#but this applies in general to all sorts

[stupidjewishwhiteboy]

“I know that I’m usually always promoting nuance and looking at stuff through its historical context, but this situation is actually quite simple”

May I humbly suggest that if you’re having this thought process, you take it as a sign that you need to reassess? Methinks your belief in yourself as an unbiased nuanced thinker is allowing you to hide your own biases from yourself

[daily-xisuma]

[047] Applied my version of Doom's partial invisibility fuzz effect and an accidental offshoot I created in the process, heehee :-)

[lord-squiggletits]

Wanted to send an ask as well to hopefully provide some distraction from…recent events.

Are there any parts of world building in the TF IDW universe that you wish were explored/expanded upon more? Or that you want to explore in your writing? Like certain aspects of pre-war Cybertron, cybertronian culture, post-war Cybertron, etc?

Okay this is actually perfectly timed for a rant I wanted to go on about the way mnemosurgery is written in IDW1 because I hate how JRO basically made it an ontologically evil field of medicine both intrinsically and in terms of the average person who does it, like

First of all I want to preface this by saying I'm not accusing JRO of having any particular beliefs, this is just my commentary on how things came off and how his writing style contributes to both virtues and flaws in his writing. So I might say "he's basically saying this" but in the sense of "unfortunate implications, accidental or purposeful, in his writing."

But like... it makes me so mad because the worldbuilding around mnemosurgery kind of makes no sense to me? It seems like a really fucking wasted opportunity to cast basically every mnemosurgeon in the continuity as evil and to make it so that even just doing mnemosurgery is basically a toxic, destructive act that will literally kill you? Honestly, I don't think JRO even came up with mnemosurgery as like, "here's a thing that exists in this world and how it works" so much as, he took a character-first approach to writing (as he always does) and wrote mnemosurgery to work whatever way would work best for Chromedome and other character-related conflicts and plot points.

Like, mnemosurgery can view/alter memories from a living person but from a dead person it can only get moments from right before death. Makes sense. Mnemosurgery slowly kills you every time you do it??? Uh... honestly that comes off more as a handwave to make it so that any time the LL needs information they can't just needle it straight out of whoever's mind they need bc of course Chromedome can only do it when it's really important after all. Mnemosurgery... is only ever used for brainwashing people? Like, literally every mnemosurgeon except Chromedome is evil (and cartoonishly so, for Trepan and Sunder, like literally unredeemable monsters in every way) and any time they actually enjoy their field of medicine it's bc they're a sadist that likes to manipulate and oppress people? Kind of... uncreative.

Mnemosurgery is ADDICTIVE?? You're addicted to needling people's brains because mnemosurgery is ontologically evil and then it literally kills you? Okay like... do I even need to explain how tone-deaf it is to incorporate addiction of all things into the worldbuilding here? "You're an addict which makes you dangerous to society. The good ones stop doing the addictive thing because they're morally strong/care about others/aren't hedonists, but the bad ones who only care about doing their drug of choice are evil because the fact that they don't quit shows that they don't care about other people and OF COURSE the main/only fate that awaits addicts is their inevitable death by their own addiction!" Like, we get enough of that shit in real life, JRO. Did you really have to take an already heavily stigmatized condition like ADDICTION and slap it onto your ontologically evil mnemosurgery where the evil ones are evil because they love abusing/manipulating people and don't care enough about dying to stop being addicted to mnemosurgery? Come the fuck on.

Like, I understand that "the science of studying/altering memories" is heavily laden with nightmare fuel as is, and I don't have a problem with that (and stuff like the Institute) because the mind/memories are an intrinsic part of personhood, so any scientific field around it (or any government that wants to sponsor it) will abuse that knowledge just like with any other field of medicine. But to use human examples, why the fuck does mnemosurgery have to be inherently evil? What about stuff like Alzheimer's that degrades ppl's memories to the point of not even remembering a few seconds ago? Wouldn't it be beautiful if mnemosurgery could help with that? What about psychological issues where maybe people with intense PTSD/trauma/etc could have their worst memories be removed/dulled so that they become mentally stable enough for psychiatric/therapeutic interventions to become effective? What if someone has a TBI and wants help recovering the memories they lost?

What about non-scary, non-medicinal applications of mnemosurgery? What if someone just really treasures the memory of a particular day with their best friend and visits a mnemosurgery every couple years so that information creep doesn't slowly alter their memories of that precious day? What if it was possible for mnemosurgeons to intensify memories, so that maybe someone could have a happy memory intensified and think of it any time they're sad, struggling, having mental health struggles, etc? What if mnemosurgeons could take/copy memories from people's brains and convert them to video format in a way that other people could watch it? Imagine the sheer potential present in that when it comes to preserving history through literal firsthand testimonials of what happened! What if a mnemosurgeon could transfer memories from one person to another-- what kinds of breakthroughs in empathy, communication, and understanding others could happen if you could LITERALLY see a conflict from another person's perspective? In those ways, mnemosurgeons would basically be able to act as a hybrid of doctor, psychologist, diplomat, mediator, and archivist all in one!

But no... instead we just got "Mnemosurgery is evil and pretty much only used for brainwashing, 99.8% of all mnemosurgeons are evil creeps, oh by the way it's also addicting and will literally kill you if you do it too much." SMFH.

[varjopeura]

.

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[procrastinationau]

I alluded to it in that snippet i just posted and it's probably not ever going to play a big part in the au so hey yknow how chase young was supposedly good friends with Dashi or at least worked closely with him before he turned evil and yet Dojo didn't recognize him at all in "Master Monk Guan" when he first appeared in the show?

Some people would say this was a plot hole, and they would be completely correct, but I say that Dojo clearly repressed Chase's entire existence out of his memories due to Dashi-related PTSD

because it's also my headcanon that Chase killed Dashi. lol

ANYWAY

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Hello.

You and gay-jesus-probably have successfully made me question everything with your view that Tears of the Kingdom is imperialist propaganda, so that's been fun.

Anyway, I decided to share this discussion with the Zelda fans on reddit, and perhaps unsurprisingly, a lot of them disagreed. Here is what they said (I'm Alarming_Afternoon44):

So what do you think? Have I and all these other people just been duped by the game's manipulative framing? Or do they actually have a point?

And if you'd rather not answer this, or would prefer if I censored the usernames, just tell me and I'll delete this.

Hey! Thanks a lot for reaching out, and I'm glad it made you think stuff through!!

Honestly, as I mentioned in this post, I am not super interested about in-world conversations about who oppresses who, because what can be assessed from the game is super vague and more vibes-based than evidence-based. Within the text, of course that the Good Zonais are good and the Bad Ganondorf is bad! But that's my whole point! The narrative has been deliberately crafted so that the zonais and Rauru (and Hyrule) are as blameless as possible (and it's not doing a great job at it overall to be frank; we would not be having these conversations about how offputting it all feels for a non-zero number of people if it did do a great job). More importantly, I want to focus on what sort of real-life narrative it all parallels. Because people make stories, and people live in the real world.

Not going after everyone's throat here, gamedev is hard and the hydras that are AAA game production do end up doing super weird stuff, especially since the thematic ramifications are absolutely never prioritized (and it's also always the same kind of people who make the final calls and push out what can and can't be talked about also). And as fans, we tend to have trouble stepping outside the lens of lore and take a look at the bigger picture sometimes; not as an attack on any individual part of that decision-making process but to just pause, stop, and question our standards, our priorities and the kind of reality (or skewing of reality) the stories we tell each other reflect.

Again: do we want to take videogames seriously or not? If we do, then we need to accept they are a vehicle for ideology, just like any other artform. And sometimes, you push out questionable ideology, sometimes without meaning to, because you didn't unpack your own biases as you did. And it's even fine to do it, nobody is perfect, a 300+ people team spread over 6 years certainly will not be that. But that it wasn't prioritized is, in my opinion, a problem. As a narrative designer, I want games (at least the narrative side) to be held to a higher standard than this. It's literally my job to work with the industry so it can hold itself to higher standards of quality --so the whole TotK situation is quite frustrating to witness from a very pragmatic, work perspective where I already spend my days trying to convince people that things mean things. I have a vested interest here in not having the companies I work for being given a free pass by gamers to do literally whatever as long as it's fun, especially when we're talking about a billion-dollars company suing its own fans left and right for any perceived slight. Nintendo are not underdogs here. It's fine to point out they cut corners and maybe promoted messy ideologies, voluntarily or not.

So long story short: no I don't believe anyone here has a point in regards to what I think is actually important, which is why these choices were made in the first place. If you look at an imperialist text expecting the text to tell you that it's imperialist instead of recognizing a framing used for propaganda by yourself, you're never gonna find any imperialist text ever, obviously not!! I'm sorry if I sound a little gngngn here, but I don't know why audiences have, at large, this feeling that lore and story beat decisions materialize themselves already formed and without any human bias, meddling, intervention, internal politics or approximations (it seems that people can only conceptualize this part if they have actual names to attach to the story, but without clear authors it's like there are no authors and so no bias, which is... a very strange bias in itself). I can promise you that it does not work that way in practice: every narrative department on every big game is a battlefield --some nicer than others, but all of them very emotionally draining either way.

So yeah, I guess that on these grounds, I disagree with every point raised here. Sorry Reddit :/

But thank you for the ask and sorry if I didn't go more into details as to why. The big Why I Dislike Rauru Post and the Gerudo Post might have some more specific rebuttals, but I am not super interested in debating small detail stuff tbh. I feel like it's no use if the frame of reference isn't being understood in the first place.

[lovetogether]

We love spec bio so much… we often apply it to our kemonomimi “worlds” as we enjoy thinking of the actual implications of a world where people have animal features.

[depresseddepot]

*covered in blood* i applied for the job

[quiescentdestiny]

I saw a post a while back that essentially was like complaining about aftg/andrew playlists having Conan Grey or Tswift and the entire arguement was "andrew wouldn't listen to that" and I just----

I just.... I need to know, are people making playlists based on what music the character would LISTEN to???? because that's.... definitely not what I do when I make character playlists.

[sith-shenanigans]

For the oc ask game, 13, for Ahene?

13. Would your oc be open to a poly relationship? Why or why not?

Theoretically, yes, actually. It was considered fairly normal on Verios—she brings up the possibility in the fic with someone who has a crush on her. But in practice… she’s extremely demiromantic, and isn’t inclined to intense attraction when she does have it (even with Sirue, she would probably never have acted on it if Sirue hadn’t made the first move), and is much more likely to acquire confusingly intense friendships rather than any additional romantic partners. Basically the only way it would be feasible is if Sirue fell in love with whoever it was first.

(Which was, honestly, kind of the outcome she was hoping for with Kory.)

That’s just for multiple relationships on Ahene’s own part, though—technically, her relationship with Sirue counts as poly, because Sirue isn’t physically monogamous. Sirue doesn’t sleep around to the extent that a lot of smugglers do, but she has a number of brief flings. Still, they’re each other’s only serious romantic partners, both out of general inclination (neither of them feels a need for other serious relationships, even if neither has an innate aversion to it) and because it just worked out that way.

[pride month oc asks]

[icewindandboringhorror]

I still very loathe the Media Trope of ‘’cold genius man doesn’t feel emotions and never has relationships... UNTIL.. one random relatively bland Preddy Woman comes along and warps his entire personality and ability to think, his heart has grown and his seeming asexuality has evaporated, he is now Normal :)” or whatever like... AS a walking generic hermit archetype myself.. we would NOT act like that .... just let people be detached weirdos in peace, you cowards .. OR, don’t bother to write one in the first place if you find us too boring to exist realistically in our natural state lol.. pathetic 

[eyepatchdate]

something that's getting me. people, looking at work others produce (regardless of if that work is provided for free or for some compensation, ie not you directly paying for it but the creator receiving ad revenue and such). is just being very... heartless about it? not thinking about the process, demanding constant improvement and see it as a failure when there isn't improvement, someone cannot call themselves and artist if they do not proceed, they are failed if they do not produce in a way that is more consumable or deemed more respectable.

[butchladymaria]

I agree with your list ! People being asshole about lesbian & other headcanons gtfo! That list could work for many other things too.

But to be sure everyone don’t mix thing up i just want to point out that not liking/ not being fan of an headcanon don’t equal  being an ass about it. It’s the mean actions or words afterwards that are bad. 

hey! i’m glad you found it generalizable. there’s a lot of things on there that get used against pretty much any “diverse” perspectives both inside and out of fan spaces. as for your second point, i don’t disagree with you. there are some queer headcanons that i don’t personally hold, but i’m going to be cheering them on rather than contributing to the negativity we face on a regular basis. you can personally hold a different headcanon without being a jerk.

this is not @ you anon, but there are a lot of people who believe that underrepresented groups seeing themselves in characters — whether through the lens of race, gender, sexuality, disability, etc — is “politicizing” fandom and ruining it somehow, as though a white/cishet/male/abled perspective is the default in art and anything else is “tainting” the “pure” fanspace. some of them might believe those voices can exist — so long as they keep their heads down and don’t take up too much space. the fact of the matter is that’s a bigoted thing to believe. our existence has been politicized against our will. for the marginalized, fan spaces are just another front we have to push to participate in. if someone finds themself constantly disliking one specific type of queer/nonwhite/disabled/etc. headcanon and feels the need to say over and over how much they don’t like it, they ought to seriously interrogate why that is.

[arolesbianism]

So. Sit with me everyone. We agree that we need to stop worshipping a person or media on the sole grounds of being gay right. Can we finally agree that it's not homophobic to criticize gay ppl with large platforms. Can we finally actually learn to think critically abt how these ppl talk abt ppl outside of their immediate identities and to recognize that just because they say they aren't bigoted doesn't mean they aren't. Please.

[somedaytakethetime]

I've had all these snippets of images in my head and I don't know what to do with them.. so I figured I could turn it into some type of writing. There's no discerning details that give any certain person away, so if you read it, in can be about just about anyone you fancy and feel would fit this. Of course, you know who I am picturing but.. that's details 😶 Warning: NO KIDS! DON'T MAKE ME PUT YOU BABIES ON THE NAUGHTY STEP! This isn't even like.. proper dirty or anything, but there's heavy implications and small touches of intimacy and elicit activities, some words that may be heavier than others if you know what I mean.., and I don't want the children to think dirty thoughts 😤 Word count: 5 283 words to be exact, I ramble..

Your hand rises and falls slowly with the pattern of his breathing. It lays on his naked chest, you lay on his naked body, his arms wrapped around you and rubbing your back softly. You watch the shadows on the rug, the same one you're both laying on, cast by the sun as it slowly sets in the window behind your heads. As you try to catch your breath and feel him do the same, you're still wondering how you ended up here.

His eyes are beautiful. That's the first thing you notice as he smiles politely at you and cordially shakes your hand when you're introduced. He repeats the name your superior just said to you, his voices is lower and more sensual than you expected and a small shiver runs through you, you pray you won't stutter and repeat your name back at him. He pulls back and you feel his hand still grasping yours, even as you're introduced to the rest of the bunch. Even as you try to stand as straight as possible beside your new employer, you still feel his hand in yours, his eyes on you, as they'd been just a few minutes ago. You never expected to be here, hired to work at this club, you didn't expect you'd be so close to them either, you thought you would have some small position and do meaningless little tasks. You're nervous, your heart skips beats at times, you're afraid to mess this up, to end up looking foolish in front of so many people, and... you're afraid of the way you can still feel his hand on yours.. his eyes burning into you from across the way.

You should probably get up and leave. Or at least get up and lay on the couch, the rug is soft and warm but it's still a little.. awkward to be laying naked, pressed to him, on his rug like this. His eyes are closed and you wonder if he fell asleep, you try to move away and you find out that he hasn't. His arms tighten around you immediately and he opens his eyes slowly, his voice sounds.. god, his voice, the things he says.. he's so attractive but the way he sounds and speaks, you feel shivers thinking about the things he's said to you before.. even tonight.. you refocus on his voice as he says, soft and low, in that effortless sensual tone that's natural to him, "Where do you think you're going?", a smirk lifts the corners of his lips softly and you hide your face against his chest, suddenly warm all over again and needing.. so much all at once.. you muffle into his skin "I thought I'd get on the couch.." and he nods "Not comfortable here? I should have probably taken you to bed.. I do have one, and it's incredibly comfortable.." he lowers his voice and a shiver runs down your spine again, he's trying to get a rise out of you and he doesn't need to. Everything about him turns you on, you've never been so attracted to anyone before. You part your lips to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. He lifts himself up, takes you with him, somehow through some testosterone-induced display of strength he gets you both up from the floor, carrying you in his arms, without even wobbling once. He looks down at you and his smirk looks devious now, "Shall I show you my bed then?"

Working here isn't as difficult as you'd expected it would be. But it's also not as easy as you'd expected either. You have good days, and bad days. The problem is that the bad days are more frequent. Through no fault of your own, that's just the way things are here. Too many egos, too much testosterone, too many strong personalities. It all leads to arguments, to misunderstandings, to being yelled at and lashed out towards. You're often apologised to, after they've calmed down, asked for forgiveness and told that you've done nothing wrong, they're just all under a lot of pressure and stress. And.. you'd let that slip.. if it wasn't happening constantly, that is. Because none of them know how to control their shitty attitudes and it grates on your nerves. You keep your head down, stay silent, this is a well paying job and you don't want to lose it. Especially not over these assholes and their arrogance. Your superior is nice, that's all that matters because he's the one that you need to spend the most time with, the rest of them can go to hell. The rest of them… except… him. He's kind to you. Incredibly kind even. Has gotten into arguments with others over you. Over the way he watched them talk to you, over the things they've said to you. He doesn't have to get into trouble because of you, you've told him every time, and he just smirks, defiant, like he was made to fight and contradict, "And what? Pass up the opportunity to remind them of their place?" and you start to realise that this man has far more layers than you know of. He's.. hard to figure out. He's quiet, rarely ever speaks unless spoken to, he's also clearly a loner. He'll interact with his teammates when needed, praise them and laugh with them when he's in the thick of training, but outside of that he retreats back into himself. Stands off to the side. Observing everyone. Silently judging them. Silently judging you too..

His bed is indeed comfortable, just as he said it was. The sheets are soft, the pillows smell like him. You love the way he smells, it's so.. rough? woodsy?.. it's manly. You're don't care for logistics that small, but the only way to describe his scent, and even the underlying feeling he gives off, is that. Manly. He has tenderness too, that he's displaying right now as he softly traces your naked body like you're porcelain, placing gentle kisses everywhere, treating you like something fragile and beautiful to be treasured, driving you to the brink of madness with his slow motions. But there's a biting edge to him. You always know that this man, who appears so calm and controlled, will lose his mind in roughly .5 seconds and fight someone if his anger gets the best of him. And you'd be lying if you said that you don't find it attractive. How controlled he is. A stronger personality simmering under the surface of all that control and calmness. Which is too calm at times.. like right now. He's kissed a path up and down your thighs five times and you're about to pull all that glorious hair out of his head if he doesn't do something more than tease you.. "Will you be there all night? Didn't you promise to show me something? Something along the lines of what talents that tongue has that go beyond defying people?". his hands look massive as they snake around your thighs, he pulls you down closer to him suddenly and a squeak flies out of you, the devious smirk, ever so present on those perfect lips whenever he's around you, is back "I like it when you're sassy, baby.. it makes it even better when you start moaning incoherently for me."

A sob slips out of your lips and you try harder to keep it quiet. This is the final drop. You're tired of being yelled at by assholes, sure, but this is worse. You weren't hired to be harassed, if these bastards don't know how to behave that's their problem. You feel anger, a strong and heavy feeling in your chest pooling like black liquid, and you ball up your firsts. You slam them against the wall behind you and you want to scream. You want to go back and slap him, but you're not allowed, even if he was disgusting. The images keep replaying in your head, you're trying to do your job and gather their information to update their data, keeping quiet, head down as usual, asking personal questions in the most formal and detached manner that you can and that oaf.. the big one. You never liked that one from the time you were introduced. He smiled at you like such a sleaze.. you've been revolted by his presence ever since and you avoid him like the plague that he is. But.. you had to do your job. You had to ask questions because of these stupid sheets. Personal, medical, technical, all for the database of their information to be updated.. and he had to try and be funny… he had to try and flirt again, no matter how hard you ignore him he does it again. Asking you personal questions that you ignored, commented on your body and how it looked in the loose, long dress you're wearing.. and… he had to start commenting on his body. On his size to be exact. And his capacities as a man. When he cornered you against the table, put that sleazy, disgusting paw on your waist and said so casually "I could show you.. I bet you'd sound really hot screaming my name while I fuck you.." you just lost your composure. You pushed him roughly, you called him disgusting, you told him firmly "I would rather die without sex again than to have sex with you. You're revolting." and you walked out, found the first bathroom you could, and here you are. On the floor. Trying not to disturb anyone as you sob against the corner. You're not sad, you're angry. Angry that you can't retaliate more. Angry that if you were to tell anyone they would just tell you that the guys here are "being playful, you're a pretty girl, pay them no mind. They'll tire of it, I promise." as they've told you before. You're boiling with anger. You're tired of being disrespected. You make a snarled sound as you get up and walk to the sinks. Wash your tears and try to gather your composure. You look like you've been crying, there's nothing to be done about it. You take a deep breath and turn around. He's standing there. Leaning against the wall, right by the door. You didn't hear him come in. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks pissed. "I heard some things that I didn't want to believe.." he's speaking through gritted teeth, you look at him as he pushes away from the wall, walks towards you, looms, "Did he tell you all that shit?" you wonder if you could lie, say that you were just being sensitive and he didn't mean any of that crap, you know what will happen if you confess what just happened to you. You know he will fight the oaf. You can see the fire in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, daring you to lie to him and pretend he can't see the truth. You just exhale and nod slowly, can't look him in the eyes as his anger bubbles over and the loud smack of his fist slams against the countertop. "That motherfucker! Did he hurt you?? He said you were like marshmallow in his hands, did.he.hurt.you?" and your voice sounds angry "No, he didn't! But he had no right to touch me! I don't want random men caging me against desks and groping my waist like I'm just a piece of meat! Tell that bastard that I wasn't anything other than disgusted by him!" and… he was made to fight and defy people. There's the confirmation. The smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. The fire raging in his eyes. The way he says, so casually, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm going to do more than tell him, don't worry." as he turns his back on you and walks out..

He is unfairly good at that. Unfairly good at everything he does really. He can control his body with just as clinical precision as he can control his temper, and it's unfair. You can feel his smirk against the most sensitive part of you, can feel the delight he takes in how easily and quickly you fall apart for him. Because of him. He's relentless, renders you speechless, a mess of whines and moans and pleas, a mess of neediness and aching and pent up frustration needing to be released. He does it on purpose. Slows down and teases you every time you feel your spine start to tingle and sparks appear in your closed eyes. You curse out his name, "Please! What do I need to do for you to stop that and just let me come, god, will you please do something more!?" say frustrated and he has the audacity to laugh. Right against you. Shivers run down your spine and you moan, it rings inside you and it makes you feverish and needy all over again. Your voice gets softer, you're suddenly pliant in his hands again, mewling and begging. He takes pity on you, holds you tighter, presses you down into the mattress and stops teasing you. Watches you the whole time, eyes fixated on your body and how you arch up for him. Because of him. He loves watching you fall apart like this. He's addicted to how you react to him. He's addicted to you. It's been a long time coming, he's still unsure how he managed to get you here tonight, but he's never been more thankful to whatever Gods are out there, watching over him, and helping him along this path. He doesn't falter until you're pushing at his head, lifts up and smirks at you as you open your eyes slowly, still barely able to focus on him, and he places a kiss right where he just made a mess of and laughs at your curses and shivers. He gets up from his place, crawls over your body, cages you against his bed, "So… how was that?". He feels giddy right now, feels like a teenager again, there's something about making a beautiful girl giving into him like that.. but beyond that.. there's something about having you here right now. In his house. On his bed. Under him. Pliant and willing, eager even, to be with him. He's wanted it for a long time, even if you likely have no idea of it, but that's beside the point now. There's other matters to attend to while you're so willing under him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you slowly, then whispers in your ear "How do you feel about testing out the quality of my mattress?", and he knows it's incredibly cheesy but he's feeling light hearted and happy tonight, and you react by whining and melting further so.. he figures you don't mind it either.

He would say you've been building a budding friendship. Even if he's pretty sure you have no idea of it. Because he's a little.. guarded, if you will. He doesn't trust easily, he doesn't befriend people easily either. He likes his space, his peace, his own ways. He prefers to stand back, watch others, judge and gauge what they're all about. Studies people and tries to gather information before he can make a decision on them, he tries to be impartial, tries to give everyone a fair chance but.. he's also himself. Reserved and slightly stubborn in his ways. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it, he's never had trouble with his confidence or his own self assuredness. He doesn't feel the need to justify himself to anyone or be a person pleaser. He also doesn't feel the need to make friends at work, not in a deep sense. He's polite to everyone, he'll be playful when there's room for that, and he'll go along with some things from time to time. But he's not here to be best friends with anyone, he's here to work. And he does his job well. So well apparently, that it's created some friction with some others around. So, try as he might to be professional, he doesn't like some of these guys because they don't like him and don't bother hiding it either. But, that said, he does like you. You're quiet too, just as guarded as he is, and you always keep your head down too. He could see from the very beginning that you're here to do your job and get on with it, and he respects that. He doesn't like stereotypes but he's aware that some girls try to get jobs at places like this for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. He doesn't judge that, everyone is after whatever life they want in the end, but he doesn't particularly care for those girls either. Being loved for the potential of what he could give to others in terms of lifestyle isn't something he wants, he just wants to be loved for himself. It's hard to get people to see him, who he is, without all the glitter and the flashes of the lifestyle. Without the fame aspect and the money. He's tried many times before, had loose strings here and there, and they all fell flat. He didn't feel a connection like he needed to, they weren't bad girls, they were funny and kind, but they had expectations from him. They created an image of him in their heads and that's what they were in love with. Not him. Not the simple man that has simple hobbies. The man that would rather cook dinner himself, instead of go out to some fancy restaurant that he'd have to put a suit on for. He's never been able to share himself, his true self, with anyone before without them thinking he was joking. Girls don't often believe how much of a nerd he is, how boring he can actually be, how unexciting he wants his life to be. Because he looks a certain way. And he has a certain reputation too. All of them do, so he understands it's hard to accept that, in the end, he's just a regular man. But he is. And you believe him. He's unsure how and why he felt such a pull to you when he first shook your hand. There was something. Probably in the softness of your eyes, the clear nervousness that clouded your whole being, the way you tried to stand and look so tall and professional but he could see your hands shaking the whole time, could see your cheeks flush pink with shyness whenever someone talked to you. He grew attached to you the more you spend time together. He sought you out, struck up conversations, tried to get to know you. To get you to be comfortable with him. And little by little you were. You built a friendship, that he thinks you're unaware of, and he cherished that. Cherishes the fact that you only laugh with him, only tease him, only feel comfortable around him. He knows that last bit isn't very healthy but.. he feels vindicated, he's selfish and he doesn't care. He likes you, really likes you, and he likes that you like him back. He also.. feels possessive of you.. which is why… he always gets into so much trouble for you..

He's relentless. And you're going to faint. It's just too much. Your whole body is on fire, your senses are all overloaded, you can't even see straight and your breathing is barely enough to fill your lungs with oxygen. But he's relentless, and you are too because even as your head feels fainter and fainter, you want more and more. You need more and more. You need it all. You need him. He feels amazing, he's sturdy and warm over you, he knows just what to do to make you fall apart at the seams, knows exactly how to move to make your whole body curl around him, knows just what to say to have you biting at his shoulder and clawing your nails down his back. He's amazing, he's both gentle and rough, pushes you back and reels you in, keeps you on edge for what feels like hours and drives you insane. When he allows you to fall, it feels so strong, it's so potent, that you all but faint. Barely hanging on to your senses, clinging to him, possibly crying from how good it all feels, you aren't really sure. Your body is a mess of emotions and he kisses you so slowly and tenderly as he falls with you too. Presses his forehead to yours as you both pull back with a need to breathe, keeps you so close and tight to him, melts against you too and wants to never let you go. You're shaking as you come down, you wouldn't be able to move right now from how limp he's rendered you, but also from how constantly you shake. Luckily you don't have to. He pulls away from you slightly, carefully rolls you both sideways and holds you tightly in his arms. One hand cradling your head and petting your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He presses tender kisses to your forehead, whispers to you tender words of reassurance that you're okay and he's right there, holding you and keeping you grounded to this earth so you won't float away. You start to calm down, realise that you did cry because you have tears drying on your cheeks and you're almost scared of the power this man has over you. He makes you feel in a way you've never felt before. He pulls at your heart in such a strong way.. you're scared of that feeling. Because you don't know how he feels about you. He's so hard to read, even as he gently tells you that he's not going to leave and that he's right there for you, that he'll take care of you. It's hard to know if he means now, or… you melt against his chest, sigh heavily, remember what happened earlier today. He's suspended for a few days now. After that show, of course he would be, but you didn't mean for it to happen. You've apologised, chastised him, but it didn't make a difference because all he did was laugh.

You're back with your papers at the medical office right where you left them. They let you use this place today for all the crap that you needed to deal with, but someone clearly filled in for you while you were gone. The papers now have a handwriting that you can barely read. 'Does no one teach these men to write properly!?', you think exasperated. It's not the first time that one of your coworkers hands you notes that are barely legible. You exhale angrily, trying to push aside all that's happened today and just focus on getting to the end of your workday. You're trying to decipher what a certain hieroglyph says when you hear a commotion outside. There's a giant windowed door beside you, that leads to the training grounds, and you approach it. A mass of bodies piled in a circle is on the field, there's shouting. Something is happening. You don't think twice, you open the door and rush out. As you get closer you realise what's happening. He's hitting the oaf. They're tangled on the ground, he's overpowered that oaf, and he's punching him. Everyone else all around them is trying to get them to stop, a few have entangled themselves too and you're not sure why. Maybe men just love any excuse to fight each other and they'll break into silly antics as soon as someone else does. One of the older coaches shouts, the head coach is running towards all of you, some of the older players are trying to keep everyone in check and trying to dodge punches too. 'This is a mess..' you think to yourself. You regret telling him, you should have lied. But, god, you can't pretend that you're not pleased seeing him punch that disgusting oaf.. seeing him insult him and argue with him.. trying to defend you and make him pay for how he acted towards you earlier.. you feel so.. vindicated. Violence isn't the answer, you know it, but sometimes? It's pleasing to see someone do what you would like to do. You would be fired if you retaliated his actions from earlier, but they won't be fired. They're the team.. the club needs the team. They're men, they're always excused for their actions with no more than a slap on the wrist. And a slap on the wrist they get. When the head coach has them all under control he loses his temper and yells at everyone. Scolds them like little boys and a few of them have the decency to look ashamed. When it's all said and done, your saviour and the oaf are suspended for a few days, one for fighting and the other for his lack of professional conduct towards female staff. Rich that it took a fight to break out with the team for them to take the disrespect seriously but.. you'll take it. Some of the others are suspended for a day and the rest are severely scolded just because they were in the vicinity. The head coach turns to you suddenly, "As for you. I would like to apologise for the treatment you've been receiving. I'll speak to the management and we'll see what should be done. But next time? Tell me what happened, not one of my players." and the tone of his voice makes you whisper 'asshole' as he walks away after dismissing everyone. He approaches you, his knuckles scrapped and bloody, his lip is bloody too and he seems to have a bruise blooming under his right eye. You want to kiss him suddenly. He smirks at you, like the devil himself, and says "You're lucky you're this cute, otherwise he would have suspended you too." and winks as he walks past you. You scoff at the suggestion and stomp after him. Until you realise what he said. He thinks you're cute. He's teasing you. Again. You instead walk back to your borrowed office and gather your things, you were dismissed too, and it is the end of the week anyway so.. you cross paths with him as you're both walking out. You're looking at your watch to check the time, maybe there's a bus you can catch now. Or you could walk back, it's not so far off and you did it this morning. But as a hand lands on the small of your back, and a low voice says behind you, "Do you need a ride home?" suddenly.. your plans for the night have already changed..

He's looking at you seriously when your eyes focus on him again. "Is everything okay?" and you nod confused, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?". He caresses your cheek softly and looks puzzle "I feel like I lost you for a moment there, your gaze was far away.." you settle against him, trace the bruises and cuts on his knuckles, "I was just thinking about what you did today. You got into trouble because of me, and you didn't have to." he pulls you tighter, "Someone had to. Besides.." he lifts your chin up and kisses you again, a deep kiss that takes your breath away and makes your heart pound against your ribs, "I don't like the way he talks to you. Or looks at you. Actually I don't like him in general, but I especially don't like him around you.". He looks like a contrived little boy and you have the urge to laugh and kiss him, you tease him softly, "Jealous? Don't tell me you feel a little territorial already.." and.. he feels his heart do something. Is it skipping beats? Is it sinking? Whatever it's doing, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the casual feeling he's getting. He's not making himself clear. Of course he isn't. He brought you to his house instead of yours, allowed you to care for his wounds which led to him finally losing his control and kissing you. That kiss led to you losing your clothes and ending up on his rug panting for air. So far, he has done nothing that says 'I want you'. All he's done is say 'I'm horny'. And he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that you might just want casual sex from him, he'd give it to you, oh, he so would. He's a fool for you, he'll do anything you ask, but.. he wants you. All of you. He wants more than just occasional sex. There's a need to make you his in his chest, something he's been trying to control, but he can't hold it back anymore.. he says, serious, "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am. I'm territorial over you. Because I don't like to share. Never did. I was an incredibly selfish boy and I'm not ashamed to say I'm an incredibly selfish man too. I see things I want and they're mine on sight, so I don't take kindly to others forcefully trying to share them." and… your breath gets caught in your throat. Feminism has exited the chat, all of your foremothers are watching over your shoulder with curious eyes right now. You've always been self assured, strong in your convictions, you've never allowed a man to think he owns you or even had the chance to think such thoughts. But.. you're a fool for this man. You would bark if he asked you to, you don't care. He brings something out in you that turns feral. You want him so badly that you'd crawl if he asked. You whisper his name, unsure of what to say, you don't know if he means.. "I like you. In fact, I more than like you. I want you in my life. I've wanted it for a while now and it drove me crazy to think of that fucker touching you. I've been trying to find a way, to get an excuse, to bring you to me. I don't know how to do this the right way, there is no right way, I'm confused because.. I have never felt like this. You throw me off balance, I don't know how to act around you. I've been flirting with you for months now and you're oblivious to me. So, at first I assumed that you didn't want me, and I respected that. Kept my actions the same because I didn't want you to see that I was hurt but.. after what just happened today.. I think you want me. Or maybe you just think I'm really good in bed, I guess that's an option too and I'll respect if you don't want me. But I want you. A lot. What I'm trying to say here is: I think I'm falling for you and I would like you to give us the chance to see where this goes. And we can do this really simply: will you stay the night?" you look into his eyes, his eyes are beautiful, more so after he's just confessed his feelings. You feel the same and you suddenly see flashes of where your lives could go if you accept his offer. You see them reflected in his beautiful eyes. A soft smile appears on your lips as you say "Of course I will."