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stillness-in-green · 7 months

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On Heteromorphs and Heteromorphobia (Arc XXI-B + Conclusion, Final War-B: The Hospital Attack)

To preface before I start documenting these final four chapters, there’s been a lot said (not least by me) about how wildly out of touch the resolution to this plotline is. While I didn't set out to rehash all of that again, it turns out I can't actually talk about how the series portrays heteromorphobia without talking about how it resolves it—if I'd wanted to do that, the place to stop would have been with the last post. This whole piece is also destined for AO3 eventually, so it needs to be readable for those who don't follow me on tumblr. Therefore, if you've been following my #heteromorph discrimination plot posts for a while, there are portions of this post that will be pretty familiar territory!

If you're new and want my full breakdowns, you can find them in my Chapter Thoughts posts or in this pair of posts rounding up the asks I’d gotten on the topic. Here, I will simply say that I don’t think Horikoshi’s fumbling of the plot can be read to mean that all the stuff I’ve documented thus far was just me reaching too hard, reading stuff into the manga where nothing was intended. While I’m sure some of it is—I definitely went out on a few limbs!—I think the main answer to, “How can heteromorphobia be such a well-thought-out depiction of a logically foreseeable form of discrimination while also having such a terrible resolution?” is, “Because the mainstream opinion about how best to handle discrimination is wildly different in Japan than it is in progressive American circles.”

That doesn’t mean I’m willing to wave the wand of Cultural Differences over this resolution and forgive everything—there were plenty of Japanese fans critiquing it as well![1]—but it does somewhat modulate my feelings about it. In any case, let’s get to it.

1: Most of what I saw was on Twitter, but there’s a Japanese site called bookmeter that’s kinda goodreads-esque, and which had several critical reviews posted for the volume, including one that felt like every point laid out was something I’d complained about as well. Super validating, but a shame it was necessary!

(I'll be changing up my formatting just a bit in hopes that I can find a way to present sub-sub-bullet points that tumblr won't choke on in this 13K post. Pray for me.)

Chapter 370:

O We open with a scene which we’re led to believe is about Spinner but which the end of the chapter will reveal to be about Shouji. It’s shockingly open about the extent of the discrimination Shouji faced, and there’s worse yet to come, but here we find people throwing stones at him, telling him to die, saying he has dirty blood that will defile the land, that he should stay inside the house, and that no matter how much time passes,[2] they will never accept “his kind.”

2: Viz renders this as “no matter how much society progresses,” but the word jidai means something more like “the times”/”the age,” and the progression term used can mean improvement, but in the circumstances, probably just means forward movement. I think the intention is more like, “No matter how much the times march on,” if only because it would be very odd for the people yelling this vitriol to frame it as themselves resisting progression. After all, bigots don’t typically think of themselves as “regressive” compared to everyone else’s progressiveness; they think of themselves as normal or valuing tradition compared to everyone else’s moral laxity/perversity.

So, remember how I talked about the spiritual/religious charge to the language the CRC used to talk about their “sanctuary” and the League/Spinner’s presence in it? Here’s the full scope of that. It’s about kegare, a Shinto concept of uncleanliness associated particularly with blood and death, and while that’s normally something that can be purified simply by undergoing the proper ritual cleansings, when something is, in itself, intrinsically unclean, no amount of purification will fix it; you can only keep it sealed away. Hence the yelling at Shouji not to leave the house.

The spirituality-based discrimination calls to mind the burakumin, originally an outcaste group of people who made their living working with all the aspects of life Shinto considered kegare—butchers, tanners, executioners and the like. They were made to dress and cut their hair in ways that identified them on sight, barred from entering temples or schools, and lived in their own villages. The laws mandating much of this were abolished in 1871[3] and urban sprawl gradually rolled over burakumin villages, turning them into slum areas. While today it’s not uncommon for people to not even know they’re descended from burakumin lineage unless they’re specifically told,[4] more subtle discrimination does endure. While it’s clearly not the only inspiration, there’s a lot about anti-burakumin bias that’s reflected in heteromorphobia.

3: Albeit not without considerable and violent protests against the liberation of the burakumin/the idea that they were henceforth to be allowed to hold other occupations and become ordinary citizens. Arson, destruction of villages, attacks and deaths—all things considered, the anti-Kaihourei riots are probably a decent place to look for inspiration on the historical massacres Spinner’s #2 will be talking about shortly.

4: Or find out because someone who knows the significance of those old neighborhoods finds out first and they’re suddenly on the bad end of some discriminatory act or another.

O We find out that the group Spinner’s leading consists of fifteen thousand people, that number split between PLF remnants and ordinary civilians who support the PLF’s cause. It’s unknown exactly how that split breaks down, but based on how the rest of the attack goes, I think it’s probable that the group is mostly civilians—if it were more PLF, it probably wouldn’t be so wholly defanged by Shouji’s big plea for peace. So that’s what we might call a “bad look,” that fifteen thousand ordinary civilians feel so incredibly hard done-by that they not only flock to join a known terrorist, but that they do so for the purpose of attacking a hospital.

O They’re opposed by about two hundred police and heroes, the relevant of whom for our purposes are Present Mic, Rock Lock, Officer Gori, Shouji, and Koda. With the exception of Present Mic, who will in any case be heading inside very shortly, they’re all minorities of some sort, with Rock Lock being very visibly, obviously Black, and the others being heteromorphs. None of them are immediately thinking about the composition of the crowd, but rather about how difficult the crowd is being to handle.

O Rock Lock yells out that the rioters are too organized to be some random mob, a dismissiveness that gets him shouted at by the Spinner fanboys—tragically their only appearance in all of this!—that, “Folks with human faces just don’t get it!” I have to assume that putting Rock Lock in this scene is no accident, but rather is there to make the rioters come off as short-sighted, so deep in their own pain that they lash out at someone who, if HeroAca!Japan is anything like present day Japan, almost certainly understands better than they think!

The phrasing, in any case, points towards the dehumanization that heteromorphs, especially animal-associated ones, are subject to. After all, as Re-Destro might point out, in the post-Advent world, isn’t it the case that any given heteromorphic human’s face, no matter how strange it may be, is de facto a “human face”? Yet the vitriol from the Spinner fans clearly reflects how internalized it’s become for them, that they don’t look “human,” despite the fact that “looking human” means nothing at all in the time of quirks.

O Koda gets called a traitor by an elderly beaked heteromorph from, apparently, a rural area, underscoring what’s been alluded to a few times prior to this, and which will be laid out explicitly in a few pages, that heteromorphobia is far, far worse in the countryside than it is in the cities. Mr. Beak assumes—correctly, it seems[5]—that Koda’s a city kid, because why else other than ignorance would a fellow heteromorph stand against them?

5: Koda’s from Iwate Prefecture, which is only above Hokkaido in terms of population density; a bit of research suggests that its largest city, Morioka, is considered to be a mid-sized city. So that’s definitely the hard upper limit on exactly how “big city” Koda could reasonably be. That said, Shouji also identifies Koda as someone who grew up in a city, for which I assume he must have at least some basis.

O Spinner’s #2 fulfills the promise of his early shorthanded characterization of being a fiery, well-spoken zealot by standing on top of a building over the mob and exhorting them onward with revolutionary, inflammatory rhetoric. And boy, does he bring up a lot to talk about!

Demagoguery for Fun & Profit

O Quirk counselling and quirk education? Phony nonsense, he says. That’s a fairly confusing grievance to bring up in this context, so let’s consider what he might have in mind.

• For quirk education, I would contend that BNHA has shown very little of it, in spite of having Academia right there in the title. The academics in question are about Heroics, after all, not quirks in and of themselves. Here’s the complete list of what I would say the reader has seen that could be qualified as actual education about quirks:

Aizawa telling the kids(/low tier villains at USJ) some broad generalities, things like a very basic explanation of how quirks work on the genetic level or how they’re classified. Most of this is delivered in the context of how his quirk works; the only outlier that immediately comes to mind for me is his explanation of how quirks are like muscles, and can be strengthened via training.

Mirio and Tamaki’s middle school class doing “quirk training,” which is framed as a P.E. class and is specifically aimed at finding ways for each kid to be “useful to society,” not about them learning anything about quirks in a broader sense.

Endeavor’s recent reference to Nedzu’s alleged “quirk morality education,” about which I have already registered my skepticism.

The bit in Re-Destro’s monologue to Shigaraki where he mentions he was taught not to judge others by their quirks. It’s hard to judge how applicable this is to normal society because Re-Destro was raised in a cult, and the book shown during this sequence was released by Curious’s publisher.

So of those options, what is #2 talking about? I’d say the last one is probably closest to what he means: don’t judge others by their quirks. But of course, people judge others by their quirks all the time. Family, classmates, teachers, people in the same neighborhood, heroes and police—we see examples from literally the first page of characters who are being judged by their quirks or lack thereof. While that judgement doesn’t apply only to heteromorphs, they are, by dint of their visibility, going to face it everywhere they go, regardless of whether any given situation—say, going to the grocery store or on a date—involves quirks or not. So, whatever lessons people in this society are getting about quirks and judgement, they clearly aren’t absorbing them.

It also bears pointing out, of course, that #2’s personal affiliation is with the Metahuman Liberation Army, and he definitely shows signs—as I’ll get to in a bit—of the quirk supremacism that group is so unanimously painted with in the endgame. So while the supremacy he’s preaching is about heteromorphs rather than quirks more generally, he could well be saying quirk education is phony because he’s all for judging people on their quirks! However, his criteria for that judgement differs from both forms of judgement taught by the society he’s railing against—what they practice and what they preach.

• Then there’s quirk counseling, a practice the story most prominently associates with Toga, who’s barely a twitch of the needle away from baseline (though her abuse is not wholly without reference to her appearance, in that her natural smile is repeatedly branded as scary or deviant). So why bring it up in association with heteromorphs? My suspicion is that a heteromorph—especially a heteromorph with an animal-associated quirk!—being visibly “different” in some way makes the people around them hyper-sensitive to behavioral “deviations.”

For a start, you see that hyper-sensitivity brought to bear against Toga. Curious contends that Toga’s sense of “admiration” was a perfectly normal thing, but it was the tie to blood that made it wholly unacceptable. It’s notable that, before she snapped, Toga was never shown to actually want to hurt people: the bird was already injured when she found it, her friend got a scrape the way any child might, Saito was involved in a fight Toga had no hand in. She hurts people now because a lifetime of rejection and dehumanization, but Toga’s admiration of blood was not intrinsically indicative that she’d grow up to be violent; people treated it that way because of cultural attitudes towards blood and blood-attraction.

So, might the same sort of thing be true of e.g. animal-associated heteromorphs? That they might exhibit behaviors which would, in different circumstances, be totally fine, but which they’re judged for unduly harshly because of cultural beliefs about the animal they resemble? Let me just spitball a few possibilities:

A cat heteromorph who, as a child, showed affection by nuzzling. That’s fine when a literal kitten is doing it, and funny and cute when a baseline child sees a cat doing it and imitates it for fun, but when the cat heteromorph does it, he makes people uncomfortable, makes them wonder if he lacks self-control, comes off as weird and too-forward. So his parents rebuke him and bring him to a quirk counsellor to break him of the habit, leading him to feel ashamed and alienated from a harmless natural impulse.

A snake-headed girl is the first heteromorph in her family line and the way she stares at people so fixedly, never blinking, creeps them out, makes them feel like she’s dangerous. She isn’t and has no intention of being so, but she’s sent to quirk counselling anyway and the lesson she learns is to just never look people in the eye at all.

A condor heteromorph develops a morbid interest in corpses in middle school. He doesn’t want to eat them, he’s not some kind of cannibalistic animal—at least that’s what he told himself before quirk counselling, where his counsellor, like his teachers, assumed that his interest had to be tied to animal instincts. He wanted to be a mortician, or join the police and get into crime scene investigation, but when he told people that they just looked at him like he was already holding a fork and knife. (He ends up getting into photography, and just has to live with the fact that now people have two excuses to call him a vulture.)

Two children—one with a plant-based emitter quirk, the other an eight-eyed spider heteromorph—are caught in the act of killing some insects by a local police officer. It’s the sort of innocent childhood cruelty you might find anywhere, and, indeed, when the officer calls their school about it, that’s what gets decided about the emitter—he was just a child who didn’t know any better. But the heteromorph gets recommended for quirk counselling instead—after all, spiders kill insects. What if this is an early warning sign for instincts towards predatory behavior? It’s important to nip these things in the bud.

That’s all off the top of my head or taken from some conversation with friends on the topic, and maybe it’s a reach, but it’s also a very plausible explanation for why a heteromorphic idealogue might bring up quirk counselling as a specific grievance—because, like the Villain-designation for criminals, it’s unevenly and unfairly applied.

O The next point #2 makes, and definitely the one that made the biggest splash in fandom at the time, is his invocation of a pair of historical incidents, possibly both but at least one of which was a mass murder targeting heteromorphs, carried out by a bunch of baseline types. He names them as the 6/6 Incident and the Great Jeda Purge. These are both stealth Star Wars references, though the former is disguised a bit better by being in the same format that Japan sometimes uses for naming events like attempted coups.[6] Given the image we see, it’s fair to assume the event in BNHA was similar.

6: See for example the May 15 Incident or the February 26 Incident, called the 5・15 Incident and the 2・26 Incident respectively in Japan. You see this in China as well, with the Tiananmen Square massacre being referred to there as the 6/4 Incident.

Notice that the perpetrators here are mostly holding weapons. Were they quirkless themselves, or were they avoiding using quirks such that they couldn’t be branded as Villains? Knowing the answer to that would give us a timeframe for this.

He goes on to declaim, on the basis of these events, that the history of the paranormal is one of persecution and oppression of those with “differing forms.”[7] The term in Japanese there is kotonaru katachi, 異なる形, which uses a different reading of the kanji in igyou (異形) and muscles in a verb conjugation, which has the effect of softening the harshness of 異 somewhat.[8] This would be a great catch-all term for those with heteromorphic bodies who might or might not have heteromorphic quirks[9] if it weren’t for the fact that literally the only person we ever hear using it is an anti-social zealot. No one on Team Hero ever makes this kind of distinguishment.

In any case, #2 is obviously over-simplifying to play to his audience—recall the baseline woman we saw back in that shot of Persecuted Early Quirk-Havers back in Chapter 59—but, as I’ve discussed extensively, being more visible does make one a more ready target. Also, of course, the presence of the CRC in the story lays the groundwork for this sort of historical horror story even long after the worst days of the Advent.

7: I provide my own translation here because the Viz one, “those who don’t fit the mold,” is vague to the point of uselessness.

8: The koto reading, as best I can tell, seems to be pretty rare, often tagged as archaic in words including it. The i reading is far more common, in words that denote wrongness, divergence, abnormality, and so on. But it may be less about the reading and more about the fact that adding the verb conjugation makes the term more of a descriptive phrase than a direct noun. As ever, take my talk about Japanese language minutiae with a grain of salt.

9: “Differing forms” is broad enough, however, that it could also be read as covering, say, people with amputations, congenital anomalies, or other sorts of non-quirk-related disfigurements from accidents or disease. As in real life, navigating the linguistic space between specificity and Othering can be tricky.

O Next, #2 rhetorically demands what excuse was given by those who perpetrated these slaughters? He answers his own question with the quote, “They give me the creeps.” Note how this ties in with my earlier suppositions about the likelihood of discrimination worsening the farther one is from baseline, as well as those about the necessity of putting up a good, positive, appealing front. It’s a perfectly intuitive leap, that more extreme variants of heteromorphy, or those who evoke negative associations—animals tied to rot or bad luck, people made wholly out of green ooze—are going to be more likely to be found “creepy” than those who look like e.g. sexy bunny girls or straight-laced guys who just happen to have pipes jutting out of their calves. Of course, that’s on something of a sliding scale; the more biased an area is against heteromorphs in general, the easier it will be to find oneself on the wrong side of that line.

O #2 presents the idea that society has reflected on their actions and made amends, or at least that’s how society’s narrative goes. Illustrating this, we see two of the three heteromorphs in the police force, as well as Nedzu. Interestingly, the panel does not include any heteromorphic heroes! I might guess that this is because heroes are meant to use their quirks to serve others; they’re really just enforcement tools, lacking any particular authority beyond a quirk-use license and some admittedly broad soft power courtesy of the social contract.[10] Conversely, a school principal and a police chief (Gori remaining the outlier here) have actual authority, such that the average heteromorphobia-denier can point to them as evidence that heteromorphobia doesn’t exist anymore.

10: Which is to say, I don’t get the impression civilians are required to take orders from heroes, such that they would actually get in legal trouble for disobeying. The fact that people do typically follow those orders speaks more to the power heroes wield via their association with the police force, as well as the general tendency of people to assume that someone in a uniform giving orders during an emergency is probably a professional whose orders it would be safe and wise to follow.

In the same panel, we also see a baseline guy palling around with a vaguely murine heteromorph dude (he looks more like a mascot suit mouse than an actual mouse, but he’s certainly nowhere close to baseline!), illustrating another way society wants to pretend it’s moved past heteromorphic discrimination. I can’t help but note, in regards to this specific pair, that the manga uses faces the readers know to illustrate the point about heteromorphs in positions of authority, whereas to make the point about baseline/heteromorph friendships, it has to make up a new pair to show us because the series hasn’t made the time to actually build any (heroic) relationships that actually look like that!

Now, one could argue that using familiar faces to underscore #2’s speech would imply that he’s aware of those faces, and while that’s fine for figures of authority, there’s no reason for him to be aware of e.g. Natsuo and his mousey girlfriend. However, the same would apply to anyone placed to demonstrate a random urban friendship crossing the “differing forms” line, including those two strangers. Who are those two, after all, that #2 is any more familiar with them than he would be of Natsuo and mouse gal?

Honestly, I think the best relationship candidate we have—a pair who would both communicate what the panel needs to communicate to the reader and who would feasibly be enough in the public eye to get pointed at for rhetorical purposes by an in-universe speaker—would be Kamui Woods and Mount Lady. Unfortunately, they don’t work because Horikoshi has never seen fit to actually reveal Kamui Woods’ real face, so they’re much less visibly “a baseline person being emotionally close with a heteromorph” than the random two Horikoshi made up.

O The oratory continues into discussing the divide between city versus rural views on heteromorphs, and this is, to me, the first clear sign that the series is beginning to lose the thread of this plot. Taking #2 at his word asks us to concede the heteromorphobia has been completely wiped out in cities, eradicated with that wonderful antidote called “education.” But discrimination very much does exist in cities! It may be less violent, less extreme, less vocal, but in the form of things like law enforcement bias, housing discrimination, microaggressions, the quirk counselling #2 himself brought up, it’s very much still there! Now, it could be that he’s just downplaying that discrimination to focus on the really ugly stuff you don’t see in cities, but I don’t know what his reasons for doing so would be? Not when there’s so much else he could say that would be equally inflammatory without alienating urban heteromorphs by dismissing their still very much present, modern suffering.

O He then brings up the talk of “light”—echoing Skeptic’s earlier rhetoric—and it not reaching those gathered at the hospital, so they must make their own, for people who’ve never once regretted the quirks they were born with can never be their heroes. What this primarily puts me in mind of is Hawks’s background with heroes prior to his father’s arrest—that heroes were only on TV, not present to save him in his actual life. Keep that in mind for Shouji’s response later on.

O Towards the end, #2’s speech finally tips over the line from what could plausibly be read as protesting unequal treatment to an outright call for supremacy. Notably, he doesn’t call for quirk supremacy, but rather for heteromorph supremacy—for the tables to be turned, the cards reversed, for them to not merely be equal, but rather to be superior.

It’s unclear how much of this he’s sincere about and how much is just convenient rhetoric disguising views that are more quirk supremacist in actuality. For many reasons, I want to read him in good faith: because the MLA originally struck me as being written in good faith throughout MVA and the first war arc; because #2 never once uses his quirk in this mini-arc, casting doubt on him having such an amazing quirk that he’d benefit overmuch from quirk supremacy anyway; and especially because it would be incredibly bad faith on Horikoshi’s part to make a character delivering a speech like this a total bad faith, manipulative outsider. Unfortunately, #2’s inner monologue in later chapters will make a good faith read all but impossible to sustain.

O Halfway through his speech, #2 unmasks himself, revealing both his face—dominated by four pairs of pedipalp-esque mouthparts, though the markings on his head are pretty eye-catching, too—and his scar. We’re never told how he got it, but the implication is certainly that he was attacked for his appearance. That may just be a conclusion it serves him to let people make, given his bad faith elsewhere, but thankfully the manga doesn’t go so far as to say that explicitly. In any case, his deliberate reveal turns his wound into a form of performance art, drawing attention to it, forcing it to be a part of the conversation—the polar opposite of Shouji covering his scars because he doesn’t want them to be a part of the conversation about him, and those scars being revealed because his mask is torn off against his will.[11]

11: This also fits a larger pattern of villains, by and large, choosing their expressions of vulnerability, making deliberate shows of agency in how their weakness is perceived by the broader world—Shigaraki taking his hand off for the first time, Dabi’s video, Toga approaching heroes with genuine questions, and so on. There are certainly exceptions, but generally if a villain shows his “true face,” it’s because they’re making a conscious decision to do so, and may be actively manipulating how that reveal is going to land. Conversely, heroes want to present a powerful, confident, untarnished image to the public, so their shows of vulnerability all have to be forced out of them after pitched battles or acts of violence. Heroes don’t make themselves vulnerable to the public on purpose, which feeds into the way the public then treats them when they are forced into vulnerable positions.

O Spinner’s a mess at this point, and the reason he’s a mess is all tied up in his faith in/desire to help Shigaraki. It’s not explicitly about heteromorphobia, but on the other hand, given that the thing that drove Spinner to be here at all was his horrifically low self-esteem caused by heteromorphobia, maybe it’s not so irrelevant after all. It may have taken Spinner longer than the Tenkos, Touyas, and Chisaki Kais of the world to reach the “fall victim to a dark influence due to the neglect and abuse you faced at the hands of Hero Society” plot, but he certainly got there in the end![12]

12: I call this The Sekoto Peak Problem, and it’s a big criticism of mine about how the final arc is framing all these conflicts as being solely brought about because Bad Faith Villain Men like AFO are scooping up vulnerable people and driving them towards violence, without acknowledging the much worse circumstances those vulnerable people might be in if they were just left to their fates. Touya, for example, if not for AFO’s timely rescue, would likely have simply died on the mountain long before Endeavor was able to find him.

O Shouji takes the mob to task for attacking a hospital without ensuring the safety of the uninvolved innocents within, a laughable bit of sophistry[13] that accurately foreshadows how disastrous his reasoning will be throughout the rest of these chapters.

13: It’s laughable sophistry firstly because the heroes knew this mob was coming but chose to leave Kurogiri at a hospital anyway; one can mount a very reasonable argument that Kurogiri’s teleportation power qualifies him as a military objective, which would make stashing him at a hospital an actual war crime in an international conflict, as well as negating the hospital’s protected status as a civilian object. It’s laughable sophistry secondly because it criticizes a Villain-led mob for failing to evacuate the building, as if said mob had exactly the same social cachet possessed by heroes, that they could freely walk in the front door of a hospital and start shouting evacuation orders with reasonable confidence that they’d be obeyed. Finally, it’s laughable sophistry because Shouji is quite simply wrong about the order of the actions he’s describing—the heroes’ evacuation of Ujiko’s hospital was concurrent with their invasion of said hospital, not precedent to it.

Chapter 371:

O Shouji accuses Spinner of taking actions that will set them back thirty years, which is just a really egregiously victim blamey sort of thing to say, placing the responsibility on heteromorphs for the crimes of those who hate them.

O Koda’s perspective gives us a flashback to Shouji telling his classmates about his history—his town and his scars and his reason for wanting to be a hero. It’s all material that works in the context of all the set-up we’ve gotten—the CRC and the religious inflection of their specific brand of hatred, the rural heteromorphobia, the hints about Shouji’s own discrimination, the attack on the Ordinary Woman, and so on—but that would have been far better served to have been integrated into the story more naturally. Koda has no specifically established relationship with Shouji (seriously, there is absolutely nothing; it’s shocking how out of nowhere his sudden deep dedication to Shouji is), nor does the scene he remembers have any specific flags for when it might take place,[14] leaving the memory feeling less like a natural extension of their arc than it is a graceless sequence muscled in to attempt to rouse some emotion in the audience when Koda has a quirk awakening he is not otherwise remotely in dire enough straits to have rightfully earned.[15]

14: Shouto and Bakugou being missing might suggest that they’re off at their remedial license course, which would put the scene somewhere in late September up through December (stretching from the aftermath of Overhaul to the introduction of the MLA), save that there are several other students missing as well—Sero, Iida, Sato, and Aoyama, none of whom where in the remedial course.

15: Nearly every other inarguable quirk awakening[※] we know of in the series has as a chief component serious physical injury: Bakugou, Ochaco, Toga. Geten’s is the only exception, and his is tied to the strength of his feelings for Re-Destro, which are clearly and overridingly his most significant character trait! Shouji is not anywhere near that central to Koda’s life, and he sure as hell isn’t injured enough to have gotten it that way.

※: By which measure I exclude stuff like the change in Shigaraki’s Decay or Mina’s acid attack against Gigantomachia. Shigaraki was explicitly just breaking through a mental block to access power he already had. Meanwhile, if Mina’s Plus Ultra moment had been a sudden quirk evolution, she wouldn’t already have an attack name picked out for it, nor would her horns have gone back to normal after it. Acidman: ALMA is an Ultimate Move, not Mina having a quirk awakening.

O The flashback itself calls for another subsection.

Ignoring the Difference Between the Personal and the Systemic for Fun & Profit

O The big thing here the description of the whole town coming out for a “blood cleansing” whenever Shouji touched someone. This is depicted as Shouji, probably a preteen in this sequence,[16] being savagely attacked with farming tools, the most visible of which is a pitchfork. This visual, as well as #2’s invocation of historical slaughters, is the darkest heart of heteromorphobia: a child being ritualistically assaulted in the open street as a matter of course, as a consequence for touching someone. This is the image you should hold in your mind as The Problem through all of the potential answers and responses that get trotted out through the rest of these chapters.

16: Visibly older/bigger than, say, Kouta, but also visibly younger/smaller than middle school Deku.

Before moving on, I do want to examine this image in just a bit more depth.

This is, firstly, the moment that Shouji got those scars, and it’s very important to note that what we’re being shown is likely not a random, representative sample of what the town “coming out in force for a blood cleansing” looks like. The strong implication is that this is in the immediate aftermath of the sequence we’ll see shortly of Shouji saving the girl from the river: he’s wearing the same clothes and shoes,[17] he’s the same size, and there’s a spray of blood from where he’s being struck across the mouth where he didn’t have his distinctive scars when he saved the girl. Does that mean the blood cleansings were typically not this violent? That’s hard to say. On the one hand, we don’t see any other scars on Shouji, and he wears his arms pretty bare! On the other hand, we never see any part of his body bare except his neck and arms, and since he can regrow his arms,[18] they’re not exactly conclusive evidence that he’s never been scarred there. Also, he does say talk about his situation—the scars he bears—as something other children in the country have to bear, suggesting that the norm is rather worse than a little symbolic gash across the palm or something! 17: In fairness, he may not own very much different, as I’ll discuss shortly. 18: The duplicated ones, at least. I seem to recall reading once that he could regrow the base set as well, but I’m still working on tracking down a citation on that.

Secondly, as was the case with the image of the historical massacres, the adults here are using tools/weapons in the assault, not quirks. As I mentioned in a footnote last time, them not using quirks to carry out this attack makes them merely criminals, not Villains, and therefore not nominally a Hero’s job to deal with. While I can’t imagine any Hero in the manga these days would stand back and let this go on, the absence still stands out—no Hero is participating in this, nor observing from the sidelines, nor trying to intervene. Heroes simply don’t figure into this picture at all.

Thirdly, we can see a few children in the background, both there with adults, I assume their parents. The child on the right is a passive observer, clinging close to their mother and simply watching; their father has one hand supportively on their shoulder. Neither parent seems distressed, insomuch as we can tell from their somewhat indistinct features and rather clearer body language. The child on the left is being actively held back by their mother, who’s standing with her back to the violence, her body interposed between it and her child. The kid is reaching out towards the scene, but it’s unclear what the intent is. Are they trying to intervene or do they want to join in? Neither child appears to be the little girl Shouji saved—the one on the right is dark-haired, and the one on the left—the more likely prospect just going by the body language!—is wearing a long, dark T-shirt instead of the little girl’s overalls. I suppose the left one could be the little girl if we assume she was hustled out of what she’d been wearing by her parents, eager to get her out of now-tainted (and also soaking wet) clothes and into something dry and warm and, in more ways than one, clean. However, that seems like the sort of thing that would take longer than what looks to have been a pretty impromptu, disorganized bloodletting, unless everyone just held off on assaulting Shouji right out on the street until the “victim” could be present.

Finally, there’s the pair of adults right at the center of the background. If anyone in this picture is actually related to Shouji, I’d put money on them being here, watching but not attempting to intercede. I don’t think it’s conclusive, though; the woman is thin and hunched, making her look older—I’d guess Shouji’s grandmother before Shouji’s mother. That hunched posture and her hands being raised to her mouth do give her the most obviously distressed appearance of any of the adult, though, to the extent that the person with her is focused on supporting her rather than watching what’s going on in the foreground—and forward attention is what I’d expect if the dark-haired figure is related to Shouji.

So that’s the image we have of the crowd—actively taking part or observing with varying degrees of reaction running from distress to indifference to, potentially, enthusiasm.

O Next, let’s talk about Shouji’s parents. He implies they were baseline—at the least they were significantly more baseline than Shouji himself, as they lacked arms “like his.” That makes it quite telling that Shouji’s parents are nowhere to be seen in his story beyond the simple mention of how they were different than him.

Now, I don’t want to suggest here that Shouji’s parents are completely irredeemable people. While I would imagine that—at least initially—they shared their town’s bigotry, having a heteromorphic child themselves would have exponentially increased the hardship of their own lives. In a town like that, I’m sure that many if not all of their neighbors must have come to regard them with suspicion of wrongdoing or transgression—recall the first page of the last chapter, where Shouji is accused of tricking the town in his having brought dirty blood to it. Hie parents almost certainly lost friends and likely became ostracized themselves, and ostracization in a small Japanese town can be a horrifying thing to deal with.

And yet, even with all that being the case, they didn’t abandon Shouji or give him up; they didn’t commit family suicide with him.[19] Assuming he wasn’t removed from their custody after the incident, they’re presumably paying his school and living costs;[20] likewise, unless he just ran away from home or is carrying out an incredibly elaborate deception about what school he’s attending, they almost had to support his desire to attend a hero school to begin with. In his situation, parents who support his desire to be a Hero is a big fucking deal. After all, between the winning and the saving, heroes will de facto be touching people all the time! If Shouji’s parents still live in his hometown, how do you think those people will take it when someone first realizes the Shouji family sent their kegare-riddled monster off to be a Hero?

19: The history of honorable suicide in Japan casts a very long shadow, and when it’s combined with the meiwaku culture, you get an underreported epidemic of things like parents who can’t see their way out of a bad situation taking their lives and their children’s as well, so as not to leave messy loose ends that others will have to bear the burden of dealing with.

20: I won’t get into whether or not the U.A. students’ parents are paying for any given thing on the following list, but here are some potential costs to consider, assuming that Shouji, like Uraraka, was commuting from an apartment prior to the dorms being implemented: tuition, school uniforms, textbooks, school supplies, school meal plan, food not served at school (e.g. breakfast and dinner or meals when the school is on break), non-uniform attire, personal care and hygiene, housing and transportation costs, a measure of spending money for unanticipated expenses or culturally expected gift-giving, etc.

All that being said, it’s obviously not a glowingly loving relationship, either. Think back to Shouji’s absolutely barren room in Chapter 99 and consider it in the context of the information we get in this chapter. Is he really so ascetic by inclination, or is he just used to making do with as little as possible? After all, it goes without saying that if him coming into contact with someone called for blood purification, anything he himself was in regular contact with was also to be considered incredibly impure. That includes his clothes, personal belongings and living space; even setting aside his parents’ view on it, who in his hometown would even want to provide or sell things to the family that they think will go to the child with the dirty blood that’s defiling their land?

Shouji’s parents’ absence is also glaring in other ways. For example:

They’re either not in the beating scene image above at all or they’re that central background couple hanging back and just watching; whichever is the case, what they’re assuredly not doing while their son is being beaten so badly he will still have glaringly visible scars years later is “trying to stop the violence or take the blows themselves.”

Shouji says he has one single good memory about his body, but his parents are nowhere to be found in that memory. Ergo, his parents have not given him a single moment of positivity about his heteromorphic form.

Parents of U.A. students were evacuated to U.A.—not just the ones near it, but even ones like Uraraka’s parents, who live at least a two hour drive away, in a wholly different prefecture with a third prefecture in between them and U.A. Every student we see in the departure scene in Chapter 342 is shown with their parents except Shouji.

To sum all that up, Shouji’s family situation is not maximally bad, but it’s certainly proximally bad.

O Next, we get Shouji alleging ignorance on the part of heteromorphs raised in cities, that there are still parts of the country in the modern day where stories like his happen.[21] It’s a milder version of the same assertions made by #2 and the beaky heteromorph last chapter, in that Shouji doesn’t suggest heteromorphobia doesn’t exist at all in cities, simply that there are extremes of violence that can only be found in the country. It still feels off, however, to suggest that absolutely no one else in Shouji’s class might ever have heard of this through any channel at all: being from similarly small towns, reading about an attack in the news, reading about factors that impact the public approval ratings for Heroes, going through a morbid phase in middle school and researching it, being talked to about it by their parents, etc.

21: The suggestion of the Viz translation of this suggests that city-raised heteromorphs do know this, but only because they’re read about it in textbooks. My sister-in-law, who does professional translation, tells me this was a subtle mistranslation of the original text, however; the textbook framing is supposed to imply a remove of time, not merely of distance.

It’s not as unrealistic a story beat here as it would be in an American comic, as Japan does tend more towards using silence as a weapon against bigotry—children won’t learn what they aren’t taught, and similar reasoning. Still, to portray the class as so unanimously ignorant reflects a deep incuriosity, be that in the kids themselves about the world around them or in their author about how the knowledge/perpetuation of discrimination spreads.

This is particularly the case when you consider the story’s handling of the Ordinary Woman—attacked in her own town because people were suspicious of a heteromorph out after dark, turned away from multiple shelters because of her heteromorph status. It’s certainly true that things got worse for heteromorphs after the first war arc, but for discrimination in that specific form to emerge, there needed to be something for it to draw on. The fear of villains and the association of villains with heteromorphs are the foundation for the upswelling in anti-heteromorph sentiments in cities.

O Mina’s reaction to all this is one of rather theatrical anger. That is, no one around her takes her broad declarations—that the world would be better off without the people who hurt Shouji—as anything more serious than hyperbole. This is, it would seem, the only sort of anger that’s acceptable to show in response to hearing a story like Shouji’s—empathy to the wronged, sure, but no real intent to confront the wrongdoers.

O Mineta stares into space for a second before emphatically apologizing for calling Shouji an octopus once—a call all the way back to his microaggression in Chapter 6!—and asserting that it wasn’t his intention to say Shouji was gross or anything. Shouji responds gracefully, saying it’s “only natural” that his arms would make people think of octopus.

He doesn’t go on to say, “But that doesn’t mean people have to say it out loud,” but it’s possible that Mineta’s apology is meant to suggest that regardless. At least, one certainly hopes this isn’t the author’s way of quietly absolving his more popular characters of all the times they’ve done the same thing! It’s notable, however, that none of the other Class 1-A kids that have done this are in the scene. Shouto and Bakugou, who have both used that kind of language in anger (and in the latter’s case, also just with no provocation whatsoever) are the missing elephants in the room, and even Sero, who was the actual person to call Shouji an octopus, is, in his absence, Sir Letting The Gag Character Handle This Apology So I A More Serious Character Don’t Have To.

O Shouji brings up the Heroes Who Look Like Villains rankings. We know the Number 1 on that list is actually Endeavor, per a movie bonus booklet, but bringing it up in this context does implicitly confirm that said rankings have an unseemly slant towards heteromorphs, and what did Skeptic say about Villains and heteromorphs again…?

O Shouji says he wears the mask because he knows that if people see his scars, they’ll wonder about them, and fear he’s out for revenge. He doesn’t want people to think that, so he covers them up. He’s praised for this by Tokoyami, and the narrative pretty clearly also thinks it’s admirable and cool. I have serious issues with this—chiefly that it’s prioritizing the oblivious comfort of the baseline citizens over the fellow feeling and affirmation of other persecuted heteromorphs—but I’m also curious to see if the mask will come back now that its meta-narrative purpose of hiding Shouji’s scars from the reader has been fulfilled. I note, for example, that Shouji is not wearing the mask in the color spread for Chapter 394, and the color art does have some precedent for being an early predictor of stuff in the body of the manga.[22]

Incidentally, while I’m talking about Shouji’s mask, I do wonder how effective it would even be for him to cover his scars up? I have my doubts for two reasons. First and most obviously, heroes are such celebrities, all over the news all the time, such that if Shouji really does get as popular as he intends to, there will be people who want to know what he looks like.[23]

22: The big one is Aizawa’s eyepatch. It showed up in two pieces of color art (the popularity poll results spread for Chapter 293 and the new art announcing the BNHA Drawing Smash Exhibition) before it was revealed in the manga. Both pieces released within days of each other in early December, 2020, three months after Shigaraki raked his hand down Aizawa’s face during the war and almost two months before the latter showed up in bandages in the hospital, with another two months to go beyond that before the eyepatch itself made it to the manga in late March. In a more stealth spoiler, the same popularity spread revealed Shigaraki’s blackened, burned face-hand two chapters prior to Spinner digging it out of Shigaraki’s pants. The 394 spread is also my basis for asserting that Mina’s horns have gone back to normal after her attack against Gigantomachia, compared to Shouji lacking his mask and Koda having his new horn in the same spread.

23: Edgeshot’s character profile page notes that his fans are split into two factions: those who’re mad to see his real face and those who think the mask is what makes him cool.

O More importantly, though, heroes have to be licensed, and Hero Licenses are photo IDs. Photo IDs don’t typically allow face coverage because not being able to provide a visual reference to what the bearer looks like defeats the whole purpose. While we don’t know what full-fledged hero licenses look like to say if they’re taken in or out of costume, we do know the provisional licenses the students carry showed them in their school uniforms, despite the fact that they definitely had working costumes by then:

Pardon the sudden screenshot. The manga has this shot, too, but the anime fills in the details of the text a bit more.

It seems probable to me that the photo on a Hero License must show the bearer’s face, so that if they’re tooling around a crime scene and a cop who hasn’t seen them around before asks for their license, it can reliably be used as a form of identification. (I wonder how Hagakure manages?)

Also, think back to the press conferences we’ve seen in the story, most recently the one post-war: at every one, the heroes are in serious, solemn black suits, not their costumes. So at any press conferences Shouji ever has to speak at in the future, he’ll have to show his face there, as well.

O We see a direct flashback to Shouji saving a little girl from drowning in a choppy, swift-flowing river as he says in voiceover that he’d rather cling to the single good memory related to his body than dwell on the bad memories. He very much uses his quirk to do it, with his right set of limbs used to hold onto the bank while his left ones reach out to the girl, extending out another few “nodes” of arm-length when he at first can’t keep hold of her fingers. As they sit and catch their breath afterward, the girl clings to one of his tentacles and cries. This is not quite what his entry in the Ultra Analysis databook was hinting at[24] when it said he wears the mask due to his scary face making a little girl cry; that’ll be next chapter.

24: My apologies for not bringing this up before; it’ll be covered on AO3. The gist is as detailed above; the databook came out circa the Endeavor Agency arc, so this was a known factoid about Shouji by the time this chapter came out three years later.

O Wrapping up the flashback, we’re left with Koda’s memory of Shouji saying that he knows it’ll take longer than a generation to tear down a wall that’s stood for over a century, so, just as previous generations have done, he’ll keep paying it forward, being the coolest hero the world’s ever seen, “to give good memories to generations to come.” Which sounds really nice when he says it that way, as opposed to the broader implication that people whose children have been or are in danger of being maimed by bigots should just keep their heads down and “keep paying it forward.”

The whole “be a cool hero and give good memories” bit is particularly egregious to my eye, for a few reasons.

How much good did cool heroes do for Takami Keigo when they were just on TV? Which is where Shouji will be, because in order to be “the coolest hero the world’s ever seen,” he’s going to have to be at the top of the rankings, and being at the top of the rankings means prioritizing cities, which means all those heteromorphs out in rural areas are never going to see him in person. And anyway, what’s stopping all those bigots from just changing the channel or going on a rant about Woke Mutie Agendas every time a heteromorphic hero crops up on TV?

How much did the visibility of previous generations’ cool heroes do for Spinner? Does Shouji think Spinner was super inspired and uplifted by seeing e.g. Gang Orca on TV using the emitter-like hypersonic waves his quirk gives him to beat up Villains, an undue percentage of whom are also heteromorphs?

It’s certainly nice that Shouji was inspired enough by heroes on TV to want to emulate them, but he is demonstrably not the norm when it comes to wildly disadvantaged and victimized heteromorphs. Also, I have to wonder how much his admiration of TV heroes would have done him if he’d gotten to the girl just a little later—say, in time to get her out of the river, but too late to be able to save her life without knowing CPR. As bad as it was for him when he saved a little girl but had to touch her to do it, can you imagine how much worse it would have been if he’d touched her and then failed to save her, being found or having to walk back into town with her body?

I realize that's incredibly dark, but it's the kind of question that presents itself when the story is so insistent on Shouji's exemplary behavior being the model for heteromorphs to follow in their own lives.

O Exiting the flashback, when Shouji calls out to the heteromorphs, we finally get a straight-out look at how disastrous this conclusion is going to be in the way he shouts that no, the people who hurt them weren’t justified, but that there has to be a better way, that they should think about how to use their rage—but offers exactly zero suggestions himself for what that better way might be, or what they should be using their rage to do instead.[25]

25: I have seen the argument put forth that Shouji is one (1) teenager, and one (1) teenager cannot fairly be asked to Solve Bigotry. To this, I would counter that if Shouji doesn’t have even one (1) single idea to offer, why is the camera lens holding him up as the hero who quelled a fifteen-thousand-strong mob with only words? He doesn’t have to Solve Bigotry, but if he’s going to be used as a counter for other peoples’ misguided but at least active attempts to address the problem, he needed to be better than a mere white knight for the status quo.

Spinner’s #2 calls Shouji out on this directly, saying that if the situation were that easy to resolve, it wouldn’t have come down to this, and accusing Shouji of having no feasible solution to offer, just childish and naïve egotism. And call me a hopeless MLA Stan and you’d be right, but truly, where’s the lie?

His efforts in this regard, however, wind up pushing Koda to what certainly has all the markings of a quirk awakening because it upsets Koda to see Shouji being “mocked.” Man, sure is a good thing quirk awakenings are just a dime a dozen and definitely don’t require life-threatening injuries and/or incredibly severe emotional distress over someone who means more to you than your own life, right?

O In a last little stroke of ugliness for the chapter, Spinner calls Shouji gross. Just to, you know, make it really obvious that the villains are all totally bad faith representation for this cause and thus can be safely dismissed. (Christ, I hate these chapters.)

Chapter 372:

O We get the flashback of Shouji and Koda asking All Might to assign them to the hospital defense group. Points of note:

Neither Shouji nor All Might can be bothered to use the Ordinary Woman’s real name, instead just referring to her by her size. Seriously, I get the intent behind insisting that she’s just an ordinary woman, that there’s nothing in particular stand-out about her in the current age; it’s pretty much the same deal as Shinomori saying that OFA can no longer be wielded by an “ordinary” person, with that phrasing being used to ironically emphasize that quirks are now seen as ordinary, while those without quirks are the unusual ones. However, it obviously wouldn’t work in-universe for characters trying to specify who they’re talking about to say, “That ordinary woman,” with the end result being that they have to grab for what stands out about her if they want to be understood—in this case, her obviously unusual height. In trying to emphasize that she’s normal, Horikoshi forces his characters to define her by what makes her stand out.

Koda says that if Shouji’s going, he is too, a moment that would really land much better if they’d had literally any interactions of note at literally any point prior to this exact moment. Frankly, even last chapter’s flashback is pretty thin on that front, since Koda is not one of the students who gets speaking lines when cuddling up to Shouji to comfort him. (I’m not even convinced it’s very in character for Koda to be one of the kids diving in for cuddles—he’s usually pretty shy!)

Shouji says that he could never call himself a hero if he were to stand back while the hospital attack plays out, implicitly emphasizing the role his reaction to his own oppression plays in his heroic motivation.

O Another flashback[26] gives us Koda’s mother discussing the possibility that he might get horns like hers someday, and what those horns can do, as well as mentioning that she used to have to put up with considerable mistreatment herself, and, lastly, telling her son to grow up into a man who gets angry when people mock those dear to him.

26: The sheer number of them crammed into this mini-arc really says a lot for how rushed it is, but complaining about the structural problems of the last few arcs would be a different essay.

Breaking those down, we’ve got:

The fact that Koda’s mom says he might grow in horns like hers suggests to me pretty strongly that her own horns are a quirk evolution she just doesn’t have the language to name as such. If it were just a matter of maturation, something that came in with puberty, there’d be no “maybe” about it. Given what we know about the context of quirk evolutions elsewhere, this in turn suggests that she did not exactly get her horns under peaceful, wholesome, uplifting circumstances!

This is backed up by her mention of the “real cruelty” she faced. Interestingly, this kind of raises some questions in relation to Shouji’s assertion last chapter that people like Koda who grew up in cities lack an understanding of the extremes of heteromorphobic violence that endure elsewhere. Did Koda’s parents move to the city from the country at some point when Koda was young/before he was born, and the “real cruelty” was out in the country? That might track with the overalls she was wearing. And of course, Koda’s mother was a younger woman then, so maybe it’s just the fact that heteromorphic discrimination was worse at the time. Either way, Koda’s mother is clearly open with him about the fact that she was mistreated because of her appearance, though she may have downplayed the severity of it.

The idea of Shouji being “dear to Koda” is immensely frustrating for how utterly groundless it is, based on absolutely no prior grounding within the story other than the general bond among the 1-A students. That’s just me complaining, though—more pertinent for this essay is the problem with how this moment frames anger. Like, the whole mini-arc has the same problem, but this chapter is particularly rotten with it. To preview: Koda’s anger is portrayed as righteous, as was his father’s, because their anger is about protection, about defensive reaction, about intervening with harm currently in progress—basically all the stuff Heroes are supposed to do. It is notably not about action based on past harm or proactive attempts to prevent future harm.

O Koda’s bird attack knocks Spinner’s #2 off the roof in one of the most egregious examples of, “I can’t come up with an actual counterpoint for his arguments, so I’ll just shut him up through force,” I’ve ever seen. Sure, there’s something to be said for not engaging bad faith parties in good faith arguments, but like… That guy already had a platform of his arguments—he was standing on the roof of a tall building! The author gave him several pages to make his pitch; the argument’s already out there in the readers’ minds! The only thing getting rid of him does is guarantee that the person the taciturn Shouji actually has to argue with is…Spinner. Who is not exactly a born orator at the best of times, and he’s very far from even that level here.

Now, #2 will get a few more lines next chapter, but they’re against one of the people on his own side. No heroic character has to argue #2 down; instead, they get to match wits with the literally drooling Spin-zilla. Which is a bit like stepping into the wrestling ring with someone who’s had a bag thrown over his head and his hands zip-tied behind his back.

This confrontation is, woefully, not the only place in the endgame where a heroic character gets all the time and freedom in the world to make their big pronunciations while their opponent gets shut down by some outside factor—interference from other villains, psychological decay, literal possession—but it’s in particularly stark relief here.

O Shouji contends that the crowd is letting their pain be exploited, which is a fair cop, but will become difficult to square with his praise of them next chapter.

O He says that these peoples’ children might be the next targets, presumably because of their actions here today. This is particularly maddening because it’s coming from someone who was, himself, already targeted as a child! Not because of anything his parents did, and certainly not because of anything bad he did, but simply because of the bigoted, backwards views of his town. Children already and still are being targeted! Shouji’s backstory is all wrong for this stand, and there’ll be another angle on that next chapter as well.

O Here we finally fulfill the promise of Shouji’s databook entry and see the Little Girl Crying Because His Face Was Scary. She wasn’t crying because she was just scared of his face in isolation, but rather because she sees his face being scary as her fault, directly correlating his wounds to her rescue.[27] Those wounds stand in marked contrast to what happens when other people save small helpless children from danger, and underlines the biggest problem with this whole resolution: the idea that simply Being An Hero will create change.

27: My big question is, “Given that him being in contact with her was so bad it got him scarred for life, how did she even sneak out to see him again to give him this tearful apology? Did young Shouji even want this apology, or would he have preferred she not risk the two of them being seen together again for both their sakes?

Now, it’s certainly likely in Horikoshi’s world that this little girl will, herself, grow up to be different from the people around her, that she won’t think heteromorphs are tainted. And like, that’s at least one less person being awful, right? And doesn’t every one count?

Sure, of course—but what happens when she runs up against that prejudice herself? Will she try to intervene the next time she sees a blood cleansing? Will she simply abstain from such action and teach equality in her own household without trying to change the village around her? Will she simply move away and leave her hometown worse for her absence? If she does stay in that town, will she herself become an outcast for her views—a form of silent, passive harassment that can be absolutely life-wrecking in those small Japanese villages? If she gets married and has children, will her husband have her back in trying to raise those kids free of hatred?

For that matter, isn’t there a chance that, being surrounded in people who think heteromorphs are tainted, that she’ll just internalize something like, “It was my carelessness that got that poor heteromorph boy beaten so badly. He was trying to help, and it only got us both hurt—him for the beatings, me for being in contact with his filth.” Like, she’s so young in that scene; she’s got a whole lotta years of having the anti-heteromorph narrative reaffirmed at her before she’s old enough to do anything different herself. It feels to me like the kind of thing that she could easily fall back into as she grows up, only to have a huge spiritual crisis about it once she hits her late teens to early twenties.

In any case, it's just a lot to put on a single child—on her and Shouji both!

O Spinner rallies enough to yell out a message of his own, but it’s just a quote of what he told his followers when he first sent out the call, not anything new to rally them, nor tailored to respond to what Shouji’s saying. This has been the danger of the plotline all along, and here it comes to fruition: in putting bad faith villains with ulterior motives[28] up against an underdeveloped character who’s hidden the evidence of his mistreatment from Day 1, someone with no apparent intention to ever speak up for others like himself, no one comes out looking good. Truly, heteromorphs deserve better rep.

28: #2 is the obvious one, but Spinner’s here in bad faith, too. While I’m sure he’s not totally indifferent to the matter of heteromorph rights, it’s self-admittedly not his current priority.

O That said, if what Spinner says is old hat to the crowd, it is new to the audience, and it serves to sharply up the ante on from what we knew previously about the persecution he faced in his hometown!

But it would have gotten better if he’d just put on a mask and dealt with it, amirite?

Recall that Spinner has previously only said that people in his town called him names—this is self-evidently many steps worse. Note, though, that it’s another example of the violence heteromorphs face not involving anyone using quirks—that is to say, nothing that’s a hero’s jurisdiction to deal with. That being the case, how much could Spinner get away with fighting back or running before the “it’s okay to use quirks in self-defense” stops holding? After all, is it still self-defense if biased cops[29] can accuse him of “escalating” the conflict? How far away can he get by climbing on walls before it becomes, to some small-town local Hero, unlicensed public quirk use?

29: If policing in HeroAca Japan still works basically the same as it does in IRL Japan, then in truly backwater areas, ones too small to afford the upkeep of a police department, an officer would be sent in from another area to live in a home attached to the police box. That being the case, it’s not a given that the officer would share the locals’ bigotry. That’s where we come back to the whole “what percentage of Villain-designated criminals are heteromorphs” statement and what it implies about bias in the law enforcement system. Also too, building a strong relationship with the community is absolutely essential to rural policing, and there are, oh, so many stories about what happens when someone new in a small Japanese town gets between the inhabitants and their “traditional spiritual practices.”

O Pig Nose Guy starts making an impression by noticing the doctors—most prominently Dr. Yoshi, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a baseline nurse—forming a human chain in front of the hallway leading to the Inpatient Ward. This drama is undercut on both fronts by the fact that Spinner is not looking for the Inpatient Ward, and in fact barrels right on past that hallway without even glancing in its direction. So, the mob stops because they’re struck to hesitation by a group of people protecting a part of the hospital that the mob was not even intending to assault in the first place.

O As part of stopping, Pig Nose Guy seems to have some sort of flashback to a time he saw Dr. Toad caring for an elderly baseline man. This raises a lot of questions to my by-this-time hyper-critical eyes.

What past circumstance brought Pig Nose Guy—presumably fairly rural, as most of this crowd is implied to be—to Central Hospital, the most technologically advanced hospital in the entire country? • If Pig Nose Guy is not rural, but was still so fired up about heteromorphobia that he joined a terrorist-led mob to attack a hospital, wouldn’t that suggest that a lot of people in the story have been misleading us about the extent of anti-heteromorph sentiment in cities?

If the person in the bed is someone related to Pig Nose Guy—perhaps someone with a rare illness that requires specialized treatment?—why is the guy entirely baseline? If it’s just a friend, then they must be very close, given that PNG was willing to take a trip to the Tokyo metropolitan area to visit him. But if PNG is that close to a baseline guy, why did he ever believe that baseline folks are such a lost cause that he, again, joined a terrorist-led mob to attack a hospital?

Why is this important, impactful memory one of a heteromorph in a caretaker role instead of being taken care of? To elaborate on why that question matters, a common issue you’ll see minority groups raise when talking about representation in media is the role any given minority character performs in their narrative—the gay best friend there to give the straight female lead advice, the Black person there to help a white person self-actualize, that sort of thing. This is not so much a critique of any given, specific character as it is criticizing the restrictions on of what demographics are allowed to be portrayed as full, rounded individuals in popular media versus which are relegated to stock stereotypes or supporting cast. This isn’t something BNHA addresses explicitly, but I do think we have some precedent for suspecting heteromorphs in this world have similar problems—think of the image for Class B’s play in Chapter 173, Gang Orca playing the Villain at the license exam, and, most egregiously, the Hug Me Corporation and its all-baseline-all-the-time image of bystanders and victims. That being the case, it really gets to me that Pig Nose Guy’s memory here has the man in the hospital bed being baseline while it’s the doctor who’s the heteromorph. Like, what does that communicate about his mindset, exactly? “Oh, I remember this time I saw a heteromorph who’d managed to actually kind of Make It in society and he was nice to the baseline guy in his care. But the spider guy leading us, he didn’t sound like he wanted us to be very nice at all. Is that what I am? Not nice?” On the other hand, if the whole point of this memory is to remind PNG that there can be peace and support between heteromorphs and “people with human faces,” why in heaven’s name isn’t this a memory of a heteromorph being cared for and supported by a baseline person? Why does the person doing the labor in this picture have to be of the oppressed class?

I hate this panel so much.

Chapter 373:

O The last conversation plays out between Pig Nose Guy, #2, and Shouji, revealing #2 to be a bad faith idealogue who thinks of Shouji with microaggressions and his followers as meatshield patsies. It’s real bad.

O Shouji says that the feelings that led the mob to come today are neither useless nor wrong, and that their willingness to keep thinking about everything makes them look like a bright and shining light to his eyes. However, he carefully does not engage with the fact that those feelings, which were previously aimless and directionless, were only stirred up and stoked to the point of “coming today” by the villains. It’s the same sort of thing the villains always get told, really—you may have a point, you have suffered, but when you act on that point, that suffering, then you’ve gone too far. All you’re really supposed to do with that pain is—what, exactly? Thinka bout it and choose to Nobly Endure?

O The last little bit of insult to this chapter, to my eye, is #2 getting an apology from some anonymous hero we’ve never seen in our lives, who says, “We’ve heard your voices loud and clear today. Sorry for not realizing sooner.”

Remember the bit where the person who apologizes to Shouji for the octopus comment is Mineta, the gag character, instead of Sero, the serious character who brought it up in the first place? Remember the conspicuous absence of Bakugou and Todoroki, who have actually used that language with conscious demeaning intent? This apology is the systemic version of that absolute unwillingness on Horikoshi’s part to let his sympathetic/popular/important characters look bad. It’s the same thing that led to none of the heroes who retired after the war being heroes the readers know and care about, the same thing behind the total collapse of the series’ critique of All Might. Heroes are allowed to be ignorant, but they are not allowed to be complicit.

Notice, too, what this random hero does not say, what Shouji does not offer, the absence that damns this resolution: any promises of concrete change. We’ve finally gotten to the crux of Horikoshi’s point, as delivered by Shouji, and it really does all boil down to this:

And I can’t overstate enough what a terrible resolution this is, especially given how Shouji’s own experience puts the lie to it. Remember, Shouji saved a child from drowning, one of the absolute most prototypical actions someone can do and get called a Hero by the bystanders/victims/evening news. The only thing he could have done that would have been more stereotyped would have been saving her from a burning building! He saved that little girl from drowning and the townsfolk attacked him with farming tools for it.

How much more heroic would he have needed to be? How much more of a shining light could he possibly have been? In what universe could someone with that backstory possibly think that the answer to systemic bigotry—violence that goes wholly accepted by the community and wholly unpunished by the broader society—could be this Model Minority bullshit?

Ultimately, for Shouji’s backstory to realistically have given him the motivation he professes, his actions needed to have changed the people in his village for the better. If the reader is meant to believe that Shouji’s “answer”—the premise that selfless heroism can change the hearts of bigots—then we have to see it. And, you know, even if that had been what we got, there would still be grounds to criticize it! It would still be a perhaps-too-idealistic depiction of fighting oppression; it would still put too much responsibility on the victims! But at least it would justify Shouji’s own stance.

As it is, we have Shouji choosing to believe in the changeability of people who specifically shouted while throwing rocks at him that, no matter how much the times advanced, they would never accept him. His answer does not entail a single non-heteromorph working to bring heteromorphs living in the darkness a light; it entails them kindling their own. As with Pig Nose Guy shutting down in the face of a memory of a heteromorph doctor, this resolution asserts the life-changing power of…being told that heteromorphs have to do all the work to make baseline people feel better.

Conclusion

Do I think that this terrible resolution means heteromorphobia was poorly set up or retconned? No, I don’t. I just think it means that Horikoshi is a Japanese man writing a Japanese story from a position of demographic privilege in Japanese society. I think he’s fully capable of setting up a detailed, intelligent, thoughtful discrimination allegory, a logical, internally consistent extension of the discrimination in the world around him to the alternate future he’s created—and then coming to a completely different resolution than I would because his context led him to different answers than I wanted or found acceptable. Compared to the U.S., Japan as a culture is more communal, more collectivist; they have less history with successful protest movements, more history with protest movements turning violently extremist or just being ignored by those in power. The idea of “not making trouble for others” is an incredibly deeply engrained value.

I have a decent idea why this resolution is what it is. I can try to make myself view it through the more generous, forgiving lens of Cultural Differences; I can fail to do so and instead conclude that this is portrayal is much less about Cultural Differences than it is yet another in a long chain of Well-Meaning Majority-Culture Author Writes Discrimination Allegory, Fucks It All Up Because of His Well-Meaning Majority-Culture Centrism. That doesn’t mean I believe heteromorphobia came out of nowhere, and I hope this essay has at least demonstrated that much, whatever you might think of its resolution.

——————————

Thank you so much for taking this journey with me, all! At 42,000 words and 93 pages in Word, there's definitely more I'd like to do with this, chiefly taking a spin through the Vigilantes spinoff, which I've always found to be very good at grappling with practical questions and concerns BNHA Core largely ignores. The character of Kamayan is particularly relevant to this topic.

However, for now, I'm going to take a break on this subject and turn my attention to something else. I'm not sure what it'll be quite yet, but meta projects that have moved towards the top of my list concern the ridiculous series of nerfs Toga has been subjected to in this endgame, arc thoughts on everything I hate about the stupid, stupid All Mech fight, and an organized argument for the endgame being chock-full of retcons that are obvious if you look at them for more than the five minutes it takes to read a chapter each week.

You may notice that all of those are pretty negative-sounding, and you would be right. Given that the whole reason I stopped doing my chapter posts is that I was weary of the constant negativity, the actual next thing I do will probably be to get back to one of my neglected MLA fanfic projects.

'Til next time, all!

#bnha #bnha meta #bnha worldbuilding #heteromorph discrimination plot #octolad #plf advisors #my writing #preview for Vigilantes:#Kamayan is a crank and that distracts everyone #from realizing that Kamayan is also right

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 months

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In the last few days, I've made two long and rambling posts about Cowgate, a short incident from 2003 that haunts my nightmares. I think people should know that when I make posts like that - the ones that go way too long about something entirely niche - I am operating under the assumption that absolutely no one is reading this bullshit. Even the small handful of people who read this blog regularly, I assume you skip over those ones.

That's not just a hypothetical assumption, I make writing choices accordingly. I assume the only purpose of this post is to give me somewhere to put the hauntings besides my nightmares, and therefore, it doesn't matter if it's readable. I know that my whole blog is full of errors, but on posts like that, I get especially lax with things like editing. I go really deep on things where on a different post, I might think - okay, that's far enough. Because no one is reading this.

I have now been proven wrong several times about those couple of posts, which both mildly embarrasses and delights me. First of all, I got this great comment from @beastlyanachronism, which is now how I love to picture myself:

Then, the wonderful @lastweeksshirttonight proved that they'd read not only the posts but the comment, by immediately messaging me a corresponding picture. I replied that I love the image, I will definitely start my post with that image the next time a new Cowgate-based detail is found and I need to write about it. I didn't expect that to be soon, though. Breakthroughs are few and far between.

But then, I got another message, proving that at least three different people have read my post (actually four, if you count the very kind British man who read my post and then sent me a message to explain the nuances in the expression "bottle it"). And that last message is the reason for this post. Because, I can't believe I've been given cause to use this image so soon:

Further content behind the cut, because not everyone needs this content all over their feed.

This relates to the message I got last night, from the extremely helpful @linkeightvideo, who not only read my posts, but joined the cause and did his own research. And came up with this link:

The Metro cow is a thing!!! I knew the wording of that YouTube comment was weird (calling it "the Metro cow", rather than something like "a cow that said Metro on it"), suggesting that this was a specific and recognizable instillation. And I was right! But I cannot take credit for figuring that out, all credit goes to @linkeightvideo, who is the best.

The above link is to an archived version of an article from August 5, 2003, about three weeks before Cowgate occurred (which was August 26, 2003 - fun fact that has absolutely nothing to do with anything because to the best of my knowledge he wasn't there or anything, but that was also Nish Kumar's eighteenth birthday). The article is from the Edinburgh Fringe website. It's short enough so I'm just going to paste its text in full:

The Fringe was hit by a bunch of cotton-pickin', rootin-tootin' cattle ruslers in the early hours of Saturday night. The almost life-sized, bright blue and red Metro bull was stolen from outside the Metro Fringe Box Office. Metro newspapers are appealing for its safe return before the police are called and urge anyone with information to come forward. Metro Fringe Box Office Manager, Gillian O'Connor said: "We're distraught to have lost such a valuable member of the Box Office team! Please bring him back." The bull had just completed a secondment outside London's Victoria station, where he stood unmoved for a month. Yet after only a few days on duty with the Fringe he has gone missing leaving today's Festival Cavalcade a bull short of a procession.

That's it!!! That's the one! It was blue and red! I know it was blue and red, because Adam hills shouted "it's got red horns, it's all the rage". And it was almost life sized! And it said Metro on the side! Further research - also done by @linkeightvideo, he deserves all the credit in the world for this - finds that Metro sponsored the Edinburgh Fringe Festival that year, and also directly sponsored the Gilded Balloon venue.

So, the company called Metro had a large cow that was used in advertisements, and for one month in the summer of 2003, it was in London, outside Victoria Station. Then it was brought to Edinburgh, because they were sponsoring the festival and running a box office. They put it outside that box office, and it got stolen within "a few days" (which makes sense, as August 5th is a few days into the festival). It was meant to be part of the Festival Cavalcade, but couldn't be due to thieves.

Then, three weeks later, it spends all night on stage during a late-night comedy show in an Edinburgh venue that Metro sponsors, where it gets taken apart. How do we get from one state of affairs to the other? I don't know, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to understanding than I was yesterday. If the cow was somehow recovered, it would make sense from them to move it indoors, where it can be guarded better (again, credit for this idea goes to @linkeightvideo, and I think it makes sense). I mean, it can be guarded from drunk thieves in the middle of the night. Apparently the stage of the Gilded Balloon is not a good place to guard it from (shockingly) sober comedians in the middle of the night.

This made me try searching again for the specific words "Metro cow", and I found this article from December 12, 2003. It's a list of people who are involved with whatever organization this is, I'm not really clear on that. But it includes this one guy named Stephen Auckland. He's from the North of England, and as of when this was written, he was listened as the managing director of Metro. The bottom of his profile says:

An able sidekick to Associated Newspaper's Mike Anderson, even when it came to keeping up appearances following the disappearance of Mootro, Metro's cow mascot, from the Edinburgh festival. Auckland offered to dress up as a pantomime version. Luckily, they found the cow.

Guys! Guys! It has a fucking name! The Cowgate cow has a name! It's named Mootro! Now that I think about it, I actually can't believe I've never named the thing, given that I named the event (Cowgate), and giving the cow a name is the sort of thing I'd do. But I don't have to, because apparently it's named Mootro.

And the story has an update. It was stolen by August 5, and then it was found at some unknown point, and by August 26 it was in the Gilded Balloon. And then it got taken apart on stage.

I think this brings up one obvious question, which is: if this thing was important enough for its theft to be reported on the Edinburgh Fringe website, how come they were allowed to destroy it? The obvious answer would be that it was specifically made for just that one Edinburgh Festival, and was meant to be destroyed at the end of it anyway. But why did it spend a month in London right before that, then? And why would they do that anyway? Surely it's not efficient to make something like that for only a month, you'd think they'd plan to have it last a while and move it around based on where they're sponsoring things.

I can't believe this. This is the biggest revelation since I figured out who the fuck Karen Koren was, the woman referenced in Adam Hills' song, after after ages of Googling comedians named "Erin Coren" (finally worked out that she was the venue owner, which seems obvious now but it hadn't occurred to me at the time, when I was expecting it to be a reference to another performer). Actually, this is a much bigger revelation than that one, which just explained a couple of Adam Hills' lyrics. This is the biggest revelation in all the Cowgate research yet. The two main questions at the heart of the Cowgate mystery are: "Why did you do it?" and "Where did you get the cow?" And now one of those questions has been answered! It has a fucking name!

That second article referred to it specifically as the Metro "mascot". I guess a company is going to make more than one version of a mascot. But still, I don't think you're allowed to just destroy a sponsor's mascot. Maybe that mascot was at the end of its life anyway? Maybe Daniel Kitson just doesn't give a fuck? Maybe Daniel Kitson stole the cow in the first place. There's a whole new question. Who stole the cow? How did they get it back? How did it get from there to its whereabouts on August 26?

I know it wasn't on the Gilded Balloon stage every night of the 2003 Edinburgh Festival, because there's no sign of it in this montage, from Late 'n' Live on August 19, 2003 (also a fun video and great snippets of Chocolate Milk Gang history, if you can get past the second-hand embarrassment of Kitson trying his rap battle thing with an actual musician, and the presence of an actual musician makes the whole thing seem less ironic and therefore harder to watch - but you do get to see David O'Doherty beat up Jason Byrne and that's hilarious, also it's very funny to watch Daniel Kitson do something as out of character as brag about "nearly" winning a Barry Award and having a girlfriend from Australia, especially given how the latter turned out):

youtube

So it wasn't there on that night. Also, it just couldn't have been there every night. The Gilded Balloon is a proper venue that has proper shows during most of its time, it couldn't just have a large cow on stage for all of those. Also, in the beginning of that montage video from August 26, you see Kitson talking to the audience about the cow, and it sounds like he considers its presence as much of a novelty as they do. I mean, he's making fun of them for thinking it's a novelty, but he doesn't seem familiar with it, it seems like something he has to address:

youtube

This is the main reason for my theory that they didn't plan it beforehand, the montage shows the audience giving Kitson challenges for easy things to do with the cow, he asks them for more difficult challenges and then the video cuts, but I think the audience then asked him to tear it apart. It's a theory that makes sense based on some circumstantial evidence, but it does open up other questions. The main one being whether you can get permission to destroy a company's mascot between the beginning and the end of a comedy show, especially a comedy show that takes place entirely in the middle of the night. It doesn't seem likely. It also opens up some smaller questions, like what they were planning as the end of the show - the finale of the last night of Late 'n' Live, so you'd think they'd have something - that got bumped for this.

This reminds me that I had some further thoughts on the other mystery, of what actually went down on the night of August 26. I was thinking of the somewhat blue sky theory of there being two previous. Evidence for this: Adam Hills referred to "three chances", they were able to pick up chisels off the ground that seemed to just be lying around (possibly having been discarded after previous attempts), and Kitson in that video does have their air of someone who's already watched this go wrong and is really determined to make sure they get it fucking right this time. Evidence against: I'm not sure that works from a show planning perspective. What if it had worked on the first try, then what would the finale have been? If they'd watched it fail twice, would they really have made it the finale, knowing it may well fail a third time and that would be a shit ending? Though this could possibly be explained by the presence of the pipe that someone runs on stage, significantly increasing their chances compared to any attempt where that pipe was not in play.

I thought of something else today: the cow was already down when they started that video. Earlier in the night, we see comedians sitting on the cow, it's standing up. But at the end, when those guys run out to try to take it apart, they don't have to knock it down first. It's already lying on its side. They could have knock it down just before starting the song, but why would they do that? Surely knocking it down would be a fun dramatic moment, so if this were the first time they'd messed with the cow, they'd leave the knocking down to be part of the process. Unless this weren't the first time, and they had dramatically knocked it down before starting to try taking it apart, but this one done at some earlier point that the video didn't catch.

Anyway. That's the revelation. Along with some further thoughts on theories, but the main thing is the revelation. Massive breakthrough, and I need to thank @linkeightvideo one more time for research that he was under absolutely no obligation to do, but he came through anyway. What a legend. Am I using the British expressions right? What a solid gold legend.

#Youtube

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walriding · 7 months

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character info sheet.

Name. Miles Luis Upshur Ramírez

Name meaning. Miles -- Latin, soldier. Luis -- Spanish, famous warrior or renowned fighter. Upshur -- English, literally just means 'from the upper shire', but the fun fact significance is that Upshur was the middle name of the famous American journalist Bob Woodward. Ramírez -- Spanish, wise / renowned ruler / counselor

Alias.( ses ). Fun Mount Massive nicknames: the Host, the Apostle, the Witness, Little Pig, buddy, etc. As far as actual aliases, he's used various combinations of his four names on fake IDs before -- i.e. Luis Upshur, Miles Ramírez, etc.

two pictures you like of your character.

The money shot, the big cryptid moment, the only third person view we canonically have of Miles:

2. Probably what I consider to be the definitive Oscar-as-Miles photo, one of the things I saw and was instantly assured of my FC choice. It might sound stupid but Oscar is such an irrevocable part of Miles to me. I can't see him any other way, and having such a strong visual representation of him has always been a huge help in making him feel real for all these years:

three headcanons you never told anyone. Disclaimer that I have probably mentioned all of this at some point but it's been seven years of writing this guy and I fear I'm out of completely new material lol

He's never been much of an exercise buff but Miles used to be into running. He had a set circuit when he lived in DC and tried to keep a consistent schedule even when traveling for work. Never got to marathon level but did a lot of 5 and 10Ks, even a half marathon here and there. But it's not something he does anymore largely because there's... really no point. One of the benefits of being possessed and also kinda dead is you don't need to workout! Yaaaaay! Unfortunately without the endorphins and the satisfaction of exertion, running has lost its luster.

Prior to Mount Massive, Miles had a long-term boyfriend from college until they were in their late 20s. The last couple years of it were a tumultuous on-and-off-again relationship that started to deteriorate after he lost his staff reporter job and had to travel more. Prop 8 meant that same sex marriage was off the table, but they talked about engagement and building a serious life together. If Miles hadn't lost his job he probably would've proposed. But, then, if he hadn't lost his job a lot of things would've been different.

Miles is genuinely obsessed with roadside tourist traps -- giant balls of twine and other objects, weird architecture, fake alien sites, that sort of thing. The kitschier the better. If you're roadtripping with him and he spots a funky sign, he's pulling over.

three things your character likes to do in their free time.

Listen to music -- he's almost always got tunes on in the background but will sit down and really get absorbed in an album when he can.

Read -- mostly current events articles, sometimes a good nonfiction book.

Drive -- loves driving around the middle of nowhere to clear his head, even though it's not quite the same without the Jeep (rip).

three people your character loves.

Not technically a person, but the Walrider. Judge him if you want, but after a decade he's accepted that they're fucked up soulmates that were always meant to be <3. It's been a slowburn enemies to lovers journey, but over time he's adapted and stopped hating it for things that weren't really its fault. He's gone from denial to acceptance to tolerance to feeling genuine affection for the Swarm. Maybe it's too complicated to really define as love, but he can't think of a better word.

@mslangermann in some form in all verses always.

People with conviction. People who stand up for themselves and the things they believe in. People who are thoughtful and who care about something bigger than themselves.

two things your character regrets.

Not being a better son and brother before everything went to shit. His life choices and the prideful stubbornness with which he committed to them drove a wedge between himself and his parents, which trickled down into a strained relationship with his sisters. In hindsight, they were just worried about him and only wanted what was best for him -- but he was too absorbed with his career and trying to piece it back together to see that. He regrets arguing with them so much. He regrets not making the most of the time he had when he didn't know it was running out.

Somewhat verse specific, but he very deeply regrets what happened with @mslangermann's husband Blake after Temple Gate. Murkoff picked him out of the wreckage and brought him to another facility -- Miles found him while trying to dig up whatever he could about the cult. Blake was completely catatonic, and probing around in his mind revealed that there was nothing left of him mentally, either. Rather than leave him to suffer in Murkoff's hands, Miles elected to put him out of his misery. And still hasn't told Lynn. He doesn't regret doing it -- truly, there were no options that would have saved Blake -- but he regrets not being honest with her. He also blames himself a bit for not finding him sooner and possibly preventing tragedy.

three phobias your character has.

the dark

confined spaces

heights

tagged by : @demcnsinmymind ty!!! tagging: @cyberpawn, @slidethirtysix, @paramnesias

#long post #it's been a hot minute since i've really done an in depth meme for miles #i miss rambling about him <3 #(ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀᴄǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ) ;;; ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ

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chaotictarlos · 2 years

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So this if from a new fic I started for the angst bingo I got. It kind of follows along with canon and different things happen at the same time and in the same order but it'll take different turns. I don't have a title for this fic yet but I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think!

↬❦︎☀︎︎❦︎☀︎︎↫

TK steps out of the rehab place, a small bag of his belongings over his shoulder as his eyes scanned the parking lot looking for his fathers truck. When he spots it he makes his way over and gets into the passenger seat, a small nod to his father but no words are exchanged. There was nothing that either of them could say that they hadn’t said before in similar circumstances.

TK buckles his seatbelt and stares out the window, wanting nothing more than to get back to his apartment and hide away from the world for a while. He was sure that news had spread about his relapse and that people would have questions or just things to say and he didn’t want to hear or deal with any of it. He was tired. He needed to grieve the loss of his relationship, the loss of his sobriety, and then work hard to get back on his feet. At least with rehab he was four months sober and had been able to explore some of the things that he was feeling.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts, thinking about what his next steps were after he adjusts to being out of rehab again that he almost misses his father taking a turn that definitely wouldn’t lead them back to his apartment.

“Dad, this isn’t the way to my apartment.” TK says. “You need to go the other way.”

“I’m not taking you to your apartment.” Owen says.

TK turns and looks at him. “What? Then where are you taking me? I’m not staying with you. I did my time in rehab, I’m going to be okay.”

“TK, New York isn’t good for you and I think we need to get away from it,” Owen says. “I accepted a job in Texas rebuilding their fire station and while you were in rehab I did just that. There’s an entire new crew and you were transferred there to join me. You’ll like the 126.”

“Do I even get a say in any of this?” TK asks, crossing his arms and huffing.

“No, you don’t.”

TK rolls his eyes, knowing the move is a bit childish but his dad was treating him like a child that couldn’t make decisions and turns to look out the window.

“You might like this now but the change will be good for you.”

TK let his bag drop to the floor and looked around his new room. Apparently he wasn’t allowed to live by himself in the new city he had been forced to relocate to. It was frustrating and made TK feel like he was a child again. He didn’t like that his entire life was uprooted and relocated while he was in rehab and fighting to get ahold of his mind and stop itching for a fix. While he was struggling, his father was making decisions for his life without including him in them.

Where anyone thought that would be helpful, TK didn’t know. Not letting him be involved in decisions that had to do with his life made him feel out of control and TK didn’t like that. In the past when he felt out of control it would prompt him to want to use, and would send him to find an alley and some Oxy. Now, he was trying to resist that urge and tell himself that it was okay. Everything would be okay.

It was a lot easier to say those words than to believe it.

Nobody has permission to save, translate, repost, upload, or do anything with my fics. My fics are only posted on AO3, if you see them on any other site such as wattpad please let me know. This story was written for an adult audience and is intended for adult consumption. If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading this story.

#t's wip wednesday #wip wednesday #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes

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plotbunny-bundle · 16 days

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Reading Comic is work: Why I think people aren't reading comics.

My rant is not over. this is my opinion based off my experience as a new comic book fan who does read and collect comics. What I've discovered is it's not easy and it's expensive.

Attempting to follow a comic requires a lot of work. There is a commitment involved that many fans who are busy, and don't have a lot of disposable income or just passing through aren't willing to commit. And I don't blame them.

I've joked before that being in the DC fandom requires homework.

This is the second time I've gotten into DC comics. However I started collecting for the first time year and half ago.

the first time I got into comics was 2016. I'd become interested in Jason Todd as the red hood because of some fanart I'd seen on tumblr. I decided to watch the movie and fell in love because of the music and the character. I started trying to follow the character and end up getting overwhelmed and confused trying to figure out a reading order. I eventually gave up and moved on to Star Wars.

About a year and half ago I got back into comics from reading a fanfic because I was still following one of the offers on AO3. this time I started collecting. Still it took me a half a year to get to that point.

it is ridiculously hard to catch up on comics. Nearly everything you see in local libraries starts with rebirth or the new 52. Everything in stores is Rebirth or whatever the new soft reboot is called onwards. in order to read comics and understand them you need resources and you have to do research. In order to read anything older than 2016 you either need a super well-funded library or you need money.

I use multiple resources in order to read comics. My strategy was to draw a line in the sand and say I wasn't going to read before this point. I chose to start with the 80s because I was interested in the New Teen Titans. I found it ridiculously hard to catch up on any comic older than 2011.

My main source is my local library. I'm lucky enough to live in a town with a well-funded library that happens to be two blocks away from my local comic shop. I fully believe the plentiful comic collection is related to this last fact. Using the library I'm able to catch up on rebirth comics however, there still difficulty with that. Since 2011 DC has reviewed the universe three times. That meant when I want to go looking for Batman or Detective Comics there were four different volumes labeled "Batman Detective Comics Vol 1" I had to use a combination of Google, the DC wiki, and reading the back of the volumes to figure out the proper reading order which I had to do by figuring out what issues are in which book. That is stupidly complicated. If I wanted to read a book series they would be labeled 1234 etc.

an older comics are even harder. To read them I use a variety of resources the DC wiki (which is is currently full of ads and I would love an alternative), a lovely sketchy comic site, Amazon and fucking eBay. Because Batman so frequently has large crossovers the only way to follow along is to get the volumes and read those. an older volumes besides for large Omnibuses are not being sold. most of the time and less is on the buses are brand-new and being preordered there not being sold either in the cost around 200 bucks. The crossovers make it difficult to follow along by series especially if you're reading online. Here's an example. I've been wanting to read the Batman Knightfall arc. I couldn't figure out the reading order and because of all the crossovers it would be too hard to follow online for free using sketchy sites. I couldn't find them at the library. So eventually I found was an old left on the shelf in a comic book shop, figured out where that went in the reading order. I managed to find two of the three books on Amazon. but I still wanted to read the aftermath Batman: Prodigal so I had to turn to eBay to find it. I wanted to read the ark and I couldn't find it so I eventually said fuck it and bought it in order to read it. This cost me about $80. Not everyone would do that. Many people would say fuck it and skip it.

My ability to catch up on comics is dependent on public resources and money. I got lucky based off the town I live in. I have a job and of roommate which allows me to have the funds available to collect comics. I grew up reading Mango online in the One Manga.com days. because of all three of these factors I'm able to start catching up, reading and collecting comics. And still not done. I'm still confused on some reading orders and I've only gotten into one faction of heroes and three series.

If I wanted to get into something else such as Donna Troy, I've done all of my research in Batman. I have to start over, figure out where in wonder woman I wanted to start and where in teen Titans I wanted to start. I have to figure out where her important arcs were and figure out how to get a hold of them. I'd have to figure out what current series she's in and if I like them. Comics have homework.

I don't blame people for giving up and moving on to fandom. Because that's what I did. it's well-known that while comics will have amazing arcs and issues often times will also have ones that suck or or issues that are boring for months. What would most people do if they found a fandom with interesting characters or world building but the stories were just lackluster. If they don't have the time, energy and resources to dig through 40 years of comics, it makes sense to move to fanfiction to get what you wanted from this world. Isn't that what most people would do with a TV show?

#dc #dc comics

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discoverysitespeed · 2 years

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It is well with my soul hillsong soundtrack

Verse 3 pushes salvation into the forefront, describing Colossians 2:14 in vivid detail and invoking a tearful emotional response to believers everywhere. Verse 2 offers a similar sentiment, acting as a bridge between satan’s attacks that aligns with the ideas in Verse 1 and our first introduction to the Gospel that exists in Verse 3. It is this internal joy in which we can proclaim: it is well with my soul, repeated in the refrain after each verse. The peace that God grants to us is inwardly. The peace that God offers is not outwardly (Matthew 10:34-36), though let the reader understand that we should still find peace with others if possible (Romans 12:18). It starts with a declarative, that seasonal shifts in life ought not rob us of the joy God brings to our lives.

The message of this song contains several themes. Note to new users: This is a different kind of review site! Read About the Berean Test and Evaluation Criteria prior to reading this review. Soul’s Anthem), often shortened to It Is Well. These lyrics, combined with the tune written by Phillip Bliss, have gained wide acceptance amongst Christians, with several artists either partially covering or writing around its refrain (e.g. It was here that he adopted Jacob Eliahu and would live out the rest of his life. He left the Presbyterian church to pursue other religious interests, including prayer meetings in his home and philanthropic work in Jerusalem, helping to found the American Colony. Later in life, he had three other children, including a son who also died of Scarlet fever, though at the age of three. Horatio Spafford boarded another vessel and wrote this hymn on his journey to England, where he would rejoin his wife and mourn over the loss of his daughters. Horatio’s wife survived the incident and received the tragic news via telegram. Included in the death toll were all four of Spafford’s daughters. Boarding the steamship Ville du Havre, his family’s ship hit another vessel in the Atlantic, causing 226 people to lose their life. He planned to meet them there at a later time, finishing up his business in America. Two years after losing his four-year-old son to pneumonia, Spafford sent his wife and four remaining daughters to England on vacation, intending for them to meet his friend evangelist Dwight L. The inspiration behind It Is Well With My Soul comes from personal loss. He also had eight children and a loving wife: Anna Spafford. The song features Darlene Zschech as lead vocalist, with a new added bridge composed by Reuben Morgan and Ben Fielding, and was recorded in Sydney, Australia in three days, mixed in England overnight and mastered in Los Angeles, before being released in the iTunes Store the following weekend.Horatio Gates Spafford had two professions in his life: American lawyer and Presbyterian church elder. It reached the ARIA Singles Chart Top 100 with all proceeds from the sale of this single going to the relief effort. Hillsong Live team recorded a special single in December 2010 to aid victims of the 2010–2011 flooding in Queensland, Australia. Hillsong Church version "It Is Well With My Soul" The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!Īnd Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight, No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,īut Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!įor me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know When peace like a river, attendeth my way, Bliss called his tune Ville du Havre, from the name of the stricken vessel. Shortly afterwards, as Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, he was inspired to write these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died. His wife Anna survived and sent him the now famous telegram, "Saved alone …". While crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the ship sank rapidly after a collision with a sea vessel, the Loch Earn, and all four of Spafford's daughters died. In a late change of plan, he sent the family ahead while he was delayed on business concerning zoning problems following the Great Chicago Fire.

His business interests were further hit by the economic downturn of 1873, at which time he had planned to travel to England with his family on the SS Ville du Havre, to help with D. The first two were the death of his four-year-old son and the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which ruined him financially (he had been a successful lawyer and had invested significantly in property in the area of Chicago that was extensively damaged by the great fire). This hymn was written after traumatic events in Spafford's life.

#It is well with my soul hillsong soundtrack

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braintower75 · 2 years

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Search Obituaries Online Fast

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When we hear the word "charity" we think of love towards our neighbors, love made visible as operating to others. What does charity really mean to us? Charity, I believe, is the pure joy of giving. It includes more than material details. We see it as warmth with the smile from the local stranger, a hand written thank-you-letter, a comforting hug, a healing prayer, a kindness to a grieving friend, a bonding with someone in might need. It is a karmic longing. Good for you . an abundance of warmth and loving when we give. Genuine nature of charity is that the more you give; the more love comes back to north america.

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#funeral program

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

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Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words. “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #Sebastian Stan

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos.

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob.

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created.

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all.

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands.

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part.

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed.

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week.

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head.

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end.

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught.

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks.

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum.

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core.

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air.

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

#hawks smut #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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denial-permanente · 3 years

Note

How believable is it that a guy is locked in Chastity for years. We won’t even mention permanently

lol - I'm going to let my husband @tom--allen answer this one. 😂

Hi anon - Tom here. I'm the Tom Allen of The Edge of Vanilla blog: https://vanillaedge.wordpress.com I started that Wordpress blog in August of 2006, and that was a continuation of a blog I originally started on Blogspot (which was bought by Google and became Blogger), and I had started the blog because of the years I had spent over on Yahoo Groups,(and on several other now-defunct web forums), and I had gone to Yahoo groups because the Usenet groups that I frequented when I had an Earthlink account were dropped by my new (at the time) ISP. I'm writing that to give you the understanding that I've been writing on sexuality, relationships, and yes, kinky male chastity since the dial-up days.

How believable is it that a man would willingly allow himself to be locked into a chastity device? Here's the funny part: Male chastity devices were already a kink when I stumbled across them doing some late night dial-up surfing on my Pentium 4 laptop. There were already a few websites devoted to stories, pictures, and discussions about it. Back then, most of the devices actually were expensive bespoke belts made by four or five different shops. Or there were a lot of home made cages by guys who made them in their little workshops, and traded pictures and tips on various sites, including "Altairboy". These guys all reported wearing their devices for various periods of time, ranging from days to weeks to months.

The late 90s and early 00s saw the introduction of the mass produced CB2000 and the CB3000 by the Miller Company, who found the sales were profitable enough to invest in molds and dies, a warehouse, and even representation at adult toy conventions. By the mid to late 2000s, several online retailers reported that sales of male chastity devices were trending very high, surpassed only by "dildos and insertables" and a few other toys. To me, that suggests a lot of men were buying these things. Everyone was tight lipped about the numbers sold, but one retailer in the mid to late 00s said that he was selling over 25,000 per year.

After the success of the CB3000 and the upgraded CB6000, a few other companies started promoting their own models. That lasted for another five years, before the Chinese manufacturers started knocking off the designs and selling them at knock-off prices. Eventually the Chinese manufacturers began coming up with variations on those designs, and selling "original" styled devices made from cheap 304 stainless steel instead of the nicer "medical grade" 316 stainless that the custom US chastity devices were made from. I have a few of the Chinese cages, in fact. Chastity devices have become a niche industry , with US retailers selling (by my estimates) hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of products. I can't even imagine what the Chinese sales figures are.

I know of several kink, sexuality, and bdsm related web boards that all have dedicated sections for chastity devices, and I know of at least four web boards that are *mainly* about male chastity devices and orgasm denial. These boards have a lot of active users (mainly men, although there are a handful of women) who discuss tips and tricks about wearing the devices, getting the proper fit, and how to deal with some of the emotional aspects of being denied.

My point here, and I did have one, is that in the last 10 years, both the sales of, and the online interest in, chastity devices have increased dramatically. So, to your question of whether it's believable that anyone would lock themselves up? The sheer numbers of guys interested in this suggests that a lot of men (and their wives) are very intrigued by this, and have been willing to spend time and money on this.

As to the "permanent" part? Well, yes, the internet is full of wankers, and you should be critical of whatever you read. I've seen a lot of really bad information about chastity and denial, ranging from stupid to downright dangerous. For our part, the term "permanent" is not exact. I've written before, Mrs Edge will unlock me for medical or travel; my cage is not welded shut, and we don't want the attention it would cause for me to go through an airport scanner. But I have been locked since the winter/spring of 2018. We didn't set out to make this a permanent arrangement, it just sort of happened as we went along.

If you aren't asking in a general sense, but more specifically how *I* could be locked up for years, I've posted my/our story around here and other places. I obviously have a kink, and my wife is happy to share in that, because she gets a lot of enjoyment out of it herself. I think I have got enough of a history of writing about this to have established my credibility. You can believe it or not.

#chastity question

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mystery-star · 3 years

Text

Shipping Experiment– Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: involuntary drunkenness

Words: 3686

A/N: I got this idea when I stumbled upon a BTS picture of the AOS movie productions. Then I discussed it with @cleversturmhond and decided it had to be written. I know the pic is for AOS but can be read for TOS as well.

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

Being an Ensign usually meant that you couldn’t go on many away missions. So it was always something very special for you to get chosen. You only hoped that your husband had no saying in it because you wanted to be chosen because of your skills and not the fact that you were married to the Chief Science Officer and First Officer of the ship. On the other hand, if it had been Spock’s idea to take you on the mission, it probably had a logical reason, after all he always claimed that he did not make emotional decisions while on duty. Maybe you could ask him later on who had had the idea to allow you to come to the mission.

For a reason you were surprised to learn that the aliens that lived on the planet were very friendly because so far you had usually only heard stories of how the landing party had been almost killed or abducted by the inhabitants of the planet. The natives even invited you for dinner and the Captain immediately agreed. You on the other hand didn’t know if it was such a good idea to just eat foreign food, what if it was poisonous for you? Sure, Kirk claimed that the alien’s physiology was not that different from your own but it still was no guarantee that the food would not hold and unpleasant surprises.

Unfortunately, the meal tasted a bit bland but otherwise it was very good and you ate a lot, probably more than usual. They even served some kind of ‘dessert’, just that it consisted of a bitter drink. After the meal, you were allowed to watch some kind of welcome dance the natives did for you and also encouraged all of you to dance as well. To your surprise, even Spock joined them a bit later, but probably only because four of your hosts were pulling on his arms and trying to get him up and on the dance floor. With determined steps he came over to you, offering you his hand

“Do you mind?”

“I’d love to” you said, taking his hand and placing the other hand on his shoulder. When you had first seen what a skillful dancer he was, you almost couldn’t believe it. Even less that he had never taken dance lessons in secret and just seemed to be a whiz kid, like at everything else. Not that you minded though, it was something you loved about him, how good he was at everything or how quickly he learned if something was indeed new for him. You amused yourself very much and also Spock seemed to do so. But then you saw him smile at you and in shock you let go of him “What’s wrong’” you asked.

“What are you referring to?”

“Your smile, you just smiled”

“I do not believe I did. You must have imagined it”

“Yeah sure, let’s just deny it all as if it was a shame” you said, gently taking hold of him again to continue your dance. Probably you would have just forgotten about it, if his smile had not etched itself into your memory and made it hard to be forgotten. And it wasn’t just his smile, suddenly, he also leaned his forehead against yours and pulled you closer, letting out a small sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Your definition of ‘okay’ is unclear” he muttered

“I want to know if you’re feeling as usual. Or if you think that something’s off”

“Nothing is ‘off’. I simply enjoy having you close”

“Well I take that as a compliment” you pecked his cheek. While some of the other crewmembers seemed to have had enough, Spock was still twirling you around, even more energetic than before. And at times you could have sworn to see a big smile on his face. Finally, the Captain approached you

“I didn’t know dancing made you that happy”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you’re grinning like a Cheshire cat” Spock raised an eyebrow

“You are referring to the animal from Alice in Wonderland”

“Yeah. You have something of him right now”

“Is it true?’” he asked looking at you

“Yeah you have been smiling at times But that’s okay. As long as it means you’re feeling happy that’s perfect”

“I would not call it ‘perfect’. I do not like not being in control of my emotions” you had stopped dancing by now

“So what are we gonna do? Do you want to go back to the ship?”

“Perhaps that would be a good solution. Then I can extend my meditation period”

“And leave poor (Y/N) all alone down here?” Kirk said, patting your back.

“Or I can just leave with him” you said “I kinda am getting tired from all the dancing”

“I apologize” Spock said “If you wish to accompany me back to the ship you are welcome to do so”

“Perfect” also Jim gave a nod and so your husband and you left the place after bidding your hosts goodbye and requested to be transported back to the ship. On the way to your shared quarters, Spock took your hand and squeezed it. You checked the time “It’s only 2014 hours. Would you like to do something?”

“If you do not mind I would like to engage in meditation for some time”

“Right, you said that you’d do that. I’ll just be reading something then��

Two hours later, Spock was still in the bathroom for meditation. But unless most times he was talking to himself. With a sigh you got up and stopped in front of the door. Of course you knew he didn’t like to be disturbed and that meditation was private to Vulcans. Yet you gently knocked at the locked door.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a quiet voice but got now answer “Spock?”

“Yes”

“Sorry for disturbing you but you were talking and I wanted to see if you’re alright”

“I am” he said “Test Object Leonard... Time: 1.28 seconds”

“What are you doing?” you asked, entering the code to open the door. You didn’t know what to say when you saw what he was doing. He had rid himself of his meditation robes and was standing at the sink in underwear, a dozen or more of origami swans or folded boats, made from toilet paper were sitting on top of the sink. In his hand, he held your lip balm, which he obviously had used to write something on the mirror “Oh Spock” you said, not sure if it was a good idea to laugh “What’s this?”

“I want to find out how long it takes until the figures are soaked with water and unfold”

“Oh well… uh” you only knew one thing. This was not normal behavior for your husband “What about your robes?” he looked at the pile of clothes, something else atypical because usually he carefully folded and put his clothes away unless he put it in the laundry box (and even for in there he did fold them a little).

“I took them off so they will not get wet”

“Well okay” you moved closer and watched, how he launched a swan called Sulu and noted that it was soaked within 1.31 seconds before noting name and the time on the mirror “Come on, you can drown more toilet paper tomorrow”

“I do not drown it. It is an experiment”

“You still can continue it tomorrow”

“Then the conditions might be different”

“Shouldn’t something be tested under different conditions?” he looked at you then turned back to his ‘experiment’, putting the next thing into the water, this time a boat called Sulu. You had the impression that he had each a swan and a boat that were named after someone of the crew. When you checked the list, you saw that also your name was at the top of the list, making you smile. “Come” you said “You can finish tomorrow. I think you have enough data for today” you pointed at the mirror

“I am not done yet”

“We continue tomorrow. I’ll help you” he looked at you

“Then I can get started with the report now”

“Or we go to bed. It’s late”

“I usually write my reports at around that time”

“Yeah but usually don’t soak toilet paper figures in the sink either. Let’s go” he looked at you

“No!” he said, rather fiercely, making you wince

“Spock!” you insisted “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you are not alright right now. So let me get you to bed or I’ll call McCoy”

“He will be off duty by now” he grabbed the next swan but you took hold of his wrist.

“I can just call med bay. I bet you’d hate someone else looking at you even more”

“I do not need a doctor, I am fine”

“Don’t you usually not use the word fine because it has no logical definition just like ‘okay’?”

“It does, I only tried to make it clear to you by using your vernacular” still he started a lecture of the different meanings of the two words, depending on the context. You sighed and gently tried to lead him away from the sink and to your surprise and relief he complied. As long as he was talking, you could get him back to your bed room and hand him his sleeping shirt which he put on without further ado. But then he was done with his explanation and the started behaving like a kid again, refusing to but on his pajama trousers and insisted he had to continue his experiment.

“No you don’t. If you go back into the bathroom, I’ll throw all your boats and swans into the toilet and flush them” he stared at you and his mouth fell open slightly. You couldn’t hide a grin

“I will make new ones” he said and left for the bathroom

“No!” you shouted and wrapped your hands around his waist, trying to stop him. But since he was stronger than you, due to his Vulcan heritage, he managed to walk to the bathroom anyways. So you let go of him and went to the intercom instead, contacting Med bay that they came to have a look. After all it was possible that his state could be dangerous. You were quite certain it had to do with something that happened on the planet, probably something he ate or drank. When you ended the communication, you saw that Spock wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. He also wasn’t in the bedroom either “Spock?” you called but you got no answer. His figures were still standing on the sink but you noticed that his lute was gone. With a sigh you started the computer on the desk “Computer, where is Commander Spock?” you asked, not wanting to search him. Besides, he could be everywhere.

“Commander Spock currently is in recreation room 3 on deck 5”

“Oh” you said and left your quarters hurrying there as fast as you could. The scene you saw did shock you but you still had to pull back to not start laughing. It was even worse than what you had seen in the bathroom in your quarters. Spock was still only wearing his nightshirts, boxers and was sitting on one of the tables, seeming to be tuning his lute. And of course he was not alone in the rec room and almost everyone was staring at him or you “Spock!” you hissed as you slowly approached him “What are you doing, honey?” you placed a hand on his arm

“I am not making honey” you rolled your eyes

“I can see that. It wasn’t a question. I meant you by honey”

“Why?”

“You’re not in a state to discuss this. Come, let’s go back. You still have your experiment to finish”

“I am off duty” he said trying out his lute again.

“Well then we just go to bed. Or are you hungry again? Just let’s get you out of here. People are watching” you said quietly. At that, his head shot up and he glared at the people in question and they were quick to look away or pretend to focus on something else. You sighed “Come on. We can come back when you put pants on” he looked down his legs “Yes, you’re only wearing underwear”

“That is not underwear” he gestured at his shirt

“Yeah. But this” you pointed at his boxers. Come” you offered him your hand but he slapped it away, putting a foot on his table and started to play on the lute.

“I would like to play you a song”

“You can do this when I’m in bed. Because I’m very tired” you faked a yawn “Then you can help me fall asleep. How does that sound?”

“As if you think my song is boring” he pouted and you shook your head.

“That’s not what I meant. But it is very calming. And it’s been a long day. Are you not tired?”

“I am Vulcan”

“That doesn’t answer the question” he didn’t say anything and you sighed “Fine” you pulled your hand back and gave a nod, walking over to the intercom to contact Med Bay again because the doctor had to come here and not your quarters. You probably didn’t’ have the strength (or will) to bring your husband back to his quarters. When you were done, you also contacted the Captain to tell him what was going on and to let him know that maybe Spock wouldn’t come to work tomorrow

“What do you mean by ‘behaving odd’? Is it a Spocksih odd we’re used of him or odd odd?”

“Odd odd. Unless he’s sitting on the tables in rec room just wearing his boxers and playing his lute each day”

“No, you’re right that is odd. When did he start behaving like that?”

“I don’t know. He went mediating when we returned. But maybe his smiles on the planet already had to do with his situation”

“Did you let McCoy know?”

“He’s got off, so I contacted Med Bay”

“Very well. Do you need help?”

“Are you already back?”

“Yeah, we all are by now”

“Oh okay. But no, I called for a doctor he’ll help me to bring Spock back home”

“Perfect” you turned around to your husband

“Oh fuck”

“What? What is he doing now?”

“No idea”

“How do you mean that?”

“Because he’s gone. He’s not here anymore”

“Do you need help searching him?”

“Only if you don’t mind”

“My friend and First Officer is running around the ship drunk and half naked. Of course I can make time to search him”

“Good” you quickly discussed where you would go looking (respectively that you’d ask the computer for his location again) before contacting Med Bay yet another time to let them know that you had lost your husband again. Then you went to the next computer to hear his location. As it seemed he currently wasn’t in a room but was still underway to wherever he was heading. That was if he had a place he wanted to go. As you followed his path, you stopped to ask a computer again and when you heard where Spock was, you sped up even more. He had gone to the Pharmacology lab and in his state you had no idea what he’d do and he could get himself killed if he did something wrong. When you arrived at the lab, two people of sickbay were already there, talking to your husband. “What’s going on?” you asked, taking your husband’s hand.

“Your explanations made me realized that something is indeed wrong with me. I was trying to find something against it” he gestured at two small vials in front of

“Did he take anything?”

“No, luckily not” the nurse said while the doctor ran a scanner over Spock

“Is he okay?”

“No” Spock replied, making you squeeze his hand. To your surprise he pulled you closer until your head was resting against his chest. Suddenly he let out a yelp and when you looked up you saw how the doctor had injected a hypo into Spock’s neck. At the same time as your husband you asked what it was and were told that it something that would help him calm down a bit. The nurse then continued explaining that everything was alright so far and he just seemed drunk. So you should just take him back to your quarters and let them know in case something happened. With a grin you shook your head.

“What did you do huh?” you nudged his arm, making him glance down at you

“I did not take anything”

“On the planet. But you couldn’t know. We all didn’t. Now let’s get you to bed and tomorrow everything will be better” also Kirk now arrived in the lab and was asking what was going on, whereupon he received a briefing from the doctor.

“And he’s fine now?”

“He’s always been fine. But (Y/N) should keep an eye on him, just in case. But I don’t think something will happen. I’d take some blood but I have the impression that in his state he will not allow it”

“What if you wait until the sedative you gave him works?”

“Of course we could but as far as I can see he’s fine. Just not used to being drunk. I only thought we could find out what put him in that state. Maybe we’ll have to take some blood if he gets worse which he shouldn’t”

“Okay, that’s great to hear” you said with a nod and when you saw, how your husband slightly slackened you took hold of his arm

“It’s starting wo work” the nurse commented and you tried to lead him back to your shared quarters which you only could when also Kirk took hold of him and helped you. Together you more or less dragged Spock back to your quarters and after asking if you could manage, the Captain left you. Spock pulled you to the bed, sat down on its edge and after you were in his lap, he embraced you tightly.

“Careful” you muttered “Don’t forget how strong you are and your thousand lectures about how you could snap all my bones just like that” he didn’t reply but nuzzled the side of your neck. “How about you let me get ready for bed and then we can lie down and cuddle until we fall asleep?” again he did nothing so you let out a sigh “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not very much. However, I wish to hold you longer”

“You can also do that when we’re trying to fall asleep?” now his arms disappeared and you got up, getting out of your clothes, when you heard the bathroom door close. “Please just don’t continue your experiment” you muttered as you put on a top for in the bed. You sat down on the bed, taking out a PADD to read an article before Spock returned but again he stayed in the bathroom. After fifteen minutes you put your device aside and knocked at the door but got no answer, so you opened it. You had to cover your mouth to not burst out laughing. He was cuddling his robes he had discarded earlier against his chest and was fast asleep on the bathroom floor. Of course you knew that you wouldn’t be able to bring him back to bed so you returned to your bedroom, got your blanket and spread it over him. For a while you stood there, looking down at him and considering if you should join him or spend the night in bed before you sighed and grabbed your pillow to lie down beside him as well.

It was one of the first times in your marriage that you woke up before Spock. But knowing he’d probably be awake any time, you waited for him with breakfast. When he appeared in the door frame you had to bite back a chuckle because you had never seen him so disheveled.

“Morning” you greeted, putting your PADD aside

“Morning, (Y/N)” he replied with a nod. “I cannot find a logical explanation why I have woken up in the bathroom”

“Because you fell asleep there. Bam, logic” you got up and walked to the replicator “Water or tea?”

“Then I cannot recall why I would have chosen the bathroom floor as suitable place to spend the night”

“Oh well I can’t answer that either. But I might have an idea”

“That is?” he asked, walking to the bed to put the blanket on it, of course folding it neatly before taking a new uniform from his wardrobe.

“You don’t remember?”

“I am not certain I understand what you are referring to”

“Well” you grinned, getting your own breakfast, “I guess I’d better tell you before Kirk surprises you with made up stories about your half-naked adventures in the rec room. Come to think of it, you might want to make sure he doesn’t find the video”

“Which video?” if he hadn’t been shocked before he definitely was now. The intercom beeped and Spock answered it

“How’re you doing, druggie?”

“I do not understand your reference”

“You don’t remember? Pity, I’d love to see your face. I could tell you everything but I guess that (Y/N) knows a few more details. In fact I’d love to hear the whole story. Anyways, I just called to let you know I pulled a few strings to let you take off this morning, Spock”

“I do not see…”

“And I don’t care. I won’t let you come to the bridge. Oh and Bone’s awaiting you in Med Bay he said” the call ended and Spock looked at you as if he was lost.

“It seems there something you should tell me”

“Yeah” you gestured at his chair “I know Vulcan got nerves of steel, not anatomically, but you might better sit before I start”

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock imagine #spock x reader #spock x you #imagine

247 notes · View notes

truglori · 3 years

Text

Sneaky Link 🔗

Synopsis: Black Reader and Eric find each other online!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Black Reader

Warning: Language, Smutt, Raw sex

Flopping on the bed Y/N found herself bored for the fourth Friday night in a row. This was supposed to be the season of hook ups and living her best carefree lifestyle that she had planned out but yet is was the exact opposite. Being on summer break from college Y/N had to come back home with the schools being closed. It was something she dreaded.

Home for her wasn’t the best place to be. Between her judgmental and nagging parents and older brother, Chris, Y/N was ecstatic when she discovered that she would be going to a school that was over three hundred miles away. Being four hours away gave her enough freedom knowing that she didn’t have any one breathing down her neck or snitching to her parents about whatever she did. With it only being her sophomore year Y/N loved the college lifestyle.

Getting up she went to her window to open it and put in her square fan. Her air conditioner that she always kept in her room was now being used by her brother so she had to settle for this. Turning the knob she felt the warm cool breeze coming through and taking up the room. Walking back to her bed she logged into her laptop going onto the web browser. Clicking the history she found the website she was searching for and tapped it.

Quick Link popped up on her screen. It was a site that allowed people to meet and chat with other people. Even though Y/N has been going on it for weeks now back and forth, she never met one person that she has chatted with yet. She was okay with talking to them online and even over the phone but the thought of seeing them in person scared her. With all of the Lifetime movies and ID channel she would watch, doing something as small as meeting up with them could be dangerous.

Y/N scrolled through her recent messages. She had over ninety-nine notifications. She knew that she wasn’t going to reply to them all, only the once she found cute. It was like a broken record being played. They all inbox her with the same messages, hey sexy! Y/N rolled eyes at the un-originality. To her it seem like the guys didn’t even try to put in any effort.

Tapping on the keyboard she began to text back the handful that she found attractive when she got two notifications. Hurrying up her sentence she exited out of the chat and clicking on her new direct messages.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Y/N, what in the hell is yo ass doing on this shit...10:35pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- And I know you still online. I can see the green bubble by ya picture...10:36pm

Y/N squinted at the name. Who the hell was this texting her like they knew her? The question alone made her stomach flutter at the idea of getting caught on a dating site by someone she knew or knew her. Clearly this person recognized her enough to boldly message her. Clicking on their username she went to their page. Her heart stopped and thighs clenched at the same time.

It was Erik fucking Stevens aka her brother’s childhood best friend. Chris and Erik were the same age and only three years older than Y/N. Growing up Y/N stayed crushing on Erik. It was his braids that he rocked back in the day that had her drooling over him but also how nice he was to her. Y/N remembered the time when she was a freshman in high school and Chris and Erik were both Juniors she would always get a ride with them every morning in his 2005 Honda Accord. He would steal glances at her through his rear view mirror that only she would catch but to afraid to ask him about it.

There would be times that she would find underwear from a girl tucked under the backseat. Y/N heard about the rumored that went around the school that Erik was a player. An experienced one at that. He was grown before his time and with the way the lucky girls who had a chance to sleep with him describe it, he gave dick like he was a grown man as well.

Hearing that did nothing but spark the flame that she felt about him. She wanted to experience it herself. But being the quiet and timid person she was then, she never did. It wasn’t until Y/N went to college where she lost her virginity her freshman and started having sex on the regular with her ex who was also her first. From the first few times they did it, she could never cum from penetration. Y/N thought it was normal and that every girl dealt with it until she shared a few stories with her friends and they would tell her about the way their guys would make them squirt.

Squirting was something Y/N always wanted to do but could never achieve with her guy. She loved feeling him inside of her stretching her open but he was a quick pumper. He came too fast for her and couldn’t last long enough to get her to nut. So after every session she would take her bullet and tortured her clit until she felt her cream escaping her hole. Not having sex since the last time she was at school had Y/N body extremely horny and hot and ready like a little ceasars pizza.

Clicking through his pictures had her clenching her thighs. After he graduated high school, the graduation was the last place she seen Erik. She wasn’t even sure if Chris and him were still close friends. But what she could say is that he grew up very nice. He now had dreads that hung over his eyes with a clean shape up to top it off. His teeth pearly and white accompanied by gold canines he was wearing in every other picture and last but not least his body was everything. Standing at 6’3 and looking like a solid 215 from her view Erik was fine as fuck.

Giggling and embarrassed with herself she replied back.

BlackBeauty- Erik omg...this is so embarrassing. How did you find me?...10:40pm

Biting the nail on her thumb she waited for him to answer her. To her surprise he wrote back fairly faster than what she expected.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Noticed yo little ass on the explore page. I know you not on here meeting with these wack ass niggas...10:42pm

She laughed re-reading his message. To her it sound like it was possessive but she didn’t want to over think it.

BlackBeauty- Never!! I am not stupid. I haven’t met one person yet...10:44pm

Hitting the send button she rolled her eyes noticing herself getting desperate from his attention.

HandsomeAssNigga👅-Okay bet! I don’t wanna have to fuck you up youngin 😈...10:47pm

Biting her lip, she stared down the emoji. She wondered what that meant. She wondered in what way did he meant when he said he would fuck her up. At this point Y/N was dripping between her thick thighs.

BlackBeauty- What about you? I know you out here fucking these bitches you meet on here. Don’t lie lol...10:49pm

Y/N didn’t want to seem nosy, she was just trying to make conversation.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Damn you cuss now? And second of all don’t be worried about what I do with my dick. I’m grown and that’s different...10:51pm

Bringing a hand down to her covered pussy Y/N caressed it. The warmth coming through her panties and cotton shorts. She didn’t know what it was but the way he was responding had her feeling a type of way. She wasn’t the shy young girl anymore he used to know and she wanted to make that clear.

BlackBeauty- I’m grown too Erik 💦...10:53pm

Her heart beat sped up when she sent the text not knowing how he was going to respond.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- To who? I know ya young ass ain’t out here fuckin yet. You was too shy for that last time I saw you. Even if you was, I know you ain’t getting know real dick...10:55pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- What’s that emoji supposed to represent? Ya pussy or sum shit? Let me find out Y/N 👿...10:56pm

There goes that little devil that had her questioning herself again.

BlackBeauty- I get dick on the regular. Good dick! And yes Erik that emoji reps my pussy. Same young pussy that’ll be too wet for you to handle! I’ll have you drownin in my shit...10:59pm

Y/N could always talk a good game online. It was where she could be get as nasty as she wanted without actually putting in work. The guys who would hit her up loved her foreplay that she had spit over the internet and she was fortunate enough where they never pressed her to meet in person.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Bring that pussy here and I’ma show you if I’ll drown in it. Stop fucking playing with me Y/N if you not gonna pull up. I don’t do this back and forth teasing shit. You tryna do a Sneaky Link or what?...11:02pm

Checking the hall Y/N seen that the lights were off. Her parents were most likely sleeping and Chris always worked Friday nights. This was the perfect time and opportunity to leave. She would have to sneak the keys from the key holder and use her dad’s car to get to his place. Y/N didn’t do this on the regular but because it was Erik she was curious. She wanted to see for herself if all of the rumors were true. Y/N was going to fuck him tonight.

BlackBeauty- Send me the addy..I’m on my way...11:04pm

________

After showering and preparing for her dick appointment Y/N successfully snuck out of the house. She put his address in her GPS. It was a twenty minute drive to get to his apartment. Putting the car in park and turning it off, Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach grow while walking into the building. Taking her phone out she went to his message and looking up the apartment number he gave her. Apartment 3B.

Knocking on the door. She held her hands together tightly. She was beyond nervous and rethinking her decision as her heart kept thumping. She couldn’t believe that she was really going to go through this. After so many years of fantasizing about him in her room she was finally going to see the real thing. Y/N only wondered if it was as good as she hoped.

The door swung open showing Erik sipping on a glass of dark liquor. In nothing but a tight wife beater that clung to his chest and his sweats that hung low Y/N could see the print poking through so visibly. It looked like he was free balling it.

“Damn ma. You wasn’t lying about getting grown. You look good as shit.” Erik sipped from his glass. He stepped aside inviting her in.

Y/N smiled softly going inside. She only took a few steps in and stood to the side waiting for him. She heard the door lock behind her as it caused her to gulp hard on her spit.

Erik eyed her with his low eyes. He chuckled seeing that she was clearly nervous.

“So that’s ya thing?” His voice was low and deeper than what she remembered.

“What’s my thing?” Her soft voice speaking up.

“Talking shit online but quiet it person.” He stated putting her on the spot.

Y/N smacked her lips and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She turned facing his livingroom.

“Nah ain’t no whatever. What’s good ma? Where that big girl energy go?” He walked up behind her pressing his body into hers. The hand that wasn’t holding his cup wrapped around her waist gripping the small pudge on her stomach.

Y/N shivered when she felt his dick on her ass. Her assumption was right. He wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath his sweats. She could feel the coldness of his chains on her shoulder when he leaned on her due to her only wearing a tank top. She grabbed his hand, not pushing him away but holding on to him.

“I’m here aren’t I?” She gazed at him over her shoulder.

He smirked at her smart remark. “You need anything before we start? A drink, blunt, something to help you calm ya scary ass down.” He teased.

She pushed his hand from around her waist and folded her arms. “I’m not scary Erik. If I was I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then why you barely saying shit?” He licked his lips.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s just been a while since I saw you. You look...different.” Playing with her diamond earning, she occupied her fingers.

“I may look different but I’m still the same Erik that used to jack ya brother up every time he fucked with you when no one was looking. Ain’t shit changed about me ma so you can relax. I’m tryna take care of you tonight.” He spoke stepping closer.

They were now face to face. Y/N’s frame staring up into his 6’3 one. When she would inhale she could smell his expensive cologne mix with the Hennessy he’s been sipping on since she got here.

“Okay.” She answered with a bite of her bottom lip.

Erik groaned at the action. Both of his hands behind his back now, he bent down to her level to meet her halfway. “C’mere.” He demanded a kiss with messy dreads hanging over his eyes.

Meeting him where he was, Y/N listened giving him one. The taste of the dark liquor transferring over to her taste buds from his tongue invading her mouth. The warmth of it made her melt under him and causing her head to lean back. She was already growing weak just from the kiss.

Erik reached behind her slapping her ass and gripping it with his free hand. “Fuck you doing all that for and I ain’t even do shit yet.” He spoke against her lips peaking through his eyelids.

“Hurry up then daddyy.” Y/N whined.

“That’s my name for the night? I like that shit.” He walked them backwards until they reached his room which wasn’t far away from the front.

Placing his glass down on his dresser he lifted her up by her thighs, picking her up. Y/N squealed from the unexpected action. She held onto his neck hoping he wouldn’t drop her. Erik chuckled playing with her ass cheeks before laying her down on the bed gently.

“You sucked dick before...miss grown?” Bringing his hand down, he massaged his print through his sweats.

Leaning up on the palm of her hands, Y/N nodded answering yes. She did it plenty of times with her ex, who she could make cum quickly off of head alone but the way Erik was grabbing his tool made her think differently.

“So what’s up then? Come show me what that mouth do?”

Kicking off her sandals Y/N got off the bed. His eyes stayed glued to her. Getting on her knees in front of him she tugged the sides of the grey sweats and pulled them down to his mid thigh. His dick sprung out almost hitting her in the face had she been centimeters closer.

Long and thick was what it was. A beautiful smooth brown texture covered his heavy package. Y/N felt her mouth watered thinking about how her cream and juices would look being all over it. This man was truly blessed and so far proving the rumors to be true.

Erik twisted his hips side to side wagging it in front of her. He lifted the wife beater up and tucked it under his chin so that he can get a good view.

Grabbing the base of his length Y/N eyed it. She was trying to figure out ways to be able to swallow this monster without choking. Sticking her tongue out she tapped his tip against it. A string from her saliva on her tongue being attached to his head every time they separated. With her prior experience and watching porn she grew to have her own technique.

Y/N allowed the spit to build up in her mouth when she sucked on his tip. No nigga likes dry head and she wasn’t going to start giving it today. She wanted it to be extra sloppy for Erik. Tightening her jaws she went up and down on his dick. Taking only about four inches of him and using her spit to stroke the rest of him. With just the little bit of his length she was able to take she could already feel him reaching her back.

“Fuck that throat feel good. Shitt!” Erik groaned gripping her tight kinky curls and putting them into a ponytail. He tilted his head watching her go stupid on his dick. He sucked in his lower lip when she began to swivel her head around.

Long drips of spit went falling down on her black tank top. Erik’s eyebrows scrunched up the moment he felt her take his balls in her mouth and suck on them lightly while stroking his tip. His stomach started to tighten and his toes dug into his carpet. This girl was trying to take his soul the way she sucking him up.

“Man whatchu doing Y/N?” Erik asked amazed, closing his eyes for a second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had head this good.

“I’m showing you that I’m grown daddy.” She answered coming up.

Now both of her hands were focused on playing with his balls while she sucked his tip and some of the few inches she was able to reach. Her eyes stared into his not stopping at all. She had him right where she wanted him. She could tell from the way his breathing sped up that he was getting weak and ready to bust a nut. Y/N tightened her suction to make it happen when she felt him pull her off by her hair.

Erik took one hand gripping her spit covered chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “Fuck is you doing sucking my dick like that ma? You tryna make me hold you hostage for the whole night?” He asked seriously.

Y/N giggled. “I just wanna make you cum Daddy.” She reached for his tip and gripped it making him jerk forward.

Erik smacked his lips annoyed that she had him feeling like sensitive. “Chill with that. Let me fuck you first before you suck this nut out.”

Helping her up and placing her back on the bed Erik slide off her biker shorts tossing them somewhere. Underneath them she had on some cotton hipster panties with little rainbows spreaded everywhere. Erik laughed when he seen it.

“Why you wearing shit like this ma?” He teased stepping out of his pants and getting on the bed.

“Because it’s cute. Why you worried about what I’m wearing instead of taking them off?” Y/N mocked his question.

Erik smirked bringing his hand up to the piece of cloth and ripping them straight down the middle and threw them on the ground. A gasp left Y/N lips as she was shocked from him doing that. Slapping his forearm, her lips went into a pout becoming upset.

“Erik, I just brought those two weeks ago.” She smacked the hand that was rubbing her thigh.

“You said to take them off. My bad. That’s the way I usually do it.” He lifted her legs by the back of her thighs while he consoled her as a distraction.

Y/N was frustrated at the fact that he ripped her new panties but also that she wasn’t going to have any to wear back home after this link.

“I don’t care how you do it, you shouldn’t have- ohh shiitt!” Her rant was cut off with the sound of moans leaving her mouth.

Holding her legs by the back of her knees Y/N glanced down to see Erik flicking her clit. The tip of his tongue felt wet and firm, in a good way. She really started to feel it when he took one hand and spread her phat pussy lips. Now her clit was out in the open and more accessible. Erik’s eyes met hers through his dreads when his lips wrapped around her bud and began to suck.

“Mm fuck...daddyy!” The sensation had Y/N’s hips thrusting to meet his vacuum like suction. So powerful and wet.

“I want you to cum on this fuckin tongue!” His words were muffled by the lips of her pussy surrounding his but it was enough to reach her ears. Taking a hand he smacked her outer thigh making his demand clear.

Her warm and slick juices ran out of her opening. It was something about the way he commanded her to nut that made her wetter and willing. Y/N liked to be dominated. Lifting up the tank top and pulling it up to her chest she tweaked and flipped her nipples adding to the stimulation. For her the feeling of having her nipples played with while getting her pussy ate made her orgasm a hundred times better.

“Eat this fucking pussy b-babyy-“ She whimpered feeling a tear slide down the corner of her eye.

Even though he noticed it, Erik didn’t stop. The juices that he caught in his mouth made it hard. He loved a good tasting ass pussy. Y/N definitely had one. Moving his assault from her clit he put his tongue in her tight opening. He began to fuck her with it. Erik put his hands under her ass cheeks and got a good cuff before bringing her back and forth on his stiff tongue. With the way her legs were still in the air he could see Y/N toes curl the second he started the action. She began leaking so quickly. Erik chuckled inwardly when he felt her walls squeezing on him.

“Mhm.” He moaned teasing her.

Y/N was cumming from the second time just off of his mouth alone. She reached down to rub her clit while he stuck his tongue deep inside her. She ain’t never got head this good before back at college. Her thighs began to shake as she felt another mini orgasm hit. Her pussy growing sensitive and overstimulated.

Grabbing his dreads she lifted his head up. “Daddy you was eating my pussy so good. Fuckk!” She moaned with a quiver in her voice.

“Now I’m bout to beat this pussy up real good too. Turn around. I want that ass from the back.” Erik barked getting on his knees.

Swiftly taking off her tank top, Y/N turned around like he said and got on all fours. She felt a firm smack to her right ass cheek. Moaning she rocked back and forth and twerked each cheek individually. Y/N looked over her shoulder behind her seeing Erik watching her move it so effortlessly. His hands went up to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Now she could feel her mound rubbing against his bare hard rock hard stick.

“Doing all this ass shaking, you better not try to run from the dick. I don’t want none of that.” He gripped a cheek spreading it watching her pussy lips follow.

“I’m not gon run daddy..I promise.” She reassured him softly.

Erik gripped the base of his length. Smacking it against her her clit he played with it for a while to warm her up. When he heard her moaning and seen her backing up against him he knew she was ready. Erik sent a drip of spit on the tip of his dick and rubbed it over it with a free hand. He teasingly dipped in and out of her tight hole. Y/N pussy was tight as fuck and he knew he had to work his way in. Getting deeper and deeper with each inch her warm wet walls clung on to him.

“Ooh fuck!” Y/N eyes closed not expecting him to feel like this. Erik was stretching her pussy out. Her arms sprawled out in front of her gripping his sheets.

“Tight ass pussy you got. What happened to getting dick on the regular? Hmm?” Holding her down by the small of her back Erik made her arch deeper as he stroked her slick walls.

Y/N’s mouth couldn’t close or make a sound. From the position he had her in she couldn’t move or run if she wanted to. Pinned down and made to take it. Erik was dicking her down. His heavy fat dick busting her pussy open and touching her stomach. Fuck that. He was putting it in her chest. Y/N reached behind her to hold on to his wrist while he pounded her pussy with precision. Her face smashed into the bed. His dick was too good for her.

“Ooh baby... Daddy don’t fuck me like this!” She shouted not knowing what she was saying. Y/N didn’t want him to stop but she couldn’t handle the pressure he was putting on her bladder.

Erik didn’t have just a big dick that could stretch a pussy out. He knew how to fuck with it. When he stroked he didn’t use his whole body he worked his hips and that’s what drove bitches crazy about him. Erik would fuck like he was trying to make a baby.

“I thought you came here to get fucked?” He asked lifting off her. He bended one knee and balanced his weight on his foot pressing it into the bed. His hand wrapped around her throat as he caught a rhythm making her throw it back on him.

The sound of skin clapping filled the room. Y/N’s arch was now the deepest it’s ever been with Erik choking her from behind and making her head tilt up towards the ceiling. Cramping in her stomach let her know that she was about to break. She was finally about to cum from penetration alone. His curved tip would press on a spot she didn’t know she had there causing her legs to convulse. Her whimpers and moans only encouraged him to keep doing what he was doing. Which was tearing her pussy up.

“Shiitt!!” She cursed grabbing onto her titty to have something to hold on.

Erik bit his lip seeing her ass tremble from her orgasm and feeling her squeezing his dick with a vice grip. He slapped her left cheek before pulling out to flip her over on her back. Looking down at his meat it was covered in her creamy juices. His dick jumped at the sight.

“Good ass pussy.” He mumbled in a trance.

Using the weight of his hips he thrusted finding his way back inside of her. The warm wet tunnel closing in on him. Erik lifted up the wife beater that was still on in the mist, and brought it up under his chin tucking it to move it out of his way. His hands found the back of her thighs and pinned them against her chest. He began stroking and getting deeper from the angle.

Being trapped from his hold that he had on her, the only thing Y/N could do was bring her hands to his hips trying to interrupt his movements. Y/N didn’t like this feeling. He was going too deep. Deeper than what she was used to. Shaking her head from side to side she pushed at his hips that only kept going due to her weak and trembling arms not being able to produce enough strength.

“Move ya fuckin hands.” He demanded while keeping his steady stroke. Erik cussed under his breath hearing the smacking sounds coming from her hole that could be mistaken for a pot of mac and cheese being stirred. That’s how good Y/N pussy was.

Her tight walls gripped his dick. Erik looked between their bodies watch the beautiful art being made. Her pussy following him whenever he pulled out to the tip just to be sucked back in. Pussy as good and wet as hers always got him to bust hard. He was close. Leaning down to her neck he kissed and sucked her skin while having her pinned down taking his length. Erik felt her walls slick up and knew she was about to nut again.

“Let that shit go mama.” He whispered in her neck.

Y/N’s nails scratched against his back. Her eyes wailed up with tears feeling the pressure in her stomach building up. She lost count of how many times he had made her cum tonight but she knew she was grateful and only prayed that this wasn’t the last time she got dick this bomb.

“Unhh.” She couldn’t produce any words. Her toes curled as she gazed at the ceiling feeling her body shake.

“There you go.” He pecked her neck.

Erik talked her through her nut while he continued to chase his. It wasn’t long before he felt his dick throb and grow inside of her. Pulling out he climbed on top of her holding his body up with one hand pressed into the bed as he stroked his dick with the other. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked his tip. She could feel his seed spilling on her tongue and traveling down her throat. She wasn’t usually a swallower but the way he had just fucked her he deserved to have his dick milked.

“Ahh shit!” Erik cursed caressing her jaw as he watched her suck him dry. She was cleaning both her juices and his nut off of his dick.

A popping sound escaped her mouth when she released him. Y/N’s body couldn’t move as she laid back staring at him with disbelief. Erik caught her face expression.

“What?” He asked standing on the side of the bed.

“Nothing. It’s just the rumors that I heard about you were all true. You do give some good dick.” Turning to lay on her side Y/N smiled.

Erik laughed. “Yeah well I could say the same about you.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Little birdy that goes to your college told me about how good ya pussy was. Had to find out for myself.” He smirked at her.

“Erik what are you talking about?” Y/N sat up.

“I’m talking about your ex that you fuck from time to time is my second cousin. Nigga couldn’t stop running his mouth about you. Small world ain’t it?”

He paused watching the confusion clouding over her face. “Besides why else you think I had hit you up tonight? It damn sure wasn’t to reminisce over the past.”

Taking off the wife beater, Erik leaned down to kiss her lips before walking away.

______________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

Text

Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ: Discovering the sacred in the profane.

The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.

- Michelangelo Buonarroti

While a visit to Rome’s grand squares like Piazza Navona is at the top of everyone’s list, there is much more to the Eternal City. The Piazza della Minerva, is one of Rome’s more peculiar squares and is a must-see for lovers of Bernini’s work.

As one of the smaller squares in Rome, Piazza della Minerva holds some interesting sites. Built during Roman times, the square derives its name from the Goddess, Minerva, the Roman Goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare. During the 13th Century, the decision was made to build a Christian Church on top of what was once a square dedicated to a pagan Goddess – and so the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva was born, a beautiful example of Gothic architecture and Rome’s only Gothic church.

In fact this is the only Gothic church in Rome. It resembles the famous Church of Santa Maria Novella in Florence. There are three aisles inside the church. The soaring arches and the ceiling in blue are outstanding. The deep blue colours dominate the structure while the golden touches promote the intricate design. There are paintings of gold stars and saints. The stained glass windows are beautiful too.

In the centre of the Piazza is an elephant with an Egyptian obelisk on its back, one of Bernini’s last sculptures erected by Bernini for Pope Alexander VII and possibly one of the most unusual sculptures in Rome. There are several theories which aim to decipher Bernini’s inspiration for the sculpture, some of which point to Bernini’s study of the first elephant to visit Rome, while others point to a more satirical combination of a pagan stone with a baroque elephant in front of a Christian church.

Tourists flock to see the elephant but more often than not they miss out visiting an almost forgotten marble masterpeiece by Michelangelo himself inside the church. This controversial statue has resided in the Santa Maria sopra Minerva Church in Rome for almost five hundred years. Indeed The Risen Christ by Michelangelo is one of the artist's least admired works. While modern observers frequently have found fault with the statue, it satisfied its patrons enormously and was widely admired by contemporaries. Not least, the sculpture has suffered from the manner in which it is presently displayed and from biased photographic reproduction that emphasises unfavorable and inappropriate views of Christ.

Around 2017 I was fortunate on a visit back to London to see once again Michelangelo’s marble masterpiece, The Risen Christ, which was being displayed in all its naked glory at an exhibition at the National Gallery.

This was another version of this great sculpture that no one has got round to covering up. It has just come to Britain. Michelangelo’s first version has been lent to the National Gallery, in London, for its exhibition Michelangelo and Sebastiano del Piombo in 2017. It came from San Vincenzo Monastery in Bassano Romano, where it languished in obscurity until it was recognised as Michelangelo’s lost work in 1997.

I found it profoundly moving then as I had seen the other partially clothed one on several visits to the church in Rome. It has always perplexed me why this beautiful work of art has been either shunned to the side with hidden shame or embarrassment when it holds up such profound sacred truth for both art lover or a Christian believer (or both as I am).

Michelangelo made a contract in June 1514 AD that he would make a sculpture of a standing, naked figure of Christ holding a cross, and that the sculpture would be completed within four years of the contract. Michelangelo had a problem because the marble he started carving was defective and had a black streak in the area of the face. His patrons, Bernardo Cencio, Mario Scapucci, and Metello Vari de' Pocari, were wondering what happened when they hadn't heard for a while from Michelangelo. Michelangelo had stopped work on The Risen Christ due to the blemish in the marble, and he was working on another project, the San Lorenzo facade. Michelangelo felt grief because this project of The Risen Christ was delayed. Michelangelo ordered a new marble block from Pisa which was to arrive on the first boat. When The Risen Christ was finally finished in March 1521 AD Michelangelo was only 46 years old.

It was transported to Rome and this 80.75 inches tall marble statue was installed at the left pillar of the choir in the church Santa Maria sopra Minerva, by Pietro Urbano, Michelangelo's assistant (Hughes, 1999). It turns out that Urbano did a finish to the feet, hands, nostrils, and beard of Christ, that many friends of Michelangelo described as disastrous). Furthermore, later-on in history, nail-holes were pierced in Christ's hands, and Christ's genitalia were hidden behind a bronze loincloth.

Because people have changed this sculpture over time; many are disappointed with this work of art because it is presently different than the original work that Michelangelo made. The Risen Christ had no title during Michelangelo's lifetime. This sculpture was given the name it has now, because Christ is standing like the traditional resurrected saviour, as seen in other similar works of art.

It was in discussion with an art historian friend of mine currently teaching I was surprised through her to discover the sculpture’s uncomfortably controversial history. There is no doubt Michelangelo’s marvellous marble creation has raised robust debates about where beauty as an aesthetic sits between the sacred and the profane. And nothing exemplifies that better than the phallus on Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ.

For the majority of its time there, however, the phallus has been carefully draped with a bronze loincloth - incongruous at best, and prudish at worst, but either way a less than subtle display of the historic Church’s discomfort with the full physicality of Christ.

Indeed, it is worth noting that this attitude prevails, at least in some sense, into the twentieth-century: the version of the statue in Rome remains covered to this day, and much of the critical attention the sculpture has received after Michelangelo’s death has been grating. Romain Rolland, an early biographer, described it as ‘the coldest and dullest thing he ever did’, whilst Linda Murray bluntly dubbed the work ‘Michelangelo’s chief and perhaps only total failure’. But Michelangelo himself saw no such mistake. The censored statue seen in Santa Maria sopra Minerva is what we might call his second draft.

It’s interesting to note that when artist was originally commissioned to sculpt a risen Christ in 1514, he had all but completed it before realising that a vein of black marble ran across Jesus’ face, marring the image of classical perfection which he so wished to emulate. It had nothing to do with the phallus. Furious, Michelangelo abandoned this Christ - the one I saw at the National Gallery - and began again. Even given a fresh chance, he chose to retain Christ’s complete nudity.

Why was this of such importance to Michelangelo? Why did he so strongly wish to craft the literal manhood of Christ, as never depicted before? Part of the answer may lie in his historical context: the Renaissance in Italy was driven in the part by the remains of Roman antiquity discovered there; study of the classics became commonplace, and scholars tended to consider the Graeco-Roman world as a cultural ideal, with ancient art in particular being emblematic of a lost Golden Age. Famously, classical sculpture was almost always nude.

In his interview with The Telegraph in 2015, Ian Jenkins, curator of the British Museum exhibition “Defining Beauty: The Body in Ancient Greek Art”, attempted to explain this tradition. ‘The Greeks … didn’t walk down the High Street in Athens naked … But to the Greeks [nudity] was the mark of a hero. It was not about representing the literal world, but a world which was mythologised.’

We see evidence for this trend in Greek literature as well as sculpture: Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, considered by some to be the earliest known works of Western literature, were likely written between the 8th and 7th centuries BC, but their setting is in Mycenaean Greece in the 12th century. The Greeks believed that this earlier Bronze Age was an epoch of heroism, wherein gods walked the earth alongside mortals and the human experience was generally more sublime. In setting the texts at this earlier stage in Greece’s history, Homer echoes the belief held within his contemporary society that mankind had been better before (what we might now call nostalgia, or, more colloquially, “The Good Old Days syndrome”). There is a real feeling of delight present in the distance Homer creates between his actual, flawed society, and the idealised past.

Indeed, it calls to mind a line I once read in an introduction to L.P. Hartley’s The Go-Between, by Douglas Brookes-Davies: ‘Memory idealises the past’. Though modernist texts such as The Go-Between problematise this, in antiquity it was not only commonplace but celebrated to look back to a more perfect existence and relive it through art. The very fact that Michelangelo abandoned his sculpture after years of work on account of a barely noticeable flaw in the marble is evidence that he, too, was striving towards the classical ideal of perfection. ‘Unfortunately,’ Hazel Stanier has commented, ‘this has resulted in unintentionally making Christ appear like a pagan god.’

This opens up another question – why does such a rift exist between the way ancient cultures envisaged their divinity and our own conceptions of a Christian God? Why are we not allowed to anthropomorphise the deus of the Bible in the same way that the Roman gods were?

Christ, of course, makes this somewhat confusing, given that he is described in the Bible as ‘the Word made flesh’, a physical and very human incarnation of the spiritual being that we call God. Theology tells us that he is fully human and fully divine, and yet the Church have excluded him from many aspects of life that a majority of us see as typifying a human being. Christ has no apparent sexual desires or romantic relationships, and though not exempt from suffering, he does not play any part in sin (which, as the saying goes, is ‘only human’). I think that the enormous controversy caused by films such as The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), which explore the possibility of Jesus having a sex life, is reflective of the possibility that - though in theory the Christian messiah is fully human - we feel significant discomfort at the notion that he may have explored particular aspects of the human experience.

Purists and the prude and liberals rush to opposite sides of the debate. If purists run one way to completely deny Christ had any sexual desires or even inclinations as all humans are want to do, liberals commit the sin of rushing to the other extreme end and presuppose that Jesus did act on sexual impulses simply because it was inevitable of his human nature.

I think the truth lies somewhere between but what that truth might actually be is simply speculation on my part. It doesn’t detract for me the life and saving mission of redemption that Jesus was on - to suffer and die for our sins as well as the Godhead reconciling itself to sacrificing the Son for Man’s sins and just punishment.

Of course, it is well-known that the classical gods had no qualms about sexual activity. It is difficult to make retrospective judgements about citizens’ opinions on this but, as it was the norm, we might assume that they felt it was rather a non-issue. I can empathise with some critics who reason that the Christian God is not entitled to sexual expression is because of the traditional Christian idea that sex is inherently sinful – that original sin is passed on seminally and so by having sex we continue to spread darkness and provoke further transgression. It is from this early idea that theological issues such as the need for Mary to have been immaculately conceived (she was not created out of a sexual union, much like her son) have stemmed. But here - the immaculate conception - the critics are profoundly wrong in their theological understanding of why God had to enter the world as Immanuel in this miraculous way.

Some Christian critics - and I would agree with them - assert that the vision of a naked Christ might make a powerful theological point in a world where sex still carries these connotations. They rightly point out that clothing - and I might extend this to mean the covering-up of the sexual parts of our body - was only adopted by humankind after the Fall, the nudity of Christ is making a statement about his unfallen nature as the second Adam. In other words, Christ has no shame, because he is sinless and has no need for shame. Perhaps what Michelangelo intended was actually to disentangle nudity from its sexual, sinful associations, instead presenting us with a pre-lapsarian image of purity taking the form of the classical Bronze Age hero.

There is another, less theological explanation for the sculptor’s obvious use of the classical form. It reminds us of a time when gods walked the earth alongside us, when they were fully human – us, only immortal. Maybe he wanted to emphasise that fully human aspect of Christ’s being. Questionable as much of their behaviour was, the classical gods were certainly easy to identify with. For Michelangelo, this may have been his own way of embodying John 1:14 in marble: ‘The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us’.

It is here critics may have gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick with The Risen Christ when they point out the odd proportions of the figure: that it has a weighty torso, or the broad hips atop a pair of tapered and rather spindly legs, or even a side or rear view of the figure that show Christ’s buttocks.

For a start, this ungainly rear view was not supposed to be seen. The statue was meant to go in a wall niche, so that the back of the statue was hidden. Michelangelo of course knew this, and shaped the statue so that it would appear well proportioned from the front. If we view the sculpture from the front left, perhaps its best side, then Christ is no longer a thickset figure. Rather, his body merges with the cross in a graceful and harmonious composition.

The turn of Christ’s body and his averted face suggest something like the shunning of physical contact that is central to another post-Resurrection subject, the Noli me tangere (“Touch Me Not”). The turned head is a poignant way of making Christ seem inaccessible even as the reality of his living flesh is manifest.

We are encouraged to look at not Christ’s face, but the instruments of his Passion. Our attention is directed to the cross by the effortless cross-body gesture of the left arm and the entwining movement of the right leg. With his powerful but graceful hands, Christ cradles the cross, and the separated index fingers direct us first to the cross and then heavenward. Christ presents us with the symbols of his Passion – the tangible recollection of his earthly suffering. Behind Christ and barely visible between his legs we see the cloth in which Christ was wrapped when he was in the tomb. He has just shed the earthly shroud; it is in the midst of slipping to earth. In this suspended instant, Christ is completely and properly nude.

We must imagine how the figure must have appeared in its original setting, within the darkened confines of an elevated niche. Christ steps forth, as though from the tomb and the shadow of death. Foremost are the symbols of the Passion, which Christ will leave behind when he ascends to heaven.

Why was Michelangelo compelled to portray Christ completely naked in a way that was bound to trouble some Christians? It was not out of a desire to blaspheme. On the contrary, this genius – poet, architect and painter as well as the greatest sculptor who has ever lived – was not only a faithful Christian but someone who thought deeply about theology. You can bet he had good religious reasons to depict Christ in full nudity.

But it would be complacent to think there was no tension in showing Christ nude. The fact that The Risen Christ in Santa Maria still has its covering proves how real those tensions are. The fundamental reason Michelangelo could get away with it was that he was Michelangelo. By the time he created this statue, he had the Sistine Chapel ceiling (with all its male nudes) under his belt and was the most famous artist in the world.

For centuries, the faithful have kissed the advanced foot of Christ, for like Mary Magdalene and doubting Thomas, they wish for some sort of physical contact with the Risen Christ. To carve a life-size marble statue of a naked Christ certainly was audacious, but it is also theologically appropriate. Michelangelo’s contemporaries recognised, more easily than modern viewers, that the Risen Christ was a moving and profoundly beautiful sculpture that was true to the sacred story.

#the risen christ #michelangelo #marble #church #christian #beauty #aesthetics #statue #religious #renaissance #history #rome #bernini #art #arts #culture #society #religion #sculpture

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defdaily · 3 years

Text

Arena Homme+ Magazine September 2021 issue featuring JAY B: Nature, Dreams and Music

Translated by defdaily.

That day, JAY B’s world was filled with grass that came up to his knees, sunset that briefly peeked through the dark clouds, and ghosts of the silent campsite. Insects flew about in the intimate conversation of creation, dreams, and the future. An interview with JAY B amidst the passing seasons.

So you are working on an album?

The album is almost finished. I couldn’t release it at the beginning of the year, so I’m releasing it now in the second half of the year. I’m thinking of preparing things early on for next time so [we] are preparing for the production of another album.

There was a big change this year, you moved from JYP Entertainment to H1GHR MUSIC, right? What did you expect before becoming a part of H1GHR MUSIC?

At first I was worried. and was concerned over what to do if I couldn’t adapt. My goal for this year was to adapt to the agency and its artists, but everyone has made me feel comfortable. I thought I would have to do a lot of adjusting to the new agency staff, but I was surprised by how understanding they were of the system I had experienced. The way there has been no problem in our communication has far exceeded my expectations. Things are flowing smoothly.

It must feel like a fresh start. You must be looking forward to getting to do what you couldn’t do previously, but on the other side you must also have hopes to learn more. Is there anyone that could provide you with blunt advice?

I’m not the demanding type. And I have never strongly demanded anything from the company either. But that doesn’t mean I accept anything the company makes and provides me. The difference is that my opinion is reflected in my work more than before. If I was going to lead everything at work, there would have been no need to join an agency. Joining the agency means communicating with their staff. I also think we should listen to other people's opinions a lot. And you have to give feedback too, of course. I am working well with the company. Be it a push or advice as help, I learnt a lot from my previous company. Since I have learnt a lot from there, I should trust myself a little more now. I try to relay what I know and learn about things I’m not knowledgeable of. I rely on Jay Bum hyung a lot. I contact him right away when there’s something I don’t know, and we have a lot of conversations.

Is it important that an artist is stubborn? Do you feel the need to emphasise your own music and personality?

Artists have different personalities, just as people have different preferences. I don't want to diss an artist who is stubborn, nor do I want to tell anyone who isn’t stubborn that they are not an artist. I acknowledge everyone. I, personally, want to express the way I live. I like making music. An artist should be clear about what they want to do. Whether it be to become a star, or to express themselves through music or to earn money, it has to be clear.

What is your clear stance as an artist?

Whether it’s fiction or reality, I want to make stories. I’m the type that wants to tell a story. It was like that too in my GOT7 days. I believe one should create and establish their own path in life. I think that's fun. It's hard, but it's worth it. It adds more meaning to my job and I think it becomes more valuable. If I didn't do it myself, I would feel less attached to it.

There’s nothing more fun than one’s own work. Showing your work and waiting for the response must also be thrilling.

Exactly. I love hearing that my music is good. I’m very shy so I cannot express it very well but I’m very thankful and proud too. And it reassures me that I’m not going down the wrong path.

It does feel like all the hard times disappear when you hear good feedback. But feedback isn’t always good. There are even people who avoid them because of fear of criticism.

To be honest, when it comes to unpleasant feedback, it kind of makes me feel… “ouch!” But I accept it because it is still an evaluation. It also gives me a boost. It’s fun.

You are a solo artist now. Do you feel a burden or pressure?

I don’t feel pressured, but I do feel the burden. I joined H1GHR MUSIC and I feel a sense of belonging. I gain something from this company, but I think this company should gain something from me, too. I have worries about things like whether I’ll be able to benefit the company or not. I feel slightly uneasy about possibly not meeting expectations too.

You feel a sense of responsibility.

There's always a reason and a purpose to start anything. Everyone starts music because they like it, and if they start, there must be music they want to make. So if there is criticism, one would feel down, but if the final product is good, the people that worked on it would feel good. That’s what I hope for.

You uploaded a bunch of your Def. songs onto your YouTube channel. There was quite a lot. Are you the prolific type?

I used to be but… I guess I’m still the type to make many songs. (Laughs). But compared to back then, my production has decreased a lot. My stamina can’t keep up. (Laughs). I used to be able to start and finish working on a song at dawn and when I felt like I could do more, I made more. Nowadays, even when I’m working on only one song, not only is it hard for my body, but I also feel drained so I can’t make many songs.

Isn’t it really fast to make even one song at dawn?

Ah, that’s true. I used to work like that three or four times a week, but now I work once or twice a week. Come to think of it, I don't think I'm the prolific type anymore.

Being able to make a lot of things means you have a lot of ideas.

Having run out of ideas is also a reason for having less work done. There are five mixtapes I’ve uploaded onto YouTube with four to five tracks each. At the time, I not only worked on those but music for GOT7 too. After hustling so hard, I feel like I’ve run out of material. I look around wondering where to find inspiration. When I finish making the melody and want to write lyrics, I feel lost.

In order to be prepared for those situations, creators keep a collection of material. How do you collect resources?

I often read or use my imagination. These days, I often put myself in others’ shoes. When watching a movie, one would empathize with the protagonist. It’s only natural since the plot revolves around them. But I would pay attention to the supporting roles or passerbys in the background and think about the story from their point of view. I would think about what I would do if I heard those words and if I were in that situation. I also pay close attention to any words that might be a good source of inspiration. In the past I would focus on how the plot developed, but now I look at the words that the author uses repeatedly. When I think of any useful words or ideas, I jot them down.

Observing the supporting roles instead of the central narrative is such a novel idea.

I suddenly thought of it while watching a movie at home. The protagonist had said some harsh and rude words to a supporting role. It was something like “Get out of my way.” I thought “How would it have felt to be the one moving out of their way? What would they feel?” These were the thoughts I had.

Has anyone told you that you have a unique perspective?

I’ve often heard that my personality is very unique.

People can say they don’t like something despite others saying they like it. That could come off as unique and fresh ideas come from an uncommon perspective too.

I think it’s 50/50. There are times when something might not feel like much for me while others like it, and times when everyone else seems quite indifferent while I like it. A song I recently liked the idea of is “Smile, Wait for the Flash” by Giriboy where he used the ‘kacha’ shutter sound as gunfire. Using ‘kacha’ like a gunfire as a metaphor for wrapping up your feelings after a breakup was a refreshing idea. It was great.

Do you also often use your instincts?

I try hard to. I don’t naturally use my instincts, but I try to look at things through a different lens. I tend to have random thoughts, and I had one today during the shoot too. This is a camping site, but there was no one camping. So I imagined how it would look when full of people moving about. Also during the shoot, there was a long blade of grass under my feet on a field of grass. I should have avoided it but I accidentally stepped on it. I felt sorry for the grass that got stepped on and out of instinct I said “sorry…”

Seems like you have keen sensibility.

I wish I could be sensible. I’m too cautious to say that I am sensible, though.

I think you would be considered a sensible person because you make music. But I noticed that the comments are disabled for Def.’s mixtapes on YouTube.

The songs that I make under “Def.” are 100% music that I personally wanted to make. I didn’t want to receive feedback, so I disabled the comments. If I release an album under “Def.” in the future, I probably won't be able to disable the comments. I don’t know. The reason I have disabled the comments is because I don’t want to see any praise nor criticism. I don’t look at the comments for my SoundCloud tracks either. Because they’re very personal projects, I’m worried I could be swayed by it so I don’t look at it on purpose. I don’t want to be swayed by anything when it comes to my personal projects. I guess that’s my way of being stubborn.

So it sounds like you’re saying the songs that are made under the name Def. are like a part of you. I can feel your sincerity towards your music.

I would pretend to be indifferent to evaluations, but I’m really scared of receiving negative comments. Not the criticism but I’m scared to look at comments that decide something as ‘not good.’ If they say that it’s not their style, then it’s just personal preference. There may not be songs that match their preference within my discography. But it’s difficult for me to hear people say ‘this is not good, bad, or meh.’ After all, those songs came from me and are like my children.

I remember many tracks with gentle melodies and discovered JAY B’s delicate side. Is this surprising to hear?

This is the first time I’ve been called delicate. I do have several sensitive/vibey songs. I want to try something like a pop, hip-hop, or smug and cocky vibe but I’m not good at that. I don’t think it’s my personality.

What is considered a good melody to you?

Something that feels good at the first listen. My music taste has been so diverse recently that even when I talk to my friends about music, the songs that we all like are different. It’s hard to reach a consensus. In the creator’s perspective, even if something doesn’t sound good to others but it does to the creator, I consider that to be a good melody. I used to stress over how to write a good melody, how to sing it, and if the company would like it. As I move on step by step, I found a standard where at least the melody should sound good enough to me to not abandon the song since everyone has different preferences.

Personal preferences are important but it must be an important job to cater to the general public too. No, I mean, a difficult job.

That’s right. I think I still lack the ability to create melodies that the general public would like. I will have to learn step by step. One thing I feel is that there must be a part that sticks. I can’t exactly describe what type of melody it would be, but to set a minimum standard, it would be ‘a melody that I’m satisfied with. If it’s one that I’m not satisfied with but the public likes, I should follow that.

Do you tend to use many tracks when making music? There’s lot of songs these days that use dozens of layers of tracks.

We used a lot of harmonies with GOT7. Because there were so many harmonies, there was a crazy number of tracks too. These days, I try to be minimal and reduce harmonies. I don’t layer many tracks. I usually have the main track with a few harmonies and some adlibs.

K-Pop in particular mixes many genres and harmonies to create complex music. They are very flashy. What do you think of this phenomenon as someone who prefers to be minimal?

I see it as a good thing, because it means that the general public’s preference is expanding to a variety. It’s rather better. Of course, the basics are also important and I do feel the necessity to study them but we also need to agree with change. We should accept change. Who knows, I might grow old to be someone that can’t accept change and wonder, ‘what kind of music is this?’ But I feel that now is a time to open our eyes to change. When I find that a song is difficult to listen to, I will purposely listen to it repeatedly.

It’s been 10 years since you’ve debuted. How much have you changed over these 10 years?

In the past I was ambitious and had high expectations, but now I am more relaxed. With age, I think my sensitive side is becoming more and more dull. When I let go of some desires, I get to be accepting of more things. The scope of my activities also seems to have widened. I used to have a stubborn side to me in the past. Now I’m like ‘don’t expect too much, don’t anticipate too much,’ just do my job diligently!

There are many artists that use other creative hobbies to ease the burdens of their main job. What do you do to cope with your fuel for creativity?

My hobby is photography so I take many photos. I also learned how to draw at one point but nowadays, I don’t have time to draw since I’m busy. I also make records of things often. I write down my thoughts, even useless things. I also use an audio recorder to record my mood, thoughts, and things I’m currently doing. I also write letters to my future self. Things like ‘this is why I’m struggling, this is what would be good for me now but how it would be for my future self?’ Wondering what I will be thinking about and what I would look like. I write letters to myself about stuff like that. I put them in envelopes according to the year and on the envelope I write down the year the letter was written.

So It’s like an archive of your time. Writing, journaling, letters, photos, music, it’s interesting. A very organised way of saving your thoughts to not lose them. Having said that, is there anyone else you would like to show your records to besides your future self?

Ah! I can’t show this to people. They’ll cringe. (Laughs) It’s sort of embarrassing. I can show the photos to everyone but I want to keep voice messages to myself. I hope that when I am older, I can look at them as I laugh and reminisce about my life. They’re records for myself.

Do you also record everyday life in any way?

I record when I find it interesting the way I thought about something. Even looking at my journal from last year or the year before, my thoughts were different from now. I find it intriguing to see the way people can change like this. I think I tend to have many thoughts, so I record them every day.

From the position of a creator, I guess journaling can be seen as an activity to collect one’s senses and emotions to use them as material for inspiration.

That’s right. My brain isn’t good enough for me to remember everything. There are situations when I recall a memory and decide I could write this down.

What was the most fun thing you did lately?

It’s a bit dangerous, but it was when I rode around on my motorcycle with my friend. There was suddenly a heavy downpour. Since I needed to go home, I rode the motorcycle in the rain. I was completely soaked when I got home. The journey home was super difficult, but I was fortunate enough to not have suffered any injuries. It was a completely new experience so it was very fun. I don’t want to experience it again but it felt like an adventure.

Wearing the Burberry 2021 F/W collection in the pictorial today must also be a new experience. Slightly different from the refined and classic Burberry, the collection shows a lot of change. What were your usual thoughts on Burberry?

I thought of it as a clean and straightforward style. Ever since some time, I noticed their young and bold changes. Although today’s outfits contained many new attempts and changes, I felt that their style was still well refined. I felt that Burberry used their own unique perspective to cleanly interpret nature’s elements. Wearing the outfits, I felt like they had a lot of fun ideas.

Which outfit left the biggest impression on you?

Choosing just one is very difficult. There was one that gave off the feel of a medieval knight, and made me feel like a monarch. I’ve heard that in medieval times, people would also wear bearskin from hunting. I think that has some influence on the Burberry outfits that I wore today. Every time I put on an outfit, I always felt like a medieval knight or king. The fur on the clothes had a strong animalistic feel to it. The scenery, weather, and concept were all very harmonious with each other.

Going back to the topic of music, you said that you like to tell stories. Do you also create a universe with music?

Yes, I create a universe for each album. This album creates this universe, while that album creates another. The albums won’t connect to create one universe, though. Each album is its own world, nothing more. I can’t make them magnificently connect into a grand universe. I like to put my story into each album.

Can you use a keyword to describe the universe of the album you are about to release?

It would be “SOMO:FUME.” This is the first album that I made after joining H1GHR MUSIC. This album consists of my energy, feelings, and thoughts, so it contains the meaning of my hopes for people to consume (somo in Korean) this product and and my wishes for my emotions to smear on to you like perfume, which is why I combined [somo] with the [English word] perfume, and named [the album] SOMO:FUME.

In which direction will JAY B’s music flow from now onwards?

I’ve pondered about directionality for a long time, but I couldn’t come up with an answer. The important part is to participate enough for me to not have regrets and be careful. I may disappoint myself if I have too many expectations for the future. I need to work diligently to not be disappointed when I look back; so that in the future, I can see that I worked hard.

Translated by defdaily.

Please support JAY B’s 1st EP album [SOMO:FUME] coming out on August 26 at 6PM KST. jayb1stsoloep.carrd.co

#jaebeom #lim jaebeom #jay b #def.#got7 #got7 jb #interviewtrans #defdaily #defdaily:trans #h1ghrmusic #somofume #style of my own: fume #SOMO:FUME

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

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Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me.

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

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