#max harm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theno1joelhater · 2 months ago

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max harm…yeah no idk why i made this. i guess max is just an interesting dude to me. i like thinking abt him. also content warning for sa, more specifically sexual coercion. i don’t go into excruciating detail on what happened but justin case, yk? it is a large part of what i talk about. you got warned get warned go away if you don’t like that (can’t believe im actually going there).

so max harm. maximilian maximus harmageddon. i don’t know how to properly begin this. i guess ill just start with how he views people/patients/potential patients.

to him, patients are just things he can control to get more money. it’s a whole monopoly type deal where if he gets more people unhealthy he gets more customers and he gets more cash and he just repeats the cycle (or something idk i’ve never played monopoly). he doesn’t care about his patients and never has. he only cares about what they can offer them, and in reality they aren’t really people to him. i mean, just look at any of his videos! he doesn’t give 2 flying fucks about them!

i mean, sometimes it doesn’t even seem like max likes his job much. or respects it. i mean, he drinks on the job (1), during surgeries (2), regularly insults his patients (don’t need a source for this one, but if you insist look through the emily wokerson story) and is completely willing to break his hippocratic oath for like no reason (3). this dude doesn’t care about his job status in the slightest. it seems like no matter what, he knows he’s gonna be ok. and he is, being the only doctor in the cgcu (4). like there’s no way he’s going to lose this job.

but if he doesn’t like the job, why keep it at all? there are plenty of cgcu characters without jobs (ik emily doesn’t have one, too lazy to search for it) and they do just fine. so what’s the deal with being a doctor, if he could live just fine as a normal dude?

well, let’s go through it.

number 1: free access to drugs whenever. this is pretty sick, if not for the fact that robin banks exists. he’s a drug dealer (do i really need a source?). max could just get it off of him. only thing is this’d cost money. in canon, max and robin work together peddling drugs (5). in this hypothetical world where he isn’t a doctor, max could possibly still work with robin, but it’s unlikely. but the thing is, to me drugs could be a reason he stayed a doctor, not a reason he became one. if that really was why, he might go be a pharmacist or those people that make the drugs or something, not a doctor.

number 2: money. while being a doctor does make plenty of money, there are other higher paying jobs (al iby/marty woodshaft—i’m saying lawyer) out there that aren’t nearly as grueling. personally i get woozy at the slightest amount of gore, and i can’t imagine that what he’s seen is normal since he’s some weird weird jack-of-all-trades-definitely-not-master-of-any doctor. i mean he has limits at unhygienic hands (10). the fact that he can’t handle dirty hands just shows that he probably wasn’t all that cut out to be a doctor. honestly, money is definitely a factor in becoming a doctor for him, but it doesn’t exactly seem like he was looking for high paying positions and “doctor” was the first thing to show up. i believe money had something to do with him being a doctor, but it isn’t the primary reason, even if he says otherwise.

so. those are the main reasons. my brain hurty no more thinky. so his reasons to be a doctor all aren’t super solid. honestly if he really wanted free drugs i don’t think he’d become a doctor for it. like, do you know how much work that is?

ah, well he wouldn’t. this dude didn’t become a doctor through hard work, he just slept with the right people (9). that explains his lack of qualifications. like he has to look up stuff that he should know (7) and doesn’t use proper equipment for medical procedures (6), it’s a wonder how he’s only gotten into trouble with the law a few times (from my memory it’s like once but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was higher).

but that’s how, not why.

so, to recap: max doesn’t care about his patients or his job and only got here through being an absolute manwhore. good for him. i’ve tried to think of answers to why he became a doctor, but the question still remains: why is max harm a doctor?

well, it’s time for me to do what i do second best: bullshit together a backstory and hope i can explain it well enough so that you accept it into your canon.

so. why do most doctors become doctors besides helping people since we’ve established max doesn’t care? parental pressure! yeah we’re going there!

i firmly believe that max harm had parents (🤯) with high expectations for him. he was kinda wealthy i guess—maybe like middle class? i’m bad at class systems. he was not poor, but also not rich. parents stingy and occasionally speak of money issues, but they weren’t like dirt poor. either way, he could a bit comfortably, by our standards at least. they wanted him to be successful more than anything. they only wanted to see their baby boy be happy, but the way they enforced it wasn’t awesome. just the classic strict parents who don’t understand that friendship is magic and that grades aren’t everything. they pushed him to be a doctor pretty hard. like, really hard. they were super hard on him about grades n school, trying to force him into a million different things all at once. insert pressure and intense fear of disappointment here. they instilled the idea that max had to get good grades, or else they’ll be like super mega disappointed, and max was desperate for their validation.

switching gears kinda not really: in my eyes, max was a bit of a jock. just take this as me using tropes for characters that i think fit them. so dumb sport boy max harm it is.

so max did sports, and he was pretty good at it! it was one of the few things he liked doing. it was a nice respite from school and stuff. but he was failing pretty hard in sciences and stuff. you know, just stuff that’s important to being a doctor. the career choice his parents were pushing him to be. it stressed him out a completely normal amount: failing. he practically studied his ass off trying to pass, but he couldn’t. and his parents were getting pissy and if his grades dropped any more he couldn’t play anymore and it was all stressing him the fuck out so he was going to march his way down to that teacher, get on his knees, and beg for a higher grade. and get on his knees he did.

(this is the part i gave a trigger warning for)

so his teacher said that they would pass max in exchange for sex. max is fairly attractive (he sleeps around a lot as an adult + he’s played by cam, who like 90% of the fanbase lusts for) and the teacher saw this as a great opportunity to get laid, rules be damned. and…cmon. how could he ever face his parents again with a failing grade? there’s no fucking way he could do that. and what about the sports team, his friends, the one thing is this goddamned school he likes? he had to do it. there was no other choice. he was backed into a corner.

but “oh, couldn’t he just leave? report that teacher to the authorities?” i hear you ask. to that i say…the hell do you think would happen? when male students and teachers have such relations, they’re usually applauded instead of taken seriously. max would be “lucky”, not someone who was taken advantage of. i mean, this exact situation is an incredibly popular porn genre. he wouldn’t be taken seriously. and didn’t i mention the intense fear of disappointment? poor boy was too scared to go home without that 65% or more. he didn’t feel like he had a choice. he was backed into a corner. he was backed into a corner.

after that was all done with, max just felt…empty? there was this growing void in him, and he was scared of it. he had to fill it somehow. so, more sex it is! i feel like hypersexuality describes it, but i don’t want to misuse that term unintentionally. you get what im getting at though, right? he hooked up with more and more people, as both a coping mechanism to deal with the void, and in some way…regulate what happened to him. sex is normal, this happens to everyone. it’s fine. it’s also a distractor. when left alone max starts thinking, and when he starts thinking his mind goes to dark places. digs up things that should never resurface. things that he never wanted to resurface. this keeps his mind off of it. never really works though, does it?

so…with that out of the way…let’s get to how max got his job!

medical school, it’s medical school. i fully believe he did go (because i don’t think sleeping with a hospital ceo would get you a medical license), and max used the same tactic he used for that one teacher all those years ago. he slept around like crazy, absolute who—i probably shouldn’t call him that anymore. either way, he’s a doctor now. a shitty excuse for a doctor that never did any real work with a black hole where his heart should be. poor thing.

he still does it as a doctor btw, sleeping with patients (8). in some twisted way, he has the upper hand now. he has all the power, all the control. the control he was denied so many years ago. now he has the upper hand. now he has power.

so…what did i just say? max got coerced into having sex with his teacher in hs, causing intense feelings of emptiness. he began having more sex because he thought it would help with it (it didn’t), and it continued on through med school and all throughout his career. oh, speaking of his career! what do his parents think of him now?

well, they don’t know shit. they don’t know anything. they don’t know. they know max has been acting a bit weird, but they ignore it since he’s been improving in school so much! they don’t know.

and after he became a doctor? oh, they were so proud. but honestly? they just take money from him every now and then. sometimes, it seems like they just think of max as a wallet. so he thinks of others as a wallet. it’s all very human.

don’t get me wrong, i think max still talks to his parents. he can’t hate them. he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. it’s horrible, i guess. he still talks to them, still has an ok relationship with them, only because it’s expected of him. he’d drop them in a nursing home if he could.

so…tldr? i should stop calling max a whore. also max only became a doctor bc his parents forced him, a teacher forced max to sleep with him which led to a whole slew of problems, and now he’s a doctor? i don’t even know what to say. how will this affect the economy??

also, as a final note i’m sorry if this was inaccurate. i tried to do research and stuff, but i haven’t really experienced something exactly like this before so i can’t make this 100% accurate. im sorry for any and all inaccuracies.

1. https://youtu.be/TINR2rOep1A?si=erv0mYRJXs07OWFd

2. https://youtube.com/shorts/vpNyGvJZ2f4?si=BuoFfgfo4aGG3eKg

3. https://youtube.com/shorts/g4iz3LfJ1jo?si=Wci-R4G15nmZ6asH

4. https://youtube.com/shorts/We-3L1NAtlQ?si=mMIzLs1WYaFhcR8r

5. https://youtu.be/QjB321d1ScA?si=0OOLsev0NjtCJiji

6. https://youtu.be/f5ZAcKClhKk?si=n6FCBa5Q6ua7GjLb

7. https://youtube.com/shorts/Zu-3UA5oJpI?si=7rHj8DL11L1wpifA

8. https://youtube.com/shorts/05vcp2i7tZA?si=Rj1ua_Jzdr1wFZ2u

9. https://youtube.com/shorts/obIhonJcQzo?si=Vkn-0Xx7zq_k3GKH

10. https://youtube.com/shorts/8D04Vk1kYJA?si=DG-Q8rhdCHDpD3ZF

#cameron geller cinematic universe #cgcu #cameron geller #max harm #max harm cgcu #he is so interesting…why do i torture him like this #tbh if i kept analyzing him id just ramble about his kinks again #this makes all relationships (platonic or not) much more interesting to me #the vulnerability?? him trusting someone enough to tell them?? him trusting someone at all??#again sorry this is inaccurate just wanted to convey an idea #sorry again

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 8 months ago

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Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes.

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

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