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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them.

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out.

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

~ ~ ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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baya-ni · 3 years

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The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their ��born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

#and scene #i was up till 4am writing this instead of doing my hw #bc i hav Opinions dammit #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 meta #sk8 theory #queerbait

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chocolatecoats · 3 years

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Helluva Boss Episode 5 thoughts

Since I’ve ranted/talked on Helluva Boss before and I’ve looked through the Helluva Boss critical tag often, I thought “Hey, why not continue?” Short version: I give the episode a 7/10. Better than episodes 4 and even 3, but still it could’ve been better.

Long version: SPOILERS AHEAD!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. The animation is obviously more choppy than previous episodes, I’ve heard that SpindleHorse is on a much tighter budget now, but the choppiness kinda hurts to watch. I’ll give credit where credit is due, and say that some animation with Striker was rather great, especially with that last shot of him. But I’ve seen people on Youtube call this episode cleany animated already and question whether or not we watched the same thing.

2. Stolas’ and Blitzo’s relationship is rather uncomfortable. Stolas constantly makes sexual remarks at Blitzo even in public, he gives him no choice to have sex with him in exchange for running his business when legit he could be doing anything else as payment, and Blitzo clearly doesn’t want anything to do with Stolas otherwise, even having an alarm button for him at the HQ.

Usually I dislike the “Oh you would praise/hate this character for their actions if they were THIS gender!” excuse because bad writing is bad writing. But I feel that if Blitzo was a girl and the relationship with Stolas played out the same way it does, it would become less funny and more creepy to more people, as well as spawn much less fan art. Just because it’s a guy getting uncomfortable or that it’s a same sex relationship doesn’t mean it’s ok!

3. Though Blitzo is still unlikeable as hell. Him bullying Moxxie when he’s obviously saddened or anxious has made me continue to wish for his ass-kicking.

4. The show has remembered that Millie cares about her husband again, but I wish she’d stand up more to Blitzo. If she won’t, I’d like a reason for why. Perhaps it’s because she’s worried on getting fired for too much backtalk?

4. Moxxie once again gets abuse he doesn’t deserve, but it’s good that he got an episode ending that wasn’t him mentally or physically hurt, even if Episode 4 made me dislike him.

5. I do like Striker! His design is a neat change of pace from all the overly red imps, and I like the cowboy aesthetic. Also he’s voiced by Norman Reedus like what? How did they manage to get him?

He kinda reminds me of Rattlesnake Jake from Rango, albeit way less cool.

6. I believe the pacing here went by waaaaay too fast.

7. On that ending...yeah it seems Stella’s gonna be a real baddie. But regardless, this doesn’t excuse Stolas’ relationship actions. They’re both awful and I feel bad for Octavia here for having to deal with them.

Though I am curious if she knows...or even cares about what Stella’s trying to do. EDIT: The fight scenes were pretty well done! And even though the animation could get choppy at points, the shading in this episode looked really pretty! Like DAMN!

Overall, while its a big improvement, and I’d say it’s probably tied with Murdr Family for second best episode. Although....Vivziepop still isn’t the great storyteller I’ve seen Youtube comments consider her as. Getting well known voice talent for this show really isn’t worth the cuts to animation frames.

#helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss critical #helluva boss #anti stolitz #vivziepop #chocolate post

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komori--shoma · 3 years

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Shoma Umi Komori.

🦢

(I'm sorry if my english is shitty-)

❛A sad soul can kill faster than bacteria.❜

—𝐽𝑜𝒉𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘

⟅☙⟆ Universe ⟅☙⟆

Diabolik Lovers. I plan, however, to take her out of the universe and make her a character of her own. Or maybe I'll just drop it and do both. Who knows?

⟅☙⟆ Full Name ⟅☙⟆

Shoma Umi Komori.

"Shoma" is a Japanese name that means "Woman who seeks the truth, who is not conformist at all." Her second name, "Umi", is also a Japanese name that means "ocean".

⟅☙⟆ Kanji ⟅☙⟆

ショマ

⟅☙⟆ Nickname ⟅☙⟆

Despite being initially confused by these, as she was not used to it, she was given the nickname "Engel" (which means "Angel" in German) by a family quite close to her. The nickname was given by the mother and head of the family, since in the eyes of that woman, Shoma is an angel.

Seiji, who was the adoptive father of the girl, called the young woman "Astertea", which is quite a "peculiar" name in the bible.

Yui, with whom she is no longer in contact with Shoma, used to call her "Sho" or "Shomi" affectionately.

⟅☙⟆ Age ⟅☙⟆

She is eighteen years old, although she looks a bit younger.

⟅☙⟆ Gender ⟅☙⟆

Feminine.

⟅☙⟆ Sexual Orientation ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't know yet. Doesn't really bothers her to know.

⟅☙⟆ Height ⟅☙⟆

160 cm.

⟅☙⟆ Weight ⟅☙⟆

She used to weigh 35 kg., But now she is a proud 64.5 kg.

⟅☙⟆ Blood type ⟅☙⟆

OR-

⟅☙⟆ Status ⟅☙⟆

Alive.

⟅☙⟆ Race ⟅☙⟆

Human

⟅☙⟆ Birthday ⟅☙⟆

June 20th.

⟅☙⟆ Sign ⟅☙⟆

Gemini.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Color ⟅☙⟆

Light blue and night blue.

⟅☙⟆ Appearance ⟅☙⟆

There is a great before and after in her appearance, and even though she is not shown in her story (at the end of the card), there was the occasional change in her future.

The girl has oculocutaneous albinism, so her skin and hair are snow-white. Her hair, due to a small "situation", was long, straight and lifeless. Her hair almost touched her waist, and she basically managed to cover her view. She is now a cute short hairstyle down to the nape of hers, wavy and neat.

Her skin is very pale and fragile, although now she is somewhat better, before she was simply rough and damaged. She has several deep burns and scars on this one as well.

The young woman, despite not having very good eyesight, has beautiful eyes of a light blue color, somewhat grayish.

She has a mark on her right leg in the shape of a fox with several stars on it. It's a pretty special symbol, but she keeps it covered most of the time.

She usually did not wear clothes other than bandages to cover herself, although she still finds old clothes to wear, even though she was a little too big. Now, she got used to wearing light clothes that cover most of her body; like jeans, leggings, or long dresses with something underneath. She doesn't really like to wear short or see-through clothes.

⟅☙⟆ Personality ⟅☙⟆

Many think that she simply doesn't have any kind of emotion. Shoma never shows any kind of expression in public, she is shown with her face up and with a look so cold that she makes it true to her appearance. The young woman is too serious, and depending on the person, it is very difficult to get her out of her typical attitude.

Sho is an elegant little girl, and full of grace despite all her troubles. She will never be friendly enough in front of someone (again, it depends on the person), but she will also not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome unless that is the goal of the little one. Shoma knows that she is able to erase someone from the earth fas if she wishes, but she doesn't abuse that thought, you just have to be careful not to make her angry or touch her too much. It could be a big mistake.

Still, well ...

She is always alert, so it is very easy for her to get nervous or anxious most of the time.

She can also happen that she cannot do something right (she finds it very difficult to concentrate / think on several occasions, as well as sometimes she finds it difficult to understand what happens around her, etc). Still, it is something that doesn't happen as much as before, after leaving the aforementioned situation in which she found herself.

She is easily frustrated, and this happens when she recognizes that she has trouble thinking. It's very easy for her to cry or tear up in frustration (she doesn't do it in public, she refuses to do it, but that only makes it worse). Also, her coping strategy is simply not talking about her emotions and keeping a straight face all the time.

Still, and even though she very reluctantly accepted help, Sho is willing to change and improve (even if she has to go through hell first). She has shown to be too cunning for her age and to behave as if she were an adult, and even though she is slowly trying to behave according to her age, she is very difficult for her as well.

Anyway, Shoma can also be a girl who listens to others and is willing to do it regardless of the situation, and she is always there to be a shoulder on which one can cry. She also tends to have fun when she feels calm around her, being one of the few moments when she feels and acts like a young little girl.

⟅☙⟆ Relatives ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori: Adoptive father. Currently dead.

⟣ Yui Komori: Adoptive sister. Currently alive.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Food ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't have a single specific favorite food, but she definitely likes sweet and simple foods, like grated applesauce and banana, or a fruit salad.

⟅☙⟆ Hoobies ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Shoma likes to make paintings with her hands. She serves to entertain him and clear her mind.

⟣ She also likes to make crowns with different types of flowers, even some bracelets and necklaces.

⟣ She has a certain fascination for mathematics and literature, so it is normal to see her do either of the two when she is bored. The problem is when she has a hard time doing a difficult exercise.

⟣ She Likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. She likes to decorate and combine, so it is normal for her as a hobby to do the odd combination in video games, or in a room.

⟣ It may not count as a hobby, but Shoma loves to watch an episode of a series that she likes or a movie many times to imitate the lines, as if it were some kind of dubbing attempt.

⟅☙⟆ Occupation ⟅☙⟆

None, she doesn't consider herself a student, even if she studies at home.

⟅☙⟆ Relationships ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori, adoptive father.

She did not have a good relationship with him no matter how hard she tried at the time. It was too obvious the favoritism that he had with Yui, and how she always stayed in the shadow of the blonde. Despite trying to be like Yui, he could never have any kind of acceptance with her father.

⟣ Yui Komori, adoptive sister.

He adored her with her soul. Yui was Shoma's heroine, and she always tried to follow her example despite her unruly attitude as a child. The elder Komori was Shoma's world, and he simply wanted to be with her all the time.

Things have changed now. She can't even look at her. The disgust and hatred that he has for that now young woman is simply immense. And believe it when I say she tries; she tries too hard to forget so many things that caused this feeling, but she just can't.

⟣ Yvonne Beauchene, the right hand.

Shoma's only trusted person alongside her family. Yvonne was Shoma's guardian from the day he arrived at the church, although she had some problems because of it, and that is the reason why she had to leave, but surely nothing bad could happen, right?

⟅☙⟆ Likes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite not having tasted it in recent years, she liked (and still remembers the taste of it, so she still likes) Yvonne's orange tarts a lot. She used to do them when Seiji was not at home for her, Yui and Shoma.

⟣ She loves music, especially the one that doesn't have any type of letter and is only a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. Her favorite, and also Yvonne's, is "The Vampire Masquerade", which is the melody which Yvonne met her husband.

⟣ Regarding the above, she usually daydreams many times with music in the background and she likes that (because the real world sucks and it is her only way out of the stress and anxiety that she feels most of the time). She sometimes even draws or paints those scenarios that are formed in her head.

⟣ As said before, she likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. Also, despite having the face of wanting some horror games (these make her heart race and sometimes she has panic attacks), she prefers Animal Crossing by a lot.

⟣ Loves snakes (which are not poisonous), cats and dogs. Snakes are very good company, and cats and dogs are responsible for keeping her calm.

⟅☙⟆ Dislikes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite having been seen surviving based on it, she does not like meat very much. Of course, she can bear it, she even likes some (very few) meat dishes !, but there are certain types of meat that remind him too much of ... well, her own meat.

⟣ Obviously, she can't stand going to churches or things related to religion. She gets too anxious and nervous.

⟣ Her body and mind literally rejects any kind of physical affection if she doesn't know the person very well or doesn't trust them. It's no surprise, considering her personality. Very few people are lucky enough to even put a hand on her shoulder and not get hurt (Shoma doesn't do it on purpose).

⟅☙⟆ Fears and Phobias ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Somniphobia: fear of sleeping.

Oneirophobia, somniphobia, clinophobia or hypnophobia is an irrational and excessive fear of the act of sleeping. People who suffer from it enter a state of panic caused by the fear that while they are sleeping something terrible will happen to them, such as the possibility of stopping breathing or that they will never wake up, even knowing that there is no threat, but they stay awake, presenting insomnia. Some people who have this phobia associate going to bed with death.

In some cases, panic is unleashed by the belief that the dreams that will be had when sleeping are actually delusions and these will favor falling into a state of permanent madness. This type of phobia generates a great deal of stress and significant physical and mental deterioration, so it is not uncommon for many people to end up suffering from hallucinations, a fact that further aggravates this type of phobia: fear of sleeping.

Shoma cannot sleep because various things used to happen during these. She remembers well once a nun (then she disappeared without a trace) entered her room and hanged her, almost killing her if it weren't for Yui screaming for help.

⟣ Theophobia: fear of religion.

Theophobia is the fear or aversion to religion or the gods, and being more common among people who are raised in an environment of iron religiosity. Theophobia can express itself as fear, aversion, anger, or other negative emotion towards religious practices. In some cases, the theophobic representation can categorize the deity as an arbitrary totalitarian dictator or, conversely, as unworthy of worship.

It is common among people who suffer from theophobia to avoid religious texts, houses of worship (churches, mosques, synagogues ...) and even the parishioners of a religion.

The young woman lived in a church for years and was not treated as "a daughter of God", but as "an aberration of satan" by her father and certain nuns. She causes him so much fear that, if there really is a god, she has abandoned her for "not being worthy". Many things together caused this irrational fear of religion in general.

⟣ Hafephobia: fear of being touched.

Hafephobia is a specific phobic disorder (unlike agoraphobia or social phobia) that causes great suffering in the person who suffers from it.

It is an irrational fear of great intensity that manifests itself when the individual suffering from the phobia comes into physical contact with other people and is touched. It produces a series of cognitive, physiological or behavioral responses, among which extreme anxiety and the attempt to avoid the feared stimulus to reduce the unpleasant sensation stand out.

Shoma, of course, is working on this and for now she's doing very well, but if she's some stranger, she isn't going to allow herself to be touched or touched by another individual. She is so afraid that every touch will turn into a blow or something to harm her.

⟣ Atazagoraphobia: fear of forgetting.

Atazagoraphobia is the excessive fear of forgetting, which includes both the fear of forgetting and the fear of being forgotten or replaced by others. Despite the fact that it is a common sensation, atazagoraphobia has been little described in scientific language. In fact, it has been more pointed out by philosophers and writers who speak of atazagoraphobia as the fear of eternal anonymity.

Shoma was literally forgotten or ignored from a young age, and she doesn't want to go through it again. She doesn't want to feel so cold again that she can't breathe properly or move. She can't, she doesn't want to...

⟅☙⟆ Headcannon Voice ⟅☙⟆

Mia Rodríguez.

⟅☙⟆ Skills ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She is impressively good with knives and razors. She usually uses them for cooking.

⟣ Literally she can imitate many voices, even male ones. She uses it to make jokes or for some plan (to get some dessert) that she has in mind.

⟣ She is becoming more and more independent, and that is why she is getting very good at cooking. She even manages to focus on that rather than other things.

⟅☙⟆ Extra ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She has undiagnosed “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”.

⟣ She tends to bite her arm or bite her nails if she is very anxious.

⟣ It is difficult for her to accept some changes in her life, but she manages to adapt step by step.

⟣ She likes to play with Yvonne's family, August, her husband, being Shoma's favorite.

⟣ She is considerably innocent of the world around her, but at the same time, she isn't. She is aware that the world revolves around that filthy green paper, and she is very clever with it. She knows that her "condition" and her situation may be a weak point, but it is for that reason that she is also careful who she hangs out with.

⟅☙⟆ History ⟅☙⟆

Shoma arrived at the doors of the Komori family church on May 22, 2001, with only a note that said "My name is Shoma, Mom and Dad can no longer take care of me," just three weeks after I was born. She was greeted by one of the local sisters, a favorite of the owner and leader of that church, Seiji Komori. The latter named was not on that cold night, with the snow falling slowly in that beautiful place, so the same sister took care of the girl in his absence.

A girl with blond hair and pink eyes like the petals of a cherry tree approached said sister, curious by the cries that began to be heard. Seeing her up close, and seeing that beautiful celestial gaze, the seven-year-old girl took the girl in her arms (with the permission of her sister), and did not leave her during that night until the next day. It was no surprise to the sister that her crying stopped as soon as the young Komori began to gently cradle her in her arms.

Still, from the moment Seiji arrived, he knew that something was wrong with the girl, that she was "not human", and that he probably knew whose "gift" it was. Shoma was unwelcome, and he couldn't show her that in public, not with Yui close to her. Also, the plan deviated. No, he isn't supposed to have two daughters, and she is supposed to be just one more orphan, but the young blonde girl already called her "Shoma Umi Komori", and that could be ... Something dangerous for him. Obviously, the orders for Shoma to come to his office were not long in coming as soon as he was two years old.

What Shoma saw in her supposed father's room was sealed in her mind, and nothing else. Every time Shoma was called to her father's office, her heart raced because she knew something bad was going to happen. Every time that happened it was because she Shoma found out more and more that she was going to happen to every sixteen, maybe seventeen-year-old on certain dates. It was because Shoma knew too much about her, and if he couldn't make her forget everything she had seen, then she would silence her to her grave. Every time Shoma gained courage and told Yui, she was scolded for inventing such things, and she would see her father again for "breaking her promise" to him.

The only one who managed to believe her is the same sister who received her the day Shoma arrived there, although that same sister would get a serious face everytime Sho told her that, she never had to see her father when she told Yvonne.

But, one day, Seiji went a bit far with the punishments, and let the fury just blind him, even if he didn't even regret it afterwards. Seeing Shoma talk to someone... Important, once this man left the church it just infuriated him. That man's smile when he stopped talking to her and saw him in the eye was not good news at all. That night, everyone heard the screams of a three-year-old girl resound throughout the establishment, and she was found in the middle of the hall with a desperate Seiji, saying that she had been playing with a poker and that she tripped, with it smacking part of her face.

Shoma began to startle every time someone moved near her, every time someone placed her hand on some part of her body, or when they called her, or when they approached her. She didn't separate from Yui or the sister she trusted so much, and even though it started to be annoying for Yui as she grew older, there were very few times when she was really rude to Shoma due to the fatigue of having her on her back every day three seconds, but they just didn't help Shoma with her fear of being alone, either with Seiji, or with certain nuns. The sister who had her trust steadfastly refused to leave her alone if she wasn't with Yui, although it was only because she slipped out of sight once.

Things escalated to the worse on December 12, 2006, at exactly a quarter past two in the morning. It was precisely an exhausting day for the girl, because the nun who was taking care of her and her sister had to leave due to family problems, or so they told her.

The albino-haired girl couldn't sleep due to some nightmares, even though she had become very habitual. The young woman began to hear murmurs and footsteps outside the room that she shared with Yui, and she could make out her father's voice. She could make out her desperate tone from her ... And, strangely, anger.

Carefully, she got out of her bed without making any noise, but following a little voice in her head, she took the camera that belonged to the blonde that was a gift from her only trusted caregiver, and opened slowly the door. Her father had locked himself in her office, and she could hear someone else's voice. On tiptoe, he approached the door ajar, and looked behind it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the body of one of the older girls on the ground, tied up and with blood pouring from her head. That memory is somewhat blurry, but it remembers very well various parts of the conversation between her father and a man with long hair. She took photos, and to her surprise, they did not have flash, and the photos came out perfectly ... That woman had many strange objects.

Once she finished, she turned, intending to leave, but one of the nuns spotted her, yelling to warn Seiji. Shoma wasted no time running and closing in on her sister's room, which she was awakened by her scream. Shoma told her everything quickly, leaving the photos to hide them, and the little girl didn't hesitate long to jump out the window (it was not the first time that she did that out of boredom), and she ran away from there. Still, the nun had gone ahead, and it wasn't long to be just a few steps away from her with her father's poker, part of them burning.

She remembers her sister with hatred seeing it all in horror and just standing there with the camera in her hands, shaking, to simply turn and turn her back on him.

In the blink of an eye, she was dragged by her hair by her "father" and other nuns, and before she had a chance to run away, the girl was thrown into the basement, away from other people, away from Yui, away from everyone. She tried to get out, scream, but no one ever came.

Nobody, nobody at all...

And here ends her story. The young woman, thanks to her curiosity, sealed her fate. She was destined to die in that place, even if she didn't want that, alone and starving, not knowing if Yui or someone would remember her...

But they say that there is always someone who takes care of us somewhere, right? Even if she has no hope... Maybe there really is someone, even without her knowing it.

#shoma komori #komori shoma #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #diavolik lovers #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik #diaboliklovers #dia lovers #dialovers #describe your oc #oc info

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serotocin38 · 4 years

Text

TL;DWrite: How to Court a Dumb Human Bean

Mobei-Jun/Shang Qinghua

In which Shang Qinghua is kind of in love with Mobei-Jun, and misunderstands everything. You know, the typical situation. But this time, after a run-in with a strange demon girl, he’s also oblivious to the fact that he suddenly becomes incredibly attractive everyone else. And they all want him.

2,420 words, oblivious SQH, slight pining, courting, misunderstandings, harem potential but no harem, only Moshang

High cheekbones – check. Sharp jawline – check. Piercing gaze – check. Broad shoulders – check. Ridiculous height – check. Graceful air – check. Firm and defined muscles – double check. Very powerful – check, check, and check.

Shang Qinghua sighed to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly as he reluctantly drew his gaze away from his king and went back to the pile of paperwork in front of him.

Mobei-Jun stood across the room, glaring at a group of elders who seemed to have finally cornered him and wanted to get their point across while Mobei-Jun was still willing to entertain them.

Shang Qinghua had no doubt it was to pester him about getting married again. Ever since Luo Binghe basically up and abandoned his newfound seat of power like it was the side chick he accidentally got pregnant, Mobei-Jun had taken over full-time, and as a result, Shang Qinghua found himself with a lot more paperwork to get through.

While he worked his way through several stacks a day, Shang Qinghua silently cursed Cucumber Bro for going into seclusion with his demon husband to live the life of domestic bliss while he was stuck with a desk job! And he did not even get paid for this!

The only plus side of the paperwork was that Shang Qinghua was situated across from Mobei-Jun most of the day, and he could sneak as many glances as his heart desires. And if Mobei-Jun caught him in the act, Shang Qinghua only had to tap his brush against his chin like he was thinking hard.

Take that, Cucumber Bro. You aren’t the only brilliant actor in this world!

“What’s wrong, my king?” Shang Qinghua asked when Mobei-Jun finally stormed away from the elders, and they were alone.

Mobei-Jun sat down on the throne of ice with an angry glower on his face. If it were directed at him, Shang Qinghua would be a blubbering mess of tears begging for his life. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Do you want to get married.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, wondering if he mishead. Then, his face flushed bright red. “My- My king? I- This- This servant couldn’t possibly be fit to marry you!”

The glower grew deeper, and now it was definitely directed at Shang Qinghua. “I meant, if you ever plan on getting married to anyone,” Mobei-Jun gritted out slowly.

Shang Qinghua was feeling faint now. Of course that was what Mobei-Jun meant! What the hell was he thinking?! He had obviously been daydreaming way too much!

“This servant wouldn’t dare!” Shang Qinghua squeaked. “My entire life is dedicated to serving my king and no one else!” He wondered if now would be a good time to get on his knees and start blubbering.

Mobei-Jun grunted and turned the glare away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said. “The elders think… that the potential candidates they chose do not interest me.”

Shang Qinghua wiped away his tears and sniffled a few times. “Do they not appeal to my king?”

“…Not interested.”

Shang Qinghua thought about the long list of demon girls from various prestigious bloodlines. “Perhaps my king’s taste is... of another gender?”

Mobei-Jun’s glare turned back to him again.

Shang Qinghua was so dead. He just asked the second most powerful demon in the world if he was gay!

He gulped, his hand trembling and dripping ink all over the page. He quickly set it down and put his hands into his lap to hide them. Mobei-Jun just studied him hard, then looked away again, saying nothing.

…so it was not a ‘no’.

Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. “Should- Should this servant let the elders know? I’m certain that there are many eligible demon males that are fit to be my king’s consort? I- I’ve heard that homosexuality is quite common among demons! I mean, Sha Hualing is-”

“Not. Interested.”

“Eh? But- But my king-” Shang Qinghua was at a loss. He almost threw his hands up in the air and tore at his hair while screaming, “THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INTO?”

He took a deep breath instead. “Perhaps my king is not interested in anything romantic or, ahem, sexual. In that case-”

“No.”

Shang Qinghua just stared blankly at him. After a few moments of silence, Mobei-Jun stared back at him.

“My king, is there anyone you’ve ever liked before? Anyone at all?”

There was a long silence. “…Yes.”

“Okay! Great!” Shang Qinghua said desperately. “What- What did they look like? Maybe we can find them again, or- or at least find someone fitting those descriptions!”

Mobei-Jun tilted his head to the side a bit, studying Shang Qinghua with narrowed eyes. “Small,” he said slowly. “Helpless. Like a baby bird.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Uh, okay. What- What color was their hair? Their eyes? Male, female? When did you last see them?”

Mobei-Jun’s lips thinned as he continued staring at Shang Qinghua. “I see them every day,” he said slowly.

Shang Qinghua felt his excitement dim slightly. Ah, so it was a current crush. Despite being by his king’s side on a daily basis, Shang Qinghua was not aware of this interest of his.

His smile wavered ever so slightly. “Do- Do they know you… feel this way towards them?”

Mobei-Jun’s eyes narrowed further, boring deep into Shang Qinghua’s soul. “…They’re not very perceptive,” he said gravely.

Despite the dull throbbing of his own heart, Shang Qinghua silently comforted Mobei-Jun. Unrequited love was not a good feeling.

“Then my king just needs to be more bold with his advances!” Shang Qinghua encouraged. “Maybe you just need to tell them you like them!”

Mobei-Jun considered it. “I… like you.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. “Just like that, my king!”

Mobei-Jun’s glare grew deeper. Then, he shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”

Shang Qinghua gave a nervous chuckle. “How would you know if you don’t try, my king? Maybe if you spend more time with them, they’ll eventually catch on.”

“More time?” Mobei-Jun asked under his breath.

“Oh, and helping them out would probably show that you care.”

Mobei-Jun nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “This… will work?”

Shang Qinghua gave him a weak smile that he hoped was encouraging. “Unless your person is a rock, they’ll certainly realize it.”

“Okay,” Mobei-Jun said. “Then, do you… want me to help-”

“Ah!” Shang Qinghua gasped as an amulet around his neck started growing hot. He quickly pulled it out, the red stone glowing dully in his palm. “This servant is late, my king!” he said. “I need to go pick up your new cloak now!”

He gave a hurried bow before scrambling out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Mobei-Jun sighed in annoyance. “…He’s a rock.”

~~~

Shang Qinghua was running terribly late. He was supposed to go to a specialty shop to pick up a custom cloak of Mobei-Jun’s.

A few weeks ago, Mobei-Jun had dropped a huge monster in front of his desk, blood still spilling from the fresh wound and staining the furs that served as a carpet in his room.

“This is- This is a Frost Flower Tiger Seal?” Shang Qinghua gawked. “What- What does my king want me to do with it this time?” he asked.

Mobei-Jun had recently taken up the habit of hunting rare demonic monsters with pelts that could sell for a fortune or two. And he never told Shang Qinghua what he wanted him to do with them, except he showed extreme offense to Shang Qinghua’s offer of selling them.

So he had no choice but to take the rare pelts and make them into rugs and coats and scarves.

The Fost Flower Tiger Seal’s slick pelt was extremely soft and completely waterproof. It was naturally a deep blue, with black streaks in it, like a tiger’s fur. So Shang Qinghua sent the pelt to a special clothing shop to have them customize a cloak for Mobei-Jun.

However, on the way, Shang Qinghua ran into a couple of demons who were in the process of dragging a poor human girl out of her hut.

“What a pretty little thing,” one of them leered. “Why don’t you come with us and keep us company?”

“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking and thrashing.

“Hey!” Shang Qinghua shouted, glad he brought his sword. It had been a while since he drew it, and he had never been particularly good at fighting in the first place, and he was definitely rusty. He just hoped the threat would scare away the demons.

The other demon sniggered. “Look, another tiny human,” he said. “Let’s take them both.”

Shang Qinghua swung his sword, the weight throwing him off a little bit. He quickly regained his balance, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

If he called out like last time, would Mobei-Jun show up?

Suddenly, both demons’ eyes were glued to Shang Qinghua’s sword. Then, with a mess of senseless apologies, they dropped the girl and ran off faster than Shang Qinghua could figure out what made them run.

It was only afterwards that Shang Qinghua remembered the tassel tied to the end of his sword with Mobei-Jun’s seal on it. Regardless, he gratefully sheathed his sword and rushed to the girl’s side.

“Hey, you really shouldn’t hang around here alone,” Shang Qinghua said, helping her up with a sigh.

The girl huffed. “I had it covered, you know,” she said. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out three needles, obviously coated with a deadly poison.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua said.

“Thank you anyway,” she said. She looked him up and down. “What’s a human like you doing in the Demon Realm?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Not human,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I’m a travelling merchant. Anyway, I suppose I should repay you somehow. What do you want?” she asked. “I’ve got strength potions, protection charms, cultivation enhancers.”

She seemed to have found all of Shang Qinghua’s weaknesses with just a glance. Each suggestion felt like a small stab at all his lacking points.

“Heh, no need,” Shang Qinghua said, remembering he was on a tight schedule. “I need to get going.”

The girl tilted her head to the side. “Where are you headed? I have a pill that can prolong your stamina. Most use it for sex purposes, but you can use it to travel too,” she said casually, ignoring the way Shang Qinghua coughed lightly.

“Just west,” he said vaguely. “I really should go.”

Finally, the girl sighed. “Fine, fine. I won’t keep you. Here, take some water, at least. You look like you could use it.”

She disappeared into her hut briefly and came back with a small bottle. “It’s a bottle of Replenishing Water,” she said. “As long as you’re thirsty, it will continue to produce water. And it doesn’t take up much space, so it’s perfect for travel.”

Shang Qinghua glanced at the sun. He took the bottle. “Much thanks,” he said quickly. He left before the girl could try pushing any more of her wares onto him.

The Replenishing Water did seem pretty useful though. Shang Qinghua took several sips from the tiny bottle, but every single time, more cool water poured from it. But if Shang Qinghua just tipped the bottle over dry ground, nothing came out.

He briefly wondered who that girl was exactly. But he did not think on it too much because he managed to catch the store just before closing.

“Wait!” he called as the store owner, an elderly demon lady came out to lock up.

“There you are!” she snapped, shoving the door open again.

Shang Qinghua followed her inside, apologizing over and over again for being so late. She grumbled as she went and grabbed the cloak, all wrapped up and boxed nicely. He reached for the money pouch in his robes when suddenly, the elderly demon lady grabbed his wrist.

“Come here,” she commanded.

“Eh?” Shang Qinghua was pulled downwards roughly. She stared at him with her old eyes. “Is- Is everything alright, Madame?”

Suddenly, the usually sour expression on her face softened. “I’ve never noticed before, but… you look like my late husband!”

“Wh-What? You- You have to be mistaken. Madame, I am merely a human servant for my king! How could I-”

“I’m not mistaken!” she exclaimed. “You look exactly like him!” Suddenly, she rushed forward, and Shang Qinghua stepped back, running out of the shop as quickly as he could. “Husband, come back! Your Gui-er has been waiting for you!”

Shang Qinghua did not look back. He ran for a few miles before he collapsed on the side of the road, absolutely exhausted. The sun had nearly set, and he was still a far way from the palace. He had really hoped he could avoid travelling by sword.

But before anything else, Shang Qinghua spent a few minutes chugging from the bottle of Replenishing Water. He felt much better after sitting for a bit and making sure the demon lady was not chasing him.

By then, it was completely dark and walking was no longer an option.

Still, Shang Qinghua was reluctant about riding his sword. He had not been confident about mounting his sword since rescuing Mobei-Jun and nearly killing both of them with his skills.

“Ah, my king,” Shang Qinghua sighed aloud.

“What is it?”

Shang Qinghua wished he could say he did not scream like a little girl and drop the box holding the new cloak.

“My- My king!” Shang Qinghua gasped, his heart doing a rapid staccato dance in his chest. “What- What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Mobei-Jun said sternly, like it explained everything.

“This- This servant was just heading back.”

“It’s late already,” Mobei-Jun said. He picked up the box and opened it. He took out the Frost Flower Tiger Seal cloak and inspected it.

“Does my king approve?” Shang Qinghua asked nervously.

Mobei-Jun rubbed the thick cloak between his fingers. “It’s good,” he rumbled. Then, he draped the heavy cloak over Shang Qinghua’s shoulders and clasped it in front.

“My- My king?”

“Let’s go,” Mobei-Jun said, pulling him in by his waist and opening a portal.

They reappeared in the throne room, and Mobei-Jun led them into the adjoining room that served as his and Shang Qinghua’s office.

Shang Qinghua started to take off the cloak, but a sharp glare from Mobei-Jun stopped him. He left it on instead.

Liked the idea at first. I just felt it would take a longer than a brief one-shot, so I kinda procrastinated and lost interest. Will I come back to this one? Not likely.

#moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #tl;dwrite

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siriusimie · 4 years

Text

Basic information

Age: 25

Height: 6’6 1/2

B-day: December 18th

Gender: male

Eye color: lava-orange

Race: Native American/ Korean

Skin tone: light skin

Body type: mesomorph - has 3 forms: humanoid, Wendigo, animal

Quirk: Wendigo

Personality

He’s a gentle giant but he is two-faced; curious, playful, smart; he has trouble controlling his quirk ‘cause it has a mind of its own which is aggressive, feral, and evil.

Out in the open, it makes it a little easier for him to control his quirk. Obviously, in a confined space, it gets really difficult to hold back the quirk’s control (two-faced, huh?). If he is trapped in a small room with people, he will get hungry and will have the urge to eat them. Well, that, unless he takes a liking to them after the first time meeting them. In this case, he won’t feel the need to kill them.

Making him angry will end up with his quirk taking control over him regardless if he likes you or not. When his quirk is used, he turns into his humanoid form at first, then he turns into his actual Wendigo, which is pretty much no longer Min. His mind is completely controlled by the quirk itself, who will push Min to eat and kill people. The more people he eats, the more he starts to lose emotions and feelings. This is the reason why he feeds frequently, to keep his cravings low and stay calm.

During the winter, he prefers to spend his time in the forest, because the cold heightens his cravings; there he loves roaming through trees, he can even cause sudden snowfalls in his forms. His animal form is peaceful, and that’s why he prefers to change into it whenever but chooses not to unless he has a source of food.

Additional Physical Details

He has tattoos: one on his lower v-line, on the left side and back.

He has deer-like ears and a prehensile tail that grows on command; it can grab things and lift them, like an extra arm, but it isn’t as strong as his arms. With his tail, he can lift about 270 pounds.

His ears are hypersensitive due to the predatory instincts of Wendigo, which makes it easier to hunt down prey (people included) when needed.

His nose is also super sensitive, just like his ears; he can smell 10,000 times more acutely than a human. For example, in a store, someone got a splinter and he could smell it from the other side of the store in seconds. He can also smell different chemical changes in the body, like those caused by emotions.

His eyes turn red and his teeth sharpen when he is feeding, feels threatened, or can’t control his quirk. They turn black in all his forms.

Occupation: Freedom/ unknown

Hobbies: singing, reading, building things, playing instruments.

Back Story:

As a child growing up Min had always been different from everyone else in his family, especially once he discovered his quirk.

“Momma....papa....what are you doing with that knife? Momma.....I’m scared…the voice keeps talking to me, he wants me to eat people, I...I don’t want to do that, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I’m so hungry, it won’t go away. I’m a good boy, right? You know that, don’t you? Papa ?” a 3 years old, weird-looking boy whimpered on the floor, trembling, as the blood of the family’s deceased dog covered his entire skull-like face and teeth. He looked at his claws then back at the dog, then up at his parents. They were hiding behind the island in the kitchen, holding knives up as they pointed them at him. He crawled forward to them in his Wendigo form with soulless eyes that could drive fear into anyone who looked at them.

“ST- STAY BACK YOU MONSTER!,” his dad yelled at him, aiming the knife in his direction. Min flinched back, bumping into the corpse on the floor like a petrified animal trapped in a corner, feeling threatened, as the monster inside him crept up to the surface.

He is no father of yours if he can not accept who you are. Kill him. Then find someone who will accept us for who we are.

“I- I don’t wanna hurt them they’re my parents-” Min whispered to the voice in his head, quickly cut off by a streak of pain. He stood up on his hind legs, holding his head as he battled the monster within. His tail whipped and slashed through everything in its path as a terrifying scream left his gaping jaws. Standing at 7 feet tall already in his form made the view for his parents now left speechless. Slowly, his head turned back down looking at his father; the room filled with hitched breaths, and silence that was acting like a monster itself. Min’s movements had no sound to them as he walked closer to the other two people. With soulless pits filled with two white pupils that stared down at his father, he bent down, crawling on all four, finally coming snout to face with his father and the mother who was fearfully hiding behind the man, words trapped in her throat. His father stayed in place not able to move.

“Go away.....” the dad forced his words out, “you’re not our son”

Inside Min's mind, he was fighting the monster, trying to stop him from hurting his parents, as the monster opened his jaw to show off all the sharp teeth. Words escaped the gaping mouth. “No don’t!- you and I both know you want this, don’t stop me- I DON’T WANT THIS!,” The jaw made now a complete 90 degrees as it positioned itself to snap his dad in half before pausing, going blank; the silver pupils in its eyes gone. The father gathered himself as he raised the knife above the creature's neck before forcing it down into it. The sudden pressure to the spinal cord triggered the creature’s jaw to snap shut on his father's legs, making them both fall to the ground, torn from the body, leaving Min’s mother in shock. The man screamed in agony and pain as his legs got crushed to nothing in the heavy jaws, blood gushing everywhere.

“GET THE ELECTRIC TAPE AND CALL THE POLICE AND AN AMBULANCE NOW!” Min's father yells at his wife, but she just stared like a deer in headlights, “NOW DYANI!” he tried to draw her attention again.

She snapped out of her thoughts and did as asked. She came back to a terrifyingly quiet scene: her husband was passed out, bleeding and in pain, while her son passed out from the whole emotional and mental struggle. She put Min's ankles together and wrapped tape around them about 6 times. Then she repeated the action to his and then the skull.

Once the Ambulance arrived, the woman could only stand back and watch the pros take ahold of her husband who had woke up in pain “Get rid of him, he’s dangerous......” She heard his words, but could only nod in response before looking down at her son. She didn’t want to get rid of him but when push comes to shove, she had no other choice. She watched as the ambulance took off down the road with the police right behind them, coming in the direction of her house and pulling into the driveway, police officers rushing up to the house.

“What seems....to...be...the problem....” the officer's voice died down looking at Min’s form, then back at the woman.

“He can’t stay here, he’s dangerous. The ambulance you went past had my husband in it; his legs were crushed in this MONSTER’S jaws and I don’t even know if he will live or not” she cried, watching as the officers took down notes of the kitchen, the blood, and Min.

“Ma’am, do you think you can keep him here until we get back up?” one officer looked towards the basement's open door.

“The basement? what if-,” she asked, already concerned, her eyes sticking to the door.

“ You already have him tied up, and my men are making adjustments to the knots; you’re gonna have to come with us for the time being, so you’re no longer in danger until he is out of this house, and we investigate more of the situation” She listened to his words, nodding ever so often. The officers took her to the police car, reassuring along the way before going back to Min and dragging him down the steps of the basement, not even supporting his head, and letting it bump against each wooden step, cracking his skull open. They set him as far away as possible from the steps before tranquilizing him in advance, even though he was already passed out.

For the next couple of days, the police would check up on Min making sure he was “okay”, just to put him back to sleep if he turned awake. A secret governmental science facility came one night to pick him up. They brought down a cage made of qualitative glass, dragged his large body into it, and locked the doors behind his legs. They picked him up, took him up the steps to the outside world.

When Min started to wake up in the cage, his soulless eyes looked around slowly, taking in the surroundings. He started to panic, unable to move much or speak, his eyes stopping on his mother, who just sat there, looking at him while a man in a black suit handed over a little slip that looks like a money check. His family had never really had a lot of money, so seeing her take the money and using him to get it broke his heart.

She’s abandoning you, selling you off from the start and you trusted your parents were actually gonna come back to help you? We would never be in this situation if you just let me take control.

Black tears escaped Min's sockets as the view of his mother came to an end. Now he was in the dark, all by himself; security all around him, with guns pointed at him, ready to shoot at any angle as they took him away to God knows where. Hours passed since Min was taken away to the secret facility, a place no one knew about or could find. Min curled up into a ball, trying to understand why his mother and father gave him away and refused to help him... ‘I’m not good enough’

it’s pretty obvious dumbass

‘I wasn’t talking to you, leave me alone,........ please’

get used to it, you are me and I am you, we are one

‘NO WE ARE NOT!’ he looked around as the cage was carried down a long white hall with different doors and glass windows attached for examination. Kids like him, with different quirks in each one; some were undergoing painful tests, others were resting, or eating. The men stopped in front of an empty chamber, pulling the door open and connecting the cage to the opening. One of the security staff pushed a sharp metal stick through a hole in the back of the cage in which Min was, sticking him with it in the back and forcing his body to jolt forward into the white-walled room. The kid landed head first and his body folded over, ending on his back. Once they made sure he was inside, they locked the door a couple of times, securing it before sending in some mini-robots to cut the bondages off of him. In response to feeling free Min stood on all four, backing-up to the corner of the room and looked at the window, watching a couple of people in lab coats and clipboards take notes on him.

“Welcome 323, to your new home, get some rest, tomorrow is a new day for you,”

Day 1:

“323, today we are gonna push your quirk, see what makes it tick, so be a good boy and cooperate okay?”

Min was strapped to a metal table; his head, wrists, stomach, and ankles all secure in place, making him unable to move as a big surgical light blinded him. Under that neon light, his appearance was clear to everyone and scientists surrounded him with scalpels, starting to make small incisions on his body. His eyes widened at the sudden stinging pains.

“Stop! Stop it PLEASE! IT HURTS, IT HURTS, I JUST WANNA GO HOME!”

His mind started to cloud with anger and aggression that fueled the monster inside. The smell of his own blood being spilled heightened Min’s senses and the acuity of the beast within. He grew in size, ripping out of the bondages they put him under. His eyes turned red and his teeth sharpened with two main canines that grew even longer than the rest.

Min wasn’t in control anymore, drowning in his monster’s control, forced to watch what it was doing to the scientists, as it stood on the table, large and tall, whipping its tail around and causing destructions. The monster began to consume the scientists one by one until guts, blood, and gore were everywhere. It turned around to the glass window staring into the eyes of the man who brought it here, buying him off of his mother, whom he will never forgive. The creature lifted his bloody pointing finger towards the man slowly. “You’re next,” it growled out before tensing up and falling to the ground as he was shot in the back with a tranquilizer gun.

“Sir what about the scientists who are-” the employee was cut off by a tall man, who seemed to be in a higher rank.

“Don’t worry, they weren’t even scientists, they were prisoners, we can always replace them when needed. As long as people keep doing crime, we can keep doing what we are doing, and figure out a way to give quirks to anyone. Amazing quirks that belong to ancient creatures such as this one. Turns out his quirk had a mutation, somewhere unknown yet in his DNA, during his womb life. His mother has a weak quirk - touching water makes her skin change into ice - and his father is the same with a weak like quirk, he’s able to turn into a deer, which has little resemblance to subject 323’s ears but nothing else. Set up his next task for tomorrow.” the tall man explained casually, then ordered.

“Right away sir,”

Day 235:

“What will happen?” one of the scientists asked, watching Min as they gave him a task to find an injured subject in dense forests. They wanted to test his predatory instincts even though they saw it every day. Just the smell of blood ticked Min’s monster off and it came alive to control Min. It thrashed against the unbreakable cage trying to break free, banging its head against the glass repeatedly. Once they released him from his cage, he took off into the dense trees like a cheetah, turning into a mountain lion or lynx as he jumped high into the tree crown, eventually disappearing. They had drones follow him as he ran, his nose tracking down the injured subject.

Food, freedom. Food, freedom, need to live. Home....... I want to...... go home.....

Even his monster started to understand what Min felt, though it still was a simple-minded creature.

Scientists were fascinated by how Min's body was able to adjust to different tasks. Swinging from tree to tree, using its tail to hold onto different objects as he pasted them. Min’s monster spotted the target and slowly crawled down the tree, face towards the ground. Its head moved with the subject as he noticed Min’s monster taking off within seconds after notice. He wasn’t far behind the subject, getting ready to chomp down on them. But at the last second, the subject slipped on a dirt hole, big enough for one body. Min’s monster growled before digging at the hole, dirt lashing out everywhere. After a few minutes, Min was able to stick his head down in the hole and pull out the subject with his front teeth before tossing him up in the air. Once the body of the subject touched Min’s jaws, he chomped down on it like popsicles. Screams and crunching sounds filled the forest, dying down by the second.

Min’s P.O.V. on his own life

I’ve realized that my parents will never come back to me. They truly did sell me. After all these years when I thought they would come back for me... false hopes, dreams... it was all just a figment of my imagination to think they cared for me. What is love? I hear the word all the time but I’ve never experienced it. Is it hope? Is it freedom? A chance to live? My parents were all I had, all I had known. Being unlike everyone else made them think differently about me. Containing me to never show my face and say "it is for the best".

I remember I had made my dad lose his job, all because I loved nature. I was playing with a lizard while I waited for his shift to end, not having enough money for daycare, whatever that is. His boss came to talk to me and the lizard saw the opportunity to jump on him. He got so scared that he fell and broke his neck. I didn't know animals weren't allowed in the facility; I was never taught to read or write and because of that, my dad lost his position at the business.

He took all of his anger out on me that night; he dragged me down to the basement and beat me until my wilts busted. No wonder my monster did what it did that day. So being down in that basement, taped up in the dark, being put to sleep every time I woke up, made the beast within me more furious, madder, basically at the fact that it was not accepted. They saw what it did as wrong, even though it didn't know how to help itself.

I still deny it within me sometimes, but when push comes to shove with my own life, we agreed to work together and that we will make it through anything, I know I sound selfish, but I'm ready to see the real world outside these white walls. I'm not an animal, I'm a human being with feelings that I'm learning to discover. I want to jump back on the train of living, find out who I truly am, see what I missed and, if I have to work with this monster, I’d rather be free. Maybe someone out there in the real world can help me. All these years of training brought a trick up my sleeves to, at least, keep this monster down at somewhat of a level.

Ready?

"Ready," I said back to it as I walked down the hallway with many security guards around me. I was able to gain the trust of the staff thanks to being able to explain to my monster what I was going to do and that if it cooperated, we’d be free.

So much food around... I want it, I need it, GIVE IT TO ME NOW!

'stop it! I’ve already told you that there are better options outside this facility. Just wait, and you can get what you want when I give you the signal,'

No promises

'Of course......'

The security took me to a training center, isolating me from everyone, so it was just me in there. They knew my quirk wouldn’t act up. It was part of the normal routine I always did, training in all forms of my body. After my workout, they would immediately take me to a different room, to a medical exanimation table. They even used to send me to a room with a subject female. Probably trying to find a way for me to pass my genes on, but, fortunately, every time I tried, the results would come back negative, ‘cause… at the end of the intercourse, I couldn't control my quirk and end up killing the subject. They resulted in using a needle or have me do it myself, to which I preferred the latter. After that, they had me sent back to my cell, to wait for my next assignment. I used to lay there on the floor, on my back, looking up with my hand reaching for the light, letting it pass through my spread fingers, then grip my fist tightly to the point my veins would show.

I’m hungry

‘you’re always hungry’

I’m getting impatient you won’t do anything about it

‘not yet’

you promised food

‘i know what I promised but-

“323, get up its time for your next test” I turned to the door hearing the scientist behind the glass, as she speaks through a speaker. Being here most of my life, I’ve noticed that I never had an issue with going feral, besides the times I was in the rooms they prepared, and the only explanation I found by myself was that they had filtered the air and sanitized it, to mask the scent they give off. At the end of the day, though, I still had to deal with the cravings. I sat up slowly, looking at the woman and I rose to my feet, making my way to the door. The whole time she has watched me. I could see the fear in her eyes as I walked closer to her until the door blocked me from exiting the room.

“No 323, we are going outside today, as always, then after we are drawing your blood, okay?” she looked up at me through the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded in response to her. If I wasn’t respectful, they would’ve starved me, so I made a habit of saying ‘yes ma’am”, “no ma’am”, “yes sir”, and “no sir”.

The locks of the door started to open, making clicks and exhales from the pressure it had to maintain, in order to keep me from trying to escape. The lady opened the door and stayed behind it. I stepped out to be greeted with security as always. One of them poked me in the side with their gun telling me to move.

Can I kill him, please?!

‘I said no, please just listen’

you can’t stop me just so you know

I did as they told me and walked the direction I was pushed towards against my will. We walked to two giant metal doors. They started to open and in a matter of seconds, I was hit by a cool, crisp winter breeze that ran through my hair and fur. I closed my eyes taking in the fresh smell of nature, the one thing that kept me whole, the one thing that never left my side. ‘Freedom’ I thought to myself as my eyes reopened while adjusting to the clouded light.

Once I focused on the surroundings, I could feel my stomach growl. During the winter, my quirk acted up more. I didn’t know why, but it just did. When I tried to ask for help, wanting to understand why I was the way I was, the responses from the scientists and helpers held words like “ monsters wouldn’t understand why they act the way they do”, “experiments stay quiet, don’t talk”, “stop asking what you don’t need to know, you monster”, “you wanna keep talking and I’ll make sure they starve you” At that point, I wanted nothing more than to just be free, and looking at that highly defensive wall and then down at my hands I knew I was ready to take that chance.

“Move. Freak.” I got stabbed in the side and winced a little.

I can’t take it much longer! the smell is overwhelming I need to kill something I will do it. Especially him !!!!

I ignored my monster the best I could as I walked with the security to the station they had set up for me. I noticed a cage with a blanket over it as they sat me down. For some reason unknown to me at first, I couldn’t smell what was in it. They removed the sheets and with that, they revealed something I never wanted to see again. My heart dropped, but my senses heightened from the smell of freshly cut wounds.

“M-Min baby is that you....? Y-you’re alive.....” my mother whined, trembling; she looked abused and worn down to the last wire.

Narrator P.O.V

Min held his head trying to hold back the monster within.

SHE SOLD US OFF DON’T EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT HOLDING ME BACK! SHE WATCHED US GET SHOVED INTO THAT VAN! MONEY WAS MORE IMPORTANT, REMEMBER ?!

He slammed his balled-up fists down on the ground as he fell over, holding his head and slightly turning it to look at his hurt mother with gritted teeth.

“How could you… How could you sell me off for money...?!” he whimpered as he tried suppressing his monster back, who was already trying to take over. Once it gained control, Min lost his emotions, and, as usual, he could end up having a murder spree. “WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THIS?! HUH ?! TELL ME?!” he started to shift forms, growing in size.

“Hone-”

“DON’T CALL ME ANYTHING THAT RESEMBLES SYMPATHY YOU <<HAVE>> FOR ME, I DON’T WANT IT! I DON’T WANT IT FROM YOU!,”

The woman looked down at her own weak and bleeding-out form, then back up at Min’s creature of death and darkness. She knew she has been wrong for what she did. Her child was innocent and young; he didn’t know how to control the quirk he received, that seemed to not be hers or his father’s, but a gift from Hell to an Angel on earth.

“Min.....forgive me......I was wrong, and self-centered,” as she spoke her eyes closed and she felt her body starting to part into two, one stays as one goes. To make the situation worse they told Min his father sold his mother in for money. Min slashed the cage open in the meantime, his claws hooking into her body, cutting her at an angle.

“Min isn’t here right now. I’m the one within him. He may have forgiven you, but I haven’t,” he shoved his claws down into her body more, watching content as blood spewed out of her mouth; her eyes stared at him with disgust and horror, as her being started slipping away.

“Monster.....” she whispered at him as her body went limp. He looked down at the ex-mother with disgust, then walked over her corpse, looking at the wall. He felt sharp pains in his legs and arms, and turning around, he realized he had gotten surrounded by guards with guns and other weapons.

“Min, don’t force us to hurt you. You’ve been a good boy for 19 years, don’t act up now. You didn’t like the surprise? I thought you would like to see your mother.....after all, your father thought it would be a nice gift for your birthday today” the same tall man stood there among the guard crowds. Min backed up, feeling his final transformation take over, even though he wasn’t in control.

“There it is! Look at that beauty, boys! Why haven’t I seen that form since we first got you? And now you wanna use it?! The power it holds... look at those teeth, the design, the nails, the tail, the perfect machine for destruction,” he said as he walked to Min with open arms. Min paced forward to meet the man, lowering his head to the man's level.

“Good boy, 323! Show them who you are !!-” the man spoke but in the blink of an eye, Min snapped the man’s body in his jaws, not interested in hearing the offer. The man got completely crushed under Min’s psi, then dropped to the ground in multiple pieces.

Shot, stabbed, and tranquilized, Min turned his head to the wall and made a run for it in pain. He couldn’t give up... he had to run, his monster had to run. He started climbing, digging his nails into the cement wall, explosions and sirens hearing everywhere.

“ATTENTION TEST SUBJECT 323 HAS ESCAPED THE FACILITY, ALL STAFF ON BOARD!!”

He made it to the top of the wall and looked down at the facility he once came from; the place he was raised in; the place that was both hell and home, but not anymore. He looked over to the forest ahead of him and closed his eyes to take in the new, fresh air of freedom.

See? when I take control everything goes faster

“I’m scared of what you will do in the real world”

only one way to find out

“Right, let’s do it”

(((Okay ALSO thank you @half-baked-biscuit for editing this you really mean a lot to me. You’re an amazing writer keep up the good work )))

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considerthehorses · 4 years

Text

Heterosexuality Is A Misleading Term For "No Homo"-Moids. Men Do Not Feel Attracted To Women, They Do Not Like Women, And They Do Not Love Women.

1.) Men are not attracted to women.

Men constantly talk about how disgusting vaginas look, smell, taste, and how much they hate the idea of going down on women. If they have the choice, they prefer female genitals that are mutilated: either via "old-fashioned" techniques like in some African and Islamic communities or via "modern" cosmetic surgeries that some women in porn have performed on them. The goal of this is always a kind of sexless, "genitalless", pedophilic look of a pink little slit.

Men also hate any amount of natural body hair on women although (or because!) it is a sign of sexual maturity. Men hate normal amounts of body fat on women although (or because) it is a sign of sexual maturity and fertility as well.

Men want babies with big tits.

And what do they want to sexually do to these babies with big tits? Fuck them in the ass, fuck them in the throat, beat, rape, torture, and humiliate them until they cry.

Male sexuality is nothing but fetishized violence against women. They love anal sex because it is hurtful to women and doesn't give women a chance to orgasm themselves. And the moment they realized that some women actually enjoy giving blowjobs have they come up with "throat fucking" and "deep throat": they HATE women, they HATE female bodies, and they HATE the idea that a woman could enjoy sex.

It is often said that "Porn tells lies about women, but it tells the truth about men". And the truth is that if you take the brutal anal/throat penetration out of male sexuality, what's left is men casually beating, hurting, whipping women. The distinction between "vanilla" and "kink" doesn't make sense in the case of men. It's just a matter of degree. "Vanilla" men want to rape women and beat them - "kinky" men want to rape women and beat them and electroshock and water torture and mutilate them.

Men are not attracted to actual female bodies. Men only enjoy the idea of DESTROYING female bodies: both through absurd beauty norms that effectively destroy these bodies and turn them into absurd dolls and through sexual practices that are always about hurting, beating, whipping, raping, anal fucking, throat fucking female bodies.

Men are MONSTERS. There is some creepy shit in nature: viruses and predators and parasite larvae that eat their host alive. And, of course, other animals also rape women. But nothing is as cruel and disgusting as the human moid: at least a lion doesn't masturbate over the idea of a female lion being torn to pieces by an elephant or whatever. A predator just wants to eat you, a coronavirus just enter a cell nucleus and replicate ... but the human moid gets erections and masturbates to the thought of women being humiliated and tortured and hurt until they cry and bleed or even die.

2.) Men do not like women.

Men do not feel attracted to real women. And men do obviously not LIKE women. They hate women so much that the moment women like something, men hate it: if women like flavored-coffee drinks from Starbucks, men hate it BECAUSE women like it. (As if bacon and bacon memes are funnier or better than women making memes about pizza or enjoying pumpkin-spice lattes!)

If women join a fandom, men leave because the moment women like it, they start hating it. Some sociologist has coined the term "gender pollution": it is a sexist term itself but it describes a real phenomenon: the more women enter a particular space (e.g. a profession or a hobby), the more it is "polluted", the less it is valued and the less people in this job get paid. I think in some Eastern European countries this is actually the case with doctors even: but as there are many women in this field - both among nurses as well as among doctors - doctors are also not valued anymore.

The moment women became good in school was the moment boys increasingly dropped out. Men now associate doing your homework and reading books with women - and they rather ruin their lives than to be engaged with something women like! So instead of doing their homework are they now playing video games 24/7. But now women have obviously started playing video games as well. So now they become mass shooters because they hate the idea of female video game characters.

3.) Men do not love women

Winston Churchill famously said that you have the Germans either at your feet or at your throat.

Now, I’m not sure about the Germans, but I think that this is definitely true for males: they are always either at your throat or at your feet. Males fall in "love" with e-girls … but the moment they find out that those women already have boyfriends they want to kill them. (I’m not even sure if I have to put "love" in quotation marks here because the idea of a REAL love in contrast to quotation-marks-love feels a bit like the idea that only "men" in quotation marks are toxic and shitty while REAL men are all these heroes and these supermen…)

I think pornsickness and “lovesickness” are, in a way, two sides of the same coin. “Love” feels like the surrogate religion of a secular age. I’m not a Buddhist but I agree with this part from a text, explaining why this religion is critical of the concept of “romantic love”:

The love of a man for a woman and a woman for a man is often the floor to which people fall after the collapse of other dreams. It is held to be solid when nothing else is, and though it frequently gives way and dumps them into a basement of despair, it still enjoys a reputation of dependability. No matter that this reputation is illogical — it still flourishes and will continue to flourish regardless of what is said in any book. Love, or possibly the myth of love, is the first, last, and sometimes the only refuge of uncomprehending humanity. What else makes our hearts beat so fast? What else makes us swoon with feeling? What else renders us so intensely alive and aching? The search for love — the sublime, the nebulous, the consuming — remains sacred in a world that increasingly despises the sacred. When the heroic and the transcendental are but memories, when religious institutions fill up with bureaucrats and social scientists, when nobody believes there is a sky beyond the ceiling, then there seems no other escape from the prison of self than the abandon of love. With a gray age of spiritual deadness upon us, we love, or beg for love, or grieve for love. We have nothing higher to live for.

https://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/price/bl124.html

I couldn’t agree more. Just consider how many males murder others and/or end their own lives because of love. Just like being pornsick makes it hard for males - and for women - to develop a realistic understanding of human sexuality with its possibilities and limitations, being “lovesick” makes it hard for males - and for women - to develop a realistic understanding of human relationships. People these days expect love to do what previous generations expected miracles and gods to do. “All you need is love” vs “All you need is Jesus”.

There are also studies that show that males fall in love easier and earlier than women. And they surely fall out of love easier as well. Males are like the flickering flame of a candle that burns brightly for a second and then goes out again. This is why it’s so super common for women to think that they do not know their husbands anymore because they feel that these males are completely different persons suddenly.

Males can be lovesick and pornsick at the same time. They masturbate to torture porn in one moment, and the next moment they write a 20-page love letter to some e-girl and emotionally vomit all over them, confessing their undying love. (Many women receive as many rape threats as they receive cringe love letters in which males emotionally vomit all over them.) And one moment later do they already want to kill those terrible “e-thots” again: males are always either at your throat or at your feet: the romantic concept of "love" is a literary construct at best and a religious tool at worst but it's simply not true that men are able to "love" women in the sense women dream about being loved.

Men are not attracted to actual women.

Men do not like actual women.

Men do not love actual women.

PS - Quote from the Reddit Comments:

Regarding love, this is hormonal thing. The feeling of romantic love, of falling in love, "the honey moon period" etc is caused by hormone called Oxytocin. Oxytocin induced social bonding including bonding with sexual partner, and maternal love. It is found in women in far higher amounts than in men and it is major reason why women exhibit more pro-social behavior, are less selfish, more empathic, better parents, more generous, more trusting, more romantic etc. Men do not normally have much Oxytocin, but they get a temporal boost when they fall in love, which makes them bond to their partner and mellows them down, making them less dangerous and more attentive partner and father. But the effect is always temporal and only lasts few months.

PROOF : The results showed that OT plasma levels (pg ̸ ml, mean ± SD) were significantly higher in women than in men (4.53 ± 1.18 vs 1.53 ± 1.19, p ˂ 0.001).

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manicr · 3 years

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Coming out, Pride month

I thought I'd talk about coming since it's still the last days of pride month, and how different that can be for some kids, using myself as an example.

For some kids there's no dramatic Moment™ but a life lived and sometimes unknown, with pockets of 'outness' and places where the closet exists but only as a polite fiction.

To make some sense of this, I need to go way back for myself. I was always a queer kid; in all senses of the word. Undiagnosed autism was a factor but so were others.

W were many kids in my family, I grew up with 4 of my 5 siblings, a mix of boys and girls and I was the second youngest. In effect, my older brothers helped raise me and my sisters, and my parents had little time for me. They kicked us out to play to get some peace and quiet during the days, and I frankly became somewhat of a feral child, spending time in the woods and playing by myself a lot. Now, this might sound weird when you have 5 siblings, but we were a motley bunch, fought a lot, and played too, and I was autistic af. Being without them was easier and I could do what I wanted, which was usually play with dinosaurs, explore the woods and draw a lot.

I had few friends, who I was intermittently clingy and distant towards. Typical ASD. And I can in hindsight say that by the age of 10-11 that I was queer: Xena Warrior Princess was an awakening -- in my case, it was the villainess Callisto, but Gabrielle and Xena were obviously in love with each other even before it was canon. But it wasn't an 'aha' moment to me. No great fanfares that I wasn't straight or panic about it. I hadn't understood homophobia, and I didn't much care about kissing any 'real' people, even though I was a big shipper of Hercules/Ares and Xena/Gabrielle. I understood slowly that my parents didn't approve of homosexuality or gnc stuff. So I just chalked it up to them being them and hid all that. Though I could never do feminity right. I was often mistaken for a boy as a pre-teen

When I was 12 I had my first kiss -- with a girl. It was on a dare and I didn't think anything of it. I was THAT friend then, with the few friends I had, the overly perverted verbally and clingy physically. Kissing a girl was nothing, but it was also natural. I played at liking boys at this age. Tried to like those snotty prepubescent boys in my school and tried to perform the obligatory boy band fawning. It was Backstreet Boys for me. But I felt nothing, I enjoyed shipping boys more than I did them. Nor did I want a girlfriend really. But my sister pointed out that I was too 'dykey' with my friends. Repeatedly.

When I was 13 I got depressed. It lasted all of 'high school' (sweden: högstadiet 13-15). It was bad. I was self-loathing, suicidal, and hated how I looked and felt. I explored my gender, my sexuality, and tried to find why I felt so wrong. I escaped into fandom. I lost friendships slowly, but I started to realize that they weren't all that good either. I started to realize that I probably wasn't straight, but still cis, and that I wanted to live differently than I did.

In gymnasium (swe: 16-18) I swore that I'd be happier. I came out as bisexual to my friends and school in my first year. I only chose to call myself bi because I liked looking at adult men, but fuck if I didn't like girls my age too. I was outrageously outspoken, without any borders. I dressed like in long leather coats, embroidered shirts, and cargo pants, pseudo-masc flamboyance, or full corsetted loli goth style - feminity taken to the max until it became unattractive or drag.

I let my friendships be intense, physically and emotionally, but never crossed the borders my straight friends set. Though they probably should have set them a little harder so I'd notice. I was no stranger to making out with my friends, and I had fits of jealously even -- leading me to 'share' boys with them when we made out. But despite this, I was never their girlfriend. Just an overly clingy and perverted friend -- but I was still happy. I felt loved. I kissed with one of my friends who's come out as a lesbian. It was her first kiss. No strings attached, as she said, and there weren't. I went to Pride every year after I turned 16. But I never said a word about myself to my family.

The closet was there, if barely. A polite fiction. The unspoken.

My family had all the chances to know: a gnc daughter who was too 'dykey' with her friends who went to Pride every year and was outspoken in support of queer rights. Who never brought home a boyfriend or said a word about dating. My sister sneered at me and called me a homo and a freak. But we never spoke about it. My parents stopped talking about boyfriends with me.

I left home when I was 19, to study in another city. I did, and I partied too, kissing boys and girls, loving dancing and touching, but I didn't date. I tried, a little but no one interested me more than to touch. I was out at uni. I was out online - I joked that I liked fictional men and real women. At work too. But I never spoke to my family about it, until my little sister had a gay panic moment since her bff was in love with her. I outed myself as she cried and talked her down. She's the only blood family member who I've literally told it to this day. My middle brother asked me if I like girls, I said both, and he gave me ecchi manga. Brothers.

When I was 21 I met the love of my life. The first and only man I pursued seriously. And I really had to pursue him since he thought I was a lesbian bc I was so damn queer and liked looking at women's breasts. After some comedy of errors, we got together. He always knew that I was queer and accepted it, enjoyed it even, since we could ogle at women together and he was fine with me looking/commenting on pretty men too. He had queer friends (pretty much half ), had tried it out, and decided he liked women, and he was also on the spectra of autism. I feel a kinship with him, love, and friendship. His family was queer (gay granpa and lesbian step-sister) and I was pretty much introduced as bi together with my name to them, as a matter of fact.

I married him. We've been together for 12 years. I was the first of my sisters to get wed, much to their surprise.

I'm out to the world; except for my older gen of family. But there were no dramatic moments of outing. No TV moment and teary confessions. Even as a child, to my friends, it was a bi by the way and they pretty much guessed it. My siblings, barring my older sister and oldest brother, got it in casual circumstances or guessed it. I think the rest know, but the closet is there as polite fiction so that they don't have to face it.

I don't feel like I'm in the closet. I've never really felt like it. I know my parents' and my older siblings' homophobia, and I know I'm a freak in their eyes, despite being married to a man. I don't care. They don't deserve to have a heart-to-heart with me about my identity, they don't deserve to participate in my joy, and I don't meet them more than a couple times a year.

I'm happy and bi. I love my husband, I love my friends, I love my new family; it's all queer. Coming out was never something that mattered to me. I lived my life and people with eyes saw it as it was. Those who refused had to look at me being queer af regardless. Naturally, I was drawn to queer ppl bc of this and they to me. There's only so much gnc queer shit straight ppl who aren't super queer-friendly can take. Sometimes all you have to do is live your life.

#personal #pride #coming out

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fytheuntamed · 4 years

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Do you have any thoughts on why the novel might be so popular among lgbt people despite (sometimes quite obviously) being written by a straight women for straight women. I think this is quite evident in for example the sex scenes

Why do I think the novel is so popular amongst LGBTQ+ people despite being written by a straight woman for straight women? Simple! It’s a good story and the characters are complex and intriguing. No piece of media is ever perfect, so it simply comes down to whether an individual feels the positive aspects of the media outweigh the negative aspects of the media. Are there problematic aspects within the novel? Of course! But that doesn’t mean the novel as a whole should be disregarded. You can consume media while still being critical of it, just like you can like a character while acknowledging that they’re not a good person. LGBTQ+ people, like everyone else, value a good story and interesting characters, so even if there are aspects of the story that we dislike, we may still stick around if we think it’s worth it! Also, I think there’s a shortage of stories like “Mo Dao Zu Shi” where you have LGBTQ+ characters whose sexuality isn’t the focus of the story. Yes, Wangxian are soulmates and very much in love, but that isn’t the whole point. You have a delightful bundle of politics, magic, familial ties, concepts of right and wrong, mystery, etc etc that also features a beautiful love story between two men. I guess my point is, LGBTQ+ people are flawed just like everyone else and sometimes we consume content even if we don’t agree with every part of it.

I’ve avoided getting involved in any discourse surrounding the various versions of MDZS because I wanted to keep this blog drama free, however I would like to take this chance to offer my own thoughts on the “problematic” aspects of the novel. Before I get into it, I just want to make three things clear: 1) I’m white, 2) I’m not mlm, I’m a lesbian, and 3) I’ve only read the second half of the novel and honestly I can’t remember too much of the specifics. The relevance of my opinion on the matter, therefore, is limited and my words should be read with this fact in mind. I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts and feelings on this matter, so do feel free to either leave a comment or reblog and add your two-cents. All I ask is that we keep it respectful so this can continue to be an enjoyable space for all fans.

I’ve been going through the untamed’s tumblr tag daily since the start of this blog in August 2019, so I’ve seen the whole spectrum of opinions on this matter. Some people feel very strongly that some of the ways in which MXTX writes particular aspects of the novel are “problematic,” some people are indifferent, and others feel that criticism of MXTX’s writing comes from a lack of knowledge of Chinese culture (particularly LGBTQ+ Chinese culture). (I remember seeing a post touching upon this last matter, but I didn’t save it, so unfortunately I can’t link it.)

I think the two most common criticisms of the novel that I have come across pertain to matters of consent and the imposing of heteronormative concepts onto Wangxian. Again, I want to stress that I haven’t read the novel in its entirety and my memory of it is foggy. Talking about consent first, some felt the scene in the novel where LWJ kisses an unexpecting blindfolded WWX was a big no no, while others thought it was a very sweet, romantic scene. (To give context for those who have only seen the drama, this scene would have been placed in episode 25 had they included it). For this matter, I’m of the belief that consent is a must. Regardless of whether WWX enjoyed the kiss, the fact stands that no one is entitled to another’s body, and this is why consent is, in my eyes, non-negotiable. For those who have no problem with this scene, I do think it is worth considering how you would feel about this scene had it involved, say, Jin Zixuan kissing a blindfolded Jiang Yanli. If that had been the case, I do think the majority of readers would have found the scene in poor taste (I could be wrong, though!). I will say that the trope of the forceful kiss is extremely common and can be found in every genre; it’s definitely not restricted to LGBTQ+ couples. For the aforementioned reason, I don’t like the forceful kiss scenario irregardless of the genders of the people involved. I do think writing such scenes for LGBTQ+ couples in particular can perpetuate harmful stereotypes, particularly that LGBTQ+ people have no respect for personal boundaries and can’t control their physical desires. I think the situation is doubly bad if the person who is being kissed is “not yet gay,” because again, it perpetuates the idea of the big bad gay person and the innocent “straight” person who is at the whims of said big bad gay.

Moving on to WWX and LWJ’s sex life, I have seen multiple people in the tag mentioning WWX having a “rape kink” and their discomfort with this fact. Logically, I understand that we are all allowed, as human beings with different tastes and preferences, to enjoy the things that bring us pleasure (excluding certain obvious things). That being said, I do not personally enjoy rape fantasies in my media and try to stay far away from it. As I mentioned, we are all welcome to our own tastes and preferences, but I do think it is important that we realize that we are all also the product of our environments. Things, including kinks, do not exist in vacuums, and therefore they must arise as a result of some mixture of external and internal forces. Does MXTX giving WWX a rape kink automatically make her demon spawn? Not really. Does MXTX giving WWX a rape kink add anything to his character or the story? Also not really. All this being said, I do think LGBTQ+ media is oversaturated with consent issues and I’d personally like to see this come to an end, because once again, it perpetuates harmful stereotypes that do have a real impact on LGBTQ+ individuals.

As for the imposing of heteronormative concepts onto Wangxian, I think the biggest complaint I’ve seen is about WWX being referred to as the “mom” or the “wife” within the Wangxian couple. I would like to state here that this may be a situation in which cultural differences come into play. Additionally, because the novel is not originally written in English, it may be a case of telephone in which the true meaning becomes distorted as it is translated from one language to another and then to another and so on and so forth. Therefore, I am going to proceed with my thoughts on the matter in a more generalized way. For me, this is a big pet peeve of mine, to the point where I will not reblog content that refers to any of the male characters as “mom” or “wife.” My reasoning is simple: WWX is a man, so he would be someone’s “dad” or “husband,” not their “mom” or “wife.” I know from first-hand experience that non-LGBTQ+ people will often try to place a gay couple within a heterosexual context to make it easier for them to process how two women or two men could be together. I understand the reasoning behind this way of thinking, but that does not mean this way of thinking should be encouraged. It’s bad enough that non-LGBTQ+ couples are ensnared in an endless maze of gendered ways of being and thinking - let’s not force that on LGBTQ+ couples as well. My other issue is that the words “mom” and “wife” not only have gendered connotations, but they have implicit sexual connotations as well. In this context, “mom” and “wife” are just another way of saying “bottom.” Just think about it; nobody’s out there calling LWJ “mom” or “wife.” The whole idea of “top” and “bottom” in gay media is so……..it’s almost like an obsession? And for those of you who may be thinking it’s not that deep and has no bearing on real life….I really wish that were true. Go look at the comments section of any gay couple’s youtube video and you will invariably find someone asking who is the top and who is the bottom. That’s invasive as fuck, y’all, and you don’t see that shit on straight couple’s videos (again, because the assumption is that women are always in the submissive, therefore there’s no need to ask because it’s assumed the answer will always be that the woman “bottoms” and the man “tops”). All this being said, I can only speak about this matter from my viewpoint as a lesbian. If one day I were to get married, I wouldn’t want people referring to my wife as my “husband,” because the whole point is that we’re both the wife! I know there isn’t one rule/mindset that applies to all gay people, so I would love to hear others’ feelings on this matter.

Finally, I would also like to briefly touch upon Mo Xuanyu, who we don’t really get to see in the drama. I don’t know whether LWJ or WWX ever explicitly state their sexualities or which gender(s) they’re attracted to, but I’m pretty sure Mo Xuanyu is explicitly stated to be strictly into men (please correct me if I’m wrong!). I do wonder what MXTX’s intentions were (if there were any) when she decided to make Mo Xuanyu gay, because what I’ve grasped of his characterization is that he is written similarly to other gay male characters that give the impression they were created by checking off a list of every popular stereotype about gay men. I guess I’m just curious, as someone who knows very little about Mo Xuanyu, how others felt about his character in terms of complexity and stereotypes.

If you took the time to read all this, thank you! Let me know your thoughts~

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #mo xiang tong xiu #mxtx #long post #sorry this took me a while to respond to anon #i was away from home and also i knew it would end up being long so i wanted to have the time to properly answer you #ask #anon #Anonymous

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elinakazan · 4 years

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( ANNIE MURPHY + CIS FEMALE ) — Have you seen ELINA KAZAN? This THIRTY-FOUR year old is an ART CURATOR who resides in BROOKLYN. SHE has been living in NYC for FOUR MONTHS, and is known to be CREATIVE and CAREFREE, but can also be QUIXOTIC and DRAMATIC, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with HIGHLIGHTED PASSAGES IN A BOOK and PAINT-SPLATTERED CLOTHES | @codstarters

hiya! my name’s ella. i’m SO excited to be here and bring elina to this amazing roleplay. i can’t wait to interact with all of you! so please hmu if you’d like to plot!

. basic information

NAME: elina thisbe kazan

NICKNAME: el, ellie, lina

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: victoria, british columbia, canada

HOMETOWN: birmingham, england

DATE OF BIRTH: april 26, 1986

AGE: thirty-four

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: art curator at the moma

BOROUGH: brooklyn

. background

tw: cheating

Not much is known about Elina's biological parents. Her story is no much different than those of many children in the foster system: parents who were too young to raise a kid. She was born in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. Although she still retains her Canadian citizenship, she does not remember much of her birthplace.

She was six months old when she was adopted by the Kazans. Both of them had immigrated to Canada ten years earlier. Her father, Estevan Kazan was a Greek citizen who moved to Canada to work on his Master's degree and her mother, Katina Trusova moved from Russia seeking a better life. By the time she was adopted, her parents had been married for five years and after several failed attempts to conceive, they decided to adopt. She does speak Greek and Russian fluently.

The Kazans lived in Vancouver for three years before Estevan was offered a job in Birmingham. The whole family relocated to England and a year later her parents adopted a baby boy and two years later a baby girl completed the family.

A happy and reckless child, Elina gave her parents several headaches. She had enough energy to light a city and no matter the number of extracurricular activities her parents enrolled her in, she simply couldn't stay still. Regardless of her endless vitality, Elina often gave nothing but satisfactions to her parents. The kind and bubbly girl turned over the years in a clever, outgoing and creative woman.

Elina never really had a plan, most of the time she just went along with the flow. One day she wanted to be an Olympic athlete and the next day she wanted to be a doctor. Her life aspirations were ever-changing. However, the only constant in her life was her love and passion for art, any kind of art. A dreamer per nature, Elina found solace in paintings, songs, films and books. They allowed her to travel to a different world and in the tough moments, art has always been there for her.

Loyal to her capricious nature, Elina tied the knot when she was just 18 years old. Harry Vandenberg was not a random choice. In fact, aside from art, he'd been the other constant in her life. Best friends since she moved to England, Elina swears that she knew she was going to marry him even at the tender age of three. It took years to go from strangers to friends to boyfriend and girlfriend and finally to husband and wife.

Elina started university shortly after the wedding. She decided to take a double program and she graduated with a Bachelor in History of Art and Classics from Oxford. While her academic life kept her busy, she often felt alone. Being in the army, Harry was often away. At first, she didn't mind the loneliness, but soon it started to take a toll on their relationship.

Throughout most of her life, Elina aimed to have a marriage like the one her parents had. In her eyes, they were the perfect couple until she found out it all had been a lie. Her parents divorce came out of nowhere but soon enough her mother explained everything. Her father had been cheating on her for the past fifteen years. Elina's whole world crumbled down upon hearing that and just like that her trust in those close to her was gone.

No one could be trusted. That was all she had taken from her parents' divorce and unfortunately she brought it into her marriage. Elina started to question Harry's faithfulness. Nothing he did or say could change her mind that her husband was not cheating. Without evidence she continued to accuse him and despite his best efforts to prove his innocence, their marriage came to and end. All those false allegations became a reality. She had pushed him away and turned him into a cheater.

Her heartache was enhanced when she saw Harry's face all over the news after his relationship with the princess came out. When it came to settle the divorce, Elina decided she didn't want anything, she just signed it and moved to Italy where she lived until four months ago.

Six months ago, she was offered her dream job: museum curator at the MOMA. She hesitated to take it since she knew Harry lived there and the last thing she wanted was to make everyone think that she was moving there for him but in the end, she couldn't deter her own dreams because of him. So, she took the job and relocated to New York four months ago. She got a nice place in Brooklyn and she hopes that the city is big enough to avoid running into her ex-husband.

. personality

Elina worships her freedom. She loves travel, adventure, meeting new people, and she longs to experience all of life. If she hates something in life that is routine. She doesn't want to lead a humdrum life and she is often doing a bunch of things as she is not tied down to one task. Her upbeat personality helps her to make friends easily and she often attracts people from all walks of life. She has a way with words and an uncanny ability to motivate others, she also loves to make people laugh and tends to be very sarcastic almost cynical. Honesty and loyalty are sacred to her and that can make her feel wary. She doesn't trust easily and chooses very careful who to trust. Elina is also an idealistic and a daydreamer. She is always in her own little world and she tends to get distracted easily.

. potential connections

siblings: she has two siblings, a brother (30) and a sister (28). they are also adopted (so the fc could be anyone). i imagine they have a good relationship, although maybe she could have had a fallout with one of them because they decided to take their father’s side in the divorce.

close friends: could be friends she made in england, italy or here in new york. she has plenty friends but this group is special because she trusts them which is a hard thing for her to do.

partner in crime: so elina is very spontaneous, they kind of person who rarely says no to adventure. unfortunately, not many people are like that but this person is just like her and they always say yes to all her plans.

art lovers: they run into each other at art galleries, exhibitions, open mics, museums, screenings, concerts, anything that involves art. so obviously they have the same interests, so they are each other art buddy.

university classmates/friends: she attended oxford for four years, then the royal academy of art and right now she’s doing a master’s at nyu.

before sunset plot: okay so she traveled a lot after her divorce, so i’d love a plot like the one in the movie, ya know, they met on a train and talked for hours, they walked around the cities and talked some more. there was a connection but then their ways had to be split.

unlikely friends: despite their differences they are friends. elina is very outgoing, reckless and impulsive while your character is the opposite of that.

fwb: since her divorce, elina hasn’t been in a serious relationship, however, this is the closest she has to one. they just fall in tune with the other. it’s easy, no strings attached. (m/f)

ex-flings: she probably has hooked up with a few people, it’s casual. (m/f)

tinder date: yeah she fell into the online dating world and let’s say it did NOT go well. it was akward but in a fun way. everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. it’s a fond memory but obviously there wasn’t a second date.

neighbours: people who live either in brooklyn or in her apartment complex.

OOOF ! okay, that’s all i have for now. i didn’t proofread this so excuse the lazy english but it’s 3 am here so my brain is dead. anyway, enough rambling. i’d loooove to plot with y’all so please like this or come and hit me up with plots. tumblr messages or discord, i’m game for anything!!! :D

#codintro #what a novel!#but plot with us pls #tw cheating

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charliejrogers · 4 years

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Gone With the Wind (Or, Why are we still talking about this?)

Beyond the second Godfather, Titanic, Avengers: Endgame, The Irishman, and Tarantino at his most indulgent (The Hateful 8) my experience with films over the 180-min mark is rather paltry. I haven’t seen many of those epic “classics” of days past, not because of disinterest, just lack of time. I’ll get to you yet, Doctor Zhivago! But that’s not the case for Gone With the Wind: I just never had any interest. Though I love Titanic, I never had interest in watching a four-hour love story from the 1930s. And for all it’s praise, I never knew anyone who had seen it, nor did I hear a lot of praise about it on online forums/websites. Perhaps because the internet tends to dominated by male voices who would rather tout gangster films than the passionate drama I was led to believe this film was. In sum, I just sort of took it for granted that Gone With the Wind was some all-time classic, but one which I would just never get around to seeing, and I was ok with that.

That changed in 2018, when Spike Lee used a scene from the film to start his own movie BlacKkKlansmen. Before this, I had never known there was ever any controversy surrounding a move that was supposedly as good if not better than Casablanca. Lee used the scene from Gone With the Wind (in addition to a scene from The Birth of a Nation) to criticize the way Hollywood has long served as a bastion for white supremacy, giving voice and platform to hateful speech and thoughts. In the case of Gone With the Wind, that means a work which embodies those hateful thoughts, and yet has been celebrated and praised despite doing so ad nauseum for 80+ years. At that point, I lost even more interest in the film, now not wanting to watch a racist movie.

Fast-forward to 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s murder (among many other Black people killed by police recently and throughout American history) when HBO is under severe controversy for first putting Gone With the Wind on its streaming service, and then subsequently under more controversy for taking it down. A debate took place about censorship, free speech, and the other bullshit conservatives use to sustain their own beliefs while hypocritically arguing against when things don’t go their way. Regardless, for myself, in order to enter into the debate informed I felt like I wanted to know what the hubbub was all about. Frankly, I was curious to see why a movie that was so obviously racist was so adored.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later, I’m not really that sure. On the one hand, putting myself in the shoes of an audience member in 1939, the first half would have blown me away, with the drama taking place in Georgia at the very start of the Civil War up through its grand destruction under General Sherman. The colors and cinematography capturing the landscape of Georgia are just downright beautiful , unlike anything that had been in films prior. Yes, it’s not the first movie to be shot in color (nor was the Wizard of Oz which came out just 4 months prior), but I can’t imagine films before this were as devastatingly beautiful. Everything from the colors of the women’s dresses to the multiple picture-perfect sunsets pops out and catches your eye, and not in the fairytale, bubblegum way of Wizard of Oz. Gone With the Wind captures the natural beauty and colors of our world, and put it on display in a grand way. The cinematography really deserves every praise it gets.

The recurrent motif of characters’ shadows being casted onto the wall behind them during key emotional scenes was one I never tired of. Not only are the shadows beautifully captured by the camera, but, especially in a movie where every character seems to have a secret passion they refuse to express, the shadows strip away all our external beauties (make-up, facial features, dresses, and all the stuff this film has in spades), leaving us with figures that are still obviously human and whose feelings are immediately understood. All that is needed to convey grief is to see two shadows with the heads hung low.

The other positives of this film? Clark Gable is a handsome fucking man. He walks the fine line of confidence and smug so well that few others than, say, Brad Pitt could have ever performed the role of Rhett Butler so well. I particularly loved how he portrayed his relationship with his daughter, and the genuine love he showers upon her. Yes, he obviously spoils the child, but he’s so charming and so sincere that rarely have I seen such devoting love from father to daughter on screen, even 80 years later. As one character says, “there must be a great deal of good in a man who would love a child so much.”

But Rhett’s also kind of a despicable human being. He’s a brutish MAN, who loves his daughter because she is someone he can finally “completely own,” (an interesting choice of words said by a Southerner just after the Civil War) which is indicative of his philosophy towards love. Yes, love should be reciprocal, but his idea that his wife should exist in strict subservient, obedient love to him is ridiculous, yet he pursues it like it’s his right. He is otherwise prone to petty jealousy and drunkenness, and he is emotionally abuse toward his wife, Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh). It’s uncomfortable today to watch these scenes of abuse, like where he threatens to crush her skull to get the thoughts of another man out of her head, or where, after O’Hara makes abundantly clear that she never wants sex with Butler again, he in a drunken fit picks her up in order to carry her to bed, saying essentially “I know you said you didn’t want to but I’m going to fuck you.” After such deplorable behavior in a movie today, there would at least be ambiguity about Butler’s character or morality. Nope, not here. We see O’Hara the next morning essentially elated by the burst of passion that just a few hours earlier she was dreading and resisting. Throughout everything, Butler is held up as one of the film’s main heroes, growing from the film’s start as a noble rapscallion who values money too much and gradually evolves into a war hero who earns his people’s respect by protecting his people (and we’ll for argument’s sake just ignore that “protecting his people” means protecting men accused of doling out vigilante, lynch-mob justice which we can only assume implies the KKK). In sum, he’s a complex and charismatic character played wonderfully by Gable, but a character nevertheless that is problematic and would have been better served by a film as willing to highlight these problems as they are willing to highlight them in the film’s protagonist Scarlett O’Hara.

Yes, I’m a thousand words in, and I haven’t even started talking about the actual main character. The movie, for as much as it is discussed as being a love story between O’Hara and Butler or an ode to the Old South, is more a coming-of-age tale (in its first half) and a character study (in its second) focused on O’Hara. She starts the film out a vain, self-indulgent belle of the ball, but faced with the horrors of war and subsequent poverty, she becomes an embodiment of the rotten side of the American Dream: greedy, self-indulgent, and out-of-touch with the world she came from. I suppose that at the end of the film, abandoned by her husband, having lost both of her children, as well as her best friend, O’Hara’s revelation that she should return home to her family’s plantation is supposed to be suggest that she will seek redemption and give up her excesses. That’s fine with me, but I’m not sure the film deserves to just end it there and not allow us to see if she actually earns that redemption. I’m not saying I want MORE Gone With the Wind, just that the story feels incomplete in telling O’Hara’s full story arc.

Still, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching O’Hara’s tale unfold. It is always somewhat refreshing to watch film from decades’ past that refuse to present stories that are morally simple (not that I think people in the 30’s were incapable of complex morality, just that movies at the time tend to reflect more simple black-and-white values). To that extent, O’Hara is not a simple character, and is actually quite fascinating. She’s a ruthless capitalist and opportunist, much in the vain of her male counterpart, Butler. I’m curious to know how, for a country just starting to crawl its way out of the Depression and which in just a few short years would see the rise of Rosie the Riveter women, how O’Hara’s devotion to never be in poverty ever again (even if she has to “lie, steal, cheat, or kill”!) was perceived by audiences. Specifically, released at a time when gender norms were all but fixed, I wonder how men thought of her taking advantage of, and almost weaponizing, her femininity for her advantage, marrying three times not out of love but to better herself and survive. Yet, hypocritically she clings to the ideals of femininity of the past. Her use of her femininity to survive she accepts, yet she abhors the film’s stereotypical heart-of-gold prostitute for her moral licentiousness despite her good nature.

Throughout the film, especially in the later half, it was unclear to me how much we as the audience were supposed to like or dislike O’Hara. Yes, she’s hard-working, resilient, and acts heroically multiple times in the film. But she’s also kind of a child til the very end, obscenely jealous, while also cold and calculating, counting down the days til her best friend dies so that she can sleep with her husband. I liked that ambiguity. It made her feel like a real person. To some degree Leigh’s performance as O’Hara is undercut by histrionics and bouts of “hysteria” that were more common in film performances from that time, but which seem a little annoying and grating today. But damn if it isn’t a great performance, display the full emotional range in this film, from buoyantly bright and cheery, to desperate and despaired.

So yeah, I guess I do get why it’s considered a classic, or at least why it made such a splash in 1939. There was nothing like it! The cinematography is great, its characters are fascinating, complex, and engrossing, and the performances (by Gable in particular) are wonderful. But the elephant in the room, then but especially now, is that… damn… this movie is racist, like in its DNA. They double down on this at the VERY START! The fourth shot of the movie (FOURTH!), after first showing a sign announcing the studio who produced the film, then a look at the plantation-like building bearing the studio’s name, and finally some clouds at daybreak, is of slaves tending to crops. The image is set to a triumphant score while the overlaying text tells us that the movie will be based on Margaret Mitchell’s “Story of the Old South.” This is not done ironically. With the beautiful landscape and music, we as audience are to think, “Wow, what a great time this was.” At the end of the opening credits, the prologue text tells us that the antebellum South was the last in a long line of great lands. It’s the last time “gallantry” would exist, and “the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, or Master and of Slave.” Holy Shit. As if “Master and Slave” is something to celebrate?! “Those damn Yankees would destroy such a beautiful world!” the film argues. Again… not presented ironically. It’s pretty jarring.

That said, I do want to say that to a minimal degree that film is right when it just presents War (with a capital W) in general as a destructive force that either destroys lives outright, or destroys enough property to send lives to ruin. That’s a truth propagated by media as far back as the Iliad, and is sometimes shown effectively here, such as the oft-discussed slow-pan show of the countless Confederate bodies lying dead on the ground mid-way through the film. It’s a depressing sight on an apolitical human level. But, at the same time, the movie’s inability and refusal to address the reason those bodies are there in the first place (racist need to continue slavery), and instead obliquely suggest that the Antebellum South was without any suffering until those damn Yankees brought them ruin is, frankly, insulting and disgusting. It outright ignores the suffering of Black people in favor of highlighting the suffering of whites. A tale unfortunately told ab aeterno in America.

I know others can, have, and will say more about the treatment of Black characters within the film and how they serve only to reinforce negative stereotypes. Mammy, despite being wonderfully acted by Hattie McDaniel, and other house slaves are presented as being eternally grateful to have been enslaved to their white masters, so much so that even after the war they continue to serve them --- because why would they ever want to do differently?! (the film seemingly asks and answers). After the war, Scarlett is more than willing to accept that her lumber mill should be worked by convicts who will be paid less than other workers and suffer harsh treatment, arguing that it is no different than slavery and that has always been ok. WHAT?! And Prissy, the slave who reassures Scarlett that she knows everything about birthing babies, up until the point where her knowledge is needed and she turns out to be nothing more than an airheaded twit, has to be one of the ugliest depictions of a slave I have seen. Particularly, she serves little more than really bad comic relief… with the joke seemingly just being “wow look at how stupid and annoying slaves were.”

This is more than I intended to write, so I won’t go on, but I think everything I had to say has been said. It’s a beautifully shot film, with rich, deep, and complex characters that would be even better served in a movie more willing to dive into the moral ambiguity of their characters, and for Butler in particular not bend over backwards to make him look like a good guy. And I get why it made such an impact 80 years ago, especially in that first half where there’s all the excitement of war and some notable action set-pieces. But even taking out the significant problems the movie has with race, it’s hard for me to understand anyone considers this essential viewing for anyone today besides those with an interest in cinematography, film history, or interested in how race is presented on screen. Its proto-feminist Scarlett O’Hara and her role within an evolving economy and evolving societal ideas of what “love” is are interesting, but they certainly not things that are worth the average viewer’s nearly four hours’ worth of time. It’s a museum piece, one that captured the spirit of a time (and the decades beyond it) where Hollywood felt it was completely OK to romanticize life under slavery, and bemoan its destruction by Yankees. If you want to see this museum piece, go ahead, but don’t let anyone convince you it’s one of the all-time greats.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

Capsule Review: Long movie with great performances and beautiful cinematography... also racist to its core.

#gone with the wind #clark gable #vivien leigh #this movie is racist

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redeadepression · 5 years

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Untitled John Fic | John Marston x F!Reader | Angst

I couldn’t think of a title so... Get it? Like the Goose game. Lol.

Sooo I misread this ask as specifically asking for fem reader which is how I have written the fic. I apologise if you were wanting GN or M!Reader. But I do state in my rules if you don’t ask for a specific gender I will probably write F!Reader as it’s what I am most confident in as a female.

I would also LOVE to write an Arthur fic along the same vein but need to wait for inspiration to hit. Feel free to send me sad Arthur headcanons you wouldn’t mind me using as a prompt to get the juices flowing.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts | Tags: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort

Relationships: John Marston x F!Reader, (past) John Marston x Abigail Roberts | NO CHEATING

Word Count: 4608

Summery: John is struggling with juggling a new relationship and his commitment to Abigail as ex-husband/co-parent to Jack. Reader comforts him when he’s down.

Disclaimer: I fucking LOVE Abigail!!! Don’t @ me about her characterization in this fic! John/Abi is my OTP. I am fully aware they are BOTH at fault for their shitty relationship early game and I try so hard to never write her as purely “the bad guy”. I make sure to always try and give her solid reasoning behind her shitty actions. However, this fic is from John and his new gf’s POV so obviously Abigail is going to be the antagonist.

~~~

It had been a hard few months. Tensions were high in the Gang and as a relatively new member you were finding it hard to hide that fact that you felt uncomfortable and out of place.

Most of your awkward feelings came from the seemingly unanimous contempt that had been placed upon you by a large number of gang members. A strong dislike so thinly veiled that it hung in the air like a bad smell. It felt absolutely suffocating, intolerable at times.

But you couldn’t walk away now. Not after what you had done to cause this cloud of abhorrence that seemed to follow your every move. You’d made a commitment and you planned to stick it out until the heat died down.

If it did die down… You worried more than you cared to admit that you had made a name for yourself. That your time here would always be miserable.

You sat by yourself on a log near the fire. Having risen earlier than usual to try and avoid the bustle of the morning. Gang members arguing over who got the first cup of coffee and whining at the taste of left-over stew for breakfast.

Most people were still asleep. The sun had only just begun to peak its head over the mountains across the distant valley. You were enjoying your moment of silence, a second to yourself to catch your breath after a horrible night of restless sleep.

As if the universe itself was against you, an almighty shriek ripped through the camp, a sudden wind, unrelated to the noise jostled tent flaps and wiped your hair around your face. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn the breeze was a shockwave from the force of Abigail’s wrath.

You exhaled slowly, turning to look in the direction of the disturbance but still trying to be discreet lest anyone was watching.

Abigail was berating John. Absolutely tearing shreds off him as he stared at her blankly like a startled deer. He had been on his way to the fire, empty coffee cup in hand when she had caught up with him. Her mannerisms telling anyone that was watching that she was finally at the end of her tether.

You pursed your lips, turning back to the fire quickly and trying to pretend you hadn’t heard. Couldn’t still hear, the screaming and cursing.

You couldn’t blame her. It was your fault she was so high strung lately.

You listened as John tried to defend himself meekly. His arguments palling in comparison to her accusations. She had every right to be as upset with him as she was. But you felt perhaps this discussion could have happened in private instead of airing your dirty laundry for the Gang to witness.

It had been a good 6 months now since they had broken up. Amicably at first with the intensions of working things out after a trial separation. John had needed space from her constant nagging and Abigail felt she needed time away from here ‘second child.’

They kept their separation to themselves. But due to the nature of their volatile relationship it wasn’t such a secret. Abigail and Jack moved out of John’s tent and Jack had spent days crying on his bedroll. Heartbroken over his parents splitting up.

This caused frequent quarrels. Abigail arguing that John didn’t care and wasn’t doing anything to try and console the boy that everything would be fine. John arguing right back that there was nothing he could do. Why give him hope for something that may never happen?

The fact that Abigail refused to leave him in peace after their separation just pushed him further away. Even if her arguments were valid and with good intension. John felt caged. Breaking up didn’t make her stop. He couldn’t catch a break. He felt trapped with the only option being to run again.

You bit at your bottom lip, taking a sip of your coffee to seem nonchalant as more and more gang members began to rise from their tents to see what all the commotion is about. A few were looking directly at you. Their eyes squinted and full of loathing. But most were looking at Abigail and John. Watching as she paced in front of him, ranting and raving about his lack of care.

It seemed she’d had a rough night. With Jack falling ill she’s not slept a wink. Between comforting him and cleaning him up after he’s been sick, she was awake the entire night. Resentment at John’s blissfully unaware state growing by the minute as he slept right through a few tents over.

He was arguing that he didn’t know. She should have told him he was sick. Asked for help and he would have been there. Abigail was screaming back that asking him for help has never done her any good in the past so why should she start now?

John was flailing, you could see it plainly as you chanced another glance around. She was too damn angry to hear anything he had to say. You felt for her. You really did. That was, until she noticed you.

She turned on you with the fury of 3 angry bulls. She screamed your name, pointing. All eyes were on you as she shouted.

“And you! You don’t help a damn thing you homewrecker!”

Your jaw droped, unable to speak as you blinked in disbelief. She’d not spoken a word to you in months. Of course now was the time she chose to hash it all out.

“Hey!” John interjected, grabbing Abigail by the arm and spinning her back in his direction. “You leave her out of this!” He warned, eyes stern as she reeled around, hand clapping hard against the side of his face and making him falter. He let go of her, staring with wounded eyes as she took a step back. Realising what she’d just done and clearing her throat.

She opened her mouth to apologise. Her own disbelief greater than that of anybody watching. It had been a reflex. Muscle memory from her days as a prostitute. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

John turned away, standing there for a second longer before walking away in the direction of the horses.

You watched in stunned silence as she let him go. Even the birds seemingly invested in the situation as an awry stillness descended on the whole area. The only sound the crunching of John’s boots as he stomped towards Old Boy.

He mounted up and left. Forgoing a saddle or any other tack. Hands holding tight on to Old Boy’s mane as he dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and directed him away from camp.

It took a few minutes and Abigail retreating to her lean-to to check on Jack before anyone dared to make a move. Gang members slowly exiting their respective tents and going about their business quietly. None of them bold enough to mention what had just happened for fear of Abigail over-hearing.

You stood slowly, knowing people were going to be looking in your direction regardless. They knew where you were going. What your plan was. There was no point in sitting around any longer in an attempt to try and hide it.

You moved towards your horse. Taking your time to saddle up and make sure he/she was ready for the ride before mounting up and spurring them into a trot along the path out of camp.

~~~~

You didn’t have to ride long. Knowing in your heart where John would be you had ridden towards that area, following along the fresh hoof-prints in the loose red dirt.

You turned off the beaten path, your horse whinnying in annoyance at having to walk through the brush. You petted them on the neck, promising a treat for following your direction. You know they couldn’t understand you but smiled non-the-less as they seemed to calm at the idea.

You could have left them hitched to a tree near the main road. But you ran the risk of another gang member noticing them and walking through the forest to find you.

You spotted John and Old Boy up ahead. The large Hungarian Half-bred munching happily on some greenery about 10 metres from the edge of a large cliff overlooking the valley below. John was sitting near the edge. Face in his hands as he contemplated his life thus far, oblivious to your approach.

You hitched Y/HN next to Old Boy and called out softly to alert John to your presence. He jumped slightly. Looking over his shoulder briefly before wiping at his face and letting his hands fall to his lap.

You sat down beside him, placing a familiar hand on his upper back and rubbing small, comforting circles as he glared at the ground in front of him. A large, angry mark flaring up on his cheek where Abigail had hit him.

It had been about 4 months since you’d officially started dating. Four months of absolute hell if you were being honest. But when you were alone like this, in your special spot away from camp, it was absolute bliss.

This specific situation wasn’t ideal. But you had been yearning for some alone time away from prying eyes.

Eyes that seemed to never stop watching. It was taking its toll on you. Making you regret things you shouldn’t be regretting. Questioning things, you didn’t want to be questioning.

Like was he worth it?

John seemed to follow your train of thought. Side-eying you silently as he rubbed at his cheek.

“You can go.” He said weakly. “If you want.” A long exhale following his words as he licked his lips and fell silent once more.

“I just got here.” You laughed, hand falling from its place on his back. You placed it on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly and watching as his jaw tensed. Seemingly gritting his teeth.

“No... I know.” He said softly, struggling to find the words. “I mean… You can leave. If you want to.” He paused, finally turning to look at you and realising his point had not been made. “The Gang.” He clarified. Making your brows shoot upwards in surprise.

He turned back to his hands in his lap and closed his eyes for a moment. You suspected he was waiting for your confirmation on the subject but it didn’t come.

You had been enjoying your time in the Gang up until recently. Having worked hard every day for a week to pull a con on two men you’d met in the saloon nearby. It turned out those men were actually trying to con you as well. When the truth was realised you had all had a good laugh. Dutch and Arthur inviting you to join them for a drink and upon realising you currently didn’t have a stable home, the Gang.

Everything was fantastic for a few months. You felt at home almost instantly. You made new friends, new family. You were welcomed with open arms and you had never felt so secure in your lifetime.

When you’d met John, the chemistry had been instantaneous on your part. Finding him attractive, friendly and useful to boot. You had caught him staring more than once and were relatively sure he returned your feelings. But something was off about the way he acted towards you. He had been skittish. Dancing around your attraction to him and outright avoiding any chance you’d had to be alone. It wasn’t until you’d cornered him after a night of drinking that he finally admitted he did feel something for you as well.

He was very guilty about his admission. Explaining that he was supposed to be trying to work on things with Abigail. He was struggling hard with the feeling that he knew deep down their relationship was a dead-end. Every time they were supposed to try and talk it out it ended in a fight. Abigail becoming increasingly impatient that he wasn’t ready to recommit himself to her.

He had word-vomited his darkest thoughts to you that night. Slurring about how he wanted to run away again and saw no way out. His attraction to you was the straw that broke the camels back. The last nail in the coffin of his resolve to fix things with his wife. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. But that didn’t mean he could ignore it.

He wanted to tell Abigail it was over for good. He wasn’t interested in fixing things and he felt they parented better separately anyway. She was always going on about Jack. What about Jack? How will this affect Jack? He was scared to tell her it wouldn’t. To seem callous towards his son and his feelings. He felt he was a better Father without her hanging over his shoulder.

Somewhere in the middle of his rant he had begun to cry. Head heavy with the drink, he hadn’t been able to stop his usual stoic core from breaking. Mortified by the turn of events he’d tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just spent half an hour rambling his sorrows to a relative stranger.

He shut himself down. Locking away his feelings and refusing to acknowledge them even after you’d both bitten the bullet and started to date a few weeks later.

He’d had to tell Abigail first. Before he could in good conscience being seeing you in earnest. He had been too afraid before your drunken talk. Terrified of ending things and risking everything he had for the sake of your rejection. But after the conformation he had been looking for, he’d found a renewed sense of courage. Letting Abigail know he was done with their romantic relationship but that didn’t mean he was walking away from Jack.

To say she hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. You had learnt swear words that day that you hadn’t previously known the existence of. She had been absolutely furious at your betrayal. Having gotten along fine before that. She’d never expected that you would pounce on her husband.

You’d both argued that had they been an item you would never had made your feelings known. But as John was for all intents and purposes, single, you felt it was alright to proposition him.

You understood where she was coming from. She had been blindsided by your interest in him. Having had it set in her mind that they would work things out and become that happy family she had always dreamed she’d have.

For the most part, the gang agreed with your argument. Tiptoeing around Abigail and letting you know that you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t until rumour started to spread about the night you confessed your feelings that things started to take a turn. It spread like wildfire and although you were both pretty confident of its origin, you couldn’t prove it anymore than you could prove you hadn’t slept together that night.

The general consensus of ‘You’ve done no wrong’ quickly changed to ‘How could you do that?’ after rumour spread that you had slept together before John had officially ended things with Abigail.

Looking back, you feared you had worsened the situation by buying into it. Telling people that even if it were true, they were still separated; had led people to believe it was true. You regretted it, more for John’s sake than your own. You thought of these people as your family. But these people were his family and had been for over half his life. The damage done by the entire situation was breaking him. You could see it in the way he looked at you. Hear it in the way he spoke.

You hated to admit it. But this morning part of you was worried you would find Old Boy hitched on the edge of the cliff and John’s mangled body at the bottom.

You looked at him now, your own teeth clenched as you tried to find the words to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. That he hadn’t risked all for nothing. You would stay and you would listen. You would wear the criticism and backhanded comments with an air of pride as long as you were making him happy.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You whispered, shuffling closer so your sides were touching.

John jumped at the initial contact, head snapping back to look at where you’d bumped against him before he seemed to relax, turning his gaze back to the ground.

“I understand if you want to, deep down.” He mumbled, not really moving his lips as he spoke. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

You winced at that, hand on his thigh squeezing once more as you leaned in to kiss the mark on his cheek. He jolted away out of reflex before settling himself down and letting his forehead rest on your own cheek.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re feelin’?” You asked quietly, hand coming up to run through his long hair and massage his scalp. He moaned against you softly, shuddering at the feeling.

“Not feelin’ anything.” He said against your shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the stitching on your collar.

Your lips tightened, eyes flicking towards him as you removed your hand from his head and waited. It took a few seconds before he realised you were done. Sitting back to look at you sadly as you raised your brows in question.

“What?” He asked, looking away. You could tell he wanted you to drop it. To just pretend it hadn’t happened and move on like you’d done that first night.

“What was all that about?” You asked, gesturing back in the direction of camp, his eyes rolling at your question.

“Just drop it will ya?” He asked, annoyance in his tone as he stared out over the valley. The sun now having fully risen above the mountain was tingling their skin with warmth as it worked to rise enough to shade them under the trees above.

You stayed silent, feeling the mood shift. His demeanour hadn’t changed but something was different. You didn’t want to push him too hard, lest he fling himself over the cliff in front of your eyes.

“It’s just…” He started, crossing his arms and huffing indignantly. “It’s… dumb.” He said weakly, trailing off from his train of thought.

You watched on sadly. Brows furrowed as he sniffed audibly. Shoulders shuddering momentarily before he managed to compose himself enough to stop them.

His eyes were squinting in the morning sun. Face scrunched into a scowl as he blinked back his emotions.

He obviously wanted to talk. Not sure how to go about it or if he would be judged for what he was going to say. Perhaps he stopped himself because he felt you would be offended by his statement.

“I’m sure it’s not.” You probed. Deciding that if he truly wanted you to drop it, he wouldn’t have spoken.

“I’m just…” He paused, questioning if he really had the emotional stability he would need to talk about his feelings without breaking down. He swallowed, taking a calming breath before continuing. “I’m really trying.” He said simply, voice cracking on the last word as his face crumpled and he brought his hands up to cover it.

You made a sound of acknowledgement, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing his opposite arm tightly.

He let you, too busy in his own mind to push you away. He admonished himself harshly for thinking he could vent a little bit without opening the gates entirely. It had been such a long time since he’d cried, properly cried and not just let a few tears slip when he was heavy on the drink. He’d been holding in years of unpleasant feelings and lately he’d been struggling. Feeling particularly vulnerable at inopportune times and taking playful jabs way too seriously.

He choked on his words of apology. Mumbling nonsense into his palms as he finally began to let it all out.

“I… I been tryin’ so…” He paused, stumbling over his wording. “So… hard.” He stuttered, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of his own words.

You shushed him lightly, hand squeezing soothingly as you gently pulled him towards you. He let himself fall, head resting on your chest as he huffed quietly, his breathing uneven.

Once he was resting his weight against you, you moved your hand to his back. Running the pads of your fingers lightly up and down his spine and encouraging him to breath in the same slow pattern. He obliged, slowly but surely calming as his breathing began to return to normal. His leaking eyes burning as he struggled to stop the flow of tears he regretted letting go of.

“I don’t… I don…” He stammered, cutting himself off. He already felt so damn weak. Nerves grating on the feeling of helplessness.

You shook your head, other hand coming up to run through his hair once more and then down against his unmarred cheek. You pressed lightly, encouraging him to look at you. He reluctantly did so, red rimmed eyes sheepishly averting as he caught your look of sympathy.

You could tell he was on the verge of shutting down. Composing himself and bottling it all back up until the next time, whenever that may be. All of the thoughts and feelings would come back twice as hard. Knocking against him when he least expects it and finally pushing him off the precipice he had so delicately been balancing on since long before you met him.

Since Jack was born.

“It’s okay.” You cooed, holding him tighter in an effort to make him feel safe. “You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” You whispered gently, the feeling of him slowly coming undone almost physical as his dam-wall broke apart in your arms.

He stuttered uncontrollably, breath hitching almost constantly as he tried his hardest to tell you how he was feeling. Words broken and slurred as he let you in on his darkest thoughts. His deepest fears.

“I been tryin’ so… so hard with Jack.” He cried against your breast. Pressing himself closer to you as if he could hide from your judgement. “She… she told me… I…” He stammered, cutting himself off as deep, wracking sobs overtook his ability to speak.

You shushed him lightly. Making sure to let him know it wasn’t his words you were trying to stop. You wanted to hear it all. Wanted him to let it out and get it in the open so you could calm his tears and all his insecurities.

He was mortified, you could tell by the way he kept trying to hide his face. Wiping at it irately as if being annoyed with his tears would stop them.

You supposed you would be embarrassed too if the situations were reversed. Your relationship was relatively new, even if it had already felt like a lifetime. He was scared of your judgement. Afraid you were going to leave once you’d seen what a wimp he really was.

You reassured him once more that you weren’t leaving. Making it clear you were staying put without his prompting. Hoping it felt more genuine that way.

He seemed to calm down a little after you spoke. Sobs turning to uneven breaths as you resumed running your hand up and down his back at a slow pace.

He followed your movements, long soothing breaths making him weary after his emotional collapse.

“She told me… I weren’t tryin’ hard enough with Jack.” He said finally, nearly getting through the entire sentence without a hitch. His arms wrapped around your waist loosened, falling slack as he took a deep breath and pushed himself to sit up.

You took in his dishevelled appearance, feeling a pang to your heart at the sight of him. Your hand came up automatically to brush his hair behind his ear as he turned to look at you with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.

“She said I ruined his life breakin’ up his parents. Said he’d never be happy again.” He elaborated, barely above a whisper. You smiled sympathetically, hands cupping his cheeks as you leaned into brush your lips against his. He let you, not closing his eyes as you kissed him. Wanting to see as well as feel you.

“You know that ain’t true.” You said against his lips, thumbs swiping under his eyes to wipe away some of the wetness. He paused, nodding hesitantly as if he didn’t really believe it but felt he had to agree for your sake.

“She hurt my feelings.” He admitted quietly. Voice so small you weren’t sure you had actually heard it. He looked away, pulling his face from your grip and you knew then that he had said what you thought. “I been tryin’ so hard.” He repeated for the third time. Driving home how much she had hurt him with her words and making your heart ache. You felt for him. You knew too well the pain of truly trying your hardest only to be shot down and slapped with a punishment for not putting in any effort.

“I know. I’ve seen you.” You stated as a conformation, smiling fondly to yourself at the memory him playing swords with Jack earlier in the week.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” He said simply, hands ringing together unconsciously as he worried his lip between his teeth. You frowned, taking his hands in yours and turning to face him fully.

“You don’t need to.” You stated firmly. “Jack is happy. Ain’t you heard the phrase don’t fix what’s not broke?”

John’s lips twitched at your wording. It was one of the things he loved about you. Your subtle wording that changed a common phrase ever so slightly to your own version.

“I meant… with Abigail.” He shifted uncomfortably at the admission. Your hands letting go of his as you looked at him in surprise. He grabbed at your hands frantically. Scrambling to correct himself and clarify. “Not… romantically.” He pressed. “Just… in general.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. Closing your eyes for a second before focusing on his statement.

“You don’t have to hon.” You said softly. “You’ve been tryin’. I’ve seen you. It’s up to her to make things civil.”

John furrowed his brows. That didn’t seem quite right. He was sure it was his responsibility. She had made that clear from the start.

“I ended it. I hurt her.” He said blatantly, his tone questioning. “I have to make things right.”

You sighed, squeezing his hands tightly as you replied.

“There will be no right as long as you’re with me.”

John looked at you for a long moment. Eyes flicking between yours as he waited for more.

You watched as the realisation hit him. His red rimmed eyes beginning to water as he tensed his jaw once more. He stared at you, hurt plain as day across his face as he assessed your meaning.

“Can you live with that?” He asked, voice thick with emotion.

You took a moment to reflect. Really think about what you were going to say before you responded. To make sure you really meant it.

“Yes.” You smiled. “You’re worth it.” You said, taking his face in your hands once more and pressing your forehead against his.

You felt his cheeks rise. Teeth bumping against your lips as he attempted to kiss you through his smile.

“So are you.” He whispered.

End

~~~

PLEASE let me know if you liked it/What you liked! I am dying for comments on my fics and it’s to the point where I’m not above begging for feedback.

#John Marston x fem reader #john marston x F!Reader #fem reader #F!Reader #john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #fan fiction #reader #reader fic #angst #hurt/comfort #john marston/fem reader #john marston/F!Reader

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shockpop · 4 years

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name : kaminari denki

nickname : he’s currently on the hunt for a nickname that isn’t mean >:(

gender : trans male

romantic orientation : bi !

preferred pet names : honestly just regarding him fondly in any context will kill him on the spot , so . plenty of room for trial and error !

relationship status : single by default . doesn’t want to be .

favorite canon / fandom ship : everyone knows i am the biggest advocate for bakukami so i won’t beat around that bush ... but besides that , i also really like kirikami , tetsukami , shinkami , and momokami !! those are all my faves ;-;

favorite crossover ship : LMAO well nic and i are cooking up a cute inosuke / denki ship !! my two favorite boys from both series >:3c they have a really good dynamic / so much potential to go off of ... i’m really soft about it

opinion on true love : denki is absolutely a believer in it ! he just doesn’t know when he’ll actually end up finding it . to him , as someone so young / hormonal / naturally a hopeless romantic , he’s gonna assume every person he crushes on is ‘ the one ’ , which makes it all the much harder when they obviously don’t reciprocate . he’s really excited to be in love one day , though --- because besides being a hero , he’s always really wanted to become someone’s husband !

opinion on love at first sight : again , he’s at the age where he falls in love superficially about five times a day . it’s not outside the scope of probability that this applies to those ‘ first sight ’ crushes too , especially since so many of these small , insignificant crushes are derived purely from physical attraction at first . even though he doesn’t always understand that he’s not actually in love , it’s still pretty obvious on the outside , given how quickly he gets over these things when they inevitably don’t go as planned . he’s just really dramatic .

how ‘ romantic ’ are they? : i think denki would like to think he’s something of a connoisseur of romance , but in reality , he’s too inexperienced to really understand all the criteria he should be meeting in a relationship . while he has good intentions , he’s just a very unorganized person , so after the initial bit , he might start showing up late to dates or forgetting little anniversaries and whatnot . he may intend to make it a priority , but he’s just so ... malleable as a person , so distractions will always get the best of him ?? and what’s worse is that he’s so laid - back that he may not understand exactly why he should be more remorseful about keeping someone waiting . he will undoubtedly do his best to make up for it , though , showering his loved one in affection and really laying down the charm to appease them ... but he may have to be put in a time - out corner one of these days , just for good measure . this will change as he gets older and has more experience , of course .

ideal physical traits : he likes strong people , regardless of gender . he also likes pretty features , like beautiful eyes and soft cheeks / skin ? soft , pillowy shoulders for leaning on , hands good for holding , nice legs just to look at ...

ideal personality traits : he’d like to think he’s into people who are pleasant and kind , but actually , he’ll take almost anybody who he can keep up with . deep down , he likes personalities combatant of his own as it provides an interesting dynamic , and since he’s something of a ‘ balancing act ’ himself , i think he’d always be fine to even things out in any relationship . the real ideal trait , though , is anybody who clearly has a good heart , regardless of how they act on the surface . denki has great intuition and can sniff that shit out real quick . no matter how agreeable or difficult someone might be , denki’ll always find himself falling easily for those who act on their heartsongs , whatever that may mean for each individual . he vibes with those who are supremely in tune with themselves .

unattractive physical traits : don’t think he really has all that many . he finds a bit of romance in a lot of physical imperfections , like scars and teeth gaps and things like that ... things that are personable , notable , and things that tell stories , are all something he can get behind .

unattractive personality traits : cruelness and brashness and just about anyone who operates on their ego alone . again , if he senses that someone may be a good person deep down , he can come to overlook their ugly personalities , if only to use it as a stepping stone of sorts into bettering them as people --- but if you’ve got an ugly heart to match , then he’ll want nothing to do with you .

ideal date : going into town to grab a bite and shop around , really ! he’s pretty simple like that . he doesn’t really like to stay home if he can help it , but chill indoor dates can be fun too , if done right . if he could have his absolute dream date , though , it’d probably involve taking someone to watch the sunset / fireworks by the sea .

do they have a type? : yes . he’s not as desperate as he makes himself look , so he still has his preferences that may have some say in who he chases after ; ditzy girls and jocks are some favorites . on the opposite end of that spectrum , he’s also really into people who are good with the arts .

average relationship length : about a day or so .

preferred non-sexual intimacy : denki is a cuddler first and a hero second . let him snuggle

commitment level : it depends on the nature of the relationship . though he prefers something longer , he’ll take his flings , his summer romances , etc . if he feels things growing deeper , then he’ll wholly abide by the notion and try to gauge where his partner stands so that they can make things real .

opinion of public affection : he likes hand holding a whole lot and simple things like that , maybe small kisses on the cheek , but being overly affectionate in front of others actually makes him a little uneasy . he wants to save that stuff for private !

past relationships? : nothing really substantial that didn’t end with his partner being talked out of dating him .

tagged by : @anroji ty <333 tagging : @ecntrc , @chasiinglegnds , @aedific , @somniatcr , @destinychose , @cleavcd , &. anyone else who wants to ! ( multis just choose any muse ofc !! )

#out .#omg.#i hope this makes sense im so. headachy and sleep deprived hghghgjh

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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802: The Leech Woman – Part II

So now that we’ve established that The Leech Woman is a shitty movie full of shitty people saying and doing shitty things, we have to ask if there’s a point to all this. After all, movies about terrible people backstabbing each other can still say something, even if it’s just a nihilistic statement about how horrible human beings are. What is The Leech Woman trying to tell us?

As far as I can tell, it’s ugly women should just accept that they’ll never be loved, and go wither away somewhere so we don’t have to look at them.

At the beginning of the film, we’re supposed to feel sorry for June – she’s older than her husband, and he does not love or respect her. We want her to get out of this terrible situation, and the movie offers her two ways of doing so: she can leave him, or she can alter herself to fit his standards. The latter choice is one movies present to women over and over – if that guy doesn’t like you, just change everything about yourself in order to earn him! But where the standard ‘makeover movie’ offers this as a happy ending, in The Leech Woman it destroys not only June but everyone around her.

One might argue that to change oneself in this way is necessarily to destroy oneself, but in The Leech Woman it’s quite literal. Most obviously, one of the ingredients in the Cure for Old is a secretion from the pineal gland, which apparently must come from a live victim. To use it, June has to kill somebody. No other option, such as obtaining the hormone from an animal, or extracting it in some non-lethal fashion, is ever entertained. By having the police investigate the murder of the criminal, the movie points out that even those we might see as unimportant or even deserving are human beings, and their deaths will matter to somebody.

We also see June herself destroyed in two different ways. First of all physically, as the side-effects of the potion make her older and older every time it wears off. Second, morally, as she becomes more and more blasé about murder. Her asshole husband could be seen as deserving it, as could David when he rejects her. But then later she picks up a complete stranger with every intention of killing him, and while this man is a criminal, there is nothing to indicate that was a necessary qualifier. June would have committed the murder whether he’d tried to rob her or not.

I must spare a few words here for The Leech Woman’s terrible makeup. Actress Colleen Gray was thirty-eight when The Leech Woman was made (the age I am now, in fact), and as far as I can tell making her look older was accomplished simply by not having her wear any makeup. Even so, she doesn’t look like she’s out of her thirties, she just looks like she didn’t sleep very well the previous night. Then, to make her look younger, they cake the makeup on so thickly, she looks like she’s made of plastic. Finally, when she’s ‘really old’ I think they just smeared Elmer’s glue all over her and let it dry. None of the three ages of June are convincing as what they’re supposed to be.

Anyway, one might suggest that the movie is saying June should have left Paul and gone to live her own life, rather than trying to make herself conform to his standards, but I don’t think it is. The reason why not is that The Leech Woman has no concept of women as people who can exist separately from men. It outright says as much in Malla’s speech before her own rejuvenation.

This little monologue is jaw-dropping. She states that old age among men is a time of dignity and respect, but old women are worthless. For one thing, this completely at odds with the type of culture the Nando are supposed to represent. In traditional societies all over the world, old people tend to be revered regardless of gender, because having lived a long time has allowed them to learn more, remember more, and contribute more than anyone else. The idea that an old woman has no value, that she deserves only ‘pity, contempt, and neglect’ because she is no longer attractive, is very much a modern, western one.

Second, this is what the movie tells us will happen to June if she leaves Paul. She doesn’t seem to have any family or friends (because women don’t exist outside of their relationships with men), so she’ll just go waste away somewhere with nobody caring about her. But since using the Cure for Old is explicitly an evil thing to do, within the world of The Leech Woman this is what June should have done! Rather than try to get what she wants, she should have just accepted that she’s ugly and gross and nobody wants her, and gone off to crochet in a rocking chair somewhere so that pretty people can live their lives! And this applies only to women. The idea of using the Cure for Old on men never comes up, except when Malla says they don’t need it. Wow, fuck you, movie.

Another idea in Malla’s speech is the reiteration that women are defined by their value to men. She never mentions the idea of an older woman doing anything with herself – she just sits around and wishes she were still cute so she could ‘know the worship of men’. They’re not supposed to want anything else. June certainly doesn’t. She doesn’t treat her rejuvenation as a chance to start her life over, she just tempts boring-ass Neil to cheat on his fiancée. She doesn’t even want to marry him herself, just to sleep with him.

Here the movie’s morals get a bit confusing. You’d think that by the standards of the late 50’s and early 60’s Sally, who wants to marry Neil and settle down with him, would be the good girl of The Leech Woman. Yet Sally is clearly supposed to be nagging and clingy, as if we ought to want Neil to leave her. It’s as if the movie is trying to say that women are just terrible in general, and love and relationships are essential for them but traps for men. The title The Leech Woman, as if she’s some kind of parasite, just seems to reinforce this.

Having given this some thought, I think where it comes from is that a woman’s attractiveness gives her power over a man, and the writers of The Leech Woman see this as a bad thing. At the beginning of the movie, June is a powerless victim. The first time she takes the Cure for Old, she gets a shot of power in the process – she’s allowed to choose a sacrifice, and she takes the opportunity to punish her abuser. A few days later, David attempts to assert power over her by denying her the bag of youth pollen. Again, she is given power over him when he falls into the quicksand, and she uses it to dispatch another person who has done her wrong.

From there on, June’s on an all-out power trip. She can see that Neil is immediately attracted to her, and she loves it. When she keeps him at her house by making a series of quick minor requests, like ‘pour me a drink’ or ‘take my bags upstairs’, she is testing this power, seeing how far it’ll go, and she’s very pleased with the results. Later she plays with the criminal, stringing him along with her ‘nice old lady’ act until finally killing him. It’s an addiction of sorts – now that she’s had a taste of this, all she wants is more, more, more. I wonder if the pollen itself isn’t supposed to represent a drug. When Sally’s pineal juice doesn’t work and June laments that she’s killed her for nothing, that just shows that it was power, rather than Neil, that June wanted. Sally can’t stand between Neil and June when she’s dead… but if she cannot also be a source of power, her murder served no purpose.

At the end, June loses everything. Like many real-world serial killers, she has come to think she’s untouchable, and that has made her sloppy – she fails to take back the card her victim took from her, and that leads the police to her door. When she realizes she can’t get rid of them herself, she asks Neil to make them leave, and he can’t. The only weapon she has left is her beauty, so she seeks to regain it, but the youth pollen only works when the pineal hormone is a man’s. Trying to use Sally’s just makes June even older. With absolutely nothing left, she commits suicide.

Naturally, all this also tells us that women are each other’s natural enemies. All they want is men and those are in limited supply. Sally and ‘Terri’ despise each other at first sight, each instantly recognizing that the other is competition. When they cannot intimidate each other, both resort to violence. Even at the ‘twist’ ending when Sally’s pineal gland proves to be no use to June, this might be seen as a metaphor for women tearing each other down, as Sally has her revenge from beyond the grave. Or at least, beyond the coat closet.

I said at the beginning of last week’s review that this movie hates everybody, and it really does, doesn’t it? It hates women, but based on the assholetude of the various male characters, it hates men, too. It hates white people, who are avaricious and power-hungry, but it also hates black people… and I haven’t even had space to discuss that yet! I could also spend some time on how much it evidently hates its audience. That’s right, you guessed it. Stay tuned, because next week we’re in for The Leech Woman, Part IIII!

#mst3k #reviews #the leech woman #tw: suicide #boy are we in africa!#60s

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