#I don’t like being pretentious and I very rarely say anything to people unless they ask/bring it up and then i tend to infodump accidentall

[spocksgotemotions]

I saw a modernized version of a lesser known Shakespeare play in Russian and it was so interesting and weird that it’s still stuck in my brain (i saw it for a class and my professor was very annoyed with me when I said it was my favorite of the semester because it was different and weird). Most of my senior year of college I was learning about absurdist/surrealist theater and experimenting with it and the weird subgenres that came out of it. I wrote a very short collage play about Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg in a tumultuous romance (Strindberg hated Ibsen’s guts so much, but he kept a lifelike bust of Ibsen in his study), where all the lines were taken from the various women in their plays. Different professor once introduced a play as the most feminist thing at the time (in the 1830s). The play was written by a man and had a cast of 20, with 6 female characters. The female characters were split into two groups, “whore” and “wife.” One of the wives did not have a name. All of the wives died for their husbands and the whores were only in one scene. One of the whores has a beautiful monologue about longing. But it is longing for sex and sex alone. She was based off of 18th century porn novels. My professor got very annoyed when I informed him of this. Right now I’m working as a scare actor and after being told the story of the haunted house I put a lot of thought into the sort of things I would say and do to fit the vibe but still make it my own. I heard one of my coworkers say, “people keep laughing cause they think I’m saying yeet, but I’m doing the minecraft zombie noise.”

[rainbowsky]

Did DLS Out DD During a DDU Recording and Make Him Cry?

This has been making the rounds on Twitter and YouTube and even Tumblr, for a while now. Fancam footage of DLS making a boyfriend joke and then leaning in to a supposedly upset DD and trying to smooth things over.

This whole thing is based on fancam footage taken during the recording of the DDU 20190825 episode. In this episode dating was being discussed using four beautiful young women, DD and QF along with two handsome young guests as a backdrop.

The subtitles of the fan cam present a scenario where DLS supposedly refers to DD as ‘not needing a girlfriend because he already has a boyfriend’ and then leaning into a supposedly emotional DD and apologizing, trying to calm him down; saying viewers won’t understand what was said.

Let’s take a look at the video:

The full fan cam footage that this out of context clip was taken from can be found here.

If you watch the episode and the complete fan cam footage, you’ll see that this happened during the segment where they were being asked to comment on various dating scenarios. An announcer would present each scenario in a multiple choice format, asking the women to choose between four options based on the type of guy they’d most like to date. For example:

How would you like the boy you like to invite you for a meal on the weekend?

A] Save your weekend for me. Do not say no.

B] You had breakfast at 7:50 this morning and lunch at 12:30. It’s already 7pm now. You have to eat meals on time. Why don’t I take you out for dinner?

C] I tried to explain my thoughts when I look at you, but I failed. So do you have time for dinner with me this weekend? Let’s talk about it.

D] Get out. Dinner.

My opinion

We should always, always be suspicious of anything that is presented without context. 99.9% of the time, when someone removes context they are doing so to mislead audiences. This clip is a perfect example of that. The video creator appears to have removed important context in order to make the clip better fit the narrative they’re trying to sell.

In this segment of the episode, the hosts and guests were seen commenting on the options as they were being read out. The comments DLS is making appear to be in response to something the announcer has said. I don’t think the comments have anything whatsoever do to with DD.

I also don’t think DD looks even remotely upset. Certainly not near tears. Some fans seem over-eager to claim DD is crying. We’ve all seen DD cry, but it’s exceptionally rare and only happens in very personal situations. This doesn’t qualify. It wouldn’t qualify even if everything the video creator claimed was true. DD would be more likely to get angry than cry in such a situation. He isn’t doing either of these things.

Whoever made this video simply doesn’t ‘get’ DD’s personality at all. The people who buy this are similarly unfamiliar with him.

I invite everyone to use your own eyes and your own judgment. Ignore what’s being claimed, ignore the framing you’ve been given of the scenario by me or the video creator, and instead just watch the clip. Does that look like a man on the verge of tears to you?

Second and third opinions

I asked the indispensable @potteresque-ire and @knivescharade what they thought of the clip. I didn’t tell them anything about my opinion, but simply sent the clip and asked their thoughts - are the subtitles correct, what do you think of the lip reading, etc.

@knivescharade

wow, for this person to put this analysis in i would say that lip reading is a very difficult skill. and to try and lip read someone like DLS, who speaks like a bullet train and doesn't really enunciate SUPER well (unlike Han-ge, for example) ... i would say the interpretation is only very vaguely possible at best.

i know both the cand int fandom have a major something for how WYB keeps swallowing around XZ, but honestly. WYB tends to get throat issues. i think swallowing has become one of his habits at this point. so... in conclusion... there are already lots of major, amazing, and irrefutable candies in the fandom already, let's not bother with such iffy ones :D

he is indeed saying that "this man has a boyfriend", but i cant quite remember which part of the show that was in. i watched that episode, it was something to do with love and having 4 guys paired with 4 girls or something like that, and listening to 'types of guys responses to etc etc' so DLS wasnt saying that WYB has a boyfriend - he was saying that 'this man', the one whose voice was playing in the audio, has a boyfriend.

That tracks with my interpretation of what was happening.

@potteresque-ire

Unless people have learned the dialect, Mandarin speakers cannot understand Cantonese, and vice versa. This is why I don't support or wash auditory candies, especially if it involves someone from Northern China (such as DLS, who is a Beijing native). Their local accents make their Mandarin even more difficult to understand.

This dialect restriction is actually not specific to a me, or other Hong Kongers. Someone whose family is entirely from Northern China would be equally prone to making mistakes if they're asked to lip read southern Chinese.

Lip reading also removes tonal consideration, which makes everything that much more uncertain. Have you heard of the Mr Shi Eats the Lion story? This is why, even if I hear some similarities, I'd hesitate to say X has to be saying ABC. Context is important.

Cantonese speakers are especially picky about tone. Mandarin have 4. We have 6 or 9, depending on who you ask. So... I may be more picky than I should be that way too. And I don't want to spoil anyone's fun 😊

The translation was correct in the sense that it was faithful to the Chinese words in the clip I saw, which replicated what DLS said accurately. But the video itself was from a fancam. Where that fancam happened (and got cut off) was at Q3 at the Q & A segment, starting ~9:34 of the official YouTube clip.

DLS said what he said half way through the voiceover of Option A (very precisely, right after the words "I'm the only one"). Technically speaking, therefore, he wasn't talking about DD.

However, it was also a little strange why DLS said what he said. If you watch that segment, all options have a certain personality attached to them. C was very talkative / pretentious. D was connected to DD because it was blunt and direct. A was the so called "overbearing CEO" personality... which is common in het romance dramas but isn't one that has been connected to the gay stereotype. And so, DLS's timing of saying that ... is curious.

Dd did look a little ... I wouldn't say upset, but tense after DLS said that. Maybe it's because that comment kinda came out of nowhere (because of its curious timing), and so it would be read as hinting at something. But that comment is harmless, wording wise.

Alternate theory

I’ve seen some talk from fans about a different theory for why DLS said what he said. Fans say the announcer for option A was Bian Jiang, the actor who did the voice of LWJ in The Untamed. They say that DLS was making a joke about LWJ not needing a boyfriend because he already has one. That actually makes a lot of sense to me as well, and if that’s really Bian Jiang, then I’d say that’s the most likely explanation for this entire thing.

Conclusion

It’s my firm opinion that DLS was not talking about DD having a boyfriend, nor was DD ‘near tears’ in this clip. Whatever DLS said to DD after that, it almost certainly wouldn’t have been ‘words of comfort to placate an upset DD’.

The Bian Jiang theory fits best, but we don’t need to know why DLS said what he said to be able to conclude he wasn’t talking about DD.

Cute DD candy from this episode

If anyone wants a better candy from this episode, look no further than when he emerges from “door #2″, chosen by one of the women as someone she’d like to date based on the food he’d picked out, and immediately launches into “I want to take a man back to my place and hide him.” A LWJ reference (which DLS and Wang Han clarify with him because they appear baffled by what he just said), but still a tactful, perfect rejection of this woman he’s being paired with. 😅

[sscoutregimentss]

could you please do L, U, V, Y and Z for Armin Arlert Please Queen, i just passed by and i already love ur your account💕💕

i teared up a bit at how nice this ask is (´•ω•̥`) i wrote this in modern au again oopsy daisy

edit: added a read more bc this post is kinda long

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Armin is not terrible with kids, but no where near great. Growing up with no parents and having his grandfather die at such a young age led him to grow up fast, so he can't really relate to kids and what they... do.

Like he will see a baby and just talk normally to it. After doing some reading on why baby talk is important, he makes an effort to babble more to them but he really struggles. Or when he's with Gabi and Falco he asks them about quantum physics and Gabi is just like "uhhh I like fortnite."

He really tries. And it's not like he dislikes being around them, he just struggles, and kids don't really like him much either.

Also he cannot stand IPad kids. He blames it more on the parents then on the kids, because they're just kids, but one of his biggest peeves is crying, whiny children with snot on their bright blue silicone cases, eyes glued to a screen instead of dealing with the world. Since he is Armin, he's still polite and gentle with them, but the minute you're out of earshot he's complaining about it for a good 30 minutes.

In terms of his own children, he's actually a really good parent. He did a lot of research on how to raise kids well and he does his best to make sure his kids get what he couldn't in terms of upbringing. He's some what distant? Like his kids aren't ranting and raving about their new crush to their dad, but there's a really good bond between them and they go to him whenever he needs anything.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Armin is prone to telling a little white lie to get what he wants.

In general, he's subtly manipulative. Not in like an abusive or generally scummy way, but in a... human way. We all use manipulation to get what we want, in the end. Like puppy dog eyes or pouting.

He's always transparent about what he's doing, and it's not like he's causing any harm to you. In fact, most of the time its for your own good. Like if you're feeling a bit self conscious, he'll pretend not to notice until you manage to work up the nerve to think better of yourself, stuff like that. Or if something is bothering you, he'll figure out a way for you to bring it up instead of him so you get better at communication. He'll come clean after his little rouses work, but sometimes you wish he'd just tell you what he was doing as he was doing it.

He also takes a while to even consider you a priority. Even though his whole thing is taking your relationship slowly, you're quick to find out that he may call you his partner, but you're under school work, work, family and friends in the "Armin's Important Stuff" scale. He's not an easy shell to crack, so it's kind of expected, but unless you confront him, he will not even realize that he's doing wrong.

Chronic nail biter. Even when he's not nervous.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

On a scale of "beauty guru" to "horrendously stinky" he's a "I care for aesthetics."

He's got a very distinct dark/light academia (depends on his mood) aesthetic that he must keep up. His clothes are always ironed, never tattered, and though most of it is second hand he looks very put together and sometimes even expensive.

But in terms of beauty, it's not his priority at all. He likes the way he dresses because it makes him feel like he's ready to take on the day, and he showers everyday for obvious reasons, but he doesn't wear makeup, and his skincare routine is just washing his face and sunscreen.

Speaking of skincare, he has effortlessly flawless skin and hair. So smooth, so silky, and he barely puts in effort other than the basics. You're convinced it's because he's blessed by the gods, but he says its because he gets enough sleep every night.

His hair grows back super fast, so he has Mikasa cut it since he can't afford to go to the hair dresser so often. He liked the long hair as a kid, but now he finds it annoying, so he keeps it neatly cropped. She's a good hairstylist.

He's also... surprisingly ripped. He looks super skinny but he's got abs for days. Unlike most of his friends, only works out for mental clarity, and not muscles or gaining strength, so he's not like huge and bulky but he's pretty fit.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like overly judgmental people. It's only natural for people to assume things, but people who dedicate their free time to just assuming things about people annoys him to no end. Like people who assume the worst out of him because he hangs out with Eren, or people who think that he's some single virgin loser because he gets good grades.

Also, playing into Armin our semi-pretentious angel trope, he prefers a well read partner. Someone who he can make references too or will take his recommendations of classic literature, or maybe even watch ocean documentaries with him. They don't have to like every last thing he likes, and if they just haven't been exposed to things he won't mind at all, they just have to be open minded and not write off things he enjoys as "nerdy shit."

Piggy backing off that, he wants someone who somewhat cares about their academics. They don't have to be the next Einstein, or a straight A wonderchild like him, but rich brats who's parents are paying for their schooling just for them to party annoys him. It's not fair that he has to work so hard to keep his scholarships and other students are working hard to pay their tuition just for people to come because their Mommy and Daddy said so.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Armin falls asleep at 11 pm and wakes up at 7 am, without fail. It's amazing. You question if he's even a college student.

He uses an old fashioned alarm clock that's at the opposite side of his bed, but sometimes he wakes up on his own and forgets to turn it off, making him run out of the shower to stop the ringing before his roommates wake up.

Before you two started dating, he just slept on his side. But once you two got close, he can't sleep without hugging something if you're not spending the night.

When you do spend the night, he likes being little spoon, or facing you and having you nuzzled in his chest (or vice versa, he's not picky).

He's quite a neat cuddler. No limbs haphazardly thrown over you or anything. His legs are very gently intertwined with yours, he has his arms in a very specific spot to make sure you're comfortable, and he doesn't snore or anything.

Sometimes he sleep talks. Very rarely, though, but when you catch it, it is the funniest thing ever. He has really wild dreams for such a down-to-earth person— you caught him babbling about turning into a 150 meter skinless giant once. Weird.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 307: The One With Shindou

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor and Hawks (and Jeanist too, although he didn’t really do anything, but BY GOD, WHAT IS UP WITH HIS NECK) held a press conference and were all, “everything you’ve heard is true, so we would just like to say, from the bottom of our hearts... our bad.” U.A. opened its doors to the public as an evacuation shelter. Deku and All Might told basically EVERYBODY about OFA, which is absolutely wild, and yet somehow we hardly paid any attention to this at all. Mostly because the chapter ended with Deku being all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD, THE ONLY ONE THAT I HAVE EVER KNOWN” and peacing out of U.A. to embark on a solo journey of angst. So this is either gonna be the best or the worst thing that ever happened to this series, so TIME TO FIND OUT WHICH IT IS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so who do you guys want to see next? Deku? Bakugou?? Well how about SHINDOU?” Shindou is all “hi :) I’m Shindou :) :) remember me :) :) :)?” Horikoshi is all “I’m so sorry for depriving you guys of Shindou for so fucking long, how about an ENTIRE CHAPTER ALL OF HIM” and then he REALLY FUCKING DOES IT because, I don’t know?? Did we make him mad?? Am I being punished for something I did in a past life?? It really is, honest to god, seventeen whole goddamn pages of Shindou, punctuated by a few pages of Muscular, and topped off with one (1) whole appearance by Deku at THE VERY END. And we don’t even get to see his face. I am beside myself lmao I’m sorry you guys, you can skip this recap if you want. Or just skip straight to the end, because movie 3 promo.

“long time no see” now what could this mean?? can’t think of too many characters this phrase would apply to right now. although I can think of one big one, and I know that fandom has been trying to manifest his deadbeat ass to finally show itself for years now. could it finally be that time? if Hisashi shows up and debunks DFO a big chunk of the fandom is probably going to riot lol

(ETA: why oh why did I get my hopes up like that lmao. I’m pretty sure Hisashi doesn’t actually exist and Deku was either immaculately conceived, or the stork really did bring Inko a lil green baby from the cabbage patch.)

anyway, so the chapter is opening on this random scene of CRIME and DISARRAY

was this all done by that big villain from the previous chapter? utility poles knocked down, random holes in the sides of buildings, and it looks like this one car pulled over in a hurry and the driver just hopped out and ran

who are these people talking

OH NO, OH GOD

I am immediately struck by the urge to push Shindou off of this ledge. is that mean? probably that is mean, but also fuck this guy lmao. every year you cheat someone out of their well-deserved spot in the popularity poll, and every year I want to punch you in your stupid face for it

bah. and how are you doing, Tatami. love that hero name even if you do have arguably the dumbest superpower in the entire series

listen, though. here I am shitting on these Ketsubutsu kids for no good reason, and I’m sorry about that, and truthfully it’s mostly because I just want to see Deku and/or Kacchan and so it’s hard to give a fuck about anything else right now. BUT, I will immediately cease and desist ALL of my complaining if this means we also get to see my best girl Ms. Joke, omg. Horikoshi please

sdlkfjlskalk

FUCK YOU SHINDOU OMG. I’M SORRY GUYS I CAN’T HELP IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS SO EMINENTLY PUNCHABLE AND DETESTIBLE. IT’S LIKE SOMEONE COMBINED WESLEY CRUSHER WITH JEAN RALPHIO

but LSKJFLEK at this random reminder that Bakugou refused to shake his fucking hand. like, that’s his “fun fact” apparently lol. it’s what he deserves

also living for this “cringe” here, too. fuck you Shindou. I am so, so sorry to any Shindou fans out there you guys because I’m just going to be like this the entire time he’s here. the hate is flowing through me

how has it been three whole pages and I still have to look at his stupid face

anyway so it seems like the kids are having to pick up the slack for Old Man Samurai and all those other assholes who retired. I’m guessing the U.A. kids will be seeing a lot more action as well

but in the meantime let’s hope no villains attack here all of a sudden, because all Tatami can do is make herself shorter while Shindou creates an earthquake to bring the entire building down around them dflkjslk

these guys don’t particularly want to go with them and I can’t say I blame them

so now Shindou is saying that yeah, they can probably handle the looters and such by themselves, but it’s a different story when it comes to the Noumu and the escaped Tartarus prisoners. Shindou how dare you make a reasonable point that I can’t immediately argue with

he says that one of the escapees was sighted in the area, so that’s why they’re trying to evacuate everyone

and the guy disagrees and says he doesn’t trust the heroes and thinks they’re pompous

fdskljk. fucking...

ME: Horikoshi can we please stop and get Deku HORIKOSHI: we have Deku at home THE DEKU AT HOME: 

Horikoshi. please. we get it, the civilians don’t trust the heroes anymore. I UNDERSTAND. I COMPREHEND THIS. so unless there is some other point to this scene I respectfully ask that you hurry things along because omg

did Tatami always have this habit of speaking in meme language and such? I thought that was Camie’s thing but hey

listen, I’m here for anyone who’s willing to drag this man down into the depths of the earth. I would just also rather not spend the entire fucking chapter on this oh my god. Horikoshi do you have any more of those chapters where things happen in them?? those are good, I like those

YESSSSSS FINALLY

so whoever’s on the other end of the call (ETA: it’s that rock-looking guy who can harden anything that he touches. why does BnHA have so many hardening powers) is telling them to run because there’s apparently a villain heading right for them, oh my

WHO IS HE

depending on who it is I can’t promise I won’t be rooting for them over you, buddy

ohhhhhh shit

huh. well that’s... hmm... but on the other hand...

okay lol no, I know it’s bad. Muscular fucking LOVES murdering kids. not even Shindou deserves that. I’m sure he has a family that loves him and stuff. and Tatami seems like a sweet girl. they don’t deserve to be murdered

that is the question isn’t it? are we really going to spend the entire chapter with Limbs-Retracting-Girl and her boyfriend, Joseph Gordon-Levitt from (500) Days of Summer??

YES OMG

YES PLEASE CALL YOUR SENSEI. my god do you know what I would give to see Ms. Joke take down an S-class villain??

(ETA: all I’ll say is that we were robbed here, you guys.)

now Tatami is running away while Shindou stays behind omg

Horikoshi I know I said I hate the guy, and I do, but my god. seems I don’t hate him half as much as you do you. been nice knowing you Shindou my man

are you serious Tatami really ran all the way back up here to try and evacuate these guys one more time

SHE’S SUCH A GOOD PERSON omg if you assholes don’t listen to her you deserve to get murdered

BRO

HORIKOSHI DID YOU REALLY FUCKING DO IT I CAN’T BELIEVE IT

LOL OKAY NO, SO FAR HE’S ONLY MESSED UP HIS FACE

WHAT A SHAME WHAT A TRAGEDY. THE WORLD MOURNS

okay but seriously, now he has to be dead

r.i.p. Shindou. he died doing what he loved, talking a lot and being utterly useless

then again, damn Shindou are you really gonna come out here and be a badass?? gonna make me eat my words there kiddo?

I have absolutely no idea if I should expect this to work or not. all I know is that this is page 14, and so it would seem we really are going to spend the entire fucking chapter on fucking Shindou. this beautiful chapter had so much potential, Horikoshi. and now look at it. I hope you’re happy

nope it didn’t fucking work at all lmao

IT’S JUST LIKE I SAID. r.i.p. you pretentious handsome lump

OHHHHHH SNAP

DEKU YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO LOL. anyway but it’s good to see you!! it’s good to see ANYONE other than these guys sob but especially you

FINALLY SOMETHING COOL OMG

somehow Horikoshi actually made the bunny mask look badass?? I don’t think this is sustainable, but I am here for it while it lasts

Shindou should by all rights be nothing but A HANDSOME PASTE at this point lol but WHATEVER. it’s BnHA; getting smashed into walls and cliffs has more or less the same consequences as being set on fire. slap a band-aid on it and you’re good to go

we are REALLY ENDING IT HERE huh

well. and that’s it. I just did not care about any of that lmao. a rare dud of a chapter. well, but we’ve had something like ten in a row that ranged from “pretty good” to “amazing”, so I guess that’s fair

anyway I feel like I owe you guys something other than endless bitching and moaning, so! BONUS:

now this is more like it

first of all, I’m absolutely living for this promo’s “YEET THE CHILDREN OUT OF A HELICOPTER” vibes. FUCK YEAH WE’RE HEROES BITCH

is Deku wearing a jetpack/parachute?? let’s hope he is because I’m assuming he doesn’t have Float yet, so if that’s not a jetpack then it is a LONG WAY DOWN kiddo

these maniacs actually got Deku to wear something other than his red shoes holy fuck. I’m speechless. are we sure that’s not an imposter??

Shouto has the funniest falling position I’ve ever seen. I’m assuming his left arm is not in fact tucked under his leg like it appeared to be at first glance?? like, wtf is the outline of your body right now Shouto

this is what I think it is after careful analysis, but at first I thought this kid had some hidden contortionist abilities

and then there’s this guy

I MISSED YOU YOU BIG GOON. loving the new gauntlets!! and he’s changed up his impractical metal neck thingy into arm thingies! but most importantly, ARE THESE WHAT I THINK THEY ARE

ARE THOSE WEENIES. KACCHAN. KACCHAN HAVE YOU GONE NATIVE OMFG

and meanwhile, look who’s with them! Endeavor makes perfect sense of course, but Hawks is a very welcome surprise. does this mean we can expect to see Tokoyami too? because I would fucking love that

lastly, so this confirms the whole “world heroes” thing! which we all pretty much guessed anyway lol. I wonder if this movie will take place in another country (fingers crossed). the city in the background doesn’t look particularly familiar, but this image probably wasn’t meant to be analyzed in that way lol. anyways, looking forward to this so much, PLEASE GIVE US A TRAILER SOON omg

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Alignment

Figuring out where on the spectrum of beliefs, morals, and neutrality your character falls can be a challenge. One individual’s Chaotic Good is another’s Lawful Evil. To help clarify things, most campaigns include alignment for significant NPCs, and one can often draw a line between that NPC and that alignment. This doesn’t apply to every NPC, but the more important someone is, the more they come to represent a specific section of the moral grid in a campaign.

Ravnica does this as well, with most of the alignment chart represented by a Guildmaster. This isn’t completely uniform, however, so there’s wiggle room for an NPC to lean one way or the other as fits the story. There are some pretty safe bets, however, who can be counted on to check certain boxes at all times.

Isperia of the Azorius Senate: Lawful Neutral

Isperia represents the goal of the Azorius; objective devotion to upholding the laws as they are written. She was elected to her position because of her ability to look passed right & wrong, instead focusing solely on interpreting Ravnica’s 10d6 of Psychic damage legal system for all disputes.

Lazav of House Dimir: Neutral Evil

Lazav is the Dimir at their most annoying but least murderous. Blatant disregard for everyone’s privacy, but preference for stealing, secrets, and information over assassination. Lazav infiltrates every Guild, including his own, always determined to stay several steps ahead of any potential threat. This is not to say he won’t kill people if necessary, but his is a cold, “bloodstained calculus” methodology. It’s never personal.

Rakdos of the Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic Evil

On this plane, Rakdos is the living embodiment of Chaotic Evil, a title he takes very seriously. It’s just about the only thing he takes seriously, as he prefers to live without rules and have everyone else do the same. Unrestrained hedonism and mayhem are his bread & butter. You do what you want, whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want, regardless of what anyone or anything else says. No restrictions, no inhibitions, no hesitation. Encouraging this kind of destructive chaos in the streets is the only thing keeping Rakdos from embracing more orthodox Chaotic Evil behavior of slaughtering millions, enslaving thousands, and bowing to no one.

The Obzedat of the Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful Evil

Hard to believe there can be something worse than an actual Demon given permission to encourage every sin imaginable, but that is what the Ghost Council are. The Obzedat exist to stretch, bend, and twist every law designed to maintain order, neutrality, or justice so as to benefit themselves. What’s worse is how the Orzhov play innocent when they do it. Unlike the Dimir or the Rakdos who accept and even embrace society’s interpretation of their actions, the Orzhov refuse to be seen as anything but humble, spiritual, gracious public servants. The very antithesis of what they actually are; arrogant, miserly, manipulative bastards. They will point out exactly which laws they are not breaking, which laws there is insufficient evidence to prove they are breaking, and which laws prevent you from punching them in the face right now.

Trostani of the Selesnya Conclave: Neutral Good

If there’s one thing to be said for Selesnya, it’s that they are rarely the problem. The Conclave is perfectly content to keep to their fields & forests most of the time and focus solely on building up their own Guild. In a city where every Guild has a problem with every other Guild, Selesnya is the only one who at least tries to get along with everyone else. They don’t tend to get involved in matters that don’t concern them, but theirs is always a safe haven for those who seek it. Trostani is made up of three dryads representing Harmony, Life, and Order. You don’t get much more Neutral Good than that. The only problem is that Trostani basically never leave their Guildhall, so their influence only spreads so far. The reason they can live so peacefully is because so little of the chaotic city life overlaps into theirs.

Besides them, everyone has wiggle room and gray area to move around in. Both Niv-Mizzet and Borborygmos are canonically Chaotic Neutral, but with their most prominent personality traits being vanity & anger, respectively, the “Neutral” part of that can go out the window quick. Still, almost every Guild has at least a semblance of a position somewhere on the chart to start from. You can basically count on a member of each Guild to be at least:

Azorius Senate: Lawful

This is the Guild that writes the laws of Ravnica, after all. They literally draw their power from this ancient legal code, so it makes sense that, whether an Azorius leans more towards Good, Evil, or Neutrality, they do so lawfully.

Boros Legion: Good

If the Azorius follow the intellectual letter of the law, the Boros follow the passionate spirit for which said law was originally written. Justice, not legal-ese. Sometimes the law is good enough, but sometimes it fails its citizens. A Boros should be an inspiring force for Good, whether Lawful or Chaotic depends on the individual.

House Dimir: Neutral

The best a Dimir operative can hope to achieve, morally speaking, is neutrality. If you are working for this Guild, you are lying & stealing. Odds are you are infiltrating another Guild to find/steal information to report back to your superior(s). Not every Dimir agent does this willingly, however. Maybe a character only became a Dimir operative after finding out their mentor was. Maybe a character had nowhere else to turn and no one else to depend on. Maybe they just needed House Dimir’s connections to get them close enough to someone in another Guild who wronged them. Whatever the motivation, cling to that gray area of neutrality like your life depends on it. It’s all you’ve got.

Gruul Clans: Chaotic

Gruul are many things. “Lawful” is not one of them. If you’re a member of a Gruul Clan, you’ve definitely got a bit of a temper on you and a strong disregard for authority. Now, a Gruul can absolutely be a force for good, or, conversely, evil. Maybe you joined the Gruul after your ancestral home was bulldozed over for a smelly Izzet facility. Maybe you had a mental breakdown after decades of trying to uphold law in a city where the laws mean jack shit unless there’s a guy in blue sitting at his desk. Maybe you got tired of planting trees and getting stepped on. Maybe you don’t like the pretentiousness of so-called “artists”. Maybe you just like hitting things. Whatever your reason, the Gruul will welcome another anarchist.

Golgari Swarm: Chaotic/Evil/Neutral

The Golgari Swarm are the first Guild where you’re really going to find a lot of diversity in alignment. Some definitely fall into the chasm of Chaotic Evil Necromancers, others stand firmly in the fields of True Neutral Rot Farmer, and some idly wander between the two. Necromancy is pretty normal in Golgari society, and “Evil” can be considered a harsh word to describe it. It’s definitely more normalized in the Undercity than it is on the surface. A lot of typically Evil behavior is like that for the Golgari, lest we forget that this society of giant bugs, necromancers, zombies, medusa, etc also run the sewage system and food stamps program for the city. That said, there are definitely Golgari with sufficient ambition/motivation to become ready-made Big Bads. What is a Lich, after all, but a wizard who says, “No, I’m too important to die!”

Izzet League: Chaotic

If there’s one predictable aspect of the Izzet, it’s that they are unpredictable. For a Guild whose founding principle is “I wonder what would happen if....”, it’s best to accept that you’ll never be Lawful. Your job, as it is, is to look at laws (nature, physics, etc) and poke at them with electrodes to see what happens. Your focus will always be on things that haven’t been written down yet, as opposed to what already has. It’s almost literally impossible to be Lawful and Izzet for that reason alone. As far as Good, Evil, and Neutral go; that’s up to the individual. This experiment could replicate food so we never have to eat Golgari rations again! Or it could replicate essential personnel to prevent understaffing! Or, it could even replicate.... ME (cue maniacal laughter).

Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful

The Orzhov, like the Azorius, draw their power and influence from the laws of Ravnica. Evil is expected, though not mandatory, but Lawful is a requirement. An Orzhov who doesn’t know their way around Ravnica’s laws is a loose end, and the Orzhov don’t allow loose ends to jeopardize their schemes & ambitions. One can absolutely be a Lawful Neutral Orzhov, also known as an Accountant, but such individuals rarely find their way into a life of adventure. A Lawful Good Orzhov can exist, but your greatest adversary will be the large majority of your Guild who sees you as a potential threat to their illicit activities. In which case, you’ll want to know those laws even better than they do.

Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic

Chaos is mandatory, evil is encouraged. By “Evil”, we mean “things people tell you are Evil”. Anything you would do while drunk you should be able to do at all times! There’s really only three rules in the Cult of Rakdos:

Rule #1, Rakdos is #1

Rule #2, JUST DO IT

Rule #3, Don’t be boring

Being Neutral breaks Rule 3, being Good breaks Rule 2 and/or 3, and being Lawful breaks all 3 rules. Which reminds me of the fourth rule:

Rule #4, NEVER break Rule #1

Truthfully, being Chaotic Good or Chaotic Neutral is perfectly fine as long as you don’t impede on someone else’s hedonism without a reason, or lack thereof. As long as you’re being free & crazy, that’s what really matters.

Selesnya Conclave: Good

As stated with Trostani, Selesnya is a pretty consistent force of Good, if nothing else. They don’t really do hate, you know? Life in the Conclave is pretty uniformly Good, so why make trouble? Why can’t everyone just be Good? In short; ‘cause they don’t wanna, none of your business, go hug a tree, and/or because fire is FUN. Lawful fits some individuals but can just get in the way for others. Neutral is pretty solid but some things must call you to act. Chaotic is if you really want to embrace being a Nature Warrior in a planet-sized cityscape. Selesnya is the Guild for goodie two-shoes, as if that’s a bad thing.

Simic Combine: Any

The Simic Combine is the one Guild that can honestly fall anywhere on the alignment chart. The Guild started out as Doctors, Naturalists, and preservers of life. Now it also operates large-scale bioengineering. You can have a Lawful Good Simic Paladin committed to preserving life and health, a True Neutral Simic Forcemage (Druid) dedicated to living a simple life bolstering plant growth, or a Chaotic Evil Simic Wizard who has decided on everyone’s behalf that flippers and gills are now mandatory. Just like science can be used for great Good, great Evil, or mundane routine, the Simic Combine can turn its experiments to any purpose, depending on the individual. And whereas the Izzet are firmly Chaotic, the Simic have the foresight to think ahead before they try an experiment. You can be anything you want in the Simic Combine, just plan it out.

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down. 

[skylarmoon71]

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader- Fanfiction (Short Story)- Chapter 1

"Are you kidding me Mikey!" You winced hearing the smack the youngest turtle received from his angry brother.

"Dude chill out there's lots more pizza in the world. " Mieky was rubbing the back of his head. When Raph trudged past you, he glanced, the scowl still present on his face. You avoided eye contact, and he left, clearly still pissed. You moved to Mikey. "Are you alright?"

You reached up to check the back of his head, and he laughed. "No worries I'm fine. It's gonna take more than a smack to head to break me." He puffed his chest with a smile. And you couldn't help but smile too. Mikey was the easier for you to speak with.

When you met the turtles, it wasn't quite as adventurous as April's meeting.

~Flashback~

You were at your high school, and unfortunately for you, a couple of your classmates thought it would be funny to tie you up in the school's back yard against a pole. You were terrified, especially when it started to get dark. And because they'd wrapped your mouth with tape, you couldn't cry out for help. You were there for hours. You pretty much gave up struggling half an hour in, and prayed for anyone to find you.

It was cold, freezing. If someone didn't find you quick you probably wouldn't make it through the night.

That's when they showed up. At first you thought it was some kids trying to pull a prank, but when you saw the massive shell, every hair on your body stood up. You thought for sure it was an alien coming to eat your brains or something. So it completely surprised you when three more gigantic green turtles appeared from off the building. Landing quite easily on the ground from such a distance. The one with the blue bandana sheathed his alarmingly large blades, moving to you cautiously. When his eyes landed on you, he looked pretty torn.

For brain eating aliens they looked almost sorry for your predicament.

He stepped over, pulling the tape from your lips slowly. Even though you could speak now, words weren't forming. You were just staring. Blue was untying the ropes around your body from the pole. 

"Who did this to you?"

His voice was soft, and strangely caring. It took you awhile to realize that yes, there were indeed four mutants standing in front of you. And apparently they could talk. Actual English too. Well at least the blue one could as far as you knew. When you were free you probably should have bolted. Because maybe he was just saving you to eat you. 

You didn't know.

Blue took a step back, raising his arms when he saw the look on your face. You were assessing the situation, because not only were they large, but they also had weapons. Even without it, you were sure you wouldn't win a fight against them.

"We're not going to hurt you, I promise." Something about his voice was so calming. His eyes conveyed the same. If they wanted to attack you, they probably would have by now, right?

"T-Thank you.." you whispered. Your body was sore, and you were starving. You weren't sure how long you'd been out there. You're parents were probably having a heart attack trying to find you right about now. You felt a bit lightheaded. Your eyes drifted to the side. The one in the purple was clicking and typing at his little machine, or cell phone, you couldn't really tell. The other red one was closer to you, his arms were folding and he looked pretty scary compared to others. You took a step, and all at once you regretted it. Because your body felt weakened by the small action.

"Raph grab her she's going to-" you took a breath, staggering. Raph reached out on instinct, supporting your body when you slumped forward. 

"I've got you." he whispered. Through your exhausted haze, you could make out his beautifully glimmering green eyes. It was possible you were just imagining they were so bright. He lifted you into his arms slowly, and you didn't even fight.

"Her body is really weak. She's dehydrated and starved. We need to get her to a hospital." Your head twisted in the direction of the purple clad one.

"Who the shell would do something, she doesn't even look mean." Orange spoke.

"What's important is we get her help. I'm sure she has someone out looking for her. We can drop her off at the police station. They could help her. " Apparently blue was the leader, because they all just obeyed, taking off. If you weren't so out of it, the fact that were being carried on top of buildings and over ledges would be freaking you out right now. Your head lulls back, and your eyes try to focus on the faces of your saviors. "Who...are you.." the fact that you could still speak was a mystery to you. Red grinned down at you.

"Just call me Raph."

"Raph.."

That was the last thing you remembered before passing out.

~Present~

"Hey, you alright, you seem pretty quiet today. Even for you." You were sitting crossed legged with Leo in the dojo. He was really good at the whole meditation thing, you not so much. The reason he asked must have been because for the first time you didn't distract him with your humming, or constant fidgeting.

You blinked. "O-Oh, it's nothing really. I was just...remembering the first time I met all of you."

His blue eyes looked a bit more serious. You could see his body visibly tense, just a little. The memory always made him unsettled, that's why you rarely ever talked about it. When they got you to the police station that night, after ensuring you were safe, they left. You woke up two days later in the hospital with your parents at your bedside. When you regained consciousness you had to tell the police everything.

Of course you left out the mutant turtles part. Your parents apparently went berserk thinking you were kidnapped. Knowing your mother, she must have turned the entire precinct upside down. After that you made it your mission to find the guys who were the reason you didn't die that night from hypothermia. Well in this case, turtles.

"I can't say I feel bad for those kids. " Leo stated. Of course they faced consequences. All of those involved were expelled for endangerment. Since then you hadn't gotten bullied, you weren't exactly making friends though either. You didn't care. You had the turtles, and honestly they were far better than the majority of actual humans that walked the earth.

"The only good thing that came out of that night was meeting you guys."

"Meeting Raph.."

It shocked you, your interest in the hot tempered turtle. He was fiery and impulsive. Almost everything pissed him off and for the life of you, you couldn't have a conversation with him unless one of his brother's were present. You were a naturally shy person. And it didn't help that he was so vocal.

Deep down you sort of envied him. Even if he was a firecracker, he always said what was on his mind. He had no filter. And you supposed that's what you liked. His honesty. He wasn't afraid to say something even if it would hurt someone's feelings. You hated pretentious people. You learned your lesson after the very ones who befriended you at school turned out to be the ones who bounded you to the pole that night.

Leo could tell you were reminiscing on the past, and he found himself doing the same. Something must have triggered a happy memory, because he just started to laugh. You smiled.

"What?" you asked curiously, giggling softly at the sound of his laughs.

"It's crazy. There was a point where I swore you had a little crush on Raph. You were always staring at him. I guess you were just trying to get used to his mood swings. " He kept laughing, but your giggles halted, and your face tinged red. You gaped at him, mouth open, eyes wide. You couldn't believe he actually knew about it, hell you were still trying to figure out what you felt. But hearing it from him, out loud. It just made it more real. 

When Leo didn't hear your denial, or laughter he looked over. From you flustered expression, he came to a slow realization that his theory wasn't so crazy after all.

"No way.." you raised your hands, waving at him wildly. "L-L-Leo please don't say anything to him please!" You felt like you were about to cry. Because you were terrified, absolutely horrified he would tell Raph. And You couldn't deal with him giving you the cold shoulder. You already barely talked to the guy.

"H-Hey calm down I won't say anything I promise." he moved over to comfort you, and you fell into his arms, sniffling. You hated how easily you always broke down. Leo patted your back softly. When he felt you slowly calming down, he pulled back.

"I have to say, I didn't see that one coming. I mean if it were Mikey or Donnie I would understand. But Raph." You smiled, wiping your eyes and smacking his hand playfully.

"He's not that bad."

"Please, I grew up with the guy, I think I would know." you giggled, and Leo looked content seeing you smile again.

"If he ever gives you trouble let me know. I'll put him in his place." 

And Leo meant it too. Raph was his brother, no matter how much they got into squabbles, they would always be blood. But you were just as much a family to him as his brothers and Splinter.Ever since he saw you that night so weak and alone, he felt like it was his duty to protect you. 

And he would do that, even if it was from his own brother.

[littlyon]

I would love to hear your rant about your hatred for the concept of literature

Okay. So here’s the thing about literature and why I hate the concept of Literature with a capital L. Bear in mind this is an American perspective.

Generally speaking, when your average Joe talks about “literature”, they’re referring to the material that was taught in high school: old, dry, pretentious, written by middle-aged white men, etc. Now, that’s not always the case anymore (for instance, we read The Hunger Games and The Book Thief in a couple of my English classes, both modern), but even so, the general cultural understanding of literature derives from what people are taught, which tends towards that type of content.

When you get into higher academic circles, the concept is even more solidified. There is so much criticism and theory out there about what Literature is, and what qualifies as Literature, and there’s an incredible amount of shame leveraged towards people who argue against what’s been normative over the past century. Think about how much vitriol the Twilight fans got, or the embarrassment at admitting you read fanfiction in non-online circles. A lot of that is sexism and homophobia, since society in general really doesn’t like it when media is aimed at women or queer people, but those societal pressures are part and parcel with how we define Real Literature. 

Academia overall is a male-dominated and male-created field. What is canonized as Real Literature by the literary field is largely material that appeals to that demographic. Books written by straight white men about straight white men are the most prominent (i.e. Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby). Works predating 1900 come next (i.e. Jane Austen). Following that come works by marginalized groups about being marginalized (Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, etc). 

That’s not even getting into genre; it’s very rare to see anything other than realistic or historical fiction considered Literature, unless it’s suitably old. Aasimov and Heinlein count, Tolkein sometimes counts, Dracula and Frankenstein count, but modern scifi and fantasy rarely enter the conversation when you talk about Literature. “Genre fiction” is a derogatory term in academic circles, or at least a disrespectful one.

Now this is not to say that books considered Real Literature are inherently bad, or that you shouldn’t read them. There are things to gain from Austen and Salinger. The issue is that in mainstream academic circles and cultural consciousness, we don’t look beyond these Officially Canonized works when discussing literature. (Incidentally, this is why I studied Comparative Literature instead of English Literature; the body of work that’s looked at is much broader, and allows for more nuance, plus the focus is on examining the interplay of culture and literature. A lot of what we read in CompLit classes would not have counted as Literature by mainstream academic standards.) 

So why is this a problem? Well to start with, it limits the lens through which people see literature, and thereby the lens through which people see the world. There’s a pretty common response teachers will give when asked why students have to read all this stuff, which is that literature helps us understand culture. This is true. However, if your window into culture is the pen of a straight white man from the 1960s, you’re not actually getting an accurate fix on the culture of wherever the book is from. If the point of literature is to learn about the rest of the world, you need to be able to access multiple perspectives, not just the perspectives deemed acceptable by high academia.

But accessing those perspectives is hard, because they’re not respected by high academia. Works that fall outside of the Literature definition are less likely to be considered important enough to distribute across language lines. Now, there’s a bit of an exception for English literature here, since that’s what dominates the market; there are plenty of translations of English YA and scifi/fantasy and romance novels etc. It’s the other way where it suffers. Non-English literature is just as important to the world as English literature, but because the market is dominated by English, they don’t get as much traction. I have no idea what, say, a teenager in France reads, let alone China or Saudi Arabia - countries the English-speaking world has less of a boner for. The to-English translation market is more geared towards the classics and Literature than it is towards popular fiction.

The other big issue with the perception of literature forwarded by academia is format. Throughout this I’ve been talking about books and the written word, which is an incredibly Western perspective. Literature encompasses so much more than that. Typically literature is defined as “written works”, but that eliminates a great body of work that by all rights should count. I would say that a better broad definition would be “composed works”. A folktale doesn’t become literature when it’s put to paper; it was already part of the literary canon of its culture before it was validated by ink. 

This focus on the written word stems largely from colonialism: the counterpoint of “civilized” vs. “uncivilized”, with written tradition being seen as one of the signs of civilization. There is a lot of classism and racism inherent in the academic definition of literature, since it tends to rely on the novel, the short story, the essay, and the poem as its main components. Any type of media or method of storytelling or conveying information that isn’t one of those four aforementioned formats has a hell of a time being seen as anything but “popular literature,” if the word “literature” is appended to it at all. This especially applies to methods of storytelling that do not jibe well with being written down; oral storytelling traditions are usually not considered Literature, or often considered sophisticated. Hell, songs are barely considered literature; there was a big controversy over Bob Dylan winning the Nobel Prize For Literature back in 2016 because people weren’t sure his works should count.

But under the paradigm of literature as “composed works”, a lot of media that isn’t typically considered literature becomes so. It gives us that broader perspective on the world. It’s incredibly damaging to discount pieces of a culture’s history or storytelling simply because they don’t fit into the narrow definition of Literature as put forth by Western academia. And that’s why I hate the idea of Literature as a concept: it asks us to set guidelines for what should be respected, and what should be discarded. Capital-L Literature inherently sets itself as superior to everything else, and defines itself as What Should Be Focused On. Anything not included in that is derided and disrespected, and because of what doesn’t fit, it contributes to the derision and disrespect of marginalized groups and the devaluing of their narratives and experiences.

[johnbernsteinx]

INTRODUCING: John Bernstein

“To create is to live twice.”

THE BASICS

Full Name: Jonathan “John” Bernstein Age: thirty-seven Birthday: August 9th, 1983 Zodiac: Leo Sun, Leo Moon, Virgo Rising Occupation: Gallery Manager and Curator at the Crescent Harbor Art Gallery Length of Time in Crescent Harbor: seven years Neighborhood: Goldfinch Valley [view his apartment] Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Pansexual Relationship Status: in a relationship with @quinn-hawthorne​ Qualities: creative, nurturing, open-minded, loyal, driven, kind Flaws: pretentious, impatient, compulsive, nervous, stubborn, proud MBTI: INFJ-T “The Turbulent Advocate” Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Enneagram: Type 6 “The Loyalist”

THE FAMILY SITUATION

tw: foster care, adoption

John spent his childhood growing up in the foster care system, going from home to home until he was six years old. He doesn’t know his biological parents but is very close to his adoptive parents, which is why he usually refers to the Mannings as his mother and father, despite not being related by blood. The family fostered other kids as well, so there was always someone around. They had two biological children as well, who John also considers his siblings. His youngest adoptive sibling, Rose Paisi (@rosalindpaisi), recently moved to Crescent Harbor which he is incredibly excited about as they are very close.

THE LOOKS

Faceclaim: Dan Levy Height: 5'11’’ Hair Color/Length: black and short, usually neatly coiffed, curly if without product (aka never, unless you live with him or catch him off-guard) Facial Hair: John usually doesn’t go for a clean shave ever. He’s always sporting some stubble. Eyes: brown Complexion: clear, warm undertones Body: Average/Athletic. John enjoys excerise a lot but also likes to indulge in foods that aren’t considered good. Whether he’s keeping up with yoga, running or some light lifting, there’s rarely a day where he doesn’t add some kind of activity to his agenda, mostly to make sure he’s training his mobility. His frequent walks with his dog will also do the trick. Style: John is very interested in fashion and not at all scared to add some more unique styles to his wardrobe. More often than not, he sticks to a rather casual yet formal style, mostly due to his job but also because he likes to dress well and feel good about the way he looks. He’s usually sticking to high quality, if not designer, sweaters or dress shirts with a nice pair of pants but will also wear a good pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt occasionally. He also loves a good print. The man always looks very put together. You can find some outfits here. Smells Like: Considering his habit of going for runs in the mornings, John usually never leaves the house for meetings or errands unless he’s freshly showered. He hates nothing more than being smelly or dirty even, so he tends to smell fresh with a hint of cologne.

THE STORY

tw: foster care, motorcycle accident, injuries

Jonathan “John” Bernstein grew up in the foster care system and moved into a foster home in Toronto when he was already six years old but it was there where he finally got to experience what being a family was all about

He never met his biological parents and isn’t sure whether or not he’d like to some day. He’s in the process of trying to figure out how to go about looking for them, just to know but without success so far. He hasn’t told anyone about thsi and thinks it’s better to keep it close to his chest for now.

John is a very kind and very passionate person. If he’s excited over something, you’ll know! He doesn’t only get excited about things directly tied to himself though but about other people’s interests and successes, too.

The people around him either love him or hate him for it because he will go on and on and never stop until you tell him to. He always likes to indulge in rather intense conversations as it is and will go out of his way to help anyone with patience and kindness if they have any problem at all. 

His intensity paired with his overall level-headedness is very useful when it comes to his profession though because he’s a natural at being a salesman who is always eager to network which makes renting and buying art for the gallery to help it extend and thrive an easy task (if you ignore the amount of overtime he collected over the past few years).

So basically, he’s a big softy who loves art in all shapes and forms and will go on about it to anyone for hours if they let him or dare to step into the gallery.

He moved out to Vancouver right after high school to go to university. He majored in visual arts.

When he was 24, John was involved in a crash with his motorcycle that left him severely injured and in a coma.

He made it through but the accident threw him into a spin and basically had him starting at zero. The healing process took a whole year because of complicated fractures and nerve injuries that he needed a lot of physical therapy and rest for - which only made John realized that he is not as good at taking care of himself as he thought he was up until then.

Jonathan feels incredibly fortunate to have survived the crash, despite the fact that it left him with some issues to this day. On his worse days, he’ll have a slight limp due to a hurt nerve in his leg and a pelvic fracture. He also suffered a minor motor nerve damage in his wrist which makes it hard for him to create art himself or do basic tasks, really. It keeps him from being able to lift heavy items or do other basic tasks due to the lack of strength and control. He learned to live with these remaining injuries and doesn’t really let them stop him, unless he pushes himself too hard and has to give in. He was also left with quite a few scars scattered across his body but considers them a small price he had to pay if it meant he still got to come out of it alive.

He loves to travel and did quite a lot of it after his recovery and before settling in Crescent Harbor where he’s been living for the past seven years. 

John traveled to and worked in Tokyo and London the most and got a lot of his experience when it comes to galleries from his time there.

These days he’s gotten too busy and caught up in his work to even think of taking a vacation which is bad but the workaholic in him would say otherwise. Maybe it’s that or his inability to give up control - the man just needs to relax!

Despite growing up and becoming a lot more confident as he got older, John is still very soft-spoken at times but always polite and definitely happy to talk to anyone. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention and tries to stay in the background more, even though he’s not as shy as he used to be. 

Overall, he’s a very friendly guy and tries to help anyone who might have a problem but don’t make him mad - the switch flips slowly but surely.

When you are in his circle though, he’ll do anything for you. He made quite a few friends in his years of living in Crescent Harbor due to that but his best friend and confidante is Diana Blackwood-Amari (@diana-amari).

Right now, he’s busy house hunting with his partner Quinn Hawthorne (@quinn-hawthorne), while also trying to navigate the ups and downs that come with being in a long-term relationship after having stuck to his own company for longer than he’d care to admit. Lets just say, communication is not their strong suit but they’re learning.

To sum it up: he’s soft, warm and friendly, very interested in art in any shape or form and just wants to be your friend if you let him! Just don’t disrespect him and you’re golden! Otherwise, you might get a pretty intimidating side-eye and a snarky comment or two.

Also, he would die for his dog, a Dachshund-Corgi mix named Merlot, and so would I tbh.

Find John’s wanted connections here, his full stats here, some musings here and his full bio here. 💕

[himbowelsh]

Can we get the valentines A-Z for Chuck Grant? Thank you✨

anonymous asked:   Chuck grant for the affection asks? Love my man :’)

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Hidden smiles, glancing touches, spending a lot of time with someone...  Chuck’s affection is very understated, but always palpable. He’s not flashy about it, but when he cares for someone, it’s impossible for them not to know. And if they know, that’s what matters, right? 

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

Oh god, no, he’s hopeless with flowers. If he’s looking for a bouquet, he’ll either appeal to the florist for help, or send one of his more knowledgeable friends to pick one up and pass it off as his own.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Dark chocolate with almonds. That’s his thing. Throw him off the train now, before he infects the rest of us.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Give him...  something cozy and intimate. Maybe go antiquing together, and spend the whole time exploring fascinating old artifacts, pieces of the past; maybe go to a winery and wander around amidst the rows of bottles; maybe just lie in a field, listening to the birdsong and soaking in the sun. For Chuck, it doesn’t matter so much where, as long as he’s with someone he can enjoy it with.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Not a big hugger. If he hugs, it’s probably a special occasion, and stands out all the more for it. His hugs are protective; even if he’s the smaller half of the embrace, he’s very firm, and leaves them feeling grounded.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Ohhhh boy. You don’t know. You’re not ready. Anyone who hasn’t seen him in action could probably never believe it, because Chuck seems quite reserved at times, but he has a way with women. He develops a reputation as a bit of a Casanova while in England. It’s the eyes, really, and the voice like velvet, and the lingering touches on the right side of suggestive...  Chuck doesn’t have to do much at all.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s observant, so gift-giving isn’t the massive challenge for him that it would be to others. He just doesn’t give out a lot of gifts, is the thing. Chuck’s the sort of person who gives gift cards for birthdays, because the person can surely buy something they’ll like better than he ever could...  unless he knows for a fact what they want, in which case he’ll rock up with that exact thing on the day of. If he sees someone needs something, he’ll get it. On rare occasions, he’ll spot something that reminds him of someone, and casually give it to them without making a big deal out of it, just in case they don’t like it. (He can’t bear the thought of getting someone something and them having to fake happiness  ---  he’d literally rather show up to the party emptyhanded.)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

Very slow. He’s careful, and likes to be certain of each step as he takes it...  but some things in life just can’t be planned out.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

I don’t want to say he’s shy about it, but...  Chuck’s a naturally cautious guy, so he’s not about to blurt it out. Love sneaks up on him. One moment, he’s sure he knows where he stands in a casual relationship; the next, it dawns on him that he’s in a lot deeper than he realized. He’ll think it a thousand times before he knows how to say it... but his lingering glances and tender touches speak for themselves.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He doesn’t like to admit it, but...  yeah, a little bit. A lot, actually. Chuck’s got a passionate jealous streak. He’s not about to go stalking his partner at midnight, but he doesn’t like seeing other people flirt with them, and to imagine them in a charged situation without him gets his usually mellow blood boiling. He tends to take this out on his partner  ---  deep kisses, hands roaming all over their body, demanding the affection he suddenly needs. Jealousy gets Chuck in the mood. No, he’s not about to explain it, but no way would his partner ever complain.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Chuck is very, very talented with his tongue, and knows many ways to use it. He likes to explore, okay? Kissing isn’t just a mouth to mouth thing. His mouth will go anywhere it’s allowed to, sucking the salt from his partner’s skin and leaving dark marks in his wake. His hands follow suit; if he’s allowed to explore, to touch and tease, he will. With Chuck, a kiss is never innocent, and it’s rarely just a kiss.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He loves his friends more than anything; he loves his pets; he loves memories of people who are no longer with him. The circle around Chuck’s heart of small but very tight, and he loves anyone who makes it inside deeply.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He would absolutely be a morning person, if only he could manage to wake up whenever he set an alarm clock. Unfortunately...  sleep is a beautiful, beautiful thing, and his body demands it.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Again  ---  his tongue! It’s a magical thing! Chuck is a very physical lover, and has a fascination with sensations  ---  how senses come in to play in sex, how they can be manipulated, be deprived, things like that. He’s willing to get experimental with candle wax, ice cubes, blindfolds...  it all gives him a certain thrill. More than anything, he want to be able to touch his partner, to match their rhythm with his own; he loves the sound of their breathing, growing more and more ragged as he drives them towards the edge...  only to pull back at the last moment, leaving them desperate for more. Oh yes, he’s a tease. Chuck prefers to stretch it out, never one for a quickie. He explores his partner’s body, experimentally probing what gets the best reactions out of them, and manipulating that. He craves that reaction, all the gasps and whimpers he can draw out of a partner. That, more than anything else, drives him to his own edge.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Chuck’s not the most verbose guy. He says a lot more with his face, with his actions, than he does with words...  but when he’s in the proper mood, he can get a group of friends laughing without any problems.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

At this point, Chuck has accepted that he has a type, and that type is “impulsive idiots”...   but he’d like someone who’s at least smart about it. Someone he can trust not to burn the apartment down while he’s out  ---  someone he can depend on overall, who he knows will always have his back. The ability to cook is a huge bonus; he’d like someone thoughtful, who can engage in intellectual conversation without crossing that thin line to arguing  (or devolving into full Webster-esque pretentiousness). Physically, he falls in love with lips first. Expressive lips, plump lips, ones that purse and shine and seem to demand to be kissed...  yes, please.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Hmm...  refer to the ‘WEDDING’ question below for this one. Chuck would really want to discuss it first; for him, a proposal would be a conversation, not a do-or-die moment. His partner would probably have to bring it up.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s...  probably more on the cynical side? Which isn’t to say he can’t be romantic when he applies himself, but...  he approaches relationships practically, isn’t one for grand gestures, and is baffled by the whole “rose petals and candlelit dinners” approach to love. If romantic moments happen naturally, Chuck absolutely relishes them, because that’s the purest part about being in love, but he won’t go out of his way to create them.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had a sheepdog. He loved his sheepdog. Her name was Molly and she was the love of his life.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Distinctly not. Love is love, and it’s always a risk. Nothing about it is preordained, and it’s not guaranteed to have a happy ending.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Nah. He’s too careful for that. Chuck hasn’t gotten invested in many committed romantic relationships, so the opportunity’s never been there.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He’s not against it, but here’s his thing:  what’s the point of Valentine’s Day? If he can’t make his partner feel special the rest of the year round, he’s clearly doing something wrong.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

He’s... ambivalent towards it, frankly. Not that he’s opposed to the idea, but he’s just seen a lot of marriages end badly, he knows how it goes, and has no interest of going through the same ordeal himself. If Chuck is going to get married, he’ll have to be in a very long-term, committed relationship, and the idea will have to be discussed extensively in advance. If he doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting into, he’s not on board.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Not a big pet-name guy  (his aunts used to have so many for him when he was little, he vowed never to nickname anyone else)  but a well-timed “darling” for a lover can work wonders.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

He has a very strong protective streak, which doesn’t rear its head often...   but when Chuck cares for someone, he’ll go to bat whenever necessary. He’s responsible about it, of course; he won’t pick a fight, simply send whoever’s making his loved one uncomfortable the patented Chuck Grant Deathglare, and make his presence quietly known until they take the hint.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

[pvtrichors]

MENA MASSOUD , 29 , HE/HIM/HIS , CIS MAN  |    hey is that RAMESES "RA" EL AYOUBI ? i think i’ve seen the 26 year old walking around THE EIGHT , so i guess that means they’re a KOOK right ? apparently if the weather’s right, you can find them LAUGHING THE LOUDEST FROM THE FAR CORNER OF THE PARTY , which makes sense since they’ve got the whole  thing about them PURPOSELY LEANING IN TO THE CONFUSION BETWEEN WANTING TO FIGHT OR FUCK HIM, THE WHISPER OF FINGERS ON PIANO KEYS AT 3 AM & CHASING THE BOTTOM OF A BOTTLE. if people had background music , their song would definitely be EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO 

His parents were convinced that they were being blessed when they were finally given a male heir, someone to carry on their prestigious name. Now, he was very much capable of doing that for them, but that meant he had to want to, and the inclination to actually settle down rarely appealed to him, mostly in spirit, rather than commitment issues (surprise, surprise), but people rarely seemed to stick around him long enough to figure that one out. He hides it well, after all, and instead let's everyone sink their own ship, or even leans into the villain that he is painted as. It's easier to embrace the rumors than it is to fight them, after all.

The one thing those rumors don't know, is that his career choice, wasn't even good enough for those same parents. He just returned from college, and the degree's that should have been hanging in his mother's study were instead boxed up in the closet of his house. You know the one, the one that all the parties are held at, but no one ever remembers actually seeing him, the one that is big enough to throw a banger but never big enough to give space to out run the ugliness of your own truth when you are left inside of it for too long. That's right, you guessed it: both mommy and daddy have agreed to pay their son to stay quiet and tucked away, in his own right, because apparently his passion wasn't quite as acceptable as they would have liked.

While it is easy to see the physical glow up, there has been a slight change in some of his behavior since his return almost four months ago, but it's very hard to put your finger on. Again, most people don't really care enough to figure it out, but it's there. Maybe it's the lingering sadness behind red rimmed eyes, or maybe it's the way he never looks too long unless he's grinning, his mouth always a better focus (for many reasons), than his heart.

WC:  There are very few people in life that will stick with you, but when they do, god they never really do go away. As pretentious as Ra's parents are, they embraced "helping" the community by hiring themselves pogue's to help with several things around the house, including cooking, cleaning, and basic tasks neither of them seemed to have time for. That being said, there was one family that always seemed to be called on, for one reason or another. Since both parents were sometimes called on for projects, their kids ended up coming with them. At first, they would play together, but eventually, he was breaking things around the house just to make the family some money, and to bring his friend back around (it's not like he could outright ask them to head to the cut back then). So, their childhood was spent together, and even after that, until he ended up heading off to college. After the farewell party, and the night that they spent on the roof of his parents second home, talking about the mixture of the past, and fear for the future, and him of course dipping back inside to find relief in the keys of the grand piano (writing what ended up jokingly being "their song"), there wasn't much to say. Now, he's back, without supervision, and stripped of the excuse to break something just to have it fixed by their family, or is he?

The thing about being your parents favorite, about being the apple of their eye, is that you never really expect to find out what it feels like to fall from the family style grace they created. Perhaps it was telling when they didn’t even realize what he was studying, or maybe it should have been, but he lived in ignorant bliss for the most of the time that he was away. It wasn’t until the closing ceremonies were being finished, the gowns were being bought, the degrees were being delivered, that they seemed to actually pay attention to their so called pride and joy. 

But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here. Giving it a proper rewind, things were normal, or as normal as one could have expected, growing up. Then again, normal was a relative word when you took their wealth into consideration. There was always a divide on the island, the loudest note playing on the classism that existed between them all, but thankfully he was never really too susceptible to the pull of peer pressure, or perhaps it was the rebellion that did it. Again, his parents didn’t even pay enough attention to him to notice that he hung out with a healthy mixture of people, one that would eventually probably come back to bite them in the ass. 

Granted, he was well aware of where he should be, and what he should be, at all times. That, however, didn’t meant that he was above attending an extra benefit in his mothers name, wearing a designer suit that could have paid a pogue’s rent five times over, to smooth things over. That was all when he was younger, though, and eventually, the only attention he seemed to get was when they were stopping in to tell him to be careful who he associated with, to make sure that his parents friends didn’t start to talk if they caught him making out with someone “undesirable”, or sneaking out to a few choice parties in the cut. 

It wasn’t until he went to college, until he was removed from all of this, that he really began to notice how fucked up the dynamic at home suite home seemed, suite, because that’s what that shit always was. Regardless, his eyes were opened whether he liked it or not, and returning to his usual patterns of sneaking in and out of the beds of his peers, or forgetting that he wasn’t a priority for...well... anyone, anymore, might be a little bit harder now that he seems to have went and (albeit inconfuckingviently) grown a little more of a conscience than before. Well, that paired with the fact that he was now very much on his own, or, given the keys to his own downfall, truly. 

Honestly, I wrote three intros and I don’t have anything left to dress this lil bitch’s life up into something pretty, but I DO have the energy to plot and shout about him, so come slide into my DM’s and talk nice to me.

[fandomqueen74]

Hold Me

A/N: If we like this character/dynamic I honestly have a shit ton of like little stories like this in my mind and can write them. I’m always a sucker for Obi Wan and he doesn’t get nearly enough love on Tumblr so send me your thoughts.

Description: (Y/n) was a padawan in the Jedi temple when she was younger, she trained with Obi Wan Kenobi and the two have always been great friends. At the start of the war however (y/n) lost her master and was not seen fit to attempt the trial. With the war just starting she was instead moved to the senate. She had been raised in the Jedi temple and the Jedi wished to have a representative in the senate and thought (y/n) would be great at it. After a particularly hard day (y/n) plans to sneak out of the Jedi temple to go to the slums of Coruscant and enjoy some old grimy bars.

12:00 A.M. - Midnight

“And where exactly are you going?” Obi Wan’s calm voice stopped (y/n) in her tracks, her hand half stretched out towards the elevator button. She looked over her shoulder a slight smirk as she pressed the button, a soft ding ringing through the lobby space as she turned to face her old friend.

“Out,” (Y/n) smirked, her hands on her hips, a few credits tucked into a hidden pocket. Obi Wan was not smiling though, instead, his face held a scowl as his eyes raked over (y/n)’s appearance.

“Dressed like that?” He raised an eyebrow at (y/n), what she was wearing could barely be called an outfit. She had on a small black mini skirt and a bright red tank top that seemed to have no back to it, showing her bare skin. 

“I’m going drinking, sue me,” (Y/n) flipped Obi Wan off, turning to face the elevator again. 

“(Y/n) it’s dangerous for you to go out like this…” Obi Wan shoved his hands into his cloak, standing next to (y/n). He knew she wasn’t going to change her mind, so he might as well join her.

“Why cause I’m not a Jedi?” (Y/n) now glared at Obi Wan. It had been a long day and (y/n) couldn’t spend the entire not just stuffed in this pretentious building full of pretentious ass hats.

“No, because you’re a senator and it's one in the morning and you’re barely wearing any clothes,” Obi Wan huffed slightly. He could sense the hate in (y/n)’s thoughts and he hadn’t meant to come off sounding preachy, he just didn’t want (y/n) to be hurt.

“I’m going out drinking Obi Wan, either join me or don’t, it's up to you” The elevator dinged as the doors slide open. (Y/n) threw her hands up in an invitation as she walked backwards into the elevator.

“Someone has to make sure you’re safe” Obi Wan sighed, holding his hand out to keep the doors from closing on him as he slid into the elevator next to (y/n).

“It’ll be just like old times” (Y/n) grinned, pressing a button and sending the pair off on a night of adventures.

______________________________________

2:30 A.M.

“Okay okay, I’ll make you a deal. You share two more drinks and a dance with me then we can go back” (Y/n) smiled, leaning against the old counter, her now empty glass rolling slightly in her hand. She had drank less than she had planned to, but she still had a buzz. Obi Wan was a fantastic friend and she had missed him because of this stupid war.

“Thank you” Obi Wan sighed, calling the bartender over to the pair of them. He ordered a set of shots and a set of some foreign alcohol that (y/n) could vaguely remember to be his favorite.

“Wouldn’t want you sleep deprived for your training session tomorrow,” The shots came first as the bartender had to go in the back to get Obi Wan’s drink.

“How did you…” Obi Wan had a small smile on his face. He had been able to loosen up in the crowded environment, so far no one had recognized them and they somehow managed to blend in.

“Anakin invited me to watch, he said this was going to be the time that the student became the master” (Y/n) smiled as the bartender came back with the other drinks. She sent him a wink causing a green blush to emerge on his blue skin as he moved on to the next customer. Obi Wan rolled his eyes, but enjoyed his drink anyway, a familiar buzz now taking him. He couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol of the smile on (y/n)’s face as she focused back on him.

“The boy has potential” Obi Wan nodded slightly and (y/n) scrunched her face, setting down her now empty cup and taking Obi Wan’s from his hand.

“Come on, I don’t want to talk about that right now” (Y/n) grabbed Obi Wan’s arm, pulling him on to the dance floor as a slow song began to start.

“(Y/n)-” Obi Wan warned, but his voice died as (Y/n) wrapped his arms around her and she locked her own arms around his head.

“Just hold me and sway to the music” There were still smiles playing on both their lips as they slowly found the pulse of the song, swaying with other drunken couples as the alcohol quickly began to lose effect on both of them.

“You can hold me tighter Obi Wan, no one is going to recognize us” (Y/n) moved closer, her body flush with Obi Wans as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck and he found himself fighting the urge to nuzzle deeper inter her embrace.

“This is dangerous (Y/n)...” Obi Wan warned, but his hand wrapped tighter around her. He closed his eyes and listen to the sound of her sweet voice and the pulse of the song.

“It’s only for one song Obi, please, just hold me” (Y/n)’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Obi Wan could have picked it out anywhere.

“Why did you come out drinking tonight?” Obi Wan’s thumbs rubbed small circles on (y/n)’s back. (Y/n) very rarely went drinking, and never would she go alone unless she felt truly alone.

“No one in the senate takes me seriously, I hear the whispers behind my back. They call me the failed Jedi” (Y/n) fingers gripped the back of Obi Wan’s robes. She refused to cry again today. She had already done enough of that, now she simply felt anger.

“I’m sorry” Obi Wan’s hand now made smooth circles on her back as she pulled away slightly, searching his face. She wondered what he thought of her, he was one of the few who knew, or even remembered what happened.

“They have no right to, I’m not a failure, it’s not my fault my master…”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry” The song ended and more people moved to crowd on the dance floor as a more upbeat song played. Obi Wan lead (y/n) out of the crowd and towards the bar, paying the bartender for their drinks.

“Let’s go” Obi Wan mumbled. (Y/n)’s face had hardened slightly, but she nodded. She was still caught in memory of her old master, but the spell broke as soon as they stepped outside.

“Fuck, should have brought a jacket” Goosebumps instantly appeared on (y/n)’s arms, causing Obi Wan to chuckle.

“Here, I figured you were going to get cold anyway” Obi Wan shrugged off his outer robe, wrapping it around (y/n). It was slightly too big for her, but only just. The pair caught a ride back to the Jedi temple, no words were exchanged, but Obi Wan’s hand never left (y/n). Whether it rested on her thigh or guided her from her back, it was always there.

“Want to go for a walk around the gardens? I don’t feel like turning in just yet” Obi Wan broke the silence as the pair rode up in the elevator. 

“Obi Wan, I don’t think that would be smart” (Y/n) shook her head. They were already pushing not being caught sneaking out together, but to be caught in the gardens at this time of the morning alone… The Jedi weren’t stupid, and neither was she.

“Come on, its three in the morning, no one is going to be up” The door of the elevator dinged open and Obi Wan grabbed (y/n)’s hand, pulling her into the gardens. The did a lap around the garden, falling into old jokes and small teases. Obi Wan’s arm was now firmly wrapped around (y/n)’s waist.

“Obi Wan, someone will recognize us here” Obi Wan pulled (y/n) close as the conversation fell into a lull. He slowly began to sway back and forth and (y/n) began to collapse into him.

“Shhh, just let me hold you again” His voice was barely above a whisper, but his heart hammered in his chest. How long had he want to do this? When was the last time he fell asleep not thinking of her?

“When did we start down this path?” (Y/n) rested her head again on Obi Wan’s shoulder, her fingers running through the ends of his hair.

“A long, long time ago” Obi Wan closed his eyes, leaning his own cheek slightly against (y/n)’s, breathing in her sent.

“Are we going to do anything about it?” (Y/n) could her heart beat and Obi Wan’s, it was comforting knowing that both of their hearts were beating impossibly fast.

“Maybe after this war” Obi Wan moved away slightly, (y/n) still trapped in his arms, but he wanted to study her face. Remember what she looked like when she wasn’t pretending for anyone else.

“What if the war never ends?” (Y/n) bit her lip slightly. Both of them had barely been adults when this war started. Now, Obi Wan had an aged padawan and (y/n) was holding the attention of millions in the senate on a daily basis.

“Do you think that it won’t end?” Obi Wan slowly stopped swaying, tucking a loose hair out of (y/n)’s face as his fingers lingered there for just a moment.

“No, but I don’t know if it will end in our favor” (Y/n) shook her head slightly. She could sense the war would be over soon, she just couldn’t tell who would win.

“I worry about that too sometimes” Obi Wan nodded somberly. This had been a constant anxiety for him on the battlefield. He worried each mission would be his last, and he worried that he would never be able to hold (y/n) again.

“Do you think Anakin will be able to bring back balance to the force?” (Y/n) slowly untangled herself from Obi Wan’s arms, holding on to his hand and leading them both back to the elevator. It was time for them to say good night.

“He’s our only hope”

[retphienix]

What a stupid game. I’m glad to be done with it.

It’s amazing to me that more came after THIS.

THIS, the game that is 99% a tech demo for the fuckin’ ps3.

THIS, the game that steals everything from previous games and has atrocious boss fights in a series renown for interesting boss fights.

THIS, the game that’s more cutscene than game and has extremely BAD cutscenes in a series known for great ones.

THIS, the game that repeats story beats from MGS1 but worse and in ways that devalue the amazing impact they had in the first one (YEAH I’M STILL MAD ABOUT NAOMI BECOMING A SNIPER WOLF 2.0 WITH NONE OF THE IMPACT AND ALL PRETENTIOUS BS).

THIS, a game with more meaningless empty pretentious lines of dialogue than any that actually mean anything.

THIS. A BAD GAME.

Incredible.

Fuck Metal Gear Solid 4. It’s everything people who haven’t played, but think the worst of, think Metal Gear to be. Pretentious bull shit. Desperate-to-be-a-movie scene after scene all of which wouldn’t be caught dead in a real movie because they are of such poor quality. A total lack of original ideas, instead resorting to stealing from past concepts with no care or integrity so it all feels cheap and dumb. Characters that earn NOTHING in the entire game but constantly get scenes meant to be payoff for something.

And to round it all out I think I actually PLAYED like 30 minutes of a video game here despite the hours this leeched from my life.

Holy Shit.

Like I’ve played bad games, that’s a given. I rarely see fit to BEAT bad games unless there’s either a sufficient amount of spite, obligation, or interest in it.

This barely met any of the critieria for me to care, but I kept thinking “HOW is it this bad? Surely it’s not. And if it is HOW?!” So I guess you could say it was interesting? Or chock it up to obligation since I played the other 4 numbered titles and enjoy me some MGS?

I’d say it was interesting, but not for any good reason, not for anything IN the game, it was interesting to see a game so thoroughly bankrupt for meaningful content somehow holding so many hours to slog through and holding the metal gear tagline. How did this happen, aside from the obvious of “Kojima was asked to make a tech demo”.

Fuck this game.

What a bizarre game that the best parts are when it’s celebrating MGS as a whole, and the absolute worst are when it’s trying to do what MGS has done before ‘better’ but instead just taints and ruins it.

Liquid Ocelot old man fight nearly made me care about Liquid Ocelot- a character comprised of two vastly better characters in a fascinating fusion that destroys everything good about both. And how did they do it? By making it a montage of each fight in the past games and implying you fight both Liquid, and Ocelot, Separately, despite them being one now. AND THAT WORKED. That was alright.

At least Otacon got some words after they tried to make me care about Raiden by saying “Rose lied to you about a miscarriage because the Patriots ain’t that cool”. What a weird way to close out the timeline for the main 5 games. By devaluing just about everything.

About the only line that sticks out was “Snake had a hard life” etc, but that could have ended at any game and been pretty impactful in a way.

Fucking hilarious that Big Boss just shows up and is like “This is the gun Boss used against me ain’t it cool.” His entire scene is desperate to tie every loose end possible to squeeze a happy ending for Snake. Not complaining much, the ending in general from wedding to Raiden to Snake stretched for some joy in it all and it’s hard to not get wrapped up slightly after all this dreadful nonsense.

And seeing Big Boss salute as he’s dying is a bittersweet moment for the series, but that’s the only good the game seems to drag up- by virtue of being MGS it can make MGS things happen which are impactful or meaningful or strong in the moment. Too bad it’s just these small moments in this darn thing.

What a game. Whoopty fuckin’ doo.

Even emotional scenes like the final end before credit roll make me feel wrong. Tears for this are for the overarching story- hell, the exact end is more MGS3 extension than anything.

I’m done complaining. The credits finally officially roll. I cry for some of the story Big Boss was able to squeeze from this stone and some of the memories it digs at from 1-3, and I move on because 4 brought nothing to the table. On to other stories. On to other experiences I can find in gaming. I feel in my heart that I’ll revisit most if not all of the mainline MGS games for one reason or another, but this one? I really don’t think I could. It’s so... nothing.

5 has little story to offer but it has gameplay.

1 has story.

2 has some interesting conspiracy level stuff as it pushes the patriots.

3 has story.

5 has gameplay and a couple really impactful scenes.

4 has callbacks, both impactful and insulting. I wish they were all impactful, then I could say it’s a game wrapping things up, but so many of them are insulting, only a couple are impactful and those are at the very very very end and relate most heavily to 3 and solid’s future. Nothing that happened in the game really. Just those two things.

Here’s a big sigh for this whole mess. I was certain it’d be a better time with more to offer than a single speech from Big Boss. I heard nothing about this one for years other than jokes about cutscene length. That wast it!

I had my initial reaction and those jokes to go off of and my initial reaction was from release, it was from like midnight to 8 am, and my take away was “It’s pretty.” and that was about it.

I came at this with NOTHING and left with damn near what I came in with. A single big boss speech, is that what this long investment of hours was for?

I honest to god think I could have watched the final cutscene and gotten arguably more from this compared to playing it since playing it meant enduring a lot of nothing and that damned Sniper Wolf replacement scene.

Another sigh. I’m whining again. I’m done here. Metal Gear is a good series that, while not my number 1 or the series I dwell on pretty much ever, it’s one that hits hard more often than not and I appreciate a series that makes you feel. This was a low point. I hope I’m able to trim most of this from my consciousness and find more enjoyment dwelling on the little, tiny bits of good. That’d be more pleasant. Have a good one.

[hermannsthumb]

for the summer prompts if you want you could do family reunion. it could be a fun and interesting dynamic

YES i think id like to make this into a longer fic itd be so fun, so thats why it cuts off where it is and has the long setup hehehe

13: Family Reunion

from summer prompt memes here

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

"I should probably warn you,” Newt says over breakfast, after a few minutes of poking his fork into his room service pancakes (which have been steadily growing soggier) and twirling his orange juice straw between his index finger and thumb.

Hermann sets down his own fork with a small sigh of relief, and Newt has a feeling it’s not just because the unusual (for them) silence was leaving him on edge. “Oh, good,” he says. “I was about to say the same thing. You first.”

"It’s just,” Newt continues, “well, my family’s...they’re kind of a lot.” It’s important to him they go over this now, before Hermann’s inevitable Geiszler Culture Shock during the actual reunion this coming Tuesday. Give him plenty of time to prepare himself.

“I’d be strange if they weren’t,” Hermann says. “I’ve met your father, you know.”

“I know,” Newt says. “They’re just...loud. And nosy. They’re going to ask a million questions about you, and us, and our--” He gestures between them. “--Thing.”

“Our thing,” Hermann repeats. 

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Our--” He mimes something obscene. “You get me?”

There is a brief moment of uncomfortable silence. Newt would have liked to say relationship, because he was under the impression that’s what they have, and he doesn’t think it’s too much of a leap--they share a bed, after all, and occasionally get up to shenanigans in it--but they’ve never labeled it officially and he’s worried about unintentionally making Hermann uncomfortable. “I understand,” Hermann says. “My family is the opposite.”

This is the reason they’re all the way over here in some quaint little German bed and breakfast, after all, instead of going through paperwork or cleaning up old specimen tanks in their Hong Kong lab like they probably should be: Geiszler and Gottlieb family reunions, both scheduled, coincidentally, a week and a decent (but manageable) drive apart from each other. They made a two week long vacation out of it, with the first week--this past week--spent doing dumb touristy things and eating non-rationed food. They have the time to do fun shit like this these days, after all; no more impending doom, no more weight of the world on their shoulders, no more overworking themselves until they collapse into an insensible heap on the lab couch only to be discovered by the graveyard shift janitor at three in the morning. Besides. If Newt and Hermann intend to keep getting up to shenanigans in shared bed, they’ve got to Meet the Families eventually. This way is just tackling it all at once.

“No shit,” Newt says sarcastically. “I’ve met your father too.”

While their recent outing with Newt’s dad had been nice and fun and causal--he bought them dinner--their only run-in with Hermann’s, accidentally, at a banquet during the war had been anything but. Newt recalled a lot of shouting (on his own end), louder shouting (on Hermann’s father’s end), and mortified silence (on Hermann’s end). And that was before Newt and Hermann even started getting up to shenanigans together. “You certainly have,” Hermann says. “Er. Please don’t be too offended, but I don’t imagine most of them will be very polite to you. They’ll have heard about the incident in Anchorage with Father by now. And most of them--well. Most of them don’t approve of me.”

Newt’s face splits into a grin. “They don’t approve of you?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears go red. “Of my career,” he says, “my, er, lifestyle, the career of the man I’ve chosen to share it with...” This, considering what little Newt knows about the extended Gottlieb family, makes sense: Hermann continuing to work on the jaeger program even after his father publicly turned his back on it must’ve been a real shock, and Newt was, after all, Hermann’s research partner throughout it all. Hermann being gay is just the metaphorical cherry atop that. What he says next throws Newt for a loop anyway. “I was also a bit rebellious in my youth. I don’t imagine they’ll have forgotten that.”

This time, Newt full-on snorts in disbelief. “Rebellious?” he echoes. “Holy shit, what’d you do? Get straight A’s instead of A-pluses?”

Hermann’s blush spreads down to his neck. “Er. Something along those lines,” he says. “At any rate. I suppose I’m what you may deem the black sheep of the family.”

“No fucking way,” Newt says delightedly. “Man. I can’t fucking wait for this.”

They check out of the bed and breakfast the next morning and start the two hour ride to Hermann’s childhood home, where they’ll be spending the next few days. They could’ve spent the entire time in Hermann’s old bedroom if they wanted and bypassed paying for a hotel entirely, but Hermann was deeply opposed to it--his siblings would not be arriving until today either, and the thought of being alone in a house with his parents clearly made him uncomfortable. Newt didn’t even bother suggesting it as an option.

“I can’t believe you grew up on a farm,” Newt says when they finally begin to pull down Hermann’s long gravel driveway. Because it is totally a farm--huge property and rolling fields and all--and Hermann has, conveniently, neglected to tell Newt this.

“It’s not a farm,” Hermann says. “Er. It’s--farmland. There’s a difference.”

They drive past a cow.

“It’s totally a farm, dude,” Newt says, waving hello at the cow. It doesn’t acknowledge him. “Did you have chickens, too? Pigs?”

“I had a cat,” Hermann concedes, and then Newt forgets all about pestering Hermann about the cow because the farmhouse finally comes into view behind the tall trees, and wow. It’s big--at least enough for each of the Gottlieb kids to have their own bedroom, Newt’s sure--with a wrap-around porch and a spacious yard. After craning his neck around, Newt spots more cows meandering through a fenced-off meadow nearby, and more excitingly, a large pond a brief walk away. There are ducks on it.

“A farm,” Newt repeats. “You grew up on a farm. Wow.” He thinks he can be forgiven for being a little incredulous about it all: the little Hermann’s shared about his childhood made it seem like he lived out his days chained up in some sort of drafty gothic castle before he eventually fled in the dead of night for uni. This beats the first six years of existence Newt spent in a shitty Berlin apartment by a mile.

Hermann parks their rented car in an empty bit of grass further away from the patch of gravel where another half-dozen-odd cars are and switches off the engine. Then he stares at the windshield for a very long time.

“I haven’t been here since I was a teenager,” he finally says. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel. “Even before that--it was mostly only summers. I went off to a boarding school when I was quite young.”

“Summers must’ve been...nice here,” Newt says cautiously. He’s worried he might strike a nerve without meaning to; it’s very easy to do that with Hermann, after all, especially when it comes to talking about his childhood. Newt used to do it all the time without meaning to. And sometimes, when he was pissed at Hermann, he used to mean to do it. He doesn’t feel very good about that these days.

“I would take my telescope out to the field,” Hermann says, “or up to my brother’s treehouse, on days when I could manage the ladder.”

His eyes dart down to the keyless ignition, and his index finger twitches, as if he’d like nothing more than to press it; Newt reaches over and places his hand on Hermann’s arm in a way he hopes is soothing. “Hermann,” he says. “We can leave now if you want. We don’t have to go in.”

Hermann worries at his lower lip for a moment, then his whole body seems to sag. His hands drop into his lap. “No,” he says. He works his jaw. “We’re going in.”

Newt nods. 

They go inside. Newt can tell, instantly, which of the people milling about are related to Hermann by blood as opposed to marriage: they have Hermann’s fine cheekbones, his funny stick-out ears, his dark hair, and some--only a handful--have eyes almost the same warm brown as his, though without the little crinkles at the corners and Hermann’s delicate, fanning eyelashes. Unless Newt’s just biased in Hermann’s favor. A few of them nod tersely in Hermann’s direction; one older-looking woman outright avoids eye contact and speeds up a little down the hall.

Newt shuts the door behind them and gives the foyer a brief once-over. High ceiling. Neutral-colored wallpaper dotted with small roses. Neutral-colored carpet. A single vase of flowers on a pristine wooden side table. “It’s nice in here,” Newt lies. 

“Hm,” Hermann says with obvious distaste. Then a strange look flits across his face. “Bastien,” he says over Newt’s shoulder, slightly louder. “Hello.”

Newt turns. Walking stiffly towards them down the hallway is a guy who looks unsettlingly like a taller, less pointy, and far more stylish Hermann. He stops a good foot away from them and nods just as stiffly. “Hermann,” he says, and Newt half expects them to exchange a firm, professional handshake. He knows Hermann’s not big on hugs, and he must’ve gotten that from somewhere, but come on. “I’m surprised you came. It’s good to see you.” His eyes sweep over Newt once. “Are you Dr. Geiszler?”

“You can just, uh, call me Newt,” Newt says. His mouth feels weirdly dry. He didn’t expect to get this fucking nervous.

“I’ve seen your photograph online,” Bastien says. His accent is thick, thicker than Newt ever remembers Hermann’s being on the rare occasions his learned pretentious English one slips and gives way to his natural one. It makes sense. He never left the country like Hermann did. “Hermann has mentioned you once or twice in emails.”

“He has?” Newt says, because that’s news to him, but Bastien’s already turned his attention back to Hermann.

“Father is in the backyard,” he says in a low voice. “If you were wondering.”

Hermann’s visible distaste returns. “Ah. Thank you. I’ll be sure to avoid it then.” He allows himself a tiny fraction of a smile. “It is nice to see you.”

"Bastien is only two years younger than me,” Hermann explains once he and his brother have nodded at each other once more and Bastien’s retreated back down the hallway. “I was always closest to him, out of my siblings.”

“I can tell,” Newt says, and, probably lucky for him, Hermann doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.

Hermann takes him on a brief tour of the lower level of the house. It’s weird; for all the charm the outside has--from the vines creeping up the sides, the ancient shutters, the sagging porch, the beautiful hills--the inside is pretty, well, bland. There’s a pristine dining room. A pristine kitchen. A pristine living room, with couches more out of fashion than Hermann’s sweatervest and a fucking gorgeous piano that looks practically untouched. (Newt whistles when he sees it; “I took lessons once,” Hermann says, “I wasn’t very good.”) 

The main point of Newt’s interest, though, the thing that really makes him stop dead in his tracks, is the single family photo resting atop the fireplace mantle. All six Gottliebs are lined up in a row: Hermann’s father, a woman Newt takes to be Hermann’s mother (she has his eyelashes and his wide mouth), a teenage, and much shorter, Bastien, two twenty-somethings that must be Hermann’s older brother and sister (all three with Hermann’s ears), and--

“Holy shit, Hermann,” Newt says, snatching up the picture frame for a closer look. “Is this you?”

It is, which Newt is sure of even before Hermann flushes beautifully and turns his eyes to the ceiling--there’s no mistaking that scowl or cane. The Hermann in the photograph is leaning against a wall, a good foot away from the rest of his siblings, and can’t be any older than eighteen. He’s got an undercut twice as severe as his current one. A cigarette dangling from between two fingers. And--Newt realizes with a jolt of something that might be called elation, or it might be called horror--an earring in one ear. “Ah,” Hermann says. “I did say I was--”

“This is the best day of my life,” Newt says. “I want a copy. I want three copies. I want to carry one around in my wallet. I can’t believe you had an earring!”

“He did it himself,” a woman lurking near the doorway with a drink in hand and Hermann’s cheekbones says. “With a sewing needle, wasn’t it?”

“A safety pin,” Hermann says miserably. “Hello, Karla.”

“Hermann,” Karla says. They exchange stiff nods. (This family is fucking weird, Newt thinks. Maybe Hermann really is an alien. It would explain a lot.) “Who’s your friend?”

Hermann touches Newt’s arm. “This is my...” He trails off, and Newt starts to wonder if he should jump in with a lab partner when Hermann finally coughs and says, “My Newton.”

Newt gives Karla a nervous little wave. The once-over she’s giving him behind her wire-frame glasses is twice as severe and scrutinizing as the one Bastien gave him earlier--far more Hermann-esque. Specifically, Hermann when Newt’s fucked something up and is doing a very bad job of hiding it. “Your Newton,” she says. “The biologist?” Newt and Hermann both nod. She looks satisfied. And a little disapproving. “You didn’t say he was coming. You may have to make up the guest room bed for--”

“There’s no need,” Hermann says, and a small blush blooms on his cheeks. “Newton and I will be sharing my bed.”

“Sharing?” Karla echoes. She narrows her eyes at Newt again. “Hm. You are his type.”

“Karla,” Hermann hisses. He looks mortified.

“Hermann was always bringing home boys like you,” she says to Newt. “Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos--”

“Karla.”

“All because he knew our mother and father hated it, of course,” she says. “That’s also why he--” She tugs on her earlobe, the same earlobe Hermann has pierced in the photo, and takes a sip of her drink. “He was always so difficult. And now, a,” she says the next word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, “biologist.” 

Newt feels, vaguely, like he’s entered in a parallel universe, where Hermann Gottlieb is apparently some sort of bad boy rebel without a cause and not, in fact, Newt’s stuffy, uptight, stick-up-his ass lab partner who one time yelled at Newt for being too cheerful at work. “Difficult?” he says faintly.

“She’s exaggerating,” Hermann jumps in quickly. He tugs frantically on the sleeve of Newt’s leather jacket. “Newton, we should--”

“He used to stay out until three in the morning,” Karla interrupts, with something akin to glee on her face, “and come roaring in on the back of some boy’s motorcycle--”

“Holy shit,” Newt says. 

“Newton,” Hermann says. “Upstairs, please.”

Newt places the photograph back on the mantle and scurries after Hermann as he clacks, furiously, from the room and past his sister (who merely nods at both of them again). Hermann doesn’t stop his furious clacking until they make it all the way up the creaky staircase, down the upstairs hallway, and through a door that he shoves open unceremoniously.

This is where Newt stops. He’s not sure what he expected Hermann’s childhood bedroom to look like, but he wasn’t expecting this. It’s undoubtedly Hermann’s though. The bedspread is dark blue, patterned with little white spaceships and orange comets, but looks recently washed, at least. There’s a model of the solar system hanging in the corner, clearly homemade. A heavy layer of dust on a desk in front of a window, where several advanced mathematics texts are stacked up. More spaceships on the faded wallpaper. A few perfectly straight and even posters, one of the phases of the moon from 2006 tacked to the back of the door. A messy bookcase.

Newt was expecting--more neutral colors, maybe. An ancient-looking abacus. Victorian schoolhouse chalkboard slates. He smiles. “This is your old room?”

Hermann eases himself down onto the edge of the bed. “Yes,” he says, and pats the bedspread. “I imagine we’ll fit here together tonight without a problem.”

“Yeah,” Newt says, and sits down next to him. He has a million things he wants to say: your family is fucking weird, what’s so bad about being a biologist, you weren’t lying about being a black sheep, huh, but what comes out, along with a wide grin, is “So. I’m your type?”

“Oh, don’t start,” Hermann says. “Karla was only teasing. She always teases.”

“You used to ride around on motorcycles,” Newt says, “with boys. Plural.”

Hermann darts his tongue out, nervously, over his bottom lip. “With one boy in particular,” he concedes. “Ah. A friend from school.” His blush returns. “He had a tattoo of a sparrow on his shoulder. He was my first kiss.”

Inspired, Newt leans in and kisses Hermann’s cheek. “Dude. That’s adorable.”

Hermann hides his face in his hands. “He had freckles,” he says.

[texastheband]

Size does matter

By Lena Corner Taken from I-D Magazine - May 1999, Issue #186 ‘Skin & Soul’

After the rebirth of cool that was White on Blonde, Texas are finally ready to capitalise on their credibility. And for Sharleen Spiteri, this time it's personal...

Armed with a wedge of crisp tenners ready to blow at the bar, it's impossible to deny a slight tinge of disappointment when Sharleen Spiteri's choice of beverage turns out to be a cup of tea. Ask what she's doing at the weekend and she talks excitedly about staying in to await delivery of a new fridge. Getting on a domestic roll, she waxes lyrical about the draught excluders she's just fitted in her new Primrose Hill home. "I think I'm turning into my mum," she concludes.

Sharleen Spiteri may be a woman who stands accused of many things, but domestic obsession isn't one of them. She's been criticised for trying to add credibility to her soul-tinged radio-friendly rock by aligning herself with the likes of Rae and Christian and the Wu-Tang Clan. When she employed Juergen Teller to shoot the cover of Texas' 1997 album White On Blonde, it was said she brought him in an attempt to re-invent herself as a moody, hip and highly marketable frontwoman. Even her choice of boyfriend, Arena Homme Plus editor Ashley Heath, who she's been seeing for years, has been called her svengali figure, a calculated move to position herself within the sphere of all things cool. "I've never ever seen it written where someone's gone, 'Yeah Sharleen's alright, she knows what she's doing'," she says. "But it's like fuck them, who cares? Everyone seems to forget that I used to be a hairdresser, I used to do shoots constantly and teach all over the world. I was very much part of the whole industry before I was ever in a band, then suddenly it got to this point where everyone was saying Texas are trying to re-invent themselves. People want a story though, they want to invent something." When Sharleen first appeared on the cover of i-D back in March'97, readers wrote in to complain: why should we want to feature someone like Spiteri? She was old news: her debut single, I Don't Want a Lover, hit number eight way back in '89. Her records shifted millions and she'd spent far too much time at the top of the charts. In 1997, Texas were one of the most played acts on British radio. Mass market, stadium-sized exposure - how uncool is that? "I don't want to make cool music," she retorts angrily. "What is cool music? It might be cool today but it's not going to be cool tomorrow. People still talk about ‘I Don't Want A Lover’ and that was ten years ago; to me that's far cooler than writing some fucking stupid song that sold 20 copies. It's like, don't waste my time, pretentious fucks. I'm not interested in being trendy. I went through all that when I was 16. It seems it's more important nowadays to be into the right music, wear the right trainers, sit in the right bars and have the right furniture. It's too much effort, I'm too old and it's too boring." Hence her fad for draught, excluders. There was a time, though, when Sharleen did care what people thought and she'd sit through interviews desperately trying to be liked. Even so, after the third Texas album, Ricks Road, the backlash kicked in. People lost interest, the press wrote her off and Spiteri took it all very personally. The whole experience left her feeling crushed and betrayed, she says. For a while Texas plugged away on the European tour circuit; they went "where the love was". But when the tour ended in '95, Spiteri had had enough and took off to Paris for a year to live with her mate. For a while it was touch and go. But today she's got an Ivor Novello award for 'outstanding body of work' sitting on her mantelpiece and a four million-selling comeback album. Finally she realised it was time to stop caring what people thought. "We really fought to make that album," Sharleen admits. "A lot of people thought Texas had split up - some didn't know we'd ever existed - but we made a record because we believed in our ability to keep it going, we kept our values and rode it through. When people aren't interested, you really have to fight for what you believe in; we did and to come through the other end was the biggest gift anyone could ever have given us. All those people who went out and brought that record was the biggest compliment anyone could ever pay us." At the end 1997, Texas played at the Hogmanay party in Edinburgh. With the castle as a backdrop and a sky exploding with fireworks, the curtain came down on what Sharleen describes as an unbelievable, fantastic year. That moment, playing to a rapturous New Year's audience, marked the end of the White On Blonde era and two days later, still riding on the buzz, she sat down with co-writer Johnny McElhone in her Glasgow recording studio and tried to do it again. The Hush, their fifth album, is the result. "This is the Texas album we've been building up to throughout our entire history," she says. "I really do believe we've nailed it."

Sharleen describes it as sensual, a collection of moods, hence the title. They spent weeks planning the running order; it's a record, she reckons, that will take your imagination to all sorts of different places when you put it on in your bedroom. Namechecked influences remain the classic Texas roll call: "You can hear the Roxy Music influences," she says. "Abba and the Human League all mixed in with The Beatles, Marvin Gaye, AI Green and Ann Peebles." The result is pure, polished summer-tinged pop with Spiteri's syrupy, smooth vocals stronger than ever, delivered lying as usual on her back. For the album's artwork, this time Sharleen chose Gucci campaign photographer Luis Sanchez and headed out to Miami Beach where she languished in the sea for something more seductive than the pared down White On Blonde sleeve. "It was a case of let's go to the other end of the spectrum," she says, "the complete opposite of what Juergen Teller would do. He's very stripped down, very in your face. But because it's called The Hush, we wanted something shiny and glamorous. I've always loved the Roxy Music sleeves, classic late '70s album covers. It was more on that tip." The source of inspiration for one track entitled The Girl actually came from Lauryn Hill. It refers to that rare thing: a woman with money and power, with the conviction to use it exactly the way she wants to. "She's stuck to her guns and I think that's what it's all about," Sharleen says. "I'm so aware a lot of people are quite prepared to sell their soul to get what they want, but I'm not and I don't think Lauryn is either. I look at men's magazines and see all these girls on the cover; you simply cannot get on one unless you're prepared to get your tits out and so many people do. It's inspiring seeing the way Lauryn Hill does it. And then she gets called an awkward bitch for it. It's so difficult if you're a woman and you've got an opinion. It's not considered an opinion, it's a fucking attitude problem and I find that very frustrating." Inevitably Spiteri with her natural, androgynous good looks and flair for throwing together Prada with trainers has had countless offers to strip down and 'do something sexy'. But their idea of sexy, she says, is very different from her own. "Sexy is really all about imagining as opposed to seeing. That's why I love working with Juergen; his whole thing is about catching a real moment, something that you actually would do like sit in the bath. If it's all there in your face you don't even see it. But once you've shown it, you've shown it and you can't go back on it. I think it's laughable - if that's where the male sex are supposed to be at, it's very sad. Why do they have to have everything in pictures to understand how things work?" At school, Sharleen was one of those girls who were approached by the boys - but sadly never for anything she had to offer. "I'm not an archetypal beauty. Everything's a mess, my nose is all bent," she says. "It was always, Sharleen, you know your mate, sort us out a date.' I was like a pimp at school. At the time it was like, 'You bastard', but it was actually a really good way to accept the way I am." In those days, Spiteri was convinced she was going to grow up to be a designer. She gave up her Saturdays to study fashion at Glasgow School Of Art, landing her first-ever discount card for the local art supplies shop. She spent countless nights cutting and embellishing outfits, standing on the kitchen table while her long-suffering mum pinned up her latest creation at two in the morning. It's not surprising then that when Muiccia Prada approached her to model for the Miu Miu line, Spiteri turned her down flat. "You're not going to get me stuck with one designer," she says. "I love clothes too much." Back in '89, sporting tomboy denims and a Siouxie Sioux haircut, Spiteri modelled herself on Patti Smith. She made great music, she wasn't gorgeous and she wasn't blonde something to aspire to. But two years ago at the Q awards, Spiteri's mentor came crashing off her pedestal. "She did this whole thing: 'If these are all the people I've influenced then fuck it'. I thought, 'You rude cow'. PJ Harvey gave her the award - if I'd been presenting it I'd have belted her. To have been doing this for so long and to be so lucky to be doing it, she should frigging know better and she should be glad if she's influenced anyone." Since that moment, Spiteri's stopped playing Smith's music. "All I hear when I put her records on is just a really angry person. It's not good vibes to be giving out, it's like what on earth have you possibly got to be angry about?" To this day, Spiteri remains eternally, sweetly grateful for her ten years in Texas, even those spent wallowing in the European pop wilderness. "I'm always very careful what I wish for," she says. "And I never tell anyone because they'll never come true." Texas, she thinks, was something that was always meant to happen, even though when she was first asked to sing she thought it was a wanky chat up line. She carefully avoids tempting fate; insisting on being the last to walk out on stage and always locking away the first pressing of every Texas record because superstition tells her to. She refuses to court fame for fame's sake. "It's easy to be invisible if you want to be," she says. Once a crazed Biblewielding lunatic forced his way into her dressing room in France. Even though he was ousted before he got to say his piece, it was an incredibly frightening moment for her. At 32, she's thinking about having kids; attention like that isn't what she needs. Chances are, The Hush will do a White On Blonde and sell and sell, especially if Chris Evans takes it on as a personal crusade, as he has before. Next month Texas release the single In Our Lifetime. "The whole sentiment behind it is about finding yourself in a situation that's totally meant for you and taking it," Sharleen says. "You only get one chance, it's that once in a lifetime situation; you've got to grab it with both hands and never let it go." The tale of Texas possibly? The story of the girl who ditched a glittering career in hairdressing to join a band on a whim and who persevered in the face of endless criticism. Spiteri pauses for a moment. "Oh yes," she says. "I've never thought of it like that."

The Texas single, In Our Lifetime, is out on April 19 on Mercury, followed on May 10 by The Hush LP.