#owner's running more than a hotel chain I think...
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lemonerix · 6 months ago
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maplewood's red uniforms
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mv1simp · 24 days ago
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That Boy Is Mine ♥️
Max Verstappen x Siren!Reader
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that boy is mine, I can’t wait to try him, watch me take me time, boy is divine (that boy is mine)
As a young, beautiful and rich CEO living in Monaco, you have any man you want in the palm of your hand. But a certain handsome Dutchman has caught your eye…there’s just a small problem of his current girlfriend that’s in your way! You’ll just have to prove to Max how much better you could treat him.
Content Includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, seductress! girlboss! Reader, naive!max, infidelity but Max’s unnamed gf is annoying anyway, size kink, Halloween costume sex lol, seriously explicit cheating don’t read if not ur thing!!!, 4.7k WC
The thing was, you wouldn’t normally ever go to such lengths for a boy. Why would you? You were a pretty girl in her 20’s living in Monaco, running your own successful public relations management firm. That’s how you’d met Max, through a PR crisis of Redbull that Christian Horner had personally called you to get sorted. Some drama with a defamation lawsuit against their poster boy, Max Verstappen, who you hadn’t paid a second of attention to despite living in Monaco. You were much more likely to get your nails done and enjoy a glass of wine than be following a race weekend.
But after you’d easily sorted the mess out, you’d been suprised to find Max himself patiently waiting in your luxurious office, wanting to thank you with a gift of tasteful French wine. It’s rare for one of your clients to take accountability for their actions instead of letting their managers sort it out for them, after all. You don’t miss the way Max’s pretty blue eyes widened as he took in your appearance, with a tight black dress with lacy sleeves that did wonders to push your tits up temptingly. He’d been expecting some old man, not a beautiful girl his age. He cleared his throat nervously, suddenly finding it hard to maintain contact with your sultry eyes as he stuttered his thank you. Cute, you think with a tilt of your head, enjoying his deep Dutch accent. He’s very different to the arrogant, pompous personality you’d expected from a champion F1 driver. And he was insanely gorgeous too, all 6 foot of thick thighs and broad shoulders. You’ve met many attractive men in Monaco and flirted your way around them, but Max catches your eye with his baby blue eyes and soft blonde locks. So you can’t help gently brushing your manicured hand against his bulging bicep, looking up at him with fluttering lashes to say it’s so sweet of him to go to all the trouble to come downtown, really, you’re happy to help him anytime!
He walks out of your office with your personal phone number for any media emergencies, of course. As well as a blushing face and a semi erection he guiltily tugs at his pants to hide, after looking down to see your plump, soft cleavage when your smaller body pressed up against his.
A quick google stalk of your client leaves you feeling very annoyed when you discover he’s not single like you’d originally hoped. You roll your eyes as you look at the B list model’s Insta he’s dating, spammed full of photos of her with Max’s wins for clout or artificial brand collabs. So tacky and undeserving of someone like Max, you muse later that evening over an espresso martini. You’re too deep in your own thoughts to pay attention to your date with a Monaco hotel chain owner that evening.
When you find a massive bouquet of roses on your desk the next day, you assume your date was being persistent despite your disinterest last night. But when you find VIP tickets to Max’s garage next race and first class flights nestled amongst the red flowers, you’re even more intrigued. You attended, out of curiosity more than anything. You’re not planning on getting involved with an already taken man - far too much drama for the CEO of a media relations company.
But you can’t deny Max knows how to give a girl princess treatment, something which you’d gotten used to providing for yourself since no man had been able too. From the relaxing, personalised flight experience, to the sleek expensive Mercedes he’d had sent to pick you up at the airport, the 5 star suite in a hotel, and to the exciting VIP lounge at his garage filled with interesting people you’d easily networked with. And when you see Max confidently dominate through the track to P1, sounding so sexy over the radio without a hint of shyness, pulling off his helmet afterwards to show off his gorgeous, messy hair as he adorably smiles at you to ask how you’d enjoyed the day, you realized this wasn’t just any man. No, Max was the one, the perfect man to provide you with whatever you asked for and take care of you when you needed him.
Not that you needed him to. After all, you were well known as one of the most successful businesswomen in your country - and you didn’t get that title without a pair of fangs to match. You’d be a true power couple - much better suited than his current subpar girlfriend, who dragged him down in every way.
You’d made up your mind. That boy was destined to be yours, no matter what.
So you began developing your relationship with Max and become frequently seen on the paddock, all under the guise of improving his media image, of course. The handsome blonde had no issues spending time with you, finding you to share his sarcastic sense of humour and in awe of your very keen analytical sense that you easily applied to the racing world as well. He liked how you were unfazed with the media circus that surrounded him, too, not blinking twice when trashy gossip magazines posted suggestive captions about you and Max. And you always seemed to know just how to carefully phrase your words assertively when asked insensitive questions by grid reporters, who were curious about Max’s new PR advisor. It was very different to what he was used to with his girlfriend, who frequently fed into gossip column content with Insta posts and livestreams - which constantly annoyed Max.
Soon you’re a regular amongst his group of friends. You meet his girlfriend, finally, at a dinner one night. She’s taken her hold on Max for granted, barely interested in you as she snaps selfies with the more famous people at the table. You can’t resist the foxy smile on your glossed lips - it’s almost too easy, given how unaware she seems of how discontent Max is with the relationship. You sit next to him all night, laughing and sipping your favourite wine that he now knows by heart and orders for you, the conversation genuine and a bit too flirty for “just friends”. And when your lace minidress rides up, and your soft thighs and crossed ankles brush against his muscular legs, he doesn’t move away, letting you press against him for warmth when he rests his large palm around your thigh. Your panties are soaked through by the time you get home from how often you had to clench your legs, imaging his massive hands drifting just a bit higher…
It’s easy to blame the touchiness on the alcohol the next morning and strictly maintain your professional distance as you hand him paperwork to sign in your office. You smirk when you catch his eyes in a passing mirror, glued to your ass through another tight lace dress as you walk away in Louboutin stilettos. Max was very much an ass man - that is, when he wasn’t being a tits man. You certainly had no qualms showing off your thick curves to him, knowing you had a lot more to offer than his girlfriend. It was impossible to miss the way his blue eyes would drift towards your tempting body whenever he thought no one was looking.
So next weekend, you invite him onto your boat for a day trip. It’s much smaller than his personal multi level yacht, but perfect for what you had planned. It’s a nice touch to have all your coupled up friends with you, who disappear off to various rooms in the boat as the sun gets hotter and they get drunker. You hand Max another strong G&T you’ve mixed yourself, now just alone on the top deck with him. He takes it easily, telling you you’d make a deadly bartender. You hmm, resting a knee on the couch he sits on. It’s a manoeuvre that brings your bouncing tits, barely covered in a white skimpy bikini, right into his eyeline. Max takes one look at your nipples pebbling through the fabric, gulps cutely, and promptly drains the glass in his hand.
You try to contain the smile on your glossed lips as he tries and fails to look away from your tits in his face, stammering out responses to idle chit chat you’re making. It’s adorable how his confident, dominating personality switches so fast off the track with you. At one point you say you’re sorry that his girlfriend couldn’t make it (you aren’t - you’d planned the getaway on a day you knew she had a modelling gig booked, of course, since you’re the one who’d pulled strings to set up the photoshoot). Relaxed with all the G&Ts, Max mentions that actually, his girlfriend had been very persistent in trying to stop him coming today.
Oh? You say with faux innocence, tilting your head and widening your doe eyes with worry. Why? She doesn’t like me? Max rushes to soothe your worries, saying no, no, it was more that - well, I think she’s a bit jealous…you’re very beautiful, after all. I think I might just need to spend more time with her from now on. You laugh at his cute blush, telling him Of course, but she had nothing to worry about, after all she was the model and not you!
You know how to play the game, knew that despite his model girlfriend at his side, you had him practically drooling in your tiny white bikini, contrasting beautifully against your tan skin. But he had to be the one to cross the line first, and think it was all his idea. Especially if his bitchy girlfriend was starting to catch onto your plans and demanding Max stay with her. So you walk away, making sure to sway your hips so he can enjoy the view of your ass as you lay on your tummy to sweetly ask your cute lifeguard if he’d mind putting sunscreen on your back?
Your lifeguard jumps at the chance, having already been checking you out all day. He’s taking the bottle and raking his eyes over your form hungrily - but Max interrupts even sooner than you’d predicted. His love language being physical touch works in your favour. You hide your pleased smile as a deep Dutch voice heatedly says that he can do it, and you turn to see Max glaring at the lifeguard with all the intensity of a lion. Are you sure you don’t mind, Max? You say sweetly, blinking your thick lashes up at him from your compromising position, your head right at the level of his hips. You hope he’s thinking the same naughty thoughts as you when his blue gaze darkens. That it would be so easy to slide his thick fingers past your pouting lips and hold them open as he messily fucks your all too willing mouth. You bite your bottom lip at the filthy idea.
You see him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing in that huge muscled neck of his. No, it’s okay! That lifeguard…well, I don’t want him putting his hands on you. God, you couldn’t wait to lick hickeys all up and down his broad shoulders before wrapping your thighs around them as he ate you out. But you’re getting ahead of yourself, coming back to the present as you lie down to let Max touch up your sunscreen. His large palms are tentative at first, trying to remain respectful within the boundaries of friendship. But when you’re softly sighing, moaning that it feels so good, Maxie, work has made my back way to tense, could you use one of those massage techniques your physio taught you? it’s impossible for him to not go a little further. Your tiny bikini easily lets him explore your body, his strong hands gripping your plush hips and giving him a naughty mental picture of what you’d look like if he took you from the back. You’re glad your sunglasses are extra dark so you can peek at his trunks, enjoying the rapidly hardening large bulge there, responding to all the cute little moans and gasps you’re letting out as you tremble under his touch.
You decide to tease him a bit more, reaching behind your neck to untie your string bikini, shyly saying you didn’t want to get tan lines…he didn’t mind, right? You can totally go ask the lifeguard to help!
Max’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your bare back as he dazedly shakes his head, huskily saying he was happy to help, you’re his friend after all. All the blood rushed straight from his brain to his cock to make his decision as he feels the lush swell of your tits from the side when they generously slip out. You celebrate your victory internally when he shyly asks if he could take off your bikini bottoms so you didn’t get tan lines there, too?
You hesitate, coquettishly blinking and asking him if his girlfriend would be mad? Max pauses with your reminder, his large hands spread over your juicy asscheeks as he resists the urge to squeeze them. Your plan falls right into place as you cheekily suggest that surely it would be okay if he closed his eyes, just for a second, you really didn’t want tan lines there after all-
That was all Max needed to hear before he eagerly nodded, looking the picture of an overexcited puppy. This time you can’t resist your smirk as your slowly untie your bottoms, jiggling your ass as you slide them down so he catches a glimpse of the tempting flesh before he remembers to close his eyes. His large, calloused palms run down your plump ass, unable to resist squeezing roughly and making you moan sexily. You part your legs invitingly, and when those thick fingers of his brush against your pussy you know he can feel how wet you are for him. So dripping wet, that one of his fingers easily slides against your warm pussy lips. Max, you gasp breathily, your entrance instinctively clenching around the tip of his thick finger. What are you- Oh! Desire rushes straight to his groin as he gets a feel of how tight your sweet cunny would feel squeezing down on something else thick of his and he can’t help but sink his finger all the way in. It takes him longer than it should to come to his senses and move his hand away, stammering out apologies that he hadn’t meant to touch you there, his hand just slipped, could you forgive him?
To his relief, you giggle at his flushed face, turning around to meet his embarrassed gaze. Don’t worry about it, accidents happen! you say playfully, as if you hadn’t planned this, tying your bikini back up slowly. As he watches you strut away confidently in your little heeled sandals, he can’t resist tasting the wetness you’d left all over his fingers. He almost cums in his trunks from how sweet you taste, and hastily returns to his room. You smirk when you press an ear to your bedroom wall, hearing the shower running in Max’s bathroom right next door. Sadly for you, you can’t hear anything over the sound of the shower, leaving you pouting and pussy aching from the memory of Max’s hands on you.
But just on the other side, a certain blonde Dutchman is giving into his growing taboo desires. It’s not the first time he’s jerked off to you - no, with all the frequent teasing glimpses of your plush cleavage or your ass in tight dresses, he’s regularly mentally drooling over you. He knows it’s wrong, and in the beginning he did feel guilty…but now only the thought of your sexy little body that can get him hard like this. Tipping his head back and letting the cool water flow down his abs, Max slowly jerks off his impressive erection as he fantasies about you shaking and cutely moaning underneath him. Your lush tits spilling out from the sides, your wide hips that would be the perfect thing for him to hold tightly as he fucked you in doggystyle, his favourite. And now he knew what your soft tanned skin felt like, how sweet and wet your cunny was for him….well, it’s enough to make him addicted. He’s cumming within seconds, biting his lips and imagining how good it would feel to bury his aching cock inside your cunny instead of his finger next time.
He still blushes cutely when he sees you next, at a friend’s party, but you’re as nonchalant as ever, greeting him with a sweet kiss on his cheek. He watches you laugh at something one of his guy friends are saying and can’t stop the jealousy swirling in his chest, even when his girlfriend tugs on his arm to get him his attention all night.
Of course, you’re playing the long game. It didn’t matter how many men you flirted with - there was only one who you truly wanted. So for one of the exclusive Halloween parties in Monaco, you discreetly organise one of the big fashion houses you represent to send Max’s girlfriend a haute couture costume. She accepts it, spamming her Insta story with pics of it, just like you’d expected. You’re certain she would show up to the event with a reluctant Max in tow.
And on that night of the Halloween party, you smile as you spot a bored looking Max across the living room of the mansion the party is hosted at. His gorgeous blue eyes widen as he spots you…dressed in the same costume as his girlfriend. But you’d had some customised alterations made, looking ethereal in your white angel costume, tits pushed up with a corset and soft tummy and hips on display in your low waisted miniskirt. Max is far from the only guy who stared at you hungrily as you entered - including your date, some Russian model you’d met at a PR event, dressed just like Max in a tight fitting shirt and a Ghostface mask that hid his identity when on.
Someone might just call your choice of couple’s costume a random coincidence, but you didn’t make mistakes like that. Your date had two jobs tonight - one which he’d already done successfully, as you see Max’s icy blue gaze glaring at the hand around your waist. You whisper in your date’s ear, parting ways for now, because he had another mission to go complete that you’d already asked him to do for you as a favour. Namely, keeping Max’s goldigging girlfriend occupied tonight. And since your date happened to inherit his father’s multimillion manufacturing business, you were sure Max’s girlfriend would be throughly enraptured by him.
You laugh and mingle with friends throughout the night, catching Max’s intense gaze on you a few times but pretending to ignore it. He’s finally had enough of seeing you flirt with other guys when you end up on the dancefloor. You shiver as you feel his strong, muscled body behind you, shielding you from any guy who tries to get close to you. That’s fine with you, because the only one you wanted to grind back against was Max after all. So you toss your hair, getting lost in the music and tipsily giggling, enjoying the low rumble in Max’s chest as your fat ass teases his hardening bulge. His large palms settle possessively over your hips, leaning down to smell your sweet vanilla perfume. He lets you drag him into a quiet, dark corner, giggling and pressing your soft body against his as you whisper he looked so hot tonight, his biceps looked amazing, had he been working out more?
And then your doe eyes, prettily outlined in glittery eyeshadow and eyeliner, look up from his muscular chest to meet his piercing blue eyes as he pulls his mask off. You gasp, widening your eyes in supposed shock as you blush and stammer that you’re so sorry Max, you’d thought he was your date, he’s dressed the same after all…
He’s disappointed, of course, missing the touch of your manicured fingers running up and down his abs. He ends up agreeing to help you find your date again after you look at him pleadingly, although the idea of letting another guy put his hands on you makes him want to unleash Mad Max. But when you two finally find your date, behind a closed bedroom door upstairs, you see he’s been kept very good company by none other than Max’s girlfriend.
Your hands fly to your mouth in pretend shock at the scene of your date with his balls deep inside the gold digging girlfriend, her artificial sounding moans radiating around the room. Your date had exceeded your expectations and kept her very well occupied, it seemed. Max is disgusted with the sight, snarling in anger and moving to block your view of your date cheating on you. He’s so sweet, really, being so protective of you when you’d executed the whole plan to perfection. You hear his girlfriend exclaim in shock, trying to plead that it wasn’t what it looked like…but you’d given the Dutchman the final excuse to call it off. Don’t ever fucking come near me or her again, he growls, his voice radiating confidence and authority in a way which makes you squeal internally.
To your delight, Max insists on taking you home, worried about how you’d feel after finding your date cheating on you…with his backstabbing ex girlfriend, he mutters darkly. He’s fuming at her betrayal, but as you lead him into your cozy apartment you’re already planning your next scheme. When he asks you gently if you’re sure you’re ok, is there anything he could do to help, he’s so sorry that his ex got involved with your personal life like this you sweetly nod and tell him you just wanted to take your mind off it all.
He’s eager to help you, nodding enthusiastically when you ask if he’d help plan your costume for your next Halloween event the following night? Your date would no longer be helping you, after all. Of course, schat, anything you want he says earnestly, pretty blue eyes looking at you with adoration as you pout. Handing him a glass of whiskey to sip on while you guide him to sit on the end of your bed, you sashay into your walk in closet. You make sure to leave the door half open, so Max gets a full view of the red lingerie you’re wearing underneath your costume. You take your time getting ready, bending over to pull on your outfit and shaking your hips enticingly, making sure to give Max a naughty show. And if the angel costume had been sexy, the schoolgirl outfit you put on next is positively scandalous. You shyly walk out in heels and a tiny pleated skirt, skimpy white top tied around your breasts to push them out even more as you twirl for him. What do you think? you ask anxiously when Max just stares without saying anything. It looks bad, doesn’t it-
He hastily denies your words, stumbling out that you looked gorgeous, you always did, you didn’t have anything to worry about.
When you giggle happily and announce that you had a few more to show him, he licks his lips in anticipation and drains more of the whiskey from his glass. You give him another slow striptease through your closet door, this time taking off your bra so he gets a flash of your hard nipples. You see him widen his legs to accomodate the raging erection hanging in between his thick thighs and have to stop yourself drooling at the delicious sight. But Max is the one controlling himself next when you emerge in a cat costume, all black latex booty shorts and tight corset, paired with kitten ears and a tail.
His jaw drops open at the tempting sight, and when you ask him if he thinks it’s cute enough to make your date regret cheating on you he clenches his jaw and growls that the pathetic bastard didn’t deserve the privilege of seeing you all dressed up like this.
You try and fail to hide your coy smile at Max’s jealous words, and then find yourself pulled forward in between his legs as he murmurs that there were plenty of other ways to get back at your date. Oh? You say breathlessly, sinking onto your plush ass to sit in between his spread thighs, resting your cheek against his leg. Like what, Maxie?
He groans at the temptation in front of him, of your glossed pouting lips right next to where he needed you the most. You’re not behaving like a good kitty, he jokes, but his voice is rough as desire swirls in his eyes. You’re teasing me far too much while thinking about some guy nowhere near my level.
You grin like a Cheshire and slowly get on all fours, swaying your ass in the air and nuzzling your face right up against his bulging erection. Am I still a bad girl now? you whisper, flicking your tongue out to lick his zipper sluttily. Shall I make it up to you? Max groans above you, thick neck flexing as he tangles a large palm into your hair. Schatje, he says breathlessly, as you slowly unzip his jeans, squealing in delight as his fat cock emerges to slap against your cheeks. So big, Maxie you croon, going cross eyed as you place kitten licks all along his engorged cockhead. What did I say about teasing me? Max groans above you, applying delicious pressure to the back of your head as he pushes your lips down onto his shaft. Mmfh! Your moans are muffled as he loses control, fucking your mouth without abandon. Pleased moans fill the air as you drool over his length, letting him throat fuck you and use you for his pleasure. Your pink lip gloss is smeared all over his cock as your eyes roll back in your head, one of your hands reaching down to play with your aching cunny as Max leaves bruises in the back of your mouth.
Weeks of sexual tension finally lead to him cumming in your throat, so far down that you swear you can fill him hit your tummy, and you obediently suck up every last drop. He’s so far from done, though. He wants you on your hands and knees, his strong hands ripping a hole into your slutty latex shorts to hungrily taste your sweet pussy again. Soon enough your bedroom is filled with obscene sounds of Max fucking his bare cock into your cunny, pounding into you from behind. It’s even hotter than his dirtiest fantasies, and he’s making you tremble and scream his name as he presses down on your neck, burying your face into the sheets and whispering filthy praise in your ear. You’re so pleased you’d thought to set up a tiny camera by your nightstand, capturing every second of your first fuck with Max so you can enjoy it later. Your pussy squeezes around his length like a vice, and it’s most euphoric feeling he’s experienced in his life. He’s cumming again within minutes, moaning how good you feel, he fucking loves your cunt, loves you and takes you over the edge with him as he gives you an open mouthed kiss.
You smile contentedly against his warm lips, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. Your red manicured nails tangle possessively in soft blonde locks as you sigh into the passionate make out. Max was exactly where he belonged, finally - in your bed, with you in his arms.
And unlike the silly women who’d taken him for granted, you were never going to let him go.
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A/N: thank you soooo much for ur patience my dear readers, I fear I was getting a bit of writers block seeing all the photos of max and Kelly in the holiday season 😭😭😭 I hope u guys enjoy this piece!! Send me lots of ur raunchy asks plz I need inspiration ♥️♥️
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redux-iterum · 1 year ago
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A Canine Eulogy
We put down my dog, Geno, today.
Textwall of sentiment under the cut.
Shortly, he was ill, and steadily growing worse every day at a rapid decline of a week before his death. He'd have brief moments of cheeriness, then go back to being listless, sluggish and unhappy. The vet made it clear a few days ago that there was very little chance of saving him and that his quality of life (the most dreaded phrase in a pet owner's dictionary) was poor, and only getting poorer. We made the decision to end his suffering before it got so severe he couldn't climb up the stairs into my house, or have accidents indoors, or starve himself to death (as he was starting to). It didn't feel good, not remotely, but it had to be done.
I haven't talked about Geno on this blog, so I figure the best way to pay my respects is to tell you all how great of a dog he was. Probably a bit late to introduce him, but whatever.
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Geno (nicknames including Bean, Stinky Bean/Gene, Eyebrows Boy, Old Man and Geno Bon Benostein) was a dog that we never figured out the breed of. Many people, charmed by his pleasant, permanent puppyface that was always so happy to see them, would ask me his breed, and my answer was "He's got big eyebrows, that's all I know". That generally got a laugh, which was nice.
We attained Geno when he was about half a year old in a move. My pops runs a moving company, and we get all sorts of things from moves that people don't want to take with them to the new house across the state. I don't think a single piece of furniture in my house isn't secondhand, that's how much we get.
Geno in particular was our first longterm pet from a move. The lowdown is that the customers were divorcing and were viciously arguing over every single item and animal in the house. The wife threatened to take Geno to the pound, and immediately Pops offered to adopt him. I found this out when he picked me up from a sleepover in middle school and had a second dog with him, along with our first. It was quite a delightful surprise.
Our first dog was less than obedient and more than indifferent to humans, loving to destroy stuff and escape constantly. Geno, on the other hand, was only concerned about staying within eyesight of his owners, to the point of sitting on a windowsill as well as he could and staring at us through the glass until we let him in (at the time Pops was not eager to have dogs in the house). We never needed to chain him up or fence him in - he was entirely devoted to us from jump and got as close as he could at all times.
The first dog eventually died, and Geno was the sole pup of the house. He thrived in that, and he made a point to prove himself to be an excellent dog. He never had an accident in the house for many years (until age got to him), preferring to potty in the bushes or brush so that we didn't have to worry about stepping in it or even cleaning it up. He never barked or ran away or growled at visitors, nor did he knock over trash cans or even so much as get fleas during the summer. The only things we struggled with were his great hatred of other dogs and aggressive fear of wheels. The wheel thing was a little more embarrassing, because he'd bark at some poor bastard in a wheelchair who was just trying to mind his own business. Like, great, thanks, Geno. Now we look like assholes.
Geno went on many, many trips across the country with us, especially to Yellowstone, which is a yearly voyage pops and I go on. He was a treat to travel with - he just wanted to rest his head between the front seats and look at us adoringly. He went to beaches, where he didn't enjoy the coast and instead stuck with us by inches, and on moves, where customers and their new neighbors would fawn over him and he got to be the Super Special Puppy Dog, which he loved. He went more places than most people I know, and certainly ate more pizza than any other dog in the United States while we were in hotels. Maybe not healthy for him, but man did he love his 'za, and he'd stare at us with his big ol' cow eyes. How could we say no?
This dog was a major part of my life - he was around for half of it, from middle school to adulthood. I don't think I can ever get another dog that would be nearly as wonderful as him, and I don't know that I want to. I think he raised the standard too high and made every dog I take care of (I housesit for a living) somehow not as good as him, no matter how well-mannered they are. I expect that to be that way for a very long time.
His collar, I decided, will stay in my car, hooked around the rearview mirror. That way, he gets to travel with me no matter where I go. He always did thoroughly enjoy a car ride.
Moonshine will miss him greatly. She was infatuated with him no matter how much he tried to make her go away. He gave up towards the end and started being nice to her, at least. I'm just glad I've got pictures of them interacting and her demanding his affections. Those are precious memories above precious memories.
The vet techs mourned with us as we said goodbye, calling him "one of the good ones". I think that's a pretty high compliment.
I hope he's happy, wherever he is.
You were a good boy, Geno.
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If you were offered the same job, like hotel registration in general, but as far away from Florida as possible, would you take it?
If by "as far away" you mean "on Earth," then no, because I rather like living on land instead of at sea 1000 miles off the coast of Perth, Australia.
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Honest answer, maybe. I don't think I could ever work for a big chain, because I hate company culture so fucking much. I have a lot of freedom at the little Mom and Pop motel I work at now, and I'd have to give that up if I got a job at a Marriott or Holiday Inn. The job itself is easy, it's just the clientele I hate with a burnimg passion; check out my tag "all tourists are bastards" for the greatest hits.
My boss doesn't care what I do or say as long as I get the job done. No uniform, no fake smile, no manager breathing down my neck. She understands that the customer is often wrong, and doesn't take shit from anyone. If someone complains about something beyond our control, she takes my side and tells them to suck it up or leave.
The absolute greatest part about my current job is that I'm not expected to do anything between customers. Sure, every now and then my boss will give me chores, but that only happens as they're needed
If FedEx drops off a package for a customer, I walk it to their room
If a customer smears their sweaty hands all over the office door, I clean it
If the brochure display runs low, I fill it
But that's all just part of the job. My boss never just finds shit for me to do to fill time. If there's nothing to do, I can go on my phone or read a book or draw, and she doesn't care. I have plenty of downtime, and it does wonders for my mental health. No other hotel on Earth would allow me such a privilege because most front desks are in a public communal area where I'd have to put on my Customer Service Face™ at all times, while the office door at my current job is locked 24/7 with a big neon PLEASE RING DOORBELL FOR SERVICE sign hung up at eye level. I don't have to stand all day, I only have to get up when they buzz so I can open the door for them from the inside. There's no stool at the desk, I stand for every customer, but once they leave I can go to the back room and sit in a recliner (though I'm not allowed to recline it; still comfy)
No Best Western manager would ever let me cuss out a customer who started shit. My boss lets me defend myself, and I appreciate that more than anything. Customers are liars, and she knows it. I love, love, LOVE when they start arguing with me and ask to speak with my manager, only for her to tell them exactly what I did, verbatim. Hell, it's gotten to the point that I offer to get her involved from the start, "oh, you don't like what I telling you? Do you want to speak with my boss, the owner?" We don't need their business, this place has been a community cornerstone for decades, no amount of entitled asshole reviews will ever tank it.
If I could find a nice Mom and Pop place somewhere up north, and if I could establish a mutually respectful relationship with the owner, I'd take the job in a heartbeat, but every time I google a state I want to move to I get met with dozens of horror stories telling me that it's not all it's cracked up to be. Everyone hates where they live, that's a given, but to someone living in Weimar Germany (almost Nazi), those places look like paradise in comparison. Oregon, Washington state, Vermont, Massachusetts, they seem like beacons of hope to lil ole naive me. Ideally I want to move to New Zealand, but that's beyond my budget (and probably always will be). Nowhere is safe from crazy, but some places are more tolerable.
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elxctrics · 2 years ago
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"i only call you when it's half past five, the only time that i'll be by your side. i only love it when you touch me, not feel me, when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."
(—) ★ spotted!! peroz ‘phoenix’ balik on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 32 year old looks like can yaman but i don’t really see it. while dj/club owner is known for being magnetic my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be conniving i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the hills by the weeknd {he/him / cismale} - penned by CANDICE, 26, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER
  ˗ˏˋ * ‣ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬    :  
connections || musings || instagram || headcanons
name: peroz ‘phoenix’ amir balik
age: thirty two
nicknames: nix, wolf
date of birth: october 30th, 1992
astrological sign: scorpio
place of birth: bel air, california
occupation: dj / club owner
label: the casanova
positive traits: focused, determined, charming, diligent
negative traits: manipulative, selfish, apathetic, conniving
characters/celebrities he’s like: dennis reynolds from it’s always sunny in philadelphia, chuck bass from gossip girl, klaus mikaelson from the vampire diaries,  john mayer
career claim : calvin harris
𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂
born and raised in las vegas, nevada to a restauranter for a father and a celebrity party planner for a mother, it’s safe to say that peroz’s life has been nothing but one, big giant party.
with his father having a chain of luxury restaurants on the vegas strip in all of the most luxurious hotels and his mother rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, peroz fell in love with the night life far earlier than he probably should have.
workaholics and always working on their latest big project left peroz to his own devices more often than not - and a kid with money and nothing but time on his hands was a dangerous thing in sin city.
wickedly smart, but never applying himself in school, he used those smarts for other things - selling drugs on the low, making fake ids for his friends, bribing his way into the hottest nightclubs when he was underage, always with a knack to scheme and lie his way into whatever he wanted.
he’s always had laser focus, liking to turn the mundane into something extraordinary, and when he wasn’t running around the vegas strip causing trouble, he was in his room, headphones in, making remake mixes to some of the world’s most popular songs.
he began making youtube videos of his music when he realized that college wasn’t an option for him, considering he was rarely in school, and his videos and remixes garnished millions and millions of views
using his mother’s connections, he began to get djing gigs at all the most popular nightclubs on the vegas strip, eventually being a headliner himself.
partying and hanging out with celebrities every single night was exactly the life he wanted for himself. he craved a constant good time, forever wanting to be a peter pan boy that never grew up, and he soon realized that this career path was it.
instead of just making mixes, he began producing songs for popular artists and every time he did, they ended up at the top of the charts, which caused him to move to los angeles and take on a celebrity status, under his stage name, ‘phoenix’
never wanting anyone to tell him what to do, he started his own record label - that literally only produces his music and collaborations with other artists called ‘fly guy records.’
now, not only is he one of the biggest djs in the world, but he’s also an entrepreneur, and has opened two nightclubs - sound nightclub in downtown los angeles & hakkasan in los vegas.
there’s not a humble bone in his body, a true nepo baby who’s gotten nothing but praise for doing the bare minimum his entire life, he’s used his clout and fame to get him anything, and anyone he wants.
he’s a non-committal kind of man, bored easily and treats women like they’re disposable, but will put on the charming act to get what he wants out of them.
sickly sweet to get what he wants, once he does, a switch flips and he can become the most cold person you’ve ever met, but he simply doesn’t care - the world is his chessboard and everyone is merely a pawn to him in this game that he calls life.
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kramlabs · 7 months ago
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Seems like it.
One more piece of high strangeness in this whole crazy assassination scenario.
Of course, you can label it coincidence.
BlackRock? One of the biggest financial companies in the world:
A pal of Biden.
Woke to the hilt.
Accused of forcing corporations to go woke DEI.
By investing in shares of companies big-time, BlackRock can step in anytime it wants to and control shareholder votes…and thus the direction those companies take.
Between them, BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street—all giant investment funds—can steer national economies.
And by this very odd coincidence, Thomas Matthew Crooks seems to show up in a past BlackRock commercial.
Here is a backgrounder I wrote several years ago on the big three investment funds:
COVID: THE THREE MEN WHO OWN CORPORATE AMERICA
Over the past 38 years working as a reporter, I’ve spoken with many medical people. Doctors, researchers, public health bureaucrats, business executives whose companies supply products to the medical industry, professors, etc.
In every case, these people completely and utterly support conventional medical reality. They are unshakable. A man like Fauci says jump and they jump. To do otherwise would be unthinkable.
As you read on, you’ll see why this is important…
Airlines, hotel chains—you name it, they all folded when the lockdowns were imposed.  They closed up shop, they took a knee, they opted for bailouts.  Why?
The CEOs of these corporations are supposed to be hard chargers and ruthless operators.  Why didn’t they rebel?
I could cite several reasons.  Here I want to focus on a little-known and staggering story.
Imagine an employee of a company is motivated to speak out against the lockdowns and go public.  Then he thinks about the owner of the company.  That owner happens to sit on the board of a large hospital.
Uh oh.  That owner is SOLIDLY WIRED into official medical reality.  He isn’t going to appreciate a naysayer who says the lockdowns are a ridiculous and destructive overreach.  Better to stay quiet.  Better to fit in and go along.
Well, it so happens that three of the most powerful corporate bosses in America DO have deep connections to major hospitals, and these three men run corporations that OWN CORPORATE AMERICA.
What???
The three men are Larry Fink, Joseph Hooley, and Mortimer (Tim) Buckley.  
Buckley is the CEO of the Vanguard Group [2018 to present].  Hooley is the CEO of State Street [2010-2018; succeeded by Ronald O’Hanley, 2018 to present].  Fink is the CEO of BlackRock [1988 to present].
These three companies are titanic investment funds.  Financial services companies.
Buckley is a board member of the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.  From 2011 to 2017, he was chairman of the hospital’s board of trustees.
Hooley serves on the president’s council of Massachusetts General Hospital.
Fink is the co-chair of the NYU Langone Medical Center board of trustees.
Let’s look at their investment funds: State Street, BlackRock, and Vanguard—known as The Big Three.  The reference is an article at theconversation.com, “These three firms own corporate America,” 5/19/17, by Jan Fichtner, Eelke Heemskerk, and Javier Garcia-Bernardo.
“Together, BlackRock, Vanguard and State Street have nearly US$11 trillion in assets under management.”
“We found that the Big Three, taken together, have become the largest shareholder in 40% of all publicly listed firms in the United States.”
“In 2015, these 1,600 American firms [the 40%] had combined revenues of about US$9.1 trillion, a market capitalisation of more than US$17 trillion, and employed more than 23.5 million people.”
“In the S&P 500—the benchmark index of America’s largest corporations—the situation is even more extreme. Together, the Big Three are the largest single shareholder in almost 90% of S&P 500 firms, including Apple, Microsoft, ExxonMobil, General Electric and Coca-Cola.”
“What is undeniable is that the Big Three do exert the voting rights attached to these shares. Therefore, they have to be perceived as de facto owners by corporate executives.” (emphasis mine)
“Whether or not they sought to, the Big Three have accumulated extraordinary shareholder power, and they continue to do so…In many respects, the index fund boom is turning BlackRock, Vanguard and State Street into something resembling low-cost public utilities with a quasi-monopolistic position.”
If the CEO of a corporation whose main shareholder is The Big Three thinks about rebelling against the official COVID medical consensus…
And he knows that The Big Three bosses are heavily wired into the US medical complex…
That CEO has a HUGE reason to forget about being an old-time hard charger.
He has a reason to swallow his anger when he’s told to lock down and shut down.
He has a reason to knuckle under and play the game.
He has a reason to surrender to a story about a virus and Fauci and Bill Gates.
He has a reason to stand down and stand aside and watch economic devastation sweep over the land.
HIS CORPORATION IS OWNED BY THE BIG THREE, AND THE OWNERS OF THE BIG THREE ARE LOYAL MEMBERS OF THE MEDICAL COMPLEX…THE COMPLEX THAT FORMS THE CURRENT POLICE STATE THAT HAS SUBDUED THE WORLD, UNDER THE FALSE BANNER OF “SAVING HUMANITY FROM THE VIRUS.”
It’s that stark.
I keep telling you we’re now living in a medical civilization.
From the financial side of things, you’ve just read how that is so.
The three men who own corporate America are also medical denizens.
Think it through.
-- Jon Rappoport
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*Militarized Index Funds descended from Anglo-American Whig Mercantilism
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rxscss · 2 years ago
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"𝒾 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒻-𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓋𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒. 𝒾 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓂𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑒. 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼'𝓂 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝑒."
(—) ★ spotted!! peroz ‘phoenix’ balik on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 32 year old looks like can yaman but i don’t really see it. while dj/club owner is known for being magnetic my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be conniving i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the hills by the weeknd {he/him / cismale} - penned by CANDICE, 26, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER
𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼
wanted connections + connections || musings || pinterest || instagram || headcanons
𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼
name: peroz ‘phoenix’ amir balik
age: thirty two
nicknames: nix, wolf
date of birth: october 31st, 1992
astrological sign: scorpio
place of birth: bel air, california
occupation: dj / club owner
label: the casanova
positive traits: focused, determined, charming, diligent
negative traits: manipulative, selfish, apathetic, conniving
characters/celebrities he’s like: dennis reynolds from it’s always sunny in philadelphia, chuck bass from gossip girl, klaus mikaelson from the vampire diaries,  john mayer
career claim : calvin harris
𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂
born and raised in las vegas, nevada to a restauranter for a father and a celebrity party planner for a mother, it’s safe to say that peroz’s life has been nothing but one, big giant party.
with his father having a chain of luxury restaurants on the vegas strip in all of the most luxurious hotels and his mother rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, peroz fell in love with the night life far earlier than he probably should have.
workaholics and always working on their latest big project left peroz to his own devices more often than not - and a kid with money and nothing but time on his hands was a dangerous thing in sin city.
wickedly smart, but never applying himself in school, he used those smarts for other things - selling drugs on the low, making fake ids for his friends, bribing his way into the hottest nightclubs when he was underage, always with a knack to scheme and lie his way into whatever he wanted.
he’s always had laser focus, liking to turn the mundane into something extraordinary, and when he wasn’t running around the vegas strip causing trouble, he was in his room, headphones in, making remake mixes to some of the world’s most popular songs.
he began making youtube videos of his music when he realized that college wasn’t an option for him, considering he was rarely in school, and his videos and remixes garnished millions and millions of views
using his mother’s connections, he began to get djing gigs at all the most popular nightclubs on the vegas strip, eventually being a headliner himself.
partying and hanging out with celebrities every single night was exactly the life he wanted for himself. he craved a constant good time, forever wanting to be a peter pan boy that never grew up, and he soon realized that this career path was it.
instead of just making mixes, he began producing songs for popular artists and every time he did, they ended up at the top of the charts, which caused him to move to los angeles and take on a celebrity status, under his stage name, ‘phoenix’
never wanting anyone to tell him what to do, he started his own record label - that literally only produces his music and collaborations with other artists called ‘fly guy records.’
now, not only is he one of the biggest djs in the world, but he’s also an entrepreneur, and has opened two nightclubs - sound nightclub in downtown los angeles & hakkasan in los vegas.
there’s not a humble bone in his body, a true nepo baby who’s gotten nothing but praise for doing the bare minimum his entire life, he’s used his clout and fame to get him anything, and anyone he wants.
he’s a non-committal kind of man, bored easily and treats women like they’re disposable, but will put on the charming act to get what he wants out of them.
sickly sweet to get what he wants, once he does, a switch flips and he can become the most cold person you’ve ever met, but he simply doesn’t care - the world is his chessboard and everyone is merely a pawn to him in this game that he calls life.
𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓻
music career (notable releases)
feel so close
sweet nothing
miracle
summer
this is what you came for
outside
slide
how deep is your love
we found love
i need your love
my way
rollin
spectrum
blame
promises
under control
pray to god
feels
one kiss
bounce
thinking about you
let’s go
faking it
heatstroke
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bigskydreaming · 3 years ago
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Headcanon that everyone within the family may think of Dick as the one most in their father’s favor, but Dick is keenly aware that the general public thinks of him as their father’s ‘Consolation Prize.’
After all, when from their perspective he’s the one Bruce raised since he was eight as his ward, with that dissolving when he was eighteen and very little perceived contact between the two of them for years after that, while Jason was adopted soon after being taken in and Dick was then later adopted years after Jason’s death, without any public fanfare.....
What does that look like other than Bruce ‘settling’ for the son who didn’t appear to be his first choice, just chronologically first, once he lost Jason but still needed/wanted an heir, as he was getting older and the general public still didn’t know yet how closely tied Tim was to the family or that it wouldn’t be long after this that Bruce adopted him too?
Now granted, you can definitely perceive the above as overly angsty and not the only way this situation was likely to be perceived outside the family, but my point is more that like.....nobody ever presumes that the general public are overly kind or generous in their views or assumptions about the Wayne family behavior. I just don’t buy that people assumed there was some optimistic explanation for the way things appeared here, or that people just went “oh its probably because the kid who grew up in that house the longest just doesn’t WANT to be adopted by the billionaire and have all the security that brings, and that’s also clearly why he lives in Bludhaven of all places and a shitty apartment building at that.”
I mean, no matter what WE the readers may know of Dick’s personal priorities and how little he cares about where he lives or that Bruce would have willingly paid for him to have a better place to live if he really wanted it, is that what people are most likely to assume, based on appearances?
Anyway, I’m just saying, I bet it bugs the crap out of Dick to hear his siblings casually refer to him as so obviously enjoying favored son status and being the clear apple of Bruce’s eye, as he’s like, cue internal monologue: gee, sure wish I was as confident of that back during the years he seemed to want nothing to do with me.
Like I’ve said before, I think Dick isn’t actually super insecure and his insecurities such as they are mostly revolve around how his family and friends perceive him, not the general public.....BUT I do think that with as high profile as the Waynes are, there’s no way that nobody picked up on how little contact Dick and Bruce had in the continuities where they literally went over a year without even speaking to each other....and like, felt free to draw their own conclusions.
 And I do think this is also part of why I default to thinking a lot of canon takes and headcanons tend to gloss over how shitty Gotham public could be in their views/treatment of Dick. Like just because Dick was basically trained from birth to be able to work a room and entertain people while in their direct presence, that didn’t actually make him ‘one of them’ in their eyes, and I reeeeeeaally don’t think you can actually underestimate the pettiness and jealousy one percenters feel when they see someone they inherently view as lesser than them - as they would’ve viewed both Dick and Jason due to their lower class births - like....’leap frogging’ over them into greater wealth via being taken in by Bruce. 
Like, idk, maybe it just comes from having been a scholarship kid who went to a richy rich private high school attended mostly by the children of senators and hotel-chain owners, lol, but like.......I can not for a second picture Gotham’s upper class actually LIKING Dick or being as charmed by him as they frequently are depicted as, just because Dick knows how to be charming and likable. Like they might play it that way when in public at a gala, for appearances or whatever....but the second he turned around they’d be badmouthing him at juuuuust a high enough volume to ensure he’d be able to HEAR them but not be able to call them on it without it looking like he went back and provoked a scene over something ‘nobody else around them heard them say’ or whatever. Just to make sure that no matter how well he came across in public social settings, he never ‘forgot his place’ or whatever or forgot that they were all too aware of it too.
And also also, it always kinda bemuses me that as much focus as the Court of Owls and Talons get in Dick’s narratives in canon and fic, that we’ve barely ever seen any examination of what the Court retroactively means for Dick’s years growing up around upper class Gothamites who likely included more than a few Court members.....like, we KNOW years later that like, all along there were these people who even without knowing who Batman and Robin were, like, knew Dick Grayson was their ‘Gray Son’ and intended to claim him as their weapon someday, and you can’t tell me that wouldn’t have factored into how they viewed and interacted with a child and teenage Dick Grayson as they attended many of the same social gatherings and functions. OR that Dick himself in the aftermath of the Court of Owls reveal, didn’t look back at his OWN childhood and reflect on how many creepy or uncomfortable encounters he had with various socialites that left him feeling decidedly skeeved out and not a fan of how they were looking at him or things they might have said to him, thinking themselves oh so clever for alluding to things he had no idea about......like, I imagine there had to be more than a few encounters from his younger years that always stuck with him, and after the Court of Owls revelation like....looked TOTALLY different to him, especially if he happened to know for sure that some of those very people were in fact Court members. BUT I DIGRESS.
All in all though it all circles back to the same thought for me.....people might have been polite to Dick’s face when he was growing up, but they most likely had plenty of shit to say the second his back was turned, and I doubt they were afraid to be overheard by him. Especially in his later years, once people noticed how distant he and Bruce seemed to be, and thus perceived that as meaning that nineteen year old Dick Grayson wasn’t as ‘protected’ by Bruce the way he was when he was younger.....meaning the people who were most jealous of Dick’s ‘catapulting’ up the social ladder and eager to knock him down a peg because of that, like....probably would have looked at the relative lack of contact between he and Bruce as far as anyone could publicly tell, and felt emboldened enough by that to up their snide whisper game with shit like gossipping about how oh, the Grayson boy may be back in Gotham again, but we all know he’s just poor Brucie’s consolation prize anyway, why, if he really cared all that much about the boy, he’d hardly have ever let him run off to Bludhaven of all places, without even making sure to staple the advantages and opportunities granted by the Wayne name to him the way he made sure to right off the bat with the younger one.....
So yeah. There’s my angsty musings on how Dick likely is perceived by Gotham public at large, and how his interactions with them - especially when NOT around Bruce and Jason and the rest of his family....probably very much does not match up with what they assume public perception of Dick is, given that in their eyes ‘everybody loves Dick Grayson,’ but in Dick’s experience ‘everybody may be charmed by Dick Grayson while he’s doing his best to be charming,’ but don’t mistake that for acceptance. Not when Gotham’s public are just as likely to dismiss him as the second choice Wayne heir and consolation prize to make themselves feel more important/elevated than him the second their own insecurities have them feeling intimidated by the wealth, power and prestige Dick does actually share in by virtue of being part of Bruce’s family.
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harryspet · 4 years ago
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positions | b.barnes & p.parker
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[warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, grey!peter parker x reader, petplay, abduction, collars/bondage, brainwashing, noncon/dubcon oral sex, degredation/dehuminization, sex slave training, some weird shit 
A/N: So I tried something new and this is kind of a test to see if people like it. I’m into it so I figured I might as well write it :) if you don’t know what petplay is ... google it 
In which Bucky trains you for your new owner, Peter Parker. 
word count: 4.3k
main masterlist
taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011  @visintaes @cherienymphe
You dipped your head down, trying to get your fingers closer to your mouth you could pull out the gag tightly wrapped around your head. Your cheeks were wet with mascara and tears and your body was completely sore, having been wrestled, bound, and thrown into a cage. Leather cuffs decorated your wrist, ankles and were even wrapped around your thighs, all connected together by chains and leaving you positioned in all fours. 
You even felt a tightness around your neck which could only be a collar. 
Where are my clothes? 
Of course, he knew you were a tourist, having asked him directions to the club you were supposed to meet your friends at. He joined you and bought an entire round of drinks for you and your friends. You were broke so how could you turn down drinks from such a nice guy? Who cares if he was trying to get into your pants, your friends would help if he got too handsy. You remembered dancing with the older and extremely handsome man for most of the night, actually enjoying being pressed against him. 
You remembered the dark brown hair that he pushed back from his face, the stubble you felt against your cheek when he spoke in your ear. 
You were supposed to take the pill he offered you together but now you knew his must have been a placebo. Your friends saw his face and they’d help the cops find you. That’s what you told yourself but as the hours that felt like days went by in the dim, concrete room.
You weren’t alone, you knew that, you could hear the moaning and whimpering of other girls that you assumed were locked away just like you were. You were being sex trafficked, you assumed, and the thought was suffocating you more than the gag was. You began to hyperventilate and, no matter how much you tried to control your breathing, you couldn’t stop yourself. You welcomed the darkness of sleep and hoped you would wake up in your hotel room. 
You awoke to the sound of tapping on the cage, your heavy eyes blinking open to find the man who was responsible for your kidnapping. Unlike the smile he wore when you first met him, the look on his face was stoic as he bent down to examine you. 
He said his name was James but his friends called him Bucky.  
“Look how beautiful you are even when you’re crying,” He said, a pain in the back of your throat when you realized the tears were starting again, “Look at those eyes … I knew you had the face for this.” 
He reached towards you, pulling up the hinge that was keeping the cage shut. It was a simple contraption but with your limbs pinned by leather, it made the simple task impossible to do. He opened the cage, reaching into his back pocket, and pulling out what looked like a …  leash, “C’mon, doll, let's get the hard part over with,” He was going to lead you around like a dog? You backed yourself up further, suddenly thinking you might be safer inside the cage, “I’ll give you another chance ... “
You shook your head, an inaudible sound of protests coming from your mouth because you were gagged. He clicked his tongue, “That little collar around your neck, that's the one good girls wear. Would you rather wear an electric one?”
You paused, your eyes widening. This was even worse than you assumed and, although you were shaking, you let him attach the leash to the collar. He stood, pulling on the leash. It tightened the more you hesitated and you found yourself struggling for air. You crawled out onto the cold concrete, unable to stand up. 
The room reminded you of a basement or a mad scientist’s lab, concrete walls, one wall lined with cages, another covered in what looked like torture devices, and a metal table in the middle of the room, “There you go, good girl,”  He started pulling you further along and but you couldn’t coordinate your movements. The feeling was so unnatural. You finally got a look at the other girls but, unlike you, they weren’t bound like you were. Some were sleeping peacefully and the others had their wide, wanting eyes on Bucky as if they desired his attention. 
Growing frustrated, you started to pull back, but it only choked you further. You struggled to make actual words come out but you were loud against the gag, though your efforts were probably futile. He forced you to crawl over to the table, where he paused before he was suddenly wrapping his arms around your torso. 
He lifted you onto the table and, for a short moment, you imagined the muscles that were probably underneath his black shirt. The cold of the table sent a chill through your body, adding to the eerie nature of the room. As you tried to move into a more comfortable position, resting your bottom back on your feet, you felt a sharp sting to your bottom, “I didn’t tell you to change positions,” You heard him say, and when you tried to turn your head to look at him, he spanked you again, “Face forward, pet.”
You tried to blink away your tears as you turned your head away, “Are you naturally obedient … or are you just scared out of your mind, huh?”
You weren’t sure either. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to be miles and miles away from where you were now. Were you even in New York anymore? 
“The fear will go away,” He said and you felt him messing with the leather cuffs wrapped around your limbs. He tightened them in areas that were loose and made sure they were secure. When he got to your gag, you didn’t expect him to untie the cloth from around your mouth. Before it was loose enough, “Speak and the shock collar goes on … nod if you understand.”
Slowly, you nodded. Trying to protect yourself, you decided you would be obedient for now. When there was a clear chance of escape, you could take it. The gag being gone gave you back some comfort but your lips trembled. You wanted badly to say something, to reason with him but he seemed set on doing whatever he was going to do. Whatever he did to those other girls … 
You felt a hand on your waist, it wasn’t rough, but his touch sent warning signals through your brain, “From now on, the only words I should hear from your mouth are ‘Yes, Master’. Do you understand?”
Your lips did not part to utter those words which led to a spank on your bottom. You yelped at the initial one and his assault continued until you gave in. You squeezed your hands into a fist, embarrassment rushing through you, as you finally said, “Y-Yes, Master.”
Sounding triumphant, he moved on to the next part of his inspection. Still looking forward, you were pulled to the side when he grabbed a hold of your hair. He separated it, almost neatly, into two sections, tying each side into a ponytail and effectively removing it from your face. Next, you watched him walk over to his wall of torture tools. 
You looked at him then down at the restraints around your wrist. You pulled your hands in opposite directions, testing the strength of the chain connecting them. When he approached again, he was holding another black item. You tried backing away but he grabbed a hold of your arm, “Shhh,” He spoke, sounding more annoyed than calming. You weren’t sure what it was until it was right in front of your face. Black leather straps attached to a metal ring. When he grabbed your face, forcing the ring into your mouth, you thought you might choke once again. Like the cloth gag, he tightened this one behind your head, “There, that’s better. Your first, big reward will be getting to take off that gag … in the meantime, you’ll learn how to beg without using your words.”
He held your chin in his hand, the other touching over your hair. For a moment, he seemed to look at you with adoration. 
+
For the next three weeks, you’d stay in that cement room for almost twenty-three hours of the day, Bucky only letting you out for your “lessons” or to let you relieve yourself. He’d told you a while ago that you wouldn’t do anything without his permission, not even go to the restroom. It was dehumanizing which you knew was the point of all of this. You were already starting to feel relieved whenever Bucky appeared because it meant you could come out of the cage. 
He often walked you around the room, letting you practice coordinating your movements. Humiliating as it was, your favorite thing was when he’d take off the restraints, letting you stand up, as he bathed you. 
Today, things were different, “It’s your lucky day, pet. We start house training today.” In the morning, he came down the stairs, and, this time, he led you up them. Undoing the chains but leaving the cuffs allowed you to move more freely but you learned that he still wanted to crawl. It made you feel small, in comparison to the massive house that was built above the basement. The home was sleek, expensive, and clean as well as full of grays, whites, and black colors. 
Bringing you into the living room, The living room was illuminated by the tall windows and you could see the thick green trees outside. You definitely weren’t in the city anymore. You could run now, if you could find a way out. So far, you hadn’t spotted a front door but maybe that would be the obvious out. He was a professional after all and your escape would take some critical thinking. 
Right now, you were focused on not being punished. From the moment Bucky decided to move the ring gag, you’d do anything to keep it off. You’d gotten used to the feeling but it was still painful and it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself when you were constantly drooling on yourself. 
You soon learned what exactly Bucky meant by housetraining. Instead of spanking, Bucky decided on a new positive reinforcer. With everything you did right, he gave you little bites of chocolate which you became grateful for. The food he served down in the basement didn’t resemble anything tasteful. 
First, you went through positions. 
Stay, Sit, Heel, Wait, Come, Stand, Bed or Crate, and plenty more an adult woman could easily do but fight her cognitive dissonance at the same time. You tried your best to not focus on the embarrassment and remembered the food … you even took comfort in the soft pats on your head and bottom, a reminder of human contact. 
“When I tell you to Mount, I want your face down and ass in the air,” The command was simple enough but Bucky sensed your hesitance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every inch of your body already, “Face down,” Bucky urged you, his voice deep and commanding. 
Slowly you moved down to the carpet, your bottom in the air. You felt him standing behind you, probably taking in the view. He placed his feet between your legs, kicking them apart and allowing him a better view. He was quiet for a moment and you began to assume the worst, jumping a bit when you felt a hand on your bottom, “Face down,” He commanded again and you pressed your cheek to the carpet, “Good. Don’t you worry, sweet thing. I’ll leave this hole untouched for your future owner … though I am tempted.”
“Up,” He said, grabbing ahold of the leash attached to your collar. He led you towards the white, leather couch, taking a seat while pulling you in between his spread legs. Leaning forward, Bucky’s held your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Bucky watched the panic in your eyes, the uncertainty and fear that was still lingering, “Things will be so much better when you realize you rather be a dumb, little puppy … the overthinking, the anxiety, you can let it all go, let someone else take control.”
You began to shake your head and Bucky grabbed your chin roughly, his eyes darkening, “You’ve been good all day, don’t start now,” He said, his grip still tight, “I think you need to show me a little bit more gratitude.” You watched him begin to wrap the leather leash around his hand, over and over, until he had all the control of it. It pulled you closer to his crotch as Bucky leaned back against the couch. 
“I’m sure you’ve done this before, right?” He smirked, undoing his belt, and unbuttoning his jeans. 
“Please-”  You yelped as he pulled you even further. 
“Pets don’t get to make demands. I don’t want any thoughts going on in that little head that don’t involve your mouth being around my cock. Understand?” Another rough pull. 
You nodded, “Y-Yes,” You rushed the words out, “Yes, Master.”
“Good puppy,” He spoke condescendingly, reaching into his briefs to pull out his cock, and he touched it against your cheek, letting you feel how hard he already was, “If you make me cum fast enough, I’ll let you sleep upstairs tonight.”
You’d never fully admit it to yourself but the prospect of sleeping in a real bed, at least not sleeping in a cold basement, sounded a lot more appealing than the food. Though you were hesitant, you knew how badly you wanted to stay upstairs, even if that meant you had to be with Bucky. 
You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and put the tip of him in his mouth. As Bucky’s head tilted back, you began to work your magic which wasn’t much seeing as how you hadn’t been in many relationships. You worked him into your mouth slowly, trying not to trigger your gag reflex, while you stroked his bottom half. “Good girl … good girl,” You heard him whisper, trying not to find the way his face contorted in pleasure as attractive. He took you away from everything, you had to remind yourself. 
As time went on, you could tell he was getting close. You swirl your tongue around his tip, anticipating his orgasm. He grabbed you by your ponytail, pushing you further down, as he came down your throat, “Swallow it all,” He grunted, “Good girl.”
You did swallow it all though it was hard to hide your disgust at the taste. Bucky looked amused, once again taking your face in his hands. He had a thing for your lips, that much you understood, and you wondered if he wanted to kiss you. Maybe it was another thing that was oft limits and to be saved for your true “owner”. 
That night, Bucky kept his word though you slept at the end of his bed with a pillow and blanket, your collar chained to the bedpost. Somehow, it was the best night's rest you had in weeks.
+
“This is … impressive,” Peter breathed out, stuffing his hands into his pocket in order to keep them from fidgeting. The sight of women displayed before him, each one of them beautiful, was reddening his cheeks which he hoped Bucky didn’t notice, “And you’ve trained all of them yourself?”
Like he was showing off one of his greatest accomplishments, Bucky smiled. Three of his “pets” sat on their knees obediently in the area in front of the fireplace. All tourists and all of them had something special Bucky noticed about them. Holding two glasses of bourbon, he handed one to Peter to which Peter accepted politely, “Tricks and all. Piper there has been with me for over a year. Feel free to touch and try out the merchandise, they love it.” 
The girls did seem eager to get their hands on him, with warm smiles and flirtatious eyes. Though they loved Bucky, they’d been trained to work hard so that one day they can be adopted by someone else. All they had worked for would be worth it once they were chosen.
Peter’s eyes widened, “Actually, I don't think-”
“Not your cup of tea, Pete?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. 
“No, uhm, that’s not it,” Peter said. The entire idea of this was becoming a little too real for the young Avenger. He knew what had led him here, the loneliness of being a superhero, and the inability to get close to someone out of fear that his enemies would target them. That's how he lost MJ and he’d promised himself that he’d never hurt like that again, “I’m not sure about … all of this.”
Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a look that father might give a son, “You have a lot of empathy, that's why,” Bucky explained, “But you already do your part to society, saving people and risking your life. It’s okay to be a bit selfish and take back from the universe. You deserve it, kid. Besides, I’m sure your left-hand could use a break every now and then.”
Peter shook his head, trying to hide his amusement, “Ha ha.”
“C’mere, let me show you something,” With his hand still on his shoulder, Bucky led Peter over to the basement door, “I’ve never shown anyone where the magic happens. My customers usually see one of the girls, gets over excited and immediately wants to buy one.”
The lights flicked on and illuminated the staircase. As they went down, Peter’s eyes were wide with curiosity, feeling as if Bucky was the villain and he was entering his evil lair. Well, his feelings weren’t totally wrong, “... do they usually test them out too?”
“Usually, yes …” Bucky trailed off, realizing something, “You’d like someone untouched, I can tell. There’s someone that I think would be perfect for you.”
The two walked along a long corridor until getting to a room full of metal cages. You were the only one left downstairs, the other girls were ready to be sold, and you were sleeping peacefully like you did most time during the day. After seeing Bucky leading the other girls away, you didn’t expect to see him for hours. Now that he had returned, you were perked up, and even more curious about the man with him. 
Seeing someone new made you want to cry out for help but that would be stupid. If he was with Bucky, he was probably into Bucky’s sick business too. They stopped in front of your cage and Bucky crouched down to open the lock, crawling out as Bucky beckoned you by waving his hand. 
Peter’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, watching how your eyes darted back in forth between the two men. You seemed just as frightened as Peter was, “Sit,” Bucky told you and, hesitantly, you sat back on your knees, your hands in your lap. Though you were still naked, you’d earned your way out of the restraints except for your collar of course. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I haven’t named her yet but I’ve only had her for a few months.”
Bucky ran his hand over your hair and then down your back, his hand resting on your bottom, “Yeah, uhm … yeah,” You connected the dots quickly, realizing the man with the light brown hair and kind eyes was interested in buying her, “She already seems very behaved.”
You looked to Bucky to see his reaction and he had a proud look on his face, “We had an issue about two weeks ago but it was easily corrected,” You cringed, looking away, remembering the week you spent with the electric collar on all because you’d tried to run to the front door. You could still feel the current rushing through your body, paralyzing your muscles, “She is very sweet, good with her mouth and she’s a cuddler, that’s why I think you’d be a good match.”
Bucky stood and you wished for a second that he’d keep caressing your back. He’s spent most of the last week with the other girls and you hadn’t slept upstairs in ages, “Would she really be ready after two months?”
Bucky sighed, “I’d have to keep her for a few more months. It usually takes more than a year,” Peter nodded, “But, for my friend, I’ll make sure she’s ready as soon as possible. So?”
Peter looked you over again. There was something about you that was different … special, even, “She’s the one,” Peter said, surprising himself and Bucky smiled. 
You didn’t know if you’d be able to recognize yourself in the coming months but, just like that, your fate was sealed. 
+
six months later … 
You remembered your last night with Bucky. He reminded you every day it seemed like that you’d be going to Peter soon. You’d curled up in his lap, letting tears fall down your cheek as Bucky wiped them away, “I know it hurts, pet,” He spoke soothingly, “Peter is a good friend, you’ll see me soon. Besides, it’ll be nice not having to share, won’t it?”
Bucky took your silence as a sign of acceptance, “That’s my good girl,” He cooed and you tried to keep in your sobs as you accepted his comfort. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek. It was the perfect distraction and you almost didn’t notice that he pricked your neck, filling you with a sedative, “When you wake up, you’ll be somewhere new, but I want you to be on your best behavior. You’ll listen to him … you’ll comfort him because he’s your new Master. You can do that, right?”
“Yes …” Your voice began to trail off as your eyes got heavy, “... Master.”
“Goodnight, pet.”
+
Peter awoke the next morning to a phone call. He rolled over in bed, picking it up, “Hello?” He asked groggily. 
“Mr. Parker, you have quite a large package here. Should I send it up?” It was the man at the front desk downstairs. Peter was confused at first since he hadn’t ordered anything but the realization hit him quickly, “Mr. Parker-”
“Yes, send it up, please!” Peter was already hurrying out of bed, looking around the room for clothes. Peter was expecting you tonight and he thought he’d have all day to get things ready for you. When he finally made it out of the room, there was a knock at the front door. Taking a deep breath, Peter answered. One of the bellhops rolled in the package which was wrapped in red wrapping paper and a bow. Just in time for Christmas in a few days. 
Peter waited for the bellhop to step out and tipped him handsomely. Even if the man did think Peter had made a shady purchase, Spiderman wasn’t exactly a figure you wanted to go against. A lot had changed since he was a teenager, a lot for the better. He wouldn’t be standing in the foyer of his penthouse apartment if things hadn’t changed. Peter couldn’t buy his happiness, he knew that, but he had a feeling you could change things. 
Peter carefully unwrapped the paper, trying not to startle you further, but it seemed that it was too late for that. As Peter crouched down at the opening of the cage, you had pushed yourself to the back of it, your knees pulled to your chest, and tears dry against your cheeks. 
You looked different, Bucky having dressed you in a new, light pink collar as well pink ribbons to decorate your pigtails. He’d even given you a dress though it was tight to your skin and barely went over your bottom. 
“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise” Peter said, opening the door to the cage, “I’m Peter, remember? … do you want to come out?”
He was asking you? Bucky never asked what you wanted. 
Peter racked his brain for all the training information that Bucky had given him, “Come,” Peter said, remembering the word from the manual, “ … please,” He added. 
You moved slowly, getting onto your knees as you slowly crawled out onto the cool, marble floor. Up above you could see a shining chandelier and looking around you could tell there was much to discover. Peter, kneeling beside you, said, “This is your home now,” He informed you and couldn’t help but wish Bucky was here. You were already missing his bed, you even missed when he would come down to the basement and set you free, “I’m going to take care of you from now on.”
Peter was your Master now, you had to remember that. You belonged to him now and, unlike with Bucky, you belonged to him solely. 
You trusted Bucky. And when you were finally reunited, he’d be overjoyed that you’d done as he told you. Bucky wanted you to be happy here and he wanted you to make Peter happy so that’s exactly what you’d do. 
“Do you like it, Princess?” Though you still had dry tears, your lips pulled into a thin smile which surprised Peter.
Princess, you liked that name. 
The younger man, reach out, and you took the opportunity to brush your face against his hand. Peter stroked your face as you nuzzled into him. You loved his touch and you craved more of the feeling. You pushed closer and closer, causing Peter to fall back on his bottom as you climbed on top of him. Still grinning, you placed soft kisses along his neck and then on his chin. 
He laughed, sitting up on his elbows, “I’ll take that as a yes. How about a tour?”
Anything to make you happy, Master.
+
hope you enjoyed!!
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starmieknight · 3 years ago
Text
Trust: Priceless
Summary: Jeongguk's new owner decides to take him out shopping and he comes closer to changing his opinion of her.
Contents: Hybrid!BTS, Jeongguk is a bit of a brat (he has his reasons), Mavis is out of her element, RabbitHybrid!Jeongguk(?)
Mavis poked her head into the living room and peered silently at Jeongguk.
 The hybrid continued watching the TV like he didn’t notice her presence, only the twitching of his long ear betraying him. Mavis still hesitated, her face an unreadable mask as she observed the situation.
 Jeongguk looked bored out of his mind, no doubt tired of only having television to watch after three days in her new home. As a kid, Mavis had gotten a thrill from being able to watch cable when she visited her aunt instead of just satellite TV, but she had been an easily entertained child and not as energetic as Jeongguk seemed.
 When she asked, her hotel manager, Dobbs, had told her that Jeongguk had yet to use any of the hotel facilities Mavis had told him he was free to at any time, no questions asked. Mavis personally wanted to use the indoor pool, but hadn’t found the time or energy to head down there. But even if he wasn’t interested in the pool, there were basketball and tennis courts, bike trails, a hedge maze and an entire arcade in the hotel for Jeongguk to use.
 As far as Mavis could tell, the only thing holding Jeongguk back from finding something to entertain himself was the fact that other than himself, there weren’t many hybrids to be found in the Mountainview Hotel. And even then, not many of the guests brought their hybrids along with them when they vacationed or took their business trips. If Mavis was being honest and allowed her professionalism to lapse some, the hybrids brought along by the higher class guests were rather… bratty. In the way that some spoiled children seemed.
 She was sure that they weren’t all bad, but the way your actions are perceived by family and friends often differs from the way you’re seen by strangers.
 Even Jeongguk probably seemed bratty to everyone else.
 Mavis had to admit, the way he was grouching reminded her of a preteen determined to not have fun on a family trip and trying to make everyone else as miserable as he was.
 But she couldn’t fault him for it. She’d be angry too if her whole life was flipped upside down and she was told she now had to live with a stranger and abide by their rules if they wanted to live. For Jeongguk, her ownership could be considered the equivalent of prison while she only felt like she had custody of a child that would need a lifetime of her care.
 But even so, life went on and he had to interact with her some time.
 And going grocery shopping and clothes shopping was the first way they were going to have to do it.
 “Jeongguk,” Mavis called finally, making the hybrid freeze as he waited for her to speak. His eyes remained on the TV even as his ears tilted towards her. “We need to go out. I want to stock up the kitchen and we’ll need to fluff up your wardrobe. I’m sure it’s got to be tiring recycling the same plain clothes every day.”
 “White T-shirts are my style.” Jeongguk said flatly. Mavis could only see a fraction of his face from that angle, but she could easily make out the scowl that marred his features.
 Internally she winced. Outwardly, she only raised an eyebrow.
 “Then I’ll buy you however many you like. But that doesn’t change the fact that the constant wearing and washing is going to wear them down to rags before long.” She walked in between him and the TV, forcing him to look at her. She offered a quirk of her lips in lieu of a smile. “Besides, we can try somewhere new to eat while we’re out. You can pick the place.”
 Jeongguk looked put out with her presence, but seemed interested in the idea of food. "Fine."
 Mavis smiled encouragingly and offered him a jacket, thankful that she had preferred to buy jackets from the men's section when she still lived in the city. They always seemed thicker, even if they didn't always match the rest of her outfits' styles, and Mavis loved to wear her clothes with sleeves a size or three bigger. They were comfortable and offered her a bigger sense of protection somehow.
 Besides, she thought the whole sweater paws concept was very cute.
 Jeongguk scowled but accepted the jacket. His hybrid side wasn't exactly built for cold weather, even if he was in denial even to himself about the truth of his species. He loathed to wear anything that carried Mavis' scent. The cabin was barely bearable,  only the fact that she had just moved in and spent little time there since putting him at ease. Jeongguk had secretly been going around the cabin and scenting what he could, keeping in mind the fact that Mavis informed him that there would be more hybrids coming at some point. He wanted all of them to know that he was the original, even if he didn't care for their owner.
 Jeongguk stayed silent for their short trip to the garage, making Mavis feel a bit nervous. She always hated having people walk behind her where she couldn't see them. It made her self conscious and messed with her sense of security. Typically, she would have slowed down her pace to match his, but thought it would be a bad idea to force Jeongguk to be too close to her. Plus, he didn't know where the garage was and she did.
 And again, going into the garage made Mavis' brain short circuit for a moment at the extravagance of it. Had her grandfather really needed so many vehicles?
 Jeongguk let out a long, low whistle at the sight. His expression finally changed from indifference to awe.
 He knew his new owner was loaded, but this was a rich chick for sure. 
 Mavis hid her smile at the look of awe on his face and considered her options.
 She wanted to take her own car. She was familiar with it and loved it, having bought it all on her own. It wasn't anything new or flashy, but there was pride in driving something you worked hard for. But she knew it wasn't going to be large enough to hold everything they were out to buy today.
 Mavis eyed the collection of SUVs, immediately disregarding the ones meant for show or mud riding and decided that the plain, white one with a hatchback was her best choice. Surely they could lay the seats down for more room.
 "Do you have a driver's license, Jeongguk?" she asked, noticing his fascination with a bright blue sports car she was too afraid to even think of driving.
 "I'm a hybrid."
 Mavis shrugged. "That doesn't mean you can't have a driver's license. Independent Hybrids are capable of obtaining them and Owned Hybrids are as well, though I'm sure there's quite a bit of paperwork to go through. We can get you one, if you like, and I'll add you to my insurance so you can drive any car in here that you like."
 Jeongguk stared at her like Mavis had been speaking a dead language instead of offering him more independence. He frowned, unsure of her motives. Did she want him to run off and disappear so she'd have a reason to give him up and not feel guilty over his death. "I'd rather not." 
 Mavis sighed, but allowed the matter to drop. Instead, she moved over to the peg board where all the keys were stored to get the keys to the SUV. If she liked the car well enough for grocery shopping, she might even add its key to her key chain.
 She was a bit surprised when Jeongguk tried to climb into the backseat instead of the passenger side and forgot herself for a moment when she reached into the backseat to stop him. They both looked at her outstretched hand incredulously.
“We’ll need the space for our groceries.” she said quietly, clearing her throat in an attempt to also clear out the awkwardness of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at the close call, having promised herself that any contact the two of them shared would be on Jeongguk’s terms. She never wanted to pressure him, even if it meant they never got more than a foot closer to each other.
 “You… want me to ride in the front seat? With you?” Jeongguk sounded unsure for once. He eyed her hand like a rabbit facing a snake, making Mavis realize that she’d never dropped it.
 She stepped back, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked for the button that would lay the backseat down. “Of course.”
 Jeongguk looked like he wanted to argue, but merely followed Mavis’ lead and pushed the button on his side, the two of them working together to transform the backseat into a better storage area.
 When they were done, he climbed into the passenger’s seat silently, buckling up and fixing his eyes on the window.
 The SUV was really too much for her to handle at first, especially the fact that her key… wasn’t really a key and more of a fob.
 It took her a moment to actually get the car started, not used to having to press a button instead of turning a key. Jeongguk even turned his head from the window to look at her judgmentally.
 “Doesn’t your chauffeur usually pick you up?” he asked, unable to help himself from asking. He wondered if she was trying to show off for him by taking him out herself. It wasn’t working.
 Mavis’ brow furrowed as she tried to figure out the car’s features, carefully trying to get the Bluetooth to work before she tried to drive. She wasn’t familiar with the good radio stations in the area yet and couldn’t stand driving in silence, let alone the awkward one that always came with Jeongguk’s presence. “I’m sure that Cooper would have one waiting if I asked, but I’ve never used a chauffeur before.”
 Jeongguk stared. “I thought rich people never drove anywhere themselves.”
 Mavis snorted and shrugged. “I dunno about that. I’m new to all this, myself. I didn’t really see my grandfather all that often after my great-grandparents passed - there was never a reason to - so my lifestyle was much more humble than all this.” she frowned. “It’s rather unsettling if I’m being honest.”
 Jeongguk wanted to ask why she had little reason to see her family. Did someone need a reason to go see the people they were supposed to spend their lives surrounded by? But it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know about her personal life. Really.
 Even if the question as to why she was unaccustomed to this life was a burning one. She seemed like she had a handle on things and carried herself like a strong and smart business woman with a flourishing hotel and lavish life behind her. He didn’t wonder what she was like before, what she might have been if she didn’t suddenly drop into his life as his newest owner.
 Jeongguk turned back to the window and swallowed his questions.
 After getting her phone connected to the SUV’s Bluetooth (which took more brainpower than she was willing to admit), Mavis opened her Spotify and handed her phone over to Jeongguk.
 “You can play whatever you like.” she told him as she pressed the button on her keyring to open the garage door. “I may need to pull up the GPS to find the grocery store after we get into the city. Though, I think I can use the car’s map system instead of my phone…” Mavis frowned thoughtfully at the display before pulling out of the garage. She paused briefly to shut the door again before heading down the driveway and towards the exit to the hotel grounds.
 She couldn’t help but slow down to give the sprawling building a worried look as she passed, much like a new mother leaving her newborn with someone else for the first time.
 The hotel wasn’t on fire and would still be intact when she got back. They’d managed without her there before and they could do it again.
 … now if only she could convince herself of that.
 Mavis waved at the security guard as he let them out, and Jeongguk finally settled on a song as they left the gates.
 A low, bass beat began thrumming through the SUV and its passengers were silent, only the voice of the track’s vocalist filling the space between them.
 Fortunately for Mavis, the car system’s GPS pulled up easily enough and getting on the highway to the city was simple enough. If they were only going for grocery shopping, Mavis would have headed in the opposite direction for the little town that was a bit closer. She had passed through it the first time she’d made the trip up the mountain to the hotel and found it to be very similar to her own hometown, if a bit newer.
 But today she had lots of things in mind to get for the cabin - for both her and Jeongguk - and so they would be getting their groceries from a large chain grocery store instead.
 When the music came to a sudden stop, Mavis and Jeongguk both looked at the Bluetooth display in bewilderment. Jeongguk checked Mavis’ phone and frowned at the name. It seemed strangely familiar to him.
 “It’s Cooper calling.” he told Mavis flatly, trying to hand the phone over.
 She waved him off, not confident in driving and holding the phone at the same time, and accepted the call through the SUV’s Bluetooth.
 There was a beat of silence after the phone connected.
 “Hello? Ms. Attmore?” Cooper’s slightly staticky voice filled the cab. He sounded nervous.
 Mavis hid her amused grin even though Cooper couldn’t see her. It was still funny to her that she was intimidating now. Especially after leaving a job where the people in her care screamed and swatted at her all day long (she missed her toddler class dearly).
 The power was a little intoxicating.
 “Good morning, Cooper.” Mavis said, sliding into her Boss Lady voice. Even her driving smoothed out, her shoulders straightening and her confidence growing.
 Jeongguk did a double take, having grown used to a reserved and almost timid Mavis. This person in the car with him now was the same Ms. Attmore he had met the first day she arrived at the Mountain View.
 His ears perked up and his nostrils flared, becoming more attentive of her instinctively. He was curious about this side of her personality.
 “Good morning, Ma’am!” Cooper said more brightly. “I was just calling to check in with you. Has the cabin been to your liking? I know it’s been a few days and I was wondering when you’d like me to send the housekeeping service out?”
 Mavis tapped her fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I suppose today would be fine. I’m taking Jeongguk out to pick out some clothes and things for his room.” She glanced over at the Hybrid in question. “Would you like them to straighten your room up a bit, or would that be too uncomfortable?” Mavis lowered her voice a bit to keep it off the call.
 Jeongguk hesitated, not used to having so much agency over his own space.
 After spending so long in the underground fighting rings, having privacy and personal belongings of his own was a foreign concept. He knew to leave Mavis’ belongings alone, but had just expected her to do as she pleased with the things she had given to him.
 “I can clean my own room.” Jeongguk said slowly, watching for any adverse reaction.
 Mavis just nodded and raised her voice to address Cooper again. “Have them skip Jeongguk’s room for now. And can you ask them to skip the floral scented stuff? It gives me a headache…”
 “Would a citrus scent be more preferable, Ma’am?” Cooper asked anxiously.
 “That’s fine. But no coconut or pineapple or mango, please. They make me feel ill.”
 “I’ll tell the housekeeper to use an orange or lemon scent from now on, Ma’am.” Cooper promised. Mavis could almost see him in her mind’s eye, scribbling furiously in his planner to keep her preferences marked down for future reference.
 “Thank you.” Mavis allowed a small smile to cross her face before it was replaced with a thoughtful frown. “One more thing, Cooper - would you mind adding another smartphone to my plan?”
 “Of course, Ma’am!” Cooper said eagerly. “Do you have any preferences for color or brand?”
 Mavis shrugged. “It’s for Jeongguk. I’ll have to let you ask him.” She nodded at Jeongguk, wordlessly telling him to go ahead and give Cooper the word.
 The Hybrid froze, looking at Mavis like a frightened rabbit.
 She offered him a more sincere smile, trying to be as encouraging as she could. “It’s okay.” she whispered. “If you don’t know what you like best yet, you can get a phone like mine in whatever color you want.”
 “... the same phone as Ms. Attmore.” Jeongguk said hesitantly, voice just barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. “In purple?”
 “You catch that, Cooper?” Mavis asked, wanting to make sure Jeongguk got exactly what he wanted.
 “Should that be a light purple or a dark?” the assistant clarified.
 “Either is fine.” Jeonggiuk said, a bit more confidently this time.
 “I’ll have it waiting for you when you return home!” Cooper said brightly, happy to finally have something to do for Mavis. “Is there anything else I can help with?”
 “I think that covers it for now, Cooper.” Mavis reassured him. “I may need your help arranging deliveries for our bigger items when we get to the store.”
 “I’ll be waiting for your call!”
 “Thank you,” Mavis reached over to end the call. “Have a good day.”
 Jeongguk continued to watch her, no longer trying to ignore her, even after the music resumed on their way to the city.
 She was tolerable for the moment, maybe even agreeable after a long period of time, but he would still keep an eye out for any signs that it was all an act.
 After all, a hybrid still couldn’t trust a human.
_________________
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beck-a-leck · 3 years ago
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Lmao for the Crack writing prompt, I'm thinking "meeting at a party whilst drunk au" with Duke x Doug from FoMT :)
This idea is CURSED and I love it so much! I hope you enjoy a little "What Happens At The Food and Wine Conference Stays At The Food and Wine Conference" because we all know booze and hotels and strangers you barely know are a Bad Combination!
🦀🦀🦀
Doug had mixed feelings about conferences and trade shows. On one hand, great networking opportunity in the food and hospitality business. On the other hand, it was kind of expensive and about two days too long, and being an innkeeper himself he couldn't stop critiquing everything the host hotel was doing. Another pro, he got a room and a king-sized bed all to himself for four whole nights, and considering Ann was in the stage where she only wanted to sleep wedged between her parents and somehow her smelly little feet always ended up in Doug's face come 3AM, he was enjoying the quiet nights to himself. Another con, he missed his wife and daughter, stinky toddler feet and all.
Tonight, at least, was the last night. All conference attendees were invited to the farewell dinner/mixer in the hotel ballroom, and since the food was free and there was an open bar, the good majority of them were partaking. Folks mingled and chatted and drank, and there was even some music for dancing, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about that after a long weekend of wine tastings and heavy food samplings. Doug had managed to grab a seat at the bar after dinner, and he intended on staying there until he decided it was time to turn in for the night.
He nursed a couple drinks and made small talk with the bartenders, other patrons who sidled up to place an order, said goodbyes to the few acquaintances he'd made over the weekend.
At some point, he struck up conversation with one of the other barflies, and they quickly found they had rather a lot in common. Both married, both had young daughters. Duke owned a winery in a small town that sounded like the perfect kind of place Doug wanted to live some day.
Right now he was the franchise owner of a national chain of hotels -- not terrible work, it kept his family comfortable, but he longed for something a little more intimate in the future, like a small inn or a bed and breakfast. Someplace he could really get to know his clients and get to stretch his culinary muscles rather than just running around putting out management fires all day.
They talked and they drank, and Doug lingered long after he told himself he'd call it a night and go to bed. Duke drank quite a lot, but Doug was no slouch either, they matched drink for drink, even as a vintner complained about the cheap booze.
He grimaced exaggeratedly as they both downed a shot of gin. "Ugh, that burns, horrible cheap crap."
Dough laughed, slugging him gently on the shoulder, "Then why do you keep drinking it?"
"Well, it might be terrible, but it's free!"
And Doug couldn't argue with that logic. Free booze was free booze.
They drank together at the bar, swapping stories and making ridiculous toasts, and tipping the bartenders generously until the party wound down and all the remaining conference stragglers were chased out of the ball room. They didn't have to go to their rooms, but they couldn't stay there either.
Duke and Doug stumbled to an elevator together, with their arms around each others' shoulders, both holding the other upright. By coincidence, they were on the same floor, but Duke's room was closer to the elevator.
"Come in for a minute for a night cap," he slurred as he fumbled for his room key. "I've got some of my wine with me. Wanna get your opinion."
Dough snorted a laugh, but stumbled into the hotel room. "Don't know how good my opinion will be after all that crap gin."
"This'll be like ambrosia after that." Duke uncorked a bottle and tipped the contents messily into paper coffee cups.
Doug tried to make an honest effort of tasting the wine properly, but he couldn't exactly get a good sense of the bouquet from a paper cup, and his brain was very fuzzy. Still, drunk as he was, he knew a good wine when he tasted one.
Duke grinned leaned in and refilled Doug's cup. "I knew you were a man of discerning tastes."
He looked up, and both men realized how close they were, close enough to smell the good wine and cheap booze on their breath. Without thinking, Doug closed the gap, placing a hesitant kiss on Duke's lips.
Duke didn't pull back like he expected. Instead, he leaned into the kiss. Doug had to be the one to break it off and pull back.
"Wait! I'm married."
"So am I."
"I have a daughter!"
"So do I."
"I... we shouldn't..." Doug protested weakly, setting his wine on the bedside table. He did not stand up and leave, even if he knew he should.
"Hey," Duke said lowly, leaning in once more, "What happens in Vegas..."
And Doug gave in, leaning into an enthusiastic kiss once more.
What harm could come from one night? It wasn't like he'd ever see this man again after this.
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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago
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Alright allow me to overanalyze on Asa Emory’s character, if you don’t mind... 
THE COLLECTOR AND HIS DOGS
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Basically this is just me nerding out over dogs and the life of having working dogs also the connection Asa might have to them, so don’t mind me. Now if you do not know I am a person who owns 3 dogs myself, is a big dog lover, have worked with many many different types and characters of dogs, and also follow different sports and clubs with dogs involved. So from experience and research this is where I get this info I'm gonna share ;) hope you enjoy my ted talk🔪💕
In the first movie The Collector Asa has a German Shepard chained up outside the home, using it as a first of many strings in protection. Later on in the movie you get a better look at the dog and what it can do; searching and wanting to lock onto a target, any target. Now this is different from protection work and leads more into a German dog sport called schutzhund. This sport is the ability to test just how good your working dog is at working, it is based from protection work, to tracking, to obedience, to bite. 
This training style is very severe in some cases, and this is what the police use for their training more often than not. It takes a very particular person to have dogs in this sport, even if it is just for fun. And we all know just how particular Asa is lol. 
Now who is the type of person to put their dogs into this? A very interesting one. First of all, anyone who is really into this work will hand pick the type of dog they want, from breed to working lines (meaning how well the dogs parents did in competition, as well as how the breeder is with other dogs). Now you can choose as well where you get these dogs from, could be from Europe to America doesn’t matter, it is up to the soon to be owners choice. Either way these dogs are expensive and need heavy hours set into them to achieve the level of training Asa has his dogs working on, and even more so in the second movie by working together. These people often have a huge thing with power and control, which we already know from Asa, but also they usually need/have extreme self-discipline wanting to be perfect in every aspect, could be a dogs position next to you if they aren’t as close that gets you fucked up because they could not defend you properly. Everything needs to be flawless.��
With all this work, self-discipline and control it can be extremely rewarding, especially for Asa in this case to see someone get their face ripped off, it is in his sadistic nature. Even having the dogs presence is often enough to intimidate anyone, in a lot of police work situations people will flee or hide somewhere if they know it is just a single officer, but once the dog gets brought in people more than likely surrender, fast and easy. If anyone of Asa’s collection pieces chooses to run or hide, the dogs can sniff out where they go, they can out run people and will bite, at least without the dogs people could have a chance. Another good thing about dogs is that they alert, if Asa is working and the dogs bark he will know exactly where that person is easily. 
So to overview what I just rambled about before getting into the next topic, Asa is a very control oriented person, needing to have power over something and be very strategic in doing so. Getting off on the intimidation and fear factor of his victims, and even more so when people get bit. These dogs are also for his own protection, caring about himself and his beautiful collection first, and maybe even caring for the double life he leads more. It also can make Asa’s life easier, not having to always make the kill himself, and this leads me to believe that it isn’t really the kill that gets him off, it is the chase, the skill he has taken and the victims skill of getting away that drives him. Almost uses the dogs in more annoyance just because people aren’t dying and getting in his way or messing with his stuff. I mentioned skill a sentence back and I want to bring it up again because I think it’s important; Asa can appreciate the skill of his victims, it makes it more thrilling but also I think he has a deep appreciation for his dogs skills, being extremely hard working and intelligent creatures, like himself and some victims. Now with the thing about Asa taking his favorites, he is trying to find the right one, the perfect one, making more sense for him to have dogs, Asa can mold his perfect dog, using only working dogs, dogs that love to please and want to be perfect for you.            
Now moving on to the next topic - Connections. So this could go two ways, a good way and a bad, no in between. The majority of people grow extreme bonds with their dogs, especially their working dogs, all the hours you put into the training and you have to trust your dog and they have to trust you. In the military specifically dogs build one of the strongest connections with the soldiers, they are their comfort because they see the same things and yet still have a wagging tail, they can save each others lives, protect one another and appreciate each other deeply for skill and for love. Now there are other people, most common in police work because the dogs can sometimes be too intense or have certain contracts but, these people don’t take their dogs home or when they are home they stay in one room or kennel mostly. Sometimes there are dogs that just can’t adapt to home life and just want to work, but sometimes they can make wonderful family and house dogs. At the same time it is up to the owner choosing what they want for the dog. 
Something strikes me with Asa that he genuinely loves his dogs but at the same time some of his actions make me think twice. In the first movie the dog is chained up away from the dangerous traps of the inside, he is protecting the dog at first, but moving along in the movie he releases the dog into the home going after Arkin. Now this is the dogs job mind you, so Asa trusts him, but also you can see a lot of traps or dangers have been removed so the dog can work safely and knows the dog is smart enough to avoid some of the obvious traps. He lets him work but also wants to help the dog, perhaps not wanting the dog to get seriously hurt or maybe just finally finishing Arkin off. Also the scene where Asa is outside and calls off the dog when he is biting a guy, again maybe for safety of the pet maybe just to watch the man struggle. Ultimately the dog dies in the first one, but Asa watches very carefully when the dog is going after Arkin, and there is almost a ‘sadness’ or maybe curiosity to Asa’s face, and I think he knows in that moment his dog is sadly dead. 
In The Collection you don’t see the dogs really work that much, you only see them barking at Abby then barging in the room with Asa, so it is hard to really see any connections. From both movies I would say Asa takes the dogs with him for the most part, takes them to ‘jobs’ and brings them to the hotel. Now at the hotel it is important to notice the dogs do not have free range or else we would see them probably a lot more. My best guess is that Asa cares for the dogs and doesn’t want them getting hurt by his traps until he knows who the people are, that’s when he loses it, literally going in all guns a blazing. When he does bring the dogs out they are only with him, aka his control and protection side coming out. Now in this scene Asa has an assault rifle that he uses in tandem with the dogs, but I noticed carefully watching the scene, Asa never shoots towards the dogs, he lets them work, again trusting them deeply, if he did shoot around not caring for them the bullets would have defiantly hit Arkin and wounded him or killed him. Of course after this scene we don’t really get to see Asa in any sort of grief, (which I really wanted lol) he is just busy trying to kill everyone else and not get caught by the cops. 
Then in the final scene of The Collection we see Asa’s home, this is like months after the events at the hotel from what I can tell, but we see no dogs, not a trace. Simply he maybe could not have gotten anymore dogs since his collection was destroyed and he doesn’t really need dogs to protect his stuff any longer, or maybe Asa did not find new dogs that he wanted yet, or just maybe they were locked in the house away in a room, keeping his house spotless. Who knows it is all up to the person watching, I don’t think they expected a dog crazy person to be diving this deep lol.
So my final thoughts. I personally think Asa really likes his dogs and they bring him good company and something to have power over in his regular life. Once you have a dog, especially dogs that take so much work and training time it is very hard for people to just stop having dogs. Also being a biologist I think he can deeply appreciate them for their intelligence and skill. If anyone says Asa would like cats you can fuck off because look what happened to the cat in the first movie, it was clumsy and got itself killed, plus look at his house, not a thing knocked over lol, a cat would never do for him. Anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk and letting me nerd out! Fill free to add your own thoughts.       
This is Aero from the first movie, a German Shepard that might be from some European lines, but looks mostly American to me.     
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Now I sadly couldn’t find these dogs names, but these 2 are a little different. To me the one on the left looks like a European line longer fur german shep. While the one on the right looks like a belgian malinois maybe with some shepard in it. 
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elxctrics · 8 months ago
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"i only call you when it's half past five, the only time that i'll be by your side. i only love it when you touch me, not feel me, when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."
(—) ★ spotted!! phllippe 'phoenix' costa on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 32 year old looks like francisco lachowski but i don’t really see it. while dj/club owner is known for being magnetic my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be conniving i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the hills by the weeknd {he/him / cismale}
  ˗ˏˋ * ‣ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬    :  
connections || musings || instagram || headcanons
name: phillipe 'phoenix' costa
age: thirty two
nicknames: nix, wolf
date of birth: october 30th, 1992
astrological sign: scorpio
place of birth: bel air, california
occupation: dj / club owner
label: the casanova
positive traits: focused, determined, charming, diligent
negative traits: manipulative, selfish, apathetic, conniving
characters/celebrities he’s like: dennis reynolds from it’s always sunny in philadelphia, chuck bass from gossip girl, klaus mikaelson from the vampire diaries,  john mayer
career claim : calvin harris
𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂
born and raised in las vegas, nevada to a restauranter for a father and a celebrity party planner for a mother, it’s safe to say that phillipe’s life has been nothing but one, big giant party.
with his father having a chain of luxury restaurants on the vegas strip in all of the most luxurious hotels and his mother rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, philippe fell in love with the night life far earlier than he probably should have.
workaholics and always working on their latest big project left philippe to his own devices more often than not - and a kid with money and nothing but time on his hands was a dangerous thing in sin city.
wickedly smart, but never applying himself in school, he used those smarts for other things - selling drugs on the low, making fake ids for his friends, bribing his way into the hottest nightclubs when he was underage, always with a knack to scheme and lie his way into whatever he wanted.
he’s always had laser focus, liking to turn the mundane into something extraordinary, and when he wasn’t running around the vegas strip causing trouble, he was in his room, headphones in, making remake mixes to some of the world’s most popular songs.
he began making youtube videos of his music when he realized that college wasn’t an option for him, considering he was rarely in school, and his videos and remixes garnished millions and millions of views
using his mother’s connections, he began to get djing gigs at all the most popular nightclubs on the vegas strip, eventually being a headliner himself.
partying and hanging out with celebrities every single night was exactly the life he wanted for himself. he craved a constant good time, forever wanting to be a peter pan boy that never grew up, and he soon realized that this career path was it.
instead of just making mixes, he began producing songs for popular artists and every time he did, they ended up at the top of the charts, which caused him to move to los angeles and take on a celebrity status, under his stage name, ‘phoenix’
never wanting anyone to tell him what to do, he started his own record label - that literally only produces his music and collaborations with other artists called ‘fly guy records.’
now, not only is he one of the biggest djs in the world, but he’s also an entrepreneur, and has opened two nightclubs - sound nightclub in downtown los angeles & hakkasan in los vegas.
there’s not a humble bone in his body, a true nepo baby who’s gotten nothing but praise for doing the bare minimum his entire life, he’s used his clout and fame to get him anything, and anyone he wants.
he’s a non-committal kind of man, bored easily and treats women like they’re disposable, but will put on the charming act to get what he wants out of them.
sickly sweet to get what he wants, once he does, a switch flips and he can become the most cold person you’ve ever met, but he simply doesn’t care - the world is his chessboard and everyone is merely a pawn to him in this game that he calls life.
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not-mandip · 4 years ago
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Robertson could’ve been a good companion you guys are just gay:
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Has no fear or sense of self preservation: the guy successfully negociated with multiple Daleks, and didn’t get killed! He knew what they were, and what they did, and yet, took the risk and proposed an alliance. He was even treated like an equal, none of the companions have done that before. That’s a raw talent there.
He can grow into something better: Ryan went from baby to man, Graham grew up closer to his grandson. Yaz turned gay (and do did half the fandom). Robertson can grow to be a more eco conscious business man, who cares about the people. Think of what he would’ve learned if he went to kerblam? To not employ ppl bcuz they fuck up your fully automated business? We all know the true message was to not use bubblewrap. Do you know how much money he could save if he switched to something else less plastic? TONS of money. The planet would personally thank him. And on Praxeus? Eco consciousness saves lives.
Solid Morale: gave a mercy shot to a spider. Thirteen would’ve let it asphyxiate to death (a very slow and painful death I might add), and let’s not talk about how she put all of the baby spiders in a room to starve to death too. Robertson knew better, he prevented the suffering. And don’t come to me with him letting Kevin die, STOP LYING YOU GUYS WOULDVE DONE THE SAME ITS A FUCKING 6ft TALL SPIDER.
Questions the Doctor: Robertson boi doesn’t do things just because the Doctor said he had to, he straight up does whatever he thinks is correct and he’s usually is right: killed the spider against the Doctor’s wishes? Yes, but it was dying anyway, he didn’t let it suffer. Tried to do business with the Daleks against the Doctor’s advice? Lemme tell you this: what was the Doctor gonna do about the thousands of errant daleks? Let em float around? Nah, Robertson gave her the chance to think of a better plan that worked even better than the last one. Kudos to him.
Proper awe at the TARDIS: are you even a companion if you don’t showcase in shakesperean fashion your amazement when stepping on the TARDIS for the first time? The fam was kind of flat, bigger on the inside, no big deal. Even Ryan seemed more impressed by the amount of buttons in the console than the engineering dimensions explanation. Robertson boi was full on confused, to the point it was comical. Perfect. I bet you he would’ve asked Bill-style questions if someone has explained to him what is a TARDIS
Has valid reasons to run away from his life: being a CEO of your own hotel chain, waste disposal company, security drones system company and being pseudo president on the side must be pretty draining. Yeah he might not know what’s going on in his multiple companies but to be fair you don’t really know what’s going on in your own piping until it gets clogged. Must be really hard on him tbh, and he does look a bit tense. He just needs a nice evening in a sunny planet and let go of the stress. And maybe build another hotel in space.
Has business smarts: this is pretty obvious, but think about it. Robbie boi knows how money works, and how it moves and influences. In theory, that’s a good quality. Money makes us not think straight, the guy knows that. Imagine the potential. He could’ve appealed to Edison’s nature in the Tesla episode, and cut it by at least 30 minutes. And the Orphan 55 episode? Well, he would’ve give some good advice to the resort owners and help them improve security, with Dalek drones maybe? Business guy to business guy. They would’ve been pals.
He’s a Rat but everybody thinks he’s hero: very Doctory if you ask me. Rainbow Brite has done some bad shit, killing an innocent TARDIS, for example, and is not afraid to let people die if it fits the cause. That’s pretty dark for someone who believes all life must be preserved, but she’s seen as a hero. And now to Robertson boi. He did rat out the Doc and her plan, but that ultimately ended up saving more lives than whatever the Doctor wanted to do first. And he was also a good distraction for them Daleks, too busy doing business with him to notice two humans an an immortal planting explosives everywhere. And he also helps the economy by buying companies and employing people. Yeah, he messed up quite a few times but so did the Doctor and no one talks about it.
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Lessons to Build - ii: you can’t outrun what is in you
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Summary: Two years ago, you break off your 5-year long engagement with Min Yoongi of the Min family and ran off to New York. However, for people like you, running away has never been a lasting solution.
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Taehyung x reader
Warnings: None for this chapter. Y/N comes home, we meet Yoongi but not MEET-MEET. Might make you root for Taehyung. Notes: Short chapters for quicker updates is my jam. This took a while because i wasn’t sure how I wanted to present Yoongi yet. But here it is. He may be “kind” but there are other things at play that affected (and will affect) his decisions. Same with Y/N. Also Tumblr won’t let me tag some users. :(( I hope you guys find this update! And thank you for the people finding this fic!  Word Count: 1.6k Prologue  Lesson I 
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Home.
Home shouldn’t be something you have to run away from. And yet, the moment you booked your flight, fingers tapping away on your phone - your passport details, credit card, seat number - an undeniable weight has began to made its home on your shoulders. As encompassing as a blanket but as imprisoning as heavy sand.
“What do you mean you’re flying to Seoul? Now??”
Isn’t it funny how things change in less than 24 hours? In a blink of an eye?
Taehyung’s voice is shrill in the background as you toss clothes upon clothes over your shoulder, hopping they’d get at least near the perimeter of your open suitcase.
Around you is your life in disarray. At the back of your mind, you find it slightly disturbing how easily it could fit in several boxes. No roots.
“Yes—“
“Why?”
You pause from grabbing your toiletries. There are things to do here in LA - there’s the campaign, the meetings with investors, your contracts, your would-be dog - your life.
Your mother told you that your father doesn’t want you to make the flight. That he’s fine, and it’s just exhaustion but the waver in your mother’s voice had your heart dropping straight to your stomach. And so despite her half-hearted protests, you’ve turned over your works over email and sent the rest for your assistants to manage.
Seoul may as well be just another place in the map. No, you’re not coming for Seoul, you’re coming for family.
You grab your phone off your bed side table and press it against your ear. “My dad had a heart attack.”
On the other line, you can feel Taehyung consider his words. “I’m coming with you.”
Your hands pause from folding your clothes and you look at your phone and as if seeing your questioning gaze, Taehyung plows on. “Yeontan and I are coming with you.” “Why?”
There are two ways for Taehyung to answer. One easy way is to tell you the truth. That he knows you need a friend, a tether to your life here, someone who will solidify what you’ve built. Someone, something tangible, someone to prove to you that your life here is as real as the life you left.
Going back always runs the risk of regressing, falling back to old patterns, he learned.
After all, he knows the feeling of being forced back to square one.
Or, he could tell you this, “My brother’s been bugging me to visit. And I hate flying alone.”
You don’t mention that he’s flown across the globe more than you could count - even flew to France once because he wanted authentic mille-feuilles - and just nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the flight details.”
“Okay, Lady, I’ll be there.”
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The collapse of the CEO of the biggest chain of hotels and one of the upcoming land developers in an annual gala event can never be kept a secret.
You’ve seen it happen only once before, to Mr. Min. As a young girl, you remember how the media feasted around him like flies, and how shareholders of his company stalked around like wolves under sheep’s clothing.
It was as if everyone was waiting with a baited breath for the old man to die. A final shift of power from the old ways to the new. It was sensational, romanticized by the public - not sparing a thought or two to the families except when they needed something.
That was years ago, and it’s an unfortunate fact that hasn’t changed a bit.
“Well, can’t say I didn’t expect this - at least we look good.” Taehyung mutters, decidedly ignoring the occasional flash of camera in his periphery. They were still trying to be subtle, maybe not sure of the “scoop”? Scared of your supposed hidden bodyguards? Who knows?
“You always look good, Tae.” You whisper lightheartedly, forcing calmness in your words.
Around you, people continue to buzz around, grabbing their suitcases from the conveyor, talking on the phone, glancing at their watches. But they too have noticed, and glances towards your way multiply as the minutes pass by.
Taehyung hums in agreement, looking as if he hadn’t just flown across the world. “Yes, it requires effort, but don’t go telling them that.”
A loud shutter sound draws you away from your conversation and you boldly meet the lenses of a masked photographer eye-to-eye. Every bit of the Oh heiress they’ve built up in their mind.
Last time you checked, you were the high society’s prodigal princess. Ran away from home, off to play Cinderella in the United States. Keeping busy with shallow causes, burning through your daddy’s money.
You wonder how they come up with their headlines. You’ve long since given up in appealing towards their journalist’s ethics, but with how creative they come up with stories, you’re a bit disappointed with the headline you last read. The least they could do was make it more fun - a hidden lover? Pregnant? A twist, or something.
You scoff. Although you may have been away for two years, you still are your parents’ daughter. This is child’s play.
Dressed in a black luxury pantsuit, heels lifting you up from the ground and make-up on point, you provide no weak points. Eyes half-lidded you stare straight to the cameras who’ve come out of their hiding, propriety be damned and all.
Oh Y/N is back.
(And if it feels like shrugging on a second skin, you pay it no mind)
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“Tae… Tae… Tae!”
Taehyung jostles awake beside you, the hand you were shaking him with falls on your lap. “Wha— What?”
Yeontan’s yip echoes his owner’s confusion. The sound sounding as exhausted as he probably is. Flying has and will probably always be stressful for pets, but Taehyung refused to have someone dog sit Yeontan for this trip saying that he needs to meet his cousins, RJ or something.
Your eyes soften at your friend’s sleepy eyes. Outside the sky is bright, but you too can feel the time difference and jet lag creeping up.
“Sleep this off at the hotel, Tae. I’ll have the driver drop you off.” You’re already reaching out to press the button for the partition when Taehyung shakes his head.
“‘M not sleepy.”
“You’re dead on your feet, Tae.” Fondness laced in your words, you watch Taehyung straighten in his seat beside you and card his fingers through his hair, making the mess look like a ~coordinated~ one.
“I’m not letting you go there alone.”
“I’m going to the hospital, Tae, not war.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. Taehyung spies the way you tuck your hands around yourself, almost curling inwards, almost shaking.
No.
“Could’ve fooled me, you’re dressed to kill.”
You look over expecting a teasing grin on his face but you falter, frozen, at the sight of his eyes. Dark chocolate eyes pin you to your spot, and heat blooms on your cheeks. Suddenly, you feel like your suit is too tight and even in its dark shade - too sheer.
Almost two years of friendship has not rendered you immune to Kim Taehyung.
Like the passing scenery, the moment is gone as quick as it came. Taehyung smiles and lifts Yeontan to his shoulder.
“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?”
There’s no question as to who he’s referring to. “He might be, my mom said he almost hasn’t left my dad’s side.”
Taehyung scoffs, “Like a vulture.”
You want to defend Yoongi but despite leaving the country because of him, you did keep updated. Partly because it’s ingrained to you to stay on top of news relating to your family business and its periphery but also… well, you don’t know what you hoped for.
In the span of less than two years, Min Yoongi dragged their struggling company and made it great again. Competitors lost out, assets were seized left and right, absorbed, repurposed in the gaping maw of a resurging giant.
He’s ruthless.
But you can be too.
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Oh Jiyoung is not a young man anymore.
He doesn’t think he’s been young since his mother abandoned him and his father when he was ten. He wasn’t young when he left school at fifteen, or when he went back when he was eighteen.
He wasn’t young when he bussed tables, or worked in shucking oysters Yeosodo with swollen scarred hands. He wasn’t even young when he first met his wife, fell in love and learned what it was like to be loved back.
So, no, he isn’t surprised when he had a heart attack. A little off-put, and a bit terrified but not surprised. He’s lived more decades than he actually expected to already.
Looking down at his hands, he thinks that if he’d kicked the bucket right then and there the only true regret he’ll have is one that involves the young man across him.
Oh Jiyoung is old, but he hasn’t forgotten the mannerisms of a young man. His wife still makes him feel like one after all this years. So of course, he’s noticed the young man across him fiddle with his rings, his feet tapping to a rhythm only he knows.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
Yoongi looks up from his seat to the teasing face of his would’ve been father-in-law. His thumb pauses from rubbing against the ring in his forefinger, he doesn’t answer. He feels the stare of your father bore down on him and he almost shifts like a boy caught in a lie.
Your flight has landed just less than two hours ago, he doubts you’ll give yourself time to rest first before heading to the hospital. Which means, any time now, those doors will open and you’ll be here.
How odd.
As if summoned, the doors open and —
— there you are.
Yoongi’s eyes don’t stay on you too long, not with a tall man hovering behind you, dark eyes trained on him. Your ease at this man’s close proximity sets fire at the back of his neck, and even if he wanted to say hello, this, instead comes out.
“The rumors are true then, huh?” 
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Tag List: @moonlitmyg @shadowstark @kookiebunnii @loveyoongles @swegstuffsuckers @anpanman-sonyeondan @veronawrites @ariadne-06 @springjade @neverthefirstchoice @creatorspalace​ End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!
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foreverdavidbyrne · 4 years ago
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David Byrne’s interview in NME magazine
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In 1979, David Byrne predicted Netflix. “It’ll be as easy to hook your computer up to a central television bank as it is to get the week’s groceries,” he told NME’s Max Bell, sitting in a Paris hotel considering the implications of Talking Heads’ dystopian single ‘Life During Wartime’.
He predicted the Apple Watch in that interview too: “[People will] be surrounded by computers the size of wrist watches.” And he foresaw surveillance culture and data harvesting: “Government surveillance becomes inevitable because there’s this dilemma when you have an increase in information storage. A lot of it is for your convenience, but as more information gets on file, it’s bound to be misused.”
In fact, over 40 years ago, he predicted the entire modern-day experience, as if he instinctively knew what was coming. “We’ll be cushioned by amazing technological development,” he said, “but sitting on Salvation Army furniture.”
The 68-year-old Byrne says today, “You can’t say that you know,” chuckling down a Zoom link from his home in New York and belying his reputation for awkwardness by seeming giddily relieved to be talking to someone. “It’s crazy to set yourself up as some sort of prophet. But there’s plenty of people who have done well with books where they claim to predict what’s going on. I suppose sometimes it’s possible to let yourself imagine, ‘Okay – what if?’ This can evolve into something that exists, can evolve into something more substantial, cheaper – these kinds of things.”
It’s been a lifelong gift. Byrne turned up at CBGBs in 1975 with his art school band Talking Heads touting ‘Psycho Killer’, as if predicting the punk scene’s angular melodic evolution, new wave, before punk was even called punk. In 1980, Talking Heads assimilated African beats and textures into their seminal ‘Remain In Light’ album, foreshadowing ‘world music’ and modern music’s globalist melting pot, then used it to warn America of the dangers of consumerism, selfishness and the collapse of civilisation. Pioneering or propheteering, Byrne has been on the front-line of musical evolution for 45 years, collaborating with fellow visionaries from Brian Eno to St Vincent’s Annie Clark, constantly imagining, ‘What if?’
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The live music lockdown has been a frustrating freeze frame, but Byrne was already leading the way into music’s new normal. Launched in 2018, the tour to support his 10th solo album, ‘American Utopia’, has now turned into a cinematic marvel courtesy of Spike Lee – the concert film was released in the UK this week. The original tour was acclaimed as a live music revolution. Using remote technology, Byrne was able to remove all of the traditional equipment clutter from the stage and allow his musicians and dancers, in uniform grey suits and barefoot, to roam around a stage lined with curtains of metal chains with their instruments strapped to them. A Marshally distanced gig, if you will.
“As the show was conceptually coming together, I realised that once we had a completely empty stage the rulebook has now been thrown out,” Byrne says. “Now we can go anywhere and do anything. This is completely liberating. It means that people like drummers, for example, who are usually relegated to the back shadows, can now come to the front – all those kinds of things – which changes the whole dynamic.”
With six performers making up an entire drum kit and Byrne meandering through the choreography trying to navigate a nonsensical world, the show was his most striking and original since he jerked and jived around a constructed-mid-gig band set-up in Jonathan Demme’s legendary 1984 Talking Heads live film Stop Making Sense.
The American Utopia show embarked on a Broadway run last year, where Byrne super-fan Spike Lee saw it twice and leapt at the chance of turning the spectacle into Byrne’s second revolutionary live film, dotted with his musings on the human condition to illuminate the crux of the songs: institutional racism, our lack of modern connection, the erosion of democracy and, on opener ‘Here’, a lecture-like tour of the human brain, Byrne holding aloft a scale model, trying to fathom, ‘How do I work this?’
“I didn’t know how much of a fan Spike was!” Byrne laughs today. “He’d even go, ‘Why don’t you do this song? Why don’t you add this song in’. We knew one another casually so I could text him and say, ‘I want you to come and see our show; I think that you might be interested in making a film of it’.”
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Are the days of the traditional stage set-up numbered? “Yes, I think so,” he replies. “At least in theatres and concert halls the size that I would normally play, yes. The fact that we can get the music digitally [means] a performance has to be really of value. It has to be really something special, because that’s where the performers are getting their money and that’s what the audience is paying for. They’re not paying very much for streaming music, but they are paying quite a bit to go and see a performance, so the performance has to give them value for money… It has to be really something to see.”
How does David Byrne envisage the future possibilities of live performance?
“I’ve seen a lot of things that hip-hop artists have done – like the Kanye West show where he emerges on a platform that floats above the stage,” he says. “I’d seen one with Kendrick Lamar where it was pretty much just him on stage, an empty stage with just him on stage and a DJ, somebody with a laptop – that was it. I thought, ‘Wow’. Then he started doing things with huge projections behind. There are lots of ways to do this. I love the idea of working with a band, with live musicians. ‘How can I innovate in this kind of way?’ It’s maybe easier for a hip-hop musician who doesn’t have a band to figure out. The pressure is on to come up with new ways of doing this.”
In liberating his musicians from fixed, immovable positions, American Utopia also acts as a metaphor for freeing our minds from our own ingrained ways of thinking. As Byrne intersperses Talking Heads classics such as ‘Once In A Lifetime’, ‘I Zimbra’ and ‘Road To Nowhere’ with choice solo cuts and tracks from ‘American Utopia’, he also dots the show with musings on an array of post-millennial questions: the health of democracy; the rise of xenophobia and fascism; our increasing reliance on materialism and online communication; the climate change threat; the existential nightmare of the dating app; and, crucially, the distances all of these things put between us.
“The ‘likes’ and friends and connections and everything that the internet enables,” he argues, “even Zoom calls like this, they’re no substitute for really being with other people. Calling social networks ‘social’ is a bit of an exaggeration.”
Byrne closes the show with the suggestion that, rather than isolate behind our LCD barriers, we should try to reconnect with each other. In an age when social media has descended into all-out thought war and anyone can find concocted ‘facts’ to support anything they want to believe, is that realistic?
“I have a little bit of hope,” he says. “Not every day, but some days. I have hope that people will abandon a lot of social media, that they’ll realise how intentionally addictive it is, and they’re actually being used, and that they might enjoy actually being with other people rather than just constantly scrolling through their phone. So, I’m a little bit optimistic that people will, in some ways, use this technology a little bit less than they have.”
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A key moment in American Utopia comes with Byrne’s cover of Janelle Monae’s ‘Hell You Talmbout’, a confrontational track shouting the names of African-Americans who have been killed by police or in racially motivated attacks – Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, George Floyd and far, far too many more. Does Byrne think the civil unrest in the wake of Floyd’s death and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement make a serious impact?
“We’ll see how long this continues,” he says, “but in projects that I’m working on – there’s a theatre project I’m working on in Denver, there’s the idea of bringing this show back to Broadway, there’s other projects – those issues came to the fore. Issues of diversity and inclusion and things like that, which were always there. Now they’re being taken more seriously. The producers and theatre owners realise that they can’t push those things aside, that they have to be included in the whole structure of how a show gets put together.”
“At least for now, that seems to be a big change. I see it in TV shows and other areas too. There’s a lot of tokenism, but there’s a lot of real opportunity and changed thinking as well.”
Elsewhere, he encourages his audience to register to vote, and had registration booths at the shows. He must have been pleased about the record turnout in the recent US election? “Yeah, the turnout was great. Now you just got to keep doing that. Gotta keep doing it at all the local elections, too. It was important for me not to endorse a political party or anything in the show but to say, ‘Listen, we can’t have a democracy if you don’t vote. You have to get out there and let your voice be heard and there’s lots of people trying to block it.’ We have to at least try.”
Will Trump’s loss help bring people together after four years with such a divisive influence in charge?
“Yes. I think for me Trump was not so much a shock; we knew who he is. He was around New York before that, in the reality show [The Apprentice], we knew what kind of character he was. What shocked me was how quickly the Republican party all fell into line behind him, behind this guy who’s obviously a racist, misogynist liar and everything else. But it’s kind of encouraging – although it’s taken four years and with some it’s only with the prospect of him being gone – that quite a few have been breaking ranks. There are some possibilities of bridge building being held out.”
But, he says, “It’s too early to celebrate,” concerned that Senate Majority Leader and fairweather Trump loyalist Mitch McConnell will use any Republican control of the Senate to block many of Biden’s policies from coming into effect. “[This] is what happened with Obama… I want to see real change happen. [Climate change] absolutely needs to be a priority. The clock had turned back over the last four years, so there’s a lot to be done. Whether there’s the willpower to do everything that needs to be done, it remains to be seen, but at least now it’s pointing in the right direction.”
How will he look back on the last four years? Byrne ponders. “I’m hoping that I look back at it as a near-miss.”
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American Utopia is as much a personal journey as a dissection of modern ills. Ahead of ‘Everybody’s Coming To My House’, Byrne admits to being a rather socially awkward type. He claims that a choir of Detroit teenagers, when singing the song for the accompanying video, had imbued the song with a far more welcoming message than his own rendition, which found him wracked with the fear that his visitors might never leave. How does someone like that deal with celebrity?
“In a certain way it’s a blessing,” Byrne grins, “because I don’t have to go up to people to talk to them – they sometimes come up to me. In other ways it’s a little bit awkward. Celebrity itself seems very superficial and I have to constantly remind myself that your character, your behaviour and the work that you do is what’s important – not how well known you are, not this thing of celebrity. I learned early on it’s pretty easy to get carried away. But it does have its advantages. I had Spike Lee’s phone number, so I could text him.”
Talking Heads drummer Chris Frantz’s recent book Remain In Love suggests that the more successful Byrne got early on, the more distant he became.
Byrne nods. “I haven’t read the book, but I know that as we became more successful I definitely used some of that to be able to work on other projects. I worked on a dance score with [American choreographer] Twyla Tharp and I worked on a theatre piece with [director] Robert Wilson – other kinds of things – [and] I started working on directing some of the band’s music videos. So I guess I spent less time just hanging out. As often happens with bands, you start off being all best friends and doing everything together and after a while that gets to be a bit much. Everybody develops their own friends and it’s like, ‘I have my own friends too’. Everybody starts to have their own lives.”
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The future is far too enticing for David Byrne to consider revisiting the past. “I do live alone so sometimes it would get lonely”, he says of lockdown, but he’s been using his Covid downtime to cycle around undiscovered areas of New York and remain philosophical about the aftermath.
“We’ll see how long before the vaccine is in, before we return to being able to socialise,” he says, “but I’m also wondering, ‘How am I going to look at this year? Am I going to look at it as, “Oh yes, that’s the year that was to some extent taken away from our lives; our lives were put on pause?”’ We kept growing; we kept ageing; we keep eating, but it was almost like this barrier had been put up. It has been a period where, in a good way, it’s led us to question a lot of what we do. You get up in the morning and go, ‘Why am I doing this? What am I doing this for? What’s this about?’ Everything is questioned.”
Post-vaccine, he hopes to “travel a little bit” before looking into plans to bring the ‘American Utopia’ show back to Broadway, and possibly even to London if the financial aspects can be worked out. “Often when a show like that travels, the lead actors might travel,” Byrne explains, “but in this case it’s the entire cast that has to travel. So you’ve got a lot of hotel bills and all that kind of stuff. We wanted to do it. There might be a way, if we can figure that out.”
Once we all get our jab, will everyone come to recognise that, as Byrne sings on ‘American Utopia’s most inspiring track, ‘Every Day Is A Miracle’? “Optimistically, maybe,” he says. “There will be a lot of people who will just go, ‘Let’s get back to normal – get out to the bars, the clubs and discos’. That’s already been happening in New York; there’s been these underground parties where people just can’t help themselves. But after all this it’d be nice to think that people might reassess things a little bit.”
And with the algorithm as the new gatekeeper and technology beginning to subsume the sounds and consumption of music, what does the new wave Nostradamus foresee for rock in the coming decades? Will AIs soon be writing songs for other AIs to consume to inflate the numbers, cutting humanity out of the equation altogether?
“It seems like there’ll be a kind of factory,” Byrne predicts, “an AI factory of things like that, and of newspaper articles and all of this kind of stuff, and it will just exaggerate and duplicate human biases and weaknesses and stupidity. On the other hand, I was part of a panel a while back, and a guy told a story about how his listening habits were Afrofuturism and ambient music – those were his two favourite ways to go. The algorithm tried to find commonalities between the two so it could recommend things to him and he said it was hopeless. Everything it recommended was just horrible because it tried to find commonalities between these two very separate things. This just shows that we’re a little more eclectic than these machines would like to think.”
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And in the distant future? Best prepare to welcome your new gloop overlords. Byrne isn’t concerned about The Singularity – the point at which machine intelligence supersedes ours and AI becomes God – but instead believes that future technologies will emulate microbial forms.
“I watched a documentary on slime moulds [a simple slimy organism] the other day,” he says, warming to his sticky theme. “Slime moulds are actually extremely intelligent for being a single-celled organism. They can build networks and bunches of them can communicate. They can learn, they have memories, they can do all these kinds of things that you wouldn’t expect a single-celled organism to be able to do.”
“I started thinking, ‘Well, is there a lesson there for AI and machine learning, of how all these emerging properties could be done with something as simple as a single cell?’ It’s all in there… when things interact, they become greater than the sum of their parts. I thought, okay, maybe the future of AI is not in imitating human brains, but imitating these other kinds of networks, these other kinds of intelligences. Forget about imitating human intelligence – there’s other kinds of intelligence out there, and that might be more fruitful. But I don’t know where that leads.”
His grin says he does know, that he has a vision of our icky soup-world future, but maybe the rest of the species isn’t yet advanced enough to handle it. But if we’re evolving towards disaster rather than utopia, we can trust David Byrne to give us plenty of warning.
December 18, 2020
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