#this ask was v open ended so not sure if i interpreted it right?

[8pxl]

if you've got the time and energy, would you mind sharing your thoughts on programs that turn photographs into pixel art? thank you!

honestly people have been using methods to posterize images into pixel art for a while. it has been an issue in the pixel art community before genAI was even a thing. mostly ppl would downscale/posterize a photo to ‘delegitimize’ pixel art by showing how easy it is to ‘achieve’ lol.

but generally it’s easy to tell when an image has been made that way, mostly because of colors blurring way too much, turning into color mud with no contrast and nothing being ‘readable’ (ie trees don’t look like trees just green blobs etc)

i personally do not have an issue with it if someone is doing it for personal usage or having fun. theres also no real program that CAN just turn a photograph into pixel art, generally they use a photoshop technique etc so at least they’re having some creative input? as long as their not using copyrighted photos etc

but the issue will always be disclosing it, if you’re trying to pass off downscaled photos/AI images as your own art that’s morally wrong and very disingenuous.

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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[erazonpo3]

Erazon's Characterisation Essay (Part 1 - Cynthia Edition)

General preface; This is me snowballing on a thought I had earlier about canon v fanon trends given that it's a pretty evergreen topic. Without getting too much into the subject itself, I made the point that you can use the source material as a starting point for analysing characterisation, but in a lot of cases it's highly interpretive; using Pokemon as an example, most of the non-player characters exist to enable the player's autonomy throughout the game's storyline, and only a small handful have their own detailed arcs and backstories.

Therefore if you want to build on characterisation for them for transformative fanworks, you only have a handful of dialogue lines and some environmental storytelling that borders on olympic levels of mental gymnastics. Things like backstory and character motivation needs to be invented, to which end the concept of 'canon' characterisation becomes pretty insignificant in comparison to the story you are trying to tell, and whether or not that characterisation is thematically appropriate and compelling. Everyone is going to have a subjective opinion about the 'essence' of a character, the core traits that make them who they are, and how integral those traits are for it to be a 'canon' or 'fanon' interpretation.

And yet there's still ways to analyse the games to draw some conclusions that aren't always obvious straight away.

I'm going to go into how I draw characterisation for Cynthia for Way Out, but keep in mind that I don't consider my characterisation perfect or the One True Depiction To End All Others etc and so on and so forth. There's things I need to discard in favour of the story– adults in the Pokemon games, including Cynthia, have a pretty laissez-faire attitude when it comes to kids handling crises so that the target audience (kids) can feel acutalised as they play through the story, but it's not always what I consider a core character trait so much as a function of the medium.

I play up a sense of responsibility and duty that isn't really depicted in the games but is nevertheless an easy takeaway in order to give her character a bit more depth and relateability. And when other people take her character in a different direction, I try to keep an open mind about what they're saying about her character in their story, because their story is not a video game for children nor a webcomic, and they will need to do different things depending on her narrative role.

(I don't have to like it, but I'm no less a subjective soul than anyone else).

I also pull here and there from other sources of inspiration, one I've mentioned before is a meta-analysis of how she's treated by the fandom in general, assuming she'd be treated a similar way as a public figure in-universe. A lot of my character work is about peeling back that legendary status and asking who the person underneath is and how she might deal with the pressures of being expected to consistently meet other people's high standards, and how to balance a healthy competitive streak without it becoming toxic.

But more to the point– here's some material exclusively from Platinum that I think collates to a pretty consistent depiction of her character, to keep in mind and interpret any which way, arranged into some key traits.

She is the granddaughter of a village elder in a traditional rural town.

"My grandma has this sort of bossy atmosphere about her. I think you'll recognize her right away. Yes, I'm sure you will. She's the elder of Celestic Town"

An overlooked aspect of her character that I think holds some of the ripest potential for her character is that we know a fair deal about where her family is from, potentially where she was raised. My personal conclusions are:

It is likely she has an ingrained sense of cultural values of humility, respect, duty, and tradition. While she may not be ruled by these traits, they would influence the way she interacts with the world.

Her interest in mythology is likely inspired the mural in Celestic town, and reflects a value of heritage and history.

It's a common 'fanon' that her grandmother was her primary guardian through much of her childhood, which isn't substantiated anywhere (just because we don't meet her parents as NPCs doesn't mean they don't exist) but this idea strengthens the connection she has to Celestic town and emphasises her position as the elder's heir.

Cynthia introducing herself as a trainer and not a Champion suggests humility; she positions herself as an equal to the player as opposed to a superior.

2. She is earnest and sincere

"...The places we are born. The time we spend living... The languages we speak... We are all different. But the presence of Pokémon unites us. We share our lives with our Pokémon and our happiness grows as we all become greater than we were alone. That is why we can battle and trade with anyone we choose..."

This is a reflection of her position as a narrative foil to Cyrus; where he dismisses the importance of emotion and 'spirit', she holds it in high regard. Thus;

She sees strong emotions as the source of her bond to her Pokemon and therefore the source of her success. While it's not to say she's an overly empathetic person, I think it follows easily that is generally emotionally intelligent (generally).

I think she's self-aware about how emotional she can be too, which is to say it's something she consciously embraces despite knowing she comes across a little overly earnest (and cheesy) sometimes.

"I love the sound a piano makes. I savor every note with my entire being. It's not only my ears; my spirit hears the music it makes... Ehehe, I made myself cringe saying that."

3. She is intelligent

"I think I let myself get carried away and talked for far too long. I'm sorry, and thank you"

This feels like a no brainer (ha) but it's also easy to take someone who comes across as emotional and write them off as being illogical or not having the depth for complex thought. To me, her emotional intelligence goes hand in hand with her analytical intelligence.

Her fascination with mythology is one of her defining traits, and her dialogue is the source of much of the lore surrounding the Sinnoh legendary Pokemon.

Her pursuit of knowledge is one of her defining traits; her interest in mythology and the distant past is referenced more frequently by herself and other NPCs than the fact of her being Champion. "My big sister is studying the myths of Sinnoh. She wants to know how people and Pokemon interacted in the days of myths."

As a Champion, I consider that she's very calculating and analytical. Even without the strategic held items given to her in BDSP, her Pokemon have perfect stats and have solid type coverage. It's not something she would accidentally stumble onto.

"When you are facing a Trainer in battle, you can learn everything about them. What Pokemon they have. What moves they've taught. What items they make Pokemon hold."

4. She is kind

"I want you to keep traveling to many far-off places. I want you to keep meeting all kinds of people and Pokémon. I came all the way here just so I could say that to you!"

A Champion in this game being kind isn't really a revolutionary idea, but it's still something I consider very integral, particularly in conjunction with the prior traits; there is diplomacy and there is compassion, and to me Cynthia balances both.

She is something of a mentor figure to the player, giving them the solution to obstacles on multiple occasissions (HM Cut, the Secret Medicine), and imparts a lot of lore to them. Notably she gives them an egg which hatches into a Togepi; while this event doesn't happen in BDSP and Platinum doesn't have the Fairy type, it's still retroactively made more interesting for the fact that Togekiss' modern Fairy/Flying type grants perfect immunity to her Garchomp's Dragon/Ground typing.

Some of the few interactions the player will have with her is giving medicine to the Psyduck blocking the route to Celestic town, and then delivering a charm to her grandmother– it gives an impression that she is regularly invested in small acts of kindness.

5. Other tidbits

Every time she interacts with you as the player, it is always through the lens of an adult with a public position speaking to a child; I take it as a given that all her interactions have a slight amount of professional distance, and a formality she wouldn't have if speaking to an adult friend.

She reveals that she went on a similar journey as the player character after being given a Pokedex by Professor Rowan, which could imply she experienced similar experiences to the established protagonist journey formula.

There's a slight goofiness to some of her dialogue that suggests she doesn't always take herself too seriously. "You've seen that group of Psyduck huddled with their heads in their, uh, hands...?"

It's a pretty common 'fanon' for Cynthia to have known Cyrus in her childhood, but this isn't really substantiated in text; her dialogue towards him would be a lot colder with that context as opposed to a stranger. It's a common headcanon because giving them a history together strengthens their position as foils, but in my opinion it's equally as interesting that Cyrus succeeds as far as he does because he exists in Cynthia's blind spot- she admits she didn't pay enough attention to what Team Galactic was up to, and can only stand in opposition to him ideologically, unwilling to entertain (or empathise with) his perspective. It hints at a certain stubbornness she has when she believes she's right and someone else is wrong.

This is just what I personally glean from the text; it's possible I've missed something that somebody else considers ultimately integral. But I hope that my writing in Way Out speaks for itself in how I apply all this to her character in the story, and why I feel it's important to do so. Cynthia is the character I second-guess the most in her characterisation because she should always be recognisable, even while going through different arcs. Her values, her intelligence, her sincerity, and her kindness are all things that need to be balanced with the needs of the story; how strong she is is just a relative thing to what any particular scene demands.

There's a lot I could still elaborate on but for the sake of at least attempting to keep this (relatively) concise, I wrote all this to highlight how I try to stay on track with consistent characterisation, which may not be the perfect ideal for this character but nevertheless is the best version for my story. There's nobody I hold to a higher writing standard than myself, and I try to constantly ask myself if I'm really writing what's best for the narrative or if I can do something better. I'm not interested in the most canon depiction that exists for another story, I'm interested in what's right for my story.

And uhhhh peace ✌️

[yuseirra]

No but I think my interpretation about Kamiki will be all correct!!! I... I'm STILL feeling I'm based,

Not because I'm crazy about this one ship having to be a reality, if the story is still amazing, I'm ready to accept what they throw at me!! I got INTO it after having seen some major plot development that I felt could not be overruled. That bit was really significant and I feel it had to be there. That's how I came to appreciate the ship, the plot came first before it drew me in, not the other way around. I'm really a perfectionist when it comes to character interpretation so you can really trust me on this, I've been doing this for years and I never recall a single instance where what I took of a character turned out to be wrong.

Being sent creepy panels and people worriedly telling me oh this guy lied! He never loved her! We must be wrong! It doesn't really imbue any sort of positive feelings in me you know? It does not help me get a grasp about things. I know what I signed myself into, but I do care about how other people feel too so it only makes me tense. Let's wait out a bit more and give the thing like 5 more chapters. I don't think it will be a good story if they make this character pure evil after having put out the idea that Ai genuinely loved and worried about her guy AND asked the main protagonists of the plotline to go help him! That idea never needed to be there, the video she left DIDN'T have to mention Kamiki needs help! From her and her children!! Be patient!

I actually think there's more chance of him just being horribly cursed and tormented than being the evil mastermind at this point. I am leaving all options open, I think A LOT. I'm very cautious because I am afraid of being wrong. I don't want to be biased and obssess over a single ship and go, "as long as this ship happens, I don't care if the whole story falls apart", I like a ship because it ADDS to the plot.

If you love something, stick with it, and have conviction, be prepared to let it go if it gets proven wrong later but be sturdy about it till it does!! Isn't that how love and passion is supposed to be! I made so many drawings about them at this point and I'm not really fooling myself into believing what I draw is right, I REALLY believe that's what it must be at this point of the story(I think it will be nice if it is)after my own personal analyses on things and even if I'm not the best with mysteries or the brightest bulb, I put a lot of thought and love into it. I care about portraying things in an accurate sense!! Like I once said, I said I am prepared to take all my drawings of this ship down if I get it wrong, I won't... But I am drawing it with that kind of determination. It's fanwork but I'm serious! And I care about what I put out there! So don't worry about me. You don't have to tell me I'm wrong if I ever am(which I'm sure I WON'T BE, like 90%) I'm the one who will realize it the most. My opinions towards a subject is not important! There are things I want and care yes, but I follow what's official because that's what's made every fanwork possible and you gotta respect that. That's what's most important for me when I read a story. There are different ways to enjoy something but that's how I function. I don't want to pretend what's not there IS there for the sake of self-satisfaction, there'd be plenty of works out there that can offer it so why change something that isn't? I draw and create and talk about a medium with that in mind.

Let's have fun together for the time being! 'v')9

(I actually feel like my stronger analyses where I went really went overboard in terms of the tender and softness CAN be right actually, depending where it's going to head. I recommend you reading those if you like the character and the ship. I may end up being really on point!)

[whatawks]

happy supercorp sunday !! i wrote this fic a while ago (inspired by the tiktok at the end) & thought it was supercorp coded :) so here’s my interpretation of this v sweet and fluffy and cheesy moment w kara and lena

———

It was early in the afternoon on a Saturday when Lena suddenly sat up, closed her book, and tossed it on the coffee table. Kara, who had been proofreading a last-minute article one of the junior reporters sent her, looked over from the other end of the couch with a smile. “Snack time?”

Lena let out a breathy chuckle at that, almost in awe at how Kara had devoured three pizzas an hour ago and was still thinking about more food. “Maybe in a bit. I kinda want to go into the bedroom with you right now though…”

Kara’s brows rose as she saved the file quickly and shut her laptop. “Yeah, uh, yes. Let’s- Let’s go.”

She stood and pulled Lena up with her, pressing a searing kiss against her lips before tugging her along toward the curtains that divided her space. This time, Lena let out a boisterous laugh which caused Kara to turn a give her a gentler kiss.

They’d made the bed that morning and left the curtains wide open, causing the afternoon sunlight to flood the room. Kara had made sure to put out her softest blankets on the foot of the bed whenever Lena stayed over as well, knowing her girlfriend’s penchant for wrapping herself up like a burrito in the middle of the night.

Lena sighed and ran a hand through her hair as Kara’s kisses moved to her cheek, down her jaw, and over to her earlobe. “Where do you want me?” Kara whispered, hands low on Lena’s waist.

“On my side of the bed. On your back.”

Kara happily complied, laying down closest to the windows and putting her hands behind her head, her shirt growing taught around her biceps just how Lena liked it. “And you will…?”

Lena gave her a cheeky smile, slowly climbing over her like a cat stalking its prey before coming just below the jut of her chin and burrowing her face in Kara’s neck. Lena loved the way Kara smelled: like the fancy laundry detergent she’d purchased for her on a whim a few weeks ago and the woodsy perfume she’d put on that morning and something uniquely <i>Kara</i> that Lena always wanted to bottle up and keep forever. She wrapped her arms around Kara’s waist and tangled their legs together before letting out a content sigh into her girlfriend’s skin.

Slowly, Kara moved her arms down so her hands were on Lena’s lower back, holding her there. “Um, not that I’m complaining but I…I thought you had other intentions when you asked me to go into the bedroom.”

Lena hummed into her as her hold on Kara tightened before releasing slightly as she lifted her torso up a bit, making sure she could look into bright blue eyes. “Maybe later. I really just wanted to lay in the sun with you.”

Kara’s confusion softened into a look of pure love that Lena knew was exclusively for her. “<i>Baaabyyyy</i>,” Kara whined out, knowing how much her girlfriend liked the nickname. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” Lena grumbled playfully. “It’s nice, that’s all.”

“You’re <i>SO</i> cute, Lee.”

Lena huffed out, noticing a red stain and some crumbs on the shoulder across from the one she’d just laid her head on. “Darling, you have pizza on you.”

“I have a <i>pizza</i> heaven in my arms right now,” Kara continued with a laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lena teased, brushing the crumbs away, knowing there was nothing she could do right now for the splotch on the shirt.

“Oh, oh!” Kara exclaimed, “If you wanted a <i>slice</i> all you had to do was ask. You know I a-<i>dough</i> you.”

“Oh my god! I can’t believe I’m into you,” Lena replied with a smile. She squirmed in Kara’s arms but it was the blonde’s turn to tighten them around her.

“I know you love me and my puns,” Kara said. Lena finally looked up once more and found that she couldn’t keep her eyes off Kara’s lips.

“I do, I really do,” she sighed. “C’mere.” They kissed once more, slow and heady before Lena practically yawned into Kara’s mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s nap time,” Kara cheerily replied. They rearranged themselves back into the original positions they’d taken when they laid down as Kara repeated, “Nap time, then snack time, then <i>snack</i> time.”

Lena let out a breathy chuckle and nodded into Kara's neck. “Sounds perfect, my love.”

Kara knew Lena could feel her heart double in time at the words. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lena mumbled, already drifting off.

[jennyandvastraflint]

Osgood/Kate for the ship ask game?🧡 Explain it to me like i'm five years old

Ask and I shall provide! The ship is Kate and Osgood from Doctor Who!! 🥰

1. What made you ship it?

I kinda always shipped it, possibly to do with the blonde/brunette thing you have in loads of ships. (SwanQueen, J/7, Thasmin come to mind) And for some reason little queer me just assumed they were together.

I actively started shipping it when listening to the audios. I think particularly Retrieval in the fourth boxset, and the Cyber Reality ones. Let's just say Kate being the only person to evoke really emotional reactions in Osgood and Kate saying "I can fight Cybermen, Daleks. But fighting Osgood!" did something to me. (this only gets more as the audios progress, in one later on Osgood saves Kate's life and tells her they're not going to let her die)

Also, on a slightly different note: Kate and Osgood are Janeway and Seven in a different font, there are sooo many parallels. (at some point part of a collective/hive mind, hallucinations of Kate/Janeway, them constantly saving each other, etc.)

2. What are your favourite things about the ship?

How much they trust each other but still are their own people, but also how complex their relationship can be. With Kate being professionally Osgood's superior.

They are both incredibly smart but can lose sight of things, so they have each other to stay rooted in their task.

Osgood's impeccable sense of fashion (and Kate's Christmas sweaters, one of which is mentioned in "The Wintertime Paradox" and reads "Oh Chemis-tree" XD)

You can toss evil alternate universe Osgoods at Kate, but she'll be able to tell HER Osgood apart in a heartbeat. That reads to me as knowing each other very well.

Oh, did I MENTION Kate immediately calling Osgood after she was nearly blown up. That really stirred my brain! (Still a shame we didn't get Osgood in PotD, but I'm headcanoning Kate got Osgood to safety far away. Cybermen and the Master don't end well for Osgood like. EVER.)

In short, there's many little and many big things I adore about the two of them. (also for instance how Kate reminds Osgood of the inhaler XD V cute and I know darn sure I'd need such reminders)

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Well, I personally headcanon both of them as asexual. Yes I know Kate has two children, but asexuality is a spectrum, and I like projecting.

Additionally, Kate is sapphic (obviously) and I'm tending more towards lesbian Kate? Her marriage with her ex-husband was, in my understanding, very much she didn't want to marry him and filed a divorce after having kids. It is reading as CompHet to me, but I am open to different interpretations. It's never been stated anywhere.

Also: enby they/she Osgood who is arospec and autistic, and has OCD (that one is canon). Is a huge part of that projecting? Possibly, but Osgood reads as very much autistic. I can repost a blog post that goes into that a bit if I find it. The aromantic hc is based on Osgood saying something along the lines of "My life's pretty full as it is with work and friends. I've never really felt like I was missing something, but if a relationship were to happen, and I had the time and the connection was right, I wouldn't say No." and as that's pretty much how I feel about it...

Oh! Kate is also autistic! XD I love me an autism/autism couple. I wrote her as stimming to regulate emotions a few times, she has a very steong sense of justice, and I could go on. But it's also just a vibe for me. (almost all the characters I write I write or headcanon as autistic XD)

Essentially, my shipping them doesn't really include sexual stuff, and little super romantic stuff, but is instead (in my writing) an exploration of a somewhat queerplatonic relationship and a relationship essentially transgressing what is understood as "relationship" in a broad view. Intimacy and closeness doesn't equal romantic attraction, and it's something I want to show since popular media fails to provide ANY aro rep (and very, VERY little ace rep that is often very stereotypical or token-esque). So, I hope to bring diversity into that all while exploring their relationship in a multi-facetted view.

I hope this explanation was satisfactory!! Thank you so much for your ask :3

[wisemins]

Equuleus and Ursa with Ghost? Or any f/o that's on your mind!

Hiya!! Omg good choices!! Equuleus - What does family mean to the both of you? What are your definitions? Omg good question. Tricky one for me. For Simon though? Brothers in arms is common among military folk, right? He's been more of a lone wolf up until this point where canon begins in the current run, but when he joined 141 he adopted really good relationships that can very much be interpreted as familial. Esp with the likes of Soap and Alejandro. I think Family to Simon is people he cares about more than anything, which would be his actual family consisting of his mom and brother, and 141. He'd do anything for them, and has. (He was also v much family/brother oriented in the original games too might i add) Family to me is a bit more open-ended. I consider people family if they love me unconditionally and would do anything for me. Sometimes this doesn't apply to my real family! Actually it doesn't a lot LMFAOIJSA so, I tend to have quite a bit of found family situations because of this. 141 (the ones i'm not dating that is--) has become like a family to me. Price and I are very close, I 100% made Laswell my mom, me and Soap are like siblings. They all care about me more than anything, and that to me is what made them family material. Ursa - How do you comfort each other in times of sadness or anguish? How do you heal each other? Another good one!! Now, I hc that Simon is autistic like me, so we both require certain amounts of comfort given any circumstances esp sad ones or ones of anguish. I tend to get overwhelmed with lots of things, and I require comfort for those times which are more than not me getting overwhelmingly sad, which he can provide most times. Though...since he's also autistic, sometimes he struggles when I'm having meltdowns. He himself can shut down and just not know what to do to make me feel better, all he can do sometimes is just be close and there to keep an eye on me, let me get it all out. Worst case scenario he might have to leave because he can't tell if that's the right move or not (it's NOT the right move. But it's been discussed.) After it's passed it's easier for him to help cheer me up and get me to laugh, then maybe get me a snack and I'm good. He's very comforting to me at a default too, and that alone is healing knowing that he loves and respects me so much. On the other hand, Simon suffers a lot from nightmares, insomnia, and intense stress that he just never expresses fully. I have to ask him all the time, pay attention to his body language and his sleep schedule. I comfort him a lot by making sure he takes care of himself or that I take care of him. Even if it's letting him fall asleep first, just allowing him to lay on my chest and pass out in complete safety so he can get some decent sleep. It's been a very good healing process for him, he's never had this with anyone before. The absolute comfort of knowing that someone loves him and isn't going to leave him in the night, or wont horribly traumatize him or make him do things he doesn't want to. I'm his safe place, somewhere he can show his face and just be. He can be sad around me, and I can help him through it. He appreciates that a lot, even if he doesn't verbally express it.

[recapitulation]

(conductor anon) delighted you're keen to hear my thoughts! i'm not sure which movement is my favourite, i think on the whole it is probably 2 as well (really aptly named i think!)? but i really like the first movement, and i love the ending (and ofc 4 is timelessly breathtaking). hard to pick tbh! currently i am really enjoying chung myung-whun's interpretation of it, though i occasionally wish his 4th was a tad faster (even if it is appropriately dramatic) and brought out the harp a bit more!

(2/2) but i rly like his opening, which has a v nice good tempo in the radio france orchestra recording (down also to the brilliant trumpetist!). i'm a cello player (mvt 2 has a lovely cello bit), but i'll say mahler 5 has truly opened my eyes to the trumpet. i'd love to learn to play it tho i'm not sure i have the lung capacity for wind instruments. anyway thank you for being so kind! i am also in love with you. you make me want to think more about mahler and learn more about the french horn :)

//

HIIIII sorry about the three thousand year response time I wanted to really listen to the chung myung whun radio france recording!! also I will put a linkie down below for anyone else curious

[Wait I just got done typing this whole thing and I realized you were talking abt mahler 5 for the whole ask and not mahler 2. I was like hmmmm did I really say mahler 2 mvmt 2 was my favorite that's not true?? and i realized wait holy shit... I misinterpreted the first part of your ask 😭😭 so this is totally not the right recording ANDBDJS]

[Video Description: a filmed orchestral performance of Myung Whun Chung conducting Mahler 2 with the Radio France Philharmonic. /End Description]

I really agree with you that what he did with the opening was really striking! The initial cello "punch" is much less punchy which is really interesting! As I was listening to this I was thinking hmmmm what is the best cello part in mahler 2... I agree w you that movement 2 has a lot of good cello bits!! But I have to say the very beginning is so nice and satisfying for me 🐦🍒 and the recapitulation of course 😇

Also I love his whole conducting demeanor... he is so solemn, like you can REALLY tell that he respects the piece and is giving it an appropriate amount of weight!!

I really enjoyed the horn players ^^ I thought the very high notes were especially clear and delicate!! I will be honest the piccolo made me wince on more than one occasion . but like it's a live recording and there are so many moving parts to get right so I get it

Also his face at the beginning of the third movement after the big timpani moment was so funny. Like is that disapproval?? Did the timpani player mess up?? It sounded good to me 😭

I understand not liking a slower movement 4!! But I have to say I reeeeeeally like a slow mvmt 4... cannot say I have found one that is too slow for me yet. I liked the blending and the brass chorale was soooooo gentle and sweet and drawn out 💕🐝💕🐝💕🐝💕🐝💕🐝

OKAY I'm going to stop putting my mahler 2 stream of consciousness here 💗🐛 thank you for sending in the specific reccomendation I don't often listen to recordings on YouTube which is a shame bc there's a lot to be gained visually I think!!

I definitely agree w you that mahler 5 opened my eyes to trumpet!! And also cello to be honest, I love love the sound of the really high cello bits trading back and forth w other strings in the 4th movement. I would encourage you to try trumpet if you think you'd enjoy it!! Breath support is a skill to be learned not necessarily something you just have or don't have!

Thank you for chatting abt mahler with meeeee 💌🍞💌🍞💌🍞💌🍞 mwah mwah mwah mwah

[sorserah]

Chapter 6: Date and Time

Outsider No More | Goro Takemura & Female V/OC

And then he understands, clearly understands what she had been feeling, trying to tell him. And he now realizes too, he does not want to lose her either. 

An interpretation of how a romance between Takemura and Corpo Female V could have been. Changing between Vs and Takemuras POV. Mostly following the main story of the game, adding bits and pieces here and there for a little bit more depth. So spoilers ahead.

18+, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance, Panic Attacks, Death, Blood and Injury, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077, Takemuras POV, Vs pov, Alcohol, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Denial of Feelings, Internal Conflict, they are both idiots, Guilt, Overthinking, Smut, Sex, Romantic, Gestures

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434627/chapters/70742016#workskin

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She did not exaggerate when she stated that she wasn’t at her own apartment most of the time. As Takemura opened the apartment door, it has been more than clear. It had almost looked abandoned. The blinds had been closed, few clothes were hastily thrown into the closet, in front of it several labeled boxes, probably with packed belongings. The blankets on top of each other on the end of the bed and the refrigerator empty. As he had put down his coat and other possessions on the couch and opened the blinds, he continued to look around. Overall, the feeling of being in a hotel room crept up again. The apartment did not seem personal at first, rather just as if one would only spend a few nights here before heading off again to somewhere else. It wasn’t home.

However, he had waited one more day before deciding to accept V's offer. Sharing her apartment with her was a more than generous offer for him personally, and he was actually reluctant to be dependent on not being completely responsible for himself. On the other hand, however, he hardly had a choice. Another night he had spent in her car, another night following with sleep deprivation and back pain. And the hotels - V had been right - had become too dangerous. 

Besides the order from Wakako that he had received and completed a day ago, he had also obtained two other small orders that he had also immediately carried out and was glad for the extra eddies. As a thank for V, he used a few of them to fill up the fridge with some fruits and iced coffee - in which he has also found a liking -, wasn't sure when she would even show up, though. He had also bought his own towel, he was not comfortable using hers or digging through her possessions to find one, and a toothbrush. Right after he closes the door the second time today, and puts down the plastic bag the groceries are in, she calls.

„Hi Goro, sorry I haven’t been calling you the last few days. It’s been just…busy.“ She sounds exhausted „It is fine. I have been busy, too. How are you feeling?“ „Well, I am still standing…at least. Feeling at home in my apartment?“ „Better than any of the hotels I have been to, yet.“ He answers. „Then don't be afraid to contact your staff if something is missing.“ „Actually I filled up the fridge for the staff in return if they ever arrive.“ She smiles „Uhm,“ she made a small pause, getting more serious again „about that...I cashed in a favor and if you want…we could go out for dinner tonight.“ „Sounds good. Where are we going?“ „Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait until tonight for that answer. I think I'll be back in an hour, we can ride together. See ya.“

Actually, he had just wanted to ask V for something to eat, not thinking that 'dinner' could just as well have been a 'date'.In the first moment he had been briefly irritated, but also looked forward to spending a little more time with her, just to see what she was like outside of their work together. Especially since they only know each other for over a week. Though it feels a bit strange. This situation is very unfamiliar to him for two reasons. The first one, that he hadn't been on a date for some time - his last dates and relationships had always failed due to his workload - as Arasaka is where his priorities lie - he had decided to give up this part of his life completely. The other, that he was surprised by himself, even confused. His intention had been to avenge the death of Saburo, to restore the balance, not to deviate from this path. But then she had been there, and with her...what indeed? He couldn't really explain why he feels attracted to her. Takemura thoughtfully furrowed his brows and grabs his towel, wanting to be ready before she arrived.

After tying his other shoe, he straightens up, his damp hair still dripping a bit onto the t-shirt he was wearing. Takemura considers what to do now while waiting for V to arrive. He let his eyes wander through the apartment once again. The desk catches his eye, it was the only place which is cluttered, he had not noticed this before. He steps closer to it, but before he reaches it a crack could be heard and he realizes that he had stepped on something. Kneeling down he picks up the picture frame and turns it over. Two people grin back at him - from a bar it seems - Jackie and V. She was piggybacking on Jackies back, a cowboy hat on her head, a bottle in one hand, a gun pointing at the camera in the other.

Small neat handwriting said "Happy Birthday, Chica“. An uncomfortable feeling in the stomach area. He still hadn't told her, and with each meeting he didn't, his conscience spoke louder. Carefully he put it back on the shelf, before proceeding. Spread out on the desk lay sheets of paper, some blank, others with drawings - started, half-finished, or completed. The drawings are not precise, rather quick sketches. He recognizes the artificial cherry blossom tree near Jig-Jig Street, the giant fish in front of Arasaka HQ, and then some people he doesn’t recognize. He didn't know she drew, but how could he?

The door opened and V steps in. Her coat squeezed under one, bag under the other arm, blood on her shirt and face, her weapon holster already half loose, her hair tied into a tight ponytail, and clearly fatigued. „Hi!“ She greets him, putting the bag and coat onto the boxes „Hello, V. Whose blood is that?“ „Oh, this…Some of the ex chefs of Clouds, in short: some dolls wanted freedom and now they have it…hopefully.“ She adds grumbling and while getting rid of her holster added

„So how have you been?“ „I did the work Wakako asked me to do and then two more gigs.“ He emphasized the last word. V jokes „Goro Takemura. On the way to the major leagues eh?“ He razzes „I do not think so, no. But you…“ Takemura takes the sketch of the cherry blossom tree holding it up for her to see „…the next big artist of Night City?“ She shakes her head, „Nah, just some drawings from my sketchbook, to wind down, some places and people that feel special to me.“ „I think they are very pretty“ he puts the sheet back carefully.

Walking back and forth through the apartment, she turns on the radio, puts some clean clothes from her closet into the bathroom, and lastly zips her bag open and hands something to him. „Here. There are a few more sketches in here. I am taking a shower now and there is no door in case you didn’t notice…“ the air he was beathing suddenly a bit thicker, a few seconds lapsed while they both look at each other „Oh I did, but I will just sit here.“ and he quickly sat down on the chair in front of the desk and opens the sketchbook. She leaves and a few seconds later he can hear clothes dropping on the floor and water running.

Takemura flips through the book, not recognizing much. In addition to places and unknown faces, individual cybernetics were drawn here, as well as notes like "get Nibbles food." On the most current page, he seems to recognize himself in a portrait. The cybernetics of his neck and eyes are very detailed, but the rest of his facial features are very rough. Below that, there are hands - holding a coffee and reaching for something. He looks up, „..some places and people that feel special to me…“ he thought, feeling a little warmth rising in his chest. He looks up and is startled to find that he could see V's reflection in the opposite door. Not in detail, but the curves of her body were clearly visible. Hastily, he turns the chair around to face the display. He didn't want to give any false impression, even if a small part wanted to look over again.

Minutes later she walks out of the bathroom in a flowing black dress, walking over to her closet. While pretending to watch the news, he observes her out of the corner of his eye. She lifts the dress up to her thigh, slipping on a harness and a gun, as well as her boots. He couldn't help but grin a little to himself. „Okay, I am done. I know the gun under a dress is all Bushido cliché, but I won’t step a foot out of this apartment without a weapon.“ „Understandable.“ He replies while throwing over his black shirt, buttoning it up, then taking both of their coats. 

Together, they leave Vs apartment, taking the elevator to the garage. As he stands next to her on the right floor, holding both of their coats in his arms, he can't help but get nervous. They enter her Quadra and a few minutes after entering the city center. On the way, V told him what she had been up to the last few days, about Clouds, how she had uncovered some pretty sick spying on a politician couple and had done a few minor gigs for fixers. After a short break, Takemura asks again „You are making it rather suspenseful V, where are we going?“ „Right here.“ She drives through an opening barrier under a massive skyscraper surrounded by fountains. „I used to come here often while growing up with my parents and while working at Arasaka. The good times you know, when money didn’t really matter.“

Together they stand once again in an elevator, moving quickly to the top floor, where they are greeted with cocktails and calm music. „Good evening Madame and Sir.“ A waiter with golden skin greeted them with a slight bow, „May I take your reservations?“ V stepps forward „Steward, private area, a table for two.“ His eyes light up „Ah yes, please follow me.“ The waiter ahead, they walk through the restaurant, past people talking and a large bar. Takemura realizes that there was no cuisine anywhere, nor dining on trays. There were hardly any food smells in the air either, it smelled like pine and kind of sweet, like subtle fresh flowers. 

At an archway with Japanese pine trees on the sides, the waiter stops, handing them both a golden bracelet „Your seat is right behind the archway. Please order with your bracelets. Are you familiar with the procedure?“ V replies friendly „Thank you very much, yes. If we need anything, we will be contacting you.“ They step through the archway and up some stairs. Takemura was impressed by the area, he had accompanied Saburo a few times to quite noble restaurants, but this definitely seems to become one of his favorites. The windows seamlessly extended to the ceiling, with a magnificent view over the city and the ocean. The area had its own bar, a small pond with a waterfall, and a rock garden with a seating area. Two low sofas faced each other, with a wide mahogany table between them. 

Again he notices his nervousness, which becomes even stronger when he looks at V. Her eyes are radiating of joy „And? Impressed?“ He opens his mouth, searching for the words „I am, this is beautiful, V.“ Then with muted voice „But how are we going to pay for it?!“ „I will explain, but food and drinks first.“ She gestures to the sofas and they let themselves drop onto them. „Here, swipe the bracelet over the table.“ he did as instructed and a display lit up under the wood „Now, here you can choose your order. Everything is real food, nothing made out of plastic or sawdust.“ she jokes. He studies the menu, it was very complex, but he knew most of the dishes from home. A wave of affection for V overcame him, suppressing the nervousness. She had already ordered a simple plate of sushi, he deiced to start with gyoza. The display disappears and in front of him the table begins to open, the wood slides aside and a plate rises up from it, snapping into place. Takemura tastes the food, and it is delicious, it was like he was eating something for the first time in weeks. 

„V, I do not know what to say. I have not eaten food like this in weeks. I had not expected anything like this. I am truly grateful." She looks up at him, her eyes bright and kind,  "However, I do feel guilty too, there aren't even prices on the menu.“ V puts away her chopsticks and takes a sip of her cocktail, then smiles warmly, „I'm glad you like it. And don't worry, neither of us is paying today.“ Takemura tilts his head „Are you referring to something illegal?“ V laughs, „Hey, no, not everything I do is illegal. Steward, the name of our reservation. Saved his life while I was in counter-intel, was able to pull him off a mission in time before everything fell apart, said he owed me. He is a shareholder of this place and therefore - as you can imagine - has no financial issues.“ „Still some friends in high places I see.“ „Yea some left, a matter of time before they could change their minds and sell me for a corn chip though. In NC Corpo world you never know.“ "After this, I would not sell you for anything V." he dallies, cheeky she looks over at him shortly, before they eat in silence for some time

V was very skillful with the chopsticks, sitting on the sofa as if she would sit here every day. He could well imagine her here or in another ambiance with work colleagues celebrating an achievement they just made. „Do you miss it? Corpo world I mean.“ Takemura begins while ordering his next meal. V seems to think about this question for a moment, before answering „I honestly don’t know. I remember feeling under pressure at Arasaka. Deadlines, performing all the time, the trust issues…maybe it was just the division…and the moral conflict.“ she eats another bite before continuing „I mean, it did have its benefits. Besides living a luxurious lifestyle I had enough money to help my family and friends out.“ Takemura leans back „And now?“ She imitated him, crossing her legs.

„To be honest, It is almost the same, even the moral conflicts.“ She peers outside the huge window „A little disappointing. When I was kicked out, I had this immense feeling of freedom, thought the world belongs to me now. It would just be so much better from now on, I would be a Night City legend soon, I could feel it.“ she laughed bitterly „But now I know that was just an illusion, it didn't last more than a month. Now, I feel like I’m living the same life as before. Even worse - with the biochip and all. Instead of my boss calling - the fixers do, I still have deadlines and I still have to perform all the time, meaning no jobs - no eddies. Oh and what I have noticed especially in the last few days: the higher the street cred, the more enemies who want to see you dead. Moral conflicts, too. Sure I am not supporting a big corp but I am killing people for others, often not knowing or able to ask why." She reaches for her third cocktail and drains it in one go. "I...I just wish there would be a way to live a balanced life, without constant fear, just feeling safe.“ Takemura simply nods sympathetically. He had not seen her that way before. V always seemed quite unbiased about her work and quite opposed to Arasaka and the other large corporations. 

„Can I ask you something?“ She breaks the silence after a while „Sure.“ „Would you rather live in peace as Mr. Nobody, dying old or go down for all times in a blaze of glory, being hardly thirty?“ Takemura did not even have to think about the answer „If there are just these two options the first.“ She stood up, setting down her glass „I should have taken this path all along, pity I learned this only a few days ago.“ A little clumsy, eyes on the ground, she paces over to the stone garden and small pond, letting herself fall into the nearby sofa. To see her like this pains Takemura, feeling the need to comfort her. So he walks over and seats himself next to her. Searching for the right words, he turns towards her and takes her hand in his. She doesn't pull away. „There might be hope V. I still believe Hanako-sama will help you.“ „That's kind of you to say, but I don’t know yet.“ She shakes her head. He looked at her and his bad conscience returned to his thoughts forcefully. 

Was this the right time to open up? Does a right moment even exist? He takes Vs hand with his other hand as well and began to knead it nervously, but softly, similar to what he had done with his own at the diner. „There is something you need to know. I should not tell you, but I want to. You deserve to know.” He hesitates “When they sent me looking for you, someone else was looking for Mr. Welles too. They can pull an engram from Mr. Welle's body. Damaged, incomplete, but still an engram. I do not know where they store it.” For minutes, only the steady trickling of the waterfall and the soft music in the background could be heard. Takemura fears her response since she is so invested in these issues: Arasaka, engrams, and Jackie Welles. But it had been important to him, even if he had to go on alone from now on. 

“Why are you telling me this now?“ She turns to him, her eyes empty. “I did not know if I could trust you. But the circumstances have changed.” He could hear himself sounding honest and hurt. “I am truly sorry V. I wish you would not have to live like this. And I wish you never had to know about this either, but I just had to tell you.“ He looks down, at both of their hands, sure she would pull her hand away, understandably yell at him and send him away. But she doesn’t. Instead, she moves closer to him, gently pressing his hand „Goro, look at me. I am not angry at you. It is not your fault. We all are just trying to survive somehow. To be honest, I'm not really surprised either. It was obvious that Arasaka would want to cover every little gap...I should have known.“ She stands up, still holding his hand „But thank you, really. For telling me." She takes a deep breath, collecting herself. "Now we still can eat and drink as much as we want tonight so…“

The two of them spent the rest of the evening eating the menu up and down. Takemura could explain a lot about the individual dishes and V listened with curiosity, but became less attentive with each cocktail and giggled more and more often. He shared with her stories of life in Japan and she of her current life in Night City, and he listened as keenly as she listened to him. She spoke of Judy, Misty, and other friends of hers. They compared their cybernetics and V presented her brand new mantis blades. Standing proudly in front of Takemura as she retracts her blades, walks up to him, and places one knee on his thigh, pushing him into the sofa backrest with her hand.

He looks up at her, she grins sassy back at him, half of her thigh showing. He swallows, his heartbeat quickens, palms appearing slightly sweaty. „I bet I could beat you in a fight.“ V states babbling „Well, I beg to differ.“ He grabs her hand from his chest and with a quick, agile movement he makes her drop onto the sofa next to him. Her face is surprised for a second before she kneels down with a cheeky grin. „Okay, you know what, we are going home right now and fight.“ „I will not do that. You are drunk. That would not be fair.“ She bursts into peals of laughter „You are just scared and I think you underestimate me, too…’Sides you are a little drunk, too, aren’t ya?“ Reluctantly, he nods. „Ha!“ And she jumps up from the sofa, just a little more clumsy than usual.

They get out of the Delamain cab in the garage of mega building H10 and take the elevator to the top. „This way!“ V takes his hand at his fingertips and leads Takemura down the stairs next to her apartment, through a large corridor turning around broadly laughing, joking she would 'make him regret coming to her city', through a gym and to a boxing ring, before letting go of it. Even at such a late time, there was still a lot going on here. „Hey, Coach! We need your ring.“ As she walks towards Fred, she pulls her dress over her head, revealing a short legging and a sports bra, allowing Takemura to glimpse for the second time how sturdy she was. Her shoulders are quite wide due to the muscles there and on the back. He couldn't resist looking at her from head to toe, following her muscular curves with his eyes, and meanwhile, he could feel how this sight in combination with the alcohol gave him a warm feeling in his lower region.

Already standing in the middle of the boxing ring, Takemura removes his button-down shirt and T-shirt. If she was allowed to brag then he was too and he didn't exactly has to hide his body either. She turns from the conversation and momentarily falters when she sees Takemura. He watches her eyes travel over his abdomen to his shoulders and arms with a hungry expression, followed by a smirk. Fred broke the tense atmosphere when he steps between them. "Okay, no weapons just hands, all techniques allowed! V, your holster…" „Right.“ She throws it to her dress and his shirts. „Okay. Ready…Fight!“ And Fred leaves the ring.

V was moving her weight from one leg to the other, hands in front of her face. He is still standing there, unsure what he should do now. He didn’t want to hurt her. „What’s up Goro, was I right about you?“ She dallied. He steps forward trying to grab her arms, but she quickly ducked and placed two well-aimed thrusts into his side. She is serious - and fast. Still carefully yet more offensively, he moves towards her, so that they both circled around each other. Every now and then, one of them would land a quick punch or kick, which was blocked by the other.

She doesn’t seem to pay much attention to her right side. Takemura takes a step to the right and she follows him, but he turns at the same moment and catches her right arm, turning it around so that her back is placed against his chest. However, she slit down just as quickly and turns on the spot so that she now is holding his hand behind her back, the other on his left shoulder. Her chest pressed close to his, their faces only a few inches apart. Her dark eyes move from his bright ones to his lips, and he matches the movement. He could see her grinning. The next thing he feels is she pulling him forward, he loses his balance and she takes advantage of this to kick one of his legs away and with her hand on his shoulder, knocking him to the ground, back first. Smiling triumphantly, she is standing over him "I was right.“ and offers him a hand to pull him up.

They say goodbye to Fred and make their way back to the apartment. The door closes behind them and V yawns profusely. Takemura feels a little unsure again. Would V expect something from him now? And even if he has to admit that he wants more from her right now he feels paralyzed about it. However, she walks to her closet and then changes by her weapons. Meanwhile, he grabs a blanket off the bed and over to the couch. "You can take off the rest of the couch. Just drag it at the bottom."

He pushes the table aside, pulls a strap, and the couch expanded to twice its width. He takes off his pants and slips under the covers. She is already under hers and glances outside. "You fight very well,“ he began „however I was not prepared for your techniques." She chuckles „I took a lot of lessons in my life and some real-life practice the last months. But, it was also a bit unfair of me. I would say our skill level might be the same.“ „I agree with you on the unfair part, yes.“ They both chuckle. Takemura turns on his back and watches the lights of the advertisement reflecting on the ceiling. "It was a really nice evening V. I am very grateful.“ "You're welcome." She replies tiredly, „Thought it was a wonderful evening, too. Good night Goro.“ „Rest well, V.“ and both quickly fall asleep.

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[femgineerasolution]

any tips on how a newbie could start learning about software engineering?

Hi Nonny! Oh gosh, I might go on a bit here. I got into software engineering in a really weird way, basically fell into it, and that was like over a decade ago so a lot of things might have changed! There's a lot of good online resources for getting started in programming and engineering, and the whole maker-space scene is brimming with really cool and interesting people you can learn a lot from. But, beyond the cut you'll find my not particularly well organised thoughts!

Try to pick up a few different programming languages, including different types (like interpretted/scripting, imperative, object-oriented, there's a lot!)

I highly recommend learning Python, it's really useful for a wide range of stuff, I often use it just to automate something that would otherwise be tedious to do

Remember that all languages are a bit different, and will differ in the kinds of problems they're better at solving. No language is a panacae to all problems, so the more languages you know the less time you'll spend hammering a square language into a round hole! I think all languages can teach you something about programming, even if you don't use them so much in the end

For how to learn? I can't direct you to good resources, beyond knowing that there's a lot of good tutorials online, and saying that looking at tutorials is usually better than jumping in the deep end (as you can fall into bad habits that way)

For the engineering side, a good place to start is learning about software lifecycles - how do you go from need to finished solution? Waterfall and V are easy to understand but a bit old-school now, I think agile has really taken over (though is not always implemented well)

Design and requirements capture is so, so important, and so difficult, they're really good things to look into for engineering

I can't find the right thing to call it, but a useful idea is writing tests for your code first, based on the requirements, and then writing the code to make those tests pass. Not always appropriate, but being exposed to that idea helped me change the way I did some things

Version control! Very important, I didn't use to think it was until I made an error in a script that ended up deleting all the code me and two others were working on. Now I use it even for small at-home projects, because it's great to be able to go "oh no, I've broken everything, let's revert back to something that worked". Git is probably the most popular, and github has a really good tutorial (featuring their adorable cat-octopus mascot)

Once you've got the hang of version control, you could try getting involved in some open source stuff, check out https://www.firsttimersonly.com/ for some guidance on that

For me, it was really important to get a degree in this stuff. Like, any job I would have been interested in required a degree. I don't know how much that's changed, but it's worth thinking about. Depending on where you are things like conversion courses and intercolated years (where you take a year out of a degree to do some stuff from a different degree) might be available? And maybe nowadays there might be more companies that will judge you based on a porfolio of previous work instead of just a degree

Final thought, it was a bit of a meme back in uni, but the engineers always used to say that the big different between a software engineer and a computer scientist was that an engineer would actually consider what their code was going to run on. It was a bit mean, but it really hammered in the importance of considering the environment your code will run in

Okay, that was a lot, I'm not sure how clear it was, but I hope it helps!

If anyone wants any other advice about particular stuff, shoot me an ask! Though I received this one in August so I can't guarantee how quickly I'll see it and reply, sorry.

[wizkiddx]

i just had the cutest idea at least in my head and would LOVE if u could do a blurb? where tom is trying to measure your ring size to propose while your asleep, but then you wake up and catch him.

this is v v cute! I hope this is what u want, sorry if it didn't translate I found it a bit tricky aha

summary: tom gets caught preparing for a very big moment

warnings: v small reference to smut

//////////////////////////////

Sleep always had been, and always will be, an important thing in your life. Naturally then, any source of interruption, was met with some….some hostility. Maybe it was your annoying flatmates as a student, who insisted on playing the worst drum and bass till 4 am every night; maybe your neighbours car alarm, which seemed to be set off by the lightest gust of wind; or maybe your loving- if slightly infuriating -boyfriend.

Tom had just got back from a trip abroad and you’d had a quiet evening in- consisting of pizza, a long forgotten film playing and lots and lots of laughs. As much as you loved his family and friends, celebrating with a fancy dinner and lots of drink - there was nothing better than a night in. It was what you’d both desperately needed too, just actual quality time with the both of you living in the moment, forgetting everything else outside the four walls of your flat.

Needless to say, you’d ended up right between the sheets and you honestly couldn’t remember falling asleep. But now, barely conscious, you did notice your fingers being moved and fiddled with. With a groan you limply pulled them away, rolling over to chase Tom’s body heat - which seemed to have disappeared. His presence hadn’t though, you could tell even with your eyes shut due to his little coo.

“Shh darling…. go back to sleep.” And with a mumbled incomprehensible response, you tried to - even if you personal heater appeared to be in hiding.

Yet then, barely 30 seconds later, the bed dipped weirdly again; Tom’s grasp lightly tugged at the arm you’d crossed over your body. Fighting against it, you snatched your arm away and groaned incoherently once again. Again you got a the most whispered and soft sounding reply from Tom. “Shhh Y/n/n…. come on, work with me here.” Clearly you were half asleep, not really paying any attention to to his words, so huffed - shifting again so you we lying half on your back, half on your side, your left hand lying on the pillow next to your head.

And yet again, barely a minute later, you were sure you heard him chuckle before the bed wobbled as he crawled up it. You could feel his shin brushing against your side as he once again went to grab your hand. And that- that was the last straw.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sight you were greeted with was not one you expected. Tom kneeling next to you, with bed hair and all, looking like a deer caught in headlights - literally too, the flashlight from his phone illuminated the otherwise pitch black room. His eyes bugged out his head, while he frantically fumbled with his phone in an attempt to get the light off.

“Nonononono” Muttering as if you weren’t there, Tom obviously struggled to find the right button to shut it off - giving you amply opportunity to notice the other object in his lap.

A yellow tape measure?

Why the hell he was measuring you while you slept, completely unawares, was beyond you. The boy hand some explaining to do - primarily because… he interrupted your sleep.

“Tom what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry I-I just….just go back to sleep love.” It was weird, how he seemed defeated? He looked upset, and was doing that thing where he nervously ran his fingers through his brown curls.

“Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing.” Sticking firmly, you reached over to flick the bedside light on, just as he finally got the torch off. The warm golden light illuminated to whole room, allowing you to more clearly assess the situation. The brunette was sat so he were almost leaning over you, with the tape measure but also you now noticed a little notebook and pen sat to the side. His despairing look had you immediately forgiving the interruption to your night- everything, melting away to concern. “What’s going on T?”

“You um-you weren’t supposed to-fuck! I’m sorry love I just-“ Reacting to his embarrassed ramblings, you sat up properly to cup his his cheeks with both your hands.

“Hey take a breath yeah? Then tell me why you’re being all creepy and sizing me up for a coffin or something?” He laughed breathily at that, but it was a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t- I… can we just forget this happened?” He already started to get off the bed, wrapping the tape up in a very hurried manner. With a scowl you shook your head, leaping up to grab the yellow ribbon out his hands before he could fight back.

At that point it was too late for Tom. You saw the way the tape was labelled, not with cms or inches. Instead it was letters of the alphabet, starting at G and ending at Z. You would’ve been confused, except the fact you’d used this weird scale before, when you and your best friend got matching promise rings the other month.

Tom had been trying to measure your ring size.

You couldn’t help but let out a little ‘oh’ as it clicked - making Tom sigh heavily, still looking at you with worried and terrified eyes. It took a minute for you to face him, smiling weakly with a little gleam growing across your eyes.

“We should- we should uh, let’s go back to bed yeh?” Stammering through, you already almost forced the the tape back into his hands. Wordlessly he nodded jerkily and placed both the notebook, the tape and his phone on the bedside - as you flicked the lamp off.

Obviously, it was awkward as hell. Right now Tom knew you knew - he was less convinced though on how you reacted. Now he was doubting whether you wanted that- if you wanted to be his wife. The silence was defeneing, the bedsheets the only noise to interrupt as you both settled back onto the pillows. Tom left a bit on no-mans land in the middle, not wanting to push it.

Really there was no reason to not move and cuddle up to him, even slightly cruel. You knew Tom was worried that he’d fucked up massively. You could hear his breathing shake, as you both stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was slightly horrible, but you couldn’t help but feel insanely blissfully happy. Tom was your future and it was good to know he was starting to get the ball rolling.

“I’m a size N” You whispered up to the ceiling “just for the record.” You both swivelled to look at each other simultaneously, your smirk completely overwhelmed by the smile of pure joy that grew on Tom’s face. Yes the room was dark and you could barely see, but that image might just be one that lives forever in your memory - as your absolute favourite.

“Just-just so we’re on the same page… um, thats your fourth finger? Left hand?”

Finally moving from the awkward position, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, legs wrapping round his. You chose not to answer super specifically, because it seemed like he was asking more than just one question there. Just very broad and very open to interpretation answer.

“Yes and… and um yes too…just for the record”

~~ let me know what you thought <3 ~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter @lovehollandy12 @thefernandasantana

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[inomios]

Eight types of love II Levi Ackerman

Summary: “There are eight types of love, and even though his life has been full of pain since the very beginning, he could say he experienced them all.”

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word count: + 5k

Author note: This is the first thing I’ve ever published and I’m really nervous, so I would really appreciate if you reblogged, liked and commented. Also, English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Constructive criticism is really appreciated.

                                                           . . . . 

1. AGAPE or Selfless love

           His mother would tell him everyday that she loved him with everything she had, even though it was not a lot. He asked his mother what love was, what meant loving someone. She couldn’t explain it with exact words, she would tell him that love meant caring deeply for someone, even more than for yourself. She loved him and he loved her, that much was true. He asked if he could love more than one person, his mom told him that yes, you could love many people in your life and in different ways. Then, he proceeded to ask if she had ever loved anyone else besides him, she was quiet, like she was thinking the right answer and after a few minutes she said that she had or at least she thought she did, but she had never loved someone as much as she loved him. Love was a confusing thing for him and the more he asked, the more unclear it got.

          The only thing he was sure of was that the only thing she loved was her mother. However, curious as he was, he would ask her questions about it all the time.

         ‘Is love the best thing in the world?’ 

        ‘Yes, Levi, it is the only thing that makes life worth it.’

        ‘Is love always good?’ 

       ‘Not always, sometimes it makes you sad.’

       ‘I don’t wanna be sad. I won’t love anyone else but you.’ 

      ‘You can’t choose who you love, sweetie.’

      ‘Love sucks.’ 

     ‘You will get it when you grow up.’

     ‘I’m already a grown-up.’

     He tried to get it, but he couldn’t. He prided himself of being smart, his mom would always tell him that he was really clever and witty for his age. Then, how come he wasn’t able to understand love. It was just a four-letter word: L-O-V-E, it couldn’t have such a deep meaning. ‘Door’ had also four letters and it wasn’t hard to understand and ‘Scandalous’, pretty much the biggest word for him, had ten letters and he knew what it meant, he could even use it in a phrase.

      His mom, noticing that he was about to collapse trying to figure out what has love, tried to come up with the best possible definition, one that would please his five-year old son.

    ‘Love is a selfless thing. Love means giving everything you have, to make the other person happy and content, even though you may not get back all you give. When you love someone, you only what the best for them. It can cause you pain too but loving someone and being loved back is one of the best things we can experience as humans. We may not have a lot, Levi, but we have each other and more important, we love one another and that makes us privileged.’

     He understood it then, kind of, so the questions stopped.

     However, when his mother’s body laid lifeless in bed, he regretted not making one last question: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

     Later, when he was under Kenny’s wing and after Kenny had left him at his own, he soon found an answer: no one would.

2. PHILIA or Affectionate love

           After his mother’s death, after Kenny, after everything, he thought that love was out of his reach, something he could never have again. Then Isabel and Farlan happened.

           Every single day since his mother died, he would ask himself if he would love again and if someone would love him back. However, at the same time, he wanted to know nothing about love, love brought pain and he had already suffered enough for a lifetime. He sometimes thought that he had an emptiness inside, a big hole where his heart should be, a room so big that no one could ever fill.

           After his mom came Kenny, but he was sure he did not love him, at least not like he had loved his mother, and he was sure as hell Kenny did not love him back. Love was supposed to be selfless and caring and Kenny was selfish and did not give a damn about him, he proved him that when he left him alone, again.

           Loneliness was a feeling he was already used to but being used to it didn’t mean he liked it. Then again, who would be dumb enough to love him? And he knew better than to love someone who would end up leaving him, like his mother did, like Kenny did.

           Well, maybe he did love Kenny, but loving him was painful. While loving his mother was sweet, freeing and it brought him solace and comfort; loving Kenny was toxic and tough, when he thought about it, it troubled him. He gave him a home and he taught him how to survive in the Underground, he didn’t know why, but he raised him, and Kenny never did something freely, he was sure something was missing there, but he didn’t know what. It was stupid of him to think that he cared about him, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Loving Kenny, seeing him as the paternal figure he never had, filled him with turmoil and changed the way he perceived love.

           Love was weakness, it could bring you to your knees, he had learned that. It was pointless, why would you commit to something that would inevitably bring you sorrow? He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again, he knew better, the only person who would stay with him was himself and that wasn’t about to change.

           Then Isabel and Farlan walked into his life. Well, Farlan walked, Isabel stumbled.

           They became family. He knew better but he couldn’t help it. They were thick as thieves, literally. Suddenly, they became the family he yearned for since his mother died. He loved them with everything he had. Loving them was selfless as his mother said, he wanted the best for them, he wanted to see them happy, no matter the price. However, it was a different kind of love, it was pure affection. It wasn’t the adoration he had for his mother, nor the rage he felt for Kenny. It was tender and sweet, he never had a brother or a close friend to care about while growing up, but he thought it was supposed to feel like that, it had to be like that. It had to be another type of love. His mother told him that love was never the same, it had different shapes and, for him, at that moment love had Isabel and Farlan’s shape.

           Sadly, nothing good lasts forever, at least not for him. Love causes pain and brings you to your knees, he shouldn’t have forgotten that. When he saw Isabel’s head laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of her own blood, mouth agape, eyes wide open and pale face, he fell to his knees. He saw a supercut of him, Isabel and Farlan, all the good times, all the laughs they shared and all the stories they still had to write but they would never be able to do because they weren’t there, not anymore, they were gone like his mother, like Kenny. He was alone again.

           Love always brought him to his knees and he would never forget it again. He wasn’t made for love; the same way love wasn’t made for him.

3. LUDUS or Playful love

           Meeting you happened out of pure coincidence, being in the right place at the wrong time.

           He had come from a long mission and he was completely and utterly fine, seriously, but Hange loved to make a big deal out of everything. Well, maybe he had an injury, but a minor one, nothing that he couldn’t take care of himself. He spent years in the Underground, he didn’t need a doctor, he could stitch himself up and place his bones back in place. However, Hange didn’t think the same and was nagging him about getting his injuries checked, so there he was, in one of the infirmary’s bed, waiting for the head doctor.

           It wasn’t that he was scared of doctors or “hospitals”, he just didn’t like the idea of some stranger touching him or feeling hopeless and powerless, he didn’t like feeling like he needed help or advice, he could do it pretty much on his own. But Hange didn’t really trust his medical abilities and he knew that arguing with her was pointless.

           ‘Doctor Brunner couldn’t come since he is busy with some paperwork, so he sent me. I’m his trainee y/n y/ln.’ 

           ‘I’m not letting some failed attempt of medic treat my wounds.’

           It wasn’t what people would call a ‘meet cute’ moment, it was more like a ‘meet jerk’. He wasn’t the best dealing with people, nor that he wanted to be, he preferred it that way. If you had been any other person, you wouldn’t have bitten back, but you had a sharp tongue and weren’t scared of him. That was probably what drew him in, he was so used to people recoiling in fear when they saw him that having someone that actually fought back was quite alluring.

           ‘Well, this failed attempt of a doctor knows more than you ever will, so act your age, stop being a bitch and let me tend your injuries.’

           ‘You have some nerve talking to me like that.’ 

           ‘You have some nerve coming to my workplace to insult me.’

           During that first encounter none of you said much to each other. He wasn’t fond on talking and you didn’t like his attitude, so you didn’t try to strike a conversation. He had to admit that you were good at you job, you tended him with care and you knew what you were doing, not that he would tell you, at least not yet.

           ‘Well, not so bad for a failed attempt of a doctor.’

           It was the closest thing to a compliment he could say, and it looked like you knew, because he swears that he saw you smile a little.

           ‘Aren’t you a pleasure to work with? The injury in your arm was pretty nasty and poorly treated, so luckily for you, you will have to drop by more times to check on you. These are my hours, if you want this failed attempt of a doctor to treat you, Captain. I could get used to see your friendly face now and then.’

           He didn’t know if the last part was supposed to be interpreted as flirting, but he did come back to visit you, to keep an eye of his injury, obviously. However, if you asked Hange, she would say that you had caught his eye, he still says that at that point in your relationship you annoyed him too much to find himself interested in you.

           His weekly visits turned into daily visits, so much for not liking you.

           ‘I’m starting to think I’ve managed to catch your attention, Captain.’ 

          ‘Tch, you’re just less annoying than the rest of the brats.’ 

          ‘Oh Captain, you really know how to make me blush.’

           He lied. You did catch his attention and you both knew it. It wasn’t love, not at all, it was a gentle curiosity that grew a little bit every day, like a flower blossoming.

           ‘Tch, you only know to say shit with that mouth of yours.’ 

           ‘This mouth of mine knows to do a lot of things, want me show you, Captain?’

           ‘When you return from the expedition, you have to come to the infirmary to see your wounds and stop playing the hero, it’s bullshit.’ 

            ‘I’m starting to think you may have an obsession for doing check-ups on me, brat.’ 

           ‘You caught me, I only do them because I can’t keep my hands of you, Captain.’

         ‘Why do you always call me Captain? It’s annoying, I’m not your superior.’

        ‘I know, but I like teasing you with it, Captain.’

        He cared for you more than he cared for other people in his life, he liked being with you, maybe that was another type of love. Loving his mother was selfless; loving Isabel and Farlan was affectionate; loving you, or whatever the hell he was felling, was playful, flirty and it filled him with joy.

       Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was getting there.

4. MANIA or Obsessive love

           Your relationship was frustrating everybody, absolutely every single person that knew about you two, everybody knew you had feelings for each other but none of you did something about it, you just kept tiptoeing around each other. It was painful to see. They didn’t know if you were oblivious, stupid, scared or if you were just messing with them, Hange believed the latter one because there was no way you two weren’t together already. The banter, the flirty remarks, the way he looked out for you and the way you took care of him.

           ‘What’s going on with you and y/n, Shorty?’ 

           ‘You tell me, Four-eyes’

           ‘Tell me the truth, y/n. Are you and Levi dating and just keeping it as a secret? Because I’m losing my mind.’ 

           ‘We aren’t dating, Hange.’

           To be honest, Levi was losing his mind too. The playful game turned into something more serious, something more obsessive and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and what were you doing while he was busy with paperwork. On missions his mind wandered about your wellbeing and if you were fine. He couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat became erratic whenever you were close to him or the way he would notice every single thing about you. He felt powerless, there was no way to stop it.

           He, who always had a plan and knew to do, was helpless under something he could have prevented, or at least something he think he could have avoided. Deep down he knew that he would have fallen for you one way or another, some things are bound to happen, and love is one of them, but he didn’t want to admit that something as mundane as love could outpower him in his own life.

           He was aware of how you felt about him, you weren’t scared to be vocal about it and it drove him mad, and by the way his stoic eyes would gleam and glisten while looking at you, you were certain it was mutual. He knew that if he said the word or gave you signal, you’d be his and he’d be yours, but he couldn’t give you what you wanted, and it was a matter of time before you got tired of him. You were young and beautiful, one the most outstanding creatures he had ever seen, you could do better than him and you’d realize soon enough. Life was too short to waste it on him.

           ‘What are you waiting for, Levi? Do something about it because it’s getting painful to watch.’ 

           ‘Get off my fucking case, Four-eyes.’

           Everyone was waiting for him to do something, but he couldn’t. In those moments he remembered the question he wasn’t able to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’ His mother loved him, and she died, just like Isabel and Farlan, he couldn’t love you, because he’ll end up losing you, the same way he lost everyone else.

           He was loveless.

           But you weren’t, and you found someone to do what he couldn’t do, someone to love you like you deserved.

           He didn’t know a lot about them. You looked happier and that was all he cared about. He thought that seeing you with another person would calm his heart and his desires, but they only got worse, there was no way of forgetting about you. You were everywhere.

           ‘C’mon Levi, do something.’ 

          ‘Didn’t I tell you to drop it, Hange?’

           His visits stopped but you kept waiting for him, hoping he would come to his senses. You didn’t get it, you really didn’t. He had the opportunity, he could have taken the chance to be with you, but he didn’t, so you moved on, or tried to, you didn’t love your partner, but you could see yourself falling in love with them. However, you still missed Levi, not as a potential lover, but as a friend. The way he erased you from his life as you were nothing broke your heart. What did he want from you?

           He wanted everything. He wanted all of you and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He was just frozen in time while you kept moving. He met your partner, they came to visit you once, they were gentle and loving, they looked at you like you were the brightest star in the firmament. They held your hand and kissed your lips. They did all the things he wanted to do. He was jealous, but he didn’t have the right to say something, he had never had the right.

           The way he looked at you made you feel guilty, like you were betraying him, and you were so confused and annoyed and angry and mad, and you really wanted to punch him in the face. So, you went to his room that night and stormed in.

           ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ 

           ‘I should be asking that, I’m not the one barging in someone else’s room with no previous invitation.’

           He had never seen you like that, so mad and full of rage and it was all directed to him and he knew it was his fault.

           ‘What do you want of me, Levi?’

           He wanted everything.

           He wanted you.

           ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Could you please stop making me lose my time?’

           He saw it in your face, that was the last straw.

           ‘You’re selfish, an asshole, a prick and a lot of other things. But above it all, you’re a fucking coward, so much for Humanity’s Strongest. For fucks sake, Levi, I loved you, I still do, but I can’t keep waiting for someone who is too scared to do something about it. I want you and you want me too. What’s stopping you?’

           He remembered again, the question he never had the chance to ask: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

           You loved him and you weren’t scared of it. But he was, and you were about to leave the room. You turned your back on him and it was now or never. He had to choose: would he let you walk away definitely of his life or would he do something?

           For once, he didn’t think, he didn’t listen to his head, he listened to his heart. For so long he made himself believe that he didn’t have a heart, but his heart was right there, beating for you.

           He kissed you and you kissed him back.

           ‘Mine.’ 

          ‘Yours.’

5. EROS or Passionate love

           You both were private people, you didn’t want people talking about your relationship during its first stages, what you had was precious and new and you wanted to protect it from the world a little longer. That’s why no one really knew about the whole ordeal, well, they knew that something had shifted because you could be in the same room without making everyone uncomfortable with your unsolved issues, but they couldn’t pinpoint what had exactly changed, they just guessed that you sorted everything out, finally.

           However, Hange did know what changed. She prided herself on knowing Levi, after many years working with him she had learned that Levi only talked through his body language, so she started paying attention to what his body said instead of listening to the words he spewed. Therefore, when she asked him if he was dating you and he said a short no, he knew he was lying. She noticed how he seemed more at ease, how you had broken up with your partner, the way he would gravitate towards you and that when he looked at you, his eyes weren’t filled with longing and remorse, they were shinier and less cold than usual. So, she obviously knew that something was up, but she kept quiet. She may talk way too much, and people could find her annoying, but at the end of the day she was a good friend, and she would respect that neither of you wanted to make things public.

           Keeping things private was harder than he originally thought, he was distant and cold to everyone, but he couldn’t be cold and distant with you when you made him burn inside and he could only think about holding you close. It was weird for him, he had spent so many years deprived of touch that he couldn’t imagine himself getting addicted to it, but he was wrong, so wrong.

           You knew that Levi was touch starved, you didn’t need to be a genius to notice. When you picked up his body language and started hearing about his childhood, everything came together: his mother died when he was very young, the most paternal figure he had was toxic and abusive to him and since Isabel and Farlan he didn’t let anyone in easily. Levi wasn’t used to someone doting him and you knew that if you started showering him with affection, it would probably scare him off a little, and that was the last thing you wanted. So, you started slowly: holding hands, gentle caresses, kisses in his cheek, hugs, light pecks on the lips and when you saw that he started getting more comfortable, things started scaling on their own, you let him mark the pace. It wasn’t a quick process, but it was worth it.

           After a few months, Levi couldn’t keep his hands of you and he surely didn’t want you to keep your hands off him. This was a new kind of love, at first, on the early stages of your relationship it was playful, but then it evolved into something more passionate: quick pecks turned into open mouthed kisses; holding hands innocently turned into holding you close while you came undone under him again and again; kisses now went lower and lower, exploring new parts of you that he hadn’t seen and that no one else would. He didn’t think that touch could mean so much to him, but it did now, and he knew that couldn’t ever go back to a touchless life where you wouldn’t be there to love him.

6. PHILAUTIA or Self-love

          He wasn’t neither deaf, blind or stupid. He could hear what people had to say about your relationship, how you deserved better than him; he could see his reflection on the mirror and how he wasn’t beautiful, at least not as much as you, he wasn’t the male that would make people swoon and he knew that you could have any man or female you wanted, but you chose him, out of every other person, you decided to be with him. He was a lucky bastard and you didn’t make good decisions, what a match.

           You would look at him like he held the stars in the sky, and you would touch him like he was about to disappear in any moment, as if he were a dream you were afraid to wake up from. He didn’t get why him, he wasn’t the most handsome, nor the nicest, nor the easiest to love, and you still decided to keep him around. He liked to think that he was smart or cleverer than the average, and yet he couldn’t grasp his head around that the fact you loved him and just him, and that was it, it was as simple as that.

           Whenever you heard the things people said about your partner, you went feral, because you knew all those comments fueled the self-hate Levi had. Being loveless for so long it obviously affected the perception he had of himself and you wanted to change that, because he deserved it, he deserved all the happiness in this dull world. He liked to play strong, but you saw through him, and even though he never acted upon them, it hurt him. You wished he could see himself through you eyes, because it caused you pain the mere idea of him thinking less of himself, that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

           You would tell him every day how much you loved him, as if you were reciting a prayer to your own god.

           ‘I love you.’

           ‘You’re beautiful.’

           ‘I could stare at you for the rest of my life.’

           ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’

           You would tell him that he needed to love himself, see the good inside of him, he guessed that that was one the types of love he had yet to discover: self-love. He didn’t see himself capable of loving himself nearly the half of how much you loved him.

           ‘You know one reason why you should love yourself, because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been.’

              He didn’t love himself, not yet, but if he was able to make you smile like that, he couldn’t be that unworthy of you.

7. STORGE or Familiar love

              He had been avoiding love for as long as he could remember, and then you burst into his life with the force of a typhoon. Love had found him, and he couldn’t get away, you never can, it was a lesson that he had finally accepted.

             For so long he saw love as something unnecessary, a burden for the soul. Love ruins you, it stabs you on the back, whenever he let his walls down, love would always take advantage of it and destroy him, bringing him closer to insanity, he had lost himself too many times by loving people and when he met you, he did not want the cycle to repeat itself. He didn’t want more Kuchels, Kennys, Isabels and Farlans, love was merciless, and he wasn’t interested in it, at least that was what he told to himself every day, that he was better off alone. Was all the pain worth it? He thought love came with a high price and he couldn’t afford it. However, things change, life happens, destiny has always something in the store, well, in his case he had someone.

           You were his everything, the beacon that brought light in his life, for so long he had been lost, walking amongst shadows, nearly becoming one, and when you appeared you changed the rules of the game, of his game. Every wall he had built around himself came down and you filled every gap his heart was missing. It was the scariest thing he had ever done, letting you in, letting someone in, giving someone else the control of his own heart. You knew the power you held between your hands and you never abused it. You were his solace in this mad world, the oasis in the middle of the desert.

         Loving him was not easy, he knew it, he was rude, sharp, too closed off, mean, he was what people liked to call a ‘fucking jerk’ and yet you never gave up on him, on what you had. Instead of leaving when you had the chance, you stayed through thick and thin: through sleepless nights, through his bad moods and grumpiness, through his biting remarks… .You didn’t ran way, you were too stubborn for that, instead you taught him more forms of love.

         You were all of the ones he knew and more.

         You were selfless, giving him every part of you and loving him with everything you had to offer.

         You were his best friend, his companion, the better half of him.

         You were playful, joyous, probably the only thing that could make him smile and bring him happiness.

         You were consuming, like a fire burning inside of him.

         You were passionate, intoxicating.

         You were every form of love he had ever experienced, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the kind of love he was experiencing in that moment: the familiar one. The one you feel when you hold your newborn in your trembling hands. It was something he couldn’t describe, there weren’t words for it, he tried to, but he failed every single time.

         This was the way his mom loved him, and then he knew how much he had meant for his own mother. While holding little Kuchel on his arms, he remembered all those days and nights on that dirty brothel, all the hours he spent by his mother’s side, how she would do everything to give him the best life and he soon realized there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for his daughter. It wasn’t the best of times to have a child, but in that moment, in that precise instant, when Kuchel opened her grey eyes, he was sure of one thing: he would tear everything and everyone down only to see her smile.

        A knock on the door. Another one. Two minutes passed and then Hange, followed by Erwin, entered in the room.

       ‘Tch, Shitty-glasses, who gave you permission to come in?’ 

       ‘My authority as a god-mother.’

       ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

      ‘She’s beautiful, what’s her name?’ 

     ‘Her name is Kuchel.’

     Kuchel was his new world, he loved her so much that it was overwhelming, he would never love someone as much as he loved her, and no one would probably love with the same devotion Levi Ackerman loved his daughter.

    ‘You know, Kuchel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I promise you that you will have the best life a man like me can give you. I may be a little cold, perhaps a little strict and you will probably get mad at me sometimes, but no matter what happens, I will love you through everything. And by the way, no dating until I’m dead because no brat will be good enough for you. You deserve the world Kuchel and I’ll give you everything it has to offer. Things may get hard, you aren’t born in the best circumstances, but I’ll protect you because you deserve the life I couldn’t live.’

     Kuchel’s first word was ‘dadda’.

     Kuchel’s first steps were pointed towards his father.

     Kuchel’s favorite pastime was being in his father’s arms.

     Kuchel could only sleep after his father had kissed her forehead.

     And Kuchel would never love someone as much as he loved his father, because she loved him as much as he loved her.

8. PRAGMA or Enduring love

           He was old and wrinkly, he was scarred, mutilated and there were days he couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were too real. But he was happy, he was married to the most beautiful and special person he had ever met, he had a loving daughter, a bunch of brats he was proud to call grandchildren and the tea shop he had always dreamed about.

           Life hadn’t been fair to him. He had lost so many people he cared about, he had fought a war and he had had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But, after all, after the tortures, the adversities, the deaths… He had people who loved and whom he loved.

          Love was worth it. He had finally learned that.

          At his seventies he found out about the last kind of love, the enduring, the one that lasts and survives in time. He loved his family above everything, and he would love them long after his bones turn into ashes and no one remembers his name.

         Then he recalled that question he never got to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

         He looked at the sky and smiled.

        ‘After all someone was fool enough to love me mom, who would have thought?’

         A gentle breeze caressed his skin and a single tear fell from his eye.

        ‘I guess that’s the way you have of answering the question.’

[honeytae]

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours. 

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own. 

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time. 

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

[preemshots]

the definitive post of WHERE IN THE WORLD IS JOHNNY SILVERHAND’S BODY?

AKA the post of HERE’S WHY I WANT TO BELIEVE WE ARE GONNA GET JOHNNY’S BODY BACK IN DLC. 

buckle up, gamers. it's time for some lore. this is a very long post. 

warning: this will contain a million spoilers. both for details of multiple game endings, a wee bit of the “where’s johnny” comic, and the cyberpunk RED book. if you want a sparknotes version this is the post for you. my main source here is the cyberpunk RED book as well as as some references to the cyberpunk 2077 world book to cross examine the lore. 

i have no idea if someone has made this post before or what anybody else has been finding in their own lore diving. this is just me documenting my own findings from the sources i’ve been using.

it would be disingenuous not to preface this with the ways in which cyberpunk 2077's telling of the arasaka assault differ from the version told in the TTRPG books. the books =/= the game. pondsmith acknowledges in the intro of RED that this is a bridge between the old cyberpunk world and the new world of cyberpunk 2077. 

we also know that johnny's an unreliable narrator and his memories presented to V are often different than real events. but on top of that we don't know if the reason why many elements are changed is simply CDPR editing/adjusting/condensing the storyline for their own canon, or if it's due to johnny's construct being manipulated by outside influences such as arasaka.

some of the main differences you need to know from cyberpunk RED canon:

in 2023 johnny doesn't bring the nukes to arasaka tower. he's solely there to free alt.

johnny and rogue and their team from the atlantis/the aldecaldos are actually hired by morgan blackhand. 

morgan blackhand is the one who plants the nuke, unbeknownst to many members of the team. 

morgan blackhand promptly disappears after this event and no one knows if he's alive or dead. (claire confirms this fact to jackie and v before the heist in 2077 canon)

johnny's silver cybernetic arm is its own character, separate from himself. it seems to have a mind of its own and johnny interacts with it and/or is influenced by it.

when he, spider murphy, rogue, thompson, shaitan, and a team of los lobos from the aldecaldos (who are there in place of santiago, as he’s busy as the leader of the aldecaldos at this point) are attacked by adam smasher, johnny and his arm actively choose to draw smasher's fire in a deliberately suicidal move. smasher downs him instantly, but the distraction is enough to also save his friends.

spider murphy shoves a mysterious chip in johnny's dying head as they escape that alt had downloaded to her a long time ago.

johnny's body is later "rumoured" to have been retrieved from the rubble by a full-body borg groupie that was a first responder to the ground zero of AHQ and then hidden away in a nearby garage.

here comes the political lore that makes my eyes cross, so hopefully this accurately summarizes it: the 4th corporate war begins to end. arasaka is ultimately blamed by the NUSA government to have nuked themselves in a political move to protect their secrets and promptly banished from the USA. arasaka denies this all the way back to japan, then eventually returns to “liberate” night city in the unification wars.

but what the public doesn't know is that kei, saburo's oldest son, had actually hidden an EVEN BIGGER MORE DEVASTATING NUKE at the bottom of the tower to, well, do exactly what they were being accused of doing, even though blackhand was the one who actually dropped the smaller nuke on them. and luckily the bigger one didn’t go off.

arasaka tries to find their nuke in the rubble so they don't get in even bigger trouble, only to discover that it was moved and hidden away to... surprise! a nearby garage.

to compare with 2077:

in RED: we have no johnny loading the nukes into the elevator. no johnny being carried off the premises. no meeting saburo. no johnny getting soulkilled.

in 2077: there's a parallel moment to RED's version of events right after johnny uploads "liberator" from alt's old cyberdeck with spider's help into the arasaka mainframe in saburo's office. adam smasher comes for him as he's trying to escape, knocking him off the second floor of the atrium into the rock garden below.

visually this is the same atrium we always meet alt in in cyberspace and also where V meets johnny for the first time. hmmm. meaningful, perhaps.

not unlike what happens in RED, johnny unloads a clip into smasher at that point, but from there the scene instantly cuts to him running to the roof attempting to board the AV with rogue, where smasher shoots him down again. it’s possible johnny actually died to smasher in the atrium and we have some fabricated memories going on. 

either way, in 2077, we lose the character beat of johnny dying for his friends, and the current-day general consensus from rogue and others is that he’s perpetually a selfish asshole with ulterior motives. 

and, just to wrap up the politics of it all: morgan blackhand is rumoured to have been secretly hired by the militech-backed NUSA government to help end the 4th corporate war by... you guessed it! nuking arasaka.

HERE'S WHERE JOHNNY'S BODY ENDS UP IN CYBERPUNK RED (SPARKNOTES VERSION):

RED ends with a story called "black dog" set in 2045. black dog is the last song johnny recorded right before the assault on arasaka tower, but the final copy is a bootleg copy of the song and only a fraction.

we're introduced to a fun group of cybernetic-enhanced characters that represent the classes in the TTRPG and based on/designed by real people in collaboration with CDPR.

this group includes trace santiago, santiago's son, who is a media that is curious about the mystery surrounding the circumstances around his father and the arasaka bombing. 

just connecting lore here: if you talk to saul at the aldecaldo camp in 2077, he confirms that santiago was killed for his involvement with johnny and the bombing, something that rogue and johnny reference when they talk about their now-dead crew from the afterlife, and in chippin in, santiago is a friend that johnny lists as someone he had disappointed.

the group sets off to find any info about black dog, and meet up with a full conversion chrome woman named samantha in a garage who is blatantly a johnny silverhand fangirl. trace discovers she has a history with johnny, having rescued him from a studio fire at some point in 2015 and speculates she could have been a groupie also.

she mysteriously has a more complete recording of black dog, though not perfect, and offers to trade it for a service: she wants the group to transport a large crate to a facility in new mexico, asking them not to open it.

shit goes down. evidently everyone in night city wants to kill them for this package once it starts moving. eventually they open it. it's the arasaka nuke that had been hidden and never went off, emblazoned with warnings.

trace inquires about the circumstances surrounding the arasaka assault with an older member of the lobos who had been present with rogue and johnny. the man mentions that it was weird, because morgan blackhand organized the whole thing and then ran off immediately with a mysterious bag that we now know contained the nuke. 

michiko arasaka intercepts the gang, explaining the situation around the bigger nuke, that other factions in arasaka want to utilize it for their own goals (presumably hanako and yorinobu) and her father's legacy, that she feels responsible for. she escorts them to new mexico so that the nuke can be dismantled once and for all.

they meet up with a woman named angel in new mexico that takes the crate from them, at a facility that specializes in nuclear material. she gives the group the full recording of "black dog". the group leaves successful.

this woman is also a johnny silverhand stan. once alone, she calls up samantha, who says, "i promised i would get him to you in the end" and reveals that she had already gutted/dismantled the original nuke and discarded the material into the bay.

angel opens the "nuke" to reveal a hidden cryochamber, and greets the face of the person inside with, "hello, my love."

i mean, holy shit. okay! so that’s DEFINITELY johnny’s body. cool!

now let’s go into all the references to this story in the actual game of cyberpunk 2077 that SUGGEST we are going to pursue this story AND johnny's body since it’s such a HOT FUCKING TOPIC. 

and i know many of the following can just be considered easter eggs. but my personal interpretation of this game is that it has a really delightful way of intentionally glossing over important story details—and not by ONLY putting them in shards (which people tend to dislike because lol reading) but by also hiding them in plain sight, constantly deferring to V's own ignorance, distracting us with shallower, shinier things, encouraging us to actually play as the fool hero of this story. 

so here's the fun list of “””evidence”””:

this one’s a reach, but fun. in the initial arasaka assault flashback in 2023: we can interact with the groupies at kerry's show as johnny. samantha doesn't appear to be present, but the first person and groupie you can encounter in the flashback has a passing resemblance to angel in that she has a cybernetic arm.

in chippin' in, where we go to johnny's "grave" in the oil fields: if we are to take the 2077 retelling of events as truth, the story could instead be pretty easily be changed that samantha procured his body from there.

mike pondsmith, who wrote these stories and created the TTRPG can be heard on the radio narrating various conspiracy theories. and sure, these can just be easter eggs, intended to reference the differences between the TTRPG lore and the game, so take it with a grain of salt:

johnny. bro. tell him it was morgan blackhand

to top it all off, mike also directly references the actual WORSE nuke arasaka had hid in another arasaka conspiracy: 

SPOILERS FOR GAME ENDINGS AHEAD.

in the rogue ending of the game we discover rogue has a son. it's possible her son is trace (edit: nvm NOT LIKELY, since in RED’s black dog story rogue is listed separately from santiago’s mom in conversation) OR possibly one of the other characters. she tells her son to "pull over and look at the stars" or something along those lines. maybe just details, so that screams nomad to me.

rogue also has a photo of herself and johnny with mike pondsmith in her apartment/office in the afterlife. i initially read this as a delightful cameo but it also can mean mike the CHARACTER knew johnny and rogue, and rogue therefore has some kind of relationship to him and these conspiracies on the radio. and why the fuck not make him a full on character? we have a smattering of streamers and personalities already integrated into quests in the game. the creator of all this should be no exception. fuck it! 

rogue and johnny constantly dance around this accusation of her “selling out”. it’s repeated over and over that she and adam smasher worked for "the same people". i'm beginning to wonder if this wasn't meant to imply only arasaka since smasher mysteriously disappeared after the AHQ assault in 2023 and returned to SOMETIMES take jobs from arasaka... but possibly morgan blackhand and/or by extension, the NUSA or any other greater influences. (like nightcorp? we still don’t know where all this shit with nightcorp/the peralezes/sandra dorsett’s discovery about their research into mind control is gonna go) this also doesn’t account for the multiple factions inside arasaka with VERY different motives. 

morgan blackhand and adam smasher are rivals in the TTRPG, a role that appears to be at least partially filled by johnny instead in 2077. in relation to the arasaka factions, it’s worth nothing that smasher specifically works for yorinobu as his bodyguard at the beginning of the game, in part i assume because yorinobu is avoiding working with arasaka security details as he stole the relic and is plotting against his father. he is then promoted to head of security by yorinobu when yorinobu assumes power. 

in the ending as you work your way through arasaka tower with rogue and shaitan and johnny, rogue remarks:

michiko at this point in 2077 is the leader of the more “liberal” faction within arasaka, so it’s possible we’re seeing that while rogue and smasher work for the same people/family, they couldn’t be more different. 

you can also encounter rogue more than once on the phone fighting with wakako, who has apparently crossed her. wakako also seems to have her own ulterior motives and works mainly with the arasaka-backed tyger claws. she notably gives v/takemura the parade security info for “play it safe” without asking for anything in return, enabling hanako’s kidnapping. my theory is that yorinobu intentionally leaked the parade info to her to give away to put hanako in danger or at least continue to destabilize arasaka. 

in the takemura/devil ending of the game, there is a point where violence breaks out at the arasaka board room meeting when yorinobu-allied security open fire on them. one of the only people that survives along with hanako is michiko arasaka, who was at odds with hanako’s decisions, but  very involved in the preceding discussion.

and now for is my favorite detail! in the afterlife AT ALL POINTS IN THE GAME (but it can only really be inspected in the rogue ending when we are allowed behind the bar), we can find a photo of the squad that transported johnny's body from samantha to angel on the shelf below johnny's tequila, of them hanging out in front of the afterlife sign:  

this implies rogue has some relationship with them, and sentimentality, if we're to judge by the placement. she maybe even took the picture. i don't know, it's charming, it could be all easter eggs. who fucking knows.

either way, rogue and these kids both have in common that they worked with or at least interacted with michiko arasaka. 

and you know what my final evidence is? more wishful thinking! black dog plays on the radio in game. we got a full recorded version of it by refused. if not an oversight, i go ahead and take it to mean the final version was finally released to the public by those kids that were looking for it. 

i haven’t the slightest idea how this is gonna wrap up in future DLC. who has johnny’s body now in 2077, decades after it was dropped off in mexico? what is the truth?? where the fuck is morgan blackhand?? from the devil ending, we know that arasaka stole jackie’s body and put his soul into mikoshi, so the idea that they would just toss johnny’s corpse has always been laughable. the “where’s johnny?” promotional comic was even about thompson unsuccessfully trying to find johnny’s body. i know i am biased here but i cannot fathom all this talk about johnny’s body ending off with us NOT finding it, whether it’s just to bury it, shove johnny’s engram back in it, make out with it, or WHATEVER.

if you made it through this slog, congrats. thanks for reading! 

[stormblessed95]

I think what kills me when rewatching the 160903 Dope performance, also dubbed the “Manila Incident”, isn’t Jikook conversing but what happens afterwards with Jimin. We’ve already gone over everything but I just realized when Jimin stands up it looks like he wiped a tear from his eye and played it off by fixing is in-ear. That little detail just kills me, whatever happened really hit him. Also, like the fact that Jimin also had to talk with JK in the middle of a performance? That’s odd as well. I’m probably looking into this more than I should, so correct me if I’m wrong please, or disregard this lol!

Hi! Thanks for your patience in how long it took me to answer this! Here is my post over the Manila fight where I got into much more (probably too much) detail over that whole timeline leading up to that whole thing and what my thoughts are over what happened there. So read this first if you haven't already:

Here is also a full fancam of that performance, jikook moment, followed by the jimin wiping his eye moment you reference right at the very start of the fancam:

And here is a close up fancam of jikook when they were crouched down on the floor before the start of the song:

So I slightly disagree with you here. My interpretation of what happened with them sitting there is that there has obviously been some type of issue between them that has lead to a lack of interaction on stage that night. You can read more of my opinions over that in my main post for Manila. I think that this wasn't them crouching down to continue fighting, but that they both went to their place on stage for the start of the song. He didn't follow him over there because he needed to talk, that was just their stage cues. JK had to start the song and Jimin had to come up from behind him for the second bar to sing. He didnt NEED to talk to him in the middle of the performance, but I think Jimin used that we both need to sit here for 30 seconds moment and tried to initiate an opening for them to interact, not really talk, but just be friendly. JK didn't really respond and then had to get up for his turn to start the song off. Which Jimin then follows. I think he takes some time to recompose himself with his head down while he waits, but I don't think he was tearing up nor wiping a tear. He looks UNHAPPY when JK doesn't respond to him, but he doesn't look like he is super torn up about it, at least while on stage. You can see his face more clearly in this photo:

And this others where we see JKs face more and Jimins motions to him:

Followed by this photo which clearly shows neither looks thrilled or super happy about whatever is happening:

Jimin touches his face or lips lightly while he sings at times, it's something he does on occasion. I don't think the in ear was a cover up, I think it was just him actually making sure it was snugly in there since he took it out briefly to try and talk to JK and shoved in back in while he was walking in a sqaut. Lol we also see no issues of where he looks upset through the rest of the song, referencing back to the fancam. Could it just be professionalism? Sure, but if he had tears leaking and watery eyes, i think that would come through a bit more.

That's where I fall on this moment at least. This is just my opinion though. In the end, we know NOTHING about what went down with them during this whole "Manila incident" we are all just taking guesses. Yours is as good as mine. Hope this helped explain how I see things though! Thanks for the ask 💜