#best have had chronological dash on for this
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#falling for you#you’ve reached the end of this line#best have had chronological dash on for this#let’s see if I can pull it off#superman#clark kent#the adventures of Superman#issue 439#illustrated by#jerry ordway#it’s very good
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How to Get a Chronological Dash as a New Blog
I've been working on a Tumblr Roleplaying 101 guide, and in doing so wound up making a brand new Tumblr account for some screenshots. And this process made me realize how weirdly complicated Tumblr has made it for new accounts to get a chronological dash. So if you just want to see posts from people you follow, in the order that they made them, this what you have to do.
First, go to your settings, go under Dashboard, and scroll down to Preferences. Toggle off Best Stuff First. This switches your dash from an algorithm feed to a chronological one.
If you have an older blog, that's all you have to do. But if your blog was created more recently, you have an extra step.
The Tumblr dashboard has different tabs, which you can see across the top of your feed. Most older users have completed tuned these out, because we don't care about anything other than the basic feed. There is a Following tab, which shows posts from users you follow, and a For you tab, which shows recommend posts Tumblr thinks you'll like.
On blogs created before May 8, 2023, the Following tab is the default view. However, blogs created after this date have the For you tab as the default view. (This is an intentional change by Tumblr.)
This means if you are a newer blog and want to see posts from people you follow, you'll need to manually switch to the Following tab every time you open the dashboard.
If you do not like this change, consider contacting Tumblr staff. Submit a form under the Feedback category and explain that you'd like the option to make the Following tab the default for new blogs. And please, be polite! There is a person on the other side of the screen who likely had no say in this change, and even if they did, they don't deserve to be yelled at.
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|| Honeymoon ||
-THE 60’s- A Sky High Lovin fic
Authors Note: Here at last is the long promised second installment of my Elvis Mile High Club fics, :) As this series is an anthology and not chronological, there are multiple references to the persona and style of 60’s Elvis where the other was of Big Daddy
Summary: If weddings are for the bride then it suggests that Honeymoon’s are for the groom -a stupid cliche you had dismissed until your dashing groom proves a little inexorable in his intent to “educate” his new bride on the long Learjet flight to Honolulu
Warnings: 18+ (sex, dubious consent) I am about to possibly over exaggerate these cautions but I find it necessary, particularly for anyone who is used to reading my work because this is by far the most dubious consent piece I ever ever written and the theme is entirely narratively sympathetic to entitled husbands and female objectification. So, as it’s me, of course there’s love and tenderness but it’s also got -repeatedly denied requests to stop during sex, innocence kink, possible male enjoyment of a recent virgin’s discomfort, nasty baby talk, worry about a man being unfaithful if you deny him, talks of teaching you how to take him, (possible grooming?!) assumed husbandly entitlement to a wife’s body, archaic views on gender roles… y’all, I ripped off Pricilla and went full Lana Del Rey and glorified breaking a woman into her husbands tastes, like, that’s the theme and it’s reveling in it so, enjoy but heads up 🥂 I’m a sucker for Elvis acting like an animal while talking like a true southern gentleman, so here we all are. Proceed at your own discretion
Copious thanks and credit for numerous lines and suggestions to my incredible coauthor @eliseinmemphis
There’s something very salacious in the simple act of walking across the tarmac amidst a swarm of reporters clicking away with their cameras, ready to print the image of your little figure pressed against his side, images for all the world to look at and know what occurred to you last night.
What you two did. How he made you his. On your wedding night.
He made you a woman, his woman and the whole world knows it now. There’s something so damn dirty about this, even -or perhaps because- of how traditional it is. The ring sits with a comforting weight on your finger as he holds your hand, and your belly aches from your husband drawing his pleasure from your virgin body, your thighs trembling as you try your best to keep up with his long strides in your kitten heels. It’s so proper, it’s everything he ever wanted, and it makes your cheeks burn beneath the generous layer of makeup.
He looks painfully handsome and happy this morning, impeccably polished in the bright sunshine and you wonder at his duality. The way he can clean up and regain his proud suavity when last night you had seen him mussed, tremblingly tender and near unhinged in his passion while consummating your union. A dab of pomade, a double breasted jacket and his wife’s little hand in his -he’s utterly in possession of himself now and is the fuckin’ American dream incarnate right in this moment.
He’s very proud as he introduces you to some of the familiar press faces, and very gallant as he guides you up the few steps into the Learjet, broad palm searing your lower back and you wish you two could have remained tangled up in sheets, honeymoon and travel arrangements abandoned indefinitely. Just you and him floating together in a sky of crisp sheets and tangled limbs.
The photographers crowd in after you, soaking up the shy way you cuddle in close as he tucks you into his side, sympathetic to your own desire to be alone but too happy to begrudge anyone a glimpse at his little prize. Uhem, bride. The amount of satisfaction he finds in you is palatable to all here, his arm around you holds you close and grounds you even as his face splitting grin proclaims that you were a tight but obedient fit last night.
Your eyes burn you’re blushing so hard and that makes him grin harder and it’s pavlovian that smile, you can’t help but grin back, harder and crinklier than his and that stokes his joy further and soon y’all are giggling over memories the photographers will never be privy to. Those are yours, frantic and tender and aching.
Even the ever hungry photographers are glutted by the loved up display you give them, and soon they are departing and the plane door is shut. Then it’s goodbye America, off to Honolulu.
The tiny jet crew and the couple of boys from his paired down entourage settle into their seats as the jet roars down the runway and lifts off, effortless, soaring and sleek. Beside him you are restless, shifting and jittery on the leather seat, though he is gratified to see the demure way you cross your ankles and the ladylike poise of your spine even surrounded by the comparative privacy. His perfect southern Belle, whose every thought and action and word is to reflect well upon him and keep his name from disrepute, he couldn’t have chosen better. Your mouthwatering submission last night proved it.
You squirm again. Maintaining the modest coverage of your pretty little shift dress, the one accented with navy bows that coordinate with his suit, requires you to keep your upper thighs pressed together tightly, squeezing the bruise of your freshly opened little flower as it pulses distractingly, as if in flustered shock at its sudden required usage. Throbbing, sticky and hot.
“What’s my lil lady doin all that fidgetin for, hmm?” he asks you, tone solicitous but his eyes glint, “Plush leather seats not soft enough for my baby’s bottom?”
You startle and blush, just as he knew you would, and it’s adorable really, the way you can still be bashful after months of foolin and despite the recent intimacy of the night before. And it’s downright precious that you are so sore and achy after he had been so painstakingly gentle when he took you. You had no clue how sweet he’d been, the amount of self sacrifice he had shown in his languid slide and shallow thrusts, tender kisses and gentle grip. Resolutely holding back the absolute wreckage he could unleash on your poor, widdle unsuspecting cunt.
“Just excited.” your body vibrates as you shake your arms to highlight your explanation, gesturing to the wide blue sky out your window and the decadent interior of the jet.
He grins down at you and kisses your cheek, reaching for the seatbelt fastened at your lower belly and he flicks it open with his thumb, the heat of his hand branding you like an iron for the brief contact. “Lemme show ya round then, baby.”
He folds your hand in his again and weaves you down the aisle between the padded seats and towards the back of the plane, the occasional stray crew member meekly ducking towards the cockpit. You two pass the music lounge with its built-in piano and electric fireplace, then the kitchenette with its circular bar and spherical burst of lights coming out of the wall like cascading planets, back towards the little bedroom. You marvel at the designs, the colors, the unabashed wealth of it all floating thousands of feet above solid earth.
Happy and giddy you tuck into his side and he holds you close, arm snug around your waist, satisfied to show his little wife all he has to offer her.
“Y'know,” he serves as your guide, supplying details and anecdotes, most of which you already know but would listen to, enraptured a thousand times to keep him free and easy with his conversation, “Frank n' i didn't really get along when i first started out. ‘Said my music was brutal n' ugly. But we get along now. met 'im in person right after i met you. Reckon' ya rubbed off on me 'cause now we're good friends n’he lent us this jet to defile as we saw fit." his tongue pokes between his teeth, amused at himself and you find there is something cutely self-deceptive about his rare fits of humble bragging. “He’s got a mirror down here, nice big ole Broadway style vanity with it, bright lights n’low counter.” you’re far back into the plane now, he holds back a dividing curtain and you step into the little hallway dressing room right in front of the inauspicious bedroom door, “Frank uses this setup to primp before goin down the ramp to meet fans or shovin off for the next concert, reckon it’ll serve for the lesson I wanna show ya.”
Curious as to his plan, you look to him, both his image reflected in the huge, bare bulbed mirror and his own dear face beside you, more than a little pleased to see what a striking couple you make in the reflection, with his tailored suit and your chic smock, an IT couple without a doubt. It makes you feel pretty, wanted, a little proud maybe. That you won out of all those other hopeful girls. He sees your pleased expression in the mirror, the way your hip cocks and your expression morphs to your best kittenish smile. You’re preening. You think you’ve made it, think you’re at the summit of what life can offer and he may be partial but he thinks you wear smugness rather cutely. Makes him wanna shake ya up, rumple you a little, remind you who gave you all this. That your new image and importance and identity are due to being Mrs Presley.
He scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around your belly and pulling you close to him, his chin settles atop your head. “Likin what you see?” he asks slyly, staring at the reflected image that will be on every magazine and newspaper tomorrow, the King of Rock n Roll and his perfect little darling who thinks she’s a woman now that she took cock once.
He runs his hands along your body, broad palms gathering then smoothing out puckers and rolls in the fabric of your dress as he follows the curve of you, breast to thigh and back up, then back down, further this time. He squats a little behind you and his clever fingers hook in your hem line and begin to draw it up, little by little exposing more and more leg in the mirror.
“Oh, no I-“ your hand flys to the apex of your thighs, pressing the fabric against you and keeping a covering there as his gathering has pulled your dress nearly to your little secret place, “what are you doin Elvis?” you ask, a little unsure and bashful of him exposing you in this somewhat public place, even if the crew is nowhere to be seen and the curtain is drawn.
It’s obscene to rumple up the perfect couple, all the starch and pomade that make Elvis Presley and his new bride the envy of the world. And it’s worrying. He does not know you omitted underwear today, the feeling of the fabric chafing and holding in the heat of your tender pussy too much to bear while maintaining a proper face on the tarmac.
“Gonna show ya somethin,” he repeats, eyebrow quirked at your “no” and the nervous way you are almost cupping the last few inches of your dress over your private parts.
He keeps ahold of the fabric he’s gathered up so far and takes to running his knuckles up your side soothingly again, till he notices there’s no band or catch on your hips as he glides up.
“You hidin somethin from me, honey?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the reason for your flaming cheeks, “Keepin secrets from your husband already, denyin him his right?” he tuts and your pretty coal rimmed eyes fly open in denial as you shake your head and pull your hand away. “That's more like it.” He nods approvingly, and ever the showman he waits a minute, building the suspense as his hands continue to map out your clothed body as your breathing quickens. In the mirror both your eyes zero in on the barely hidden triangle between your legs. Then with a flourish and flick of his wrist he swoops the hem up and a rush of cold air hits your exposed pussy. You slump into him and await his verdict. “Darlin, what’s this?“ he asks you gravely, his eyes very dark in the mirror and there you are, pristine up top and entirely bare below, it’s -vulgar. Vulgar and salacious with a fully suited man behind you shaking his head in disappointment that you’d be so careless on your first day as Mrs Presley, risking flashing the photographers or the flight crew because you were too delicate to stand a little fabric. He expects more of you, and he knows you know that.
You mix your explanation with your apology, looking like an eager to please little foal on shaky legs, and he accepts it with another tut and a hum as he rolls your dress up methodically until its bulk is beneath your armpits. The shame you feel in being so exposed is your own fault, your own doing, you know that.
If you’d obeyed you would currently have some demure scrap of silk covering you in the full glare of the showbiz mirror. But now you are bare to his blazing eyes. Your handsome new husband inspects you closely in the mirror, his ringed fingers trailing over your hips and over your belly, swooping up your ribs and tickling the underside of your breasts. Back down he goes, hands gliding and palms warm and broad, spanning much of your abdomen in his reach, down and down till he is petting your mound. Your arms dangle listlessly at your sides, entirely unsure what your part in this is, except to submit to whatever he wishes.
“You say your lil pussy is tenda, hmm?” he understands your motive now, and coos solicitously over your discomfort, even as he smirks at the notion you’re sore from that pathetically gentle love making. It snaps something primal deep inside him, or at least, he thinks that’s what made the decision for him, the decision to enlighten you that last night may have been real nice, but it weren’t typical. He can’t have a wimpy wife, he knows you’re made of tougher stuff, just needs to be coaxed out of you. “A little discomfort ain’t no reason for ya to risk showin the world Mrs. Presley’s goods, is it?” he observes and you nod in abashed agreement.
“No it isn’t,” your tone is fervent and you are so eager to make amends, “I’m sorry Elvis, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll do better.”
“I expect you to.” he says, not unkindly but you gulp and nod anyway, unmoored by his effortless authority. “Now, let’s see about this lil owie, hmm? Spread your legs for me, c’mon wider, that’s a good girl.”
You moan as his hand engulfs you’re throbbing heat, cupping the wounded little place and pressing it firm but gently with his palm. He can feel the thud of your heartbeat down there and the sticky proof of your excitement at just being near him. There’s heat pouring out from you too, a lotta heat. Half of it arousal no doubt, but it’s angry down there like a woman gets during her menses. Puffy and sweltering against his palm.
It’s gonna feel indescribably good around his cock.
“Now we’ve opened ya up,” he explains softly in your ear, “she’s gonna get all fussy down there if she’s left empty for too long.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror with a worried look, unconvinced that emptiness is at all the cause of your discomfort. You feel like something got rearranged down there and needs to be left to mend itself in peace. Preferably in a hot bubble bath. The one luxury this floating palace doesn't have.
“You trust me, don’t ya?” he asks your fretful expression proddingly, “Don’t want ya to close back up all th’way. Go too long and then we’d be starting from scratch each time, you understand baby?”
That does make sense. You swallow your fear and shake your head agreeably. Why shouldn’t you?
He was so tender last night, so romantic and gentle and chivalrous. He had kissed away all your fear and worry into the fluffy bed, sending you careening into bliss and flinging you up to the stars before gently pressing in when you least expected it. It had hurt then, sure, a little pinch and an uncomfortably full feeling he helped soothe by tilting your hips with a courteous pillow beneath them.
Making love had been nice, unexpectedly nice.
And better yet had been the sight of your gorgeous groom, shaking in effort to hold back his vigor as he worked himself in and out above you, gentle and kind, slowly losing a grip on his decorum and letting out sounds of pleasure and praise. There had almost been a whine on his lips as he stalled suddenly and clung to your shoulders and spilled inside you, cementing your union. It had made you feel gloriously happy, and a little smug to see him come undone from the feeling of being inside you.
He earned your trust.
“I understand.” you assure him, the little kisses he is pressing to your neck making you brave. You’d like to see him come undone again. If that means he has to go inside you again then you’ll accept that. Maybe he was right last night, maybe it’ll be even better today.
“That’s my good baby.” he praises you, pleased and handsome over your shoulder, “Gonna turn you into the best little wife the world has ever seen.” he starts to drag his fingers through your bruised petals and you make a ugly little grimace at the soreness before seeing how unpretty it looks in the mirror, consciously changing your expression to demure acceptance. The shiny pink of your lipstick highlights the baby doll serenity of your gentle smile.
“Take me to bed, please, Elvis.” you try to play along with him, desperate to show him your excitement and desire to please.
“Aww now, we’re not goin’ to bed this time, darlin, we’re gonna have a lil lesson so you ain’t in the dark bout marital duties and all that.”
You stiffen in his arms, confused and wary. He keeps nuzzling at your cheek and neck. You had anticipated that there might be adventurous trysts once married, sure. He had proven himself fond of messing with you outside the bedroom during your courtship, fingers playing with you under tables and in hotel elevators. You had prepared for him gently making love to you on a picnic blanket under a Hawaiian moon. Maybe in the tub, or heavens -perhaps the kitchen if he was ravenous. But you’re concerned now that you haven’t grasped his entitlement fully, you’re still trying to understand what he means by “lesson” and why he led you to this vanity. You have a shaky feeling that your embarrassment at being flashed in front of the mirror is about to pale in comparison to what he has planned.
His hand goes from petting your sticky folds to rubbing and swirling, calloused fingertips worrying your bud till you’re nearly keening in enjoyment. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes in a minutes. You keep watching his face as his expression goes from intent to hungry, watching himself fiddling down there with your pink petals as he gets you primed. Primed for the two insistent fingers that plunge into you with no warning. It’s easier this time, having had a coke bottle up there, even just once, did the trick, his fingers meeting far less resistance than last night. He’s made his mark, claimed ya and stretched ya. Never the same again.
His movements burn for you, tugging and persistent as they are and you wince, can’t help it with the way his elegant digits are caressing your sore walls at a foreignly fast pace. You hope that maybe not looking at the rough act will ease your discomfort, like looking away from the needle poke when giving blood helps you keep from getting queasy. The sounds though, wet and squelching, are unmistakable despite the hum of the jet's engines. You watch his face, hoping he’ll look up and meet your eyes, but he’s transfixed by the sight in the mirror of his fingers disappearing into you.
“Gimme your hands, baby.” his sudden instruction startles you as you had flown far away in your mind, trying to reconcile the conflicting amounts of embarrassment and arousal you feel under his heated scrutiny. Who knew married life would cause such a upheaval inside?
“Yes sir.” you present them palms up, and he jerks his chin,
“Now baby, listen, you’re gonna replace my hands while I get myself ready, alright, gonna keep my progress for us. C’mon, hand on each side, pull your lips apart, gonna spread your snatch nice n wide so you can really see the mechanics of the thang. The act.”
The act? What act - you figured if this was going to happen to you at the vanity he would spin you around and set you on the counter, take you kindly as you sat. He had licked you in a movie set bathroom like that one time. Your brain scrambles in confusion and panic, supplying the only familiar acts and positions you’ve tried so far. A man can’t take a woman standing, he can’t, it wouldn’t fit, or at least, it wouldn’t be nice, surely and he wouldn’t be anything but nice-
“Now,” he’s speaking up again, “squeeze your arms a lil, gotta keep your dress nice and clear of the exhibit, ok?” he snickers at the way your dress is bunched beneath your underarms.
You make a respectful noise of acknowledgment, too nervous to say more. Your folds are puffy and slippery beneath your numb fingers as you pull your labia apart like he instructed. This feels new, keeping clothes on while being intimate. It feels…irreverent and dirty somehow. Just like standing here, your whole reflection lit brilliantly and his eyes still glued to that place between your legs.
You watch him pull away from behind you and start to methodically undo the buttons of his double breasted suit jacket, sliding it off his lean arms and folding it carefully over a towel rack, “Ya see, darlin,” he explains, as he undoes his cuff buttons and starts to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “it's only proper you know what it looks like when we're joined together. I’ve got no desire to keep ya in the dark bout somethin God says is a good thing. This isn't the olden days, I don't mind having an enlightened sorta gal. So long as you don’t turn into the bra-burning sort of enlightened.”
He meets your eyes then as he gives you a look from under his lashes, admonishing you to stay away from such nonsensical, feministic, man-hating company as his deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks and he pulls himself out, weeping, thick and ready. You had no idea he was already so fully excited, your legs begin to tremble anew. He looks larger like this, somehow, all poshly dressed and admirably sauve in the mirror as his cock juts out of his tailored slacks, a single indecorous vulgarity marring his pristine Ken Doll image.
You flush red hot at the sight of him
lazily pumping himself as he saunters back to you, his hand yanking and pulling to chub himself up and then a thumb swirling around the uncut tip. He’s leaking and messy already, a profusion of precum wetting his hand and you give a silent prayer of thanks that at least he will add to the slick, hopefully ease the slide.
He doesn’t waste time with romance, he takes his place again behind you and this time you feel him sliding between your cheeks and then your legs, the feel of his open fly and belt against your bare butt. Due to your obediently spread lips, it’s perfectly visible when he slides through your folds and pokes out the other side, a pink, blunt, oozing cockhead playing peek-a-boo in your garden. He bumps your clit again and again with it until you are huffily shivering in his arms.
“Elvis are you really gonna-“ you can’t bear the suspense of it, you have to ask him his intentions, if he really means to make love to you standing up.
“-really gonna fuck my new wife in front of this state of the art mirror?” he laughs, thinking he knows what your quibble is, “Goddamn right I am, be a crime to not avail ourselves of the experience.”
He punctuates his enunciated vocabulary with rough thrusts against your bud that have you shaking and coming…just a little. Just enough for him to be sure you’re ready to take him.
“Fuck me?” you repeat in a panicked whisper, “B-b-but I’m your wife, Elvis!” you object, wounded.
He gets confused, stalling with his hand as he lines himself up with your freshly excavated entrance, “Whadda ya mean, honey?” he asks kindly, reaching around to tilt your chin towards him, but you sense that there’s an impatient edge to it.
You tearfully explain to him how your mother and other women have told you very explicitly you that men don’t fuck their wives. They make love to them. You are very adamant regarding it, and he ought to know better.
“Why baby, that’s the single greatest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” he declares in fond amusement, smooching your tear stained cheek and resuming his rutting through your folds, “You gonna trust some ole ninnies over your husband? Baby, I gave ya a real nice wedding night cause I love ya and you’re my special girl and I thought it your due, but I ain’t gonna be saddled with a wife who can’t meet my needs when I need a quick fuck, ya hear me? Case in point is now, my dick’s about to fall off from all this chit chat.”
You suppose there’s a great deal about marriage that is far more complicated than movies and books and Sunday potlucks led you to believe. It’s hard balancing how to please your husband as you ought with retaining some dignity that will make him respect you. You can’t imagine Elvis ever not respecting you, it’s too ingrained in him and what he wants isn’t to humiliate you, it’s what he needs to be satisfied. And you so badly want to keep him satisfied, you know deep down you’d do unspeakable things to keep his attention on you, perhaps that is where your shame comes from. It’s less about his expectations and more about the fact you’d throw away all your mother’s teachings before causing him to go elsewhere for comfort and acceptance.
You turn your head to him and pucker your lips for a kiss of acquiesce, which he obliges. His hand is still firm on your jaw as he deepens it, and it’s heady and passionate and loving and -he’s breaching you suddenly. A squat and flex and tilt of his hips and then he’s snagged your hole and he is pressing up and up and up and you whine into his mouth as his foreskin rolls back in your canal, an extra friction against your raw walls.
“Elvis!” you beg, breath caught in your throat at the burning sting of him as your hand flies up to clutch at his arm, secure around your hips, “its it’s-” you flounder with a word to adequately describe the delicious pain of it as he goes deeper.
He mouths messy and moaning at your neck and you can feel his belly shaking against your lower back, his cock twitching at the feeling of getting dipped in your silky channel. It makes you cringe in discomfort.
“You’re so goddamn perfect and warm as anythin,” he praises in a slur of kisses and moans as he flexes up and up.
The farther in he goes the more it loses any snuggly quality and instead feels rather like getting slowly impaled. You shift your stance in front of the mirror, legs spreading of their own accord and eyes squeezed shut in concentration at just trying to breathe. It goes on forever and you start to try to go up on your tip toes, to get away from it, from him, to lessen the fullness and the deepness of his assault somehow. He persists. You try to scramble up him, leveraging your weight on his forearm till your little feet are nearly off the jet floor.
His answering chuckle vibrates your back, “Looks like you’re tryin to learn how to levitate, honey.”
You scramble harder in a vain attempt to get taller, to elongate your poor vagina somehow, to keep him shallow
“T-that’s all I can take, Elvis” you try to tell him when he’s only over half in.
It's an honest declaration, to your hyperventilating self he feels impossibly big and certainly every bit as deep as it felt last night when he took you discreetly beneath the sheets in the good ole fashioned missionary position.
Your eyes widen as he doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on, as your breaths get more panicked, shallower with each inhale, on the verge of a panic attack until he stalls and starts to pet your belly and kiss your cheek in an effort to bring you back down. “Breathe babydoll, breathe for me. Calm down, satnin, you took this all last night. you can do it again, I knows ya can.”
You've long ago started to whimper when he didn’t listen, half in pain and half in fear that he isn’t stopping, that he isn’t being as nice as he was last night. Why isn’t he stopping? oh why, why, “I can’t, I think I’m not made for it.” you wail as you writhe helpless in his arms, a pounding ache between your legs and a strange flutter in your chest.
“No, no, don’t say that baby, please don’t say that, you’re perfect baby, just perfect.” he pleads a little frantic, rubbing his lips along your cheekbone to collect your tears, “Only need a lil breakin in is all, this won’t always be so rough. I’ll fix ya honey, I’ll make it better. Don’t you go objectin’ to the heavenly proportions God gave ya, or what he gave me neither. We were made for each other.”
Hearing the tender worry in his voice soothes you, even more than his comforting touches, knowing he isn’t indifferent to your struggle, he just wants what’s best for you as any good teacher would. You take a breath, a large breath and it feels like it made him sink deeper somehow. You bite back a sob.
“You can do it.” he says in your ear, his voice shaky from how badly he needs to be moving inside you, “Please baby, let me in, I’m hurtin’ real bad, if you could just see lil elvis you’d feel so bad for the poor guy. Let him in, you can take it, let him in, let him in his lil house. That’s it, that’s it just a little bit more.”
The man lied. There was nothing “little” about the more he gives you when he bucks up that last bit and buries himself fully inside, balls snug against your butt.
“Oh, i’hurts.” you moan, tears leaking through your clenched eyes, smearing your immaculate cat eye. “hurts -I-I can’t, Elvis.”
“You can.” he declares firmly, trying so hard to stay in control, to gather the last shreds of his gentlemanliness, “More like -you *are* doing it. Look, come on. Baby! I said look! Open those eyes and watch how well you’ve taken me.”
You pry your clumping lashes apart and slowly your eyes drag from the reflection of your faces pressed together, down to your breasts where his hand is crushing a velvet bow in his grip, down your belly to to his forearm barred around your hips. Down to that place where you join.
“Where’d lil Elvis go, hmm?” He teases like you’re playing hide and seek, and you let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes at his babying tone, “Where'd he go, darlin? Oh, there he is,” he pulls out a tiny bit so the pink veiny length of him peaks out from between your lips, “there he is -wait where’d he go?”
“Elvis. Stop. Stop, that’s so dumb.” you beg through your sniffling giggles, the fiery stretch of him temporarily forgotten.
He laughs at your embarrassment and pulls out further this time, then snaps his hips back up to the hilt of him, drawing a pained cry from you “Who’s my bestest girl, hmm? who’s that? Shhh, shhh, Das you ain’t it? Look at’chue, doin so well. I need ya to stand straight baby, let those heels touch down. I mean it, plant your feet, don’t cry about it, no reason to cry, you gotta relax.”
You’ve heard him use the same tone of voice when helping Red’s puppy get a burr out of its paw. Pitifully you obey him, planting your feet and it feels like you’re riding a telephone pole, the way he’s stiff and unyielding, deep inside you, plumbing the depths of your belly.
“That’s more like it.” he hums in throaty appreciation of the snug fit of you, “Alright now, ‘member the job I gave ya?” he reminds gently as he starts to thrust slow and deep, watching as your face crumples in grief, “Hold yourself open baby, it’s very important you watch this, I need ya to understand you’re perfect for this, gotta let go of ma arm, c’mon now.” he pries your grip from his forearm and brings your hand back down to your puffy heat, “Spread yo’self.” his accent deepens as your body struggles to take him, clenching around him in an effort to expel him, and only serving to make him moan in bliss. “Look a’that.” he marvels, sounding utterly worshipful of the way the glistening pink length of him slowly comes into view, then slowly disappears -absorbed inside you, your painfully stretched little hole fluttering hopelessly at each dragging inch of him.
“It still really hurts.” you observe childishly through gritted teeth, your pained body fighting the fuzzy headed arousal you feel while watching the obscene display of him sliding in and out of you for a few languid grinds.
“That’s cause you’re so tense, loosen up baby, -actually, here.” he shuffles you forward and you make a reckless sound of disgruntlement at the feel of him shifting inside you with each baby step, “Here, knee up here.” he hooks his hand beneath your knee and props it up on the counter, somehow making this worse and better all at once with the new angle.
“Ow, oh god, you said it would get better.” you accuse, biting your lip in savage self reprimand after it. Foolish girl, to risk making him unhappy and frustrated, stoking his wandering eye.
“It will, dammit, it will. I'm gonna need you to hang in there and play with your lil button till it does, alright? Bout to burst back here with all this startin and stoppin.”
“Ok.” you whisper, feeling a little more steady with the firm counter beneath your knee, opened up a little for the intrusion of him.
He pats your hips and presses an appreciative kiss behind your ear, nearly drunk off your sweet little struggle to be good for him. It makes his heart soar and fills him with wild wants, makes him reckless, and a little mean somehow, like crushing rose petals to gain the scent.
“Now, I know I made love to ya last night, darlin,” he pets the bulge of his cock in your belly and you shudder in anticipation, “cause that’s what weddin nights are for, but now you’re a wife proper you gotta learn how to take cock without so much whinin and clingin, alright? Made ya a woman, didn’t I? so do me proud, act it.”
With this emboldening commission he presses one more kiss to your neck before pulling out before driving in, hard. And then he does it again, and again and again at a pace you’ve seen him maintain on stage but never, never imagined him using with you, against you, it feels like.
You shriek and your knee slides further apart with the violent rocking, trying with terrible desperation to find solace and feminine satisfaction in the guttural groans and huffed out praises your husband vents as he takes what he needs, flaming eyes glued to the mirror and the place where he plunders you.
You are really trying, it just hurts so damn much.
You know you’re lucky, you cling to that even as he spears your cervix again and again with gusto that suggests your panicked clenching is the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’ve heard from other women, older women trying to counsel you, prepare you for what lay ahead, that some husbands didn’t even bother trying to make sure their wives were slick enough. That the dry drag and burn of a man can make the stretch truly unbearable. It keeps you grateful that the lewd sounds now causing you to blush are testament to the flood of slick down there. It keeps you grateful meek even as you wail and smear your makeup with your gasped out shock.
He should slow down, he should moderate his thrusts, cherish his wife. He can see you’re struggling and panting and crying and somehow it’s all just a drug to him, the gorgeous little dolly he crafted so perfectly this morning looking utterly overwhelmed and defiled by his cock. It’s enough to make a man lose his bearings and forget his mama’s teachings on how to treat a lady.
The beast won’t be tamed. And so Elvis Presley begins to babble a stream of apologies as he exerts all the energy of his able body in fucking his young wife, like the deeper and harder he goes the more likely his lil swimmers will have the chance of making themselves a nice comfy home in your sweet womb:
“oh goddamn baby I’d stop if I could, but yer squeezing me like a vice and I just…I just can’t stop baby, be good, be good, don’t cry on me, be good for your husband, baby. You’ll get used to it, we’ll train your pussy baby, just gotta get through these early stages. Early stages and it’s, it’s normal, just a lil skittish is all, ain’t no way god made me want you this bad just for you to be cold. Ain’t no way, I can feel it when you’re dancin to my music, you want it deep, you crave it deep, you were born hungry. Oh goddamn, yes, yes, fuck yes, baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry, yes, keep squeezing me like that …….”
It is not talent on your part, this clenching that has him snarling in rapture with his eyes rolling back in his skull, it’s pure creature instinct, whether trying to expel him, bring him deeper or milk him fast so this agony will end, you don’t know. All you know is that his force is terrifying and you’ve never seen something quite as erotic as the pristinely polished beauty of his face morphing into ravenous determination.
Your panic flares one last time, unwilling to allow yourself to coast into enjoyment of this filthy usage without a fight. “Please, Elvis please -enough!” you gasp, even as something seems to have shifted inside you, a tilt or a nudge, whatever it is, it’s a spark of something dangerous.
“Listen here now,” he pants in frustration, one of his hands leaving your hip to fly down to your clit and rub it viciously, “i don’t have a particular hankerin to pin you down over the tabletop, face down ass up, and make this marriage work but I will if I have to. So be a good girl n’ quit all your whinin, show me some of that grit you show when I’m teachin ya on the mats. Don’t wanna make me do nothin rash, but I ain’t gon’ have my honeymoon ruined cause my wife is insistent on bein’ an obstinate lil’ brat!” his voice his shaking with effort, “now, open ya self up!”
It spooks you, this inexorable side of him, white hot lightening ripping through your nerves. Suddenly you’re alite. Scientists might be quick to give credit to the clever little rhythm his thumb strummed over your clit but till the day you die you will swear it was instinctive obedience that had you spasming and then gushing, suddenly relaxing and drawing him in, pliant and eager. Subdued at last.
“Aww baby, oh baby that’s it, oh thank fuck,” he gasps in relief as he feels the change, “I’ve gotchu, you know I gotchu always, gonna help ya get over that damn hill, gonna drop ya off that cliff gentle like.”
His movements are not gentle, if anything they speed up, but his hands cradle you, his mouth caresses you and he places his own knee beside your own, glued together everywhere except for the snap of his pelvis. There is a razor's edge here, in the sensations his body is drawing from yours, and it is an edge upon which you wobble, tipping now towards pleasure, then pain, then back again to pleasure. It confuses and overwhelms you, makes you moan and keen and beg like an animal in heat, the jet crew and all your ladylike deportment forgotten.
“Oh dear god Elvis, I- oh, oh, please don’t stop!” you’re suddenly shouting in a shocked beg, something irreversible building and this isn’t your standard *nice job buddy that was swell* orgasm approaching, it’s one of the *well done sir, I think I just died there for a minute* variety. It’s shaking, and thrumming and burning up your entire body, suddenly making lyrics to his well worn songs take on an entirely new meaning.
“Lordy mama, tryin to let the whole plane know I’ve broken ya in at last?” he teases, finding it heavenly the way you move with him now in an easy give and take, the smacking of your bum against him and the happy slack of your mouth driving him to madness.
Gone is the suave man of myth and envy, here is an animal instead, mounting and mauling and claiming you with ferocious devotion and you take it like a jerking rag doll, whining in need where you were once whimpering. He’s proud of you. If he had breath to laugh he would at the way you suddenly look dazedly disbelieving in the mirror right before your body seizes up and pleasure annihilates all your senses.
Your legs give out and you slump, having only the vaguest awareness of the fact he’s beginning to grunt and cry out himself, using you like a writhing receptacle, coming unglued behind you as you begin to melt on him like butter. There ain’t much thought or chivalry to the way he grabs at you, a hand beneath each knee and folds you in half, split open in front of the mirror as he ruts every last drop of satisfaction into you. He hears himself hollering as if through a tunnel, something that the fight crew, if asked, would paraphrase as being “oh goddamn, you are more perfect than anything.”
You are numb and pounding down there, the last frantic usage of your pussy an ordeal you endure with cock dumb acceptance. The way his face draws up and crumples shortly after, and then slacks in bliss -it is the single most violently arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed. Feeble as your energy is, you feel a surge of feminine pride at the way he mumbles and moans and finally shakes to a stop.
“That’s it, oh you’re so beautiful.” you moan, watching as his hair falls into his bleary, slow blinking eyes as he comes back to the surface, “And you’re mine.” you sigh, content.
“Mhmm, yours.” he coos, jostling you a little on his cock and he snuggles closer somehow, you think you feel his seed start to dribble out despite the sizable stopper inside you, “Well, bless your heart darling, I’ve got ya folded like a camp chair. Ha!” he gently folds your legs back down, pulling out of you with painstaking gentleness on the way down, “That weren’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?” he teases.
You sway dangerously once placed on your own two feet and you don’t even have the chance to fall, he never lets go before he realizes what’s needed. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you pool back against the mirror, boneless and debauched, legs stuck bow legged from such a long ride and a vividly puffy pussy leaking his seed onto the counter. He tucks himself back in with still shaking hands. He won’t be fully back down to earth till Honolulu’s runway, he thinks. Just in time to carry you off the plane. And begin it all over again.
Married life, he could get used to this.
“It was perfect, you’re perfect.” you slur earnestly as he returns to you and unzips your dress, hauling it over your teased you hair, baring you fully as you sit on the counter, kicking feet thumping against the cabinets in your patten leather heels
“Nah…perfect -that would be you, Mrs Presley.” he kisses you deeply, before taking you in his arms bridal style and carries you into the bedroom, conscious but uncaring that you’re leaking all over his pristine shirt sleeve.
This next part oughta involve washcloths or wet wipes. But that would require leaving your sweet arms and facing a jet crew that just heard him railing his tender young bride.
Yeah, he’ll just use his mouth.
#sky high loving#elvis fanfiction#mine#honeymoon#elvis presley#elvis imagine#austin butler elvis#elvis x reader#elvis x you#elvis smut
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No lengthy preamble here, but this is something I've been curious about for a while. For Reasons.
If you've had multiple accounts on Tumblr over the years but the specific account you're currently using was created after 2017, choose that option.
If you don't know what the Best Stuff First toggle is, it's this guy under your Settings > Dashboard options. Having it disabled (like in this screenshot) means your dash shows you posts in chronological order. If it's enabled, that means you're getting the algorithmic feed.
Bonus points if you share in the tags/comments/reblogs whether you manually selected this setting or just left it on default after you created the account AND how this poll crossed your path (follow me, from a reblog, in the tags, on the For You page, etc.).
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Tumblr tip sheet for twitter refugees
i’ve seen a lot of different advice posts but none that had what i consider all the key advice in one spot, so here we are. long post ahead.
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1. your dash can be put into reverse chronological order and it is a BETTER experience if you do that
Go to your settings -> Dashboard -> Preference
Turn “Best Stuff First” OFF
2. you can (and likely should!) turn off algorithmic content
Under the same menu. Settings -> Dashboard -> Preferences
There are two algorithms on tumblr.
One is “In your orbit” and I fucking hate it. i want to see the content that I like, not that some random person i follow likes. if i wanted to see that content on my dash, i’d follow the people who put it there.
The other is “based on your likes” and it is hilariously bad because if you like a post for something you don’t normally like or follow (e.g., when I watched a new movie and liked one post about it), you’ll suddenly get a dozen posts about that thing and only that thing.
I keep it on because it’s hilariously bad, but i honestly recommend turning it off. it routinely recommends shit to me that i hate and i have to keep telling it that i am “not interested in this post” for things tagged with my nOTP, but until / unless i filter that ship tag out entirely, i will keep being serviced those
3. filtering / blacklisting is your friend
this is true on every platform, not just tumblr. i’m sure veteran twitter users are well-versed in it, but just as a reminder. you will be expected to filter your own content/dash here on tumblr, and if you complain about seeing something that was properly tagged, you will be rightly mocked as a clown.
Settings -> Account -> Content You See
you can filter both tags and post content. There’s a completely innocuous post i absolutely hate that does rounds and is never tagged, and i almost unfollowed a mutual for how much i hate that post and them reblogging it so much. but i typed a specific sentence from that post into the “filtered post content” options and BOOM - haven’t seen it since. glorious.
4. content controls are your friend
under the same “Content You See” menu. You are automatically opted OUT of seeing this stuff, so you MUST opt in to see mature content.
you’ll want to determine your own preferences, but i prefer to see all of the mature content types that may be hit with a community label.
5. long posts are (probably) your friend
tumblr cuts posts over a few lines if you have this turned off, and it’s really annoying and really truncates your experience of the website. THIS is itself a long post!
part of the quintessential tumblr experience is being annoyed by the “do you love the color of the sky” post.
seriously, this isn’t twitter. we aren’t here for 280 character bite-sized posts. i 10/10 recommend keeping long posts on.
Settings -> Dashboard -> Interface
6. blog-specific settings
there is also a menu for additional settings (including updating the appearance etc) for each blog you have (your main, and any sideblogs).
this is near the end of your options under Settings -> Blog Settings (click the individual blog to update)
under your blog settings you can...
- enable your custom theme (which you should! this is turned off for new users but personalizing your page is part of the experience)
- decide if you want people to know what posts you’re liking and who you’re following. i do NOT, so these are off. internet privacy is allowed on tumblr, and don’t let anyone bully you into thinking you need to make everything public for their supervision. consume all the problematic content your little gremlin content desires and tell people to fuck off if they take issue with that.
- determine if and how others can interact with your blog!! there some settings about asks, messaging, tipping (if you’re here to make $$), whether people can even SEE your blog, if it’s searchable, etc. tumblr gives power and control back to the users! use that power!
here, you can specifically set your “Ask” preferences to on or off, and to accept or NOT accept asks from anonymous users / logged out users.
if you’re here to interact with friends or just vibe, or don’t reblog a lot of asks games or encourage anon inbox messages, and/or especially if you’re getting harasment and don’t want to deal with shitty users, it is okay to turn off anons, and i ENCOURAGE you to do so.
i keep it on for my fandom sideblogs and off for my main and this makes me happy. do what makes you happy.
7. etiquette and interface
- change your icon so no one thinks you’re a bot
- reblog posts so your account isn’t empty. also, with algorithmic content turned off by most users, YOU are the algorithm, and interaction on this website is strongly encouraged. making or reblogging posts part of the experience and sort of the whole point
- reblog tagging: individual preferences apply. instead of adding a comment on a reblog, users will often add their thoughts in a tag, if they aren’t specifically looking to engage in a dialogue or add on to the post itself. other users can then decide to copy their tags (often with “prev” for “previous” appended) or even copy/paste them into a comment on their reblog, which is your tags “passing peer review”. people also tag to index posts so their blog is more searchable, and to include trigger warnings and content warnings related to a post. you can also choose to not tag anything. it’s your blog, do what you want.
- tags are how people find new content. if you make a new post and want people to find it, they will be searching the tag related to that content, so tag it accordingly. people can also follow tags and get notifications when new posts are made into that tag.
- do not censor words! this isn’t tiktok or twitter. we say ‘fuck’ and ‘kill’ here. if you write “unalive” or censor swears or triggers, people’s content filters do not work, and you will have undermined their ability to curate their content, moderate their experience, and avoid triggers. don’t do that. just spell out the whole goddamn word, please.
- you can make sideblogs under a single account! this means you have your main, which you interact (like, reply, and follow) from, but which can be used to have a space for all your posts and reblogs on a given topic (fandom, hobby, fixation, whatever). you can also direct message to/from a sideblog and accept asks etc.
- if you use tumblr in your browser, there is an add-on called XKIT. this used to be a tumblr user staple and allowed for a lot of functionality that tumblr didn’t used to have. tumblr has since very much upped their game, but it can still be worth using XKIT if you’re regularly in a browser and not on the app. for example, it includes some ad-blocking capabilities. I use “New Xkit” and have a few personalized settings with it.
- posts go around forever on this site and new memes crop up every day, retreat, and then resurge out of the blue randomly. this makes for tumblr-wide in-jokes that circulate for years, like “do you love the color of the sky” and the “color theory children’s hospital” post. if you don’t get these, you can ask and i’m sure tumblr will deliver, but you can also wait around and follow more people and these will turn up eventually.
- your dash is what you make it. your interaction is what you make it. you have control, you are not at the mercy of algorithms and advertisers if you don’t want to be. paying for ad-free browsing is an option. they even give you the option to toggled your ad settings within ad-free browsing. seriously - you. have. the. control.
this is something that we love about tumblr and one of the things that makes it our hellsite (affectionate) instead of our hellsite (derogatory). if you’re finding your experience to be negative but still want to stick around, i encourage you to block accounts or content that makes you unhappy or anxious, to follow the accounts that bring you joy, and to adjust your settings into whatever makes you happiest and least stressed out.
#tumblr#twitter#twitter refugees#tumblr tips#fellow tumblr veterans what did i miss?#long post#long post for ts#ts was tumblr savior aka an extension from about a decade ago that people used for content filtering#i think before xkit existed?#and some of us still use the 'for ts' tags because people use to blacklist/filter content based on that wording#i guess it's not really needed for long posts anymore since people can turn those off in their dash preferences now#but old habits die hard#anyway this barely touches on the unique tumblr culture but i hope that culture sticks around despite an influx of new users
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a new year's resolution
well, as of 2024 i’ve decided i will no longer be posting on tumblr... this shouldnt be the hugest surprise since ive been pretty critical of staff, the over-monetization of the website, the site culture, and the user experience for the past year and gradually reducing my time spent scrolling the ol’ dashboard- ive even mentioned my intent to eventually leave; well, that eventually is now! gradually ive found myself analyzing the effect that using tumblr for 7+ years has had on me, and the effects of social media in general.
ive never had to write a goodbye letter like this before. while ive joined and left several online platforms over the years, its always been a gradual fade in interest rather than a conscious decision to stop. never have i used a platform as long as ive used tumblr, over 1/3 of my life. ive grown up with tumblr, for better or worse. how do you write a goodbye for that? i guess ill have to try my best. because as important as tumblr was for me, ive recognized the way its hurt me too.
finding other avenues of online self-expression particularly has made me think a lot about this. when i edit my website i feel accomplished, happy, and content, feeling i have put something of myself out into the world, my seed to grow and garden to tend. when i scroll through tumblr i feel as if my brain is mostly idle, and when i do emotionally respond its often out of anger or annoyance, because anger = engagement and social media sites like tumblr WANT engagement. particularly because i have OCD ive found myself upset by certain aspects of tumblr discourse culture, as well- it is basically the Scrupulosity Website and much of the way i react to and interact with media has been colored by my years spent absorbing the viewpoints of said Scrupulosity Website! i even used to look up discourse topics on tumblr just to anger myself on purpose, which is a dangerous road to go down, to build up Enemies and Factions in your mind- this is how discourse culture works. the culture of tumblr teaches you to see the world in black and white, and to feel like youre always in danger of compromising your moral purity or being attacked by the morally impure. If You Don’t Reblog This You Are A Bad Person. even as someone who nowadays tries to stay away from discourse entirely, its still there in the back of my mind, because the way we interact on this website is colored by this. when im online i dont actually want to be angry all the time! in fact i like putting my effort towards more positive stuff. but additionally: tumblr made me unhappy but it also made me an addict
and yeah social media addiction sounds like a silly boomer thing to complain about but one thing i noticed when i started trying to curb my time spent on tumblr was that opening the site was damn near compulsive. we all know those “open tumblr, close tumblr, open tumblr again immediately after” memes but that did describe my behavior pretty accurately. the draw and allure of social media feeds is powerful, if i accidentally click the youtubes short tab ill find myself a half hour later scrolling through random shit i don't care about and asking well how the hell did i get here? i dont even like that stuff! tumblr is no different no matter how much the site tries to coast on the reputation of being the last social media that's a “remnant of the old web” and “has no algorithm”. i like my chronological dash but it is equally as addicting to scroll through the thousands of people ive followed over the years, as it is to scroll through the algorithmic feeds of youtube shorts, because that's just social media!
and kicking addiction is pretty damn hard. before 2023, i made two separate attempts at reducing my tumblr usage and both fell through within a week due to that addiction. for reference this current bought of thoughts about reducing my tumblr usage and making my online/irl balance more healthy, around the start of 2023 when i began working on my website and its taken me an entire year to wean myself off of the hellsite, bit by bit. theres a point where it stopped being a conscious act, and even as i was carefully whittling down how often i use tumblr with extensions like leechblock i still had that compulsion go off multiple times every day, its a really strange feeling. but now that ive found so many more ways to express myself online, i just feel more whole now... i guess what im saying is that when i post on tumblr my first instinct is to complain or wallow about something, when i post on my own handmade blog on my website i always want to talk about things that excite me or make me happy! and its been such a tangible change in the way i think and act and im certain its because of the way social media and tumblr have their own “societal expectations” and structure that is built to feed on this negativity loop.
and a lot of the biggest shifts happened when i began immersing myself in the ideals of the web revival, while creating my own website. finding things that genuinely interested me and niches i want to occupy made me so much happier. i know we make a lot of jokes about having mutuals we never talk to that mean the world to us and i do think that is indicative of something. like, when i post on a forum full of strangers i am engaging with more “face to face” (or the digital equivalent) communication than i do with years-long mutuals. how genuine are these connections, this dashboard, the enjoyment i got from that meme post ill forget in 10 minutes? (not to say that i don’t genuinely care abt my followers and mutuals. ykwim?) i can still get all the things i enjoy out of tumblr in a more curated form via rss feeds; ive been so much more proud of what i post and create and code on my website. what am i here for? i gradually realized that i am losing absolutely nothing when i “miss out” or block tumblr on my phone or what have you.
since starting working on my neocities site ive felt so much creative drive. ive created whole interactive essays and worlds and games and writings and so many things i could never host on social media. my website is a place of my very own, and ive been learning the value of focusing on what i put out into the net compared to what i take from it. its made me feel so much more fulfilled when i spend time online.
and let's not forget about staff. i have broader issues with how automattic in particular has gone about running the site. the ads only took up more and more of the dashboard, and every month it felt like there was some new paid feature doomed to never take off. all while the user experience gradually degraded. using the site without browser extensions to fix the ui and block the ads and tumblr live and all the other shit they threw all over the place makes it look like its ridden with viruses, and i think the fact that its become so normalized to feel like we have to stay in spaces that become increasingly hostile to us, even while the internet is so vast, is really strange (i mean, i also thought that way at first). but Anyway. so much time and effort was spent on features no one liked or wanted in some desperate attempt to get a little extra money, while staff members get in public fights with users who complain about getting monetization shoved down their throat. its so openly pathetic. the merch store had mostly mediocre designs and the digital tumblrmart is absolutely full of useless digital goods with free alternatives. considering this is a userbase that gladly donates to other sites donation drives for hosting costs (i.e. ao3, wikipedia, internet archive), i am shocked that staff never considered the obvious answer of a fucking donation drive once a year or so! the ceo telling people with concerns about the ads being unsafe for epilepsy to “just pay the ad free subscription” is one of the most disgusting things ive ever heard from someone officially representing such a platform. do not be fooled by the reputation tumblr has cultivated: all that it cares about is making money from you. tumblr is “in danger” because it can't turn a profit- because a profit is all they care about!
so why stay here when im happier elsewhere, apart from the addictive compulsion? that's what ive been thinking through for nearly a year, realizing that i have no reason to, and that weaning myself off of the addiction is in my best interest. i can create and blog and have fun online and connect with others and follow other peoples work all without the need for tumblr anymore! and i think id be all the healthier for it.
over the past year ive truly fallen in love with the internet again and ive loved putting myself out there, unrestrained in ways i havent felt since i was very young. but nonetheless ive learned a lot on tumblr, ive had some of the worst and best experiences of my online life, and i dont doubt that i would be a much different person if i had never been a tumblr user for as long as i was. but i had to break out of this shell eventually.
i keep going over this wondering how i can express every feeling in my head, how i can word everything just a little better, how i can make the perfect goodbye. but i think this will have to suffice.
you can still keep up with me online here:
-explore my website: i keep it consistently updated and im always adding new things and writing new posts on my blog! you can even speak to me directly on the site! if you sign my guestbook or use my chatbox ill try to respond :) if theres anything on this list you do id like it to be this one! i worked hard on it! you can even send me chat messages on my homepage! just keep in mind it may not display everything right on most mobile browsers, but it should be mostly navigable...
you can also subscribe to my rss feed. if you don't know what rss is, it allows you to use a feed reader to keep up with updates from sites all over the internet! my rss feed will notify you whenever ive made a new post on my blog or made an interesting edit on my site id like you to take a peek at :0 convenient, right?
you can also email me at [email protected] to message me directly. if you prefer im also “wygolvillage” on discord
thank you and happy new years :) thanks for seeing me off as i sail to a new sunrise <3
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Active Authors Masterlist
***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***
Created: November 13th, 2023
Last Checked:----
Abagail_Snow :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr
Popular Fic: All The World's a Stage: They'll never live down the stunt with the berries. They should probably just accept that. Peeta is rescued from the arena along with Katniss (post-Catching Fire/Mockingjay divergence) (@absnow)
aimmyarrowshigh :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr
Popular Fic: How Rue Became the Mockingjay: Katniss Everdeen and the girl from Eleven are ruining their best-laid plans – the Capitol’s and the Rebels’. So Caesar, they say. Announce the change. --- An alternate chronology for The Hunger Games (@aimmyarrowshigh)
AlwaysMyPearl :: tumblr
Popular Fic: Come get your man, nothing’s wrong, he just misses you.: Post-mockingjay, canon compliant. Katniss POV. A phone call that occurs with Johanna, Annie, Peeta, and Katniss when Peeta goes to visit Annie, Finn, and Jo with Katniss staying behind in Twelve. Fluff. (@alwaysmypearl)
amelia_day :: ao3, tumblr
Popular Fic: The Bet: When a sorority bet gets out of hand and becomes a campus wide sensation, Katniss and Peeta are both forced to deal with the aftermath. (@awhiskeyriver)
Autumnanox :: ao3
Popular Fic: Time Running Out for the Truth: What if Katniss had realized before their second time in the Arena the depth of her feelings for Peeta? And what if she had found the words to express them? How would they have spent what they believed to be their last nights alone together? This story takes place on the day they make their private presentations to the Gamemakers, after they've returned to the district 12 suite and they are each awarded a score of 12 for their rebellious antics. This story, unlike the books, is told from Peeta's perspective.
Broken_everlark :: ao3
Popular Fic: Capative to the Darkness: Peeta tries to keep his dark passenger a secret but how long can it stay hidden when he works as a detective for the police department and he's head over heels in love with his partner Katniss Everdeen.
Brown_Eyed_Devil :: ao3
Popular Fic: Stop the Clocks: A Modern AU with heaps of jealousy and angst, hints of fluff and good stuff in between, and a potential dash of smut for later on. (Rating and tags will evolve as the story progresses, so keep an eye out for that). Katniss Everdeen sees her ex-boyfriend on the arm of another woman a year after their breakup. She shouldn’t care, because she broke up with him, even so... she still finds herself drawn to him in that impossible way. She knows she's not allowed to think of him as hers anymore, she really thought she should be over this by now (over him really), and yet against her better judgement, she allows him to take her number... Shenanigans ensue...
bellablue27 :: ao3
Popular Fic: Tomorrow Will Be Kinder: A canon-compliant, post-Mockingjay growing together fic from Peeta's POV
bbyannabeth :: tumblr
Popular Fic: Oh, I Love You: The moment when Peeta realizes, clear-headed and all, maybe as Katniss sleeps beside him or traipses in from the woods …“oh. I love you.” (@bbyannabeth)
CassandraO :: ao3
Popular Fic: Arranged: Facing the death of her mother, 14-year old Katniss Everdeen and her 10-year old sister Prim move in with their widowed maternal grandmother, the apothecary's wife. In a world in which unmarried women cannot own property, Katniss' grandmother arranges with the town baker to marry off her eldest granddaughter at sixteen to protect her in case she dies before the girl is ready to marry. Luckily for all, Katniss gets to marry the youngest son, her close friend Peeta. Now, married young, the summer is coming, and with it, the 74th Annual Hunger Games.
#authors#active authors masterlist#active authors#everlark fanfiction#thg fanfiction#everlark#masterlist#thg
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Alright so, there’s been a sleep between me and the House of Wax rewatch, so I’m going to TRY to organize my feelings by Chronological order of the movie. This is going to get long, so there will be a cut so I don’t take up too much dash-space for people who want to scroll past.
Basics of it: Bo Sinclair apologism and Let Vincent Have Agency over his own actions. Also people are DICKS to rural people for no reason, like seriously FUCK Wade. Wade Deserved It.
So RIGHT off the bat, with Bo’s first appearance in the woods with his truck—Bo did NOTHING wrong here. I live in a very rural area(I grew up in the middle of the woods, but now I live a ten minute walk from where I used to—there are so many cows). Where I’m from, if the landowner catches you in his woods you’re as likely to get SHOT AT as not. Showing up in a truck and staring at you is kind of a universal POLITE, gun free, warning—most people WILL scramble when someone shows up if they’re trespassing in the woods.
Now, what I think Bo was doing here was taking a headcount—deciding whether or not he wanted to deal with them, and I actually think he decided AGAINST killing them.
Despite the fact that they treated him aggressively and fucked up his truck, I feel like it cannot be stressed enough that BO DID GET THE FAN BELT.
Again, as a person from the middle of nowhere, it made ME fucking furious the way Wade came into town and just started breaking into places and LITERALLY breaking things. And, without prior knowledge that the church was full of wax victims, Wade was so impatient that he just couldn’t wait for Bo to FINISH UP AT THE FUNERAL, and decided to just let himself into Bo’s shop and take a fanbelt—leaving a “This is probably enough” amount of money. The entire time ripping on rural people and how they live(not to mention how he treated LESTER. Lester 100% acted like a normal guy around here. 10/10 girls I knew growing up would have LOVED to see his knife. That was an EXTREMELY normal interaction where I’m from.).
ANYWAY BO.
Bo straight up told them they could wait for him while he went ALONE to his house to get the part(also Wade questioning that a MECHANIC has some of his stock at home?? Fuck you man), and it was Wade that insisted on going along.
I do not think Bo intended for Vincent to go Snip Snip through the floorboards. (On top of that, Wade made the DUMBEST little noises after getting sliced—Bo getting changed upstairs probably 1000% thought “Jesus Christ the fucker is blowing up my goddamn bathroom”. He may not have even known yet that Vincent got him; depending on whether or not he noticed the signs of struggle in the already kind of messy house.
(On THAT note, I got pissed as hell the way Wade was judging the Sinclair Home—like bitch you are the reason moms in the early 2000s went berserk about the house needing to be spotless when guests come.)
Bo was genuinely surprised when Carly LOCKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN TRUCK. I feel like THAT was the point where Bo decided “Fuck it.”
I think that, up until then, Bo WAS going to fix up their car and get them on their way, because he KNEW they had a whole lot of friends who were coming back for them—Bo may not be the brightest, but I feel like he was smart enough to know that that could have got them caught or hurt.
My best friend and I joked that we would have survived our trip to Ambrose because we simply would not have been assholes. (And we would been HUGE nerds in the Wax Museum, and well, NOT took a lighter to the pieces??? Vincent probably would NOT have shanked us. Tbh we would not have gone into the Sinclair home because when Bo said “You can wait here if you want” we would have simply said “Thank you.”. Well, we wouldn’t have broken into the Museum AT ALL, but given who we are we may have ASKED Bo if we could see it.)
Now, I’m not saying Bo ISN’T a bad guy, like, he very much definitely DID lock Carly in a basement and glue her mouth shut, but I didn’t really see a whole lot of like?? Gratuitous Sadism?? Is there more in a novelization or something?? Like, he threatened her to keep her quiet—but since he and his twin are literally serial killers I think that’s pretty standard?
The fact that Carly was able to so EASILY dismantle the chair makes me kind of feel like it wasn’t really used much? I mean, Bo is a mechanic, you’d think if that were a thing he made a habit of it would be in better repair. I didn’t really get the feeling that this was like, an average Tuesday Night for Bo or anything.
(On that note, I would have been the worst victim because the MINUTE he turned the music on I would have been like “Oh shit dude I like your taste” and he would just “???” Of course, I may have met a completely DIFFERENT fate because I simply would not have locked him out of his truck. There would have been no chase.)
AND VINCENT.
I don’t get where the “Uwu Soft Boy” “Bo’s Victim” thing comes from unless people were just taking Carly’s late-movie assumptions at face value??
Like, Vincent DID very much get in a truck and go into the woods just to hunt Blake and Paige. Like, he had no reason to do that, and Bo was straight up mad about it until he settled down and told Vincent he did good and they’d fit the set. Like, Bo is the one who imprisoned Carly, but Vincent VERY MUCH WAS THE ONE WHO DID THE KILLINGS. Bo did not tell him to do any of that. It kind of makes me mad because it feels like Vincent’s agency is downplayed a lot in the fandom and that it’s just because of Bo snapping on him One(1) Time, and Carly’s assumption in the final chase.
And as far as Bo snapping on him goes!!
Bo had AN ARROW IN HIS CHEST AT THE TIME(Also Bo, I love you, but FUCK WHY DID YOU PULL THE FINS OF THE ARROW THROUGH YOUR ARM??? He should have just?? Cut the arrowhead off and pulled the SMOOTH part through?? This man). I think most people are prone to snapping when they’re in severe pain(and I think the way Vincent IMMEDIATELY rushed in to survey Bo’s wounds shows a lot about how they DO care about each other, like very clearly Vincent is not AFRIAD of Bo—considering even after he snapped Vincent was just like “Whatever, go ahead and bleed, I’m going back to fixing up my mask.”). The sibling of mine I actually KNOW is significantly younger than me, so we didn’t have any kind of antagonism with each other—largely because I was a Parentified Sibling—but every close in age pair of siblings I know can be pretty mean to each other, but always in an “ONLY I CAN PICK ON MY SIBLING” kind of way. Bo calling Vincent a “Freak” and then IMMEDIATELY taking on a softer voice and telling him how great his art is had HUGE “I’m sorry, you can hit me back, don’t tell Mom.” Energy. I really don’t think Bo abuses Vincent.
I mean, he said “You’re not supposed to go anywhere WITHOUT ME”, which implies that they DO go places together; and given how easily Vincent killed everyone he killed in the movie, it makes a LOT of sense that Bo wouldn’t want him going out alone. Especially if(and this is my own speculation) Bo is used to always being around to “Protect” Vincent from people who would make fun of him.
>Inserting this here because I forgot to mention it: I genuinely think all the killing started while Trudy was still alive, because Bo talks about how he and Vincent can “Finish what she started”. Additionally, in the beginning of the movie, Lester gives that little speech about how people can “get used to a lot”. That makes me feel like the brothers were probably RAISED to do the things that they do(supported by the fact that the fucked up machinery Vincent puts his victims in looks OLD, so it’s not unlikely that Trudy used it first). That doesn’t absolve Bo and Vincent, of course, but it does make them ALSO victims.
Moving on to Carly’s speculation at the end—she CLEARLY pissed Vincent off. I mean, she just BEAT HIS BROTHER TO DEATH and then called BO a freak and suggested that BO was behind everything. Not only did she kill HIS twin(and she and Nick would know better than anyone how much pain Vincent must have been feeling in that moment) but she called BO a Freak too. Given the amount of abuse Vincent watched his parents hurl at Bo, that was probably a rehashing of how he felt when his parents would bind and beat Bo and yell horrible things at him. (Also like, FUCK, the fact that Bo’s high chair STILL has fucking blood on it??? Like their father was a DOCTOR, and he just made Bo sit and eat with his Rotting Old Blood right there??? FUCK.)
And finally, Lester sitting on the back of his truck at the end of the movie, Jonesy sitting with him—he was probably waiting around for some sign of what happened to his brothers, and THAT breaks my goddamn heart.
But like, bottom line, I don’t think Bo was the “Evil Twin” much in the same way that Nick wasn’t actually that bad of a guy. The Sinclairs are obviously the result of a very fucked up upbringing, but aside from the whole wax thing and the locking Carly in the basement, Bo actually feels like a pretty normal dude??? By slasher standards??? I definitely don’t get any kind of a “Bo is the mastermind” vibes from the movie—it feels very much more like this is just the life that’s been NORMAL to Bo and Vincent for so long.
Yeah, they should have just left Ambrose and NOT kept killing, but Bo is CLEARLY still trying to get his mother’s love, and I don’t think Vincent even WANTS to stop. I don’t think Bo would have ever left Vincent even if HE wanted to stop.
#Bo Sinclair#Vincent Sinclair#lester sinclair#sinclair brothers#house of wax#house of wax (2005)#mypost#Bo Sinclair Apologism#Like honestly Wade had every chance to NOT be a fucking dick and he just kept digging his own grave#fuck Wade#all my homies hate Wade
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Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 39
We have finally escaped the time-loop of 1941! Only to land hard in 1947, a year that is notable for two things:
My dad was born
The Partition of India
Only one of those things is relevant to this episode, which is also a banger, because we have reached Demons of the Punjab
We are back with Jodie Whittaker, Yaz, Ryan and Graham, and this is a Yaz Episode! Which is nice because so far she has been very blank. Unfortunately she remains fairly blank because the episode is actually about her Nan, Umbreen - they go back in time to see Umbreen getting married in Lahore in the 50s. Except they miss and land in 1947 on a tiny farm. But that's okay, Nani is getting married! Except it's to the wrong man - rather than the Muslim grandfather Yaz is expecting, she's about to marry Prem, a dashing Hindu stranger.
And Partition happens. Also there are alien demons about.
It's slightly a shame this is not more of a banger, actually, and it would be if the actors were better and the writing was just a bit more thought out. The problem is that they shied away from being too explicit about the issues involved. Which, you know, I get - this is a British show and Britain is a racist cesspit and wouldn't put up with it, ON TOP OF WHICH they were blatantly aiming for allegory about how fascism is universally bad, like. I do get it.
But it does mean that the central tension - two brothers torn apart by Partition and its subsequent creed-based radicalisation - has nowhere near as much weight as it really should have had, because the Nasty Brother just says very vague strawman things to indicate that Hate Is Universal And Always Bad, rather than making meaningful and incisive points about this particular historical atrocity caused by the British Empire. And that means it ends up being a bit too unclear what his fucking problem is, and why he's ready to commit fratricide.
But it's otherwise a GREAT episode, my god. Beautifully shot, the plot is super simple to let the character work take the lead, and Bradley Walsh emerges as the unlikely Best Actor of All to smash it out of the park with sheer poignancy.
(Also like, I cannot stress enough that the vast majority of British people don't know what Partition is. They do not know. This episode introduced a swathe of British society to a vitally important historic event that this country caused and then deliberately forgot about. This means, oddly, that this stupid watch order triumphs again, because two episodes ago we watched Matt Smith attempt to suck off Churchill down to the balls - now, we get a straight up reference to the mass famine Churchill deliberately inflicted on India, plus the twice-stated statistic that a million people died in Partition. This is one of the most socially important episodes of Doctor Who ever made, I think, which I say non-hyperbolically.)
Anyway the alien demons turn out to be a race who used to be assassins, but their planet was destroyed while they were out doing killings and that, so now they go from place to place and mourn people who die alone and unmourned. They "witness". I like this as an idea. They look pretty cool, too. Except this means people keep seeing them standing over recently-deceased corpses looking like they belong to a Finnish heavy metal band before "vanishing" (trans-matting), and so assume they've murdered said recently-deceased corpse, and so they are now experiencing what I shall call the Absol Effect.
Two thirds into the episode, the Doctor discovers this. I will admit, she could have discovered this much sooner if they'd actually said in the first meeting. In that sense this is like the Testimony mirror people again, who could have prevented most of the episode by actually explaining straight away; but eh. Whatevs. It turns out, though, they're here to witness Prem's death; so the main cast now have to go the rest of the episode knowing this man is going to die tomorrow. As I say: Bradley Walsh's acting. That man can do an amazing wibbly lip, turns out. Fair play Brads.
Umbreen and Prem get married in the morning, but the Nasty Brother has called on a mob to come and kill them. Umbreen and her mam escape, but Prem is murdered in cold blood. It's very moving. My husband cried.
After all of that, though, I don't think we have a single new plot thread? NO WAIT - we do! Ish. The Thijarian ex-assassin professional mourners lost their planet. We've seen that before! Maybe it's connected.
“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)
There is something on Donna’s back
An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. NEW INFO: the Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact)
Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)
The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)
River is possibly blown up (unless she’s Missy. Nope: she is definitely not blown up)
The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)
The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)
The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole
(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)
There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)
There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons
Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?
What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?
Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)
Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?)
Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?
How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?
What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???
What happened with the Other Cyber War?
What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?
Why does Rose seem particularly important?
What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)
Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?
Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri
There is a Lupari shield around Earth.
What’s a Time War?
What’s the Rift?
What’s Bad Wolf?
In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?
Who is the Master?
Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?
Is Rory plastic or not?
Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?
How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?
What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?
Which friend killed Strax?
Which friend brought Strax back?
Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?
What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?
How does Clara actually join?
Why so many Claras?
Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?
Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?
What is Trensilor and what happened there?
Who is Handles?
The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man
The universe is being crushed by the Flux
Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?
Sontarans are invading Earth again
Who is Kate?
Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?
The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent
Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?
How did the Doctor forget Clara?
Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?
How did Nardole die?
When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die?
When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?
Whittaker is falling to her death rn
Was that ring relevant?
Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?
When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?
When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?
What’s happening with the bees?
What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?
What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?
What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”
If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?
How did the rest of the Time Lords die?
How and why did Amy melt?
What’s the question that will make silence fall?
Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?
How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?
How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?
What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?
Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?
What happened with the space whale?
When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years?
How does the Doctor survive River
How does he erase himself from history
Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?
When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?
What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?
Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead?
Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?
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Thank you for sharing your amazing stories, I love your fic...you are such a phenomenal writer! Can you talk about your writing process? What is your favorite/least favorite things to write (e.g. dialogue/plot/atmosphere, etc.)?
hi! this is so nice of you to say, thank you! ❤️
my fic process broadly looks like:
say i’m not going to write a fic yet
then have an idea (usually by accident, “haha wouldn’t it be fun if—”)
talk about the idea until it begins to take an actual shape and i go oh man. this is a whole fic isn’t it. oh no
“this will be a fun, short idea” [is not that]
(for shorter fics i can actually keep the plot tight, depending on how strict the parameters are, but every time it’s “just a fun concept” that i can run free with i get way plottier than i intended and i’ve accepted that by now. it’s why i can’t just go write every idea i have even if i wanted to.)
broad messy outline in a gdoc, including any dialogue snippets i think of as i go.
i’m a fast plotter but a slow writer, so from there i start drafting, roughly in chronological order because that works best for my brain, though sometimes i jump around to rough draft later parts.
first draft goes out to friends who read, comment, catch some errors, and delete many of the abundant first draft commas and em dashes. (this is functionally beta-ing but by people who know every thought i've ever had.)
post! and on to the next chapter/story.
a very important part of my creative process is having friends who are just as enthusiastic about the concept/characters as i am, so shoutout to those people for being the main reason i get any actual writing done. what is fandom if not wanting to feed your friends to the point of creation!
my favorite thing to write varies depending on what world/characters i’m working with, but usually dialogue comes easiest/is most fun to plan out! i often have whole convos planned out dialogue-only and then i fill in the actual action once i get there. and my least favorite thing is probably…very specific, but describing characters’ outfits? unless it’s immediately action-relevant i always have to go back and remember to work that in as part of general scene description, if i remember at all. the outfits are in my head, i just usually feel clunky describing them on the page!
#looking at the 2-minute time difference between 'i'm waiting for the right idea' and 'okay i did have this one thought...'#i'm a parody of myself!#thank you again for this ask it was fun to go back and find the inception of my current fic#my fic#asks
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I made a new blog from scratch just to see how it is for new users, and frankly it's awful.
You have to register, choose an url, put your birthday, whatever. This is normal stuff.
I've been a tumblr user for a decade now. In all truth, I had a blog before that, when tumblr was just aesthetic pictures with weird phrases in cute fonts. Then I deleted it at some point and came back to make this new one and for fandom stuff.
I know how tumblr works, I know how to navigate it, how to change the settings and all of that. It's not very user friendly though: it's not highlighted, you have to click on the settings and then on your own blog and then customize it. Not that big of a deal, but I understand why so many new people don't change it.
When you make an account, the first thing you have to do is to choose your url, then put an email address and birthday, and then you have to choose five topics (tags) you want to follow and at least three blogs you want to follow. I'm so sorry for the random people I had to follow and then unfollow, it's also probably why bots find you.
The worst thing, though, is that your dashboard is the for you page.
This is my normal dash:
This is the dash on the new blog:
I have to manually click every time on "following" to see the people I follow, or else it's gonna be random posts form various tags I had to follow (and then unfollow) and not in chronological order.
And yes, I changed the settings multiple times: based on your likes, best stuff first, stuff in your orbit and followed tags are ALL turned off, and I have already log out and log back in multiple times to see if something changes. The answer is no: the for you page is the first one you get.
And while I'm not a gif maker so I have no opinion about it, on my own blog I can still opt out the legacy editor when creating a new post, while on the new blog that's the only option and you get nothing else.
The new changes they wanna make are in line of what they have been doing for the new user's experience. And it sucks.
I also have no idea what the fuck is this thing that appears on some posts at random but only on my new tumblr:
I think it's a sort of "look at the new note on this popular post" or something, and you can click on it to see it. It only appears when I am in the for you page and on posts with more than 1k notes. And it's also randomized, and not the last comment/tag on that post. It's a bit distracting to be honest, but not the worst.
End note, because staff just updated The Post.
Customize your experience if you've been on tumblr for a while. If you're new, you're fucked.
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hi!! i was just wondering if you had any tips for someone who is super curious/into the dc stuff they see on their dash but has no idea where to start understanding stuff, and is super intimidated by comics. i wanna know who all these little guys are but there seems to be so many source materials and i'm a little bamboozled!!
Oh yeah we’ve all been there. Especially regarding comics; there’s just too many continuities, runs, specials… Where do you even start?
And I’m gonna say this right here at the beginning: everyone will tell you something different.
There’s no one correct way of getting into comics/superheroes and not one correct way to read them, too. Which can be pretty cool! Or really, really annoying, depending on what kind of person you are.
Some might tell you to just go into a store and pick out what you think looks or sounds interesting. Others will tell you that you definitely need to read Comic #734-67 first before you get into the MegaUltra Event and that is only when blah blah blah
You get the idea.
Anyway here’s how I would recommend getting into DC if you’ve really never seen anything of it. (this got a little bit longer so more under the cut)
Watch any DC Cartoon there is. I’m not even kidding. Most of the time the cartoons are the best introductions to characters (imo)
Here are some recommendations <3
1. Batman the animated series
2. Justice League & Justice League: Unlimited
3. Justice League Action
4. Teen Titans (from 2003)
5. Batman Beyond
6. Static Shock
7. Young Justice
After that just pick the character you want to see more of (for example after watching BTAS: Tim Drake) and search for a recommended reading list on the internet.
Most of the time they look something like this and just go chronologically (release date):
Read Batman: A Lonely Place Of Dying
Batman #455
Batman #456
Batman #457
Robin #1 (1991)
Robin #2
Robin #3
Robin #4
Robin #5
Detective Comics #618
Detective Comics #619
Detective Comics #620
Detective Comics #621
Robin Vol. 2 #1 (1991)
Robin Vol. 2 #2
Robin Vol. 2 #3
Robin Vol. 2 #4
Etc. etc. etc.
These lists tend to be super long, so I would just recommend reading whatever you think sounds interesting.
Or search for reading guides on tumblr (I’ve found a lot more compact ones on here)!
I also have put together my own list of comics I want to read/have read, so lmk if you'd be interested in seeing that!
Of course the most important part is to just have fun with it! If you watch/read anything you find boring, just put it away and try something else! <3
#answered#asks#anon#dc comics#long post#most of the times I look for lists on tumblr#but most of the times I just look at what my mutuals are reading and go off that haha
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Hi!! Hope this isn't too much work for you rn, and no pressure answering this! But your constant endorsement plus knowing so many of these DMBJ men from various other dramas has convinced me to give it a go. If I wanna watch all the seasons + movies, which order do you suggest I go in? (came across a whole bunch of different opinions on this, so decided to come to the resident DMBJ expert on my dash <3)
omg welcome to dmbj territory!! hope you end up staying hehe, these stories are a good time :P
alrighty, watching order: first things first, dmbj is not broken up into different seasons, but rather a timeline of individual dramas + side movies adapting different parts of the book series. the casts shift between dramas (some actors do reprise roles), and they were not adapted in chronological book order nor necessarily in continuity with one another. the tone varies wildly between shows/films as a result, and a lot of things in different dramas will not line up between them. timeline whomst. don't think about it too hard just go with it shhhh
for starting points, i've seen people who've started at wildly differing places along the dmbj timeline and made the most of it. others are correct, and there's no 'right' starting point. however, you asked for my opinion, and so with the proviso that i've only actually finished 4/7 of the dramas released so far and can only speak from those experiences, imo the best starting point would be Ultimate Note (2020), or The Lost Tomb Reboot/Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (2020).
Ultimate Note covers most of the latter half of the original book series, and feels made to offer an entry point for people who didn't break into watching the adaptations releasing since 2015. it's the first dmbj show i watched, coming off of heroes because it had a younger cast including zeng shunxi and liu yuning, and i'd say it was a really good experience. the production is snappy, the pacing is decent, and the plot keeps you well engaged for its 37 episodes. for what it's worth, it also feels like the show that tried its hardest to be a bl hehe. one thing to warn is that the ending of the show does not wrap up well, as it's supposed to tie into the next installment in the dmbj chronology (that has not been adapted yet and may not ever), but aside from that it's a satisfying story.
The Lost Tomb Reboot is set ten years after the end of the main series, and adapts one of the sequel novels. like Ultimate Note, it feels like a natural start point, and i'm pretty sure a lot of people went through Reboot as their first dmbj show. it's an older-led cast including zhu yilong, chen minghao, and chen chuhe, with characters who have long settled into their relationships with one another. for me that's where this show shines, as the character dynamics are great and there's a full ensemble cast that gets their own arcs. the production values on it are also decent and the plot twists are good. i will say that for me this show struggled with very uneven pacing, and Reboot is a longer commitment than other shows with two seasons at ~30 episodes each. but overall it was still worth it!
after one of those shows, you have a general grasp of the worldbuilding, and so honestly you can pretty much go anywhere depending on what vibe or maybe actors you're looking for. my personal trajectory was Ultimate Note → Sha Hai/Tomb of the Sea (2018) → The Lost Tomb Reboot, which are all in chronological order, and then i doubled back and watched The Lost Tomb 2 (2019) which is set before Ultimate Note. that's all been a lot of fun for me, but there's a lot of choices.
something that was really helpful for me in deciding what to watch was foxofninetales' guide you can find here, which gives a more in-depth overview of each drama adaptation as starting points and the pros and cons of each. (while we're at it, this character guide may also be useful for tracking who's who across adaptations.) the side movies are not essential to understanding the main dmbj narrative, but are nice for filling in parts of different characters' backstories and events in between/after various shows :)
okay, uh, i'll stop talking now. i hope this was at least somewhat helpful or gave you a place to start looking, and i'm looking forward to seeing your journey through dmbj 👀
#not quite connected to the main post but sha hai is my baby. it's the part of the dmbj universe i find the crunchiest and i love it#also don't listen to anyone who says tlt2 isn't worth watching#there's so much good character stuff and it's got cheng yi!!! i don't recommend it for starting personally but it's Good#dmbj#ashton answers#nutcasewithaknife
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Goose, my beloved my bestie, if I want to get into the Fallout universe, where do I start and what do I need to know?? (pls infodump 🥰 I figured an ask post would be easiest so I don’t lose it)
i had to hop onto my laptop to type this out because i already know its going to be long xD
adding a cut so this doesnt take up the entire dash skdjhfskhj
tbh it's pretty hard to play through the series chronologically because it's not really one consistent story: it's a bunch of different stories being told in the same setting. i think the best place to start kind of comes down to which you enjoy most: rpg elements, story, or gameplay.
the older games (like 1 & 2) grant you the most freedom as far as roleplaying goes, but their top-down aspect can be a little off-putting to some people, as well as (at least from personal experience) they're a lot less forgiving than the newer games. your build has to be pretty particular in the beginning if you want to survive combat. even if I'm playing a speech heavy character, i find that i have to tag unarmed/melee skills just to get through the tutorial sequence in the beginning of 2 if i want to survive the intro. a lot of people like them due to their rpg value. it feels like your choices really matter in the wasteland. compared to the later games, they're pretty lax with what they let you do. there's not really a lot of icons on the map telling you where to go or what to do. personally, i need a little more direction when playing a game, but i understand the appeal. out of all of the fallout games, 1 & 2 are probably the ones i have the least hours into out of all of them
fallout 3 and New Vegas are a little clunky with their combat systems but that can be blamed on their age (and probably nv's shorter development time). new vegas and 3 are quite different but im lumping them together because they came out around the same time. new vegas is a cult classic. probably the most (at least openly) loved of all the fallout games, and for good reason. the story felt like old fallout while using the same game engine as the newer one. a lot of the same people who worked on the first two fallouts went to work for obsidian (who developed new vegas) after black isle studios went under so they took a lot of their ideas for the original fallout 3 (which was meant to be another top down one set in California if I'm remembering correctly!) but made it into the 3d rpg style we know today. the combat can feel a little clunky in fnv, but if you want to play a game that has the feeling of "old fallout" with the gameplay of the newer ones, new vegas would be a good place to start
fallout 3 was the first game i got into back when it came out in like 2008 bc my brother had it for his old xbox xD. compared to 4 and new vegas, the capital wasteland is a lot less populated and more barren feeling than other games. supplies and ammo are rarer (assuming you don't know where to look for them) making the game feel like more of a struggle. it makes sense seeing as you start out as a squishy vault dweller who has never seen the wasteland before. story-wise it's pretty good. you can bypass like the first half of the main storyline by just making a beeline to where your dad is in vault 114(?? I'm blanking on the number rn so this might not be the right vault) and avoiding megaton altogether. i don't recommend doing this though because you will miss A LOT of worldbuilding and experience/levels. as far as rpg elements go, you can either be a savior of the wasteland or a real evil bastard depending on what you choose. it feels like you really make a difference for all the settlements/people you decide to help. part of my gripe with this game comes down to the ending. ill avoid spoilers as much as i can just in case you want to play through the game but im not a fan of games you cant continue playing after the ending especially when there's a workaround with one of the companions. overall fallout 3 is pretty enjoyable if you can look past the limitations of the game engine
If you want something that's a lot more forgiving during gameplay, but still feels like the wasteland, I'd start with fallout 4! the combat handles a lot better than 3 & new vegas, but as far as rpg elements go, you're kind of railroaded into the typical good-guy path which i personally don't mind because that tends to be my playstyle in games anyway lmaoooo. fo4 was one of the first "mainstream" fallout games so the story is made to appeal to a more general audience. it's not nearly as dark as the storyline of the earlier games although you can find these more ominous elements tucked away in terminals and environmental storytelling. this game has some of my favorite companions out of the entire series, and fo4 has one of my favorite dlc's out of the entire series which is Far Harbor. if you're into modding your games, the community for fo4 was still pretty active for it even before the show came out. i know a lot of fans of the series have a gripe with the storyline of this game in particular due to it railroading you down a certain path. not to mention, a lot of the actions you make in the commonwealth feel like they don't really change the outcome. however the gameplay is pretty forgiving to someone who hasn't played this series before. your starting stats aren't really the difference between life or death as they give you a lot of room for error. i personally really enjoy the settlement building system and i'd love to see it implemented in later games with tweaks to make it even better. I'm also pretty biased in what i say about fo4 because i have the most hours into it out of any of the other fallout games and it's very near and dear to my heart xD
also slightly related to fallout 4-- if you're looking for a youtuber with some amazing settlement ideas, i really like the creator IfThenCreate who has a whole ongoing series about different settlement builds around the commonwealth. she's very charming and her videos are very cozy and tbh i could listen to her for hours (which i probably actually have because her videos about sanctuary hills are like four hours combined xD). not all of her content is fallout related but at the moment she has probably one of my favorite fallout related series :3
tbh i can't really speak a whole lot about fallout 76. out of all of the games (ignoring tactics and the brotherhood of steel ones) it's probably the game i have the least hours into. as far as gameplay goes, it seems pretty solid. i enjoyed the way they did Appalachia, but I don't think this is the best game to start with if you're just getting into the series. 4 or new vegas is going to be a better place to start imo
if you have amazon prime I'd say start with the show ksdjfkj I've only seen the first two episodes (as of right now at least) but it looks amazing so far. it's the best way to dip your toes into the series without having to commit yourself to tens or hundreds of hours of gameplay xD
also if you get into the games prepare for them to crash. like a lot xD my poor old xbox one could barely handle downtown Boston in fo4 and while it's definitely better on my computer, it still struggles. i also tend to mod my games to hell so that might be part of my problem lmaoaoao. the games can be buggy at times (especially the Bethesda ones) but if you can look past that they're all pretty enjoyable
#goose answers#ari <3#its perfect timing you ask this because like all of the fallout games are on sale on steam right now xD#it was like 6 in the morning when i started writing this so sorry if its a little incomprehensible xD#this is all my opinion of course and i think some of the beauty within this series comes with finding out which part of it you like best :)#as far as pc v console goes i dont really have an opinion on it#the first two games i think you can only play on pc#i find a controller is easier to use for shooter games but my computer tends to run fallout better than my console#but console is the one i have more hours on by far#so really it comes down to personal prefrence lol
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February Reading Round Up! In reverse chronological order of finishing
Reinventing Revolution: New Social Movements and the Socialist Tradition in India by Gail Omvedt
Been meaning to read for a long long time, was serendiptiously a reading groups' choice and on my tumblr dash. Very good, detailed tour of movements that have complicated "class first" - caste, gender, peasant, tribal and their evolution theoretically and historically. Enjoyed how obviously socialist and critical Omvedt is of regressive trends and fair to the demands of popular organising that trouble us. I made so many notes, and intend to revist her perspective later when I've studied more. Where I was familiar with secondary literature like, caste I think she did an excellent job illustrating the limitations and need for Ambedakrite movements.
The Final Question by Chattopadhyay, Sarat Chandra
Bengali literature written in dialogue with the anti colonial movement's understanding of the new role of the Indian woman, this book is angry in the best way. Something very Dostoyevsky like in the arguments between the characters, but, instead of a religious worldview you have a deeply modern, materialist worldview being sharply advocated for against revanchist cultural trends in the novel's heroine Kamal. It holds up really well for a book in 1936, and its tenderness in handling every character's hopes and despair is deeply touching.
The Play Of Dolls Stories by Narain, Kunwar
Tumblr Mutual Book Club pick! Short Story collection by Hindi experimental poet and writer. Very evocative stories that have the best onion like layers of thematic interests. Oft satirical but never bleak, with the exception of the last story which felt like an odd addition to the set.
Her Body and Other Parties: Stories by Machado, Carmen Maria
Short Story collection as well, feminist and queer themes. I'd already read the Husband Stitch and was interested in what else the author could do, unfortunately not a lot more thematically. The stories are tightly written and gripping, only that they don't reveal much to me.
Dumb Luck by Vũ, Trọng Phụng
Tumblr Mutual Book Club pick as well. Relentlessly, satirically bleak, also colonial writing. This one is set in Vietnam when it was in French Indochina. Tetra said that every character is an antagonist and FR. Vicious, and a little too bleak for my taste, this is a more traditionalist critique of Vietnamese elite aping the French. The gender politics are absolutely bonkers, the translation I read does a pretty decent job of transferring the text's humor to modern idiom.
Vita & Virginia: A Double Life by Gristwood, Sarah
Biography of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackwille-West, picked up on a whim because of my interest in Woolf's 'madness' and her romantic letters. Really enjoyed reading the complicated polyamorous love lives these literati had. Virginia's struggles with her illness are quite movingly portrayed. Illustrated with pictures of the beautiful homes and gardens the subjects spent their time in so fun for me! Enjoyed how conversant the author was with their literary output and its critical reception and impact. Made me want to finish reading my Woolf books.
The Stranger by Camus, Albert
I thought I'd like this more. The distanced narrator is very poorly executed, so the protagonist's redemption? revelations? towards the end of the novel kind of fell flat. Style over substance problem I think.
The Horizon (Sumer, #2) by Gautam Bhatia
Conclusion to The Wall, also one of those I wish I'd liked a lot more than I did. Very fast paced in its third act, well plotted but weakened by its repeated revelation of this character is ACTUALLY on this SIDE. Like, its done with every family member of the protagonist. Worldbuilding remains memorable if a bit predictable. Would make a better movie.
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
Personally I love an old man vs a fish, even if it does not have the gay content Moby Dick promised. Excellent use of the novel for investigating the interiority of a man. It's been a short story kind of month I suppose.
Lady Chatterley's Lover by Lawrence, D.H.
I have already complained about how fascist this book is. Why does modern commentary elide on its very violent racism and sexism and homophobia? I don't think its erotic worldview offers much to not fascist post sex liberation readers lol.
The Idiot by Batuman, Elif
Sorry. Girl at Harvard was not compelling as expected, but I did get a lot from the third act where the protagonist confronts her love interest for real - honest writing that doesn't shy away from difficult conversations.
The Master and Margarita by Bulgakov, Mikhail
Stalin era Soviet satire (its a month for it!) Very conversant with Faust, which I had not read so that I think diminished my understanding of the book. Absurd, very Christian and very funny about the comedic aspects of Soviet life. Loved the ending, almost Tolkein like in its hope for pretty broken characters.
The World in a Grain of Sand: Postcolonial Literature and Radical Universalism by Majumdar, Nivedita
Postcolonial Lit: The Takedown. Incisive, excellent, gave me a lot of books I want to try that the author points to as bucking the trend of compliance to particularist, oft parochial and usually defeatist understandings that dominate the genre.
Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
also Bookclub pick. Devastating. Very effective use of the limited POV to illustrate the way shame damns love. Every few pages wrecked me. Tight and sparing with characterisation + description, but delirious with how emotionally close you ride with the protagonist. Best book I have read in a while.
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(( Introduction Post ))
(( Hello ! I'm @cryptic-eccentric and this is my roleplay account for Dani from the show Danny Phantom. This blog will be treated as if it were her own blog. Anyone is free to interact regardless of what fandom their character is from or if they're an rp blog or not. This is just for fun so I'm not planning on sticking by a strict canon or anything. All OOC text will be denoted with double parenthesis.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Some of the content will involve some heavy/darker themes mostly due to the nature of the character. A more detailed list of potential triggers has been put under the read more of this post.
Further information under the read more:
Admin Info:
Hi my name is Silas, I’m a 24 year old autistic trans man who uses he/him pronouns exclusively. [ Here ] is the link to my main account. I have at least a decade of roleplay experience but I’ve been a little out of practice recently. I am very excited to make some new pals.
I also have a few ocs you can read about [ here ]. Feel free to dm me either on here or on my main if you want to discuss story line ideas or if you’d like my discord.
Tags:
#roleplay & #danny phantom rp - on (almost) every post
#poetry - for in character poems
#ooc - for out of character posts
#reblog - for non-original and not directly roleplay related posts
#kitty cats !! - appears with the reblog tag, on images/videos/gifs of cats
#fungi - for posts relating to mycology
#long posts - for extended roleplay threads
#star trek - for posts relating to star trek
#music - for posts relating to bands she likes
#asks - for answered asks
Partner Info:
-> inevitablefuturephantom plays Dan Phantom
-> therealvladmasters plays Vlad Masters
-> sam-manson-blog plays Sam Mason
-> danny-fenton-blog plays Danny Fenton
-> sp724 plays SIdney Poindexter
-> wes-weston-ghostly-blog plays Wes Weston
-> tucker-foley plays Tucker Foley
-> paulina-sanchez plays Paulina Sanchez
-> ghosth8er-valerie plays Valerie Gray
All accounts are tagged with the url, spaces replacing dashes when applicable.
Headcanons:
This version of Dani is currently 12 years old (~8 months chronologically), has been semi-recently adopted by the Fentons, is currently sharing Jazz’s room and is attending Casper Middle school as a 7th grader where she mostly has B’s, a couple of A’s, and one C. She is particularly fond of Jack.
She inherited some of Danny’s knowledge when she was cloned which has resulted in her being somewhat academically advanced in some topics but behind in others that Danny didn’t pay attention to.
Maddie and Jack were initially aware that Dani was “half ghost” but were lied to about why that was. They were told that Vlad Plasmius (the ghost, no relation to Vlad Masters) had conducted experiments on her against her will. Danny Phantom saved her and brought her to Jazz and Danny as her memories of her actual parents had been removed and he assumed the Fentons would be the best bet in helping her. They have been trying to find a way to permanently stabilize her. She has yet to tell Danny but she is considering revoking her ghost half so she can try to lead a normal life.
Vladco made a post claiming that their CEO, Vlad Masters, had made her in a lab. The Fentons are aware of this and, regretfully, so are all of her new classmates.
After reforming in D-Stabilized, the lenses in her eyes came back warped which caused her to develop astigmatism. She currently wears glasses. She generally wears boys clothes. She will eventually identify as aro-ace.
She loves The Beatles & The Talking Heads, mycology and mushroom identification, Earthbound, and Star Trek TNG.
She prefers to be called “Dani” but is okay with “Elle” in order to avoid confusion with Danny. She does not like being called "Danielle" much.
Boundaries:
Mostly any account can interact, this includes personal accounts, OCs and roleplay accounts from different fandoms. This is just for fun so no strict adherence to canon will be expected. The only exceptions are listed on my main blog’s pinned post.
I will not allow for any heavy angst/gore or romantic relationships involving Dani though. Also like, just don’t be rude I guess.
Content Warnings:
•Heavy discussion of mental/emotional health struggles (namely identity issues, self esteem, PTSD)
•Religious Imagery (sometimes appears in in character poetry)
•Mentions of Child Abuse (incl attempted murder)
•Mentions of bullying
•Mentions of homelessness
•Drugs and Alcohol (only during the Future!Dani Event where a 26 year old Dani came from the future)
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