#i could have made a set with this quote for every character on this show tbh but i stuck to just two so. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyhilana · 1 year

Note

Heyy!! I'm such a huge fan of your Javier Peña works and I was wondering if I could ask for a smutty fic request where he's had a huge crush on you for the longest time but could never do anything about it since you had a bf.

What he didn't know was that your bf was an ass and he finds out he hasn't been taking care of you properly if yk what I mean ;).

I had this idea from a quote: "If he doesn't wanna make you feel pretty, I'll show you how fucking pretty you are." or smth like that.

Ofc the details and everything is up to you! I just really loved the main idea and figured you might as well :)

If it doesn't interest you it's okay,

Thanks xx

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your request and I had a blast writing it. Javi is one of my favorite characters to write for and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed it. As always, I’m a softie for Javi, so Javi being a softie goes hand in hand and I slightly apologize for the length since I tend to go overboard <3 Drink some water so you can be healthy (that also goes for everyone reading this lol)

Summary: A fresh break-up with your boyfriend drives you to your childhood friend Javi’s house to escape it all. But your forever home is found when you realize how relieved you feel after the fallout and how safe you feel in Javi’s presence.

A/N: Hi lovelies! To note before I get to my thank you’s, in this story, there is the use of disposable cameras, so this story does not have a certain time it is set in. I figured it would be easier to not have one so there would not be any discrepancies with time frames. Also, reader is wearing a dress so sorry to those that don't like dresses :( But yeah, dress made sense for this, and I didn't put in that the reader was wearing a bra because well, be free. :) But moving on from that, I want to say thank you all for taking the time to read my stories, request or not. To still see notis popping up every time I log in is a dream come true. I write on and off since inspiration will strike, and then I’m back to my usual writer's block. But every time I come back for a spell, I feel so much love, and I just want to say thank you <3 I hope this proves my love for you all, but drink water and enjoy yourselves! Hugs and love :)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader (I'm pretty sure there's no use of Y/N here)

Warnings: (Hey, this is a ride in itself) 18+ for starters <3 Finally some protected sex because safe sex is great sex, kids. Oral f!receiving, biting, love bites, hickeys, fingering, small handjob, and so much Spanish you would think I'm a native speaker, but alas, I just use translators baby :) All translations will be put at the end!

Word Count: 8k (Need I say more about my word counts LMAO)

(this man is so fine)

You knock on the door, heart beating out of your chest. It was second nature to arrive at his doorstep after a particularly interesting day. Javi answered and opened it, curiosity radiating on his face. But before he could say anything, you walked in.

“Well, come in.” Sarcasm drips in his tone as you set your bag on the coffee table.

“When have I ever asked to come in?” You point out and sit on the couch, enveloping you with comfort.

“You stopped doing that after I let you in the first time.” He sat down next to you after he locked up, turning down the sports game he had on the tv.

“And you do the same at my house.” He shook his head as he turned his body to face you more.

“Fair enough. But I thought you were going out on a date with Angel?”

If everything went to plan, you would be returning to his place to finish it off, but fate would intervene in the adventures of your love life.

“Uhm…” You couldn’t find the words to say what happened, making Javi more confused.

“Hey, talk to me. What happened?”

“I broke it off.” You got out, and his face changed.

You knew this would go one of two ways, either with the both of you going through the ritual to get you through the breakup or him going to your exes’ place to beat the shit out of him. You had to talk him out of it multiple times, but when you would see your exes in passing glances, you could tell they were spooked, to say the least.

“What? Are you okay?” He moved closer to you to see if you were okay, but despite the normal ache you would have in your heart, it just wasn’t there.

“I’m fine, Javi. I just found out some things today and I had to take care of it.” If anything, you felt annoyance and regret for that relationship, but not pain.

“What did you find out?”

“You know Valentina? Valentina Perez from two towns over?” You asked, yet when you thought about it, who couldn’t forget her? On the other side of town, she was on her way to greatness, and most men fawned over her. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw her in a magazine one day.

“Yeah, I know her. She went to our middle school right?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“What does this have to do with her?”

“Well, I went to the store this morning to pick up some groceries. I was going to go to the one closer, but they were out of the oil I needed. So I went to her town because I knew that store had what I needed. But, just as I was going to cross the street, I saw Valentina with Angel. And not in a friendly way because they were holding hands, and he was kissing her cheek.” Javi’s jaw tightened, and his hand curled into a fist. But he refrained.

“What happened next?” He gritted through his teeth.

You knew he was fuming, given that he never liked Angel from the start when you mentioned that Angel wanted to take you on a date. Hell, he practically tried to talk you out of it, but you didn’t budge, making you both keep quiet on your respective opinions as you knew it wouldn’t end well. After all, how could you forget your last conversation about Angel?

“I’m telling you he’s no good for you. He’s terrible!” He wouldn’t dare raise his voice at you, but you could tell he was holding back.

“You don’t even know him! Only stories, Javi. Angel has shown me how much he cares about me and makes an effort.” You reasoned, but it fell on deaf ears, given Javi’s one-track mind regarding your choices in men.

He pinched the skin in between his brows, taking a deep breath. “Escuchame. I don’t know him personally, but everyone else that does tells me the same thing. He is not who you think he is and he’s just lying to you. I don’t want you to have to find out the hard way when you don’t deserve to.”

He wasn’t wrong, given that many men in your hometown disliked him, but he was different with you. It didn’t matter who protested. It was what he showed you. That was what mattered in your heart.

You sighed, feeling yourself getting nowhere in this conversation. “Why do you care so much Javi? Why do you care so much about who I date when I don’t do this to you?”

It was true, given that you kept some opinions to yourself about his extensive dating history, no matter how much you didn’t like them. Why he couldn’t do the same for you was infuriating.

“Because I love you. You’re family, and I won’t sit back and watch you make a bad choice when you can do better.” He was at his wits end, which you could hear in how he said he loved you. But it didn’t feel right. With the way he said family. Although you knew it was said out of comfort and not ill intention, the way it tugged on your heartstrings in an unpleasant chord when it shouldn’t have done anything but reassure you was strange.

“What’s better for me then since you have all the answers?” His lips were pressed in a firm line before he spoke, trying to choose his words carefully before he couldn’t think.

“Anybody else! It’s not that hard to find one.” You rolled your eyes at him. Not that hard, he says. If it were so easy then this conversation wouldn’t be happening now.

“You judge every guy I pick so it’s clearly not that easy when you make it your life’s mission to find something wrong with them!”

“But I was right about all of them. Miguel cheated, Wilmar lied about everything, and Jesus did both. They were terrible for you, and so is Angel. He’s the worst out of all of them.” You hated his knack for laying things out in a way that made your point seem mute.

“You being right about them is not the point. I don’t know why you can’t be happy for me and give him a chance when he hasn’t done anything wrong. Those three had red flags as soon as I met them. Angel hasn’t done anything of the sort and you know that. Please, Javi, give him a chance or at least be polite to him if you have to see him. I don’t expect you to like him just like I don’t like your girlfriends, but I don’t need constant criticism. Can you do that?” He wanted to object, but you could see the resignation to this conversation.

“I can do that.” You were relieved, but that feeling over his words still left you puzzled.

“Thank you. I love you.” Your I love you’s you shared with each other were nothing that crossed your mind for more than a second. But this one was different in the higher octave in your tone, the way it strummed a new chord with your heartstrings. Surely you just imagined it, just the heat of the moment that would soon cease to cross your mind by tomorrow.

“I love you too. I only do this because of that.” He opened his arms up to you, and you hugged him, his cologne filling your nostrils and washing your nerves away. He felt like home, and not in the way you felt when you were kids. The hugs you shared were out of comfort because you were each other’s safe haven. It was the kind where you didn’t want to let go because this was where you belonged, not for a second, minute, hour, or a day. But long-lasting.

You were brought back to reality when he touched your knee, the touch sending electricity through you. “I saw them and turned around to return to my car, but she saw me. He didn’t since he didn’t run after me, but she called me when I got home and told me everything. She told me when they got together, how she didn’t know I was in the picture, and how he was with her because...” The words were stuck in your throat as you knew what would happen to Javi.

“Because what?” He was strained, and you were sure his blood was boiling red hot.

“Because he’s engaged to her. He proposed to her two weeks ago, the same day he canceled our bowling date. So I called him shortly after and blew up on him about everything I learned and how I felt overall. He swore that she was lying and that she was jealous over what we had but when I wouldn’t believe him, he told me that I deserved it because I didn’t do what he wanted.” His eyes widened before they narrowed, and his look screamed infuriated.

“I’m going to go over there and-” He shot off the couch, but you pulled on his hand.

“There’s no need to finish that sentence or hurt him so stop!” You pleaded with him, but he was seeing red and Angel’s face as he wanted to morph it into something unrecognizable.

“He needs to be taught a lesson. He hurt you, so I’ll be back.” He pulled his hand out of your grasp and walked to the door, but you got up to pull him back.

“Javi, please wait! Stay with me and forget about him. I won’t stop what you do in the morning but can you stay with me tonight like we normally do?” He knew what you were doing, but he could never say no to you when you gave him those eyes to stay. How could he say no when his heart yearned to be in your presence?

“I’ll stay for now. But tomorrow is different.” Somehow with the softness in his eyes, you knew he would listen to you in the morning.

“I can deal with that. But I’m not as heartbroken as I thought I would be.” You were somewhat dumbfounded by your lack of heartbreak, albeit happy that you wouldn’t spend your days crying. However, curiosity took up your thoughts. The nagging question of whether you were in love with him clouded your mind until Javi grabbed your hand.

“He still deserves to pay.” He rubbed your hand with the pad of his thumb, relaxing you and sending electricity through you.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t, and hopefully she’ll leave him too and he won’t have either one of us. But when I think about our timeline, it was bound to end anyways. He didn’t want to buy me flowers, he always prioritized work or rather, her over me. I would try to plan things and there was always an excuse. And…well I can’t say it now.” You turned away and walked back to the couch, embarrassment making the heat rise to your cheeks.

“You’ve already said a lot just now and you’ve told me everything growing up. What’s more going to do?” He asked as he sat back down next to you.

“I can’t, Javi. It’s weird to say that to you.” You looked away and were sure you would die of embarrassment any minute now.

“Hey, mirame,” He asked, and you brought your head back up. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. I share everything with you and you do the same so what’s different now?”

“Sometimes you’re a little too honest when you could leave some details out from your dates.” Countless dates he told you about ended with your wishing that you could erase some of the details from your head and the occasional pang in your heart that didn’t seem to dull with time.

“I’m never a person to leave out details,” His tone made you laugh, and the smile that followed on his face made you feel warm again. “Pero dime. I’m sure it can’t be worse than what you’ve already told me.” Oh, how he would be proven wrong.

“He never made me cum.” In all the times you’ve surprised Javi, you never expected his eyes to widen that much at your confession.

“Not once?”

“Never. I would always fake it and then finish when I got home.” The sigh he let out as he ran his fingers through his hair was surprising, given that you didn’t think it would phase him this much.

“He was that oblivious then.” The more he tried to think the opposite, the more you hated bursting his bubble.

“It’s not so much that but he just…didn’t care about it? It was more so “I want to get off, so I will,” and then I would be there waiting for it to be done at times.” The confessions kept flowing out, and the more you spoke, the more Javi was taken aback.

“Jesus. It’s a fucking requirement for who you’re sleeping with to cum.” Although it was certainly not the time for feelings to arise, it didn’t stop you from pressing your legs together absentmindedly. “I’m sorry, Bonita, I just have to ask…why did you stay for so long? You were with him for what? 2 years?”

“Almost 3 now that I think about it,” You sighed at the time lost, time wasted over someone who was never worth it in the first place. “But I don’t know, I think I stayed out of convenience, not so much out of love because when you put so much time in, you’re willing to stick it out longer than you should. He might’ve done the same, but thankfully it’s over now. I don’t feel so used anymore.” Relief washed over you to know that breaking up with him was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself after avoiding it for so long.

“You never deserved that. You’re worth so much more than what Angel gave you.” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but embarrassment wasn’t the culprit. Instead, the butterflies swarmed through your stomach in a surge.

“T-Thank you, Javi, but you don’t have to say those things to make me feel better. I’m okay, really.” You gave him a warm smile, but you could see his eyes were serious.

“I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, Bonita. I’m saying it because I mean it. You’re everything he never deserved and you deserve everything you want out of a relationship.” His tone was more soothing than ever with you, softer than anything you could remember in all the times he comforted you and showed care for you.

Suddenly, the question that had popped into your head from the time you were teens to when you graduated high school, and in recent years reared into focus again. Is he in love with me? You had done everything you could think of to answer your question, studying his behavior, asking specific questions to gauge his thoughts, and even getting involved with your cousin’s love of tarot cards to get a sign. Blame the teenage hormones that got to you. Still, you were too afraid to ask and almost certain that it was the bliss of a teenage crush that would misread actions and words as affirmations of love. It only increased ten-fold at your graduation when he pulled you into a small corner as everyone was finding their families to have some alone time.

“Javi, where are we going? We have to get to our families.” You asked as he led you to a small area near the back of your high school’s football field.

“We’ll find them in a minute. But I know I won’t get much time with you later, so I wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.” You were happy from the day itself, but hearing him say he was proud of you made you grin.

“Aw, Javi, I’m proud of you as well. We did it and now we get to start our new lives.” You could see the energy shift in Javi after what you said, puzzling you.

“Yeah, the future is near.” He looked away from you for a moment before you grabbed his hand.

“Hey. Are you okay?” You asked, and he forced a smile for you.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Are you lying?” You raised a brow at him, and he sighed.

“Maybe a little bit. It’s just…when you think about the future you think about losing people to new jobs, new people in your life, even moving away from home. All those things happen and it’s scary.” Laredo was all you both knew, and sometimes it was hard to let go and move on to get to do something else with your lives, but you didn’t know until now what that made him feel.

“Hey, no matter what happens, I’ll be right by your side, okay? No matter where we go, who we’re with, or what we do for a living, I’ll drop everything to be there for you.” His smile was genuine this time as he pulled you into a hug. You rested your head on his chest as he rested his head atop yours.

“And I’ll do the same. I love you.” You could hear the falter in his voice, awakening something in you that was threatening to leap out of your throat.

“I love you too. Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked again as you pulled out of his embrace.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Also, you look really nice. I like what you did to your hair.” He moved you off-topic, and although you wanted to press more, you let it go.

“Thank you, Javi. I was hoping it would look okay on me.” You smoothed out your hair.

“You look more than okay. Mucho hermosa.” There was a glint in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, maybe something you hadn’t noticed. But how he looked at you made you feel like no one else was there. That you were alone but together in the other’s presence, that nothing could go wrong in the little world you created.

“T-thank you, b-but we should get going. I’m sure we need to take some photos.” Suddenly it felt harder to breathe, the need to say everything and anything simultaneously consuming you until you found an exit because you knew what would happen if you didn’t.

“You’re right. Let’s get going.” He led the way, and you took a deep breath, hoping you could hold it together for all the pictures. When you walked around from the fence and up the street, your families were waiting for you.

“¡Ahí tienes! no sabíamos dónde ustedes los dos.” Your mother and Javi’s mother were crying to see you both in your cap and gowns. Both families came around to hug you one by one and congratulate you.

“We wanted to wait until some people left.” You lied, and they seemed to either buy it or not care as they took out their cameras.

“That’s fine. But take a picture together!” Javi’s mother asked, and you both got closer, and he wrapped an arm around you, which satisfied both of your mothers.

“Nuestros bebés.” They said in unison. You both looked at each other and laughed, knowing they kept their promise to cry at your graduation.

“Javi, get behind her!” Your mother asked him. You were surprised, not thinking they would ask him to do that pose.

“Si! Wrap your arms around her.” His mother agreed, and he was puzzled now.

“Are they trying to make us look like a couple?” He asked you as he got behind you and wrapped his arms around you. The move alone made a swarm of butterflies go through you, but you maintained your composure.

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” You answered as he moved his head down more for the camera.

“Mija, necesito que sonrias.” You smiled for them, and the way Javi’s head was just above the crook of your neck was comforting. All the hugs you had culminated into this, even if it didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. But to have him like this, you wouldn’t change anything.

And maybe that was why even when you moved out, you made a copy of that photo and kept it in your living room. Sure, memories could’ve been kept in a box, and there were other photos to use, but that photo was deep in your heart, the way he was deep in your soul.

With those memories that came flooding back, the question was imprinted into your mind, and you realized that this time, it wouldn’t leave until you got your long-awaited answer. “J-Javi? I feel like you’re leaving something out.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you so soon.” You shook your head in response to him.

“Digame. Te prometo que puedo tomar lo que me digas.” You wanted, no, needed to hear what he had to say, whether it was good, bad, or indifferent. You would regret it if you let it go like you did at your graduation or every other instance where the question popped into your head.

“You mean everything to me, and I promise I’m not just saying that. You remind me of this quote I would always hear. Tardé una hora en conocerte y solo un día en enamorarme. Pero me llevará toda una vida lograr olvidarte.” Tears welled in your eyes, your answer finally in reach and not just a dream that would never leave your mind.

“Javi, I never knew you felt that way.” You admitted, feeling your heart practically surge out of your chest.

He wiped your eyes and then held your face with one hand. “I’ve felt that way for a long time, and it never stopped. I’ve always wanted you to be happy even if it was not with me, but now that I have my chance I’m taking it. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Javi. I realized I loved you a few years back and it hasn’t changed for me since then.” He was surprised, and you wondered how he couldn’t see after all these years that you were irrevocably in love with him.

“¿Cuando?”

“Since we were teens, but it hit me at our graduation. Since then, I always had a little bit of hope but with who you were dating, I always pushed it down.”

He pinched the skin in between his brows with his other hand. “I never would’ve dated those girls if I knew you felt the same way. I always wanted you, and I want you right now.”

“And I want you and only you.”

Time stood still after that. The admission out there, hearts on the line, a breakup was long forgotten as he never made you feel what Javi made you feel. The list could go on with how Javi treated you miles better than any guy you dated: safe, loved, cared for, appreciated, and special. But the energy had shifted, the air grew thicker, tension rising between you of a “Should we, should we not?” that seemed to blur the already thin line of friends to lovers you hadn’t realized was eroded. But that question was answered when he kissed you, gentle at first yet firm.

You could faintly taste the whiskey on his lips, making you want more as it tasted better on him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it, which gave him a huskiness that you loved about him. You brought your hands up to his hair, finally raking through his curls as you had dreamed about doing for years. His other hand moved down to your body and slowly inched to your waist, careful not to overstep as you were still testing the waters. But you didn’t need to try anything when this was safe, exciting, and taking up your thoughts so that it would be all you would think about for days. You pulled a little on his hair, making him groan against your lips.

“Something you like?” You asked in between the kiss.

“Possibly,” Javi murmured before biting your lip, making you moan. He smiled against your lips when he heard you, and you knew that Javi would enjoy every bit of seeing what other sounds he could get out of you.

“A little noisy aren’t we?” He pulled back to brush the hair out of your face, and you rolled your eyes.

“I can keep quiet.” You tried to be serious, but he didn’t buy it.

“You’re not going to because I want to hear you, and I’ll get it out of you.” His confidence surprised you.

“Who says you’ll get it out of me?” You asked, but he didn’t answer, instead opting to kiss you again and, in the middle of it, tugging on your lip before biting again. You moaned again, and he smiled, knowing he had proved his point. But that was forgotten soon after as his kiss made you feel drunk. If there was ever a time when you accidentally kissed him before this, you probably wouldn’t have waited this long to kiss him. The urge to keep going was igniting more as each second passed, and you knew it wouldn’t cease fire until your deepest desire was fulfilled.

But then it increased ten-fold when his tongue pressed against your parted lips, making a shiver run through you. You opened them up without hesitation, allowing him to dive in just enough to experiment with you. With that, you could taste more of the whiskey, and the smell of his cologne intensified, making you clench your legs further, trying to quell your desire. But Javi felt your legs move and opened them up by pushing his hand down from your waist and between your legs, prying them open. His hand rested between your thighs, gripping a little, making you clench around nothing, given that you were wearing a dress and you could feel him fully. Oh, how badly you wanted him to remove the rest of your clothes so you could feel him skin-to-skin.

Perhaps your senses were overloaded, but his smell was intoxicating, his taste was addicting, to touch each other was electrifying, to hear how breathless he was as he kissed you, and to see how much he desired you was everything to you. With each second that passed, you craved more, and so did he, surprising you based on how he pulled you into his lap with one swift pull on your leg. His hands trailed up from your hips to your waist, holding you up as you grinded on his lips slowly.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He muttered, trailing his lips down to your chin and then jaw.

“What am I doing?” Your faked oblivious nature earned an eye roll from Javi.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” His voice had dropped an octave when you grinded more, his dick growing and grazing you when you couldn’t wait to pull him out of his pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, looking at him as you further tangled your fingers into his hair.

“Never.” He kissed down to your neck, making you suck in a breath. Sensitivity increasing with each kiss, you knew he was reaching your sweet spot. And once he did, the sound he elicited from you made him twitch in his pants. He wanted more out of you, to give you everything you didn’t have with Angel. He wanted to worship your body, learn every inch of you, and memorize each crevice to shower you with love. There would never be another day where you felt that you were simply there while those you were with did their business. Every day would be a day where Javi could tangle himself into the sheets with you, let your wanton sounds fill the room along with his moans and grunts, and fill you up with each climax in every position he could do with you. He had you in his grasp, and he was wrapped around your finger.

Javi sucked on your sweet spot, making you whine as you tried to get used to his kisses. He was leaving a hickey, and while you usually didn’t like them, the thought of hickeys or love bites lined on your skin, a reminder of your desires manifesting into reality, made your core begin to throb. And thankfully, he didn’t stop at one. He made his mark and kissed it one last time before grabbing your ass and smacking it. It caught you off guard, and the sound you let out let him know that you enjoyed it.

“Do you want to take this to my room?” He asked.

“I’m sure. Take me there, please.” Javi smiled at your answer, grabbing your hips and getting up so he could carry you to his room. He kissed you briefly as he found his way to his room, kicking the room open before letting you down onto your feet again. He pulled off his shirt before helping you pull down the straps of your dress. He loved this color on you, complimenting your skin perfectly no matter how much you said it was a simple dress. But to take it off of you, to see the way it draped off of your breasts, falling down to the floor and drinking you in, Javi knew that he would never get tired of the sight.

Immediately, he bent down to your chest to place more hickeys on you. He wanted the reminder just as much as you did, to wake up the following day and look at his form of art on your body. He left another, and another, making a little trail that he could trace with his finger when the sun would bathe his room, and he would wait for you to get up. Finally, he reached your breasts, and his breath hit your nipple, making it hard for him.

“I take it you’re sensitive here?” His smirk let you know that he knew the answer, but you wanted to play coy.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Just maybe you say,” He trailed off as he licked your nipple before putting it in his mouth, keeping eye contact with you as you moaned. He swirled his tongue around, making goosebumps rise. He hummed as your head rolled back, the vibrations making you ruin your panties little by little. You put your hands in his hair again, tugging as he moved to the next one to give them equal attention.

How did he make this so hot, turning you on before he even got to your core, where if you were lying down in bed you would be taking control and putting him inside you yourself. He was completely different than all the men you had been with. Rushed, lack of effort, lack of attention to your needs. But Javi paid close attention to you, seeing that if you liked the way he licked or nibbled on your nipple, he would do it again and again and again. His attention to you never waved, only it increased as he moved from your breasts down to your stomach, peppering kisses that made your heart skip a beat.

Javi reached for your panties, dragging his hands to their hem and looking at you to give the okay. You wanted him to pull them down, but you suddenly felt bad. “Javi, I want to make you feel good as well.” He got up and cupped your face.

“Déjame cuidarte. Te daré todo lo que te mereces.” Your heart melted, and your core ached at those words, but it didn’t shake your guilt.

“But-” It was on the tip of your tongue, and Javi knew what it was.

“Cariño, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful to me.” He reassured you before he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“How can you say that when this is your first time seeing me like this?”

“Yes, this is my first time seeing you naked, pero, amo todo de tí,” He kissed your forehead first. “Amo tu frente, ojos, nariz, mejillas, labios, mandíbula, cuello, senos, estómago, caderas, muslos, pantorrillas, tobillos, pies.” He kissed you all the way down your body, touching you softly and finally kissing his hand to place onto your feet. “Y lo que aún no he explorado sé que me encantará es tu culo, y tu coño.” Javi kissed your clothed core, making you tense a bit.

You nodded your head and allowed him to pull them down, and you saw his mouth water when he could see your wetness pooling. You stepped out of your panties and spread your legs a little, allowing him to swipe a finger up your slit to gather your slick, putting his finger in his mouth and tasting you. The look that he gave you of pure adoration and attraction made you weak at the knees as he wasted no time in diving in with his mouth, tongue spreading your lips, and getting up everything he could in your slit. You were caught off guard by how he moved his hands up to your ass to keep you in place as he got up everything he could. But then, he latched on to your clit and sucked, licked, and hummed, making you moan his name like a chant that wouldn’t end until you came.

“Javi, fuck that feels really good.” You praised, tugging at his hair again as he hummed louder and sucked more feverishly. Pleasure, ecstasy, bliss, cloud nine, all the words you could think of couldn’t compare to how this felt. You were surprised you could think at this point given how the pleasure was building in your stomach at top speed, and when his skilled fingers pressed in between your folds and into your dripping core, you were gone. Matching pace with his mouth, taking his time to find your spot, and then hooking on to it repeatedly, the curl beckoning you to gush on his fingers. You didn’t need him to ask you, and before you could register what was happening, you came hard. Walls pulsing, clenching around Javi’s fingers. clit throbbing, overstimulated, yet you couldn’t pull off as he rode you through your orgasm. The hairs on your neck stood high as you slowly descended from your high. How you were still standing was a mystery, but you were grateful when he finally pulled you off to pick you up and lay you on the bed.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” He whispered as he kissed your hips before diving in again. His hands hooked onto your hips, allowing your thighs to press against his head as he lapped up everything. You gripped his sheets, whining as he fingered you again while licking your juices. He swapped between licking it off his fingers and pushing his tongue in to get it faster. You started to rock your hips against his mouth to get what you wanted, and he could feel his dick getting rock hard over how needy you were for him.

“Javi, fuck I-please don’t stop!” Your mind failed you at making a coherent and complete sentence, but he knew what you needed as he focused on sucking your clit and fingering you again. Your overstimed clit made you whimper, but it soon turned into praise for Javi as he brought you to your second orgasm, making your roll your hips and your legs shake as it hit you again. Harder than before, your eyes rolling back as he never lost his grip on you. Two orgasms in a short time, yet you still needed him inside you. Your vision cleared up when he pulled up from your thighs and you saw your slick lining his lips. He licked it up before kissing you, your hands trailing down to help him out of his pants.

“I need you. I really fucking need you.” You whispered against his lips. Your fingers fumbled with his button, but you got it unhooked, one hand holding himself up as he tried to get them off with your help. He stood up a bit to fully get those and his boxers off before climbing back on top of you. Your hands found their way to his dick after you spat in your hand, and you stroked him slowly, feeling the veins you wanted to feel against your walls. He sucked in a deep breath as you stroked from tip to base, kissing his jaw and neck. It was a little hard to wrap your hand around his dick, given his above-average girth, but it was something you would enjoy as he got deep inside you. His tip was curved as well, giving you an idea. You swiped your thumb over the tip, and the coating of pre-cum made your mouth water as you wanted to taste him, let him cum down your throat, and let his moans fill the room. Your fantasy made you focus on the tip, going faster and your thumb circling around the tip as he let out a gasp.

“Fuck, baby. J-Just like that.” He rasped out, letting his head fall and bite your neck. You kept pace, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. He was unraveling for you as you did for him, and perhaps you would make him cum from a handjob alone before he could thrust deep inside you to give you what you both desired. But he moved your hand away and moved up, to which you looked down and saw how painfully hard he was.

“If you keep going like that I’ll cum on your stomach.” He admitted, and the vision of him spilling on your stomach was making you burn red hot.

“Well, now I know what to do in the future.” You smiled, and he kissed you again, reaching for his condom. You watched him put it on, rolling it down and seeing the way it fit him, stretching for him as you were going to do for him. With it on, he slotted himself between your legs, letting the tip rub on your lips. It made you roll your hips so the tip could slip between your folds, knowing that your clit was overstimulated to the point where every touch would make you jolt. His tip brushed against your clit, and you moaned into his mouth while your kiss got very messy, very fast. Needing to hear your moans again, he matched your rocking to keep brushing against your sensitive clit, the sensation almost too much for you.

“You’re so wet, hermosa. Did I do this to you?” He asked, pulling back where you could see the smirk lining his lips and for him to see your reaction.

“Y-you did. Fuck, please don’t stop.” You stammered out, the ability to speak fading further away.

“I need to feel you baby. I need to feel you cum on my dick.” He took his hand and swiped up in your slit, gathering your slick on his fingers and stroking himself with it, making sure he could slide in without a hitch. He stroked himself while looking at you, and to see how badly he wanted you was still unbelievable. He noticed your nervousness and stopped, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be nervous about. If you want me to stop, I will.” He reassured you, still giving you an out knowing that this was a lot to take in.

“It’s not that. I really want this but Javi…your gaze, it’s intimidating.” You admitted.

“Baby, I’ve enjoyed looking at you before this happened and now. I don’t mean to intimidate you, but remember, it’s just me. Nothing’s really changed, okay?” It was partly a lie to say nothing changed when you were just given two mind-blowing orgasms, but Javi knew how to make your heart melt even when it was racing out of your chest.

“I know. But…he never looked at me like that.” His face changed when he said it, wanting to give you everything you deserved as you deserved to feel desired, wanted, and beautiful.

“If he doesn't wanna make you feel pretty, I'll show you how fucking pretty you are.” His tip was still near your hole, making it easier for him to slide in, causing you to gasp and clench around it. Your hands moved up on his body, hooking onto his back. He felt perfect inside you, filling and stretching you out more than you could imagine.

“You feel so good, baby.” He moaned out as he finished filling you up, inch by inch. Still comfortable inside you, yet the stretch was something you would never get enough of. He let you adjust, kissing your forehead again to give you time.

“You feel so much better. Please move,” Javi moved right away, slowly pulling out and pushing in while you pulsed around him each time. You wrapped your legs around him and scratched his back, making him moan. You wanted to leave marks on his back as he wanted to leave love bites on you.

“That’s it, baby. Scratch my back and leave marks on me,” He sped up, letting the sounds of how wet you were for him fill the room. You scratched his upper back a little more, making him fuck you harder. His curved tip brushed closer to your spot, and when he decided to thrust up into you, you were pleasantly overstimulated.

“I told you I was going to get more sounds out of you.” You rolled your eyes as he laughed, but you were rolling your eyes back when he continued to fuck you. Yet, he was not rough with you. He moved his hand to go underneath your neck and bring you closer to him, the other holding him up so he would not have too much of his weight on you. Javi made sure that you were enjoying yourself, his tenderness evident. Patience, tenderness, and love were evident, especially when you looked at him and saw how he looked at you with adoration, lust, and love. You were aglow in his gaze, not intimidating once you got used to it, and you never wanted to leave.

But those three words were lodged in your throat, threatening to come out despite your efforts to suppress them. The nerves were rising, but you blurted it out faster than you could’ve covered it up. “I love you,Javi.”

“I love you too. Always have, always will.” Javi didn’t break eye contact as he said it, and you could see he was serious. He leaned down to kiss you again, pouring all his love into it. It felt different at this juncture, but you were willing to continue down this path with him for as long as you could.

But what you couldn’t hold on to was your composure once it started to build in your lower stomach, the tension increasing with each thrust and your previous orgasms playing into it. Javi could feel you tighten around him more, which made him leave your lips again so he could watch you cum. He moved his hand away from your neck and between you both, slipping his fingers right to your clit and rubbing small circles to inch you closer to your release.

“You’re doing so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” He praised, and your whine in return made his tip twitch. You kept pulsing, legs tightening around him, letting him know you were close. “Cum for me baby, please. Make a mess for me.”

You scratched his back hard, cumming all over just as he asked you to do. It was intense, your legs feeling like jelly and goosebumps rising by the second. And to see the way you threw your head back in ecstasy ignited something in him. He had to fuck you through it, had to make you feel everything all at once because your pleasure was all he cared about. But alas, you came down, completely spent after all he did. But if he asked for another, you would do it all over again, loving the way he would watch you cum for him with absolute attentiveness.

Thankfully, Javi moved his hand away from your sensitive clit to hold himself up, knowing his climax was near. You could feel him lose control, seeing how he bit his lip and how he wanted to savor each moment with how good it felt to feel your pulse around him. He was in a state of ecstasy as well, and he never wanted to leave it.

“F-fuck, I’m getting close.” He thrusted faster, desperation taking over to cum deep inside you.

“Please cum for me Javi. Soy todo tuyo.” Those last three words pushed him closer to the edge.

“Mi mente, cuerpo, y alma es tuyo.” Javi barely got it out before he came, grunting as he spilled inside the condom when he would much rather spill inside you. His thrusts were rough, needing to have every inch deep inside you. You pulsed around him to overstimulate him, to which he was not surprised when another drop of cum shot out in response to your actions.

You could tell he was tired, so you held him close, allowing him to rest a little on top of you so he could catch his breath. Your hands went up to his hair, playing in it as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on your hip. Skin-to-skin, completely bare, but not just in the physical sense. It was in every sense as you had previously shed all your layers with him, letting him see the deepest parts of you as he did with you. This was simply the final layer, but it was the most fitting after developing everything else with him over the years.

"If you keep playing in my hair like that I'll fall asleep on you." He mumbled, eliciting a laugh out of you. You both stayed in that position briefly, the closeness comforting you and reminding you that this was not a dream.

Sadly, he did get up to pull out of you, throw the condom out, and get some towels to clean you both up. He wiped you down first, removing any sweat and cleaning up the wetness between your thighs. Once he wiped himself down and put them in the bin, he got right back into bed with you and pulled you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, a hand rubbing your back.

“I’m feeling pretty good. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” He admitted, making you laugh. “But are you okay with everything that happened?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I didn’t feel right about it. But are you okay with what we did?” You craned your neck up to look at him.

“I am, but I just want to be sure. You know I love you.” To hear him say it with a different meaning brought a smile to your face.

“I love you, Javi.” Your tiredness was hitting you hard, your voice much softer than before. You moved your head back down to lay on his chest comfortably.

“And I love you, mi flor. I’ll take you out this weekend.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” You asked as he drew circles on your back.

“Yes I am.”

“Then ask me properly.” He moved back so he could face you properly.

“Will you go out on a date with me this weekend?” He asked, and you loved the fact that he asked you properly.

“Yes I will, but we don’t have to go out this weekend since I know you have work. We can always go the following weekend.” You didn’t want to strain him, but he didn’t have it.

“I’m taking you out because I want to. You deserve to be shown off and treated right, so I’m taking you out this weekend.” You admired his insistence, even though there was stubbornness laced in.

“You’re so bossy all the time.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s not bossy if you like it.” He shot back, and you would never admit that he was right.

“Maybe I do.” You tried to play it off, but there was no use.

“Just maybe? Because just a little earlier you liked it when I-“ You shushed him with a kiss.

You pulled back and rested your head back on his chest. “Don’t finish that. Just go to sleep.”

“I will, but I find it funny that this was a complete change from our usual breakup routine.” The realization hit you since this was a complete change.

“Yeah it is. But I think I like this one more.”

“Well there won’t be another routine after this.” Oh, he was certain of it.

“And you’re so sure of that?” You challenged, but he didn’t back down.

“Positive.” Without saying it, you knew that he was not planning on going anywhere, and neither were you.

“Of course you are. But goodnight, Javi. I love you.” As you closed your eyes, you slurred your words, but you knew you were safe.

“I love you more. Goodnight.”

Translations:

Escuchame - Listen to me

Mirame - Look at me

Pero dime - But tell me

Bonita - Pretty

Mas hermosa - Most beautiful

¡Ahí tienes! no sabíamos dónde ustedes los dos - There you are! we didn't know where you two were.

Nuestros bebés - Our babies

Mija, necesito que sonrias - My daughter (this is the direct translation but can also mean darling) I need you to smile.

Digame. Te prometo que puedo tomar lo que me digas - Tell me. I promise I can take what you tell me.

Tardé una hora en conocerte y solo un día en enamorarme. Pero me llevará toda una vida lograr olvidarte. - It took me an hour to meet you and only one day to fall in love. But it will take me a lifetime to forget you.

¿Cuando? - When?

Déjame cuidarte. Te daré todo lo que te mereces - Let me take care of you. I'll give you everything you deserve.

Cariño - From my understanding, it can mean a lot of things, but it is mostly a term of affection, like cute or sweetheart.

Pero, amo todo de tí - But I love everything about you

Amo tu frente, ojos, nariz, mejillas, labios, mandíbula, cuello, senos, estómago, caderas, muslos, pantorrillas, tobillos, pies. Y lo que aún no he explorado sé que me encantará es tu culo, y tu coño. - I love your forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, breasts, stomach, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, feet. And what I haven't explored yet I know I'll love is your ass, and your pussy.

Hermosa - Gorgeous

Soy todo tuyo - I am all yours

Mi mente, cuerpo, y alma es tuyo - My mind, body and soul are yours

Mi flor - My flower

#lanawrites #pedropascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #javier pena fanfiction #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña fluff #javier pena x reader #friends to lovers

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ctheathy · 4 months

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A Betrayal out of Nowhere

Zails x Reader

NSFW Oneshot

Author's note: Long time no see, my darlings! things have been a little haywire for me, unfortunately resulting in my long hiatus </3 Understand that this isn't much, but I hope this mini fic can count as some food so my babies don't starve for so long

Once a cheater, always a cheater. A rather popular and certified quote that has oftentimes been proven as correct among mankind. Even you weren't partly safe from the unfaithfulness your fluffy fox mate would end up exposing. But you also weren't exactly freed nor ready for the pitiful begging belonging to the mobian...

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️:

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

This is a smut fic, read at own risk. Reader+sub!Zails • Zails cheated on you • High desperation levels • Dry humping • Begging • Guilt tripping(?) • Lack of self control • The situation is very awkward/uncomfortable for you in general • Fight/Flight/Freeze/Fawn response for reader

“God, you are absolutely pathetic, even for a cheater” you spat at the fox infront of you, scrunching your nose in disgust at the mere sight. Zails was currently on his hands and knees, completely exposed in his undergarments as occasional choked sobs and moans were heard in the room. You could feel yourself cringe more at every singular plead he made for you, his petty attempts filled with absolute desperation to get back into your heart, which you just scoffed at.

"... p-please.. I.. ahnn...~ I can't.. h- just spit all over me... Punish me like the absolute filth that I am..."

Your eyes narrowed as you glanced away from him, embarrassment filling your mind. Shaking your head slightly in disappointment. He wasn't gonna get the reaction out of you that he oh-so desired. You weren't gonna go back to him and that was final ...but your eyes couldn't help but soften a really little bit as he said that, watching him go these lengths where he allows himself to be humiliated and used just for the sake of preventing you from leaving.

Zails’ eyes would immediately widen as he realized you were showing even the smallest hint of pity towards him, and the sudden rush of blood and adrenaline he got made him feel some kind of hope. Although he was already stroking the genitalia in his undergarments with teary eyes, he hesitantly stood up and moved towards you, trying his hardest to wrap his arms around you and cry into your shoulder. His grip on you was still tight as he desperately tried to force some sort of response out of you.

As Zails weakly wrapped his arms around you, he was met with the heat of your body temperature, sending a wave of familiarity through his body. You just stood still, allowing him to do whatever despite the awkwardness on your end... A stoic and blank expression on your face as he touched you with his dirty hands. You sighed, slowly lifting up one of your arms, placing it behind his back as you caressed your hand up and down ...But due to the difference in height and the lack of self awareness, your hand ended up going a bit too low, accidentally stroking over his rump.

And that little, accidental touch was all it took to set him off. Zails had become so desperate to feel anything from you that even something as small as you brushing up against his backside made him go absolutely crazy. He immediately became more vocal, letting out a few moaning and whining noises as he squeezed his body tighter against yours. His breath became shallow, and he had become even more desperate for you to show him some kind of ‘affection’ as he rubbed himself against you.

Which quickly escalated in him getting desperate enough that he even began squeezing and rubbing himself up and down your body, just to feel any sort of warmth from you. Zails’ whole body would slowly become hotter and hotter as the realization of how much he wants anything from you began to set in. His voice became more whinier and he was begging even more than he had before, his hands squeezing so hard they were practically white knuckling your body.

"P-Please..! I'm desperate! Y-You're making me desperate! I-I need something from you... p-please!" His body had gotten so tense as he kept squeezing himself against you. Every inch of your body was being squeezed up against his, and he was beginning to get so riled up now that he was beginning to make audible suggestive noises. He was acting out like a desperate animal, and he would even start pushing himself harder into you as he begged and begged.

"I need you... I need you.. P-Please.... p-please, sweet cheeks... I ne-need you!! Let me have you..!" Zails was now panting, as sweat began forming on his forehead, dampening his amber fur. He had started squeezing his eyes shut as he shook and begged, his hands now gripping your body as tightly as possible.

It was a ... Difficult situation to say the least, you weren't denying him what he wanted but you didn't exactly accept his request either. You felt so disconnected with that damned fox ...you couldn't even tell apart the whines of his despair and his lust. So you just uncomfortably continued to stroke and rub your hand up and down over his lower back and tailhead, trying to make him shut up. But it only resulted with both of your closure only making the heat grow even further.

His breaths started to get even raspier as you continued to massage him, and it was very obvious that he was starting to give in to his lust. The lust was starting to consume him the more you touched him, and his whinings and moans were becoming even louder. There was even a visible bulge that began to arise, slowly taking shape from the way he was squeezing himself into you. Zails was so desperate for you, that just your touch alone made him whimper, his lust-fueled whinging only getting more loud.

The twitching bulge was even more noticeable as his undergarments began to become wet with his desire. The warmth of your body was making it hard to hold back with you squeezing him so tightly. He looked up at you with tears in his eyes as he started to beg and moan even more, which you didn't want to give much reaction to. Though you did seem to notice the tears threatening to spill out, as your free hand slowly wandered over towards the bulge on his undergarments, stroking over it with your knuckles with minor pressure.

And as soon as that happened, he even leaned his head back at one point as he continued to moan and whine. The warm and wet bulge was even more obvious as he was squeezing his clothing tightly to him now as he begged more and more, Zails’ fingers clinging onto you as he desperately tried to keep himself from exploding. All while his other hand held onto the back of your neck as his fingers began to squirm and twitch.

For the first time, his voice actually took on a slightly more high-pitched, feminine sounding tone, and he even sounded like he was actually begging you now instead of just simply whining about how he needs you. Zails let out a small, quiet whimper, his breathing becoming much heavier as he was starting to get even closer to his climax. He was panting even more as his muscles began to tense up, his back arching slightly as he continued to squirm. He was sweating even more, and his voice had finally started to crack, becoming even more feminine than the average girl mobian.

His breath was even sharper now as he was almost there, his body now shaking with his teeth being gritted as his hands were so tightly wrapped around your body that his claws were almost digging into your back. He was still begging and moaning, but now it sounded far more desperate than before. "Oh... Oh no... I-Its coming..!" He suddenly squeaked out, as his entire body began to tremble a little bit. His eyes were firmly closed and his mouth was open just a little bit with the tiniest bit of saliva drooling from his lips. It was starting to become obvious that he was going to explode. He was so close to the point where his entire fur now became wet with tears as he tried not to climax, but he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Suddenly, he let out a muffled whine. You could practically feel his back arching as it happened, his pants finally becoming soaked from a combination of sweat and his climax. His body had started to shake violently as his breathing became absolutely frantic, and he was so loud that you were almost sweat dropping with discomfort from the experience. Zails’ hands wrapped around you like a desperate animal as his entire body trembled and grinded against you. His cries almost became screams as he continued to climax, the heat between you being too immense for either of them to even comprehend. His coat became absolutely drenched with his own fluids...

And after what seemed like an eternity, he finally stopped. He was panting and drooling, that little bit of contact had sent him over the edge, and he had completely lost control over himself. His arms were still wrapped around you, his hands squeezing your body as he continued to sob into your shoulder. His entire face was wet with tears, and he didn't even care or notice the fact that he was wetting your clothes. Zails was still crying and sobbing uncontrollably as he squeezed you close to him, holding you as if he wanted to protect you from the evilness surrounding the world. But you weren't having any of it, especially as he already took advantage of the situation and couldn't even manage to control his unending horniness...

The was no noticeable change or improvement regarding the look in your eyes, still lingering with repulsion and complete embarrassment. You shoved him off of you and onto the grounds below as he was crying his eyes out. Meeting his red shot eyes with a blank yet piercing gaze, you held so little emotion. You just felt as if you were looking at a lost cause, one you weren't willing to babysit and take responsibility for anymore.

Even with the fact that your eyes were devoid of any positive thoughts when it came to him... Your gaze was much more similar as if you were looking down on him as an inferior being, and it didn't seem too far fetched with the current state he was in. He held no importance in your life anymore, and he knew it. His shaking only becoming more violent now that he had nothing left to release, nothing left to satisfy you with.

His body only left to quiver and tremble like a desperate, starving animal when you finally turned your back on your now ex-lover

#sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #tails x reader #sonic the hedgehog #zails the zone cop #zails #zails x reader #zails the zone cop x reader #sonic comics #sonic comics x reader #zails the fox #sonic smut #tails smut

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thethirdromana · 1 year

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A few people in the Dorian Gray Weekly tag have observed that Oscar Wilde doesn't make it clear what he wants us to think of Dorian. I'd like to dig into that a bit more, because I think it's true, and fascinating, and weird.

Because if you take everything so far at face value, then Wilde has made it abundantly clear that Dorian is a terrible person. His actions have resulted in a young woman's suicide. He has a visual record in his attic of his moral degradation and that record has become "evil". The picture is covered in "signs of sin", and it's pretty clear that Wilde means that literally. It's not just that Dorian is being spared the realistic physical consequences of his misdeeds, like bags under his eyes after a heavy night out. His sins, which he is unquestionably committing, are visibly altering the appearance of his portrait, like that Roald Dahl quote:

If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until you can hardly bear to look at it.

We don't know exactly what his sins are. But we know how they cause people to act around him:

It was remarked, however, that some of those who had been most intimate with him appeared, after a time, to shun him. Women who had wildly adored him, and for his sake had braved all social censure and set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid with shame or horror if Dorian Gray entered the room.

The only reason that there isn't more scandal around him is explicitly because he's rich and attractive. Not because there's any hint that he's sometimes a good person. While Wilde doesn't say "Dorian was evil and his portrait looked evil because he was an evil person who did evil things", he comes pretty damn close to it.

And yet...

Despite all that condemnation, it's hard to come away from reading this novel with the impression that Wilde is actually condemning Dorian's actions, as the commentary in the tag demonstrates. (Which is handy, because this is vibes-based analysis and tricky to prove otherwise).

I think there are two reasons for this. One is the lavish, indulgent descriptions of everything Dorian is doing. The details feel like they're shared in a spirit of appreciation, not judgement. Post-Sibyl, Dorian's crimes are presented in an innuendo-laden, nudge-nudge way that lets you imagine whatever level of debauchery you find titillating. (It's always fun to see where adaptations choose to draw the line here). Dorian's life is shallow, but it's vivid and luxurious - and more than a little enviable. And sometimes it's fun to read about rich people doing bad things!

(Of course, that means that the reader ignores Dorian's sins in favour of his wealth just like his acquaintances do).

The other reason is the weird relationship between Dorian's life and Oscar Wilde's own. Wilde puts what feels like an uncomfortable amount of himself into Dorian - the book that Dorian "could not free himself from", that contributes to his moral degradation, is one of Wilde's own favourite books. Wilde also lived an indulgent, hedonistic lifestyle that took him into sordid parts of London, where he did things that, once revealed, would see him shunned by society, some of which we would still judge harshly.

Wilde was writing for an audience who didn't know as much about his life as we do, but he was already an established celebrity when The Picture of Dorian Gray was published, so I think his readership would see an echo of Dorian's decadence in Wilde himself. Like Basil Hallward, he put a lot of himself into his art. Like Basil Hallward, it revealed more of him than he perhaps intended - but he did intend some of it.

I can't quite imagine writing a character who shares a lot of my interests and enthusiasms, plus some of the worst of my behaviour, and then explicitly describing that character as evil, but that's what Oscar Wilde did. Dorian Gray doesn't feel like it's written in a spirit of self-loathing, but nor does it feel like a demonstration of cognitive dissonance. So I'm no closer to figuring out what the hell is going on here. But for me, the chewy complexity of exactly how Wilde wants us to feel about Dorian - admiring, judgmental, condemnatory, detached - is a significant part of why I enjoy this novel so much.

#dorian gray weekly #oscar wilde #the picture of dorian gray #apologies to my followers for the tonal shift from beetleposting but this was taking up space in my brain and i needed to get it out #and i have an irrational dislike of queuing things

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cornerdreams-txt · 1 year

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random little things that i think the mw22 cast would like.

simon riley; “ghost”

web weaving. gathering quotes and lines from books and poetry and history, collecting lyrics and artwork, then putting them all together in the theme of a person, a place, a thing, a memory, something. creating a piece of artwork centered around a single person’s experience with something they can recall. sharing an experience, emotions, memories, without ever having to say a single word.

john mactavish; “soap”

baking using ingredients he grew. knowing every rain shower the cucumbers got, knowing the strawberries were just picked a few minutes ago. taking seeds and making something out of nothing using soil and water and the sunlight outside his home, taking that something and making it into something more, and then holding it out in offering and gift for the people he knows. making his own food, and providing it as a show of his care for the people he’s around.

john price

photography. capturing a single moment in memory forever, keeping memories and emotions stored somewhere safe, so that their faces and the place and the state of the world just then is, even as the world changes neverendingly, never forgotten, and can be easily remembered. being able to keep a moment he holds dear in his pocket, hidden from the cruelty of wars and military force. a log of his own life, so he never has to forget the things he loves.

kyle garrick; “gaz”

origami. taking such an ordinary sheet of paper and folding it over and over and turning it and folding and unfolding and then folding again, until a personally created, holdable piece of artwork rests in his hands, something he made to keep his hands busy, something he can look at and know that he made that, no matter how many tries it first took.

nikolai

astronomy. using the stars as his guide, knowing the story behind every constellation, being able to know exactly why the stars look as they do, knowing what lies beyond them and knowing what humanity is scraping their fingers along as they explore. flying at night and having more to think about than just his destination and the aircraft’s parameters or current performance. he knows that by heart. but the stars? that’s something else. knowing that he is made of stardust, and so is everyone else.

farah karim

musical theater. a story told through music, characters moving around stage, the different sets. the casts cycling through, the original recordings and covers and the sound of projecting voices echoing through the theater. the curtain calls, sound design, lights and tech crew. makeup and quick changes - over a dozen art forms coming together to create a single product.

kate laswell

making her own tea blends. taking care of plants to dry them in the sun when they’re ready, always leaving some for later. testing out what goes well with what, sharing the ones that taste the best with her wife. using natural medicinal properties for nausea, for headaches, dealing with cramps when they get bad. customizing teas to make the people she meets a tea that’s unique to that experience, every time.

rodolfo

archeology. seeing how people lived all those years ago, how humanity has progressed. ancient acts of kindness - the disabled living long lives, babies buried with the best that could be offered, pets being laid to rest with their owners, tombs telling stories about the people’s lives, gravestones showing how loved the individuals were. what daily life looked like what must have been forever ago. knowing that there will be kindness and love and war and good and bad and victories and everything that makes humanity what it is, for as long as humans have their feet on the ground.

alejandro vargas

marine science. the vastness of it all - the depth of the ocean and the strength of the currents. the diversity of life and how much such a simple substance, just water, does for the entire earth. the different terms, and especially coral reefs. how a formation worn away by time and current and sun and tides has become a central place of life and support for so many creatures. how colorful they are, how delicate, now beautiful and so incredibly necessary they are. how much there is to love about the planet he lives on.

philip graves

urban exploration. seeing everything that’s been left behind, abandoned by the people who were there before. admiring how nature has taken back these man-made structures, the wear and tear, the animals that call those places home, even if they were never meant to be there. the echoing of footsteps and voices, the light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. ivy and sunlight and dust, serenity and silence in a once bustling thing.

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diamondperfumes · 9 months

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The assertions that Dany will "succumb" to her family's allegedly "evil legacy" or the "taint" in her blood require pathologizing her for being an abuse victim borne of rape and incest, buying into bioessentialist "genetics is destiny" argument, and decontextualizing most of the passages from her book arc. This post, with a song juxtaposed with out-of-context quotes from Dany's chapters, is an excellent example.

"Every child knows the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness." The only "mad" Targaryens were Rhaegel, Aerion, Aerys II, and Viserys III. If you want to stretch it, you can include Baelor, though he was more pious and fanatic than mad. Maegor was cruel but lucid. Rhaegar was not mad, despite being Aerys II's son. And the narrative has distanced Dany from Aerys II several times, because one of ASOIAF's central theses is not "you are your father's child," but "you can overcome your father."

"She could not look behind her, must not look behind her" is not Dany "refusing to look at her family's history." This is taken from her fever dreams in AGOT Dany IX, and what she can't look back at is an icy breath that would cause her a "death worse than death, howling forever alone in the darkness." It's the first time Dany sees the Others in her dreams, and she is the only other character in AGOT to dream of them, the other character being Bran.

"I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice." This is Dany feeling guilty for crucifying 163 slavers. How is that a sign of madness or refusal to confront her family legacy? It's actually a sign that Dany has empathy even for the worst of humanity, even for her enemies. Also, crucifying slavers isn't evil. It's odd that the same fandom that calls Dany a slaver, slave trader, slave profiteer, and slavery enabler, also calls her a tyrant or mad for crucifying slavers. What is she supposed to do with slavers? What is the "proper" way to handle them?

The mother of monsters passage is more proof that Dany is introspective and self-critical. In children's media, shounen anime, and Marvel movies, a villain may unironically call themselves a monster, but in more complicated, nuanced, adult literature, characters who call themselves monsters usually aren't bad people. They're the self-deprecating, humble, and thoughtful characters who are reflecting on their flaws and mistakes. Again, if Dany is someone who refuses to think about the dark side of her family, she would not agonize over the consequences of using her power. Monstrosity is associated with being stigmatized, ostracized, and alienated by hegemonic forces in society, and those characters who identify with monstrosity often have something to reveal about the violence of the status quo and the normalization of oppression.

George is deconstructing the coin quote, not reinforcing it. Madness/greatness, ice/fire, east/west, north/south, sun/moon, pain/pleasure, love/hate, are all dichotomies in the novel that George sets out to show can unite in some way. As I said, most Targaryens were not "mad," and I find it odd that for a fandom as progressive as it frames itself to be, the ableist stereotyping of "foreign otherized race from the East is genetically predisposed toward madness" isn't something fans problematize more.

Dany longing for the house with the red door and wanting to rest, laugh, plant trees and see them grow, are also seen as signs of madness because of her statelessness and homelessness. If a teenage girl has been raped and abused, and is herself a product of rape and abuse, and comes from an exotic Eastern family, then apparently her longing for home is actually a bomb waiting to detonate inside her, because she's unfit to belong anywhere. It's shocking that this mentality is seen as media literate or subversive.

"Dragons plant no trees" has already been disproven by Dany's arc itself. Dany reclaims fire and blood by the end of ADWD because she realizes the peace in Meereen is false (which it is). Jon Snow goes from wanting to hire glassblowing apprentices to plant crops in greenhouses to grow food, to abandoning his vows and declaring war to save his sister, and then dies. Why is that not seen as a sign of "succumbing to madness?" The acts are narratively paralleled. Perhaps––and this may be crazy, but stay with me––the thesis of FeastDance is that you cannot grow, build, and heal a nation in soil watered with blood. No such rebuilding or regrowing is possible unless and until real change occurs, and for real change to happen, the corrupt old guard cannot stay alive.

Certainly TWOW will be a darker book for every viewpoint character, but it's interesting to see how a combination of pathologizing Dany for her gender, ethnicity, genes/biology, trauma, and stateless/rootless/homeless status as an exile/diaspora, with decontextualizing her chapters, quotes, and passages, and an overall misunderstanding of the themes of ASOIAF, to single Dany out as a "dark" character who won't be able to "outrun" her "negative family history."

#daenerys targaryen #canondany #my discourse #meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf

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lightns881 · 2 years

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How She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Uses Traditional Fairy Tale Archetypes and Motifs to Reinvent the Love Story

(This is based on a 15-page final paper I wrote for my Queer Theory class last semester. Link to that if you want to read it or see the format is at the end.)

The SPOP finale is one that consistently has me SOBBING. Not only because it’s such a beautiful portrayal of a kiss shared between two female leads portrayed on a kid’s show, but because the kiss itself is so utterly significant to the story that I cannot see a more perfect ending for the climax overall.

What really struck me thinking about it later on was the fact that traditional fairy tales have always made me hate the “true love’s kiss saves the world” trope because it has always felt so ingenuine, and yet for the SPOP finale, it could not feel more genuine and real (and it wasn’t just because I loved seeing a queer kiss because prior to this I’ve had many straight ships I’ve enjoyed). The deeper I fell into investigating the structure of SPOP and the motifs it uses (She-Ra as a savior, Catra as a villain, princess tropes, etc), the more I understood that this show isn’t just revolutionary to queer animation, it’s revolutionary toward the fairy tale love story as a whole, and I’m going to explain why.

The world of Etheria is one that exists without a dominant sexuality or gender. It’s something I’ve began to notice more in my favorite shows (the two that I can think of off the top of my head is SPOP and The Owl House). These fantasy worlds portray sexuality without putting so much significance to it--Bow and Willow have two dads and nobody bats an eye, they/them pronouns are used so casually you’d think it’d be the norm in the real life, Amity’s mom doesn’t approve of Luz not because they’re both girls but because she’s considered a criminal and she wants to get her a different girlfriend--notice how queerness is something that just exists, there’s no "coming out” or no queerphobia because it just doesn’t exist. People just are who they are and love who they want to love. It’s as if every sexuality and gender is treated with normalcy.

The best example in SPOP is the whole episode involving Bow coming out as a rebel to his gay parents. The whole irony of the situation just establishes that queerness is not considered out of the norm in Etheria. If it did, you’d see some sort of reference to the way his dads had to come out to their family or their community in some way, but you don’t because they didn’t have to come out. There is no closet when it comes to gender and sexuality in Etheria--you just are who you are.

There’s this very interesting concept called the “heterosexual imaginary” that basically states how straightness is basically invisible in our world because it’s considered the norm (the essay Sex In Public by Berlant and Warner describes it as “the givenness of male-female sexual relations [that] is part of the ordinary rightness of [our] world”). This imaginary or “givenness” does not exist in the universes of SPOP and TOH, and it is why these stories can pull off queer relationships and characters without needing the stereotypical coming out episode or homophobia episode a show based in our world would generally have. You’d think it’d be a norm in every fantasy world to have this seeing as it’s a fantasy world and it’s weird that one would function with our set of norms but anyway.

This directly ties to a quote that Stevenson made that I just love:

The show’s not a romance show. It is about a lot of things. It’s about choice, destiny, fighting, tyrants, you know, all of these other things. I grew up with so many stories—like sci-fi and fantasy—that I was so passionate about. And it would be considered no big deal to have the hero get the girl and to have a kiss at the end, without it suddenly becoming a romance or ‘Oh, the shippers got what they wanted.’ It was just a part of the story.

We see this in sooooo many fantasy stories! If it was any other sexuality, you’d see these kinds of arguments all the times--”shoved in your throat,” “inappropriate,” “not for kids”--we see these arguments all the time when it comes to queer relationships but nobody bats an eye when a guy gets the girl at the end of a coming of age journey, do they? It doesn’t suddenly turn the whole story into a straight romance, it’s just a part of the story. That’s the heterosexual imaginary in action!

Now, when it comes to traditional Disney fairy tales, oh boy do we get compulsory heterosexuality everywhere. These stories already have a reputation for building a pretty unhealthy view of romantic love (or assuming that all love is romantic in the first place), though they have been getting much better at it (and by better I mean Pixar... it’s literally Pixar holding their weight).

Especially when it comes to princess stories, “a heterosexual romance is inevitable and often a central conclusion” (England, Descartes, & Collier-Meek 565).

Let me make it clear: SPOP is not a romance. It is a love story, but it is not the romance, and here’s the difference.

A love story uses a romantic relationship (or another type of relationship between two people who love each other) as an impediment or a facilitator to focus on a message outside of romantic love. A romance focuses on the actual romantic relationship itself.

These terms are often confused because the “traditional Disney definition of true love” (Rojas 13) shapes our expectations of a love story. In framing this heterosexual love as the primary purpose of female leads, these stories “help to reinforce the desirability of traditional gender conformity” (England, Descartes, & Collier-Meek 565). They build narratives that revolve around a princess (who upholds feminine ideals) finding her prince (who upholds masculine ideals) and depict their love as relying on their “fated” bond that “cements over the course of… one meeting” and that “endures a test where the man overcomes hardships and succeeds in rescuing the woman from evil” (Rojas 13). This love story ends with a kiss, a marriage, and a happily ever that upholds the social order.

Since these love stories shape our perception of love as children, as adults, we interpret ‘true love’ as a frivolous concept that only exists in fairy tales; as such, it is common to discredit the romance genre for its superficiality and degrade the message of any love story to this expectation of superficial love. Consequently, because “the givenness of male-female sexual relations” (Berlant & Warner 168) allows heterosexuality to function in a state of invisibility, heterosexual love stories can end with a romantic union without it demeaning the story whereas queer love is degraded to ‘just another dumb love story’ instead of “a part of the story” (Stevenson).

But Catradora isn’t just another dumb love story. It is the foundation of SPOP as a whole because it’s what drives the story. The most interesting part is that SPOP uses so many traditional motifs that you’d think would only serve toward maintaining patriarchal norms and it uses them in such a meaningful way that transforms them into so much more!

Let’s start with the character motifs--the savior, the princess, the villain, and the damsel (and there’s a reason why I am separating the princess and the damsel). Adora functions as a savior and a princess while Catra functions as a villain and a damsel, and I know it sounds ridiculous right now but hear me out. The gender messaging inherently attached to these archetypes are a part of the narratives that Shadow Weaver builds to manipulate them so she can have control over them.

Let’s start with the savior, aka the knight in shining armor. This one’s pretty easy to tie to Adora because her savior complex is what drives her whole arc. But I’m taking it further to explain how it ties to the messaging behind the archetypical savior. The knight in shining armor archetype is build upon the foundation that a woman is a man’s responsibility--it is clear the man is generally the one portrayed as independent and the woman he must save is the dependent. The woman needs the man to live. We see this archetype in sooo many princess stories (Rapunzel, Snow White, Cinderella, etc.) Now think about the way Shadow Weaver manipulates Adora to adopt this mindset.

Shadow Weaver expects Adora to “[keep Catra] under control” (”Promise” 16:48), that what Catra does is her responsibility as if Catra isn’t her own person outside of Adora. This is what builds Adora’s “caretaker” role in their codependent relationship at the beginning of the series--this is what causes her to adopt her savior complex.

Similarly, as a scapegoat, Catra was conditioned to be Adora’s ‘taker,’ and Shadow Weaver viewed her as a “nuisance… [only kept around] because Adora was fond of [her]” (16:20). This narrative results in Catra’s Cinderella Complex, the “repressed attitudes” that lead women to believe “they are simply damsels in distress and will remain so until the rescue of their male suitors” (Saha & Safri qtd. in Ding 23), at the beginning of the story, for as the damsel archetype upholds, a woman is worth nothing past being an extension of the man that owns her. In this sense, Shadow Weaver describes Catra as an extension of Adora—everything she does is tied back to Adora, for she does not have an identity outside of her. Catra needs Adora to survive--both emotionally and literally because who knows what Shadow Weaver would’ve done with her had Adora not been “fond of her.”

When Adora defects, their codependent roles collapse, and following her ‘caretaker’ role, she seeks to be the savior as She-Ra whereas Catra entirely loses the person she relies on for her sense of self. Seeking her worth elsewhere, Catra pursues their original goal to move up the ranks of the horde alone, and deep into her resentment for being abandoned by her ‘caretaker’ and the only person she loves, she turns to villainy and seeks to defeat Adora.

The scene that most clearly portrays this savior-damsel dynamic between Adora and Catra at the beginning of the story is “Promise.”

“Promise” highlights her rejection of her damsel narrative when Adora fails to save Catra from being dragged away by the spider. We see her default into helplessly calling for Adora with tears in her eyes even though we know she’s capable of taking out that spider herself, she still instinctively fills her damsel role and calls out for Adora to save her. Then we see her look into an empty hallway, and it’s almost as if this is what goes through her mind: Adora abandoned me, therefore Adora is not coming to save me, but I don’t need Adora to save me, I can save myself.

Consumed by her resentment over Adora breaking her narrative and being confined within her own, she proves Shadow Weaver wrong by resolutely fighting back—a capability she always possessed but that her dependency on Adora and Shadow Weaver’s manipulation prevented her from acting upon.

Alongside that, Adora’s ‘heroic’ save just before Catra finishes off the spider and her condescending chuckle and “sure you did” after Catra argues that she “had it” (13:47) emphasize how ingrained these detrimental narratives are within their perceptions, for the mere idea of Catra not needing her is a joke to Adora. The purpose of “Promise” is to divorce Catra from her Cinderella Complex, but in spite of abandoning this narrative, she falls into another by misconstruing Adora’s heroism as a manipulative tactic to hold her back (20:07), and it drives her into her obsession to make Adora fail to prove herself that she can be above.

Yet Adora’s Savior Complex was also a result of Shadow Weaver’s manipulation because, apart from enabling Adora’s belief that she was responsible for Catra, she believed her worth relied on her success as her prodigy. As Kyle the Scott explains in his video essay about the hero mindset, SPOP “does not present the argument that heroism is bad” but it “[questions] how healthy the hero mindset really is… [and] what kind of effect thinking of yourself and others in this way have on a person” (Scott, 7:58).

Throughout the series, it is made clear that Adora’s Savior Complex not only drives her to believe she is worth nothing past her destiny to save Etheria but that she is the only one capable. This belief relates to Adora’s state as a princess, for in the way a passive princess must give everything of herself to serve her man and her society, Adora had to give everything to earn Shadow Weaver’s motherly love, and, later on, she had to give everything to become the hero of Etheria. As such, Adora is not passive in that she is powerless, she is passive in her state as a chosen one lacking agency over her destiny and her belief that her worth relies on what she can offer others.

This extreme selflessness or “ability to show love” (Davis 125) contrasts Catra’s state as a villain, otherwise characterized by her predisposition toward hatred or her “[inability] to demonstrate love” (Ding 15). The archetype of a villainess sends the message that it is “wrong and deceitful for women to be independent and powerful… [and pushes] them to adopt more submissive roles and behaviors” (Ding 16). While Catra describes Adora as a “people-pleaser” (which confines her within her princess archetype), Catra has always steered toward rebellion because Shadow Weaver put her down no matter what she did right, and her rebellion (or “disrespect” as Adora calls it) is deemed a negative because it gives Shadow Weaver less control over her in the same way the archetypal villainess is demonized for defying gender roles.

However, Catra’s descent into villainy was another narrative she confined herself to because she sought power to prove her strength to Shadow Weaver and everyone who put her down, but internally, it was a method of self-preservation since she no longer had her ‘caretaker’ to protect her. As Catra gains power and attempts to convince herself she hates Adora, it becomes evident that her motive was never “ruling Etheria,” it was always about the two of them staying together. Hence, Catra is not a villain because she is heartless or because she craves power; it is due to her use of lashing out as a method of self-preservation and her inability to express her emotions that she falls into the cycle of self-destruction that makes her one. As such, Adora and Catra’s detrimental actions and beliefs about themselves are driven by these confining narratives Shadow Weaver imposed on them which mirror the gendered messages behind these archetypes, and it is these narratives that they transcend at the climax of their love story.

Now let’s fast forward to the Season 5 during the episodes they spend outside of Etheria, specifically I’ll focus on “Corridors,” “Save the Cat,” and “Taking Control” because these are the key for the foundation of Catra’s redemption, Adora’s growth, and the reconciliation of their relationship. This will help prove the power of their love is what helps them break away from their narratives (and it sounds so cheesy but it’s executed so well you barely notice).

I’m going to quote a lot of Five by Five Takes on Youtube because she has some AMAZING takes of this show. Catra’s reflection in “Corridors” reveals that her fear of abandonment ranged back to their childhood, for when Adora made friends with others, Catra perceived it as an attempt to replace her—that if “she wasn’t Adora’s priority… she didn’t matter at all” (“She Ra's Corridors Isn't What You Think” 1:43).

Now, having pushed everyone away for her power trip, at the last step of her journey to the top, when she reflects upon Adora’s words as a child, she recognizes this “safety, friendship, love she turned away from because she didn’t believe it could be real” ( “She Ra's Corridors Isn't What You Think” 1:46) and realizes that resigning herself to villainy is not her only path, for “it’s only too late when you’ve resigned yourself to that” ( “She Ra's Corridors Isn't What You Think” 4:47).

In her choice to save Glimmer, she breaks her cycle of self-destruction and “reclaims her identity… her narrative, to be about her [and] not about someone else” (“She Ra's Corridors Isn't What You Think” 3:08). It is the memory of her love for Adora—the love she rejected because she confined herself to her villain narrative to keep herself safe and to prove she could form an identity outside of Adora—that sets her on her path to redemption. So in this way, their love impedes and facilitates Catra’s coming-of-age journey because it was her attempt to reject this love that drove her into villainy and her acceptance of it that gets her out.

“Save the Cat” is a turning point in Adora’s journey because, in breaking out of her savior and princess narratives, she discovers that She-Ra is driven by her most authentic self. By choosing to rescue Catra, Adora puts her responsibility as a hero aside and acts for herself. For once, her decision is not selfless because she’s endangering her team and Etheria by going to save someone who has been the villain for so long.

She also does not make this decision because she feels responsible for Catra, for we see her abandon this feeling in the episode “The Portal” when she stops attempting to pull Catra into the good side and stops holding back during their confrontations now that she understands Catra is her own person and that she is not responsible for her bad decisions.

Thus, in saving Catra because she has hope for her and not because she ‘needs’ to, Adora rejects her savior and princess narratives. Furthermore, it is the “need to protect” the person she loves and her “purity of emotion” that allows her to channel her most powerful and authentic self (Stevenson), so while Prime embodies lack of identity and agency, Adora embodies embracing love and authenticity. Along the same lines as Catra, Adora confined herself within her narratives by putting her obligations above her feelings for Catra, and she freed herself from them by putting the person she loves above the world.

“Taking Control” marks another turning point in their relationship because we see them communicating and actively reconciling their relationship. By putting herself in a vulnerable position and telling Adora that “[she wants] to go home” (16:56) despite having told Glimmer “there is nothing left for [her there] (“Corridors” 6:20), Catra implies that Adora is her home, and, in making an active effort toward fixing her anger issues and getting to know Adora’s friends, she shows she wants Adora to be part of her life again. Furthermore, the way she lets Adora help and comfort her shows she no longer links vulnerability to being submissive, and she puts aside her fear of falling back into her damsel narrative now that their separation has given her time to find an identity outside of Adora.

So these three episodes mark a turning point for their relationship—one that is no longer based on dependency but on supporting each other’s growth, being honest about their mistakes, and letting themselves be vulnerable.

And then... “Failsafe” happens.

Their return to Etheria is also their reunion with Shadow Weaver, and their regression into her narratives impede them from admitting their feelings for each other and being authentic to themselves. Once more, they get stuck in these narratives Shadow Weaver has weaved into their core.

The good news is their growth and the progress they have accomplished in mending their relationship reflects in the way they reject Shadow Weaver’s influence and defend each other. Furthermore, the improvement of their communication reflects in the way Catra voices why she is upset and Adora expresses she needs Catra by asking for her support. So their rejection of Shadow Weaver’s narratives allows them both to support and be supportive, and their relationship is no longer codependent because they exist on equal grounds now.

Unfortunately, Shadow Weaver’s presence still triggers Catra’s insecurities about feeling wanted and Adora’s fear of failure.

Shadow Weaver uses their reconciliation to her advantage in the way she weaponizes Adora’s feelings for Catra by convincing her she must focus on “protecting [Catra]” instead of letting her distract her. She also breaks Adora’s identity apart by describing She-Ra as an entity outside of her, even though She-Ra is Adora at her purest ( “the world needs you as She-Ra… not Adora” (”Failsafe” 12:12).

Thus, Adora’s regression into her savior complex turns her into a martyr, for what she wants for herself does not matter because she must protect the world and her friends. In telling Catra that “even if [Shadow Weaver] is [sacrificing her]… [it] is the only way” (16:29), Adora conveys that she is, yet again, willing to abandon Catra and sacrifice her own life for the rest of the world even though, as Catra tries to convince her, “it doesn’t always have to be [her]” (17:54).

Here, Adora regresses so deep into her narratives for fear of losing those she loves that she believes she is acting of her own volition and not Shadow Weaver’s influence. Yet Adora does not have to be the one to make a sacrifice; as Catra points out, Shadow Weaver is capable of taking the heart herself, but she does not because she knows Adora’s savior complex will drive her to believe it has to be her.

In asking her what she wants, Catra is really asking Adora to choose between their relationship and her heroism, and when Adora responds that “[she has] to do this” (21:25), Catra perceives it as Adora willingly resigning to Shadow Weaver’s narrative by “[choosing] Shadow Weaver and not [her]” (“The Heart (Part 1)” 4:56) and not loving her enough to stay because she has never needed Catra (21:40), so she leaves. In the same way Adora acknowledged Catra was her own person who made her own choices in the episode “The Portal,” Catra acknowledges here that she cannot change Adora’s choice no matter how self-destructive it might be. Hence, it is their failure to accept their true feelings that hold them back from being authentic to themselves, for Adora does not allow herself to want and Catra does not want to confess because she believes “Adora doesn’t want [her]... like [she wants] her” (“The Heart (Part 1)” 5:00).

And now, finally, let’s talk about true love’s kiss--one of the oldest fairy tale tropes in the book.

True love’s kiss is the deus ex machina of countless fairy tales, but although true love’s kiss does save the day in SPOP, its significance relies on Adora and Catra transcending the narratives Shadow Weaver imposed upon them and embracing their love and their authentic selves. It is not merely a magically ending--it is them admitting what they’ve been holding out on for FIVE SEASONS that allows She-Ra to transform. That is how they save the world. Stevenson says it himself:

This moment of confession is the climax of the show. It is everything [they have] been building up to.”

Even though it is its magic that saves the day, true love’s kiss feels authentic here because of what the magic represents. In SPOP, magic stands for authenticity, connection, and love—all of which express humanity.

At the climax of their story, having lost her ability to transform, Adora begs Catra to leave so she can do the next part on her own—primarily, Adora knows how much she has hurt Catra, so she does not want her to witness her sacrifice. Catra’s choice to stay is a selfless act because she willingly puts herself in a vulnerable position by risking being hurt in the worst way possible. Meanwhile, Adora’s “beautiful wish,” as Prime calls it, externalizes what she wants and is not letting herself have because “[she is] She-Ra” and sacrificing herself “is what [she is] supposed to do.” However, in expressing that “[she deserves] love too” (“The Heart (Part 1)” 17:32), Mara tells Adora that she is allowed to be selfish—she is allowed to want and to receive love. She is “worth more than what [she] can give to other people” (17:30). So in confessing her love, Catra externalizes Mara’s words to Adora.

Despite her best friends claiming to love her for her and not She-Ra, Adora cannot be certain of this because they only became friends after she found the sword. So when the person she cares for the most and who she has also unintentionally hurt the most reveals that she not only loves her but that she has always loved her, it disproves her damaging perception of her worth. It allows Adora to unchain herself from the narratives that have been holding her back from expressing her wants and her feelings. When Adora confesses her love, she chooses Catra for the first time, and she disproves Catra’s belief that Adora does not want her.

The magic behind their true love’s kiss does not rely on superficial rules about love that paint it as a fantasy. On the contrary, it is the humanity behind it—Adora’s acceptance that she deserves love and a future for herself, her rejection of the expectations the world has reduced her to, and their mutual love—that gives Adora the power to transform and save Etheria. In opening their hearts, the magic at the heart is released and it revitalizes the planet, reverting it to its authentic state in the same way it does for them. As Five by Five Takes points out, we even see this in the amount of ‘I love you’s’ exchanged between all the characters—between lovers, friends, and family. The climax also contrasts their narratives, for as opposed to saving Catra, Adora is saved by Catra, and Catra’s “inability to show love” as a villain opposes the way her showing her love saves the world.

As Five by Five Takes explains in her video How She Ra Gives Us Hope, “the conflict [of SPOP] was never love or power, it was authentic connection versus outside manipulation: our genuine selves against the constructs imposed on us” (10:13). Having been divided and at odds for five seasons, having been abused and forced into narratives that stripped them of their identity and agency, and having grown and experienced hardships together and apart, concluding the story on a mutual confession and a true love’s kiss between Adora and Catra establishes their feelings, their wants, and their love are connected to the core of their identities and their coming-of-age journeys as they exist with and outside of each other.

“With Disney specifically, their conceptualization of romantic love is one that follows along with a set of ideals that define perfect love” (Bell, 1975; Sprecher & Metts, 1989 qtd in Ding, 2021), and it is these limitations that paint love as an unachievable fantasy that make these love stories superficial. These stories depict idealized models of men and women that are nothing more than hollow shells written into narratives confined by heteronormativity and gender norms. Such as the ones Shadow Weaver imposes upon Adora and Catra, “whatever you call them—narratives, expectations—these things that tell us who we are, really, are just about control” (“How She-Ra Gives Us Hope” 16:11).

SPOP illustrates a beautiful love story that can serve as a metaphor for the way queer love can rise above the narratives heteronormativity confines it within while reinventing the same archetypes and motifs traditionally catered to reinforcing this heteronormativity and without resolving to topics like homophobia or discovering sexuality, for, in Etheria, love is humanity and love is love. Whereas the resolution of Disney love stories relies on princesses giving up their agency to pursue their role as a wife and a woman in a patriarchal society, SPOP has both its female leads rejecting narratives that allow them to reclaim their agency, their identity, their lives, and their love, not only in their universe but also in ours.

Then there’s the “happily ever after” motif. In Disney fairy tales, happily ever after’s capture beautiful images with “little details” like “fireflies, butterflies, sunsets, wind, and the beauty and power of nature… a link to the naturalness of hetero-romantic love… [that depict] these loving scenes of heterosexual love as the most natural and magical form of love” (Ding 34). In this way, it teaches children “a distorted concept of romantic love at… a young age” that “poses an issue for the harsh reality that love and relationships actually exist as” (Ding 49).

The ending of SPOP captures a magical scene similar to the one described above where Adora and Catra stand upon a hill with their foreheads against each other before a rising light in a new and healing Etheria. Ironically, this beautiful image is not heartwarming because it glorifies their relationship. Their love story was never perfect—there was hardship, tragedy, mistakes, and heartbreak. Instead, the warmth in this image comes from the characters’ perseverance, acceptance, growth, and hope. It comes from having witnessed the coming-of-age stories of two abused best friends who have finally reunited and confessed their love.

Even though SPOP is a fantasy, in Etheria, true love is authentic—it is not a fairy tale concept. Its magic is intrinsically tied to the human truths expressed through its characters and their stories. SPOP redefines a love story by giving these traditional fairy tale motifs a purpose past enforcing gender norms and a glorified image of heterosexual love. Thus, it proves it is possible to redefine the fairy tale love story outside of these heteronormative narratives for “to be against heteronormativity is not to be against norms” (Berlant & Warner 170) nor is it to condemn these motifs or eliminate them from love stories altogether. Instead, we must infuse them with a new meaning—one that focuses on the truths and the complexity behind our humanity—that conveys the message that love is real and that love is love without losing its magic.

If you got this far, thanks for reading :)

(Original essay linked in the notes)

Works Cited

Berlant, Lauren, and Michael Warner. “Sex in Public.” The Routledge Queer Studies Reader, 2013, pp. 165–179.

Brown, Tracy. “In Netflix's 'She-Ra,' Even Villains Respect Nonbinary Pronouns.” Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, 6 Nov. 2019.

Davis, Amy. Good Girls and Wicked Witches: Women in Disney's Feature Animation. John Libbey Publishing. 2007.

Ding, Shay. Overexposure to Disney Princess Animated Films: Disfigured Perception of Gender and Love In Adolescents. 2021.

England, D.E., Descartes, L. & Collier-Meek, M.A. “Gender Role Portrayal and the Disney Princesses.” Sex Roles 64, 555–567, 10 February 2011.

“Failsafe” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 5, episode 11, Netflix, 2018.

“How She Ra Gives Us Hope.” YouTube, uploaded by Five by Five Takes, 29 July 2020.

“Promise” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 1, episode 11, Netflix, 2018.

“Reunion” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 2, episode 7, Netflix, 2018.

Rojas, Camila. Confronting Traditional Love: The Evolution of the Representation of ‘True Love’ in Disney’s Princess Movies (1990s to the Present). 2015. Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, dissertation.

Scott, Kyle. “She-Ra and the Hero Mindset: Video Essay.” YouTube, uploaded by Kyle the Scott, 24 March 2021.

“She Ra's Corridors Isn't What You Think.” Youtube, uploaded by Five by Five Takes, 8 August 2020.

Stevenson, Noelle. “She-Ra’s Noelle Stevenson Tells Us How Difficult It Was To Bring Adora And Catra Home.” Interview by Beth Elderkin. Gizmodo, 13 July 2019.

Stevenson, Noelle. “She-Ra showrunner, stars break down Adora's new look with exclusive clip.” Interview by Christian Holub. Entertainment Weekly, 16 May 2020.

“System Failure” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 1, episode 6, Netflix, 2018.

“The Heart (Part 1)” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 5, episode 12, Netflix, 2018.

“The Heart (Part 2)” She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, created by Noelle Stevenson, season 5, episode 13, Netflix, 2018.

#spop #she ra and the princesses of power #catradora #adora #catra #spop analysis #spop spoilers #sapphic #queer love

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nalyra-dreaming · 4 months

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@raven--stag replied to your post “Me: sees someone refer to how badly Lestat treated...”:

There are TRAIN SCHEDULES?? Can you elaborate please (if you have time and don't mind doing it ofc) because honestly, I've never considered the possibility that he wasn't the one who brought her back, it always just kind of made sense to me

Alright. I first did the research for that for chapter 42 of "Laden as the sea", which of course dealt with that scene. (I'm adapting my explanations from there)

Now, in short:

Lestat cannot have brought Claudia back as told.

(which does not mean that a similar scene did not happen... just not as told.)

Because:

In-universe, these characters are rooted to it. As is what we're told, and what is used to set the scenes.

The train Claudia wanted to take was likely the Crescent, which ran daily from 1941 on. (This“one year discrepancy” in the tale is a constant thing btw here a post of the now deactivated a-savagegarden on this.) The Crescent leaves NOLA at 9am these days, BUT then…. It left at 11pm :)

(source)

Now…. Louis tells us of Lestat doing the “Birmingham, Alabama” spiel, and the train Claudia being on the “New York Limited”. The Crescent does NOT stop in Birmingham, however the “Piedmont Limited” does. 5,5h into the journey (if I read these correctly).

The cities quoted (Birmingham. Atlanta. Greensboro. Washington, D.C.) fit the timetable there, too. However… the Piedmont left at 5pm. And sunset was around 7:30pm.

Which is why I think Louis maybe thought Claudia was on the Limited, when in reality she had to go and take the Crescent simply for time-reasons. (And since he had no intention to go with her this detail was never important to him.)

Now. The radio broadcast we hear when Louis comes back was given September 3rd, 1939, after 5:30 am.

(A word to the next scene in the show here: I noticed that the radio broadcast Louis listens to… is the same as was on when he came back from “teasing the sun”, as mentioned above, after Claudia was brought back by Lestat, namely this part of it: “every word that comes through the air, every ship that sails the sea, every battle that is fought does affect the American future.” Given that this is clearly a different evening though - it’s another piece of the puzzle which does … not fit, but is likely a twisted memory, and another one of those “details” which actually are not really important… but still proof of this not being (able to be) the (whole) truth. (Another thing that indicates the discrepancy imho is the fact that there’s two radios in their parlor… one next to Louis, one next to Lestat.))

But back to that evening, and Louis' return.

Let’s make that 6am, since he said he cut it close.

IF Claudia actually told Louis afterwards that Lestat caught her and brought her back from Alabama, then on the Crescent it might have been Montgomery. Which the Crescent reached at 7:20am… after sunrise. So that makes that rather unlikely.

The Crescent leaving at 11pm and Louis coming home at 6am gives whatever happened in-between a 7h time frame. If the trains need 5,5h to Birmingham… not enough time.

Totally apart from the timetables though there is also logistics to consider.

When Louis comes home Claudia sits there, with her luggage (and her tuba). I know I wrote in the other fic that Lestat flew back with her, but I actually doubt it.

Claudia had had to go back from the park to get her luggage and bring it to the train (station). IF she actually made it onto the train with all of that and nobody noticing, then I think Lestat caught her while still at the station.

Because the return train schedule (of the Crescent and Express) is in the afternoon and the Piedmont Limited would have arrived at NOLA only after sunrise. (Of course there would be other trains they could take, but those would be even slower…?!)

So I think Claudia never left NOLA. Which does NOT mean that the train scene in and by itself did not happen, as said before (even the controller), but… I think Louis mixed what Claudia told him afterwards (or what she let him see in her mind, which might not have been all that was to it, given her later diary entries) with what he thought/feared had happened. With the trains he expected her to be on, and which went by certain cities. There is no diary to underline the scene, Louis tells Daniel of this event after it is noted in the show that the previous interview had stopped before this point, so Daniel has no reference anymore. It is Louis’ interpretation of what Claudia told/showed him, recounted for a certain... effect.

So I do think a scene similar to what we saw happened. But exactly like that? Not likely, imho, not the least because of the many, many parallels to events from Lestat’s past here (and which neither Claudia nor Louis would know at this point).

And of course Claudia would be plotting her own game by then, which, in later book canon at least, included manipulating Louis.

And, last but not least, supposedly Claudia knew Antoinette was there with Louis at the park when she left for the train, as is revealed in episode 7. I always find that hugely interesting in retrospect, considering her comment to him and the mentioned later book twist.

#raven--stag #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #vc meta #interview with the vampire meta #claudia de lioncourt #lestat de lioncourt #train #train schedules #crescent #piedmont limited

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mysteriouslybluepirate · 6 months

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The major win for me after this season is that fans are going to start writing horror/supernatural fiction for this fandom!

A genera or tone many of y'all probably haven't touched-but I assure you, it's SO much fun to write with the characters Canon has given us. May I tempt you with a few starting concepts I use to set the mood for pirate-specific horror? [Some spoilers for S2 OFMD]

Doldrums! A period where a ship gets no wind- can anywhere from a few minutes or potentially months at a time. unpredictable and impossible to plan for, as if you kept stock for doldrums, you're adding a TON of salted beef and green water to your stores. More supplies means less room for loot. During this time-on top of slowly losing food and water rations. Your crew could start to hallucinate, go sun blind, or grow bored of menial work. That and if your near the equator(where most took place)- the sun cooks the wood of your top deck.

It gets REALLY dark it night. Like. I don't think OFMD has shown a scene that really depicts how dark it is. The point of the night lookout is to have maybe one candle lit at night by the helm, steer the ship, and keep an eye out for any dots of light on the horizon.

I highly recommend watching videos of pirate battles. Assassins Creed 4, recreations, people reading off accounts of battle. Anything. That shit is scary as hell. A lot of praying the wind is on your side, or that a gust of wind wouldn't knock the ship out of line of fire. Many pirates were caught because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now- The psychological shit- Most first mates were chosen by their captain. While the Captain themselves were elected by the crew. If a Captain was mutinied, the first mate would be as well for fear of the first mate was more loyal to the old captain than the crew. This is why Ed's speech to Frenchie S2ep2 makes sense. Ed knows the crew was iffy with Izzy, but didn't want to risk Izzy staying alive to possibly start a mutiny against him. So Frenchie had to kill Izzy.

Most Pirates lasted *at most* 2 years at this point in history. Blackbeard lasted 15 months. Bonnet lasted AS A PIRATE from Spring 1717 to November 10th 1718. Being hung in December of 1718. Read up on how common it was to just...go overboard. Or get so drunk your crew couldn't fight back against the English. This is how Calico Jack, Anne Bonne, and Mary(Mark) Reed went down. People not ready to fight caught with their pants down. Play up how every feels like they're walking into their own noose.

Many diseases spread like wildfire among the lower crew. So crews took 'quarantining' measures very seriously for things like dysentery and malaria. Often throwing bodies overboard.

S2 ep5 (top 3 eps of the show for me) WAS SO RIGHT ABOUT WHY SUPERSTITIONS WERE IMPORTANT TO MANAGE. Again what I said about how easy it was for the crew to turn on a captain they didn't like. But any form of doubt tword your captain could be enough to start the brewing's of a mutiny.

At the time. Going overboard was a death sentence. Many sailors didn't learn to swim as trying swimming usually meant that 1.) Your ship went down in battle and your about to be captured by the authorities or 2.) You went overboard in a storm/your ship sunk. So either way your fucked. Many thought just drowning was a more peaceful death than trying to fight for your life, drowning once exhausted.

The only thing between you and the endless abyss at any point in time is a few layers of creaking, slowly rotting, wood

Ships would creak. They're made of wood and you know how houses shift? SO DO SHIPS. During rough waves or even just at random points in the day.

The sails had to manually be raised in/before storms by climbing up the mast, going out, stepping on a VERY thin peice of rope tied off at the ends of each yard(I always call them 'yard lines', but don't quote me) they'd then reach over and pull the sail up to then fasten down. This took a dozen men on a large ship. (You can see this person standing a thicker version of it in the photo below)

Masts are VERY heavy. A mast cracking and crashing onto deck could cause enough damage to sink a ship.

The Black Dot- a superstition that if you see a black dot left on your door/ or on your person (ie someone slipping it in your pocket) means you will die soon. Usually given to someone higher rank before a mutiny. We have no proof this was a real thing but a LOT of pirate media uses it.

Add more if you think of them!! [I might do a tropes based on the more supernatural elements of horror later, but for most tropes (mermaids, ghost ships, poltergeists, selkies) I think the fandom has it covered]

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #pirates #horror #horror writing #ofmd s2 ep5 #ofmd horror #idk. weird tag but it might catch on????

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on-partiality · 3 months

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January 22nd, 1782 - The day Philip Hamilton was born!

Happy 242nd birthday to the sad rake! For his birthday I've decided to write about all of the information we know about him from letters sent to him, letters written about him and any other scintilla of information relating to him that I can find!

So, on this day 242 years ago, Philip Hamilton was born. The first son of founding father, Alexander Hamilton and the wealthy Elizabeth Schuyler. He was named after his grandfather (on his mother's side of course), General Philip Schuyler.

The earliest piece of writing we have on the young Philip Hamilton is this snippet of a letter:

'If you are not in the humor to read a long letter do, prithee, give this to the child to play with and go on with your amusement of rocking the cradle. '

This letter's from Mchenry, a doctor and aide of George Washington's, to Alexander Hamilton, written on the 11th of August, 1782. While it's short and just a simple humorous opening to a long letter it does give us the fact that Hamilton watched over his son well so there's that. The next letter is far more detailed because it's written by Hamilton himself and as you're about to read about he was very proud of his son. Here's the letter:

'You reproach me with not having said enough about our little stranger. When I wrote last I was not sufficiently acquainted with him to give you his character. I may now assure you... [h]e is truly a very fine young gentleman, the most agreeable in his conversation and manners of any I ever knew—nor less remarkable for his intelligence and sweetness of temper. You are not to imagine by my beginning with his mental qualifications that he is defective in personal. It is agreed on all hands, that he is handsome, his features are good, his eye is not only sprightly and expressive but it is full of benignity. His attitude in sitting is by connoisseurs esteemed graceful and he has a method of waving his hand that announces the future orator. He stands however rather awkwardly and his legs have not all the delicate slimness of his fathers. It is feared He may never excel as much in dancing which is probably the only accomplishment in which he will not be a model. If he has any fault in manners, he laughs too much. He has now passed his Seventh Month.'

This letter is from Alexander Hamilton to Richard Kidder Meade, written on the 27th of August, 1782 (yes, that is Laurens' death day) If I could find Meade's letter to Hamilton that prompted this letter in response then we could've had another early mention of Philip Hamilton as Hamilton says 'you reproach me with having not said enough about our little stranger', this sentence makes no sense if Meade didn't actually tell Hamilton he hadn't told him enough about his newborn son. From this letter we can conclude the obvious: Hamilton's really god damn proud of his son already, he loves him so dearly and it shows. He already calls him handsome, says he'll be great at anything but dancing and that he's intelligent.

+ Around this time I've heard that Hamilton said something about Philip Hamilton being ' attended with all the omens of future greatness' however I've never seen any picture of a letter that has this sentence in it? I've only heard of this through Tumblr so whether this is an actual quote from Hamilton or something made up is a mystery, if anyone actually has a link to a photo of the original letter or just proof that this was in fact written that'd be great. I've also heard of Hamilton rocking young Philip's cradle for very long periods of time (perhaps this idea came from the Mchenry letter?), yet again I've never seen or read anything that confirms this as true. The next mention of Philip Hamilton I could find in a letter is from Hamiltom to his wife, Betsy.

'My beloved Betsey the fifth day after we set out, the three first days with every favourable circumstance but the two last through very bad weather. I am however as well as I can be absent from you and my darling boy—nor was I ever more impatient to be at home. I can have little pleasure elsewhere.'

The darling boy that Hamilton refers to here is Philip Hamilton, this letter is undated but as founders.archives.gov points out, there is no mention of Hamilton's second oldest child, Angelica, Hamilton cared a lot about all of his kids so mentioning his son but not his infant daughter would be weird unless he hadn't had Angie so this trip would have to have been somewhere in the two years in between when Philip was born and when Angelica was born.

The next letter we have that mentions him is also undated:

'Give my love to my darling Philip & kiss with all possible tenderness the other two. Adieu my dearest angel. Heaven bless you'

His name appears as just a sweet little ending to a letter his father wrote to his mother sometime between May 1786 and April 1788 these dates are once again based on the number of children mentioned in the letter (3) and the time his next child was born. This bit of information is so short I debated even putting it in here but I said all facts about young Philip Hamilton's life and that means all (except for stuff about his death, that seems rather grim to be bringing up on his birthday)!

The next time we hear about Philip Hamilton is in a letter from 1789:

'The good Baron has more than ever rivetted himself in my affection: to observe his unaffected solicitude and see his old eyes brimful of sympathy had something in it that won my whole soul and filled me with more than usual complacency for human nature.'

The letter's about when Philip's aunt Angelica left to go back to London after a trip to America (I think). The only part of this letter that relates to little Philip Hamilton is this little snippet which we can guess is about Philip because earlier in the letter Hamilton refers to him as 'The Baron little Philip'. I thought this sentence was cute because in modern language it's just 'I love my 7 year old son so much, his big ol eyes make me have more hope in humanity :D' It is a little strange that none of Hamilton's other kids are mentioned in this letter though, he had 4 at the time it was written (perhaps I skipped over part of it? Who knows).

Up until this point Philip's been too young and whatnot to go to a boarding school so everything we know about him comes from his father absolutely adoring him but we've gotten to 1791, the year Philip started going to school! And we know he started school in late 1791 because a man who lived in Trenton, where Philip's school was on the 26th of November, 1791, wrote: 'Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton came to town last night they have brought their son to put to boarding school to our Episcopal Church Parson'

I received with great pleasure My Dear Philip the letter which you wrote me last week. Your Mama and myself were very happy to learn that you are pleased with your situation and content to stay as long as shall be thought for your good. We hope and believe that nothing will happen to alter this disposition.

Unfortunately, the letter from Philip that Hamilton's talking about hasn't been found so we can't learn more about his personality from that. But we can tell what it was - at least partially - about, Philip being content with his boarding school.

Your Master also informs me that you recited a lesson the first day you began, very much to his satisfaction. I expect every letter from him will give me a fresh proof of your progress. For I know that you can do a great deal, if you please, and I am sure you have too much spirit not to exert yourself, that you may make us every day more and more proud of you.

This part of the letter shows us how much Hamilton cared about Philip's schooling. He had high expectations for all of his children, wishing them to be the best they could possibly be so he paid a lot of attention to how his kids were doing academically and made sure they did well (The strict study regimens come later on). The 'Master' Hamilton mentions here is William Frazer, a clergyman and episcopal rector. The rest of the letter is just Hamilton asking his son whether he can wait until the upcoming Christmas holidays to go home or if he still wants to be picked up on the next Saturday. The letter was written on the 5th of December 1791 in Philadelphia while Hamilton was working on his 'Report on Manufactures'.

The next bit we have on Philip Hamilton is a letter from Philip himself and the only letter he wrote that we still have today. The letter was written on the 21st of April, 1794, Philip would have been 12 years old and he'd started going to King's college, the same school his father attended two decades before him and his younger brother Alexander Hamilton Jr. started going to the Boarding school at Trenton that his older brother had been to. The letter Philip wrote goes like this:

'Dear Papa:

I just now received the enclosed letter from grandpapa, in answer to a letter I wrote to him, in which he has enclosed to me three receipts for shares in the Tontine Tavern, amounting to £100. I have given the receipts to mama.

I delivered my speech to Dr. Johnson to examine. He has no objection to my speaking; but he has blotted out that sentence which appears to be the best and most animated in it; which is, you may recollect it

“Americans, you have fought the battles of mankind; you have enkindled that sacred fire of freedom which is now,” &c. Dear Papa, will you be so good as to give my thanks to grandpapa for the present he made me, but above all for the good advice his letter contains—which I am very sensible of its being extremely necessary for me to pay particular attention to in order to be a good man. I remain your most affectionate son

P.S. You will oblige me very much by sending back the letter I have enclosed to you.'

It's a nice, short letter about Philip's time at King's College and a present and letter of advice Philip received from his grandpa. When he writes about his favourite sentence in his speech being blotted out by Dr. Johnson (presumably a teacher), he doesn't read as angry, just confused. This gives me the idea that he's alright with change, another thing that supports this idea is how quickly he adjusted to his boarding school which we know about from Hamilton's letter to him in 1791.

Sometime in 1797, Philip fell dreadfully ill with a horrible fever, it's said that his father paid for all kinds of doses of medicine and hired several of the best doctors to help him recover.

Hamilton as a father was very over-protective this could've come from his fear of abandonment that he had since he was a child or just because he cared about his kids so much and didn't want anything bad to happen to them, some combination of these two or even something else entirely. But because he was so over-protective he coulf be a bit of a control-freak at times (here's when the crazy study regimens come into place) here's Hamilton's

'Rules for Mr Philip Hamilton from the first of April to the first of October he is to rise not later than Six Oclock—The rest of the year not later than Seven. If Earlier he will deserve commendation. Ten will be his hour of going to bed throughout the year. From the time he is dressed in the morning till nine o clock (the time for breakfast Excepted) he is to read Law. At nine he goes to the office & continues there till dinner time—he will be occupied partly in the writing and partly in reading law. After Dinner he reads law at home till five O clock. From this hour till Seven he disposes of his time as he pleases. From Seven to ten he reads and Studies what ever he pleases. From twelve on Saturday he is at Liberty to amuse himself. On Sunday he will attend the morning Church. The rest of the day may be applied to innocent recreations. He must not Depart from any of these rules without my permission.'

We don't know when this letter was written outside of it being written in 1800 and that's pretty vague, we also don't know who this was sent to. I assume Hamilton must have given it to either Philip or one of his Masters in person because the letter isn't addressed to anyone. The routine described in this letter is very, very similar to Hamilton's routine from when he was a student, perhaps he didn't realise how strict this routine was?

Anyway Philip decided to go to Boston and passed through Providence, Rhode Island on his own and his father needed people to look after his boy because like I mentioned before, he was a bit of a control freak and a bit over-protective. Hamilton sent this letter to Jeremiah Olney, the Collector of Customs of Providence:

'As my eldest son Philip, who lately graduated, will pass through Providence on his way to Boston, I give him this line barely to introduce him to you; since the time I have prescribed for his return will not permit the stay of more than a day at Providence.

Yrs. with true regard

A Hamilton'

From this letter we can tell that Hamilton wanted his son back QUICK, the only other thing it does is reaffirm things about Hamilton as a father like that he wants his children to be near him and doesn't like them to be away and he always needs to have an eye on them. Sadly, (for Hamilton) his son went on another trip the next year to Philadelphia. During this trip Philip saw Benjamin Rush and according to Benjamin Rush, Philip was very pleasant:

'His visits to us were daily, and after each of them he left us with fresh impressions of the correctness of his understanding and manners, and of the goodness of his disposition. To One of my Children he has endeared himself by an Act of friendship & benevolence that did great honor to his heart, and will be rememb[e]red with gratitude by Mrs. Rush, and myself as long as we live. My Son has preserved a record of it in an elegant and friendly letter which he received from him After his return to New York.'

(I am once again annoyed that a letter from Philip is mentioned but said letter has been lost to time) But after Philip's death his parents received a letter about an unpaid tavern bill from Charles W. Hare:

“I have paid 20 Dlls 67 to the keeper of the city tavern on account of your son’s bill and have taken a receipt in full. I enquired for other bills, but could not find any, and I believe he owed nothing more.”

20 dollars and 67 cents in 18th Century American currency translates to about 503 dollars in modern day USD. 19 year old Philip spent 503 dollars on booze 😀

Because there was not much written about Philip we don't know about his dynamic with everyone in his family, but we know he looked up to his father and was really close to his sister, Angelica Hamilton, who was only 2 years younger than him. We also know that his namesake, Philip Schuyler was very proud of him from this letter about Philip's graduation, written on the 25th of August, 1800:

'I rejoice My Dear Son that My Philip has Acquited himself so well, and hope that his future progress may correspond with Your & My wishes.'

Robert Troup's - Hamilton's college roomate - writing on Philip is particularly funny as in one letter he writes:

'was very promising in genius and acquirements, and Hamilton formed high expectations of his future greatness!'

whereas in a private letter he states:

'alas Philip is a sad rake and I have serious doubts whether he would ever be an honour to his family or his country'

From all of this we can conclude that Philip as a person was intelligent, charming and polite but a tad immature with liquor and a little mischevious though his father viewed his mischief warmly in a fond 'oh you cheeky little rascal!' kind of way as we see with this letter to Eliza, written on the 25th of October, 1801:

'I am anxious to hear from Philip. Naughty young man. But you must permit nothing to trouble you and regain your precious health.'

With all that said, I wish the naughty little lad a happy birthday! :)

#amrev #american revolution #american history #history #hamilton #philip hamilton #alexander hamilton #elizabeth schuyler #on this day #this day in history

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