#WHERE IS THAT POST ABOUT HIM BEING MODEL WORTHY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moon-rivr · 17 days

Text

congratulations

i bet on losing dogs (part two) series masterlist

pairing: college miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one year age gap, angst (?), smut, unprotected sex, doggy, and mentions of masturbation (m) pls lmk if i missed anything 🥸

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: DADDY’S HOMEEE 🗣️ anyways so i sorta based this off mac miller’s song ‘congratulations.’ i hope y’all aren’t tired of me posting angst 😪 (i haven’t forgotten ab the poll btw 😭)

word count: 6.3k

The sun don't shine when I'm alone

Miguel was stuck in a cycle of getting together with Dana, spending a couple months of bliss by going on dates with her and exchanging sweet gestures to having a messy breakup over something completely minute. It was toxic, he could admit that much to himself. But he didn't wish to stop it. If his own mother couldn't provide him with love as a child, why should he expect for someone else to love him?

He was an anomaly.

Or at least, that's what he's been led to believe for most of his life. A being that was incapable of being loved properly, of being the odd one out in every situation he was in. From being the tallest one in every single room he stepped in (often having to crouch his head) to being the black sheep of his family.

He stayed with Dana as a method to prove to himself that he was worthy of loved by someone, even if it wasn't expressed in the healthiest of ways. But even he was starting to get at his ending point. "No, I told you about a week ago that robotics was starting back up again and that I'd be busy with the meetings," Miguel explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time this week. Think about the good moments.

"So are those meetings more important than spending time with me now?" Dana's voice was starting to get annoying to his ears, the tiny whine in her voice starting to irritate him. He was sure she was putting up that pout that she thought got him weak at the knees every time he saw it. Really, he only ended up relenting to whatever she said so he couldn't have to see that awful expression on her face for much longer.

"No, they're not. But just try to understand that I have different interests outside of this relationship. We can go out this weekend if you want to do that," he was running out of options to keep her happy. It seemed like the more that he wanted for this relationship to work, the more that she kept slipping away from his fingers. "It's just.. I don't know if I want to be in a relationship where my needs aren't being seen."

She'd be back within the week. Maybe even less if she got up to that point of loneliness. She'd come back over to him with an apologetic smile on her face, expressing how she was willing to forgive him for his past transgression. "It's okay, I know you get busy sometimes but as long as you're willing to change, I want to give this another shot," she'd whisper in his ear, the two making up in an empty janitorial closet. An exchange of empty promises slipping from Dana easily forgotten with the heat of the moment.

He came back home from a robotics meeting that had run late, a small sigh escaping his lips as he stepped inside. There was no one to welcome him as he stepped in through the door, no one to ask him how his day had gone at school today. "How'd your day go?" he asked out loud, pretending that it was his mother's voice instead of his own echoing through the living room. "It was good, thanks for asking," he felt like a fool for talking to himself, rolling his eyes as he set down his bag on the couch.

Or at least, he'd thought he was alone. He heard two voices coming from the basement, his brother's and someone else's. He made his way downstairs, his eyes widening slightly upon the sight. The spaceship model that he'd spent every available second of last week building was now crumbled by a basketball. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, moving closer to Miguel as you stood in the corner.

"Look, we're sorry. The game got out of hand," Gabriel started off but he released that all his attempts to apologize would be futile upon seeing the glare Miguel was shooting in his general direction. "So if you knew, why'd you come downstairs to come play?" Miguel answered back quickly, seeming to have his comebacks ready at any moment. Part of you started to feel guilty, needing to take some kind of responsibility for this as well.

"Hey, it's not his fault. I'm the one who suggested that we play down here," you could sense the tension from a mile away, deciding to ease the situation a bit. Even if that meant you had to take the fall for Gabriel's mistake. You could see the gratitude in Gabriel's expression upon seeing you walk over to them. "So? That doesn't change the fact that my project's still in shambles."

And almost as if on cue, one of the pieces that was barely hanging on fell to the ground with a dramatic thud. You could see the vein on Miguel's forehead get closer and closer to popping the more he looked at the remnants of what was otherwise, a perfect model rocket. The only reason the two of you had even come down here in the first place was because Gabriel wanted to show you the design that his brother was working on.

You'd expressed some interest in wanting to join the stem club at school, but you eventually decided against it after seeing that it was majorly ran by guys. Guys that had a reputation for being overwhelmingly misogynistic. You decided it'd be better not to join and just wait until next year, if you even wanted a chance of getting your ideas being heard out.

Most of them didn't even bother to listen to you outside of school so you didn't delude yourself into thinking that being in a club would magically change that. As much as you really wanted to join.

So you settled for observing from the outside, walking into the robotics classroom when it was deserted to look through the different parts modeled and the different things that were presented. And occasionally, Gabriel would let you sneak a peek at what the club president, Miguel, was up to.

"I can help you with the project if you want," you suggested, hoping that it would detonate the situation. The two brothers had been on thin ice since Miguel managed to get with Dana, leaving you to comfort Gabriel as he cried about the loss of his girlfriend. Miguel's face relaxed instantly, his gaze flickering over to you instead. "I'll do it myself. You'd probably just end up messing it up," his tone came out cold, dismissing the two of you out of the basement.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice with a blade. You stepped away from the table where the model rocket had once been set up, choosing to go stand by Gabriel instead. You would've figured that was the last of the discussion but you heard Gabriel mumbling underneath his breath as he headed out. Miguel's ears instantly perked up, his teeth gritting against one another. "You have something you wanna say to me?"

Miguel had practically given Gabriel a loaded weapon now. The two of you collectively knew that Gabriel wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. But maybe Miguel just wanted to keep the argument going? You weren't completely sure how this family dynamic worked at all. "Pinche amargado," Gabriel spoke up, a scoff escaping from Miguel's lips. (fucking bitter)

"Amargado porque tu no puedes dejar mis putas cosas en paz." (bitter because you can’t leave my stuff alone)

"Igualito a ti, cabron. Tu con Dana y yo con tus cosas." (just like you. you with dana and i with your stuff)

"Vete a la puta v-"

Their voices rose with each retort that they gave one another, the two almost at a brink of yelling at each other. You looked around to try to create a diversion, opting to just flicker the lights on to see if they'd calm down. You didn't have much hope in your strategy but Miguel fell silent after the lights had been turned off. Two pairs of eyes were directed towards you when you turned the lights back on, both expressing some form of disdain.

"Look, it was my fault for ruining your project so allow me to take some kind of responsibility and help you rebuild it. It's not going to be done on time tomorrow if you do it all by yourself," you spoke up after they both had a couple seconds to calm down, reluctance visible all over Miguel's face. Though, he seemed to be actually considering the possibility now. His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet for a couple seconds, eventually huffing out what sounded like a 'fine.'

"Just call me when you're done here," Gabriel relented as he walked over to the basement door, paying once last glance to you over his shoulder. You nodded to his words, looking back over at Miguel. He was already hunched over his desk, starting to take out the pieces of the rocket that had been affected. Maybe you'd get lucky and he wouldn't continue with his angry rant?

I see your eyes look through my soul

The two of you worked in silence for the most part, a couple mutters escaping from Miguel as he worked on taping the pieces back in their correct order. "Irresponsables," he muttered to himself, gluing one of the small pieces together. He wasn't too keen on having you around, his body turned away from you as he worked. But yet, you also had some kind of urge to help him out after you'd aided in the destruction of his project.

"How'd you get into aerospace?" You decided to break the ice and ask a question, looking up from the piece that you were assembling back together. His expression seemed to lose the original intensity that it once held, his body relaxing in the rolling chair he was in. "I didn't. I pursued robotics at first and then there was this competition to build rockets. I started to learn about them, about the different space missions from the past and eventually my interest grew from there."

You nodded along to his answer, going back to working on the piece you were reconstructing. His gaze travelled over to where you were working, a bit surprised by how well you were doing. He'd expected for you to make an even bigger mess of the situation and excuse it with 'just trying to help.' "Are you into aerospace as well?" You hadn't expected for him to actually engage in the conversation but it was a question that you liked getting asked about. While most of the conversation revolves around aerospace, you couldn't deny that he was fun to talk to.

"If you like it that much, you should join. A couple members apart from myself are graduating this year and a couple chairs are going to open," he noted, handing you a wrench to tighten a bolt. You tightened the bolt, grabbing one of the nuts that scattered through the floor when the wing fell off. "I'll think about it," you told him, though your voice held no conviction towards it. He wouldn't push the topic further but he could see just how excited you were to be working on the project.

So much that you didn't even demand to be credited as one of his partners for the project.

Much as he hated to admit to himself, he found that it was quite nice to spend some time with you. Especially when it came to do something that he enjoyed doing. It was a sharp contrast from his time with Dana, going from having surface level conversations about each other's day. Maybe a relationship shouldn't have to involve so much work? Maybe every conversation didn't have to end in a fight after all.

Instead of trying to fix things over with Dana by following her like a lost puppy, he decided to fix things up with Gabriel. Because a part of him secretly wanted to see you again. The modified rocket ship had gotten a couple compliments from the other members, some of them even claiming that it could go to nationals. He wasn't completely sure if they were sucking up to him for a recommendation, but he knew that you'd appreciate the feedback.

So, he decided he'd stop being so strict with Gabriel and lend his stuff over whenever he asked. To which he got a couple of surprised looks and hesitation at first. The next step in the process was for him to work out an apology. But how does one exactly go about apologizing for stealing a partner? Especially when said person had brought up concerns to feeling inferior in every shape and form to himself? He'd dug himself into a hole he had no idea how to get out of.

Miguel awkwardly stood in front of Gabriel's room as he heard the thud of a couple tools inside, his younger brother being more into mechanics than robotics. He decided to swallow the last bit of pride that he had, stepping inside the threshold. He could sense the surprise seeping out of Gabriel as he sat down next to him, grabbing one of the screwdrivers. The two worked in silence for a while, working in perfect synchrony as they focused on building an engine.

"I'm sorry for what happened with Dana, by the way. I know it's not worth much but I am. I shouldn't have taken your trust for granted and I shouldn't have done that considering how you feel about me," Miguel spoke up after they were getting close to finishing, looking over at Gabriel. He saw a frustrated expression all over his brother's face, something that he wasn't particularly used to seeing. "You know, you keep saying what you shouldn't have done but the fact remains that you still did it. But thank you for that apology, I guess."

Miguel started offering to take the both of you to places, choosing to tag along just to hear your laugh whenever Gabriel would make a joke. Even if he wanted to be the one telling you these jokes. "Hey, what do you call a Drosophila who likes to drink?" he decided to break the silence as he drove you two to the movie theater, looking over at you through their rear view window. "What do you call it?" You decided to indulge in his 'joke,' if his attempt could even classify as that. "A bar fly."

You let out a laugh more so out of how bad it was, your eyes crinkling as you did. The look on Gabriel's face made the laughter escape from your lips much louder. "Can't believe you're actually laughing at those bad jokes," Gabriel muttered, staring at you like you were a creature from outer space. "Shut up before I leave you on the side of the freeway," Miguel called out from the front seat, biting back a smile of his own upon seeing that he'd managed to make you laugh. Maybe it was worth it looking for those corny science jokes last night.

Miguel had quickly forgotten about the void he was trying to fill with Dana, only reminded of it when he saw her leaning against his car. Her glossy lips were wrapped around a lollipop, her brown hair combed back into a bob. All he could think about was all the dirt she was probably getting on his car now. "You haven't answered any of my calls," Dana whined as he approached, getting off his car to go over to him. "For good reason," Miguel grumbled, opening his car door to toss his backpack inside. He could see Dana trying to scramble for some kind of logical answer, a slew of curses thrown his away once she realized what'd he meant.

The cycle was done. They were done this time, for good.

"How come you're not out at those graduation parties and stuff?" Gabriel mused as he took a bite out his burger. "You think he's type of person to get invited to parties?" You decided to tease Miguel a bit, taking some of his fries before dipping them into ranch. No he wasn't. Not that he'd ever admit that to you though. "The scent of weed just irks my nose, man," Miguel responded, a small scoff coming from the younger brother in response.

Empty cans of beer and articles of clothing washed up to the surface of the bay, the sight making you grimace in disgust. But this was where Miguel had decided he wanted to go after graduation. "I'm gonna head to the car, it smells like ass out here," Gabriel told the both of you, tossing the final rock he had in his hand out into the water before walking off. To be fair, it really did smell like ass. The contamination from the water and the ships around mixed in together, overall just providing an unpleasant scent.

"I'm gonna head back too," you told Miguel, starting to get up from your spot. Before you had the chance to dust yourself off properly, Miguel had stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just wait a second, please. There's something that I have to ask you," he seemed fidgety, looking everywhere else but you as he talked. You stayed silent, giving him the chance to speak whenever he was comfortable enough to. "Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

He was starting to prepare himself for the upcoming rejection, making a mental list of all the songs he'd add to his breakup playlist later on. He'd probably end up blasting those at full volume in the basement while taking out his anger on a model robot, bracing himself to ignore the yells from Gabriel coming up the stairs. "Yes," the words didn't register in his mind at first, his eyes drifting over to your mouth as he made out the syllables.

Wait, what?

"You're actually being serious?" he had to ask. Had to double check that this wasn't a prank or something that Gabriel had set you up to as some kind of revenge for what he did with Dana. Then again, Gabriel hadn't exactly mentioned anything about you towards him. Not that they talked a lot nowadays, but he figured that Gabriel would've at least expressed some kind of concern if he knew. So.. there was really only one possibility left.

You actually wanted to go out with him.

The time that the two of you spent together that summer was much more than the time you actually spent apart, from going out to exploring different museums to different science conventions. Your main concern had been how Gabriel would take it, not wanting to overstep your boundaries as his best friend. "Be careful, okay?" was all that he said when he saw you walking out of Miguel's room with a borrowed shirt on. Gabriel was more concerned about you than Miguel throughout this exchange.

The transition to when the school year started was difficult, given that the two of you had somewhat conflicting schedules. Despite all this, Miguel was sure to schedule a minimum of two dates for each month. Miguel was determined to put the effort into making this relationship work now that he managed to get with you. He'd make sure to pull all nighters the day before he had a date with you to get his assignments done on time, wanting nothing more but dedicate the time designated to you fully.

You didn't know who else to call when college decisions went out, choosing instead to call Miguel. You knew he'd been swamped with lectures and research essays as of late, but you didn't want to share this moment with anyone else. Not when he was the one to calm you down with each mini panic attack you got after hitting the 'submit' button on your applications. "Hola princesa, what's up?" his voice drawled out like the sweetest honey, your breathing slowly starting to calm down.

"Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you too much but I was wondering if you could come over. College decisions came out and I can't get myself to click through the messages alone," you told him, your leg bouncing as you awaited for an answer. "I'll be right over. I'll bring some burritos," he answered, the line clicking to an end shortly after. You waited with anticipation for the doorbell to ring, practically jumping off your bed when you did hear it thirty minutes later.

"Just open it, I'm sure they accepted you. They'd be dumb not to," he sat down next to you as you scrolled to the last one you had left to open. The one you'd saved as an attempt to keep your hopes up from being too high. You had four acceptances, two from out of state and two in Nueva York. "I can't. What if I just have my hopes up?" you had your face hidden behind your hands, your words coming out muffled. "Even if they did reject you, it's not the end of the world. Just look for yourself."

UC Berkeley had been more of a reach school for you, the other four being your safety nets. Your grades hadn't exactly been up to perfection but you held out the hope that the extracurriculars you got involved with and the volunteer service you did was enough. As well as the robotics credential that Miguel encouraged to go after. You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself down before clicking on the letter. The words blurred together as you read through it, a bunch of gibberish registering in your brain. Miguel had his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing small circles on it.

The touch was slowly bringing you back to earth, your breathing starting to calm down. You didn't have to say anything, he just knew what you needed before you even had the chance to realize that you even needed it. You directed your attention back to the monitor upon calming down, reading over the letter. "I got in!" you exclaimed as you look over at Miguel, his hands immediately wrapped around you. "I told you so. They'd be stupid not to have you in their school."

They'd even offered you a scholarship! The only downside was that it was in California.

The thought hadn't even registered in your head when you were applying for a spot, the only thought in your head being that of fulfilling what you wanted. You looked over at him, the same look of realization upon him as he saw 'Berkeley, CA' almost taunting him through the screen. The idea of doing long distance wasn't something you were quite fond of, given the fact that it just seemed like a slow way to prolong the fact that the end of the relationship. And yet, you didn't really want to break up with him.

"Would you stay in Nueva York if I asked you to?" Miguel knew he was being selfish by asking this, he knew that he had to let you go and pursue what you wanted to do. But he didn't want to. He wanted you to stick by his side and pursue your dream here. "I would stay if you did. But I think a part of me would also end up resenting you for asking that of me," you responded, your hand tightening its grip slightly around him. It was a gesture meant to comfort him but your words carried more weight than that simple squeeze did.

He knew how much you wanted to go, he'd been there when you filled out the application. From the process of setting your information in the system to reassuring you that you were qualified enough to get in, despite how much his heart ached at the thought of having to be without you. "It was just a hypothetical. I wouldn't ask you to do that for me," he quickly told you, taking a bite from his burrito to busy himself with doing something. Your happiness was much more of a priority than his own.

You were inclined on just leaving without saying goodbye but the thought of him thinking you abandoned him was almost too much for you to handle. You ran over to his house after you'd finished packing, hoping that he hadn't gone back to campus yet. "He's upstairs," Gabriel told you upon taking note of your sweat covered forehead, his nose scrunching up. "Thanks!" you called out as you made your way inside, almost tripping your two feet when you rushed up the stairs.

Baby, you were everything I ever wanted

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Miguel asked you, his lips barely grazing above your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips move down to your neck, his lips parting as he kissed the side. "Yeah, I'm sure," you responded after you managed to regain your composure, your head lolling back to give him more access to your neck. He took that invitation eagerly, his lips pressed on every inch of your neck that he could access.

His teeth sunk down just hard enough to leave a mark on your skin, his way of making sure that you'd remember him. At least for the following week that the hickey lasted. He'd settle for that much. The night never progressed from a couple heated kisses exchanged between the two of you, a wanton need keeping your bodies pressed against one another. For a moment, it was as if nothing else in the world really mattered. You were just two people, not college students that would inevitably have to talk about what their future would be.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you. It's better if we just end things here," Miguel spoke up in the middle of the movie the two of you were watching, a boring scene from a movie about how robots took over the world. As if you weren't living through that now in the year 2079.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thank you for the time together," The breakup had been amicable, easy. There were no harsh feelings between the two of you, only simple understanding that the relationship wouldn't work out if the two of you dragged this on. However, as friendly as it had been, that didn't stop you from shedding a couple tears when you got home to finish packing. You almost wished he had given you a reason to hate him so that it would replace the sense of yearning you felt at the notion of leaving him behind.

That was supposed to be the end. You'd go on about your life without having to be around Miguel again, Without feeling his beefy arms wrap around you in the mornings as an attempt to keep you in bed for a little longer, or having his lips pressed against your forehead whenever you needed a bit of reassurance. That was until you found yourself in his bed when you came back to Nueva York to celebrate Gabriel’s birthday. It was the only time you allowed yourself to come back.

How Miguel allowed himself to fall into another cycle, he wasn't sure. Maybe because this one wasn't beaming with red flags. Or maybe because this one didn't leave him feeling like an unlovable mess the next day. Despite how many times he told himself that he wouldn't repeat what he'd done with Dana, he still found himself picking you up from every trip at the airport. Then again, this wasn't anything like the situation with Dana. Your relationship with him was healthy, you were good for him.

You'd usually end up at Miguel's apartment rather than your hotel room for most of the nights. The pent up frustration that had accumulated throughout the past year was unleashed on another, the sex all just that much more intense. "Couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again," he whispered against your skin, the words turning you into putty in his grasp. His kisses could follow soon after, his touch almost burning with how much desire he'd pent up. "Oh? And what were you planning on doing when you did see me again?" he would spend all night giving you the answer to that question.

On most occasions, you'd end up with your face buried in a pillow while he fucked you from behind. Your muffled moans would fill up the room, combined with the sound of rustling sheets underneath you as your grip tightened. "I missed you, princesa," he bent down to whisper in your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder blade. The action in itself was sweet enough, but you couldn't focus on that with the way that his cock was stretching you out. "Missed you too," you barely managed to babble, your voice coming out hoarse.

Your hips rocked back into his, your ass jiggling with every thrust that he made. The grip he had on your hips would tighten, his balls slapping obscenely against your wet cunt. Your walls would clench around his cock, milking him for all the cum that he had in his balls while simultaneously coating his length with every drop of your slick that you could offer. "Fuck, right there!" he could make out a couple words of what you were saying from time to time, but he couldn't help but want to tease you about it. "Yeah, right here?" he mocked, his rhythm never faltering.

You were so drunk off his dick that you didn't realize he was mocking you half the time, simply nodding in response to whatever he told you. "Yeah, right there!" He loved the way your voice rose whenever his finger came down to play with your clit, the way the nub throbbed beneath his fingers for some kind of stimulation. These little breathy moans that you were letting out, the whispers of his name, they'd all remain imprinted in his memory as material whenever he needed some kind of release. That is, until the following year when he would have new material to work off of.

Miguel loved the way you looked whenever you were excited to share something with him or the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him at the airport waiting for you with a bag from your favorite fast food place. But the way that you looked whenever you unraveled underneath him was something that just simply couldn't be topped. Your legs shook violently as your orgasm approached, your walls tightening all that much more around him before unclenching to coat his cock in your release. His orgasm would follow suit, his cum filling up your cunt up to the brim.

Despite the fact that the two of you were completely able to and sometimes were even encouraged to, the two of you stayed loyal to one another even if this arrangement had no need to. As much as you wanted to try dating someone else, you knew that in the back of your head you'd just try to find Miguel in another person. And that you'd ultimately end up disappointed by the end of the affair. The two of you provided a sense of comfort in one another that wasn't easily replicated by another person. Or at least, you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

And as much as he tried, he couldn't get his hand to simulate the same pleasure that he felt while fucking you. It felt like a cheap replacement if he was being completely honest. His fist couldn't clench around his cock the way that your walls did, pulsing as your cunt milked him for all it could. His spit couldn't compare to the way your slick coated his shaft completely, the loud squelch that bounced off his walls whenever he pulled out. As pathetic as he felt for being looking forward to your yearly appearance, nothing could give him the same satisfaction you did.

You came back to Nueva York with a mission this time around. The office that you'd been working at after getting your degree had expanded throughout most of the east coast, a shiny job opportunity appearing right at your doorstep. You were going to tell Miguel that you planned on staying this time around, that you wanted to rekindle the old feelings you'd both been trying to suppress. You'd even resorted to practicing what you were going to say to him while you were on the airplane instead of clicking on one of the stupid Hallmark movies available on the flight.

Bought a wedding ring, it's in my pocket

You'd practically been bubbling with anticipation for the entire plane ride, different thoughts of how Miguel would react rummaging through your mind. Would he be excited? Would he leave the party to be with you? You felt all the breath leave your lungs as you stepped inside the party hall, your attention immediately going to Miguel. He wasn't wearing something too fancy, a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. Even then, you couldn't lie to yourself that he looked like sex on legs.

You set down the small gift bag you'd brought over for Gabriel, a new set of tools you heard him mention he needed on a FaceTime call last week. You made your way over to Miguel, a small smile appearing on your face as a look of recognition flashed across his features. "Hey," you greeted him once you were close, your hand up in a wave. Before he got the chance to say something, a woman came over to the two of you and handed him a drink before remaining by his side.

"Are you one of Miguel's friends from around here?" you asked the woman, given the fact that you hadn't heard any mention of her from Gabriel.

"Uh, no. This is actually my fiancée, Tempest," Miguel spoke up for the first time this night, your eyes widening as you did a double take on the pair standing in front of you. They'd even color coordinated their outfits tonight.

You could've sworn your heart dropped to your chest at the word fiancée. You forced your face to remain neutral despite the conflicting emotions rummaging inside of you. Your gaze flickered over to the woman, her ring finger accentuated with a pretty silver band, an expensive-looking diamond plastered right in the middle of it. Your throat constricted the longer that you stared at the ring, the sight eventually blurring into nothing until you forced yourself to look away when she pulled her hand back.

Your mind began to swarm with different thoughts, wondering when exactly did Miguel find the time to get engaged. Last year when you saw him, he hadn't even mentioned having any sort of commitment towards anyone. It was funny, thinking about it now. He'd taken you to the airport, his head tilting down to give you a small kiss on the cheek as he bid you goodbye. "I'll see you next year," he told you before you went through airport security. Now you wish you would've went back to his apartment instead of back home.

"Nice to meet you," you forced the words to roll out of your mouth, an unnatural smile taking place on your face. The type of smile that had your cheeks hurting from how hard you were forcing it. you shook her hand with just a little too much force before reminding yourself that it wasn't exactly her fault. If anything, this situation had been your fault. your fault for being so used to this comfortability, of the knowledge that he'd always be here waiting for you.

You'd gotten so used to coming to Nueva York to find Miguel at your beck and call that it didn't even cross your mind he would find someone. Someone who prioritized his happiness as much as he prioritized theirs. "Nice to meet you as well, Miggy here's told me a lot about you," she responded with a warm smile, unbeknownst to the internal struggles that rummaged through your head. Miggy? He'd gotten so pissed off when you called him that, but now he was acting casual about it?

"You mentioned that there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Miguel's voice broke you out of your train of thought, making you realize you'd just been standing there awkwardly for a couple seconds. You looked away, the sight of him too painful to bear. Just the fact that the woman's arm was wrapped around his, the intimacy of the situation reminding you of what you'd never have again.

"Never mind, just forget it. I hope the two of you have a good time at this party. Congratulations once more," despite the fact that you had a million questions regarding the situation, you decided that it would be better not to ask them. At the end of the day, a couple questions wouldn't change the fact that he was still engaged. You forced yourself to remain polite before excusing yourself to go to the drinks table. You really needed to get fucked up right now.

You felt pathetic as you stood alone in the corner of the room, your fingers gripping the glass of beer as if it was your lifeline. All you could do was look out into the people smiling and having fun, a part of you wishing that it would be you instead. You tried your hardest to pretend when Gabriel came around, trying to dance with you, but the ploy fell through as soon as he dragged you to the dance floor. Your eyes met Miguel's for the first time that night, a flash of concern across his features after seeing your attempts to hide your pain.

But maybe, if you would've looked hard enough, you would've been able to see the same sense of longing lingering behind his eyes.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop

978 notes · View notes

comfortless · 1 month

Note

what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

149 notes · View notes

pearlsinmyhair · 2 months

Text

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

#hobie my beloved #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown blurb #atsv hobie #hobie brown atsv

367 notes · View notes

spiderceo · 1 year

Text

WALLY DARLING HCS

pairing: wally darling & gn!reader (platonic or romantic — whatever you want interpret)

warnings: obsessive behaviour, scopophobia (fear of staring)

master post

✿ wally has always enjoyed painting you. his idea of the perfect model comes in the form of you. for hours you could be sat modelling for him but it is rather unnerving how he never looks at his canvas except to change it to a new one…

✿ days where you get overwhelmed with anything and everything, wally will offer to take you out to a peaceful meadow near the neighbourhood. you spend hours just lazing and talking about all the topics that come to mind. occasionally you’ll catch wally staring at you but he will always say something like “you’re just so nice to look at.” or “you’re the most.” with a bright smile.

✿ he calls you his darling.

✿ he gets jealous easily. spending time with the other neighbours? wally will find some way to drag you off to do something else. enjoying the company of your pet? he will make up a random ‘emergency’ to have your attention.

✿ wally wholeheartedly believes he is the only one worthy of your affections and attention. he understands that you have other friends who you enjoy being around but he just can’t help but want your eyes on him 24/7.

✿ perhaps it’s his ego or just because your reactions are so brilliant, but he enjoys teasing you over practically anything that he notices about you. all playful teasing of course since hurting your feelings is the last thing he’d want to do.

✿ random compliments are wally’s forté.

✿ you can always feel wally’s eyes on you. even when he is not there, you can feel the familiar tingle his gaze always leaves behind.

if you have any requests please do drop them in my ask box. i would love to write more for this silly puppet jshsjsh

!! next part >

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally x y/n #wally x reader #headcannons #headcanon #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral insert #welcome home wally

305 notes · View notes

qrjung · 7 months

Text

MARKUS — who is he to the people around him?

prev | next

No matter what your opinion on him might be, I'm sure most people already know Markus. But if it was difficult getting a solid fandom perspective of North, it was nearly impossible with Markus (seriously, people hate characters and they don't even know why they do it). So there's no use talking about him from a fandom perspective besides, I'm sure I've done that multiple times already.

David Cage uses Markus less like an actual character but more as a plot device and while I don't like it at all, I can't help but think about how this might look and play out from an in-game point of view.

MARKUS TO OTHER PEOPLE

O1.) JERICHO:

From the perspective of other androids, Markus is an enigma. No one really knows who he is or where he came from. He was a sudden appearance, an android they'd most likely never seen. And within hours of him being in Jericho, a lot of things start to happen. Within a week, he's led a revolution (or at least tried to, depending on how well that goes for you).

The androids we encounter while playing as Connor all seem to have an obsession with a mythological figure they believe will save them; RA9. As players of the game, we know this RA9 figure is supposed to be us (or at least, Bryan Dechart says it's us). RA9 is supposed to be the all deciding thing that chooses which direction the game's events go to. But the androids in Jericho don't know that.

As far as they're concerned, RA9 is a physical being of it's own right that will swoop in and save them from humanity. And it's so convenient that Markus just walks in and does exactly that. It doesn't help that they know nothing of him except his name and maybe his model type if they try checking hard and that he's the only one we see consistently converting androids (I have a theory all androids can convert but that's not important right now). This could further solidify the "RA9" image in their heads.

The only other character that knows him personally is North. She's the only character that gets insight into his past—especially after he interfaces with her to share data. So when he's not available, everyone turns to North to take his place.

Some of the background conversations in crossroads confirm all this. If Markus is dead, you hear;

"Markus is dead? He was rA9! Who's going to lead us now?"

"North is going to take his place. She knew him best."

If Markus is alive, you hear;

"What's Markus doing? He's the leader. If he's rA9, it's up to him to save our people!"

It's easier to remove personhood and emotions from someone you know so little about. They become a shadow of their name rather than an actual person and I feel like that's how the androids, especially the ones that don't know him personally, will most likely perceive him. Ironically, in a game about personhood, Markus becomes less of a person and more of an idea.

To the androids, Markus is the one carrying out their desires. He becomes Jericho's sword. They trust him and they believe he knows exactly what to do even if he doesn't necessarily believe that himself or if he doesn't prove himself worthy of this faith they have in him. As North says to Josh if Markus dies midway through the revolution;

"... Markus would know what to do."

O2.) THE PUBLIC:

No matter how supportive public opinion is, Markus will always symbolize a sort of herald. He's the first face they will associate with the android revolution and Public Enemy Number 1. He represents change and humans are terrified of change.

Out of the three categories of people, the public are the ones who know him the least. They have the most detached image and therefore, their perception will be the furthest away from who Markus truly is. It's also the reason why this part of the post is short.

The humans seem to see him as some type of android overlord and the source of Jericho's power. For majority of the revolution, all main antagonists have had one goal; "get Markus". They all believe killing Markus will end the revolution and things will return back to normal.

I have an personal headcanon that humans might buy into the deification of Markus but depending on how much they like him, it might take on different tones. He could be demonized or glorified.

O3.) FAMILY:

Personally, this is my favorite perception of Markus even though some parts are messed up. It's the closest we can get to him from an external point of view. This is where we get an insight into his life and the things that make him who he is.

To Carl, Markus is the beam of hope that arrives at the perfect time. Carl has just lost use of his leg and is unable to create art like he used to. Leo's is already using Red Ice at this point which I suppose was further stressing Carl out.

Markus is a gift, specifically designed to suit Carl's needs as a live in nurse. (why he couldn't hire a human nurse is beyond me) He's also an android and will do whatever Carl asks with no complaints. He can mold himself to suit whoever he's receiving orders from. It's like Connor says:

"I'm whatever you want me to be lieutenant, your partner, your buddy to drink with, or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task…"

Or what Markus says:

"An object, designed to obey them…"

And what Carl wanted was a son and someone to take care of him. It also seems like he wanted someone who was easier to take care of than the flawed human son he already had. He's happy to be Markus' father and sees himself as his caretaker rather than the other way around. He tells Markus;

"One day, I won't be here to take care of you anymore. You'll have to protect yourself, and make your choices… Decide who you are, and wanna become… This world doesn't like those who are different, Markus. Don't let anyone tell you who you should be."

I find this line very telling of Carl's perception of Markus. Because the truth of the matter is that if Carl isn't around to take care of Markus, he will be shut down or repurposed. By law, Markus is Carl's property the same way a house is property. To the humans Markus is nothing without Carl's ownership.

Carl refuses to believe that though. To him, Markus is the son he wanted but never had.

It's possible Carl knows androids are sentient, capable of deciding for themselves but he never gives Markus the opportunity to do so. He nudges Markus in the direction of "free will" while also holding him in place with a leash. He tells him that life is about making choices but strictly never gives him the chance to make one for himself. A perfect example of this is straight up telling Markus to endure when he's been pushed around by Leo.

I cannot deny that Carl loves Markus. He calls him his son and they've known each other for a very long time. Carl loves Markus so dearly he refuses to let him go until Leo forces them apart.

Markus also loves Carl. He calls him his father and Carl is his human lens to viewing and navigating the world. As far as Markus is concerned, Carl is the reason he has so much faith in humanity. It doesn't matter which path you take, Markus tries to always hope that humans an androids can live together. That there's a chance they will one day drop their weapons and create a better future, even though this comes of sounding naïve.

But Carl's love is conditional.

It comes with it's own strings attached because at its core, there's a power imbalance between the both of them. Carl was Markus handler and owner first before he was his father and still owner. There's a certain type of control that comes with ownership over someone like that; ownership over both their autonomy and how they express themselves.

After Markus' deviation, it seems Carl realizes whatever hold he had on Markus is gone. He's not obliged to obey him anymore—he's a deviant. But he forgets that with Markus' deviancy comes emotions (good or bad) and individuality. When Markus expresses himself in a way Carl doesn't like, he becomes controlling and tries to dictate how he should feel.

If Markus is angry over the death of many androids, Carl basically tells him that when he wasn't a deviant (aka when he was still easier to control) he was better.

"You used to be so calm and thoughtful… Now all I see is anger…"

But if Markus swallows his anger and chooses to say something more palatable to Carl, he is offered comfort.

To Leo, Markus is a representation of everything incorrect about him. Everything he lacks, Markus has.

Markus is obedient. Markus has his father's affections. Markus doesn't make mistakes. Markus doesn't complain. Markus doesn't get tired. Markus is an android; he's designed to be flawless and to appeal to his handler (Carl). Leo seems to think with Markus' gone, he and Carl can foster their parent/son relationship.

"... I'm gonna destroy you, then it'll just be me and my dad. And nobody's gonna give a shit. You know why?"

He blames the divide between himself and Carl as an effect of Markus' presence, even though he's known Carl for longer than Markus has. To him, if Markus wasn't there, maybe he would be his father's favorite. Leo spent the greater time of his life without his father and only finally meets him after he turns sixteen. We don't know what causes this but it's safe to say that after Leo was introduced to his father, Markus arrives.

I like to think Leo might have been excited about the new, shiny android—until his father replaced him with it, of course.

CONCLUSION

All these would be very interesting to explore further; not really in this same format but in creative writing format. What other ways do you guys think Markus will be perceived by the other characters. I didn't want to talk about them individually because it would take forever but I did consider individual characters like Hank, North and Connor.

#basic ass title #but it was the only thing I could come up with 😞#this was supposed to be longer because I wanted to also #talk about how markus might see himself #but nah I'll let that one stew in my head for longer #detroit become human #dbh markus #type: text #dbh meta #kinda?

45 notes · View notes

yautjalover · 10 days

Note

saw the 'bother with asks and questions' post and reblogged it so a lil obligated to BE THE CHANGE I WANT TO SEE. I appreciate a fellow yautja appreciator that is for sure. I didn't watch the latest movie, if you did, how would you compare it to any of the other predator (or AVP) films? I'm taking my sweet time, but good press from someone who is focused on whats important (tHE BIG ALIEMS,,,), might move it up my priority list.

I get you! We gotta be the change we want to see! I myself went out and asked some folks things. 😊

As for your question concerning “Prey”, in comparison to the others in the franchise it stands out for multiple reasons.

1. It’s not set in the modern era.

With this film not being in modern times, we get to explore, for the first time on film, what a predator hunt in the past would look like! It’s no longer just seeing their historical hunts in the comics and novels, which has long been something we fans have wanted to see on the big screen. “Prey” also answers questions concerning historical hunts.

How different would their technology look and behave? Would they get tangled with historical events that shaped the future? What would they do in the face of long outdated weapons of that time?

“Prey” answers these pretty well, I think!

We get to see possible earlier iterations of the iconic weapons Yautja are associated with, we get to see how one becomes entangled with big historical events in pre-colonial North America, and also get the treat of one dealing with 17th century weapons.

The weapons of the time provide a few genuinely funny moments that help break the tension a little. I won’t spoil them, but I’m sure they’ll give you a good laugh!

I will say that it’s not riddled with excessive humor like 2018’s “The Predator”. There is a wonderful balance.

2. The lead isn’t some forgettable buff military guy and instead a Comanche Native American woman.

Unlike other current Hollywood female leads, she’s a genuine bad ass. She’s allowed to learn and grow from her mistakes, shaping up to use her intelligence against Feral. Naru knows the land and uses it to her advantage. She grew up surrounded by nature and picks up that something weird is going on, something she can’t explain until things happen.

Sorry, no spoilers here!

While there are moments where there is obvious plot armor, she still a cool and likable character with flaws but manages to also be a surprisingly worthy hunt for Feral. It’s also cool to see Indigenous representation and see a glimpse into that culture! We see parallels between a cryptid (can’t confirm if it was just for the movie or actual mythology for that tribe) and our titular Yautja.

With Naru, we get a coming of age story that mirrors Feral in this hunt being his first time on our planet and him slowly learning more about this hunting ground. They’re both, seemingly, out to prove themselves, setting up for later events in the film that pay off.

3. New Sub-Species of Yautja!

Thanks to Feral we get a glimpse of what a Yautja who originates from a different region, other than the jungle, of the planet looks like, with this case being a desert environment. While I think the facial design is atrocious, I can see what they were going for.

We learned from interviews with the design team that his sub-species consumes bones and has a special palette just for that in his mouth. His locs are slender and more numerous in order to keep cool, plus it looks pretty cool! I’m sure he’d be a shampoo company’s dream model!

You get to see a predator actually hunt things other than humans! I won’t spoil it, but there are some awesome scenes that really showcase the strength and agility that Yautja are known for but we hardly get to see. It’s pretty bad ass!

In “Prey”, we also see a more brutal predator who revels in bloodshed and fucks people up. There’s more violence on display, plus some new cool weaponry that only aids the carnage. While he gives off Young Blood energy occasionally, he’s still a bad ass! When he’s on the screen, he commands your attention!

However, he’s the only Yautja I’ll want the mask to stay on. He’s not a pretty fella and I liken him to a golden roast chicken.

“Prey” was the return to form the franchise needed after the questionable decisions made in 2018’s “The Predator”. Whoever thought that Yautja would be interested in my Autism was a big dumb ass. This film breathes new life into the franchise and gives us something genuinely entertaining while also bringing back some of the terror that the original 1987 “Predator” gave us!

I personally rank this high up on the list of previous films we’ve received over the years. It’s better than “Predators”, “The Predator”, and “AVPR”, sitting right with the OG, Predator 2, and AVP for me.

It’s worth the watch. It’s not a 10/10, more like an 8/10, but it’s still worth the watch! You should run to Hulu and give it a go. You won’t be disappointed!

Sorry for the LONG response, but I wanted to break it down. Thank ADHD and Autism and my rabid horniness for Yautja.

Oh! Last thing!

On a scale of 1 to 10, Feral is a solid four for me. His body is gorgeous. Those thick fingers? HELLO!

It’s the face that lowers the rating, though. My GODS that face design is…wow. 💀

#your asks #predator #yautja #yautjalover #avp #alien vs predator #feral is basically a dumb loveable frat boy #he looks like a roast chicken but I still love him #prey 2022 #prey movie

15 notes · View notes

the-furthest-city-light · 10 months

Text

This post is relates to the current chapters in my Fem!Luffy AU, so read if you want but feel free to scroll.

Sanji has this thing about masculinity and machismo born from a combination of a childhood spent being ridiculed for having emotions and being a Normal Human, and then being raised on the Baratie, which is full of guys who are kind but similarly gruff. He doesn't express vulnerability easily, and he's used to showing he cares in indirect ways that avoids the mortifying ordeal of being known so to speak, especially in relation to other men, and especially men his own age.

I think Sanji by nature of his weird chauvinism would view Luffy as a figure of respect much more quickly than he does Lucy. While he likes her and is probably kinder to her than he was Luffy to start, it’s probably not until around the end of Arlong Park in my fic where Sanji really gets it in his head that Lucy’s in charge and worthy of following, as opposed to the fight on the Baratie in canon. He's just never in his life experienced and trusted himself to a capable female authority figure before, and Luffy, being a guy, would be a much easier and more natural model of leadership for Sanji, regardless of Luffy/Lucy's similarities in personality.

By the time Whole Cake Island comes around, Sanji is on board with Lucy's leadership 100%. He's exactly as loyal to her as he is to Luffy. But since Sanji's conflict in Whole Cake Island centers around his emotional turmoil and his own long-buried trauma and fear, I think Lucy would have a distinct advantage in dealing with it from Luffy. By virtue of Luffy being a guy, Sanji puts on a pretty strong front throughout their various interactions in the arc. He’s not someone who likes to be vulnerable in general, but around other guys (especially Zoro) it’s really obvious that he’s someone who fronts with machismo and aims for stoicism he doesn’t actually feel.

I’m convinced that when confronted with the same emotional turmoil before Lucy, he would actually express that emotion more honestly and openly. She's his captain and his friend yes, so he still feels that sense of loyalty and need for honesty, but she's also a girl. The need to front masculinity isn't there. For Sanji, women have always been sources of emotional comfort and a safe place to express himself, and I don’t think that would change just because she’s a kind of authority figure, especially when they have so much history proving Lucy's trustworthiness.

I do think Lucy's position as a female authority figure/friend in Sanji's life would do interesting things to his psyche following Whole Cake Island. I think he'd probably view her more fraternally than he was previously, or than he does with Nami and Robin, who are decidedly Women to Sanji, though of course the three of them are friends. I don't think his behavior would necessarily change much, but the way he thinks about her, possibly.

I initially started writing this AU because I was interested in how Luffy/Lucy's gender would affect their personal development, and to reflect more severely/honestly some of the dangers depicted in the one piece world. Sanji and Usopp have always been the characters I have the hardest time dealing with in this fic for different reasons, but with Sanji specifically it's because he's so weird about women that it's hard to imagine him respecting one enough to follow her the way he does Luffy. It's been fun to write scenes depicting why Lucy's gender is an advantage to her leadership rather than a hindrance, especially when it features Sanji.

New chapter to be posted in a bit :)

#one piece #luffy #sanji #fanfic #me talking #meta #whole cake island #whole cake arc

36 notes · View notes

darkphoenix07 · 2 years

Text

Your cold boyfriend being clingy because he got to understand you're insecure

Paring : Yeosang x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

9:45 a.m.

"Y/n, I'm leaving," you hear your boyfriend, Yeosang in a rush leaving for practice. "Wait, babe. I'm coming," you say leaving the kitchen to see him before he leave but you become late as he just leaves making you hurt.

You know he loves you but your traumatic childhood doesn't let you cool down for a moment. It makes you scared in every little he does. Why doesn't he tell you goodbye properly? You know he is not that expressive but you're insecure, how can you believe that you're worthy of his love, his care. He doesn't even show much, does that mean it won't continue? Will he leave you one day? What if your presence cause any trouble in his career? What if he can't dance anymore or sing because you're his girlfriend? Every single thoughts of yours waves you down.

You lock the door sighing. You even wake up early but he doesn't understand that you want his assurance that he needs you still now.

You stand in front of the mirror to get ready but as your eyes fall on the mirror, it makes you think, How did he fall for me? What did he see in me? What if he changes? Everyone leaves me, what if he leaves me too? Your eyes get teary as you fall on the tool of your dressing table. You hide your ears trying to fight with these negative thoughts. No, no, not now, I gotta go outside. Ugh! The thing that you can't even share all these with him because he'll think you are just an attention seeker, maybe showing his assurance is too much for him. So you are just giving him as much as space he needs to feel secure around you. But it keeps bothering you.

Washing away those tears with your face wash, you take some deep breaths telling yourself, he loves me no matter what happens. But your inner self couldn't agree with it.

You leave your house and get inside your office with a iced americano. Finally you are able to divert your mind with the coffee and work.

In Lunch time, you sit for lunch with your phone, scrolling through your Twitter. You were smiling seeing Ateez's posts where you had to stop seeing something that started to bother you. Yeosang's photoshoot with a model. The girl seems so perfect beside him in your eyes, her skin looks perfect, her hair is shiny, her smile is so beautiful. They are looking like a nice couple standing next to each other which made you think you haven't been able to take any pictures with Yeosang till now. You don't even know how you two look.

As you scroll down, the comment section starts making your heart heavier as everyone is shipping them together, being flustered seeing how good they look, saying they should date. You keep the chopsticks beside yourself and keep your phone aside. In this mess of your head, you start reminding yourself Yeosang can't know about how hurt you felt by those comments. He will think you are a jealous bitch and overdramatic.

However, you start feeling numb by all of these heaviness. Being in a relationship with an idol wasn't easy, you knew it from the first. But you always suffered more because of your insecurities. Everyone told you, you were just an attention seeker, you just wanted more and more. You expected lot but no one could see how little things were able to make you smile, make your day, lift you up from that darkness of insecurities.

You put on more make-up before entering you house as you come late. So that these make up can hide you fear, your tension and numbness. You ring the bell and Yeosang opens the door looking at your eyes straightly, giving the best smile. The way he looks at you makes you a little startled because he never looked at you like this before. You somehow faked your smile and start to enter in the house but stop because he grabs your bag, "Welcome home, babe."

Babe!!!! You eyes get big hearing him calling you babe because he thinks it's too cheesy to call his girlfriend babe. Why would he call you that all of a sudden? But in your surprise, he takes your bag and keeps it in place, "I tried making something but I suck at it. So can you please cook something after getting fresh? I've made your tub ready," he says as if he isn't tired at all. As if he is not the Yeosang you know. What's wrong? Why is he being a husband material?

"O...Kay," you say and head inside the bathroom.

After getting fresh, you start cooking. As you are cutting the vegetables, you feel two muscular hands around your stomach. His warmth touches your back as he keeps his thin on your shoulder, "What are you making?"

And why are you being like this?

"Uhm... Yeosang," you say stopping and face him. He still doesn't leave you waist.

"What?" He asks with a look that he knows what he is gonna be interrogated.

"Why...are you being like this?" You ask not finding any way.

"Don't you like it?" He asks with a concerned voice.

"I love it so much but I know you d-" before you can finish your sentence, he keeps his index finger on your lips, "Why do you have to do everything I like? I've seen this, you always change just because the people around you want you to. You can't be like that. You treat people in the nicest way so who is gonna treat you right? Me after all?"

He keeps his finger down and holds both of your hands, "Look, baby. I've been in love with you for so long and I've been noticing you. I've been a bad boyfriend so I wanted to make it right. Today I saw San treating his girlfriend and they looked so happy. Then it made me think, I don't treat you right. Just like other people, I take advantage of your sweetness, you need someone to lean on too right? So from now, don't be scared to lean on me, to hug me whenever you feel like, I am all yours baby. You don't need to give me any space that causes you trouble. I'm going to give you my 100% too. Don't feel sad, please. You know right that I love you? If you feel scared, I'll always be there to remind you that I love you until the end of my last breath, I promise you."

He finishes with a kiss on the back of your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your heart starts throbbing as all the bad thoughts get removed. Your nose start getting red as your eyes get teary. "Hey, why're you crying? Love?" He asks but you start crying louder.

"Hon, it's ok. Oh God," he pulls you in a tight hug kissing your cheek, "What happened to my baby?"

"It's...it's just... I went numb and... And I was able to cry because of you. You don't know how you saved me tonight," you say still crying and sobbing continuously.

He keeps rubbing your back, "Cry as much as you want to now but I won't let you cry anymore. I'm sorry for being selfish." "No, you are not selfish, shut up," you say and he releases the hug. Cupping your face with his two hands, he wipes you tears with his thumbs. Then pulls you closer for a peck on your lips.

"Is my baby okay now?" He asks and you nod still sobbing.

"Ugh, I only have one way to fix this" he says and picks you in his arms.

"What...what are you going to do?"

"Are you really that dumb to ask me that?"

"We haven't had dinner yet...ah, Yeosang!!!" He runs in the living room and keeps you on the sofa. Hovering over you, he lays beside you and pull you on his arm, "I was talking about cuddle, you dirty minded kid."

"Yaaa," you hit his chest but he grabs your hand, "Sorry, my baby. Now let's stay like this for a moment. Man, it feels so good," he says grabbing you tighter than before.

"Yeosang... What if I become toxic?" You say looking back at him.

"You won't be. I like my clingy, Y/n. And if anything that anyone does to you make you feel insecure or bad, tell me. I'll listen to you and tell you that you are enough, you're doing fine and no one is leaving you. If you want we can go see a doctor too. What do you say?" He says kissing your forehead.

You smile, "I'll try consulting one then. And yes, I'll tell you everything from now on."

"That's mah girl," he says pressing his palm on your stomach.

You smile feeling safest in these arms. Who else can make you feel this safe? No one...

Tried writing something other than my requests because I messed up my writing twice so I'm upset. :( Hope you've liked it.

Taglist @theaufanartist @hwanchaesong @littleninja97 @fudgeflyssworld @loosmyshit @pinki-minki @sanshinee-world @harusoraa @crmyclit

423 notes · View notes

minorfamilysupremacy · 11 months

Text

some scattershot vegas thoughts from discord the other day, collected in case i want to reference them again

(f/ @lu-sn, who’s always up to listen to me ramble)

i think it is reductive and/or a gross simplification to reduce vegas to simple sadism, which may be overeager woobifying but to me it is infinitely more compelling to see vegas as a warped version of a curious and intellectual child who was fascinated with how things worked and could be taken apart, which could allow him to, under the systematic dehumanization of himself and others around him, become interested in how people work and how to take them apart to get the desired result. it could then become a pleasure over the years through the constant repetition and reinforcement that this is his use, to the point where it would be a satisfying job well done to rip out a man’s cochlea. someone can take a clock apart with a hammer to see its inner workings but they will just see broken pieces because there was no care or subtlety taken; someone with specialized tools can see the clock and disassemble it and leave as much or as little intact as they so choose. and vegas would be trained to have no more regard for a person than for a clock to be dismantled, because there wasn’t any use in teaching him that. he has no regard for himself as a person, only as a weapon.  

which further is why it would make sense that vegas would want to go into something in his post-minor family era that allows him to work with his hands and take a complicated process and break it down into many steps. he enjoys the challenge of learning new skills and figuring out how the sausage is made and doing something like cooking or gardening is a series of instructions, testing, troubleshooting, and perfecting, just in a less destructive way. the care he takes with bandaging pete is not only the result of so much experience looking after himself, but a step towards learning how to be a fixer and not just a destroyer. cooking for pete is, again, another step on that journey, but it isn’t practical for a weapon to know how to do things for the sheer pleasure or kindness of it, which is why gun reacts so negatively

  i think there is absolutely a part of him that is trained to take joy in the pain and that is a direct response to abuse — not just learned behavior from gun, but a desire to have control over a life he has never had control over. 

it’s nature vs nurture and i think any joy he derives from pain is absolutely not intrinsically part of his personality but was so deeply instilled he cannot tell the difference and won’t be until he is able to remove himself from that environment and figure out what he truly wants in life

  gun is nowhere near capable of doing the minor family’s dirty work, so he has to shape his son into the model necessary to keep the empire going

 @lu-sn: yeah!!!!! this is the ultimate question, how much of his glee in the face of pete's pain is learned vs his own 

me: i do not think it’s his own. i think he tells himself/convinces himself it’s genuine but i think sustaining it in the face of pete’s refusal to break really demonstrates his core discomfort he strictly refuses to allow himself to access  

i think at first he has the rush of power that’s a normal/expected reaction and that carries him through, and pete’s defiance/refusal to break is a challenge that he has to meet. his glee in the face of pete’s pain is knowing that he’s getting closer to breaking pete and thus winning (aka not failing/being worthy of punishment himself and having to deal with the agony of his own mental reactions, let alone gun’s)  

which is only true up until gun hits him in front of pete, at which time everything becomes an exercise in desperate bravado and saving face because pete saw his mask slip first. pete heard the scared little boy voice and saw this formerly-terrifying creature cower. it stopped being about pete and started being about vegas needing to run from himself at all costs  

which, again, maybe i am woobifying, but the fact that he falls apart into a soggy mess at the slightest bit of kindness shows me that a lot of this is a shield and/or learned behavior he will have to slowly undo over the years. and i think he will certainly have things that will continue to tip over into the sadism side, esp in bed, but i don’t think he is truly the unhinged sociopath that his image presents   i think the sadism that feels inherently true to him is the sort of thing that goes more into power, control, and trust. he’s intoxicated by the idea that pete would hand him the ropes and trust that vegas wouldn’t hurt him. at its core, it’s about being treated as enough of a person to have your fearsome image seen through but still bought into to some degree 

in other words, i am putting myself in your hands because i trust that you will hurt me only in ways i wish to be hurt and no more  (they’re an exchange of humanity. pete wishes to forget himself and vegas wishes to remember the authentic core of himself) 

@lu-sn: I think there's also a lot of appeal in the fact that pete might react positively to pain. then it's more about giving pete what he wants in the most controlled and intimate manner. but i bet his wires are all crossed about this kind of thing. does he enjoy pain? does that make him a monster? or does he enjoy the act of taking pete apart, bringing him to the highest points of human emotion and sensation, and then putting him back together? (and does that still make him a monster?) pre-safehouse, he definitely wouldn't know the difference

  me: absolutely — he wouldn’t even have the language to parse out his own thoughts/emotions

@lu-sn: he could really benefit from knowing that some of his urges are in fact not that abnormal, even if the depth of the kind of pain he can cause is greater because of his mafia background

  re: cochlea extraction me: i think so, so much of it would have to come down to pete learning to speak up about his own wants and to say, yes, i like this but not that

  it would be very much about pete submitting and being able to take that pillow princess role, but also being the one who takes the reins as required to reassure vegas that he’s not wrong or bad or freakish and guide him away from a lot of the negative self-talk

@lu-sn: and as we all know pete is so good about vocalizing his needs  

me: but it does him no good to hide from vegas because vegas will reach into the very bones of him and extract what he needs to know  

which i think is both terrifying and awful for pete AND satisfying to have someone else do the heavy lifting and to pursue your honesty 

@lu-sn: unless vegas is scared to pursue that honesty inside of pete, because it's a reflection of truths about himself  

so sometimes it'll be pete pushing vegas, and sometimes it'll be vegas cracking pete open  

me: absolutely. and i think pete knows how to do it in a line 

i think pete can call vegas out with pinpoint accuracy BECAUSE of his deep-seated hypocrisy   pete can nail vegas’ ass to the wall with one statement and vegas will be so busy speedrunning the stages of grief about this world-upender he won’t immediately peg that pete is speaking from a place of experience

  (or immediately be able to turn the tables) 

pete sitting back and getting emotional catharsis by watching vegas flounder through his fourteenth mind-bender of the morning: all according to keikaku

@lu-sn: the constant one-upping on who can expose the other person's psyche first skdkhdldhdlhdkd

  me: this is basically what i assume their entire early relationship is like

  vegas is a way easier nut to crack bc pete will tell him one (1) mildly nice thing and he’ll have to excuse himself to NOT CRY in the bathroom thank you

  but this is what i mean when i talk about psychological vore!! because vegas just wants to entirely consume and dissect and understand this puzzling fascinating enigmatic creature 

pete can basically dismantle him on the atomic level with zero effort 

vegas has to work harder 

#and then we had a discussion about why the term psychological vore is bad but i STAND BY IT!!!!!!!#sorry for the complete lack of cohesiveness or ending discord conversations just Be Like That Sometimes #kinnporsche #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #vegaspete

47 notes · View notes

bookishfeylin · 10 months

Note

Just saw your post about Feyre being a white girl boss feminist (totally agree!!) so I was wondering your opinion on how Feyre’s personality as a whole changed throughout the series?

For example, I once tried to say on my own blog that Sarah kind of murdered Feyre’s personality after ACOTAR and got a bunch of backlash about “you hate to see women healed” “people only like female protagonists when they’re depressed/feral” which.. is not what I meant HAHA

So I was just curious how you felt about her personality shift? Like do you think she’s “healed” or do you think Sarah ripped out her backbone

Thank you so much! Yeah, this fandom is CRAZY and, depending on where you are in stan spaces (hanging out more with the Feyre stans or the Nesta stans or the Sarah critical peeps etc) you would’ve been DOGPILED on for this take so I feel for you 😭😭😭

But I recommend reading this post first if you haven’t already because it really sums up my thoughts on her character shift. As I mentioned there, it’s definitely white feminism, and it’s not healing in as much as it's Feyre becoming a member of the oppressor class too. Feyre's arc is going from victim to, not an empowered survivor, but to an oppressor as well. Her grievance with Prythian's system of power isn’t that humans and lesser fae and High Fae women I refuse to say females are permanently an underclass, but that SHE is part of that underclass. And once she perceives herself to be above that by becoming High Lady (in name only but anyway—) she no longer cares about, say, trying to make things better for women as a whole, such as by helping women escape the Court of Nightmares. Don’t get me wrong—Sarah tries to sell Feyre as a kind, good High Lady who cares about them, but there is a marked difference between that and Feyre in her debut. Book 1 Feyre definitely cares about the underclass, getting angry over Tamlin's DISHES being too opulent for Pete’s sake. She felt that the rulers living in opulence was playing in the face of the poor and disenfranchised. Compare that to Feyre later on accepting a fifth palace from Rhysand as a present while Velaris is STILL rebuilding, while ACOSF confirms Velaris has slums. The Feyre who felt that rulers living in luxury while people suffered under their rule—book 1 Feyre—would’ve despised the very thought. So again—Feyre's personality shift isn’t her healing, it’s her finding her place in and formally joining the oppressor class and upholding the status quote.

And again, as I said in that linked essay, this is not the fault of the character herself, but rather Rhysand's grooming her to become complacent with the unjust systems of power in Prythian and grooming her to join him in ruling his court. A court that 2/3 of which is so notoriously bad that Amarantha modeled her court UTM off of it. Again, I doubt book 1 Feyre would tolerate THAT. Even early ACOMAF Feyre chafed under Tamlin's “that’s just how things are” method of ruling his court as impoverished people suffered (see: the tithe). Feyre becomes this way because of Rhysand's grooming her throughout ACOMAF to join his court's oppressor class, and because, outside of the text, the author wants us to believe that joining said oppressor class is healing, actually, and that the resulting “romance” where Rhysand grooms Feyre into accepting and upholding his court's status quo—the personality change you and I both loathe—is worthy of celebration.

#ask #anon #Feyre critical sadly #Though again this is not her fault inasmuch it’s the fault of the writing #ACOTAR analysis #anti acomaf

26 notes · View notes

quirkwizard · 3 months

Note

“What if” anon. You mentioned how Midoriya and Shigaraki would be their own posts so I guess I’m asking for that, mainly because I’m not sure how their characters would react? Either the two end up in the others place and ultimately remained the same just now with different people on their side or being entirely different characters due to their upbringings and role models now being dramatically altered than in the original story.

I get where you are coming from, but half the fun of this is reinterpreting what the characters would be like and how they interact with the new characters. And since I already talk about Izuku under All For One and I don't think that Tomura under All Might would be that different, I fill focused on morally swapped versions of the two.

In this version, Tomura would be found by All For One. While the Hero Commission saw a deviation to be destroyed or asset to be pull in, All For One would see someone so much like himself. Some kid who is poor, alone, and in need of guidance. All For One would take him under his wing like many of his personal misfits. Instead he would try to train him to hold back his power to prevent further destructive, giving him a lot more precision in how he applies "Decay". As Tomura grows up, he wants to be out and about, and not only doing "safe missions", mostly using his "Decay" to destroy documents and the like. Especially now that All for One seems to be getting weaker and older and wants to help his father figure. So now, it'd still be Tomura trying to strike out on his own and become more of his own person, but it's now from the overprotective All For One legitimately worried about Tomura's wellbeing and the harm he may cause.

On Izuku's side of things, he'd still be a Quirkless kid, lost in a world that doesn't seem to accept him. The perfect mark to join All Might's organization, especially since he works as a symbol of the kind of issues All Might is trying to fight against in his crusade. All Might would be filling his head with all kinds of ideas of being a hero of destroying the system. That Izuku must give up everything in order to become the leader he's meant to be, only getting "One for All" once he's "worthy". In the mean time, Izuku would be working under Sir Nighteye to help teach him the ins and outs of All Might's organization and physically training him to handle "One For All". Using his knack for Quirks and mind for leadership, he's able to organize whole pockets of people far more efficiently then before and giving them good match up with each other and their opponents, actually making some headway beyond whatever All Might is doing.

So in more meta terms, Izuku and Tomura would still be in opposition to one another and going through similar beats, but with some different themes. Instead of being good and evil, it'd be more the ideas of individual and collectivism as well as order and chaos. All For One and All Might still represent the extremes of these ideas, either being too controlling or way too anarchistic, with Izuku and Tomura starting to reflect the other. Tomura and the gang are able to become stronger through accepting and understanding themselves as individuals, shown by their growing rebellious nature against the Hero Commission like All Might always wanted. Meanwhile, Izuku is losing more and more of himself for what he sees as the greater good, just like what All For One was doing with his decades of sacrificing for the sake of the world. It's still incorporating how Tomura and Izuku have shades of one another while giving it a new spin.

#My Hero Academia #Not Quirks #Midoriya Izuku #Deku #Tomura Shigaraki #Toshinori Yagi #All Might #All For One #MHA Meta #MHA Theory

13 notes · View notes

cutiedwaekki · 9 months

Text

STUDY-EXAM-LOVE-FOOD

Hey ! What you're about to read is an old fic that i posted on my previous account that I had deleted, fortunately thanks to the reblog I was able to access it again so for those who have not read it enjoy it and those who rediscover it have fun ♡

summary : seungmin's grades are falling, so Minho his professor has a plan in mind, he would tutor seungmin and bring lots of treats, making seungmin gain weight. fortunately for the younger, seungmin knows minho's ulterior motive. the older liked bigger guys, so why not turn the tables and make his tutor fat ?

warning : although this is SFW there is also presence of force-feeding at the beginning so be warned

Seungmin was the typical ordinary student. He attended college, tried his best to attend classes and do well in exams, often went out with his friends and was invited to parties. In short, he was living "a normal life".

At least until realizing that the lessons and exams were much more difficult than he imagined, and he quickly realized this when he saw his high school average which was excellent making him the smartest student in school. his class, at the average of a normal student a little below the limits of failling his class.

The main reason ? Surely he was enjoying his new life as a young adult, giving less time for his studies than he used to.

And that, Minho noticed very quickly

Who is Minho? His full name is Lee Minho, he was an economics teacher in Seungmin's college and happened to be one of his teachers.

Minho took an interest in Seungmin's case from the moment he entered college, wondering how the brunette could be so attentive and present during class but not manage to reach the general average of the class.

He wanted the best for his students and didn't want him to fail and later regret not continuing. Then we must admit that Minho had a little crush on him as soon as he saw him, after all he was only 26 years old and Seungmin turned 20 last month was an adult so it was completely legal for him to like him (at least out of college because he was risking his job but he likes danger)

So far everything seems normal or worthy of a good cliché fanfiction, yet what I forgot to mention that is most important was that Minho had always been attracted to chubby guys. He loved everything about them , from squeeze each fatty part to feeding them until they felt like they were exploding, eventually massaging their big bellies with a smirk. In all the relationships Minho had had, his boyfriends were either chubby, overweight, or end up to be huge because of him.

by the way there had been a lot of gossip about Mr. Lee and the art history teacher Mr. Han whose students saw him go from a model size to wear 2XL in just a year. But this rumor was quickly denied, anyway this is the kind of rumor that hung around Minho, if someone around him was chubby or fat, everyone saw it as his fault or that he caused it

But back to our story! So Minho proposed to Seungmin to be his tutor after school and him 1 to 2 hours of lessons per day to improve. Seungmin accepted without hesitation, he was really concerned about his grades but he had lost the habit of studying so he got stuck in a vicious circle where he did not study so he had bad grades so he was mad at it and lost the desire to study and so on...

They therefore met at Minho's home, as soon as he had set foot inside his home, offered him a snack before starting the tutoring session, out of politeness Seungmin accepted, not expecting to have to eat a dozen packets of cake and crisps. Minho told him that it was to study better by talking about the benefits of eating well before each session of studying.

In addition to being nice and treating Seungmin like a friend he invited to his home, he knew how to quickly regain the upper hand and be very strict as a teacher (but at the same time he offered a treat for each correct answer Seungmin said.)

Then after two hours, they finished studying and Minho insisted on offering more snacks to congratulate the brunette, he refused at first but Minho insisted several times before opening one of the bags and stuffing a handful of chip directly into Seungmin's mouth. The brunette could have spit it all out and leave, but strangely he stayed and even ate various bags, returning home with a bulging tummy.

Telling this to his friend Jeongin who knew all the college gossip, the fox-like boy told him that according to rumors Minho was known in his old college where he teaches to be a "fat admirer" and make his boyfriends fatter.

At first Seungmin refused to believe these rumors but then he thought back to Minho's attitude and the looks he was giving his belly which was pushing against his shirt (did I forget to mention that even though Seungmin was relatively thin, he had a small soft belly and generous hips? Well now you know it) and even though he felt uncomfortable at first with his insistence on making him eat all his snacks, Seungmin couldn't ignore this fact and despite that he was not disgusted by Minho despite his attitude close to be unacceptable (but the next day Minho apologized sincerely and even offered to file a complaint against him if he had made him uncomfortable but Seungmin refused, pretending that he hadn't been embarrassed by her attitude, saying that in reality he had ended up loving that moment )

The only thing Seungmin didn't like was being the one who was going to be "secretly fattened up", no he felt good with his few extra pounds no need to gain more! But Minho on the other hand, if he liked to make people get fat, he wouldn't see any problem in getting fat too, would he?

This is how Seungmin tried to turn the tutor's plan against him. He continued to study diligently but when he ate, he now offered Minho to eat snacks with him. If he didn't want to reveal his plan then he too had to eat all his snacks or it would be bad considering he has so many chips, cakes and other junk food without eating any of them.

So he ate reluctantly at first, then in the evening it became a pleasure. In fact Minho was a big eater, eating anything that was given to him or put in his mouth! Then since the two got closer emotionally, they had a few dates that all happened in a restaurant or a cat cafe. Each of their dates they had to have food and Minho gorging himself

Then after a few weeks, the effects appeared! The tutor's formerly slender body had rounded out, his hips had widened and his thighs had grown even thicker than they already were. His belly hung over each of his shirts and pushed against each of his shirts and other tops as the buttons resisted to stay in place.

However, Minho did not notice all his changes, his life as a teacher took up all his time and he had many dates with Seungmin and as Seungmin complimented him each time, he did not notice his belly resting on his knees when sat where his double chin he was developing.

He was in folds preoccupied and wanting to fatten up his new boyfriend who had gained a lot of weight too. Even if Seungmin didn't want to, he had put on weight, not as much as Minho who stuffed himself with every meal, but enough to go from a guy with some curves to a chubby guy, his arms had thickened, his belly had doubled for is original size , now he got small moobs landed against his tummy, his hips had become even wider and he was developing a bubble butt large enough for Minho to touch or smack him whenever he could away from prying eyes

They were growing as much as the love they felt for each other by teasing each other at the slightest opportunity.

What about Seungmin's notes? Minho continued to tutor Seungmin, becoming very serious and concerted at such times. Especially that Seungmin's grades were improving so he was not going to stop there.

I could stop here and tell you that's a haopy end for them and that's true, but would it be fun to tell how Minho realized he had doubled his weight in less than a year?

Well, it was during one of his lessons, he was talking passionately about the importance of primary socialization to develop other socializing traits or something like that (students weren't really listening) , forgetting that now he was waddling and that every step he took made him out of breath quite quickly. But the funniest thing was his shirt which almost ripped at all times, the gaps between the buttons clearly showed the oily belly of Minho which caught the attention of all the students.

After all the teacher was considered to be the sexiest teacher in this college and he had become so .... so fat and full in a short time without to lose so much of his aura of attractive guy (Seungmin confirmed).

And then after breathing a little too hard, one of the buttons of his shirt fell off, Minho was silent and observed the button lying on the ground, then wanting to lower himself, take it and continue his lesson as if nothing had happened, else buttons popped until his chubby belly was visible to everyone leaving everyone speechless but the most amazed was Minho had been in denial for all these long months and now he realized what his body had become .

And , he LOVE IT, he love seeing his belly hanging down preventing him from seeing his feet, then he had a superb ass, he loved teasing other people's (espacially Seungmin's) but he never thought he could had such a big ass too

but he quickly had to focus on his lesson again before he got a little too excited about it

In the end in the evening, he gently disputed Seungmin for having fattened him up, rather ironic when he was the one who had started by giving a packet of chips to Seungmin! But well in the end it had had a fairly positive impact,

Now they were dating and loved each other and the brunette had regained the taste for learning and studying and now both fed each other and wanted to grow up to their desires

what a good ending and yet this is only the beginning for them

#weight gain #my fic #skz chubby #cdoldfic

17 notes · View notes

watsonmelon · 7 months

Text

finished reading billy budd a while ago. quote and thought dump about billy budd, blithedale romance, and a few others. spoilers. religion.

I already posted about The Blithedale Romance but I WILL say it again: it messes me up that the book mentioned in this letter appears to have been Blithedale Romance.....

My Dear Hawthorne: -- This name of "Hawthorne" seems to be ubiquitous. I have been on something of a tour lately, and it has saluted me vocally & typographically in all sorts of places & in all sorts of ways. I was at the solitary Crusoeish island of Naushon (one of the Elisabeth group) and there, on a stately piazza, I saw it gilded on the back of a very new book, and in the hands of a clergyman. -- I went to visit a gentleman in Brooklyne, and as we were sitting at our wine, in came the lady of the house, holding a beaming volume in her hand, from the city -- "My Dear," to her husband, "I have brought you Hawthorne's new book." I entered the cars at Boston for this place. In came a lively boy "Hawthorne's new book!" -- In good time I arrived home. Said my lady-wife "there is Mr Hawthorne's new book, come by mail" And this morning, lo! on my table a little note, subscribed Hawthorne again. -- Well, the Hawthorne is a sweet flower; may it flourish in every hedge.

imagine!

a Blithedale Romance excerpt particularly relevant to Billy Budd:

It is my private opinion that, at this period of his life, Hollingsworth was fast going mad; and, as with other crazy people (among whom I include humorists of every degree), it required all the constancy of friendship to restrain his associates from pronouncing him an intolerable bore. Such prolonged fiddling upon one string—such multiform presentation of one idea! His specific object (of which he made the public more than sufficiently aware, through the medium of lectures and pamphlets) was to obtain funds for the construction of an edifice, with a sort of collegiate endowment. On this foundation he purposed to devote himself and a few disciples to the reform and mental culture of our criminal brethren. His visionary edifice was Hollingsworth's one castle in the air; it was the material type in which his philanthropic dream strove to embody itself; and he made the scheme more definite, and caught hold of it the more strongly, and kept his clutch the more pertinaciously, by rendering it visible to the bodily eye. I have seen him, a hundred times, with a pencil and sheet of paper, sketching the facade, the side-view, or the rear of the structure, or planning the internal arrangements, as lovingly as another man might plan those of the projected home where he meant to be happy with his wife and children. I have known him to begin a model of the building with little stones, gathered at the brookside, whither we had gone to cool ourselves in the sultry noon of haying-time. Unlike all other ghosts, his spirit haunted an edifice, which, instead of being time-worn, and full of storied love, and joy, and sorrow, had never yet come into existence.

shortly after Blithedale Romance, that exploration of gender roles and sexuality, Melville publishes "Bartleby," the innocent one sentenced. decades later, Clarel, with another parallel to the rejection in Blithedale Romance...

Blithedale:

"I will not argue the point," said he. "What I desire to know of you is,—and you can tell me in one word,—whether I am to look for your cooperation in this great scheme of good? Take it up with me! Be my brother in it! It offers you (what you have told me, over and over again, that you most need) a purpose in life, worthy of the extremest self-devotion,—worthy of martyrdom, should God so order it! In this view, I present it to you. You can greatly benefit mankind. Your peculiar faculties, as I shall direct them, are capable of being so wrought into this enterprise that not one of them need lie idle. Strike hands with me, and from this moment you shall never again feel the languor and vague wretchedness of an indolent or half-occupied man. There may be no more aimless beauty in your life; but, in its stead, there shall be strength, courage, immitigable will,—everything that a manly and generous nature should desire! We shall succeed! We shall have done our best for this miserable world; and happiness (which never comes but incidentally) will come to us unawares."

It seemed his intention to say no more. But, after he had quite broken off, his deep eyes filled with tears, and he held out both his hands to me.

"Coverdale," he murmured, "there is not the man in this wide world whom I can love as I could you. Do not forsake me!"

As I look back upon this scene, through the coldness and dimness of so many years, there is still a sensation as if Hollingsworth had caught hold of my heart, and were pulling it towards him with an almost irresistible force. It is a mystery to me how I withstood it. But, in truth, I saw in his scheme of philanthropy nothing but what was odious. A loathsomeness that was to be forever in my daily work! A great black ugliness of sin, which he proposed to collect out of a thousand human hearts, and that we should spend our lives in an experiment of transmuting it into virtue! Had I but touched his extended hand, Hollingsworth's magnetism would perhaps have penetrated me with his own conception of all these matters. But I stood aloof. I fortified myself with doubts whether his strength of purpose had not been too gigantic for his integrity, impelling him to trample on considerations that should have been paramount to every other.

Clarel:

Divided mind knew Clarel here;

The heart's desire did interfere.

Thought he, How pleasant in another

Such sallies, or in thee, if said

After confidings that should wed

Our souls in one:--Ah, call me brother!--

So feminine his passionate mood

Which, long as hungering unfed,

All else rejected or withstood.

Some inklings he let fall. But no:

Here over Vine there slid a change

A shadow, such as thin may show

Gliding along the mountain-range

And deepening in the gorge below.

Does Vine's rebukeful dusking say--

Why, on this vernal bank to-day,

Why bring oblations of thy pain ⁠

To one who hath his share? here fain

Would lap him in a chance reprieve?

Lives none can help ye; that believe.

Art thou the first soul tried by doubt?

Shalt prove the last? Go, live it out. ⁠

But for thy fonder dream of love

In man toward man--the soul's caress--

The negatives of flesh should prove

Analogies of non-cordialness

In spirit.--E'en such conceits could cling ⁠

To Clarel's dream of vain surmise

And imputation full of sting.

but now, in Billy Budd, the doubling down, writing of a convict, someone who has killed a man, who needs no redemption because he is already innocent! over 30 years after Blithedale! in the late years of his life! he IS obsessed with guilt and innocence, still! and i absolutely loved "Bartleby," but just like that part from Clarel felt bolder than "Bartleby," Billy Budd felt to me less raw and more black-and-white and more focused than "Bartleby," everything in place to tell what needed to be told, the culmination of it all, despite that it wasn't even published while he was alive, and was found in disarray.

Billy Budd:

Though our Handsome Sailor had as much of masculine beauty as one can expect anywhere to see; nevertheless, like the beautiful woman in one of Hawthorne's minor tales, there was just one thing amiss in him. No visible blemish, indeed, as with the lady; no, but an occasional liability to a vocal defect. Though in the hour of elemental uproar or peril he was everything that a sailor should be, yet under sudden provocation of strong heart-feeling, his voice otherwise singularly musical, as if expressive of the harmony within, was apt to develop an organic hesitancy, in fact, more or less of a stutter or even worse. In this particular Billy was a striking instance that the arch interferer, the envious marplot of Eden, still has more or less to do with every human consignment to this planet of earth. In every case, one way or another he is sure to slip in his little card, as much as to remind us- I too have a hand here.

The avowal of such an imperfection in the Handsome Sailor should be evidence not alone that he is not presented as a conventional hero, but also that the story in which he is the main figure is no romance.

HHHHHH jumpscared. he is woven in. well, i read "The Birth-Mark":

Had she been less beautiful,—if Envy's self could have found aught else to sneer at,—he might have felt his affection heightened by the prettiness of this mimic hand, now vaguely portrayed, now lost, now stealing forth again and glimmering to and fro with every pulse of emotion that throbbed within her heart; but, seeing her otherwise so perfect, he found this one defect grow more and more intolerable with every moment of their united lives. It was the fatal flaw of humanity which Nature, in one shape or another, stamps ineffaceably on all her productions, either to imply that they are temporary and finite, or that their perfection must be wrought by toil and pain. The crimson hand expressed the ineludible gripe in which mortality clutches the highest and purest of earthly mould, degrading them into kindred with the lowest, and even with the very brutes, like whom their visible frames return to dust. In this manner, selecting it as the symbol of his wife's liability to sin, sorrow, decay, and death, Aylmer's sombre imagination was not long in rendering the birthmark a frightful object, causing him more trouble and horror than ever Georgiana's beauty, whether of soul or sense, had given him delight.

much to think about. back to Billy Budd.

In this matter of writing, resolve as one may to keep to the main road, some by-paths have an enticement not readily to be withstood. I am going to err into such a by-path. If the reader will keep me company I shall be glad. At the least we can promise ourselves that pleasure which is wickedly said to be in sinning, for a literary sin the divergence will be.

that is such a herman melville thing to say

When Claggart's unobserved glance happened to light on belted Billy rolling along the upper gun deck in the leisure of the second dog-watch, exchanging passing broadsides of fun with other young promenaders in the crowd; that glance would follow the cheerful sea-Hyperion with a settled meditative and melancholy expression, his eyes strangely suffused with incipient feverish tears. Then would Claggart look like the man of sorrows. Yes, and sometimes the melancholy expression would have in it a touch of soft yearning, as if Claggart could even have loved Billy but for fate and ban. But this was an evanescence, and quickly repented of, as it were, by an immitigable look, pinching and shrivelling the visage into the momentary semblance of a wrinkled walnut. But sometimes catching sight in advance of the Foretopman coming in his direction, he would, upon their nearing, step aside a little to let him pass, dwelling upon Billy for the moment with the glittering dental satire of a Guise. But upon any abrupt unforeseen encounter a red light would flash forth from his eye like a spark from an anvil in a dusk smithy. That quick fierce light was a strange one, darted from orbs which in repose were of a color nearest approaching a deeper violet, the softest of shades.

ough.. just this bit on repression, passion distorted.

But Captain Vere was now again motionless standing absorbed in thought. But again starting, he vehemently exclaimed--"Struck dead by an angel of God! Yet the angel must hang!"

gave me chills when i read it! and vere is so hawthorne-coded to me......... vere who believes in his innocence, and yet!!

In the jugglery of circumstances preceding and attending the event on board the Indomitable, and in the light of that martial code whereby it was formally to be judged, innocence and guilt personified in Claggart and Budd in effect changed places. In a legal view the apparent victim of the tragedy was he who had sought to victimize a man blameless; and the indisputable deed of the latter, navally regarded, constituted the most heinous of military crimes. Yet more. The essential right and wrong involved in the matter, the clearer that might be, so much the worse for the responsibility of a loyal sea-commander inasmuch as he was not authorized to determine the matter on that primitive basis.

the twisting of guilt and innocence!! Melville's recurring criticism of people doing truly wicked things, taking advantage of people while hiding behind power and still being respected by the world, while people with good hearts are punished by the world... god, i will eat it up every single time.

But the Indomitable's Chaplain was a discreet man possessing the good sense of a good heart. So he insisted not in his vocation here. At the instance of Captain Vere, a lieutenant had apprised him of pretty much everything as to Billy; and since he felt that innocence was even a better thing than religion wherewith to go to Judgement, he reluctantly withdrew; but in his emotion not without first performing an act strange enough in an Englishman, and under the circumstances yet more so in any regular priest. Stooping over, he kissed on the fair cheek his fellow-man, a felon in martial law, one who though on the confines of death he felt he could never convert to a dogma; nor for all that did he fear for his future.

and

At sea in the old time, the execution by halter of a military sailor was generally from the fore-yard. In the present instance, for special reasons the main-yard was assigned. Under an arm of that lee-yard the prisoner was presently brought up, the Chaplain attending him. It was noted at the time and remarked upon afterwards, that in this final scene the good man evinced little or nothing of the perfunctory. Brief speech indeed he had with the condemned one, but the genuine Gospel was less on his tongue than in his aspect and manner towards him. The final preparations personal to the latter being speedily brought to an end by two boatswain's mates, the consummation impended. Billy stood facing aft. At the penultimate moment, his words, his only ones, words wholly unobstructed in the utterance were these--"God bless Captain Vere!" Syllables so unanticipated coming from one with the ignominious hemp about his neck-- a conventional felon's benediction directed aft towards the quarters of honor; syllables too delivered in the clear melody of a singing-bird on the point of launching from the twig, had a phenomenal effect, not unenhanced by the rare personal beauty of the young sailor spiritualized now thro' late experiences so poignantly profound.

declared guilty under the laws of men, and judged to be innocent by God... i think Melville truly wanted to believe in divine goodness, and that man's laws and interpretations and narrow-mindedness are not God's..... i think he meant it. and that's what i like about his writing.

and almost finally, a journal entry by Hawthorne...

Melville, as he always does, began to reason of Providence and futurity, and of everything that lies beyond human ken, and informed me that he “pretty much made up his mind to be annihilated”; but still he does not seem to rest in that anticipation; and, I think, will never rest until he gets hold of a definite belief.

It is strange how he persists — and has persisted ever since I knew him, and probably long before — in wandering to-and-fro over these deserts, as dismal and monotonous as the sand hills amid which we were sitting. He can neither believe, nor be comfortable in his unbelief; and he is too honest and courageous not to try to do one or the other.

If he were a religious man, he would be one of the most truly religious and reverential; he has a very high and noble nature, and better worth immortality than most of us.

heart is wrenched.........

other than that. whoever owned this collection of stories by melville before i did wrote "no" in the table of contents by bartleby, billy budd, and one other. the other one maybe i get, but bartleby and billy budd? two of the best ones? at any rate, the ones that touched me the most. what could they have meant? how could you say such a thang...

other than THAT. it's completely meaningless but very funny to me that I've been posting about melville once or twice a month and each time getting between like zero and five notes and tumblr is like congratulations! top #herman melville blogger!

and truly finally, i just started pierre the other day. i'm not very far, but already the love and passion and divinity and profanity...

'Fie, now, Pierre; why should ye youths always swear when ye love?' 'Because in us love is profane, since it mortally reaches toward the heaven in ye!'

so far i am hooked 👍

#herman melville #billy budd #the blithedale romance

6 notes · View notes

schismusic · 4 months

Text

One for Godflesh, my girlfriend and Dog

[Disclaimer: the following deals in an assortment of mental disorders (primarily depression and anxiety) and has relatively detailed descriptions of death, sexuality and a number of other amenities I can't really remember off the top of my head. Be warned.]

[Disclaimer 2 - Disclaim Harder: the following was written very feverishly at 2am a couple days ago. I did not like it when it was done. @oldshittydog told me to leave it be and since I can't think of anything better or more precise to say about the topics at hand, I will post it as-is, no editing except for formatting - which was not present in the original - and some minor punctuation/spelling edits to make things clearer.]

It was Dog, G., D. and I, and we were listening to Godflesh, way too late for me to still be up. The conversation obviously went on to be about Justin Broadrick's relationship with his very recent autism and PTSD diagnoses and that sort of spiralled into me writing yet another page of this bullshit. Godflesh is a very important band to me in that they are possibly the only industrial metal band worthy of being taken seriously. Also in that Justin Broadrick and Ben Green are part of that small list of things that were there for me more than most of my family during some of the hardest times I've had (see: the last active years of this blog). As usual, it was all my doing. Sometimes you do stupid shit and sometimes, just sometimes, you pay the price for it. I distinctly remember sitting in the middle of a full one-hour crying session I was having at the time and thinking "I know I fucked up and I deserve to feel bad about this, but what the fuck, there has to be a limit to this". A little while later I first listened to Christbait Rising and it hit me like a truck:

"Don't hold me back. This is my own hell".

youtube

The active belief that I held - that I was, in fact, in a personal form of hell - was an absolutely integral part of what I felt in the wake of those days; I guess being a teenager really is about being extremely dramatic when it isn't warranted. But it wasn't easy, that's for sure. Fuck a breakup, my main issue was that the breakup coincided with the end of high school, with the end of innoncence, with the end of my teens, to an extent one might argue with the end of my family as I knew it.

High school was terrifying. I met an old classmate of mine at my uni last year and inevitably we started talking about what it was like after the end of high school: I kept pretty reserved about it, not one to flaunt my shit years all around (you guys are the only one who get the displeasure to deal with them), while he went on and on and on about how fundamentally that experience had fucked him up - nightmares, anxiety and depression, therapy sessions, his relationship with his parents. He's a shaken man, to his core. He's also always been very vindictive and absolutely full of rage. There is an alternate reality where I am just like him, and that sort of scares me shitless - no disrespect intended. The studying wasn't easy either and I distinctly remember being stressed for my marks for weeks on end and it was gutwrenching. Walking home having to tell my mother about the measliest of failing marks was a horror story to me; to avoid confrontation I tried to stay under the radar to literally everyone*. All of my friends were in other classes. None of them talk to me anymore. Ironically enough, I have kept contacts with maybe four people from my old class (most of the others I wouldn't stand to meet ever again) and literally no one else from that school - except for my Physics teacher. He was a legend and a role model to 17-year-old me, and I still think very highly of him. My friend whom I met at uni told me he was very badly mistreated by him and that feeling of betrayal did become a bit hard to shake. Sometimes I miss the idea of getting a Physics degree. When I have to tell people who aren't up to speed that I am now studying cinema I still get ashamed, three full years in, about to get my bachelor's and about two years away from my master's.

I have done some pretty heinous shit to women. My relationship with sex was radically and pejoratively altered by my earliest sexual encounters, which for obvious reasons I am not about to describe here. Suffice it to say that the exertion of force - the idea of having to submit or be submitted - was just about a basic part of what happened; consent wasn't even a word that we knew, let alone considered. This doesn't make me any less responsible of all the absolutely insane behaviours I undertook, and I would never imply that I am free of guilt. I was broken, and like most so-called adult males in existence, the burden of guilt can be too much to bear for someone who is societally kept away from it on a systematic level. So I decided to fully immerse myself in this horrifying feeling for a while. This was possibly the best decision I could take at the time, despite what everyone said to me. The only person who, I think, ever saw it right away was S.: I remember being kind of blindsided by her very honest comment, "you deserve this" (with a red heart emoji right by the side), because no one had been as blunt and direct to me and it was liberating to see that my realization was valid and real, and that I was finally going through it the proper way instead of denying the evidence and hearing it denied back to me. Finally I knew I wasn't alone because someone was there, someone who despised me so openly and clearly I simply had to do better.

It was all fine and dandy being fifteen, chasing pussy and playing Half-Life a full seventeen years after its original release and then Half-Life 2 right that very same summer, getting to know about Filthy Frank and picking up a guitar to actually play with a band for the first time. Try doing that all over again when you're nineteen: it was Metal Gear Solid this time, simply. Hideo Kojima and heavy metal subgenres share a lot of similarities in my eyes in that they're both so big, obvious, bombastic with the way they express feelings and concepts that you're either enjoying them through the lens of a posh, post-modernistic ironic detachment or absolutely one hundred percent into them. Having to pretend you're "mature" and "serious" is something you can consider undertaking only when you're sixteen and spend way too much time on the Internet, and Godflesh was as instrumental as Hideo Kojima's work for me to understand that embracing big ass emotions espressed in an obvious way can be absolutely liberating, because both Godflesh and Kojima games are actually somewhat more elaborate than most would give them credit for - without sacrificing the gigantic emotion driving them. My first listen of Selfless was as liberating as the first time I finished MGS by myself: Gray Fox taught me that one must imagine Sysyphus happy, and Justin Broadrick taught me that not everyone can carry the weight of the world. Therefore it's okay to run the risk to be crushed by it.

youtube

We knew our great-uncle U. was about to leave this mortal coil. My mother spent the entirety of September 2017 with him, he was taken to a hospice to help him live out his last few days as peacefully as possible. Motherfucker looked remarkably like Charles Bronson (the actor, not the guy haunting British prisons), and acted quite like him too: sharp-tongued, fast-witted, spoke very little and very measuredly. He liked The Good, the Bad and the Ugly a lot and would routinely quote that one Eli Wallach line ("I get dressed, I kill him and be right back!") for no specific reason everytime he had to do something quickly. Some of my last memories of him include him, then aged 84, playing with my sister who couldn't have been older than 9: he would literally lie on the floor to play with her, then need help to be picked back up again. The kids would put a snapback hat on him and ask him to pretend to be a rapper and he would absolutely fucking do it, no questions asked, this fair-eyed beautiful motherfucker. When he left I think something fundamental broke in the equilibrium of my family, or rather the perception we had of it: everyone was game all of a sudden. Grandpa isn't feeling too well lately, and I'm always afraid my grandma will be swiftly following suit. I guess that's taking a bit of a toll on everyone involved, to be extremely euphemistic.

youtube

I'm guessing some of you might be thinking of me as some sort of unserious crybaby by now, someone who can dish it out but most definitely can't take it. You would be absolutely right. I have no defenses to raise because there is no point in raising any defenses anymore: what I did and did not do in the past is not a matter of debate, I must live with it and I was lucky enough to find people who did understand what I did - and decided to give me another chance. I am forever grateful to have gotten this second chance. Surprisingly enough, this is why the music of Godflesh now strikes me in a totally different way: it is no longer crushing in the teenage "hail satan \m/" way, and it is no longer a soundtrack to my competitive crying sessions. It can be elating and joyful. It can be a meditative experience. It can be a reminder that as bad as I have been I always have the opportunity to be better everyday and never let the past behind, facing myself everyday and learning to live with my weaknesses and my mistakes. Bee has been of massive help in this. I don't know whether she understood just how absolutely jaded I was when we began dating, but she's one badass motherfucker, too, and she's not taking anyone's shit - especially not mine. She was very clear to me: no mind games, no crybabying, no bellyaching. She was (and is) not there to baby me, and baby me she never did. As someone who has tried to escape from his mother's shadow all of his life, I really appreciate this. And I treasure and salute Bee - someone who's simply too stubborn and too smart to let an asshole like me drain her happiness away, and someone who I am dearly in love with. The fact that she loves me back is mindblowing to me, but I guess I could take it as a testament that I am, in fact, being a better person.

When we were done listening to Selfless, I showed Dog the song Don't Bring Me Flowers and its relative remix from the Merciless EP, Flowers. They told me they loved them. They were having "an experience" to them. I will forever treasure Dog's opinions because their choices of words are always so writerly and precise and one might even argue ornate to an extent; their writing singlehandedly made me fall in love with the act of writing again. I have never been more jazzed up to open a Notepad page and just let loose. I wrote some fiction for the first time in literal years and they were the first person I showed it to. They are, most likely, gonna be proof-reading this too (even though it's more for quality control, which I need given these are essentially just long streams of consciousness that I only thinly overlay with an overarching structure. I think this one isn't as good as the last one - too thematically sprawling, not enough threads being tied, it's a bit of a mess, but that's how it goes tonight). I treasure Dog's friendship dearly.

*as I was proof-reading this post, I realized that just today I bought a beautiful print by a very talented artist going by the handle @faida-acquifera on Instagram. The print says something to the effect of "I have tried multiple times to disappear and attained the opposite effect". I guess that felt relevant to add, since I didn't even remember writing the particular sentence I'm annotating.

youtube

#schismusic #musica #music #godflesh #old shitty dog #friends #girlfriend #industrial metal #i guess this felt necessary a couple nights ago #lmao #no comment #Youtube #Bandcamp

3 notes · View notes