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project-sekai-facts · 3 months

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Fes gacha updates

Before I say anything else I'm just gonna say the vast majority of the fes updates are incredibly disappointing, especially if you're F2P. Like seriously if you're F2P don't expect to come out of this post entirely happy. I can be mean to clpl because I'm F2P and this is total bullshit. Anyway.

Starting from the fes gacha on this sunday, Colorful Festival will now be known as Bloom Festival! It also has a newly designed logo as seen in the picture above, complete with flowers in all the unit colors, including Virtual Singer, which pretty much confirms that all 26 characters will be getting 2nd fes cards. The good thing about this confirmation is that unless they fuck with the schedule again and put 3 characters on one banner a few times, this means the story will continue past 6th anniversary, something there'd previously been concerns about. There's only 9 fes banners before 6th anniversary (10 if you include 6th anniversary), but you need 13 banners to cover everyone. So that's really nice news!

More information that we were told on stream, as well as story and gacha lineup predictions can be found below the cut!

Unfortunately we have not yet been told what exactly the differences between colofes and bloomfes are in terms of story. Based on the whole journey to bloom/world bloom (internal name for WLEs) thing, I reckon it could be something like the characters' Fragment SEKAI expanding, like what happened with the Tree SEKAI in Let Your Song Resonate. It would also tie into the plot of WLEs, so it would make a lot of sense. Some other speculation I've seen since March is that they might have entirely new Fragment SEKAI, which I think is entirely plausible due to character development and changes in their personal conflicts, and another was that these could be like bandori's kirafes cards, which focus on relationships. While I think this would be interesting, and makes some sense since prsk does take influence from bandori in some ways due to sharing a parent company (craftegg), I feel like they would've mentioned that.

We do know a lot about the differences between bloomfes and colofes on a meta and gameplay level, and unfortunately this is the not f2p-friendly part.

The main gimmick of bloom festival that differentiates them from colofes is that bloomfes cards will have 2 skills! One skill will apply for the untrained card, and one for the trained card. You can switch them at any time, presumably by flipping the illustration when it's on your deck. There's a catch though. The catch is that to train bloomfes cards, you will need 3 Wish Drops (the items used to level up area items past lvl10) on top of all the regular 4* training materials. All players will be given 3 wish drops for free, but aside from that these are incredibly hard to earn for casual players due to being the most expensive item in the event shop at 50000 tokens per wish drop. Basically the game is forcing you to sacrifice other shop rewards, tier, or spend money. Not that colopale needs it when the game earns millions a month.

(translated graphic from @/pjsekai_eng on Twitter)

The skills are also not the most fairly balanced. That's an understatement actually. You have to be a massive whale to get the max skill on these cards, it is literally impossible for casual players.

The untrained card skills vary between virtual singers and human characters. For vsingers, at max level, they give a 90% score boost, but gain +30% boost for every different unit type on your team (though it only applies to two types max, giving you a total of 150% bonus). This is pretty easy to achieve, so that's good for scoring purposes!

For human characters, you get an 80% base score boost at max skill level. By selecting one other card in your team, you get an additional boost of half of that card's skill increase (eg: if the card selected has a score boost of 100%, the bloomfes score boost will get 50% added to its base 80%, for 130% total). I'm not sure if this card is selected manually or automatically. But nonetheless this is a pretty good skill too!

The issue lies with the trained skill. At max level, it gives a base score boost of 110%, which is pretty good, but the additional boost is scaled by your Character Rank, with +1% score boost per 2 ranks (eg: a player with a CR40 Miku will get a bonus 20% score boost) on top of the 110, for 130% boost total). The issue here is that the absolute max boost you can get require CR100, which is ridiculously hard to get without spending money, and is near impossible to do for multiple characters. In other words, this skill is for your oshi, and you have to be willing to spend a lot or grind a lot for said oshi. And also be lucky enough to even pull your oshi from the gacha. It's incredibly geared towards P2P players and is totally unfair for F2P players. There's also the issue of the fact you need 3 wish drops to even unlock this skill, another thing that is against F2P players.

Anyway, let's move on to something a bit more fun! Who is gonna be fes? Here's an overview of how it's looking right now:

There's three possible ways that the fes cards could be paired up: using the same pairs as colofes, using different but still same-unit pairs, or using mixed unit pairs.

I think the second or third option is more likely. If you wanted to do the first option, it would have to be Honami/Shiho, Haruka/Airi or An/Toya, but there's still chance that An could be on Kohane5, Haruka only very recently had a card (though this has not stopped other characters, and Shiho is quite likely to be on the event.

In terms of alternate same-unit pairs, I think Kanade/Ena and Airi/Shizuku are the most likely. Kanade and Ena are both reward cards on the current Mafuyu event, so it could be a sign that they'll be fes, plus Kanade hasn't had a 4* since February. However, both of them have a lot of 4*s right now, with Niigo having the most in the game overall. Alternatively there's Shizuku and Airi. Airi is the second-most due for a lim out of all the characters, with her last one being released at the end of October last year. Shizuku only very recently got a card, but again this has not been much of an issue in the past, with Minori, Tsukasa, and Emu all getting fes cards very soon after an event where they got 4*s (or an event where they got unit-gacha lims for Tsukasa and Emu).

However if you wanted to go for mixed unit pairings, the most likely options are probably Ichika/Kanade, Honami/Kanade, or Airi/Ena. However if the june event isn't 2-B lims, the Hinomori sisters and Saki/Airi are also options. Ichika hasn't had a 4* since white day, neither has Kanade, and Honami hasn't had one since Rise as One. However, we know they will be getting cards soon, and under the assumption that 2-B lims happen, it seems a bit unfair to give 3/4 of Leoneed lims just before WLE. I don't have an argument against Airi/Ena, it's definitely the most likely out of these options.

However, just for consistency I'm willing to bet that they'll stick with same-unit pairs. In that case, I think either Kanade/Ena or Airi/Shizuku is very likely. Maybe I'm leaning a bit more towards Airi, but only because she's more in need of a lim.

But just to throw one last thing out there: the next update will implement an increased, 25% event bonus for default virtual singers, a bonus that pretty much exclusively applies to fes cards since players are far less likely to use the default vsinger 1*s and 2* on their team. So there's a chance, albeit slim, that they could throw us under the bus with Len/KAITO fes. I still think Kanade/Ena or Airi/Shizuku is more likely.

Anyway, that's all for now. Some of these updates are a bit disappointing but I'm interested to see the cards and read their stories! I'll update this post if we learn any more information.

#project sekai #mod talks

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formula-nyoom · 5 months

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Stars Racing Past-2

Summary: After managing to escape the phantom on Tatooine, (Y/N), Seb, and Kimi head to Coruscant to meet with the Jedi Council to hopefully allow (Y/N) to become a Jedi and be assigned a teacher.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support on the first chapter. I'm really glad people liked it and I can't wait for you guys to read what I've got cooking. While I don't really like taglists, I will have one for this series. I think the max I can tag is 50(ish) people so I will have to cut it off at some point. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

~~~

The ship seemed to remain in one piece as it traveled through lightspeed. And with nothing indicating that the hyperdrive would fail, Kimi switched on the autopilot as he and Seb focused on the girl that was now with them. Now that things were calm, she seemed to be processing everything that just happened as her eyes stared at the light rapidly traveling past the ship

“(Y/N)...” Seb gently said, drawing the girl’s attention to him. “Can you tell us what happened? Why was this person chasing you?”

“I don’t know. He had come into the store after closing…he…” The girl trailed off.

“Can you tell us exactly what happened?” Seb quietly asked. (Y/N) took a breath and nodded.

“I was working on repairing my speeder when I heard Mr (L/N) tell a customer to leave. He mentioned the two of you…I thought you guys had come back to get me or sent someone to come get me. But when I peered in… there was just something about this person that felt wrong.”

“What did you sense from this person?” Kimi asked.

“Sinister…and dark.” (Y/N) said. “He didn’t feel anything like when you guys had come in earlier.”

“You said that he killed them…did he kill Mr and Mrs (L/N)?” Seb asked. The girl nodded. Her eyes started to water as the scene of the phantom driving his red lighted blade through their chests replayed in her head.

“I ran as soon as he saw me. I jumped on my speeder and took off. I didn’t know where I was going at first, I just knew I had to get far away from this…this phantom.”

“Lucky you were able to find us then.” Kimi said.

“I don’t think it was luck.” Both Seb and (Y/N) said. Seb looked at the girl perplexed.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked

“I..I felt something. I don’t know how to really describe it, but I felt something guiding me in a certain direction. It led me to you guys.”

Seb smiled.

“I knew The Force would make our paths cross again.” He said. (Y/N) tried to mirror Seb’s sentiment, but her mind kept going back to the phantom.

“Who…who was that person that chased me. What did he want with me?” (Y/N) asked.

“He was a Sith.” Kimi said. Seb looked at him with concern.

“Are you sure? The Sith hadn’t been seen in ages.”

“Everything about him screamed Sith, from his lightsaber to the way he fought.” Kimi said. “I don’t think this was a random occurrence.”

“What do you mean?”

“On a previous mission, I was investigating rumors of potential dark side activity. I didn’t have enough evidence to warrant bringing this matter up to the council. But now I think we should.” Kimi said.

“What’s a Sith?”(Y/N) asked.

“Dark side Force users.” Kimi said. (Y/N) still looked confused. Seb kneeled down next to her to be eye level.

“There are two sides of the Force. There’s the light side that the Jedi use to try and bring peace, and there’s the dark side that the Sith use for conflict and nefarious purposes. Before the age of The High Republic, the Jedi and Sith would fight constantly before most of the Sith were wiped out and hadn’t been seen since.” Seb explained.

“But it seems like they may be trying to come back or rise to power.” Kimi said.

“What would the Sith want with me?” (Y/N) asked. “I’m…I’m just a slave.”

“You’re not a slave. You’re so much more than just a person.” Seb said, gently clasping the girl’s hands. “(Y/N)...I believe that you can become an exceptional Jedi. You seem to be well in tune with The Force. I saw you use it in the shop, and you were able to channel it to help you find us. You seem to have a much better grasp on it than any other untrained force sensitive person I’ve come across.”

The girl was silent for a couple moments.

“Are the stories true? That the Jedi fight for the good of others? Bring peace to the galaxy?” She asked.

“Yes. The Jedi stand to be guardians of peace and justice. We use the light side of the Force to help protect and fight for others who can’t. And you could be that kind of person…” Seb explained. “But I also don’t want to pressure you into coming with us back to the Jedi Temple.

“Considering the circumstances, you’re no longer a slave.” Kimi said.

“He’s right. You’re free now to do whatever you want, go wherever you want to go.” Seb said.

“But that Sith we encountered will still try to come after you.”

“Kimi’s unfortunately right about that too. Whatever the Sith may have wanted with you, it’s not good. You would be safer with us back at The Temple. But again, I leave the decision up to you.”

(Y/N) looked back towards the flying stars, taking in all that was said. Seb and Kimi were right, she was free. She could make her own choices now.

“I’ll come with you. I want to train to be a Jedi and fight for those that can’t.” (Y/N) said. Seb smiled.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” He said.

(Y/N) smiled. Seb looked like he believed in her. That’s the first time someone has looked at her that way.

“Don’t get too excited, Seb.” Kimi said. “We still have to meet with The Council about this matter. They may think she’s too old to start training as it goes against The Code.”

Seb didn’t seem deterred by Kimi’s words.

“I have faith that they’ll make the right decision. Besides, we'll have to inform the Council about our encounter with a Sith. I think once they hear about that, they’ll see how important the matter is.” Seb said.

The time traveling to Coruscant wasn’t long, but it took enough time for (Y/N) to doze off, the events of the past few hours finally catching up to her. When she woke, she was met with blue sky and the sight of city skylines.

“Have you ever been to a planet like Coruscant?” Seb asked when he noticed the girl was awake. (Y/N) shook her head.

“I’ve lived on Tatooine for most of my life.” She said.

(Y/N) tried to take in all the new sights as Kimi piloted the SF-16. She watched as other smaller ships flew past various buildings and apartments. There seemed to be so much hustle and bustle in Coruscant. A stark contrast to Tatoonie. Eventually the SF-16 flew towards a giant structure that seemed to stick out compared to everything else in the city. It had various towers while looking very square. (Y/N) could tell that this was The Jedi Temple that Seb and Kimi kept mentioning.

Kimi piloted the ship onto a landing pad and the three began to disembark.

The ship door opened and (Y/N) was hit with a blast of cool air and no humidity as she followed Seb and Kimi off the ship. Now seeing the Temple up close, it was way more imposing with an almost wing-like symbol displayed on banners that hang from the front.

A young man greeted the three of them as they made their way closer to the temple entrance. He wore the same clothes as Seb and Kimi, minus the robe, and had short blonde hair with one long braided strand.

“Master Vettel! You're back! How were the negotiations?” The man said.

“We had some complications. Could you alert the Council of our arrival. There are matters we need to discuss with them.” Seb said.

“Certainly.” The young man said. He turned around and started to hurry off.

(Y/N) followed Seb and Kimi past the entrance and into the temple proper. Various people greeted Seb and Kimi as they walked past while also giving curious glances towards (Y/N). (Y/N) tried to stick close to Seb, not wanting to draw any attention herself while also trying to take in all her surroundings. The temple was big and open with high arching ceilings and architecture (Y/N) had never seen before. Some of the adults that passed by were accompanied by kids (Y/N)’s age, having the same braid as the young man that greeted them at the entrance. And the atmosphere of everything, it felt the same to (Y/N) as when Seb and Kimi first walked into the repair shop but multiplied by 10.

It felt both safe and suffocating at the same time.

Soon the three of them made it to a set of tall double doors with the same intricate symbol as the ones on the banners. The young man that greeted them when they landed stood in front of the doors and smiled at Seb as they approached.

“They’re inside ready to meet you.” He said.

“Thank you Mick. Will you wait out here for me? I need to talk to you about some things regarding your training.” Seb told him. Mick nodded.

Standing in front of the big doors, (Y/N) suddenly felt very nervous. The idea of having to meet with people only referred to as “The Council” seemed very nerve wracking to the young girl. Seb seemed to notice this as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I just want to reassure you that there is nothing to worry about. The Council may seem intimidating to you at first, but they aren’t.” Seb said.

“I was intimidated by them when I first met them.” The young man, Mick, said. He gave (Y/N) a reassuring smile. (Y/N) tried to give one in return but she was pretty sure that nervousness still showed on her face.

“You can stand by Kimi while I talk with The Council. I don’t think I’ll have to do much convincing to have them allow you to become part of The Order, but they may ask you a couple questions.” He said. “Are you ready?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath to try and steal her nerves.

“Yes.” She said, Seb smiled and nodded his head before opening the door.

The circular room was much smaller than (Y/N) expected it to be.

Nine chairs were arranged in a circle that took up most of the room. All of the seats except for two had someone sitting in it: Men dressed in the same attire as Seb and Kimi.

Most of them greeted Seb with a smile but all of them seemed to look at (Y/N) once she stepped into the room. She moved closer to Kimi, almost trying to hide behind him.

“Master Vettel. It’s good to see both you and Master Räikkönen back in one piece. Master Alonso informed us that the negotiations with the Trade Federation didn’t seem to go well.” Master Webber, one of Seb’s fellow councilmen, spoke. Seb nodded his head.

“You are correct, Master Webber. The Trade Federation was not up for negotiations in the slightest. We tried to have an open discussion with them but after a couple minutes the Leader left the room and me and Kimi were soon swarmed by battle droids. We had to fight our way out of there and during our ship’s retreat, the hyperdrive ended up being damaged, causing us to crash land on Tatooine.” Seb explained.

“Seems you may have picked something up while on Tatooine.” Master Ricciardo said, glancing behind Seb at (Y/N). He wore a friendly smile, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but try to make herself seem smaller due to nerves.

“We encountered a member of the Sith while on Tatooine.” Kimi said. Some of the men looked at each other with either confusion or concern.

“The Sith haven't been seen in ages.” Master Bottas said.

“What was a potential Sith doing on Tatooine.” Master Rosberg asked.

“That was the other matter I wished to discuss with you. I had mentioned to Master Alonso earlier that me and Master Räikkönen believe that we have found The Chosen.” Seb said. He turned around and gestured to (Y/N) to come join him in the center of the room. (Y/N) quietly walked over and stood next to Seb. The tone in the room seemed to shift once (Y/N) stood before them, as if they could sense something she couldn’t. (Y/N) wished she could be as small as possible with all these sets of eyes on her.

“What’s your name, young one?” Master Webber asked the girl.

“(Y/N).” She quietly said.

“You’re from Tatoonie?” He asked. (Y/N) shook her head.

“No. I was sold on Tatooine. I don’t know what planet I'm originally from.”

“You were a slave?” A different man asked. He had darker skin and wore his hair in braids. The girl nodded.

“(Y/N) said that the trader who sold her only dealt with Force sensitive. That’s a matter I feel we should discuss as well but at a later time." Seb chimed in.

“How old are you?” Master Webber asked her.

“11.” That answer caused some of the men to whisper to each other. (Y/N) tried not to think about what Kimi had said earlier about her possibly being too old to join The Order.

“How old were you when you were sold?” The man with braids asked.( (Y/N) would learn later he’s addressed as Master Hamilton)

“Five.” She told him. Master Webber took in the girl’s appearance, how she stood and how her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt to try and ease her nerves. But (Y/N) felt that he was trying to sense something else.

“(Y/N), with all that's happened to you in the past hours, you don't seem to be upset about being away from what was your home planet.” He said. (Y/N)’s face seemed to harden at his observation.

“Tatoonie never felt like home. Neither did the people who owned me.” She said, her voice now at an even and clear volume.

“So you have no attachments to the life that you had on Tatooine?”

(Y/N) didn’t need to think hard about that question. The people she belonged to were dead. She never made any real friends on that planet and besides repairing old speeders, she felt there was nothing to call her back to Tatooine.

“No. There’s nothing left for me back on Tatooine.” She said firmly. Master Webber looked to Seb

“You think she should join the Order.” Master Webber. It didn’t sound like a question, more so like Master Webber already knew Seb’s intentions.

“She’s too old.”Master Rosberg said. “She hasn’t been taught the proper teachings like every youngling must learn.”

“I understand that but I’ve seen how she uses The Force and how she’s been able to channel it. I believe if given time, proper training, and a good teacher, she can become a great Jedi.” Seb explained. (Y/N) wanted to smile at Seb’s words, but as she took them in, she also remembered that Seb had referred to as “The Chosen" earlier. (Y/N) wanted to know what he meant by that. It sounded like something with high expectations.

The men broke out into whispers amongst each other as they debated on what decision to make. Seb looked down at (Y/N) and gave her a reassuring smile and her shoulder a gentle squeeze. It comforted her a bit.

“The Council has decided…” Master Webber spoke after a few more moments of hushed whispers. “...that despite her age and considering the circumstances, (Y/N) will be allowed to join The Order and train in the ways of The Jedi.”

Both (Y/N) and Seb seemed to let out a relieved breath.

“Master Räikkönen will be her teacher.” Master Webber said. Kimi cleared his throat, having stayed at the back of the room the whole time.

“With all due respect, the missions I go on are not fit for a padawan.” He said.

“I’d be happy to take her on as my padawan.” Seb said.

“You already have a padawan Master Vettel. You can not take on another one.” Master Button said.

“I believe that Mick is ready to take on the trials to become a Jedi Knight. I’ve trained him for many years and feel he is prepared to handle his own missions.” Seb said. A few of the Council men glanced at each other.

“The Council has seen Padawan Schumacher’s progress. While he has learned and grown over the years with his abilities regarding The Force since becoming your padawan, recent months have cast doubt on if he is ready to become a Knight. Unfortunately we will have to deny your request.” Master Webber said.

“Not to mention that there are more younger Jedi Knights who are ready to take on padawans. I understand that with you believing that this girl is the Chosen one, that she should have a more experienced teacher, but The Council have not yet seen anything from her that truly proves so. Therefore she will be treated like every new padawan that comes into the Jedi Order.” Master Alonso explained. Seb nodded his head.

“I understand.” He said, hiding his disappointment inside. “If that is the case…then I believe I may know of a suitable teacher for (Y/N).”

~~~

The sounds of lightsabers clashing echoed throughout the training room as Seb entered. Once the council meeting had ended, Seb had asked Mick to show (Y/N) to what would be her new living quarters while Seb headed to the training room to look for a certain Jedi Knight. One or two people training greeted Seb as he entered, but most were engrossed in the sparring match that was happening in the middle of the room.

Two young men were engaged in a fierce lightsaber duel. One had dark blonde hair and wielded a blue lightsaber with intensity. His opponent deflected the hits with his own two green lightsabers. They seemed evenly matched, each deflecting hits that came their way. One may suspect that the young man wielding two lightsabers would have the upper hand, but a subtle feint and quick force powered shove from the dark blonde sent the brown haired young man he was fighting down to the ground, dropping one of his sabers.

“I win this one Charles.” The dark blonde young man said as he held his lightsaber in front, almost as if stopping the brunette from getting up. But the two smiled at each other and the blonde lowered his lightsaber to offer Charles a hand up. Those around that watched the sparring match applauded the two of them. Seb included.

“Max!” Seb called out. The dark blonde turned and, after giving Charles a pat on the shoulder, walked over to the Jedi Master.

“Yes, Master Vettel?”

“I know we haven’t spoken about this matter in a while but I wanted to know if you still had your objections about taking on a padawan?”

“Like I’ve said before Master Vettel, I don’t think it would be fit for me to take on a padawan. I’m-”

“-not a good teacher. I know, you’ve said that multiple times. However, I’ve just met with the council regarding an important matter.” Seb said.

“The Council can’t assign me a padawan. I have to be the one to choose.” Max said.

“I know that, but we think you and her would be a good pairing. You know what it’s like to have high expectations placed upon you.” Seb said. Max gave him a confused look.

“What do you mean by that exactly?”

“Come with me. I think this matter should be discussed somewhere more private.”

(Y/N) should expect that everything on Coruscant was going to be better than what she had on Tatooine. Yet she was still surprised by the living quarters that Mick showed her. The room had a proper bed with a mattress (Y/N) felt she could sink right into, a window with a view looking out at the Coruscant skyline, and a closet filled with garb like the ones everyone in the temple was wearing. It was all so much more than (Y/N) ever had.

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate in changing from her old, Tatoonie clothing into a fresh set of tunic and pants, throwing her old pair into a trash can without hesitation. The clothes fit perfectly, like they were meant to. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window’s reflection. Her hair was still messy and there was still some dirt and sand left smudged on her face, but everything else she saw looked nice, looked new.

“This is different.” She thought to herself. “This place feels safe.”

She looked again at her new living quarters. (Y/N) assumed that she was supposed to wait for Seb or someone else to come get her. But after traveling with Seb and Kimi for the past couple hours and having to meet with The Council, (Y/N) finally had some time to herself. And even though (Y/N) could spend hours on end sitting by the window staring at the skyline, there was a whole Temple to explore. And that’s what she was going to do.

~~~

At the moment, (Y/N) had no idea where in the temple she was. Honestly she should have expected this, being in a big and elaborate building she’s never been in before. (Y/N) had managed to find the temple’s library, mess hall, and the same entrance she had entered in with Seb and Kimi. But in trying to find her way back to her living quarters, (Y/N) seemed to have gotten a bit turned around.

‘Maybe if I double back and try and retrace my steps-’

(Y/N)’s thought process was interrupted as she accidentally bumped into the back of someone.

“Oh, sorry about that.” (Y/N) apologized as the person turned around. It was a boy about her age, with brunette hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t alone, as a blonde boy with blues stood behind. Both of them had the same singular braid in their hair that Mick had.

“No worries.” The brunette boy said. His voice had the same accent as Master Webber. He looked at (Y/N) with curiosity. “Are you new? I’ve never seen you around The Temple before.” The brunette boy said.

“Oh, yea I’m new...just arrived today.” (Y/N) told him. The boy smiled.

“I’m Oscar. This is Logan.” The brunette boy held out one of his hands for (Y/N) to shake. (Y/N) shook it and held out her hand for the blonde boy to shake. He hesitated before shaking her hand with one of his gloved ones.

“It’s nice to meet you Oscar, Logan. I’m (Y/N)”. She said, “I was trying to explore around but ended up getting a bit lost.”

“It is a bit hard to find your way around this place when you first get here.” Logan said.

“Well me and Logan were gonna head to the training ground. Maybe we could show you parts of the temple on the way there, if you want to join us.” Oscar said.

“Sure. That would be great!” (Y/N) said.

Following the two boys, Oscar and Logan showed (Y/N) parts of the temple she had missed, like some of the teaching rooms and outdoor atrium. Just as she was about to follow Oscar and Logan into the training room, someone called her name.

“(Y/N)!” It was Seb, who walked over with someone in tow. (Y/N) waved goodbye to Oscar and Logan before walking over to meet Seb.

“I was wondering where you may have wandered off to.” Seb said. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

The girl standing before Max wasn’t what he expected. Master Vettel had told him how he thought Max would be the perfect fit to train someone who was expected to become a great Jedi, that there was some prophecy involved with the person he was supposed to train.

“Max, this is (Y/N), she just arrived today. (Y/N), this is Jedi Knight Max Verstappen.” Seb said, introducing the two. The girl, (Y/N) as Seb introduced her, had started fidgeting with one of her sleeves as soon as she walked over. But she seemed to steel herself and held out a hand for Max to shake. It had smudges of dirt and a bit of dried oil left on it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She said. Max shook his hand.

As soon as their fingers touched, Max felt The Force wrap around him, as if it was trying to tell him something. He tried to steel himself, and hone in on the feeling. And he found that it was coming from the girl in front of him. Did the girl feel it too? Max couldn’t tell as she pulled her hand away. He did the same.

“I was just discussing with Max on how I think he would be a good teacher for you and that you would make a good padawan for him to train.” Seb said to (Y/N). “However the decision does come down to Max, so I thought it would be best for you two to at least meet before any decisions are made.”

Max didn’t think he was the type of person that would be a good teacher, that he wasn’t fit to train a padawan. He’s admitted multiple times that he’d rather spend his time training and going on missions where he could use his lightsaber a plenty than be in the temple teaching a youngling the ways of The Force.

But there’s something about the girl in front of him. Not only with The Force but with just everything about her. Max looked at (Y/N) and saw his younger self staring back.

“Now Max, you don’t need to make a decision now, but I advise that you and (Y/N) try to get to know each other before-”

“I'll do it.” Max said, interrupting Seb. Seb looked at Max with surprise.

“Really? “That’s wonderful to hear!” Seb said, now smiling. “Well my previous suggestion still stands that the two of you should get to know each other before you guys start training. I'll leave you to it.”

Seb gave (Y/N) a reassuring pat on her shoulder and a nod to Max before walking away, leaving the pair alone. The two stared at each other.

“So I assume I address you as Master Verstappen?” (Y/N) asked. Max grimaced.

“Don't call me that. Max is fine.” He said. (Y/N) could now pick up that Max spoke with an accent, one she had never heard before. “Have you eaten at all since you’ve got here?”

(Y/N) shook her head, now realizing how long it had been since she had last eaten.

“Well I can show you the dining hall and we can talk, “get to know each other” as Master Vettel said. Is that ok?”

“Yea, sure. I’m starving.”

Through the windows of the dining hall, (Y/N) could see the sun slowly setting on the Coruscant skyline. After putting various food on her tray, (Y/N) followed Max as he led her to a more secluded part of the dining hall.

As she followed though, (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the various stares or hushed whispers from people as they passed.

“Is that Verstappen…with a youngling?”

“Verstappen said he would never take on a padawan.”

“Do you think The Council forced him to take on one?”

Max took a seat at one of the tables tucked into the corner. (Y/N) sat across from him and looked down at her food.

“Master Vettel told me you lived on Tatooine. I’ve never been to that planet. What’s it like there?” Max asked. While Max was trying to skirt around the unfortunate circumstance the girl was in before she was found by Sebastian and Kimi, Max still wanted to try and get to know the girl. So he thought asking about the planet where (Y/N) grew up would be a safe question to ask.

“Hot. Sandy. Hot and Sandy is the only way to really describe it.” (Y/N) said with a neutral face as she poked at the food in front of her.

“What was your favorite thing to do there?” Max asked. (Y/N) took a bite of her food and smiled a bit.

“Trying to repair an old speeder that someone left behind.” (Y/N) said. “A bunch of races are held almost every month on Tatooine. I was hoping to get it fixed and enter some of the races. Win enough money to get me off the planet.”

“I prefer racing ships over speeders. A lot more action and opportunity.” Max said. (Y/N) looked at him curiously.

“Is that what I’ll be able to do at some point? Pilot a ship and race it past the stars?” (Y/N) asked. Piloting was something (Y/N) always wanted to learn. Properly. She learned bits and pieces from the pilots that would come into the shop for parts or repairs, but (Y/N) always wanted to learn how to fly a ship. Probably to better her chances of getting off Tattoonie. But (Y/N) no longer had to worry about that.

“Maybe. What I’m supposed to do is teach you how to harness The Force.” Max said. “But you are my padawan, so I can teach you things The Council may not want you to learn when you’re just starting out.” Max said, giving the girl a slight mischievous grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile back.

After the two had finished eating, Max walked (Y/N) back to her living quarters. Whispers and stares seemed to follow them as they walked and (Y/N) tried to brush it off.

“We’ll start your training tomorrow morning.” Max said as they stopped at the door to (Y/N)’s living quarters. “I know it may feel strange sleeping in an unfamiliar place but try to get some proper sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ok. Goodnight.” (Y/N) watched Max walk away. As he passed by a group of younglings with braids in their hairs, they looked at Max with awestruck faces. But he didn’t pay them any attention. (Y/N) remembered what she felt when she and Max first shook hands. Something seemed to pull her towards Max, The Force trying to tell her that something about him was important. She couldn’t help but wonder…who exactly did Seb assign as her teacher?

TAGLIST: @fangirl-dot-com @chasing-liberosis @miarabanana @vicurious28 @mayo-0-o

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #max verstappen x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #formula 1 star wars au #stars racing past

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libbee · 2 years

Text

The girl of her dreams.

🌼 For sun in 1st/7th/8th/12th; venus in 8th/12th; venus in scorpio, sun in pisces, sun in libra (my astro observation).

🌼 Naturally, we assume that it is men who dream of their dream girl, who they like and who they want to be with. It is strange to think that girls too dream of girls - albeit not the girl they want to date but the girl they want to "be". Have you ever sat in a social setting, checking out the faces of everyone and laughing loud/do something quirky to get a reaction out of people? In your mental world, they adore you, praise you, are captivated, bewitched and admire you. Aren't you just so perfect?

🌼 Sit with yourself for an hour and see through your fantasies. The random images, memories, movie scene, music lyrics, conversation - what is it that pops up in your mind? I did this and saw a fantasy of Barack Obama dancing to Cheap Thrills. Well, I know the meaning behind the symbolism because I know myself. This is a symbol of a powerful, important, competent man dancing to a quirky, playful and youthful song - it is the merger of the two fantasies I have, on one hand desiring to be grandiose and on the other hand craving to be carefree and silly.

🌼 I am talking of the PUELLA AETERNUS. The spontaneous, autonomous, dissociative and fanatical archetype of a young girl who is outwardly a mess but inwardly a princess. The eternal child. The eternal youth. Unrealistic adolscent fantasies. Often manifested in motion pictures like movies and TV - so it creates a social pressure to conform to the idea of a woman who is very desirable to the masses. On a personal level, the girl herself lives in the fantasy world of how life is supposed to be, how people should comfort her, react to her and care for her. The paradise of childhood. The birdy in the nest. Flees from the cold cruel world and its realities. Daydreams and reacts to passive fantasies. Fatasies of future, what would be, could be, should be, without taking any actions. She has an imaginary attitude towards life, escaping to temporary comfort and running as far as possible from the reality.

🌼 Her problem is that she is missing a sense of identity, she feels fragmented and worthless. It is too much for her to cross the borders from fantasy to real world. In the modern world, she is expected to get education and do job, but all she wants to do is to be on social media all day. If you know someone like this, she is a puella - a little girl in an adult body with a father complex. Her playful and carefree facade hides deep insecurities. She idealizes the other people and craves their admiration. When the sun is weak in birth chart, it shows a father who was emotionally unavailable, distant and not there - resulting in low self esteem, stunted psychological growth and childish fantasies in the girl. A lot of women are like that, a lot of fathers were not available and active in their daughter's life, a lot of women stay puella even after marriage and children through their 40s 50s 60s. The forever 21.

🌼 If you can see yourself in this archetype, I have a bad news and a good news. A bad news is that you have essentially drifted your whole life in a fantasy. A good news is you can quit today. There is no "closure" or "the end" to your past story. The day you decide to quit is the day you commit to it. That ultimately is the only solution for this trouble. Work. Any work. Chores. Responsibilities. Immerse yourself in something. Study paint write work exercise. Just work. Test yourself. Challenge yourself. Every time your mind drifts to a fantasy, bring it back to reality. Remember that the social media even tumblr is a world of make believe. How many of us are puella but in denial? Throw yourself into the fire of life and let it rebirth you. Break down the ideal imagery in your mind and accept your humanness.

🌼 The shadow of this archetype is the Crone wise "old" woman. She is balanced, disciplined, hard working, realistic, conscientious, controlled and mature. Committed to work and immersed in whatever is her calling in life. She has sacrificed the wonder of fantasy realm. She immerses herself in the external world to find her individuality and to learn skills for life. There is no magical way. Just the practice, learning, practice, learning, practice. You can cultivate these qualities in yourself. Think it is too easy? Why not try. Habits are hard to break, sometimes very hard. Sylvia Plath was one puella who desired reconstruction of her life but took her own life when the conflicts were too much to bear.

🌼 I am reminded of the tarot card two of wands in this context

The globe in his hand is the projection of the inner fantasy world while he gazes out over the bay at the real world, the realities of life, the potential in him, the challenges he must face, the risks he must take. He has to choose a decision, to leave comfort zone, and compare the two worlds side by side. On one hand is the inner fantasy world that he holds in his palm that he escapes to for temporary comfort while on the other hand is the external reality, hardships and worldly successes. You cannot live in your inner world forever. Commit today and henceforth the fantasy world is meaningless to you. I read this somewhere: *"Sometimes people have to injure themselves very badly in order to awaken to what life really is"* - that is sometimes the only solution to life problems. The anxiety and fear never end, you just work through it and claim your life in your hands.

🌼 "If you want to go your individual way, it is the way you make for yourself, which is never prescribed, which you do not know in advance, and which simply comes into being of itself when you put one foot in front of the other. If you always do the next thing that needs to be done, you will go most safely and sure-footedly along the path prescribed by your unconscious. Then it is naturally no help at all to speculate about how you ought to live. And then you know, too, that you cannot know it, but quietly do the next and most necessary thing. So long as you think you don’t yet know what this is, you still have too much money to spend in useless speculation. But if you do with conviction the next and most necessary thing, you are always doing something meaningful and intended by fate." - Carl Jung.

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology #astrology blog #astrology notes #astrology observations #dark astrology #Sun #7th house #12th house #8th house

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carionto · 1 year

Text

So uhh... we found something really, REALLY strange

As the tectonic activity continues to shift ever more chaotically across the globe, randomly elevating or crumbling parts of mountains, opening up fissures and expanding fault lines, not to mention all the volcanic eruptions, to say it is important to monitor the inner workings of Earth would be a criminal understatement.

On the remains of what used to be Hawaii, now a singular landmass, lies a monitoring station closest to the epicenter of the Fusion Detonation Event, some 400km away. Seismographer and tectonics expert Joannie du'Preeste was finalizing this months deep level mapping of the area of detonation and directly below to give the algorithm-driven disaster prediction model at least an above 50% accuracy rate for this month.

Typical readings, increase in magma outflow, collapses of internal caverns, formation of new ones, and irregular shifts from the various efforts to stymie and direct the disastrous plate movements. Now that Humanity and Earth were properly back in dimensional space instead of in-between, some additional hectic activity in the form of directional nuclear detonation had been performed for the upcoming plan of "plug the hole with a large piece of another planet or moon".

They've selected Sycorax by the way, just waiting for it to get further away from Uranus in its irregular orbit, hook it up to several Dreadnoughts and haul it over to Earth and gently plop it in the hole. It is about the right size and nobody will miss it if it doesn't work.

Anyway, as she pondered the likely inevitable yet another calamitous event we'll be willingly conducting, the mapper finished its work.

At first, more of the same chaos as usual, but something at the back of her mind said to glance closer at the density readings from the deepest level measurements. With not much else to do today before the work day ends, she highlighted the appropriate levels, and as she started to remove clutter data, a shape began to emerge.

A tendril.

While scans and maps often show things that our minds interpret as something already familiar to us, once you look at each individual part, you see that it is just a coincidence. The brain wants to see what it knows to make sense of the unknown, life would be too complicated and overstimulating otherwise.

No mistake, however. As she removed more of the clutter and focused in on the object, there was no mistaking its resemblance to a biological structure. Hints of veins, pores, hairs, scales, needles, eyes... seemingly everything you could find on the surface layer of a creature was there, or parts of it anyway. Composition-wise it was more of the same silicates and such compounds found within the mantle. But... denser, more concentrated, almost deliberately shaped.

She quickly loaded up older data and after a bit of filtering and comparing, sure enough, the same tendril-like structure is there, just a little closer to the regular density levels of the surrounding. Even years old data provided similar results, though you could only find the shape if you already knew it was there.

Loading up the oldest records she had access to from around 300 years ago revealed the same, just even less distinguishable from the surrounding materials.

The scans don't go deep enough to show what the tendril leads to, if anything, but what is it? How did it get there? Why is something clearly biological in structure within the mantle layer? And if it does continue, how far? Does the core of the planet itself house some impossible creature? If so... what does that mean? For Earth? For Humanity? For the Universe? This is way above Joannie's pay grade and expertise, way past her regular waking hours as well at this point, and way too big to know how or if to reveal any information to the public. Some higher ups can have a headache instead.

Maybe the Coalition aliens know something similar.

Maybe this is all a big load of nothing and she just imagined it all.

Yeah.

That'd be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if Cthulu wasn't potentially real?

#humanity fuck yeah #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #lovecrafian #fiction #short story #story #I'm not gonna tease and slow burn this #I suggested Cthulu exists in this verse so gotta advance that #how is this gonna work? dunno #I should probably read Lovecrafts works huh #cuz right now i'm just improving eldritch beings #also just casually dooming a moon to a pointless death #carionto

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kazcreates · 5 months

Text

Six of Crows // TUA

Number One

Character: Matthias

Reasoning: This one is the easiest to determine and makes sense from both a power point of view and story-arc point of view. Matthias is a natural born leader, and sees himself as someone who needs to keep the rest of the crows in line and act as a sort of moral compass. This reflects well with the position of Number One, as the leader of the group and a somewhat self-righteous character in the beginning.

Number Two

Character: Inej

Reasoning: Although it would make sense for Jesper to be Number Two due to the metal/trajectory manipulation, Diego’s character better fits Inej in my mind. She would definitely hold a grudge against Sir Reginald Hargreeves for taking them away from their parents and for not protecting them when they were kids. She also would fit the vigilante role well, due to her pirating arc at the end of Crooked Kingdom.

Number Three

Character: Nina

Reasoning: It was a toss-up between Number Four and Number Three for Nina, due to her powers as a corpse witch, but I feel that she would fit better as Number Three with the reality manipulation/rumor ability, because of what she was able to do under the effects of Jurda Parem, and the line about her and Jesper seducing all of Ketterdam into submission.

Number Four

Character: Jesper

Reasoning: This decision is mainly based on character arc and personality. Klaus and Jesper are similar levels of chaos, sass, and queerness. As well as the fact that addiction is a big part of both of their arcs. I felt that Number Four was a better fit than he would have been for Number Two.

Number Five

Character: Kaz

Reasoning: I felt that out of all of them, Kaz would embody the 50+ year old man in a 13-year-old’s body arc the best. He and Five just remind me a lot of each other, and view themselves as the leader of their respective groups, whether or not everyone sees it that way. Plus, Kaz, due to his PTSD, is kind of stuck in the past sometimes, and I think that preventing the apocalypse would be a good mirror to his drive for revenge against Pekka Rollins.

Number Six

Character: Jordie

Reasoning: I find this one very, very interesting to explore, and for this reason, I thought about giving Kaz the role of Number Four, but no one else really embodied Number Five like he did. Plus, the idea of Jesper being able to talk to Jordie while Kaz can’t? I want to explore it. But other than the fact that he is dead, I like to think that Jordie would act as a common sense filter for Jesper, and by extension, Kaz, much like Ben does.

Number Seven

Character: Wylan

Reasoning: This was another fairly easy decision for me. The treatment of Number Seven by Sir Reginald Hargreeves is somewhat similar to Wylan’s treatment by his father. The isolation, the constant reminding that they are not special and are nothing compared to everyone else. The fact that Wylan was very much considered an outsider by the Crows for a large portion of Six of Crows. As well as the connection of both Wylan and Number Seven to music.

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ssinnerplazahotel · 13 days

Text

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Fifteen*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 5k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

finale pt. 2

“They want you for the cover of Harper’s Bazaar.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

“Because they think you’re ‘extraordinarily beautiful,’” He said, quoting the request directly. “‘Otherworldly.’

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Well, I happen to agree that you’re out of this world.”

He smiled as you sat down in his lap, hugging his neck as you glanced over the letter. You thought about the offer for a moment.

“You don’t have to think about it too much,” Elvis said when he noticed your contemplation. “I’ll tell them you don’t want to do it.”

“Will you do it with me?”

“They didn’t ask me, dirty bird, they asked you.”

You laughed. “I know but…we do everything together.”

You knew if Elvis was on the cover they’d hardly spare you a glance. Doing it alone opened up the floor for criticism—criticism you no longer had the tolerance for. Though the hit pieces you saw were few and far between (Elvis made sure of that) you knew there was another level of hate out there.

“It should be all about you,” He said. “You have a few months to make up your mind.”

“They may not want me in a few months.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged dismissively. “I might be pregnant.”

You felt him tense beneath you. “You think?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “I’m late but…I’ve been late before.”

“They said there was a chance~”

“I don’t want to get excited. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“That mindset won’t get you far.”

“And being optimistic will?”

You stood up before he could respond, taking the lighter from the corner of his desk. He watched you wordlessly as you took a cigarette from its case and lit it.

“How late?”

“Don’t start with the questions, E.”

He stood with a sigh, dropping the pen that he had been fidgeting with. “Well, let me know when you start giving a fuck.”

You faced him. “You’re upset?”

“No.” You stopped him from leaving. “Birdie, I don’t care if you don’t.”

“I care,” You said. “I’m just scared.”

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then that’s just it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do understand.”

“Do you know what a miscarriage feels like?”

He retracted, but he was still upset. “I don’t see the point in trying if we’re gonna ignore it when it happens.”

“I’m not ignoring it,” You said. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well.” He walked past you. “I guess we’ll see.”

The months slipped by agonizingly slow. It was a miserable day every day you woke up still pregnant. It wasn’t that you hoped for another miscarriage, you just hated the anticipation of it all. It was hard to even acknowledge the fact.

You were measuring small, even towards the end of term. The doctors told you it was due to stress. It wasn’t the baby that was stressing you out however.

“I can’t believe I’m the one telling you that we need to get some things in order around here,” Elvis said, forcing you out of bed. “That sucker’s gonna pop out any day now, honey. They told us that weeks ago.”

“It’s fine,” You complained. “I’m sure someone will have the room ready overnight if you ask them.”

“This ain’t the inn, birdie,” He said. “You don’t just put it together in one day. Shouldn’t you have some kind of maternal instinct by now?”

You weren’t prepared to have a baby, let alone be a mother. You feared that you’d mess it up, like you mess up everything else.

“Come help me put this thing together,” Elvis said, returning to his passion project for that afternoon—the baby’s bassinet.

“Put it together in the nursery,” You said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t make sense to do it here.”

“She’s not sleeping alone in a nursery,” He said. “You gotta keep her close the first few months at least. Unless you want a psychopath on our hands.”

“You read too much.”

“You don’t read enough.”

“Down the hall isn’t close enough?”

“Don’t be cruel.”

You watched him as he intently read the instructions word for word—ordering you around as he did so.

“A should snap into D,” He said, pointing the pieces out to you. “And B into C.”

“What?”

“A and D, B and C.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Let me do it.”

It felt like everything was happening to you. You were nothing more than a variable in this equation and life was insistent on working you out.

“Just breathe for a second~”

“Is it happening?”

“Calm down~”

“Is it really happening?”

“Birdie, relax.”

You couldn’t, how could you? You were in labor, actual labor. Elvis had kept his wits about him when you told him but that didn’t stop you from succumbing to the feeling of impending doom that you had been trying to outrun for the past eight and a half months.

“Get off the phone, E,” You said, rushing him along. “We need to get there before they really start. I can’t handle it.”

“I’m coming,” He said, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “Go get dressed, you can’t go out like that.”

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“Go change,” He insisted. “You could use the distraction while I get this together.”

“Please hurry,” You said, going to find something decent to wear. “I don’t want to feel anything. I can’t take it, I already told you~”

“I know, darlin,” He said halfheartedly. “We’re practically already there.”

You were fully in labor when you arrived at the hospital and barely in time for the epidural. But, after twelve and a half hours, you were welcoming your first daughter into the world.

It was a moment that already felt surreal in your head but even more so as you watched it all play out in front of you. It was painless—as painless as it could be—and you were happy. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. In reality, you had no idea what you were feeling.

“Birdie?”

“Hm?”

“Her name.”

Your eyes met Elvis’s as you held your daughter. He looked down at the both of you with such admiration.

“Are you asking me what it should be?”

“No, I’m telling you.”

“Birdie’s no name for a baby, E.”

“It could be.”

You looked down at the child in your arms, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands balled into tiny fists. “How about…Lark?”

“…I like it.” Elvis kissed your temple before leaning his head against yours and looking down at his daughter. “Y’know…we’re gonna have to tell the press soon.”

“Yeah, I know,” You responded. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

“It’s no rush.”

“Of course it is. They’re probably camped outside waiting.”

You turned your head when he didn’t respond, finding a telling expression on his face. “E…they are not camped outside waiting.”

“I don’t know how they found out~”

“Why would you say anything about telling them if they already know?” Your shift in tone startled the sleeping newborn in your arms, causing her to fuss. “Oh god, take her please~”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You weren’t sure if he was consoling you or the baby as he took her and stood from the bed. “It’s okay, hunna.”

You stared in the direction of the window, unable to see out but still picturing the press crowded around the building.

“What are they saying?” You asked, looking at him. “I know you’ve heard something so don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” He said in a hushed tone, walking the baby over to the crib that the hospital provided. “It’s just a shock, really. Most of the reactions are good.”

You didn’t believe him but you didn’t argue. You were too tired to go back and forth any longer.

After a restless night, you were awoken by Elvis saying that you were being discharged.

“Liz is here.”

“Why?”

“We have to go through the press to get out of here.”

“Is there really no other way?”

“They want to see us.”

You went through hair and makeup, nursing Lark along the way. You handed her off quickly after she was fed.

“Doesn’t hurt to hold her sometimes, bert,” Elvis said.

“Please don’t start calling me that,” You complained tensely as Liz zipped the back of your dress. You could hardly breathe in the stiff fabric.

“You don’t like it?” He laughed.

“No,” You exclaimed. “How do you get ‘bert’ from ‘birdie?’”

“D’You hear it, Lizzie?” He asked.

Liz shrugged and muttered something about hearing where he’d gotten it from.

“I can’t hear it,” You said. “I also can’t breathe.”

“You definitely don’t look like you had a baby twenty-four hours ago,” Liz said, adding the final touches. “They’ll love it.”

You enjoyed your brief interactions with Liz. She wasn’t talkative—by nature or per Elvis’s request you didn’t know. She finished up and left.

“What’s wrong?” Elvis asked when she was gone, laying the baby down.

“I don’t want them to see me,” You confessed. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

“Why?” He wondered. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes threatened to roll at the compliment. You didn’t feel beautiful. You felt sore and tired—all but beautiful.

“It’ll be quick,” Elvis said. “Like tearin off a bandaid.”

The nurses insisted that you be wheeled to the car but you politely declined. You could make it walking.

Lark was carried out in her car seat first, heavily protected on all sides before you and Elvis casually strolled out of the building. It was pure chaos outside but you tuned everything out. When you finally made it to the car Elvis let you in before following suit. It was quick, like he promised.

“Andrea?”

You were shocked to see her waiting for you in the foyer when you arrived back at Graceland. She stopped you before you grew excited.

“I came back for the baby.”

You smiled despite her cold demeanor. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Her expression softened when Elvis entered with the car seat in tow. He sighed as he shut the front door.

“You came,” He stated.

“For the baby,” Andrea clarified again, kneeling down to peek at her in the carrier. “What’s her name?”

“Lark,” You responded. “Like the bird.”

“You named her after a bird?” Andrea asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s sentimental.” You shrugged. “You don’t like it?”

“I think it’s a beautiful name.”

Your head snapped instantly in the direction of Dawn’s voice. She stood off to the side watching the interaction unfold.

“Aunt Dawn,” You said delightfully. “You made it.”

“I promised I would,” She said, opening her arms and wrapping you in her familiar embrace. “I had to see this to believe it.”

You felt small in her arms, like the child you once were. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She rubbed your back as she held you. “I’m here.”

“Let’s get you to bed, little bit,” Elvis said, cutting your embrace short. “Doctor’s orders.”

Things were different around the house with the baby and Andrea. Dawn stayed for a few days but ultimately returned to her house a few minutes up the road.

You promised to bring Lark over as often as you could, and you meant it. You aimed to go over every other weekend, but that changed into whenever Elvis could make the trip. He hated for you to visit Dawn on your own. You hadn’t paid it any mind until she brought it up one evening.

“It’s like he’s afraid to leave you alone with me,” She complained. “I’m your aunt. I practically raised you.”

“It’s not like that, Aunt Dawn,” You said as you buckled Lark into her seat. “He hates for me to travel alone. That’s all. There are crazy people out there.”

“He hates for you to do anything alone. It’s concerning.”

“No, it’s sweet. And he really enjoys our visits.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I hardly recognize you. You look exhausted.”

“That’s because I am exhausted.”

“Andrea and Joel seem to think~”

“Are you really going to let Joel and Andrea ruin our day? They’re the reason he hardly lets me come over anyway. Have they turned you against him too?”

“My worry for you has nothing to do with my feelings about him.”

“Don’t believe anything they say, it’s all made up.”

“Why would they make these things up?”

“Because they don’t want to see us together.”

Elvis appeared from the house then, carrying Lark’s missing pacifier.

“Where was it, baby?” You asked, ignoring the disconcerted expression on Dawn’s face.

“Under the couch,” He said. “The drive back would’ve been hell without it.”

“You two be careful,” Dawn said. “It’s getting dark soon.”

“We will be,” You said, stepping forward and hugging her. “Don’t worry about me. Please, I’m okay.”

“See you, Dawny,” Elvis said, hugging her briefly as well. “I’ll bring them by again soon.”

“I look forward to it.” She watched the two of you climb into the car and waved as you left.

“What’s got her so worried about you?”

“Hm?”

“Dawn. You told her not to worry?”

You shrugged dismissively. “She’s always like that.”

He hummed, unsatisfied with your response. “Did you say something in particular to get her like that?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know…she said I looked tired.”

Andrea was there to scoop up Lark the minute you got back. She claimed to not trust the two of you alone with her. She meant it as a joke but a part of you couldn’t help but think she was serious.

“I was about to take her upstairs,” You said. “She needs to get changed and fed.”

“I can do it,” Andrea offered as she bounced Lark in her arms. “I don’t mind.”

“That’s alright~”

“Let her do it,” Elvis said. “We’re gonna be down here anyway.”

“I was going to,” You said as he took the diaper bag from your shoulder and handed it off to Andrea. “It’ll only take a second.”

“I don’t mind,” Andrea insisted. “Go relax. I’m on baby duty.”

“Come on, bert,” Elvis said, laughing at the nickname as he guided you away.

You watched Andrea carefully climb the stairs until she was out of your view.

The scene downstairs was too chaotic and you would’ve preferred to be anywhere else. Elvis kept a heavy arm around your shoulders as you sat silently by his side amongst the group.

Despite your presence, there were still numerous women who had taken the same mundane interest in him as the hundreds (thousands, or even millions) who came before them. You couldn’t blame them, or the way they stared shamelessly—he was too beautiful to only steal a glance.

What they wanted from him was surface level, they craved his body, but his mind and soul were yours—some crude part of you wanted them to know that. You felt invisible next to him as their eyes locked on his every move.

“What?” Elvis asked when he noticed you shifting closer.

“I want to go upstairs,” You said, giving him a look and hoping he’d understand. You placed a suggestive hand on his thigh to further express your point. “Please.”

“Don’t, birdie, come on,” He scolded, moving your hand from his thigh.

“I need you,” You said. “Don’t you want me?”

His jaw twitched. “Why are you being like that in front of all these people?”

“They like watching so much, I figured we’d put on a show.”

“What?”

“A show, y’know…”

His eyes narrowed as he processed what you were saying.

“I want them to know that you’re mine,” You confessed.

“And the only way to prove that is to…?”

“Show them.”

“How?” He laughed.

“Kiss me,” You insisted. “Touch me.”

“You’re crazy,” He muttered under his breath. “I don’t know how I put up with you.”

His words hurt but in some sort of satisfying way.

He kissed your cheek and his deep voice vibrated in your ear when he whispered, “Go upstairs.”

You stood, trying not to pout as you left the room. You stopped by Lark’s nursery on your way by and you saw Andrea but you didn't make your presence known as you watched them. She was so good with her.

Elvis came up the stairs as you stood there and you immediately went to the bedroom without a word. You shut the door behind yourself, making him open it moments later.

“What? You have a problem with me?” He asked, slamming the door.

You faced him—crossing your arms.

“How can I help that they were looking at us?”

“They were looking at you, not me.”

“D’you know who I was looking at? You.”

“Do they know that?”

“Who cares what they know?”

“I do.”

“So, what, you want me to fuck you in a room full of people?”

You pushed him away when he stepped closer but even with all your strength he didn’t budge. You struggled against him when he grabbed your wrists, trying to pull away. His grip tightened and he forced you into a rough kiss. As much as you wanted to deny him you gave in quickly.

He made you straddle him when he sat on the edge of the bed, assisting your movements with a tight grip on your waist and making you grind your core against the bulge forming in his pants.

“You’re gonna finish what you were trying to start out there,” He said. “Do you understand?”

You aren’t sure what came over you in that moment, but you brought your right hand up and struck his cheek in one swift motion. He seemed as shocked by the action as you were, his head cocked to the side—frozen for a moment before acting suddenly.

He stood and shoved you onto your back, wrapping a hand around your neck.

You nodded in encouragement. “Hit me back.”

He kissed you, there was a gentleness lingering behind his touch that you wanted him to let go of. “Don’t be brutal.”

“I want it.”

“You want me to hit you?”

“Yes.”

He examined your expression for a moment before pulling away. You waited as he sat back on his heels and silently removed his shirt.

“Take off your dress,” He finally said, waiting expectantly.

You smiled and shook your head ‘no.’ He was on you immediately, forcing you onto your front before unzipping the back of your dress. He stripped you, leaving you in only your heels and panties.

“On your back,” He demanded.

You turned over but immediately lifted your foot, using the pointed end of your heel to keep him from coming closer. He grabbed your ankle and ripped the shoe from your foot before wrestling the other off.

He forced himself between your legs. You tried to push him away but he pinned your hands beside your head—he wasn’t letting up but you could feel his frustration building.

You forced a heavy moan and arched your back, playing up your pleasure and becoming pliant. He released your wrists and you put your arms around his shoulders—you let him kiss you fully before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling. You tugged harshly and he groaned.

“Don’t do that,” He said through clenched teeth. “Fucking let go.”

“Make me,” You challenged. “Hit me.”

“What’s that do for you?”

“It makes me feel like yours.”

You closed your eyes as he kissed you, releasing your grip on his hair.

“You are mine,” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t have to hit you to prove that, do I?”

“No,” You agreed, trying not to let your excitement show as he grabbed your jaw and made you look at him.

“You’re my girl?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what that means?”

Your eyes widened when his ring and middle fingers suddenly pushed past your lips, forcing your tongue down. You gagged and tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let you. The rings on his fingers clanked uncomfortably against your teeth but you couldn’t avoid them.

“It means—” His face was close to yours. “—that you hold yourself together when other girls make you jealous, you don’t fall apart and turn into a desperate nag.” He only pulled away after you choked, his fingers covered in your saliva. “You should know that by now, birdie. You’re actin like an amateur.”

You hardly had a second to breathe before he was forcing you onto your back.

“You’re always asking why I never use your mouth and you can’t even handle two fingers. It’s fucking adorable.” His words must’ve had the effect he wanted them to, because he laughed when you started struggling again. “You’re just a little girl. You don’t know the first thing about what you’re getting into when you ask me to do shit like this to you.”

“You’d rather fuck one of them?”

“I probably would’ve if it weren’t for your bad attitude.”

You fought harder but he held you down under half his body weight.

“You don’t like that?” He asked knowingly, grunting as he thrusted his touch-starved erection against your core.

“No, I don’t fucking like that,” You spat. “You’re an asshole.”

“Your mouth.” He tutted, disapprovingly.

“Fuck you.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck y~”

You were stunned by the slap that crossed your face. It didn’t hurt but it stung in an addicting way and made you throb with desperation.

“That’s what you want?” He asked, you could hear the panic reserved in his tone. He was checking in.

“Yes,” You reassured him.

“When did you get like this?” He muttered, sitting up and instructing you to remove his belt. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after being such a mean little thing.”

You sat up with him to unbuckle the belt. He took your face in his hands and kissed you, still unable to resist your lips.

“Say you love me,” He demanded, breaking the kiss. “Fucking say it.”

“I love you,” You said. “I love you, I love you, I love you~”

“Alright, shut up,” He interrupted. “You’re gonna get yourself off, d’you think you can do that?”

You followed him as he sat back against the headboard, letting him force you to straddle him. You brought your hand up in an attempt to land your revenge, but he caught your wrist before you could connect.

“Don’t try it again.” He tore your underwear from around your waist, ruining them. “Take my rings off.”

You reached for his hand and he pulled it out of your reach.

“Uh, uh,” He hummed. “Use your mouth.”

You hesitate but parted your lips anyway. He swore as you used your mouth to remove each ring, leaving his fingers glistening with your saliva.

“Last one,” He said as you spit another ring into his right palm and took his left ring finger in your mouth. He hissed as the wedding band slipped from his finger and into your mouth. He stopped you from spitting it out. “Keep it in your mouth. Don’t swallow it.”

You wanted to protest but focused your attention instead on not letting the ring slip down your throat. He kissed your chest as his wet fingers glided through your slick folds.

With his left hand occupied and his right arm wrapped around your back, you had a clear opportunity to land another sharp slap across his cheek.

He released an involuntary gasp upon contact, clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose.

“Spit,” He demanded, holding his left hand out for the ring. You let fall out of your mouth along with the pool of saliva that had collected.

He tossed the ring aside and leaned forward until you laid flat against the bed. He forced his fingers into you, curling them deep.

“It’s not enough that I married you, and gave you my child,” He said through labored breathing. “You want me to use you in a room full of people to prove a point.”

“People you would’ve had the luxury of screwing if I were nicer.”

“You know I say that kind of shit to piss you off.”

You released an accented moan as he slammed his fingers harshly into you, cutting your rebuttal short.

His hand found your throat again and applied more pressure. Your eyes widened in shock when your breathing was interrupted and you struggled to push him off.

“What?” He stopped moving. “Too soft? Harder?”

He waited another second and let go.

“Harder,” You gasped.

“Really?” His thrusts became longer and deeper—making your legs tremble as he reached that spot that made your toes curl. “But you’re crying, mama.”

He knew as well as you did that the tears in your eyes had nothing to do with you crying and everything to do with him choking you moments before. But he’d use the tears as a testimony to your pain if it made you appear frail.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, knowing the answer.

You wanted to tell him to keep going, but it was too much. The last thing you wanted to do was prove him right by affirming your sensitivity. Rather than appear weak, you opted for silence.

“Okay,” He whispered, kissing your lips gently. “I’ll take care of you, darlin, don’t worry.”

He sat up and silently motioned ‘come here’ with both hands—his lids heavy and his pupils blown with lust. You forced yourself to sit up, figuring it best to agree. He wrapped his arms around your torso, expecting you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Stay,” He whispered. “What’re you gonna do?”

“…Stay.” You shivered when he entered you, relaxing into his hold and completely relinquishing your senses.

“Good girl…see? You can be a sweet girl.”

You couldn’t feel anything outside of him. You couldn’t see, hear, smell, or taste anything…only him.

“You walk around like you have so much to prove,” He said, his voice low in your ear. “I don’t know why.”

You couldn’t respond, you couldn’t form any words as that familiar knot started to form in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s like you’re jealous of a couple of strangers,” He continued, rocking his hips upward to thrust inside of you. “Do you want me to treat you like them? Like I don’t know you—like I don’t love you?”

The world fell away and for a moment you were just a body made up of electricity and burning pleasure. Your eyes rolled and you trembled. He kept going.

“Do you want me fuck you like a stranger?” He muttered, you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you anymore.

“Please,” You whispered, encouraging him. “…fuck me like a stranger.”

His hips stuttered and he came instantly, bursting inside of you like a teenager. You felt the warmth of his release pooling inside of you and seeping between your thighs.

You climbed out of his lap, leaving no time for either of you to come down or catch your breath. You tried to turn away—too woozy to get up—but he grabbed you by the arm and made you face him. You wouldn’t look at him, so he gripped your jaw.

“I love you,” He panted. “I…love you. That’s the difference. That makes all the difference.”

You met his eyes. “That makes everything okay?”

“No,” He admitted. “It doesn’t.”

You couldn’t read his expression—his lids were heavy with post-orgasmic bliss. He was still coming down from his high, not speaking for himself but from his pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

You hugged him back, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to revel in his apology while he was sorry—because you knew he wouldn’t be for long.

He pulled away from the embrace after a few minutes. “Say it back.”

You smiled, you almost thought he hadn’t noticed. “I love you too.”

He smiled, content.

“You should get back out there,” You said. “Seemed like the night was just getting started.”

“I’m not finished with you just yet,” He said, smirking suggestively. “You’ve awoken something inside of me.”

“Oh no,” You said sarcastically, laughing as his hands shamefully roamed your body. “What have I done?”

“Where’s Lark?”

“With Andrea still.”

“Perfect.”

You squeaked in surprise when he rolled onto his back and pulled you onto his lap.

“Tell me what to do."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

His fingernails grazed your bare thighs as he smiled timidly. "I want you to order me around. Make me do things I wouldn’t usually do.”

You would grow to accept that there would be no final retribution or day of reckoning. No fight, no agreement, no threat, no reconciliation.

Those things didn’t matter when it came to the two of you. At the end of it all—good, bad, ugly and indifferent—you two would remain. It was an undisputed truth…wherever you went, you went together.

You could be opposites, or just alike, it’d make no difference. He could be like the sea. Open, free, abundant in what he could give. Charitable, but indulgent. Hazardous, but certain. You could be like the desert. Brutal, unforthcoming, full of life in some areas but destitute in others. Fertile, but not nurturing. Guarded, but unprotected. You could have been all those things and one simple fact would remain.

Wherever there was Elvis Presley, so too was his baby birdie.

—fin.

#elvis presley #elvis imagine #austin butler #elvis smut #black reader #elvis fluff #elvis presely smut #elvis x black reader #elvis x you #the bikeriders #60s elvis

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dee-the-red-witch · 4 months

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hi so. i'm sorry if you feel like this is something you've talked about too much but i'm genuinely having a hard time understanding- what's the issue with femboys? or is it a finnster-specific issue...? idk i can see how it's an issue of like. performing femininity but not really accepting what womanhood really means but what makes it different from drag in that case? or am i going in the wrong direction trying to understand? i have amab as well as afab ppl in my life that identify as femboys and use it as a loosely-nonbinary term but i also know a couple femboys that are. hm. probably eggs leaning on the term that's less "scary" when it comes to confronting gender, is it about that....?

sorry if this is exhausting for you to discuss i'm just confused and trying to understand

Ok, keep in mind, this is a nonny. Which means I need to treat this with the intent that it's bait. Because that's what fucking happens a lot to folks. So I'm picking my words. 1. Show me where I said I have a problem with femboys in general. Because honestly? No problem with the identity. No problem with the concept. Same with drag, same with Crossdressers, same with sissys. They're all just as valid. What I have a problem with is when people specifically use and abuse things like F1nn5ter's (last I checked, still using he/him pronouns, so that's what I'm using here) use of trap content. Content that gets trans women beaten, abused, exiled, ostracized, and killed on a daily basis to make profit, and does it scot free of any societal penalty, partly because of a massive supporting userbase and fame, and partly because he wasn't out about being a trans woman yet. That right there is where my problem is. People can and should explore, play with, perform, exist in femininity however and whenever they want, but the problem is ONE GROUP OF US KEEPS GETTING PUNISHED FOR IT while the others see far less, if ever. So again, no problem with the femboy identity or femboys in general, but oh yeah, big problems with the difference in treatment. 2. I'm also gonna ask this in return- why am *I* your expert on this subject? Because this happens to so many trans women- we're out, we get seen enough to be noticed, and suddenly we're supposed to be the pillars of the community, delivering Julia Serrano level philosophy, flawless looks, opinions, and knowledge? There's lots of other folks to ask this kind of thing about, why go to the terminally weird, 46-year-old, *OUT AND TRANSITIONING FOR LESS THAN THREE YEARS STILL* writer, artist, leatherworker, and tattooist, who's still VERY clearly in the process of dealing with her own self identification and a lot of past and present trauma, and think I'm going to be the one who's going to give you the perfect answer for this? (lbr, again, so many trans women get quizzed like this, then publicly crucified for saying the slightly wrong thing- see that bit about bait again? because oh yeah, this tactic, intentional or otherwise, has been seen a LOT this year.) Because honestly, there isn't a perfect answer. It's yet another messy human subject because all of us are messy to some extent to begin with. It's never going to have perfect sense or logic. I honestly don't think that it should. Perfect answers tend to not encompass being human answers very well at the same time.

And also, I'm not an expert. Nor should I have to be one. Especially when in my usual fields, I get to charge 50-100 bucks an hour for consulting, and here, I'll be lucky if you kick five bucks in my paypal or gfm in exchange for this. That said, nonny, hope you have a good night. Keep in mind this whole #2 section? Is rhetorical. I'm not expecting a dialogue or reply, and I don't really want one, at least not one with a greyface and shades. If you want to talk more? come off anon.

#nonny #nonny asks #asks answered

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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How To Give (and Receive) Respect In Romantic Relationships

Boundaries, empathy, and mutual respect are essential in any healthy relationship. These fundamentals you're in a long-term committed relationship, cohabitating with a partner, engaged, married, or some form of steady casual or nonmonogamous relationship. Here are some tips and general advice on how to provide respect to your partner without sacrificing your own needs.

Communicate Your Boundaries & Expectations: Let your partner know your non-negotiables, trigger, and expectations in every aspect of life (e.g. communication throughout the day/at work, date night frequency/activities, any triggering/unsafe people or parts of your past/family you don't want to discuss, etc.). Encourage your partner to share their boundaries/expectations, too. Sharing these vital details allows you to communicate your needs, avoid unnecessary arguments, and lead to generally more fulfilling interactions that don't breed resentment over time.

Maintain Your Sense of Self: Respecting yourself is essential to fully respect others. A healthy relationship is 100% +100% = 300%, not 50/50. Codependency is a significant sign of disrespect because it makes someone (unhealthfully) responsible for your happiness and fulfillment. While you want to share many activities (even a home and many other possessions/experiences) together, having interests, hobbies, friends, your own career, etc. that are just for you allows you to draw fulfillment from within and add value to your romantic connection/ enrich your partner's understanding of different activities/tastes/cultures/ways of life. Sacrificing your personhood to please another person will eventually breed resentment and cause you to cross their boundaries – clear signs of disrespect.

Be Upfront About Your Priorities, Values, & Goals: Combining the former two points, the most respectful thing you can do for your partner is to be as upfront as possible about what you're looking for in a partner and where you see the relationship going (in stages, of course, depending on how serious the relationship is). Always be upfront about the values that matter the most to you (i.e. any political/religious dealbreakers, lifestyle habits, career/life balance, cohabitating, socializing expectations, children, etc.). Being honest about your needs in these areas is essential, so they know what you're looking for and don't find out through passive-aggressive "hints" throughout the relationship that can cause tension, unfair punishment/manipulative behavior, or waste someone's time.

Take An Interest In Your Partner's Career: Display the same level of interest and thoughtfulness you expect them to have with you when you share details about your work and career. It's not cute to be clueless about what your partner spends most of their waking hours doing and where their passions lie. Ask them questions about the field they're working in, if they're excited about any projects they're working on, future goals, cool networking opportunities, etc.

Encourage Your Partner To Have Their Own Interests, Hobbies, and Friend Group: A strong, healthy bond can only remain intact when two whole, well-rounded people come together in a relationship. Encourage your partner to have their own identity outside, not to the exclusion of, your relationship. Have hobbies, their own group of friends/hangouts, and activities they do together. No one's full range of needs can (or should) depend on one person. This level of emotional labor is too taxing for someone else to take on and drains the other person until they become a shell of themselves. These over-the-top expectations erode someone's energy to focus on their personal goals and needs – definitely a sign of disrespect.

Establish A Financial Arrangement & Stick To It: Every relationship is different. There's no such thing as a magic formula for an "equal" or "fair" financial arrangement. However, it is important to mutually establish your financial expectations for the relationship fairly quickly. Otherwise, you could be seen as taking advantage of someone else without your knowledge, thereby, crossing their boundaries, or you can become (subconsciously or consciously) resentful when a partner comes across as "stingy" because you never communicated your expectations (especially if your love language is gift-giving or acts of service).

Plan Thoughtful Dates & Gestures: Making your partner feel special and desired is essential in a relationship. The level of extravagance, planning, or romance depends on your individual preferences and type of relationship/level of commitment to the other person. However, it is essential to plan something special for your partner (that's thoughtful, incredibly sexy, or both) on occasion to show that you view them as more than a friend. It signals a sign of respect for the value this person adds to your life and your gratitude for their sharing this type of bond with you.

Be Empathetically Strategic With Their Friends & Family: Always kill them with kindness without being a doormat. Stick up for yourself if disrespected. But, especially with family, it is important to be cordial with your partner's outside relationship and try your best to not put them in a position to pick sides. You wouldn't want to cause unnecessary tension and stress for attention or entitled treatment from someone you respect.

Hope this helps xx

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mangoshorthand · 7 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/mangoshorthand/744233438604853248/httpswwwtumblrcommangoshorthand7439174121294

it was a random hookup with a family friend. we haven’t really spoken since so i don’t have the option of talking through with him. but it’s nice to know that this is just a common bodily thing and not me. so thank you.

Ah, that is difficult and probably contributed to the way you're feeling. There isn't enough of a level of intimate comfort to have built reassurance that it's really not you. Despite this however, I do promise it's not you. He's probably feeling embarrassed too.

And yes, honestly, it is just a physiological quirk. Sometimes there are reasons behind it (e.g. whiskey dick, lifestyle issues etc) but at other times it's just random and it's never to do with not being into their partner. You can pretty much guarantee, if he's trying to stuff it into you, he wants to. 😉

This has got me thinking about how Five would act in this situation if you're interested. So I present to you and the amassed pervs of Tumblr, something I never thought I'd write about:

Five Hargreeves in: The Curious Case of the Disappearing Erection

I can imagine him getting past 30 in the younger body and then noticing the lack of solid iron boners and the return of whiskey dick after he's had a drink.

He's like: "Ah shit, this again?"

He can scent it coming in the air. The return of phantom boner-failure is on the horizon.

Flashbacks to roughly 25 years in which he'd have to stop sex to try and rub some life into his dick, like he's hoping if he rubs it right a kindly genie will pop out and grant him the wish of a dick that cooperates.

It didn't happen often, but it happened enough to be familiar. He probably never realised it was normal, (there weren't exactly other men to talk to unti he was in his 50s).

I think there are few men who don't personify their dicks to some extent, and Five is no different. I can see him having sex with this girl he really wants and loves (you, if you want to imagine it as such), and then, lo and behold, his dick starts to nope out.

'Don't you dare,' he'd mentally warn his waning penis, 'we've been looking forward to this, asshole!'

But alas, his penis would pay no heed.

No matter how valiantly Five tried, no matter that you look so hot he's had trouble keeping his dick in his pants all afternoon, it has, in fact, chosen this moment to give up the ghost.

So he stops and eats pussy. He loves eating pussy so if anything's going to get him back up, it's that, and he may as well give you some pleasure with his mouth given that he's failing elsewhere.

But now he's so in his own head that maintaining even a partial boner is impossible, let alone allowing him to get into the pussy-eating.

By this point you've noticed something's up and you ask him what's wrong.

He tries to shrug it off and make you come, but you're persistent.

Eventually he says: "I got a problem down here."

Once you realise what he means, you try to tease some life into it, but he's self conscious by this point so it's a self-defeating exercise.

Eventually you give up, but you can sense his embarrassment so you're like: "don't worry, we can try again later."

(You're also feeling pretty self conscious and insecure yourself but you don't want to let on and make him feel worse).

You come to hold each other and stsy silent for a few minutes. Five's irrationally angry with himself and you're trying to talk yourself out of feeling like it's your fault.

Eventually, Five apologises. You can barely tell him he has nothing to apologise for before he's launched into a rant:

"All day I've been half hard looking at you, and now my dick gives up? You've been walking around in those tight pants and bending over and driving me crazy only for me to fuck it up now?"

You hug him harder, both because of the unfair self-blame and because he's unconsciously put your fears to rest.

With some more reassurance, he starts to see the humor in the situation, and then he grumbles off to make you both a coffee.

By the time he's back in bed with a cup of his favourite drug, he's talking about how later on he'll fuck you so silly that you'll forget all about this.

#number 5 imagine #erectile problems #five hargreeves smut #...well attempted smut at least

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copperbadge · 1 year

Text

We recently got into a discussion of producing audiobooks for small press, indy, and/or selfpub authors on another post, but we had strayed pretty far from the original post, and @genedoucette very kindly gave permission for me to slice his comment off the end of that post and put it into a new one.

genedoucette

I have been very, very lucky when it comes to audiobooks, so I'm hesitant to offer advice without adding a huge YMMV caveat at the top. For most of my self-published novels, I used ACX and paid a narrator out-of-pocket (rather than 50-50 proceeds split), which just means I'm paying an agreed-upon X dollars per finished hour, prior to making any money off f the audio editon. Every book I did this with paid for itself, sometimes within the first two or three months, sometimes longer. (YMMV: I did a lot of this during what I would call the audiobook bubble, when demand was higher than supply.) I had another novel series--Tandemstar--that I brought to an audiobook company, who brought it to their distributor, who agreed to pay for the production costs of the book and to pay me a (small) advance. To date, the royalties from that series have not made up the cost of the advance, but the good news was that none of the production costs came from my pocket and the advance meant I did make something out of the deal. The rule-of-thumb I always heard was, don't expect books that haven't sold well to sell any better as audiobooks. But my experience, with ACX/Audible, is this: about 50% of my monthly earning come from audio sales. How long is the book in question (word count), and what is the genre? Because it is absolutely possible to get a not-terrible narrator at a not-terrible cost on ACX. If it's a low word count book with a decent sales record, I'd 100% do it. If it's a high word count book with few sales, maybe not.

Thanks so much for this! I am admittedly always suspicious of Amazon writ large, but it's not like I've never partnered with them before, and often for indy authors they're one of a very few games in town.

50% of sales via audio impresses me a lot -- I'm not really in the industry so my sense of scale may be off but my eyebrows went up at that. And looking at ACX, a split-profits model would be appealing. I'm more interested in providing the reader with more options than I am with making royalties, so I don't mind low payout, but I also don't want to exploit a narrator if I can avoid it.

I doubt I'm selling near the level you are, but it's pretty consistent, at least -- for the last literary novel I published in 2021, and for the four genre romances published in the past year-and-change, it's generally 200-250 copies (epub and paperback) in the first 6 months, and about 40 per year after that. None of them are over 100K words -- the first of the romance novels, the one I'd be most likely to have done as an audiobook to trial, is around 50K, and the other books are all between 60K and 90K or so.

There's some fine print I'm not nuts about -- exclusivity to Amazon/Audible/iTunes for example -- but I can see why it's a necessary business model for them. There's not a ton of clarity on cost per hour for a book, but it looks like for a flat fee it starts around $250 per finished hour? So I'd probably be looking at minimum $1K out of pocket, which is probably roughly (I haven't done the math) royalties per book for a full year. It could be fun to give it a swing regardless, although reading the ACX site made me realize I'd actually have to give notes and feedback to a reader which sounds nervewracking.

It looks like the readers for ACX are repped by SAG-AFTRA, which means that for now I have time to consider while the strike is going on. (Obviously not all of them are union but if it's an entertainment format where the union is involved, I don't want to cross the picket.) And the ACX site is pretty comprehensive in terms of figuring out how it all works, so if I did want to source a narrator elsewhere and perhaps not distribute exclusively through ACX, I now have a grounding from which to research other options too.

Sorry, a lot of this is just me thinking aloud, but I truly do appreciate the info and also something to bounce off of in terms of considering it. And I appreciate the opportunity to share it with my readership too, thank you!

#genedoucette #shivadhverse #independent publishing #selfpub #audiobooks

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bylersecretsanta2023 · 9 months

Text

from @willelworld, to @marshmallo824

Will is mad.

He’s been sitting on his bed fuming for the past two hours, stirring in a thick cloud of frustration while staring down at his final project for ART235. There’s one of Jonathan’s mixtapes— he made it for Will as a graduation present, congrats on surviving high school. literally!— buzzing from his Walkman headphones, acting as white noise to wade through the jumbled thoughts straggling around his mind.

He’s burning up in a newfound rage at the fact that he just can’t figure out what’s wrong with this piece lying in his lap. The class is one of his art electives— The Beauty of Still Life — and despite being only a 200 level elective course, it’s been pulling Will through the wringer all semester long. After two graphite drawings, three chalk pastels, a 3D clay model, and his very first venture into oil painting, Will is decidedly not seeing the beauty in it. He is, however, seeing red, because the final project is due tomorrow morning, and it’s already ten at night, and the charcoal coating his fingers and therefore streaking across his bed sheets is enough to have him in tears. Will holds them back, and continues to stare blankly, like the flowers and grapes and vase will actually come to life and clue him in on what he’s been getting wrong, what feels so off about the piece as a whole.

It’s the last night of Hanukkah, and Will has spent the better half of it rolling around his bed, sighing every few minutes as he makes another mark with a stick of charcoal, smudging it with a finger, then realizing it wasn’t looking any better. The kneaded eraser feels sweaty in his palm as he continues playing with it like a stress toy.

He and Mike had lit the final set of candles of their chanukiah hours ago, the flames leaving dripping wax in their wake as Will sat and watched. It was his first time celebrating away from home, from his family, which felt different, but he’s lucky to at least have Mike around to get a sense of home. Another thing he’s mad about - finals week taking up the time where he could be home with his mom, Jonathan, El and Hop, but instead he’s been swamped with hours upon hours of tedious papers, crammed studying, and finishing this stupidly frustrating still life.

In all, his first semester of college was nice, if not a bit hectic. Living with Mike had been both a dream and a nightmare, which he fully expected when signing himself up for living with the guy you’re in gay love with. And now, he’s only twelve hours away from the end, the finish line in sight, the last sprint before he’s back in Hawkins for a month of rest and recuperation. But this drawing is all wrong, and he’s ready to resign himself to a B+ in this class by handing in the world’s shittiest charcoal still life at 10 AM sharp. After that, the two of them will shove their suitcases and duffle bags of necessities into Mike’s trunk, and drive the hours-long ride home for winter break.

Will’s stomach growls embarrassingly loud, enough so that he hears it over both the headphones and music. As if on cue, the door handle jangles around and Mike waltzes through, kicking it shut behind him. He’s carrying a white porcelain plate with a couple of latkes, reheated from a few nights ago. Earlier in the week, Mike had somehow found the time amidst his plethora of essays to conjure up freshly made latkes in their dinky little communal dorm kitchen. Will isn’t sure how he did it, considering the sheer lack of kitchen utensils, and the rusted stove that clearly hasn’t been updated since the 50’s, a fire hazard waiting to happen. But nonetheless, when Mike had walked back upstairs carrying a platter filled with that beautiful fried potato, Will just about cried at the sentiment.

Mike joins him on his bed without asking, knowing full well that he’s allowed, and Will’s stomach growls again for good measure, like an alarm blaring out his jealousy over Mike finishing the last of the batch. Will hooks his single clean finger around the headphones and tugs them off.

Wordlessly, Mike hands him the plate. “For you,” he says, voice airy and dripping with fondness. Will could kiss him on the spot. He smiles, then looks down at his fingertips covered in chalky black, and then looks back to Mike sheepishly.

“Open. I’ll feed you,” Mike commands, and Will coughs out a laugh in surprise. He gives him a funny look, expecting Will to carry out their normal routine: Will refuses the help, then Mike pushes him on it, and Will caves immediately.

Will could argue on this, and he considers it, but he’s starving, and it feels ridiculous at this point to decline Mike’s care. They’ve fought monsters together and protected each other in literal battles. Mike hand feeding him latkes isn’t gonna kill him. Maybe.

“I feel like a baby right now,” Will admits, opening his mouth regardless of the comment as Mike breaks off a small piece for him to eat, then takes a bite for himself. They were much better fresh, but Will can’t complain. Mike pushes another piece against Will’s mouth before he’s done chewing the first, laughing, warm and light, at the unimpressed glare he receives.

And this is where Will’s biggest problem lies. This is the root of his current predicament with the still life. See, while he should’ve been spending the past three weeks getting a head start on his final project, he instead chose to work on something that’s, in his opinion, much more important, if not stupidly reckless. Will had put all of his free time towards a painting for Mike. A new one, a callback to the last grand piece he dedicated to him, in the backseat of that musty, sweltering pizza van flying through the Nevada desert.

He’s being stupid, Will realizes. He understands that, fully. He’s spent months overanalyzing every interaction with Mike since graduation. He spent the entirety of late October contemplating if he should go through with it, with making him another painting. This time, with a proper, honest confession attached. Not the piss-poor excuse of whatever he gave last time, hiding behind El, making a fool of himself with his trembling, lying words.

This time, he actually does have a little confidence. Mike has always been kind with him, always caring and gentle, but never in an insulting or belittling manner. But ever since they moved in together, it’s like the final walls separating the two of them fell, and Mike’s been all over him. He’s always complimenting Will, more than normal, peppering him with little innocuous comments on how nice he looks today or how well he’s doing in his classes or how good he’s been at making new friends. On top of that, Mike’s dialed up his touchiness to an entirely unheard level. He’s gotten more hugs from Mike in the past three months than in the entirety of high school. And the worst (best) part, is the ‘flirting.’ Will is hesitant to call it that, not wanting to get his hopes up, but he just doesn’t know another word to use that sums up all the little moments in their conversations that feel too playful, too endearing, and altogether too sweet.

It’s like Mike had some grand revelation on move-in day back in August, that this was for real. That Will wasn’t going anywhere. That they survived all the bullshit of their childhood, and they still have each other, and nothing could change that other than their own choices, not some ever-looming threat of death.

Whatever it is, Will is grateful, but he also wasted so much energy on dissecting every change in Mike’s behavior, every normal action amplified by an indescribable air of openness, trust, and, dare he say it, love. Will is feeling loved, every single day, and it unsettles him greatly. Not that he doesn’t feel loved by his family and friends at home, of course not. But this is a different kind of love. He feels wanted.

Which is why, despite their 13 years of platonic history, and despite his better judgment, he’s decided to take the plunge. Risk it all, so to speak. Gamble their friendship. Put his heart on the line and pray that Mike picks it back up, gingerly in his hands. That he returns it to Will’s chest in-tact and, against all odds, returns his feelings, too. If it all blows up in his face, Will’s betting on their school’s resident housing office to help him switch to a new dorm before the start of the Spring semester.

He’s chewing on another piece of the latke, deep in thought about this sticky situation, when Mike oh so helpfully points out his other, more pressing plight.

“How’s the still life going?” he asks, staring down at the almost completed drawing in Will’s lap. “It looks really nice.”

Will groans at this. “You say that about all my work. It’s starting to mean less and less everyday, you know.”

Mike scoffs playfully, not really hurt, but wanting to keep this conversation fun and spirited. “You’re saying my expert opinion doesn’t matter?”

“Expert in what, exactly?” Will welcomes the needed distraction from his work, and he wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he really does love to hear Mike comment on his art. Mike was his first critic, his first muse, and his biggest fan when it comes to his artwork.

“I’m the world’s leading expert in Will Byers art history. After you die they’re gonna be begging me to sell your old paintings, but I won’t budge.”

“After I die?” Will asks, eyes bulging as he laughs out the words. “Are you gonna open a museum in my honor, or something?”

Mike rolls his head to the side where it’s resting against the wall, linking their eyes. “Oh, definitely. There’ll be a whole wing just for D&D. I’ll sell Will the Wise merch in the gift shop for a profit.”

Will laughs again at the imagery Mike created for him, and shakes his head, his smile wide and on display. Mike tears his gaze away from Will’s eyes and for a moment, it moves to somewhere lower, a dangerous spot just below his nose and right above his chin. And then he’s looking down at the charcoal drawing again.

“Why are you still working on it, though? This looks incredible. Really. Like, really, really professional,” and Will can tell Mike’s having trouble finding the right words to describe the drawing, because it’s unlike any of the art Will actually enjoys creating. It’s black and white for starters, and there’s no people, just inanimate objects.

Will looks back up to Mike’s face, and he’s clearly concentrating hard. He appreciates the concern Mike gives him, the effort he puts into things even when he’s not quite sure how. “Not enough magic for your taste?”

This brings a closed-mouth grin to Mike’s lips, but he still hasn’t broken his gaze from the drawing. “Could use a dragon or two, I suppose.”

He’s suddenly all too aware of the painting currently hiding underneath his bed, right below the two of them. It’s different from the one he made in ‘86. Rather than the Party fighting a three-headed dragon, it’s simply a full-body portrait of Sir Mike. Will’s improved significantly in the past three and a half years, constantly honing his skills with acrylic paint through high school and now early college. He thinks he got the metallic reflect on Mike’s paladin armor just right, and he made sure to include the big old heart on his shield, again. Just to hammer home the point even more.

“But like, for real. From an objective standpoint, can you see anything— I don’t know— weird about it?” Will probes for more feedback. He should’ve paid more attention in the critique for his last project.

Mike goes quiet this time, zoning in on it. Will watches as his eyes glide back and forth, picking up on all the details. The lines and streaks of the charcoal stick lie across the finely textured paper. The hours of smudging and blending that Will endured, chasing perfection. The negative space he left behind for the highlighted points. The shadows cast by each object— a bowl of grapes surrounded by ornate candlesticks and a vase with a single lily flower— making them look like they’re bouncing off the paper and taking up real space. All the elements are present, but yet, something isn’t quite right.

“It’s the perspective, isn’t it?” Will interrupts the peaceful silence, breaking Mike’s concentration with his anxious rambling. “That’s definitely it. But it’s too late- I don’t think I can really fix it at this point- and I don’t have time to start all over, I mean I’ve been working on this nonstop for a week and a half and I don’t know why I keep fucking it up and—“

“Will,” Mike cuts him short with a hand pressed to his forearm, almost clutching at him. “There’s nothing wrong with the perspective. This looks crazy realistic, like I could reach in and touch everything for myself, you know? But it still has that sense of, like, your style. It feels purposeful, I guess, with how you can see the lines if you look up close. It feels human, even though there’s no people included.”

Will stares at him in a profound shock, like he didn’t expect Mike to go so deep with his analysis. He blinks a few times, a blush sprouting on his cheeks. “Thank you- that’s, that’s so. I’m so— thank you.” He settles on a simple form of gratitude, not wishing to trip over his words any longer.

“It’s perfect,” Mike tacks on, finally looking back upwards to take in Will’s expression. Will forgot how forward Mike is with his compliments for his art, as it’s been a good long while since he’s properly gifted him anything. Will feels a mix of excitement and dread at how Mike will react to his present-slash-confession. He’s planning on showing him the painting on the night the Party officially holds their holiday festivities, once everyone’s returned from their respective schools. He figures it’s a nice enough opportunity to give him the painting, and also relieves Will of the panic around finding Mike a suitable Christmas gift.

And Will thinks it’s over. He thinks his heart is finally safe to crawl back down his throat and settle into his ribcage once more. But Mike has other plans.

“You’re perfect,” Mike says in a whisper, but his eyes are still locked tight in an unbreaking connection with Will’s. He means it wholeheartedly, and Will sees something glimmer in his eyes at that moment. He’s made a choice.

Before Will can even process Mike’s words or begin to formulate a coherent response, Mike’s face is suddenly in front of him and it’s all he can see. It’s all he knows. Mike Mike Mike. Screw The Beauty of Still Life, Wil decides he’s never going to make another piece of art that isn’t focused around the boy in front of him.

Will’s not really sure what he expected would happen within the next few seconds, as all his brain power is going towards deciphering the logistics of proposing his new major that entirely surrounds painting this beautiful boy he lives with, but then there’s a pressure on his mouth, and he’s thrown out of his daze.

What the fuck. Mike’s kissing me. And it’s an electric shock to his nervous system, and it’s like his body’s being woken up by a bucket of frozen water as he’s flung into the present moment. His brain catches up, and before he starts kissing back or doing really anything at all, Mike’s pulling away. His eyes are searching his face, back and forth, in this confused and hopeful and pained fashion, brows pinching in the center.

Instead of saying anything useful, Will blurts out, “Oh my god, you ruined the surprise.” He’s thinking about how many hours of tossing and turning in his bed, pondering what words to use when he inevitably reveals the true depth of his feelings. All the worries and fears he’s harbored, all the insecurities, they’re playing on a loop in his mind, like how they say your life flashes before your eyes right as you die. He’d gladly let Mike kill all his fears.

“What?” Mike utters, quiet and hurt, his very own fears springing up as his brain zeros in on the word ‘ruined’ and nothing else. Will wants to punch himself in the face.

“Shit, sorry, I meant. I meant that, I was planning on doing that, too. As a Christmas present,” Will states, dumbly. He’s still a bit disoriented.

“You were planning on kissing me as a present?” Mike giggles, his eyes turning to crescents. “I mean, I’m not complaining. But you could do that any day of the year, if you want.”

“No, that’s— I was trying to say that… that I’ve spent the past few weeks writing up this- this whole confession to you in my head. And I wanted to wait until we were back in Hawkins and not, like, sleeping in the same room. In case things got awkward,” Will explains, still sounding sort of silly. He’s never felt simultaneously so embarrassed yet so overjoyed.

Mike’s laughing a little, eyes dazzling. But now he’s sobering up, listening to Will intently.

“And, I- um. I kinda— I made you a painting.”

Mike brightens at this, his smile widening even more, somehow. “Like the one when we were fifteen?” He asks, teasing, with a tilt of his head.

Will sighs, embarrassment trickling in yet again. “Yeah. Like the one when we were fifteen. But much better quality, and more kissing involved, preferably.”

It’s like Mike was waiting to hear the word ‘kiss’ again for the green light to lean back in. He puts a hand on the back of Will’s neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. Will rests his own on the side of Mike’s face, cautiously, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to do this. They meet in the middle, and this time, it’s not as much of a jolt, as an overwhelming feeling of warmth. It’s like pouring warm water over your hair and down your neck— shuddering, but in a good way.

When they break apart again, Will realizes he never wiped the charcoal off his hands, and there’s a collection of smeared black fingerprints on Mike’s cheek. He can’t contain his laugh at the sight, bubbling up out of him. He feels on fire. He feels hysterical.

“Can I see the painting, now that I’ve ruined your surprise?” Mike asks, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Will considers it, and then shakes his head. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait for the full thing. Including the confession. It’s only fair.”

Mike wilts at this, grabbing Will’s neck again from where his hand has been resting on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can spend the next ten days pretending like there’s nothing between us,” he says in a hushed tone. He’s being dramatic, Will notices, and it’s in that faint teasing tone that Mike always does when he tries to get his way.

“I mean, you don’t have to do that,” Will offers.

Mike spends a total of five seconds considering this, before he outright asks: “So, you’ll be my boyfriend now?”

Will barks out another laugh at the way he phrased it. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep up with Mike’s impulsivity. He’s spent the last couple of years wanting to make a move, and then the past months building up to actually doing it. But here Mike is, beating him to it in a seemingly split-second decision.

“Yes, of course. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend,” Will answers him, beaming at the prospect. He can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe Mike’s timing.

“Okay… so, can I see the painting now?”

Will rolls his eyes without a hint of malice, shoving Mike in the shoulder. “Did you really think that would work?”

Mike leans into Will’s space once more, bouncing back to him like a rubber band. He’s never seen the other boy happier. “Worth a shot.”

A couple weeks later, when Will receives his final grades, the “B+” next to ART235 is enough for him.

It’s perfect, even.

#byler secret santa #mia on the mic #st #stranger things #byler #byler fanfic

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cubesugarss · 1 year

Text

twitter broken so i'm going to introduce an ALKALOID-centric soccer AU i've had in my head for a while!

This AU includes every character in ES. The teams are split up by agency! ALKALOID are the newest members of Starmaker Production's team, and they are.. quite a bunch!

HIIRO AMAGI - #1 - FORWARD

An extremely talented player with incredible willpower, despite being a complete newbie to soccer. Starpro is his first time playing on a team.

Lacks in game sense and technique but makes it up with his explosive speed and physical strength. He has a very reckless playing style; oftentimes, upon receiving the ball, he does not pass to anyone else and instead dribbles directly towards the goal, no matter where he is on the field (it works sometimes).

Has a surprisingly accurate & dangerous shot.

Despite being a first-year player on starpro, he improves so quickly that he becomes a starting player by their first game of the season (which makes Aira feel all sorts of things).

Starpro top 3 goal scorer. A good chunk of them are from Mayoi's assists. They work very well together

His teammates say he is very easy to work with because he has a very loud voice.

AIRA SHIRATORI - #10 - WING DEFENDER

An average player who has been playing since middle school but could never manage to stand out.

Was initially very wary about joining the team, as he did not particularly want to continue the sport into high school due to past experiences, but something held him back from quitting. He gives Starpro a chance in hopes that it will change his mindset for the better.

Lacks in physical strength and technique but has good endurance and game sense. A very careful player who lacks assertiveness, which is his downfall.

The only member of ALKALOID who does not become a starting player by their first game. His teammates tell him that he has time to improve since he's the youngest on the team, but it doesn't sit right with him.

Has a very intense girl rivalry with Hiiro.

MAYOI AYASE - #8 - MIDFIELD

A mysterious but incredibly skilled player who, like Hiiro, has never played on a team before Starpro.

A very versatile player who can play any position besides goalkeeper, but excels as a wing midfielder due to his speed. He also has very strong technique and makes very smart plays.

Almost all of his experience came from watching recordings of professional players. He is very talented and passionate about the sport, but never had the opportunity to play with an actual team.

Often gets very nervous before games, being unable to think about anything else several hours or even days before they happen. However, once he steps on the field, his teammates often say that he becomes a completely different person.

He and Hiiro are often grouped together as Starpro's "golden newbies".

Likes to braid ALKALOID's hair before games. He buys them matching accessories.

TATSUMI KAZEHAYA - #6 - GOALKEEPER

Reimei Academy's former star player. He previously had given up on playing after sustaining a serious leg injury. His return as part of ALKALOID came as a surprise to many

Became Starpro's starting goalkeeper after Eichi Tenshouin became unable to play for an extended period of time. He has very big shoes to fill, but is able to shoulder his responsibility (most of the time).

Incredible game sense, technique and physical strength. He can punt longer than 50 yards very easily. His strongest quality is his ability to remain level-headed in any situation.

Wears a sleeve over his injured leg; it occasionally flares up in pains. He has a bad habit of playing through these pains, which will come back to bite him in the future.

NOTES

Their jersey numbers are based on the enstars 7th anniversary playing cards merch!

Like in !! main story, ALKALOID are initially accepted into Starpro as an opportunity for them to prove themselves as soccer players & to make their mark as quickly as possible to avoid being kicked off the team. Good luck soldiers

I hope to post more about this AU once I have actual jersey designs! Thank u for reading <3

#alkaloid #enstars soccer au #enstars #hiiro amagi #aira shiratori #mayoi ayase #tatsumi kazehaya #⭑ tea rambles #sorry for my. wall of text

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gregoriaofnyssa · 21 days

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On the Higher-Critical Method of Hermeneutics

It is exceedingly trendy to devour religious information of all kinds through the lens of secular scholarship, for either the sake of general knowledge, or for the sake of an artistic adventure. For either of those purposes, and certainly for the purpose of actual religious learning, the higher-critical approach fails on every level. The biggest perpetrators of this online are Genetically Modified Skeptic and Religion for Breakfast; the biggest print perpetrators are Bart D. Ehrman and George Harris. This method fails to accurately describe and convey the concept of religious orthodoxy, and therefore fails to accurately convey controversies within religions; it also fails to anthropologically contend with religions in a way that is honest and charitable; it denies not only the very concept of truth, but also the very concept of literary analysis.

Much of the basis for this argument is rooted in vintage anthropology-- I preface “vintage” because anthropology has changed a great deal in the last 100 (even 50) years, and has come more and more to reflect the higher-critical method of hermeneutics, of course applied to secular cultural artifacts. In the past, anthropologists did not seek to study other cultures as a way to change their own, or as a way to frame their own. They studied it for pure passion. They studied it for themselves. An anthropologist doing similar good work today is Daniel Everett who wrote the sympathetic, raw, and amazing book Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle. A main reason why Everett’s work is so effective is because it takes the word of the Pirahã people (the subject of the book) as true. This makes the book strikingly intimate, especially because it is told from Everett’s own perspective. We thus get a greater understanding of the culture-- a highly mysterious and un-understandable culture at that. He writes, “‘I mean, what are you going to do to him for shooting your dog?’ ‘I will do nothing. I won’t hurt my brother. He acted like a child. He did a bad thing. But he is drunk and his head is not working well. He should not have hurt my dog. It is like my child.’ Even when provoked, as Kaaboogí was now, the Pirahãs were able to respond with patience, love, and understanding, in ways rarely matched in any other culture I have encountered.”

A key problem with the higher-critical method is that it applies a hermeneutics of suspicion, rather than a hermeneutics of trust, as vintage anthropology did. The passage above would read much differently, and be much less revelatory, had Everett followed the encounter with an insistence that the Pirahã must not actually be so compassionate, and must, in fact, be putting on a show to fool outsiders for more canoe money. Just as that is unsatisfying, so too is a hermeneutics of suspicion that insists Jesus said to care for the poor in order to manipulate starving Jeudeans into joining his “movement”. Not only is it unsatisfying, but it makes no sense. The higher-critical scholar must invent new motivations seen nowhere else in the text, or in adjoining texts of the day, to justify what is essentially a headcanon. It assumes too much, and what it assumes is an insult: people do not say they believe what they do because they believe it-- they have ulterior motives. The higher-critical method demands you see all people as charlatans.

We should notice that this is an anti-historical method as well. Historians do not make a habit of assuming primary sources are lying unless there is extremely good reason. I’ve studied the writings of Ibn Fadlan on the rituals of the Vikings, and not once did a professor or a critic write that he must’ve been making up the horse-killing for the sake of making barbarians appear worse than Muhammadeans.

The method is also unliterary. It is possible for an atheist to read the Bible (or any scripture, for that matter) and encounter it as a complete work of fiction, whilst still applying the usual rules of textual analysis and letters. It is possible, even in the context of “fiction” for interpretations to be baseless and wrong. We hear in school there is no such thing as a wrong answer in literature, but be assured, there is. There are analysis, conclusions, and summaries that are disconnected from the text so to have nothing backing it up for any kind of merit. For example, if someone were to say, “The theme of Hamlet is that love conquers all,” that would be a conclusion so wrong you’d probably assume the speaker was pretending to have read it. The same is true with the Bible, and with all other scripture. The theme of Maccabees is not that the oppressed should take their torture lying down and there is nothing in the epistles to suggest the Apostle Paul was gay. The latter is fanfiction and the former is active subversion-- look out for that.

You may believe I want only the Bible to be interpreted in such a way. But this would be wrong. I am frequently disgusted by the mistreatment of other sacred texts; in the HCM, this is particularly suffered upon the Quran. My insistence against the HCM is not only religious, but born of an anthropological conviction. I love people; the whole world is my people. I love to study them, to learn about their experiences, and to read what they have written. It breaks something in my heart when even documents I disagree with are encountered as if they are intentionally lying. The Quran was written by a man, and I believe that man believed what he wrote to be true, and I believe that those who believed him really did. I do not like to be taken for a liar, and I assume the feeling is the same through all people.

It weakens the position of the opponents of any text, because in order to argue against something, you must actually know it. You must understand it, and you will never understand something you don’t trust to be the words someone once believed.

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