#and i hope the whole thing makes some sense

[impactrueno]

some stuff about lydia's jacket in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. hope you guys are ready for another thinkpiece no one asked for:

right so. colleen atwood decided to give lydia (and rory) these garments that seemed so unfinished it was distracting me. but i know there's a reason for every costume choice, so i watched this super short rundown she gave about a few of the outfits in one of the promotional videos for the movie, but i was disappointed that she didn't say anything about this one. i knew i had to draw it at some point so i really needed to know what it's supposed to be. a friend who went to the Afterlife Experience prop exhibition even took photos of the damn thing up close at my request, just so i could take a closer look and see if i could figure it out. but nothing. i didn't know how to draw it and it was driving me insane. i felt stupid. like what am i missing here

months later here i am, browsing pinterest for my beetlejuice inspo boards and i randomly find it and others like it:

and this is how i learned that these were created by british designer elena dawson. the way this article described this style made everything make sense:

Her Victorian frocks with unfinished seams and hanging fabric strips speak of ghostly things, simultaneously ephemeral and imprinted with history, the stuff of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, a witchy presence in the world that no longer cares for fairy tales.

more:

Maybe it is this ghostly presence that informs Dawson’s work, which reflects her fascination with death. “The relation between clothing, ritual, and death is of great interest to me,” says she. “In some respects, through clothing I am also working through my relationship to death.”

and the way she described it herself:

“When you work on alterations you are really tearing the guts out of the garment, performing a sort of autopsy—you really get to see a garment at its most vulnerable point. Observing this state of semi deconstruction in the making of a garment or shoe is what I like to retain in my finished work.“

oh my god.

the clothes are lydia. they are purposefully incomplete.

lydia's whole deal in the movie was that she was messed up from of all the shit she's been through to the point where she's no longer herself. the events in her life have been slowly picking the threads of what kept her together, what makes her her. delia has this great line that basically sums up lydia's pathos in the movie: "you need to take back your life from those hanger-onners, from this thing," meaning rory and beetlejuice. "where's the obnoxious little goth girl who tormented me all those years ago? it's time to find her."

i'd wager they made rory wear the same style of deconstructed jacket for the funeral specifically because he was trying to come off like this was a tragedy to him just as much, that he's "vulnerable" like the deetz women right now. you know, his whole modus operandi and all (unnecessarily large handkerchief included.) interestingly enough, lydia does NOT wear the loose thread jacket that would match rory's coat here. her own outfit is still by the same designer though, so it's like...they match, but also don't. they're in a relationship, but don't fit together.

according to interviews, using elena dawson designs was winona ryder and justin theroux's idea that they brought up to colleen atwood, and can i just say that i love how much input they had on their characters? justin in particular had SO much fun playing rory, his interviews are great. he owned the role. he knows a lot about fashion, so he was the first one to suggest this look and vibe for him.

as for winona, she wore dawson herself multiple times during the promotional tour for the movie. like, this is just her actual wardrobe. you can tell she had fun trying to emulate lydia's bangs and ponytail with these fits too.

i don't know much about fashion, honestly. but i love character design and telling a story through a character's clothes. so obviously i'm nerding out about this hardcore. perhaps i should learn more about fashion so i can do cool stuff like this too.

[revelboo]

Pardon me, how's sunstorm and his reader doing?

Reader is realizing how terrible a mistake they made.

Rainmakers, Lambo Twins, TFP Shockwave, and TFO Bumblebee are on my list today. Along with whatever else I can get updated today

Love Me Dead Pt 2

Sunstorm x Reader

• Such a lovely gift from Primus for being so worthy a disciple. The connection sparking through him, jumpstarting his self repair systems online when they’d failed him already. Tangling himself more firmly in you as you struggle to escape him, he’s fascinated with the feel of your mind in his. Your alien thoughts and emotions filling in the gaps in himself. Making him realize there are gaps to begin with. Things missing and feeling those broken connections leaves him oddly unsettled. Trying to understand.

• Gasping, you throw yourself backwards, feeling the connection stretch and finally snap as your back hits the ground. Your heart hammering as for a moment you can’t breathe, shaking so hard your teeth are chattering. And those dim optics are flaring gold fire as a massive hand reaches. Screaming and digging your heels in to shove yourself back, you roll and try to scramble to your feet. But those big servos are closing on you and your breath wheezes out of you again when you’re picked up in too tight a grip.

• Vocalizer crackling, he lifts your squirming form closer. Fascinated with you as you shove at his servos, gasping and crying out. Because you’ve given him another chance to fulfill his mission, given him hope. Servos shakily relaxing some, you suck in deep breaths and slump against him. Wides eyes staring up at him as he tucks you against the mesh of his neck. Trying to speak and only achieving another broken, static-laden moan. Patience. He’s already healing thanks to the boost you’ve given him. Just needs to be patient.

• Pinned against his warmth, you keep struggling to wiggle free. And the big monster is making a low, cracking rumbling sort of noise as a big servo roughly strokes over your head. Realizing you’re still alive, that while it’s holding you a bit too tight, you can breathe now at least. It’s not hurting you. What had that been? You’d gotten flashes of memories and alien thoughts that were definitely not yours. His. You’d been drowning in him. Sunstorm, the name you shouldn’t know drifting up through your mind. An uncomfortable sense of familiarity lifting through you.

• Servo sliding until he finds the soothing beat of your heart, he tries make sense of what he’d felt from you. The intimacy of being so wrapped in another spark. Soul? That’s your word, isn’t it? Bits of you fitting like puzzle pieces in the gaps in his processor. Why are there gaps? Exhausted, he keeps sliding his servo against you, feeling strangely whole with your warmth against him. Certain that you’d been given to him so he can continue on. Find and root out the evil, the corruption and wickedness. A little, blazing sword in his darkest hour of failure.

Previous

[chlix]

superbloom

bf! chan x fem! reader: you almost ruin your own proposal

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff!

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: public proposals, y/n is a bit of a mess but its ok

a/n: this is a request from @taevhs who requested reader accidentally saying no to her own proposal out of shock and stressing chan tf out (ask is linked HERE). i am SO sorry this took so long to get to 😭😭😭 i hope it was at least semi-worth the wait

The thing is: you should’ve seen it coming.

Chan is a lot of things, but he’s not subtle. Especially when he gets really into something. He’s good at disguising the planning, at worrying in private and then clearing his face when he sees you, but you know him too well. You can sense the vibe even without him saying anything.

And anyway, you’d talked about marriage before. You’d thought about wedding planning and what time of year would be best, who would you invite. You inquired about a marriage license. You planned on getting a better apartment together. You were engaged in everything but name. So really, the proposal was imminent. It was just a matter of waiting for all his plans to come to fruition. So, you played dumb when he started paying special attention to your hands and the rings you wore most often. You didn’t start fights when you noticed him texting your best friend more than usual. You pretended not to see when you saw him researching photographers on his open laptop. You were willing to play into the surprise, and honestly, you didn’t want to pry. You wanted to be enchanted and impressed when the time came. It would make it more exciting.

You must’ve had a lapse in mentality for a second, or perhaps you just had a lot on your mind that day, because when he asked if you wanted to play hooky and go on a day trip with him, you didn’t suspect a thing.

“How spontaneous,” you’d said, delighted.

He’d only smiled. “Gotta keep you on your toes, y’know.”

You didn’t notice how the nervousness pulled at his eyes as you called in sick to work and put on a cute blue dress. He suggests a white sundress, but you decline, feeling like it’s more of a blue kind of day. You don’t notice how he doesn’t comment on the choice the way he normally does.

Your destination was a botanical garden up north, a prospect that excites you. Your Instagram needed something to spruce it up and some photos against the foliage would be perfect to introduce a vernal vibe. He leads you over to a wall of hydrangeas, and helps you rearrange your hat and jewelry so they stand out in the bright afternoon sun.

"Okay so look left, now look up, now hold out your bag." He's always good at directing you for photos, copying the same directions he's been given on his various shoots, and you've become much better at taking direction the longer you've been together. 

"Okay now look at the flowers and pretend to pick off a petal. No, reach out a little farther. Okay, hold that." You hear his voice moving as he changes angles, trying to find exactly where the best shot is. Your eyes fixate on the hydrangeas, at the vast greenish blooms that are climbing up the trellises, smelling almost sickly sweet. For a moment you worry that the pale green of them might clash with your dress, but if that was the case then at least you have dozens of other photos in different locations. No great loss. Inside the bush, you can see small insects climbing along the branches. There are a few buds deep int he recesses, too young to push their way out and bloom. All whole world beneath you, sheltering in soft petals. A home for smaller creatures.

You get so distracted by the flowers themselves you don't notice that Chan has stopped speaking.

"Did you get it?" you call out. No response. You turn to where he was standing across the way.

He's gone.

Confusion settles in. Your eyes dart back and forth. "Baby? Where'd you go?" He's nowhere. You turn completely around, towards the other end of the wall of hydrangeas, and that's where you finally find Chan.....down on one knee.

Your vision immediately tunnels. His hair is out of place, as if he's been running his hands through it. He does that when he gets nervous. Your gaze darts down to see an open ring box in one hand, the gem glittering in the bright sun, nearly blinding you just from the intensity of its presence.

"Oh my god." You can't breathe. Your heart stutters in your chest.

"Y/n," he says, looking up at you with so much tenderness and love. "these past few years with you have as beautiful and perfect as a spring day. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, and I’ve never been so glad to know anyone. I never want our time together to end. I love you more than life itself.” He takes a breath then says those four words. “Will you marry me?"

Your brain short-circuits. It’s like the sun is dimming above you, your whole body struck still. You think of the hydrangeas washing out your dress, and the sun in your eyes, and all the people around watching you flounder and struggle for something to say. You’re so shocked and excited that it’s overwhelming you- cold sweat breaks out on your brow and you lose control of your mouth entirely so instead of saying a resounding "Yes!" the word that comes out is a very quiet "No..."

Chan freezes. The smile that had been spread across his face falls, his eyes dim. 

"No?" he asks, clearly unprepared for this answer. "You don't-"

His own shock snaps you out of yours and your brain kicks back into gear. Horror overwhelms you.

"Oh my god! No, no I just- I was thinking about how I look and how everyone is looking at us right now and I should've worn that white dress you suggested to me and now I've fucked up all the photos and-"

You can't tell if you're making it worse or making it better, so you give up. You grab him by the coat, haul him up, and kiss him.

Suddenly, there's movement around you, and several people burst out from behind the hydrangea bushes that surround you. You open your eyes and see all your friends and family swarming and excited. They were watching the whole thing. They’re all wearing white. Chan invited them so they could share in this happy moment with you. The people around you in the garden clap politely and call congratulations. You look up and notice someone pointing a camera at you a distance away. Chan had the whole thing filmed.

It's a picture-perfect proposal and you'd almost ruined it.

You step back from him, and god he still looks so unsure and you hate yourself for stealing even a little of his joy.

"Yes, Chan. Yes, I'll marry you. A thousand times yes."

Relief sinks into every part of his being, and he leans in to kiss you again. And then your friends and family reach you, and it's all chaos. Your friends are shattering excitedly at you about oh my god Y/N you don't know how hard it was to keep a secret we've been planning this for ages, and the guys in your friend group are clapping Chan on the back, giving more sincere congratulations than you've heard from them in years, but all of it is white noise to you. The only person who exists to you in this moment is Chan. The adrenaline slowly ekes away, and you feel more at peace, more right than you ever have before.

Later that night, you're sitting in your apartment flipping through some zines you'd picked up from the gift shop on the south end of the garden. Chan is in the kitchen putting away leftovers, and the TV is turned on low, white noise for your quiet evening. Your new ring gleams on your finger, and you can barely focus on the botanical facts you're wearing because it keeps catching your eye and distracting you with private glee.

You feel the couch dip as he sits down, and you lean into his side. His hand comes up to wrap around you automatically.

"You scared the shit out of me today," Chan says, and his tone is light but you know he's telling the absolute truth. You wince, setting the zine down and turning to face him properly.

"I was nervous about doing a public proposal," he continues. "I know you said you were okay with it but when I saw you panic I started to worry."

"I'm sorry. I really was just surprised. My mind was in a thousand different places."

You both know you have a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. It's rare you fumble on such a serious occasion, though.

"When you said no, I think my heart dropped into my stomach."

You sigh, cursing your past self for planting any seed of doubt in his mind. "I got overwhelmed. With love for you, I swear, but I started spiraling because I was so caught off guard. I regretted not wearing the white dress you told me to wear. I'd already been thinking that my blue dress clashed with the flowers, and then I realized you were proposing and I thought I'd ruined your whole plan. I felt bad.”

Chan let out a sigh, but it wasn't a tired or exasperated sigh. Instead, it was fond.

"You could've insisted on wearing sweatpants today and it wouldn't have ruined the proposal. You look beautiful in anything. All I wanted was your answer."

"You must've known that there was no way I would've said no."

"But you did."

"Out of shock! Cut me some slack, it's not every day you get proposed to! I've never done it before! I didn't know what to do with myself!"

"I've never proposed to anyone either," Chan says. "I was sweating bullets."

"I just thought it was the heat."

"You're a menace."

"I'm your fiancée," you say, and it's the first time you've said it out loud, and it fills you with so much excitement that a smile splits your face in half all over again. "I'm going to marry you soon."

Chan's smile is a twin of yours. "You are," he says. "And you've never done that either."

"We'll figure it out," you vow. "And I'll learn to watch my mouth."

"Please do. If you don't say "I do" at the altar, I'll collapse out of cardiac arrest."

"Then I guess I better start practicing," you tease. "I, F/N L/N, do take you, Christopher Bang, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I'll repeat it in the mirror every morning."

You're joking of course. You know that when the time comes to say vows, you won't be stuttering or stumbling over the words. They're already echoing in your head over and over again. You think you might start saying them in unrelated conversations, the words bursting out of you like water from a dam. I do, I do, I do.

Chan leans over, finally relaxed, and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes and bask in the attention.

Next time you’ll wear a white dress, and you won’t flinch for a second.

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x plus size reader where they're just living together maybe just moved in together and it's just all fluff and domestic stuff you can add whatever flare you like to this :D if you're okay with writing the character but if not I understand

-✨ anon

Hey anon! So I did some research on Jason Todd and have opted to write about the timeline when Jason runs the Outlaws as he`s a minor in the timeline before that. Hope you like it!

Moving in with Jason includes:

Him being nervous on your first day together in your new apartment, being used to pack an overnight bag and not to finally share a space with you

Him enjoying the new sense of peace and tranquility once all of the boxes are unpacked and the apartment finally looks like a real home

You comforting your boyfriend, understanding that hes just happy that he gets to have you so close to him, as your his source of love, life and peace

The two of you enjoying some take out while talking and laughing with one another, soaking in these beautiful moments and being able to tune out the problematic world

The first night at the apartment being concluded with some passionate love making, your bodies becoming one while youre staring deeply into each others eyes and whispering sweet nothings to one another

Living together with Jason being the most fun yet chaotic thing ever

Him feeling an overwhelming wave of happiness rushing through his body when he knows that youre waiting for him at home, after a long and exhausting day

You loving to surprise your boyfriend with homecooked meals, dancing and singing along while being so excited that his tastebuds will be blessed soon

Jason falling and loving you even more when he gets to see you wander around your place in an oversized shirt, your underwear visible. The sight alone instantly making him crave your beautiful body

Late nights of either slow dancing in the living room together or watching a random movie while cuddling and feeding each other snacks becoming your routine to recover from the outside world and life in general

Jason being very curious when it comes to cooking, so he happily watches you teach him basic cooking skills and meals to prepare on the days that youre too exhausting to cook or are working late

The whole apartment being filled with flower petals, ballons and confetti on your birthday, anniversary or other special occasions, adding a whole new beautiful athomosphere to your already loving home

Walking around naked being one of your favorite activities together

The two of you thinking about getting a pet but not being able to decide on which kind as youre a cat person and Jason is a dog person

Both a cat and dog being adopeted months later and surprisingly getting along fine when the two of you are not home

Your little family being complete, friends and family receiving the cutest holiday cards of your family

Your relationship going through intense highs and lows, but the two of you always coming out stronger than ever and realizing that you are the endgame for one another

[genderqueerdykes]

Just need to point out the whole height thing is very very American. I'm 5'3, half the cis men I know are my height or shorter. I'm taller than my dad. It's a perfectly normal height.

hello there! i wouldn't say "American", but rather places where people are naturally taller on average! but yes, short men are common in a lot of places in the world and in a lot of cultures! and that's okay, if height isn't an issue for some transmascs it's very good to hear that! i'm glad it's no problem for you. i'm sure there are lots of areas where you struggle that trans men & mascs in other parts of the world wouldn't understand as well, we all have very unique struggles relative to the cultures we live in

but we must understand that we also have to let the trans men & mascs who are profiled by their height speak. it's great to let it be known that a lot of men are not profiled by their height- but so many are, and it's not good to dismiss it as 'very American'. also, American trans men matter, their pain does not deserve to be dismissed because of the land mass they occupy. their pain is still valid even if it's normal elsewhere in the world. hope that makes sense :)

[thatgayoctopus]

I'm addicted to making Otto animatics....

it doesn't like me sometimes so I REALLY hope this uplaods properly. ANYWAYSSSS this is Lick My Comon Sense by Jack Stauber, I was considering doing the whole thing and then I didn't B) Some of my favorite frames !!!!

okay that's it thank you guys byeee

[mournwatch]

Hi again. Long post incoming and I apologize. It's just because I have a lot of thoughts about this, as a trans guy coming at this issue from another perspective. I'm not trying to fight but sort of... sing in reprisal if that makes sense lol. I think that this data could really use the context of how many AO3 authors writing sexual content about transmasc/trans man people are part of our community themselves. Knowing who is invested in writing this content is a crucial part of understanding what these statistics mean. (It's my hypothesis that the majority are trans, but this is not something I have checked.) And if it is majority trans people, I believe what we are seeing is not the sexualization of trans men by chasers or fetishists, but people exploring their own sexuality through a safe outlet in a community where they feel comfortable to do so.

I understand that the actual concern is that regardless of who is writing this content, there is a worry about harm being done by fic perpetuating trans men being burdened with feminizing/ fetishizing stereotypes. We did talk about this before and I remember. I think the perception of this harm is complicated considering that fandom spaces are by nature subcultural, and in mainstream (progressive/liberal) culture lives the inverse stereotype of trans men being held to standards of traditional masculinity. Between these two stereotypes, we are all just trying to find comfort and authenticity and somewhere to see ourselves reflected back.

I struggle to find any representation of gay trans men at all in most mainstream media content, and that is also sparse and tends to focus on adolescents anyway. Like Annie Marks' trans son Ben in the TV series Good Girls. I think the only nonhet romance with a transmasc character that I can think of in a widely viewed TV series was Jim and Oluwande in Our Flag Means Death. It's a vastly underrepresented category when you consider fiction as a whole (which does matter when talking about fandom since these source materials are the primary motivator for fan fiction to exist to begin with.) And that makes me also feel like there's plenty of space for people to fill that void with their own creations and experiences. Especially original content! Something I absolutely love to see.

With this in mind, this is just speculation based on my own experiences, but I don't think this stereotype would be so prevalent if it didn't resonate with people on a deeper level. There is an allure to being irrefutably trans in every way, but still a valued and active player in the fields of romance and sex. And to simultaneously break down the way people need men in society to be but still be seen and respected as a man/transmasc regardless of how many of these signifiers get eroded away. Because in fiction, you can do that, and having that escape is powerful. But yeah, it's worth asking these authors directly about their own thoughts on it. I personally completely understand the demand for this, because the kind of characters that I would make to represent myself and my sexuality almost never make it to TV, film, or games.

It truly is a stressful position to be in to hear about how the very thing that helped me be more comfortable with myself, my body, and my sexuality is the site of pain for other people in the community that I love. And I think a lot of others dont mean to be a source of anguish either. I'm speaking up partially even because I want to soothe some anxieties that might exist about the intentions of the people who write this sort of content who are similar to myself, and put a friendly face to it in a way. I don't know if any of this helped because I know big walls of text are intimidating, but I hope something here was meaningful. Thank you for looking into this data in the first place.

AO3 statistics for trans men

I looked at three main categories of ao3 stats: number of explicit fics, ratio of M/M to M/F fics, and different types of sex listed under "additional tags" (vaginal, oral, etc). There are definitely more things that could be looked at but these are what I focused on.

Explicit rating

At the time I collected these numbers (they've likely already changed, fic authors publish stuff fast) there were 14,221,609 total fics on ao3. Of those, 2,569,913 fics were rated "explicit," or 18.1% of fics. There were 91,487 fics tagged "trans male character," and of those, 43,845 were rated "explicit." That's 47.9% of fics tagged "trans male character."

Nearly half of all fics featuring trans men are explicit, compared to about a fifth of fics overall. This indicates that trans men are heavily sexualized in fandom spaces.

M/M vs M/F fics

For fics in general, there were about 2.0 times as many M/M fics as M/F fics (6,822,062 and 3,439,600, respectively). For fics tagged "trans male character," there were about 6.0 times as many M/M fics as M/F (68,507 and 11,359, respectively).

When filtering for fics rated "explicit," the difference in ratios is even more significant. Explicit fics in general had about 2.2 times as many M/M fics as M/F (1,616,555 and 743,455), while explicit fics tagged "trans male character" had 8.6 times as many M/M fics as M/F (38,490 and 4,489).

Fandoms in general tend to lean more towards M/M relationships than M/F relationships, but this discrepency is much stronger when it comes to trans men, and I'm not sure what the reason for that is. Trans men are more likely to be non-heterosexual than heterosexual, but not necessarily more likely to be attracted to men than women (a lot of trans men are bisexual, pansexual, queer, etc).

Trans male characters are more commonly shipped with men than women, to a greater extent than the overall fandom preference for M/M ships over M/F, and I'm not really sure why, but it's definitely interesting.

Additional tags

For explicit fics tagged as "trans male character," the most popular additional tag by far is "vaginal sex" at 13,685 fics (31.2% of explicit fics tagged "trans male character"). Since this tag doesn't necessarily refer to the trans male character (it could refer to a cis woman being vaginally penetrated by a trans male partner, for example), I filtered for fics tagged as M/M. That resulted in 12,504 fics tagged "vaginal sex," or 32.5% of explicit M/M fics tagged "trans male character."

Overall, for explicit fics tagged as "trans male character," the most common additional tags referring to different types of sex were:

Vaginal sex, at 13,685 fics

Vaginal fingering, at 9,908 fics

Oral sex, at 9,147 fics

Cunnilingus, at 7,712 fics

Anal sex, at 4,590 fics

There definitely are trans men out there who enjoy vaginal penetration/fingering or receiving cunnilingus, and many of the fics tagged as such might be reflective of that fairly common* experience for trans men. That being said, there is a really heavy emphasis on vaginas and vulvas in explicit fics about trans men, and I find that uncomfortable.**

*I think? Unsure how common it actually is

**BEFORE PEOPLE START MISINTERPRETING ME: I'm not saying I'm uncomfortable with trans men who enjoy using their vaginas/vulvas for sex, or the existence of that kind of fic. I'm saying that fandoms in general tend to focus on trans men having vaginas to an extent that I'm uncomfortable with.

[wajjs]

I’m a bit curious on Hal’s personality in his depictions. From what I know is that early hal was headstrong, cocky, kind of a goofball, and detached (dissociating away his fear and averse to commitment). This seems to be the version of Hal that most people write.

But then there’s the whole Parallax thing, and the Spectre run. I don’t know much about it but it seems hal gets a lot more subdued and melancholy as the spectre. And then after that he comes back as flesh and bone.

So what is he like at the end of that?

Pre-Johns and pre-Parallax Hal tended to be more happy go lucky, stupid, and generally doe eyed hopeful "the system that fucked me over once definitely won't do it again!" type of man. He was also entitled at times. But this is mostly true up until around the time of Hard Traveling Heroes, which is when he starts to be heartbroken and melancholic, traits that persist until the climax of Emerald Twilight.

A lot of people say Emerald Twilight came from nowhere and I disagree. I think those people weren't paying attention, because all the signs were there. Hal had been steadily becoming more disillusioned and melancholic through the 70s and 80s until we get to the 90s, where that heartbreak gets amplified to the nth degree. Hal didn't go from stupid to mad with grief without a transition period in the middle. But a lot of people think once a run from x writer ends, it no longer counts for the next one, and so they say the tragedy came from nowhere.

At the very start of the 90s, Hal has a lot of suicidal ideation going on. The run itself begins with him more or less saying "There’s nowhere else to go" (paraphrasing) and throwing himself off a cliff. He waits until he's almost crashing head first into the ground to pull himself out of there using his ring. He's flirting with the thought of death.

He is also self sabotaging. He pulls back from everyone and turns himself into a homeless man who lives on the road because he's looking for a sense of self, a meaning to life he has lost. He becomes a seasonal worker because he needs something to do, but those jobs never last because the life he's trying to leave behind (in the shape of Guy Gardner) keeps metaphorically knocking on the door and dragging him back to Green Lantern.

Even when he comes back, he chooses to do solitary things. For example: exploring space to recruit more GLs, that keeps interactions to a minimum. It's all things that are brewing in a pressure cooker that blows up when Coast City is destroyed in front of Hal's eyes and the hero community drops the ball. Hard.

They all say well, it’s not MY city. They all say get over it. Clark goes and creates a monument using scraps of the very bomb that killed everyone and everything Hal knew all his life, and immediately after that Clark is in Metropolis enjoying the sun and saying aaaaah. what a nice day.

And Hal doesn't snap immediately. The tension is there, but at first he does try to keep it together until it becomes impossible. He tries to reconstruct Coast City, but there are limits to what the ring can do. The one thing he could depend on, his will power, is not enough. He is not enough. His grief and anger become so big that his mind just... fractures. He snaps. No one's listening and no one's helping, so he will take matters into his own hands and make. it. right.

This Hal is angry. This Hal has a heart with a hole that threatens to kill him at any moment but he endures because he cannot die until he does what needs to be done. This Hal refuses the help that comes too late, he has killed his friends, he has destroyed the corps, he has killed Sinestro. Kyle arrives like a lighthouse in the middle of the storm but for Hal it's too late because he has driven his ship into the cliff and is letting it sink with himself still in it.

He is mad at himself and mad at the world for failing Coast City and all the innocent lives lost. He almost becomes a god, and is perceived as a god by some due to the power he now possesses. There are moments when clarity hits him and the old wounded heartbroken Hal shows his face, and he is dying. His pain is so palpable. His anguish. The old Hal wants help. But Parallax Hal does not want to be saved.

Of course, the status quo changes with the events of Final Night. Hal sacrifices himself to save the Earth. He sees that only in death will his anger stop, and he sees that he's the only one who can do what no one else could do for Coast City. It's a no brainer. He sacrifices himself and burns himself to a crisp reigniting the sun. Hal doesn’t expect to come back. He doesn’t want to come back. This is HIS final night.

Unfortunately, The Spectre had other plans. His anger morphs into straight up depression because now he is alive enough to deal with the outcome of what he did as Parallax. He has to live with the tragedy of what he lost and the tragedy of what he did. Few people stand by his side and want to give him a chance. Very few people recognize there's good in him. Most want to see him dead and gone. He himself wants to be dead and gone. Helen, his niece, being there definitely helps him not lose it, not lose himself. She is his hope. She is the innocence he lost and he will never get back.

After all of this, he is more grounded, mature. Still melancholic. Still haunted by everything that happened. He is cocky, of course, and self assured, because at the end of the day those are the things he can cling to with some sort of safety net. But they're also things he uses to keep the raw wounds hidden.

Post Johns? Yeah like more than half of this is lost because Hal’s the greatest hero ever and he can do no wrong. He is headstrong, overconfident, cocky, and ultimately good, but he is missing like half of his soul.

[formosusiniquis]

never anything but sharing

For @genderthings Robin Gender Week Day 1: Sharing Pronouns

T | WC: 2123 | Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3

The door of the Harrington house is unlocked when Robin storms through it. The only danger it would have any hope of delaying is seven unruly and unthankful children; today especially Robin appreciates that Steve has stopped making that effort. It makes it a lot easier to storm in and pull him off the couch by the hair and drag him into the nearest bathroom.

“Ow, Robin! The part is in the mail, the truck will be running by Sunday. Ow!” He doesn’t stop complaining until she has them in her favorite full-sized bathroom with the ugly tile and jacuzzi tub.

 He’s Steve, Robin’s Steve, so he doesn’t glare so much as pout as he runs a hand through his mussed-up hair, pretending that he’s tender-headed even though he knows Robin knows better. “You’re worse than Henderson, you had to bike to work one day.”

“First of all, don’t ever say that to me. But do you think I dragged you in here to talk about our truck, this is serious.”

He crosses his arms in that way that tries for bitchy but these days lands closer to fondly disgruntled. Parental, maternal, in that way that suits Steve. “Okay well seriously start talking then. I think you ripped out a clump.”

Robin takes in a breath, using the exhale to force out the thing that had worried itself in there like a burr at 11:57 that Saturday afternoon. “Someone called me sir at work.”

Robin can feel the slow track of Steve’s eyes as they take in the outfit. The wide-shouldered blazer and the pants in a different but complementary plaid pattern. Underneath is a t-shirt and, with the biking, Chuck Taylors had been a must though the thrifted, wingtip, dress shoes had called out from the closet begging to be worn instead.

“How do we feel about that?”

Always we. Steve hadn’t even been there and it’s a them problem, it’s easier to think in terms of them and we.

“She wasn’t looking at me from the front,” Robin says. That feels important to stress for some reason. Do they look like a sir from the front? Probably not, and Robin isn’t sure what the emotion that’s sitting below the breastbone at the thought of that is. 

“I was reshelving in Romance and she came up behind me and was all…” Trailing off all Robin can do is gesture, flapping hands leading away from a body that has become a source of confusion.

Arms still crossed, lazily now, relaxed. Cool and lean in the way Steve can be but only when the effort is accidental. He nods. “Oh, that makes more sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Steve’s hands on their shoulders, Robin is turned toward the mirror with Steve just behind in a blink. “From the back you have the same haircut as Byers.”

“You take that back right now.” Robin watches as their mouth moves in the mirror.

“It’s better, cause you steal my product. But when you don’t let me style it, it can get a little Byers-y.”

They’re in the ugly bathroom with the seafoam green tiles that have the print that makes no sense for a bathroom but Robin loves. That’s the only reason the counter beneath their fingers is bare. That it doesn’t have the accusing army of mousse and hairspray that has been slowly infiltrating the Buckley house.

“So you’re saying since I have a Byers-y haircut-”

“Not the whole haircut, just from the back and just sometimes.”

“That’s the only reason I’d be called sir.”

Steve slouches against the wall by the mirror. There’s a careful nothingness to the way he’s looking at them that means he saw something Robin didn’t mean to show. That he heard something in the forced sarcstic lilt in her voice.

“Do you want to be called sir?” The forced casualness extends to the question.

It makes Robin feel hysterical. Get prescribed a visit to the seaside, the real remedy is a good vibrator hysterical. “I’m a lesbian, Steve. That’s- I’ve always been a lesbian, it’s the one thing- So I can’t be a sir or a he-”

“Why not?”

The guidance-counselor-calm is infuriating, even as they make that mental note to add that to the list of things Steve could be good at if he wanted a traditional job. Robin could teach music, band, they wouldn't be broken up.

“Because..? Because it’s too much, isn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, circling Robin and their problem carefully.

“It’s not all the time, right? We’ll share.”

“What?”

“We’ll share.” Steve repeats, moving now to settle into the massive jacuzzi tub. Lounging for real in its dry basin now that, in their mind, the problem has been solved

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Robin has to be careful in refusing. The two of them don't disagree. Trying to do it now tastes like ash on the tongue. Bitter and wrong.

“Why not?” Steve challenges. Brow raised in a way that hints at something bitchy like the girls at the last slumber party she’d been invited to, before she was too weird, right before someone got the dare that they’d asked for.

“That’s my shirt you’re wearing and you stole my favorite jeans last week. You’ll borrow my he and I’ll take your she and it’ll be fine.”

“Those aren’t the same thing, that’s not those words mean something.” Robin pleads. Begs Steve to be rational because Robin can’t be. Biked the five miles here faster than anyone ever has. Broke landspeed records and possibly the sound barrier powered by the feelings caused by a single word.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says gently. But it’s Steve and gentle gives way to a catty eye roll and, “I saw that kangaroo song as a kid too, he will mean Robin sometimes and she can mean Steve and other times it’s the otherway around. It’s fine, Robbie.”

It’s Steve, Robin has to remember. Always remembers because Steve is something they are as aware of as their arm or leg or spleen. Intrinsic.

Steve would burn Hawkins to the ground for them: Robin, The Party, anyone close enough to be family.

What then would it be to him? To claim Robin’s errant she. He is Steve Harrrington. Hawkin’s perfect son. The Keg King, the reformed prep. Perfect in his John Hughes-ian glory. Everything a perfect corn-fed, Midwestern boy should be.

“But it has to mean something, you can’t just say that we’ll share because you want me to feel better.”

“When have I ever lied to make you feel better? I just told you when you don’t do anything with your hair it looks like Jonathan’s.”

“Yeah, and you’re the kind of freak who understands what Nancy sees in him.”

“And it isn’t his hair. Our whole friendship is based on saying what we really think, even when it’s annoying.”

“I thought it was based on you inability to resist doing your Miss Piggy impression.”

“Robin.” The stone seriousness of it drops Robin to their knees in front of the tub. Close enough to Steve that big hands can cup their face. “I love you. This is your moment, so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's fine.”

“It's fine.” Robin repeats.

“We’ll share.” Steve says.

“We’ll share.”

“You're a sir.” she says.

“I’m a he.” Robin says, “Today. Today I'm a he.”

“How does that feel?” She asks him.

“Good? Good. Oh my god Steve I don’t know how to be a he. This isn’t stealing your red sweater-”

She shrieks, “I knew you had my sweater!”

But it isn't going to distract him from the bigger picture. “I can’t just slip into your guy thing like it’s your clothes, you know that was the point.”

Arms crossed, she pouts, “The point sounds like you’ve been stealing my clothes.”

“Steve!”

“You don’t have to be anything to prove that you are something. Sometimes you’re a he, you don’t have to know how to shotgun a beer or something to prove it. I will show you the right way to do a keg stand, that’s a point of pride. And you should know how to fix up the truck, change a tire, to help you pick up babes.”

It's not the worst point ever made. Probably because some of it -- the first part, not the part about car maintenance as a tool of seduction though that has its merits too he supposes and it has a butch quality that is appealing -- is familiar.

“I hate when you quote me at me.”

“When did you tell me you were going to teach me to change a tire?”

“You know what I mean, dingus.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Steve says through her smile, “how else am I supposed to give you advice?”

“I love you.” Its the truest truth Robin can come up with at the moment. So true it's an understatement. Love too simple a word for what he feels right now and about Steve.

“I love you too.” She says back, and Robin knows its the same kind of feeling. “And you’ll love me even more when I teach you how to scale a trellis.”

“Why would I need to scale anything, why can’t I just go in the door?”

“It doesn’t have the same Prince Charming feeling. Girls love that stuff.”

“How many times have you fallen off the side of someone’s house?”

“Not as many times as you’re going to, Vickie’s house is laid out like a nightmare.”

He settles into the tub next to Steve. The oversized jacuzzi a tight fit for both of their bodies, but Steve lets him settle into her side like she doesn’t care that the faucet is digging into her shoulder. In sync, Steve lifts her head up enough that Robin can rest his in the space where shoulder and neck meet. The sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ear gives his a steady rhythm to settle into after the flustered panic it had worked its way up to. Share, they can share.

Some things they can share.

He sits up enough to look Steve in the eye, a half-hearted glare that she wouldn’t buy for a second on his face. “Why have you been scoping out Vickie's house?”

“For you, obviously.” She says, rolling her eyes just like Robin had imagined. “I had to figure out the best point of entry.”

“It's not a siege.”

“It's breaking and entering, and it's embarrassing when someone catches you and it doesn't look cool. Trust me.”

“Some more expertise that you're sharing?”

“I'll share anything with you, Bobbin.”

He hears what's underneath that promise. Their bond forged in chaos, in danger, in blood, in fear. But it was honed in moments like these: honest, sincere, still frightened sometimes but touched by love and laughter.

“Even your green henley?”

He hopes she hears how he knows that Steve would do or give anything for him. His shirt, his time, his bathroom, his life. 

Whatever life may mean at that time. The actual thing, defending and protecting them all from whatever the next great evil is, or the more metaphorical life, marriage and it's safety net that they’ve discussed.

“Even all my best clothes when you have nothing in your closet you could possibly share too.”

“Welcome to the time honored tradition of girlhood, the friend that’s borrowing clothes from you is doing it for a reason. I’ll teach you how dress sizes work next time we’re at the thrift store.”

“Yeah okay, but who’s going to teach you that?”

She’s smiling as she says it, and the tub is too small a space for them to get a good fight started. Grief, the teasing kind, something they’ve always been good at sharing. So he takes his lumps and settles back down into the cradle of the tub and Steve’s arms that he moves elbows first. Let’s them share how unappreciated that dig might have been, the truth in it neither here nor there. 

They’ll lay here for a little bit longer, letting the moment settle. Sharing their space, their time, their breath, and probably the gossip from his day at Family Video without Steve. When the time is right, they’ll leave the bathroom and share a meal, maybe the couch or the bed. It’s just what’s right, like Steve so often is. What’s a pronoun or two among all of that.

“I know how to find a dress that fits. Just like I know that the kangaroo song is about pronouns. How do you remember a cartoon from when we were kids but not the thing they were singing about?”

[thorraborinn]

Would it possible at all for you to point me in the direction of how to translate elder futhark runes ie: “Thor, Protector of Humanity”. I’m entertaining the idea of woodburning Norse art.

lol you're gonna hate this. Nobody asks me shit like this anymore so I'm gonna take it too seriously.

Really the answer is "no." I can try to do it for you but I don't think it makes sense for me to say "learn Proto-Norse" and hope for the best. Learning how to do this is a lot more difficult than learning Old Norse or Old English (and tbh "learn ON or OE or OHG" is the actual advice I'd give here). I know you're asking about doing this in general, and not for that phrase in particular, but you happened to provide a good example so I'm going to try a translation and show all my work.

I did put together a very non-exhaustive list of sources on runes available here but honestly that will not get you far here. Turning Proto-Norse into runes is easy, it's the language part that's hard. I also made a big list of deity names in Elder Futhark. Apparently the font embedding broke so it looks like nonsense, and I'm not gonna fight with it now. But the bolded text in each entry can be transliterated into runes. I haven't looked at this in years, but did just update Thor to be more in line with what I have here. Also, don't trust Wikipedia or Wiktionary for this stuff, you can use them as a research tool but verify independently or just use them to find other sources.

If I were in your position, I would consider using Old Norse and the runes that wrote that. Völuspá even gives us a near parallel: Miðgarðs véurr, and one of many ways to write that might be ᚦᚢᚱ ᛬ ᛘᛁᚦᚴᛆᚱᚦᛋ ᛬ ᚢᛁᚢᚱ.

I should make sure sure you're asking what you want to be asking. I'm assuming you want to translate into language that was spoken when the Elder Futhark was used. Some people say "translate" when they mean the less-commonly-known-but-more-accurate "transliterate" (turn "abc" into "ᚨᛒᚲ"). Maybe you just want to go ᚦᛟᚱ ᛬ ᛈᚱᛟᛏᛖᚲᛏᛟᚱ ᛬ ᛟᚠ ᛬ ᚺᚢᛗᚨᚾᛁᛏᛁ and call it a day, and there's nothing wrong with that but you don't need my help for it so I'm guessing that isn't what you mean.

Anyway I'll give you my crack at a translation of the phrase you provided now in case you don't want to read the rest of this but the explanation is after the break:

*þonaraʀ warjaʀ *man(n)akunjas þonaraʀ warijaʀ manakunjas ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ ᛬ ᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᚨᚾᚨᚲᚢᚾᛃᚨᛊ

(the i ~ ij thing is on purpose. word boundary markers optional)

Thor

There are some unclear phonological aspects of *þun?raz > Þórr. Haukur Þorgeirsson recently addressed this (this article is currently paywalled but for some reason the whole thing loaded just fine for me a few hours ago, not sure why), and I find his conclusions satisfactory, which complicates things. Haukur proposes an earlier *Þunurr but doesn't rule out *Þonarr (or earlier reflex of these). By Haukur's analysis the former is easier to resolve within Old Norse but the latter is more convenient with some other proposals already made, especially by comparative linguists. So we find ourselves with two proposals for the god's name in Elder Futhark-era language: ᚦᚢᚾᚢᚱᚨᛉ *þunuraʀ and ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ *þonaraʀ. I'm conditioned to favor *þonaraʀ, but I can't find fault in Haukur's preference for *þunuraʀ within the context of his own paper.

The only reason I'm not siding with it is that it seems impossible to resolve with Old High German donar and Old Saxon thunar (both 'thunder'; compare *eburaz > OHG/OS ebur, not **ebar). So while Haukur's got me convinced that *þunuraʀ seems like a more likely immediate precursor to Þórr, I can't shake *þonaraʀ being what seems to me, at least for now, a necessary precursor to the OHG especially. And for now, "seems necessary" beats "more likely." Of course variation is possible but that isn't a way to handwave conflicting data, it's a whole separate thing to investigate, and I haven't done that yet.

If I were researching something for myself, or for something permanent like a tattoo, I'd keep going and make sure I'm more confident. Even Haukur leaves open possibilities I haven't mentioned here. If nothing else, at least *þunraz no longer seems necessary to maintain (as Ringe 2014 thought following Noreen 1923).

Alternatively, one who does prefer *þunraz as the Proto-Germanic could probably be convinced to allow an epenthetic vowel for Elder Futhark-era language, so we're safe there.

I probably could have left all this out. *þonaraʀ is a fairly normal, mainstream way to reconstruct Þórr. But that wouldn't have been an accurate depiction of the situation. However we work this out, it highlights that what we're doing is not speaking/writing ancient, dead, unattested language. Or, if we are, it's only incidental to the primary thing we're doing, which is trying and sometimes failing to understand how attested words relate to each other, and taking sides in arguments about that.

protector

Selecting a word for 'protector' is difficult. It was only with some hesitation that I went with warjaʀ, a word only attested in compounded personal names like Landawar(i)jaʀ on the Tørvika A stone. It's highly likely to be derived from *warjan- 'to protect/defend.' What's a little weird, though, is that it seems to always be written warijaʀ, in apparent violation of Sievers' Law. I won't get into details here because this post is gonna be long enough as it is, but let it be known the word (and others -- the (i)ja thing recurs a bunch in the Elder corpus) is controversial and my preference for leaving it as it's attested would probably not be universal.

Snorri calls Thor verjandi Ásgarðs, Miðgarðs 'protector of Ásgarðr, Miðgarðr.' To be honest, this isn't the most common use of verjandi; usually it means 'defendant' in a trial, but we can get its meaning from context. We should stop to question whether it could have been used that way some 700 years before Snorri, and once we're satisfied that we can use it we run into trouble again with the non-phonological change of the suffix *-andz > -andi. The *-andz suffix is poorly attested in the Elder Futhark. We have the Tune stone's witada witanda-, but it's a compound word and doesn't give us the nominative ending. Then there's the Eggja stone's suwimąde swimmande and gąląnde galandi which are late enough to be basically fully Old Norse, and doesn't tell us much about earlier language. In Old Norse, these -andi words have the same endings as an n-stem in the singular, and maybe they did in Proto-Norse, but we don't have nominative (or even uncompounded in any case) forms from early enough to be sure. *warjandʀ or *warjanda? Or something else? If not for this, it's the word I'd probably use, and if we want to come as close as we can to technical dictionary accuracy, we'll have to be okay with a shot in the dark at the morphological state of the language.

Also derived from verja are vernd, verndari, vǫrn, vǫrðr. Both vernd and vǫrn mean roughly 'protection' and it makes more sense to say that Thor gives or provides them than that he is them. A vǫrðr is a guard or warden -- Heimdallr is definitely a vǫrðr but I'm not certain Thor is. Most likely, verndari is a later, Norse-era formation, which is unfortunate because it is the word I'd use if we were translating to Old Norse (might go a little bit something like ᚦᚢᚱ ᛬ ᚢᛆᚱ(ᚿ)ᛐᛆᚱᛁ ᛬ ᛘᚭᚿᚴᚢ(ᚿ)ᛋ).

In Old Norse there's also gæta. It isn't attested outside of North Germanic which means relying on internal reconstruction, which isn't great. Kroonen's (2013) *ganhatjan- makes sense and PN *gą̄tijaʀ does seem pretty reasonable as a reconstruction. Semantically, I'm not sure if it's a good fit, though I'm having trouble articulating why. Its meaning should be something like 'to watch, tend, take care of' and in most modern language is more like what Iðunn does with her apples, or what a shepherd does with their flock, than what Thor does with humans, but I don't know that we can be so precise with Proto-Norse and in either case I don't think it's wrong. Actually, perhaps gætir Miðgarðs would be a better way to put it (hint: gætir Miðgarðs < *gą̄tijaʀ miðjagarðas ᚷᚨᛏᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᛁᛞᛃᚨᚷᚨᚱᛞᚨᛊ).

The Norse word hlífa might be closer to what we're looking for, though it might only seem that way because we have little evidence to contradict it. In Norse it means 'to protect/defend/shelter (from something)' and works here, but its attestations in other Germanic languages are a little weak and don't inspire confidence in the semantics.

Given all this, I can't help but feel it's best to return to war(i)jaʀ. Though unattested outside of names, it presumably had an independent existence at some point, and is transparently derived from the verb *warjan- 'to defend.' And maybe most importantly, it is actual, attested language. This is a rare opportunity to forget about what I said at the end of the "Thor" section and connect to real language committed to real record by real people.

As an aside, véurr, mentioned way above, is probably etymologically equivalent to vé + warjaʀ, so *wīhawarjaʀ ᚹᛁᚺᚨᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ.

humanity

We catch a break with 'humanity.' There are complications but they won't end up mattering. There are a few ways to say 'humanity' but they all start man(n)-; we can have our pick of -kin or -kind to end it but -kin is more common, which in PN is *kunja. But the 'man' words in early Germanic languages are a little weird. Sometimes it has one n, sometimes two; it's always two in Old Norse, but it's hard to say if that was true in elder runic language. Fortunately we can sidestep this: in most runes you only write a letter once, even if the sound is long. But to use a connecting vowel or not? Gothic has compounds in mana-, manna-, man-, and mann-. So *man(n)akunja or *man(n)kunja? Well, as Martin Syrett (1994) pounds out, Germanic in general and Gothic in particular are not consistent when it comes to stem vowels in compounds. There's a tendency to spread -a- as a connecting vowel even where it doesn't belong. So we should feel pretty safe that even if *man(n)akunja isn't the inherited form from Proto-Germanic, it was always a possibility. Finally, worst comes to worst, you could just let ᛗ stand for the whole word, given that it's the 'man' rune anyway.

Last, we'll have to put that in the genitive case to make it 'of mankind.' We don't have examples of neuter ja-stems in the genitive from the Elder Futhark but there isn't really strong reason to believe it wasn't *-jas, so: *kunjas.

We've arrived at my answer:

*þonaraʀ warjaʀ *man(n)akunjas þonaraʀ warijaʀ manakunjas ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ ᛬ ᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᚨᚾᚨᚲᚢᚾᛃᚨᛊ

Anyway I hope you don't mind me going completely over the top answering this, I don't think I realized before starting to answer this that I needed to get it out of my system.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION III.

(a/n: Hey hey hey, back with another, I hope u enjoy it and thank you for the support! ❤️)

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.2k words :)

ALSO: IMPORTANT QUESTION-do u guys prefer the long headcanons or should I shorten them for easier reading?

tags: @ttheggrimrreaper ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…8, Bachira Meguru."

The moment Ego assigned you to your player, one of the doors automatically opened, signaling you to go in. Quickly memorising the boy’s name and jersey number, you headed towards the door that led to a small hallway before following the arrows on the floor. Reaching the MANAGER room, Anri handed you a small booklet along with your new uniform, and after a quick conversation, she then instructed you to go and find your new partner.

“I hope he’s not an asshole…”-you muttered, slowly walking to the green soccer field.

Imagine being Bachira Meguru’s manager, otherwise known as the ‘monster’.

——————

Bachira Meguru was easy to find, his two-tone hair clearly visible from the benches and the way he dribbled the ball was nothing but impressive. His movements were light, yet fast and attention-grabbing, like those of a bee. You watched him play on the field from a distance, patiently waiting for training to finish and be able to go and introduce yourself to him. About half an hour later, the boys finally got a break, and grabbing the opportunity you went over to the player. To your relief, he greeted you with a big smile, and after an awkward introduction and multiple handshakes, he immediately started talking to you as if you had known each other for years.

——————

Bachira, with whom you quickly form a close friendship during the first few days by his side as a manager. He talks with you all day long about all sorts of different things and his throat never seems to hurt, nor does his voice sound tired or hoarse. Your ears and head do ache a little, but for the sake of this newfound bond, you just suck it up and silently enjoy listening to him go into great detail about every single minute of his life since birth.

Some of the stories he tells you are quite heartbreaking, like how lonely his childhood was, or how he was always ostracized and called ugly names by other kids. However his first friend, ’monster’ as the boy would call it was always by his side and made the loneliness much more durable. Did you think he was kinda nuts at first? Yeah, totally but after hearing his backstory, the whole monster thing made a lot more sense now.

On the positive side though, this man also tells you everything you need to know about him, from his foot size to the kind of toothpaste he uses. His mother is often a topic as well, an amazing woman and an angel sent from Heaven as he refers to her.

Bachira, who's on good terms with almost everyone on his team, somehow manages to build a close enough bond between them that he is able to stand completely naked in front of everyone after matches. You didn't learn about this habit of his until the day when the door to his shared room with Isagi suddenly burst open after a match and a butt-naked Bachira entered, flashing every inch of his body to the world. You were there, waiting to surprise him with some snacks, but the experience made you too traumatised to even go near their room ever again.

That’s one of his many strange habits other than talking to his monster. However, your biggest problem was waking up this boy before 7 am. The alarm clock could ring for 10 minutes straight right next to his ear, and he would still be able to sleep through it, making him arrive late to almost every practice.

Scolding him doesn’t work though, since he’s too unbothered and loud to even register what you say to him most of the time, leaving you to mumble some curses to yourself before dragging him to the fields.

——————

After the U20 match...

Bachira doesn't change that much. Yes, he trains harder, and his playing style also changes or rather develops, but his smile is still just as bright as the day you first met. Seeing him being able to play freely on the field and the way he seems to have fun with his new teammates makes you happy and reassured too, although Team Z still crosses his mind from time to time.

He’s especially close to his fellow teammate, Otoya Eita who you try to ignore anytime he comes within a 3-meter radius. His new coach, Lavinho is great though, kind of like a fun uncle or dad to the boys so you’re glad he chose FC Barcha.

You never mention this to Bachira, but he notices the way Otoya tries to flirt with you, his dear manager who’s clearly uncomfortable with his antics, so without hesitation, Bachira lies to the white-haired that you two have been going out for a while now, making the latter back down.

However, you only notice this the next day, when the ninja says sorry to you as he moves on and goes to hunt for other cute managers near him.

"What's wrong with Otoya?"-you ask, turning to Bachira, who’s tying his shoes laces.

“I told him we are a couple because I was afraid he would take you away from me!”-he says with a small smile, stepping onto the court, ready for practice. Turning around one last time before the whistle blows, he shouts to you enthusiastically:

“Keep your eyes on me, honey!”

Bachira, who after his messy but successful attempt at making you his fake girlfriend, randomly starts complimenting and flirting with you on a daily basis. His usual chaotic, loud, and funny persona suddenly changes into this teasing machine and the way he starts to cling to you is borderline insane.

You, now trying to ignore Bachira’s flirting without getting distracted is hard, making focusing on work a pain in the ass since this time you can’t even avoid the guy. Not that you try so hard since the chocolates and snacks from his fans that he shares with you are delicious and hard to resist.

“Look Y/N, how many things I got! Let's first read the letters and…”-his eyes sparkle as he shows you the things one by one, grateful for receiving so many encouraging words and gifts. The personal hand-written letters also work like a charm at making him do better during training so you’re grateful for his fans as well.

Bachira, who you always have fun with during Spanish tutoring because he basically laughs half the time during the lessons and the remaining time for actual studying usually turns into him telling jokes while folding and flying paper planes during your explainations. His overall knowledge consists of 3 different ways to say hello in Spanish and that’s about it.

He knows he’s chaotic and hard to deal with and he definitely feels sorry for you at times, but over the weeks, he has grown very fond of you and honestly, he couldn't imagine having another manager besides you.

Bachira is mesmerized, from your personality to your laugh, everything about you is so perfect in his eyes. You’re like a beautiful flower and he’s the bee that you manage to attract to yourself every single time.

[presleyslilbaby]

Request: imagine being Elvis wife & what that would include please thanks

~His Wife~

(60's!Elvis X Reader)

(Thank you for the request! I hope that you enjoy this short little story! It's not...Traditional...? Does that make sense...? I hope you like it anyways! There might be misspellings, so be aware of that-)

When you had first met Elvis in person, it was like a dream come true for you, like some sort of fantasy story. You had to admit, it wasn't easy talking to him. You kept fumbling over your words, having been in too much awe to speak properly. And Elvis adored that about you. Soon enough, the two of you began to hang out more and more, spending more time with each other than he spent with the Guys, and you had spent with your own friends. It was glorious. He even gave you your own special nickname. He liked to call you Skipper, the name reflecting the fact that you often skipped over words when you spoke passionately about something.

But that nickname dropped off when things started to change between the two of you. Instead of Skipper, he liked to call you "Mine". Your relationship grew stronger, and it hadn't taken long before you and him started to go steady. Being his Girlfriend was one thing, but when he proposed two years later? That was definitely different. The Wedding was as extravagant as Elvis could possibly make it, even if you attempted to get him to cut back the cost which obviously didn't work. He insisted that your Wedding be "the most beautiful event that matches his Bride". You couldn't deny how hard you blushed at that. On your Wedding night, he made sure that you knew just how much he loved you, taking it slow and kissing you through the whole process. It was one of the best nights of your life.

Being his Wife, Elvis most definitely liked to show you off. "Isn't she the most prettiest Gal you've ever seen?" He'd ask, cradling you close to his side. "That's why she's mine." He would add soon after feeling that pang of jealousy deep within his chest. You were his. Not anyone else's. His. Of course, he wasn't overbearingly jealous. The most he'd do is not talk to you for a few minutes before asking you for cuddles and kisses with a pout of his face. Whenever he had the alone time with you, Elvis always made sure to snuggle up with you. He was definitely a cuddle-bug. "Baby, let me lay my head on your chest please." Would be one of his requests, the others being similar in nature. Elvis liked to talk to you about growing a Family together, to have lots of children and expand the Presley Family with little bundles of joy. If you weren't feeling up to making Love with him, he never complained about it and would simply ask if there was anything he could do to help you feel better or more comfortable. He worried constantly for your well-being. It was genuinely very sweet how much of a Gentleman he was. "Mama and Daddy taught me to take care of my Lady. I love you, Y/n."

He reminded you every single day how much love he harboured for you, and how lucky he was to have you in his life. Elvis only had eyes for you, and he made sure that you knew that. He adored you.

[hxrsheykisses]

SMALL TALK 💋 | JERRY STOKES X MELISSA ORCHID♥️

This request was sent to me by @amazingbananabread !! I am SO excited to make my first request on here and I hope that it’ll encourage people to send in their own requests as well! So I hope you enjoy!♥️♥️♥️

The atmosphere around the two teens was quiet but peaceful. The soft breeze hitting there face while they laid in the fresh green glass, gazing up at the sky with a sense of relief coursing through them. It was nice being able to escape the chaotic environment of the clubs that they were involved in. Sir felt nice to rewind and enjoy some peace and quiet for a bit.

“…How’s your club going?” Jerry asked, not moving his gaze away from the sky.

Mel let out a hum of acknowledgment. Her club with Lucy was doing good, the usual. Their club was somewhat different from Jerry’s club—his club members were…okay. They were foul mouthed teenagers who gatekeep fandom like it was a lifeline for them. She overheard many jocks talk about them in various manners that only spoke trouble so Mel took it upon herself to see if these guys were serious. She saw them around and to say the least—the jocks were right. They were nerve wracking and caused nothing but trouble to those around them.

“Mel?”

Mel blinked a few times, trying to register into reality. “Oh, sorry, spaced out…” She said sheepishly. “Uh, the club is going good. Same old, same old. Anything new happen in yours?”

Jerry shook his head. “Nope. Everyone has been theirselves.” He shrugged his shoulders. That seemed like the usual Eltingville Club thing.

…

…

Jerry was different. He wasn’t like none of his friends in Mel’s opinion. He stuck out the most to her. Jerry was an interesting person in this world that she isn’t quite used too yet and that made her want to know more about Jerry. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Whenever he was out with his group of “friends”, they would be spouting out nonsense and made sure that the whole block heard them while Jerry just stood back, hardly opening his mouth to form a sentence. Jerry was like a butterfly just collecting nectar in a world full of bugs.

Mel felt bad for Jerry. He wasn’t stuck with these “friends” of his and they didn’t seem to appreciate him like they should. It made her mad. If made her confused. It made her wonder why she cared so much.

“Jerry,” Mel started. She was surprised that her mouth fixed itself to say his name. “are we friends?” Now she was finally looking at the boy, her eyes looking at his face while her lips were pressed into a fine line. She didn’t know why she asked that. She didn’t know why she had the urge to ask.

…

…

Mel is a girl who Jerry likes. Jerry likes her, a lot. Jerry has seen her around before she even saw him. He has been stealing glances at her ever since she “moved” here. When he first saw her, he felt his world come to a halt for a good moment. At first, Jerry shrugged it off and continued on. Then, one glance turned into three. Three turned into six. Six then turned into twenty. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was so alluring, so pretty—he couldn’t help himself other than to admire her from afar.

Even being this close to a girl like Mel was too much for him.

Mel was a lot different from Bill, Josh, and Pete. Mel actually listened to his nonstop rants on fantasy—and she took it all in. She didn’t cut him off, she didn’t tell him to shut up—she just…listened. It made Jerry feel all hot, it made him feel like he was on Cloud Nine. With Mel, he could rant on and on and on.

Thats why those words left his mouth.

Jerry slowly looked over at Mel, coming in contact with her dark brown eyes that reminded Jerry of the milk chocolate candies he’d see at Seven-Eleven. He took in all of the “imperfections” that he deemed perfect in his eyes. Her face was littered with pimples, her eyes looked too far apart, her lips were thin—and yet he loved it all. He loved seeing her face. He loved seeing her.

“Of course we are, Mel’s,” Jerry spoke, a small smile crept up to his face. His ears got red. “you are a fun person to be around and you have some pretty cool interests. You should talk about them more. You—You really should! I-I would love to hear about all of them! I want to hear all of it! I…”

Crap. He overstepped it a bit too much…

Jerry’s face now became a full blown pink color as he looked away bashfully, feeling his heart race rapidly. His hands got clammy, his clothes felt tight, it felt hotter outside, he felt…weird. It was this weird tangy feeling inside of him. Jerry quickly added in an awkward, “Bidi Bidi Bidi” before immediately closing his mouth.

Mel nodded her head slowly, trying to contain her feelings despite it feeling like she was going to explode. She felt…whole. She felt free. She felt like herself.

Jerry never said anything bad about her interests. Like how she self ships herself with some 2D characters, rants about fanfics she found online, the X Readers she simps over, how she has some issues with her asshole dad or her stupid anger issues that she desperately tries to keep control of…

He loved her through it all. With no hesitation. Either no second guesses.

“Good.” Was what she said, a smile forming on her lips as she rested her hands on her stomach. It went back to solace again as the moment replayed like a song that Mel couldn’t move away from.

She needs to do this more often . . . 💋

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 18

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Oral (f.recieving), fingering, semi public, slightest of dirty talk.

Minors do not interract!!!

Aria

There's a 99% chance that an alien took over Chris's body in the past week. And the remaining 1% is that he's actually changing. Trying to change, at least, if we put it in a proper sense.

Getting one step closer to Chris feels like discovering a new part of him and a part of myself I buried down after my last relationship.

Blond, blue eyes, class topper and who looked like the perfect boyfriend, Luke was my ex who I met in business school during my first year. We were made for eachother, or so I thought. We dated for two years, until I walked into him having sex with my best friend on MY birthday.

What an amazing surprise. The bastard had been cheating on me since our 2nd anniversary, that betrayal felt like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find yourself trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.

I had grown distant from everyone since then, shutting myself from any relationships after that. Unable to see me suffer internally while not being myself in the outlook was why my parents asked me to get married to Chris, hoping it would make me forget everything.

The heartbreak I went through with Luke is a scar that refused to heal so fast or easily.

But I don't blame them. Some things were easier to be left than to explain and the in the end we have different perspectives of viewing the world. To their eyes settling down after business school was the solution.

Although unknown to my parents was also a certain lingering deadline between Chris and me, that I wasn't healed and still played a fake version of myself in front of others.

I was never destined for true love or a happy ending.

Our marriage was stable, predictable, and perhaps a bit too routine. I had grown accustomed to Chris's cold nature, his affection expressed in the form of providing comfort and security rather than warm embraces or whispered sweet nothings.

The security system in the mansion was tightened, Chris didn't bring up about that Victor guy again, so I didn't ask about it again. Assuming he had whatever of that under control.

But this past week, something had changed. It was in the small things—like how he would pause to ask about my day with genuine interest, or the way his fingers would linger just a bit longer when he brushed against my hand.

Or how today I'm roaming inside one of the biggest bookstores in the city, but is closed for the public because Chris wanted me to spend however long I wanted freely. He had rented the whole place for the entire day.

"Chris, this is too much," I said, turning to face him.

The soft lighting of the empty bookstore with no signs of staff but just the two of us created an intimate atmosphere, making the moment feel surreal. Chris was in a simple tee, jacket and denim trousers today, unlike his usual coat suit and dress shirt outfits, the casual attire adding to the sense that I was seeing a different side of him.

"It's not too much. I could have bought the place if you hadn't stopped me." He said smirking, giving me a view of his leathal dimple that made my stomach do a summersault.

That he would have. As COO of Aurelius, he will go beyond limits to get and do whatever he wanted.

"Well, good that you listened," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "Buying the entire bookstore might have been a bit over the top, even for you."

"I'll have you know sweetheart, I've bought things that are way more than a bookstore." A cocky eyebrow arched as he let out a deep chuckle.

"Like what?" I asked, crossing my arms joining his banter.

"The guys and I wanted to go to the Bahamas last summer but our yacht was under maintenance," He slipped his hands into his pockets, "So I bought another one."

My jaw fell unhinged, and eyes widening as I struggled to comprehend the audacity of his statement. "You...bought another yacht? Just like that?"

Chris nodded casually, his posture and expression relaxed as if discussing the purchase of a new pair of shoes.

"Yeah, it seemed like the logical solution at the time."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "Logical solution? Most people would just postpone the trip or I don't know fly there."

"Well, it seemed like a good excuse to upgrade so I figured why not?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, his smirk widening.

"Sure," I slowly nodded, "But it doesn't mean you have to go to such extremes. Like this one right now," I countered, though I couldn't help but smile at his grand gesture.

"Extremes are kind of my thing, Aria," Chris said, leaning against a bookshelf, his buff bicep against the books made my stomach do another flip.

"You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, shaking my head, running my fingers through the spines of the Lord of the Rings series.

"You're like a bull in a china shop"

"I prefer 'strategic disruptor,'" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Our eyes locked briefly for a second, then I turned away, browsing the shelves.

From Shakespeare to best selling authors today, having their own shelves of their books, the building was spacious and three floors high, giving any reader an experience of a lifetime.

There were small lounges in two corners of each floor, cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs and warm lighting, perfect for curling up with a book. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, a fragrance that always brought me comfort.

"Thank you, for this" I turned back to him as I took a random book off a shelf, Chris's eyes were already on me, watching my every move.

"You don't have to thank me for everything," Chris walked towards to me, closing the distance, "You're worth it."

I felt my cheeks flush as well as the butterflies in my stomach frantically erupt, as if closing down a store for a day was the most natural thing in the world.

His words warmed something deep inside me, a place I had thought long frozen. The old Aria, the one who believed in grand gestures and romantic surprises, stirred within me. But I had to remind myself to be cautious; just a week of change could not erase the last months of indifference.

But we'll never know.

As we walked shelf after shelf, an exclusive copy of one my favourite books caught my eyes. I immediately went and took it in my hands, the cover of the book held me captive in my spot.

The title was embossed in gold, glistening under the lights. The rich, deep red background was adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and foliage, intertwining with dragons that seemed almost alive. Each petal and leaf was meticulously detailed, their colors vibrant against the dark, quilted texture behind them.

"Hmm?" Chris came behind me, he was carrying two baskets that were full of the newest thrillers and romance. I kind of felt bad for making him trail after me like a pack mule.

"This is the last one I promise. It's a special edition" I showed him the book, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

Chris glanced at the cover, his expression remaining stoic but with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "A special edition? Looks like I'm not the only one around here with expensive tastes."

I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. "Well, this is worth it. Look at the detail. It's a piece of art."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," He brought the basket up and I placed the book on the top of the stack, a wide smile spread across my face that refused to go away.

"Is this all you want? You're free to get as many as you like Aria. This whole place is yours." He said genuinely, his tone matter-of-fact. I shook my head, still smiling, a warm feeling spreading across my chest.

"As a slow reader these are going to keep me alive for a year or even more. They are enough."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "If you say so"

For a moment, I felt a rare connection with him. It wasn't about grand emotions or declarations; it was about this simple, shared experience. Chris might not be the most emotionally expressive person, but in his own way, he was trying.

And that effort meant more to me than any expensive gift ever could.

"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "This really means a lot."

"Well, I hope you have a good place to put all these," he replied, a touch of sarcasm returning to his voice.

"Because my study is not turning into a library."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry, I have it covered."

After I got all the books I wanted, we made our way from the section and instead of going to the counter on the ground floor, Chris stopped walking and placed the baskets on a table, turning to me with a mischievous smirk spread playing on his lips.

I froze in my place, feeling my pulse race as he slowly strode towards me like a majestic wolf, his eyes on me. The way he moved, so confident and purposeful, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the tremor in my voice.

Chris stopped just inches from me, his gaze intense. "Just thought we could take a moment to enjoy this place properly. No rush, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop me. "No rush," I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "Good...because,"

Before he finished, he lifted my chin and his mouth met mine, burying his tongue while his hand traced my cheek then sank in my hair. My fingers pressed on his arms as I melted into his taste of mint and sugar, it was an addiction.

I preferred vanilla and cinnamon but I suppose the taste of Chris is much better.

He pulled me closer to him, we were pressed against eachother and there, I felt him growing hard, excitement and anticipation rushed through my body. Chris's hand gently closed behind my neck as he deepend the kiss, slowly slowly striding and having me pressed against a shelf.

I opened my eyes and looked above him, ironically we were under the romance section. Chris removed his mouth from mine, his hand still around my neck, while his other hand went to the hem of my skirt, tracing the line.

"Because what?" I pulled back, arching a brow as I challenged him, my voice breathless yet defiant.

"Because," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to make sure you have the best time."

His fingers slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the firmness of his grip on my neck, made my heart race. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate and electrifying.

"Chris..." I whispered, my resolve wavering as his hand inched higher, the thrill of being in such a public, yet intimate setting and the chance someone might walk in on us only heightened the sensations coursing through me.

"Shh," he hushed me softly, his lips brushing against my earlobe, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"No rush, remember?"

His words echoed in my mind, the promise of slow, tantalizing pleasure as his hand reached the edge of my panties. I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his touch, leaving fire in their wake.

Chris's lips found mine again, more demanding this time. I could feel his desire, his need, and it mirrored my own. Our kiss deepened, becoming a battle of wills and passion, his hand tightened around my neck, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left me breathless.

With a smooth glid, he slid my panties to the side and a finger found its way through my wet folds. I jerked as he inserted another, a knowing smirk spread across his face looking at how easily and quickly wet and turned on I get.

Paced pumps, breathless kisses and pinned among the shelves of love stories and whispered promises, only added a layer of forbidden excitement to our encounter. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making a soft moan gasp free out of me.

"Mmm... you're clenching me babydoll."

My lips parted, I wanted to say things but nothing came out at how good his fingers curled inside of me, my blood was on liquid fire. The only sensations were pleasure, want and pure need.

Time lost its meaning along with my senses, Chris had pushed my top up, his mouth was closed around my sensitive nipple and his digits pushed deeper inside me. He was licking, sucking, teasing, stretching and playing with me tearing moans, and cries from my throat.

He then sank onto his knees, parting my legs, circling my sensitized clit with the tip of his tongue. His chin grazed my skin as he kissed the nub, his breath fanning over me and burying his face in my heat, drawing my clit into his mouth and sucked.

"Oh my...oh my God..."

I instantly arched against the shelf, the books shook threatening to fall but thankfully they were pushed to the back. My hand went over my face to cover my squeals and whimpers escaping and echoing off the quiet walls, I felt his eyes watch me from beneath me.

Every thought was erased away from my brain as pleasure fogged like a mirror after a hot shower.

My hand fisted his hair as his teeth grazed over my swollen, tender clit, going from slow and languid licks, lapping away my arousal like a man possessed. My hips bucked, seeking for relief but Chris's strong fingers held me in place.

Chris had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was seeing stars during the day, even when we were under a roof. His hands and mouth worked magic on me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and craving more.

The tingles of an orgasm began to build deep within me as he expertly moved his tongue over my clit, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. If I tried, I would surely implode.

The pressure finally erupted as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, making my body shudder uncontrollably. My thighs trembled as I came, my arousal dripping down my legs and onto his face. 

But Chris wasn't done with me yet. Not by a long shot. One moment I was arching against the shelf praying for the books not to fall on us as he tongue fucked me, the next I was on my back, pinned on the floor.

He switched positions just like that.

"You have quite an interesting taste in literature sweetheart," Chris murmured into my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His words were teasing, but they carried a dark edge that made my pulse quicken. As he spoke, he pushed my skirt up, a cool air hitting my exposed and vulnerable self.

"Wha—what?" I stammered, my own voice sounded different to my ears. "Did you read—" Heat flushed up my cheeks when I realised he must have flipped through one of the romance books from the stack.

Oh God.

"I might have read a page or two," he admitted, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and full of intent. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a simple gesture that made my core throb with renewed need.

"And I thought, why not create our own scene?"

Before I could even form a response, Chris's mouth crashed down on mine in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. It was as if he was punishing me for the guilty pleasure of my reading material, but also claiming his approval in the most primal way possible.

He held my hips with a bruising force, I dimly heard the rasp of the zipper and then he hammered inside me in one powerful thrust. The sudden invasion made me gasp out, the sharp sound echoing softly in the confined space.

My nails dug into the carpet as I clung to him, one hand gripping his stiff bicep. God, I could never get used to the feel of him inside me.

So hot, so huge, so impossibly hard.

Every time he entered me, it felt like the first time, my body straining to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, making my head spin and my body tremble.

A strong hand came over my mouth to silence my embarrassing moans, my eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris's intense gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched in a knowing smug smirk as he continued thrusting into me with relentless precision.

"Shh," he chuckled as he continued wrecking me. "You don't want someone to hear how much you love being fucked in your little haven, now do you?"

The fact that someone actually could walk in on us was disastrous but there was no time to process anything other than the feel and the heat of him against me, flesh against flesh as he shattered me apart, the pressure and pleasure was beyond ecstacy. 

The telltale tingles built inside me again, threatening to spill over as he took me apart piece by piece.

"Your pussy is made for me sweetheart. Fuck you're so tight." He growled,his voice thick with lust as he watched me writhe beneath him.

My body responded to his every word, my muscles clenching around his cock as the nerves in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. My heart pounded frantically against my ribcage, and I could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

I hadn't imagined Chris would surprise me with a whole day at a bookstore when he proposed we go out. And I definitely hadn't imagined we'd end up like this—fucking in the romance section, surrounded by books, with nothing but the tall shelves to seclude us from reality.

"God, Chris..." I gasped, my voice breaking as I felt the pressure reach its peak.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it baby," He groaned or chuckled. I couldn't say.

I was too lost in my world of lust, I forgot my own name. Everything else faded away until all that existed was the feel of him inside me, driving me to madness.

Tears leaked out of my eyes at the sensation, fingers clawing and mouth falling open in a reckless cries. Thrust after thrust, another toe-curling orgasm gushed through me like fire rushing and igniting in a pool of gasoline, bursting stars behind my eyes.

I fell into a boneless mess. 

Chris groaned and I felt his cock twitching uncontrollably as a hot load of cum gathered inside me. He slowed his movements, his breath coming in heavy pants as he rode out the last of his own release.

He leaned down, softly brushing his lips against mine, and I could feel the smile that lingered there—a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

We hung there, breathless and tangled together, the aftershocks of my climax still rippling through me. My mind was still swimming in the aftermath, trying to process the sheer intensity of what had just happened, when I felt Chris begin to move.

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle as he got up, adjusting his clothes with a nonchalant ease. With just one casual swipe of his hand through his hair, he looked completely composed—flawless, even—as if he hadn't just fucked me into another dimension.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. My legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold me up as I struggled to regain my balance. Every nerve in my body was still buzzing, my core pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. I most definitely won't be able to walk tomorrow or probably right now.

My breath hitched lightly when I felt him clean me up with a tissue. A tender gesture that made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

Chris helped me get up and fixed my clothes, smoothing down my hair. His fingers brushed lightly over my tear-stained cheeks, lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the feel of my skin. The silence between us spoke volumes. 

Chris wasn't one to use words carelessly, and in moments like this, his actions said more than any words ever could. I clung to him, still trying to find my footing, both physically and emotionally.

His eyes were on me, those burning brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me, and even though he didn't say a word, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

We've had sex countless times by now, but every time it feels different—more intense, more profound. But this time, this was something else entirely. It was as if he had pushed me beyond my limits, only to pull me back again, leaving me reeling from the sheer force of it.

This was, hands down, the best one yet, and I could feel it in every aching muscle and every rapid heartbeat.

My eyes drifted down to the damp stain on the green carpet, a vivid reminder of just how lost I had been in the throes of pleasure. Embarrassment flooded me, my face flushing hot as I imagined the poor soul who would have to clean up after us.

I glared up at Chris, half-expecting him to share in my mortification, but instead, he just smirked, his expression completely unapologetic, not giving a flying fuck.

"Let's get your books home." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking the book baskets from the table and walking me to towards the elevator to get to the ground floor.

I couldn't process how he went from fucking me on the floor like it was the last day on the planet to smiling casually as if he had been doing nothing but accompany me with my shopping spree.

Once we made it to the ground floor, Chris placed the baskets on the counter and the woman behind started scanning the books. He payed for them and I saw him leave a huge tip to the staff, again my face flushed crimson.

A young boy brought the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk, after settling in, we made our home.

"Enjoyed your day?" Chris's eyes were fixed on the road, but I knew he meant more than just the shopping.

"Every moment of it." I looked at him, those silver hoop earrings glinted in the daylight, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Chris's eyes fell on me for a second, he nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

As we drove through the city streets, Chris's hand gently slipped with mine, the comfortable silence between us spoke volumes. The day had been filled with more than just books, it had been a day of connection, of tentative steps towards understanding each other better.

When we arrived to the mansion, Chris carried the bags inside, placing them on the living room coffee table. I followed him, feeling a sense of contentment that had been absent for so long.

He turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I instinctively leaned into his palm, savoring the rare moment of tenderness.

"I don't want to leave, but um..." His words trailed off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but I knew what he was going to say next.

My heart sank just a little bit.

"Go on," I said, his expression softed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "I'm gonna spend the all the time reading while you're at work."

I played a soft smile, knowing he had to go back to his responsibilities. Chris sighed, his thumb gently grazing my cheek.

"I'll try to be back soon." He said softly, a rare hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I know," my smile widened just a bit.

"Alright," He pulled me to another bruising kiss, breathing me in as he bit my bottom lip. "I'll see you later."

As he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was the usual frustration of him having to rush off, but also a newfound appreciation for the tiny effort he was making to connect with me.

I watched him drive away, the mansion fell into a deep silence again as I went back inside and picked up the special edition book that had caught my eye earlier.

Running my fingers over the intricate cover, I felt a surge of gratitude for this day and for Chris's efforts to make it memorable.

I opened the book, ready to lose myself in its pages, knowing that Chris and I were slowly finding our way to each other, one small step at a time.

------------------------

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123 @mrs-hwangh @greyyeti @sociallyawkward18 @stephanieeeyang @piscesrising01 @jaquisos @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @princess-sunshyn @my-neurodivergent-world @ladyeagle @nchhuhi

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[mllemaenad]

This argument. This argument is the crux of the whole thing. Cailan is trying to score points off Loghain, and it's going to get everyone killed.

Cailan will not wait for Eamon's forces, even though everyone keeps telling him he could have backup within a week. But he will wait for the Orlesians, if Loghain admits that they can't win without them.

Cailan is very much seeking an alliance with Orlais. We have letters confirming that. It's even suggested (and Eamon is pushing for this) that Cailan should divorce his wife, Loghain's daughter, in order to secure his dynastic future.

Now, Cailan's enthusiasm for ditching Anora does not seem to be strong, and Empress Celene seems aware that "manipulation" on her part would not have been well received by the Fereldan people. But this was Celene's intention in communicating with Cailan. She says so herself.

Celene had once, in her younger years, hoped to do through marriage what Meghren and his aprocryphal mabari had failed to do by force. With the strength of Ferelden behind it willingly, the Orlesian Empire would have had the power to drive back Nevarran aggression and even give Tevinter pause. – Dragon Age: The Masked Empire

So, yes, whether or not marriage ends up being part of the deal (and if it is, that's a very personal insult to Loghain's family), Loghain is not wrong to suspect that Cailan is, in some sense, inviting the Orlesians in to stay.

He's also got solid grounds to be suspicious of Orlesian "assistance" in the face of a Blight. This would not be the first time they used Blight as an excuse to move their troops into foreign territory and occupy it: they did it to the Nevarrans in the Third Blight.

And Loghain's hatred of the Orlesians is ... honestly, completely reasonable. He lost both parents to the occupation, as well as his land. Occupation-era Loghain was very literally a homeless person. The Meghren Celene referenced above was a deeply incompetent ruler with an insatiable cruel streak. He should never have been given the job of ruling Ferelden regardless of who had conquered it, but honestly the then emperor was also of dubious competence and needed Meghren out of the way for a bit so ... that's how these things go.

Would Celene, then, have betrayed and occupied Ferelden? I mean ... probably not? She prefers to work through diplomacy, and conquest isn't the primary goal of her rule. If signing a treaty, or contracting a marriage, works ... yeah, she'll do that. But one thing The Masked Empire makes clear is that Celene's principles are only as solid as her seat on the throne is secure. If one of her rivals generated enough support for an invasion to be a threat to her rule ... yeah, she'd screw the Fereldans over.

She probably still wouldn't put someone like Meghren in charge of it, no, but Ferelden would still lose its independence mere decades after it had regained it.

And even if they went the marriage route ... well, that's just a different way of getting absorbed into the empire.

So this argument has fuck all to do with the Blight, and the battle itself is being used to score points. Cailan thinks he's got Loghain cornered.

If Loghain says "Cailan, we absolutely cannot win this. We will die. We need to wait for reinforcements." Well! Then Loghain cannot possibly object when the Orlesians show up. He'll just have to put up with Cailan making whatever alliance he likes, because he was the one who said they needed help.

If Loghain says they don't need the Orlesians ... well, the darkspawn situation can't be that serious, can it? Because the only help he's willing to wait for is Orlesian help. Fereldan reinforcements are off the table, because they don't score him any points in this stupid game.

Cailan isn't worried, because it never occurs to him that Loghain would work outside the options laid out before him. And that ... does make some sense, because he has known Loghain since childhood, and he trusts him. But he does not understand the buttons he is pushing right now, nor take into account that Loghain is, first and foremost, a tactician. A tactician who fucking hates Orlesians.

So my level of fury at this cannot be understated:

And look, to be fair, I'm sure the writers would say that this does not discount any of the above. It would simply explain why Loghain was vulnerable to this "guidance".

But slapping something stupid on top of something cool still diminishes it, even if it doesn't outright destroy it.

I have never wanted the whispers of shadowy cabals with mildly antisemitic (I'm going to hopefully assume unintentional) connotations to enter a story less than I do here. It's gross, and it adds nothing of interest to a genuinely fascinating story that already exists.

It's also pretty damn rich to completely exclude the worldstates of the previous games, destroy the south so you don't have to deal with it, and then claim all of those events were somehow integral to a master plan set to be revealed in some future game.

I'm not going to sit and defend all of Loghain's actions. Some of them, at least, are inexcusable. But he doesn't deserve this bullshit.

[sortanonymous]

I'm worried I may ruffle some feathers with this, but aside from a few imperfect points (perhaps you could have been going somewhere with the homophobia thing, but it just doesn't work), I agree with OP here. Even aside from the avalanche of icky stuff with this ship, it just doesn't make sense at all. And also why tf is "But Meta didn't show that it hurt him" such a common defense? Do you not realize that some people take a while to process when something awful happened to them or that they suffer in silence? Heck, Meta himself is far from the first Kirby character who would just break down into a sobbing mess over anything, especially when, you know, the whole universe is in danger. Does that mean he isn't suffering? OF COURSE NOT! He just doesn't show it on the spot, and guess what, that happens a lot in the world because we humans are weird and all process things differently. And don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of Susie and I admittedly tend to be a bit easy on her, but what she did to Meta and her complicity (at the very least) to the invasion is still pretty messed up. The kind that can be redeemed well with something reflecting on her faults and making an effort to better herself and at least try to make amends with Meta in a reasonable way, but not so much when it just skips to the icky lovey-dubbiness. Just had to let off that steam and hope it doesn't cost me a moot or two. (None of this is meant to attack anyone who likes this ship of course)

Guys, I really need to rant about Metasusie rn. Like, I don't dislike thoses who ship it, but I have such an absolutly visceral hatred for the ship itself my hands are literally trembling right now. If you dont wanna hear me rambling about how much I hate it, then just pass. Chances are I won't be very polite and organised.

So as time progresses I keep seeing more Metasusie. I feel like now's a great time to remind people why this ship is so controversial in the first place by explaining why I and so many others dislike it. Here I go...

Okay. First off. Why the heck would you ship two characters if the only thing we know ever happened beetween them is one of them at the very least ordering (possibly more) the other to be captured, modified and enslaved against his will, and the others time we see thgem together, he literally can't interact of his own because of that, while she is either about to force him to exterminate his own friend, or she is straight up presenting him like he's a non sentient toy she's about to sell ??? Along with fact that Susie calls MK an it in the second cutscene , and that the only time we ever see them interact in game (albeit possibly not canon) is him running away from her, and her chasing him ?! The fact that some people wiew that as a cool starter to a ramantic relationship is is worrying to me.

I feel like some people ship Metasusie out of spite, if that makes sense. They see a ship that's hated on a lot and they want to play devil's advocate. I understand, really (my own "devil" has black, torn off wings) . But even then you still have to consider what makes the devil hated in the first place. There's a lot of wrong in this ship you just can't ignore.

Most of the fans ship them for natural reasons ; because they look cute together, or because of their common points, and they usually just ignore the implications it has. This is understandable, again, but, if you want to ship those two in a cute way, you have to staight up rip away all the unethical stuff. To do that, you have to undermine Susie's terrible actions (or pretend it never happened), to make her cute, to ignore her character. In other words, you have to woobify her. For Meta Knight, it's no less bad, because he's a victim of mechanisation, like many others, and implying it was'nt that important is just kinda dumb (If that was the case, why would the Haltman company be the game's villains anyways ?) . When I say you can't ship those two in that way, I mean that you have to either mischaracterize them heavily, or retcon what happened beetween them to make it work.

That, or they're sometimes homophobes who want to latch on the first heterosexual ship they see. They make those two stereotypical depiction of both genders. Those, are the absolute worse, for obvious reasons, and albeit they're not the only ones who turn Meta Knight and Susie into people they're not, they always do it in the worst possible way : making MK a strong, masculine knight character who can't feel pain and Susie a cute, feminine and smart scientist who needs to be protected and can do no wrong, so the pink character and the blue character are the most gratingly stereotypic ship to ever exist. I see it often, wether intentional or not. It's so wrong and sexist in both way and is probably the worst iteration of the ship to ever exist. Men can feel pain and have trauma, and women can do fucked up things for fucked reason and be fucked up.

This ship has yet another infortunate message. The Haltmans are obviously a metaphor for colonialists. A colonialist having romantic relationship with a person who was colonised, is basically what this ship is. And if you know the slightest bit about that in history, you've probably understood why I feel so icky about this ship, knowing this is a possible comparison.

There's also those who ship one sided, fucked up Metasusie. This is maybe the one of the two only ways to ship those two without mischaracterisation, and the only one I actally like. Not only because I love angst, but also because it actually acknowledges that the slavery, the kidnapping, the mind control, the colonisation, all of that, is fucked up, and that it should'nt be a relationship. (My own interpretation of this, if it interest you, is that Susie has such horrible trauma with her father that she does'nt know what a healthy relationship is anymore. In the absence of her father, she goes to the only person she has a speck of admiration for, and thinks it's love. In her skewed idea of love, the partner has to follow blindly what she says and constantly be under her control, so when he resists, she just think he needs to be "tamed" more. Meanwhile, MK is traumatised and just wants to escape. Eventually she learns that it's more coping than loving and leaves him alone.)

Altough. Some of those people treat the ship, in its unhealthy form, as a good thing. To them Soos and MK are inhuman people who love by hating. But like, unheatlthy relationships are not a good thing. I only like toxic Metasusie if it's treated as a bad thing.

Finally, some shippers actually give both Susie and Meta Knight character arcs, where she comes to understand she is wrong and he learns how to forgive her/cope with his trauma. Not my cup of tea, but honestly, that's based. Altough I like it (moderatly), I just don't understand why you'd ship that over stuff like Metadedede, where the characters have an at least friendly relation in canon.

That was long, but in the end, if I can't understand fully why it's shipped, I can stand Metasusie if it acknowledge both character's flaws and and Susie's terrible actions. It does'nt happen often however, as most instances I see are sadly just idealised, woobified, mischaracterised versions of them randomly loving eachother without context. I won't (and can't) stop people from shipping them that way, but I'll keep being against it.

Wow, after this, I actually kinda feel better. I ended up being more polite than I thought, too. I guess I needed to get this out of my chest somehow...