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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

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I’d be very interested in your thoughts on the JIB8 cockles panel. just a suggestion for your rewatch 👀

i’ve seen the jib8 panel so many times, because it’s honestly one of the wildest things i have ever seen and i just never get tired of it.

first of all i want to give you my take on the overall vibe, and then second of all i will get into the details and link to certain timestamps in the video.

disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

fun fact: i was today years old when i found out that the airbnb story took place one day before this panel. what a sexually charged weekend that was for them dude (gn).

the vibe that i get from this panel is that their moods were off before they got on stage, and where misha kind of looks tired and not 100% enthusiastic about things, jensen apparently decided to get drunk and is trying to make it look like he is thriving. yet, a little while into the panel we learn that it has been an emotional rollercoaster of a day for him, which might have something to do with the overall mood. then again, it could be that something else happened in between the autographs and that panel, who is to say?

i have talked about the d/s subtones in their interactions before and this panel makes my radar ping like nobody’s business. if my interpretation of their dynamics is right, then one could assume that jensen was being very bratty on purpose, trying to stir up a reaction in misha, and i think he probably got what he wanted (more or less. maybe he thought misha would find it more amusing than he did, or but honestly, at that point they have already known each other for nearly 10 years so odds are he knew what he was doing and how misha would react to it. it would surprise me greatly if these two didn’t work out their mutual frustrations with the day and each other after this panel ended- in the bedroom.)

i genuinely think i have never seen jensen flirt more openly and aggressively with misha, ever, and i have never seen misha in the state he was in during this panel either: tired, a little annoyed about the fact that jensen was going off the deep end and that he was not able to stop him, to the point where he just gives up and says things like ‘when in rome’ etc. let’s get into it.

the mood is set from the very first second: misha is kinda subdued, and jensen is being a bit of a clown, coaxing misha to join him in the madness, which he does to a certain extent.

we are off to a great start with not just one [0m15s], but two [0m20s] moments in which i just know in my bones they wanted to hold hands. how do i know? because i have been there my fucking self. wanting to hold hands with your crush when you are drunk and acting silly is a love language okay.

as soon as they sit down, misha tries to make conversation and jensen just starts pushing him and pushing him, [1m11s] saying ‘shut up’ and ‘yeah it’s really stupid and it embarrasses me’, but misha tries to ignore it at first and just marches on through. which is probably why i never see people talk about that little comment. it embarrasses jensen when misha sits like that? why would he need to feel embarrassed by his friend’s actions? kinda weird tbh, sounds like husband behavior to me. i have a feeling that when misha said ‘by which he means it’s an innie’, jensen REALLY had to bite on his tongue not to go all ‘you weren’t complaining this morning’ or something like that. look at his face bro [1m55s].

and then jensen opens up his legs like the little tramp (affectionate) that he is and when misha tries to stop him he just TURNS to misha with said open legs like a mad man and goes ‘here’s the thing. pick a leg.’ [2m05s] LIKE? who DOES THAT? that is insane people behavior!!! admittedly i am a cis woman and i don’t have conversations with male friends about their bodily anatomy all that often, but i legit cannot phatom that this is a normal thing to talk about with your platonic buddy. pick a leg for me to rest my dick on, old buddy old pal. NOBODY DOES THAT. it’s not even something that i would consider flirting because even though i am into men, i would not find that arousing? so it’s either an action to provoke annoyance in misha or it’s something they have discussed before or both. because misha immediately understands what he means, starts shaking his head in frustration, and actually turns to jensen as if to say ‘are you fucking kidding me right now? really? you are really doing this?’ followed by a ‘this is making me feel so uncomfortable’ aka one of the phrases they both like to use even though they never mean it.

then when jensen actually goes up to do his ridiculous mating dance and sits back down again, he automatically sits down with his body turned towards misha.

quick side note: if anybody understands what the joke was about when they talked about ‘cas has big dolls’ i would love to hear it, because that has never made any sense to me, but it’s probably a me problem lmao.

when misha goes ‘could you watch your language please’ i think that’s a sign that he is genuinely getting a bit frustrated [4m53s] with jensen even though he is obviously playing it off as a joke. right after he says that, jensen puts his fingers against his mouth, as if to shut himself up. i know that a lot of people don’t wanna read too much into body language but hey, i am writing an analysis here so work with me for a sec: i think that could be a subconscious decision to listen to what misha is telling him to do, which ties into the d/s dynamics i’ve mentioned earlier.

i know people always go crazy when misha goes ‘what did i tell him’ [5m19s] and jensen whispers in his ear. i personally think misha probably told him about the fact that they booked kansas the band, but it’s still pretty telling that that is how misha would react to the question if something he told him is public knowledge. evidently that goes to show that there is enough that misha tells jensen that cannot be shared with the public, which i thought is interesting.

now that i am watching it again, the ‘j*red would have just said it’ comment kind of stumbles around in my brain asking me to dissect it. let’s just say that i wouldn’t be surprised if they were both thinking back on the many, many times that j*red put his foot in his mouth and made a suggestive comment about jensen and misha’s relationship.

god i just cringed [6m14s] watching jensen interact with that first girl who asked a question and he just goes off on her about how twins are cool and misha is shaking his head lord oh lord and that is the minute daniella decides that hey maybe they need even more alcohol lmfaoooo it’s a lot. poor misha i genuinely feel bad for him.

and then he goes ‘real men have twins’ and looks at misha and misha is still not having it so he goes ‘it’s just a shirt’ like girl (gn) pleASE that’s husband behavior, yet again, why else would he feel the need to clarify it. ‘look babe don’t be mad or jealous i don’t mean anything by it, it’s just a shirt’ i hate him.

i just know misha would have wanted to take the apple juice away from jensen lmao.

one of the moments [9m35s] that always stands out to me is when they go ‘that’s why we don’t bring steven’ ‘that’s right, that’s why he’s not allowed’ idk how to explain it but the way that just flows out of them so naturally feels very coupley for some reason.

i think we can all agree that jensen’s reaction [12m22s] to misha’s ‘i always wear orange underwear’ story is completely fake, right? because there is no way he didn’t know that, and his reaction was very exaggerated. plus, the little gesture to make misha show his underwear? bitch, please. whipped. there was also exactly zero reason for him to come that close to misha in order to inspect the color of his underwear.

the one thing that i wonder about, though, is why misha didn’t know jensen was wearing the famous underbear briefs? but as i am writing this i realise that even if they slept in the same hotel room, there are obviously a few different possible reasons why misha didn’t know what underwear jensen was wearing that day: either jensen showered and changed in the bathroom, so by the time he faced misha again he was fully dressed, or misha had to leave their hotel room earlier than jensen, or jensen changed while misha showered, etc etc.

in any case……. jensen dropping trou in the middle of this fucking panel? absolutely batshit insane, 10/10 thank you for your service nesnej.

this [13m54s] is where shit really starts to hit the fan. jensen is OUT OF CONTROL. the long stares??? the ‘rawr’s??? ‘you didn’t even get the full picture’??? (sidenote i would love to know what misha whispered to him right after).

OKAY so. when the girl mentions j*red and jensen goes all Knowing What’s Up and says ‘oh he has had a rough time today. misha kept us up way too late last night. *glances at misha* rrrrrrr’ listen. the only reason i am not reading too much into this is because i do not believe they had a threesome with j*red but also the way he said it was very sus and my mind can’t help but wonder if they were disgustingly flirty and way too touchy feely in front of j*red whilst drunk and honestly that’s probably the case.

of course this is followed [15m15s] by the insane man saying ‘by the way they go down to here’??? and the potentially whispered ‘i’ll show you later’?????? sir i have a lot of questions. number one: how dare you?

bless this next person for this question, because she starts her sentence with: ‘people who have been together for a long time…’ i actually already made a post about this once so i implore you all to read that because i still stand by what i said in there.

it is of course followed by them both not being able to think about ANYTHING appropriate to say to the question if there is anything they only do in front of each other that doesn’t involve pants. and then misha goes ‘why don’t i just share a private moment that we had’ and jensen’s first instinct is to say ‘shit’. i mean. i am merely perceiving.

this is the moment we realise that it has been quite The Day for them, but especially for jensen, because he has been emotional earlier in the day. which, again, could explain his demeanor during the panel. trying to distract himself. notice that he gets up and shakes his legs again and goes for a drink the second misha starts to tell the story: coping mechanisms aka distraction, just like he did at the start of the panel.

the moment where he goes ‘it’s hitting me now. shit.’ really solidifies this theory for me, that he has been acting like a goofy drunken guy all panel, in order to drown out the emotions he felt that afternoon, but alas. once he started to talk about it, it still all came back to him.

i will say this though: it kind of warms my heart that he was so touched by the fact that the fandom spawned something good. makes me feel slightly less dumb for forming parasocial relationships with that man. only slightly, but still.

misha going ‘god he’s so grouchy’ [25m32s]? say it with me, folks: husband behavior. once again misha tries to talk jensen down and jensen listens (sort of). say it with me, folks: d/s behavior. and RIGHT after that jensen walks towards misha with this intense fucking stare in his eyes that makes me feel like i am intruding, and then after he gets another drink (nesnej, why?) he just. gently massages misha’s neck and shoulder before draping his arm around him? and his hand lingers when he goes to grab the keychain? okay.

insert the famous ‘when in rome’ debacle lmao misha was so done with jensen by then it’s so hilarious. the funny thing is that misha says ‘what i mean is show each other our underwear, nothing weird. you can’t look at me like that, because of what you did’, while the question was ‘what would dean and cas do in rome’ and not ‘what would jensen and misha do in rome’ but clearly, once again, the actors cannot make a distinction between the two. interesting :) it also wouldn’t surprise me if jensen has told him to tone down the dean/cas answers but now that jensen decided to fully flash him on stage misha is like ‘sorry but i am not playing by your rules after what you did’ lmao. of course, jensen’s reaction is to go back to parting his legs for misha, like he is challenging him. i mean. you can’t make this shit up.

am i the only one who thinks that jensen might be thinking dirty thoughts when misha repeats ‘what would dean and cas do’ [27m50s]? because like. that’s quite a face he is making.

when he says ‘i don’t know how to answer that’ and misha agrees, idk, for some reason i get the feeling that that’s in the sense of ‘i don’t know how to answer that in a way that won’t get our fans’s hopes up because we know what they would want and we know what we would answer but we can’t go there’.

i really feel like the final straw for daniella was the way that jensen reacted to that last question like he was gonna have another breakdown lmao and that’s why the rest of the cast and crew were pushed onto the stage prematurely. because when you think about it, it’s a pretty rude thing to do when somebody is still answering a question? but okay.

listen - the last 6 minutes of this panel are so chaotic sdjfhsjh the only thing i can conclude from it is that jensen is hella drunk but we’ve been knew. his mood changes by the fucking second. i love him and his little dance and how he sits down on the stage. i feel like i might be jensen coded when i am drunk. i too get slutty and unpredictable.

so anyways long story short: jensen was hella drunk and wanted to provoke misha, it worked, they had hot sweaty sex after this panel, and the fact that jensen got drunk enough to entrust misha with taking care of shit during the panel makes me very emotional for some reason, and i just love them a lot. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#cockles #i am sorry this is such a mess lmao but enjoy i guess?#jib 8 #alsaurus-loves-dean #i edited in the timestamps because apparently the links dont work on mobile and just jump to the beginning of the vid. sigh

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sergeant-angels-trashcan · 3 years

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Hiii!!! I have a question that i'd love if you could answer, but no pressure! Do you have any tips on writing Kate? or more specifically, are there any things that you keep in mind when you're writing her? just any kind of advice you feel like sharing for someone writing her :) (((ik that every writer is different in their interpretations of characters in fics, etc, but i'd really love to hear any thoughts you'd be willing to share!))) <3

This is an incredibly flattering ask, first of all, so thank you! also this got hmmm very long so i apologize. the adderall wore off and now the gremlins in my brain are knocking everything off the shelves in search of dopamine

And it seems like you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: your mileage may vary. My interpretation of Kate is really personal, and I have often, knowingly or unknowingly, used writing Kate to work through some of my own traumas. so like, advice number one, feel free to work through trauma via Kate Bishop

keeping that in mind, here are the four things I keep in mind when writing kate:

her trauma

Kate’s been through a lot of shit. For me, focusing on this was a way to work through my own trauma and mental health issues, but even if that’s not your jam, it’s still something to keep in mind. She’s survived rape, her mom has died, her dad tried to kill her AND she found out he was a lying douchebag, she’s been a government fugitive twice, she’s seen her best friend die in front of her, she’s been hit by a car. So there’s a lot of mental health stuff and physical health stuff. I have depression and PTSD and anxiety and panic attacks and dad issues, so that’s something easy for me to focus on that also is supported by the text. Don’t be afraid to lean into a mental health thing, or the fact that she has also canonically gone to therapy. I like that combo when writing about Kate—that she deals with a lot of trauma baggage, but she’s also works through it

The physical trauma stuff also helps when remembering that she’s a soft squishy human unlike a lot of the people she hangs around with. It’s easy for me to imagine she’s got a bum knee or chronic pain issues. I’ve written concussion stuff specifically because I remember having post-concussion syndrome and it made sense that she would have it, too? Though now that I’m thinking about it, the physical issues from avengering is an idea I’m going to have to revist while leaning more into “what if kate couldn’t do archery because of an injury” because that taps into some issues I’m still coming to terms with!!

But basically, going through all of that—even just some of that!--impacts how you view yourself, how you move in the world, how you relate to other people, etc. she’s been through a lot!

her age

this is probably where I differ from a lot of other kate writers and again, it’s probably just personal? Because lbr I project HARDCORE on to Kate, so seeing her as “my age” is kinda my go-to. I love the idea of teenage superheroes growing up and having to adult. And mentoring younger superheroes. And getting mad at the avengers for doing a TERRIBLE job of it.

dueling headcanons aside, keep in mind that Kate is young in relation to the Avengers, but old in relation to her team. For me, the age differences between her and her team influence how Kate sees herself as a leader/role model/etc. In the comics, it seems like Kate does better taking care of herself when she has other people to take care of or set a team-leader-y example for. If she’s on her own she is literally getting hit by cars and committing arson.

(Since we’re here tho I do think of the Young Avengers as Millennials, and for me that’s a very important part of the whys of them becoming superheroes. Because—stick with me here—based on their ages when they first showed up they all would have been….what, in like 3-7th grade on 9/11? Obviously I don’t know how old you are, or if you remember/were alive for 9/11 and the aftermath, but I can’t imagine that not influencing their desire to become superheroes, even if they don’t realize it themselves.)

However you see Kate’s age, it’s important to think about how it influences how other people see her and how she sees herself within her team.

her team!

who kate is with a team and who she is without a team are VERY different things. if she’s with the Young Avengers for most of your story or working solo might affect how...for lack of a better phrase...how much of an on fire garbage can she is.

Kate loves her people. How does she relate to them? Who is she closest to? Why does she date people on her team? Is that a good idea?

For me, Kate and Eli’s relationship is always important, even if it doesn’t make it on screen, so to speak. That they both led the team, that he quit, that they dated—how do they relate to one another? Are they friends? Awkward exes? Are they working together?

Is the team on hiatus? Do they have a group chat? Is Kate everyone’s emergency contact? How much does she confide in them, or does she feel the need to be the Strong Team Leader at all times? How does that impact her friendships? How did losing Cassie affect her leadership style?

These are her friends! How do they impact her life?

she’s a badass

this might seem like a given, but seriously, kate is a total badass. She can dance and fence, she knows how to use swords and batons, she’s super strong and swole. She has canonically committed arson. I think it’s canon she has a photographic memory? She’s a small business owner. She loves explosives and military grade weapons thanks to Deadpool, who, canonically, thinks she is awesome. She’s good schmoozing, she’s good with people in general. She has a nemesis! She’s the captain of a spaceship! Kate Bishop is cool!!!!!!! even if she doesn’t know it. or act it. she’s awesome.

Other things to keep in mind:

Lots of people play with Kate’s race. What if she’s white? What if she’s Jewish? What if she’s Eastern European? What if she’s white and Japanese and Navajo? What does that say about her family? What was growing up like? How does being not-quite-white or white-but-the-wrong-kind-of-white or white-but-not-really change how she moves in the world? (for the record, I usually see Derek as run-of-the-mill white dude, so how does that impact her? How does that change the relationship he had with her mother?) I don’t always, and I don’t have the experience to do those stories justice a lot of the times, but I think race and religion are important to consider a bit when writing Kate.

(particularly with the current US political climate, and who her friends are, it’s just really interesting to think about. Like, you KNOW Kate is at a BLM protest kicking a canister of tear gas back at the cops and literally putting her body between David and the pr*ud boys or whatever.)

Also? Kate has opposed registration of superheroes twice now. You could definitely lean into that and her political activism potential.

Kate has a sister.

Kate is sex-positive

Clint is a very important part of her life

She knows how to commit arson and blow stuff up, can probably speak several languages, is flexible and strong and VERY SMART and also somehow can’t figure out how to illegally download music. She’s a wonderful combo of intelligence and dumbassery. Don’t feel like you have to make her all one or the other!

Don’t feel like she needs to be straight. Or cis.

and of course, write the story you want to, or need to. I think Kate’s really great for that--she’s got the potential to be a lot of things to a lot of different people. what do you need her to be?

I hope this was informative and useful! i have no idea if it actually will be, or if it’s too much...me? let me know! and thank you for the ask!

#you've got questions i've got answers #kate bishop #young avengers #hawkeye #my stuff #writing advice #i'm honestly so flattered by this ask #and my answer is legit just 'i wrote out my trauma and it happened to work with kate's'#me: i had a flashback real bad today so guess what you get to have kate??!!#Anonymous

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miracvlovs · 3 years

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✗✗✗ you see [ kaleb yıldırım ] around lately? yeah i heard that the [ cis male ] is up to no good. [ he / him ] has been here for [ five years ] now but they’re still pretty [ abrasive ] which is fine because they’re also [ debonair ] so it balances out. the [ twenty-eight ] year old [ hitman for hire ] actually looks like a lot like [ alperen duymaz ], don’t you think? it’s best to watch out, though, because it’s been said that they’re really into [ strong cigarettes & even stronger whiskey ].

hey, hello, hi, bonjour! s’up buttercups? ‘tis i, your friendly neighbourhood loser chrissie ( a.k.a an irish doofus who is utter plot trash and the actual WORST at keeping track with discord messages, oops ) and i’m super duper excited to be here among you fab human beings! anywho, this is my first kiddo kaleb and he is … how do you say … morally grey. basically his morals are very questionable in every aspect. but! on the plus side, he’s very talented and good at his job even if he is ruthless and callous, oop. he is … the worst and also lowkey messed up inside tbh so pls excuse his blunt and sarcastic nature. plot-wise i’m open to literally anything and everything so come at me with any ideas ya got! i’m always diggity down to spit ball ideas and form some dope connections so pls feel free to invade my ims or hmu on le cord ( chrissie.#9606 ) and we can brainstorm until our heart’s content! if ya wanna, go ahead and light that lil grey heart up red and i’ll shimmy my butt your way for all of the good stuff. anywho, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we?

fundamentals.

KALEB EMER YILDIRIM — twenty-eight, hitman for hire, + one snarky son of a gun / troubled dude with daddy issues / all issues tbh !

aesthetics ➤ dried blood caked into the grooves of cut knuckles, the lingering scent of smoke and gasoline, silver slivers of past scarring, five o’clock shadow peppering a blunt jawline, discolourations of blue and purple decorating battered hands, a subtle smirk etched upon a devious countenance, calloused fingertips riddled with small paper cuts, dark circles under almost-black eyes, the noise of screeching tires in the middle of the night, a tall stature adorned in all-black attire, ghosts of bruises staining calloused skin green, a scuffed zippo lighter in a pack of marlboros containing only one cigarette, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a sly grin under stormy dark eyes, a sniper on the roof of a deserted building, the roar of a car engine, & clenched, white-knuckled fists.

nicknames. kal.

date of birth. november third.

gender. cis male.

pronouns. he + him.

birthplace. manhattan, nyc.

orientation. bisexual + aromantic.

education. bachelor of music degree obtained from manhattan school of music.

spoken languages. can speak fluent english, turkish, spanish, & french.

negative traits. haughty, abrasive, enigmatic, cynical, temperamental, calculating, hedonistic, distant, sarcastic, & volatile.

positive traits. adept, diligent, charming, resilient, candid, adept, charming, audacious, determined, & resourceful.

strengths. efficient, energetic, self-confident, strong-willed, strategic thinker, charismatic, & inspiring.

weaknesses. stubborn, dominant, intolerant, impatient, arrogant, poor handling of emotions, cold, & ruthless.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, lock-picking, carjacking, hand-to-hand combat, automobile knowledge, tracking people down, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

physiology. dark brown eyes. dark brown hair. six feet, one inch tall. of a lean, broad stature with a straight posture and evident height. has a few silvery scars littered across his skin. has a few tattoos in a few less visible places. is ambidextrous.

psychology. scorpio zodiac. water element. slytherin house. entj-a. chaotic neutral. type eight enneagram. choleric temperament. interpersonal intelligence type. addicted to alcohol, tobacco, prescription drugs, cocaine, and cannabis. suffers from addiction and insomnia. his vices are lust, wrath and pride. his virtues are ... honestly, probably just diligence tbh.

background.

possible triggers : infidelity, divorce, alcoholism, drug abuse, cancer, death, car crash, funeral, blood, murder, suicide mention, gun mention, & various references to death and murder.

a synopsis. ah, here he is—my tol, troubled, grouchy son : ' ) don't u just adore ur resident trashy, snarky, but precious and sad fuckboi muse? bc i know I DO! anyways, before i digress, i'll cut to the chase. so, waaay before he blessed the universe with his presence, his mother ( who was originally from turkey ) moved to the states where she met one alexander hale. you can probably guess the rest: the pair married, they had children, everything seemed to be going swimmingly, yada yada. here’s a lil background: the hale family—a line of manhattan-born businessmen / lawyers / diplomats etc. they're dripping in wealth, not always as squeaky clean as they portray themselves as to be. kaleb’s dad was a douche, expected both of his sons to follow in his shadow and become lawyers, ran around behind his wife's back: the whole shoot and shebang of a classic a-hole. he always kind of ignored kaleb in favour of his eldest son joshua so kaleb kinda became hard-hearted and resentful due to the lack of his father's attention. skip a few years and he spied his dad cheating on his mother with his secretary though he refused to tell another soul for fear of any potential backlash. soon enough, his mother found this out for herself, their argument ruined his thirteenth birthday party then they divorced soon after. his mother fell off the wagon, became terminally ill—all while his father was remarrying and expecting a daughter with his secretary. it was a hella rough two years for kaleb. it got even worse. eventually, his mother passed away and his step-mother divorced his father to breeze off into the sunset with her new lover; leaving her daughter with her piss-poor excuse of a dad. at this point, kaleb was lonely and angry but adopted the role of his step-sister's protector, shielding her from their father's increasing substance abuse induced violence. just before his seventeenth birthday, his father died in a car crash. of course, he didn't entirely mourn the loss. almost immediately, he and his younger sister moved in with their elder brother who helped kaleb get into university. with dear ole dad out of the picture, he could finally pursue his interest and flair for music. after he graduated, he moved to santa ysabel with his brother and brother's family. in the beginning, things were going fine. yeah, sure, he was struggling for work and felt bad that his brother had to keep him afloat. normal stuff. then, one day, things quickly turned sour in his world. [ TRIGGER FOR GORE, BLOOD, SUICIDE MENTION, GUN MENTION, MURDER, DEATH ] he’d came home to find the locks on the doors busted, advancing into the house carefully only to find his brother’s lifeless corpse crumbled on the kitchen tiles: his throat and wrists slashed, posed as a suicide. of course, kaleb knew better. he knew his brother; knew he would never leave him or his family. upon further inspection of the house, he’d discovered the body of his wife upstairs: a bullet hole between her eyes. [ TRIGGER OVER ] the whole ordeal was enough to turn his stomach but once the sickness had subsided, all kaleb felt was a strong thirst for blood. sure, it was pretty damn stupid to try and seek revenge or whatnot ... but kaleb had always been one to let his heart guide his brain. anyways, time skip now to the moment he’d uncovered his brother’s entanglement with some dodgy loan shark, drug dealing criminals who were responsible for his murder. in the end, he’d hunted them down and eradicated them one by one, over a span of weeks. at first, he hated himself and what his desire for vengeance had turned him into but he kept going until he’d got them all: until he’d grown numb. truthfully, how he wound up taking lives for a living is beyond him. he woke up one day, found himself hired by some big-wig businessman who wanted rid of his business partner and et voilà, he was tangled up in the dark side of existence. i mean, was he blackmailed into doing his first paid hit? yes. but who can blame him? especially when they claimed to have intel regarding the sudden demise of a prominent figure in the criminal underbelly of the city, a.k.a his brother’s killer. it was a risk kaleb simply couldn’t take. he prefers to keep himself anonymous, hidden behind shadows, unsuspecting. death has become a job. nothing more. nothing less. it’s simply the algorithm of his existence: receive a dossier, take care of the target, get paid a hefty lump sum. and all just for enacting a stranger’s revenge in the blood of another. he moves like a deadly phantom, his footsteps light as a feather, whipping through the night like a bullet through a target’s skull. sartre claims that hell is other people. and if you were to stare into kaleb’s eyes—eyes eerily similar to having been cut from coal—you might just see hell and everyone in it staring right back at you. as nietzsche wrote: “ he who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. and if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. ”

random extras.

he has a lot of small scars over his body, most of which he can’t account for or has forgotten about.

owns and drives a black 1969 boss 429 mustang which he loves arguably more than he loves himself.

speaking of, he actually is full of self-hatred so don’t let the haughtiness fool you.

trusts nobody but himself and is loyal to nobody but himself.

has a lot of anger issues so often ends up taking part in underground fights.

he rates around a solid three on the kinsey scale.

is a distant person; closed-off emotionally and prefers to keep himself to himself.

when it comes to whether or not he is morally decent or an extremely bad person, he is somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.

he isn’t heartless but he isn’t exactly compassionate either.

kind of shady but knows how to pass himself as charming.

has been thru sum shit n seen sum shit so he’s v messed up inside.

though he does have a soft spot for animals and children.

his marksmanship is impeccable.

he’s naturally gifted with firearms and his shot is always on point.

dark eyes and bruised knuckles are his ultimate aesthetic tbh.

actually really appreciates classical music, though he’ll never tell. blame it on his piano lessons from childhood.

speaking of piano, he’s low key gifted at playing although he rarely does these days.

has a very short fuse and can lose his temper quite easily.

he has a good heart and good intentions when it comes to those he actually cares about although he’ll never let this show.

favourite coping mechanism? isolation.

a bit of a lone wolf. he keeps people at arm’s length but acts in a way where people are under the illusion he’s their friend.

basically the tall, dark and handsome trope: ( most of the tall, dark and handsome men display aloof, cold and distant personality but they do have a gentle and caring side. )

is a little snarky and grumpy but if you manage to break this exterior, you’ll find he’s quite witty and easy going.

he got into fighting at a young age. it was the only way to try and learn how to defend himself against his father.

sleep?? he doesn’t know her.

tends to repress his emotions until he explodes.

healthy coping mechanisms?? he doesn’t know them either.

is prone to pushing the self destruct button.

you can find a pinterest board for him by clicking anywhere here.

#hey hi hello happy to be here !!!#this is my son kal n he's ... A LOT.#show this some luv n i'll come atcha for plots !!!#indulgence.intro

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dirt-grub · 4 years

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The dysphoria gettin me this weekend folks

It sucks bc I love swimming and I love the water but it’s such a pain in the ass as a trans dude like I cannot wait until top surgery so I can just go shirtless and not have to worry about binders and if my binder is showing and if I’ll break my ribs if I go tubing in it (which you probably will my binder wearing peeps don’t do it)

Also does any one have some good tips for getting over years of trauma in like a few hours bc I want to go tubing again but I almost died when I was like 12 so every time I get on I just freak out and can’t do it but like I know in my head it’s not bad it’s just the accident that was bad but like ahdhajskks brain screech (that’s a mild exaggeration but like was still traumatizing)

Like I’ve jumped off a bridge but going tubing scares me wtf

And like it sucks because they won’t even go slow for me at first like I was like hey could you get to the top speed you’re gonna go just like in a straight line so I can let go and show myself it’s not as bad and they’re like no just deal with it like ???? You guys want me to go, if I do this it will make it easier to go

Idk I think they still just like calling me a chicken about it even tho I was launched five feet in the air in a shallow area with no life jacket and was underwater for like a solid two minutes bc I hit a rock on the way down

Like idk idkkkkkk I lowkey wish I wasn’t the only guy kid here and I wish my one guy family friend came up but also that might make it worse cause he’s cis and buff as hell but also like I would like a guy to talk to and he at least talks to me like a dude (also he’s into Futurama and if I gotta watch one more episode of greys anatomy with these kids I’m gonna go insane)

And he’s just kinda fun in general he’ll do dumb shit and light things on fire with me and sneak me beer (he’s my age but his dad lets him drink lol) we used to have a bad relationship bc he was raised homophobic but he’s super chill now and treats me like a person which sometimes the adults here don’t do even tho they’re “woke”

#connor talks #i be rambling first thing in the morning #i gotta shower i smell like horses and lake

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c-is-for-circinate · 5 years

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A while ago you mentioned really hating the Persona 4 protagonist as Yu Narukami (from the crossover games and possibly the animation) but liking him as Souji Seta (from the manga, I think?), which is also the name you seem to use most regularly. If you don't mind, could you explain the difference and why you prefer one over the other?

FUCK YES I CAN

(there are Persona people on my dash, that’s so fucking exciting, I have many things to say about these video games and the fandom is small)

Okay so I have lots of thoughts and feelings about the protags from Personas 3, 4, and 5 in general, and about the various versions of them that show up in various media. It has to do with names and gender and how the very specific conventions of being the silent protag of a JRPG translate into creating character, and I could ramble about this forever, so it’s going behind a cut.

Step one: all Persona Wild Card protagonists are genderqueer and neurodivergent. Period.

A persona is, theoretically in game lore, a reflection of your soul–specifically, a reflection of the part of you that you choose to show the world, because it’s strong and powerful and keeps all the weak parts of you safe behind it. In early Persona games, every PC had a couple of different masks they could switch between, and that makes sense, but starting in P3 our party members each get one mask that eventually evolves into another one, and we-the-protag get more than a hundred.

We switch between masks constantly, at the drop of a hat. We learn to level these personas up, we figure out how to be these other people, by watching and learning to understand our friends. And there is something intensely queer about the fact that the masks we put on, with no pause or hesitation, can be male, can be female, can be both, can be neither. Sure, it’s possible to argue that the protag has any certain specific gender identity underneath/behind those masks, but then we’re heading straight towards a complicated discussion about what it means to pass as one gender, vs what it means to model yourself after individuals of one gender while passing or identifying s another, vs what it means to model your actions after a theoretical version of yourself that has a different gender than your own, and like, let us be honest, just having to get that deep into the weeds on that discussion is pretty inherently queer to begin with.

Add to that the essential nature of who Persona protags are as people, based on their reality as video game characters, and we get someone who really does not fit a ‘straight cis neurotypical’ frame. The entire scheduling system in Persona just speaks to every single part of my brain that understands executive dysfunction. You do exactly one thing per unit time. You can wander around town forever, but as soon as you stop to talk to another person, that’s it, that is your One Thing, that is all of the spoons you have for this time period, you can maybe do another thing later. This really hit home in Persona 5, where your protagonist has a goddamn talking service cat without whom he can’t remember how to start any task up to and including going to bed (and people bitched about Morgana so hard, but also #RELATABLE oh my god), but it’s there in 3 and 4 as well if you look. The P4 protag does favors for every single person in town. The P4 protag stands out in the rain fishing for hours. The P4 protag can accidentally spend an entire afternoon petting cats. The P4 protag tries to make tomorrow’s lunch and has to think for a while over whether to add soy sauce or sugar.

So: the video games give us these characters who are intended to be hollow so that we can fill them with our own self-projections (and maybe I am self-projecting here, why not, everybody else gets to do it), but that very hollowness is also a shape, do you see what I mean? You can extrapolate a person based on assuming the dialogue options the protagonists get are actual things that run through their minds, based on what choices are even available for them to make. You can ask questions about what it means to be so hollow in the first place, what it takes to be the sort of person who can switch masks in the blink of an eye when everybody else around you makes do with all of one. It’s really interesting to ask those questions.

Step two: the naming of Persona protags is complicated, and is as much a fandom question as it is a canon question.

In general, persona protags starting with P3 have gotten two names: one in the official manga that starts coming out right around the same time as the video game, and one in later animes and tie-in games. What this means, at least in Western fandom (I don’t know a ton about Japan-only fandom!) is that for the first year or more of having a protag, the only name we have for them is the manga name, and so that’s the name 99% of fandom jumps on in those first several months.

When we explore and extrapolate and do all of that extremely transformative fandom work, looking at the empty spaces around a protag and figuring out who he has to be to fill them (or she, the P3 FEMC is all of this dialed up to a hundred), we at least start doing that work under the manga name. To me–and, in my experience, to most of fandom, whether they think about it or not–the name has relatively little to do with the manga itself. It’s the name fandom had to hand when they first played the game and began to figure this person out. It’s the name for thousands of different interpretations that can fit inside the shell of a person the video game gives us.

I find that transformative labor, and those thousand different interpretations, wildly fascinating. I enjoy doing it myself. I like seeing what other people come up with. Figuring out how to fill the outline of a person who can be anyone (figuring out the difference between Minato Arisato, and Souji Seta, and Akira Kurusu, and learning who they are as individuals by picking out their contrasting spaces) is one of my favorite things about Persona.

The characters from the tie-in animes, then–and from P4 games like Arena and Dancing All Night, which are as much visual novel as video game, where the MC has an extremely distinct personal voice–each present one version of that infinitely-variable character. They’re a single interpretation. They’re a specific interpretation, separate from the many open options of the game itself, they just happen to come with a specific name.

Makoto Yuki, from the P3 anime, is a very different person than the character I played when I played P3, and they’re both very different than the person I write when I write Minato Arisato, the human I extrapolate when I look at all of canon and put my analysis goggles on. Now, I happen to love the P3 movies, and their interpretation of Makoto Yuki, who is a giant ball of severe depression and whom I consider an excellent exploration of the game’s themes of despair and mortality, but I love them like a really, really good fanfic. They don’t trump the ‘canon’ of the game for me; they’re an outgrowth of it. Likewise, I don’t know Ren Amamiya particularly well, but he’s a quiet guy with an inner well of sheer rage that really works for me in what I’ve seen of him. Not my Akira, but a cool dude.

In general, when I’m talking about Persona protags, I use the anime or tie-in game name to refer to the specific version of that character written in that game or anime, and the manga name to refer to that earlier, slightly hollow character of infinite possibilities and fandom interpretations. Which leads us to Souji and Yu.

Step 3: Yu Narukami is a fucking jackass

I think the big thing for me about Yu Narukami, the specific interpretation of P4 Protagonist as seen in the anime and tie-in games, is that he isn’t genderqueer or neurodivergent. Yu Narukami is perhaps the straightest character in all of Persona with the possible exception of Junpei Iori.

I don’t actually hate him in the anime all that much, but thinking about Arena-Yu…he’s a dude. He’s a fucking bro. He screws around with Yosuke over the suggestion of dirty magazines and he’s vaguely uncomfortable about Kanji. It’s been a while since I went through any game LP’s, but I remember the attitude Yu took towards his friends and Labrys, and it was authoritative. Certain. Of course Labrys can overcome her past, now that she has us here to be friends. Yukiko isn’t talking like I expect Yukiko to talk, so of course something is wrong with her.

Yu Narukami, as presented in the Arena games (and I’m pretty sure P4DAN, though it’s been even longer since I’ve seen that) is an In Charge kind of guy who Knows What’s Best for people, and doesn’t particularly need to listen to what they have to say to do it. He shows no sign of ever having molded himself around someone else; he does not present himself as a man (as a boy) who would or even could switch up who he is at a moment’s notice, because he doesn’t seem to be somebody who ever thinks there’s anything wrong with exactly who he is in the first place. Yu Narukami never had a shadow because he just thinks he’s Exactly That Cool all the way down. He pops the collar on his polo shirt not because he doesn’t know any better, but because he is actually that guy and always was.

Needless to say, that is not my Seta Souji, who spends hours petting cats, and rarely speaks up to bring order (let alone authority) to his rambunctious bickering friends in any discussion. It’s an interpretation, sure–and it’s even an interesting one!–but he is not a guy I particularly like.

So how do those two people, Yu and Souji, even fit together at all?

And this is where we go from me having opinions on various actual versions of characters as-written, and start diving into themes, theories, and mythological parallels. There is a way to tell the story where it all makes sense, where Souji (and even the Yu of the anime, who’s got more shades of asshole than my typical headcanon but still sits far closer to my personal version of the protag than any of the douchebro versions of Yu in the sequel games) ties into later-Yu and it’s a graceful, interesting, thematic choice.

I don’t think it was intentional on the part of the writers. But it does work. And here’s how.

Step 4: I go on a digression about persona protags and sacrifice

I have spent way too much time thinking about themes and parallels between Personas 3, 4, and 5 (someday I’ll watch some decent LPs of 1 and 2, but today is not yet that day, so we’ll stick to the Wild Card trilogy for now). One of the things that I love is the way each protag interacts with the big major theme thing of their game, losing it and gaining it and sacrificing it only to gain it yet again, and it happens in all three games.

In P3, the thing at the center of the game is life, in contrast to mortality. You’re in a car crash at age 6, your parents die, you carry Death Himself in the space behind your heart, you spend all game struggling to survive and also trying to figure out why you even care to bother. At the end you die so your friends can live, but also you’re not, quite, entirely dead–you are asleep, and at the end of all the world you’ll wake up and still be there, just you and Aigis and Elizabeth at the end of all things, alive and mortal. In P5 it’s freedom, and you start the game in chains, flash forward and flash back, breaking bonds and forging them right up to the point where you turn yourself into the police, only to eventually be found innocent of even the original crime that bound you to begin with. There are metaphors and angles to the whole thing, the way becoming Satanael is in its own way both a defiance of Yaldabaoth in front of you and a surrender, complying with the will of every furious desperate angry follower-believer-worshipper in the Tokyo streets, but what we care about most right now is how this shows up in Persona 4, where our thing is identity.

The Persona 4 protagonist, whoever he is, shows up in this small town with no identity at all. He had a life where people knew him, but the people in this small town don’t even have rumor and hearsay about dead parents or criminal charges to go on. And sure, every protagonist starts out on a train to a new town, but the P4 protagonist goes even farther than that. You show up in Inaba, and one of the very first things that happens to you, something that doesn’t happen to any Persona protag in any game I’ve ever seen, is that you lose your persona.

The starting persona in P4 is Izanagi. Based on the fact that Adachi’s persona is Izanagi, too, based on the fact that Izanami is the one who granted you access to the TV world and presumably a working persona to begin with, based on every theme and implication in the game–Izanami gives you your starting persona. She chooses who you are. She declares that you’re ‘hope’, and maybe you had some qualities that suited you for that role to begin with, but anyone you’ve ever been is gone now in service to your part in Izanami’s play.

One of the things I really liked in the P4 anime was the protag’s terror of being alone and empty. Now, I enjoy my Souji Seta as someone who’s a little bit hollow and empty–not in a bad way, but like a clear glass that can be filled with anything, and takes on the color and nature of whatever it holds–but right, in a story whose main theme is identity and accepting yourself, being infinitely transformable is both ideal and terrifying. If the P4 protag can be anyone, how can he be someone? In the end, the only identity that’s really his and not copied from one of his social links is the one that Izanami gave him. His final persona, Izanagi-no-Okami, has more to do with her than anything that comes from inside him.

Loss and gain, sacrifice and victory–the P4 protag goes back to his old life, sacrificing the person he’s created for himself here in Inaba to reclaim the person he theoretically used to be. Depending on how you read the ending, he gives up his infinite adaptability in order to fill himself with a final persona that is chosen for him, sacrificing his innate capacity to be anyone (which is in its own right a key characteristic of his self) in exchange for becoming someone, specifically a someone who was chosen for him.

(This is more my interpretation than anything I’d consider strictly canon, but–in my head, the P3 protag achieves that final moment of apotheosis, and the god-binding power that comes with it, from the sacrifice of his own life and also the fact that after Death lived in his heart for ten years straight he’s explicitly no longer entirely human to begin with. The P5 protag achieves it by sacrificing his own individual freedom to the collective belief and prayers of literal hordes of desperate people, which we know is full of power because that’s how cognition works. The P4 protag, I have always suspected just a little, gets it from the actual Izanagi–because if the actual Izanami is the source of all of this trouble, the actual Izanagi must exist too, and to trap a god you must be a god, in some small way. Our protag is given the tools of power to seal Izanami away, and in return he must become a tool of that power.)

There are a lot of ways to interpret the themes and echoes and actual events of P4 vs P4 Golden vs P3 and P5, and this isn’t necessarily Objective Truth, but this is very much where my head goes when I think about Souji Seta and Yu Narukami. Souji is the empty, unflappable chameleon boy who spends his time becoming whoever the people around him need him to be, whether that’s a silent confidant or a valiant hero. Yu is the bold, self-assured young man who has discovered or decided exactly who he is, and knows deep in his heart that he never has to hide or change for anyone, ever again.

Step 5: Yu is a dick because Izanagi is a dick, and okay, fine, I kind of love it that way

All of Persona 4 is about retelling the myth of Izanagi and Izanami, and changing the ending.

This is true for P3 and P5 too, of course. In P3 you walk into Tartarus with everyone you love already at your back, and you set them free to do their own thing (they make their own moves in battle, you don’t turn back to check on them, you trust them to follow or not follow on your own and every member in your team makes their greatest moments of personal growth without you there), but eventually one of you has to stay behind so the other can leave–so you fix Orpheus’s mistake, you stay in the underworld yourself so Eurydice and everyone else you love in the world can go home and live. In P5 you tell Satanael’s story backwards and forwards, the rise and the fall and the rise again; you start at the very bottom of your own pit (you start as the God of Control’s very own chosen one and don’t even know it), and eventually you climb so high that you’re the one who gets to cast God down into perdition instead. Start with one tale, end with another.

The story of Izanagi and Izanami is: once upon a time, through no fault of her own, Izanami was sent to the underworld, and Izanagi loved her so well he ventured down after her. But she was changed down there, her own darkness grown gross and rotten, and though she tried to hide her ugly parts Izanagi did see them. And then he didn’t love her any more; he fled, and trapped her there in darkness forever, to protect the whole world from her flaws, and never ever looked at his own.

You spend all of Persona 4 doing exactly the opposite: venturing down into another world to find people trapped there, and facing their ugliness, and embracing them and drawing them up into the light anyway. Namatame is Izanagi-who-dooms-them, though his intentions are good (Izanami died giving birth to Izanagi’s child in the first place). Adachi is Izanagi-corrupted, claimed and twisted by the darkness of the underworld and his own power, with no mercy in him. But the P4 protag gets to play the Izanagi of compassion, who tried to save his wife in the first place–and we get to fix it. We get to save people. We get to save everyone.

Until we get to Izanami herself, because Izanami can’t be saved. This all gets way more complicated in Golden when we add in Marie, but in the end, we’ve still got our protag standing in front of the goddess Izanami, sealing her away with Izanagi’s power for the sake of everyone else in the world, because she’s too dark and corrupted to bring back out into the light after all.

It’s really interesting coming at all of this from a Western perspective, because I…can’t actually tell if, playing through P4, we’re meant to like Izanagi? Are we meant to be on his side in the end? Are we meant to feel like we’re on this whole quest serving penance for his ancient mythological fuck-up? Are we meant to think that Yu Narukami, who’s embraced Izanagi in all his pride and self-righteousness as his own inner self, is the good guy?

Because yes, Izanami was trying to destroy the world. And yes, we saved it by trapping her, just like Izanagi did in ancient myth. But the Yu Narukami I see in the sequel games is so very much the guy who thinks he gets to decide who’s good enough to get saved and who isn’t. Labrys deserves to be saved, and because he’s decided to be her friend now, she will be, just like that, because of course he has that power.

By the time Arena happens, Yu has embraced and accepted Izanagi as his true self, flaws and all. (Let me not forget to point out the sister-complex kingpin title, for the man whose persona is a god that married his own sister. Let us literally never discuss Nanako as Izanami, because that gets really uncomfortable so fucking quick.)

And Izanagi is a dick. Which means that Yu isn’t, can’t be the quiet, gentle person I see when I try to extrapolate a most-probable Souji out of P4 canon alone. Yu is an asshole because that’s the person he’s chosen to be, the identity he’s claimed to replace the one he sacrificed, and I am on reflection kind of into that.

But also he’s still a dick, and therefore I kind of hate him for it.

#acelania #persona 4 #driveby meta attack #yu narukami #souji seta #gosh I should rewatch some of the anime or the later tie-in games #if I can stand to #I do love this series

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heartofsnark · 5 years

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Hunting Ground (Vincent/MC Non-con)

Notes: Holy fuck, this is not for the faint of heart. This is my first Boyfriend To Death fic on this blog and it’s also a birthday fic for my friend @piplup235, I’m really happy she wanted Vincent because holy shit this is something I’ve been wanting to write for a while. Also, it’s been a while since I played BTD, so if Vincent is at all OOC, I’m sorry.

Summary: Vincent’s latest hookup discovered some literal skeletons in his closet and took off running, not a great idea.

Pairing: Vincent/Cis-Female MC

Word Count: 1986

Warnings (Oh boy): Non-consensual sex and sexual acts, fingering, violence, threats, humiliation, shame, minor blood, watersports (it’s piss wolf, my dudes), fetishized non-con

~Please if any of that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you, do not read. If you are someone who struggles to separate reality and fiction, do not read. This is fetishized non-con, it does not go over the full gravity of the situation and what is being done to the MC. Writing this does not mean I condone or endorse any of these behaviors in real life. Further more, if you are someone who regularly follows my blog but doesn’t want to see this kind of content at all, please blacklist or filter the tag ‘tw: noncon’~

Her breaths are ragged, her lungs burn with every frantic step. The forest ground is soft and muddy under her feet, slowing her down, like nature itself is trying to stop her from escaping. Branches and bramble scratch at her arms as she runs, the stinging pain just an irritant at the moment.

It was suppose to just be a fun hookup, a hot guy in a rough looking bar, a chance to get off then move on with her life. Then she saw the skull, she knew it was real, nothing smooth or plastic about it. That and his reaction, the way his expression darkened and he went to grab her. Instinct kicked in and she ran. She has no idea where she’s going or where she is, the area unfamiliar, but she knows she needs to get away.

Her heart pounds in her chest, beating against her ribs. It might be paranoia or real danger, but she swears she can feel something just behind her. Something just ready to grab her. She can’t hear anything but her own breaths and heartbeats, has no idea if he’s chased her this far, but she can feel it. The hair on the back of her neck standing on end, a constant threat looming just behind her.

Something slams against her back, a heavy weight forcing her to the mud below. She doesn’t even have time to brace herself, face hitting the muck, the taste of rainwater and dirt heavy on her tongue.

“Really thought you could get away that easy?” A masculine voice, thick with a southern accent, taunt against her ear. The voice that turned it on just a few hours ago, makes every fiber of her being scream at her to run.

She tries to squirm out from under him, it’s all for nothing. He’s too heavy, pounds of muscle keep her firmly pinned and the mud prevents any hope of gaining traction.

“You’re not that bright, are you? Hate to break it to you, but all that running and struggling did was make me harder.”

He grinds his hips into her ass, his cock hard and hot against her. Her body betrays her; heat pools between her thighs and she can feel how wet she’s getting. She can’t seriously be getting off to this, her face flushes hot and she curses her body for it’s shameful reaction.

One of his hands stays firm on the back of her neck, he could easily break her neck with one hand. His other drags down her back as he pulls the mass of his body off her, just enough for her feel the cool wind on her back, but his warmth is still there against her ass and thighs.

She gasps the movement leaves superficial scratches down her skin, just enough to sting. His hand pulls away just before it drags down the curve of her ass, then his other lifts off of her neck. He’s still sitting on her thighs, she able to move her arms out from under her body, maybe she can grab a rock and-

The sound of fabric ripping is follow by cool air against her ass, she cranes her neck to look over her shoulder as Vincent rips and tears off what he can of her jeans, exposing her ass.

Her heart catches in her throat and she she tries to escape from under him again, the reality of what he’s going to do hits her full force. A throaty grunt leaves Vincent’s throat as her ass rubs against his hard on as she struggles. He grabs her hips, sharp nails digging into the tender skin and yanks back.

He’s able to move her like a rag-doll, putting her in the position he wants, ripping away what’s left of her jeans and her panties in the process. Every squirm to get away does nothing but make him groan and get rougher with her. Cuts from his nails mar her ass and hips, some small scratches while others are little punctures from where he’s gripped her tight.

He’s lifted her on her knees, ass high in the air while her face stays to the ground, like he’s making her present to him. The night breeze feels ice cold against her cunt, her hot slick cooling against her thighs. One of his hands stays firm on her hip to keep her in place.

“Looks like this little escape attempt turned you on too,” he taunt, pushing two thick fingers into her, “fuck, I think you’re actually wetter this time. Y’know, if you needed me to be rougher, all you had to do was ask.”

He pumps his fingers as he talks, every word and movement sending making her gush slick. Vincent already knows she can take him, which means he’s more interested in dragging this whole experience out than preparing her. Her pleasure is building higher and higher, tension stretching tight inside of her. She whimpers, she doesn’t want to cum, but her body is begging her to ride it out. Her hips try to grind, but his grip keeps her from fucking herself on his fingers.

Vincent pulls his fingers out and she whines at the loss despite herself. She brings a hand up to cover her mouth, she can’t control how wet she gets or how desperate her body is for orgasm, but maybe she can least keep herself quiet. The fingers that were just deep inside of her wrap around her wrist before she can fully cover her mouth, his grip is tight and firm.

“I’m gonna hear you scream, no matter what. It can be while you’re wrapped around my cock or ‘cause I broke every bone in your body, got it?”

“...yes,” she murmurs and relaxes her wrist. He lets go so her hand falls limply to the side, a few more bruises to show for it, but not broken.

He reaffirms the grip on her hips, quickly unzips his pants just enough to pull his cock out and lines himself up with her cunt, the head just brushing the lips of her sex. She barely gets a moment to prepare before he thrusts into her, a scream rips it way through her throat. It doesn’t matter how slick she is, his cock is huge and the initial stretch stings. He pushes in as far as he can, his full length deep inside of her.

She doesn’t get even a second to catch her breath before he starts fucking into her. The deep hard thrusts rekindles her building pleasure, that had just barely started to ease. Each thrust harshly hits a spot deep inside of her, dragging over every sensitive nerve inside of her. The side of her face grinds into the mud with the force of his movement, she can’t stop moaning, her noises mingling with the sound of his hips hitting her ass every time he thrusts into her.

Her nails dig into the muck, the tension inside of her stretching tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each thrust. Somehow his pace gets harsher, hitting that spot harder than she thought possible and her pleasure hits it’s tipping point.

Her cunt clenches like it’s trying to milk him dry and her loud scream of Vincent’s name echos through the woods. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels disgusting for yelling his name, for giving him that ego boost when he’s done something so vile. But, the orgasmic fog over her brain doesn’t let her dwell on it, instead focusing on how his pace has gone from harsh to absolutely brutal.

He fucks her through her climax, making it last even longer. Her cunt is sensitive, but it doesn’t stop him, not that anything would. He’s chasing his own pleasure, just using her body as a means of getting off, of fucking through all of his rage and taking all of his aggression out on her slick sensitive hole.

Something between a snarl and a howl escapes Vincent’s mouth, his body wrought with tension as he cums inside of her. Load after load of hot cum fills her up. Despite, the tight fit of his cock splitting her open it’s just too much, his cum overflows her cunt and leaks down from where they’re connected.

It suddenly feels too quiet, just the sounds of them both breathing heavy. She still needs to escape, but she doesn’t know how. Fighting him is certain death and she clearly can’t outrun him. There’s a gross part of her that thinks maybe if this is what it’s going to be like, it won’t be so bad, maybe being his living fleshlight isn’t the worst thing in the world. She curses that part of her and writes it off as just a part of her riding off the high of her orgasm.

She yelps, all coherent thought ending as Vincent pulls out, a slow drag of his cock that still stimulates her sensitive body. This might have been a good chance to make another run for it, but she doesn’t think she can even stand, let alone run.

Her theory doesn’t even get to be tested, Vincent stands and puts a foot on her back. She can still crane her neck to watch him over her shoulder, even if she can’t move from the ground. His cock is still hanging out of his pants, smeared with cum, her mouth water more than she’d care to admit.

“Guess, I gotta make something clear,” he grumbles, aiming his now flaccid cock. What the hell is he do-

“Ahhh!” she yells out and tries to scramble away when she feels his piss hit her ass. It’s scalding hot compared to the cool air, the cuts on her skin burn as he empties his bladder directly on her, marking his territory.

“Fight too hard and I’ll make you drink it,” he threatens and she stiffens, completely still under his foot.

She’s whimpering as Vincent sighs, the stream of piss getting weaker under it ends. Her face is wet with tears and mud, her lower half a disgusting wet mess of cum and piss. All of the bodily fluids that cling to her are starting to cool out in the air, making her shiver. It was so hot she’d thought it’d burn her just a moment ago.

Vincent zips up his pants and pulls her up off the ground. Is he going to kill her now? Or just drag her back to keep torturing her ?

His movements are surprisingly gentle given what just happened, he gathers her in his arms and she wraps her own around his neck for stability. The position would be intimate if not for everything that just happened, if her ass and thighs weren’t coated in a mixture of cum and piss. The mess he made of her didn’t seem to phase him as began taking her back to his house. Every instinct in her told her to fight or run, but she’s far too weak, her thought fading to blackness as she passes out in his arms.

#boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd2 #btd #btd vincent #vincent metzger #tw: noncon #tw: violence

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thassalia · 5 years

Text

Translating Gen X into Fannish Production

It occurred to me this morning that one of the unexpected benefits of being a fic writer turned out to be the ability to a) inhabit a space that the typical old white dude didn’t want me in combined with b) creating content for an audience of mostly women while c) making FREE art that no one could control financially.

Those seem like obvious things but they tied into, for me, the sense of fighting against a system that wanted to keep me out. I felt rebellious, and a little dangerous, writing about sex in public. Making art the way I wanted to. Part of the thrill was the illicit nature (less of the sex than of the writing). Taking ownership of something that was purportedly NOT MINE and paying homage.

I’d hit the point in my life where I didn’t know what I wanted, and I wasn’t sure I’d every figure it out, careerwise. I was working as a journalist, but mostly doing fluffy educational PR and I had all these things I still wanted to do. I couldn’t settle. And I needed to make money, but I had an idea that I wouldn’t be RULED by that need. ( I still, to this day, have no idea if that has helped or hindered me. I mean, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I’ve never SOLD OUT. HAHAHAHA. I would totally sell out if I had anything to sell:) Plus, I was totally ruled by that need -- I was working three jobs for most of my 20s and 30s so that I could stay in the fields I wanted.

Finding fic, finding fandom, gave me a way to reconcile those things. I was broke, but I could create, I could find community outside of commerce.

I think one of the things that those of us who fall into the Gen X designation have a hard time talking about is how hard the ideas of art and commerce collided for us. How much so MANY of us wanted to do in the world devoid of the obligations of money, and how that butted up so rudely against the need to pay bills and have insurance and the way that stability becomes end goal after a certain point in your life and while you might want to say fuck it, it’s never that simple unless you are really only supporting yourself and frankly, most of us aren’t, even if that support is emotional and not financial.

Most of my close friends in this generation actively worked for change -- social justice, environmental, political. We believed in music and art, in separating public and private personas, and also had to figure out how to still pay our bills. We’d been raised with these ideas of independence and rebellion and service and also “Fuck you.” And it wasn’t an easy place to be. It still isn’t.

Seriously, it’s so so hard to explain how much that “Fuck you, you can’t tell me what to do” impulse drives us. I mean, I’m pretty sure that impulse exists deeply in human DNA, but there’s a flavor to it for me and my peers that feels different. Or at least quantifiable as something that looks a certain way for us. And it leads to a number of good and TERRIBLE decisions.

I sometimes struggle with the accessibility of fic, the way that it’s almost mainstream these days, as the “I don’t want to do it if it’s not a fuck you to someone” feeling rises up in me. (It’s the same way that the glorious rise in non-traditional hair colors has made me uninterested in dying my hair pink or blue again. The part of my brain that says “Why do it if it’s mainstream” is REALLY hard to silence.” It’s the same part of me that enjoys being middle aged in an online sea of teens and 20 somethings. That loves writing about characters and a ship that’s controversial or does’t get enough love. Fuck YOU if you think I don’t belong. Fuck you if you think I don’t have the right to write about what I want, to love what I love. Like I said, that impetus is strong. And VERY VERY PETTY!!!)

And reminding myself that fic writing is always a rebellious act -- against someone telling you that your work isn’t good enough, your ideas not good enough, your investment in something you love not good enough, your interest in writing about sex not good enough, your presence in this space not good enough. I know that for me -- middle aged, white, cis, middle class -- it’s a small sense of rebellion. I’m not pushing boundaries for anyone but myself in my work.

However, I’ve also been able to answer the tiny rebellious part of myself, of my creative spirit while finding community. And as a result, I remain so very, very grateful for the existence of fandom -- for those who came before and those who will come after.

#fandom #Gen X #will my choices ever stop being guided by fuck you #don't tell me what to do?

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jeanmoreaux · 5 years

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28. The first book that comes to mind, tell us about it. Rant.

hey!! sorry for my late response, hon! this ask has been sitting in my inbox for close to 2 weeks due to multiple reasons, two of them being my terrible time management and my limited amount of spare time to waste away on tumblr. mainly, though, i just didn’t know what book to rant about bc i feel like if i rant about a book there has to be a good justification as to why this book deserves my bashing. so i tried to think of a rant-worthy book and i came up empty. but then the other day, i walked into a book store, unknowing of the inspiration that would hit me and help me to finally answer this ask. as i made my way through the numerous shelves full of great books, a familiar cover caught my eyes and filled me with abhorrence. the book i am taking about is Adam by Ariel Schrag.

for all of you who haven’t read this book yet; good, keep it like way. it’s the most utter piece of garbage i have ever laid eyes on. honestly, i have never hated a book with more passion. It’s beyond me why it has a 2.87 star rating on goodreads. apparently, it was initially praised as a revolutionary, subversive queer story, but actually it’s a homophobic, transphobic, racist, and misogynist disaster that is not worth the paper it was printed on. seriously, it physically hurts me to think about how trees had to die for this dumpster fire of a book to exist in physical form in bookshelves around the globe.

i conjecture the author’s intent was to promote the idea that sexuality and gender can be fluid and that love knows no gender, which is in itself a great message, but, oh boy, the execution was just horrendous. worse than anything i have ever seen, and ten time as problematic.

*spoilers ahead*

((my brain tried to erase this book’s content form my memory, so i forgot the names of every character except for the protagonist’s one since his name is in the title lmao)) basically, this story follows this cis boy, adam, who’s nonstop horny and would literally do ANYTHING to get laid, which shows in the questionable decisions he makes throughout the story. he spends his summer at his sister’s apartment in new york. through his sister, who is a lesbian, he comes into contact with various other lgbtq+ individuals, of which some are trans. he meets a cute lesbian at a party, and decides that she is his one true love (yikes), the-girl-of-his-dreams (quite literally! he dreams of her and later meets her at this party and it’s supposed to be an adorable dejà vu kinda thing but it is NOT. it’s just cringy and uncomfortable). he then sets his mind on seducing her. since she’s a lesbian, he decides to pretend to be a trans guy ((like what the fuck, dude????!!!?)) so she’s willing to go on a date with him ((which does not make any fucking sense to me bc she’s still a lesbian and he’s still a guy, but whatever)). in the mean time, his sister has some drama going on that’s quite yikes, if you know what i mean, and there is also a lot of other horrible stuff going on, such as fetishizing various minorities and reinforcing harmful stereotypes, that makes you wanna bury the book somewhere no one will ever be able to find and read it.

adam keeps telling people he is trans, and is quite proud of his “performance” as he keeps lying to everyone’s faces about being trans. there is a lot of drama happening, but i forgot most of it. what i do remember, though is that eventually adam and the-girl-of-his-dreams start officially dating and, consequently, they start having sex. adam insists that they only have sex in the dark, using his made-up gender dysphoria as an excuse. at first he use a strap-on to keep his masquerade up, but at a later point in the story adam just tells himself “fuck it, i wanna have REAL (uhhhm, wtf as if only penetrative sex is real sex), UNPROTECTED sex with this girl who still doesn’t know i am lying to her about being trans. so i’ll just insert my penis into her vagina without her consent.” i believe he tells her after the fact, and she’s like “i know, it’s chill. i found out that you’re a cis guy a while ago, and what can i say, you’re such an amazing guy i still fell in love with you, despite being a lesbian (!!!!!!!! WTF)”

they keep dating for a few month, and when they break up the girl starts dating an older guy shortly after. suddenly, she isn’t a lesbian anymore (i don’t even think she considers herself bi), and the ending kinda suggests that adam turned her straight, which is hella problematic, to say the least. don’t get me wrong, this change of labels is not intrinsically bad, but the way it is presented in the context of the book suggests that you can “turn people straight” and that being gay is “ a choice” or “a phase” that ends when you meet the right person of the opposite sex. furthermore, the way the characters are crafted and the story is told, Adam also suggests that queer people are annoying assholes whose only defining characteristic is their queerness. this notion of anti-queer character portrayal and conversion is also present in the storyline of adam’s sister. i think his sister who labelled her lesbian in the beginning turns bi in the end, too, bc she just Can’t™ with lesbians and trans people anymore since their all selfish & self-righteous pricks.

and it’s not like this book judges adam’s actions or critically comments on his bad behavior. there are literally no consequences for adam unless you count the break up as one, which i think you can’t be they still happily dated for a considerable amount of time.

i hope you get the gist of why i loathe this book so much. there is nothing subversive or revolutionary about this sort of portrayal of lqbtq+ issues and characters. the representation & messages contained in this story are damaging as fuck. i have no idea how this book was repeatedly approved of by several instances in the process of publishing and no one in this chain of decision making voiced concerns and was like “i’m sorry but this is a really shitty book”??!!? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE SOMETHING LIKE THIS GETS PUBLISHED??!!? after this massive fuck up, ariel schrag probably can’t ever again publish a story under her name.

frankly, i desperately want to throw Adam into the destructive, all-consuming flames of eternal hell fire so it vanishes into ever-lasting oblivion.

#this is way to long but i won't apologize by you ask for a rant and that's what you receive #i just.....have many negative feelings toward this book #never ever under no circumstances ever read this abomination #hon3ybun

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homosociallyyours · 5 years

Text

a friend just posted a pic on fb of the coffee shop we used to hang out at, taken way back in the day. it’s just a shot of the place taken from inside, looking out the big glass windows and onto the street of downtown chattanooga. but one friend pointed out that she could see another friend’s van parked across the street, and one of the baristas came on and said he’d taken the photo and then proceeded to post a bunch more.

anyway i’m feeling nostalgic so i’m posting about it. memories behind the cut.

i started going there when i was maybe 15 years old. i don’t remember why, but it’s likely that the artsy nerd club i was a part of (we stayed after school to watch amadeus and monty python and we’d sometimes go to the local art museum) went there after a meeting one day. or maybe someone told me about it. anyway, it was my favorite place to go. i would drink pots of tea, always trying new things.

on my 16th birthday my parents got me a teapot from there and a gift certificate to buy tea with. i had that teapot til it broke a year ago. 20+ years! it moved with me to and from college, to nyc, california, texas, and back to california. damn.

anyway after i’d been going for a while i started talking with the owner. his name was ian, and he was pretty young. he loved tea and coffee and he had a roaster where they’d make their own coffee. it was loud and lovely, and for a long time it lived up front, right by a little elevated area with couches. when it was running you couldn’t hear anything and had no choice but to either shout or be quiet.

ian encouraged my love of tea, and offered to keep track of everything i’d tried in a little notebook that was kept behind the counter. i got to make notes on every pot i drank, and i remember writing “terrible! grass!” after my first pot of green tea (it was oversteeped--my fault--and probably made with water that was too hot--their fault). i had my first pu-er there, and fell in love with its damp leaf flavor and that turned earth scent that it has. i drank multiple pots of jasmine pearls and wrote a caffeine fueled poem about it with a friend. i loved that little coffee shop.

i don’t remember when i went from hanging out inside to hanging out outside, but i feel like i was 18 or so. the older people (they were probably barely 21-25, fucking babies) sat out there smoking and drinking coffee. i developed a crush one summer on a guy who made me think of arthur dent for some reason (don’t ask because i don’t know) and we went on one awkward date and didn’t kiss, and now i wonder what’s happened to him and if he, too, wasn’t straight. who knows? someone, i’m sure, but i can’t remember his last name anymore so is it even relevant?

i’d never felt cool til i went off to college. it was like leveling up without trying, like when you’re playing a game and do one action and suddenly all your stats are refilled and you’re like...this is unexpected? but i’ll take it? i think that’s why i decided i could really sit with the outside tables. that and my bff, who was dating someone who was friends with a lot of those people, would show up sometimes and sit out there.

(if you’ve actually been reading along so far, here’s where i’m gonna introduce you to a bunch of people i’ve never talked about before and will likely never mention again. just so you have fair warning.)

the cast of characters shifted a lot, but there were always the constants. scott, the barista, who was much older than most of the people hanging out but looked young and seemed young. i look back with adult eyes and question the relationship we had, but at the time i just thought it was cool that someone so much older thought i was worth hanging out with. but he was 30 when i was 19, and man that’s a lotta years. he had a summer where he hit on my friend and i constantly, after his wife left him and he was kinda floundering a bit. but it never went past flirting and it never bothered me, though like i said it kinda does now. we were still hanging out when i was 21 and we’d go get beers after the coffee shop closed at ten or midnight. he’d turn up obnoxious music really loud and i’d sometimes help close.

there was gabe and george, brother and sister in a family of people with names starting with the letter g. george was tiny and cute and either very drunk or very hyper from coffee at all times. gabe was a nerd who was usually quiet but loved to play scrabble, and we’d take the board inside sometimes and battle one another. he was much better than me, i won’t lie. liz and ever were both writers who would play with us sometimes. ever had changed her name at some point (to ever; any name she had before is irrelevant) and when we met she explained the meaning of her new name, which i won’t give because damn it’s very google-able.

she was a so fascinating to me, always talking about some feminist theory or philosopher, and i always felt so smart when we’d hang out. like a Serious Thoughtful Adult and not a kid. and liz was less serious but no less smart. she played scrabble a lot more and for a while we got pretty close. she took me out after coffee sometimes to a shitty bar with pool tables and tried to teach me how to play pool. she had her own cue and even though she was like 5′2″ she could break like nobody’s business. i never figured out how to do that part.

alex would come with us sometimes. he was tall and handsome and rode a motorcycle, and was the first openly bi guy i ever met. one time he invited me over to his house and we laid around listening to the smiths and talking. he burned me a copy of their greatest hits that i still have, all scratched up so it probably doesn’t play anymore. he crashed his bike more than once driving drunk. dumb fuckin kid. now he repairs coffee machines and sails, i think. life is funny.

a few other people ran in groups. meg and waide and the aforementioned jason and ardyce. some people called meg “big megan” and another megan (her family was really wealthy, rich southern politicians who knew the clintons and have a mention in sweet home alabama--the song, not the movie) was “little megan” because she was still in high school. i joked that i was medium megan, but the whole thing was awkward because big megan was fat and i was small fat and little megan was skinny. i’m gonna blame it on thoughtless dudes, but who the fuck knows? we all pretended not to mind it anyway.

waide ended up being a connection with other people who i met later. my hometown is weird in that it’s actually a pretty big part of the southern punk scene, so a lot of punks i meet have spent time there, and anyone over a certain age probably spent time at the bar waide worked at (the stone lion, and then maybe also the pickle barrel) so he’s one of those people who i’ll end up mentioning even though we haven’t spoken in years.

at some point a kid named ory showed up. i think he was 16 when he started coming around, and i used to call him puppy because he was excitable and silly, full of energy one minute and then mopey crashing the next. like a lot of people there he drank a lot and would be fucked up sometimes and make dumb choices. i always wanted to protect him. when i was 22 (and he was 19, i think) we ended up sitting together at the second lotr movie and having some kind of weird chemistry. that summer i drove him home one night and we had a super heavy make out with lots of clothed grinding. honestly the furthest i’ve ever gone with a cis straight(ish, he hooked up with a couple dudes but idk if he’d say he’s bi) dude and it was awkward in that we never talked about it? and then he came to visit me a couple years later in new york because he was in the navy, and he got super drunk and passed out on my couch and was a mess because he literally never stopped being a puppy.

he’s fucked up now, fully cancelled bc he said shit about girls rock camp (really dude?) and also probably cheated on his wife on their honeymoon? idk, it was fb rumors and then he deleted. but i’d believe it, honestly.

and then there were all these absolutely random downtown characters: dirty mark (a crusty punk who was drunk or high most of the time) and shirtless dave (yeah he really didn’t wear a shirt that much) usually came as a pair. sometimes dave hung out with a guy my friends and i called blue hair. he once hit on my friend and she panicked and gave him my number instead of hers because her brain didn’t make up a fake number fast enough.

there was sandy the flower man, who just passed away a couple weeks ago. he’d get flowers from local florists and go around on his bike, stopping into the coffee shop or to bars with roses and carnations and daisies. people gave him money usually, but sometimes he’d just hand you a flower because he wanted to. i saw a picture from a memorial and there was a portrait of him that was sat on top of his bicycle, all of it surrounded with flowers on flowers. so pretty. it’s what he deserved.

things changed around 2005 or so, i think. by that time, all the old baristas had left and the kids who came in were all weirdly religious and went to the christian college on the mountain. they made shitty coffee and sometimes played xtian rock and most of the old regulars couldn’t take it anymore. ian got sick around that time, too, and ended up selling the place. they stopped carrying much tea, if any.

but they finally sold the space and moved in like 2015. i remember the first time i drove by and didn’t see the lights on inside. it felt like seeing a friend from grade school all grown up, maybe the kid you had a crush on but they have a family now and you don’t think they’d recognize you at all so you just have to walk away. gone.

fuck this post is long as shit, i’m sorry for anyone on mobile. but damn it was good to get my memories out.

#long post #text post #personal #coffee shop memories #i thought i was so grown up

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tsunderebird · 5 years

Text

uh i’m just gonna like write some stuff out i’m feeling def tmi

tired of cooking

tired of cleaning

tired of feeling so tired in the evening

tired of the tireless life that i’m leading

tired of only feeling good when i’m sleeping

tired of peace but i’m tired of aggression

tired of nobody teaching motherfuckers a lesson

everytime i’m back in the same old same old

lost all of my drive and my inner fire stays cold

not a lot of good even when i give my best

just a zero dollar payout on a thousand dollar bet

i’m not a fucking maid learn to clean up your own mess

you don’t get to treat my ass with disrespect

i am not your mother and i certainly don’t wanna be

it is not my job to slave away to this economy

i am not the answer to your ego masturbation nor should i allow you to take a shredder to my patience

what i wanna know is why you think that it’s fly to make other people slave away until they die

working whole lives and losing time back for money

cash don’t put sand back in the hourglass honey

catch me out in the forest busting logs with the skull visual

got my nazi stompers on pretend i’m strong enough to hit a dude

people spitting venom blocked by off brand beats

even on your skin though that shit gets into your meat

huffing second hand juul fuel from the fash hash vapers

i’m trying to elope alone not relate to old cis haters

cut the puppet strings and nasty things from which the earth hangs

turn the scissors around and clip them cleopatra terf bangs

snapped like the nose off a sandstone sphinx

trapped in my robe by a twenty three year jinx

when invaders mark your family tree and culturally devoid of anything

the sappy shit sticks when the heritage is hemmoraging

i don’t pretend to fit what maslow told me but i know i’d settle for a friend just to hold me

no i don’t think that it’s the cure to being lonely but it’s a damn sight better than the liberal baloney

another season gone i just add it to the pile i got minute sticks of kindling stacked by hours up a mile

matchstick “thwick” make a spark and watch the sparks fly

burning all your bridges ain’t a way to light the dark by

i got fifteen friends three of which are maybe paladins

the rest pass just clean enough for me to eat my salad with

i’m reinventing reinvention the wheel has been bespoke

yeti never rolling up except a blunt for him to smoke

what?

am i supposed to care

spent three years just to grow my hair

a split end dam to keep the rain and all the ghosts out

double dipping simple fixes when the problem is the host now

mask like a lock jawed fiend, smile real shiny but my teeth aint clean

depression’s a hell of a drug and anxiety’s a machine

stuck to the front of the bus while it careens

no i can’t tokyo drift

i barely slide by let alone to DMs

besides the jokes i might top

i got the drive to get by but my car’s in the shop

black paint scratch got the head lights busted

did i deserve this well fate says i must have

five months of punishment for five minutes of fun, now the black eyed peas didn’t pay my bills anyhow

sorry fergie

so what

things are worse and better batter up to bash the backwards anything

what’s a matter birdy find a marathon that aint worth finishing

run anyway

the machine isn’t evil isn’t good it’s indifferent, too big to see the little ants are people isnt it

god’s whole job’s to crunch numbers

most of my hope is with my brother

what to do but find another

found fam holds fast but lasts like lost lovers

found what i felt may be fleeting

found once that feeling may be leaving

changes aren’t always but change is

how does a bird approach love when a wing to the sky doesn’t seem like it’s enough

brush up with the clouds when i catch a fresh zephyr

fall out of my self all depending on the weather

mother magic might just love me maybe my fault for playing the fast talker

passive case, under foot, not a leader but a stalker

peter piper picked a nonaggressive lonely voyeur

twisted arms and made her second hand to her employers

bow down now with your nose to the pavement

wonder every evening where the wonder and the days went

no i’m not an innovator no i’m not a rebel

i’m not a model citizen even if i’m not the devil

but i advocate a braver face and a stiff upper lip

smile too keen to ever clean off the shit

suck it up or stuff it lest your loss be for the brown nose

looking further for my feelings lost my nerve but i found those

i got crows on both shoulders, looking out while they’re looking older

never got the hang of things a sixth sense or a second guessing

at least i got a couple pals i truly count as blessings

like two face blind spirits in a gator skin trench coat

skinwalker’s worst nightmare and a magician’s best friend yo

pastel patchwork like a pink string puppet

dance around my heartstrings like she dances round a subject

read cards like a catalogue, pick a pair to ask reality

just assertive enough not to trust not enough to have a personality

bear emotional pollution like a literal cross

shoulder pain panging but my brain is at a loss

i’m under sand under water under the boat under the weather

no sight of the horizon i’ll tell you if it gets better

(that’s a red flag)

down with the kelp and fishes, slam dunk sump and i swish and spit it

don’t know if i’ll ever surface up just to sip the bilgewater

don’t know if i’ll ever get to be another person’s good daughter

but why bother to please the poison when they’re just another box for you to put your toys in

callous cavalry collides the second son’s a second coming thriving off the putrid plumes that sent the first one running

oh but she’s back. cruise ship shit and a panic attack. no she don’t work no she don’t pay bills but titty skittle kid here still pops the pills

lost any sense of true relaxation when a white twenty something needs a vacay from her vacation

vampire pale from a five month sick day

yes i’m feeling drained no i won’t be picking new prey

nitrous in the pressure cooker, black sludge in the stew pot

emotions somewhere in my stomach man she isn’t looking too hot

featherweight fighter fitness fits her the least

winging went poorly what she needs is teeth

#freestyle writing to get some frustration out #birdy chirps

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dark-confessions06 · 6 years

Text

Normally when I set up for a long post I always have a plan. How I want it laid out and how I want to start. But to be honest, my brain has been jumping topics and running on over drive. And instead of letting it all run wild in my head, I'm gonna find the best way to let it all out. Cause sure I do talk out all of this with my boyfriend, but it doesn't make the buzzing stop.

My first thought came to me early last week. I felt horrible about myself and like a failure. It actually hit me that my siblings are doing better than I am, and they are 3 years younger than me. They are younger than me and have/can hold a job, own a car, paying bills, getting their own apartments...just actually adulting. And I'm sitting here half way to 30 not knowing what to do with myself or what is 'the right/adult thing to do', without a car, without a license, without an ID with a working address, can't hold a job longer than a year(if I even get there), can't make my brain function and focus to get said jobs. Dude I can't even put in job applications without anxiety attacks. Wanna know a secret? I have always been like that. And the part that scares me the most is I feel like it won't ever change. Sure I'm making small adjustments or getting little things done but I feel so far behind. I literally feel like I'm stuck at 15. I literally feel like a 15yr old parading around as a 25yr old. People I graduated with or are my age have jobs with vacation and amazing pay, own a house, own a car, getting married, having children, straight up moving on with their lives and making something of themselves. I feel so far behind. Even if I tried applying myself to even make something of myself (whatever that might mean) I get overwhelmed and panicked and cry. I can't even stop it or help it.

Other thoughts revolve around myself in general. Some that have been there for years, some for a few months. And that's a very open and vauge topic. Goes from this mental bullshit to that mental bullshit. Starting with how I see myself. I feel a little better now about myself. After coming out. I feel a little more myself and a little more free. And when I'm passing out in public, I feel fantastic. When I'm about to take a shower or when I'm lounging on the couch(without a bra or binder) that's when everything changes. That's when I look down or look in the mirror and feel like stabbing and slicing and crying. Yet I force myself to only cry in the shower so no one knows or I don't talk about it or try and be strong. That's what brought me to last night. Yesterday was rough, real rough. So I wanted to get as high as I could to relax and be content. Last night I was able to get so high, I felt decent about my body and came up with this fucked up nonsense logic(that helped me feel better about my body when I looked in the mirror). Bigger/heavier men, talking 200-300lbs, have "boobs"...right? Like because your fat(lack of a better term) naturally even cis men get tits. Right? So I sat there and looked in the mirror and told myself "you are not a female with boobs, you are a fatter man who happens to have a larger chest". And so even today when I took a shower, I caught myself starting to cry and get angry then I stopped myself and said exactly what I was telling myself last night. It sort of helped. Any coping skill, strange or not, is better than cutting open my chest. Right?

My other thoughts revolve around my boyfriend and his family. And what others have had to say. I've heard from a few different sources that someone out there thinks I'm unhappy, I'm in a shitty relationship, I'm a leech who lives off my boyfriend, I'm doing weird things and need help. Wanna know the truth from my mouth instead of believing gossip and rumors? Truth is, if we're talking in a whole, I am happy. I'm happier in my relationship now than I have ever been. Does that mean I'm happy all the time? News flash sweetie, that doesn't exist. Your depression doesn't magically go away when you get into a healthy relationship. I am with a man who loves me unconditionally, who supports me unconditionally. A man who cares, listens, has my back and is always there. Always. Just like I've said in a previous post, idgaf what his PAST was. We all have pasts we aren't proud of. What REALLY matters is who he is now. And he truly is an amazing boyfriend. And guess what GOOD boyfriend's do? THEY MAKE SURE THEIR PARTNER HAS EVERYTHING THEY NEED. You wouldn't say "sorry I can't help you" if your boyfriend came to you and said I need more toothpaste or deorderant. You'd not be a shitty person and be like "okay babe, we'll get you more". So no, I am not living off of my boyfriend and his family. I fight hard for them to not spend money on me. Really hard. Even when it is something as simple or cheap as deorderant. When my tooth was hurting so bad I was in tears every single day, I waited til I was to the point of screaming and ripping out my own tooth before I asked my boyfriend to spend $2 on some orajel. TWO DOLLARS. Has his mom spent money on me? Yes. Did his mom pay for my ticket to go on vacation with them? Yes. However, she thinks of me as a son also. She tells me over and over how I'm part of the family and if she wants to go on vacation with her family, she'll make sure I can come. And when she spends money on me I feel as shitty as I do when my boyfriend spends money on me. I feel bad bc I don't know how I will ever repay it. So then this leads us to the "I'm doing weird things and need help". Honestly, you can fuck off with that noise. I am being myself. I am learning WHO tf I am. And if I have different coping skills than you, so fucking what? When I'm going into a full blown panic attack and feel the need to slice open my skin, I grab my binkie and stuffy and curl up into daddy's lap. So what? Maybe others can pop anxiety meds or get out of the house but those aren't or aren't always options for me. And if I found something that works for me, that doesn't harm me or others, who TF cares?

Then of course all these separate topics and thoughts run on hamster wheels in different directions all goddamn day. Nonstop. They also mutate into other thoughts than I mentioned here. At the end of the day all I can say is I am trying. I am trying so hard. I just try and tell myself that some day I will be even better than I am now.

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