#cus this whole time it was always a “barely anyone I know is active on Tumblr aside

[nunyverse-scribe]

I have a sneaking suspicion a friend has my Tumblr notifs turned on (is that a thing here, outside of Tumblr sometimes doing it itself) bc every time I make a manic little vent post said friend always proceeds to send me comfort stuff on DMs cus he saw my silly little Tumblr post abt me complaining abt my problems

[bondedtrauma]

send   👫  fo relationship headcanons mwah    /    accepting!

@2citiez​​​  asked  :     👫   — for both boys w/ both of dem 🥺🥺🥺! ( anything for u, sauce..... )

throwing this under a read more cus im sure ill talk a lot....

     MIKEY AND SEKI  --

            ☆    the mental illness between these two.... they r unstoppable. i’ve always found mikey and seki’s relationship so interesting, mostly because of seki’s frustration surrounding her affiliations. she has no problem injuring those in toman, but when it comes to mikey, something just breaks in her brain. she has trouble, especially in high school, forming proper attachments to people. so, when she gets attached, she tends to be a little too much. if asked, mikey is not her friend. but, if she were to hear something had happened to him, the perpetrator would be receiving a visit from her.

           ☆    sekiko is barely ever at her own home. she actively tries to avoid it, even if it means sleeping outside some nights. if u ask ME, she has definitely snoozed on mikey’s porch. she never knocks, never asks to go inside -- she’ll just bundle up with a jacket, and fall asleep against the wall. even if he doesn’t know that she’s there, she’ll feel safer knowing that she’s just in his vicinity. it’s not something she would ever admit to, and she would probably call him a liar if he were to bring up this habit. 

           ☆    if she would’ve met mikey before joining tenjiku, i don’t think she would’ve joined either side. she’s very loyal to both him and izana, which tends to bring trouble during brawls. if commanded to attack one of either, i don’t think she could do it. she would rather take a beating herself, which is saying a lot coming from the drama queen.... her own morals tend to align more with tenjiku, however. 

          ☆    there is no talk of her family.    i think mikey probably would’ve gotten this message pretty quickly, but if it were to ever be brought up, she’s ending the conversation immediately and walking away. she can lie, sure, but it becomes harder when its towards those she cares about. he is never to find out about her treatment at home, and if he were, she would start avoiding him, no questions asked. i imagine this would just cause more trouble.

    IZANA AND SEKI  --

         ☆    she dedicated her life to that boy and tenjiku. if izana gave her a command, she would do anything to complete it. typically, male figures in her life tend to mold into one of two idealized figures : a perfect lover, or she projects her brother heavily on to them. for izana, it’s the latter. the more he spoke of shinichiro around her, the more she would open up about yoshida. overtime, i think she would get overly attached to the idea of izana. in her head, he is a safety blanket. someone that, even if he’s cold to her, he will look out for her. 

        ☆    elaborating on one of the points above, i think that if anyone were to find out about what was going on between herself and her parents, it would be izana first. it would start with small things not adding up : due to them being around each other more often, she would maybe slip up on a lie. or, she would have fresh bruises and blame it on a brawl that happened days ago. things just wouldn’t match up, and i really do believe he would catch on! if he were to ask her, she wouldn’t give a reply. she would probably avoid himself and tenjiku as a whole for like, a week, and then eventually come back and act like nothing happened.

         ☆    she is especially violent towards others during brawls or arguments with other gangs, especially if izana is around. she tends to try harder, believing that because she’s a girl, she has to prove herself more than the other guys in the group. she wants to show izana that he didn’t make a mistake by allowing her to join -- whether this is breaking someone’s nose, or her own knuckles. nothing is too far for her.

         ☆    she tries hides her friendship with mikey from izana, big time. she hears of how he speaks of mikey, what their history is in the small tid - bits she’s heard over time. she genuinely believes that if izana were to find out, she would lose her brother. in the time leading up to the toman / tenjiku fight, i believe that she was ESPECIALLY wired. she would act out more, drinking, fighting, and i think it would eventually lead up to trying to start a physical fight with izana himself.

   MIKEY AND ELLI  --

        ☆    i just feel like saying elli adores mikey is a drastic understatement. she is immensely soft on not only him, but everyone in toman. while sure, she’s not supposed to be at the toman meetings, she’s always somewhere nearby after they let out, waiting happily with homemade sweets for the boys. she typically tries to change it up when she can, but if she hears any of them mention a specific treat, she’ll go out of her way to learn how to make it, and bring it to them then. she’s pretty sure that she’s learned recipes of every type of sweet in the world due to mikey. 

       ☆    she tends to gravitate towards toman as a whole. it’s a familial bond that they hold, and elli craves this intimacy. she finds friendship in anyone, even if they aren’t offering it to her. though, before meeting those involved in it, she probably was very frustrated by them, and gangs as a whole. she didn’t really understand it before meeting mikey -- speaking of that, i’d like to think that their first meeting was a bit like hinata and mikey’s first meeting. the idea of her standing up and mouthing off at him only to feel SO guilty afterwards is precious to me. she was probably made chifuyu didn’t have extra time to study or something due to busy meetings.

       ☆    paralleling izana finding out about sekiko’s home life, i think that mikey would notice the abuse going on between herself and her boyfriend. once she had become closer with the group as a unit, brendon would be quick to notice it, and try to put a stop to it. elli is a people pleaser at heart, and would probably struggle heavily with trying to balance both aspects of her life until she literally couldn’t anymore. there would probably be a point where she was ‘banned’ from speaking to the boys, which would eventually end in her having a breakdown the moment mikey questioned it. unlike sekiko, this secret coming out would come from elli’s mouth. it just depends on how much she can juggle before dropping everything.

      ☆    tagging along with the first point,    elli shows up for gang fights. it doesn’t matter how many times she’s told no, nor if they keep a tight lid on where they will be brawling. she WILL be there, because in her eyes, she has to be. after being with them for so long, toman is her family. violence is hard for her to stomach at times, but she would never forgive herself if she wasn’t there when mikey was really hurt. i imagine that she starts bringing themed band-aids to put on everyone. mikey, of course, gets to share her highly esteemed sanrio branded bandaids with her. she brings ones of animals, cartoon characters, anything.

  IZANA AND ELLI  --

     ☆    she won’t lie, before meeting him, izana was someone she was heavily weary of. just hearing about such violent rumors was very shocking to her. but, she’s a firm believer in meeting someone before making an opinion of them, and i’d like to think that she did just that when the drama between tenjiku and toman began. knowing her, she probably waltzed up to him like it was no big deal, and just started asking him questions. from what’s your name, to his favorite food, and then why he created tenjiku. she has trouble recognizing when she should be fearful of someone, or if she’s in danger -- he could send her plenty of warnings, but she would still stick around.

     ☆    even though elli sides with toman,    she doesn’t like seeing people get hurt. she would most definitely notice any injuries on izana, and place herself as a front in his life. he WILL get bandaids put on him, and he WILL like it ! she would probably try the same for the rest of tenjiku as well. this is one of the reasons why she’s never had a proper affiliation to a gang -- everyone has their own sides to a story, and she thinks it would be wrong for her to fight against someone she didn’t even know.

    ☆    if she ever feels her faith in izana waver, she often finds herself thinking of previous times she adored their friendship. whether it was the gifts he had prepared for her birthday, or him offering her his scarf when she was cold -- she has many friends that have some problems that affect the way they view the world, and other people. some people just need more patience than others, and she’s more than ready to offer that to him at all times. if he can just give her the littlest bit of positivity or softness to work with, it’ll take elli very far.

    ☆    she’ll scold him like a child.    there were many moments in the tenjiku arc that elli would just not agree with, and that would manifest quite quickly once she got word of what had happened. she would march right up to him, finger pointed and all, and tell him to apologize if he had done wrong. but, not before she first gets his side of the story. she doesn’t pick sides, and she has surely told him that previously. if she were to deem him as right in a situation, the mothering would quickly move back into mikey’s ballfield.

[sharks833]

Sad Face

Well, my relationship of over a year has come to a very sudden end. I am very saddened by this but to be honest it makes as much sense as the rest of the relationship. We meet here on Tumblr, we became partners for a writing/art event. I had been a reader for this event before and this year I wanted to be a writer. Iv passively been a part of the community around the event for a while now and wanted to try and become active in the community. I enjoy reading and have always wanted to try my hand at writing on the count that I have a very vivid imagination and would like to try and get some of my thoughts down. I thought doing so on Tumblr would be a good idea both because I could give back to a wonderful community and people would be more understanding of my dyslexia which I use editing software to try and correct but sometimes even they don’t understand what I’m trying to spell (which spell check never does). To be honest, I was also looking for a more intimate relationship, but never really expected anything to come from it. I was very fortunate to get a wonderful partner but was too shy to ask them if they were a girl until I accidentally called them him for my big post and quickly edited it (a point that I got a lot of much deserved teasing for once we started dating). We kept talking after the event though and slowly after talking to each other every day we became closer and closer until I asked them if they wanted to start dating. Originally they said no, to which I was surprised and disappointed but understood that they were wary of dating after past experiences which I was made aware of. I thought they deserved a wonderful boyfriend and always hated when people said that and yet were themselves unwilling to be that person, so I offered myself. It wasn't long after that however when they confessed their own love for me and would love to date with an understanding of the things they would be uncomfortable with given their past. I was happy to be able to just talk to them and was more than happy to make any concession that would make them happy. A year passes and it’s both one of the best and worst years of my life.

(This is the complaining paragraph and if anyone reads this feel free to skip)

I quit my awful part-time job and moved out of my apartment I share with a roommate to try and live with my aunt and cousin in DC to try and go to CU in DC or find a job that I don't hate. Unfortunately the week I get there covid hits DC and we have quarantine. After about two months it's very clear things aren't going to work out and I go back home. Sadly my mother passed suddenly a few years ago and my father didn’t waste time finding remarrying, selling our family home, and moving in with her across the state line. At this time my twin brother gets recalled from the peace corps and now we are both in this strange house with this woman that we barely know who retired the moment she married my father much to his dismay. Were both forced to very quickly get any job and I find myself in hell on a tugboat for two months. Living in that hell for two weeks at a time working six hours, sleeping six hours. Once off the boat I get two weeks off and get to try and hide in a room that’s not mine from the monster that is my fathers’ wife. All while studying for the GRE and joining my brother in an online class to learn all the math. After two months I quit that hell much to the horror of my father. I’m quickly forced, and I mean forced as much as one can without putting a weapon against my skin, to work five hours of labor at FedEx throwing boxes in the back of semi-trucks. After another month the monster has had enough and me and my twin are moved into an apartment we didn’t get to choose but still pay everything for. The apartment isn't so bad as I'm away from my father and his wife and me and my twin took the GRE and will now be attending grad school in August through housing and such still need to be acquired.

Through this time though I've had the wonderful experience of being in a loving relationship. Every day I talked to my love and she talked to me. We went on dates and skyped with each other and I honestly loved Them more than I have loved anyone before. I want to fill a page full of all the wonderful things that we did and how happy I truly was at the time but those moments were between us and I like to keep the details of my love life private. My very first relationship was a long-distance one and it was a wonderful six months before it quickly became one-sided. For the next two years that we were dating, I was miserable because I didn't understand that people with more experience in dating get bored of relationships. After that, I never wanted to be in a one-sided relationship again. Sadly that's exactly where I found myself the moment they came home from the end of the semester. I always knew they were close to their family, and didn't and don’t mind being second or third to family, but I wasn't even last on the list. We went from talking every moment of the day to, from waking up to falling asleep, to never at all. I for my part tried to text her and keep a lively conversation, but she was never interested. After a week I figured she needed some time for herself but it became clear after another week if I wasn't talking to her then I'd never hear from her again. I tried to talk to her about this, and every time she apologized and said she felt awful about not talking and she would in the next few days but she never did. I talked about my past relationship with her and how I didn't want to be in another one-sided relationship again, and just as I had made concessions for the sake of our relationship she would too. I didn't think a single hello sent to me in the span of a month would be a deal-breaker to our relationship but here we are.

We first met in September of 2019 and for almost two years I felt like, for the first time in my life, there was somebody that actually cared if I was around. Iv always had a problem with saying no to people and giving more the is proportionate and as a result, always felt used or taken advantage of. I struggle with knowing how much to contribute to any kind of relationship and it has hindered my ability to be in healthy relationships whatever form they take. For the first time in my life though I found someone who gave to me just as much as I gave to them. Unsurprisingly however they admitted to me that they suffer from that same problem and that they never focus on themselves. I don't have too many friends so I'm normally focusing on myself and it was nice to be there for someone else. However, they have a family and others to focus on and as a result, almost never get to focus on themselves. Now that they are home however they would like to focus on themselves and no longer want anything to do with me. I get that though I don’t know why you can’t focus on yourself and still send me a hello, I don't want them to talk to me because they feel pressured to. If they have decided they no longer want me in their life suddenly then all I can do is hope they are able to achieve their goal and move on. I will always love and respect them for the kindness they have shown me.

As a moral philosopher who has studied the nature of virtue, I truly believe this person to be so virtuous as to be one of the greatest people, I have ever met. An observation I came to make shortly after meeting them, and I am very grateful I had their compassion for even a short time. I thought if I could lead them down the path of some philosophical school they would be able to find the answer to the problems they had but I never knew how to do it and now it's too late. My only regret is that I couldn’t help them with the problems more. In the entirety of our relationship from the first meeting to the end we never even got into one argument. Technically we did have somewhat of a fight when she decided to tell me she could no longer be in a relationship with me and work on herself but she ended the relationship the moment she left her dorm, she just forgot to let me know. I am again deeply saddened by this but I always knew in the back of my mind she too would get bored of me and move on. It's been the thread through all my relationships dating back to that first one and I knew it would appear again, I just wish my head had told my heart. I know in every relationship you tell each other you want to spend the rest of your life with the other one but for some reason I really believed it this time, making this loss all the more crushing. I know they won’t read this as I suspect only two people ever will and that for the best, I doubt she is saddened by this whole affair but on the off chance she is I don't want them to feel bad. I have always wanted them to be happy from the start and even know that it's over. That's all I want, it's all I ever wanted truly. Plato says happiness is what happens when all three parts of the soul are doing their work well, each part representing a virtue. I’ve always been good at knowing what to do (desire) and I'm alright at knowing how to do it (reason), but I've always been horrible at doing it (courage). She led me to courage though, both for her and myself. And for those moments when the three came together through her and for her, I can truly say to have been happy. I don’t know if I ever inspired anything in her that led her to happiness but I hope she can find someone that does, and that I can come to know the courage she showed me I had myself.

[lifeonashelf]

COLDPLAY

Let’s get this straight right off the bat: Coldplay is fucking terrible.

We all know this. Designating Coldplay as terrible isn’t a statement of personal opinion, it is an easily demonstrable fact. Just listen to them; Coldplay’s music proves the existence of Coldplay’s terribleness the same way that breathing proves the existence of oxygen. Surely, even the band’s staunchest supporters understand that their songs are pretentious, monotonous, and unimaginative—they’d kind of have to; I assume these people have listened to Coldplay, too. If you like music as superfluous as Coldplay’s, that’s totally fine. I’m not here to tell you that you shouldn’t, nor to convince you to stop listening to Coldplay (you can’t stop listening to them, anyway; no matter how hard you try to escape, wherever you go, Coldplay will find you). But they are unequivocally fucking awful, and I need to make that clear before we continue in case I end up saying anything courteous about them later. And, who knows? I may indeed find something positive to say about Coldplay—I mean, nothing comes to mind right now, but it’s going to take me a few hours to write this piece so it’s possible something will at some point.  

Okay, so we’re all clear on Coldplay being fucking terrible, right? Great. But that isn’t the main reason I hate them. I appreciate plenty of terrible bands just as I appreciate plenty of terrible movies. Listening to a really shitty group is sort of like watching a cast of really shitty actors—though they clearly suck at what they do, there’s something oddly appealing about the charming naiveté they demonstrate by giving it the best go they can anyway.

For instance, since I was still filing most of my Warped Tour emo discs in my punk section when I began this venture, I never got around to writing about a band called Adair. If you’re not familiar with them, don’t worry about it; they only existed for a few years in the mid-aughts and their diminutive discography merely consists of a self-released EP and one full-length album, The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New. Sonically, Adair were so amusingly prototypical of every baby t-shirt screamo band that was thriving at the time, they essentially sounded like they were parodying the style of music they played (although, to be fair, a lot of those squads did). But, Adair were absolutely serious, regardless of what stridently nasal heights the vocals reached, regardless of how faithfully their compositions adhered to their genre’s textbook page by page, and regardless of the sublimely ridiculous realms some of their allegorical angst lamentations ventured into (the line “lock me up in Guantanamo Bay and throw away the key” from the song “I Buried My Heart In Cosmo Park” may very well be the lyrical apex of their entire genus).

Adair’s music is so inane that it makes me laugh out loud when I sing along to it—but here’s the thing: I do sing along to it. I have probably played The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New a hundred times from start to finish since my copy was sent to me to review for some website back in 2006, and I have cued up individual high(low?)points like “The Diamond Ring” and “Folding and Unfolding” even more times than that. As silly as they sound—and trust me, they sound very fucking silly—I still sincerely enjoy their tunes and have spent enough hours listening to TDOEITBOSN for it to possibly qualify as one of my favorite records ever. Shit, even writing about it right now makes me feel like hearing the disc, so I’ll probably end up blasting it in my truck tomorrow (ed. note: I actually did). If they ever decided to do a reunion tour, I would absolutely go see them, and if vocalist Rob Tweedie did that whole “hold the microphone out toward the crowd so they can finish the lyric” thing which every frontman in every band that sounds like Adair does at least a dozen times per show, I would totally be able to fill in each of those blanks and enthusiastically do so.

Sorry, we were talking about Coldplay. To recap, they’re fucking terrible.

Unlike a frivolous whimper-core ensemble like Adair, the most off-putting thing about Coldplay isn’t their music. They’ve actually managed to excrete a few tracks that I grudgingly enjoy over the years. However, sporadically releasing songs which don’t sound like they were specifically written for Gap commercials actually works against Coldplay in this instance. Sure, most of their output is noxious twaddle, but since they occasionally come across as a marginally decent band, their work isn’t awful enough to at least ironically appreciate it for being awful.

In fact, there’s absolutely nothing ironic about Coldplay—other than U2 and Radiohead (more on them in a minute), I can’t think of another band that seems to take itself as dreadfully seriously as Coldplay does. There isn’t a single lighthearted number in their entire catalog, and the demeanor of their music is so staid and cheerless that it’s hard to imagine the dudes ever cracking a smile while they’re making it. Their approach to songwriting is rigidly Pavlovian—when the music gets louder, ring ring ring, that signals the listener the *really* poignant part of the tune has arrived and cues them to emotionally salivate in kind—yet despite their calculated use of sonic dynamics to manufacture sentiment, the vapid and unspontaneous nature of the delivery saps their tunes of anything resembling genuine soul or passion. Even when thrusting through the more energetic tracks in their litany, the musicians in Coldplay always sound like they’re actively striving to not play their instruments too hard. The result is that they consistently deliver some of the safest and least edgy rock ever created, shaping their ethos around a formula so willfully tepid and cuddly that they barely qualify as a rock band at all. Coldplay aren’t quite the musical equivalent of plain yogurt (that would be Jack Johnson, an artist so comprehensively flavorless that even his name is fucking boring) but the granola in their mixture is always judiciously distributed so as not to agitate anyone’s tastebuds.

And at the center of this slow-motion kaleidoscope, you have Chris fucking Martin (I find it difficult to cite his name without including the “fucking” in there; he’s just one of those guys—like Jason fucking Mraz, Blake fucking Shelton, or fucking Bono). Coldplay’s music may be stagnant, but you’d never know it from beholding the practiced arsenal of slinky paroxysms their vocalist bursts into while that music is playing. In performance and in their videos, Martin’s appendages are incessantly in motion, his hands ever-swaying gently through the air like he’s waving a pair of invisible cigarette lighters or finger painting on the goddamn sky, ostensibly so deeply lost in his band’s reverie of sound that he simply can’t help himself from moving his body in a cadenced pantomime of the way their music is meant to superficially move your spirit.

For the three non-ballads the group has written in their career, Chris usually switches things up by crouching in an incongruous bobbing panther-stance like a battle rapper delivering a diss track about fucking his opponent’s mama in the mouth, until it’s time to freeze in the tried and true messiah-statue pose as the number’s final notes chime into the ether. But it is in the quiet moments when Martin truly shines—which makes perfect sense given that he’s the leader of a group so systematically anodyne they probably should have actually named themselves Quiet Moments. These are the obligatory interims where the frontman takes the stage on his own to sit down at the piano, resplendent in the spotlight, and perform an intimate solo rendition of one of his most tender hits to show everyone in the audience that Chris fucking Martin is a bonafide fucking musician who, if he really felt like it, could totally do the whole Coldplay thing without the other three dudes whose names no one knows. His soaring falsetto croon is custom-feigned for the arenas the band was destined to coldplay from the moment they dropped their breakthrough single “Yellow” and caused a nation of book-sensitive sociology majors eagerly anticipating the arrival of their generation’s U2 to cream their Dockers in unison. When Martin opens his pipes to summon those indelibly contrived choruses about birds and stars and other monosyllabic nouns, it hardly even matters what words he’s singing—the leitmotifs in most of the tunes are basically interchangeable anyway. What matters is that Chris sounds like he really, really, really means it when he says he will try to fix you.

That analysis probably makes it seem like I hate Chris fucking Martin as much as I hate his band. I actually don’t—he’s too benign a character to elicit such a fervid response; hating Chris Martin is like hating turtleneck sweaters, or actual turtles. In fact, I suspect he’s probably a really nice dude.  At least, I’ve never heard any creepy stories about him showing his penis to under-aged fans on Skype or anything like that.

Regardless, while I don’t specifically despise either Martin, Dude Who Plays Guitar, or the other two anonymous members of Coldplay, I do gauge their collective as the fourth or fifth worst band of all time. And the reason I loathe them more than any of their neighbors on that list is because they aren’t the kind of prodigiously abysmal group you can just ignore until their moment in the spotlight inevitably passes—which is how I dealt with Five For Fighting from September 2001 through February 2002 and how I’ve been dealing with Twenty-One Pilots for the last four years (seriously, are you fuckers done yet?). Coldplay is a far cagier nuisance because they are massively popular and have been for a ludicrously long time. I’ve been patiently waiting for them to go away for two decades now, yet they continue to pop up every third summer or so to drop a new album and remind us that, yes, they’re still here assiduously mining the middle of the road for new ways to write more tunes about clouds being pretty.

Even worse, I can’t disregard their music because it’s everywhere. I hear “The Scientist” while I’m shopping for cereal at the grocery store, I hear “Talk” when I sit down to eat at any chain restaurant, and I imagine I’ll be viewing that idiotic video for “Adventure of a Lifetime” with the posse of animated dancing monkeys on an infinite Clockwork-Orange-eyes-gaping loop for the rest of eternity when my mortal essence exits this world and I am cast into the fiery pits of Hell. I can’t even watch football without encountering Coldplay, as I discovered with horror in 2016 when they took part in the most fatuous jumbled fucking mess of a Super Bowl halftime show the NFL had ever presented (a zenith of suckery which seemed impossible to eclipse until this past February, when Adam Levine showed up covered with prison tattoos and said, “hold my beer”).

The pervasive level of esteem Coldplay has reached dumbfounds me. This is a group that has sold millions and millions of albums worldwide, even though I have never once heard a single person utter the phrase, “man, that new Coldplay song kicks ass.” I’m sure their most dedicated fans have favorite hits, tracks that are significant to them in some way, etc. But their remarkable success is patently disproportionate to how patently unremarkable the work which garnered that success really is. Nobody ever describes the band’s music as “awesome”, just as nobody ever describes a glass of pinot gris as awesome—the term simply does not apply to their province; actually, in this case, describing the mouthfeel of Coldplay tunes and recommending cheeses they best pair with is probably more relevant than discussing how they sound. Coldplay is as universally popular as they are precisely because they aren’t awesome. They’re not beloved because they’re extraordinary; most people love them because they’re innocuous, functional, and suitable for almost any occasion—Coldplay is akin to a pair of cargo shorts, and no one thinks cargo shorts kick ass. Coldplay isn’t an alternative band (on the contrary, almost every good band is an alternative to Coldplay); they are a lowest common denominator band, undemanding and ubiquitous and safe to like because everyone else likes them. Their work is specifically geared toward people who think appreciating music demonstrates sophistication, but don’t ultimately give enough of a shit about the artform to put any effort into finding music that is actually sophisticated or appreciable. You may assume Coldplay is erudite because they’re British and they cite books you’ve never read when discussing the lyrical themes in their work, but they’re merely recycling the same emotional territory as every other pop act that writes tunes about finding love, losing love, missing love, and the 18th Century French peasantry.

The best thing about being a Coldplay fan is that it’s easy. You don’t have to buy their records, go see them live, or make any concerted effort at all to receive their music. If you listen to the radio for any extended period of time (or eat at an Applebee’s), you will eventually hear one of their songs; all you have to do is not hate it and, voila, you’re officially a Coldplay fan. There, don’t you just love the security of venerating a critically and commercially acclaimed band that will never challenge you or be unpopular?

Okay, I do strive to be fair—even in this arena where I can say whatever I want and no one can argue with me. I gave this a lot of thought, so here are four things about Coldplay that are not terrible:

 1)      “Clocks”: I resisted it for many years, but I finally had to concede that it’s kind of a pretty song. Notes of red currant and blackberries, and it goes superbly with a nice aged brie.

2)      “God Put A Smile On Your Face”: It doesn’t put a smile on mine, but that’s why I enjoy it. Most Coldplay songs sound like they’re aiming to evoke what being hugged by a koala bear feels like, so I appreciate Chris fucking Martin delivering a darker number that seems intent on making me feel depressed instead. Well played, sir.

3)      Viva La Vida, Or Death And All His Friends: I sincerely respect their effort to broaden their palate a bit by working with Brian Eno and making Dude Who Plays Guitar buy a distortion pedal to use on one song. This is still an archetypal shitty Coldplay record, but at least it sounds a little different than all of the other archetypal shitty Coldplay records.

4)      Nah. They’re still fucking terrible; they were lucky to get three things.

 There is one additional facet of the group’s career which has fascinated me over these past several years, even though it relates more to bands that are not Coldplay rather than the band that is Coldplay. Earlier I dubbed them the U2 of their generation, and recent events in particular have coalesced to underscore that comparison. See, when Coldplay came out, the tributes to their Irish brethren in choreographed affectation were far from subtle. Chris fucking Martin’s warbling was plainly modeled after fucking Bono’s, Dude Who Plays Guitar served up an endless cycle of repetitive but hooky high-register licks that were striking similar to the distinctive methodology of The Edge, and both bands’ workmanlike rhythm sections held things down with competent yet discreet backing tracks which militantly fulfilled each song’s basic requirements rather than showcasing the musicians’ dexterity. I don’t think anyone ever disputed the collective homage in Coldplay’s dogma, and no one was terribly bothered by it either; at the time there were a lot of people craving a band that sounded just like U2, because U2 didn’t sound like U2 anymore.

When Coldplay’s debut album Parachutes was released in July 2000, fucking Bono and company’s career was on a downward arc after they largely vacated their signature approach to instead craft a couple poorly-received discs dominated by insipid rave-lite tunes that not even the members of U2 listen to anymore. Though they would temporarily rebound later that year with “Beautiful Day”, the last honestly excellent song they would ever record, U2 had left a gap that needed filling. And the most obvious inheritors of their kingdom, Radiohead, had grown tired of anthemic guitar rock; they were hunkered down creating their demanding but exceptional opus Kid A, which sounded nothing like U2, nothing like Radiohead, and indeed nothing like any other music being made on planet Earth. Kid A still had some anthems, still had some guitar, and still had a little rock, but its oblique delivery clearly demonstrated that Radiohead was chasing a far different muse and had little interest in claiming the crown (of course, this would be abundantly clarified in hindsight when they subsequently slid further down their rabbit-hole, gradually abandoning the anthems and guitars and rock altogether, until finally settling upon their current songwriting formula, which seems to mostly involve Thom Yorke masturbating on his laptop, naming ten of his climaxes, and calling it an album).

So while U2 were busy trying to figure out why they weren’t relevant anymore and Radiohead were busy doing whatever the fuck they were doing, the lads in Coldplay stepped up and said, hey, why not us? They seized the ersatz-earnest arena rock mantle with A Rush Of Blood To The Head and never looked back. Now, 17 years and seven multi-platinum albums later, they can ruin the Super Bowl, collaborate with the Chainsmokers, and even make the same kind of lameass dance music that essentially buried U2’s career with impunity. Even more significant, they have come full circle. A group that started out playing second-rate U2 facsimiles under the moniker Pectoralz (this is absolutely true, by the way) is now one of the hugest pop institutions in the universe, beloved by millions of music and wine connoisseurs across the globe. And the student has eclipsed the teacher; U2’s desperate efforts to play catchup have made their modern work sound unmistakably like second-rate Coldplay facsimiles. Chris fucking Martin and those other three guys are no longer pretenders to the throne—they are Coldplay, and this is their empire now, bitches.

These days, U2 has to reprise their old records in their entirety on nostalgia tours to get anyone to come to their concerts, and Radiohead continues to release unlistenable albums which their fans claim to love while sheepishly casting them aside to listen to OK Computer for the thousandth time instead. But Coldplay has strategically situated themselves for an eternity as the undisputed emperors of rock mediocrity. I think they’ve got another two decades in them, too; I have no doubt that long after Twenty-One Pilots is (finally) relegated to the county fair circuit where they belong, Chris fucking Martin will still be promising sold-out crowds that lights will lead them home and having a series of polite, gently-articulated seizures while he sings “Speed Of Sound”.

It seems I respect Coldplay a little more than I suspected. You know what? I’m going to amend my original valuation right here and now. As of this moment, I am formally designating Coldplay the sixth worst band of all time.

Your move, Godsmack.

 May 15, 2019

[pangtasias-atelier]

Master Turned Pet

So this C/u Alt/er idea just came out of nowhere and I really wanted to act upon it before my motivation went away. So here’s a 3k fic that doesn’t necessarily pertain the most to wg but it also was nice not having that be the main thing.

This was meant to be kinda dark but all these ideas I have all vanish once I try to type them and then I get grossed out anjdsifn. So the only really dark thing is physical harm/abuse though it’s not graphic since I can’t handle blood lol

While I do like copying F/G/O’s style by having the master not really speak, it kinda became meh as this went on to the wg portion but still enjoyed it lol

Talking about F/G/O with a friend who doesn’t know about this blog, and the homophobia of Da/vid’s Valentine scene being different for male masters, so maybe expect that in the next week or 2? Even though I’m pretty sure like none of you play F/G/O 

I wish C/u Al/ter got a rate up, but he never does.... At least En/ki/du came to my Ch/al/dea

________________

"What?" Eyes narrowed, Cu nearly recoils from his master's body leaning against his arm. A pathetic, useless 'thank you' barely uttered before his master's tired breaths sound out, Cu lets him rest against him, his master's bloodied bandages slightly maring his own clothes.

A small, wacky singularity cleared before it could grow into anything concerning, his master had been dragged into it. His master too kind, a tired smile on his face as he steps into each consuming battle asked of him, bit by bit of himself getting consumed, Cu was at least willing to ensure to stay by his side. No other servant wishing to undergo such idiotic nonsense for a singularity, Cu grumbled and complained, but followed nonetheless. His master's reassurances that he could indeed stay, Cu ignored them under the pretense of getting to fight and kill. 

And he enjoyed just that. Before any more childish activity could drag on, he had murdered all other servants. His master's wishes to at least reason with the others despite the nonsense ignored, the singularity was proving a breeze with brute force. Until he had reached the true culprit. No one to aid him, he had been foolish, caught off guard. Nearly killed himself, his master had to use a command spell to heal him.

His last command spell. The other two already wasted on sentimentality, his master not wishing for him to disappear in other singularities despite several other servants by his side.

Lifting his master into his arms, the task easy when he doesn't resist, too exhausted to nutter anything past an annoyed groan, Cu stares at his face. Face reaching its serene state as it always does once a singularity reaches its end, Cu stares at the way his master smiles at him, his eyes closing. His master's breathing slowly calms down. The sight enjoyable, all of his master's expressions delightful in some way, he can't help but wish to see his face strain, his master's worried face as he yells in concern for his servants always a sight to laugh at. His pathetic whimpers whenever blood gets drawn, the humans in each singularity so incredibly delicate against servants and threats to humanity. The way his face strains with exhaustion at the end of each day, more burdening work seemingly piling up each day despite his prior commending work. The shy, embarrassed way his master blushes, his laughter attempting to pass it off. His tears that seem to occur at random outbursts, everything too much.

Each expression so wonderful to him, he can't wish but to see more. The blood of a warrior pulsing through his veins, he can't help but yearn for less savory tactics, even fighting and killing appearing boring with his master beside him.

Cu stares at the way his sweat seems to line his face, his hair stuck to his forehead. Brushing a bit away, his master even leans into the embrace. Perhaps he's overstepping his role as a weapon, but perhaps it's worth it. 

It's worth it when his master is an absolute idiot. 

The singularity near its collapse, his master had just obtained the holy grail. Clenching it in his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, Cu smiles as his master whimpers. Ignoring his lance, the weapon dropped the floor, he wraps his own fingers around the holy Grail stealing it out of his hands. 

Voices coming from the communicator, that shield servant who he still hasn't bothered learning her name concerned over his master, Cu ignores her, instead leaning over his master. Some more pathetic whimpering coming out of him as he struggles in Cu's grip, Cu holds him down, the effort minimal. 

"Guess I was a fool for counting on one of these. But now," Seizing it in his hands, he laughs, his whole body reveling in the motion. His current desires being known, the singularity remains. Chaldea losing contact, their obnoxious concerns die out. Cu basks in the near silence, the pleasant strained breaths from his exhausted master sounding divine to his ears. No sense in being gentle, he lugs him over his shoulder, his master letting out an 'oof' as his stomach meets Cu's rough shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll grow to love our time together, master" Hands pushing against him, Cu ignores them, simply making his way to the enemy's castle, the entire area empty with all of them now dead. 

Calmly making his way, Cu not willing to visibly show his enjoyment at his plan coming to fruition, he runs his tongue over his teeth, the sharp instruments nearly drawing blood. His master's pathetic struggles ceasing, he ignores it. A couple of minutes passing by, the looming castle draws nearer. The fauna unchanging, passing by tree after tree, the entire place is repetitive, no real distinctive locations. 

The peace ends up disturbed, his master letting out a large sigh. Legs and arms thrashing about, his bandages slowly come undone. The act unable to harm him, Cu laughs at him, the sight pleasurable. Hauling his master further, Cu's smile dwindles as the thrashing lowers in intensity but continues. Some blood seeping onto his shoulder, Cu stops in his tracks.

Lifting his master up and placing him on his feet, Cu stares at him. His master barely able to even stand on his own two feet, he stumbles. 

"Away from me," Cu glumly thinks,his hand tightening over his spear. Placing both hands on his master's shoulders, keeping him in place, Cu stares at him. Then at the blood seeping through his bandages. Some pleas and questions escaping his master's hoarse throat, Cu's hands land on his master's cheek. Grinning down at him, his hands roam over his master, both traveling down. His master refusing the entire time, Cu's right hand rests at his torso; his left hand places itself between his collarbone. Left hand traveling up, Cu expectantly watches his master's face.

And then he squeezes, his fingers easily wrapping around his throat. 

The weight insignificant, he lifts his master in the air, his master's feet dangling and kicking in the air. His master's hands wrap around his arm. Nails digging into him, he clenches tighter. Small chokes escaping as he attempts to breath, Cu brings his master closer. 

"Don't make me have to hurt you," Lapping up the few tears that come out, dehydration taking a hold of his master as well, Cu eases his grip. 

An inch given, his master attempts to take a foot, kicking Cu square in the stomach. 

A human unable to harm a servant, Cu laughs at the attempt, his master's attempts at living so wonderful.

"I've missed this side of you," Enough air allowed, Cu tightens his grip once more. Oh to just squeeze even a bit tighter, to see his even more pleaful eyes, probably begging him and telling him where went all of his humanity. But that would just forfeit his master's life, and why waste all the time they have together to just end it so abruptly? So instead, he shoves him against a tree, some crack sounding from somewhere. 

The tree unharmed, then that means he probably broke something of his master's. Cu shrugs, his master is still alive; that's better than what Medb would have done. She'd have killed anyone by now. 

"I miss America; back when you'd struggled so much just to even run away from me," Cu whispers in his ear. "And I would have killed you, but even that damn mage knew you were going to be nothing but another body on my lance," Dropping him, his master raggedly falling to the floor, Cu crouches down. Coughing as he attempts to breath, his master keeps his head down. Hands reaching towards the bandages, he rewraps them, the trickle of blood stopping. "You can't even fight, you're not a warrior, yet you always rushed in to help. And I wanted nothing more to see you gutted," Silently drawing his spear, Cu places the tip on his master's stomach. No more words offered, he stares at his master, his face downturned. Struggling to even lift his head, dirtied sweat mats his pale face. Barely able to breath, to even hold consciousness, he still stares back at Cu. Despite his bravado, Cu can still see the fear. Everyone's fear of their death arriving. Always too soon, always wondering why me. Cupping his master's chin, Cu lightly applies some pressure. A whimper belying his bravery, Cu smiles as he tosses his lance.

"Good," His master like a cockroach, so damn resilient and ever struggling, that struggling led to him saving humanity. And that struggling would let him live again, not that he was actually in danger.

Making sure that the bandages are properly tightened, the activity foreign yet not unwelcome, Cu grabs his master's wrist. 

"Now walk," Letting go, he laughs as his master's feet crumble underneath him, a face full of dirt meeting his face. Reaching down and yanking him up by the wrist, Cu drags him behind him, his master heavily breathing to even stand, let alone walk. 

Occasionally tugging at him to hurry up, Cu kicks at the door to open it, the door easily giving way. 

Perhaps having his fill for the day, Cu lifts him up. Thoughts of acting like Medb quickly thrown out of his head, Cu stares down at his master. If he is, then so be it, at least it's with one human, and he'll make sure to just break them enough to where it's fun. 

Exhaustion tearing away at his master, it outweighs the pain, falling asleep in Cu's arms. Heading towards the King's Chambers, Cu places his master at the bed. Double checking his bandages, he readjusts them again. 

A grumble escaping his master's stomach, hunger gnawing at him from the tiring day, Cu tsks. Heading off, his tail drags on the floor. 

The place bathed in silence, the sound of his slow, heavy footsteps fill the area. Trudging along, he makes short time to his destination, a village. 

Everyone wary of him before, his master barely enough to placate them all, the sight of a bloody Cu alone is enough to cause most of them to vacate the premises, doors to homes slammed shut. 

Stalls and carts left unattended, he simply swipes at them, grabbing it and lugging it.

Those brave enough to remain outside do so, staring at him even. He ignores it, all pathetic civilians, the bloodshed would be nothing more than a quick activity. One with little enjoyment derived from it. He'll get plenty of enjoyment once Chaldea begins to make their move, masters from different areas possibly coming to repair this singularity. Or perhaps the counter force will act again. Not like it matters, he'll kill all of them, grail or no Grail in hand. He had nearly done so back in America, no master to aid him, calling Medb anything more than a nuisance would be too kind for her he feels. And with his master perfect for supplying mana, he has nothing to fear. 

No one bothering to stop him, all too busy cowering, Cu makes it back to the castle with zero issues. The human body so damn frail, Cu grumbles as he brings the food to the kitchen. Rushing through it, the meat close to raw on the inside and burnt on the outside, he shrugs as he continues cooking some more. No seasoning offered besides grabbing what's there at random, Cu calls it. Frowning from the effort of cooking it, the chore unlike him anymore, he carries it up. 

His master still asleep, shallow breaths struggling past him as his chest barely rises into the air, Cu wastes no time. Another crunch sounding as he lifts him up and slams his back against the headboard, the technique wakes him up perfectly. A coughing fit ensuing, his master clutches his stomach with his other hand. Body aching, he rests against the headboard, any stability appreciated. 

"Eat," Standing to the side, arms crossed against his chest, Cu glares at his master. Cautious, his master picks at the nearly charred food. Hesitation taking hold of his body, Cu takes a hold of his head. 

"You will do as I say," Yanking his hair, Cu grabs the food with his bare hands. Shoving it into his master's mouth, he holds his hand over his mouth, the food slowly getting chewed. "I can't have you dying on me yet," Cu teases, another handful getting shoved straight to his master's mouth. 

Only allotting just enough time for his master to swallow the last bit, Cu always shoves in another piece, the pained muffled struggles reaching his ears, the sounds egging him on. His master trying to move his face away, Cu tugs harder. His master's breathing labored, Cu licks his lips; the pain nothing compared to just beating him senseless, seeing the discomfort and heavy breaths is a different joy. A much appreciated joy. 

His master's hands pushing at him, he twists them. So close to just snapping them off, the desire burning in his heart, he resists. Point crossed, his master remains motionless, Cu resuming.

Each next handful is met with more resistance than the last, his master slowly chewing. Hands moving to rub his stuffed stomach, Cu moves them out of the way, not wishing for any relief. 

The food eventually crammed down his master's gullet, his face is strained as he shakily rubs his stomach. Juices rest on his lips, the trickles dribbling down. Cu pokes at the small distended bump for a stomach. Adding a touch of pressure, he glances at his master's whimper, eyes shut tight. Dragging him into his lap, Cu holds him tight in his embrace, both sitting at the edge of the bed. 

Both hands on his master's stomach, Cu pushes down on it. His master nearly hurling, he brings his hands to his mouth, swallowing the bile that threatens to spill.

"So precious," Cu lets out, lifting his master's hands and pressing down on his stomach again. The sight no longer obscured, he smiles at the scene, his master always so close to losing the contents of his meal.

Finding a different way to enjoy his master's expressions, the wheels in Cu's brain begin to turn. 

His master falling asleep soon after, his gurgling stomach nothing compared to his exhaustion, Cu places him back down on the bed. Chaldean uniform snug on his master, Cu tears the shirt. Pale skin rising with each breath, Cu rubs it, the soft yet taut skin pleasant.

His master squirming under the touch, sleep still taking him captive, Cu removes his hand. 

Warriors going to flock to him eventually, he might as well enjoy this as much as he can. Not like his master can stop him anymore. 

Standing up, he hesitates by the door. Glancing back, he smiles at his master's frown, a nightmare seemingly taking place. 

Already preparing his master's next meal, Cu swiftly grabs all the ingredients. The process as hurried as earlier, he quickly begins cooking again, eager to stuff him.

And stuff him he does. 

The counter force taking a while to respond, Cu focuses his efforts on his master. No way to fight back, the task is easy. A little bruising here and there to control him, limbs bent dangerously close to ways they should never bend, that's all he needs, the tactic keeping his master under control. Food always plentiful, Cu always forces it down his mouth. Mouth crammed with food, Cu snickers at the way his master struggles to even speak or complain. Stomach continuously taut, simple jabs nearly does him in, his master's eyes shut. 

Cu disregards any notion of ending or quitting, the fun granted to him far too pleasurable. Overfed like cattle, his master nothing more than such a thing, Cu pokes and tugs at each new curve that adorns his master as the weight sticks to his frame. Stomach gaining a small sliver, the insignificant weight barely noticeable before it grows even further with constant stuffings. A round potbelly great for shaking after a binge, his master nauseous. Barely developed love handles, both budding armrests a violet hue from Cu's incessant pinches. Moobs that are nothing more than markers signifying the beginning of something much greater. Chunky arms with hanging flab, the areas much more enjoyable to yank and pull to shut his master up. Widened thighs cushioned from adipose. 

The effects on his master's body memorizing, he had no choice but to see it through. With all the time in the world, he was happy to see it through.

The world's counter force inevitably summoning some servants to stop him, the task was simple. Masterless servants stood no task against him. the fun only truly began once Chaldea managed to send in his master's own servants. 

Despite being outnumbered and outwitted numerous times, they were still outmatched, all falling by his hands. 

Another batch just slain, Cu smiles as he rushes back to his room. The grueling fight only invigorated him, his body screaming for more fighting, for more blood. The singularity, containing only himself, his master, and frightened civilians, punishing his master would have to suffice. Another servant caught in the act of aiding his master's, Cu throws his spear. Abdomen gutted through, the spear lodges them in the wall, unable to act as they fade away. 

His master staring at his defeated servant, Cu cups his chin. Some resistant met, Cu glares before using his other hand. Both now needed, his master's attention snaps to him as he feels both hands on his neck. 

"Good," Lesson learned, Cu goes easy, his hands wringing his master's neck for only a few seconds this time. His master coughing, Cu becomes entranced with the way his fat shakes from it. His master ballooning perfectly, Cu made sure to make him massive. 

A gut sagging onto his thighs and the bed, the fleshy mound is the perfect punching bag. Love handles overflowing, they droop down as well, the piles of blubber merging with his master's multiple rolls. Breasts plentiful, they rest upon the mountain that is his stomach. Arms and thighs nearly unused at this point, Cu forbidding it, the appendages are swaddled with fat, the large cylindrical limbs containing no definition like they used to. 

His master forced to sit on his legs the past hour, his crushing weight making it hard to do so, Cu urges him up. Fat shifting as the bed groans, Cu stands aside. His master struggles, breaks needed to regain energy. Arms quivering as they push against the bed, his master's whimpers delight his ears. 

Sitting at the edge of the bed, his master rests his hands on his stomach, breathing loudly for air. Feet touching the ground, he remains seated.

"Stand up," Cu commands. Unobeyed, Cu grabs his master and stands him up himself. 

Legs asleep, his master crumples to the floor. Fat squished against the tiling, he pushes himself. A boot stops his attempt. 

Head kicked back down to the floor, Cu rests his foot on his master's head. The sensation not foreign, the mental crunch of a skull cracking underneath his weight nearly brings him to do the same to his master. Removing his boot, his master doesn't move. 

"This is a warm up, pet," Circling his master, Cu keeps his head high. "Soon, it'll be reality where you can't walk," Sitting on the bed, Cu grins. "Now get up," 

His master attempting just that, Cu laughs as his master's asleep legs fail him once more. Brought back down to the floor again and again, Cu simply watches. 

"I'm waiting," Cu not a patient man, the warning sends his master in a frenzy. Each trial of standing up failing, he instead crawls, Cu's wrath worrying. Closer to Cu, he reaches for the bed, leverage to stand up. A hand on his head stops him. 

Cu's eyes wide open, he readjusts them, both squinting at his master. "I like your idea, pet," A collar materializing, Cu wraps it around his master's neck. Standing up, he yanks it, his master falling to the floor. 

"I'll enjoy this while you can still move," Collar constantly yanked, Cu leads his master to the kitchen. "I'll make sure my pet never goes hungry," Cu growls, smirking as his master struggles to keep up, already tired. The image of him stuck on the floor, stomach so massive that his arms and legs can no longer touch the tiles spurs him on; no rest for the wicked.

[dumdumdrawstumtums]

ABB3 and I were talking about this earlier, you see I've recently got into the fate fandom and I was wondering if you had any belly canons for any of the guys, specifically Gilgamesh and Fate stay night's Lancer? Or any other guys you like from the series~ (Ive only seen fate zero and fate stay night so far btw.) ^_^

Oh hey good on ya! I'm still a woeful casual when it comes to the series, but it's provided some real nice guys to fawn over~ But alright lemme see what I can do...

G/ilgamesh

Well the fun thing about G/ilgamesh is that his monumentally enormous ego is matched only by his looks... and hopefully his appetite. Cuz I mean, damn, boy knows how to dress to impress.

The thing is though that his taste is incredibly high class, so he'll only be dining on 5-star dishes. He's been around modern society enough to know how to get what he likes, after all. The thing is though that he would be so caught up in holding this fact over others heads that he would neglect to take note of just how much he may be eating. Like, I don't see him as the sort to actively flaunt stuffing himself taut. He may even be secretly embarrassed by it, but damn if he won't play it off as something along the lines of course he's privileged to such gorging. Anything like greasy fast food he wouldn't allow to slip past his lips UNLESS his ability to even do so was being questioned. His weakness is having his ego struck in any way, after all. Then he would certainly have to silence the mongrels' barking and prove himself... probably leading to a very full, very upset stomach having so much garbage filling his belly. At that point he might require some belly rubs - something he would order someone he deems capable of providing to do. Perhaps threatening that if they aren't up to task, they may find themself added to the rest of the trash.

Whiiich leads into the headcanons for vore HAHAH// The King of Heroes lords over all, and sometimes he needs to assert his superiority in less conventional, but no less absolute ways. I don't think he would be too actively yearning to eat anyone, since his body is perfection that he doesn't want anyone ruining. It might be once his (admittedly thin) patience is tested in a certain manner (maybe someone questioned his appetite a little too hard?) that he will give them the privilege of being shown just what he can do. Most anyone he eats he would be dismissive of after; they're food now, they should settle down, and don't they dare give him indigestion, or he can make this even harder on them. And again, this is probably something he prefers to keep private. Although if any company shows up, I feel like Gil wouldn't be doing much to hide his large, squirming belly - like, full on sitting back, just idly stroking over the mega bloat, half-attempting to stifle burps or hiccups, mostly just quietly annoyed. Regardless of how awkward that might make the other feel. Nonfatal situations I think require for G/ilgamesh to at least feel a little respect for who he's gulped down? Which is no easy feat of course, so... he would definitely be the "one way trip" sort of pred the vast majority of the time. But even if that requirement is met, it wouldn't necessarily deter him from carrying on his day as he otherwise would, which includes eating and drinking what he pleases, and giving his belly a firm smack if his stomach's occupant protests. Basically, his wants and needs always take priority.

O/zymandias

Okay and because it would be a good follow-up, another who my friends like would be O/zymandias. Again, another drop dead gorgeous king~

Unfortunately though, since they share such similar attitudes, a lot of headcanons for Gil apply to Ozy OTL  That includes the fine taste, being mostly spurred into eating past his comfort levels by having his pride put on the line, and the authoritative aura he carries even when he's aching with fullness. As a matter of fact it's often fun to imagine them being quite the pair when it comes to eating; they're likely to goad each other into eating more and more with neither willing to face the shame of having the weaker stomach. Thank goodness they get along so well... for them, anyway. Maybe not so much for the restaurant they visit, or the unfortunate people who may be included in their kingly feasting.

I think a good distinction to make Ozy stand out more is that he's not quite so much a jerk as Gil would be regarded as? He's got a monumental ego sure, but seems to be less likely to utterly disregard the personhood of others in the process. So it may take a little more to make him deem someone to be his next meal... maybe. Possibly. His body is a temple, he can't very well be making this a habit, after all. Consequently I also think he would be a bit more likely to indulge in nonfatal scenarios, too. And with the mighty pharaoh he would make a little more effort in being a proper host. Oh, and since there was a funny bit a dialogue in the game where he staunchly denied being decapitated in the most huffy, tsundere way, I think that would apply to him having a ridiculously filled gut as well. "There's nothing wrong with my stomach... *grrrgghh...*"

A/sterios

Another one that friends have a big liking to so of course I'll jump on that too! What we got here is a colossal 9'9" tall berserker bull man, THE Minotaur of legend himself. The fun thing about him is that, as the myth tells, he's canonically eaten people - and plenty of them, too. He's got a great deal of dialogue alluding to how easily he could put even you on the menu as well. So, while he might have some difficulty speaking... his stomach can do the talking for him. Like, he already struggles to control his beastly urges, so who could blame him if he slipped up, caught someone in his inescapable clutches, and ate them? Or even two? He's almost twice as large as normal humans; it would be far less difficult for him to gorge on more than one. Consuming others would be treated as something that just comes natural to A/sterios, like a hunger that was finally quenched.

On the stuffing end (sorry for the reverse order, he's just far more likely to enjoy meat on the very rare side) the bull would require a lot to satisfy him. He's used to eating whole, poor people who were dumped into his labyrinth, after all. And again, this absolute unit is BIG. Not to mention being treated to food beyond "human" would probably be a novel experience for him. He's been in the labyrinth all his life, he has the whole world to see and experience! Poor A/sterios would probably be overwhelmed and adorably yearning to try everything. Very open to being fed, and having his belly rubbed, too! Just, again, both of these things are gonna take a while, given his size.

A/chilles

Husband material that captured my heart big time when I finally got around to watching A/pocryphaaa// He's got a similar vibe to C/u C/hulainn with his lax attitude and enjoyment in fighting. The differences between them though help to separate my headcanons just a bit. Like, whereas Cu's more laid-back the majority of the time, A/chilles has more of an intensity to him. He's more excited by a challenge for one, and that can play easily into some fun headcanons. Like, any meal he sits down for will be filling him up, but afterwards if he sees there's an eating contest going down, he'd still be going "Yeah I bet I could win, piece of cake *urp* Maybe poor choice of words..." And then claim that filling his stomach up beforehand was just to give everyone else a fighting chance. And he will win, it'll just... be something of a pyrrhic victory. One that he'll still try to take pride in sure, but not without a lot of groaning and claiming that he must weigh twice as heavy now. And as wont as the Greek hero would be to lie back and let everything digest, he's just as quickly to pull himself back up and heft around the gurgling gorge, since he hates to be bored or to seem pathetic. After all, while his ego might not be anywhere near the mountainous scale Gil's is, he still has a hefty arrogance to him that can be used to push him (and his belly) further. Though unlike the king and pharaoh, I think A/chilles would genuinely be unabashed in his bloated state, let alone the thunderous belches that might come about - just sighing with relief after and giving his stomach a pat. Even when receiving some welcomed belly rubs, don’t be offended if you get caught in the blast radius HAHAH

Regarding vore, I think A/chilles would very much have the mindset of "eating someone means claiming total victory." And it would probably be something he revels in just as much as any victory, roughly massaging his stomach, trying to clench his stretched thin abs, etc. What makes A/chilles unique is that, as said, he likes a challenge. That means that while he's groaning for his prey to settle down, he's also outright encouraging them to fight against his stomach, which might not phase him quite as much as it would others since, y'know, invincible body and all. If they're especially feisty, to the point it's making the brash hero gag, heave, have to swallow down lumps rising back up his throat, well then that struggle just makes this all the better. Heck, if they're not up to that point he may even waddle himself over to eat more, just to get himself to that point of barely keeping it together. Even in nonfatal situations, the Rider would undoubtedly enjoy making his carry-on squirm - probably utilizing effective teasing to get them riled up, like hiccuping and asking just how much they weigh, or downing a full gallon of drink to drench them, burping, and saying lugging them in his stomach is thirsty work. Much more inclined to some rough play than the blue Lancer would be, methinks. That includes all the belly play of jostling, prodding, 'accidentally' lying on his stomach a bit, all that goodness~

(I left C/u C/hulainn out because I remembered I already did a big post about him here, among other posts, so enjoy that if you’d like!)

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don’t You Believe Me?

Request: Could you write a klaus imagine where it’s a couple years post-canon. the reader has been pining for him for ages but swallows it cus they don’t believe he returns their feelings. when he tells them that he loves them they’re just like “lmao sure” cus all of their friends and partners have left them and no one has ever loved them enough to stay so they don’t believe him. They aren’t like sad about it either, just resigned and making light of it to deal with how much it hurts to not be wanted.

Pairing: Klaus x Reader (Oneshot)

“He’s probably lying, though,” you mutter to yourself, chewing on your thumbnail as you pace around your small room, bare feet sinking into Emily’s plush carpet with every step. Your phone is in your hand, screen glowing as it displays the nine-word text that’s causing you so much anxiety. When the screen dims, you tap it again. You just need to look at the text in order to get a feel for it.

“What does he have to gain from lying to you?” your roommate, Emily, asks from where she’s laying on her stomach on her bed. Her hair is curled perfectly and her clothes are fashionable and look cute. You don’t know how she does it. You always look terrible no matter how hard you try and your hair can’t hold a curl to save your life. It’s especially impressive considering how just yesterday she’d been bawling her eyes out.

“He could humiliate me!” you exclaim, your voice loud. Someone in the hall down yells to shut up, which in turn makes other people yell at them, until everyone’s yelling and then it lapses into stony, brooding silence. You hiss, “He could be saying it to stand me up or something!”

“Y/N, we’re not in middle school anymore,” Emily responds. “Trust me, no one’s going to be putting in this much effort in order to stand you up.”

“I don’t know,” you say, your phone screen dimming once more. You tap the screen and accidentally on the new message, which means now Charles will be able to see that you’ve opened up the text. “Shit!” You drop your phone like a hot potato. The offending text glares up at you: You know, you’re actually rly cute. Wanna meet up?

“Haven’t you guys been talking for, like, weeks?” Emily asks, blowing a large bubble and sending her friend a SnapChat. “Yeah, trust me, guys like that lose interest after three days on average.” She should know; she did an actual study on the habits of boys and girls when talking to people on instant messaging, and if the male isn’t interested he apparently gives up after three days. You guess she hadn’t studied how many guys cheat on their girlfriends or she wouldn’t have started dating her boyfriend, but she hardly looks worse for the wear.

“What about the outliers?” you ask miserably. Charles is active on Instagram right now, which means he’s probably waiting for your response. He’s seen that you’ve seen it. He might be getting annoyed that you’re taking too long. He might be laughing with his friends about how they’re guessing you’re freaking out.

“The most extreme outlier was a week, Y/N,” Emily says not-so-patiently. She’s normally pretty good at handling you when you’re like this, but recently she found out her boyfriend’s been cheating on her, and she had to pull an allnighter last night to study for her Calculus quiz. Now she’s plotting her revenge on the cheating Michael. “Trust me. Nobody even finds that all that entertaining, anyway. You’re not going to get stood up.”

Your phone screen hasn’t even turned off before you decide, “No, I’m canceling it. Nope. Nope. I’m blocking him.”

“Y/N!” Emily jerks her head up to look at you, brown eyes widening with horror, but you’ve already done it. Her voice is surprisingly shrill when she exclaims againn, “Y/N!”

“Shut up!” somebody yells again, followed by multiple people shushing them.

“Oh, jeez,” you say, your hands shaking as you shove your phone in your pocket. “Nope, nope, nope. Did not like that.”

“You’re pathetic,” Emily sighs, shaking her head. “He was cute. He seemed sweet. You’re just being crazy.”

“I’m sorry, are you standing up for boys in general now?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. “Last time I checked, your boyfriend’s a douche.”

“First of all, no, I wasn’t talking about all boys, just Charles. He seemed nice. Second of all,” Emily glares at you, “low blow, dude.”

“Sorry,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m just… not good at this.”

“You just need to get over him,” Emily says, standing up. She puts a perfectly manicured hand on your arm and crinkles her brow at you. “Trust me. Pining over Klaus for eternity isn’t going to make you feel any better. Rebound dudes are the absolute best to date, because everything they do feels so crazy amazing!” She’s already got her rebound dude from Michael picked out.

“I know,” you insist, folding your arms. “I’m getting over him. It’s just… I had a bad feeling about Charles,” you invent wildly.

Emily crosses her arms and raises one skeptical eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm, sure.”

“What about you?” you ask, sitting down heavily on your bed and wiping your phone screen on your jean pants. “What are you thinking for Michael?”

“Honestly, I was thinking about cutting three inches off my hair and posting a selfie with the caption ‘Not gonna miss those three inches, Mike’.” Emily flips her hair over her shoulder and sends another photo to a friend. “What do you think?”

You laugh. “That sounds really funny. I’ll be the first to like it.”

“Honestly, now I think about it, why’d I stay with a guy that barely hits four inches?” she muses, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.

“I believe I asked you that when you started dating him,” you mutter. “And you responded that he was sweet.”

“Character is out,” Emily decides. “The length of the dick is all that matters now, as long as he’s not a total asshole and, like, a wifebeater.”

“As you do,” you nod.

It was the whole ‘your boyfriend’s a douche’ comment, you’re sure of it.

Emily has moved out of the room you shared together.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting it, either; since when has anyone ever wanted anything to do with you? Your own parents abandoned you and when you tried to track them down, they had another little girl and were not interested in talking to you. The rare times you’ve gotten a boyfriend he’d dumped you quickly, unable to handle your fears of abandonment.

Even the goddamn cat you adopted from the shelter ran away.

So no. You’re the opposite of a magnet. Nobody ever wants to be with you. They don’t even want to be in the same room as you.

Your phone buzzes. It’s Klaus Hargreeves, your oldest friend, and you’re trying to calculate how long it’ll be until he leaves you too. Everyone else has. It’s only a matter of time.

Klaus: Hey, Y/N, wanna come over? I’ve got a surprise for you!

Honestly, you’re surprised he’s texted you. He hasn’t in the last three days, which frankly isn’t very unusual for him, but your anxieties are in overdrive and have been since coming home and seeing the ‘Goodbye’ note on the door.

‘Y/N, I’m going to be living with some other friends for the rest of the semester.’

Translation: I’m finally ditching you for my better friends.

‘No hard feelings, right?’

Translation: I’m trying to be as polite as possible, don’t get mad at me for ditching you, you loser.

‘I’ll still see you around!’

Translation: But only in passing; don’t try to talk to me in public.

‘—Emily’

Translation: You were super fucking annoying. Thank God I’m out.

Within seconds, you text Klaus back, saying, What time? And what sort of surprise?

You good to come over like rn?

You don’t have any other classes for the rest of the day, and though you have an essay to write, you can do it when you come home later or tomorrow.

Yeah, sure, I’m on my way, you text back and slip on a pair of shoes before hurrying out the door. On the bright side, you won’t be able to get into any loud conversations and get yelled at anymore. You’re pretty sure the rest of the hall hates you and Emily for occasionally shrieking the most.

Come to my bedroom when you get here ;), Klaus sends you, and you have to stifle a grin. Maybe his teasing is what made you fall for him initially, and the way he’s so carefree. It hurts a little bit, though, whenever he makes a joke about being with you. You know you’re not even an option, but still.

Like Emily had said. You need to get over Klaus. Maybe you should have told him you had to write the essay, but…

It’s too late now for that. Plus, Klaus may get annoyed if you cancel plans with him and not want to hang out with you later on.

The Umbrella Academy mansion is quiet when you push open the doors. Grace must be cleaning elsewhere, and Pogo must be doing… whatever Pogo does when he’s not taking care of the kids. You barely even notice your extravagant surroundings anymore; far too used to them after visiting Klaus whenever you’re worried he’s OD’d on drugs or whenever he’s a little less high and wants to hang out.

Nothing’s changed when you see Klaus’s room. Well, things have definitely changed; there are balloons around the doorway like he’s celebrating something, but that’s just Klaus fashion. For all you know, he could be celebrating something—maybe this is his anniversary of getting addicted to drugs or something like that. Something like that would kill you a little bit to see happen, as it would kill all his siblings, but Klaus is just like that.

And you really do love him.

You push open the door cautiously, half-expecting him to throw something at you as a prank, but all that greets you is Klaus standing in the middle of his room, exclaiming happily upon seeing you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You can’t respond. You have to take it all in for a second.

For one thing, his curtains aren’t drawn for once to keep the sun from hurting his hangover headache. For another thing, he’s shaved and cut his hair a little bit. The last thing that really stands out to you is that he’s wearing color. In all your life, you’ve never seen Klaus wear any color apart from that pink feather boa, but he’s wearing a tie-dye tank top and loose green cargo pants.

You laugh a little hesitantly, stepping into the room and looking around. He’s certainly seemed to embrace the color; confetti’s everywhere. “What’s going on, Klaus?”

“I’m sober,” he beams, holding up his arms. “Ta-da!”

You’re speechless.

“I know it’s taken me a long time,” he continues, “and I’m really glad you’ve helped me through all the years. But I’m sober and I’m planning on staying sober for the rest of my life. Ben’s helping me realize that I can’t just drink away my problems, you know?”

“Are you serious?” you manage to squeak out.

Klaus nods.

You squeal and launch yourself across the room, latching onto Klaus like a koala. “Klaus, I cannot believe it! Why didn’t you tell me you were getting sober?”

“I didn’t wanna let you down if I couldn’t,” he mutters, squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe for a second. “And I was planning something.”

“What?” You pull away from him, already regretting the hug because it just made you love being in his arms more. Spending time with somebody probably isn’t the best way to get over them.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to until I was sober.” Klaus sits down on his bed, pulling you down with him, and looks in your eyes seriously. It’s unnerving. You’ve never really seen Klaus serious. “Y/N…” He swallows. “Please don’t say anything until I’m done, okay? I just need to get something off my chest.”

You nod. Oh God, is he going to tell me he’s murdered someone? Can you honestly keep a secret like that for him? You nod, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Y/N, I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says, blushing a bit but refusing to look away from you. “I wanted to get sober for you. I want to have a future with you. You’re my best friend and you make me laugh. You’re supportive and kind. I know that people have left you before, but I promise I won’t. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but if you do…” He squeezes your hands for a second. “I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You want to vomit.

He’s really making fun of you in this way? When he knows how sensitive you are about being abandoned? When he’s probably the only person who knows about your parents and relationship struggles throughout your life?

You swallow around a lump in your throat and croak out a laugh. “Ha, good one, Klaus.” You stand up, avoiding his eyes. “I’m happy you’re sober, though.” You start to turn away, saying, “I have an essay to—”

Klaus grabs your hand gently and spins you around. “Y/N, I’m not making fun of you. I really do love you.”

“Yep, mmhmm, sure,” you say, nodding too quickly, clenching your jaw too tightly. “I know. I’m sorry; I’m not really in the mood for jokes right now; I’m stressed out about this essay that’s due—”

“Y/N, don’t you believe me?” Klaus asks, staring at you. He’d honestly not expected it to go like this—he’s sober; isn’t life supposed to start going right?

You wrench your arm out of his grip. “Sorry, Klaus, I really have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No, you won’t,” Klaus mutters as you escape the room. He’d imagined that going in a million different ways except that one. “Shit!”

“Go chase after her,” Ben instructs. “We both knew she wouldn’t believe you. At first.”

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl @deathswretch @lightningidiot @five-hg @iamsnek666@ameliatrh @ihatecheesyusernames @dora-the-grownup @emilyt0314 @idklol707

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

Guys, take a look at the prompt list on my page—I’d love to take requests for them; it’ll be fun writing practice!

[dontbeallupinmyfriesdawg]

Okay so I'm going to write these T'akia headcanons because I've been dying to and I need cheering up.

So T'Challa and Nakia grew up together from when they were children

Nakia's tribe has always been very prominent and close to the royal family she practically grew up in the palace.

I imagine they train children in Wakanda from a young age to be skilled in combat so the first time they meet T'Challa and Nakia are paired as sparring partners and Nakia wipes the floor with him.

Anyone present will tell you that Nakia won because she was clearly the more skilled and talented fighter, which is true

But the real reason T'Challa fell flat on his ass is because he spent the entire fight mesmerised by Nakia so she took him out effortlessly in a matter of seconds.

Imagine baby!Nakia towering over T'Challa scowling "You didn't even try!"

Meanwhile T'Challa's on the floor grinning like an idiot, look at her like she's the sun thinking "I'm gonna marry that girl,"

Naturally after that day T'Challa follows Nakia around like a lost puppy (something that everyone especially his mother finds hilarious). Nakia doesn't mind as long as he keeps up with her and goes along with her numerous schemes (or 'missions', as she likes to call them), whether it's scalling the tallest tree she can find or sneaking into the palace kitchens to swipe a snack. T'Challa is right behind her. Eventually the two become inseparable.

I like to think that spot in the movie up on the cliff is their spot and they go there whenever they want to talk privately for hours and escape T'Challa's security or their parents. If one of them is upset then the other all knows they can find them there. And it's the best place to watch the sunset. (One of their favourite activities)

Nakia has always expressed interest in becoming a war dog, reluctant to remain complacently in Wakanda and assume leadership of her tribe like everyone else.

This prospect terrifies T'Challa because he's not naive, he knows all about the outside world and that not everywhere is a safe and as peaceful as Wakanda. His uncle was a war dog and he never returned home. But he knows better than to try and discourage Nakia or patronise her (because she'd kick his ass and he respects her far to much, plus he knows it's her dream and wants to be supportive but at the same time he also wants to latch his arms around one of her ankles and beg her not to go anywhere)

Their first kiss happens under a tree in the palace gardens Nakia is 16 T'Challa is 17.

He's listening to her speak about the world and how much good she wants to do in it (that conversation in the market place in BP can't have been the first one they've ever had on the issue) she so passionate, her eyes light up and she gesturres contantly and he can't help but stare because she's so beautiful and brilliant and how can she not know how in love with her he is.

Caught up in that train of thought T'Challa forgets to actually listen to what Nakia is saying and earns himself a hard whack on the chest as she questions whether he is listening to her.

Instead of answering he just keeps staring with a weird look on his face and Nakia considers going to get Zuri or someone inside for help because T'Challa is possibly having a stroke.

Some magical wave of courage overcomes him, T'Challa's brain switches off momentarily and he leans in to kiss her.

It's so sudden it takes Nakia by surprise.

This kiss is so gentle tho, T'Challa holds Nakia's face like he's afraid he's going to break her and brushes his lips against her in the sweetest barely there kisses that leaves them both breathless.

For a split second after its over T'Challa goes into panic mode and thinks that Nakia might knock him out or worse never speak to him again but before he can explain himself (the coherent apology he formed in his head coming out as stuttered nonsense) Nakia reaches out and takes his chin gently in her hand brushing her thumb over his lip before kissing him back.

During that second kiss he holds her so tightly under that tree like he's afraid its the last time he'll ever get to do it.

The agree to keep their relationship a 'secret' because they're unsure if the King and Queen will approve and they'd rather not be under scrutiny anyway.

The tea is that they're both idiots because literally anyone with eyes knows they're a couple.

Ramonda's known since they were toddlering around in diapers long before either of them remember. A mother knows her son and Ramonda knows Nakia is going to be her future daughter in law as soon as a six year old T'Challa returns from sparring practice proudly bearing a bruise on his forehead given to him by Nakia.

Shuri's too young to notice anything at first (or care) but she catches on to T'Challa's crush real quick "For Baast's sake will you just tell her!?" (because the kid is sharp)

and she figures out his and Nakia's 'secret relationship' in about 0.5 seconds. "A war dog trainee and the future black panther and neither of you can keep a secret to save your lives"

Okoye definitely knows cus she knows everything but doesn't bring it up to the king because she had only just become general at the time and is a stickler for proper conduct and that would be inappropriate. However she's not above giving him those looks when he and Nakia are somewhere they're supposed to be paying attention (like being addressed by the king or something) making eyes at each other instead of listening.

T'Challa tells Nakia he loves her for the first time right before she leaves for her first war dog mission.

It is not customary for a royal family member to see off war dogs before they depart but T'Challa goes anyway.

He waits to the very last minute when Nakia is promising to write and email Shuri with her progress, to hit her with "I love you,"

She kind of just panics and kisses him before leaving

And T'Challa spends the entire two months she's gone worried sick a) for her safety and b) that he's embarrassed himself by saying I love you too quickly and ruined their relationship.

He's so miserable the whole time that Shuri can't even bring herself to tease him

Although she can't resist bringing him glasses of milk and gently petting his head while murmering "There, there kitty,"

When Nakia finally comes back he is obviously the first the greet her. She's actually bruised all over and covered in dirt when she returns but she's still the most beautiful sight T'Challa's ever seen including the Wakandan sunset

They both forget themselves and run to each other. T'Challa picks her up and they embrace and Okoye, Ramonda and Shuri just stand in the background and smile at the two idiots .

T'Chaka looks hella confused tho because he is literally the only oblivious one in the family. (Zuri has to lean over and explain)

When he finally puts her down Nakia cups his face and says she loves him too and that's she's sorry she didn't say it before and T'Challa's heart feels as if it's going to burst.

Like Danai once said in an interview it's kind of obvious who broke up with who (although like Lupita said it was less of a break up and more an agreement on difference). Either way Nakia definitely inniatiates and even though it breaks his heart T'Challa agrees because he just wants to make her happy.

You cannot tell me T'Challa didn't keep tabs on Nakia during her missions tho.

Like he knows she can handle herself but there are at least five war dogs dotted around the globe who's sole purpose are to keep tabs on Nakia.

Bonus points: if Nakia has identified each and every one of them and has warned them firmly to stay out of her way.

After the events of the film T'Challa proposes to Nakia under the tree where they had their first kiss with his father's ring.