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nyxshadowhawk · 7 months ago

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A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

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This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

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nataliescatorccioapologist · 22 days ago

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Let’s investigate the new Yellowjackets season 3 photos!

First we have Tai, Van, Jeff, and Shauna at a funeral in the adult timeline, which we can safely assume is a funeral for Nat. Misty and Lottie are notably absent. I am guessing that Misty was not invited, understandably so because she literally killed Natalie. I think Lottie is absent because she 1) also wasn’t invited because she had a hand in Nat’s death and the others are a little scared of her right now, or 2) she is locked up in the psych ward at this point in time. Or maybe Misty and Lottie are there and just out of frame.

There are some other people in the background we’ve never seen before. Maybe these are some of Nat’s past sponsors? Maybe some friends or acquaintances we didn’t know about?

Card❗️draw❗️in❗️the❗️spring/summer❗️All of the characters involved are wearing light clothing, suggesting the weather is still warm and there likely isn’t a justifiable reason to be doing a cannibalism card draw for survival. So, there are two options here: 1) they’re starting to do cannibalistic card draws as a ritual or sacrifice to the wilderness, or 2) they’re drawing cards to decide something else. Maybe they’re drawing cards to see who has to kill Coach Ben?

I believe that’s Mari on the far left, and she maybe just maybe appears to be wearing the Pit Girl nightgown??? Not looking too good for her.

Also notable: Nat appears to no longer be wearing Jackie’s heart necklace in this scene (but she was shown wearing it in the early days of filming S3). What does that mean for the status of her leadership? Who was it given to?

There are some new people we’ve never seen before here. Background extras that get a plot line now like Melissa, Gen, and Krystal from last season?

This photo appears to be the aftermath of that card draw, given that the characters are wearing the same outfits as the previous photo. I am confused by the fact that Nat and Tai are now wearing jackets/shawls that they weren’t wearing before. Did they put them on after the card draw for some reason?

This photo strengthens the theory that this card draw could be related to Coach Ben, especially considering that Nat and Misty (the ones with the most attachment to Ben) are the only ones shown crying. Maybe Tai was chosen to kill Coach? Or maybe Nat was going to (since her gun is being used here) and she couldn’t do it so Tai took over? Also, the jacket Tai is wearing here (the hoodie) is the same one Nat was wearing when she was learning how to shoot the gun in S1. I wonder if that is significant/intentional?

People who may have drawn the fateful card here (as they are not seen in this shot): Travis, Lottie, Mari, Akilah, Coach Ben, and Gen. Could this be Mari or Akilah’s death scene? Or maybe Travis pulled the card which is why Nat is crying? This would line up with the writers’ implications that whoever draws the Queen card must die eventually (even if it happens many years later). Nat and Travis both died in the adult timeline, and we know Nat’s death was the fate of that Queen card catching up to her. Maybe it caught up to Travis too?

Either way, Tai holding that gun gave me chills I can’t wait to see how this scene unfolds.

Adult Taivan!!!! We were fed with all of these Taivan sneak peeks. These shots definitely imply that Tai and Van are rekindling their relationship this season, which fills me with joy. One thing that stands out here: in the street lamp photo, Taissa’s posture seems stiff and Van almost looks like she’s trying to keep her grounded/get through to her. Maybe this is The Bad One and Van is trying to keep her from spiraling?

Misty burning the reunion photo of her, Tai, Shauna, and Nat. I have a feeling that the others are really going to shun Misty this season and it’s going to make her a little (a lot) crazy. I think she may be burning the photo spitefully after being rejected by the others. Or she could be burning it as some kind of ritual/sacrifice? I could also see the possibility that Misty is burning that photo because it’s a painful reminder of Natalie and what she did to her.

Coach is confirmed to have survived the first winter somehow. And he’s not looking too good. Not a lot to take away from this photo, other than wondering what he’s looking so intensely at and how he has survived up to this point. I think he is definitely not going to make it through this season.

Adult Lottie well-dressed, looking amazing, and seemingly not locked up in a psych ward! So that’s great. Lottie appears to be outside of Shauna’s house in this scene, as the exterior matches and the address number (1285) is the same as in the pilot episode:

I also saw someone point out that the necklace Lottie is wearing here could be a vial of Nat’s ashes?! I feel like this is unlikely but let me tell you if that’s the case I will go absolutely feral.

And we have Callie and Shauna at the dinner table! Callie is a series regular now, so I am excited to see her arc this season and how involved she will get in the wilderness rituals. They appear to be studying something in this scene. Shauna has a book or textbook and Callie has a notepad. Could be just Shauna helping Callie with homework, but it also could be them investigating something👀

#yellowjackets #Yellowjackets season 3 #natalie scatorccio #shauna shipman #Callie sadecki #Lottie Matthews #van Palmer #taissa turner #misty quigley

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yukimomodivorce · 5 months ago

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The Ghosts in IDOLiSH7 are a Literary Device, Mostly

(an essay by me)

People are always asking me, "Robin, what the fuck is up with those ghosts in IDOLiSH7? How come this otherwise completely non-supernatural universe randomly has these two ghosts that show up and then never get acknowledged again? Is it just canon that ghosts exist and only Riku and Momo can see them?" and I am always telling them that I have an analysis about this I just haven't written it yet. But that ends today, as do all of these very pressing concerns about the i7 Ghosts™, because here I am, finally writing the analysis. This essay will have two sections, the first on the training camp ghost from part 3/third beat, and the second on the Re:vale house ghost from Yuki's third chapter of Re:member. So, spoilers for all of part 3/third beat in both sections, Re:member in section 2, and there's one extremely minor spoiler for part 4 in section 1 but it's honestly so predictable I don't think it even counts. Also, I'll reiterate this once we get to it, but just a warning that section 2 will contain discussions of depression, suicide and suicidal ideation, and a brief mention of self-harm, so please stop reading after section 1 if you don't want to see any of that! Another less important disclaimer about section 2 is that I am going to spend an entirely unecessary amount of time talking about Yuki. I am normal about Yuki. Okay. Without further ado, let's watch my spiral into ghost analogy insanity unfold!

Game translations: @seigyokus Re:member translations: @ takara_time (+ scans and editing by @ waitamomoment) Rabbit chat translations: @osakaso5

Section 1: The Training Camp Ghost

This first point applies to both ghosts, but I wanna start by noting that I think superstitions and beliefs like this are more common in Japan than a lot of other places, so yeah it is entirely possible that ghosts are just a canon and accepted thing in Idolish7's universe and this isn't really that strange of a detail for the series to include. However, I don't have any real background knowledge about if ghosts are normal in non-supernatural anime/etc. and I am not committing to that kind of research, so we'll have to leave the specifics of the ghost canonicity issue to someone else. But regardless of how canon they are, I think we've established well enough by now that the i7 writers don't put much of anything in the series without reason (re:vale band name you will always be famous. to me), and that definitely applies here as well - both of our ghosts are doing a LOT of potential symbolic work in their brief appearances, and that's what we'll be unpacking today, starting with the TCG.

The infamous TCG (training camp ghost) of Atami needs no introduction, but I'll give her one anyway. During the filming of the Friends Day special, upon following the shopping group home, she offers her services to Riku (inexplicably the only person capable of communicating with her) for the evening entertainment group's test of courage, terrorises several cast members throughout the day, and finally brings us Soma Saito's incredible cover of Dis One before probably being sent back to idol fan purgatory forever. Who is she? Where did she come from? I have several theories.

1.1: The TCG is the audience

While the 'ghosts are real in i7' possibility is there, I think it's also important to note in this case that the whole training camp is very explicitly being filmed for TV, and the biggest vibe I get from this episode of the anime is that the ghost is a part of the show, and we're seeing that show through the eyes of its in-universe audience. This happens pretty often in i7 (for example, when we see the groups talk to their fans during concerts), and generally the line between the real fans and the fictional ones can get pretty blurred (which deserves its own much longer analysis but I Am Not Writing All That), so everything with the in-universe audience here kind of naturally extends to us as the real audience. The TCG would probably be easy enough to manufacture with special effects as long as Riku and the driver guy were in on it, and it would make sense for the Friends Day producers to include it to keep things entertaining and be a stand-in for their viewers/fans of the idol groups - the ghost is specifically a female fan of male idols (Zero), and a lot of her interactions with the cast would qualify as self-insert material (e.g. Tenn singing for her and Riku looking directly into the camera to smile at her). And speaking of Tenn and Riku,

1.2 The TCG is Nanase twins angst

I think this connection is fairly obvious in their exchange here. You could make a case for the ghost representing either one of the twins. Like Riku, she's being pushed away by Tenn before she's ready to leave, told that it's necessary and for the best that they stay separated - after all, they live in different worlds. Like Tenn, she's leaving despite Riku's protests and part of her not really wanting to go at first, because she believes it's for the best that they stay separated - after all, they live in different worlds.

There's also the association with ghosts of being ignored/invisible, and Riku being the only person able to see or talk to her. Maybe it's because he's the only one who's able to reach her. Maybe he can see her because he understands her on some level - she was torn away from life like he was torn away from his brother, and she's now practically invisible to everyone else around her, like Riku probably feels to Tenn (and arguably the rest of his family in some ways). Maybe he wants her to feel seen, and he can make Tenn acknowledge her in the way he wants to be acknowledged by him. I might actually be going somewhere with this so bear with me for a second.

1.3: The TCG is monster Riku foreshadowing

So my first thought when I watched the Nanase twin angst portion of this episode was 'well obviously the ghost isn't real and Riku is just using it to talk to Tenn indirectly' because they are always having indirect conversations like this and it makes me insane, and I do still think that's the idea here, just not quite in the sense that Riku is making things up. Going back to the whole 'ghost is a stand-in for the audience' thing, and assuming that she's saying the things that Riku wants to say and Tenn is telling her the things he wants to tell Riku, then we could say that rather than Riku purposefully having the ghost speak for him, this is an extension of the monster effect. I guess in this scenario the TCG is a real ghost (and a figurative representation of the audience), and Riku is having the same effect on her that Iori says he has on everyone else. He unknowingly projects his desire to connect with his brother onto her, and she tries to help him. Really, the only times we see her after she follows the shopping group to their cabin are when she's helping Riku, with the test of courage and then with speaking to Tenn. This gets convoluted so I kinda doubt it's intentional? But it's fun to think about.

1.4: The TCG is the friends we made along the way

Riku spells this out a bit more explicitly in the game here, but the TCG represents the each of the groups in the series in a couple different ways. I guess one way you could interpret this is that the ghost is meant to be there to emphasise how extraordinary it is that they're all together, but I don't think that really holds up considering how often they end up working with each other throughout the series anyway. What's important here is the idea of the ghost itself, something that can be present and felt even when it isn't physically or actually there. Again, the ghost is the audience - a constant influence for better and for worse on these idols even when they aren't watching, even in their personal lives; and vice versa, the ghost is the idols being able to reach their fans without ever actually knowing them. More relevant to what Riku says, the ghost is the groups to each other - friends, mentors, rivals, pushing them forward even when they aren't standing side by side. You could even say the ghost is ZOOL, friends who aren't here right now but will be someday. Re:vale and Idolish7 as groups don't especially fit the ghost description, but they have their fair share of ghosts - Banri, Haruki, Tenn, Aya, Sougo's uncle. Zero. The list goes on, for Trigger and ZOOL as well, but I think the most important way the ghost analogy applies to this section of the story is with Trigger. Because during the imminent Arc Where Trigger Gets Cancelled™, despite leaving their agency and disappearing almost entirely from the public eye, they're still very much there to their fans and to their friends. So. I kinda forgot what I was saying but to sum it all up the ghost here represents everything that stays with you even when it's far away or after it's gone from your life. Mikanseinabokura and all that. And now that I mention it-

Section 2: The Re:vale House Ghost

Once again, a warning that this section has a brief mention of self-harm, as well as in-depth discussions of depression, suicide and suicidal ideation (which I'm gonna be talking about pretty bluntly the entire time), so please don't proceed unless you're comfortable with all of that!

Like most things in Re:member, the RHG (Re:vale house ghost) makes me insane. Today I am going to attempt to form coherent thoughts about it and it is unlikely that I'll succeed, but try to bear with me. Though it isn't around for as long as the TCG, we have a little more info about the RHG - it's the ghost that haunts the shitty apartment Yuki and Momo live in together in their early days as Re:vale. Supposedly. All it actually does is slam the door of one kitchen cabinet and I don't think that this is definitive evidence of paranormal activity because most houses are just like that. It's all a little bit vague, but according to Re:vale, their house is definitely haunted by the ghost of someone who died in the kitchen, because when they move in there is a mysterious black stain on their kitchen floor. Momo introduces himself to the floor stain while Yuki stares at him in awe and blushes and shoujo filter flowers appear in his eyes. God I hate them. I think the RHG is just a figment of their collective imagination or maybe they're having one of those shared delusions or something. But that's really besides the point because this ghost exists for one very specific thematic purpose: the RHG is Yuki.

And on that note, let's go back and talk about Yuki for a few minutes (potentially hours) before we get to our actual analysis of the ghost scene. Mostly because I just wanna talk about him, but also because I do understand why some people think the 'Momo starts talking to ghosts' part of Re:member is kinda weird and random, and I think at least some of this is important to go over before we unpack it.

A consensus has already been established among Yuki scholars that our subject has autism (Kei et al. 2024). Today, I would like to propose an additional diagnosis: Yuki has depression.

2.1: "I lost my dreams, friends, and passion as well."

So, Yuki pretty clearly gets depressed when Ban leaves him. He loses interest in everything he used to care about, gives up on his dreams, blames himself for Ban's injury and disappearance, he's constantly sad, tired and irritable, and he lashes out at Momo (and Kujou, though there are some other pretty strong reasons for that one) and presumably everyone else he knows (I doubt he had a particularly good relationship with anyone else in the first place, but still).

He's grieving here, and it would make sense for him to react this way because of that fact alone. But I really don't think that's all there is to it, because he exhibits these symptoms (among others) long before Ban leaves him. He can't get out of bed in the mornings, he rarely leaves the house if he can avoid it, he has days where he can't eat or sleep, he's underweight and always tired and generally known to lack energy and be slow (or 'lazy') and in some cases listless and despondent. Ban even says that he wouldn't put it past Yuki to start slitting his wrists. And it's subtle, but there's one more really big one that really never goes away for him, even after he finds Ban.

2.2: "I don't need anyone to love me."

I'll get straight to the point. Yuki hates himself. Maybe only a little bit, maybe only sometimes, but it's there. Especially when he struggles with composing - he even says it himself in part 1 of his birthday photobook rabbit chat, almost immediately after saying that it made him want to kill himself but we'll get back to that part.

But it's really everywhere on what seems to be a mostly subconscious level for him, if you know how to look, even from the very beginning:

On paper, this line is just his frustration with being judged by anything other than his music, because it's something he cares a lot about and puts a lot of work into and he wants that to be acknowledged. But I think that if you take it in conjunction with some of the other things he tends to say, there's a little bit more to it.

I dont need anyone to love me. Yuki's songs are worthy of love. Yuki is not. There is nothing valuable about Yuki other than his songs, he has nothing else that deserves any sort of praise, and without them, he's just a useless burden with nothing to offer. He doesn't need anyone to love him - he doesn't understand why anyone would. And Momo does, and he's a good person, and Yuki doesn't deserve that when there's nothing he can actually do for him. And when that starts to change and he starts getting better at showing kindness to others and being there for Momo, he doesn't see it as learning to better express his feelings, he sees is as learning to feel affection and be a good person, because he believes that he is inherently not. As far as he can tell, Yuki is just naturally a bad person and a bad partner who isn't kind and isn't capable of love or compassion, not unless he tries to be. He knows, because he's heard it god knows how many times - even Chiba Shizuo blatantly tells him that neither of them can become good people - and maybe things are different now, but on some basic level it'll always be who he is.

Ok breaking character for a second, imagine you show up to your acting side gig and on the first day Keanu Reeves comes up to you and gives you $300 cash and then later he indirectly tells you that you're a nasty lonely egotistical failure. Now imagine you're Yuki and you have no fucking clue who Keanu Reeves is. He also shows you pictures of his top secret illegitimate son after talking to you for like 10 minutes and you have to lie to him about being straight. I think this is objectively the funniest situation to be in ever. Chiba Shizuo and Yamato both probably have depression also, but I'm not gonna spend any time on it, because every three months a person is torn to pieces by a crocodile in Northern Queensland. I forgot what I was talking about. Anyway

2.3: Hey remember that one time Yuki just straight up tried to kill himself

Yeah, that one. As far as I know this is really never addressed or acknowledged again, so we're just gonna take the page-long gag from Re:member at face value and say that after Ban's disappearance, Yuki (almost) attempted suicide, and the only reason he didn't go through with it is because he couldn't find anywhere to hang the noose. And like, yeah you could say it's just because he thought Ban might have killed himself and he's always been the kind of hopeless romantic to be waxing poetic about how "I can't live without you," but at the same time, he had no apparent reason to believe this (even if Ban did have suicidal tendencies I doubt Yuki would've really known), and he was planning to go through with it (I know it's probably just for comedic effect but he left a will. He left a will. He's, like, 20, and surely not the kind of person who would just have something like that in order already). This is also emphatically not the last time or the only reason he thinks about it.

I told you we'd get back to the photobook chat! I think there's also a lot you can infer from all the times he says he'd probably be dead by now without Momo and he wouldn't be able to handle losing him, what with the whole "when you jump, you'd better take me with you" thing. But regardless, this really isn't just that one time that Yuki tried to kill himself. It's suicidal ideation, and it's something he consistently struggles with especially in the few months after Ban leaves him. It even comes up in how he sees the 'paranormal activity' his new apartment:

2.4: "It seemed as though someone had hung themselves there."

Yeah it's the ghost I'm finally gonna talk about the ghost. I'm done with my Yuki has depression rant we can talk about why the ghost is Yuki now. I guess it might be more accurate to say that the ghost is Yuki's depression/suicidal thoughts/Banri trauma/whatever, but either way I think it represents him and he might also be semi-consciously projecting onto it, and I'm gonna go through line-by-line and try to explain my interpretation.

I think if you want to there's definitely room to take the 'usual paranormal activity' super literally and say that Yuki was having outbursts and slamming doors at the time (which would also match up with him being startled by it). I think it's also important to note that this is happening around the time he mentions feeling suicidal and not being able to compose in the photobook chat, but the main thing here is that second line. Even though Momo is always so nice to him, he can't stop himself from getting mad and being difficult and depressed, and he can't return that kindness - he can't even be useful to him.

I've already mentioned how I think Yuki's conclusion about the stain here plays into his suicidal ideation, but let's look at it a little more thematically. It's the way that even though it's glossed over earlier in the manga, Yuki's suicide attempt and everything that accompanied it still follows him, and it hangs (lol) heavy in their house like a ghost. To Yuki, it's startling and eerie - it scares him, and he's expecting it to scare Momo once he sees that side of him too. And it probably does scare him a little, and he hesitates, but he doesn't scream. Again, there's room to interpret this more literally as Momo finding out about his attempt/ideation/depression, or just as him inevitably seeing how he gets on his worse days, but either way the outcome is the same. Momo is starting to know Yuki as a person instead of an idol, flaws and probable mental illness and all, and his first reaction isn't to shy away or start to hate him or want to leave. It's an introduction. He makes it clear that they'll both be staying here from now on, that he's willing to live with the 'darker' sides of Yuki, and to help him do the same. Another point on this that's up to interpretation (because let's be real they're probably never gonna deal with this stuff explicitly in canon), you could see the whole ghost thing as neither of them really being able/wanting to accept that Yuki's symptoms are actually a part of him (and this is veering completely into fanfic territory but now I'm just imagining both of them silently agreeing to blame the things Yuki does on bad days on the ghost) but we've had enough angst for one day.

Everything else lines up well enough with the ghost and Yuki, but it's really his reaction here that sells the whole thing for me. It's a simple gesture, but just by Momo greeting him, being by his side, waiting for him when he comes home, that constant reminder of all his darkest thoughts becomes just another mark on the floorboards. It's not gone, and it probably never will be. But at least now, he doesn't have to face it alone. And it doesn't look so scary anymore.

2.5: "Now I know joy, and the meaning of a smile."

I must confess that I lied to all of you earlier. I'm actually not done with my Yuki rant and also there's a good reason I've been ignoring all the parts of Re:member where he isn't being self-deprecating or trying to kill himself. The end of the ghost scene is only the beginning of the end of this analysis, and the end of this analysis is pretty much just me having a meltdown about Yuki. Also I'm running out of space for images so we're doing some of the quotes like this instead.

After losing Ban, I lost my dreams, friends, and passion as well. I could only feel a sting as the wind passed through an empty, gaping hole in my chest. But I breathed as best as I could, and he tried to clear the dirt out of that hole, filling it with his earnest words instead.

Yuki still exhibits a lot of symptoms of depression all the way through the series, like the low energy and the trouble eating and sleeping, and [redacted part 5 spoilers] makes me think there's definitely some sort of connection between his writers' block and his depressive episodes. He still mentions feeling guilty towards Banri in second beat, the suicidal ideation doesn't really come up explicitly but he kinda hints at it on a few occassions, and he's very adament that he was a bad person and still isn't really a good one. But it's like. I don't really know how to put this, but I guess it's not his default state anymore like it was right after Ban left (and possibly before that, too). For the most part, he really does get better, and these things become less intense and fewer and farther between. He would probably say that it's all thanks to Momo, and it is, but he also very much does it of his own volition. Momo refuses so desperately to give up on him, and because of that he makes that choice to keep going by restarting Re:vale with him.

Yuki allows himself to let someone else in and start to love again - his partner, his music, his life. Even while he's thinking that he's just a burden to those around him, he doesn't resign himself to his fate like he might have done in the past. He's determined to become a better person, someone who can be a source of strength for Momo just like he was for him. And in the end, he does, but it's not just that. Now he knows joy. Now he can genuinely smile. And now,

I want to hear them scream my name. The voices that called out had annoyed me in the past. But now, I'll smile, together with Momo, who'll be by my side.

Going back to what I said about some of Yuki's subconscious self-hatred coming through in the way he wants people to look at his music and not at him, I. Cannot finish a sentence. Do NOT think about Yuki learning to love himself and see himself as worthy of love because Momo loved him just that much in a way that he could accept. BAD IDEA. Okay. So. It's Ban's advice and Momo's fan letter that get Yuki to accept that his fans do genuinely love his music in the first place, and I think it's here that it really starts to turn into him accepting the idea that they love other things about him too? Or that he really starts to want it and be happy about it instead of just accepting it? Whatever. I give up. I don't even like Re:vale anyway

That day, I would play the guitar I'd almost thrown at Kujou, because I now knew the power of a song that could not be silenced. I would dry my tears, open the door, and say, "I'm home."

#alabastxr.pdf #new tag just dropped #idolish7 #orikasa yukito #yukito orikasa #not tagging the rest of them #i did not mean to write an entire yuki character analysis here. oops #writign this post killed me im gonna go think about mission now

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

Text

much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care.

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.”

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features.

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

#eren #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #aot x reader #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #much ado about nothing #much ado universe #much ado uni

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mintycandycrumb · 28 days ago

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The Blatant Sexism and VA Harassment in The SAMS Fandom.

Not the first Ramble I fully wanted to make on this account, and I'm a little late to the party, but I feel this can no longer be held back as something to keep inside. I have been in the SAMS fandom now since Nexus was first born as New Moon, and in that year and a half since Moon first died I've seen this fandom take some of the lowest falls ever.

I would like to start this simply by saying to Kat (Earth's VA); that I am so sorry the fandom is treating you the way they are, and allow this message from me to at least somewhat help you know there are people in this fandom who respect you and the work you do for us. As an aspiring writer and voice actor myself, you and the rest of the crew are inspiring, and I'm sorry the fandom has thrown so much hate at you for no reason.

To everyone who has been harassing Kat or any other VA; You suck. Plain and simple. These VAs create, write, portray and produce free daily content for you, and you feel entitled to 'good' writing when none of them are professional writers who HAVE to give it to you. These are people with their own lives, and creators do not owe their audience anything, and they are in every right to take it away from us if they feel necessary.

I do have my own issues with the writing at times, but I can look at TSBS for what it is, a simple online show that will have its flaws, plotholes, mistakes, and 'bad' episodes. But it's a show I still love regardless, for the characters and their stories, not the overarching plot. No writing is perfect and the VAs are not professional writers, those who expect movie-quality writing in these shows are not seeing it for what it is

And finally, the blatant hatred towards the female characters in TSBS. Earth, Roxy, Nebula, Pollux, Puppet, Ballora, I've seen so much despisal for these characters for seemingly no reason, and I myself admit I enjoy most villains over them, but that is my own personal love for Villains and NOT a dislike for these characters. They are just as well written as others, flaws and all, as it makes them more human. I will mostly be touching on Earth as she is my biggest point of anger here.

Earth is ALLOWED to be selfish for once in her life, it is not something to demonize her for while you woobify Lunar, someone who has outright admitted he is selfish and by that logic should face the same hatred. Earth is a sweetheart who wants to see the good in people, even those others demonize, like Eclipse, but for some reason, she is despised when she finally wants to do something for herself.

Earth currently is living with chronic pain due to Lunar's rage and selfish (though justifiable) hatred towards Eclipse, and she currently is confused about whether she should forgive him or not, that's good writing, not something to hate her for. The female characters of TSBS are written to be realistic and more human, they are not your punching bags just because you don't like them for some reason.

If you demonize the female characters, yet woobify the villains and claim they can do not wrong, you suck. I admit once again, some of my favorite characters are the deplorable villains (Nexus, Ruin, BloodMoon, etc), but that does not mean I will say they did nothing, they are horrible people but I love them for it. And I love Earth, and the other female characters, for their flaws and the mistakes they make.

In short: Leave the VAs alone, creators owe you nothing, the female characters are flawed and that's okay, you are allowed to like villains despite their deplorable actions, and I hope for the sake of everyone working on these shows our fandom gets better. All of this coming from the perspective of an aspiring VA, Writer, and a woman. Do, Better.

#the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams #the lunar and earth show #lunar and earth show #laes #CandyCrumbles

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binsito · 1 year ago

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I loved your idea of hannie with his nail tech crush.. yk what i think though? OBVIOUSLY the nailtech kinda knows abt this little crush of his. She doesnt know how severe it is but she does notice the way he blushes slightly when she compliments his hands, or the way his eyes sparkle when she finally giggles at one of his jokes. Also who am i kidding the nail tech obviously ALSO finds hannie v v cute and v v hot bc,,,, he's hannie??? He's charming and handsome and he keeps his fingernails clean soooo maybe the next time he comes around, and she is feeling a little frustrated bc her own hands aren't enough fun for her.. she'll hint at wanting his fingers inside of her? Maybe she'll be kinda distracted and shy this tine or maybe she's bold and just straight up teases him by saying things that could be considered dirty but also might just be his pervy mind interpreting the wrong thing. Aaa idk i'm not a writer but yourw giving my head THOUGHTS

OHHHH MYGOD. thank god you left this ask bc i was dying to write more for this JASHDJA

warning: fingering, hand worshipping, swearing, slight perv!han jisung, lmk if i missed anything but it's pretty tame

wc: 914

hannie has to act normal.

hannie has to be cool.

hannie has to act like he doesn't go home after every appointment and edges his cock thinking about how nice it would be to have your lips wrapped around his tip.

so when he walks into the salon, straight into your suite and takes a seat at your chair - he makes a mental promise to himself that:

he. will. not. get. hard.

he won't get hard if you hold his hands, it's all part of your job.

he won't get hard if you smooth lotion on him, it's just a courtesy.

he won't get hard if you compliment his nails, they're only pretty because you made them pretty.

"hannie do you even put your fingers to use?"

what?

"you come here so often and yet they're rarely chipped or overgrown. you must not lift a finger." you smile.

oh.

he felt so stupid, of course he read into it in such a dumb, perverted way.

"you must take good care of yourself hm?"

fuck.

why couldn't he be normal? why couldn't he just have nice, clean thoughts? why was he getting hard? why couldn't he just keep his promise?

"your hands are always soft. i wish i had nice fingers like you. they're long and pretty.."

he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly. he was being such a loser.

"oh yeah.. they're definitely long, alright.. hah.." he says

who the fuck says that?

he literally wanted the ground to eat him up.

"yeah, they are. longer than mine." you giggle as you work on his polish.

"yeah.. way longer.."

and why he kept going? only god knows, but he definitely noticed your face flushing (and was he crazy or were you pressing your legs tightly together under the table?)

hannie doesn't think he's ever seen you this quiet, this concentrated on his hands before. after the conversation died out, there was no other topic to bounce off of. and normally han jisung would just start talking about random shit, would tell you your hair looked pretty or that he noticed your subtle eye makeup and that it looked nice.

but not now.

not today.

"hannie have you ever had problems reaching things with your fingers? i-it could just be because mine aren't as long as yours but.. you know they're never quite enough to reach."

"oh uh.. n-no but do you need help reaching something? i could help.."

"could you really? that's so sweet of you, hannie.." your smile could melt him into a puddle. you smile at him so sweetly, just for him and han jisung can't really handle that well.

"so what is it you need help with? something too high up or-"

"well.. i just can't seem to cum. doing your nails frustrates me so much. they look so nice so why can't i have them inside of me?" you pout at him.

the wind feels like it was knocked out of him. he thanks god that you have your own little suite and no one else was around to hear that.

"f-fuck, are you serious? holy shit, why didn't you say something sooner?"

"well because i'm a little shy and because i wanted to finish doing your set first, of course..

you really mean it though? will you actually help me?"

"yes.. fuck, yes i'll help you."

his eagerness was cute. unluckily for him, he still had to wait for you to cure his gel polish. his leg bouncing impatiently as you gave him a look to quit it.

he smiled shyly and let out a nervous chuckle as he tried to contain himself. once you were done, he damn near jumped out of his chair towards you. you put some of your supplies away and walked past him to lock the door. as soon as he felt the coast was clear and no one would walk in, he grabbed you - kissing you deeply and pressing you against his lean body.

it was an intense kiss, full of want and desire but you welcomed it because you had been feeling the same way. you pulled away slightly to grab his wrist, bringing it up towards your mouth so you could take two of his freshly manicured fingers in between your lips.

you made sure to get them nice and wet, saliva connecting them to the tip of your tongue when you pulled them out.

han jisung felt weak.

he found himself pressing you against the nearest wall, your pants long forgotten as he pumped his fingers inside you, finally leaving you fuller than your fingers ever could.

the pads of his fingers massaged your gummy spot and curled against it making your knees buckle. it was all too perfect and better than you could ever imagine. you knew the orgasm he was going to pull from you was going to be intense. you felt it bubbling up already and he hadn't even been touching you for long.

but when he brings his other hand forward to rub at your clit and you look down to catch a peek of his baby blue nails, you lose yourself to him and feel yourself cream around his fingers. clenching your cunt tightly against them, not wanting him to ever pull out.

however when he does pull out, he makes sure to have you watch as he sucks your essence off his fingers. rolling his eyes back at the taste and humming in satisfaction.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #💌 : binsito #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han smut #skz han #han : binsito

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kuroppiii · 6 months ago

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little mermaid ᵕ̈ boyfie!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : "not even the ocean could ⋮⋮ rip me away from you. i'm not going ⋮⋮ anywhere. what am i? sea foam?"

📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛 ♡ # ~800 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i ' m in the summer mood thanks to @lcvemiyuki 's account xx . hot writer summer !!! ( not proofread !! ) ”

you turn to the next page of your book. you try your best from letting the sand that's stuck to your sunscreen-ed arm deposit little grains into the nooks and crannies of the novel's binding, but it's hard considering your lounging on your towel stomach-first. the seagulls circling above you and the shade of your beach umbrella mock you as you inevitably fail to do so. you try to lean forward and gently blow the sand off the neatly-printed letters when–

"stop moving babe!" your boyfriend of 6'2" whines like a child. "you're going to ruin art. my art."

and with that, you feel more sand getting dumped on the back of your legs and the light patting of hands to shape it around your body. kuroo was currently trying to give you a mermaid tail.

"how much longer is this gonna take, tetsu?" you struggle to say without giggling through your words. you hear him return your laughter, and although you can't turn around to see it, you can picture his smile and the way his eyes crease at the corners as he does so. you hear his steps in the sand as he comes up to join you and your book.

"it's almost done," he announces before nosing at the side of your face and leaving loving kisses from your temple to your slightly-sunburnt shoulder. you feel the ocean water still remnant in his hair from the swim you two shared earlier.

"you said that about 20 minutes ago if i recall correctly," you tease, trying your best to dodge his sea salty kisses.

"i told you to stop moving! oh, i'm gonna have to start all over again at this rate," he complains with the most dramatic sigh any one person has ever mustered, making you laugh more. "and how do you know it's already been 20 minutes, anyway? i haven't seen you check your phone at all, you've had your nose stuck in that book."

"well can see from the shadow of the sunscreen," you start through your fit of giggles, but as you start your defense kuroo starts to shift so he's right in front of you–face-to-face with you and leaning on his side. maybe it's heatstroke, but you swear you can see a twinkle in your boyfriends eyes, like the way the ocean shimmers in the midday sunlight. "and y'know if the egyptians, if they can use their sun dials to, to tell the passage of time, then... then..."

your laughter dies down and sound of your voice trails off. a subtle smile graces kuroo's lips, and you start to feel small by how devoutly he's admiring you.

you two share a peaceful moment, a lull where it's just you two and the sound of waves crashing against the shore nearby.

"i should bury you in sand more often," he suddenly blurts out, interrupting the silence.

you start laughing again, "why on earth would you say that?"

kuroo shakes his head and places his hand to the side of our smiling cheek, "because that way i know you won't go away. i like having you here, with me."

"i could never leave you, tetsu. even when i get my legs back. not even the ocean could rip me away from you. i'm not going anywhere. what am i? sea foam?" you lightheartedly joke. kuroo hums in response, and you feel the pad of his thumb start to caress your cheekbone.

suddenly you realize how close you two were, you can almost feel his lips on yours and the feeling makes your eyes flutter shut. at last, you feel his soft and tender (and a little sandy) kiss as his hand comes down to take your hand away from your book and into his own.

you depart and it's like you're in a daze. you have to take a deep breath of seaside air and rest your head down on your arm as you and kuroo smile at each other like the two lovestruck idiots you are.

then he goes to brush off the sand from his swim trunks and sit up, "alright babe, what do you say to some sea shells to decorate your marvelous tail–the one you definitely love and will stay still for because yours truly is making it?"

you reach out and grab a fistful of sand and launch it at his torso, which he lets out a pitchy yelp at in response.

"whatever you want mr. artiste, as long as i can get my legs back soon so we can go out and swim again," you say as you shift to continue your book.

kuroo gives you a wink, "anything for my little mermaid."

#🌼 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂 #🌼 𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗼 #my big baby #haikyuu #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff

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tenthousandyearsx · 1 year ago

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Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!!#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

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pacificwaternymph · 8 months ago

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Aaaaand everyone give it up for WASTED POTENTIAL

Season finale spoilers under the cut

Okay. I'll be honest. The finale was... not what I was hoping for.

I tried so hard to remain optimistic. I truly believed they could pull it all together and everything was going to have a satisfying conclusion. But I guess that's my fault. I set my expectations too high.

Is this about Tech? Primarily, yes. Yes it was. I am so disappointed. And you can make fun of me all you want but I genuinely believed, with all my heart, that CX-2 was Tech.

BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK ELSE WAS THERE SO MUCH EMPHASIS ON HIM

There was so much to suggest that CX-2 was somebody we knew. We spent so much time on him, suffered through so many completely unnecessary, in hindsight, close up shots and random pieces of episodes that focus on him, only for him to get javelined through the middle in the span of half a second.

It feels like the writers were just making fun of the viewers, at this point. Haha, can you believe they actually thought?

Yes, we did think! Did you?

Tech's death was so... unconvincing. They didn't even try. Not only was his life "cut short" in the midst of his character development, said death was caused by falling, without any other kind of injury, while we watch him disappear into the clouds. And then we see no body and only have his broken goggles as "evidence" of his death. What the hell else were we supposed to assume?

That's not even bringing up that Tech gets maybe three mentions all throughout the entire season. The show never touches on how the death of one of their squadmates, people they have known since birth, affects the batch. Not once do they ever say out loud that Tech is dead until the fucking finale.

This isn't just me reading too closely between the lines. This is genuinely bad writing. It's loading chekhov's gun and then refusing to shoot it.

Even if CX-2 wasn't Tech, or even somebody we knew, the way he is treated suggests that he was supposed to be important. He was supposed to be be relevant. And now, he's neither!

Furthermore, where fuck was everybody? Where was Rex with the reinforcements to storm the base? Where was Wolffe deciding he didn't want anything to do with the Empire anymore? Where was Cody? Where was Phee in all of this?

Where was Cid? So we're just... not going to get any kind of closure for that? We spend two entire seasons with her, then she just betrays them and we never see her again? Even if they didn't redeem her, that feels like pretty damn bold move.

The Zillo beast does... barely anything. Really? It just breaks out and moves away from the biggest source of energy it will ever find after causing the slightest amount of property damage to two rooms, and storms off into the woods, and that's all we get? Seriously?

And then once we get to the time jump... Echo's gone. Again. Either still off with Rex, if he hasn't gone into hiding yet, or died off screen. Neither is a good nor satisfying ending for his character. But I guess shouldn't be surprised by that. When have the writers ever cared about Echo?

The biggest problem with the whole thing is that it didn't feel like a finale. It felt like a normal episode, just slightly longer. The Bad Batch returned to Pabu, because I guess there are no consequences from the Batch being discovered there before and the empire decided that they were just going to... leave it alone, and everything returns to the status quo. That's not what a finale does, Dave.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. There were parts that I enjoyed. I'm glad Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair got their happy endings. Seeing Omega all grown up really did something to my heart. But overall I am just so frustrated.

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sunnysideaeggs · 6 months ago

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some criticisms i have of episode 2. read the tags first please.

disclaimer: i am a targtowers’ stan first and foremost. that means: aegon, helaena, aemond and daeron. they’re my favorite characters. that’s where my ‘loyalty’ stands. everyone else (including alicent) comes after.

helaena’s grief should’ve been a bigger point in the episode. this is HER episode and aegon’s (i’m not complaining about him but her screentime was so low). everyone else, rhaenyra, alicent, yada yada is secondary.

alicent can light up candles for her enemy’s son but can’t even attend the funeral of her grandson 🙄 she doesn’t cry, curse the blacks, want to bathe in the blood of jaehaerys’ killers, or can even bring herself to say his name.

i love aegon’s performance. i love all of his grief manifested in rage and anger. he cries but he will kick everyone later. tom go get your emmy.

girl your daughter just lost a son and you want to talk about you fucking your bodyguard. i’m tired of her. helaena is with all right of ignoring her.

once upon a time there was a boy that loved horses 😭 jaehaerys my dear

a larys/aegon scene is all i could wish for. the cold mastery of secrets and torture combined with the unstoppable wrath of a wounded man. i need more of them.

i like how the funeral seems, by all accounts, normal but by helaena’s viewpoint everything is too much. the people claim for her showing support but it’s all noise. the carriage showing her little boy so that people know who to blame but it only reminds her more of what happened. he even looks like he’s sleeping.

tbh this scene shows how rhaenyra doesn’t fucking care about helaena and her children. the first thought she had when she heard of the news wasn’t to have compassion or empathy, but to do damage control and worry about her reputation.

lmao i don’t have a clue what daemon’s intentions and rationality is. he only cares about looking mighty and dangerous to other people even when he does dumb shit, then justifies it. he lives only for other people’s opinions but then everyone hates his ass lol. dilffailure.

also he’s the embodiment of living for a dick measuring contest he ends up losing. all of daemon’s behavior can be attributed to erectile dysfunction.

how the writers found time for an oc prostitute having a mommy kink scene with aemond but didn’t have more time for a longer scene with helaena and literally anyone is beyond me.

aemond talking about his regret for luke but not about the death of his nephew 💀 luke died like three years ago condal pls get over it. aemond would care more about jaehaerys than poor little luke.

some much needed baela character development. i love characters that are like the female version of their dad but then also fucking hate their dad lol

i liked the tidbits of the dragonseeds during the episode. i’d like some nettles too :) but i guess the only female and canonically black character is a little too much for this show amirite :)

of course daemon would never be able to bend to anyone he considers inferior, much less rhaenyra, who under any other circumstance would be seen as ‘lesser than him’. it reminds him of his failures. i’m glad we’re on the same page.

aegon never had a chance right? aegon was literally raised by hightowers in love with targaryens. he never would’ve been able to surpass viserys and rhaenyra in otto and alicent’s eyes. nothing he did could’ve changed that.

otto’s little laugh cost him a job lol. i’m sad we didn’t get his cats.

the focus on rhaenyra in the arryk/erryk fight is too much for me. once again, leave secondary characters have their moments instead of shoving r or a down my throat please. this is their especial moment, their last moment. rhaenyra being all 😨🧍🏼‍♀️ between their shots does nothing for the scene.

otto’s realization of his life’s work being flushed down the drain is so touching and painful in a way to me. he’s like tywin if he lived long enough to see cersei and tommen fuck everything up.

‘i have sinned’ ‘i do not wish to hear of it’ that’s peak cersei and tywin from that one scene when she confessed the incest.

daeron exists? yay. and once again i’m fucking tired of alicent not reacting to mention of daeron, not comforting helaena, bashing aemond, ignoring aegon. where’s the love for her children?

the scene of otto putting resting his face on his hands? chills. it should’ve lingered there. showcase otto’s regret? grief? idk. pity it just lasted half a second because we needed to see alicent once more.

from now on, alicent is cancelled for me. i don’t care anymore about her. any parent that leaves their child in distress to go fuck can eat shit. i gave that treatment to daemon in laena’s funeral and i’m giving it to her.

we have more sex scenes of alicent than we have of daemon and aegon combined. yet she’s the pious queen and they’re the lechers. condal please write accordingly.

how do i watch a show when i don’t care for the two main characters, because they’re cardboard cuts of women who don’t do anything? i don’t know.

#sunny cooks 🍳🍷#hotd #hotd season 2 spoilers #hotd season 2 #hotd s2 #team green #anti alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #i went overboard #i’m jumping alicent’s ship i’m sorry #i can’t call myself an alicent stan anymore #i stand with her children and she doesn’t #therefore i no longer stand with her

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periwinklekryptonite · 9 months ago

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hey hi how does travis parallel common feminine tropes? i need to hear from the travis expert

Okay, so the "Problem" is that there's a preface and conclusion that's, like, way longer than just my bit about Travis's funny little parodies and then genuine relationship with femininity. While answering this ask, I realized just how big it is and I don't want to unload all of it here because I am just. Too tired all of the time to have all of it done in one swipe, and my attempt to do so ended up frustrating me more than anything LMAO

I write this with the promise that I'll expand on it and actually get to the meat of your question. I have a lot of it written, already!

The preface is easy: what's up with Travis and his relationship with gender?

Travis is trying to present as a very masculine, powerful character. It's an easy defense mechanism when he's alone in a crowded room. The thing many people fail to consider is that he doesn't know any of these people, and he probably dislikes most (if not all) of them on principal. The girls have a bond that existed in the before times, and Travis doesn't. He's an outsider. He's trying to grasp for some semblance of control by playing a sort of parody of the stoic, macho man... and it doesn't work.

Because of how he does this, a lot of people into the show are not into Travis. He's one of the only characters that are overtly and loudly misogynistic. It makes sense that people don't want to look past that when he acts so nasty. This means many write him off as exactly what Travis wants people to think he is.

Kevin Alves says it best in his Boys by Girls interview. I suggest reading the whole thing, it says a lot of what I'm saying and more.

So, even though he's pushing this masculine agenda when he's in the wreck with all the girls, my assumption in him has always been that he's never been the most big or the most masculine of guys at school. This is him really trying to pretend to be someone that he is not, this is not him.

This dramatized, fictional version of him is how he thinks he'll find a place within the group. The alternative is getting Coach Ben-ed and slowly being ousted from the group. Sitting in the back room and rotting in complete solitude just seems like a downer.

(Here he is looking sad for emphasis)

Travis was never the top dog. The girls do not take him seriously when he acts like this, and he probably wasn't taken very seriously in school. His insecurities lead to a lot of failures in his relationship with Javi and Nat, and no relationship with anyone else. If it continued any further than it did, he would've died for this. Like with Jackie, he'd be frozen out.

What Travis learns, and we learn as well, is that to be part of the in-group, you must also be a part of the dominant culture in the cabin and Wilderness itself. For Travis to be a part of the Yellowjackets, Travis must also be one of the girls.

Travis's story, the link between season 1 and season 2, is one of transition.

Some interpret this as a social transition, but I believe it to be literal.

The surviving group is not "the Yellowjackets and also Travis." By the end of season 2, (actually by the end of Qui,) Travis is indistinguishable from the rest. He's eaten Jackie with them, he's given blood to Shauna, he's taken blood from Lottie, he has led the group in their second act of cannibalism. Travis is a Yellowjacket.

Credit where credit is due:

@monstrousgourmandizingcats really helped me grind out these ideas and has a lot of cool YJ takes in general, and most of the screenies were given to me by @nicothecowboy.

Now, for YJ Fic Writer's Weekend I should hopefully have the part of this that you asked about ready. Until then, I have some interviews, and I cannot recommend the PaleyFest panel more. It has a lot about Travis in S2 and his relationship with Nat and Lottie.

youtube

#yellowjackets #travis martinez #the travtag

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sashi-ya · 1 year ago

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 22: WRITER'S CHOICE Adult! Ishida Uryuu 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

tw: AU where Uryu becomes the ruler of the Quincy years after TYBW ends. A different type of king, this time. giving him some massages. a lot of fluff but still angst. soft praising. kinda of a "mommy kink". fingering. nipple play. vag sex. a/n: sorry for the big delay, I lost the original file so I had to re write it. Posting it today cause it is Uryu's bd. Happy birthday my sweet love! wc: 2.3k 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Your Majesty, I brought you a pain killer” you murmur, leaving a silver tray with a glass of water and the little pill that is intended to end with his migraine.

“Thank you, (Name)” he murmurs, with his forearm covering his eyes and his seat thrown back. Uryu’s feet over his desk, on of his arms hanging loosely to the side… Becoming the King of the Quincy seems more difficult than what you could even think.

“My pleasure, my King” you whisper, bowing even if he can’t see you. You turn around, the sound of your military boots echoing all around the cold room. As cold as white as your Wandenreich uniform.

A sudden invisible force stops you from walking away. As if something -or someone- was holding you by your wrists, it makes you stay completely frozen.

“(Name), can you please make me one more favour?” he asks; Uryu might be the king, but he is still as sweet as when he had first arrived. Years have passed, and the man that now inherited the throne has matured, but never once lost the humanity imbued in his blood.

You immediately turn around, nothing, absolutely nothing matters the most than to please your king. Not because it is your duty, but because your body, your soul, your heart… dies, and kills, to do it.

“Yes, my king!” you chime, standing properly right in front of his desk.

Uryu puts down his right foot, and then the left one. His forearm is no longer covering his eyes, and for the first time you see his face without his glasses on. He cracks his neck and stretches his back as much as he can with a grimacing façade.

“I know that what I am about to ask you might sound weird, but… could you help me out with my tensed muscles? See… my neck is killing me” he shily asks, as if he had to ask…

You immediately nod and declare you can help, soon enough you get behind him and his chair and your hands land on his shoulders.

The scent of a subtle perfume reaches your nose, it is too tempting… too delicious. You shake your head; you need to fulfil your duties.

Your fingertips graze his warm skin, just a little touch and you feel your legs quivering. Uryu has always been the only man in your eyes, from the time he was presented when he was still a young boy, to now… the King.

“Your Majesty, I’ll try to ease the contracture on your neck muscles” you inform, slowly and waiting for his approval to go further.

“Yes, please. Use this cream, it might help” he says, grabbing a little container from his desk and handing it to you.

You inspect the contents of it; it’s gonna be useful for sure.

“Sure, my king. A little bit of lubrication will make my hands slide a lot better” you innocently inform, causing Uryu to widen his eyes and choke with his saliva.

You realize, very late, that what you said can be misinterpreted; and so, with burning ears, you prefer to stay silent as you watch Uryu’s cheeks become red as candied apples.

As your hands begin to work, sliding like you predicted easily because of the cream, Uryu squirms more and more. He reminds you of a cat, and oh how you wish he could purr like one too…. Instead, you get something even better; the soft, low, but definitely hearable moan of pleasure when you hit the right spot.

“Mhhj… (Name), that’s the spot. Keep going” he whines, loud enough to be heard by everyone now.

You swallow, you can feel the knot on his nape. It is definitely hard to ease, but you wont give up until your king’s muscles get completely relaxed.

“Y-yes, my King. You have a very hard knot in here. I will try to massage it to make it softer” you stutter, biting your lower lip… abusing of your words might cost you more than your position.

Uryu nods, and his hand reaches his arm. Surprisingly, he slides down one side of white shirt, exposing the milky skin of his shoulder and back.

“You may go further down; I believe it’s the trapezius muscle” he murmurs. Uryu must have taken the king’s position, but he is still a doctor.

You nod soundly and slide down your fingers. He is right, the knot goes down the right side of his spine. And then, right there, in between his shoulder blades, you press harder… causing Uryu to flinch and grunt.

“Ngh… ah… (Name)!” he growls, grabbing your hand to stop you. He does with such force you even squeak.

“Sorry, my king!! I didn’t mean!! I’M SO SORRY” you desperately try to plead for forgiveness. You know he is not gonna kill you, but he is going to probably stop you from keep touching his body… something you had dreamt for so many nights.

But, he doesn’t speak, and you discover he is smiling like never before. Uryu hasn’t let go of your hand yet, but his grip softens just a little.

“Don’t you dare excuse yourself, (Name). Your hands are magical, you literally gave me instant relief with that touch…” he purrs, pleased.

You sigh, alleviated. If you could describe how you felt when he snapped, you may probably say it was like having a heart attack… hurting Uryu would be something you could never forgive to yourself.

“I’m glad it helped my ki-“ you shut up, as he suddenly, and delicately, pulls from your arm towards his chest. You widen your eyes, allowing him to go as further as he wishes. And he does until your fingertips reach for his sternum.

You let the warmth of his flesh imbue in your hand, enjoying the way he then tilts his head to the side and presses his cheek against your forearm. Like a child, in severe need of affection, he seems to be pleased with the physical contact provided by you.

“Just… for a minute or two, stay” he whispers, rather painfully and miserably.

“My King… stay for as long as you may. I will not go away until you order me to do so” you immediately answer back; truth is, that you don’t want to go away either way.

He simply stays in silence; you can feel the side of his lips grazing your skin and the warmth of his breath too. You wish to hug him. You wish with all your heart to lend your embrace to comfort him. You didn’t know he was that sad, but now you could feel it in your blood.

“Please, call me Uryu… I am not a king, I don’t want to be a king” he falters, pulling you even closer to him. So close that your belly hits the backrest of his chair.

You close your eyes; how painful… And, perhaps in an outburst of indecency, you surround his seat to face him.

You look at Uryu with eyes of utmost love; a comforting look that speaks on its own, showing him how much he can trust in you… how much he can, at least for now, depend on you.

“Come…” he murmurs, after looking into your eyes for a couple of seconds. Right then, is when he lets your arm go… just for you to give him your whole body.

You carefully climb on him, straddling your hips over his lap. In silence, and smiling, you let him hug you. You do the same, hugging his head to let him rest on your chest.

“It’s ok… I am here for you, my k-, sorry, Uryu” “Thanks… thanks…”

Almost like a mother, protecting her child, both lay for some time that way. Your chin resting on the crown of his head, his nose buried in your neck.

You hear a very low sob, enough for you to impulsively move his bangs to the side and kiss his forehead. “If you need to cry, cry… but we can solve anything, that what is causing you pain, I will destroy it” you swear, because for love there is nothing you wouldn’t do.

“To destroy what is causing me pain, you might need to destroy everything that surrounds us now” he sighs.

“I would do it right now if you asked me to…” you murmur, kissing his forehead once again.

“Don’t destroy anything… just stay by my side like you did from the very first time I put a step on this place…” Uryu acknowledges your existence, noticing very well you’ve been there for him since forever. “You know, you are just like my mother”

Your eyes become watery; Miss Katagiri had been the very mother of your king. And also, a woman who had served your King’s father, and whose blood has saved the three realms from crumbling.

“I am not in the position to be compared with your mother, Uryu…” you respectfully tell him.

But Uryu doesn’t respond, and instead, grabs your chin violently. He plasters a kiss so impertinent, so dominant, on your lips. “ You are right, you are not like my mother, because I am here so that there are no more people like her. I don’t want you to suffer. You won’t suffer no more” he sighs with his mouth pressed against yours.

You gasp, taking little to no air before he could attack your lips again. A demanding and needy kiss, soon turns to thousands. Tongues dancing, saliva shining on the commissure of your lips.

Uryu bends you over the desk, with your back pressed against it. Some papers fly away, falling like snow into the ground. His hand, playful and dominant, and yet delicate, rip the buttons of your blouse. The star that has changed its meaning, engraved on those metallic studs, now lies also scattered on the floor.

“I’ve been watching you for so long…” he whispers, tracing a path with the tip of his index, from your collarbones to the in-between of your breasts. “And there was no time that I hadn’t lusted for you” he confesses.

Your lids become lazy; your lips, swollen from kissing, barely separating letting Uryu see just a hint of your teeth. Your heart pounding so fast that you can’t even keep the pace of its beating…

“My King…” “For now, just please…Uryu; call me Uryu…”

He bends forward to kiss you again while you are still on his laps with legs hanging on each side. Your white skirt, part of the uniform he let you choose, covers your sexes just enough not to see his erection… but definitely to feel it against your panties, searching for freedom, underneath the thick fabrics of his pants.

There is a fine line that divides misery from lust, and both have just crossed it at once.

Uryu keeps kissing down your neck, reaching your breasts, sucking desperately. Enough to believe he would love for milk to sprout from them. Maybe, maybe one day.

Your hip bucks up, searching for a so needed collision with his manhood. Him, desperate too, slides his hand down your chest, to your belly and soon underneath your skirt. Located your wetness, he shamelessly, let his fingers imbue in the sweet nectar of your heat.

You throw your head back, mouth open in an O shape, trembling as he inserts one and then two fingers in you. And along with his thumb against your clit, he goes in and out with curled index and ring finger hitting your g spot… deliciously accurately.

“I have always listened you call me “my king” so solemnly, but I have always died to hear you moaning it… out of pleasure, out of your lust” he spits, with a smirk you haven’t seen on his face for so long.

Your stomach feels like dropping; the words, the tone with those were pronounced… there it is, the true king you know he can be. There it is, the only man, the one, the first, and the last… to you, for you.

You bite your lip, and while you are about to moan the so expected sounds, he stops you by covering your mouth with his hand.

“No… not yet, let me be inside you first”

You nod, desperate, going crazy, feeling like the time is slowing down… why is it taking so long for him to be finally deep, deep in you?

Uryu kisses your lips once more, and then taking his fingers out of you he helps you to properly lay back on his desk. When he is sure you are safe and comfortable, he proceeds to stand up from his chair.

The Quincy takes his sweet time to undress; first, his shirt. Exposed his chest, then, he let his white pants fall to the ground. Underwear off, then, feeling for the very first time as proud as he can be of his own skin, discovering two eyes that look at his anatomy with pure devotion. With pure lust and desire.

Uryu smiles, this time softly and lovingly. There is no disrespect in his eyes, only need and love. He delicately lifts one of your legs up, he is planning on going deep from the very start.

With his sex, hard, dripping, throbbing and so ready on his hand, he comes closer to your entrance. He lets the weight of his body to fall on his left arm as he tops you. Uryu’s beautiful onyx hair falls down, framing his fine features, his handsome looks.

“Ready?” he asks, biting your lower lip after. “Yes…” you answer, in total awe.

Uryu lips tremble, his pupils dilate and fix in yours.

“Let me make you mine…” he whines, as he lets his hardness penetrate you to the deepest point he can reach. Enjoying the way your back arches, with his hand on the small of it and his teeth grazing your chin.

“Nhg… yes, my King… I love you so, so, so much my King!” “That’s good, that’s very good…love… ngh…”

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