#and thought a lot about death and life and the meaning and meaninglessness of it

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

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a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats. 

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.” 

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss. 

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of. 

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?” 

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.  

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out. 

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

*

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting. 

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack. 

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream). 

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?” 

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.” 

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you. 

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation. 

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all. 

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut.  “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame. 

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in. 

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re  tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together. 

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?” 

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended. 

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old. 

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air. 

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you. 

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums. 

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[aoxizu]

i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

[flamevbirdv]

video essayists for these trying times!

I watch a lot of youtube so I thought I could round up some recs!

verilybitchie my favorite of the list. bi, trans lense on queer media. expert on calling out lazy representation. famously known for their video "good lgbt representation is boring" but my favorite is a bisexual history of dracula

The Morbid Zoo incredibly smart and sharp commentary on movies and social media. horror fan, clown fan, twilight apologist. my favorite video of hers is the pale man:physical fascism

Maggie Mae Fish powerhouse of the media analysis sphere. I learn so much every time I watch any of her videos. very clear spoken and funny. if you haven't checked her out yet this is your sign. some of her greates hits are "LGBT in fantasy" "superman won't save the cat" "fight club, an analysis" but loki, stalker & the war on terror blew my mind

Princess Weekes bi black icon. the place to go for videos on pop culture, race, feminism, etc. her video how true crime reveals the corruption of the legal system changed my life, no hyperbole. also check out her video on "purity culture & fandom"

Rowan Ellis queer media and history. recently tackles cultural issues like "the infantilization of millenial women" and "corporate queerbaiting" the problem with activist characters is a personal favorite of mine

Ladyknightthebrave a channel with less videos than most of the folks above but you need to watch her video on holocaust cinema

Quality Culture channel shared by two people who love movies (and music!) and research the shit out of their videos. some I really enjoyed are "death note: finding meaning in a meaningless world" "the iron giant: a study in heartfeel film making" and the conflicting ideals of hayao miyazaki

The Princess and the Scrivener it's been a while since they uploaded a video but if you are a fan of disney, these are your gals. however I have to reccomend their videos on dissability and ableism "the wonder of misscasting" and the shape of ableism a joke on the shape of water, yes this video is that old

BONUS!

Elliot Sang he talks about the real world with probably the most nuanced view I've seen from a youtuber ever. another list of greatest hits: "ADHD: a nightmare under capitalism" " is tik tok ruining music?" and "the problem with video essays" LMAO

[curtwilde]

Henry vs Julian

I have been thinking about this a lot. While Henry clearly admires and models his scholar self on Julian, their essential difference is in how they perceive the Ancient Greeks.

Julian's interest in the Ancient Greeks is true interest, he admires their high and exalted values. For him, the Greeks were the highest point of human civilization, and the closer he comes to his own time the more his disdain increases - the Roman Catholic Church he holds in contempt but it's still a 'worthy enemy' not as bad as the Presbyterian Church. It isn't mentioned but he must hold modernism and it's philosophy with disdain - modernist moral vacousness being a direct contradiction of the idealist values loyalty, honor, chastity etc. that were so exalted by the Greeks. Which is why he is always cherry picks, sees only what he wants to see, and invents what he can't - both for himself (his ambiguous involvement with the Isrami government) or for his students (encouraging Richard to lie about his life in California). Since he can't time travel back to Greece himself, he must try to live that life as much as he can and believe himself a character in a Greek play. But it comes, not from a place of wanting to escape his current reality, but true admiration of the ancient Greek way of seeing and doing things.

Henry is a true modernist. The monologue about feeling dead is central to his understanding his character:

Maybe it stems from his near death experience but he sees the world as inherently meaningless, God is dead and heaven and hell have been revealed to be man-made constructs, there is no punishment for evil and since there is no moral line. I think he subconsciously realised all of this before coming to Hampden, but to truly accept it would have been soul-crushing. So he tries to escape it by immersing himself in the Greeks, I imagine the absolutist values, vague representational ideas pertaining to each god might have interested him but really, it could have been anything else, the Medieval Age or the Victorians, anything. He just needed something to be obsessed with, to give meaning to his existence which he subconsciously knew to be meaningless. So is his adoration of Julian, he admired and wanted Julian's ability to almost half-live in another time when, in his view, things mattered more (we have divinity in our midst). It also explains the Bacchanal which is otherwise so out of character for him. The appeal was to escape the soul crushing knowledge of meaninglessness - even if for a while. To worship and call on Dinosiyus with the blind belief of the Ancient Greeks, a kind of belief that simply cannot exist anymore in the postmodern, post-Neitzche world. His harebrained plans also came from the same impulse, including the poison plan, and the one way ticket to Argentina.

I suspect that what subconsciously drove him to murder bunny, aside from the obvious fear of getting caught - is the same thing that drove Mersault to murder the Arab - it's the old existentialist question, if good and bad are relative and there is no punishment for evil, how far can one go? Bunny's murder was Henry's existentialist experiment with himself. And, I think in a way it confirmed for him what he already knew, they escaped unscathed and he didn't feel any of the fear or remorse he expected to feel. While it did give him the momentary sense of power, the feeling that he could now do whatever he wanted if he can be clever enough to not get caught, since he won't be punished for it otherwise. While it gave him enough courage to go get the girl he always wanted - it did confirm for him the inherent meaninglessness of the world. Also, conversely, Camilla could have been another experiment - something must matter, was it love? Camilla was the only girl he knew and he was fond of her - he may not even have thought of her romantically before considering he never cared to act on it in all the time he had known her. But either way, Julian's abandonment broke him.

Coming back to Julian, Julian's abandonment omakes perfect sense to me - he was disgusted by the modernist moral vacousness in his students. He himself was a moral man, but his morals operated on his own standards. He based it on the Greek sense of Honour, not the more modern sense of Justice. His basic instinct was the preservation of his own purity - he couldn't possibly keep on as their teacher. But also, to turn them in would be against his sense of honour - he must have very little respect for the police and law enforcement as institutions being the kind of person he is. Not to mention it would mean his having to be in frequent contact with the police and court. From his point of view atleast, leaving is the only thing he could have done, really.

For Henry however, he sees that his obsession with the Greeks as well as his admiration for Julian as the sham that it really was, is disillusioned with the world, shattered. Except for his fondness for Camilla he didn't really have anyone he loved, he saw his friends as pawns, wasn't close to his family, didn't have any goals in life with everything in his reach with his father's money - the only person he had really loved was Julian, and there he was betrayed. His obsession with the ancient Greeks was also thus tainted with Julian's betrayal - since it wasn't true interest at all, only a disguised attempt at escapism - it wavered and fell apart, and he didn't have a reason to live anymore.

.

Side note : Richard falls between the two. Like Julian, he had a real interest in the ancient Greeks, but he didn't put them on a pedestal like Julian did. He realised that like his own time, and like all other times in history the Greek civilization too had its own good and bad aspects, and he wanted to learn about it for its own sake. But he doesn't make it his life, or use it to escape his own reality - outside of his classes he was very much rooted in his own time.

[theoretically-questionable]

Lots of things about Allison's character arc are Very Themes, but this in particular is. Very emblematic of how she's shaping out to be. Moderate thematic spoilers for Books 4 and 5 of KSBD below!

At this point, it's pretty explicitly textual that all seven Demiurges are afraid - and this fear has shaped their character and actions more than any other of their qualities.

Each have a particular, personal way their fear emerges:

Mammon's seclusion

Mottom feeding the tree

Incubus clawing for power

Jadis's inaction

Solomon David's absolute dominion

Gog-Agog's ironic, whimsical nihilism

Jagganoth's stoic, utilitarian obedience

These are all products of fear - specifically, fear of obliteration and impotence. Of death, in all its kinds.

Each of them is obsessed with seeking royalty through their own perspective, and terrified that they're going to fail. Terrified that there might be a power greater than theirs that could render them helpless.

In addition to preventing any kind of meaningful trust or collaboration, this fear is itself the thing that renders each of them helpless.

By now, in Book 5, Allison has been directly faced with all of these. She has seen that Mammon's safe retreat did not save him. That Mottom's ruthless sacrifice of others did not save her. That Incubus's machinations did not gain him anything. That Solomon's refusal to cede an ounce of his strength made him weak. And now, despite their overwhelming power and all-spanning perspectives over past cycles, she is coming to see that neither Gog nor Jag have any mastery of royalty.

Importantly, she saw that Maya, that once-demiurge-turned-drunkard, learned this too.

On her path to the Key, Maya grew to fear the hold that others had over her. Yet, borne on a palanquin by obedient servants, her power over others unquestionable, her master laid her bare with a single question: What next? What was the point of it all? To strive for power out of fear?

And so Maya fled, and lived to see at least half of a true life, full of trust and love. Now, after losing even that, Maya sees no path for herself - torn between knowing that power begets destruction, but a lack of it begets vulnerability. Unable to solve this, knowing her master Meti was never able to solve this, she insists Allison must face it too:

Her master, Meti, is also the one who so correctly said to the death-pondering monk:

“A dog has more sense than you. He doesn’t think of death at all. Not when he sleeps, not when he bathes, and certainly not when he shits. You and he will both die."

Maya, thus, also probes Allison about her thoughts on death (twice, actually, going back to their first in-passing encounter) And now, finally, Allison... shrugs.

Allison has been told to strive for her 'full potential' power for many different reasons - and been afraid to do so for just as many reasons. Afraid of her power, of her self, of her past, of her future, of the judgement of others, and of the possibility of failure.

And now, having passed through the gauntlet of fear, in these last few pages (Book 5, 3-76 to 3-78) Allison explicitly rejects not just the comforting defence of irony but the very fear of meaninglessness in the fact of unfathomable vastness of any kind - multiple universes, meaningless suffering, powerful gods, time loops, even death itself.

There is no fear. There is nothing that justifies her claim to power. There is no grand meaning or purpose. There is no undoing the horrors that have come to pass.

But she has a (maybe) sword, and someone who has been killing rats and dreaming of grand purpose is about to kill again.

What else is there to do but, in foolish defiance, ready her blade and strike them dead without thought?

"She who strikes without thinking can cut God."

[captmickey]

Yall remember this? I've been encouraged and you have been warned. Silly ramble thoughts under the readmore for both length and like... courtesy of spoilers.

Also it's gonna probably be all over the place too so um... yeah.

Basically, after rewatching the footage of the game, something I kinda came to notice was that Trevor (rightfully) lingers a lot on all the things he learns within like... the 48 hour running marathon he does. Like, he knows when it's a good time to ask Angela questions (even though she does tell him like.... twice to save his breath and book it) and he is (again, rightfully) in constant panic mode.

He also repeats phrases he hears (e.g. he says twice how his grandpa could jump a gap after Angela says it once, 'the good ol' 70s', etc.)

All that to say that I did notice he does Not Let Go of two things and he repeats it a lot: Arcadia's Intricate Lies and, most importantly, Vivian's remark of him about how he is someone that "No One Gives Two Shits About".

Especially the latter.

Because like Trevor, I also can't stop thinking how those words got him to his core.

Trevor remarks about the phrase constantly. Like, of all the truths he has learned about his "life" and who he is (and he does absolutely acknowledge it), it's THAT statement that has him the most bothered. So much so that during his Realignment he repeats the two shits comment the most, kinda (completely) implying that that's the thing on his mind both externally and subconsciously.

He was told to run for his life because his life, according to Arcadia, was meaningless and 'no one would care or notice if he was gone'.

Of course, he learns it's not the death penalty, but he starts running again for a different reason: He wants a Real Life. One where he isn't met with more punishment for not being Viewer Material.

And it makes an awful lot of sense why Trevor wants a real life, not one Arcadia made for him. Because Vivian's remark (and the fact Walton Media was more than willing to practically traumatize him for views) shows that the entirety of Arcadia Does Not Care about him, after all Vivian said so herself: No one gives two shits about his life.

But one person did. Angela.

And it just really really reaaaaaaaally highlights that genuine friendship he has with Angela: she's the ONE person who gives two shits about him. And that means, for Trevor, the world.

Vivian doesn't outright deny that Trevor is property when Terry calls him as such, she just remarks how he needs to be not so rough handled. Angela constantly reassured Trevor when the Jingle was hurting him and without hesitation took control of the car.

Vivian planned Trevor's Terrible Day for all of America to see. Angela let him have his privacy to do something he enjoys for himself which is play the piano.

Because Vivian said she does not give two shits. And Angela says "you're a good person and I like you."

(And basically I've been thinking nonstop how "giving two shits" about Trevor gets to him post-Arcadia, but that's a rant for another day.)

[writingmia]

In defense of Jason Grace

I have seen many people through the years say they hate Jason, that Jason is their least favourite character in the series, etc. and all of their reasoning is because he's 'boring'. I admit, when I first read those books, I was feeling the same way. I wasn't the biggest Jason fan and I didn't think I would be. I even judged my friends for liking him, when there were other 'obvious' choices for favourite characters. Now, years later, I'm no longer 12 reading those books for the first time and I see Jason in a completely different perspective I would like to share.

Jason Grace was a child without childhood. He was taken from his family at two years old and taken to the Wold House, where he couldn't show weakness because then he would be seen as food - you cannot show weakness when you're being trained by Lupa. Which immediately strikes us with a, frankly horrifying, thought - Jason's first memories won't be of his mother, who wasn't the greatest parent anyway, or his sister Thalia, who loved him so much. It would be of what he was taught in a life-or-death situation, that you cannot show weakness. That's important to remember for later.

Jason also has had to carry an incredibly heavy burden since he first joined Camp Jupiter - he's the son of Jupiter, the King of the Gods. We have experienced first-hand what it felt like for Percy to have to go through being a child of the Big Three, but please keep in mind that when that happened, Percy was already 12 and he was a child of Poseidon. I'm not trying to say one of them had it harder than the other, because context is very important, but simply putting things into a perspective - Jason, a child who can't remember his family is put on a pedestal because of who his father is, with expectations being placed upon him immediately, as a, presumably, young child who has just been taught that life is either be strong or die.

And then, despite all of that, he decides that he will join the Fifth Cohort because he wants to write his own destiny, and because he wants to restore their honour. He's not only going against what others would expect from him, including his father, but he's also claiming a goal others perceive as impossible just to prove a point. Not a very boring thing to do, is it?

To continue adding to the list of things that Jason has done to prove that he isn't the prince-like, spoiled boring white guy some people in the fandom see him as, I want to talk more about the things Jason cannonically does at Camp Jupiter. He becomes friends with the 'least popular kids' because everyone else expects they would have to treat him like royalty, he goes on small quests that don't mean much because he doesn't want to be that hero and savior that's expected of him. He follows rules as to not appear spoiled, and even with his rule-following he appears to be 'unconventional' by Roman standards. He's the son of Jupiter, who's doing everything in his power to not conform.

And despite all that, he still manages to use his status to do what he thinks is right. Despite his efforts, he still ends up being the undoubted leader while everyone else is a follower. He listens to all sides, he tries to mediate to the best of his abilities. In his attempts to make everyone else an equal, he puts himself above them and makes them look at him for mediation and decision-making. For the twelve years he spends at Camp, he has eyes constantly on him, judging him, expecting things from him.

Now remember when I said that Jason tried to go to meaningless quests? Yeah, you can guess that didn't really work for him. Canonically, he has gone to many quests, including some that had been appointed to him by gods, such as Bacchus, so he was fairly unsuccessful there as well. And remember when I said that he was raised by a wolf to not show any weakness? I feel like at this point it should be pretty clear he internalized that, a lot.

I get why the debate 'who's stronger, Jason or Percy' happens in the fandom, but it doesn't mean it annoys me any less. Because most of the time, the only arguments are pointing out Percy's strengths and we're forgetting that Jason does some pretty incredible things as well. Jason, like Percy, also fought a Titan single-handedly, and won. What we know from canon about it, it's that he did it with sword-fighting and, interestingly, hand-to-hand combat, which is what the books mainly focus on when talking about his feat. Jason went up against a Titan and smacked him with his bare hands enough times that he won. And in the entire fight, Jason using his powers is not mentioned once. Which is a pretty constant thing, if I might add, but I'll delve into that more later.

Again, a common mischaracterization I see in the fandom is that Jason is this strictly rule-following, rigid, stick-in-his-ass guy, when he really isn't. One of the main things about him is that he's too relaxed for Camp Jupiter. After the war, when he tried to change things about Camp, he was unsuccessful because Camp Jupiter is too traditional and Jason's ideas weren't conforming to that.

And of course, it was Jason who welcomed the two kids of Pluto (Hades for Nico but you get my point) to Camp. I feel like it should be pretty clear to you why at this point, but let me repeat - Jason knows the pressures of being a child of The Big Three, and Jason isn't afraid to be friends with the 'not cool' kids, with the people who are looked at as weird or that are treated as outcasts. He does some of it out of spite, yes, but he was what, fourteen? Thirteen? At the time. That level of emotional maturity for a barely teenager is surprising as is.

Also, can we note that Hazel describes Jason as closed-off, hard to read and 'more of a legend than a man'. This thirteen/fourteen year old? This should be enough to tell you how Jason was treated and raised and why he is the way he is. 'Boring', because this child needs to be an example for an entire camp that has placed him in that position he didn't want in the first place but felt guilty and responsible to take. When Percy was thirteen-fourteen, he was being an ass to Tyson (which he later regrets, yes) and fights with Thalia (which they stop doing, yes) and Camp Half-Blood still sees him as more of an annoyance than a hero at that point. That doesn't change for Percy until The Battle of the Labyrinth. Jason never had that. He was spotlight leader from the second he was at camp.

He also didn't have an Annabeth and Grover, at least that we're explicidly told about, and his closest person was Reyna, who also had a crush on him, so who was Jason's platonic best friend in Camp that he could rely on for anything? We don't know. Maybe because he didn't have one? I'm just putting that idea out there.

Now, I will try to be more brief on Jason in the series, but with the speed with which we're going, that is kind of unlikely. First and foremost, Jason is an amnesiac who never gets his memories fully back. I want to focus so much of your attention on this. Jason wakes up and he doesn't remember, excuse my swearing, jack shit. He doesn't know who he is, what's his favourite colour, what music he likes, nothing. Nada. He is then told, again, he's the son of Zeus, he is sent on a quest with people who don't actually know him but have expectations for him, while he still doesn't remember anything. He is also fifteen. He is a child that people are judging for being 'too boring' of a character. Well excuse him for not having any memories so he can have a proper personality!

Excuse me, I'm getting a bit heated here. I feel I'm making valid points though. Because Jason's story keeps repeating - he goes to Camp, people start looking at him like he might become the new Percy or some variation of that, he has these friends with false memories of him, he is also trying to save the world in the meantime. I'm very sorry he doesn't have time to figure out his personality in the meantime.

This is what I think is the most tragic about Jason's character - he doesn't have the time to figure out who he is truly is because he's too busy helping everyone else, even if what he's helping with is stopping the end of the world. He is a hero of the Great Prophecy, which again links with his destiny and how there's no escaping it and he, again, doesn't have any choice in what happens. He was unconventional for Camp Jupiter because of his disregard for tradition, but he's not fully accepted in Camp Half-Blood either because he's still a Roman demigod.

And then the Burning Maze happens and we don't talk about it because Uncle Rick hates us. I refuse to read that book because if I don't, then Jason is happy and alive.

We should note, though, that Jason and Piper have broken up. And I believe the only reason they ever dated was because Piper had that expectation of Jason, and we've already established how he was raised. He is a people-pleaser because that's what he's had to be for his entire life. He can't disappoint people, because then he would feel guilty, and so I believe he gaslit himself into thinking he liked Piper romantically because otherwise he would have to hurt her. And I do believe Leo and Piper are the first real friends Jason has made, at least those who see him as truly human, and so he didn't want to lose Piper. So, he made her and himself believe he liked her and started dating her. I think he would've done the same with Reyna if he'd remained in Camp Jupiter, for the same reasons - expectations. He also has raging abandonment issues, so. Double fuck there.

In summary, because of his personality and parentage, Jason has never had the choice to put himself first. He hates the framework in which he's put by being the son of Jupiter, but he swallows that for the sake of others.

Well that was quite the rant. I have more to say, but this is already too long. After this post, I have become a Jason Grace stan. If, one day, he has no fans, it's because I have died. Jason Grace is my son and he's very much alive, thank you (not you, Rick Riordan. I don't thank you). Anyway, please like this post? I would super appreciate it. I would also love a discussion! - mia

[firestorm09890]

just some rambling about lcb’s canto v part 3 things vs the source book

It felt like they combined the personalities of Starbuck and Stubb, and then they replaced Stubb’s personality entirely with Flask’s (the third mate), who was always the one described as irritable while Stubb was the jovial one.

Book Stubb was also pretty uncool, despite being so casual. Pip had to be the replacement oarsman in both cases, but the reason Pip’s sanity snapped in the book was because he jumped overboard out of fear once, Stubb told him they’d just leave him behind if he did it again, and then when it happened again, Stubb did leave Pip behind, and those few hours out at sea before the Pequod rescued him were what broke him; here, Stubb saved Pip from a fate worse than death, and then what happened to Stubb after is what broke Pip.

Speaking of Pip, weird choice to make them want to be a landlord. That’sss all I’ll say about that

Also, RIP Tashtego. Constantly got the short end of the harpoon in Moby Dick (basically first to slay a whale on the voyage but Stubb got all the credit, fell into a whale and almost died, saw the White Whale at the same time as Ahab and should’ve been awarded the gold doubloon for it but Ahab insisted he was first) and the trend continues here by giving his incredibly homoerotic moment of being saved from drowning in the whale by Queequeg to Ishmael instead, with him just not showing up at all… actually maybe Tashtego won in this case lol

The flashback with Ishmael going into Ahab’s cabin made me think that they would give her the dilemma of “should I kill her right now in her sleep”, similar to what Starbuck had in the book, but nope.

There’s a huge difference in the way Starbuck butted heads with Ahab in the book vs in Limbus. Book Starbuck definitely had a lot less faith that the captain was steering them right- forget “after we kill the Pallid Whale it’ll all be okay” that Limbus Starbuck thought, no, book Starbuck repeatedly told Ahab to please, turn around, please stop trying to go kill the White Whale, your revenge quest is meaningless because it’s basically just a force of nature and you can’t get revenge on nature, we can just go home, we've had bad omen after bad omen, don’t you see you’re leading us to doom- and he did this from the very beginning all the way til the very end, when they literally saw the beast. However, despite his pleas and disagreements, he did still follow the authority of the captain (can’t have a mutiny when it’s just you who disagrees; can’t shoot a man while he’s sleeping when you have too much of a conscience and a fear of going to hell to justify becoming a murderer) and inevitably helped Ahab get what he wanted. That’s something both Starbucks share.

Overall… it’s probably because they had a different story to tell. They had to make Ahab worse™️ than in the book so everyone surrounding her had to be changed to facilitate the fact that she had such a hold over all of them

The thing with Ahab promising gold coins to the crew (with it being clear to the audience that they’d never get them) was the progression of the book’s singular gold doubloon, which was promised to whomever saw the White Whale first. In the book, it was merely a symbol, with a bunch of different characters attempting to analyze its symbolic meaning in-universe (mostly in an astrological sense) and not really wanting it for monetary reasons (Flask even says that it’s just worth $16 and could buy 960 cigars. of course, that was in 1851, and inflation is one hell of a problem…) Here, that promised money is worth a lot more, both monetarily and as something to keep the crew going.

And then! The cult-like aspects. Kromer had her inquisitors with artificial brainwashing and it’s very stereotypically cult-like, but Ahab’s crew was a lot more accurate to how real-modern-day cults work. The recruitment of Ishmael made that clear. Here, she was at a low point in life, with no idea where she should go, and then boom, Ahab steering her. In Moby Dick Ishmael already wanted to go on a boat, as did every other sailor there. None of them even knew who their captain was until after they’d been out at sea for weeks because Ahab is weird like that. He got all his sailors into a disturbingly powerful fervor one night about the White Whale but for the most part they seemed to be mostly in it for the whales they encountered along the way. Book Ahab even recognized that in order to keep his crew from mutinying, they had to pick up some other whales- and unlike the gold coins keeping the crew motivated in Pequod Town in Limbus, this was an actual, tangible thing. More of a compromise to keep the crew happy than a lie.

Limbus Ahab’s boat was completely Ahab, with desires completely Ahab, completely enrapturing her crew. Book Ahab’s boat was The Pequod, a whaling ship that just so happened to have a monomaniac at the helm. Limbus’s Pequod crew had faith in Ahab until they died by her hands; book Pequod crew eventually recognized how completely fucked up Ahab was and how screwed they were, but to quote the book itself, “their fear of Ahab was greater than their fear of Fate.”

that’s about all the braincells I have for this

[angelasscribbles]

Solace

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret

Pairings: Adi x MC

Word Count: 1,647

Rating: NSFW

Warnings for this chapter: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋

A/N: So I rewrote the one and only sex scene RC gave us for these two because I thought there was a lot of untapped emotion there.

My other stuff: Master List.

Image Credit: Romance Club official Instagram.

Adi had stopped talking. I didn’t want to press him, but I wasn’t leaving him alone, so I studied the unused ballroom I had followed him to.

The window we stood in front of was magnificent, blue, green, and purple stained glass stretching from floor to ceiling and sparkling in the early afternoon sun. Ivy grew through the cracks of the crumbling brick surrounding the window, giving the entire room an abandoned feel.

Tables and chairs were stacked along the far wall, but the vast majority of the room was empty and even our hushed voices seemed to reverberate in the silence.

“How do you deal with grief on earth?” His voice was laced with so much pain it rendered me speechless for a moment. My body and heart were frozen by the anguish in his tone.

When I didn’t answer, he elaborated. “People die so often there….”

Like my mother.

Like me.

The image of my father’s grief-stricken face swam before my eyes.

What did I know about healing? I was still raw and ragged from the loss of my own mortal life. And despite the fact that she had died when I was very young, I was not over my mother’s death. Although, with time, I had learned to live with it.

I gave him the best answer I had. “There’s nothing to do but give it time.”

“Time to do what? To go crazy?” He covered his face with one hand and turned away, hiding the tears that slipped unbidden from his eyes, streaking his cheeks, giving proof of his sorrow and heartbreak.

I had no words of comfort to offer. I knew from experience that no matter how well-meaning, words were meaningless, offering little solace against the wretched misery of loss.

“Adi…” I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I pressed my body tightly against his trying to convey with physical touch all the love and grief in my heart. For Sammy, but also for him.

For my sweet, sarcastic, adventure-loving Adi. My heart broke for him. The one left behind. The one forced to pick up the pieces and go on living somehow. There is nothing that prepares you for a loss of that magnitude. No road map that tells you where to go, no playbook that tells you what to do, no guide that tells you what you’re going to feel or how to overcome it.

He was drowning in hopelessness, and I was desperate to pull him back. To pull myself back.

Because once I opened the door that grief lived behind, it all came pouring out. I may have started crying because of Sammy, but as the sobs tore through my body, I was suddenly grieving every loss I’d ever had, every bit of pain I had been shoving down deep inside came crashing through the wall I tried so desperately to keep in place. Growing up without my mother, being ripped away from my father in the prime of my life, losing the purest soul I’d met here, watching Adi sink into desolation and plunge toward despair.

He spun abruptly in my arms, so we were facing each other. He buried his head in the side of my neck as sobs wracked his body. He was crying. I was crying. We clung to each other as if our lives depended on it.

Pain, anguish, and inconsolable grief raged through us both. And yet we did console each other. Our bodies pressed together gave some slight comfort. The warmth of his body, the firmness of his embrace, the life struggling within him, called to the life struggling within me.

He was so close. His body pressed into mine, his breath on my neck, his fingers digging into my back, all gave rise to a different, but just as primal, emotion.

One moment we were crying in each other’s arms, and then suddenly we were kissing. His lips crashed against mine. Our tears mingled together. All the pain and anguish transmuted into something hotter as passion flared into existence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” With several deep shuddering breaths, he pulled away and wiped at the wetness coating his cheeks.

I stood rooted to the spot. “Adi?”

He lifted his eyes to mine; bare inches separated us. I could feel his energy pulsing between us. The mood in the room had shifted.

He lunged forward, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me back to him. His mouth was on me again, fervent kisses trailing down my jawline and dancing across my neck. His hands pulled frantically at my clothes.

I responded in kind, letting the fire of ardor temporarily burn away the endless aching agony of grief.

My clothes lay in a heap on the floor. I was naked before him. He pulled back long enough to gasp out, “Are you sure?”

I nodded my consent, my head too clouded with an overwhelming assault of conflicting emotions to speak.

He spun me around so my back was to him and spread my arms above my head, forcing me to rest them against the stained glass.

And I let him. I let him because I understood this wasn’t about love or even sex. It was about finding a way back from all that pain, finding a way to beat back the grief through the most basic affirmation of life.

He entered me roughly. I rested my cheek against the sun-heated glass and let my mind go blank to everything but the prurient primordial sensations that were cascading through my body.

His hand covered mine, fingers twining as he slammed into me again and again.

His body moved against mine, his energy wrapped around me, and deep, guttural sounds issued from the back of his throat, all conspiring to push me ever closer to the edge of the precipice.

I struggled to keep quiet as my naked body pressed against the smooth glass of the window, its warmth in sharp contrast to the cold bite of the ambient air surrounding us.

I failed. A high-pitched whine spiraled out of me as he pounded ruthlessly into me.

“Quiet.” his hot breath in my ear only sent me hurtling faster toward the edge.

Ignoring his directive, I threw my head back and lost myself completely in the fire that was throbbing through my body and the heat that was coiling tightly in my center.

As my whine built in both volume and pitch, his hand covered my mouth and I bit down on it, stifling my screams. I crashed over the edge and fell into the abyss, my mind blissfully unaware of everything but the pleasure pulsing through me.

He slammed into me once more, pinning my body tightly between his own and the stained glass as he exploded inside me. His sweat covered me as we slid slowly toward the ground, still pressed together.

He pulled out and sat next to me, his back thumping into the window as he gasped for air. We sat side by side, not talking but sneaking sidelong glances at each other as our breathing gradually returned to normal.

I caught his eye and gave him a small smile. He smiled back, then frowned and shook his head. “I….I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry?” I studied him, watching the guilt play across his face.

He didn’t meet my eyes as he stammered out, “I…it won’t happen again.”

Was the guilt because he felt he had betrayed Sammy or because he thought he had been too rough with me? Perhaps both.

I reached for his hand, entwining our fingers again. “It’s okay, Adi. It was the grief talking. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.”

It had been rough, a brutal expression of his overwhelming loss. He had needed an outlet, and I had been happy to provide it. I had borne the brunt of his pain and rage, and I would bear it again if that’s what he needed.

He finally met my eyes, rewarding me with a grateful smile, and gave my hand a squeeze. “We should…ah…we should get dressed.”

“Yep.” I agreed.

He stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. We sorted our clothes and hurriedly dressed as if we’d only just then realized that anyone could walk in and catch us.

And what had we done that was so wrong? Since when was love ever wrong? Adi and I might not have a romantic love, but the deep friendship I felt for him was love, nonetheless.

I felt anger bubble up inside me at the reminder that even though this was the afterlife, somehow my body and my heart were still being controlled by those in power. It was my body. Didn’t I have a right to do what I wanted with it? And after all, no one controls who they fall in love with, do they?  

Like Sammy and Adi. By what right did the council decree that their love for each other had been wrong?

When I first arrived here, I wanted to be an angel. It seemed like a no-brainer. Angels were the good guys. So simple.

But it wasn’t simple. And the longer I was here, the less convinced I was that was the case. Not that the demons were paragons of virtue by any means, but at least they allowed themselves to feel emotions, and that made them seem much more human to me. Those very emotions were why the angels looked down on the demons.

If feeling things made you a demon, then I was beginning to think I might be one.

I followed Adi back out into the main building, sensing his energy. It was a little stronger, a little brighter than it had been before, and nothing in the universe would convince me that was a bad thing.

[timecrayon]

just rewatched the empty child/the doctor dances and i'm having queer little thoughts so you have to hear about them:

captain jack being unapologetically bi right from the start (in 2005!!!)

the army guy is Smitten™

so is rose

"before this war started i was a father and a grandfather. now i am neither. but i'm still a doctor." - "i know the feeling" ... ok already bawling my eyes out

"oh that's easy, i'm just gonna scan for alien tech" rose clearly has never heard anything sexier in her life

the doctor trying so desperately to impress jack (or rose? unclear)

"take the banana!!!" - "why!?" - "good source of potassium!"

"why is it always the great looking ones who do that" - "im making an effort not to be insulted" - "i mean ... men" - "thanks, that really helped"

on one hand "you just assume i don't ... dance" but on the other hand "rose i'm trying to resonate concrete"

"most people notice when they're being teleported, you guys are so cute"

"we were talking about dancing" - "didn't look like talking" - "didn't feel like dancing"

nancy threatening to expose that horrid man's affair with the butcher showing four things: there are a lot more queer people around you than you think (there are three explicitly in just this episode!), some queer people are fucking assholes, being gay is still very illegal in the 40s, nancy is a fucking badass queen

"so many species, so little time!" - "that's what we do? we go out there and ..." - "dance!": doctor who said monster fucker rights

1940s teen mum

no you don't understand ... EVERYBODY LIVES ... i'm not crying, you're crying

"when i came to the hospital, i had one leg, now i have two" - "well, there is a war on. is it possible you might have miscounted?"

"look at you, beaming away like you're father christmas!" - "who says i'm not, red bicycle when you were ten?" - "what?" rose's face. priceless

rose teaching the doctor to dance ... the metaphor ... guys

SUDDENLY remembering how to dance as soon as rose wants to dance with jack

"doctor ... i think jack might like this dance" - "i'm sure he would rose, but who with?" and he's absolutely right

just look at jack watching them ... he's very in love and just happy to be there

EVERYBODY LIVES ... at a time where doctor who was still full of meaningful and meaningless deaths alike

after the doctor just came out of a war where everybody died ... this time EVERYBODY LIVED!!!

[utilitycaster]

Why do you think Imogen/Laudna is not comparable to Caleb/Veth? At the start of C3, I thought they were similar and thought it was a strange how much Imogen/Laudna was being held up as the pinnacle of relationships in comparison to the hate/minimization that Caleb/Veth got. But I rewatched C2E27 and remembered how honestly they talked through their disagreement, which was way different from Imogen/Laudna's C3E27 reconciliation after the gnarlrock drama. What are your thoughts about it?

(got another anon on this as well as I was writing this up, so other anon, this is also for you!)

That's exactly the same moment I was thinking of! Veth and Caleb are able to disagree with each other in a way Imogen and Laudna aren't. Honestly, even from earlier, they're able to ask things of each other - Caleb outright asks Nott if she'll run away with him, alone, away from the group, if his reveal to Beau goes badly. Nott, even when half the party is missing, in the wake of Molly's death, when all she has is Beau (who she's known for a month and a half) and two allies she's known for a couple of days at most, is able to say "Wrong." to Caleb about something as important, but also as unnecessary as admitting that he cares about the other party members as friends, not just useful alliances. And that's the other thing - Nott is actively encouraging Caleb to make other connections and embracing her own new friendships, and she's willing to risk Caleb being mad with her - which for her, means risking her chance to get back her own body and life - to do it. And this is after less than a year of knowing him.

Laudna can't even say "will you promise not to side with the person who murdered me," let alone point out that Otohan also murdered Fearne, Orym, Eshteross, and Orym's husband and father-in law or that Ludinus casually destroyed Kadija's mind. She can't say this to someone she's lived and traveled with for two years, when the other five party members would all agree with her and stand by her. There's no trust. You know the phrase "if you love someone, let them go?" Laudna's too terrified to let go, and Veth isn't.

(I should note - I like Caleb and Veth's dynamic a lot but I never shipped them; but I also will defend them against anyone who denies that there were feelings, or who tries to pretend that Veth's statement that Caleb was like a son to her overrides her later statements about having a crush, or, you know, the fact that they aren't actually related so who the fuck cares. I mean, Vex and Keyleth canonically tell each other they consider each other sisters and that never stopped anyone. So this does come from a place of not shipping either of these pairs.)

So this is why "Imogen and Laudna were never given choices" statement is so hollow and meaningless. Because they're rendering themselves powerless and stripping themselves of all choices. They can't draw boundaries. (For what it's worth, Campaign 1's codependent pair, the twins, are able to draw boundaries without issue; Vax tells Vex to lay off Keyleth quite explicitly despite having only recently agonized over being separated from her for a few days). They can't choose themselves. They can't challenge each other or encourage each other's growth or ask something so important and yet so small as being honest with one's self. They're just so stuck in this holding pattern, even after they've grown in power and seen the possibility of losing each other, whereas Caleb and Veth's relationship constantly changes as they support and challenge each other and ask things of each other. You know what Veth does in episode 48 of that campaign? She screams at Caleb in anger because people connected to him hurt her family, even though Caleb has long since left those people and was a victim himself. Laudna can't even stand up for herself to Imogen (and we know Laudna can stand up for herself; that's what she's doing in the scene with Ashton) against her own murderer, even as Imogen outright entertains the possibility of allying with the Vanguard.

Caleb and Veth trust each other and themselves to still love and care for each other if they disagree. Laudna and Imogen do not.

[annalyticall]

Thoughts on Attack on Titan

Me being 10 years late to things, I was recently convinced to watch Attack on Titan and I ended up binge-watching the entire anime (and reading the final manga chapters) these last two weeks. I had purposefully been dragging my feet about watching this show since I had heard so much controversy surrounding it; that it was sexist, pro-fascist, pro-nazi, pro-imperialist, pro-propaganda, and heavily anti-Semitic. All pretty good reasons to stay away from something, I think.

But then I saw a video about how the criticisms leveraged against it were not quite so black-and-white, and how the show was more complex than those labels gave it credit for. Admittedly, that piqued my interest. I want to come to my own conclusions about the media I consume, so I decided to watch it with an open mind and a discerning eye.

And boy did I discern... a lot.

I am recording my very very lengthy opinions about Attack on Titan and its manga ending under the cut, mostly so that if anyone asks how I feel about certain things portrayed in the show, I can reference them to this post. Here's a quick table of contents:

The Themes

The Good

The Bad

The Problems

The Characters

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

Anime and Manga spoilers ahead.

The Themes

Attack on Titan tackles a lot of different themes throughout the course of the story. Possibly too many. Right now, I'm listing the big ones I noticed here because I will be referencing back to them later. Also note I am stating these themes as they are presented in the text, not as my own personal beliefs.

The human desire to create meaning in life and death. Does dying for a cause give life meaning? If the cause is hopeless, would dying for that cause be in vain? Is it enough to know that the living will continue your legacy after death? Does honoring the dead give their life meaning? Is the gift of life itself meaningless if not used to ensure humanity's ongoing survival? Is it enough to simply exist? Characters that most embody this theme: Zeke, Eren, Armin, Jean, Levi, Hange, Erwin, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Marlow.

Everyone is shackled to a dream. Does the desire to fulfill a dream make you a slave to it? Will devoting your life to a dream of freedom make you paradoxically a slave to the very ideal? Will the hope of achieving a dream drive people to do terrible things they never would have otherwise? Is true freedom in the ability to let go of a long-held dream? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Levi, Kenny, Armin, Jean.

The corrupting power of love and loyalty. Similar to an enslaving dream, will blind devotion to someone (in a romantic, platonic, subordinate, or familial relationship) drive that person to do terrible things just to be with them or make them happy? How far can that love go? Is blind devotion even love? Is it wise to love if it creates fatal weakness? Characters that most embody this theme: Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Zeke, Annie, Reiner, Falco, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Ymir (The Founder).

The cycle of violence is endless. As long as more than one person is alive on Earth, there will always be conflict. Is it worth fighting to break the cycle when the cycle is inevitable? Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle in order to survive in a world that forces violence? Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Armin, Reiner, Jean, Floch, Hange, Levi.

The pursuit of truth and wonder are the driving forces behind humanity's ability to work together. Propaganda and the obstruction of truth might work to pacify the populace short-term but will always be defeated once people put in the effort to truly understand others and the world they live in. The promise of discovery and truth are invaluable sources of hope and ingenuity. Characters that most embody this theme: Hange, Armin, Erwin.

People are people. Everyone is capable of great evil or great kindness, regardless of what nation, class, or race they were born into. Everyone has strengths and everyone has weaknesses. Everyone is influenced by their own hopes and dreams. The recognition of these innate similarities is crucial for forgiveness and acceptance across boundaries. Characters that most embody this theme: Reiner, Jean, Eren, Armin, Sasha, Gabi, Falco.

There is no accurate measure of good and evil. Being a "good person" is subjective, based more on personal goals and cultural ideals than on a base standard for "good." When faced with a difficult decision, perhaps it is best to choose whatever option will cause the least regret, a measure that is unique to everyone depending on an individual's values and on unknown outcomes. Live a life you can be proud of. Characters that most embody this theme: Armin, Annie, Levi, Jean, Eren, Reiner, Gabi, Ymir (of the Cadets), Historia

As you might have noticed, I chose to summarize many of these themes in a list of questions, and for good reason: oftentimes, the theme is raising a question but is almost never interested in giving it a straightforward answer. Instead, AOT will often raise a question, and over the course of the story, you get to come to your own conclusions depending on how the characters act. For example, I listed Jean as a character that embodies "meaning in life and death." Does Jean give Marco's death meaning by honoring his memory and values each time he's faced with a moral dilemma? That's up for the audience (and Jean) to decide.

Compared to other shonen that tackles similar themes and questions, this freedom of interpretation was novel for me, and for the most part, I loved it. Fullmetal Alchemist is the only other shonen I can think of that I've seen that touches on similar subject matter, but the tone of FMA is not nearly as dark, bleak, or ambiguous. While I also love FMA, the world of AOT is much more harrowing to navigate, and I found it exhilarating to have my preconceptions of its world challenged at every turn. Such a thematic approach felt grounded since real life is also not so easy to navigate. Unfortunately, this also has a glaring downside, which I will discuss in my "The Problems" section.

The Good

The first 3 seasons and almost everything that entails. To be quite honest I have very little to criticize about this show before the basement reveal. The pacing is almost perfect and I was always on the edge of my seat wanting to know more. The mysteries are intriguing and, upon slowly getting more and more answers, the narrative either only raised more tantalizing questions or completely recontextualized previous scenes, constantly giving the show new breath. The action is exciting, the stakes are heart-poundingly high, the losses are devastating, and the gore is graphic and stomach-churning but I think it necessary to absorb the horrifying and hopeless nature of the setting, which serves to heighten the few victories the characters actually do get to experience. There also isn't much of The Problems yet in these seasons.

The music. The soundtrack is undoubtedly one of the best aspects of this show and is quality throughout.

Animation. While I prefer the fluid and expressive animation of the first three seasons compared to MAPPA's comparatively stiffer animation of the final season, MAPPA still gave plenty of jaw-dropping sequences for the most impactful moments.

A tragic, queer, CANON romance. The fact that Ymir is canonically lesbian is amazing to me if only because I haven't watched a shonen yet where one of the main cast is actually lesbian, let alone has a significant portion of screen time devoted to establishing her unambiguous feelings for another woman who also reciprocates her feelings. AND THEN their romance ends tragically in-universe not because it's gay but because of narrative circumstances that were simply beyond their control or understanding. "My only regret is not marrying you." How romantic is that?

Female character design. Specifically all the big noses. As a big-nose-haver it makes me happy to see women have big noses and still being seen as pretty. That, paired with the fact that women are hardly ever sexualized and are often portrayed just as strong if not stronger than the men was nice to see after being exposed to so many infantilizing and sexualizing shonen tropes. That said, there could have been more diversity in body shape and skin tone.

The setting (of Paradis). I am going to stress here that I strictly like the world-building of Paradis, which is the main setting of the first three seasons. Marley and the rest of the world after Season 3? I'll get into that later.

Erwin vs. Armin. I consider Levi's decision to save Armin over Erwin to be the true thematic climax of this story, and I thought it was exceptionally well done. I've seen endless arguments about whether or not saving Armin was the right choice, so I'll throw in my two cents: if you think Levi should have saved Erwin, you are Missing The Point. In this moment, Levi, a character who fights for the greater good but is not quite as pragmatic as Erwin and who has a deep hope for humanity's future but is not quite as idealistic as Armin must make an emotional choice here, not a tactical one. Maybe saving Erwin might have been better for the Scouts, but the truth is Erwin was selfish, and Levi had already come to terms with this when he told his old commander to "give up on your dream and charge to your death." Armin, on the other hand, had a pure and selfless dream about the world outside the walls, and that is what Levi decided to value for humanity's future. That is the symbolic meaning of that decision, not whether or not Erwin would have been a tactically better commander.

It is enough to simply exist. Manga spoilers for the final chapters ahead. I said this was a question raised by one of the main themes of the story, "Is it enough to simply exist?", and I was pleasantly surprised that the ending gave it an answer through the conversation Armin has with Zeke. After so much deliberation about genocide, sterilization, war, the inherent and unbreakable cycle of violence, and so many other depressing themes surrounding the depraved nature of humanity, having the main takeaway for the series be "we were put on this Earth simply to enjoy it and to enjoy each other" was a cathartic release. I know I'm probably going to cry when that bit is animated.

The Bad

The frustrating thing that is Eren Yeager. I suppose this is biased but I really do not gel with Eren. Even in his Season 1-3 era I did not like him and his one-track angry boy mind, only ever finding him tolerable during the Uprising arc when he got a healthy dose of humility which he immediately ruined with his pitiful self-flagellation in the midst of a dire titan battle but I digress. This characterization does make a whole lot more sense though when he enters Season 4, when all of his personality traits are only slightly twisted in order to make him the villain, ala Walter White. Didn't make him any less frustrating.

The frustrating thing that is Mikasa Ackerman. She started out great. Then Eren turned into a titan for the first time and things quickly went downhill. After that, it seems like her character was retroactively changed from being the stoic and protective older sister to being the blindingly devoted and fussy love interest. I might have been okay with it if she had ANY other defining character traits, or hell, even any relationships outside of Eren and Armin. Manga spoilers, but she doesn't even have a strong relationship with Jean, who she apparently marries in the epilogue. Between Eren and Mikasa being two of the three main characters, I unfortunately felt very little towards them which was a not-so-small problem in my enjoyment of the series.

The humor is... fine. I get it, a show as dark as Attack on Titan probably shouldn't try to be funny, nor would I expect it to be. Still, the few attempts at humor it did have fell flat for me, especially when a lot of it leaned on Sasha's potato and meat gags (and a really uncomfortable torture gag after the Uprising Arc? Hey, what was that about? That was kinda fucked up, right?) Now that I think about it, the hardest I ever laughed while watching this show was when Reiner nonchalantly tells Eren that he and Bertolt are the Armor and Colossal Titans simply because I wasn't expecting the biggest bombshell reveal of the story thus far to be so casually dropped like that.

The Titan mechanics got so fucking convoluted. Don't get me wrong I love a good mystery and I don't necessarily mind the supernatural time-warping twists that the Titan storyline took up to a point. It's just that the story kept adding so many conditions to Titan powers and lore that it was getting hard to keep track of it all. Okay, so the Colossal Titan will create an unavoidable nuke during transformation even though it clearly didn't do that at the raid on Trost, sure. Okay, so Reiner can survive a fatal injury to his person as long as he manages to transfer his consciousness to the Titan body first, sure. Okay, so Eren can't awaken the Founding Titan's ability unless he's in contact with someone of royal blood, sure. Okay, so the Founding Titan's abilities can alter the biology of all Eldians, and also control all Titans, and also deactivate all Titan hardening, and also impose the will of the king onto all its future royal successors, but it's somehow NOT the Titan with the power to see the future? Sure? Okay, so Falco inherited the Jaw Titan, but because he was originally turned with Zeke's spinal fluid, he ALSO inherited aspects of the Beast Titan even though Zeke is still the Beast Titan and it's never been established that the spinal fluid used for the original Titan transformation affected the inheritance of Titan shifter abilities? Why not, at this point.

Uprising Arc and its overly simplistic military coup. I didn't dislike the arc as a whole, but it was a very lengthy detour from the main objectives the series was already on track for and added to the repetition of Eren getting kidnapped. Additionally, I thought the coup to overthrow the old government was too... easy? It was really only made up of two setups: one to expose the corruption of some random military police guy to the press and turn public opinion in favor of the Scouts, and one to expose the government's selfishness to the military commanders enough to convince them to depose their current leaders and pardon the Scouts. Then the Scouts essentially say "Hey Historia here just killed a Titan and has royal blood (trust us) so she's going to be the queen now. Please ignore the fact she is also a Scout and therefore could easily be a puppet queen for the military branch that was until very recently public enemy number one" and everyone just kinda accepts this. I don't know, it didn't do much to sell me on realism in a world that had done so up until that point.

Wow, the stakes are getting pretty high, I wonder if... WAIT, 80%?! That was kind of my reaction to the whole manga finale. I don't mind high stakes, but when we're talking about the horrific genocide of 80% of humanity at the hands of our main character, uh, that scale is a little hard to grasp. This also feeds into The Problems, which I'll get into later, but all in all, I think after a certain point the story just got too big for me to stay believably invested in what was actually happening.

Endgame plot thread irrelevance (especially for the female characters). Why did Historia get a whole story arc just to be sidelined and pregnant for the whole rest of the story? What happened to Yelena? What happened to Mikasa's relationship with the Azumabito clan? What's the deal with Ymir? So many things were rushed at the end that it was disappointing to see so much setup for very little payoff. Unfortunately, the female characters seemed to get the brunt of this.

The Problems

Okay, so this section is basically why I made this post to begin with. I want to address all of the criticisms I've seen for Attack on Titan and give my honest opinion on them because, yes, I do think it's more complex than I've seen people give it credit for, but neither is it free of harmful interpretations either.

On the topic of being Pro-Imperialist, Pro-Nazi, Pro-Facsist, and Pro-Propaganda: Attack on Titan is positioned against all these things. Just because a media depicts something doesn't mean it's condoning or endorsing it. Imperialism, fascism, and propaganda are all present in the story but are very often forces that the main characters must fight against. It might not go as far as to say "military bad" but it definitely says "war bad, genocide bad, euthanasia bad, blind devotion to one's country bad" and a whole host of other issues that it does not depict in a favorable light. Now, the viewpoints of the mangaka might be in question, and I can't say much about the way he supposedly views Imperialist Japan. I'm just saying, in the context of the show, I don't see an unquestioning approval of imperialism being portrayed here.

On the topic of Sexism: eh, maybe. It feels weird to be so nonchalant about that but to be honest, it's not prevalent enough to stand out compared to other shonen. Female characters might not always see fully fleshed-out arcs, but neither are they handled in a way I would deem sexist other than the very strange exception of Mikasa's one-sided obsession with Eren somehow mirroring the "love" a child bride sex slave had for her abuser 2000 years ago. That said, strong characters like Annie, Ymir (of the Cadets), and Gabi manage to have fairly compelling motivations and growth while also being love interests. There's really no fan service to speak of, and some of them even get to be gay. So, you know, I'll take it.

On the topic of Anti-Semitism (Disclaimer: I am not Jewish): yeahhhhhhh... so, up until the end of Season 3, I was confused about this claim. I mean, there were Titans, mindless man-eating monsters that could resemble the blood libel spread about Jewish people, but I thought it was a bit of a stretch. Besides, while the walled city is evidently based on 19th-century Germany, there isn't really a divide between the people who live there and the people who can turn into Titans; given the right conditions, any human character in the show could potentially turn into a Titan, so I didn't see the problem. If anything, I thought it was just a modified take on the zombie apocalypse genre.

Then the basement reveal happened, where it's revealed the walled city we had been following the last 3 seasons wasn't actually the last bastion of humanity as both the audience and the cast once believed; it is actually an island where distinct people called Eldians fled to escape the persecution they faced for their unique ability to turn into Titans. Turns out the rest of the world is populated by many diverse cultures who all hate the Eldians for their ancient Titan-enabled crimes against humanity. The Eldians who aren't trapped on the island of Paradis live in the gated ghettos of the Nazi-Germany-coded nation of Marley and are forced to wear star-embroidered armbands to denote their subhuman status.

Okay. Yikes, I thought. But I still gave it a chance, because as I mentioned before, just because something is depicted in media doesn't mean it's being supported or condoned. I was hoping that, at some point, the claim that Eldians committed atrocities with the Titans or the claim that only Eldians can turn into Titans would be proven wrong. Neither of these hopes came to fruition. It's revealed that Eldians did a lot of good with their Titan powers, true, but they also waged endless warfare in the name of a King that enslaved them. So, while they weren't really to blame, they certainly did commit the crimes that earned the world's ire.

This is a problem. If the imagery of the armbands and the WW2 ghettos were never involved, perhaps I could give the story the benefit of the doubt and see the Eldians as a fictional race created for the purpose of illustrating the cycle of violence and the need to relate to each other as humans first. But the problem is, they are very explicitly compared to Jewish people, thus insinuating, whether intentionally or not, that Jewish people do have these monstrous qualities and did commit crimes that earned them the oppression they continue to face when in reality, they did nothing to deserve it.

As an additional "yikes," there's also the questionable existence of the Tyber family, the only Eldian family in Marley allowed to have wealth and political influence. It's revealed that the Tybers have essentially been pulling Marley's strings the whole time, which... wow, really doesn't do much for anti-Semitic conspiracy theories that Jewish people are actually in control of everything, huh. Thankfully, the Tyber storyline is short-lived, but then there's the Yeagerists, a fascist Eldian party that wants to counter-genocide the entire world before it can genocide Eldians. Triple yikes. Let's throw in Zeke's plan for forced sterilization against his own people for a solid quadruple yikes.

However, there are also important distinctions to make between Eldians and Jewish people that are in the story's favor. While the Eldian people of Marley are mistreated and considered subhuman, Marley still puts in the effort to brainwash them into thinking they are the "good" Eldians in order to earn their unconditional loyalty and turn them into frontline soldiers in their war to conquer other nations and the island of Paradis, something that doesn't really mirror Nazi Germany and gives us a reason to sympathize with the Eldians who were once the "bad guys" of Season 1-3. There's also the fact that 95% of the show's main cast IS Eldian, and up until the basement reveal we've only known them as human. Everything until that point has essentially served to make us identify with Eldians more than anyone else. While the rest of the world may dehumanize them, we the audience react negatively to any mention of them being less than human because we've only ever seen them fight to survive in a world where they thought they were humanity's last hope. We want to see them make it out of this alive.

And here's where my internal conflict with the show lies; it would be so much better if it cut out the WW2 imagery. Sure, there would still be plenty of subtext that could lead people to compare Eldians to Jewish people, but it wouldn't be so distractingly obvious and spur additional real-world comparisons where there aren't any. The sudden jump to 20th-century Germany is also somewhat jarring and I wouldn't have minded if Marley was based more on just another nation of the same era rather than a 100-year jump forward of the same setting (though it does make in-universe sense, what with Paradis being 100 years behind technologically but I digress). Basically, I think a LOT of the story's problems with probably-unintentional-but-still-present anti-semitism could have been avoided if the war and race allegories weren't given the same tact and grace as a David Cage game.

But now that brings me to what I think is Attack on Titan's fatal flaw: thematic ambiguity. "But Anna," you may say, "you said the freedom of interpretation is what you loved about its themes." You're right, I did say that. I still do. But ambiguity is a double-edged sword: it gives the audience freedom to derive unique meaning from the text and connect with it in deep, personal ways, but on the other hand, if a theme is too ambiguous, the author runs the risk of either telling a meaningless story or telling a story that conveys an unintended meaning. I think an author must have SOME intention with a theme if it is to be included, and must provide some sort of guide (usually with a character or two) to point the audience in the right direction. I'll give an example of what I mean for both instances in Attack on Titan.

For an example of a well-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity?" that I listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. Specifically, this question is raised after the Battle of Stonhess, where Erwin allows a Titan battle to rage in the middle of a populated area for the slim chance he could capture Annie alive and extract information from her. This decision cost hundreds of innocent lives, and worse of all, Annie was of little use to him. Erwin stands behind his decision for the greater good and Armin rationalizes the battle as a net gain, but Jean presents Armin with a counterargument: "If it's that easy to let the fight turn us all into monsters, maybe we don't deserve to win." Still, we aren't given an outright answer to who's right and who's wrong here. Instead, the guide we are given is in the way ideologically-opposed characters like Erwin and Jean are treated by the story: Jean maintains his humanity, minimizes civilian casualties whenever possible, and in the end, is left with few regrets. Erwin, on the other hand, feels the weight of all the lives he callously sacrificed in the name of a "greater good," which we learn was perhaps more selfish than he let on. Upon resigning himself to death, he laments all the innocents who died at his command. It is through these characters that we learn who, ultimately, was in the right, and what that theme is trying to tell us (also coincidentally applying to the theme "live a life you can be proud of.")

For an example of a poorly-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle of violence in order to survive in a world that forces violence?" that I also listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. This question is perhaps no more apparent than when the main characters are faced with the terrific power of the Rumbling, basically a Titan-powered WMD Eren uses to preemptively wipe out humanity before it can inevitably attack Paradis. While many characters deliberate the ethics of this, there are two characters who have starkly different viewpoints: we have Floch, a Yeagerist who is in full-hearted support of the attack and is uninterested in saving human lives if they are not Paradis Eldians, and we have Hange, who despite being a Paradis Eldian beats an impassioned fist against a table and delivers the rather on-the-nose line "Genocide is wrong!"

So who's right? Well, anyone with any sort of media literary sense will say "Hange, obviously." Because Hange is portrayed as a good person (usually) and Floch is portrayed as a villain (usually). The problem is both these characters fight valiantly in the name of their cause and incidentally die in the same scene while imparting their wishes to the heroes for how they want the world to be. Anyone watching who harbors even a fraction of Floch's nationalism might see that and say, "Floch was in the right. He righteously died for his country and he almost won against an impossible enemy." There's also the problem that Hange does not give an alternative answer to the Rumbling and even admits they don't have one, they just know the Rumbling is wrong, which doesn't do anything to add to the theme in question. Unfortunately, the Rumbling is presented as the only reliable line of self-defense for Paradis, as it's already established that diplomacy has almost no chance of working and that the only other plan is, of all things, sterilizing the Eldian people to appease the world that wants them dead with as little bloodshed as possible. What would have been the only other recourse, the order of a partial Rumbling to wipe out the world's military bases, is immediately taken off the table when it's revealed Eren never had any intention of doing that. Therefore, the story doesn't give us any answer to this question at all, since the characters never get to find an alternate solution for themselves and are forced to simply stop the Rumbling before it can kill too many people despite the risk of dying in the process or play along with Eren's predetermined plan. For a story so bent on saying "genocide is wrong" it does a weirdly good job of presenting it as a survival tactic.

Now, I wouldn't normally have that much of a problem if a story fumbled a theme or two. Not everything has to land perfectly. That said, Attack on Titan NEEDED to deliver these themes clearer than it did, because of one major reason: it was dealing with questions involving fascism, genocide, war, and eugenics. You should not casually raise these issues as a backdrop to a theme that can't be delivered on, because then you run the risk of attracting people who very much are pro-fascist, pro-genocide, pro-war, and pro-eugenics and will blatantly misinterpret everything in the text in order to warp it and fit their worldview (a risk I think FMA managed to avoid by being very blunt with where it stood on those same issues). On the flip side, you'll also repel people who otherwise might have loved the story because at some point they heard someone say "Oh yeah Attack on Titan is awesome, the Yeagerists are cool and I agree with the main character's plan for genocide," and rightfully be put off from that. Then they'll turn around and tell the next person, "Hey, don't watch that, I heard it's pro-fascist and pro-genocide," and that person will go "Oh thanks I didn't know that, I'll stay away from it," and that person will be me for the last ten years.

The Characters

Eren and Mikasa: I'm lumping these two together because I already talked about them at length, but I will say, for being the two main characters on which the finale hinged, I think they were both too simplistic to fully deliver on any of the complex themes they represented. Hell, when listing all the themes each character embodied, I only listed Mikasa under one of them, which is not great for a deuteragonist. Not only that, but Mikasa didn't even really deliver on her one theme: she broke the Titan curse by "letting go of her enslaving love for Eren," but did she really? She kissed and then absconded with his decapitated head to give him a proper burial, then returned each year to his grave with Jean and her family (who remained faceless) to leave a flower behind for him. I get it, he was important to her as a childhood friend and that alone means she should try to remember him despite the monster he turned into, but the framing of this suggests she never really let go of him and was shackled to his memory even as she tried to move on.

Armin: The thing about Armin is that while I ultimately think he's the heart of the story and the main driving force for good (as evidenced by the fact he's the only character I listed under ALL the themes I mentioned earlier), he also reads more like a symbol than a character. That's fine, a character doesn't need to go through an arc to be good, but for me, personally, a character in this kind of setting needs some form of growth for me to form an attachment to them. I'm not just talking about how Armin steadily grows okay with murder because that still doesn't do much to change his rosy outlook on life. The most excited I ever got about Armin's development was when he manipulated Bertholdt into thinking Annie was being tortured because holy shit that's kinda dark for Armin and I thought maybe his strategic mindset was going to start getting the better of his morals, but then that's never really touched on again. It's because I was never quite sure what the rhyme or reason was behind his actions that I found myself disconnected from him as a character, despite being inspired by him as a symbol.

Jean: My favorite character and a sorely underrated one at that. Won't say anything more about him here because I'm dedicating it to the Conclusion.

Levi: Second favorite character. Back when Attack on Titan's popularity was at its peak, I would see Levi on my dash all the time and I would roll my eyes thinking he was just another brooding anime bad boy the girls were fawning over. But I get it now. Yeah, he can brood, and yeah, he can be a bad boy as an ex-criminal who is no stranger to violence, but most of all he's compassionate. He cares deeply about the lives of his comrades and almost never values the "greater good" when decisions are left up to him. Granted, I think he becomes a little one-note after the Erwin vs Armin choice when he resolves that his only motivation from now on will be killing Zeke, but you know, after everything Zeke put him through, I think he earned it.

Hange: Third favorite character. They injected much-needed energy and sincerity into the story right from the start, and they only became more complex as the story went on and circumstances forced more and more responsibility onto them. I'm also glad that, while they are a good and moral character, they also don't mull over hard decisions that a veteran soldier probably wouldn't mull over. If worse comes to worst, they know they may have to resort to torture or violence to protect their comrades and the pursuit of truth. Still, they almost never push this any further than necessary, unlike Erwin before them.

Reiner: Fourth favorite character. I had basically no opinion on Reiner until Season 2 when he pushed Connie out of the way of a Titan's mouth and I thought "he's kinda cool." And then so so so much happens after that. I almost never knew how to feel about him. Is he the bad guy? He's killed so many people, he has to be. But then, why do I still like him? Why do I feel so bad for him? Season 4 only added to those mixed feelings, showing him to be suicidal and suffering from PTSD after all the violence he inflicted when he was just a child soldier. I think most of the themes about "people are people" is best illustrated in Reiner, and how he is able to overcome the pain of life through his dedication to the next generation and to the former friends he had hurt in the past.

Ymir (of the Cadets): Fifth favorite character. Like Reiner, I didn't really have any opinion on her until Season 2. While her contribution to the story is brief, it did a whole lot. Her backstory is technically our first introduction to a world outside the walls which also introduced a whole new mystery. Also, her love for Historia was probably the most genuine example of romantic love I can point to in the entire story, and the most emotionally touching one at that. She's also the one who introduces the theme "live a life you can be proud of" verbatim, which proves to be important for everyone.

Sasha and Connie: Truth is, I don't really have any favorites after Ymir, and how I feel about everyone else is some variation on neutral (except Floch). As for Sasha and Connie, I'm throwing them in the same bucket of "likable-enough comic-relief characters that have some semblance of a character arc but not nearly enough to justify their screentime." People might hate me for this, but I actually think Sasha contributed more to the narrative when she was dead than she did when she was alive. That doesn't mean I wasn't sad when she died, though.

Erwin: People might hate me for this too, but I think Erwin is overrated. I think many dudebro fans see him as the peak representation of heroic masculinity, as an unflinching and at times ruthless commander who takes charge and shows no weakness. That is not true. It's revealed Erwin does have a weakness, a selfish drive to redeem his father's suspicions about the outside world, a drive that makes him fear his own premature death, in the end. True, that drive has paved the way for the Scouts to clear impossible hurdles but also has it led to many senseless and brutal deaths that the story does not intend to justify. Erwin is flawed, incredibly so, and I wish more people could see that.

Historia: I had no opinion of her in Seasons 1-2, even during the love story she had with Ymir. It wasn't until the Uprising arc that she grew on me, as she started to mature beyond her "Disney princess" persona that had previously seemed so out of place in a story like this. That said, after she got pregnant in Season 4, I was disappointed to see that there wasn't much of a point to her character anymore despite being the literal queen.

Annie: I wanted to like Annie. I wanted so badly to like Annie. That's really only for aesthetic reasons because when the show was at its peak I saw her on my dash and fell in love with her as a fellow short blonde girl with a big nose and a name that starts with Ann. After getting to know her character... well, I don't dislike her. I think she served her role in the story well enough. She's just fairly simple once you learn her motivation, and she's hard to get attached to if you don't like emotionally-constipated characters.

Bertholdt: Oh, Berry. Unfortunately, every feeling I could have had for him I already felt 5x more for Reiner, so Berry became rather redundant. Also, his constant stare unnerved me. I did feel bad when he died though. RIP Berry.

Marlow: He didn't have a huge part in the story, but I think he was significant if only for one moment: the second before his death when he thinks of Hitch. Here we are given an everyman who wanted to rise to his calling and dedicate himself to the greater good, who was so driven by ideals and politics that he bravely gave his life for the cause he believed was right, but just before he meets his end, it's revealed to him that what he really wanted was a life with the girl he only just realized he loved. I think that one moment tragically encapsulated the main message of the story; we are here simply to enjoy life and enjoy each other.

Gabi: Again, people might hate me for this, but I liked Gabi. I think she did a good job of being a mirror of what Eren could have been had he been born in Marley, and/or if he had learned to sympathize enough with the enemy to have given up on his revenge plan. She went through a lot of horrors to get the growth she did, and I don't really understand the vitriol some fans have for her, even considering the fact she killed Sasha since killing Sasha and then learning that doing that was a bad thing through the kindness of Sasha's family was kind of the point. Also, as if Eren wouldn't have done the same thing in her shoes. She's a brainwashed child soldier, come on.

Falco: It was a breath of fresh air to have, like, one genuinely nice good kid for once. He's a necessary addition to Gabi's arc I think, since he's the one that keeps her grounded and helps her realize that the Paradis Eldians are not evil. His Jaw/Beast Titan powers are OP though.

Zeke: Hated him throughout all of Season 3 besides only knowing him as the Beast Titan. Season 4 rolled around and I did start to sympathize with him given his upbringing and the way his brother Eren used him after thinking he finally had a family he could be close with. I still didn't feel all that bad when bad things happened to him though, given the things he's willing to do to impose a sterilization "solution" to his own people.

Pieck: Getting into "they're fine but don't add much to the story" territory here. She's smart and has a sleepy-girl charm about her, I guess. She also has that one cool moment where she points to Eren as the enemy, but as far as her relationship with the main characters goes, she basically has none, which makes it hard for me to get invested in her.

Onyankopon, Yelena, Magath, and Kiyomi: Lumping all these characters together as the notable non-Eldians with their own agendas. I had no strong opinion on any of them. Onyankopon was cool, but I thought Magath changed his stance on Paradis too easily in the end, and Yelena and Kiyomi barely contributed anything that couldn't have been done by some other character. Their true purpose was really just to establish that there were different cultures outside of Paradis.

Floch: Saved the best for last. And by best, I mean worst. He's the anti-Jean, if you will; the everyman who, when faced with dire circumstances, turns to brutality and strength rather than humanity and compassion. It's fitting, I think, that he's the one who not only advocates saving Erwin, Jean's ideological opposite ("We need a devil!") but he's also the one who tempts Jean into a character regression since he's a representation of what Jean could have become if he stayed what he was like early Season 1. Other than that, he's a cupcake-head fascist whose dumb face I got tired of looking at even before he become a fascist. I just fucking hate Floch, man.

Every other character I either don't have anything much to say about, like Grisha, Shaddis, Pixis, Rod Reiss, and Hitch, or they died too early for me to say much about, like Porco, Petra, and Marco (although I did love Marco and I was incredibly sad when he died).

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

So, to take my thesis-length thoughts and distill them into one coherent sentence, my overall feeling on Attack on Titan is this: it's a well-paced, well-constructed story that is consistently engaging and thought-provoking about real-world issues, but is ultimately held back by its final act where the scale and allegory become too big and clunky for the story to properly handle. Many things that were so well set up in the previous three seasons sadly unravel at the finish line. That said, that doesn't mean there is no meaningful or worthwhile conclusion to be had in Attack on Titan; I think it still had a stronger finish than, say, HBO's Game of Thrones. I connected with it in a deep way that I haven't connected to any other piece of media lately besides maybe when I played Dragon Age last year, another story that raised thought-provoking themes about real-world issues but with admittedly clunky allegory. Most notably, though, I think my enjoyment of Attack on Titan was highly dependent on one character in particular, a character who acted as a reliable anchor point to come back to whenever the bigger ideas got away from the story.

Here's where Jean comes in. While Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are essentially mouthpieces and figureheads for the much-too-big themes they represent and are somewhat washed out as characters because of it, Jean delivers on all his themes perfectly while maintaining his believability as a character. In this world, he is basically just some guy; despite being talented, he's not as driven as Eren, he's not as strong as Mikasa, and he's not as idealistic as Armin. Jean himself recognizes all these things, but he also recognizes how their strengths also come with weaknesses that he can make up for. He sees Eren as cool but also suicidally reckless, he sees Mikasa as capable but also overly-dependent, he sees Armin as brilliant but also in need of a backbone. He then steps up to fill those deficiencies; to answer Eren's recklessness, he does everything he can to preserve his own life so that he can continue to serve others; to answer Mikasa's dependency on Eren, he makes his own decisions and creates strategies to get everyone out of trouble, not just Eren; to answer Armin's cowardice, he steps up and relays Armin's genius plans but with a stronger sense of leadership and authority.

But he wasn't always like this, and that's the most important part; Jean started as a selfish, cowardly, and entitled asshole. Floch says this outright. The only thing early Season 1 Jean cared about was securing his place in the top 10 and choosing a position among the Miltary Police where he could live the rest of his life in peace and luxury, the rest of the cadets be damned. I think this is a pitfall a lot of people in the real world can fall into: in a highly competitive and individualistic society, people have little incentive not to step on others in order to achieve a better life for themselves, and this is the very pitfall Jean nearly falls into. It's a relatable flaw, as little as people might want to admit it.

Yet, among all of Jean's negative pre-Trost qualities, he has two that can be seen as positive: his keen perception and his blunt honesty. Marco tells him as much. After the first battle in Trost, Jean, despite his reluctance to take up responsibility, sees opportunities to get his fellow cadets to safety and uses his insight into their strengths and weaknesses to guide as many of them as he can since he's the only one at the time who can take up leadership. Afterward, Marco tells him he makes a good leader not because he's strong, but because he knows what it means to be weak. He is able to lead because he doesn't delude himself with false hopes or illusions of grandeur; he knows exactly what is at stake and what hurdles everyone needs to overcome in order to have a chance at both winning and surviving. Jean is humbled and inspired by this, realizing that he would better serve in a field where he could potentially save lives instead of wasting his talents in the Military Police where he would have nothing to apply himself for.

But his real call to action is Marco's death. After losing his one true friend, Jean resolves to give up his dream of the Military Police and dedicate himself to the Scouts, where he can live up to the potential Marco always saw in him. If we are to take the theme of "true freedom is the ability to give up a long-held dream" to heart, then Jean is actually one of the first characters to achieve true freedom in this story. That doesn't mean it was easy. Freedom comes with the burden of responsibility, and his decision to join the Scouts isn't framed as triumphant or inspiring but instead as terrifying and traumatic. But that's another aspect of real life I think is captured by Jean's character: the decision to become a better person is not always easy, and it often requires a continual and conscious effort to push comfort zones, overcome bad habits, and step into the terrifying unknown, but you still have to do it.

While Jean does change for the better because of this decision (a change even his fellow cadets take notice of), his battle to grow as a person is never over. When faced with life-or-death situations as a Scout, he overcomes his cowardice to leap into action and save others whenever he knows he can. When faced with the selfishness of the Military Police, he is reassured by the knowledge that his decision not to join them saved him from that ignorant mindset. When faced with the consequences of "the greater good," he questions what it means for humanity if serving a grand purpose means they should turn a blind eye to the innocent. When faced with the prospect of having to kill other humans, he grapples with the morality of murder and what it means if he can't pull the trigger to save his friends. When faced with the crowning of Historia, he voices his concern against authority that they're forcing her into another role after she had just fought to reclaim her own identity from her father. When faced with the temptation to regress, ignore genocide, and settle for the easy life he always wanted in his youth, he resists the urge to fall back onto his dream and continues fighting even when it's the hardest thing he could ever do. When faced with the revelation that Reiner killed his friend Marco, he briefly gives into his resentment and anger but later works past it and admits there are more similarities between them than there are differences. When faced with no other choice but to stop the Rumbling, he's the first to bring Mikasa to the painful but necessary realization that they must kill their friend Eren in order to save countless innocent lives, as much as he doesn't want to do that.

Over and over again, Jean is presented with a moral dilemma, and over and over again, Jean chooses to come out of it as a better person despite it all. Because he achieved the freedom to choose who he wants to be so early in the story, the rest of his arc is a revelation that such freedom comes with constant and painful doubt. Yet, Jean never shies away from exploring the moral ambiguity of his world and the actions it makes him take. Because he is perceptive and honest, he's quick to question everything that is presented to him and never takes any one person's perspective as the only undeniable truth. Questioning life at every turn isn't easy either; it takes effort and courage and vigilance, and even when that way of life wears away at Jean, he does it anyway. If he doesn't, he'll end up just like the pitiful and ignorant Military Police he could have easily become. To me, that arc is so much more relatable than any other arc presented in this story. This is the very real struggle of a regular guy navigating a complicated world of war, eugenics, nationalism, and genocide, and is just trying to make it out as a decent person in the middle of it all. Really, isn't that all any of us are?

I think it's also telling that Floch tempts Jean to join the Yeagerists not with the argument that Eren and his plan for genocide is right, because deep down I think he knows Jean would have never agreed with that. Instead, he tempts him with the promise of comfort and a life free of resistance. I think that's the most revealing truth of all: Jean, the representation of humanity and its struggle with its own morality would never have gone along with genocide just for the sake of it. I think most people are too decent to think genocide is in any way justified when it's framed that way. Instead, Jean is only tempted by how the decision to join the Yeagerists and turn a blind eye would affect him and his own life, reframing the problem as a self-preserving one and retroactively justifying the Rumbling not as what is right but as what is futile for any one person to try to stop. That, I think, reflects the true struggle of humanity, the struggle to sacrifice your own self-interest whenever it conflicts with the need to help others.

While other characters like Mikasa, Eren, and Armin are more or less the same character at the end of the story as they are in the beginning, Jean is in a perpetual state of change, which means he also acts as a terrific mirror and foil for so many characters throughout the story depending on what stage of character development he's in. He starts as a foil to Eren, someone who harbors just as much hot-headed ego as Jean, but unlike Jean has all the conviction to back it up. As Jean grows, he continues to foil Eren by proving conviction can not only be gained but can be reigned in and redirected to be used as a force to do good instead of a force for destructive revenge. He then mirrors Armin, a character who is just as thoughtful and questioning as Jean but isn't as weighed down by selfish desires, but neither does that give much weight to Armin's moral dilemmas when he chooses to do the less moral thing than Jean does in his shoes. Jean and Armin eventually learn to work together, combining their respective strengths and weaknesses to become effective leaders in tandem. Interestingly, I learned that Armin and Jean were originally written to be the same character but were separated to reflect two different sides of humanity, perhaps to illustrate humanity's desire to reach outside the walls through Armin and humanity's struggle to resist the comfort of the walls through Jean. While I think that it was a good decision to separate them in the end, I also think that it robbed Armin of Jean's character development and robbed Jean of Armin's plot relevance. Then, of course, there's Jean's mirror for Floch, but I already touched on that in Floch's character summary so I won't retread it here.

But perhaps my favorite foil of Jean's is Reiner. More than Eren or Armin, Jean is inherently connected to Reiner through the death of Marco. While Reiner is positioned in Season 4 to also be a mirror for Eren, I think Reiner's similar loss of his friend Marcel (a friend who, unlike what Marco did for Jean, did the opposite of inspire Reiner by admitting that Reiner was never actually good enough for the role he got and only earned it by Marcel's intervention to protect his brother) positions Reiner as a more apt foil to Jean instead. Reiner is sent on a trajectory where he only clings harder to his dreams of becoming a hero for Marley, winning the affection of his mother and father, and proving himself worthy of his role, never willing to let those dreams go in the face of Marcel's death unlike Jean had done after losing Marco. Because he clings to this dream so dearly, he kills many innocent people to achieve it, again displaying the polar opposite mindset of Jean who fights instead to save innocent lives. But Reiner isn't without a heart, and eventually, the weight of his sins burdens him. How does he deal with it? Not by questioning or confronting reality like Jean does, but by compartmentalizing himself and rationalizing his actions through the use of multiple personas, essentially denying responsibility for his sins and avoiding the painful self-reflection he must undergo to accept accountability for what he's done.

Reiner is only able to truly self-reflect when he returns to Marley, where the reconciliation of who he is catches up with him and drives him to become suicidal, but neither is he deluded by the dream he once clung to anymore. Now that he's accepted responsibility, he joins up with Jean's group, admits he killed Marco, and accepts the brutal punishment Jean has for him. It's only after this moment that Jean makes the realization that they're the same because they are now. They've both undergone a change and while it took them in many different directions, in the end, they've come to the same point; despite their respective sins or lack thereof, they're both fighting to become better people than who they once were. And in the finale, it is Jean who reassures Reiner that he is and will always be a Scout because he's fighting to save humanity, just like they had sworn to do as youths. Jean never forgot what it was they were fighting for, and because of that, I think Jean earns his place as the true moral compass of the series.

Wow, this really got away from me; Do you love the color of the Attack on Titan thoughts post? Anyways, if you managed to read all of this, I'm flattered you stuck around to entertain all my ramblings on a series that is basically over after a decade-long run that I was too late to jump on. With all my thoughts out of the way, I'm going to go reblog some Jean posts now, because he's the best character and no, you can't change my mind.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Kakashi's death with Pain seems to me to be a chapter that shows Kakashi's evolution and it also shows what a great character he is, since he gave his life for someone and also thanks to the talk he had with his father, Sakumo can rest in peace knowing that his son forgave him and that he's no longer the same person who loved to follow the rules. Well..I thought that what I said above was common sense but today I was surprised to see that someone said that Kakashi's death was "silly and meaningless", some people watched Naruto with their eyes closed..

Honestly i think people who say this only think a death is ‘meaningful’ if a person stays dead

We see how meaningful Kakashi’s death is to himself, his story, and the people around him. We get a glimps at two people who clearly care deeply about him when he dies.

Tsunade, who cries and destroys a pillar of the Hokage mansion when she gets the news, signifying the destruction of a pillar of Konoha

Gai, who’s on a mission and surrounded by his students but stops in his tracks because he feels Kakashi’s death. We don’t know if he truely understands what happens, but it’s exactly like the scene where Naruto feels Jiraiya’s death. Something is gone. Someone important to him is no longer there and his soul just called out to tell him this. He’s not even in the village and he’s already preparing himself for terrible news because he knows something terrible has happened.

Naruto’s reaction is a lot more toned down but you can hear it. He asks about Kakashi specifically and gets really quiet when Tsunade can’t answer him. He can’t lash out or cry because Pein is there and he has to protect the village, but he came home and immediately recognized that his Sensei’s chakra wasn’t there and had to ask even though (as said in his own words) it was very possible Kakashi was just away on a mission.

Choji’s reaction is more open with crying, but it makes sense because at the end of the day Kakashi gave his life saving Choji’s and that has to hurt. And when Kakashi wakes up alive again he’s so overwhelmed with relief that he cries more.

And then you go to Kakashi’s story. Kakashi, who we don’t know a lot about but have just started to learn a bit about, and we finally get to meet his father. The man Chiyo mistook him as when she first saw him, and who clearly has a reputation

And for the first time since we meet him, Kakashi is soft. Not just for a second, but the entire time. He’s open and relaxed and happy. For the first time in his life he can let down his guards and just relax completely because there is no more danger.

Then you have his connection with his father and thise sweet words of forgiveness. How Sakumo looks so surprised and then happy because he was so regretful over his death that he waited for his son for YEARS to apologize to him, only to have Kakashi tell him

‘I was mad. I hated you at one time and what you had done, but i’ve learned and i forgive you, but most importantly i am PROUD if you’ and that scene hits so hard cuz till this point we don’t see Kakashi openly say he’s proud of someone. He restricts himself, but after this point he’s more open of his pride. We know when he’s proud but he doesn’t really say it out loud until after he comes back to life. It was like he couldn’t say it out loud until he said it to his father, and instead he said it in weird and awkward ways (telling Naruto ‘i’m finally starting to like you’ while he was working on creating the rasenshuriken, which i think is anime only but still sort of highlights how Kakashi never outright says ‘i’m proud of you’ even to himself)

Kakashi’s death was so meaningful, but because he comes back to life people assume it means nothing.

It takes away Naruto’s ‘losing his sensei’ (which we see with Jiraiya but ok) or it was just ‘pointless’. It’s just complainers being complainers tbh. Nothing is ever good enough for them

[iridescentscarecrow]

transcribing a twt thread again (i apologise) but people often quote fujimoto's oneshot just listen to the song as proof that csm doesn't offer itself up to interpretation and exists to be absurd and zany and completely meaningless but i think that's a severe misreading of jlts's themes, and since a lot of similar threads crop up in fjmt's body of work, it's a take that obscures csm's own themes as well. because the song in just listen to the song is never devoid of meaning! it aches of human expression and this is also why it manages to resonate with so many people and take on a life of its own.

when i read jlts, i felt most strongly the thing it was trying to put into words was the tussle between the artist and their creation. barthes' death of the author, their creation forming interpretations in other's minds, being taken out of their hands, morphed, appropriated;

i don't think fjmt's commentary on this is normative in the slightest; he's rarely preachy. taking jlts as an indicator against fans engaging with a work seems fallacious when this is a statement you're deriving from the work too! to me, jlts is about human feeling when conveyed.

and this is a common line of thought in fjmt's work. i've earlier mentioned part one's metanarrative and makima's struggle mirroring an artist's. there is a bit of commentary here about symbolism and its connotation. fritters of symbols which add up to nothing.

this quote from sontang's "against interpretation" is one i often come back to. art's what is conveyed to us, the reader, what strains of meaning it carries with it:

and i think fjmt takes this thought further with the commercialisation of art. meaning as bestowed through the production process in goodbye eri, molded through capitalist forces in csm part 2.

the chainsaw man, falling out of denji's hands. the song, falling out of the mc's hands in his oneshot. this transition to fiction, art as a product residing in social consciousness is consistently something fjmt engages with and is interested by. boiling it down to the surface level discourse of "the curtains were fucking blue" is fairly reductive, because art exists and has always existed to narrativise, to be told and felt as an interplay between the author and their audience. and that exercise in itself forms meaning.

[theyilinglaozus]

I mentioned this briefly over on MDL yesterday, but since I'm back from my theatre trip I figured I'd say a little something about the Shōgun finale here too.

I've seen quite the divide in how people felt about the ending; some hated it whilst others, myself included, loved it.

I think one of the things that some people feel disappointed by is the fact we never got to see the battle of Sekigahara that the show was building up to. Yet the truth is that Shōgun was never going to show it, because in terms of the story the viewer didn't need to see the battle to know the outcome.

The story was always about Toranaga and the journey he takes towards becoming Shōgun. He is a master strategist, and has been playing the game of war from the very start, just silently and through methods of politics rather than by the sword. He uses every person to his advantage, moving them like pieces on a board for his endgame, even those who he is closest to. Sure, there are moments he likely doesn't account for - the death of his son and the appearance of Blackthorne, for instance - but like any strategist of his level he either adapts them into his plans, or finds a way to use the moment in his advantage. That's what strategists do.

We don't need to see the battle of Sekigahara, because by the end of the show Toranaga has already won. This is what he tries to tell Yabushige before his death. Toranaga's explanation here reminds me to the moment he's talking to his son, with this quote:

'Why is it that only those who have never fought in battle are so eager to be in one?'

War is inevitable, but Toranaga is trying to minimize the number of those who have to die because of it. After all, his goal is for a peaceful era for Japan.

Mariko's death was the final act of Crimson Sky. Her death shakes the foundations enough to cause action to happen, because her death should not have been allowed to happen. Ishido knows this, which is why he sends his ronin to capture, not kill. Mariko's death, while tragic, is the final nail that sparks change. Ochiba, mourning the death of her childhood friend, decides to tell Toranaga in secret not to send the Heir's army to aid Ishido in battle, meaning that without his banner Ishido's war is no longer a lawful one.

While Mariko's death is a tragic one, it is not a meaningless one. It does not feel cheap, and the finale episode allows the viewers to mourn with those who knew and loved or respected her. I thought this was quite beautifully done, as even though she wasn't present in the episode, her spirit was still there, so she was still very much there. Some of the cinematography beautifully alluded to this, especially in moments like when Blackthorne and Fuji are sitting together in silence, yet there's one seat left -- Mariko's. Blackthorne even says then, 'no translator', because once Mariko had been a bridge of communication and understanding between them.

Another thing which I see a lot of confusion upon is Blackthrone's flash-forward scenes -- did he ever return to England? The answer, in my opinion, is told in the finale episode too. No, he didn't. Toranaga tells Yabushige that Blackthorne will never leave Japan, and in the scenes with an older Blackthorne, we see he's holding Mariko's cross. Yet he drops it into the water, showing that he lets it go. The episode title is 'a dream of a dream', and that's what Blackthorne's flash-forwards are: dreams. Another life, another path - but not this one.

The characters of Shōgun are based on real-life people in history -- it's actually really fascinating, and I've been learning more and more about their real-life counterparts whilst following this gem of a show. If you're interested in learning more, look up names like Tokugawa Ieyasu, Miura Anjin (William Adams) and Hosokawa Gracia (Akechi Tama).

All in all, Shōgun to me leaned more into the political intrique side of war, which for some people will be fascinating, and for others, not so much. But this show has so many layers and so much hidden within it, I can see it being one that's analysed for years to come.