#much ado uni

[theragethatisdesire]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck is your problem?”

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

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

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s a bad idea?”

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

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

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

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

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even a lie, honestly.

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

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I– we’re not doing this.”

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

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

“Is it working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–”

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

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

“On?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

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

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

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you like a whore?”

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

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

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

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

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

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

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

“See ya.”

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

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

[rovermcfly]

little update on that endeavor: the reason I'm taking so long is the mountain of secondary literature I want to get through and a trip I was on. also it's currently a baker's dozen of pages long and certainly not finished yet

#anyway going on a trip again so again it'll be at least another week if not more before I MIGHT finish #safe for a few tumblr audience-targeted sentences it is EXACTLY a term paper I would have submitted in uni #and I mean exactly. it is mla formatted and everything #I am also exclusively writing it at night when I should definitely be asleep- just like in uni! #you can take the boy out of academia but you can't take the academia out of the boy #benedick and beatrice are t4t #much ado about nothing #shakespeare

[violentdevotion]

I was hunting for a free copy of a 2011 stage adaptation of much ado about nothing (still looking btw is anyone's so generous) but found a 2005 audio version with chiwetel ejiofor and david tennant instead:

#ameera speaks #uni stuff #thats crazy this is the 2nd much ado abt nothing with dt and second shakespeare adaptation with chiwetel ive seen for this class

[thoughts-reasons]

Twitter

#there are more important things in life obviously #people are suffering and we help best we can #we spend time there but we don't call it home™️ 🇮🇹 #that's funny i guess all bets are off #it's one thing to flex your creative writing muscle it's a whole other thing to actually be right™️ #and idk why that still matters #much ado about nothing imo🍀 #hmm much has been said and written about it #do you think it's time to hire olivia pope? 😏 #it's a billion-dollar brand with room to grow why do you think they're not handling™️ it correctly? #continuous engagement means impressions means demand means there's money to be made 🥫 #haha are we foxes or are we hunters? are we human or are we dancer? 🤪 #yessss same uni diff college dark academia vibes for daysssssss #no 🏎️ this weekend you know what that means 😏🥂 #kermit's mailbag the when it rains it pours edition #originanon

[wave2tyun]

cherry wine | ☆

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: college!au, chef!tyun, fluff, suggestive (it gets steamy towards the end?!)

prompts: - "i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now"

- "here- let me help you"

warnings: none<3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: special dedication to the anon who sent me an ask about this fic, hope you'll enjoy reading this again :D💓💞💘💖💓

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. when you first got one of your friends to come over and taste one of your dishes, they could barely hold back tears as they tried to chew the food and make it slide down their throat. knowing that you’re not a big fan of takeout, they could barely comprehend how you’ve managed to survive up until now.

the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. you had a big ego, and you most likely wouldn’t have accepted to sign up for the course yourself. therefore, so as not to risk anything, they only told you about the secret they’ve been keeping away from you one hour before the first class started.

‘stupid course’ you mumbled, putting on the apron that the chef’s assistant handed you. was it really necessary to wear it? you were thankful that at least there weren’t any other familiar faces in the room, otherwise you would have died of embarrassment. everybody else seemed to have, in one way or another, some sort of knowledge in the cooking field. meanwhile, you lacked the skills, and the blue apron you were dressed up in made you feel goofy. you glanced over at your watch: 11:02. if you were fast enough maybe there was still time for you to sneak out of there-

“good morning, everybody” a male voice was heard.

great. your one and only chance to escape slipped away from your hands. the course was officially starting, and there was no way you could back out now. you lifted your head, eyes searching for the source of the voice, and once your eyes landed on him- you couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

you were screwed.

the student that was assigned as the ‘head chef’ was cute- so much cuter than you thought. he was somehow the perfect combination of cute and hot: big shiny eyes that resembled two tapioca pearls, a soft smile that revealed his cat-like fangs, as well as broad shoulders and toned arms, which were exposed by his rolled up sleeves.

“i’m taehyun, a 3rd year culinary arts major” he introduced himself “i will be the one leading you throughout this course. thank you to everyone who has signed up, i hope you will find these lessons useful”

taehyun’s words were met with a round of applause from the other people in the room. he smiled brightly, clasping his hands together “without further ado- let’s get started. we’ll start of easy, with a basic soup recipe”

you glared at the vegetables in front of you. it seemed like your definition of easy didn’t exactly match his. making a sandwich was easy. cutting vegetables? absolutely not. you clumsily tried to follow along as taehyun demonstrated each step, paying close attention to not cut or stab your finger with the knife. these poor vegetables- your cutting board resembled a crime scene. you sighed, looking at the potatoes and carrots that you had yet to handle.

taehyun started roaming around the kitchen counters, making sure that everyone was carrying out the task well. you sensed him stopping right next to your place, and you resisted the urge to hide the mess you created with your hands. knowing that his eyes were on you, you were now feeling even more nervous than before. your hands were now starting to shake as you continued using the knife.

“can you give me your knife for a second?” taehyun asked, interrupting your actions.

 “s-sure” you stuttered, handing him the sharp object. taehyun moved closer to you, grabbing one of the carrots from the basket.

“when you cut these- make sure you get rid of the ends first” he spoke as his hands followed the instructions “this makes it a bit easier to hold the rest of the carrot. then- hold the knife straight, and push it down, separating it into smaller pieces” you watched as taehyun chopped up the rest of the carrot flawlessly, in probably less than 10 second “give it another go” he offered you the knife back, making you gulp.

you breathed in deeply, trying to calm yourself down as you reached out for your own carrot. however, your attempt was in vain. no matter how many times you tried, the pieces you were cutting ended up looking uneven. you could feel your cheeks burning intensely. “i’m so sorry-“ turning to look at taehyun in pity, you were expecting him to start laughing in your face, but you were only met with another one of his sweet smiles.

“you’re holding the knife at an angle. here- let me help you” taehyun walked behind you, his hands hovering right above yours “is this okay?” he spoke softly, waiting for your confirmation to go on.

you nodded, and taehyun took hold of your hands guiding them as he explained again “like this” he whispered, pressing down the knife gently. he was just correcting your mistakes- just doing his job, but god, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“think you’ve got it now?” he chuckled.

you almost forgot to reply, too caught up in the moment “yeah- thank you”

“you’re welcome-“ taehyun sneaked a glance at your name tag “-y/n” the words rolled off his tongue softly.

taehyun removed his hands from you, going back to his place at the front to go on with the lesson. perhaps this course wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

the next time you had to attend the cooking course, you put in a little bit more effort in your appearance. for taehyun? maybe. only something subtle though. you did want it to be noticeable, just not too much. he wasn’t supposed to catch on to the fact that he was the cause of this.

the thought of doing mistakes didn’t seem as taunting anymore- not if it meant that taehyun would be the one helping you out again.

no matter how many times you were struggling, taehyun came over to you with a smile, fondness taking over his eyes as you furrowed your brows, paying close attention to his words.

one day, he called your name out at the end of the lesson- asking you to remain for a bit. you waited next to him as the class emptied, and taehyun shily pulled his phone out once it was just the two of you there “if you ever have questions or need help with anything- you can always text me”

and so you did. you used any excuse to talk to him, asking small questions like “how should i prepare this?” “what can i add to this?” “does this look right?” and taehyun seemed to reply with enthusiasm every time. you looked forward to seeing him every saturday at the course. any kind of stress created by college disappeared the moment you were in his warm presence, and felt his soft touch. you couldn’t help but sulk a little bit whenever he helped out other students, even though that was simply what he was supposed to do. maybe you just wanted to have all of his focus on you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

walking out after your last course of the day, you received a new message:

taehyun :)

[6:34 pm] are you free tonight? there’s something i want you to try

you typed in a quick reply, an almost immediate raise in heartbeat taking place at the thought of seeing him that evening.

you got back to your dorm as fast as possible to drop off your bag, as well as to get changed into something a tad bit more special than just some jeans and a hoodie.

once you reached taehyun’s door, you took a moment to rearrange the flyaway hairs and to make sure that your outfit looked in good condition. ringing up the doorbell, taehyun didn’t take long before opening the door, the smell of freshly-sprayed on cologne enveloping your senses, a breathless ‘hi’ escaping past both your lips at the exact same time.

the only source of light in taehyun’s apartment was the small candles sitting on the elegantly decorated dining table. it seemed like he had everything prepared, except for one single thing: the dish itself. all the ingredients were neatly prepared on the counter, as if waiting for your arrival. those were, indeed, taehyun’s intentions. he did have a special dish in mind that he wanted you to try, but the though of having you in his presence while preparing it just seemed to make his heart flutter a bit longer.

even though you were definitely not as skilled as taehyun when it came to cooking, you still offered to help him in any way you could, not wishing to simply sit around waiting to be served. for your first task, you were chopping some tomatoes for the pasta sauce. taehyun came up behind you, putting his hands on top of yours like he did during your first course with him.

“don’t worry- i know how to do this now” you said.

“really?” taehyun quirked an eyebrow, the tone of his voice both amusing yet also incredulous.

you hummed, proud of your small progress. taehyun didn’t separate himself from you “maybe i just want to stay close to you” he admitted, voice low as if he didn’t know whether it was right to confess his thoughts out loud.

“i wouldn’t mind that” you spoke quietly, letting out a confession of your own as well.

you could hear taehyun softly exhale in relief at your response. his warm chest came into contact with your back, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. it was intimate- way too intimate for those feelings of love to be clouding your heart only. his warm breath on your neck was starting to make you feel almost light-headed, to make you lose focus, and in a moment where your attention had completely dissipated into thin air, you almost let the knife cut your finger.

“are you okay? did you get hurt?” taehyun asked in worry. he brought your finger to his face upon closer inspection “it’s all good, don’t worry” you replied hurriedly, embarrassed by your lack of concentration at the task at hand “i just got lost in thought that’s all” you babbled on further. taehyun nodded as he started guiding you, holding your hand and the knife with slightly tighter grip than before to ensure that there wouldn’t be any more slip-ups “do it this way” he said.

“like this?” you repeated, trying it out yourself. you turned your head slightly to face him. there was a soft pink dusting taehyun’s cheeks.

“yeah, just like this” he answered back in a daze. you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes sneaked a glance at your lips. the thought too tempting and inviting- especially when he was holding you so close. but he had to wait- he couldn’t give in yet. the tension and lingering touches were consuming you whole as you continued to prepare the dish together.

the wine taehyun placed down the table seemed to be the perfect solution to loosen things up, to get rid of all the worries of your unspoken feelings.

“i bought this especially for tonight- it goes well with the dish” taehyun looked down as he smiled shily “i hope you’ll like it” he said as he poured each of you a glass of the sweet cherry wine.

“swirl it around first- then let the liquid touch your lips for a bit to get a small taste” he explained. taehyun already had an interest in alcohol, and the culinary arts programme had only expanded his knowledge in the field further. although it was necessary for him to learn- you found it attractive how he paid attention to even the smallest details.

the wine was more of a sweet kind than dry, intense- yet not overwhelming, and just as intoxicating as him. the pasta didn’t let down your expectations either. you had never tasted pasta with a sauce so creamy and full of flavour before, you couldn’t believe that you had assisted in the preparation and didn’t somehow ruin it.

“this tasted so good” you complimented him hurriedly between bites. taehyun couldn’t control his face at the sound of your words- a cocky grin taking over which he tried to hide subtly by having another sip of wine.

“only the best for you” he replied brazenly, reaching out his glass towards you. meeting him half-way, you clinked your glasses together, giggling at his words.

the wine glasses were filled right after another without a moment of waiting as you got through your dinner. and before you knew it, the expensive bottle was already sitting on the floor underneath the table, not a singular drop remaining in it. to you, taehyun’s eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more now, his smile at least ten times more endearing. and to taehyun? he could barely hold himself back from confessing out of the blue just so that he could finally give your lips a kiss

you clumsily gathered the dishes, bringing them over to the sink. you both agreed that washing them should be a problem for later, since you were quite (very) tipsy and didn’t want to risk flooding the apartment.

turning around after you placed the last plate in the sink, you were taken aback to see taehyun so close to you. he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between it and his own body. his eyes were firmly placed on yours and you noticed how the blush on his cheeks had never disappeared. was it because of you? or just the alcohol?

his head fell on your shoulder, his hands were now on the small of your back as he tried to keep his balance.

“tae- is everything okay?” you asked worriedly. you didn’t know what his alcohol tolerance was, and you didn’t want him passing out on the floor in front of you.

taehyun hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his soft black hair tickled your skin, and you wished you could run your hands through it “can we just stay like this for a bit?” he mumbled.

you opened your mouth to speak, but taehyun interrupted you before you could do so “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he lightly chuckled.

“you’re probably the cause of that...” you replied, the alcohol giving you the slight push to admit it. “is that so?” taehyun lifted his head up slightly, peering into your eyes “every time i get close to you- my heart beats just the same”

your face burned instantly, locking eyes with him for just one moment, before you noticed the way his travelled down to your lips once again. taehyun licked his lips before resting his forehead against yours. his warm breath tickled your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation for him to close the gap. pulling him in by softly grabbing the collar of his shirt, your lips captured taehyun’s in a tender kiss.

taehyun melted into your touch, letting out a small gasp once he promptly parted away from you, only to come back to taste you with even more passion than before. warmth consumed you, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together in a frenzy “your lips taste so sweet” taehyun breathed out “even sweeter than the cherry wine”. taehyun clumsily moved any leftover ingredients out of the way before lifting you up on the counter, his hands trailing underneath your shirt, touching your bare back as he continued to kiss you, the desire flowing through your veins was making it unable for you to stop. it made a chill run down your spine, and you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. your fingers got lost through the strands of his hair, pulling at them slightly and emitting a deep hum from him; hot, passionate kisses sending a rush through your whole body as you tasted him. his lips were so soft- so warm, and so incredibly addictive.

in need of oxygen, you parted away for him for a moment, his glistening lips trailing back almost immediately.

“please- will you let me have another taste?”

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fic #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun headcanons

[pastel-charm-14]

how to romanticize your life - a series - post 2 - romanticizing school

soo many people see school as something to avoid, as a chore. but we as individuals have the power to change the way we view school. it's an opportunity for growth, discovery, and personal development. so without further ado: here are a couple tips to help you romanticize school!!

have a positive mindset. in order to study effectively, you need to put aside the negative connotations you have with school and studying and replace them with positive connotations. write out a cons list and then counteract each negative with a positive. for example: con - school is very time consuming | pro - it teaches you time management skills.

create a peaceful and cozy school morning routine. drink some water, watch something funny, use the bathroom, brush your teeth, do your makeup, listen to some nice music, pick out a cute outfit, do your hair, have some matcha.

i also like to say affirmations in the mornings like "i love school" or "i'm amazing at school" to help get me into that positive mindset i was talking about earlier.

make a to-do list. part of romanticizing is not stressing. if you prepare for your day in advance, you can worry less and enjoy more.

really explore your school campus. find all the little nooks and crannys, and don't miss out on anything your school has to offer. for example, i found a little covered picnic table over by the greenhouses at my school that i love to sit at. cute places to study and hang out make school so much more enjoyable.

appreciate being a student. there is so much community and everyone is working toward to common goal to really figure out who they want to be and what they're going to do. it sounds dramatic, but it's true. so i advise you to embrace student life. attend events, plays, games, join clubs, and study with your friends. so go to that football game, participate in spirit days, and enjoy being a student to its fullest potential!

materials are also a huge part of school. you don't have to spend big bucks, but these are some basic things that have helped me:

-cute planners/notebooks, sticky notes -> for goals/organization, writing down something quick, although take physical notes as well!

-books -> gives you something to do, i like romance and educational books

-ipad -> helps with notes/studying, customize it to make it cute, add widgets, and keep in mind that it's all about the vibes

dress to impress. wear cute outfits. treat school as a fashion show. i know dressing up and feeling confident has really enhanced my school experience. some of my favorite things to wear are preppy cardigans, nice jeans, skirts, high knee boots, long sleeve turtlenecks, and just tons of cute tops. layering is very important to me as well. you can also add jewelry to help elevate your style a lil bit.

have a space that you dedicate to only studying. i have a desk in my room that i use, and it has improved my study habits, my grades, and my discipline. it makes studying/schoolwork so much more enjoyable. it always good to keep in mind that your environment impacts tons of other aspects of your life too. make your space your own and personalize it. some potential spots could also be coffee shops or the library, whatever works for you.

make a pinterest board to motivate yourself. this could include study-with-me's, study tips, just general inspiration, or things to do with your main area of study or your major if you're a uni student. this helps you think about "huh, that could be me".

bonus tips:

absorb study content/vlogs

have a good-vibes playlist

in case ya missed the intro post:

stay tuned…

#romanticizing school #romantizing life #romanitcize #romaniticization #romanticise everything #romanticize #romanticism #school #students #study motivation #studyspo #study aesthetic #studying #student #studyblr #pastel dreamer✨

[autismtana]

so you wanna write a heartbreak high fic, but you're american...

As an Australian who writes fanfic for Glee (which is American), it's interesting seeing kind of the opposite thing happen with Heartbreak High, which is very much an Australian show (even though there's a couple things here and there that I'll get into in this post), and I thought I'd offer my perspective as someone who grew up and went to school in Sydney (and is also very autistic and detail-oriented). I think this might be the first time an Australian teen drama has gone mainstream, but there's a lot of specific cultural things in Australia that tend to get lost in fanfiction.

So, without further ado, here is your guide to how to write about high school in Australia (or if you just want to learn about Australia, here tis).

(Disclaimer: this is mostly based on my experience living in NSW where Heartbreak High is filmed and set, but there might be some subtle differences in other states)

{This is a photo from Maroubra Bay High School, which doesn't exist anymore and is now the location where Heartbreak High is filmed}

Basic things: The school year starts at the end of January and ends in mid-December, and is broken up into 4 10-week terms, with two weeks holiday between each term and 5-6 weeks at Christmas. We're in the Southern Hemisphere, and February is an absolute nightmare weather-wise. In New South Wales (NSW), you're in primary school from years K-6 and high school from years 7-12. People generally refer to the grade they're in as "year #" or sometimes "grade #". If you go to a public school, it's usually with kids from your local area. Primary schools are usually called [Suburb Name] Public School (sometimes there's a "north" or "west" or even a street name instead; high schools are generally [Suburb Name] High School. School starts around 8:30 and ends at around 3. There's recess in the morning (usually around 11am) and lunch in the afternoon (usually around 1-1:30pm). Kids will either bring their own lunch or buy from the canteen, which these days is generally meant to be "healthy". The legal drinking age here is 18; that being said, it is not illegal for parents to let their children drink alcohol at home under their supervision (so if a 16-year-old's dad lets them have a beer at home, they're not going to get charged with supplying alcohol to a minor). Drinking culture in Australia is pretty feral and pretty much every social gathering involves alcohol. The youngest you can be to start school is turning 5 on or before the 31st July and the latest you can start is the year you turn 6; most parents, particularly those that are more well-off and can afford that extra year of preschool/childcare, start their kids the year they turn 6 (even if they turn 6 in January), so most teenagers will turn 18 during year 12 (which generally involves, parties, drinking and pubs). I did not. I turned 18 the day after O-week at uni ended, which is my villain origin story, but in some instances, a kid who is a month away from turning 19 will be in the same year 12 class as a kid who turned 17 four months ago without having repeated any grades.

Language & Slang: Australian slang is so niche that I'm just going to link you to this document, but just be aware that some of this shit is outdated and not used by anyone not named Alf Stewart, so use your better judgement. Thongs are a pair of shoes. Prawns are seafood (not shrimp; no one says "throw shrimp on the barby"). Australians swear a lot. Some of my favourite swears are "get fucked", "fuckwit", "fucknuckle", "shitcunt" and many others. We use "cunt" as a term of endearment and often use "mate" to be as passive aggressive as possible (call your mates "cunt" and cunts "mate"). Nobody fucking says "g'day mate" (and, while we're at it, nobody fucking drinks Fosters).

Uniform: Hartley High is a non-uniform school. This is actually extremely rare in Australia and I think there's only like 1 or 2 mainstream schools in NSW with no uniform. The vast majority of Australian schools have uniforms ranging from the typical stuffy blazer-and-straw-hat combo at the likes of Shore and Scots to a simple polo shirt and footy shorts/trackies in your average rural or regional public school. In the original series from the 90s, it's established that the school did at one point have a uniform that was a plot point in an episode where Nick Poulos (the main character at the time) is elected class captain to the chagrin of conservative teacher and football coach Bill Southgate. Other schools in the area would probably have a uniform; the school where it was filmed is now closed, but I did find a picture that shows what the uniform once looked like (see above).

Geography: Hartley High is located in the South Sydney/Eastern Suburbs area, so feel free to incorporate a little Rabbitohs/Roosters rivalry into your fic for that extra bit of authenticity. We play rugby here, which Australians also call "footy". Australian Rules Football (AFL) is also colloquially called "footy", which can get very confusing. Private schools (like the one where Darren's fuck buddy Jacob goes) tend to favour rugby union. Pretty much everyone (and I mean everyone) has a rugby league team they support. For example, I'm a Rabbitohs supporter, my mum is a Cowboys supporter and my dad is a Broncos supporter. There's also State of Origin, which is NSW vs Queensland (basically you support the state you were born in but some people jump on the Queensland bandwagon whenever they're winning ... fuckwits).

Classes and Timetables: Timetables here operate fortnightly, so it's not overly common to have the same class at the same time every day. Generally there's a rollcall class in the morning for 20 minutes where teachers do things like read notices, hand out notes and check uniforms and phones (I'm pretty sure the NSW education department actually just banned the use of phones in schools), then you'll typically have two classes, then recess, then another two classes, then lunch, then maybe one or two classes followed by home time. Here is a summary of everything kids in New South Wales have to learn in high school: Stage 4 (Years 7-8): English, Maths, Science, HSIE (History/Geography), TAS (e.g. cooking, sewing, metal work, woodwork, digital technology), CAPA (generally just music and art but can also include dance and drama), PDHPE (theory and prac), LOTE (my school offered French and Italian, but there's a massive variety of languages on offer and a lot of schools actually teach the local Aboriginal language). Stage 5 (Years 9-10): English, Maths, Science, HSIE, PDHPE and electives. The number of electives that can be chosen vary from school to school, but some popular examples are PASS, Art, Drama, Music, Food Tech, Metal, Woodwork. Some schools offer things like STEM as an elective and others offer, say, two electives and have all students undertaking some kind of STEM class. What my school did was offer four electives - two for year 9 and 10 and then two for just year 9 because Australian History and Australian Geography would take up those extra two timeslots. I chose Music, Italian, Drama and, for some reason, extension maths. Stage 6 (Year 11-12): this is the lead up to the HSC, and it's where things start to get complicated so ... everyone has to study English (Advanced, Standard, Studies, Extension and EALD) and I think Maths (Advanced, Standard, Extension and a course called Numeracy which is more everyday numeracy in society), then a whole bunch of subject choices that can be found here, and the HSC has no requirements as to the types of subjects you can study (e.g. there's no language requirement, science requirement etc. like in the US; you got that shit out of the way in stages 4 and 5). There are also VET subjects that give you a TAFE qualification when you finish them which is nice (most popular one is Hospitality). Then you get your HSC at the end of year 12.

This was so long that there is going to be a part 2 (apparently there's a lot to know about living in NSW and going to school there and it's longer than 4000 characters), so stay tuned for things like student leadership, sport, extracurricular stuff, uni (this is probably the area that's the most different from the US) and whatever other extraneous things I can think of.

#heartbreak high #fanfic advice #life in australia #basically a guide to how to write about school in australia if you're american

[muppetebbtide]

AO3 Wrapped 2023

saw this sort of thing floating around and wanted to do it but didn't know what blog to do it on since it encompasses three fandoms, so just whacked it on my main lmao

pseuds: pumpkinpaperweight, 19burstraat

years on ao3: 5th year (joined 2018)

words written: ao3 makes it 378,854; I'm not sure that's right, and I suspect it's counting the chapters of scott street and simmer that I posted in 2022. however I don't want to do the maths to try and cut them out sorry lol

works published:

six of crows:

guild me, build me

I never told you what I do for a living

west coast smoker

what the water gave me

the school for good and evil

scott street (chapters 4-18; completed)

simmer (chapters 3-4; completed)

don't you know who I think I am?

in the morning, and at nightfall

the locked tomb:

the ninth wave

living with identities (that do not belong to me)

total kudos: 4,520

total comment threads: 791 (thank you for talking to me!!!!)

total hits: 60,409

(all of these stats are dubious considering there's two multichapters in there which bleed into the previous year)

most read work: scott street

least read work: living with identities (that do not belong to me)

favourite work: I never told you what I do for a living

any multi-chapters remaining?: no thank fuck!

wips for 2024:

'suffer love!' (locked tomb griddlehark modern au where they're all roped into magnus's production of much ado about nothing. gideon is benedick and harrow is beatrice. they're pissed off.)

a file currently unoriginally named kaz jesper uni (six of crows, jesper goes back to university and finds kaz there pretending to be a commuter student called dirk. why? well, why indeed...)

a potential sequel to I never told you what I do for a living featuring, yes, everyone turning uncomfortably up at jordie's wedding. ms van zijl's in it yayy, and so is my personal idea as to what happened to a character we never find out about...

super trouper (placeholder title and tentative entry; sequel to my 2021 school for good and evil fic boiling point!, which was a modern celebrity au. this may be finished, it may be abandoned. I'm not really in the fandom anymore. if that movie 2 rumour ends up being true maybe I'll suck it up and finish it fuckfjjd bet it's not though)

#ao3 wrapped #six of crows #the locked tomb #school for good and evil #ao3 #soc fic #tlt fic #sge fic #my post

[mouschiwrites]

hi! how are you? ⋆˙⟡♡

i was wondering if i can request a romantic male atsv matchup please?

i’m a girl, 19, aries, enfp, my pronouns are she/her. i could be really shy sometimes due to my bad anxiety, but mostly i’m very sweet and bubbly person, i’m super affectionate with people who i love. i’m also very sensitive and emotional person too. 

my height is 5’5, i have a petite figure, have some boob, long brown hair and green eyes, 

i would describe my style as a hyperfeminine. i’m polyglot and i speak 6 languages, and i’m studying linguistics in uni. my other passions are makeup, cinematography and music ofc! i’m obsessed with rabbits and bunnies ₍⑅ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎♡ overall, i love cute things, such as clothes, accessories, makeup, stuffies and etc.

hope it’s okay! sorry for my grammar, english isn’t my first language. 

thank you and have a nice day <3

Hi there! :D I hope your day is even better!! <3 (and dw about your English, it’s flawless!!) Without further ado, I match you with:

Spider-Noir!

A handful of headcanons!

He loves how emotional and sensitive you can be

With your emotional-ness and his dark, brooding personality, you guys have a lot of deep talks

Life, death, dreams, disappointments—anything and everything that resides in the deeper parts of your minds

On that note, he appreciates that you’re a fellow intellectual

He loves to explore intellectual topics in discussion as well as emotional ones, so you’re a perfect fit; you can do both!

Conversations with you are the kindling to the warmth your relationship

As for your shyness, that’s not a problem for him

He’s not exactly a socialite himself, so he won’t be dragging you to parties or anything

But he’s not nervous around people like you are, so when you do go out in public, he takes the lead

Though he really doesn’t like socializing all that much, he’s more than glad to do it for you

He also loves taking care of you in general

He sees you as a delicate flower, small (in comparison to him, at least) and in need of guarding

He knows you’re the one when you return the favor :)

Being Spider-Man is hard work, and being able to come home to someone who’s soft and kind is the best thing in the world for him

He’s a pretty masculine guy, so he doesn’t take much interest in your more feminine side

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t support you!!

He’ll often surprise you with some new makeup or a bunny plush, just to see your face light up

His nicknames for you include “dear,” “my flower,” and “my love”

He loves to be called “dear,” “honey,” and “my hero”

A little drabble!

The window flew open, a cold drift blasting through the living room. Drops of rain dribbled onto the carpet, soon overshadowed by the moisture pouring off a black trench coat that slipped through the opening.

The window clicked shut again, and all was quiet save for the ragged breathing of the man in the coat.

You stood up from your reclined position on the couch, hurrying over to him.

“You’re back,” you smiled, opening your arms and wrapping them around his middle. You hardly noticed the icy rain he was drenched in as it began soaking through your clothes.

“Yes, my love,” he breathed, still regaining the wind in his lungs. “Tonight was hard.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You pulled away, looking with sincere concern into his goggles.

He pulled off his mask, revealing a pained expression that just about split your heart in two.

“Oh, Peter…” you buried your face in his shoulder again, rubbing circles on his back.

You pulled away reluctantly after a moment. “Let me make you something warm to drink, then you can tell me all about it.”

The smallest of smiles curved his thin lips, and he leaned down to kiss you. “That sounds perfect. Let me change into something more suitable. Something that doesn’t leave you sopping wet, at least.” A little glimmer in his eye made you giggle as you finally let go, leaving him to change.

You positioned yourself on the couch with two mugs of tea resting on the coffee table. Peter sat on the ground in front of you, wrapping his arms around your hips and occasionally leaning his head against your thigh as he spoke. He didn’t need the tea; your sympathy was far more warming than a hot drink could ever be.

And… a song!

We Belong Together (Ritchie Valens)

You're mine

And we belong together

Yes, we belong together

For eternity

…

You're my, my baby

And you'll always be

I swear by everything I own

You'll always, always be mine

I hope you enjoyed! And thank you for your support, lovely!!

(divider by saradika)

#astv #spiderman astv #astv x reader #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider noir #spider noir x reader

[jabbage]

What are the top 5 most middle class things that have ever happened to you?

Ooooooh good question... now I'm going to do the most British thing ever and preface it with a short essay providing half my life story, out of a sense of denial.

Both sides of my family are staunchly working class, as far back as I can find records. They were farm labourers and dock workers and hopped in and out of workhouses. My mum worked housekeeping and cleaning jobs, and my Dad managed to snag a white collar job in a factory out of school (because he's really clever).

But then two complications -

My Dad became a clergyman. This meant that we got to live in nice houses owned by the church he worked for, sometimes in quite affluent areas. We didn't have much money, but still.

2. I managed to get into Oxford University with a gazillion bursaries tied to my parent's low income. I then used the bursary money to fund doing a master's degree, and now I work in academia.

So, am I middle class? I'm begrudgingly realising that I might be? Except if I am I feel like middle class people shouldn't be constantly worrying that their now-retired parents can't afford to switch the heating on, or whether they'll ever live in their own home. And it's alienated me from my extended family, who have jumped to the conclusion that I think I'm better than them.

Anyway, the top 5 most middle class things that have ever happened to me.

One

Last year I got invited to an anniversary meal at my Oxford college, called a gaudy. I nearly didn't go because my time at uni was not very happy and I don't remember some of my contemporaries fondly, but then I figured that if I go, next time I read Dorthy L Sayers excellent book "Gaudy Night," I will have better brain-pictures. So, the setting, for your own brain-pictures:

Latin grace was sung before the meal, which comprised of salmon confit, followed by venison, followed by black forest gateau, followed by fruit and chocolates and port.

I was sat next to a nice middle aged man with an OBE. When he asked me "So, what do you do?" I decided not to say the job which *actually* pays my bills, but to reply with my evening job: that I make comics. I felt like this was a fun thing to say in a room full of people who Work In The City etc etc.

Except it turned out that he runs one of the UK's biggest comic arts festivals. He offered me free tickets. He offered to put me in touch with publishers. He offered to introduce me to significant people.

And I was like.... oh. Is this how it happens? Like, you're in an Oxford college and you just RUN INTO a posh bloke who Knows People and that's how you finally get a book deal???

Anyway I went to the festival. They had a panel on a yacht. And talked to people, or rather had people talk over me. So many times they'd ask me a question, and then interrupt before I'd given my answer. And I dislike schmoozing SO MUCH.

So uh, yeah, no book deal ;D YET

Two

One time I was wearing my college scarf while I was walking around Durham, and I ended up meeting a very cute elderly couple who went to the same college forty-five years earlier (well, the husband did, the wife wouldn't have been allowed.) They invited my to a dinner party at their house, which turned out to be a very cute little town-house by the river with five stories.

At the time I was doing my Master's degree, and they became kind of surrogate parents who I could call in on for a free hot meal and good conversation. But it was entirely sparked by "going to the same college at Oxford" which is very ew.

Three

Idk there was just this one time I was coming home on the train from having seen the Royal Shakespeare Company's latest production of Much Ado About Nothing and I stopped off somewhere to get sushi and I spent the whole time staring at a wall thinking "What have I become?"

Getting tickets to the ballet from a colleague slots into this catagory, I think.

Four

One time I was asked to open a village fete because the local lady of the manor couldn't make it.

Why me? Apparently "local clergyman's daughter" and "went to Oxford" and "draws silly pictures sometimes" was enough to make me a local celebrity.

I got to give a little speech and judge some cakes and everything.

Five

One time I got invited to a dinner party at CS Lewis' house, the Kilns, and I met his lovely secretary Walter Hooper. I remember being shown around and having a deep impulse to check the backs of all the wardrobes.

When I first went in it was through a door that led straight into his bedroom, and I was told that I could take my coat off and just toss it on the bed. No sooner had I done so than my guide mused, "CS Lewis died in that bed."

So I guess I own a coat that has been on the bed where CS Lewis died, is that middle class?!! Idk

#long post #sorry #I spent too long writing this

[the-fly-on-bangchans-wall]

heyy! this is your author :]

so im actually writing this at night bc i have nothing else to do and i get random writing ideas at night...so here's a very very very very fluffy college/uni au with bang chan! i hope you all enjoy ;)

this may be slow to update, i'm not really sure when i'll have time for this 😭 i'll probably update more frequently if this story gets popular, idk 🤫🧏‍♀️

nonidol!bang chan, fem!reader

chap. 2: https://www.tumblr.com/kairothekid/746830278018891776/ok-author-kairo-is-back-this-is-another-chapter

chap. 3: https://www.tumblr.com/kairothekid/746843720149811200/ive-realized-theres-no-way-is-starting-to-get

TW's: mention of anxiety attacks, y/n gets an anxiety attack later in the book, lmk if there's something i missed bc this is really just a wholesome story <3

without further ado, here’s There’s No Way.

chap. 1:

You'd always hated Bang Chan. You'd both gone to the same middle and high schools, because you had transferred to the school he was at when your parents moved to Seoul for work. You had had to get used to the city and all of the new people, and you didn't like it one bit. But living in Seoul actually turned out to not be so bad-at least, it wasn't bad when he was around.

You despised him with every inch of your being. His curly blonde hair, his dark brown eyes, and that stupid Australian accent that made all of the girls blush. Even down to the smallest details, you remembered how much you hated his black sweatshirts and sweatpants, and his stupid, stupid, STUPID dimples.

So it's summer break right now, and you've just submitted your university application. There's no way he could be there, right? Out of all the colleges, universities, and elite schools, there's no way he could either a) find out you were going to this university or b) want to go to this specific uni. Said uni is a music university, and there's no way the popular jock who bullied you in your earlier years is interested in that. He'll probably go to school for sports or something. You don't want to waste time thinking about him.

Sipping on your mug of coffee, you sighed and glanced out the window of your apartment. You had decorated your apartment with lots of plants and woke up early every morning to sit at your desk with the window open to study or get assignments done.

A few weeks later, you check your email and are greeted with an epic surprise-you got into the university! You smirk to yourself, packing up your bags and leaving the studio where you worked, composing and writing songs to save up for uni.

And the best part about going off to uni?

There’s no way Bang Chan’ll be there. Sure, a very slim chance, but slim is slim, and out of all of the classes at this university you doubted he’d be in yours, even if he was smart enough to get in.

There’s no way, right?

a/n: there’s definitely a way lol

a/n: yeah so idk if this is good but i’ll prob post a few more chapters and i’ll keep the story going if it gets popular ig

#bang chan #skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #y/n #stray kids x reader #female reader #female y/n #university #university au

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

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

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

-

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

#much ado about nothing #much ado #much ado uni #much ado universe #much ado verse #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

[mrpldiddles]

the woman through the waiting glass part one | c.snow

a/n: i've been going on about my coriolanus snow fic for months now and i am very excited to finally share the first chapter here!! this fic follows my oc metis pyralis and what happens between her and coriolanus after the events of tbosas. i'm not sure how long this fic will end up being or when i'll be able to post the other chapters as i am still in uni and trying to find time to write, but i will have them posted as soon as i can. i hope y'all enjoy this fic as much as i do and are willing to follow metis and coriolanus along with my sporadic posting schedule. i also do not currently have a tag list for this fic but if you are wanting to be added to one let me know :) without further ado here is the first chapter of the woman through the waiting glass :)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: none for this chapter i believe :)

Every girl in the Capitol should’ve known to stay away from Coriolanus Snow. With his captivating, crystal-like eyes and that infamous charm of his…he was too good to be true. Star pupil of the academy, heir to the Snow legacy and the expected recipient of the Plinth Prize, he had everything he could ever want in the palm of his hands by the age of eighteen. Despite all his glaring warning signs, he was no stranger to the affections of his peers. Since his birth he’d been told how charming and handsome he’d grow to be; to look just like his father. At the end of the war, at age eight, he began to attract the gaze of some of his classmates. By the time he was sixteen, practically every girl in the Capitol wished to be on his arm. At age eighteen he had his eyes set on one girl and one girl alone. And it was not his fiancee-to-be. 

There was no denying the chemistry between Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow. It was bright as day on every screen in Panem from the moment he paraded her around the monkey enclosure. All eyes were on the two of them, including the heiress to the Pyralis fortune. 

Metis Pyralis knew that her marriage would never be one of true love. From the moment that their families agreed upon the arrangement when they were both only nine years of age, they both knew the stakes. Their families were to be joined whether they loved each other or not, though of course, the Snows needed the Pyralis’ far more than they would ever need them. Investing in and funding District One had its perks, meaning that the Pyralis family was set for generations with Metis to inherit it all. But none of this stopped Coriolanus from leaving the Capitol for District Twelve and Lucy Gray. 

Metis found out the news from Tigris. The day before had been when Lucy Gray and Coriolanus had won the status of Victors. Metis hadn’t been able to find her way through the crowds to congratulate her future husband in person before he had been swept away, so Saturday afternoon she decided to congratulate him in person at the Snow’s apartment. The outside of the building was misleading to what Metis knew awaited inside. The newly fixed elevator, the partially crumbling walls, crooked light fixtures. Despite the anxiety that she knew Coriolanus harboured over the state of his family’s home and the fact that she - his future fiancee, yet someone he still considered a family outsider - knew of their financial troubles, she had never told a soul. Not even her own father knew, giving a new understanding as to why he had agreed to the arranged marriage of his daughter in the first place. Though the two families were long-time friends, Metis was unsure if she would be in such an unconventional relationship if her father knew the truth of why the Grandma’am had ever even suggested the idea. 

After climbing the creaky staircase - Coriolanus had instructed her to not take the elevator on her own - she found her way to the apartment, knocking on the tall lacquered front door. Moments later she was greeted with Tigris’ slightly red and puffy face, a handkerchief being held to her nose.

“Tigris,” Metis greeted, internally cringing at the volume of her own voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Metis,” Tigris whined, her voice ragged from the amount of crying she must have been doing. “Coryo’s just left.” The dread that had begun as a trickle now flooded Metis’ stomach.

“Left? To where? Where did he go?” Worry crept into Metis’ voice. Herself and Coriolanus had never been a typical couple. Had never kissed or exchanged ‘I love you’’s, but they still cared for each other. Or at least Metis cared for Coriolanus. 

She could never wage his emotions towards her. He was nicer to her than he was to their classmates. He let her in on his real feelings about them in fact, which was more than she ever really expected from him. He told her about the hatred that he was sure Dean Highbottom harboured for him. He even confided in her about his worries to carry on the family’s legacy and make his lineage proud. But those moments were as rare as the Grandma’am refusing to sing the National Anthem and usually resulted in him acting distant and cold towards her for days at a time. Wherever he had run off to Metis wasn’t too surprised that he hadn’t let her know.

“He didn’t tell you?” Tigris’ eyes widened. “He’s joined the Peacekeepers. He shipped off this morning on the first train.” Metis’ stomach sunk, whether from dread or surprise she wasn’t completely sure. Surprise as the Coriolanus she knew would’ve never willingly enlisted for the Peacekeepers. He took too much pride in his last name - and the privilege it came with - all too much to join their ranks. And dread from the idea that she knew exactly which district he was in and why.

“All of a sudden? But- he and Lucy Gray just won the Games, why would he leave so suddenly? And to be a Peacekeeper of all reasons?” The taste of the newest Victor’s name on her tongue almost threw Metis off her line of questions. She knew why he left and why exactly he became a Peacekeeper. It was all about her.

Tigris leaned out into the hall, her head swivelling from right to left before beckoning Metis inside. Metis stepped inside, allowing Tigris to close the door behind her before leading her to the dining room, away from the front door. Metis couldn’t help but notice the way Tigris leant against the table, as if her thoughts were bearing down on her, leaving her unbalanced.

“He cheated, Metis,” the older girl’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her eyes, rimmed red with bags beneath them, stared into Metis’ own. “He cheated for Lucy Gray to win. Highbottom gave him no choice. It was either be publicly shamed or join the ranks for twenty years and we both know how much pride Coriolanus has over our name.”

Metis simply stood as Tigris all but collapsed into the nearest chair, her head falling into her hands as if her little energy had been used to hold the weight of her cousin’s wrongdoing. The new information swirled in her mind. Coriolanus had cheated. Cheated to help Lucy Gray win and escape death numerous times. He had done all this for her, a District girl, and was now serving his punishment. Emotions churned and intertwined in her stomach. Surprise, anger, amusement, grief, relief. The chair scraped against the ground as she pulled it from under the table and took a seat.

“Did he say what District he was being assigned to?” Metis’ voice came out quiet but strong. There was no hint of a quaver or shake in her question. She couldn’t say she wasn’t at least a little hurt by the Snow boy’s actions but she wasn’t surprised. Although the two were never affectionate or all that close, it was now clear to the Pyralis girl where she stood in her future husband’s eyes. It may not have been a choice for him - public humiliation and shame for the rest of his life or being a Peacekeeper - but it was in Metis’ eyes. He had chosen Lucy Gray over her. Even when he was the one who needed her, not the other way around. 

“He didn’t say.” Even in the quiet of the apartment Metis had to strain to hear Tigris’ voice, any effort she’d had having been sucked out of her. If Dean Highbottom had been the one to give Coriolanus his punishment he never would’ve chosen Twelve for him. He wouldn’t have wanted for Coriolanus to have any sense of hope while serving his punishment. She also doubted that One, Two or Four were possible, seeing as they were the better off districts. No, he must be somewhere in the middle. At least that was what Metis allowed herself to believe despite knowing that Coriolanus had his methods. If he were brave enough to try and outsmart the Games why wouldn’t he try to outsmart the system one last time?

“I’m so sorry, Tigris. For you and the Grandma’am. I can’t begin to imagine how hard this must be for you both.”

“We’ll survive. After all: Snow lands on top.” Tigris scoffs at her own words, pressing her forehead into the heel of her hand. “He really didn’t say anything to you? No goodbyes at all?” There was sincerity in Tigris’ eyes. Somehow, the Pyralis and Snow heirs had been able to trick their family members into believing that they were closer and more affectionate than they were. Of course Tigris would be in disbelief that Coriolanus had not wished his future wife farewell. Metis simply shook her head and offered a small smile. Tigris’ hand grasped Metis’ atop the table, squeezing gently. 

“Well I’m sure he’ll write once he gets the chance. He must’ve been too overwhelmed to say anything in person.” Metis took note of how the older girl hadn’t brought up the future wedding, nevertheless the engagement that had yet to happen. The question of whether she was expected to wait twenty years for him burned at the back of her mind. He had run off for another girl, yet was she expected to grow old while waiting for him to return? The complications of what he had left her to deal with began to knot and form an ache in her head, but she knew they were nothing to compare with what Tigris now had to handle on her own.

“Will you and the Grandma’am be alright here, Tigris?” Something shifted in the older girl’s eyes at the question. A smile began to form on her face before slipping as her glance found its way from Metis’ face to the table between them. Tigris wasn’t weak, she never had been, at least to Metis’ knowledge who had known her the majority of her life. But her strength was beginning to diminish and Metis could see it. If the blonde had the same pride as her cousin and grandmother then she would deny any struggles they were bound to have with Coriolanus gone. From her lack of response, Metis knew that the Snow’s pride ran deep. “Come and stay with me and my father.”

At that Tigris’ head almost whipped to gauge Metis’ reaction.

“What? Metis, no. No we couldn’t, it would be too much-”

“Tigris,” Metis now placed her hand over Tigris’. “Please. Let me help you. There will be help to aid with the Grandma’am and you won’t have to worry about the property bills. I know how much this apartment means to your family and I’m sure I can talk my father into a plan for you to still own it and fix it up. Please let me help you.”

Fresh tears welled in Tigris’ eyes, causing her to laugh and dab at them with a clean corner of her handkerchief. Metis could practically see the weight lift off her friend’s shoulders, causing her own grin to form on her face.

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to take in and especially to ask your father to help with the expenses-”

“Oh, nonsense, Tigris. You Snows have always been welcome in our home. Besides, we’re practically family already.” 

Metis spent the next day helping Tigris and the Grandma’am pack up the apartment and move into her family’s estate. With the help of some of the Pyralis family’s servants the apartment was entirely packed up and moved into either storage or the Pyralis estate within a day. 

Saturday night, after her discussion with Tigris, Metis had gone home and pitched her idea to her father. Orpheus Pyralis had not been hard to convince, being a longtime family friend of the Snows, he was happy to help them out. Of course, he wasn’t aware of the true reason why the Snows were moving in. Tigris and Metis had agreed on the story that it was simply too lonely in the apartment without Coriolanus and that Metis had put out the idea of the two women moving in with them for the time being. When it came to asking for help with paying for the apartment it was only a matter of bringing up the renovations that Coriolanus had planned before his departure at their first dinner together with all four of them on Sunday night. Orpheus took it upon himself to pay for the renovations out of his own pocket, despite Tigris’ protests.

Monday afternoon after classes at the Academy had been dismissed, Metis found herself knocking on Dean Highbottom’s office door. The dean grumbled a “come in,” causing Metis to push open the doors, revealing the man to be leaned back in his chair, an empty morphling vial in his hand. 

“Dean Highbottom,” Metis greeted, the double doors closing behind her as she stood in front of his tall desk. The older man glanced down at her, acknowledging her presence as he tossed the glass vial to his desk. 

“Ms.Pyralis. I assume you’re here about your fiance.”

“Yes, sir. I know he’s left to join the Peacekeepers, but I was wondering if there was any information about his placement that you could provide.” A deep sigh came from the dean, his hand rising to rub the crease between his brows. 

“I’d expected a smart girl like yourself to have taken my word and separated yourself from Coriolanus Snow at my first warning.” 

“He’s been arranged to be my fiance, sir. I can’t simply forget about him.”

“Forget about him like he’s forgotten about you?” The dean and the student’s eyes met then. The older of the duo portrayed a challenging air while the younger fought to keep her cool. Casca Highbottom had seen through the image that she had been fighting to upkeep for Coriolanus and his family. The image of a happy, soon-to-be engaged couple who had no cracks in their foundation. No one needed a magnifying glass to see the broken pieces that Coriolanus had begun to create on the day of the Reaping. What he and his songbird had left for her to deal with. All day she’d only received pitiful looks, everyone had noticed the newest Victor’s absence and they had all seen on their screens the way he and his tribute had acted around the other. In a way that he and Metis had never even come close to recreating. Now the dean, the man who Coriolanus despised and who despised him right back, was staring her down after making a note of her fiance-to-be’s abandonment. Metis could only glare back. Anything she could say would only serve to display her as weak, pitiful and delusional. 

The dean now leaned forward on his desk, closer towards the girl. “Listen closely this time, Ms.Pyralis, and take note.” Metis’ breath caught as she waited for the dean’s speech. “Coriolanus Snow is no good and will never step foot back in the Capitol again. He’s better off where he is and you’re better off forgetting about him.” 

The dean then went back to the papers strewn across his desk, leaving Metis to stew in his words. Her heart rate had picked up, her breathing loud in her ears, her face flushed. 

“Is he with her?” Metis’ words echoed in the room, louder than she intended but they carried her urgency. She would heed the dean’s warnings if he would just give her an answer. At least if it was the answer she was really searching for. Highbottom’s eyes flicked up, a loud sigh escaping his lips. 

“He was assigned to Eight.” Eight. That was good. It wasn’t Twelve. Unless Coriolanus was stupid enough to somehow get himself re-assigned to Twelve, there was almost no chance that he was with Lucy Gray. “Is that all, Ms.Pyralis?”

Metis nodded and thanked the man before leaving the office. She was satisfied. Coriolanus wasn’t in Twelve with Lucy Gray. She didn’t hate the girl. No, in fact, Metis was rather fond of Lucy Gray and felt the need to protect her. From what she wasn’t sure, but she knew it deep in her bones to look out for the younger girl. She admired her strength and the way she carried herself. If she hated her for anything it was the effect she had on Coriolanus. 

Metis didn’t wish for him to love her or for him to even act like he did. All she wanted was his respect. For him to take their arrangement as seriously as she did. After all, it was his family who needed her family’s money. In fact, she didn’t even need him at all, but she respected his family and her father’s connection with them enough to not ruin their relationship and reputation by publicly going after another like he had done to her. As long as he wasn’t anywhere near Lucy Gray she was happy.

As Metis turned after closing the dean’s office doors she almost ran headfirst into a figure standing right outside. She gasped quietly, looking up into the piercing, rather chilling, eyes of Dr.Gaul. The older woman smiled down at her, her bright red lips pulled back over her menacing, gleaming teeth. 

“Why, Metis Pyralis. What a surprise to see you here, classes ended over half an hour ago.” Dr.Gaul towered over her as Metis tried to calm her galloping heart. Clearing her throat and straightening her back, she refused to cower despite the gamemaker’s threatening air. 

“Dr.Gaul,” Metis greeted, a pleasant smile plastered on her face. “I had a question for Dean Highbottom is all. Have a good evening.” Metis’ relieved sigh caught in her throat as Dr.Gaul called for her to wait a moment. Metis turned back around to face the teacher. She stood awkwardly as the older woman’s eyes scanned her up and down, her smile having been replaced by a straight faced expression.

“Accompany me to my lab for a short moment, would you? There’s something concerning a certain Mr.Snow that I’d like to discuss.” Before Metis could even think up an excuse to not go, Dr.Gaul headed for the Academy’s main doors causing Metis to stumble after her. The head gamemaker led her to a sleek, black car parked outside the Academy where she climbed in first, leaving the door open behind her. Metis slipped into her seat, trying to discreetly sit as far as she could from the older woman. 

The short car ride passed in uncomfortable silence with Metis’ mind running at a thousand miles per hour as she pondered over what was so important to show her right now and whether her driver had seen her climb in this car and if he was following them to the Citadel. Once the car stopped and the door opened from the outside, Metis scrambled out as fast as she could without seeming impolite. She glanced around and let out a sigh of relief as her family’s car pulled up behind Dr.Gaul’s who, without a word, walked past her and started up the steps of the grand building. 

She silently led Metis to her lab below the ground floor, walking her past cases full of odd and disfigured creatures that seemed to follow Metis with their eyes as she passed. She rolled back her shoulders and steadied her breathing as a shiver raced down her spine. Their trek eventually ended in front of a tank full of snakes identical to the ones that had been released in the arena a mere few days ago. Metis stopped in her tracks at the sight of the mutations. She could still vividly remember the image of them bursting from their cage and rapidly slithering over the arena. The way their lethal bites had killed multiple tributes in only moments and left them almost unrecognizable. Bits of Lucy Gray’s powerful song wafted through her mind, sending even more chills down her back. She watched, frozen in place, as Dr.Gaul reached inside the tank and plucked one of the serpents, cradling it in her hands as if the venom of its relatives hadn’t killed a handful of children in front of the entire Capitol less than a week ago.

“You’re worried about your Mr.Snow, aren’t you Ms.Pyralis?” Dr.Gaul asked, stroking the body of her venomous house pet. Your. As if Coriolanus belonged to her. Their future engagement - if there was still one to happen - wasn’t private news, which happened to be the aspect of which that Metis was the least fond of. Maybe if it had been kept between their two families until a proposal had actually taken place they both would’ve been saved a fair amount of trouble.

“Yes, ma’am,” Metis said as confidently as she could muster. “I just wanted to ask Dean Highbottom if he had any information on which district he had been assigned to. His cousin and grandmother are worried about him as well and just want the best for him.” Dr.Gaul hummed, inspecting the snake in her hands before switching it out for another in the tank.

“Well, I can tell you that Mr.Snow may be home sooner than you think. But that happens to be up to him.”

“How so?”

“Your Mr.Snow is partaking in a test of mine.” There it was again: your. “He will be back in no time if he passes. If not then,” she paused, taking care to make sure she made direct eye contact with Metis. “It would be smart of you to move on. Otherwise twenty years is a rather long time to wait. Unless your love for him runs that deep.” Dr.Gaul’s eyes seemed to bear down to Metis’ core, causing her back to stiffen and her chin to lift in a defensive manner. Her words cut the same way that the Dean’s had. They both knew that her relationship with Coriolanus was conditional. She’d give them credit for seeing through them had her fiance-to-be not made it blatantly obvious. “But I wouldn’t worry about him,” the tension in the air seemed to fizz out, if only slightly, at Dr.Gaul’s sudden break of eye contact. “Your future fiance is smart, though of course you would know.”

Metis nodded her head, as an answer and as an attempt to shake the overwhelming buzz of anxiety flooding her mind.

“What exactly is he being tested on if I may ask?” Metis’ voice sounded too quiet, too small for her liking. It was as if the lab was sucking every ounce of energy from her the longer she remained there. However, she needed her answers first.

“His loyalty of course.” Metis held back a scoff. Hopefully Coriolanus’ loyalty to their arrangement wasn’t being tested, otherwise he’d have a long twenty years before him.

“Is this about Lucy Gray?”

“Not in the way you assume,” Dr.Gaul flashed her a bright smile which Metis almost returned. “If I were to judge his loyalty to yourself then, well, who’s to say if he’d ever be seen in the Capitol again. Loyalty to the Capitol is what I am most interested in when it comes to Mr.Snow.” Maybe Coriolanus did have a chance to come home after all, yet something still nagged at Metis in her chest. How was Lucy Gray still involved if what Dr.Gaul had said was true? Hadn’t the poor girl been put through enough? 

“Do you happen to know which District he’s been ordered to?” The Dean’s answer hadn’t been enough to fully satiate Metis’ curiosity and worry. She trusted Dean Highbottom but she needed just a bit more. While she assumed that the dean had her best interest at heart, Dr.Gaul had the Capitol’s best interest in hers. Dr.Gaul, with another different brightly coloured snake in hand, turned to look at her with those chilling irises.

“You’re not planning on going after him, are you?” Metis was quick to shake her head. She was desperate for Coriolanus to finally respect their arrangement, but not desperate enough to run off after him.

“Just looking for answers, ma’am.” Dr.Gaul seemed to consider her for a second, looking her up and down once again. Metis felt like one of the many mutations under a microscope. Like a prey animal. Dr.Gaul seemed to get her answer because after seemingly analysing Metis for what felt like far too long, she replied with: “I believe he signed himself up for District Twelve.”

Twelve.

“Does that answer your question, Ms.Pyralis?”

“Yes ma’am, thank you.”

As soon as Metis was out the front doors of the Citadel she ran for her family’s parked car, throwing open the door and practically throwing herself inside. She was grateful that her driver didn’t ask questions and simply drove off as soon as the door closed behind her. 

She knew in her gut that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were together again. 

When Lucy Gray had been a tribute she hadn’t worried. She knew that once the Games were over and Lucy Gray was either dead or shipped back to District Twelve, Coriolanus would be hers and only hers. She didn’t need or want him or his lack of money, but she did, however, want him to remember what he was putting at risk. 

Not only was he risking his and his family’s reputations but hers as well. He had no respect for all that she had done for him over the years, keeping his family’s struggles a secret, aiding them in any way she could without giving their financial state away to her father. She even continued to keep it a secret while having his grandmother and cousin moved into her family’s home. While he was off playing house, she was here doing damage control for him. If he decided to stay in District Twelve for her and word got out - there was no repairing her reputation. She would be known as the Capitol girl who got rejected for a District girl. 

She couldn’t blame Coriolanus. Lucy Gray had captured the attention and hearts of almost everyone in the Capitol, including her own, but he was playing with fire. And he was being severely overestimated if he didn’t realize that fire melts snow.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x original character #the hunger games #thg #thg series #thg fic #original character #thg original character #the hunger games fic #mrpldiddles #mrpldiddles fic #tom blyth #rachel zegler #hunter schafer

[violentdevotion]

yes u r my designated shakespeare mutual bc u mentioned him like once also hi my one nsci class keeps saying 'xyz ameliorates disease symptoms' and then i stop listening and am like ohh i wonder how ameera is doing😁💗❕

hi hi hi hiiii !!! I'm doing a shakespeare adaptations module this semester so it's appropriate for the next for weeks for me to be <3 LOVE that I'm distracting u in class unintentionally. fun story so when I was like 10 my dad got me a little electronic dictionary bookmark and everyone in my class was fascinated by it and one thing we did was put out names into it to see the closest match and the closest match to ameera was ameliorate, to make things better, and it's such a pretty word that I remembered it for years and years and years and had 0 opportunity to use it in a sentence ever so it's my title instead and now 10 years later it's distracting you in class too.

#ameeras.got.mail #h tag #some boy that i think was bullying me broke it in highschool its whatever hes a prick and we go to the same uni but hes in the medicine #building and im in humanities and if he ever tries to speak to me im gonna report him and inshaAllah get him kicked out 🙏🏼 #also i have a girl in my class who has the same name as u and she hates me AND the other day i had a friend tell me that she thinks brown #girls with sisters are bitchier and i was like NO !!! I HAVE A FRIEND WITH ONLY SISTERS AND SHES REALLY NICE AND I LOVE HER SO UR THEORIES #BAD but tbf she only said that bc she told me she can tell i havent got any sisters and i was rly offended #also how are you ?! #ohmygod no wait back to that conversation i then also told that friend that i gave u my address and ur from my favourite US state and she #gave me the worst look i just know all of my friends think im stupid af when i talk abt my tumblr mutuals 😭😭😭😭 #anyway this week (starting 24th Oct) we're doing macbeth which is THEEE play ever ever ever like drama and all that and bc its an #adaptations class we're also doing macbeth orson welles and week after macbeth on the estate if u wanna stufy along with me #the past few weeks were 12th night #and our final assessment we have to write an adaptation ourselves and im gonna do brown muslim much ado about nothing #bc u know that scene where she faints at the wedding and her dads like yeah good if she had any shame at all shed die..... brown dad moment

[regalstudies]

Japanese Movie Recommendations!

こんにちは皆さん！今日、特別な順序ではなく５本の好きな映画を紹介したいです。

Hi everyone! Today I’d like to introduce you to 5 of my favourite Japanese movies! My personal tastes lean more towards the horror and anime side of things, but I hope there are some here that you guys haven’t seen! Cinema can be a great avenue to delve deeper social commentaries about the country we’re interested in learning about, so I’ve tried to pick some recommendations with that in mind! :]  

I’ve attempted to add all relevant content warnings, but there may be something I have missed so please take caution! I’d recommend having a look at what people say on DoesTheDogDie.com if you have specific concerns

Without further ado, let’s get started!

1.  Confessions (告白) directed by Tetsuya Nakashima (中島哲也)  

Confessions is a 2010 psychological thriller based off of the mystery novel of the same name. It follows the aftermath of the murder of a school teacher’s daughter by her pupils, who utilise Japan’s laws on age of criminal responsibility to “get away with it” and focuses on the differing perspectives of those involved. This film explores themes of revenge, familial values and expectations, and the normalization of violence in youth. This film is unmistakably heavy, but it is powerful.

This was introduced to me by my professor when I was doing a Japanese Film course in Uni, and it has stuck with me for YEARS. Not only is the story itself poignant, it’s brilliantly acted, beautifully shot, and has so many striking visuals with artistically composed scenes. As this was a fairly successful film,  there are a fair few articles analysing its themes - if anyone is interested, I can try and dig up the resources we used when we studied this in class! :]

Content warnings: depictions and mentions of mental and physical abuse, violence towards children, violence committed by children, bullying mentions of animal death, attempted suicide, murder, mentions of chronic illness (AIDs and cancer in particular)

2.  The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (かぐや姫の物語) directed by Isao Takahata (高畑 勲)

A retelling of famous folktale Taketori Monogatari (竹取物語) for modern Japanese audiences, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya brings new life to the classic story without sacrificing any of its heart. Takahata cited his own inability to connect to the original tale as inspiration for the retelling, aiming for something which the audience could connect to emotionally and really understand the titular princess. 

The film deals with feminist concerns about the restrictions of womanhood (especially in the ambiguously Heian-era Japan), familial obligation, love, and the beauty of life. It’s a cultural adventure which I would recommend to anyone regardless of their familiarity with the tale it is adapting! Honestly, I’ve written essays about  Taketori Monogatari and this film still managed to move me to tears with how beautifully and painstakingly rendered it is! I’d need a whole other post to detail just how much I appreciate the /art/ of this piece.

Content warnings: animal death, suggestion of sexual assault, arranged marriage, memory loss

3. Dark Water (仄暗い水の底から) directed by Hideo Nakata (中田 秀夫)

This 2002 horror movie is a sad ghost story! It follows the story of a single mother trying to get through her life while dealing with her divorce proceedings, new slightly-run-down apartment, and the paranormal occurrences haunting herself and her daughter. This movie deals with familial issues, parental sacrifice and confronting trauma.

Dark Water deals with aspects of Japanese horror which fans of Ringu (coincidentally, also directed by Nakata) may recognize, so I’d definitely recommend fans of Ringu and people wanting to explore the way that different cultures portray horror to give this one a shot. I found this one so fun to analyse  recurring themes and imagery in Japanese horror, and I’m more than happy to encourage others to fall down this rabbit hole too!

Content warnings: missing children, death (including that of a child), threat of death, drowning, abandonment, divorce

4.  The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (時をかける少女) directed by  Makoto Shinkai (新海 誠)

This 2006 sci-fi romance tells the story of a high-school girl who discovered that she has the ability to travel through time! Dealing with friendship, the pressures of growing up and romance, this movie integrates slice-of-life and coming of age themes into its sci-fi setting! Its your classic tale of fairly innocent time-travel shenanigans and trying to right some wrongs, and makes the the ultimate heartwarming story! 

This one used to be pretty popular amongst anime fans a gooood few years back, but I haven’t seen people talk about it in a while and I wanted to mention it just in case it had fallen off the radar!  With simple yet fluid character designs and beautiful scenery, this piece manages to portray grounded teenage characters and capture that warm summer feeling throughout.

Content warnings: threat of death, train accidents, minor violence and name calling

5.  Tokyo Sonata (トウキョウソナタ) directed by  Kiyoshi Kurosawa (黒沢 清)

This 2008 drama follows the disintegration of a middle-class family after the patriarch loses his comfortable salaryman job unexpectedly. This film tackles issues faced by many modern families as the sense of traditionalism and societal normalcy becomes strained under the pressures of expectation, unemployment, and inability to communicate your authentic self to your family.

This film is an incredibly grounded drama, depicting real issues faced by so many families. Take a look at the date on this film, and you’ll realise how true-to-home this story of societal and economic uncertainty is for so many. Despite it all, what seems on the surface to be a depressing story of a family at their worst, actually displays a message of hope throughout. I find it to be a very realistic and poignant film.

Content warnings: unemployment, financial struggle, communication issues, war, military, abuse, domestic violence, crime, robbery, kidnapping, themes of suicide and depression, sexual assault, car accidents, police presence 

Bonus!  Gohatto (御法度) directed by Nagisa Ōshima (大島 渚)

This one was recommended by my flatmate for this list, as a quick shoutout because “its very good” so I don’t personally have much to say about it - but I’m never going to complain about a recommendation for a gay samurai film. :]

それで、おすすめを終わります！

Thank you all for reading through this list! If you have any recommendations of your own, please feel free to add them on!

#leo speaks #japanese #japanese movie #japanese movies #langblr #japanese langblr #movies #film #japanese cinema #japanese study blog #japanese studyblr #film recommendations

[lost-neurons]

Tips from Cal Newport's How to Win at College

Recently I finished Cal Newport's another book, How to Win at College. A fast read, the book is basically a list of tips gathered by the author to help the reader succeed easier at uni.

Some of them were quite obvious to me, some of them caught my attention more, and they are the ones you can find below. Words in italics are the exact quotations, headlines are also original from the book. The rest of it is my attempt to summarize it (although the descriptions in the book itself are very short and clear, so really, check out the book). Without further ado:

Studying

Build Study Systems

before you start to study spend few minutes so you know exactly what and how will you study, that way you will optimize your work and study more efficiently

Avoid Daily To-Do Lists

rather try time-blocking

Do Schoolwork Every Day

doesn’t matter how much you do, as long as you do something daily it will be easier staying in that zone of the smooth work flow

Find a Secret Study Space

Take the time to explore the odd corners and depths of your favorite buildings on campus, and you will certainly find a hidden jewel of a study space to call your own.

however! switch them from time to time to prevent making studying tedious and alienating

Don’t Study In Groups

you really do need to sit at your QUIET desk in the library to absorb the material

seek out someone for specific help on a specific issue, then return to your solo work

Don’t Do All of Your Reading

read chapter introductions and conclusions, skim everything else

you may miss something important, your professor won’t – listen carefully during class

pay more attention to the assignments which will be part of an exam but weren’t or won’t be covered in class 

make tick marks next to sentences that catches your attention and is faster than highlighting

Start Long Term Projects the Day They Are Assigned

finish some work the same day; 30 mins are enough, plan the whole thing, do some research, maybe write some draft

Keep a Work-Progress Journal

every nigh jot down the day’s date, the long-term work you had scheduled for the day, and the work that you actually accomplished, be brief

that will keep your mind in the game, and you will feel being hold accountable

Start Studying Two Weeks in Advance

first ~12 days– an hour or so, maybe a couple extra hours over the weekend

two days before exam  – three-hour secessions to cement that knowledge

Focus On Grades, Ignore G.P.A

bad grades happen, as long as you put in the effort nobody cares about one bad day

focus on learning for the sake of learning, not for the sake of grades !!!!

Uni life

Get Involved with Your Major Department

attend the events, guest lectures, seminars, public thesis defenses

show up once a month, become a recognized face, that will have several benefits

Learn to Listen

never be the first person to give an opinion, listen to others’ thoughts first, be sure you understand their positions, and then interject your own thoughts with careful aplomb

you don’t want to be that stuck-up person who acts like they know everything, and only they are right – listen, listen, listen!!!

Relax Before Exams

studying right up until the testing begins releases too much adrenaline, resulting in troubles with focusing

take an hour before an exam to relax so you will feel confident and calm

Ignore Your Classmates’ Grades

Worry about your performance and progress; let your classmates worry about their own.

Blow the Curve Once a Term

every semester choose one class you like, then within this class choose one interesting project, and then just absolutely kill it

Ask One Question at Every Lecture

(…) when you are doing the reading that will be covered in the lecture, jot down a quick list of questions that seem relevant. Then, once in class, follow the professor’s material carefully modifying and honing your questions as appropriate. Finally, when you feel you have a question that is meaningful, and will clarify an important point of the discussion, ask away.

Befriend a Professor

make them your mentor, they provide the letters of recommendation, informal instructions, and many other useful tools you need for academic success

visit office hours not only when you have troubles with certain topics; when working on a paper talk to them about possible topics, get feedback on the selected idea, check with them the structure of your argument, ask for clarification etc. etc. etc.

Apply to Ten Scholarships a Year

For every ten well-selected scholarships and awards you apply for, you probably have a good shot at winning at least one (…). The more scholarships you win, the better your odds on future applications.

it will accumulate and after few years your resume will be looking good when joining the job market

Lifestyle

Schedule Your Free Time

so you don’t waste it sitting and wondering what to do and turning 10-minutes jobs into 2-hours ones

either you are in one of your scheduled break periods, or are you working – no more feeling guilty or uncertain when to relax

Find an Escape

schedule an escape every single week, do it alone; can be a long hike, sitting in the coffee shop reading, anything allowing you to relax and cut off uni stuff for a few hours

Exercise Five Days a Week

keep yourself active to boost your brain, but also to take care of your muscles and joints – they were made to move!

Stay In Touch

talk to your family and friends at least once a month; literally talk, call them or meet if you can, messaging doesn’t count nor sending voice massages

Don’t Undersleep, Don’t Oversleep

find out how many hours do you need to feel rested and stick to them

avoid too few but also too many hours of sleep – The fact that you can sleep more, doesn’t mean that you should.

Laugh Every Day

Find something every single day that will make you laugh

Seek Out Fun

if you don’t actively seek out fun, it won’t actively seek out you

Reconsider reading Newport's book, or give his podcast (Deep Questions with Cal Newport) a try. He's the first person I found with such a healthy approach to productivity and work

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