of eternity, you’re just doing your job. You’re over here, working on the radiator and cooling program, this other guy is doing the radiator support, and the mid-senior-junior-vice-president electromechanical engineer down the hall is up to her neck in work trying to figure out how to mount the horns in a way that doesn’t anger the crash testers.

The chances that the three of you, collectively, slow your productivity shit way down – or worse, have a meeting – to make it easier to reach the electrical connector for that horn so you can remove it without cutting your hands on the fins of the air-conditioning condenser are about negative one billion percent. That would be preposterous – horns don’t break, right? Tell that to the dumpster-dove Spider-Man bandages that I have applied to my right hand because of your shortsighted design decisions.

And your boss isn’t gonna show up and demand repairability become a priority. No, your boss gets paid because people buy cars, and people will stop buying cars if the car lasts forever. Even if they jam an Android tablet in the dash sideways and start making the wheels bigger. Hell, my neighbour is still booting around in a 1994 Camry XLE, and the minute he expresses even the slightest subconscious desire to be rid of it, he will have a lawn full of folks offering top dollar for such an esteemed chariot. Toyota probably would have gone bankrupt back then making shit like this, if they hadn’t had all those trucks to sell to terrorist organizations in distant foreign wars. Those guys are gonna have to buy a new truck every couple of months when their old one gets shot up, so it’s okay to make those super-durable.

All I’m asking for is that you think once in awhile about making a bolt accessible. It’s not hard, just make sure they drill a hole over top of it, so that I can stick a nice long socket in there when the captive nut on the other end breaks off and just spins forever. Even though you might have a good day at work because of taking a shortcut like that, I guarantee you that the massive amounts of bad karma I am heaping upon your name while intermittently sobbing in my garage are not worth it. You’ll get reincarnated as a lighting engineer.

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kanmom51 · 1 year

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Jimin hugs part 2

As per your request, I’m back with a part 2 to the JM hugs post.

cr./to the creators of the media used in this post.

Why don’t we start with the piggyback hugs?

We have the “I don’t have anymore blood in my body” hug.

The lazying hug (well, not actually lazying but “enjoying the fact that I can be taken around on my bf’s back”, or as I like to call it: the “my bf privileges'” hug).

The “this is mine y’all” hug.

That smug look on JM's face when he just jumped up on JK's back. And JK, the man that has a place carved in his back for JM, had his mic in one hand and the other, trained as always, moving to hold on to JM's leg keeping him in place. Like riding a bike people. Like riding a bike...

The “let me help you with your workout” hug.

The "save me from this wind" hug.

The surprise attack hug.

The "get your priorities straight here, I am no. 1, I want my piggyback hug and I want it now" hug.

The "I thought I made it clear he's MY TOY, not yours" hug.

The "what are my hands doing up your shirt in the middle of the store, oh shit there's a camera there" hug.

The “sing with me” hug.

The "I love you and need to hang on to you for dear life, and need this right now" hug (I know the first one was in part 1, but it's too good not to be in part 2 as well).

The Koala hug.

The "I love your broad shoulders and muscly back" hug and also "I will never let go, you are mine FOREVER" hug. You choose.

Another comforting hug.

The "I simply adore you" hug.

The "I'm so proud of you babe for making an effort" hug.

The "what the hell am I doing here exactly" cheeky hug.

The concert adrenaline high hug.

That nod JK gives as JM's coming his way for a hug...

The "come here for a photo pose" hug.

The "I don't know why I'm doing this but there's something about your neck" hug. Not an actual hug, but I'm willing to call it a neck hug... yeah, ok...

The "I'm really hungry, so I need to suck on your neck right now in front of the cameras" hug.

The "nothing to see here folks. Just two dudes sitting in an awards show chillaxing" hug.

What do you say?

More?

Should I challenge myself and try to find more types of JM hugs?

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin #jm #jm hugs #jungkook #jk

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fairy-verse · 12 days

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Hello, you lovely small folk! I just wanted to say that if you’ve sent an Ask and I haven’t responded to it, then it might just be because 1. I’m just not in the right headspace to write a proper response yet and am waiting until I feel ready. 2. I just don’t feel like it yet but know I will eventually get back to it. 3. I don’t know how to respond so instead of struggling with it I just let it go. And 4. I feel uncomfortable or don’t think the question fits the universe of Fairyverse, so I delete it.

Now, I don’t want this to discourage any of you. I have a lot of things going on in my personal life, plus I have other projects I’m working on, so this blog isn’t always my first priority. I try my best to give you all some satisfaction by answering your questions, but it’s just me (Vala) who writes for this blog, and sometimes I just need to take things slow so I don’t burn out.

I am extremely grateful for all of you who show so much interest and love in this AU, it makes me incredibly happy, and because of that, I felt that I needed to give a reason for why your specific Ask might not have been replied to yet.

... Well, now that that is done, I guess it’s back to writing some whimsical fairy replies. Toodles!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year

Note

Hey hey Mars! ☺️ I’m back with another gif for your celebration!! (I hope it’s ok that I’ve sent in 2…I love your range of writing abilities and couldn’t only send in fluff)

How about this one:

Would you be able to create something angsty using this??

Excited to see what you come up with!! 💕

Hey babes! I am TERRIBLY sorry for how long this has taken but my 9 to 8 job keeps getting in the way of creativity

Mars 1.5k Celebration

Business || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Implied infidelity, Tommy being an absolute asshole, sort of an anxiety attack

Your head is spinning. The world comes to a halt. You are sure the ground has cracked beneath your feet and plunged you into the depths of the greatest hell the world has ever known. Your fingers dig onto the edge of the desk for support. Lips quivering, parted into a silent question. All because the man sitting before you, the man whom you love and adore unconditionally, has informed you he is getting married to another woman.

The tense seconds morph into minutes, all while you watch Tommy scribble down some documents, cigarette perched upon his lips, calm and collected as if he hadn’t just taken your heart and flung it from the top of the Clock of Westminster. You ache to find in his face any sign of regret, of pain, any clue that he is hurting as much as you are, but you are met only with emptiness

You cannot bear this any longer. A thousand questions pile upon your lips, striving to escape, but only one single word manages to emerge from the depths of your throat, raspy and shaky “Why?”

Tommy has his answer ready, of course. He is always ready, or he thinks he is. Foreshadowing everything that will happen, knowing exactly how those under or over him will behave. Time and experience clearly failed to teach him that not all variables can be predicted.

“It is the only way they will side with us. We need all the allies we can gather. And with their support we will have free access to commercialise opium all over Europe. America is a promising market but until we don’t have full control of it, we need to branch out”

His reply is so derisory a laugh escapes you. What do you care about opium deals or favourable deals? What is it to you about the wants of his potential business partners? All you see is the man who holds your heart casting you aside like a cigarette butt.

“An arranged marriage, Tommy? Are you listening to yourself? This is no 1875, love. It's the modern world. Arranged betrothals are for the princes and dukes and folks of the sort, not for people like you and me. Marrying whoever we want is one of the few freedoms we possess, and you are letting them take it away from you for what? More money? More power?”

Tommy’s greed remained a perennial tense spot in your relationship. He always wanted more; more money, more power, more recognition. And he continued to trade his happiness for that. Ambitions had nearly cost him his sister, and had lost him a brother as well.

Now he had traded the love of his life.

“It is all part of a plan for a greater purpose. I marry her to please her father, and once we have secured the markets and exploited their resources, I will have us annulled on grounds of non-consummation and forced marriage. My lawyer already looked into it. Once everything has calmed, we can get married you and I”

You want to laugh. Laugh at his audacity, at the nerve he must have to think you will stand to come in second place. Not in second to this other woman, whoever she is. In second place to his ambitions. Because right now you see, rolling before your very eyes like a cheap movie, what your life with him would be like. You would never be a priority, nor would be any children born from you. Always shadowed by the veritable breadth of Tommy’s ego.

You also want to cry. Cry out your frustrations, your anger, your immeasurable pain. The man sitting before you does not resemble the man you fell in love with. Not by one inch. They bear the same name but that’s where it ends. Because the Thomas you loved had eyes of a clear blue matching a gentle spring sky, not shards of the deepest ice sending shivers through your bones. The Tommy you love did not bear a perpetual scowl, the jaw always tense and the fists always tense.

The man you love used to smile.

“And where does my opinion lie within your plans? My feelings, my dignity? Are you sending me an invitation as well? Maybe I will catch her bouquet and reuse it for our own nuptials. Do you think I will sit back and watch you-”

“It already happened”

You hoped the surprises would be over, but this new bucket of ice pouring over your head felt like a low blow straight to the gut. Amidst your silence, Tommy pulls out a piece of paper from a folder and slides it over to you. You only read ‘Birmingham registry’ and ‘marriage certificate’. You don’t need to read more. Who knew a single sheet of paper could cause such anguish? Your vision is blurry, and you don’t know if your eyes have flooded with tears or if you are about to faint. You sway in your chair, and you actually have to hold onto the desk for balance. If Tommy had laid a gun and this certificate before you and asked you to choose, you would have chosen the gun. The pains of the flesh cannot be as bad as the agony you are submerged in.

The man before you, a man you don’t know, clears his throat and lights another cigarette “They worried I would back out, so I agreed to an immediate civil ceremony to appease them”

Your body moves against your will, because you no longer have a will. Your brain and your body are disconnected; if they were in tune, you would have stopped breathing long ago, for you no longer remember how to. Every inhale feels like molten lead clogging your lungs and weighing your body. You are clumsy; disoriented. Your heel catches on a board, making you stumble as you get up. In attempts to stabilise you, your hand knocks over an ink pot, spilling it over the document. You do not remember how or when you fastened your coat or grabbed your purse. Tommy calls your name, but he does not move from his seat to pursue you from your escape. The secretaries ask if you feel well, if you need something, but her voices are white noise in your ears. You think you pushed one away, or maybe not, you only felt the clattering of breaking porcelain and tea spilling on your shoes.

It’s raining. It is spring but it's raining. The cold beads slide into the neck of your coat and down your spine. Your driver awaits with an umbrella, his smile fading into a frown when you walk past him, past the car, past the office and everyone inside it. Your foot slips on the damp cobblestones and you crash your shoulder into the wall, your hand seeking grip on the rough bricks. People behind you call your name, or the name of the one you used to be. You are not the same woman who entered that office.

You feel a pair of hands on you. Fleeting hope flashes in your heart, but the weak ember dies as quickly as it came to life. It is your driver, holding your weight since he noticed your knees threatening to buckle. You don’t know how but now you are sitting in the back of the car, drenched to the bone. The driver keeps asking you where to go, but you have no answer. You want to say home, but home is no longer your home. The rain halted, there is no wind outside. You look down to your wrist watch and you notice you forgot to wind it. The hands froze at 6 pm, the second you set foot inside that man’s office.

The world has stopped.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby imagine #mars 1.5k celebration #marsie writes

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chloe-caulfield94 · 2 months

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I don't understand that section of the LiS fanbase, at all

I'll never understand folks who sacrifice Chloe and also gush over how cute she is with Max or how cool of a character she is. Okay, don't murder her then. Is there something I'm missing? Her life or death is up to you. If you decide to kill her, then she obviously is not that important to you. Certainly not your "number one priority".

Go bask in your glory of an everyday hero who'd be willing to kill their own friend for "the greater good" instead of crying crocodile tears over Chloe's coffin.

An especially egregious example of such mentality is fetishizing Chloe as a "tragic" character, a member of the 27 Club with an 8 year head start. Dude, you're the one turning her life story into a tragedy. You're the one killing her. You're the one depriving her of a happy ending, of a fresh start. I don't understand the morbid interest in Chloe's story viewed through that lens.

The story of a troubled kid who everyone gave up on, including her family, her friends and even herself, who died a stupid death that could've been prevented had she had at least one person standing in her corner (but as it turned out, there was nobody willing to stick by her) is not interesting or captivating. It's simply revolting. And to tell you the truth, quite unoriginal in its inhumanity and banal in its cruelty. Look out the window and you'll see hundreds of stories like that. Is this the sort of tale you wish to write with your choices?

At least I can understand Chloe Price haters. They sacrifice Chloe, because they are lusting to murder the person they are seething with hatred towards. They sacrifice Chloe, because they are deriving sick pleasure from handing down the death penalty for the unforgivable crime of being a troubled teen. That mindset is condemnable, but I can at least understand it, even though I would never think or feel that way, not about Chloe, not about anyone else.

But I cannot comprehend the mindset of celebrating the character that you judged unworthy of survival, less important than others, whose life you chose to spend as a resource. We get it, you performed the incredibly complex analysis of "one is less than multiple", you proved you possess "the strongest of wills to make the hardest of choices".

You decided that there were others "who should live way more" than Chloe and you swung the headman's axe. I salute both your strength to usurp for yourself the right to judge who is more worthy of life and your courage to immediately kill to enforce your swift and wise judgement. I personally, being a coward, faced with a choice to sacrifice a human life to stop a tornado would refuse to do so and let the events unfold, as I feel I am in no position to ever judge who should live and who should die. I guess that's just my weakness and liberal, tree-hugging concern for human dignity speaking.

But could you please stop smiling over the coffin of your victim? Could you please stop recollecting all the moments of joy and friendship that you selfishly decided to take back, that you erased, that you prevented from ever hapening? Could you please stop celebrating the friend that you used for five days to make yourself feel better about your past mistakes and to go through a coming-of-age adventure, who you then discarded like a toy you got bored with, making sure that she never experienced any of the things you did?

Go have fun with all the people you saved instead of performatively mourning the person whose life you deemed so insignificant you chose to willingly cause her death.

In her darkest moment she said she didn't deserve Max's love and friendship, that she didn't even deserve to live. And instead of proving her wrong, uplifiting her, giving a chance to begin again somewhere the past would hold no dominion over her, you chose to prove her right. Denying her a chance at life, you pushed her back into the quagmire of the past, to drown.

Sadistic fate set her up as the Price to be paid. And in your blind obedience to evil destiny, you chose to pay with her life. Whether that made you feel bad or sad was irrelevant to her as she died alone, abandoned and afraid, in a pool of her own blood.

On a related note, don't you think Bay Max keeping Chloe's belongings is deeply disturbing? The belongings of a girl who saw Max for the last time five years ago? I'm fairly certain that if you asked the Monday, pre-parking lot Chloe (so the one who is murdered) if she wished for her personal belongings to pass to Max in case of her death, she would respond with an emphatic "no". I wonder, would Bay Max lie to Joyce, telling her that she got to reconnect with Chloe before her murder (she didn't, since she erased all the time she had spent with Chloe). This only goes to show that Bay Max is totally out of character - basically a creepy body snatcher.

#max caulfield #chloe price #life is strange #lis #pricefield #bae vs bay

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bygideonsgrace · 2 months

Note

hey could i ask, what does being butch mean to you? all my friends tell me I've got butch vibes, or I'm butch-adjacent, or whatever, and it feels good, it feels right. i feel so much euphoria when people see me that way. but I'm not really even sure what it means. I'm sporty, I'm handy, i don't dress very feminine, sure, but that feels....kind of surface level? i guess I'm wondering, surely there's something deeper to it than that? i feel like i want it to be something more meaningful about who i am at my core i guess

Okay so this is a question I've answered a couple different ways over the years, and it always ends with me rambling a bit so stay with me: For me, being butch has a lot to do with how I interact with the world around me. In Gender Outlaw, Kate Bornstein has an interesting idea of relating gender to a language we speak to others to tell them how to perceive us - it can signify our class, our ideals, our relation to patriarchy, and what defines us most. I think that speaks a lot to my conception of what being butch means: I want people to know my values just through my looks, my deeds, and the way I hold myself. I want them to know that I value forms of masculinity and femininity not defined by an oppressive patriarchal cishet culture, that solidarity and understanding for those who are shunned by society is a priority for me, and that I won't be forced to accept what that same society thinks a person has to be. In that way I find my butch identity to be very closely tied to my politics. The forces that systemically keep these forms of oppression alive can only really be halted by a movement built on loyalty to one another and love for community, and I think many of us hold compassion and fidelity very near to our hearts because of that.

But to get back to the point - I think the fact that it gave you such euphoria is already a good sign you might be exploring in the right direction. Sporty and handy can definitely be a part of it for you, it is for a lot of folks, but you're right that it is so much deeper than aesthetic and interest and I'm hoping that delving those depths is something that might be in your future. Even if you don't end up feeling like calling yourself butch is quite right, I think we always get value out of that sort of introspection. What do you want people to see when they look at you, to know about you? What do you want to tell the world? Like words and languages, the possibilities are endless.

#butch #i hope this made sense I am a lil bit sleeby and a tiny bit stoned but I tried real hard LMAO

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taviokapudding · 3 months

Text

In regards to being asked about the black company, Nijisanji, their allegations to having ties to Israeli money, and #SinkTheYacht

I'm disappointed in

seeing folks punish all Niji EN livers by collectively unsubbing when "sinking the yacht" would be more effective by reaching out to AnyColor Inc shareholders and partners about Nijisanji's admission of management & livers bullying and listing all the public facts surrounding why Selen was fired. The summary of facts are that Nijisanji has bullies in their team, has done nothing to remove said bullies, and they chose a sudden termination to hide the fact they let a liver attempt suicide from said bullies and didn't inform the public about it.

So I understand why people are unsubbing as a whole- why many creators, artists, and third parties have made it public they will no longer make, support, or sponsor Nijisanji.

But priority 1 is not mass unsubbing- that's what Nijisanji wants. They are made up of known bullies and they are now manipulating the public into being bullies. Instead of spreading the word to mass unsub- I encourage everyone stop spending money on official merch, do not collab with any AnyColor Inc management, and not buy stocks connected directly to all AnyColor Inc nor their shareholders.

But why am I discussing this?

Why should non-vtuber fans care?

What I'm about to discuss now is an ongoing allegation that makes all the know facts even worse. If you support Palestine, you especially need to know about this ongoing allegation:

On Feb 5, ITOCHU Corp announced they would end their contract with an Israeli Defense Firm that they started March 2023- around the same time Nijisanji EN would annouced the termination without informing Selen (now Doki) that she was terminated. ITOCHU is a known shareholder of AnyColor Inc and does has the power to ask for public distractions. They are a monster firm among Japanese companies.

I cannot endorse #SinkTheYacht knowing Nijisanji livers are some of the worst collectively and consistently paid company VTubers in the industry, but if folks want to boycott AnyColor Inc's ceo, owners, shareholders, and management for their associations and ties to indirectly causing an ongoing genocide- then I support you. Sony Group Corp Japan, Bilibili Inc, & FreakOut Holdings Inc are a few shareholders that you can file public complaints towards about AnyColor's behavior and be wary of when choosing vtubers, streamers, youtubers, etc to support. But again ITOCHU and AnyColor's relationship is an allegation and speculation.

In my opinion

From an outsider perspective I believe an investigation into Nijisanji as a whole should've happened last year when so many people left or appeared to have left from management based pressure.

But as someone who holds many of the remaining livers with respect (and is a Kyomie) if indeed Nijisanji EN is telling the truth about livers and management bullying + doing nothing to stop it, then yes- every person responsible for ongoing bullying of at least 3 years should be terminated and black listed from the vtubing industry.

That all being said (if my gut is right) and none/the majority of the EN livers are not bullies then I also believe all currently contracted EN livers should be allowed to press charges aganist Nijisanji EN & AnyColor Inc for

1. Public defamation on an international scale due to the termination wording

2. Cuts to their already weird pay caused by the company's annoucements on Feb 5 & 6 2024

3. All documented mismanagement and bullying they've reported since being employed that led to emotional, physical, and financial losses

4. Losses to old and new merch sales the same week of Feb 5, 2024

The wording of the termination of Selen Tatsuki should be headed as a warning to an ongoing and well publicly documented management issues with AnyColor Inc and all their branches. If you're a vtuber who has or is planning to join Nijisanji EN- please get an attorney or lawyer if you choose to audition or are currently work for AnyColor Inc who's familiar with your nation's laws and Japan's laws. And remember to everyone, it takes hard work but being indie is possible- you don't need a company.

Thank you for reading this whole post and all fans please make the decisions and adjustments accordingly in regards to not #Sink TheYacht in such a fucking stupid fashion- don't be like the bullies who are managing your favorites. And god speed to all the EN Livers at KuroColor Inc who may end up seeing this on your private accounts- please know your fans will support you no matter what decisions you make but they hate your company and management for treating you like shit behind closed doors and out in the public. And if any of you do listen to my advice and find a legal expert to help you out, don't tell your management nor coworkers/friends/family, doubly if you don't have a copy of your most recent contract renewal/contract. Alright? Snakes can pass for tall grass, you need to be prepared to get bitten by the most unsuspecting blades when navigating your rights as a contracted streamer, entertainer, and employee.

#mun post #sinktheyacht #sink the yacht #nijisanji en #anycolor inc #anycolor #black company #nijisanji #ok now stop fucking asking me about my tweets thank you #also stan doki

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rarespawnwrites · 1 year

Text

pt 3 - no hearts in my hands but i've got diamonds up my sleeve

The Beginning - Prev

Now with an AO3 version you can subscribe to! Because I'm pretty sure like half of you are bots, but I'm doing my best to tag the folks who asked anyway.

So, who's ready for Danny to get to the DC universe? Because I sure am!

~~~

Tim was absolutely not going to turn his communicator back on until he’d fished Hood out of whatever plane of reality he’d been blasted into. He would just retrieve the man, safe and sound, and neglect to mention this interlude in his report. Everyone fine, no drama, and no overreactions from overbearing family members. It’s not like the Red Hood was going to file one. This would work out.

He had finally figured out this clunky villain tech enough to get it to use his brother’s energy signature as a point of reference. He was in an abandoned industrial area, so it shouldn’t be a problem if there was an issue with the portal opening. Now he just needed to set a distance from that point of reference to ensure that if the portal did open, it wouldn’t open literally on top of Hood.

He pointed and shot, and a glowing green portal ripped a hole in reality. Something beyond the entrance to the portal was glowing so brightly that Tim squinted. Once his eyes adjusted, the sight he witnessed was eyebrow raising.

Tim hadn’t gotten a good look through the portal last time. What he saw now was a group fighting on a shoreline, a body of water trailing off into the distance. What was strange was that everything in view seemed to be washed in shades of green. It was most intense in the water and the sky; Tim couldn’t actually tell where in the distance the waterline ended and the sky began. He wondered if he was seeing the actual appearance of the other side, or if the green light of the portal was that heavy a filter.

In the fight, the Red Hood and a white-haired teenager faced off against a ghoulish army of… gangsters? Traffickers, too… Though the people were clearly inhuman in appearance now, he recognized some of those faces from case files. Hood was wielding two weapons that burned with such intense light that Tim couldn’t look directly at them, much less make out what they were.

The portal’s opening had drawn everyone’s attention. In the brief lull in the fight, the unknown teenager snagged Hood by the back of his jacket and flew toward the portal’s entrance. Whatever noise Jason made in response to that was unintelligible through the voice changer in his helmet.

“Close it, close it, close it, close it!” the teen chanted urgently, almost before the two had even gotten clear. The crowd they’d been fighting charged after them, and in the lead flew the bodiless heads of eight former lieutenants who Tim definitely recognized. He had a sudden intuition about why Hood, at least, had been fighting that particular crowd of… spirits? Alternates?

He didn’t wait to find out. Quickly, he hit the button to close the portal, eyes wide behind his mask as the heads reached the entrance just as it was closing. In the end, none of them got through, though there was a splatter of green ooze at the portal’s final closing.

Hood was dropped to the ground and landed heavily on his feet before whirling to take in his surroundings. His chest heaved a few times while he caught his breath. Tim noted that he looked injured; his body armor was shredded at the torso. The bleeding seemed minor, so probably low priority, unless Hood showed other symptoms.

“Tell me,” Hood said between breaths, “that this is the right Earth, Red.” He still had hold of the weapons he’d been using before, which splashed eerie light in every direction. Tim could make out the hilts of what were presumably swords in Hood’s hands, but he couldn’t look directly at them, so who knew.

Tim gave him their Earth’s designation, then followed up with, “We were looking into some strange tech that’s been popping up on the black market recently. We found this thing,” Tim waved the handheld device around a bit, “with Penguin. He objected to us examining it, and you got knocked into the portal that opened in the middle of the—ah—disagreement.”

Hood relaxed. He transferred one of his swords to his other hand, holding them both up like torches to illuminate the abandoned factory’s floor space. “Yup, sounds about right.” He rotated a shoulder a few times and yawned loudly. “Ugh, dimension travel is always exhausting.”

Stepping over to his companion, Hood got in the guy’s personal space and waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hey, Phantom, anyone home? Your pupils are like dinner plates, pal. You get hit with something?”

Tim shifted his attention to realize that the stranger, Phantom, had been floating in place, staring intently at Tim ever since Phantom had put Hood down. When Tim’s eyes met Phantom’s through the lenses of Tim’s mask, there was a strange buzz, like the hiss of static on a bad comm line. His shoulders jerked and he leaned back instinctively, feeling small shocks like static traveling up and down his limbs.

Phantom looked somewhere close to his age, with pallid skin tinged just slightly green, like a highlight. His eyes were also green, as well as luminescent. He was dressed in a black hazmat suit with white accents and a stylized D at the center of his chest. Given his name, the P-shaped gap in the D was likely intentional. He wore a lavender canvas backpack, a splash of color that looked jarring against the rest of him. His white hair had an otherworldly, fluttering texture to it. The last time Tim had seen hair with a texture like that had been… Secret, his old ghostly teammate.

He filed that observation away and realized that he, too, had started staring.

Red Hood looked between the two of them, bewildered. “O~kay,” he said slowly. “Uh, should I go, or…”

Phantom blinked and did a full-body shake, as though he’d been splashed with cold water. He’d opened his mouth to say something when his eyes caught the device Tim was holding. He paused. Then he turned back to where the portal had been and landed, feet on the ground for the first time. Shouldering off his backpack, he held it in one hand and unzipped it partway with the other.

“Hey, so,” he said faux-casually as he dug around in the bag, “what do you guys call that goop that got on the ground?” He pulled out a… hand vacuum? …and wandered toward the puddle.

Tim stared blankly, leaving it to Hood to answer.

“Goop works, I guess?” Hood shrugged. “Ooze, maybe? Ghost blood?”

Phantom knelt by the puddle, turned on the vacuum, and sucked up the puddle in a handful of seconds.

“So it’s not something you’ve seen before?” Phantom shoved the hand vac back in his bag, zipping it up and throwing it back around his shoulders as he stood.

“Actually…” Red Hood trailed off, staring toward where the green puddle had been. Tim had a guess about what he was comparing it to.

“I knew a ghost once,” he volunteered, steering the conversation away from that topic. “When something could actually injure her, I think her blood looked something like that.”

“Hm,” Phantom said as he drifted back, stopping near Tim. “Are there a lot of us out here?”

Tim tilted his head, just slightly. “Us? So you are a ghost then.”

“Oh yeah,” Red Hood said, as though it were just occurring to him. “Guess I didn’t introduce you. Red Robin, this is Phantom, the ghost who decided to spend his time saving my ass in the Ghost Zone.” He flung his free hand out, gesturing toward Phantom, then gestured back toward Tim. “Phantom, this is Red Robin, a weirdo who likes hanging out in unlit abandoned factories.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Tim rolled his eyes at Hood. The lenses covered it, but the way his head moved with it conveyed the intent well enough. He stepped forward, toward Phantom, and reached out to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Phantom.”

Phantom smiled a small, sharp little flash of teeth, looking Tim in the eyes as he also reached out. Then his hand bypassed Tim’s entirely to snatch the device out of Tim’s other hand.

“Hey!”

“So! Red Hood, Red Robin…” Phantom said cheerfully, dodging out of the way of Tim’s attempts to swipe it back. “Red seems pretty popular with the masked crowd. Should I cave to peer pressure? How does ‘Red Phantom’ sound?”

“It sounds like you might be red-green colorblind,” Tim replied without pausing. “Also: you don’t even wear a mask.”

“Rude.” Phantom flew back out of easy range, looking over the blocky chassis and tracing the name engraved on the side: FENTON. “Yeah, this definitely shouldn’t be here.”

“You know it?” Hood asked while Tim scrambled up one of the machines on the floor and hopped closer to Phantom. Tim’s mind flew back to his days with Secret, ticking off every weakness she’d possessed in the time he’d teamed with her.

Pretty much just magic and electromagnetism, when you boiled it down.

Tim grabbed three electrified batarangs and threw.

“I do! It’s a portable portal.” Phantom said as he dodged the first one. “You know,” he continued, ducking beneath the other two, “one of the first iterations of this was jury-rigged to a—WHOA!” Only one of the next set had been electrified, but would have been hard to tell when they were thrown so close together. They really were just needed to distract Phantom from Tim yanking the first three back with the lines they’d been attached to. They nearly worked; Phantom was singed by the sparks of the returning batarangs as they flew past his hurried dodge. “…a motorcycle handle! Oh geez…”

Phantom’s dodge had taken him into a narrow corridor of metal between machines. He’d looked up to see that Tim had used his grapple to hang from an overhead crane, getting an angle into the corridor from above. Tim sent him a smirk as he sent a barrage of batarangs into the corridor to ricochet like pinballs all around Phantom.

“You’re kidding me,” Jason replied while Phantom bent in inhuman ways to avoid being tagged in a batarang bullet hell. “That’s awesome!”

“I know—hah—right? Too bad I had to—yikes—break that one. Oh come on!” He had finally made it out of the corridor only to see Tim himself launching toward him, a stun gun in hand.

They locked eyes again midair and for a moment, it was like everything was frozen. A weird shudder went through them both and Tim tried to figure out what the strange expression on Phantom’s face meant. The moment stretched.

Then Phantom was turning sideways to avoid getting tazed. He went intangible, and Tim flew right through him. Tangibility returned the second Tim was clear, and then Tim was hanging by the back of his bandoleer in Phantom’s free hand as Phantom returned them both back to the ground.

“She was right,” Tim thought he heard Phantom mutter. Louder, Phantom chirped, “Well, that was nostalgic. Let’s do it again sometime!” As he started to pull his arm out from beneath Tim’s cape, he caught Tim’s subtle movement and yelped, going intangible to free his arm and backing off before he could get tagged. “Yep,” his voice was just slightly strained, “just like old times!”

He flew up to the ceiling and rose through it feet first. Before his head and shoulders had vanished through it, he threw a piece sign and smirked down at Tim. “See ya!”

He was gone.

“You know, you could have helped,” Tim grumbled.

Hood laughed. “Seemed a bit rude to turn on the guy who just got done keeping me in one piece. Besides, you looked like you were having fun.”

Tim gave him a peeved look as he collected his spent batarangs. The edges were ruined on most of them.“I also saved you. You’re welcome. And now there’s a ghost loose in Gotham AND our lead on the weird tech that’s been showing up lately is gone.” He settled everything into the appropriate pouches.

A gloved hand thumped down on his head and mussed his hair.

“Aw, don’t cry, little Timmy. I’ll get your toy back.” The artificial flatness of Hood’s voice modulator only made the words more dry.

Tim swatted his hand away and they both started heading for the exit.

Hood gave his weird flaming weapons a little flourish and they vanished. Then he froze.

Tim stopped and turned after another step, wondering what was wrong. That was the moment when Hood began to glow like a star, right through his body armor. Tim shielded his eyes with his forearm, blinking away tears from the sudden brightness. The glow grew in an expanding aura around Hood, washing over Tim in a searing flood as he squeezed his eyes shut. A hum vibrated around him, so intense he couldn’t tell if he was hearing it with his ears or feeling it in his bones.

It was like touching a hot stove with all his skin at once while simultaneously getting flashbanged. And then it was over, as whatever it was retreated back into the confines of Hood’s body.

Tim checked himself for injuries before his eyesight had recovered. He didn’t seem to be actually burned; there was no residual pain anywhere. No numbness, either, so he hadn’t destroyed his nerves. He could hear his own rapid breaths, so his eardrums hadn’t burst. When his vision started to return, Tim saw Hood sitting on the floor dazedly, leaning his helmet into the palm of one glove.

Tim sat down across from him.

“What happened over there?” he asked, a little hysterically. He was definitely not going to get away with leaving this incident out of his reports.

Hood raised his head. “Well…”

~~~

Jason and Phantom had met near an island in an ocean on an island in the ghost zone. No, Jason was not clear on how that worked; it’s not important to the story. Yes, everything looked like it had gone through a neon green filter, he gets the comparison Red. Ghost dimension, Lazarus pit, he’ll get there. Anyway, at the time, he’d just had a temporary setback in an epic underwater battle between himself and a sea monster. A ghost sea monster.

What kind of ghost sea monster?

Okay, so when an anglerfish and a dragon really love each other…

“Hood, c’mon.”

“Hey, which one of us was there? That’s what it looked like!”

The thing was kaiju-sized, and he’d totally been kicking its ass. But at the point that Phantom had shown up, Jason may have been flung up out of the water, into the air, and was falling on a trajectory into this ugly thing’s mouth.

So, of course, Jason had summoned the All Blades.

“What are the All Blades?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you MISS the flaming swords I was carrying earlier?”

“Obviously not, but what are they?”

“My magic swords. What, you don’t have magic swords? B must’ve really half-assed your training.”

Right, where was he? Still fucking falling, jeez. While he was falling, he summoned the All Blades, then used them to slice through his chest armor and cut into his flesh so he could ignite them with his soul. No, he’s not taking questions at this time, close your mouth. It’s not like the body armor was going to help him against a ghost-fish-dragon with teeth longer than Jason was tall.

Then the thing’s mouth froze over, and Phantom swooped in to catch Jason like one of the supers. For a second, Jason actually thought Bizarro had somehow found him. Weirder things had happened. Instead, it had been hazmat Jack Frost.

It almost seemed like Jason had been saved. Turned out: ghosts can fly. Including sea monster ghosts.

So Phantom’s carrying Jason over one shoulder and shooting the flying fish with green energy blasts from his other hand like he’s Hal-freaking-Jordon. Jason’s trying to detonate some plastic explosives he’d gotten the thing to swallow earlier. Hitting the detonator without stabbing anyone or dropping his sword was awkward as hell from the rescuee end of a fireman’s carry.

The fish returned fire—what about shut your mouth is so hard to understand—and Jason ended up falling back into the water.

This was where things got weird.

At this point, Jason was close to shore. Submerged roughly eight feet below the surface was a statue of a winged goddess with a sword and a scale held out in front of her, and he had dropped right into her outstretched arms with a splash.

Now, Jason had actually studied a bit of magic in the past, but even if he hadn’t, he could do simple arithmetic. Undead guy + soul powered swords + blood on a goddess statue + open wounds in a Lazarus ocean = the whirlpool that was suddenly centered on his chest.

Jason had no idea what Phantom and the monster were up to at this point, both because his helmet was being power-washed by the water at the whirlpool’s edge and because he’d found himself the conduit of so much spiritual energy being fed to his swords there were actual pillars of fire blooming out from the whirlpool’s center.

The next thing he knew, he was running along the monster’s back, pillars of flame aimed downward as he filleted the thing.

The remains of the ghost dragon fish sank into the ocean to do whatever ghosts do after getting diced by magic swords. The pillars of fire shrank back to normal sword size. Phantom escorted Jason over to actual land. Then… Jason got a vision.

The scales of the goddess tilted heavily in one direction. At the lower end was a bowl filled with fire. The empty bowl began to fill with blood, and the two sides gradually evened out.

The meaning of the vision was clear: Jason needed to stop getting involved with magic.

“Is that when the ghosts of people you’ve killed started showing up?”

“Yes, Red. That’s when the ghosts of people I killed started showing up.”

~~~

I hit the cap on tags, so I'll post an overflow list after this. Once again, some of y'all can't actually be tagged. Apologies if that affects you. If I forgot you entirely, I beg forgiveness; I really did try to catch everyone. If you are tagged by mistake or want to be taken off the loot list for future updates, let me know via dm or ask.

Tags Looted:

@skulld3mort-1fan @fantasticbluebirdfan @storm-and-fire @jesus-camp-the-sequel @wisteriavines @jeminiikrystal @busterkeel @fisticuffsatapplebees @starmee-lodurrson @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @ghostreblogging @vortexbox @mlpizza @markus209 @lady-bee-fechin @allee52hrz @may-rbi @yjfk @xysidhe @yurijay @love-has-no-labels-blog @frostedthroughghost @ashenfairytale @lostlightandfoundcrazy @inkyunicorn @ultrageekygirl @kyiomi27 @thefearfullone @redhoneysugarorange @thegatorsgoose @britcision @kyrianclawraith @mimilikey @turquoise-kitten @addie-lover-of-stories @rangerhorsetug @weird-droplet-309 @mrowsters @the-blind-one-speaks @illusionwolfwriter24r8 @ace-aro-as-shitt @seraphinedemort @thatrandomsarahchick @mutable-manifestation @newgraywolf @lostlightandfoundcrazy @omgnectarina @neverlandingbird @thefanficcup @batbootie @crystalqueertea @miniosprey @ekat18 @ghospectr @chaoticchange @chickenscheesencrackers @jaytriesstuff @justalittletotheleftofnormal @iamheretoconsumeandsharethatisit @alixanterm @mariendall @jadedragon1903 @dragonriderv @01101010-01100001-01111001 @dixiwoods @adhd-lesbian @cloudyelysian @cottonscrambles @currant-owo @revnantdpxdclover @fox-sama97 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @the-legal-shipper @tcohacs @nugget-consumer-9000

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dp x dc crossover #prompt fill #no hearts in my hand but i've got diamonds up my sleeve #a story spawned in

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dawnfelagund · 11 months

Note

I feel like there’s a lot of stuff coming to light lately about ao3’s glacial pace at adopting transparent and actionable antiracist policies (and the fact that a longtime head of the abuse team who helped draft their abuse moderation bylaws was documentably quite racist herself). And on the one had, like what you brought up about it taking a while for the archive to address the AI issue because of organization size and slow ability to pivot, I can see why it took some time to iron out the code etc for the new block mute functions. But on the other hand, I feel like not much else has happened, and more volunteers are coming forward about it having been a kind of catty and clandestinely bullying environment. Since you’ve been active for a long time and run an (albeit much smaller) archive of your own (pun, haha), I was wondering if you had any thoughts on this. And if there’s anything unique or cool in the SWG bylaws or structure to either prevent this sort of 1) buildup of crappy user behavior and 2) insular and punitive moderator culture, or if you’ve dealt with anything similar on the site etc etc. and maybe if you have any advice for folks who want to open their own archive or who just mod a large discord etc etc.

Oh yes, anon, I have tons of thoughts and ideas, and thank you for these wonderful questions! <3

First of all ...

ao3’s glacial pace

I recently wrote about the OTW’s fumbling of the AI issue and compared change on a large organization to port-rounding the Titanic. The AI issue is an apt illustration of that. In the time it took for the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild to 1) decide we needed an AI policy, 2) write said AI policy, 3) open it for public commentary, and 4) research how to block and then implement blocks on AI scrapers to the best of our abilities (since this will never be 100% since not all scrapers follow the rules), the OTW managed to ... assure a distressed membership base that the thing they were worrying about (AI scraping) had been blocked in December. Why did it take a week just to say, “Hey guys, we actually did this months ago”? When we (with far fewer resources!) took the exact same span of time and managed to write a policy, release it, and research and implement AI bot blocks?

Part of it is that, yes, smaller orgs have the ability to be more nimble. On the SWG, there is me at the helm, three active site mods, and two Discord mods who work on policy, involving volunteers (like our inclusivity focus group) as needed. We generally go with a majority rule, and we’re not bogged down by the legal obligations of a nonprofit as far as our governance. But it also reaches a point where the size of an organization is not the only reason why it can actually get things done, and when it takes a week to offer reassurance to your membership that you have in fact done what they want, it really begs the question of whether that organization is able to effectively function at all.

Without commenting on the viability of the specific demands of @end-otw-racism, they are absolutely right that three years is too long to go without action. That's absurd, and it’s hard to see it as anything but thinking that the right words following George Floyd’s murder were all that would be required and hoping that promises of actual action would be forgotten. Actually, I’m more sympathetic to the time to implement new block/mute code than I am to the failure of the Board to take the promised action against racist harassment within the OTW: the coders are purely volunteer, not elected, and the burnout of “techno-volunteers” is a known reality (e.g., De Kosnik 2016) of running fandom sites because it is a hard job, invisible and unappreciated, and it is never done. I know that I have new features and improvements on my to-do list for the SWG for more than a year now because maintaining the current site and fixing it when it breaks takes priority and a lot of my time. So when coders take a while to get something done? Okay, fair. But the Board? Were the ones who promised action that they don’t seem to have actually intended to take. In even the most cumbersome organization, we should be seeing goals set and progress, in however small steps, being made toward those goals. In three years.

if there’s anything unique or cool in the SWG bylaws or structure to either prevent this sort of 1) buildup of crappy user behavior

I think the OTW/AO3 and the SWG begin from completely different philosophical foundations.

I’ve been in Tolkien fanfic fandom since 2004 and founded the SWG in 2005, so at the risk of being all “I was there, Gandalf” ... I was there when the OTW and AO3 were first being discussed, largely lurking but definitely following the discussions. And I was there for the content purges on LiveJournal and FanFiction.net that precipitated those discussions, and I was a part of fandom when writing adult content--especially LGBTQIA+ adult content--was risky business, both within fandom and “IRL.” From this climate (and the fear it created) came the OTW and AO3: the idea that “we own the servers and run the organization so we can accept everything that is a fanwork on our site,” and fans would no longer need to fear waking up and finding years of their work gone in a single deletion spree motivated by gratifying fans who ascribe to purity culture or advertisers or anyone.

The OTW’s mission, in their own words: “The Organization for Transformative Works (OTW) is a nonprofit organization established by fans to serve the interests of fans by providing access to and preserving the history of fanworks and fan culture in its myriad forms” (emphasis mine). The aim of the OTW (and consequently AO3) is and has always been to archive everything. They are a universal archive on order of Project Gutenberg or Archive.org. The OTW’s FAQ calls AO3 “fandom’s deposit library” (“Is the OTW trying to replace all other archives?”). In other words, the primary purpose is storing as many fanworks as possible, regardless of the content of those fanworks.

Yes, this means the OTW considers AI-generated fanworks as legitimate. Yes, this means that the OTW considers fanworks with blatantly racist (or sexist or homophobic or transphobic or ...) content as legitimate. The parallel I keep drawing is to the ACLU, which prioritizes civil liberties in the same way that the OTW prioritizes fanworks preservation, which leads them to sometimes end up defending reprehensible people and viewpoints (and fanworks). They prioritize a principle above the harm that principle, taken to its logical extreme, could cause to people who are by and large already marginalized in and therefore harmed by society. That is not a critique of either organization, just a statement of fact, and this is where I feel like fans hoping for increased moderation or oversight of fanworks posted on AO3 are banging their heads against the wall. The OTW will never be that place; their very mission and reason for existence forbids it.

The problem is that, for most fans and fandoms, AO3 is their only option as an archive. Which brings me to the SWG ...

The SWG (which opened its archive in 2007, two years before AO3 entered open beta) originated during the same fandom era as AO3. The key difference is that where OTW/AO3 focused on fanworks and the values they embraced around the worth of all fanworks, the SWG focused on people and creating a fandom space that was open, welcoming, and civil. The Tolkien fandom was also a pretty messed-up place at the time. There were dozens of small, Tolkien-specific archives, most of which imposed some sort of content restriction, either in the sense of what they focused on (like the SWG focuses on Silmarillion fanworks) or in excluding certain content, such as adult-rated fanworks or slash. This certainly caused its share of hard feelings but I wouldn’t say was a problem in and of itself: There were so many archives and communities that there was someplace for everyone. The larger issue, from my perspective (as a new Tolkien fan when I started the SWG in 2005) was that bullying and harassment were extremely common in some places; homophobia and misogyny were acceptable under the guise of “canonicity” or “respect for Tolkien”; discussing racism, sexism/misogyny, homophobia, etc. in Tolkien’s works or in the fandom was Just Not Done in many spaces (you’d get pelted with a barrage of Tolkien Couldn’t Have Been Racist/Sexist/Etc. and Here’s Why if you tried); and new fans or fans who didn’t have full access to the texts were looked down upon and mistreated under the pretense of “correcting their canon.” Again, Tolkien fanworks fandom was very large and diverse, so this was certainly not all groups or sites, but it was true of many of the larger ones.

On the SWG, we decided we didn’t want to perpetuate this culture, so we set out to create guidelines (which we call our Site Etiquette) that prioritized civility and inclusivity. Again, we come from the same era of fandom history as the OTW, so we also ended up accepting most fanworks, but where we differ from the OTW and AO3 is that maximizing the fanworks we accept is not our priority. Instead,

Abusive or derogatory behavior will not be tolerated at any time or in any part of the SWG. We do not welcome or allow any content in our group that is designed to be hurtful or insulting.

This has been a part of our Site Etiquette since our archive’s inception, and it has persisted, unchanged, because it easily allows for the exclusion of anything--like the openly racist content identified on AO3 by End OTW Racism--that makes our group a hostile place for our members. We do also put the responsibility on our members to curate their own browsing experience on our archive:

Members are not required to like everyone, but they are required to be civil. If you dislike a fanwork, stop reading it and do not comment. If you dislike another member, do not interact with them.

To that end, we provide a number of warning tags that creators are expected to use (or else label their fanwork “Choose Not to Warn”), which includes a tag for “In-Universe Intolerance.” Unlike AO3, if a fanwork is mislabeled, the mods will work with the creator to assure that it is labeled correctly so that it meets the creator’s needs but also preserves visitors’ rights to curate what they read/view. That doesn’t mean that these systems will be perfectly implemented or will always meet everyone’s needs, but we have found that they generally do, in part because joining the SWG means you are agreeing to participate on an archive where civility and inclusivity are primary values.

Implied in all of the above but important to state, too, is that the SWG is a moderated community and site. We do not review everything posted to our site, but we will respond to “flags” or other reports of fanworks that violate our site guidelines, and on our Discord and other community spaces, we do hold our members to our standards around civility and inclusivity. We do address member behavior (mostly on our Discord) that creates a hostile culture, and we do ban members who demonstrate that they are unwilling to work on culling that behavior from their interactions on our spaces. That is not a preference and it is thankfully rare when we have to do so, but again, it becomes an option when you’re not looking at a person’s participation as the creation of a valuable cultural artifact that you are obligated to preserve but in terms of its impact on others who share those community spaces with them.

2) insular and punitive moderator culture

I honestly don’t see this as able to become an issue on a small site the way it appears to have become on the OTW.

By that, I don’t mean that small sites are incapable of having leadership who are cliquish, punitive, abusive, unresponsive, or any of the other charges levied against members of the OTW Board and leadership. However, the impact on a smaller site is much different than on a larger site: It’s easier for members to walk away.

There were definitely dysfunctional sites and groups in the Tolkien fanworks fandom’s history. What tended to happen is ... they didn’t last long. People went elsewhere with their stories and participation (because there were other places to go), the site’s reputation began to precede it so that people avoided it, and eventually it was just the rarefied few who had made it a miserable place to begin with making misery among themselves, which is really an ideal situation, when you really think about it. (In less extreme examples, my fandom history research using data from the Tolkien Fanfiction Survey has shown that users of small Tolkien archives tended to select where they posted on the basis of how the archive’s culture aligned with their own values.)

AO3, on the other hand, has developed a near-gravitational force in the fanworks world. Almost everyone uses it because we’ve reached a point where there are no other options for many fans. If you are in one of the few fandoms (like Tolkien) that still has independent archives, you can go there. If you can meet the content guidelines of FanFiction.net or Wattpad, those become options. But for many, AO3 is it. I guarantee there are many people right now, looking on at what is happening on the OTW with dismay, interested in at least crossposting elsewhere, but who have no place to go.

No one needs the SWG in the way that that need AO3; it is an “only option” for no one. Therefore, my comods and I, by necessity, have to create a site and community that people want to be a part of, and part of that (for us) is through our leadership: hearing and responding to our members’ needs, inviting member input wherever possible in our decision-making process, and being transparent in our decisions.

And again, so much of this comes back to our intentional work to create a community culture of civility and inclusivity and the fact that people who join us generally value those things as well. The SWG is a community archive, not a universal archive (to borrow De Kosnik’s terminology); it derives from our community values, collectively agreed upon, not the prioritization of massing as much relevant content onto our servers as possible in the interest of preservation and legitimization. (I have had, several times, conversations with people that led with, “I need you to consider if the values of this group are a good fit for you,” which is not a conversation that could happen on AO3, with its different goals.) Because we all agree on these central values when beginning our work, all of us--members and moderators alike--can generally work together to achieve our goals. That doesn’t mean that we always agree! The recent discussion of our AI policy is an example of discussions that got pretty intense at times. But I saved each of the three drafts of the policy as it evolved via the Wayback Machine, and those red comments at the top? Were by and large based on member contributions during the two-week discussion period. They, not the mods, were the reason the document ended up as complete and good as it was. But again, this can be done on a group that has, at most, several dozen active, participating members at one time. It is not possible on a site the size of AO3.

And again, if I disappointed the expectations of the SWG members? I know they would go elsewhere, and that is a pretty strong motivator to keeping them at the forefront of every decision I make.

if you have any advice for folks who want to open their own archive or who just mod a large discord etc etc.

I do! I wrote about the tech side of starting an archive here. Unfortunately, it’s pretty bleak right now, but I have hope that that could change. My exhortation to those dissatisfied with what’s going on with the OTW right now is to consider supporting small fandom sites and web development projects in any way you can, whether that’s donating money, providing tech skills or otherwise volunteering, or just making sure that you signal-boost and promote these projects when you can. (Seriously, when I see people link to a fanwork on the SWG instead of AO3, I want to send them a Valentine.) I am now less than three weeks from summer break and plan to spend that summer break trying to make the tech options less bleak. Watch this space.

As far as the non-tech side, I’d suggest first of all deciding who you want to be. What are your values? As I’ve said at several points in this (very long) post, the SWG values civility and inclusivity. We look at everything through that lens. That doesn’t mean that moderation decisions are made easy, but they are certainly made easier and more consistent/fair.

Once you know your values, be clear in what you expect from members/participants and hold them to it. Writing conduct guidelines is hard and is usually an ongoing process, but it is time well spent and, if done conscientiously, makes running a site or community much easier. It can be easy to be overwhelmed by a sense of urgency (“we needed to build this yesterday!!”) but spending a bit of time on this step will save you time and headache later.

Next: Moderation is not a dirty word. We, as Fandom, have gotten so used to these large, sprawling spaces like AO3 and Tumblr that are essentially unmoderated that we’ve forgotten that there was a time in the not-so-distant past where moderation was the norm. Again, that is not a panacea--there were plenty of awful “moderated” communities--but if you moderate with your community values and expectations in mind, you begin to build the culture you want to see.

Probably the biggest piece of advice I have is to think hard on the question: Do you really want to do this? Running a website or even a large community is a commitment. I do not have biological children, but I have pets and I have been a foster parent, and do you know what is the closest to a parenting commitment that I have? The SWG.

It is a lot of work, the work is often hard, it is usually thankless or invisible, and the buck stops with you. There is no higher-up to pass a responsibility off to. I have lost many evenings and days off to issues that arose out of nowhere with the site and that it was my responsibility to fix. Not gonna lie, that can be a bummer, and it’s worth asking if you’re up for it. A lot of small Tolkien archives died because of a combination of AO3, the ending of Yahoo! Groups, and plain loss of interest in those in charge of running them. This has contributed to the situation we are now in, where AO3 is the only option for many people, who are now not sure that they want all of their eggs in that basket, and yet here we are. Just like it’s 2008 again, and we’re wringing our hands over the lack of viable choices.

So just like taking on any large commitment, make sure you have what supports you need in place (who can help you? who would you rely on as a comod or coadmin? what are your limitations and how can you account for those in your plans?), do your due diligence to set your values and expectations, and then ... you do it.

Remember, it can be done. Many, many fans have done it before, and we can do it again.

#the otw mess #small archives #this post is long af sorry

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