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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us.

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics.

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp meta #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #sorry i have a lot of feelings about this topic kjahsflkjhsjkghfd #but yes!#i think mc being able to help him was more about her sensibility and the mental fortitude/space to be able to care about him as he needed #i don't think it's necessarily that she's SpEcIaL #trauma is a sensitive subject--especially considering he's a war veteran #but i also think it's simple and complex at the same time #simple in the sense that people really do just need consistent support and love to be able to care for themselves again #complex in the sense that support can come in so many permutations and some of them are very delicate and multi-faceted #and thus must be handled with extreme caution in some regards #anywho not that i'm any kind of expert this is just what i understand and see #also in case it wasn't clear i love him and cry every day (look away comte it's my whoring hours)#though i hope this helps??? i went off harder than anticipated lakjhglkj #thank you for the ask!!! <3333 #asks #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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happylittledrabbles · 3 years

Text

choke me!

Rating: 18+

DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18, NO MINORS!!!

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Eren Yeager

—

"It's been four years, Reiner."

Reiner never thought he'd see Eren again. And yet there he was, sitting in front of him. The two exchange some heated words until Eren has had enough and lunges at Reiner, pinning him against the wall by the throat.

Except, instead of a cry or a shout, Reiner's reaction is a lot more...unexpected.

"Did you just...moan?"

Choking kink fic, basically.

AO3

—

“It’s been four years, Reiner.”

The last person Reiner Braun expected to see tonight was Eren fucking Yeager. He knew he’d see Eren again eventually, he just figured it’d be when Eren was killing him or he was killing the damned menace.

He didn’t think the reunion would be so soon.

They had warned that if Eren were to attack Marley at any time, it’d be tonight. But he had had so much fun at the fair with the kids that he hadn’t fully registered that Eren Yeager still existed. All he could think about was how happy he was to finally be out of that hell that was called Paradis and away from seeing the devils he had grown to love die at the hands of his own people. And he thought he had finally escaped it, except now, the biggest threat among both of their worlds was sitting right in front of him.

“H-how…” No thoughts in his head. There was nothing. Eren’s expression was so calm, it was mocking in comparison to the panic running amok in the blond’s chest.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in these four years, Reiner Braun.” His name sounded like pure acid on Eren’s tongue. Even if Eren kept his tone measured, Reiner’s name still came out like two spears that pierced him directly in the heart.

“A lot of thinking about how you betrayed us. About how you killed Marco. About how you were my role model. A big brother, really.”

Nausea swirled in his stomach like a hot pit of lava, and he couldn’t help but step back and bump into Falco, who was also petrified; the two of them stilled like perfect marble statues. Reiner had tried hard to forget he ever interacted with Eren, nevermind considered him a friend. There were many times when they were alone together that he almost professed that he was the Armored Titan because he felt so close to him. He felt pride whenever he watched Eren succeed, even though he should have been actively distancing himself from him in preparation for the big operation. When he was supposed to not feel anything at all after breaking through Wall Maria and effectively killing everybody Eren knew, he locked himself in a room and cried and screamed for hours until Bertholdt came in and had to pry his hands from the table and hug him until his other personality took over, and he felt nothing again.

Oh, how he wished his other personality took over now. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the crippling fear resonating throughout his entire body. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pure dread cross his face as Eren grew his missing leg back and stood up, instinctively hugging his arms behind him to make sure Falco was protected.

“I won’t hurt him,” Eren said, his visible eye dropping to the young boy staring at him with stormy blue eyes, wide with terror. He snickered. “Maybe he’ll get caught in the fallout. But, I won’t hurt him now, if that’s what you’re wondering. In fact...” He gestured with his hand for Falco to leave, giving him a chilling smile that he meant to be reassuring. “Go ahead and leave, kiddo. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to talk to my old pal Reiner here.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Reiner whispered shakily, but eventually let Falco go and pushed him forward. “Go. Run as far away as you can. I’ll handle this.” If anything happened, he wanted Falco as far away from the site of disaster as possible.

He turned back to Eren and noticed he was several inches taller than when he last saw him. It made sense; he was a grown adult man now, but it was still a shock. He was so used to peering down at Eren and resting his arm on top of his head, ruffling his hair, tipping his chin back to make eye contact with him. But now, if he slouched even a bit, he’d be shorter.

“How cute. You used to be protective over me like that,” Eren said with a bitter laugh, beginning to step forward when Reiner stepped back and nearly tripped over a chair in response. “What, are you scared of me? Ha. I remember when—”

“Stop!” Reiner cried, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t—”

“Don’t want to hear what, Reiner? How we used to be friends? How I looked up to you? How we shared so many good times together?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it to the ground, the wood strewn across the ground like puzzle pieces. Reiner flinched at the echo of the crackling wood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Eren blew the splinters off his palms and clapped them together to get rid of the rest of the debris as he walked leisurely around the room with his freshly grown leg, circling Reiner like a hawk to its prey.

“Did you feel anything when you killed Marco? Did you feel anything when I told you my mom was eaten? Knowing it was all your goddamn fault?!” Eren roared, his eye a ball of flaming green fire.

“I—”

“No, you didn’t feel anything. Because if you felt anything, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to get close to me.” Eren unraveled the bandages around his face to reveal his other eye, somehow making the fury blazing in his stare even more potent. He let the bandages drop to the ground, the fabric twisting and turning gently as they fell into a pile. Reiner blinked slowly, so slowly it would have seemed he fell asleep for a moment. He stepped forward, about to reach out to Eren when his breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as he was yet again face-to-face with the boy—man—he had ruined the life of and had grown close to, all at the same time.

He took a deep breath once his lungs began to function again, closing his eyes to block out Eren’s intense glare.

“I was always your friend, Eren,” he clarified, taking the chance to raise his arm up and reach out to the other man in hopes of understanding, of doing something to prevent whatever he was about to do. He flinched at the sound of applause outside, a horrifying reminder of the sheer number of people outside that Eren could so easily massacre in the span of a minute if he transformed. If only he could teleport and tell Willy to get everybody the hell out of there. But alas, he was confined to this basement with nobody other than the embodiment of the Attack Titan.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, a hopeful yet terrified smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched Eren’s expression soften. “I’ve always liked you.”

But Eren’s expression wasn’t softening. It was merely morphing into one of mockery, disdain sharpening in his glare and piercing his chest like a lion’s claws ripping into its prey. He never felt weaker than at that moment.

“Don’t,” he huffed, taking a deep breath before shrieking, “ patronize me! ”

He descended upon Reiner with superhuman speed, gripping his outstretched wrist and pinning it against the wall along with the rest of his body, raising his forearm up and pressing it against Reiner’s neck. He expected Reiner to scream, grunt, curse, or exhale sharply, but the last thing he expected to hear was—

“ Ah-nn!”

It was almost comical how stiff the two men went at the sound, their eyes widening at the same time as they simply stared at each other. In awe, fright, surprise, or a mixture of all three. Reiner couldn’t gather what Eren was thinking from his unreadable expression, but all he knew was that his face was bright red, his heart was racing, and his body was being far too receptive to the heavy weight on his windpipe.

And all Eren knew was that he quickly found out that he liked this just as much as Reiner so obviously did as well.

“Did you just...moan?” Eren whispered, his eyebrow quirking in intrigue. He moved his forearm forward, pressing more of his body weight into Reiner, eliciting yet another sound of pleasure from the other’s thin lips.

“N-no— mmn!” The feeling of his windpipe and the sides of his neck being pressed in together was a feeling that left Reiner’s knees weak, his eyelids growing heavy as endorphins danced around his brain, leaving him in a state of swoon.

As Reiner struggled to stay standing, all Eren could do was stare in pure shock at the scene before him. Never had he seen Reiner come undone so quickly and so easily before, not even when he came across Bertholdt fucking him brilliantly in the outhouse during training. He looked, frankly, bored, as if he was putting on a scene for the other. Perhaps it really was a good thing the beanpole died. Now, Eren could play around with that expression of pure ecstasy without worrying that a seven-foot-tall bag of bones would try and slap him with those gangly limbs.

“Interesting…” Eren trailed off, his tongue wetting his lips as he dropped his forearm, allowing Reiner to gasp for breath and cough. The blond’s hand snaked up to his own throat, making sure it was okay, although its trail was hesitant, bewildered. Was this discovery also new to Reiner himself?

“So...this is new to you, too?” he dared to ask, his hand twitching to replace Reiner’s and uncover that never-before-seen expression on the other’s face once again.

Reiner scoffed and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the resistance his throat gave. “Shut up.”

“I mean, no wonder you always looked so bored when Bertholdt was fucking you,” Eren continued with a shrug as he looked around the room. He smirked, his eyes drifting to Reiner’s, mischief glinting conspicuously in both of them. “You needed something else to get you off.”

Reiner’s confusion was palpable, his agape mouth transforming into a sneer once he realized what Eren was talking about. His face had already been red, but now it was a deep scarlet as his mind ran back and quickly figured out that the shadow outside the window of the outhouse had, indeed, been Eren Yeager. How long had the little bastard been there? He was...busy during that time, so he lost track of the shadow outside once they changed positions. Had Eren...been watching them? Not merely passing by and getting surprised by the sight?

“I said shut the fuck up,” Reiner growled, pushing himself off the wall to leave. However, Eren’s hand clamped down on his throat, pushing him back in the wall and causing his head to thump off the concrete. “Shit!” He tried to gasp, but the force pressing against the sides of his throat was even stronger than before, with more purpose, causing his gasp to morph into a squeal.

“Did I say you could leave?” Eren murmured, leaning forward so that his lips tickled the shell of the other’s ear. He licked a trail on the outside of Reiner’s ear, causing the other to release another strained gasp and squirm under the weight of his hand. Perhaps this awakened something in him, too, because his body was reacting just like Reiner’s was. He couldn’t stop his hand no matter how much he tried; the expression and small whimpers the blond was making underneath him were like pure opium.

“Eren! Ere— oh,” Reiner cried, his clawing at Eren’s hand halting once the brunet’s lips fell to the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking feverishly at the soft skin that wasn’t taken up by his tense fingers. Once he came to after the sensation roiled him up, he exclaimed, “W-what are you doing? Eren, stop—”

“Stop?” Eren chuckled, his other hand dropping to Reiner’s crotch, which was painfully swollen and twitched as his knuckles brushed against it, drawing out a delicious moan from the throat underneath his hold. “And let you leave like this? How rude would that be of me, especially since I was the cause of this?” He paused, a pensive look replacing his devious one. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll stop.”

He stepped back, releasing Reiner’s throat and holding his hands up in the air. He tried to suppress the devilish grin that threatened to come out, keeping his face neutral. “I stopped.”

But it was nearly impossible to suppress the grin any longer as he watched Reiner’s expression morph from pure pleasure to confusion to, finally, loss. His trembling hands came up to reconvey the place where Eren’s hand was, an angry red bruise beginning to bloom at the sides of his neck as if trying to see if the hand was truly gone. His eyes dropped to his own crotch, wincing at the sight of it as well as, probably, the pain his constrictive pants were giving him.

“I…” Reiner was both at a loss for words. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon Eren again, a sort of pleading in them. He wanted Eren to read his mind so that he didn’t have to embarrass himself by begging do it again, please come here and choke me and fuck me— but all Eren did was stand there, which was somehow more infuriating than listening to him whisper humiliating things into his ear.

“...come here,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm nervously. He didn’t dare make eye contact, staring down at the floor as if it’d kill him to look up and meet Eren’s undoubtedly jeering eyes.

“What? I couldn’t hear you?” Eren cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward, causing Reiner to suck on his teeth and ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’ve always been a little shit, haven’t you?” Reiner grumbled, his arm shooting out and gripping Eren’s wrist, bringing it up and guiding the other’s hand around his throat. “I said—”

“Ah-ah,” Eren interrupted, shaking his head. His hand stayed limp around Reiner’s throat, his other hand sitting comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. “You have to prove to me how much you want it.” He tipped his chin up, gazing at Reiner underneath heavy eyelids, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Beg.”

“Wha-wha—” Reiner spluttered, his eyes wide and his grip on Eren’s wrist getting tighter and tighter. “What?” As much as he was surprised, his body very much was not. It took in the simple word like an aphrodisiac, his shoulders and cheeks getting even redder and his crotch getting even more painful.

“You heard what I said,” Eren taunted, licking his lips as he closed the gap between them, halting right before his lips. “Beg. Or else I’ll leave you like a bitch in heat.”

When had Eren grown so domineering? He had always had a certain gusto about him, some confidence that propelled him forward, even if it made him look like a loser. He didn’t give up during the ODM training even when it was clearly rigged against him. He made the broken thing work. It was pure rage that was fueling him, but...when had lust taken over? When had the fury in his eyes melted into hot ardor? Had he...always felt that way about Reiner?

“Eren…” he trailed off, trying to muster up the courage to actually beg. God, this was humiliating. How the hell did they even get here? What were they doing? But he couldn’t let Eren leave and kill all those people. And he certainly couldn’t fight in this condition. As much as it was dehumanizing, Eren was right. It felt as if he was in heat, his entire body boiling and in need of an electric touch.

“Choke me, please.”

“Yawn. Do better.”

“C-choke me, hard.” Reiner’s eyes rolled partly up as he felt the pressure of Eren’s hand growing around his neck, unable to restrain his outburst: “Harder! Please, choke me—touch me...ugh…”

The pressure had returned, and the physical incapability of speaking due to his constricted windpipe replaced his emotional incapability due to his dignity. But what dignity did he have now? All he could do now was completely let go.

“Fuck, yes! E-Eren, I—” He gasped when the pressure finally returned to its previous state, giving his body its much-needed dose of aggression. “I want you to f...f-fuck me.”

Eren chuckled, deep and dark, and before the other knew it, they were smashing lips, a violent exchange of saliva and pleasure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured against Reiner’s lips, both of them panting after the impromptu makeout session. He smirked as he slipped his other hand out of his pocket and trailed it down Reiner’s chest, stopping at his pecs and giving them a generous squeeze, earning him a grunt from the blond. “To be honest, I thought you’d come just from me choking you. Kind of pathetic, don’t you think?”

Reiner’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

“S-shut up.” But that couldn’t have been less convincing. The affinity for choking was new, but the chest fondling was old news. The training camp had been torture for him since there were way too many instances of people accidentally brushing against his pecs or nipples, almost causing him to rupture a blood vessel from trying to suppress a squeak.

But Eren was taking full advantage of having it right in front of him, diving his face into them and massaging them with his free hand with a voracious speed as if they’d disappear.

“These have grown a lot, haven’t they?” Eren jeered, pulling back his choking hand to strip Reiner of the top half of his clothing to be even closer to those soft pecs. The second the fabric had been removed, his choking hand returned and he dove right back in, leaving a trail of hickeys on the cleavage made by his pecs.

“Eren! E—a-ah—”

“I’d say they’re almost D cups, I think,” he continued, his voice muffled from the masses of muscle. He pulled back slightly, eyeing them for a moment before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth around the perfectly pink and perky nipple, leaving deep marks in the velvety areola.

“AH! What the—ow!” Reiner’s eyelids shot open, looking to see what the hell Eren was doing down there. All he saw was him grinning proudly, his hand coming up to stroke the bitemarks and not-so-accidentally passing over the nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze and flick. “Eren, the fuck?”

“Get down on your knees,” Eren commanded, and Reiner found himself on autopilot at the conviction in the other’s voice, his knees wobbling before dropping to the floor in compliance. He kept his eyes on Eren’s knees, his previous bashfulness returning; how could he make eye contact like this? He knew what was going to happen next: the horrendous blush on his face and chest made it quite clear.

Meanwhile, Eren was taking his time enjoying the view under him. He bit his bottom lip, letting out another chuckle as he shook his head. “You know, Reiner, I always looked up to you. I never thought I’d see you like this. So...submissive.” He tipped Reiner’s chin up gently with his finger to get the other to meet his eyes. “You never let me get the upper hand in training. You were the one making me drop to my knees.” He frowned. “But now you’re looking up to me. Funny how that works, huh? It only took the murder of an entire village of people and my mom to get you like this.”

Eren teasing him about his choking kink was humiliating. Being on his knees to somebody he saw as a little brother, about to commit even more sinful acts, was humiliating. But being constantly reminded of all the atrocities he committed against his friends was pure torture. It was putting quite a damper on his mood, but he couldn’t exactly tell Eren to stop talking about it because he’d only jeer him more. The only way he could think to get Eren to shut up was…

He dove forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the bulge in Eren’s trousers, his hand coming up to further massage it. His trousers smelled of grass and disinfectant, but the distraction was clearly working, seeing as Eren’s agape mouth stopped forming words and only allowed a shuddering breath to pass through.

“You’re eager, eh? Alright, I’ll give you what you want.” With one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and was about to let it drop to the floor, but his eyes flashed with intrigue as they switched between Reiner’s neck and the leather. “On second thought…”

He wrapped it around Reiner’s neck, and before the blond could say anything, he zipped the belt until it was pressed tightly against the pallid skin underneath, already causing it to pinken from irritation. He poked a new hole into the leather, sliding it through and returning his hands to unbutton his trousers.

“You look like a dog,” Eren scoffed. Once his trousers were unbuttoned, he pushed them down only slightly; he didn’t expect this to take too long, seeing as how undone Reiner already was. He gripped the other’s jaw tightly in his hand, maneuvering the chiseled face to look up at him. “Bark for me.”

Reiner, who was still processing the belt around his neck, spluttered about and furiously shook his head, trying to get it out of Eren’s grip. “Hell no! I’m not a damn dog.”

“Hm. Shame.” Eren’s grip on him lessened, only for it to return full force when he transferred it from his muscled jaw to his short hair, the locks sticking straight up in between his fingers. “Then put your mouth to good use.”

Reiner was going to object, but the warmth radiating from in front of him made him drop his eyes to be faced with what looked like an iron rod underneath the linen fabric of Eren’s drawers. He gulped at the sight; if this didn’t fit in his mouth, how the hell was this going to go inside of him? He would have cursed himself for thinking that far ahead, but the act was inevitable—Eren was going to fuck his brains out.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the tip wetting the fabric with precum practically sticking up out of the top. He had caught flashes of Eren naked whenever they came across a hot spring or all the boys bathed together, and what was in front of him hardly compared to what he had seen back then. Eren truly had grown in more ways than one.

He shakily lifted a hand and moved the fabric out of the way, allowing Eren’s cock to spring up proudly, almost as if he was mocking Reiner and his need for it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip with a flat tongue, practically drooling over it with the amount of need swirling in his chest.

“F...uck,” Eren groaned, tipping his chin up as his grip on Reiner’s hair tightened. “Got a lot of practice with Bertholdt, I see.”

Just at the mention of Bertholdt, Reiner sped up his stroking and licking, yet again hoping this method would get Eren to shut up and to produce more of those sounds of pleasure. Sure, he seemed to be dominant in this dynamic, but Reiner was the one who held the most power as of now. He could leave Eren blue-balled and walk away, or Eren could do the same to him. They were caught in a lustful dance of power, and neither wanted to walk away, as sinful as it was.

“Wait, you’re going too— shit!” The grip on his hair was growing painful, and it only grew tighter when he opened his mouth wide and engulfed Eren’s cock up to the middle, using his tongue all the while to lap up his drool and his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. He very much successfully got Eren to shut the fuck up, and he smiled to himself as he graciously lent his throat as a substitute for yelling at him to be quiet.

“What a fucking slut,” Eren chuckled, brushing the few long locks of hair that flopped into Reiner’s eyes, tipping his chin up slightly to meet his eyes. “Look at me while you do it.”

Pervert, Reiner thought, but he wasn’t all that different himself, for he looked up at lightning speed and locked eyes with the commandeering man above him, feeling precum and saliva running down his beard. That’ll be a bitch to clean.

“Good.” Just that word was enough to send chills down his spine, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as he reached his hand that wasn’t busy stroking down between his legs, trying to soothe the throbbing pain spreading in his groin. But he was interrupted by Eren groaning and his grip on his hair turning into stone.

“Since you wanna go so fast,” he murmured, cocking his head curiously before pulling Reiner all the way down his cock, the other’s nose nestling in the happy trail leading down his stomach.

GURK!

“It’s satisfying to see you choking on me,” he laughed, tossing his head back to let out a moan as he could feel Reiner’s throat tightening and moving around him, the softness of the back of his mouth leaving him breathless. “I’ll fuck you in a second, but in the meantime…”

He gave an experimental thrust, slow and shallow, leading to more gurgling and choking noises from the man below him, drool beginning to build up in the corners of his mouth and dribble down his chin. Reiner’s hands flung out to grip Eren’s thighs, trying to process the fact that he was being facefucked.

“Mmgh—nngf!” He tried desperately to slurp up as much drool as he could, but it was beginning to pour now, down his chin and onto the floor, gathering into a pool near his knees. His eyes were watering, the tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck yeah,” Eren growled. Now equipped with more confidence, he pulled out of Reiner’s mouth partly—giving the other a short sense of relief—before snapping his hips forward, lodging himself deep down in his throat. A horrid gagging sound released itself from his throat, squeezing between his cheeks and Eren’s cock. His stomach dry-heaved, but he had hardly any time to recuperate before Eren launched back into thrusting himself over and over into his mouth.

“Hah— fuck, this is good,” he groaned, a smirk ever-present on his lips. He could feel Reiner’s throat straining against the belt as it expanded, which only provided even more tightness. However, his smirk disappeared once he felt a familiar warmth building up in his stomach, signaling he was almost at his end. He lowered his head from the thrown-back position it had been in before, and he almost finished on the spot when he saw the lewdness on Reiner’s face. The blond was beet red, his cheeks looking as if he had been slapped over and over—which he had somewhat been, with Eren’s stomach—his mouth berry red and stretched to accommodate the cock he was sucking so deliciously, gobs of spit running down his chin, and tears trailing down those highlighter-red cheeks. God, he looked gorgeous.

“Well,” he mumbled, pulling out of Reiner’s mouth and allowing him a moment to breathe and cough out all the phlegm and irritation gathered up in his throat. He only added more spit to the pool in front of him, falling onto hands and knees as he spat out the last of the spit and precum that accumulated in his throat.

Eren let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes as he buried his hand in Reiner’s hair again and roughly tugged him up to his feet, the other whining and complaining the entire way. He faced the blond for only a second before turning him around to face the wall and shoved him against it, his chest pressed against the cold stone. While his hand was busy holding Reiner’s wrists together behind his back, the other trailed down to grip his ass, giving it a firm squeeze before slipping it underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Your mouth pussy was fantastic, but I want to use the real one,” he explained, his lips leaving the tip of Reiner’s ears bright red as he stroked the soft skin underneath his hand and cupped the mounds of well-built muscle. “What a bubble butt. Heh, you really worked hard on this. If your muscles are this tight, I can’t imagine your asshole.”

“Mm!” Reiner whimpered, his shoulders hiking up to his ears to protect them from the assault of Eren’s hot breath and humiliating words. He tried to break free from Eren’s grip on his wrists, to no avail. Both his wrists and his neck were restricted, and although it was uncomfortable, it only made the throbbing ache in his pants even more painful. How he developed this kink, he had no idea—all he knew was that he wanted relief, now. “Eren...Eren, please. Fuck me. Ple—guh— ”

“Shut up for a second,” Eren commanded as he forced two fingers into Reiner’s already heavily lubricated mouth, sopping up the spit dripping from the roof of his mouth and tongue. He shuddered at the feeling of Reiner’s soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, amazed that such a thing was on his cock only a few moments ago and even more amazed that he didn’t come on the spot. He used his thumb to push Reiner’s pants down to his ankles, marveling at the view of his back muscles rippling under his pale skin, fighting against the restraining grip on his wrists, followed by the elegant slope into the two golden apples for an ass.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, lowering his head and opening his mouth to deliver a deep bite to the virgin skin at the nape of Reiner’s neck, sinking his canines into the flesh in an almost animalistic motion, causing Reiner to jolt from underneath him.

“Eren, stop with the biting!” Reiner pleaded, but he couldn’t help the whispery moan that passed through his lips at the thought of being marked.

“Sorry not sorry,” Eren replied with a snicker, resorting to leaving hickeys to further mark his presence on Reiner’s body, proudly screaming I was here and fucked him beautifully. “You clean back here?”

The mere insinuation that he wasn’t made Reiner want to turn around and snap Eren’s neck right then and there, especially considering he very much doubted Eren was. He grunted, the awkwardness of that question causing nausea to boil in his stomach.

“I...bathed for the festival earlier today,” he explained haltingly, his blush radioactive at this point. But when Eren didn’t move right away, he sighed and opened his legs slightly, wrestling one wrist free and trailing it down to his asscheek, spreading it open as a very clear invitation. “Hurry up.”

Eren’s eyes widened, and a heated smile filled out his face at the sight of Reiner coming completely undone and practically begging to get fucked. Before the spit on his fingers could dry, he spread Reiner’s cheeks with his other fingers and plunged his index and middle fingers inside, earning a squeal from the blond.

“S-slow! Slower!”

A confused look crossed Eren’s face, but he shrugged and continued to scissor Reiner open, curling his fingers against the soft walls to try and find that one spot that drove men crazy. He found out about that quickly while at the hospital, a male nurse being particularly caring and spreading his legs open to cure a patient.

“I thought you’d be looser than this,” he replied, genuinely baffled at how tightly Reiner’s grip around his fingers was. How the hell was he supposed to fit inside? They said the bottom being tight is more pleasurable, but he imagined it’d downright hurt his dick.

“You jackass, I haven’t done it in a-a wh... while,” Reiner stuttered, a grunt sneaking in between his words as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling. He was arching his back as much as possible, but he quickly discovered it could arch much more when a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over him and a lustful cry made his mouth drop.

“Found it,” Eren sang, a proud grin spreading across his lips.

“Hng-! ” was all that came out of Reiner, followed by heavy breathing and small whimpers as he tried to regulate his breathing, but it was difficult when Eren ruthlessly continued abusing that spot now that he knew its location. “Eren...it feels...a-ah…”

“My fingers are magic, I know,” he replied with a shit-eating grin, and although Reiner’s back was to him, he could feel the bratty expression he was making.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Reiner groaned, about to insult the other once more before another wave of pure pleasure corrupted him and returned him to his panting, sweating state.

After a few more moments of scissoring and dirty talk, Eren pulled out his fingers, much to Reiner’s dismay, and gripped himself as he stepped closer and lined himself up with Reiner’s entrance.

“Alright, get ready,” he joked, bracing the wall with one hand and snaking the other around Reiner’s neck once more, pulling his head back so that he could see the look of shock in his eyes as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

“Ngh!” Tears were gathering at the corners of Reiner’s eyes again as he attempted, again and again, to relax and breathe the pain away, but it didn’t help that Eren was so well-endowed. “Just...slow—go slowly.”

Eren pulled out at a snail’s pace, looking down to see where they connected before pushing back in, earning a low groan from both the men. “I don’t even have to try. You’re so tight, I can’t fucking move. Feels like my dick is going to be pulled off.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, about to say something until a sigh interrupted him as Eren continued to pull out and push inside, staying at the same pace. “I can’t control that. I hope your dick gets pulled off. Maybe then you wouldn’t be a murderous basta— hngh!”

A slap echoed in the small room from Eren giving one solid thrust, the roughness of it seen from the reddening of Reiner’s ass. He chuckled at the other’s reaction and tightened his grip on his neck, the belt making it a lot easier to yank him back and force him to meet his eyes. “Watch your words, Braun. Or else,” he gave another rapid thrust, causing the fat on Reiner’s ass to ripple from the force, “that will happen.”

“O-okay, okay, I’m d-done!” Reiner cried, his arm reaching back to grip Eren’s shirt for leverage while the other clung to the wall for dear life. “I promise, I’ll s...nngh...stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eren taunted, licking a trail up Reiner’s cheek, picking up the salty tears spilling from his eyes along the way. “You think I can move now without losing my dick?”

Reiner didn’t answer. All he did was lower his head as much as he could with Eren’s grip on it, preparing himself to lose the small ounce of dignity he still had left. He arched his back and pushed back onto Eren’s cock, gasping at the feeling of it spreading him apart and leaving him so perfectly full. He swirled his hips, trying to find that spot Eren so easily discovered, all the while pulling out and swirling his hips as he pushed back. It was quite the ab workout, causing sweat to build up on his hairline and building a thin sheen on his skin.

This was heaven on Earth. The view was spectacular, but what was more spectacular was watching Reiner act like a complete slut, as if Eren’s cock was the only thing that could bring him relief and pleasure. He was really willing to give up all his dignity just to use it to pleasure himself, and Eren couldn’t have been more willing of a participant.

“I guess that’s the answer to my question,” he breathed, a moan causing him to throw his head back. He dropped both his hands to Reiner’s hips, riding alongside their gyrating motions. “Yeah...that’s nice. Keep moving like that.”

“Eren,” Reiner warned, looking over his shoulder now that his neck was freed. “Eren, move, goddamn it.”

Eren cocked his head. “Is that how you ask for it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—Eren, please, fuck me. Ruin me, do what you want, just please fuck m— ”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” It only took half a second for Eren to comply with Reiner's wishes, snapping his hips forward and sending Reiner careening toward the wall, his face pressed up against the stone just like his chest was. He’d definitely have scrapes on his face as it bounced up and down with each merciless thrust that practically sent him up the wall.

“ Ahn—ugh! Fuck, fuck, yes! Feels good, f-feels so—hnngh! ” The dry slapping noises eventually turned into wet, squelching sounds that would have made Reiner cringe, but he could barely hear them in the fugue state he was in. Eren was right: he felt like a dog in heat, his mind on nothing else but getting pounded until he was filled.

“Faster! God, faster! Ngh, harder!”

Reiner’s moans leaked, and as much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t have the energy since all of it was going into not finishing right then and there. It was just what he needed, except…

He tilted his head back, which was difficult with how roughly Eren was slamming into him, but he eventually caught Eren’s eye and smiled. “Choke me, Eren. Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Eren smiled back, his grin malicious. “You got it, sweetheart.”

He took that command to heart because instead of one hand this time around, he used both hands, wrapping them around Reiner’s neck and using that for leverage instead of his hips. It was honestly a nicer angle to better fuck Reiner into oblivion, and he used it to his full advantage.

Smack, smack, smack, smack…

“ Guh— ugh, fu-uck,” Reiner groaned, practically gargling his own words with how he could barely breathe. Meanwhile, Eren was struggling with holding back his own moans with how velvety soft Reiner’s walls were, hugging him like the most comfortable sweater in the world. How did he go this long without taking advantage of the hole that had been around him all this time?

“I never thought you’d be this easy of a lay,” Eren remarked, graduating one hand’s place from Reiner’s neck to his hair, pulling it and pushing his face into the concrete. “Who knew you’d open up to me this easily? If I knew, I would’ve fought Bertholdt for access to your ass.”

The fog of lust clouding Reiner’s brain long enough for him to understand and process Eren’s comments, and, even though it was nearly impossible to speak anything other than moans and whines and emote anything other than pleasure, he still attempted to reach backward and scratch Eren’s hip, leaving three bright marks on the tanned skin.

“After this is over, I’m going to kill you,” Reiner managed to say when Eren stopped shortly to readjust his angle. He was very grateful for that split second of clarity because once Eren started up, instead of brushing against that spot, he was directly nailing it over and over with perfect precision.

“ OH— oh, my God, I-I’m—too much, too much, I’m so— ah, hah... c-close—!” Reiner was incoherent at this point, finally reaching the “brains fucked out” stage of this brutal hookup. He could no longer think. All he could do was moan, pant, and cry out each time his spot was abused.

“ Hah—I’m gonna come soon, t-too,” Eren breathed, having his own difficulties with speech. He tried to act as cool and collected for as long as possible, but now, it was nearly impossible, with each thrust drawing out the warm feeling in his stomach more and more. It also didn’t help that Reiner kept tightening around him with each thrust, giving him all the components to finish. He just needed one thing.

“Where do you want it?” Eren whispered, dropping his head to take advantage of the last few moments to leave more hickeys all along Reiner’s neck and collarbones.

Reiner was beyond redemption at this point, evidenced by the fact that he all but screamed out, “Inside! Please, inside, come inside, I n-need it, I need you, please, I—”

His orgasm was sudden and unexpected, but Eren hit his spot at the perfect angle and speed, causing it to rip through his body. He was left speechless, going rigid as his vision spotted before going completely white, finally receiving the release he had been chasing over the past half hour. He heard somebody wailing, and when his consciousness returned to him, he realized he was the one making that awful noise, his vocal cords frying themselves with the unadulterated ecstasy running through his system.

Eren didn’t take much longer to follow, giving a few more slams—rougher than all the ones preceding them—before coming undone deep inside Reiner, groaning at the feeling of warmth coating Reiner’s walls and making his insides even hotter than they already were. But he wasn’t done. In his state of bliss, he managed to pull out of Reiner—earning a pitiful whimper from the other—and turn him around to push down on his shoulders so that he was on his knees again.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck! ” Eren couldn’t help the countless exclamations of pleasure that racked his body as he stroked himself furiously in front of Reiner’s face. The last of his come splashed on Reiner’s face, coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the milky white substance. Yet again, he wasn’t done. He smeared the tip across Reiner’s lips, painting them with the same glossy color. And with that, he was done, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied with the result.

He had completely ruined Reiner Braun. His hair was tangled and sticking out in all different places. His eyes were red from crying. His face was completely coated in sticky, hot semen. He could barely open his lips without it stringing between them. Tears stained his splotched cheeks, and dried saliva ran down the entirety of his chin and throat. His chest was red as well, full of bite marks and hickeys. His neck was a completely different story—it was probably rubbed raw and full of scratches and finger indentations, all of which were hidden under the belt. And then…

“Turn around for me and bend over,” Eren said, his last demand of the night.

He had evidently turned Reiner into an obedient subordinate because without a single complaint or hesitation, the blond nodded submissively and turned around, revealing his back that was full of scratches and the deep bite mark at the nape of his neck. To think, he’d probably be targeting that nape in a couple of minutes once again, except it’d be for the kill. He wondered if, when he’d rip Reiner from the nape of his Titan’s neck and admire his dead body, the bite mark on his neck would still be there.

Reiner bent over, lifting his ass in the air and dropping his chest and face to the floor, a look of pure embarrassment on his soiled face.

“Beautiful,” Eren whispered to himself as he watched his come pour out of Reiner’s hole, running down his leg and dripping onto the ground. “Satisfied?”

Reiner, from his docile place on the floor, nodded his head, his hair flowing back and forth on the ground. “Y-yes...thank you…”

He then collapsed to the floor, his hips no longer able to sustain his own weight. His legs were trembling, never having experienced such a savage fucking before. It had always been loving, sweet, slow. But he quickly found that he had been severely deprived of something he so desperately needed. He’d probably get brain damage from all the choking he was going to do in the future, but that didn’t matter. He already planned on dying soon, anyway.

“I’m going...to kill you...after this,” Reiner continued, severely out of breath.

Eren walked over silently, squatting down and brushing the hair out of Reiner’s sweaty and dirtied face. “I’d like to see you try. You can barely walk.”

He laughed and pat Reiner on the rear, standing back up and walking over to the exit as he fixed his trousers and buttoned them.

“But thanks for the good fuck. I needed that. Honestly, if I hadn’t made everybody from Paradis come rescue me today, I’d save this battle for another day. I’m feeling very…” He lifted up his hands, looking at his nails and running his fingers through his hair. “...relaxed right now.”

Reiner was half-asleep, but he was conscious enough to have heard Eren’s words loud and clear. He snapped his head up and turned to stare at Eren to see if what he heard was the truth, but all he was met with was Eren adjusting his shirt and tightening his hair into a bun.

“P-Paradis?”

“Yeah. Heh.” Eren looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll catch you out there, then. If you manage to survive, come to Paradis. I’ll give you a very special welcome.”

And with that, Eren Yeager exited the room heavy with the smell of sex and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Reiner Braun was left alone—used and besmirched with a fucked-out mind—to mull over what just happened and what will happen in only a handful of minutes.

Eren fucking Yeager.

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren yeager #reiner braun #eren x reiner #smut #aot smut #fanfiction

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mellometal · 3 years

Text

Is it time to tear ANOTHER Dhar Mann video to shreds? YOU BET.

I've been sitting on this one for a bit because I wanted to make sure I talk about this tactfully. The subject of parents abandoning their disabled children is a very touchy one.

Parents abandoning their disabled children simply for being disabled is way too common. Like, I understand that not everyone has the resources to care for a disabled child (which is why you reach out for help, and why people like me, who work with disabled people, exist), but it doesn't mean you just walk out of their life. There are exceptions, like if you truly didn't want children or something like that, but just flat-out walking out of your kid's life BECAUSE they're disabled is fucked up.

I know someone personally whose biological mother abandoned her when she was born. Why? Because she's disabled. Physically, and mentally, to a point. I work with this woman on a daily basis. I don't really know WHY exactly her biological mother abandoned her, but I do know that her being disabled was part of it. It's sad. It doesn't affect her, thankfully. I'm happy that she's got her biological dad, her brother, and another maternal figure in her life, at least.

ANYWAYS. Before we get to the topic at hand, I need to put an obligatory trigger warning, like I do with EVERY Dhar Mann post:

This post will be talking about parents abandoning their disabled children simply for being disabled, treating disabilities like they're tragedies (in this case, we're talking about autism...again), divorce, and some SPICY ableist bullshit from an allistic (nonautistic) PIECE OF SHIT.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way, you don't have to read this post. This isn't worth putting yourself in a bad state mentally. I would never ask for any of you to put yourselves in that position all for a post. Put your mental health and well-being first. Consume media that sparks joy for you.

As far as my response goes, it's definitely more calm than normal. Funny....since this video is about autism spectrum disorder again. (Third time's the charm, huh, Dhar Mann? NOT.)

LET'S FUCKING GET IT.

The video starts off with these two parents (Gwen and Allen) in a psychologist's office. The psychologist tells the parents that their son (Chance) is autistic, and she tries to explain what autism is to the parents, but Allen cuts her off. Why? Because he teaches at a prestigious university, so he AUTOMATICALLY knows what autism is from that fact alone.

Um, excuse me? Just because you're a teacher at a prestigious university, it doesn't mean you're an expert in everything. It doesn't make you an expert in ASD or anything like that. Unless you SPECIALIZE in that area. Even then, shut the fuck up. The people who know about being autistic are AUTISTIC PEOPLE THEMSELVES! SHOCKER.

Hey, Dhar Mann! QUIT WITH THE VIDEOS ABOUT AUTISTIC LITTLE WHITE BOYS AND YOUNG WHITE AUTISTIC CISHET MEN! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF IT. It's annoying, ignorant, and it feels like you're doing this on purpose at this point to piss people off. If you're so uninformed about autism in women and girls, FUCKING ASK AUTISTIC WOMEN AND GIRLS! DO BETTER RESEARCH THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE AUTISM SPEAKS. The Autism Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) and the Autistic Women and Nonbinary People Network (AWN) are great organizations to go to for any kind of research on ASD in women and girls. STOP GOING OFF OF THE BRAINS OF AUTISTIC WHITE BOYS AND AUTISTIC WHITE MEN.

I don't feel I need to go too deep into the fact that autistic women, autistic girls, autistic nonbinary people, autistic BIPOC, autistic AAPI, autistic LGBT people, autistic teenagers, and autistic adults exist. Y'all already know.

Gwen asks the psychologist if that means Chance isn't healthy. (I understand not knowing about autism, but don't treat it like it's a terminal illness. Please.) The psychologist tells her that Chance is fine, but he just learns differently and might need more support compared to his peers.

Yeah, autism can affect how you learn about certain things (limited and repetitive patterns), but there are other disabilities that can affect learning as well. Like how dyslexia can affect your ability to read, dyspraxia can affect your ability to do math, and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) can affect your ability to focus or on impulse control. Autism affects how your brain is developed, it affects you socially, behaviorally, and how you communicate.

Allen is upset, says that he can't have a son "with a learning disability" (ASD is a neurological disability, not necessarily a learning disability), and treats Chance like he's stupid for being autistic. Gwen tells her husband that autism doesn't make you any less intelligent, WHICH IS SO FUCKING TRUE. ABSOLUTE FACTS. I was totally with her until she began that little monologue with "Just because a person HAS autism". SAY "JUST BECAUSE A PERSON'S AUTISTIC" INSTEAD! IT'S NOT HARD. PERSON FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T WHAT EVERY DISABLED PERSON PREFERS. Allen says that "they could have another kid" and "put Chance up for adoption". Gwen obviously wasn't down with that. Allen gives his wife an ultimatum that it's either HIM or their son Chance. Gwen says that she can't choose between the two, but she will stand by her autistic son. Allen gets up and leaves the office, saying he wants a divorce.

Years pass by, Gwen is single and taking care of her autistic son Chance, and Allen has a new life with a ✨perfect son✨ (Samuel). He never mentions the son HE abandoned (Chance). He's completely forgotten about Gwen and Chance. (YOU OWE SO MUCH CHILD SUPPORT, ALLEN.)

Hey, Allen, how much do you wanna bet that your ✨perfect son✨ Samuel is autistic too?

There's the SATs, they're announcing a winner, and guess who it is? IT'S OBVIOUSLY CHANCE, OF COURSE. He's got the highest score in the country, with Samuel in second place. Allen is PISSED.

Chance gives a speech about how his mom really helped him, he struggled with autism, how Allen LITERALLY ABANDONED HIM, and THE CROWD GOES FUCKING WILD. Samuel, instead of being a sore loser, APPLAUDS FOR CHANCE. Stay humble, Sam.

My thoughts on the video? If you cannot tell by my tone throughout this post, IT WAS DOG SHIT. This video was insensitive to the true reality of parents abandoning their disabled children just because they're disabled. What do I expect from Dhar Mann at this point?

Here's my response to his video below. Don't worry, I will fully type out my response soon for anyone who cannot read the screenshots easily. It's a lot easier for me to do that on the desktop site than it is for me to do it on my phone.

For anyone who can’t read my response, I’m typing it out for you. Like I said, it’s easier for me to type it out on the desktop site than it is for me to type it out on my phone. It’s a real royal pain in the ass. But because I’m trying to make my posts easier to read for people, I’m doing this anyway. /lighthearted

First, second, and third screenshots (broken up into paragraphs):

Hey, listen, I appreciate the message you’re trying to go for, but can you please stop putting autistic people into a box? Can you stop treating being autistic like it’s a tragedy? Not every single autistic person is a little white boy in elementary school who’s considered “wild and unruly” or “super quiet and makes no friends”, nor are they a young white cishet man who’s a super genius or is how Chris Chan was before she came out as trans. (For anyone who doesn’t know about Chris Chan, there are many documentaries people have made on YouTube, and I highly recommend Geno Samuel’s docuseries, if you’re really interested in learning about Chris Chan.)

Autistic women, girls, nonbinary people, BIPOC, APPI, LGBT people, teenagers, and adults all exist too.

It’s very apparent now that you get your resources from Autism $peaks, a hate group that spends the vast majority of their money on funding eugenics instead of helping autistic people like they claim, claims that only little white boys and young white cishet men are autistic and ignores all other autistic people who don’t fit that description, have no autistic people on their leader board or on any board for that matter, have members who have actually fantasized about k1lling their autistic children, treat autism like it’s a tragedy or a disease someone can catch (completely false), act like autism should be cured (there is no cure, and ABA therapy is a total shit show in itself), and treats autistic people like they’re broken and need to be fixed. Also, not every autistic person is a Super Genius(tm). That’s so demeaning to autistic people who aren’t seen as intelligent in any way. I’m autistic and seen as smart; however, there are subjects I’m stronger in than others.

If you can’t handle the possibility of having autistic children, or just disabled children in general, DON’T HAVE CHILDREN. If you can’t handle working with or alongside disabled people, including autistic people, maybe find a different profession. Even if you do that, you’ll never get away from disabled people. Disabled people aren’t a disease. We’re human beings just like neurotypical and able-bodied people.

Fourth and fifth screenshots (broken up into paragraphs):

I would highly suggest getting resources from reputable organizations for ASD, such as the Autism Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) and the Autistic Women and Nonbinary People Network (AWN). Talk to any autistic person who isn’t a little white boy or a young white cishet man.

Instead of using the puzzle piece, which is a symbol that many autistic people, myself included, are offended by (because of Autism $peaks and other organizations before them using it, plus it symbolizes that only autistic children exist and that we’re “missing a piece” like we’re broken), use the rainbow infinity sign (for all neurodivergent people) or the red and gold infinity sign (just for autistic people). Instead of “lighting it up blue”, light it up red or gold. Do both if you want.

I’m actually really sick and tired of seeing just autistic little white boys and young autistic white cishet men being represented in the media, and y’all manage to fuck that up too.

Before anyone mentions Sia’s movie “Music”, that’s also very poor representation of autistic girls. Besides, the actress who played the autistic girl isn’t even autistic. She MOCKED autistic people. I know she’s a kid, but that’s still super fucked up. I hope she’s able to turn that around.

If anyone would like to discuss this topic with me or ask any questions, feel free to. I’ll answer as best as I can. Thank you and have a good night.

Before I get attacked for mentioning Chris Chan in my response, I bring up Chris Chan because allistic people think that every autistic person is like her (especially before she came out as trans). That person is part of why I wasn't open about being autistic or talking about my diagnosis until this year. I didn't want to be grouped up with Chris Chan because I do have very similar interests to her, I've been seen as cringey for having said interests, and just the way Chris treated autistic people who were formerly diagnosed with A$p3rg3r$ $yndr0m3 (like I was) really made me feel even more alienated.

Also, S1a supports A$ (Autism $p3aks). She's not a very good person to support. Some of her music is good, but her as a person....no. Her movie "Music" was gross, from what I've read about it and seen pictures of.

If you've read this far, thank you so much!

#mello speaks #dhar mann #dhar mann talk #dhar mann will live to regret his decision to make these fucked up cringe videos #dhar mann will live to regret his decision uwu #dhar mann is a piece of human garbage #please stop supporting dhar mann #autism isn't a tragedy #we need better representation for autistic people who aren't little white boys or young white cishet men #dhar mann is a cringe ass nae nae baby #tw abandonment #tw ableism #cw sia mention #cw chris chan mention #tw dhar mann

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Price of wishes pt7 / on AO3

Lan Xichen meets his new relatives in the Cloud Recesses

Lan Xichen gazes upon the gates of the Cloud Recesses, and feels…

Not scared, not quite, but nervous certainly. The more he travelled with Nie Huaisang and his brother's disciples, the more Lan Xichen became struck by how much the world has changed while he was clinging to his last believers and trying to survive. Towns are bigger, houses are more durable, people from different places mix, and they sell as common things items that he remembers being rare luxuries.

The world has changed, and Lan Xichen is striving not to show how unsettled he feels.

And then, there's this writing business. Out of every passing fashion that had to stick around…

In spite of how he feels about this writing fad, Lan Xichen has been trying his best to learn. Trying isn’t succeeding. Lan Xichen can read some characters, and he knows certain texts thanks to Nie Huaisang’s efforts, but it simply isn’t enough to maintain the illusion of the person he is supposed to be.

Hopefully, Nie Huaisang’s other plan will work.

The Lan disciple guarding the gate is startled when he's told that the young master of his sect has returned, but by the time Lan Xichen asks that his uncle be warned he lost his jade token in an incident, that young man in white has already accepted his existence. It's not surprising, not when Lan Xichen has already convinced Nie Mingjue whose mind is much stronger, but it's still a relief.

The Lan disciple dutifully sends a message to master Lan Qiren who arrives quite fast to the gate, followed closely by a boy whose features are eerily similar to Lan Xichen. He got that much right, it seems.

Lan Xichen bows politely before the man who is now his uncle, the boy who he will call his brother for a full mortal lifetime, and smiles at both of them. He can feel for a moment their doubts about his presence, forming a stronger wall than Nie Mingjue’s did, but he only needs to absorb some of Nie Huaisang’s belief in him to make that wall crumble. It is not hard at all, and Lan Xichen can’t help but feel that those two are almost relieved by his intrusion in their lives.

It was the same with Nie Mingjue. He might act tough and stern, but he is young, not ten years older than Nie Huaisang. He’s also as desperate for company as his brother but in a position that forbids him from seeking out new friends. And now, as Lan Qiren caves into the invasion, Lan Xichen gets a flash of gratitude, because having a nearly fully adult nephew means someone he can rely on. Lan Qiren, like Nie Mingjue, is a lonely man, and shouldn’t be so resigned to it at such a young age.

“You weren’t supposed to be gone this long,” Lan Qiren scolds his nephew. “You should have been here a while ago to help prepare the arrival of the guest disciples. And what's this I hear about your token being lost?”

Nie Huaisang, unnoticed by nearly everyone, lets out a shaky breath.

“My apologies, shufu,” Lan Xichen says with another bow. “A few things came up while I was gone that delayed my return. In fact, I would like to speak to you about this immediately, if you have the time. Wangji as well, this will concern him. And… I think it might be good if Nie gongzi came as well.”

Lan Wangji, exactly as silent and austere as Nie Huaisang described him, stares at his brand new brother with emotionless eyes. When those eyes turn to Nie Huaisang though, they let a certain curiosity shine through, to which Nie Huaisang reacts by turning a little pink and averting his eyes. But no objection is made to Lan Xichen’s request, and they all retire to the house Lan Qiren shares with his nephew for a private conversation.

It is not an unpleasant place. Austere but elegant, as everything appears to be in the Cloud Recesses. One thing immediately attracts Lan Xichen’s attention: the number of books. This house alone appears to contain as many as all of Qinghe Nie’s library. This makes Nie Huaisang’s panic over Lan Xichen’s inability to read all the more understandable. If the entire sect is similar to Lan Qiren, then Lan Xichen’s meagre powers might not be enough to counter their surprise at a young master who cannot read fluently.

Tea is poured as refreshment for the travellers, and all four of them sit down. Lan Qiren allows his new nephew a moment to drink, then asks again about the delay in returning.

"The situation is this," Lan Xichen explains. "While I was away, something happened and I lost all my memories. I cannot be sure what it was exactly, but I do not appear to have any physical marks on me, nor did I detect anything that would indicate a curse. All I know for sure is that I barely knew who I was when this started."

His new relatives are startled at the news, especially Lan Wangji who glances at Nie Huaisang in a silent question, but with the slightest of push on Lan Xichen’s part they do not think of doubting that story.

"As I wandered, I stumbled upon the Unclean Realm where Nie Mingjue welcomed me and treated me as if we knew each other. I played along and didn't mention my predicament. I thought Nie Mingjue did not feel like an enemy, but I didn't know how much to trust my instincts. After a while, Nie Huaisang realised something was wrong, encouraged me to share my secret with him, and agreed to help me hide this for the time being. We both feared someone might try to take advantage, should my situation be revealed."

"A wise decision," Lan Qiren agreed, a severe expression on his face as he stroked his beard. "It is lucky you wandered into friendly territory, when others might have been less kind than the Nie."

Meaning the Wen sect, Lan Xichen guesses. There's a feud of sorts between the Wens and the Nie, he understands, but really the whole cultivation world appears scared of them.

"Our thanks to Nie gongzi for his help," Lan Qiren says.

"Mn," Lan Wangji agrees, cramming a surprising amount of emotion in that single sound. Or maybe it is the way he's looking at Nie Huaisang, his pale eyes intense and sharp.

Nie Huaisang blushes intensely and squirms a little, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, or perhaps with being praised over something that never happened. To rescue him from his discomfort, Lan Xichen promptly continues.

“The memory loss is actually rather severe,” he explained. “We are still figuring out what I can and cannot remember. While I was in Qinghe, I dared not say too much to Nie zongzhu, even after deciding he was friendly, because I couldn’t be sure of the extent of that friendship, and I knew I had to think of my sect’s safety. But after making me confess the truth on the way here, Nie gongzi has been of great help in figuring out just how much I have lost. He happened to have with him a number of texts concerning our rules and customs which he shared with me, though I must confess reading is not easy at this time. It causes me terrible headaches after even a very short while.”

Hearing this, Lan Qiren’s concern only grows, marking him to Lan Xichen as a far warmer person than Nie Huaisang prepared him for. Not that he blames his young friend for his judgement: it is not unexpected for a man to behave differently toward a student than he would with a relative, especially when the student is Nie Huaisang, who has made it clear that learning does not come easily to him.

Worried for this nephew he’d never met just half a shichen earlier, Lan Qiren quickly comes up with a plan. First, he will go fetch a doctor to check Lan Xichen, since an external eye might detect more than he did himself. If they can identify what ails him, they might return him to normal. Should that fail (Lan Xichen will have to use his powers on the doctor as well, though he’s getting tired and might require a large offering from Nie Huaisang that night) they will need to keep the situation secret, for fear that certain people try to take advantage of the situation. In that case, Lan Qiren decides that his nephews will isolate themselves together for a few days, until the lectures for the guest disciples start, so that Lan Xichen can be reminded of the knowledge and behaviours expected of a young master of their sect.

Lan Wangji makes no objection to this plan. His only remark is to ask that Nie Huiasang stay with them until Lan Qiren returns with a doctor, so he can be further questioned about the present situation. Lan Qiren agrees, and leaves the boys alone.

As soon as they are just the three of them together, something shifts in Lan Wangji’s attitude. So far he hasn’t given the impression of a particularly expressive person, and yet Lan Xichen can instantly tell that his new brother is incredibly upset.

“Nie gongzi,” Lan Wangji says, his voice monotone and yet heavy with carefully refrained emotion. “Who is this person sitting with us?”

Nie Huaisang goes pale, as if he might faint, then turns a bright shade of red, before he starts laughing in a nervous manner.

“Ah, just as could be expected of you!” Nie Huaisang exclaims with a painful grin. “Lan gongzi is really something else! Anybody else could be fooled except you, I should have known!”

Lan Wangji makes no answer. Lan Xichen cannot tell if his new brother is aggravated or relieved that Nie Huaisang isn’t even trying to hide that something is wrong.

As for Lan Xichen himself, he feels too keenly the pain of disappointment. While Lan Wangji does appear to be a powerful young cultivator, and strong willed for his age, Nie Mingjue and Lan Qiren were still his superiors. The only reason he resisted where they gave in, Lan Xichen suspects, is because Nie Huaisang has more faith in Lan Wangji’s strength of spirit than in his, creating a weakness in his powers.

“Explain,” Lan Wangji demands, and Nie Huaisang obeys without hesitation.

Not only does he not hesitate, but Nie Huaisang appears sincerely relieved to share his secret as he retells the way he ran away, how he became lost and unknowingly made a deal with a god who then took human form.

Lan Wangji listens, glances over Lan Xichen, and frowns.

“He looks like me. Why?”

From being merely a little nervous, Nie Huaisang panics at the question with such intensity that it nearly makes Lan Xichen physically sick. For a torturous second there is no more belief sustaining him, replaced by a terror that cannot feed him. It doesn’t last longer than a heartbeat before Nie Huaisang pulls himself together and laughs awkwardly, but Lan Xichen is left shaken.

“Well, I ran away because I felt so lonely and unappreciated, right?” Nie Huaisang explains. “And I wanted to not feel alone. And so I thought of you, because I…”

He hesitates, his entire face flushed red. For the second time in just moments, Lan Xichen feels Nie Huaisang’s belief waver, replaced by a sentiment entirely directed toward Lan Wangji.

“I think of you as my best friend,” Nie Huaisang miserably lies, “so of course I wanted someone like you at my side.”

Hit by a sudden realisation, Lan Xichen stares at the young man who gave him a chance to live again. With parts of Nie Huaisang modelled after Lan Wangji, of course Lan Xichen knew already there had to be some attraction involved. But this isn’t mere attraction that he is witnessing.

Instead, Nie Huaisang is in love with Lan Wangji.

That discovery alone is already painful. In their short time together Lan Xichen has become quite fond of Nie Huaisang and has seen nothing in him that could make him fear the ‘marriage’ part of their deal. To find that he has a rival, one of true flesh and blood, one who doesn’t need the world explained to him, who can read and write and do all those things that matter so much to Nie Huaisang, is like being stabbed in the guts.

But things only get worse when Lan Wangji, so impassible thus far, huffs ever so slightly at Nie Huaisang and smiles at him with all the warmth his nature allows him.

It might not be love yet, but fondness is a first step in that direction.

Meaning that Nie Huaisang might never have needed Lan Xichen and just didn't know it yet.

"Nie gongzi always makes things interesting," Lan Wangji placidly comments, which Nie Huaisang appears to take as criticism, while Lan Xichen suspects it to be a compliment. "I will allow this person to remain."

"Really ? Wangji, that means lying!"

"Hm. This person is meant to be my older brother, correct?"

Nie Huaisang again panics, explains, apologises, but Lan Wangji's attention has shifted to his new brother. Under such a piercing gaze, Lan Xichen feels exposed, though he doesn't detect any bad feeling coming from Lan Wangji, only curiosity and a sharp flicker of hope.

"He may stay," Lan Wangji repeats. "If he stays long, he will in some years announce that he steps down in my favour. Until then, this person may carry the title of heir."

Silence falls for a long moment. Lan Xichen hasn't finished processing what this means (more effort, more lies, more pretending, all to fool not only this sect but also all others) when he notices that Lan Wangji is smiling again, while Nie Huaisang starts howling with laughter.

"Wangji! Lan gongzi! No, wait, it's Lan er-gonzi now, right? Either way, who knew you had it in you to be crafty! Dumping your responsibilities on someone else like this… why, it sounds like something I would do!"

"You are my friend," Lan Wangji soberly replies, though his eyes shine. "And a bad influence."

Nie Huaisang only laughs harder, joyful and free in a way Lan Xichen has never seen him.

It might be good to look for new followers quickly, the god decides. Before this fountain of belief dries out as Nie Huaisang realises he already has everything he wished for, sending Lan Xichen back to the misery and despair of his old existence.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #lan wangji #lan qiren #a little hint of one sided wangsang in there too #jau writes #xisang wishes au #still no fucking idea where I'm going with this au tbh

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thebrownssociety · 3 years

Note

i noticed that in a past post you had mentioned daffy was in the front lines of world war 2. how was that like? how did toons particularly handle war?

Not particularly well. Toons are not designed for war, they're designed to make people laugh. Added to that that most of the toons were very young [under 15] when they were sent to the front and the story gets sadder.

Warnings: Mention of War and descriptions of PTSD [I have done research, but this is Toon version, so it's not going to tally exactly with humans]

Disclaimer - this is a headcanon. I have mentioned the companies here and Walt Disney [briefly] stating the obvious, it's all made-up.

All of the companies involved did there best to help/protect the toons as best they could. None of the female or children toons were allowed to go and there was a limit on how old the 'adult' toons had to be before they could go. That ended up being 5. The companies wanted 10, the Military wanted three, five was a compromise - although the companies had to fight hard to get that. In the end it boiled down to 'Either five, or they don't go at all'. The companies also re-negotiated the initial year the toons would be away down to 6 consecutive months. The companies wanted three months, so it was another compromise.

Stating the obvious, none of the toons enjoyed it much. Even the ones who thought they would thrive [Like Donald, Yosamite Sam and other 'tough' toons] found it difficult. Not to say they don't remember some bits of it fondly, mainly the comradeship they found, but for the most part it was hell on earth. After the first lot of Toons who's gone in the first month [about 30, mainly background toons, Prince Florian and Sylvester] came back from the front they looked so pale and ghostlike [visually, a shell of there former selves] that none of the others wanted to go and the companies tried to pull them out of it. [This being near the end of 1943] But they weren't allowed to, so the toons had to go.

The time the toons were fighting was 'only' Jan 1943 - end of war, Sep 1945, and the toons were only there for 6 months, but it was a long, terrifying 6 months.

The weird thing was that after the first initial couple of months while there coulor came back and they looked more life-like again, they seemed okay. Really! They could still act - and act well - they joked with each other in a normal manner and they talked to people. Sure, there were a few of them showing more difficulties adjusting - like Daffy who was acting paranoid and was constantly on the edge and Donald who's already-existing anger issues went through the roof, not to mention Elmer who was mute for a few months after coming back and Pete [Disney] who locked himself away and wouldn't come out, not to mention the at least 30 of background toons who were all showing extreme level of difficultly, but, hey, that was only a couple of toons, right? In the grand scheme of things. The rest of them were fine.

They were not fine.

It took a good couple of years [between 5-10] But eventually the cracks started showing. The Toons who had fought in the war started reacting weirdly to loud noise. Jumping onto the ceiling and refusing to come down, hiding under things and in things [like jugs and cups and cracks in the wall] whenever they thought they were under attack. They were having frequent, intense nightmares and a lot of the toon were displaying mental health issues like paranoia and splitting themselves in two [literally. It depended on the toon as to what exactly the personalities looked like, but as a general guide they'd be one 'young' one from around the time they were first created and another one that was closer to there normal age, but looked and acted completely different. Doctor Scratchesniff theorised it's what the toons worse fears about themselves are, visualised and brought to life.]

The toons were also having flashbacks to the war, which is bad enough on its own, but because they're toons the flashbacks literally engulfed them and whoever was near, drawing them into a world that they hadn't been in for about five-ten years. This, as you can probably imagine, was quite a major problem so the three major studios - Disney, Warner Bros's and Hanna-Barbera - put there heads together and came up with a solution, and that solution came in the form of Doctor Scratchensniff. [I do have a separate headcanon on him, covered in my 'Mental-Health' headcanon] The idea was that D.S. would work across all three studios and have enhanced toon powers.

While it's well known that a lot of Toons have been affected by the war, I'll go through a few of the toons that [I headcanon] have had the most noticeable difficulties after the war.

Daffy - He now goes back and forth between his 40's characterisation [screwball, Clampett version] and his greedy-jerkass characterisation in later years. The way it works is he will be the 'sensible' persona of the Greedy Daffy for most of the year [who, for all his faults, does care about his friends/family and can take care of Plucky easily], then he will suddenly switch back to his 40's persona. [Who, although he does still care for his friends/family, he can't express it as well and he has NO IDEA who Plucky is.]

After a bit of help and counselling from D.S. he has identified his major triggers [and Daffy has informed the rest of the LT's so they're aware of them]. For example, flying a plane will instantly put him back in the 40's mindset. For a time it was flying in general that put him in the mindset [which was fun when the LT's went to Australia] but now Daffy's okay with it and can manage small journeys easily. Longer journeys he struggled with, but he simply doesn't go on long plane journeys.

He also doesn't like Toons taller than himself getting in his face, [much taller, I mean. Bugs is alright.] He'll go into 'Fight' mode and try to attack them. Non-expected loud sounds like a car backfiring or fireworks can also remind him of war. Daffy's reaction when he hears something that he's not sure of what it is, it to try and find it and attack it. Either that or he would teleport away to a small space [like a jug, under a staircase or a crack in the wall] and not come out until Avery/Elmer/Porky calmed him down. [Bugs does try, but Daffy tends to get more wound up whenever Bugs tries anything, so the rabbit had to stop.]

Donald - I'm not going to spend long on Donald, mainly because his issues have [I'm fairly certain] been touched on in canon? His triggers are a lot like Daffy's except that Donald is MUCH more likely to try and attack anything he thinks is a threat rather than run away from it. He has inadvertently hurt [both physically and mentally] people he cares about by doing this, but they understand the reason why. Doesn't necessary make it easier, but they understand.

The main difference between him and Daffy though is that Donald has always wanted help. Ever since he realised he was hurting the people he loved, he wanted help. He had time off from work, Scrooge stepped in and insisted Donald and the boys move in with him so he didn't have to worry about a roof over his head and getting food and stuff. [Unfortunately this genuine well-meant, kind act only added to Donald's general feeling of uselessness]

The good news was that not only did Donald have extended family support, but he was best friends with Mickey and Goofy. Mickey was able to lean in Walts ears and convince him to treat Donald more leniently than he might have other toons, he also did his best to help Donald come to terms with what had happened to him during the war. Goofy could - in theory - do a lot less than Mickey, but he WAS more available and completely willing to take the boys off him for a couple of hours/days/weeks if needed. Goofy can cook - and cook well - so he'd bring food over for Donald so that if [as happened often] he didn't feel like cooking he'd have something ready to heat up/put in the oven.

Elmer - Some of the toons when they were put in charge of there units got on quite well, in that they had men who were willing to listen to them, and treated them kindly. Elmer's troop wasn't like that. He was very young when he was sent there [8] and was still more like Egghead. A bit silly, a bit hyper and not as hard as he needed to be. He cried the first time he went into battle and had a lot of trouble trying to gain the respect of his men. This has had a knock-on effect in that he thought everyone around him hated him and didn't like him. Even when he went back to Toontown, he just thought all his friends/family were being nice to him because they had to, not because they genuinely liked him.

Over many years Elmer has come to accept this isn't true and has been in therapy with D.S. in order to discuss it further. On a different note the main immediately noticeable difference upon coming back from war [aside from the fact he was mute for about two months] was that he started sleepwalking. His sleep had never been great at the best of times, but the war gave him such bad nightmares that he hardly ever slept. When he did eventually get to sleep, he started sleepwalking. Elmer being Elmer somehow didn't notice this at first? He thought it was completely normal [?] to start the night in your bed and wake up in Toon-World Australia having somehow swam his way across the ocean and hacked his way through the Australian outbacks to the middle off Australia, while asleep. He then had to spend several days trying to get back to Looney-Tune Street. With this in mind, it was really only a matter of time until it was noticed by the others.

They do there best to look out for him, if one of the LT's see Elmer sleepwalking, they will follow him/go with him and try to look after him. It should be noted though that despite the fact Fudd is clearly asleep, he is somehow aware of his surroundings and should someone attack him he will fight back and, most times, win.

#Looney Tunes Ask #Looney Tunes #Donald Duck #Daffy Duck #Elmer Fudd #Yosemite Sam #Headcanons #Mickey Mouse #Goofy #Disney Headcanons #Looney Tunes Headcanons #PTSD #Scrooge McDuck

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babuis · 4 years

Text

Who Needs Memories? [Chilumi] - 1

Genre: Long Fic

Word Count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Lumine is not naive. Through her thousands of years living, she should know better. Should have learned better. She knew better then to trust someone who threw her insecurities into her face. So why was she here, standing in the room of the person who betrayed her while wanting to give him another chance?

Events from before the Golden House between Childe and Lumine to the unreleased future.

A/n: I’m deciding on whether I want to pursue this as a long fic in my google docs. Tbh I can really only write for Genshin when I’m in this strange, dreamy, longing mood where I wish to leave everything behind and enter the world of Genshin- it just feels so inviting and like home for some reason.

Pulled this out of my ass Bcs I’m in that mood rn. Sadness makes me poetic (but I’m not sad? Genshin gets me in a very dreamy mood)

So imma test it out by seeing how it’s received. Should I make this into a longer series?

Story starts before golden house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lumine couldn't go back to sleep.

This wasn't a new development. Since arriving in Teyvat, she had fallen victim to many sleepless nights or sleeps that were interrupted by night terrors she couldn't quite remember until much later when it was no longer important. Sometimes when she did sleep, her dreams would be filled with fragments of memories from the thousands of years she lived with her brother from world to world before all of this that refused to leave her mind.

Tonight she had dreamed about the time when they weren't in a particular world, but rather the period in between where they simply existed in the clouds.

Lumine and Aether sat on a large cloud, staring into the expanse before them. They sat with their knees hugged to their chest, feeling the last rays of the sun brush over them before nightfall.

"Hey Aether?'

"Hm?"

Lumine sighed as she lay lazily on her back. Her body sunk into the soft pillows of cloud ever so slightly and she stared up into the infinite abyss of the sky above their heads.

"Do you ever wonder what else is out there?' she questioned him, reaching her hand up, "We've been to so many worlds already. Will there be a point where we no longer learn new things?"

Aether scoffed lightly, turning his head to look at his twin, "We've been alive for thousands of years, have you yet to come to a world and not learn anything?"

"No," Lumine admitted, "But you said it yourself, we're so old already. What if one day..."

Aether sighed again, shifting to face his sister fully, "Don't worry about it. Worlds may be similar to each other. We may just arrive in them to fight a little, but there' always been subtle differences that make each special."

"Hmm," Lumine hummed, closing her eyes as a chill brushed over her body, "Do you think mom ever got bored?"

"Bored? She had twins."

Lumine chuckled lightly, "Yea, she did, didn't she?"

They didn't speak after that. Soon the vibrant colors of the sunset turned into the cool night sky and millions of stars twinkled around them, each representing a new world. Lumine shuddered slightly, wondering if her fears were silly. With so many worlds, surely there would be new things to see. A new purpose to have.

"We should go to that one next," Aether said, pointing to the brightest star to their left, "Burning up real bright."

Lumine nodded, shielding her eyes a bit from the light, "Sure is."

Aether lay down, settling beside her, "Go to sleep, Lumi," he said softly, "we got a new world ahead of that."

"Hmm," she hummed again, closing her eyes.

Soon, her brother's breathes turned steady as he fell asleep. She gave him one last peek before she too, succumbed to slumber.

Even if they explored all the worlds there were and learned everything there was to know, she would be okay just as long as she had Aether by her side to navigate her life with her.

And then he was gone.

Lumine shuddered as the wind blew towards her from the water. It seemed to be particularly cold in Liyue that night on the harbor. She sat on the wooden dock, letting her slender legs hang over the edge. The stars shined above her, much like they had in her dream.

Except this time she was sitting on the hard dock instead of the fluffy clouds and she was alone.

Her hair tickled her cheek as she dejectedly thought about Aether. They had come to this world, the brightest one to their left, together, only to be separated. They had never separated before and the anxious heaviness that took permanent hold of her chest became heavier as she remembered her dream.

I miss you Aether.

This world had been shockingly new from the rest of the ones she had visited. With it's divisions between the archons and people, it seemed like this world was made up of multiple ones with a complexity that she kept getting dragged into.

It was something her past self would have marveled excitedly at- there was just so much to learn. But without Aether, without her rock through it all, it almost seemed meaningless. Her only purpose now, was to find him.

Perhaps this is what she got for wishing for a new purpose in life. If she could go back and take it all back, she would.

"Hey girlie, it's dangerous for you to be so lost in thought this late at night. A bad man could come and sweep you away."

Ah, Childe.

Lumine turned her head to see the blue eyes ginger standing behind her, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked down at her. She licked her lips, turning away from him.

"What do you want, Fatui?" she asked harshly, "If you push me in the water, I'll blast you all the way to the stone forest."

Childe raised his hands up in surrender, a throaty chuckle making its way out of his mouth, "No need to be so hostile, I thought we shared a more intimate relationship than that."

"I'm warning you," Lumine said again, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Childe took a seat beside her, looking into the distance where she was, "I would never, girlie. I'm a bad man but I wouldn't push an unsuspecting lady into the water."

"Sure you wouldn't, Fatui," Lumine said with disdain.

"I wouldn't," he repeated, "What are you looking at? Actually, what are you doing up so late? It's well past your bed time."

Lumine snorted, "You're not older than me."

"I'll have you know I'm a young adult," Childe protested.

Lumine gave him a wry smile, "As am I."

"You don't look a day older 18," Childe hmphed, "Pray tell, Ojou-chan, how old are you really?"

Lumine finally glanced at the ginger who was staring at her with curious eyes, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, actually," he said, not looking away.

'You wouldn't even be able to fathom it if you tried,' Lumine thought to herself, 'nor is it safe for me to tell you.'

Childe stared at Lumine some more, refusing to be the first to look away. Her golden eyes burned with something he couldn't quite place, but were at the same time quite hardened. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyebrows were softly furrowed into a stern looking pout.

'How cute,' he mused to himself, 'too bad you're just a pawn in Tsaritsa's game.'

"You don't trust me," he settled on saying, his mouth quirking to the side.

Lumine finally looked away, making Childe celebrate internally, 'ha! I win!'

"Why should I?" she muttered.

"I get it, La Signora gave you a bad impression," Childe said, "But like I said, I don't particularly like her either. I'm the black sheep of the Harbingers you know, we're not all like her."

Lumine didn't say anything. If she learned anything from her extensive existence, it was to not trust a man like Childe.

"Fine, then answer this for me since you're unwilling to share," Childe caved, "What are you doing up so late?"

Lumine shrugged, "It's not late. If I'm correct, it's a new day."

"Fine smart ass," Childe sassed her, "What are you doing up so early?"

"I guess I'm an early bird then," Lumine said vaguely, not wanting to mention her lack of sleep.

"Great answer."

The two sat in silence again, the breeze blowing even harder. Lumine shivered again at the wind's caress which prompted Childe to shrug off his jacket to give to the blonde. Lumine noticed and put her hand up to stop him hurriedly, not wanting to create even more debt to the Harbinger.

"You're cold," Childe insisted, "Take it."

Lumine frowned, "No, you're cold. You take it."

"Ojou-chan," he said, exasperated, "I'm from Snezhnaya, a bit of wind isn't going to kill me."

Lumine raised an eyebrow, "I use Anemo powers, a little bit of wind isn't going to kill me either."

"But it'll make you sick."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will."

"No it won't."

She knew it wouldn't. It had been a very long time since Lumine had gotten sick, the last time being in a world with giant man eating beings. The only reason for her sickness, of course, wasn't her health, but the disgusting stench of dead bodies.

Lumine stubbornly stood up and started walking down the dock back towards the center of the town where she was staying. She was done with this conversation- done with him. However, Childe seemed to have other plans as he followed the petite girl down the paved road.

"Stop following me," came Lumine's cutting words, not even bothering to look back.

'Charming,' Childe thought as he ignored her words, "It's dangerous for a pretty girl to roam around the town in the dark."

Lumine simply rolled her eyes, coming to a halt in front of a random building, "I'm not in danger of the Milleleth anymore, and I'm sure I could handle some petty thieves if I did a dragon."

"Ah, that's right. I'm talking to the Hero of Mondstadt here," Child said teasingly, 'and the biggest pain in the ass to Tsaritsa.'

Lumine gave him an unimpressed look, "I suppose that's right, so as you can see, I can handle myself."

'If anything, you're the biggest threat in this town,' she thought distastfully.

"Alright then, Ojou-chan, I'm off-"

Before he could finish his goodbye, he was cut off by a large growl emitting from Lumine's stomach. For the first time that night, Lumine lost her composure and blushed a bright red and her body burned hotter than the sun despite the chilly morning air. Childe paused, blinking twice, before busting out into laughter that caused the girl to further lose composure.

'Damn this near mortal body!' Lumine cursed, 'I never had to eat this often before!'

"Hahaha!" he laughed heartily, clutching his sides, "Did you perhaps eat the dragon to defeat it?" he teased her.

Lumine growled, "Shut up," she said hotly.

"Say, why don't I take you and Paimon to get some food then?" Childe suggested, "I'm sure you're hungry and you wouldn't turn down free food when you lack Mora."

Lumine grumbled quietly to herself, knowing he was right. She had very little Mora left thanks to Paimon spending so much on food and she was admittedly hungry. Hunger was a foreign concept to her body up until recently, and she detested the very idea of it.

"Don't be stubborn Ojou-chan," Childe persisted, "I did afterall, save you from the Millelith didn't I?"

Lumine begrudgingly nodded her head, "Fine," she said quietly, "Let me get Paimon first."

And so they walked side by side to her inn- that he helped he book- to fetch Paimon and go eat. They walked leisurely, as if they weren't two people that were on drastically different sides. They walked as if they were acquaintances- as if they were friends to the unknowing eye.

Lumine knew she shouldn't. She should have stopped all interaction after that one time he helped her out by clearing her name. Shouldn't have accepted the help nor the Mora from him- no matter how broke she was. She could have found a way or slept on the outskirts of the town. She shouldn't be accepting his invitation to eat.

What was wrong with her?

Teyvat had proved to be full of surprises, her behavior being one of them. It had been months since she woke up from her slumber. When was the last time she had stayed in one place for so long? Fought off monsters for other people rather than the thrill of the fight?

It didn't matter, Lumine supposed. What mattered was finding her brother and what happened after that would be a future Lumine problem. What else was there to do after finding her brother? What was the purpose of her world hopping?

Lumine no longer remembered.

As they neared the inn where she left Paimon, she could hear the floating girl's shrill and angry voice scolding her for leaving. Paimon's voice only turned more sour when she saw the Fatui next to her.

"Lumine!" the pixie exclaimed, "You can't leave to go rendezvous with the enemy!"

Lumine gave the little girl an unimpressed look, "I did no such thing, he's cashing in a favor."

"A favor?" Childe interrupted, "Considering I'm paying for your food, I'd say I'm doing a service and you know owe me a favor."

Paimon looked angry for a second, "Lumine! You can't just- wait, did Paimon just hear you say food?"

"Sure did little one," Childe grinned, "Come on, it's my treat."

And just like that, Paimon's anger disappeared at the promise of something warm to fill her stomach. Constellations materialized around her floating body as she followed the ginger to a restaurant he claimed that he knew 'they would just love.'

Lumine lingered at the steps of the inn, staring up into the sky that was now painted with the vibrant colors of the sunrise.

What was the purpose of her life?

Lumine basked in the warmth of the sun and found comfort in the lack of visible stars in the sky.

Lumine didn't remember.

Perhaps she never knew.

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ohnothewheatisonfire · 4 years

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ok J&H Fandom, let’s talk:

“Popular” blog @thatsmyhyde is a prominent creator in the J&H Fandom. But here’s where the problem shows up:

the content they make is concerning at least, and full of red flags at worst.

DISCLAIMER: This is all information I have gathered through their tumblr blog - I am not aware of what other things they may be posting on other social medias or their written work. ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: Please be polite, I am a minor, and am just creating this post to ward off / warn other minors from following this person. If you are an adult interacting with this post and blog, be mindful of your actions and be responsible

Trigger warnings for: discussions of homophobia, discussions of p//phillia, fat-shaming, fat-phobia (?), etc. Just be on general edge for this post, we’re talking about a lot of weird stuff

I will be linking their posts as I am not going to take screenshots of their art.

This is not a comprehensive list of all the things they’ve done - these are the ones I could think of and was able to adress. If you have anything additional you want to add to this post (such as concerning things they may do on other social media), feel free to reblog and add on the things you need to say, just please don’t be dumb.

Let’s start with the premise: Henry Jekyll creates an alter ego, Edward Hyde. They begin a relationship - an emotional and physical one. Their AU features Jekyde (A popular ship in the fandom, the name stands for Jekyll x Hyde), people have various views on this ship.

So far so fine, right? Here are the problems:

1. Their Henry Jekyll is an awful person. Now, let’s start by saying that of course you can have bad people in your works, those are, after-all: villains. The problem is,Henry Jekyll is a harmful walking gay sterotype, and an outlet for Biscuit’s obvious fat fetish. But their relationship isn’t just toxic it’s romanticised in how toxic it is.

a. The harmful stereotype - Their Henry Jekyll has a “thing” for younger men, even though he is in his middle-ages, and Hyde looks like a young child. (Age gap relationships are their own thing - they come with their own burdens, and this is not the post to discuss them. This topic will lead into the Edward Hyde section of this post.) But, it was a known homophobic scare-mongering tactic of straight parents to accuse everyone who is gay that they are ‘out to prey on your youths’. This is a stereotype that stigmatized the LGBT community, and still harmfully affects them to this day.

b. The fat fetish: Jekyll is frequently seen with cake (as seen here, here, and here) or being self-loathing, to the point of suicide. (click the link here to acess a list of suicide and other crisis hotlines! you matter to me!). Now, the self-loathing could be a symptom of depression or other mental illness, so I am not going to talk about it, as a person with mental illnesses. But the self-loathing in addition to him being fat is not good. Media is drowning in the “self-loathing fat person” and as someone who isn’t thin i’m tired of seeing this.

- The fetish aspect comes in him constantly being referred to “Chonky”, a term usually used for overweight/obese cats and being drawn obsessed with cake. It fetishises his weight and dehumanises him into something people call their animals. Also, here’s more of Jekyll eating food and being embarassed by it, though this time because it’s seen as “servant’s food”.

- Biscuit admits to liking them “Big and chunky” in posts like this.

[Photo id: A string of texts that says: tantok, frankenstein, twink lore, dorian slipped through the cracks and got himself sketched by yours truly the other day because he brought lord henry along, he and the slime didn’t have to fight to the death because they’ve both got their own chonky old toxic henries to focus on, but this blog still ain’t big enough for the two of ‘em. end id]

- They also talk about how they ‘prefer’ to draw fat (chonky) people. Image attatched above. the thing that should be noticed is that they say ‘chonky old toxic henries’ . they, once again, are making fat people a fetish.

[Photo id: Anonymous asks: are you gonna make a victor design tho biscuit responds: Oh, man, anon, I hate to disappoint but.....probably not. Aside from my non-humanoids and hellspwans (slime gremlins, corpse creatures, and etcetera), I’m extremely uninterested in drawing young thin men. I really need middle-aged chonk to hold my attention. If poor Victor Frankenstein had only been 40-something and round when he made his great creation, then he’d definitely get a design from yours truly. As it is though, he’s not holding my attention enough to want to. end id]

Biscuit once again talks about how he doesn’t want to draw ‘thin men’, because he is only interested in older ‘round’ people. He, is, once again, bringing to light his fetish for fat people.

2. Edward Hyde is basically a child - Edward Hyde is drawn in boy’s school clothes, is taken in and raised like a child after Jekyll’s death, and is constantly cooed over by the creator, even earning a nickname of ‘slime’ from them. In addition, he also has ‘family photos’ taken with Utterson, has his toenails kept, is the height of a child, and teeths. This, paired with the fact that he is in a toxic, abusive, relationship with a man in his middle ages is concerning and should not be romanticised.

[Photo id: the text reads: In his first year of existence, Hyde lost teeth and regrew them in a mildly similar fashion to a kid losing baby teeth - except it wasn’t all of his teeth (Just the canines and some random molars) and they weren’t replaced with a larger set, just with teeth exactly the same as the ones that had been lost. No one knows what was up with this. the teeth are still in Jekyll’s study in a little jar. end id]

a. Hyde is treated like a child after Jekyll’s death. Hyde teething is concerning because that’s something infants do. He also clings to utterson like a child. The idea that he gets taken in by Utterson, whisked away to an estate out in the country, despite both of them having romantic feelings for Jekyll is. how do I put this: WEIRD. (seriously, imagine your father/father-figure dating ur significant other / having a crush on them before you two got together and after).

b. Hyde dresses like a child, whilst being sexually active and wearing lingerie. Now, on their own, these traits aren’t a problem - but together? They are very much a problem.

- Hyde dressing as a child is concerning because he is also treated like a child at certain points in their “lore”. After Jekyll’s death, Hyde becomes a singular entity, and is taken away by Utterson. To care for, like a child. This post sums it up well: he wears both children’s clothes and lingerie.

- Hyde has a very strange appearance - if you compare it to his early design (which was less cartoony and looked more like a man in his twenties), Hyde’s current design is concerning. Why does he have the height of a child? Why does he have eyes that take up a grand part of his face? Now, one could argue that ‘he is not human’ - but if he is treated like a human, whilst wearing children’s/youthful clothes, teeths, and his general enchanment with the world - he appears as human (and looks eerily similar to a child), which is why him being sexually active, wearing lingerie, and being friendly with prostitutes (one that gave him underwear and other articles of clothing) is concerning.

- That said, Utterson is directly talked about being ‘adopted into gremlin fatherhood’ (paraphrasing).

[Photo id: the text reads: 59. Jekyll is irresitibly attracted to everything about Hyde, but if he could somehow be forced to list hte most attractive physical attributes of Edward Hyde in his opinion, aside from Hyde’s youthful appearance in general it would be his eyes, his overbite (Jekyll perceived the way Hyde’s-) the screenshot cuts of the rest of the paragraph. end id]

- Jekyll has a ‘thing’ for younger men. This is to the point that the most attractive part about Hyde is that he is young. (or looks like it), Hyde looking very young is concerning because that would make their verison of Doctor Jekyll a p*dophille . This is something the artist has either not recognized, realised, or simply does not acknowledge.

3. The toxic relationship (and how it’s romanticised) - The relationship in this ‘AU’ is: love comes first, toxic nature comes second. If you scroll through the blog you may see some reference of ‘Henry Jekyll is such a toxic person teehee’ and a lot of them kissing, being together, smiling, or enjoying life. Now, obviously, an artist - if they do not want to - should not draw characters being toxic to each other. But it is concerning when the above points come into a factor, that the toxic nature of their relationship comes second to the highs of their relationship, at least on their blog.

Here is one of the only examples I’ve seen of Biscuit talk about the relationship in a detailed negative light.

4. The fandom - Whilst Biscuit says it’s ok for minors to interact with his blog (in that blog he says that he tags nsfw - which is true.) he does not regularly mention that his jekyde is toxic - not in a concerete way. He romanticises it (despite acknowledging it’s flaws), and the only way it may or may not be (i would not know) acknowledged is his fic: which is mature and not meant for minors. He does not tag his posts with regular triggers for things like: alcohol, drugs, mental illnesses, or abuse (any variants). They’re not even in his blog’s description! If Biscuit had acknowledged it in his blog, something along the lines of: “Hey! This blog has <content warnings> be warned when interacting! But no, he does not.

- A lot of the people who draw things, or generally interact with Biscuit are minors. Being exposed to such a thing may be harmful to my peers, and I am worried. To minors who are fans of Biscuit: if you’ve made it this far, thank you, I know you’re mature and responsible, but being exposed to content creators like Biscuit could lead you down a dangerous path of having this kind of thing normalised to you. Be careful with the content you consume, please! And thank you for making it this far, I’m sure you’re a lovely person :)!

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Stay safe, tell the people you love that you love them.

#J&H #jekyll and hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #i spent months thinking whether or not to write this #but #i'm worried about fellow minors on this website seeing this user's blog #and not thinking critically about this #so i snapped and made this #long post #like r e a l l y long post #i am so tired.#brb to answer the hate lmao i need to throw up #forgive me if by the end of this post i sound exhausted : i am #i spent this evening writing this post #goth lit fandom grow up challenge #aus do not remove the context of the original #listen to the minorities if they call you out #fiction REALLY AFFECTS REALITY

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

A Night on the Town- Hisoka x Illumi (Hisoillu)

What’s up y’all? Per an anon request, here is a Hisoillu story. Hisoka and Illumi go to dinner at a fancy restaurant to talk about a business contract when a single phrase or word causes them to change the subject. This story will see how they stand on their relationship. Are they only meant to be “friends” or more than? “A night on the town” is a British phrase that simply means someone going to a club or hanging out all night long. Boujee is an abbreviation of the French "bourgeois." A critical term used to describe people, things, and places that are definitively high-class. I am going to try my best to keep this in character. They feel comfortable to joke around each other only. I use places like Earth, Mars, and the US because I assume Yorknew is another name for New York. Yes, I mentioned some Voltron elements too. I love crossovers! Enjoy! Feel free to inbox me. FYI, there’s nothing wrong with eating chicken fingers as an adult. I hate steak and haven’t eaten it in over 15 years. Onto the story!

Rain fell from the sky hard as ever. The sound of the raindrops hitting multiple surfaces sounded like quarters hitting metal. Thunder clapped what seemed like every 60 seconds followed by an alarming amount of lightning. The white and red LED lights lit up the sidewalk in front, casting heavenly shadows on just about everyone that made their way in. “La Lune” is a 5 star restaurant located in the heart of Yorknew City. Tons of celebrities have had dinner there! Madonna, Rihanna, Beyonce, and so many more had taken funny photos with the chef and his wife, creating a memorable moment for everyone involved. Many take the atmosphere of this restaurant as something romantic. The lights were dimmed and the tables were lit by candle light. It seemed like everyone was being serenaded by their lover, except for these two of course. Their occasion was something far from being romantic. Both gentlemen agreed to talk about a mission that would require both of their efforts because if one did not agree, the other would parish. This mission drove them mad. Hisoka lost a few days of sleep just thinking about it!

You see, one of the country’s best space explorers has been running rampant through the streets. These students attended the Galaxy Garrison, a space college and were launched into space. While trying to bring back samples from Kerberos, they were attacked by aliens (known as the Galra), kept in another dimension, and once they returned they began to inflict pain on Earthlings just like how the Galra did to them. These students must have been experimented on because they possessed power that no Nen user could defeat.

Both gentlemen walked to the hostess desk and waited for their attention. Hisoka’s hair was covering part of his eyes. Many people found him attractive; so attractive that people would nudge him on the arm and mimic a “call me” motion with their fingers. What was it about him that people would just swoon over? Illumi stood behind Hisoka with his hands in his pants pocket, impatiently waiting to be seated. You can’t discuss aliens and brats on an empty stomach.

“How may I help you?’” The hostess smiled big as she cupped her hands waiting for his response. Her teeth were pearly white, almost appearing to be fake. But one thing was off about this woman. She stared mighty hard at his face and continued to smile. She seemed robotic. A smile appeared on his face as well; he swore she was undressing him with her eyes.

“Reservation for Gittarackur~♠?” Hisoka nearly said Illumi’s name instead.

“Right this way.”

She led them through a series of staircases and made her way to the rooftop. This building wasn’t too tall, but it was high enough. The roof was decorated with red table umbrellas, glass tables, candles, and hanging LED lights.

This is a little too romantic, Illumi. What gives?

She handed them the menu and walked away. Illumi looked to his right and left to ensure no one was close enough to hear what he was going to say. But before he could say anything, Hisoka opened his mouth and began to make unnecessary comments that got under Illumi’s skin.

“You tend to pick the restaurants with a noticeable romantic atmosphere. Care to tell~♥.?”

Illumi pressed his lips together.

“I do not pay attention to the atmosphere. I pay attention to good ratings and decent prices.”

“Oh! So, you’re a cheap date~♠!”

“This isn’t a date, Hisoka. We are talking about a mission that if it gets out of control, the whole human race will cease to exist as we know it.”

A waitress came over, introduced herself, and offered them a bottle of wine.

Did you plan this, Illumi?

Of course they accepted! Rosé was Hisoka’s go-to. The wine mellowed him out, made him more relaxed and bearable. He placed his thin fingers and sharp nails around the wide-mouth glass and sipped his drink. He smiled as Illumi disclosed more details of the mission.

“What are you saying, Illumi? I’m afraid I do not understand~♠.”

“Listen carefully. These groups of young adults have been experimented on by the Galra. Since their return, they've been stealing, beating, and even killing innocent people. Their excuse for this is by saying that “those people were bad people” based on rumors they’ve heard. They’re a menace to society, not to mention extremely dangerous. For the first time in 22 years, I’m a little worried.”

The waitress came back to take their order. Hisoka had never tried a streak before, so that is what he ordered. Illumi, the picky eater on the other hand, ordered an adult size of chicken fingers and fries. Hisoka gave him the shittiest look of the century. He placed his large hand over his face as he humiliatingly closed his eyes. Illumi squinted trying to ignore Hisoka’s stupid reactions.

“What’s the matter?”

“You embarrass me, Illumi~♠.”

“How?! What did I do?”

“We’re at a nice, romantic restaurant and all you order is chicken fingers, fries, and ranch?! Ma’am could you give us a moment~♠?”

“Absolutely.” Poor girl. Why did she have to witness that?

“What’s your problem, Hisoka?”

“You could have at least ordered the steak, salad, or both! Look around you! You’re going to be the laughing stock of this town! Try strawberry vinaigrette~♠!”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Boujee! Chicken fingers are delicious and anyone can order them! Why would I order salad when I have lettuce at home?”

“Because it’s good for you~♠!”

“Salad doesn’t fill me up and neither does strawberry vinaigrette!”

They began to talk about the mission again. Illumi hid his fear behind his resting bitch face, but he didn’t know if he truly wanted to go through with this mission or not.

“I’m feeling cautious.”

“What for? I’m sure you can handle it~♣.”

“I can’t. I don't even think my grandfather can beat them.”

“Why so?” Hisoka drank from his glass again. Illumi did not disclose much info because he knew how Hisoka becomes when he’s tipsy. He begins to laugh and talk too much.

“They have an ability that can wipe out a Nen user within seconds.”

“Oh~♥?”

“Yes. They can disappear in the blink of an eye, they have this purple electricity shooting from their hands, and these specific men I see with gray masks that remind me of a plague doctor. They have no faces and they’re purple. Once that electricity hits you, it’s game over. They have the ability to determine if it's fatal or not.”

“Ouch. What’s the plan~♣?”

“Someone that I used to know will infiltrate the base that they’re hiding in. It will be difficult because they guard it but that is when my needles will come in handy.”

“But you didn’t have to cut me off…~♣” Hisoka sang.

“What? What was that, that you did just then?” Illumi was serious. This was no time to be joking around.

“What? I just finished what you started~♣.”

“What did I start?”

“You said ‘someone that I used to know’ and I responded ‘but you didn’t have to cut me off’. Don’t tell me you’re not aware of that song~♣.”

Hisoka smiled something softer than usual and laughed at Illumi’s clueless look. This was something he adored about him; the carelessness made him laugh so hard that he forgot about his troubles...if he had any.

“I understand why you brought me here to talk about stopping the Galra, but let’s enjoy this moment. Just you and I~♥.”

“Why? They are dangerous. They could be planning on destroying us as we speak.”

“You worry too much. Besides, everyone knows of your talent and even if they seem more powerful, I’m sure they’re keeping their distance from you.”

“I thought you’d be overjoyed at this opportunity. You can finally put those chrome cards to play.”

“Who said I wasn’t? I am but I’ve learned to hide my arousal rather well~♥.”

“You didn’t hide it well just a few seconds ago.”

“Touché’. But I was not talking about fighting then, I was talking about you~♥.”

“Hmm.” Illumi didn’t know what to say but one thing is for sure. Many, many feelings and thoughts clouded his mind and body but he didn’t know how to respond to them. He has known Hisoka for some time now and he knew of his ways; if he would just tell him how he felt, he might be surprised by his reaction. Hisoka has flirted and with him several times but for some reason he felt like if he responded he may not get a desired response.

Hisoka began to chuckle, more of a tipsy chuckle. He couldn’t hold back his laughter as he noticed how Illumi’s attitude began to change. Illumi immediately placed his wine glass on the table and squinted in confusion.

“What’s so funny, now?” He sounded a bit irritated but deep inside he was happy he asked.

“You’re blushing~♥.”

“What?”

Damn.

Was it that noticeable?

Sure was.

“I’m good! I never thought that I could make the oldest son of the Zoldyck family blush from my passes. That’s an achievement for me. So tell me Illu, do you dream about me too~♥?”

“Be quiet, would you?”

The magician couldn’t help but to release a hearty laugh so loud that people began to glance in their direction. Illumi frowned and crouched low towards the table.

“Stop it. People are staring.”

“What? I love it when people stare. That means I look good~♥.”

Hisoka continued to laugh. To add to Illumi’s social demise, he stood up from his chair, took a photo on his phone and captioned it: “Best date ever♦”.

“Don’t send that!”

“Oops. Sorry not sorry,” Hisoka gloated covering his mouth. “Guess you’ll have to catch me~♥.”

He continued to laugh but his laughter slowly began to come to a halt and wired down. Now he laid his head on the table, slightly drooling. Illumi decided that he had enough excitement for the night, so he threw three pins in his right leg, which was conveniently under the table. Hisoka had hinted earlier that he would be fine if Illumi ever made that decision. Following behind him for his entire life would be to die for. Illumi smiled as he looked at the man before him, finally silent.

“This might actually work,” he whispered to himself.

The moonlight casted a shadow on him as he admired the star on the sleeping magician’s face.

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kiarcheo · 3 years

Text

A Whole New World 2/10

Jane and Kat find out there is more to each other…and to the new world they have found themselves in.

Read on Ao3 too

AN: I have seen Anne’s date of birth ranging from 1501 to 1507, and Jane’s between 1504 and 1509. For the sake of this story I consider Anne born in 1501 and consequently dying at 35, and Jane being born in 1508 and dying at 28.

Kat came back at 18 and Jane at 22, Anna, Cathy and Anne in their late twenties, and Catalina in her early thirties.

——————————————–

It becomes a regular thing. Sometimes it’s a museum Kat has already visited, sometimes a new one on the list she keeps of places she wants to see. They often make a day of it, treating themselves to lunch (usually at Jane’s initiative, since Kat tends to forego eating in favour of whatever has caught her interest), exploring parts of the city unknown to them.

One evening, close to dusk, they are walking through an empty park when Kat stops. ‘Have you ever wanted to try them out?’

‘Try what?’ Jane follows the direction of Kat’s gaze. ‘That?’

‘They look like fun.’

‘They are for children.’

‘Who said that? Besides, there are no children around...’ Kat trails off, eyebrow raised waiting for a response.

‘You know what? Why not?’

Kat lets out a small squeal before grabbing Jane’s hand and dragging her towards the playground.

‘Remember when you said “who said that they are just for children”?’ Jane asks as they are sitting on the platform, feet dangling down, recovering their breath and cooling down.

‘You mean, like, half an hour ago?’

‘Smartass.’ Jane gives her a look, before pointing to a sign. ‘Children’s Play Area. Only children under the age of 12 may use this play area.’

‘Well, technically we haven’t been back for that long?’

Jane shakes her head amused. Kat is so cheeky and she would have never guessed before spending so much time with her.

‘So what was your favourite part?’ she asks after a bout of silence. That is another thing that changed. Before, silent moments were much more common and awkward, now their quiet spells are rarer and yet infinitely more comfortable.

‘You falling off those.’ Kat motions with her head towards the monkey bars, getting a glare in response. ‘What about yours?’

‘The slides, I’d say.’

‘Yeah, they are nice. But too short, don’t you think?’

‘I know, right? By the time you pick up speed, you’re already at the end,’ Jane agrees. ‘They should make them longer. Adult-sized.’

‘Wait!’ Kat whips out her phone. ‘Let me...’

And Jane lets her. She has learnt that Kat's curiosity is insatiable. If she stumbles upon something she doesn’t know or doesn’t understand…she has to look it up. So many times, when their fellow queens mention (usually complain, actually) that Kat is always glued to her phone, Jane has been tempted to tell them that most of the time she is learning something new...but if Kat had not told them – not even if she would probably spare herself their scolding – then it’s not her place to tell them.

‘They exist!’ Kat exclaims angling the screen towards Jane. ‘Look! They even have playgrounds for adults!’

They look together at the photos for a while before Kat taps on a Wikipedia link, her first port of call every time. ‘Amusement parks,’ she starts to read the entry aloud before being interrupted by a text notification popping up on the screen.

Kat groans as she reads it.

‘What?’

‘Curfew,’ Kat sighs. ‘Apparently it’s late and they are wondering why I’m not home yet.’ She knows it’s because they care but... ‘Did you get one too?’

Jane checks her phone. ‘No.’

Kat sighs again. ‘One dies young once and she is forever treated like a baby.’ She notices the look Jane is sending her. ‘Please don’t start.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘I can't make a joke that everyone freaks out thinking I’m depressed or having a breakdown or a flashback or something.’

Jane remembers clearly one of those occasions. They had been discussing nightmares and how everyone seemed to have them except Kat, who had commented that perhaps losing her head had meant losing everything that had been inside that too. She also remembers very clearly thinking that the reactions had been a bit disproportionate compared to Kat’s offhand tone and casual demeanour.

‘Sometimes a girl just wants to be self-deprecating. Or joke about her own death without being psychoanalysed and having people wanting to talk about your trauma.’

‘I get it. I said once that I had no time with Edward. I was just...stating a fact. I was not looking for pity or anything. But they tripped over themselves to reassure me that I was still his mother – which of course! – and that I’m still a mother now. And honestly. One has a child once and she is forever just a mother in everyone’s eyes. Don’t get me wrong. I wish I could have seen Edward grow up. Wish I could have been his mother. Properly. But I wasn’t. And out of all of us, I’m the one who had less time with children. Besides you, I was the youngest one to die. So I have no idea why everyone thinks of me as this motherly figure?’

Aware that she has been ranting, Jane chances a look at Kat, who has a peculiar expression on her face.

‘What?’ she asks, feeling self-conscious.

‘I’m just thinking how happy I am that you joined me that day at the museum.’

That had been the true start of their relationship, despite having lived together for many months prior to that.

‘You mean you're happy I caught you sneaking out?’

Jane knows what she means, though. They would have never thought, and even less found, they had so many things in common. Or that they could get along so well and have so much fun together.

‘I was not sneaking out.’

Jane merely looks at her.

‘I thought nobody was home. It was just out of habit.’

‘So all the other times you sneaked out.’

Kat doesn’t reply, knowing Jane is doing it just to annoy her. They had a similar talk the second time they went to a museum together, Jane asking why they were sort of hiding their trip. It was not that Kat thought they would stop her if they knew she was going out. But she just didn’t want to deal with their questions. About where she was going, why, why she was going alone, when she was coming back...Just easier to leave without them knowing and then simply tell them she had been out if they asked having noticed she had not been home. In their defence, they knew better than to pry and as long as she was home safely, they would let it go despite being curious.

‘I know you’re the one in charge of our museum days,’ Jane starts, ‘but I wanted to run an idea by you.’

‘Of course we can go to a museum of your choice. You don’t need to ask permission or whatever.’

‘Wait before agreeing.’

‘Is it the Tower?’ Kat winces with a grimace, trying to think of places still standing that Jane might be wary of asking her to visit.

Jane stops rummaging in her bag, her head shooting up. ‘What the fuck, Katherine??’

The younger girl is so lost in unpleasant memories that she doesn't even react to Jane’s swearing nor her full naming her. ‘Hampton Court?’

‘Why would I ever do something like that?’ Jane recoils. ‘God, no! The Clink.’

‘As-’

‘The prison! Not the-’

‘Brothels?’ Kat completes, eyebrow raised in amusement. Then she nods, almost to herself. The area had been known for two main things…the prison and for allowing usually forbidden activities.

‘Yes. I mean, they made a prison museum. You know I like true crime and–’

Yes. That had been a surprise. When Kat had asked if there was something she particularly enjoyed reading and learning about, like she loved history, that had definitely not been the answer she had expected. Jane must have known that, considering how much she hummed and hawed before caving after Kat had called bullshit – literally – on her non-committal answer.

‘–I think I’d like to– but I don’t want to, like, trigger you?’

‘What’s inside, exactly?’

Jane finally finds what she has been looking for in her bag and hands her a leaflet.

‘You know what?’ Kat takes a look at it. ‘We can go and you can...scout it out?’ She doesn’t see anything upsetting in the pictures, but there will be so much more in the museum that they can show in a single leaflet. ‘You can take a look before me and if you think there is something that might…disturb me, you tell me and I’ll skip that room?’

‘Really?’

‘I mean, you know I'm not too fussed about death and stuff like that as long as it’s not too bloody. Or neck-related.’

She is not too keen on watching documentaries with Jane, but she doesn’t mind listening to her talking about them. Or about whatever serial killer or unsolved crime she is currently reading about.

‘Thank you.’ Jane squeezes her arm, hoping Kat knows it’s not about agreeing to her request, but for her trust. ‘On an unrelated note...food?’

Jane’s constant preoccupation with food is another thing put down to her supposedly maternal instinct, a desire to make sure everyone is well-fed. The truth is…Jane loves eating. Being able to enjoy doing so without the ever-present worry of looking unladylike. Discovering new foods. She doesn’t eat a lot, but she needs to eat often, or she becomes…hangry, it’s what Kat called it. And it is only polite to ask if the others are feeling peckish too and want to join her. Moreover, she knows it’s one thing she can’t rely on Kat for, seeing as she is prone to skip meals if there is anything else she deems more important or interesting.

‘Do you think Catalina would consider this as traditional local food or...?’ Jane wonders aloud as she dips the churro in the plastic pot holding the chocolate sauce.

‘Possibly? Even if they were not invented by Spanish shepherds but brought by the Portuguese from China like some say, I think everyone agrees that by the 16th century they existed in Spain. And look, Romans had fried pastry, so, if not exactly that, something similar. And naturally cacao came to Europe after the Spanish invaded the Americas, so it arrived in Spain first, although if it was just after Cortés, Catalina would have been already in England…so she might have never tried churros with chocolate? Not sure when they started to combine the two, to be honest…’ Kat trails off. ‘What?’

‘Next person who says you’re stupid, I’ll deck them.’

Kat chuckles, bumping her hip into hers. ‘I appreciate the offer.’

‘It’s not an offer, it’s a promise.’

‘Ever thought about getting a car?’ Jane asks after they have been walking for a while.

‘Why? Tired? But not really. Honestly just the idea of getting into one and driving it myself is kind of terrifying.’

Jane nods. It sounds a bit like airplanes for her. It still boggles her mind that humans can fly. And she knows they are mostly safe and all, but it doesn’t mean she is keen on trying them out for herself.

‘I thought about getting a bicycle and learning how to ride,’ Kat continues.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Yeah, and where would I hide it?’

‘Why would you need to hide it?’ Jane is puzzled enough to ignore Kat’s tone verging on the sarcastic rhetorical question inflection that usually implies someone had just asked a very stupid question.

‘With the potential of me getting hurt? Straying away, getting lost, or whatever? I don’t know if you have noticed, but the others tend to be a bit overprotective.’

And a bit is a euphemism. Don’t get her wrong. It is nice to have people caring and worrying about her. But she spent a lifetime fending for herself. And yes, she had her struggles, and the end might have been inglorious, but Anne wound up the same way and yet nobody questions her…or her capabilities. And okay, that might have something to do with age, but nobody cared about that before, and she had been a bloody queen (and quite a successful one, if she says so herself, at least before her past caught up with her)! Still, she doesn’t want to think how worse it would be if she had come back younger than she had been at the time of her death like the others did.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Jane asks, realising she is miles away, lost in thoughts.

‘How weird it would be if we had come back the same age we died. Well, besides me, obviously.’ She hopes she’ll be there to see it in person, but she can’t really think about Catalina as a 50-years-old woman or Anna in her forties. ‘And about how there is a fine line between heart-warming care and overbearing concern.’

Because, back to the point, she might have been more or less successful, but she is used to rely just on herself and getting by, not to have four other women, Jane to a lesser extent, being overly concerned about her. For certain matters, at least. Because for other things they seem perfectly happy to…perhaps not ignore her, but surely leave her to her own devices, without trying to get her involved. And she is often more than content with it, she will admit that…except that often it also leads to remarks about how she spends all her time at home, always in front a screen, and perhaps she should go out more? And then instead of standing up all night on her phone, she would tire herself out and sleep?

‘So you don’t want to check this out?’

Kat had not even realised they were walking past a sporting goods store.

‘Look! You could easily hide that.’ Jane points out to a small, colourful, tricycle, clearly meant for children.

‘Ah ah. Very funny.’ Sarcasm is heavy in Kat’s voice, but she follows her in.

‘What about this?’

‘A unicycle? Really? Have you ever seen one of those around, in public?’

Jane takes a moment to think about it. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Exactly. Because they belong in the circus.’

‘One might say our house is a circus.’ They certainly have some chaotic days.

‘And you a clown.’

Jane gasps in mock offence. ‘I miss the days when you were afraid of me.’

‘I was never afraid of you. I was indifferent. And thought you were a stuck-up bore. Also, I know you don’t miss it.’

‘True,’ Jane admits easily. ‘Joking aside. We could put them in the shed?’

She had said once that she didn’t mind taking care of the garden and suddenly she had been left in charge of it, gardening apparently a passion of hers she didn’t even know she had. She supposes that it was deemed an appropriate hobby for boring old plain Jane (and yes, the fact that it is her actual name and not just a phrase in her case does not escape her), just like embroidery. She enjoys both of them, sure, but she is fairly confident the others think that’s all she does, no other interests – oh wait, there is cooking, or at least making sure that everyone is eating too! – which is something she tries not to dwell on too much because that’s frankly a bit (or a lot, depending on how she feels on the day) insulting.

‘We? Them?’ Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘But yes, we could store them there, but not really hide them if anyone happens to look inside. And certainly not two of them.’

Still, they continue to peruse the store.

‘What about these?’ Jane calls Kat’s attention, holding a pair of rollerblades up. ‘I’ve seen kids with them, can’t be that hard, can it?’ she continues once the girl comes over, looking interested.

‘Shoes on wheels? We’re so gonna die.’

Jane starts to put them back, slightly dejected, but Kat snatches them up. ‘Let’s do this.’

‘Yeah?’ She looks at her, tentative grin on her face.

Kat nods with gleeful smile. ‘Absolutely.’

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical #jane and kat #six fanfiction #fic: a whole new world #six fanfic #six the musical fanfic #mywork #six jane seymour #six katherine howard #six fic #six the musical fic #my ideas #six writing #my six posts #sixfic #my posts

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kittybellestark · 4 years

Text

This is kinda an endgame fix-it of sorts. Tony is alive.

After the snap Peter and May were poor.

They were lucky to get an apartment with two bedrooms. They really were. And it was still in queens which was nice. But they were starting from scratch.

The government was useless. Well, maybe not useless, they were doing they’re best with the missing people from five years ago suddenly return. They had to deal with all of the deaths caused by the return, as well as all the now displaced people. Undoing the death certificates, finding any missing people. The government was doing a lot.

But it didn’t feel like it. Those who were snapped out of existence didn’t have their savings anymore. Or their jobs. They were entitled to ‘financial compensation,’ but that could take years to get, and would probably end up costing more then they’d get.

So, May and Peter were currently poor. And while their apartment seemed nice enough, it was pretty run down. They were lucky that Pepper had lent them one of the Stark’s many homes in New York until they found a place for as long as she did. With Tony having been in a coma for as long as he had been, and is still dealing with recovery, it felt wrong to intrude in such a way.

They’re new apartment has already been broken into twice. And May and Peter were currently sharing a cellphone where they bought minutes as they needed. May was finding small jobs here and there that was enough to cover the bills. And Peter was chipping in where he could.

Then the ceiling in May’s bedroom started to collapse. And while typically this would be the part that Tony would swoop in and save the day, May and Peter currently had no way to reach of to him, and Tony was still deep into recovery, still not permitted to even stand on his own.

Peter and May started putting money aside where they could to get the ceiling fixed. It was April and school had been cancelled until at least September to deal with the influx of students. So Peter got a full time job as a bartender while he isn’t actually old enough to serve or drink his ID is technically doesn’t say he’s too young either. And May finally found a full time position working for a non-profit that pays well enough to help relocate people after the snap.

May’s mattress is brought over to Peter’s room, (because the living room is too small and doesn’t have a couch yet, only too foldable chair and a little table in between) and they become roommates.

After 3 months they still don’t have enough money to fix the ceiling and Peter is feeling antsy.

May likes to sleep with the lights off, and Peter doesn’t want to tell her that the dark makes him think about the battle, or space, or the time he crashed an airplane, or when he was trapped under a building.

May goes to bed early because she has to wake up early, which means that Peter doesn’t get to be alone very often.

Peter misses having privacy.

He misses getting changed in his bedroom.

And crying without worrying about waking up the person a few feet away.

He misses having a place solely his own.

Peter understands why this is happening. He gets it. He knows they’re poor right now. Peter knows that they can’t afford to fix the ceiling. And he feels guilty. And selfish for wanting a place of his own.

He feels so selfish when he looks down at the pizza him and May just ate -because they were both over tired and their stove broke- and sees it as a luxury. Sees the money that could have gone to giving him his room back. He feels selfish for putting money on their shared cellphone so that he can check the internet to see if Ned or MJ were also snapped. To see if the news knows about Tony’s recovery.

Peter feels guiltly and horrible for just wanting to be alone for longer than a shower. He just wants to be able to be alone.

When Happy spots Peter when he’s walking home from work at 3am, Peter feels guilty for taking the offer for the ride home. He’s wasting Happy’s money. He’s wasting Pepper’s and Tony’s money. He feels like a burden.

“How come you haven’t come round to visit boss yet? I thought you too were close.”

Happy doesn’t want to say that he misses the kid. Doesn’t want to tell Peter he’s concerned over the hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. He wants to see if Peter is okay, but without the kid feeling like he’s put on the spot.

“Don’t know where he is.” Peter responds simply with a shrug.

The way Peter slurs his words slightly along with the raggedy look of the kid are some massive red flags for Happy. Peter isn’t going off on some tangent about anything and it isn’t right.

“If you called I could have given you a ride.” Happy tries to sound nonchalant, looking at Peter in the rear view mirror, the kid doesn’t even perk up.

“Gotta have a phone for that, Happy. And your phone number.”

Happy pulls over to where the Parker’s used to live. Where things were good and happy and there was no snap. And there was no missing out on five years of life or sharing a bedroom, it was just another day.

“You guys still live here?” Happy asks, hoping for something to turn the conversation around, hoping for something, anything.

“No, but I can walk the rest of the way, it’s no big deal.”

“Not happening.”

Happy pulls back out onto the road taking Peter out of Queens to visit Tony and Pepper and Morgan. Hopefully that’ll cheer the kid up. Morgan is the cutest kid, so it’s impossible to be upset by her. And now that Tony is doing better it’s bound to have Peter rambling in no time.

“Happy, Happy, what are you doing? You need to pull over. C’mon man, not cool. I gotta work tomorrow. Let me out!” Peter tried the open the doors to no avail not thinking to unlock it.

“Peter I’m just taking you to the Lakehouse, just for a night.”

“I have to work tomorrow Happy, I can’t not go. Just let me out.”

Peter felt desperate, and selfish. Tears were in his eyes and he was seconds away from crying. He couldn’t miss work. Couldn’t miss out on the money that went towards his privacy. Towards having his room back.

As Happy turned to pull into the driveway for the Lakehouse it was turning to 4am and the kitchen light was on. Peter felt the tears escape and he couldn’t call May, or his job and they needed the money.

“Happy, please.” Peter tried again.

Happy and Peter both got out the car, Peter trudging behind, dreading the idea of intruding on someone else. He didn’t want to be there and he was sure he wasn’t wanted.

They both walked in, gathering the attention of Pepper, who was making food in her pajamas. Pepper looked up and smiled at Happy, not seeing Peter who has hidden himself behind Happy.

“Look at who I found wandering through the streets of Queens.” Happy pulled Peter out from behind himself to show off the boy to Pepper.

“Wandering through the streets? Peter, honey I know you’re enhanced but it’s not safe to be walking through Queens in the middle of the night.”

Pepper moved and gave Peter a hug, surprised at how skinny he way. He wore enough layers that it wasn’t that obvious in any place other than his face, but when she squeezed him. All there was, was bones.

Peter didn’t respond verbally, only a slight shrug, and that was so out of character for him it nearly had Pepper reeling.

“Let me make you some breakfast.” Pepper nodded to herself before moving back into the kitchen to make Peter some food too.

“I really shouldn’t be staying long.” Peter broke the silence finally when Pepper got him to sit with food infront of him.

“You just got here, honey, there’s no rush. We missed you.”

Peter doesn’t really believe her.

“I have to go to work. I can’t miss work.”

Pepper gives Peter a look. A look that he’s received multiple times from May, the look a parent gives when they’re trying to figure out if their child is lying. It’s the squinting eyes and the frown, with the one corner of the mouth turned up.

“I’m sure you can take the day off.” Pepper’s tone has an air of finality to it. “We’ll get May here tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve last seen you guys.”

Peter shrugged, feeling tired and defeated. Fighting Pepper is a battle Peter doesn’t ever want to take up. Sometimes you just need to accept your losses. This is one of those times.

“Can I use your phone to call in then? I’m supposed to work at noon.”

Peter held onto his head with both of his hands, already coming up with an excuse to why he can’t come in.

“Didn’t you just finish your shift? Why would you work at noon.” Happy snorted, clearly not believing Peter having a job.

“It’s called working a double. My shifts are 12pm-2am. Now could I please call in?”

“I’ll call for you honey, where do you work?”

Ah, shit. This wasn’t a turn that Peter was expecting. He didn’t think that he would have to tell Pepper where he’d work.

“Death & Company.”

“Excuse you?”

“I work at Death & Company. That speakeasy styled bar where we all wear bowties and suspenders. It’s pretty rich people stuff, I’m sure you heard of it Pepper.”

“Peter, impossible. You’re sixteen, they wouldn’t hire a minor.”

“Except the fact that my ID say’s I’m 21. I just happen to be the type of guy that they like to hire. Also the tips are really good.”

“You can’t work there. I won’t allow it. I’m sure May and Tony would agree with me.”

Peter groaned, dropping his head onto the table. He didn’t want to do this. He was tired and missed having privacy and he was doing something good. Sure, maybe he got the job for selfish reasons. And maybe he’d stay a little later most shifts and have a drink or two with his coworkers. It’s not like it’s illegal anymore. Might as well reap the benefits of being a legal adult while still 16.

“May actually knows where I work and is grateful that I’m helping out while not in school. Four months ago it would have been a problem, or I guess five years ago, but now we need the extra cash. Besides, you don’t own me, I’m not your child, I’m technically a legal adult and therefore can work at a bar. The last time either May or I have spoken to you was right after the snap, and the last time I talked to Tony was during the battle. You didn’t give us anyway to contact you, and the only reason I’m here is because Happy brought me here even though I asked to be dropped at home. You can’t just decide to show up in my life now and tell me what I can and can’t do. You haven’t been here and you don’t get to choose to be here for me now.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry that we’ve ignored you, but there’s been a lot going on, we’ve just got Tony back home and he’s able to do things again, and there’s Morgan and the company too. It’s been a lot.”

Peter felt tears in his eyes. He didn’t like doing this. He didn’t want to, but he might still be a little drunk. It’s been exhausting and he hasn’t gotten to talk about it with anyone, and now Pepper is here and it’s convenient.

“We’ve been threatened with homelessness multiple times, we’ve been robbed twice, our roof has caved in, we have one phone where we buy minutes when we need it, we don’t have hot water, our appliances barely work, May is working two jobs that don’t pay anywhere’s near as much as her old one and I’m working as well and sometimes we have to choose which utilities are more important to us. May had to talk a week off of work last month because she got the flu, knocked her down pretty good. I wanted her to go to the hospital because her fever hit 105 degrees, we couldn’t really afford it before everything either, but it would have been doable. Now she didn’t want to be brought to the hospital because it’d be cheaper for her to die and wouldn’t lead to me being homeless. We had our electricity and water shut down for a little while because of that.” Peter took in a big breath, trying to reign in his frustration, trying not to take it out on Pepper. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot these last few months, years even, but so have I. It isn’t your fault, but you’ve also not been there, so please don’t try to force yourself into a situation you will never understand. I need my job. May needs me to have my job. This isn’t about what you or Tony want, it isn’t about what you do and don’t like. It’s about what May and I need. And that happens to be me working at a bar for the unforeseeable future.”

The two sat in silence, and Happy backed his way out of the kitchen. It was clear that Pepper was processing Peter’s words. It was a lot. He couldn’t blame her for that. Or for her not being there. It happens. Life gets in the way.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Peter. I’ll call them for you. Just the one day, and then you can go back to work if you’d like. For now why don’t you go to bed sleep a little bit. Then you can see Tony and meet Morgan.”

‘Meet Morgan.’ Because Peter hasn’t done that yet. Because Peter hasn’t been important enough to meet her before. Or important enough to see Tony. Maybe Peter just isn’t important. He’s an intern. Just an intern. Always will be an intern.

“Sure, tha-that’s fine.”

“Okay, you can take the first bedroom on the left. On this floor.”

Peter nodded with a mumbled thanks, moving out of his spot and to guest bedroom. When he entered the room it was obvious it was made for visitors. There wasn’t anything personal in there. Queen size bed, white comforter, white pillows with a colourful quilt. A tall dresser and desk, an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet.

It was too much. Way too much. It’s probably a memory foam mattress. He doesn’t deserve this. He wanted privacy, not to abandon May in a time of need. Peter just wanted his room back, not to be sicced on Pepper or Tony when they’re also in a time of need. All he needed was his creaky twin size mattress on his nearly okay bed frame, in his dingy bedroom that totally didn’t have mold or mice. All he needed was to be able to go to his own bedroom at night and be alone, not in this knock-off hotel room.

May deserved it. Not him. May deserved better than him. Better than what she got.

“I need another drink.” Peter groaned, closing the door behind him and through the room. He opened the window, throwing himself and his bag outside.

The fresh air coming off the lake helped calm Peter’s nerves. The sun rose in colours of pink and orange and red. There were still stars in the sky and the moon too.

Peter found himself being drawn to the docks. He sat down at the edge, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. The bottle was still mostly full, so he took a swig hoping for it to solve any problems. Of course it didn’t. It never could, why would it start now? Just because Peter was seated on the Stark’s dock, using up valuable resources, money and space didn’t mean that anything would be solved. It just meant that the sinking feeling in his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

He should be at home. Dreading work, but grateful for the extra money. He should be in his shared bedroom with May. He should be doing more. May should be the one swept off her feet and given a day off. Why should he have anything good? Why should he be sitting here, privileged, when others are struggling much worse than he is.

He takes another swig.

It doesn’t burn anymore. Not like it used to.

“You know, Whiskey was the first drink I ever had. Mind you, I was six years old and told I needed to drink it to show how grown up I was. I’m sure there’s a different reason as to why you’re drinking.”

Tony’s voice shock’s Peter’s system. There’s electric currents and his vision whites out for a second, he nearly drops his bottle. Peter can’t stop himself to turn around, finding Tony standing there, keeping himself up with a cane, his right arm a prosthesis, and healing burns up his face. Tony has a sad smile on his face as he carefully maneuvers himself to sit down next to Peter.

“I know that look.” Peter says carefully. “It’s not your fault.”

“Peter, you’re drinking.” Tony huffs, pulling the bottle from Peter’s hand.

“Don’t put this on yourself. It’s not like I drink all the time. Only after my shift sometimes. I’m legal, technically, and it’s not hurting anyone. Controlled environment with other adults. The whiskey was a gift from the owners because I bring in the most customers.”

Peter laughed, it was a heartbroken, self-deprecating laugh. The tips of his ears were red, and Tony noticed how Peter’s eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. Tony was surprised to see that Peter was also skinnier, his cheekbones and jaw more prominent, his collarbone popping more and his spine visible through the sweater.

“So then why?” Tony asked, testing the waters a little bit.

This was the first conversation he was having with Peter after five years. Their first conversation and it isn’t one of happiness. Tony finally gets to talk to his kid and he’s scarred he’ll push Peter into closing off.

Peter considers his answer. “Well I’d rather be dead and I can’t do that to May because that’s selfish of me. And I don’t have any privacy and we can hardly pay any bills. I don’t even know if Ned or MJ were snapped or finishing college. It’s been five years and I don’t really fit anymore. I just feel so selfish for wanting my own bedroom.”

Tony felt like an asshole. Of course Peter would be struggling with adjusting to a new world. He should of reached out sooner, though Tony wasn’t very lucid these last few months, finally weened completely off the pain medication this week.

“Can I hug you, kid?”

Peter nods, sobbing once he’s held in Tony’s arms. Tony rubs Peter’s back hoping to bring any comfort to the kid. Being alive for the last five years has been hard, trying to mourn the loss of half the world, move on from what once was, and then try and reverse everything to bring back Peter.

“Ned and MJ were both snapped as well. It was one of the first things I checked when I made it back. And I don’t know how much it helps but I literally invented time travel to bring you back, not for the greater good, but because I’m a selfish man who wanted my kid back. I know that there is no excuse for why I’ve not been there since you came back but I’m here for you now and whenever you need me in the future. I’ll put my number and Pepper’s and Happy’s and Rhodey’s number into your phone so you can call any of us whenever you need.”

Carding his fingers through Peter’s hair helped soothe Tony and he hoped it would also soothe Peter. Having a crying boy in his arms made him more like a failure than he already thought himself to be.

“I don’t have my own phone. May and I share, and we hardly ever have enough minutes. I wouldn’t deserve it anyways.”

“No, no, Kid you deserve it so much more than anyone else, and you deserve everything good. You’ll have a phone by the end of the day, with so many minutes you wouldn’t know what to do with any of it. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you, but I need you to promise that you’ll only drink on special occasions or parties and not when your sad, or angry, or upset in anyway.”

Peter sobbed, his whole body shaking in Tony’s arms, he tries nodding, though the way that his body is shaking it made it hard to decipher, but Tony knew, he always knew.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be like normal. It didn’t really click that it’s been five years, but then it really was, and May and I don’t have anything and I went to space and died then came back to life and was thrown into a war. I can’t even sleep anymore, especially not in the dark. I don’t know why I thought things would be the same. Everyone moved on, the world moved on. There’s no room for me anymore.”

“Okay, okay, Underoo’s. It’s okay, I know it’s hard and what you’re feeling I’m sure a billion others are feeling too, and that doesn’t make you any less deserving of your feelings. We’re going to find a place for you in this new world. We’re going to help you the best we can. You’re my kid too, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you, but we’ll do this together, however you want to. You get to call the shots here. You have a room here for as long as you want it and forever after that, we’ll get you and May set up wherever needed. I love you, Pete.”

For the first time in a while Peter feels like things will be okay. He’s here with Tony and the world isn’t ending, and he has a room and someone who can tell him that it’s okay. He’s not happy, but he’ll get there.

#peter parker #irondad #spiderman #spiderson #tony stark #iron man #avengers #tony and peter #tony and pepper are full on supportive parents who love their son #pepper potts #pepper stark #post endgame #endgame fixit #depressed peter parker #tired tony stark #tired dad #suicidal peter parker #may parker

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niuniente · 4 years

Note

Can I as a 15 year old say that we dont find the general 30 something fandom goers problems and we definitely dont go around calling everyone a pedo. When it becomes an issue is when adults go into fandoms of media like say bnha where the main characters are 16 and create porn of those minors especially sense the fandom space is filled with kids that same age. Spop is perfectly fine to do what ever you want sense the youngest character(well that is skippable) by the end of the series is 20.

Hmmm I have sort of a double edged sword in my hand regarding what you say.

First, what are the fandom places for minors where adults shouldn’t exist? Tumblr? Twitter? AO3? Pillowforth? Intagram? Are adult banned from certain fandoms that have lots of minors there? This goes again to the old struggle whether adults should think about minors or whether minors should control their own fandom experiences. I think it’s both; adults tagging their stuff properly and marking their spaces as adult spaces, and minors making sure that they don’t venture out there where the markings exist, and also knowing that you CAN see things you don’t want to. You absolutely can. So blacklist words, block people, read warnings, do what you can to avoid seeing things you don’t want to. I have a separate nsfw accounts with warnings simply because I know I have minors following me so it’s the best that way.

Now, what it comes to adults making sexual art and fics of teenagers, I think there are two things. First, adults were teenagers do. We have lived through those years, struggles, worries, sexuality etc. you are going through. We KNOW teenagers have sex and are sexual beings in general. I’m worried if someone is picturing like 12-13yo and younger in fanart/fanfics being sexually active. That’s not OK in my books. But 15-17yo? That’s fine. Teenagers do have sex. That’s the second thing. I don’t think that adults are lusting after teenagers (though it’s OK to be careful with fandom people, not everyone is nice). I mean, at least when I do some erotic art or fics, I’m not like “OOOO SO HORNY I WANT TO DO THIS CHARACTER AAAAHH OOOH” but it’s more like “This character is a combination of many things and my view of their sexuality is one, and I want to explore the character and their behavior through that theme now”.

IRL pedophilia and child trafficking are absolutely horrendous things (I support groups rehabilitating victims of child prostitution irl), so please, I ask young ones not to throw around a word like pedophilia so easily in fandom places. I’m not saying that YOU ANON are doing this. This is a wish for everyone out there.

I have heard that there are some adult in Twitter which lure minors into seeing pedophilia content. Like they scream that there’s that happening here by this and that person, horrible, dm me if you want to see it! And then the minors dm them and get pedophilia posts in return and the minors are shocked because they didn’t expect to see anything like that. Absolutely vile shit! You just don’t do that! If you encounter this, immediately report to Twitter about it and block the person.

There are many reasons for drawing and writing sexual stuff. Perhaps adults weren’t allowed to express their sexuality when they were teenagers. Perhaps they did and they had bad experiences and they want to go through those things now for their own well-being. Perhaps they’re into darker themes. Perhaps they never fitted in the sexual norm and have come into terms just now with it. Of course, this said, rotten bastards do exist. If you get bad vibes from someone, avoid them. But know that what they produce as artists or authors don’t tell much about the person. I think the Western fandom is putting too much emphasis on “what you draw/write and ship, it tells all about you!!” where the Eastern fandom is just “You ship this? You draw/write this? OK. It doesn’t tell anything about you as a person except that you are a fan of this ship”. That’s my view, too. Always has been. I think it’s partly because I consume absolutely horrible stuff at the best but in real life, I’m the mellow introvert pacifist who just wants everyone to be happy as they are.

I’m personally very laid back and I was like this when I was a teenager what it comes to sexual themes in art drawn and written by adults. As long as it’s not pure pedophilia with literal children, I’ve always been OK with it. But you don’t have to be! Absolutely not! You just have to remember that you can curate only your own fandom experiences and make sure, as well as you can, that the things which upset you are and stay hidden by following proper tagging, guides and warnings, and also blocking and hiding things you don’t want to see. If someone isn’t tagging their work properly and setting warnings right, they’re an idiot.

All the teenagers out there: if you encounter something unpleasant which is clearly violating the TOS of the site, let the people running the platform know! It’s much better than campaigns against real people out there.

EDIT: I FORGOT! Please if you are minor and you see fanart or fics of characters of your age having sex, it doesn’t mean that YOU should be having sex, too! No, absolutely not! Don’t take any pressure over sex or sexuality. You are allowed to be who you are, from sex repulsed to sex positive, in any sexual orientation. There’s no hurry to start your sex life.

#really long post aaa #anon you keep making sure that you are OK and keep yourself save #not all adults are nice #neither they are evil either #fandom #Anonymous

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samanthaxreed · 3 years

Text

SOLO THREAD

Locale: Sam’s apartment / Oceanside Cemetery

Mentioned: @fireinhislungs, @gracetaylorwilliams, @jessexmarino, @naomixjones

Dinner with her father went off with only a few conversational lulls, far less awkward than anticipated and yet not completely fluid. Like two people rowing a canoe at different speeds, both attempting to turn it in the same direction without being fully in sync. It would come with time Sam supposed and as she began cleaning dishes, bright hues caught sight of her father throwing a cursory examination of the window latches before shifting attention to the folded sweater on her couch. “Are you holding that for somebody?”

It took everything in her not to snort. “Real subtle... It doesn’t belong to some secret lover if that’s what you’re getting at.”

His chagrin at being caught was palpable enough to soften Sam’s raised brow, almost lingering on the edge of amused before he continued. “I worry about you living in this place alone, Samantha. No roommate, no boyfriend, or... girlfriend?” The blonde visibly winced then, hands resuming the task at hand to avoid discussing something so personal with a person she truly didn’t know well at all. Her father, still a near stranger. “Look, take it from me that too much alone time drives you a little nuts and it’s probably safer in numbers around here.”

The audacity to gently lecture as if his brand of advice mattered in the grand scheme when he never deemed it necessary until now. A measured swallow and breath came before she pivoted features to address him in a way that wouldn’t entirely nuke their still rather tepid relationship. The pair lingered a hair away from disaster and the only indication she managed to give was a firm warning. “Dad, I know what you’re trying to say, but I can take care of myself. I’m doing just fine and you’re forgetting that I literally lived here at one point.” With him and her mother, ironically enough. Apparently Oceanside had been worth settling in during her formative years, but once she could choose for herself it no longer suited the narrative.

“You always did have your mother’s stubbornness.” That, at least, managed to ring true and she might have been able to ignore that comment with a scoff or quick humor picked up from his side, but her father always prodded the right button. “I’m trying to keep you safe, okay?” Definitely a hothead like her abrasive mother because the knife she’d been wiping down tightened within Sam’s slender grasp. Hell of a time to start giving a shit, but she digressed. “Because Oceanside isn’t how you remember it and ignoring that fact’s gonna get you hurt if you don’t pay attention... I understand if it brings you comfort being here, but it’s not the same.”

The sharp utensil she had been cleaning finally clattered against metal as it hit the base of her sink, dropped in frustration because it wasn’t his business. None of it. He surrendered that right when the ink dried on her custody papers; parental claim relinquished unequivocally. “I’m not blind. I can fucking see that it’s worse and I’m not walking around the city with rose colored glasses.” Quite the opposite, suffocating every blossom of nostalgia before it could spring out of the dirt... Or ash, depending upon how one looked at it. “The whole me getting poisoned thing shot that down right out of the gate, but I’m not just–– I’m not giving up on this and lots of people I care about live here.” She swallowed against the vulnerability, choking it down like a bad tequila shot. “Which means there’s something worth sticking around for, so if you’re trying to talk me out of it then go ahead and call up Fletcher. Let him tell you how well that worked out the last time somebody tried.”

“Take it easy,” he cautioned with infuriating ease against her rising temper. “I’m only trying to look out for your best interest. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” The chuckle she gave in response lacked both humor and warmth, practically bewildered at his entire savior complex... And bitter, so unfathomably jaded at this ill conceived timing. Too little, too late. “Yeah, well, you’ve been asleep on the job for twenty-eight years so it’s convenient that you woke up to do it now.”

That must have cut deep because her father maneuvered out of the kitchen doorway, hands raised defensively as if she were still holding the knife. It sort of felt like that, but her tongue became the barb instead. Stabbing repeatedly when he hardly deserved it, angered more at unseen and unresolved forces. “I know I wasn’t always as involved as I could have been, but I did raise you––”

“You didn’t raise me, you avoided me because it was easier to spend time at the casino than come home to the life you picked out. And before you start accusing me of favoritism, Mom didn’t do shit either. You want to talk about romanticizing the past? Take a look in the fucking mirror.” Fists clenched against her side were blanched white at the knuckles, three decades of resentment spilling out in verbal blows that Sam knew she couldn’t take back. Nor did she want to, not tonight. “The Williams raised me. And when they were gone, I raised myself and I did a damn good job at it.”

Some part of her would regret this moment later when his features came to mind, the shame and clear heartbreak written across them undeniable. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.” They had backed up fully into her living room, or perhaps she simply cornered her father with truthful criticisms when he’d only wanted to help. So much for repairing their relationship. “Yeah, well... I ruined your lives so I guess it’s only fitting that you ruined mine.” Arms crossed protectively over her middle, both avoiding one another’s gaze out of mutual hurt and then she heard the door unlock.

“I wish you hadn’t come back here, Samantha.”

While sounding bad on the surface, she knew full well it was meant as a last olive branch and proof that he loved her despite the vitriol, but Sam’s throat had tightened too far to respond. He slipped out into the evening air and despite how she wished to move, or scream, or burst into a thousand shards to match her internal schism, both feet remained firmly planted for several minutes.

Then she darted across to her purse, snatching it up along with the sweater draped along the back of her sofa. No phone, she didn’t need to talk anymore. At least no one listed in there.

–––––

One bottle of some cheap rosé from the grocery store later and she was back on the road, navigating some vaguely familiar route down the coast. GPS wound up becoming necessary at some point much to her embarrassment, but twelve years away wasn’t nothing and darkness made fools of everyone. Her car pulled into the cemetery parking lot and for a minute she simply sat with the engine idled, replaying pieces of their conversation in her mind. Not just with her father, but Fletcher, Grace, Jesse, Naomi... People who existed in her former life that now began slotting into this new, convoluted one.

The gate’s lock was either open already or rusted by the sea air, but it hardly mattered because Sam entered without much barrier. Weaving through headstones, she discovered that the path to her destination sprouted from memory which was altered by nighttime shadows and the fickle mistress of time. After getting turned around once, she eventually made it and settled into a small plot of grass, unscrewing the lid of her bottle and toasting in mock cheers to her company.

In Loving Memory of Brooke Williams

The sight alone was enough to tighten something imperceptible within her chest, washed away by the peachy drink and a half-hearted joke. “Sorry for sitting on you, but that should be nothing new. Kick me off if you hate it.” Talking to a ghost as if the long deceased girl were able to hear felt stupid on about three hundred levels, but Sam hadn’t been granted the privilege of catching up for so long. And after arguing with her parent, she just needed her best friend and other half.

“I think that maybe... everything in my life is temporary now,” she admitted to the silence. “And sometimes I can even convince myself that I’m okay with it. Never attaching myself to anybody or anything.” Mostly through her own design, sabotaging any concept of permanence before it, too, could be ripped away without warning. A self preservation measure concocted when she was far too young; no kid should delve so far into their own fear that they only knew how to run. “Except here. I feel like I keep circling back to this place and these people... And you. Always you.” For someone who only an hour previous claimed to raise herself, she truly did an immaculate job at creating an adult who wound up successful, capable, and so unbearably alone.

Maybe she should have called Fletcher instead, the thought interjected itself and became quickly dismissed. Hadn’t enough trouble been thrust upon his shoulders? And Grace’s? Stripped of their entire family in the course of a single night, tossed into a system which spat them back out, and molded to fit a world that clearly didn’t give a shit. The last thing either one needed was a reminder walking back through their door, but she had with such unfathomable selfishness. Perhaps guilt brewed in the pit of her stomach over how she treated her father tonight or that continuous fear of making the wrong move, but uncertainty brought the rim to parted lips once more.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, B.” It was easier to draw honesty from her bones out here, less like pulling water from a stone with only a bottle and the faint ocean breeze answering back. Rather than eerie or unsettling, the dim light provided a quiet comfort of remaining unseen in the midst of such raw admittance. “I don’t think I belong in this city like I used to, but I’m scared––” There was that thickness in the far reaches of her throat again. “I’m afraid that if I don’t belong in Oceanside then I don’t really belong anywhere. So what the hell do I do?”

She had belonged once, in a flickering memory of happiness that remained pure despite life’s valiant attempts to extinguish it. Friendship bracelets with her name misspelled on accident. Brooke telling Fletcher he could only join their pillow fort if he killed the spider inside. Grace’s laughter from beneath the hood of an old car as she threw a grease laden rag at Mr. Williams. They were supposed to grow old together, buy houses on the same street, live out impossibly normal lives. So beautifully mundane in their cookie cutter regularity. Even after the worst overtook them, she had been naïve enough to believe in some echo of that future; a broken shell, but enough to keep her head above water.

In that alternate time, Grace taught her to drive manual and took Sam to get her license, the pair bonding in a way that she only dreamed of as a child who idolized the eldest Williams beyond words. She would have thanked the brunette for being the only stable adult in her life and the only one worth counting on. In that alternate timeline, she got Fletcher trashed on his twenty-first birthday and sat on the bathroom floor with him all night in apology. She would have told him the truth at some point, even if he didn’t reciprocate. So many what if’s that were robbed before they even began and now she grasped at smoke, unable to hold it between desperate fingers. Why couldn’t she just let things go like a well adjusted person? Why did she leave claw marks etched into every memory?

More wine, but this time it tasted distinctly of saltwater as the wind brushed over damp cheeks.

#this is too many words #tw death #tw alcohol #tw murder #tw neglect #( x. self para )

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marybeatriceofmodena · 5 years

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Ben Solo’s Story Arc - An Autopsy

This will be the second post before I publish the full TROS review, mainly because it’s yet another thing I want to get out of the way first. After which, I’ll be posting an announcement about the future of this blog, but no worries – I’ll be sticking around.

After Rey and her parentage, I’ll be talking about Ben here specifically – mainly because I have a pretty big inkling that his plotline for TROS was mutilated, and that he initially actually had an arc.

Except, somewhere in the executive meddling, for reasons I myself am not sure of (okay, I got some theories but it’s pointless to share them here), it got cut.

The Rise of Kylo Ren might be an inkling that there was something more in the works, also that when it comes to its take on Snoke, it directly contradicts things TROS sets up. The simplest explanation is that the Lucasfilm Story Group had a hand in TRoKR, and not for TROS. But even then… the comic reveals things that make me BAFFLED they didn’t put that in the films. I don’t want to be that person who thinks 30 minutes of TLJ should have been dedicated to Snoke’s origins, but stuff like how Ben didn’t even destroy Luke’s Jedi Camp? THAT’S the kind of thing you need to include in your film.

Also, I 110% believe the rumors that JJ Abrams just ignored the Story Group’s existence entirely. Wanna know why? Just the fact that Exogol is established as the Sith world… when we know thanks to The Clone Wars that it’s Moraband – which would have been super easy to use. But fuck continuity I guess.

I will say though, I am NOT surprised it’s leaking out that the movie was severely tempered with and was constantly changing during production, simply because from my first (and only) viewing… I could tell something was wrong. Namely, I could tell that Ben’s arc had been mutilated – and the more I think about it, the more glaring it gets. It’s not even that I’m mad that Adam Driver (aka Golden Globe/Academy Award nominee Adam Driver) gets relegated to playing Darth Exposition for 75% of the film (and godawful exposition at that), it’s literally that so much of what remains of his arc makes no sense, and it affects Palpatine and Rey by extension.

I explained why Rey’s character arc was butchered here, and I’ve also talked about how Palpatine’s implication in her arc didn’t work either, so I won’t talk about it too much here, nor do you need to have read it prior in order to understand this post. I will also point out that a lot of what will be my speculation – so for all I know, I could be wrong, but I’m trying to fill in the holes here.

So, for starters… somehow, Ben knows that Palpatine is still alive. Somehow, he knows how to get to him. AND SOMEHOW, THE WRITERS DECIDED NOT EXPLAINING SHIT WAS THE WAY TO GO. This is not even on the level of not explaining who the fuck Snoke is in the two previous films – while I do think there could have been a throwaway line in TLJ, it didn’t “hinder” the story.

HOWEVER, not explaining how Palpatine is still around and kicking (well, he’s on life support so kicking might be a little too flattering), why he decided to reveal himself right there, right then, and how the hell Ben knows he’s around, how he figured out how to get to Exogol using the holocrons… THAT IS A BIG PROBLEM. This is the triggering element of the rising action in your story. But before you do that, YOU. NEED. EXPOSITION. TO. SET. UP. THE. CONTEXT. OF. YOUR. STORY.

What TROS did would be like skipping Finn’s intro when he’s with his Stormtrooper squad on Jakku, removing the interrogation with Poe and Kylo entirely, and just start TFA with him escaping with Poe without any explanation given. Oh, and also cut out Rey’s introduction as well, and we first meet her when she kicks Finn’s ass in Niima Outpost. You’d just have a bunch of characters coming out of nowhere, and you’d have no frigging clue what they’re doing, and what they want. And that’s what TROS does with Ben and Palpatine.

Take the handling of Snoke, for instance. I’d be a lot more mad about the Snoke retconning if it wasn’t for… what I’m going to call the “Snoke Stew” (and I’d crack a joke about how it was probably made with the DNA of a guy called Stu, which is not funny but still funnier than most of the jokes in TROS). That’s pretty much the one thing that stops me from being mad, because of how STUPID it is.

But the explanation for Snoke’s origins just… retcons so much that has been established before, INCLUDING INFO FROM A COMIC THAT CAME OUT AFTER TROS. We knew Snoke had a past, even if we weren’t privy to it yet. We did kind of know that he was a rich guy, like all the shitty rich people we saw in Canto Bight, who happened to be a Dark Sider and was seemingly smart enough to kill his way to the top. Considering how exploitative the First Order is when it comes to resources and that a rich patron would be welcomed with open arms, it makes sense.

With the explanation given by TROS, it just provides a fuck ton of plotholes to the fact he took over the First Order while killing off old Imperial higher-ups to establish himself as Supreme Leader. Do you really think a guy in a golden bathrobe would just be able to take over out of fucking nowhere because he killed all the higher-ups? No. And even if some of the higher-ups knew that Snoke was a Palps plant (like Pryde seems to), I doubt Ben would have stayed Supreme Leader for as long as a year.

But that’s not even the biggest problem! Seriously, I don’t know if Palps is senile in this film, because we got an ENTIRE trilogy explaining how the guy is one of the worst evil masterminds to have ever lived, in the Galaxy Far Far Away and even in today’s culture. Here, you don’t even understand what the fuck he even wants! I’m “guessing” he fucked with Ben to get his revenge on Anakin, because he uses Ben as his lackey while being seemingly totally oblivious that Ben is working against him (what happened to “every voice in your head”???). He wants Ben to kill Rey… while knowing Rey is his granddaughter, and while telling her when she shows up that he wants to use her as a new host or some shit. Seriously, MAKE UP YOUR MIND ALREADY.

This said… I honestly wonder if Ben was initially meant to be the new host, and not Rey. Because not only that was an actual theory I had pre-TROS, but it would make a shit ton more sense than having Rey be the host – not to mention it’d be the ultimate revenge against Anakin (and if you want to get REAL yucky, he may have planned to have Rey be his new consort, but I’ll spare you more speculation about that aspect). But nah, I guess.

The most damning thing in all this is that there’s no difference in Ben’s overall behavior and actions AFTER Snoke has been killed, when it’s clear Snoke was the biggest influence on him. Saying that Palpatine just kept messing with him makes no sense because with Snoke dead, any voice Ben would still hear would make him go “NOPE” and do exactly the opposite of what said voice tells him to do.

Like, for real, with Snoke dead, unless he’s REALLY stupid (I mean… Ben is reckless, but not stupid), why would Ben do anything a now Random Voice would tell him to do?

The thing is, there have been hints in previous material that Ben isn’t exactly 110% on board with what the First Order does. He’s clearly against blowing up planets, he snarks about how Stormtroopers should be clones instead – which could just be a throwaway snarky line, but considering Ben’s past… I can see him not being too fuzzy about the Stormtrooper program. Like, I’m not saying he’d start a Galactic Free Donut Day, but there would be a change. It wouldn’t be Business as Usual – especially that Ben wasn’t that young (23) when he joined Snoke, and it’s a little hard to go from “My uncle tried to kill me in my sleep and I’m going towards the one figure I think can protect me” to “Blowing up planets and enslaving people is the way to go”. It would have worked if Ben had been brainwashed from his teens, but not so much as an adult – hence you need a little more nuance with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.

Oh yeah, and the Knights of Ren? They’re just there to look cool. “But they kidnapped Chewie!” Yeah, what was the fucking point of them kidnapping Chewie apart from giving a reason for the Beautiful Friendship Gang to get on the Star Destroyer and give us fake suspense because we all know how it’s gonna end, just end my suffering already. Also, NO INTERRACTION WITH BEN? DID YA FORGET CHEWIE IS LIKE, HIS UNCLE? DID YALL FORGET BEN WAS PART OF YOUR FAMILY OR…

Seriously, that sequence on Pasaana where they’re just standing there on top of a fucking mountain? I called that part the Backdesert Boys. That tells ya how much I hated it.

Oh yeah, and they’re fighting fodder for Benny Boy in the end, because of course they were Palps’ lackeys all along, can’t think of anything else that’s more imaginative.

So what could they possibly add to Ben’s arc, that would explain so much, like how Ben finds Palpatine, or how he’s always one step ahead from the Beautiful Friendship Gang in their Wild Goose Chase no one fucking cares about?

This is where I got into speculation/conspiracy theory territory. Brace yourselves.

So, the film has Lando reveal that he and Luke “knew” about Palps being around thanks to snooping around… except that makes no bloody sense. Lando was never involved in a Force plot of any kind, and he was never that close to Luke anyway. I mean, Lando’s a nice guy and all, but he’s not really besties with Luke – he’s Han’s friend.

So that research should have taken place either before Ben joined Luke at Jedi Camp, either after. Then again, before would make no sense, because why would Luke leave that critical of a search on the ice for 10 to 15 years? The only place where I can place it in time, where it would make logical sense… would be when Ben was around, and it’d make WAY more sense to have him be Luke’s sidekick in that search.

It would have totally explained why Luke freaked the fuck out reading Ben’s mind, because only Palpatine can give her that severe of a PTSD-like reaction. It would have totally explained why Ben would run to Snoke, grooming and desperation set aside, under the promise that they’d associate to defeat Palps, because if you ignore the plot hole extravaganza of TROS, you’d bet Snoke wouldn’t want Palps anywhere near his throne – mainly because Snoke is a wannabe Palpatine who targeted Ben to get his own Vader. It would have totally explained why Ben thought becoming Supreme Leader is a good idea – even if it’s morally wrong, it makes logical sense. It would have totally explained why Kylo was collecting Sith artefacts in the year gap while keeping in mind he made his distaste for the Sith clear in TLJ. It would have totally provided the audience (and Rey) a good reason to forgive Ben, because even if he had godawful methods, he wanted to do the right thing and save the galaxy from the person who came this close to destroying them, as well as his family. That would have provided for him the means to realize that he cannot defeat Palpatine using Palpatine’s means – as Rose said, he’ll win by saving what he loves, and not destroying what he hates. That would have made Rey the glitch in the matrix, who must join forces with Ben because without her, he would have been doomed despite his best efforts.

And before you tell me that would have been unnecessary… let me put it to you this way. Ben keeps saying it's too late, and if it was just that, it could be interpreted as him thinking he went too far to come back. But he also adds that he has "something to do", and I'm here waving my arms like "WHAT? WHY? FUCK, YOU DIDN'T EVEN KILL YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS!!! THEY'RE NOT EVEN BOTHERED TO SAY THAT IN THE ACTUAL FILM!!!"

Hence why my theory is the simplest way to just tie it all neatly together, without retconning anything. There.

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SUPER SIMPLE TO DO. Except that, as I mentioned earlier, they mutilated Ben’s arc, and left him to play the part of Darth Exposition, until the very end, when they have Ben save what he loves… but even then, I can’t even appreciate that either, because it happens in a way that makes EVERYONE look horrible, while Ben is, from a storytelling perspective, a saint… a saint everyone ultimately forgot about.

#star wars #tros spoilers #the rise of skywalker spoilers #rants and reviews #anti tros #tros negativity #kylo ren #ben solo #reylo #my meta #reylo meta #ben solo meta #kylo ren meta

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ibijau · 4 years

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Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Wangji gives friendship another try, and Lan Xichen has a pretty shitty day

warning for infidelity :D part of this chapter had been posted wayyyyy back (in fact, it was the very first thing I posted for this AU!) but it’s been touched up a lot

It is rare, this year, to find Nie Huaisang alone. So when Lan Wangji, one afternoon, sees the other boy walking alone in a garden with a stack of papers under his arm, he takes his chance and greets him.

"Lan gongzi! I was thinking you'd taken a dislike to me," Nie Huaisang replies with a half smile. "May I help you with something?"

A certain guilt makes its way in Lan Wangji's chest. He hasn't meant to avoid Nie Huaisang. If anything, he has wanted to check on the other boy for those past three months, at once still worried about his break down at the end of the previous year and quite stunned by the changes since his return. And he knows, of course, that Nie Huaisang would not have been opposed to a conversation, since the other boy often smiles at him when their eyes meet.

Lan Wangji would have been happy to pursue the budding friendship they started last year, but Nie Huaisang’s entourage made it difficult. It is good that Nie Huaisang is not so alone this year, but did he really need to be friends with Wei Wuxian, who is the most irritating, and annoying, and clever, and gorgeous, and disrespectful person Lan Wangji has ever met?

"I was wondering if Nie gongzi would like to have tea."

"Really? I'd love that!" Nie Huaisang exclaims with a large smile that quickly dims a little. "Ah, sorry, that was probably too loud. I've gotten bad habits with the others, but don't worry Lan gongzi, I can still be quiet as well. When would you like to do that?"

At the moment, Wei Wuxian is being punished for fighting with Jin Zixuan, while Jiang Wanyin is dutifully waiting for his father's arrival. Lan Wangji cannot be certain he'll get such a chance again. If he allows for this moment to pass, maybe when Nie Huaisang comes to have tea with him, Wei Wuxian will try to tag along. It would be absolutely awful. Lan Wangji doesn't want to have Wei Wuxian in his house, ever.

"If Nie gongzi is free now, I am as well."

The older boy considers that for a moment.

"I had plans for later, but nothing too important. It’s fine if I miss out on that or if I’m late, especially if it’s to have some time with Lan gongzi. Let me just go drop those in my cabin," Nie Huaisang requests, patting his pile of papers.

"Homework?"

Nie Huaisang grimaces at the very idea.

"No, I have been painting a bit. I'll just drop them and…"

"I would like to see them," Lan Wangji cuts him. "Bring them."

"Really ? Well, if Lan gongzi insists…"

Lan Wangji nods, and Nie Huaisang easily gives in. With this matter settled, the two of them head toward the house Lan Wangji shares with his brother and uncle. When they reach the door, Nie Huaisang hesitates, his easy smile faltering a bit.

"Is your brother likely to be there?"

"Brother is helping Uncle deal with sect business, since Uncle is expecting visitors. Neither of them are likely to come."

Nie Huaisang instantly relaxes at the news, which isn't a surprise. Lan Xichen has been complaining a great deal about the time he is forced to spend with Nie Huaisang, and how unpleasant it always is. Lan Wangji imagines the feeling is shared. It seems odd to him, because both his brother and Nie Huaisang are fine people with personalities mild enough that they’re easy to get along with. Still, if they’ve decided they can’t bear each other’s presence, it’s their problem, and he’s not getting involved in that.

That's why rather than to stay in the main room, as would probably be more proper, Lan Wangji prepares tea and then takes the other boy to his bedroom. That way, if Lan Xichen comes home, Nie Huaisang is less likely to have to deal with him. It also means that Nie Huaisang gets to see the painting he gifted Lan Wangji hanging on the wall.

He looks absolutely stunned to see it there.

"So you really displayed it?" he mumbles. "I thought your brother was poking fun at me because it's such a bad painting. I should have known better, it’s not like he has a sense of humour. Still, to put something so bad on the wall like this..."

"I like it," Lan Wangji protests. "Brother too likes it."

Nie Huaisang snorts and crosses his arms on his chest, tilting his head to glare at his painting.

"I doubt that. He hates everything about me."

"Brother likes how you paint," Lan Wangji objects, inviting Nie Huaisang to sit at his desk, the only table available.

Nie Huaisang sits down. He accepts the cup of tea offered to him and glances at it, but quickly puts it down on the table, lips pinched.

"Nie gongzi doesn't like this tea?"

"I don't like any Lan tea, I think. You people always make it too light, it's just warm water.” Nie Huaisang presses a hand against his mouth. “Ah, sorry, that's rude! I'm so sorry, I'll make an effort to be more like before."

"Like before?"

Nie Huaisang nods and drinks some tea with a forced smile.

"You like me quiet, right?" he asks. "I haven't had to be quiet in a while. I miss it a bit, actually. I like having friends, but it's so much effort sometimes, and it gets hard to keep up with people like Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong. Thanks for the chance to… Ah, I probably speak too much as well?"

"You speak less than Wei Wuxian, so it is fine,” Lan Wangji replies, unwilling to admit that he minds chatter a little less these days. After that month of overlooking Wei Wuxian’s punishment, he’s had to get used to it.

"Well, that's not hard,” Nie Huisang chuckles. “He even talks in his sleep sometimes."

Against his better judgement, Lan Wangji finds that detail endearing. He adds it to the list of little things he keeps learning about Wei Wuxian, although he would rather die than confess such a list exists.

"It is fine that Nie gongzi speaks more now," Lan Wangji states. "Nie gongzi said last year he was one to follow demands and not make them, I'm glad this is changing."

"Oh, right, I never thanked you for that!” Nie Huaisang gasps, before breaking into a large smile. “But after what you said, I spoke with my brother when I went home, and he agreed to let me try different things. Lan gongzi, I'm very grateful for the kindness you showed me that day, and for your good advice. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Lan Wangji nods in acknowledgement.

In all honesty, and remembering the state Nie Huaisang was in after being told he failed his exams, Lan Wangji has some idea what the older boy might have done if not given some comfort and encouragement. Most of what he said was spoken out of fear that his brother might turn into a widower before even getting the chance to marry, and Lan Wangji was half certain that it was mostly nonsense but… if it helped Nie Huaisang, he’s glad.

“Since Nie gongzi no longer has to hide, will he show me his work?” Lan Wangji asks, glancing at the small pile of papers the other boy dropped on the floor.

“Only if you show me yours. Lan gongzi paints as well, right?”

Lan Wangji nods. He does, but only because it is what a young man of good birth must do. He doesn’t find in this the pleasure his brother and Nie Huaisang seem to take in it. Still, it is not unpleasant to have someone other than his brother appear excited about the prospect of seeing his work.

The day has been unpleasant so far for Lan Xichen, and he does not particularly expect it to improve. His uncle is in a terrible mood and making it felt around, all because of this business with Wei Wuxian, which is…

If Lan Xichen could allow himself to be honest, he’d say the entire matter is ridiculous. Wei Wuxian isn’t an easy student, but he’s far from being the worst they’ve had either. As for this argument with Jin Zixuan, the fault is divided between the two of them, so it’s unfair that one gets punished more harshly. Certainly Wei Wuxian has misbehaved here and there, but he’s clever, and if Lan Qiren had just found the right way to get through to him, things would have gone better.

Except his uncle isn't one to question his methods, and so Wei Wuxian must carry the blame alone. Much like last year when Nie Huaisang had to shoulder his failure alone, when surely, after how much effort the other Nie boys confirmed he put into studying, such bad results should have made any teacher question themselves.

It is an unpleasant day, and Lan Xichen feels so rebellious that he asked to be excused when sect leader Jiang and sect leader Jin arrived, for fear he might say something he shouldn't.

Leaving the adults to their gossips and complaining also means he is free to go inform his brother that Wei Wuxian will be leaving. This, too, Lan Xichen blames on his rebellious mood. He knows his uncle doesn't want Lan Wangji to have anything to do with Wei Wuxian, now that it is clear his upstanding nephew cannot influence the other boy and might instead be lead astray. Too bad for Lan Qiren. If there's finally someone who insistently wants to be Lan Wangji's friend, Lan Xichen wants to encourage that.

And so as soon as his uncle allows him to leave his side, Lan Xichen heads straight for home. At this hour, his brother is likely to be there, either meditating or practicing the guqin.

When he enters the house, the faint aroma of tea in the air confirms that Lan Wangji must be there. The main room is empty, so he must be in his bedroom, most likely meditating. Lan Xichen is sorry to disturb him, but hopefully Lan Wangji will be grateful to be given a chance to rush and say a few last words to Wei Wuxian.

As Lan Xichen walks toward his brother's room though, he is struck to hear voices coming from that direction. His brother is not one for guests and there is hardly anyone Lan Wangji is close enough to bring into not simply his house, but his bedroom.

This mystery is quickly lifted when Lan Xichen reaches the door to his brother's room and finds him sitting at his desk, Nie Huaisang at his side. The two younger boys have spread a large quantity of papers on the table before them, paintings by the looks of it, and are so busy chatting about them that they haven't noticed Lan Xichen.

It is so odd to see Nie Huaisang this relaxed. When Lan Xichen sees him in the distance with his friends, he is always jumping around, laughing and smiling and nearly as loud as Wei Wuxian. And of course during their weekly meetings, Nie Huaisang is sullen and closed off. Lan Xichen might be tempted to think that this is closer to how Nie Huaisang was last year, but even that would be inexact. Nie Huaisang never used to smile this much, and he always carried himself as if he were scared to take too much space. Nothing like this Nie Huaisang who is calm but clearly happy, and doesn't hesitate to reach across the table to take a painting.

"Oh this one is so good!"

Lan Wangji glances at the painting in question.

"Hm. It is brother's. He gave it to me to copy."

Nie Huaisang blushes slightly at the blunder. Lan Xichen expects him to drop the painting or make some disparaging comment, but instead the other boy inspects it carefully.

"Well, it figures,” Nie Huaisang sighs wistfully. “Your brother is a painter beyond compare… I could never even hope to paint with such controlled lines. Everything is just perfect, exactly as it should be… it must be amazing to be this good. I hope to be half as skilled someday."

Lan Xichen’s heart races at the unexpected compliment. Considering how Nie Huaisang speaks to him when he is present, he would have expected him to say much worse things about him in his absence. Even if he didn’t want to offend Lan Wangji by insulting his brother, it would have been easy to say something more neutral, or nothing at all.

“Huaisang could ask brother to teach him,” Lan Wangji suggests.

“No,” Nie Huaisang huffs with a bitter chuckle. “Your brother has made it very clear to me that he thinks I should give up on painting to focus on studying. He’d never do anything to encourage me on that path. And even without that, he hates me too much to ever want to spend more time with me.”

It stings that Nie Huaisang would believe that, when Lan Xichen has repeatedly asked to see his paintings, only to be denied each time. It stings also that Lan Wangji just nods along and drops the matter, grabbing instead a different painting to inspect it.

"This one is nice."

"You think?” Nie Huaisang pouts. “It could be better. I really like that view, but I can never do it justice."

"It is nice," Lan Wangji insists. "I like it."

"Really? You can have it if you want. Or… or if you'd like, I could paint something especially for you. As a thank you for your help."

"There is no need."

"There is much need,” Nie Huaisang grumbles. “You don't realise how much it changed for me. Ah! I know what to give you!” he exclaims, his smile turning devious. “I painted a portrait of Wei Wuxian a little while ago, do you want it?"

At this most cruel attack, Lan Wangji looks away. In doing so, his eyes fall on the door of his room, only to find Lan Xichen standing there. Lan Wangji appears a little uncomfortable at this intrusion, but nods at him to acknowledge his presence. This, of course, attracts Nie Huaisang’s attention.

The change is immediate. A moment ago, Nie Huaisang was relaxed and smiling easily, but as soon as he spots Lan Xichen he tenses and hurriedly grabs the paintings laid on the desk so he can hide them.

"I guess it’s getting late," he says stiffly. "I have other appointments today. I will go now."

"You don't need to," Lan Xichen sighs. "I was just here to tell my brother that..."

"Don't worry, I'm already gone," Nie Huaisang insists, dashing past Lan Xichen with a mess of papers held against his chest. "I know where the door is."

Before either brother can stop him, Nie Huaisang is already gone. Lan Xichen isn't exactly surprised that things turned out like this, but he feels somewhat guilty for interrupting this conversation when the other two seemed to be having fun. Indeed, Lan Wangji looks mildly annoyed at him.

"I just came here to give you some news regarding Wei Wuxian," Lan Xichen sighs. "I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible that uncle has decided to expel him."

"Jin Zixuan provoked him," Lan Wangji protests.

"I know, and I also think it's a little unfair, but uncle won't bulge. You know how he gets when he's sure he's right. At least you might have a chance to say goodbye, they're all discussing sect business now, and Wei Wuxian is in the courtyard for his penance."

It says a lot about Lan Wangji's distress that for once, he doesn't even try to deny his interest in Wei Wuxian. Instead he hurriedly tidies his desk so he can head outside. Eager to help, Lan Xichen gathers the remnants of their tea (Nie Huaisang’s cup is still full, he can't help but notice) and brings them back to the main room so the servants can wash everything. He is then quickly joined by Lan Wangji who holds a few sheets of paper and appears uncertain what to do with them.

“Nie gongzi forgot those,” he explains.

Lan Xichen glances at the papers. They can’t be what Nie Huaisang offered to give to his brother, they’re only studies (excellent studies; it seems Nie Huaisang’s skill has grown even greater since the rabbits) which means he must have simply missed them in his haste to go away. Judging by his expression, it’s clear Lan Wangji feels he should return those without delay, but also that he’d much rather go check on Wei Wuxian.

“Give them to me,” Lan Xichen asks. “I have nothing to do right now, I can drop by the Nie cabin.”

Lan Wangji all but shoves the studies into his hands and hurriedly leaves the house. When he’s gone, Lan Xichen allows himself to chuckle. His brother’s crush is really adorable. It’s a shame that Wei Wuxian is leaving so soon, these two might have gotten somewhere with a little more time. And if it had turned into something serious, Yunmeng Jiang isn’t a bad ally to have. Marrying Lan Wangji to a servant’s son isn’t ideal, but everyone knows how much Jiang Fengmian favours his ward, so they could have gotten a real alliance out of it. Perhaps if Lan Wangji gets a little bold and offers a correspondence to Wei Wuxian, if they get to meet again… Lan Xichen wouldn’t mind having a brother-in-law like that to shake up things in the Cloud Recesses.

That’s a consideration for later, though. First, Lan Xichen has his own fiancé to think of. He takes his time heading for the Nie cabin, feeling no hurry to face Nie Huaisang’s bad mood for the second time in a single day. A shame because these studies are so good that Lan Xichen can’t stop glancing at them as he walks, half certain that he can recognise the exact view of them mountains they depict, and he would love to talk about that. Still, he’s half hoping that his fiancé won’t have returned to the cabin directly, and that he can drop the studies to one of the other Nie disciples.

On a day like this, of course he shouldn’t have hoped to be lucky. As he gets close to the cabin, Lan Xichen sees Nie Huaisang in front of the door, having a conversation with a Lan disciple whose face is not visible from where he stands. Nie Huaisang does not seem particularly enthusiastic about the company, but still ends up following the other boy behind the cabin.

Lan Xichen goes after them. He tells himself that it is only because he needs to return the paintings, but there might be a hint of curiosity as well. The two boys are so taken by whatever they're planning that they don't even notice he's getting close behind them.

“I’m just saying you could have warned me,” he hears the Lan disciple complain when he’s almost caught up to them. “I waited a long time, I thought maybe something had happened.”

“Listen, if I wanted to be scolded, I’d go hang out with Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I got busy, that’s all. I’m barely in the mood at all, so count yourself lucky I’m not sending you away.”

The Lan disciple, whose face Lan Xichen still can’t see, shrugs. He then steps closer to Nie Huaisang who throws his arms around his neck as they lean closer to each other and…

Lan Xichen feels punched. His hand clenches on the paintings he’s holding, tight enough to probably rip the paper, but right now he can’t care about that because… because…

“What are you two doing?” he hisses.

It all goes very fast. Nie Huaisang pushes away the Lan disciple with enough force that the boy cries out and falls to the ground. The boy glances up and, realising who found them in this compromising situation, he scampers off hastily, trying to hide his face. Lan Xichen should stop him, because what just happened broke so many rules, enough that this boy could probably be sent away from Gusu Lan, but he’s too stunned to react.

Nie Huaisang remains where he is, looking rather annoyed as he crosses his arms and glares at his fiancé.

“Do you really have to ruin everything for me?” Nie Huaisang asks. “How annoying.”

“I don’t think you’re the one who should be upset,” Lan Xichen replies, rather more weakly than he would have liked. “I’m the one who caught my fiancé kissing someone else, aren’t I?”

Nie Huaisang smirks and shrugs in that cocky way he does now.

“And what are you going to do about it? Have the engagement cancelled?” he taunts.

“Is that why you did this?” Lan Xichen asks.

He knows that Nie Huaisang hates their engagement, far more than Lan Xichen himself does at this point. But he had assumed that Nie Huaisang understood how important the alliance between their sect is, how much Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie need to count on each other. Every day that passes gives more proof that Qishan Wen is preparing for war, this alliance is so important, regardless of personal feelings, surely Nie Huaisang is clever enough to understand...

“I know we can’t avoid getting married,” Nie Huaisang retorts with another insolent shrug. “But we’re not married yet, and I know you don’t want me, so… can’t you at least let me have fun with someone who does?”

“Do you like him?”

Just saying the words hurts because suddenly, Lan Xichen realises that he might end up living the same life as his father, with a spouse who only reluctantly tolerates his company and would rather be anywhere else. He remembers how wistful his mother looked sometimes, especially toward the end. He doesn’t want to see that expression on Nie Huaisang. He certainly doesn’t want either the lonely life his father condemned himself to.

Nie Huaisang laughs to his face.

“You Lans, it’s always about love and all,” he mocks. “I don’t care about that. I just want to have a little fun with someone before I’m forced to be faithful to you. Kissing people’s nice, you know?”

Lan Xichen flinches. Nie Huaisang smirks, walking closer, leaning toward him, his head cocked to the side.

“Ah, but actually… I guess you wouldn’t know, right? Bet you’ve never kissed anyone, eh?” He steps closer still, slowly, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Lan gongzi… want me to be your first kiss? I’ll make it good, I swear.”

It’s a shameless proposition, one that Lan Xichen should immediately refuse. Instead, his eyes fall on Nie Huaisang’s lips and he aches to feel them against his, to hold the other boy close, to touch him, to...

Nie Huaisang laughs again.

“Right, of course not. Well, I can’t make you want me, can I?” he snickers. “Whatever. I’ll go now. But please, next time… don’t interrupt, okay? It’s rude to bother people when they’re having fun.”

He saunters away as if he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Lan Xichen watches him go, once more filled with hatred for this fiancé he didn’t choose.

It has to be hatred.

He refuses to give another name to the gnawing coldness inside his chest.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #ooof that was a hard one to write for some reason it just didn't want to happen!#but welp now lxc knows #and jzx is about to become free real estate

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docholligay · 5 years

Text

The Time Traveler’s Bullshit

@katrani comissioned me to write out my full review of The Time Traverler’s Wife, my most hated book of the year thus far, and I feel like it won’t be dethroned. nearly 3,000 words and I skipped a whole section I was going to write about, ENJOY

Three dollars and ninety nine cents will buy you a Big Mac. It will buy you four hours of downtown parking in my city. Three dollars and ninety-nine cents will buy you a latte made with burnt coffee at Starbucks. For Three dollars and ninety-nine cents, I can get a can of terrible beer and have a dollar left over for tip. All of which would have been a better choice than what I ultimately spent that three dollars and ninety-nine cents on, which was this book.

I am careful to read hyped books out of their time, so that I’m not influenced by something that has been so lauded no book could ever hope to reach those heights. So when this first came around, and I saw many women talking about how much they had loved it, I figured I would just read it later. I buy books used, so this is generally what I do even outside of worrying about being affected.

I finally picked this book up after a reader of mine told me it reminded them of my writing.

After reading it, several years after all the hype, I have one question: Are women who fuck men okay?

(“Why not just straight women, Doc?” you may rightly ask me, and I, unfortunately, am forced to answer that I know a number of bisexual women who also enjoyed this book, leading me to believe that the trouble is far worse than previously imagined.)

I found this book to be borderline insulting, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have claimed this book was written by a man. The entire way through I felt the constant assault of the idea that this reminded someone of ME. What have I been doing wrong all my life, I asked? I should probably give up writing.

Let’s go into the book itself!

The core of the novel hinges around the idea that Henry goes through time without wanting to and with no consious conrol, and so in a sense lives his life out of order. This is a fascinating idea but for the fact that book’s main hinge is the relationship between Clare and Henry.

Who Henry meets, as an adult out of time, when she is six.

And proceeds to groom her to be his wife someday.

Oh, it isn’t put that way, of course, it’s simply that they end up married and so, I suppose the author might say, it’s only natural that Henry interact with her when he comes the “the Meadow” nearby where she lives. But this sort of “things are already decided” that the author is extremely fond of does not remove this intensely squicky framework from their relationship. Henry begins with Clare when she is six years old, and it comes on VERY fast that they are supposed to get married. She is at a sleepover, still as a literal child, ELEVEN YEARS OLD, when the Ouija board spells out his name as the boy who likes her.

The book takes pains to describe how he won;t have sex with her until she’s 18, but how difficult it is for a thirties to forties man not to have sex with her when she’s 15, 16, 17. I want to say there might be a part where he describes it when she’s 14, but I can’t find it in the book right now, so we’ll pretend it’s not there. “But they’re married in the furute!” one might say, listen if my wife had to resist having sex with sixteen year old me, and didn’t see me as a fucking child, I would think she was gross. It’s gross for a thirty-something to forty -something dde to struggle not to fuck a teenager, period, end of story.

All of this is wrapped in the book’s idea that this is romantic, instead of the idea that Clare’s “date with destiny” is tragic. She doesn’t ever have a boyfriend, because she is “waiting for Henry”. She sleeps with one of Henry’s friends before he and Clare ever officially “meet” and bursts into tears because she feels as if she has been unfaithful. Meanwhile, Henry is out having girlfriends like no one’s business, and “Well Doc he doesn’t know” why is Clare the one who has to bear this arranged marriage?

Clare herself even alludes to the way she’s being groomed to be the woman he wants in a way that I DO NOT THINK the author intended, as the author is desperately wrapped up in the idea that this is sexy and romantic and not deeply fucking unsettling.

Pretentious-ass Henry is dropping German into a casual conversation with a thirteen year old so that you know he is learned and cool, and explain that it’s from Rilke, one of their (note: Not your, but OUR) favorite poets.

Clare responds: “You’re doing it again!”

“What?”

“Telling me what I like.” Clare burrows into my lap with her feet. Without thinking I put my feet on her shoulders, but then that seems too sexual, somehow, and I quickly take Clare’s feet in my hands again and hold them together with one hand in the air as she lies on her back, innocent and angelic with her hair spread nimbus-like around her on the blanket. (Sidebar: I can only fucking imagine that the sort of people that are into this are the sort of people who think nothing at the idea of some Victorian gentleman marrying his attractive young ward, as apparently there’s no problem with having seen someone as a child and then having them marry you! It’s not deeply fucked up at all!) …..

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“You are making me different.”

“I know.”

These brief asides are meant to make us feel that Henry has done enough to assuage his guilt, that we are meant to forget that what he is doing is wrong. The book goes so far as to have sixteen year old Clare be the aggressor with a 37 or so year old Henry, as a way of trying to tell us, “Oh look none of this can be Henry’s fault” and an absolutely cringeworthy section where Henry goes and beats up a kid who took Clare on a date and proceeded to assault her. (She dates him to prove she’s not a dyke wow what a great book and thank you for reminding us that Clare never wants to see anyone else for her own sake even as a teenager, very healthy)

All of which would make me a hell of a lot more mad if I managed to like Clare even a little bit. But it’s not at all surprising that I don't--Clare is hardly a character in this story so much as she’s a cardboard cutout that exists for Henry.

Each of her desires and thoughts revolves around him, from the time she’s a child, save for minor pouting incidents when Henry either won’t tell her something, or disagrees with her. But she always caves, but for the exception of having a child, another horrible thing we’re meant to feel sorry for them in, but I, at least, never really do, as they know the problem, they know how horribly Henry’s life has been affected, and yet they persevere. I find myself asking why in the fuck they don’t use donor sperm, but I suppose that would not fulfill Clare’s real use as being Henry’s vessel. It might have been very touching to write about their experience of infertility if they were likeable at all, or the chapters were anything but flat and emotionless despite dealing with really high-emotion topics. It’s essentially Clare saying “I want a baby inside me” and having a series of miscarriages. I’ve read more compelling narratives on online message boards.

Not to mention when Henry suggests adopting and Clare says “That would be pretending” bitch fuck ALL THE WAY OFF. I repeat: WE ARE MEANT TO LIKE THIS CHARACTER. NOTHING ABOUT HER IS SHOWN AS A NEGATIVE.

A fair amount of time in the book is spent describing how hot Clare is, and it’s a bit cringey to read about a super hot redhead with great tits and also rich, who’s a visual artist, and then flip to the back and see a redheaded visual artist as the author. It’s not that I don’t believe that authors are ever allowed to find themselves in a character, quite the contrary, but one hopes that there would be a level of detachment or at least plausible deniability. But no, Clare is nothing but wish fulfillment for the author, but unfortunately cannot fulfill any of ours. I get the sense that these characters are far more complex and layered in Niffenegger’s head, but they fall completely flat on the page, sketches of annoying human beings.

Clare seems to have been raised in an Austen novel, where the home is noted for its architecture and we ‘dress for dinner’ which could be intensely compelling if they ever went anywhere with it. But we don’t. Because of course Clare’s raising in a straightlaced, extremely wealthy family has no affect on her and she is a very cool girl who is laid back and likes the right music and poetry. (Sidebar: The name dropping in this novel is SO TIRESOME. Every band, artist, poet, etc has to be named and identified so your are aware of how absolutely well-read and smart and cool Niffenegger is)

The we’re meant to feel for Henry when her family finds out that he is half-Jewish which I suppose is meant to be shocking when he doesn’t practice or isn’t different in any marked way from her family? The character has no Jewishness in him but as a side note and dare I say for shock value. Her family isn’t even written as believably against the union, as no one can resist super cool hipster protag Henry DeTamble (Even his name sounds INSUFFERABLE)

The problem, of course, is that the very wealthy can buy their way out of many problems, meaning that an author has to have a particular deftness of hand in order to make you feel something for them. This is not that author. Any sympathy one might have for Clare goes immediately out the window when she’s complaining about having only a small room for a studio in which to create, while she’s living off the INTEREST from her trust fund, and hiring a cleaning service because neither of them is willing to vacuum. Not her trust fund. The INTEREST from her trust fund, which means there must be so much fucking money in there we all want to scream.

Of course, Henry goes into the future and wins the lottery so they can give her a new studio, I shit you not this is a thing that happens in a novel where we are supposedly meant to identify with the characters and feel for them. They buy a nice house with a separate studio in the backyard, not even in the house, just a large brick edifice where Clare can do whatever she wants because these people don’t have consequences until Henry’s death, and by the time he dies, we’re all thanking God that at least there’s one thing they can’t weasel out of. The book has the audacity to have them, later, describe having a private box as one of their “little indulgences” friends a private box is the realm of $1,800 dollars for ONE showing of an opera, and while I am a believer in the good of occasionally saving up to do something that is an experience, there is no way I would describe that as an ‘indulgence” but these people have such wealth that they never need worry about anything at all, except the central point, which is that Henry drifts in and out of time and we would like to sentence a child to that.

Henry himself is a collection of traits rather than a person--it is so important to the author that we know he is a real punk with great musical taste, that he knows German and poetry and Chicago--it’s all rather a laundry list of the long-haired, tall, punkish but very classically learned boyfriend Niffenegger would like to have rather than someone who has a heart or a mind. But the luck of it all is that she clearly cares about henry far more than she does Clare, and so he gets a bit of fleshing out with a tragic anime backstory and all that, and from time to time we see bursts of real humanity in his character.

Their love, even if it were not burdened by the exceptional trouble of CLARE BEING GROOMED AS A CHILD, has the weight of air. Henry is a womanizer with a drug problem, but then he meets Clare, hot rich redhead who proves she’s known him her whole life, and suddenly the magic swelling violins are in the background, love has found its day, and no more is ever said about it.The book refuses to get anywhere deep into how they feel about things and why, it is only glancing blows that seem to suggest an emotion rather than allowing ourselves to get into their minds.

The bulk of the description of their love is sex. Sex sex sex. I get it, they are hot for each other, I am trying very hard to get over the fact that they are married when Clare is 22 and Henry is thirty, but you’re giving me nothing to pin their relationship on but the fact that they enjoy railing each other and Henry has been around since Clare was a child. I don’t understand the why of their relationship even once, it all seems so accidental, and I wanted there to be a lesson, or something to be said about humanity and relationships, but I found nothing save for maybe the idea that women are fully engrossed in their relationships and men basically luck into them and then drop out from time to time? But even that is far far deeper than I think the novel deserves credit for.

The side characters are somehow worse, mainly racist stereotypes or one note characters who ALSO exist to have their lives enhanced by the protagonists. Even their friends only exist so that Gomez can have the hots for Clare for years, because Everyone Wants To Bone Clare.

The writing itself is terrible too, written in the style of a script, almost, rapidly shifting between first person narratives in a matter of one or two paragraphs, often, helpfully telling who is talking by, I shit you not, putting “CLARE:” or “HENRY:” before the paragraphs, so we can enjoy who it is that is navel gazing and picking over the conversation without saying anything really, save for how badly Henry wants to fuck his super hot wife, who may or may not currently be a teenager, and how desperately Clare loves him, and has loved him since she was a child, for reasons that remain unclear.

It’s padded out and ridiculous and reads like some of the drafts when I am being a complete garbage pile, and thank you to the person online who had already typed this out so I didn’t have to:

Henry:

Clare is wearing a wine-colored velvet dress and pearls. She looks like a Botticelli by way of John Graham: huge gray eyes, long nose, tiny delicate mouth like a geisha. She has long red hair that covers her shoulders and falls to the middle of her back. Clare is so pale she looks like a waxwork in the candlelight. I thrust the roses at her. "For you."

Please try to read that with a straight face and get back to me, i could not manage it, and it was early on the book, and this sort of thing goes on for pages, if you don’t like hearing about how pale Clare is, and that she has red hair, her two most dominating character traits, you are in for a very, very rough time.

The narrative voice of the characters is identical. I mean, I suppose I should thank whatever god is responsible for this clusterfuck for the CLARE and HENRY bits because otherwise I would have no clue who was talking from moment to moment. Does NIffenegger think all people think alike? That their internal monologues are the same? It seems to me she must because I can’t figure any other way that one could write two characters and have them, even when their opinions differ, sound like the exact same person.

I did enjoy the letter at the end of this story--and this is where I saw where my reader connected me to this book--it almost seems as if it was written for a different novel, a novel about a doomed love between two people that truly loved each other and had rich inner lives. It’s beautiful, or it would be totally removed from this novel.

This review has, in itself, gotten to be as rambling and listing as the novel, and so I will let it rest here. I read incredibly fast. This took me something like five or six hours to read. It was a waste of every single one of those hours and I wish I had gotten a Big Mac instead. Save yourself, save six hours, save three dollars and ninety-nine cents, and read literally anything else.

#Doc Reads

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