#finally understand pygmalion

[the-odd-nickel]

Megan Thee Stallion is so attractive to me, not in a sexual way, but rather the crushing need to create art in her image

#finally understand pygmalion #saw her latest MV and started frothing at the mouth for oil paints #carnal urge? wrong #unhinged need to paint her as venus on half-shell #megan thee stallion #art

[hisui-dreamer]

Congrats on 1K, Rinna! It's such a big number :O

Actually is it okay if I request an AU of my own?! It's called PHD AU (I'm so smart 😔) bc @/rakiah put the idea of Ancient Magic PHD student Leona, and since I'm planning on pursuing a PHD myself it'd be pretty interesting bc I'm planning to pursuing archeology so like- similar fields but also not so rivals-to-lovers speedrun during a research project idk 😳 anything short works! I just needed someone to scream about this too 💀💀

pull your weight

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: he was the one person you never wanted to work with, but life never goes the way you plan

Tags: banter, forced collaboration, academic rivalry, teasing, slowish burn(?)

Word count: 1k+

Notes: im like 2 months late wth sorry soru (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠), i hope you'll enjoy this haha

Masterlist

He was the last person you wanted to work with.

All you needed was a solid grade on your final project for you to finally say goodbye to all your years of studying. But fate seemed to have a cruel sense of humour, for your academic fate was intertwined with his in a dreaded group assignment.

The universe revelled in its own sadistic humour as it matched you with none other than the very figure you had observed, with a mix of bemusement and irritation, in the library on countless occasions. A man seemingly fused with the furniture itself, always deep in sleep even as you worked tirelessly away.

You drew in a deep breath, readying for the challenge of a less-than-motivated teammate as you approached his seat with determined steps.

In truth, he was a striking man, or beastman, more accurately. His untamed, lengthy brown mane matches the intensity of his emerald gaze, creating an impression akin to a masterpiece fashioned by Pygmalion himself. But aesthetics aside, you couldn't just stare at him; you had an actual task to complete together.

"Kingscholar, right?" you asked, reaching out your hand as a gesture of goodwill.

His gaze shifted from a distant point to meet your outstretched hand. A brief pause hung in the air, during which you're uncertain if he would even acknowledge your gesture. Then, almost begrudgingly, he raised his hand and shook yours with a firm grip.

"Yeah, that's me," he responded, his tone carrying a touch of irritation. "Whadaya want?"

You felt your eye twitch in annoyance, yet you maintained your smile. "I'm your assigned partner for the research project."

"Tch... what a pain," you overheard him grumbling, his hand absentmindedly brushing back his unruly hair. "Fine, but you better pull your own weight, herbivore." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Of course," you replied with an unaffected tone, though any warmth in your voice had long dissipated. "I assure you, I'm here to contribute. And I expect you to do the same."

A charged tension lingered in the air, a blend of rivalry and cooperation intertwining like threads in a complex tapestry.

With an abrupt turn, he shifted his gaze away from you. "Let's just get this over with. Meet at the library Thursday at 3 o'clock," he grumbled impatiently. "And stop calling me Kingscholar," he added as he began to stride away.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in demeanour. "Okay," you murmured, your voice softening, "... Leona," you hesitantly pronounced his name, testing it on your lips. But by then, he had already disappeared into the distance.

"Leona..." you groaned, the tip of your pen repeatedly poking his arm "Wake up..." though it seemed none of your efforts could stir this man from the land of dreams.

Hours had passed in focused collaboration. Each of you brought your strengths to the table, your efforts converging into a symphony of intellect and expertise. Leona, though rude and demanding, was surprisingly knowledgeable, and hidden behind his sharp words laid great advice and ideas for the project. Despite the initial friction, a sort of rhythm began to form, a silent understanding of when to speak and when to listen.

You heaved out a sigh, fatigue settling in after an afternoon of relentless work, not to mention the late-night study session you had to 'pull your weight' as he demanded. You had continued working for quite a bit even after he fell asleep, the passage of time fading as the sun sank below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room where your joint project lay spread out before you.

'Alright,' you conceded to yourself. 'A short break won't hurt.'

Your gaze rested on his peaceful slumber, his lengthy eyelashes casting ethereal, feather-light shadows upon his features. In response, a subtle smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You really are just a big, grumpy cat, huh?" you murmured to yourself.

As the sun's last rays painted the room in hues of warmth, fatigue finally caught up with you. The chair beneath you seemed to cradle your weariness, its embrace inviting and soothing. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite your intention to take a short break, the weight of the day pulled you under.

"Hey," a gentle voice penetrates your drowsy state. "Wake up."

You groggily pry your eyes open, squinting against the ambient light of the library. The world swims into focus, shades of muted gold and soft shadows dancing before you.

"Leona…?" you mumble. "What time is it?"

"Half past ten. The library is closin' soon."

Your groggy mind stirs to life, realization piercing through the haze like a ray of sunlight breaking through morning mist. "Half past… ten?! Oh no, the project!"

With a hushed urgency, he places his palm over your mouth, muffling your alarm. His face looms close, his breath brushing against your skin in gentle wisps. "Shhh, you're still in a library, herbivore," he cautions, his words painted with a touch of amusement. "The project is halfway done."

A moment of bewildered disbelief freezes your thoughts in mid-air. "Wait… Huh? Did you—"

"I said hush," his voice is a silken thread of command, pausing your entire line of questioning. A playful glint dances in his eyes. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about the drool on your face."

Your hand shoots up to your face like a reflex, your fingers searching for the phantom traces of embarrassment, only to find nothing but your own flushed cheeks.

"Hahaha, that woke ya up, didn't it?" he chuckles.

You're left momentarily bewildered, a mix of relief and embarrassment coursing through you. As your senses fully awaken, you sit up, your grogginess slowly dissipating as you reclaim your wits.

"You know," he begins, his voice still hushed, "you're not entirely useless," he conceded, his tone a mixture of grudging approval and a touch of surprise.

You blink at his words, processing for a few seconds before realising he was referring to your work on the project. Your initial embarrassment gives way to a rekindling of your competitive spirit, and you respond with a half-smile that mirrors his own. "Likewise, I suppose. Turns out, this 'herbivore' can hold their own."

The smirk that plays at the corner of his lips was no longer purely condescending. "Don't get too comfortable. This doesn't mean I'm going easy on you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Leona" you shot back.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧1k! another life✦ #twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland leona #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar

[blindmagdalena]

Although he's not truly a Nazi the way Stormfront was, we do see many times throughout the show that Homelander is a bit of racist, especially towards Hispanics. I mean, he doesn't like it when he hears Ryan speaking Spanish, and all his interactions with Supersonic were so, uh, uncomfy, to say the least.

HOWEVER, Homelander is willing to overlook anything when he gets emotionally involved with someone. Like how he's always rambling on about supes being the superior race while at the same time lowkey worshipping Madelyn.

How do you think he will react to dating a Latina? I can see him being a major asshole at the beginning, complaining about her putting on Latin music while in the penthouse, and cooking "weird food". But slowly and almost unwillingly he gets dragged into the culture.

Like, her brothers and cousins adopt him and suddenly he's the guy who goes to parrillada every Sunday to hang out with his amigos, playing domino and watching freaking soccer. They nickname him "El Casas" and teach him how to speak Spanish but the type that's only spoken deep in the guetto and has grandmothers clutching their pearls.

He starts watching Soap Operas with his girlfriend ironically but then gets weirdly into them to the point that he's crying his eyes out every other episode. He also starts calling her mami/mamita and his mommy kink gets like ten times worse. Which is fine by her because she's been calling him papi rey (king daddy) in her mind since the moment she laid eyes on him.

Once they finally go public, Homelander is all but embraced by the Latino community and it makes his ratings go through the roof because America's Dad speaking perfect Spanish and dancing Salsa in his girlfriend's livestreams is the best representation they've ever gotten. His fanbase drastically changes ofc. Stormfront would be rolling on her grave, I just know it.

Forgive me if this is weird, I'm just a sad latina who's dying for representation in Homelander x reader stories.

GIRL YOU GOT ME INVESTED. i was pulling out the popcorn by the end of this!! tell me you’re gonna write this! it’s not weird at all, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see yourself represented. i’ve had this conversation a couple of times, and i can guarantee you’re not alone in wanting this: there’s an audience waiting!

i always tag @irenadel in these (which I hope she isn’t tired of lol) because her fic Pygmalion is the only one that i know of so far that leans into this, so you should definitely check it out if you haven’t already. i happen to have insider info that she’s working on the next chapter 👀

really and truly though, it sounds to me like you have the makings of a killer fic lined up in your mind. you clearly have a solid understanding of Homelander’s psychology, too. i really think you could do something awesome with this! it’s important that people tell these stories, and i’m not always the right person to do that.

i would 100% read the heck out of this. 🖤

#darling anon #ask and you shall receive #homelander x reader

[appledotcodotuk]

hey. hi! I have thoughts about Burn Pygmalion <- (just watched a YouTube video and realised there was lore, if ideas from that worm their way in here then that's where they came from! shout out to popykai and the genius lyrics community for being God's strongest album understanders)

so, admire the architecture goes for a bit of a third person perspective - we watch as Jeannie watches the architecture in a moment that feels less like an escape, more a confirmation that even at some level of remove from her perspective, there's a sense she can't escape her own thoughts. i think this is best shown right at the end; there's a moment that seems to dip into either Jeanine's internal focalization (her thoughts) or, more interestingly, her dialogue.

first off, I love that there's some slippage between thought and word. so much of Jeanine is internalised, so there's an impulse to assume this is her own internal dialogue, but these lines jostle with 'sweet talk on the phone / ugly thoughts that won't leave me alone'. the rhyme brings these two juxtaposing ideas (perspectiveless talking vs embodied internalness) into a slightly uneasy harmony that, retroactively, muddles whether the prior two lines are spoken or thought. is this the (no doubt ironic) sweet talk? or the ugly thought?

I think it's interesting too how thought here symbolises internal personhood. Jeanine is closed off; her thoughts are her own and nobody else's - though, ironically we are now privy to them thanks to the magic of music. Dialogue however, by its very nature, requires an interaction between two different characters. Words are a reaching outwards, thoughts are a shutting off. That we can't tell which is which creates a sense of unreality. Jeanine is on her own in this song. Even if she speaks her mind, aloud, her words can only ever apostrophize Sylvia: forge a connection that is never to be realised.

And that's not even my main point!

'Made' is a loaded verb in the context of a album which makes frequent and obvious allusions to the myth of Pygmalion: the sculptor who rejects human love for love of his own creation. In some ways its a reiteration of the myth of narcissism. Pygmalion looks into marble eyes and sees a love that is both unconventional and (appears to be) tragically unattainable. He worships his granite Goddess with the awareness that she is an idol to the true God behind the work: his own hands. Hence the narcissism.

Anyway, how does this apply to Jeanine and Sylvia? Well, creation. Jeanine 'made' Sylvia. Even with the qualificatory 'what you are', that is the gist of the lyric: I created you, and now you're not even mine. TSJ refigure the Pygmalion myth in yet another way by handing Jeanine the scalpel. Part of her anger and sadness at being abandoned (which, yes, is reasonable when you've been left alone while your gf swans off to who-knows-where) is the rage of Frankenstein watch his creature flee into the mountains. It's the despair of the artist. She 'made' Sylvia with her own journalistic craft, and is now being forgotten.

This is not to reduce the romantic side of things, but there is a distinct streak of possessiveness, of the desire to own, that comes through in Jeanine's story. In the final line of the final song, 'Bets Against the Void', Jeanine says:

I know I'm an artist cause I just can't stand the thought / That a love as beautiful as ours can be / Forgotten

Her romantic feelings are bound up inevitably, inexorably, in artistic legacy. Like a statue that outlives the palms that shaped it, Jeanine and Sylvia love each other. It's Pygmalion, without the divine intervention. And there's a sort of tragedy to that love of their relationship as something that both buoys Jeanine into stardom and scrutiny alongside Sylvia, whilst also subsuming the both of them. Frankenstein is the name for the scientist; but is often misattributed to the creature. How many of us knew the statue was called Galatea? Pygmalion's name takes precedence, even as his fame is bound up in the grains of his own statue.

Sylvia is Jeanine's muse. And she, foolishly, hoped that she could keep her all to herself, whilst retaining a sense of self in the process.

#burn pygmalion #the scary jokes #SO. this may make no sense im a bit rusty on close reading like this #but i think its neat to see jeanine in the role of artist / pygmalion / creator #and how their co-dependence forms a sort of co-creating as well #'s cool! #im ngl i dont fully understand all the 'plot' of the album so if this is inaccurate uhm. whooppsie

[studentofetherium]

hiya! any specific reason for the way your vesalblood oc writing develops and strays through perspectives and separate stories like it does? i understand that urge to write different stuff/variety but was curious if there's any more thought behind the developments and the way the stories orders bounce around a bit through time a bit.

the stories bounce around because it took me a while to figure out what i was really doing, the first story was just an extrapolation of an idea that i had after hearing Rin talk about the setting, and the second came about from hearing about a specific pygmalion and wanting to write something for it. the story 14 was just because i wanted to write something vesalblood for femslash february, and by that time, i had already decided i wanted to write another story for Aria, which would go on to become Beneath the Blue Waves. then, early on in writing that, i was thinking about vampirism and that whole aspect of pygmalions and wanted to come up with something to explore that, and only at the end decided to include aria in there, which also led me to include her in BtBW. and finally, the next story i'm writing, Summer Sunny Blue, was really the first time i directly thought "well, this is A Thing I'm Doing so i should do another continuation", which also involved looking back at other stuff i've written and seeing how i could expand that

so really, the two forms that my writing takes for this are "this could be an interesting idea" and "how can i continue from these ideas i've already established". as i further develop Aria and those who surround her, i imagine i might settle in a bit more, but i also don't think i'm ever going to stop jumping around. i already have a couple other ideas jumping around for once i'm done with SSB (or maybe written as a break, since this is going to be a big longer than the past stories) and no real continuation in mind yet... but i do also need to actually have an idea of what the ending will be in practice before i can build on it lol. i only started planning SSB while i was writing the last chapter/epilogue of BtBW

i also just find achronological stories interesting, especially when i'm working on it in real time without a real plan going forward. i'm setting up threads with reckless abandon, free for myself to pick up again in the future if the mood so strikes me. we'll see where it goes from here!

#my writing #my OCs

[ebatothemoon]

I get emotional as I am writing this and it took me a while to put my thoughts in order. With the MV, I saw a much more reserved ONEUS. They look evolved and changed. My first priority was not enjoy the song but rather tho understand their perspective with this comeback. I wanted to embrace their aura. This album, everything speaks from a candid place. It is so majestic and vulnerable. They are moving on majestically and with vulnerable hearts. This is the comeback where they take their hats off and put their hearts on their sleeves.

To get the musical aspect done, I loved the verses. Everyone had their chance to shine in their own respect and the instrumentality is so majestic and grandoise. When it connects to this hardcore edm sound at the chorus, I think it disturbs the organic growth of the song and devalues the intricacy they delivered in the verses. They truly deserved a better chorus but it is definitely a grower.

My fav parts: Hwanwoong’s verses and Keonhee’s iconic entrance to the second pre-chorus

Hwanwoong hats off! He made me feel so emotional in his grandoise appearance. Whenever his part comes, I just get teary eyes. He literally outrages.

Keonhee finally got the killing verse he deserved. I swaer I was internally screaming at *that* part.

So the MV- we all know ONEUS is the group of concepts. With this comeback, they even got smarter takes on the Pygmalion effect. As I keep on thinking about it, I just want to snap my fingers ugh I looove. I think my favorite is the coffin idea. Like the death of the portrayed ideal you know?? But my favorite shot is this like this is going to age like wine y’all.

#oneus #pygmalion #seoho #leedo #keonhee #hwanwoong #xion #oneus comeback #I love you guys so much #Youtube

[its-a-humanriot]

the modern pygmalion, talk about it

this one is of particular interest to you Blue since you have heard me talk a little bit about this one already 👀

This is a fic with the pretty unusual ship pairing of Harkness and Charon from FO3 (and yes I know that Charon/Harkness sounds like a crack ship pairing, but bear with me I think they actually have a fair amount in common and anyway I wrote the backstory so I'm invested now). These two became close during the events of one of my other WIPs to the point where they both had romantic feelings for each other, but due to their positions at the end of that story they decided to take things slow and not rush into anything physical. The Modern Pygmalion is a direct sequel which then deals with how they navigate acting on their feelings for each other - both of them make incorrect assumptions about what the other wants and how they feel and neither of them is good at communicating their feelings, so it ends up being a big mess of getting their wires crossed until they can finally make each other understand.

In other words, this is a fic about making my blorbos kiss and I try not to catch fire from embarrassment while writing it because writing romance scenes is hard, okay?

literally this is from my planning notes:

(in other news, the working title is a reference to the book Frankenstein (which was subtitled The Modern Prometheus) and the myth of Pygmalion, who fell in love with a statue of a woman that he carved and brought her to life with a kiss)

#thanks for the ask! #charon/harkness may be a weird ship but it is my weird ship and i'm invested #wip meme #ask meme

[hermitblurbs]

Ok so i know we're all talking abt the pygmalion au etc shdkdh so sorry to spam but I just wanted to let u know I'm currently sculpting a hand sized grian and like. I get it. I finally understand scar. Hes my masterpiece hes alive to me except he's not he's beautiful hes everything destroying him would be destroying myself like yes I Get It Now

ART IS AN EXTENSION OF YOURSELF AND TO LOVE WHAT YOU CREATE IS TO LOVE YOURSELF, JUST NOT TO AN UNHEALTHY DEGREE

#i speak #ask #anon #HOLY SHOOT THATS SO COOL THOUGH #anon!!!!!!! #thats so COOL #and im so glad what i write be resonating! :DD #<3 #thank you for the love #id love to see pictures! #if u want >u<

[nidonemo]

He's Lonely

The red fox's door opened and the vulpine made his way into the hallway, he stopped at the door frame leading into the kitchen and leaned against it with a tired sigh. "Hey, did we ever come to a definitive conclusion for the construct of ethics concerning sexual intercourse with artificial intelligence? I’m starting to feel as if my only course of action is to become a modern day Pygmalion, and I want to make sure to be a gentleman about it."

He was met by either concerned and confused looks from the various occupants of the breakfast table, some in mid bite of spoonfuls of cereal or just ever so burnt toast, or unsurprised expressions. Finally a snake wearing a black hoodie spoke, eyebrow raised. “…w-what?!” Before the fox could repeat himself, a Siberian Husky with piercing blue eyes spoke out of the corner of his mouth after a spoon of cereal. "Mmn, if the program understands the concept of consent and can freely give it according to its own parameters, and you respect said consent, you're fine. Plus we all know you'd cut your own dick off before you raped anyone anyway. No one's gonna fixate on an accident or miscommunication in your case, the guilt would kill you." The fox sighed with relief, "Thank fuck, that one was gonna keep me up all night. Bless you." and he vanished back into his bedroom. The breakfast table took a few moments before slowly resuming daily routines. A German Shepherd shook his head, "Seriously, if we don't catch him a man by next week, this place is gonna start looking like a cross between Geppetto's workshop and a fuck dungeon, and I only just got over my nightmares from his golem experiments."

#writing #writer #writers #comedy #sass #parody #satire #furry #furries #Zachary Foxx #artificial intelligence #ai #pygmalion #Geppetto #perfect lover #boyfriend #for the love of god get him away from the laptop #someone love him before something terrible happens #maybe if we sacrifice his exes to the blood god we can buy more time #does anyone have aphrodite's mobile number #Thor #Cockpit #slice of fantasy life #notices your despawation uwu

[greg-rulez]

Marble - a short story

One hand gripping my school hat, the other holding the hem of my skirt, I stand at the school gate like a prettier gargoyle, watching and waiting. My aching legs have begun to shake, already tired from standing so still for so long. Dusty, unrelenting wind pushes through me, making my tie flap and hit my face, but I do not move to stop it. The greasy eyes of other students run over me, making my insides break away from my hard outer casing and pool inside my feet. The bus creaks up blowing clouds of red dirt into the air. He’s here. I scan the stream of people exiting. He is the last one off. Tie askew, blond hair flopping into his eyes, this casual perfection is intoxicating, a substance he, thankfully, exudes constantly. As he saunters over, my stomach muscles tense, but the rest of my body unfreezes, as though I am Galatea and he is Pygmalion, bringing me to life. He peers down at me.

“Good girl” he mumbles, and I believe it. I turn the phrase over in my mind, inspecting it as one would a precious jewel. I smile softly and allow him to grab my hand. We walk through the school gate. We are Bruce and Jacqui, and everything is perfect.

The bell for lunch rings, students spilling out of classrooms like polystyrene balls out of a bean bag. I make my way to the oval, other students racing around me. Bruce is already there when I arrive, grouped in the centre of the oval with his mates. I head to the usual spot, under a tree with The Girlfriends, as I have named them. The Girlfriends have been in this game longer than I, having fought for their position in the pecking order. I never had to fight to be noticed by the boys, I was chosen. So, I sit on the very edge of the clump, watching the boys crash into each other, listening to the crass jokes made on the field. This is what girls must do, sitting, watching, waiting, listening, smiling.

“Jacqui!” a shrill voice from behind me calls. Heads turn in my direction. I flinch and turn towards the source of the voice. Emily flounces over, long, childish plaits bouncing along behind her. “Jacqui! Wow! Hi! How’ve you been?” She hops from foot to foot, as though she is an exited puppy. I stare up at her blankly, an expression I have had to master. She stands still, finally. “We, uh, missed you at tennis practice! It’s like so boring now that you’re not there! We haven’t seen you in ages! Hope you’re not like sick or something?” her words blend in to one long ribbon of noise. She stares at me expectantly, as though she is waiting for me to reply. Looking at my shoes, I shrug. My mind has become a vast and barren expanse. Panic rises in my stomach and chest like a menacing tide. “Ok, well, you’re welcome back anytime! We all miss you.” and with that she trots off, unaware of the implosions currently occurring in my mind.

I stand, legs suddenly made of stone. The girlfriends glare at me icily.

“sorry” I choke out. walking away, I blink back tears. stupid Emily. Who does she think she is, waltzing over, disturbing the peace? I was fine before she came over. I am fine. Images of my parents faces when I told them I was quitting tennis flash in my mind. They didn’t understand, no one understands. I crouch down next to the sports shed, digging my fingers into the earth for stability. I feel my body freezing up and becoming stone, leg by leg, arm by arm. Why am I crying when I have nothing to cry about? Bruce fixed this part of me. I search for who I was before Bruce, but she isn’t there anymore. Snot and tears stream down my face in disgusting rivers. This isn’t me. I’m fixed now. The bell for last period rings, I stand and go to class.

Bruce and I walk out of the school gates together. He stops suddenly and turns to me.

“Jacqui…. We’re done.” he looks down, almost guiltily. I stare blankly at him, tears stinging my eyes. He opens his mouth but says nothing. He sighs and walks away. And that’s it. I cover my face with my hands, so those around me don’t see. My stomach lurches and sour bile rises in my throat. I swallow painfully. This is for the best. I was too hard for him. Maybe if I’d given up more of my time, more of my patience, maybe he wouldn’t have had to do this. He didn’t owe me his love. But I owed him mine, a favour for his improvements. I remove my hands from my face, inhale deeply, and walk home.

***

Pain drags it’s sticky hands up and down my back as I push the shopping trolley. I overdid it at tennis last night, and my body is not as forgiving as it used to be. I stop to inspect the tomato pastes. All the jars a filled with identical red pastes, but all offering something slightly different. I reach for the largest jar. Whilst putting it in my trolley, I hear a voice.

“Jacqui?” I look up. The voice belongs to a tall, scruffy, blond man. I must look puzzled because he goes on to say, “It’s Bruce.” I frown apologetically.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” His face falls.

“I’m Bruce… Bruce Anderson.” I shrug. He looks upset. He lets out a shaky sigh. “You really don’t remember me?” he asks, defeatedly. I shake my head.

“No, I don’t.” i look around to see if other customers are watching this exchange, but we are the only ones in the aisle.

“Well, I hope you’re doing… well.” He walks away. I shrug and out the tomato paste in my trolley.

#writing #short story #writer #fiction #young adult fiction

[werewolfpdfs]

PRETTY STATUE BOY IN THE ITALIAN RESTAURANT HELLO??? 😭😭

#pygmalion i finally understand u….

[brain-depositary]

I am seeing a lot of takes on Frankenstein about how seeing the creature as Victor Frankenstein’s son voids literally all other interpretations of the relationship between the creature and Victor. Just because the parent-child parallels are to your preferred interpretation does not mean parallels to The Pygmalion (Victor as artist, creature as sex object), the golem (Victor as master, creature as slave), Genesis/Paradise Lost (Victor as god, creature as Adam or Satan) are not valid and are inherently immoral to analyze the text as.

Like the Pygmalion interpretation is very old and aside from a few jokes on it it’s boring because it’s been done to death. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the Rocky Horror Picture Show? Or am I just too old now, and nobody knows about that?

The passages about trying to build the creature as specifically beautiful have long been interpreted as sexual — and it’s weird honestly to be interpreting this as incestuous/pedophilic because the creature is built out of unrelated, found cadavers, has no mind yet, and Victor does not even know that his mind will be childlike for any period of time. Victor is essentially making a sculpture at that point, and the idea that it’s somehow pedophilic/incestuous to find a sculpture of an unrelated 8 ft tall adult man sexy, or to deliberately try to build one as sexually appealing is bizarre. Any arguments that Victor somehow “should have known” the creature would have a childish mind or to conceive of himself as “father” while building him fall flat because 1) Victor lacks foresight in everything he does, that’s his major character flaw 2) in popular depictions he’s literally salvaging whole body parts, so he’s using adult brains from adults who already had families unrelated to him to build the creature. Consent issues here abound with bringing a specific person, essentially, or an amalgamation of several people, back to life without consent, especially in a different body, but in contrast these are never brought up 3) Victor is doing something that has never been done before so he has no idea what would happen.

Also weird to me how the same people who keep wanting us to take Victor Frankenstein as literal father of the creature and therefore find any proposed sexualization of the creature by him disgusting, tend to not do the same of the creature’s demands for a female companion. These demands are absolutely sexual, and if Victor is his literal father, the female creature would be his literal sister — and his final inspiration for demanding this was looking at the woman pictured in the locket around William’s neck, his literal grandmother.

I personally find the building of the creature more interesting as seen as embodiment fantasy more, or at least more fertile ground for new interpretations, in part because it’s hard to top the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I also find the lack of Genesis/Paradise Lost interpretations here weird considering those parallels are literally drawn in the text. The interpretation of master/slave is also something that’s literally in the text, and slavery abolition was something that was literally ongoing in the British empire at the time the book was written, yet I’ve only seen this parallel brought up in more academic papers. Even if it doesn’t seem relevant to us playing with blorbos today I do think it’s relevant to understanding the text. Parent-child relationship between Victor and the creature is absolutely a valid textual interpretation and the one in vogue right now, probably because of the popularity of intergenerational trauma stories today, but it’s absolutely not the only “correct” interpretation.

#Frankenstein #Victor Frankenstein #Adam Frankenstein

[neo-nomatrix]

Cupid & Psyche

Dreamwastaken x reader

Very much based on the tale of Cupid and Psyche - Elements of both Roman mythology and Greek mythology - 585 words

“Beauty is a curse” you had thought to yourself standing on the cold cliff your own father left you on. You had been a sacrifice of sorts. You were born with a physical perfection, so complete you were worshiped as a reincarnation of Venus herself. People were too scared to even approach you. Your father sought guidance from the oracle of Apollo; he was told to leave you on a cliff, for you would marry a serpent like creature.

You had been carried by Zephyr, the west wind, to a palace in which you would find your husband in the bedroom. You stood outside the marble palace anxiously waiting for the courage to build up in you to push you to enter. “I am brave enough” you tell yourself, looking into the dark path that would soon lead you to your husband. 

The path to the bedroom was so dark you had to trace your fingers against the stone to find your way to the creature you were betrothed to. You came across a dark figure sitting in the middle of the room, when you reached your hand out you felt someone who was far from serpent like. His skin was soft and his body felt like he was sculpted by Pygmalion himself. “Who are you?” you break the silence as the figure takes your hand in his. “I am afraid I can never tell you. You cannot light lamps, or ever find out who I truly am. You can call me Clay for now,” he tells you, one hand on yours and another caressing your face, “Tell me you understand,” he finishes. “I understand,” you respond to him.

How could you ever love someone you had never seen? It seemed impossible to you, but you could trust him; right? His visits continued for months on end, you had fallen in love with him more each time. But alas, like any other being curiosity had taken over you. During the day before on of his visits you hid an oil lamp from Clay in a small box underneath your shared bed. Once you knew he was asleep you pulled the lamp out of the box lighting it while crouching down at the foot of the bed.

Turning around to finally see your lover you saw his legs, then his torso, and finally his face and chest. Your eyes widened, your lips slightly parted as you realized who Clay really was. His wavy blond hair and his face that seemed to be sculpted with a chisel, but especially his cream white wings laying with him. It all gave it away that he was Cupid, the god of desire and attraction. “Y/n!” He yelled upon being awoken by the light. You dropped the lamp suddenly, it landing on him. He held his arm up in protection as the stinging sound of the wax splattering over his body and wings filled the room.

He used his remaining strength to fly to the carved out window he used to enter and leave the palace. “I’ll always be yours,” he spoke to your shocked state as he held his chest and slipped out of the window. You had just gone against your lover's one wish and you didn’t know what to do. So you ran, ran down the halls, ran across your home going wherever your feet took you. You were mumbling incoherent words to yourself, words you would usually say to Clay, “And I will always be yours.”

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #mcyt x you #neos drabbles #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x y/n #dream x you #dream x y/n #dream drabble #dream imagine #mcyt drabble #mcyt imagine #dream smp drabble #dream smp imagines

[itslillyillustrates]

no because i need answers:

is sylvia the pink one or the green one.

is jeannie the pink one or the green one.

this album has been my most favorite album for over a year now and i am still conflicted. i SWEAR liz's twitter had the confirmation in their bio at some point!!!!! but my silly little brain just can't remember what it said.

from here, this is going to turn into an analysis and interpretation of burn pygmalion so...

for a long long time i remembered it saying that jeannie was pink, sylvia was green, but i just can't remember in the slightest. that memory is the thing that sets them apart in my mind, but i can't even remember if what i'm remembering is being remembered right!!! my brain is very goofy.

i also do not have twitter, so it's hard for me to keep up on burn pygmalion lore!!!! so i've probably missed some stuff, but this is all my personal interpretation of my favorite album.

i always initially interpreted them as sylvia: green, jeanine: pink, because i kinda saw the same depression spiral and figuratively that i was experiencing when i first listened to it in jeannie. specifically, i related a lot to how the pink girl was drawn, so i kinda connected pink to jeannie (plus the spiral in the pink girl's head kinda reminded me of, again, the feeling of a depression spiral)!

and then for sylvia, i associated her with the green girl. i kinda pictured the cover image to happen somewhere from wrath of the termite king to crushed out on soda beach, because those songs are kinda the "climax" of the album to me. in my funky mind, i kinda picture sylvia realizing what is happening with jeannie, and just being hit with a reality check after being blinded by the spotlight and distractions. i can understand the hardships of a long distance, and i feel like sylvia had been trying to keep up the best she can, but she didn't realize how much the long distance didn't work with jeannie due to lack of communication, plus probably sylvia being scared to be more vulnerable with opening up. but by the time of wrath of the termite king, she realized that her fame meant less to her than her relationship with jeannie, so she tried to travel back to home and just be there for her again. sylvia just kinda realizes BOOM oh my god, is this what jeannie is feeling right now? what have i done.

when i listen to no leverage/no pleasure, i hear it as both of them singing. kinda a super climactic race of jeannie reaching a breaking point from her poor mental state, meanwhile sylvia is racing and Symbolically trying to call out to her that she loves her. she is trying to cling onto what is left of the crumbling relationship to try and repair things by opening up, talking and being there physically for her girlfriend

that's why i see sylvia as the green one, the one hugging jeannie in the flames (...the flames of soda beach perhaps!!!)! i view this as them finally reconnecting after it all, and sylvia trying to show jeanine, someone who is so far in a puddle of self destruction, support and physical presence after her absence.

not to be all english class-y but. HERE'S A DUMB DIAGRAM OF WHAT I INTERPRET THE PLOT AS AHHHHH!!!! okay literally i realize that at this point, im writing an essay on tumblr that im probably wrong about... BUT I'M SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS ALBUM AND NEEDED TO EXPRESS SOME OF IT. this is super disorganized because i am a bit out of it at the moment, but hey eventually i was gonna talk about my thoughts >:''0)

full on, id write a fan fiction novel based off of this album if i had them energy. i love this album to bits. I'D MAKE A BURN PYGMALION ANIMATED MOVIE.

#long post #yes this is a ramble but who cares #IF I HAVE ANY BURN PYGMALION FAN CLUB MEMBERS WHO CAN HELP ME OUT WITH THIS I'D LOVE THAT #like i said... i feel like it was confirmed on twitter at some point but i just can't remember exactly #also please please please discuss any thoughts and analysis you have about the album. even if it is the opposite of what i said #I WANNA HEAR IT PLEEEASEEE #im not super super active on tumblr... i queue most things.... BUT DUDE I LOVE THIS ALBUM. #i need to read your interpretations please #burn pygmalion #burn pygmalion a better guide to romance #the scary jokes

[warpspeedreader12]

Pandora’s Box

I often like to explain my anxiety

Using Greek Mythology as a lens to look through

Others may be able to understand

How it has sculpted me,

The Pygmalion to my Galatea

What if I said I feel like I’m falling

My golden wings dripping down my back?

Maybe they’ll finally see

If I say I empathized with Persephone,

Imprisoned by my own mind

Instead of pomegranate seeds.

Should I say I’ve suffered Cerebus?

That valiant monster roaring to rip my head off

Or is it better to say I feel stretched too thin?

Afraid my golden thread will snap at any second

Perhaps I should mention the anguish in my brain

Almost as if goddess Athena is trapped within

Will they believe me if I said my thoughts come

Creeping in like words whispered

Between Pyramus and Thisbe’s wall?

How every reflection, every memory

Beckons to me like Eurydice?

Or is it better to keep Pandora’s box closed

And keep everything inside?

#heresapoemiwrote #itsshit #poetry #writing

[onekisstotakewithme]

A Friendly Chat

Behold! Aroace Charles, with the blessing of @blue-ravens whom this is dedicated to 💜

A special Happy Ace Week to my aroace friends.

~

“And do you have any idea why he wished to see me?”

O’Reilly shrugs, going back to his comic book. “Don’t ask me, sir, I dunno. But he seemed pretty mad.”

“Excellent. Another insight from our resident psychic. Do you read fortunes too?”

“Nah, just comics.” O’Reilly ignores the jab. “You’d better go in.”

“Very well.”

Charles pushes open the door, and walks into Potter’s office.

The colonel is sitting behind his desk, looking particularly put out at the sight of Charles.

Moreso than usual.

“Colonel, I assure, whatever is the matter, it was probably not my fault.”

“Oh, believe me, Winchester, it’s your fault. Take a seat.”

“I think I’ll stand-.”

“Sit.”

Charles sits.

“Now look, Winchester,” Potter says, sighing, “I never had a son, so I didn’t ever really have to give anyone a chat about the birds and the bees.”

“Colonel, I’m going to stop you right there. I am a doctor.”

“And I’m annoyed.”

“Why?”

“Normally when Rosie comes to me to complain about people harassing the young ladies in her bar, it’s usually about Pierce, or the enlisted men. But now, she’s got a bee in her bonnet about you.”

“Sir…”

“So I am telling you flat out: forget the girl, whoever she is.”

“Colonel,” Charles says, confused. “There is no girl.”

“You didn’t try to play Pygmalion with a lady of the evening?” Potter asks, raising an eyebrow.

Charles’s mind races past several thoughts in short succession – surprise at Potter knowing Pygmalion among them – but finally settles on denial. “No.”

“Uh huh.”

“May I go now? You’ve issued your warning.”

“Winchester, I don’t particularly care if you’re in love with her-.”

“In love?” Charles repeats, confused.

“Okay, lust then. But nothing good can come of it.”

“Colonel, I will assure you – I do not love her. Nor do I have feelings of a… sexual nature towards her.”

“Then what?”

“Companionship.”

“Huh?”

Charles looks down at Potter’s desk. “Colonel, may I speak confidentially?”

“Well, I’m not authorized to perform weddings, but I can understand confession – unless you’d rather see Father Mulcahy?”

Charles thinks that while the Father may understand Charles’s lack of desire, he may interpret it similar to his own celibacy, and shakes his head. “No.”

“Alright then, shoot.”

“I don’t… wish to be in a relationship.”

“I understand, it’s a helluva thing in a war zone.”

“No, I mean… it’s never something I’ve particularly wanted.”

“You’ve… never been in love, you mean?” Potter looks… almost confused.

“No. That is to say… I have felt love for many people, my family among them. But I have not ever… been in love. Or lust, for that matter.”

“… And does it bother you?”

“Not particularly. I still can find rich relationships… although that area has been lacking of late.”

Charles feels somewhat relieved at this confession, and Potter nods.

And then he grins. “Well shoot, Winchester, you want friends? You got a whole camp full of people out there who I’m sure would love to get to know you.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Winchester… you seem… to know who you are, and that’s no small thing.” Potter smiles. “Hang on to that.”

Charles can only nod.

“Now,” Potter says, all business, “How about a snort?”

And Charles surprises himself by answering, “I would like that.”

END

#aroace!charles #charles emerson winchester iii #charles emerson winchester the og ace #m*a*s*h #mash #mash 4077 #aaw '21 #asexuality awareness week 2021