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bippot · 9 months

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Summary: How many times does Vigilante need to get injured before Harcourt finally gives in and hires a medic to help out with the squad's injuries? Far too many times, that's how many.

When it's uncovered that a fancy hotel is linked to, not only what's left of the legion of butterflies, but also a string of weird deaths and missing persons reports, the only two for the job are lovesick Adrian and the newbie.

Will they both make it out of paradise alive?

Tags: Canon-Typical ViolenceGun Violence, Blood and Injury, Undercover as a Couple, Fluff, Idiots in Love. Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer Vacation, Butterflies, Alien Invasion, Stitches

Music recommendation: Ultraviolet by Stiff Dylans

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

One of Vigilante's most obvious characteristics was his recklessness. And this lack of self-preservation and complete disregard of the possible consequences of his actions ensured that Harcourt was almost always pissed at him for some reason or another - whether it was his tendency towards stupidity or how he constantly was nothing other than his annoying self.

Harcourt didn't like Vigilante. It was a fact. She put up with him, of course, as there wasn't really any other way around it. He'd wedged himself into this group and was not leaving at any moment. That didn't mean she had to be nice about it. Especially when he was messing up constantly. Like, right now...

"You're a walking fucking disaster! How the absolute fuck did you get injuried again?" She yelled, looking at him through narrow eyes as the blood seeped from beneath his torn sleeve in a slow but steady trickle.

"She got me." He nodded his head towards the dead body beside him, which had once been a woman who happened to have a very full chest and a butterfly shaped alien thing in her brain. "She got me good."

The injury had occurred because both Peacemaker and Vigilante had been distracted thanks to the boobs. Before her death, the butterfly had thrown an ornate letter opener from the stationary set in this very fancy office that had plunged its way into Vigilante's bicep, and she was swiftly rewarded by Harcourt's bullet in her brain. Why, oh why, did she always have to deal with these two dumbasses? Couldn't they, you know, stop with the whole zero braincell bullshit when they were on missions?

Out of missions? Fine. They could go around town and do whatever useless shit they wanted to. But on missions? And her missions specifically? Well, the fact that they didn't focus was becoming an insult. Harcourt was the leader of these fucking things. If either of those two himbos messed up, it was her reputation as a strategist and as a person who was goddamn good at her job that was on the line.

Was it a smart idea to take the 'boss' mantle from Murn? With each passing mission, Harcourt was seriously beginning to regret her choice. Sometimes, she couldn't even rely on Leota to help keep the boys on track.

"That's a shame. She had a great rack," Adebayo commented once she saw the big breasted corpse. Emilia's eyes flashed with something akin to anger before she managed to hide it behind her usual poker face, but Leota saw straight through it. "I know, I know, feminism and stuff about being more than our bodies - which I agree with, obviously - but those bazongas are stellar. It has to be said."

"No. No, it doesn't though. It doesn't have to be said."

From their earpieces, they heard John question, "Who's got a great rack?" over comms. Harcourt was surrounded by idiots on all sides, it seemed.

"You want me to take a pic?" Peacemaker patted himself down in search of his phone, which was quickly ripped from his fingers before he could even try. "Hey!"

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

With all the information transferred onto a USB that Economos would have to do his hacker shit to get past the encrypted files, the mission was over. They'd gotten what they need to. The extraction team could go home and not see each other for a while, which was something that Emilia desperately needed. Time away from these assholes was the only thing on her mind, so she began the walk back to the RV with a departing and very disapproving snarl to her teammates.

Peacemaker, ever the Harcourt simp, pushed Vigilante to encourage him to start following after her so that he didn't look so whipped when he did the same. As he made contact with Vigilante's shoulder, Chris accidentally touched Adrian's wound and he yelped loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Ah, sorry, dude."

"Don't worry, man. It doesn't even hurt."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Adebayo was last out. She looked over her shoulder and saluted. "Thanks for your boob service, soldier," she stated as she left. Keeya wasn't even going to believe how good they were.

When they were all back at the van, each member of the group had their own things to do. Chris was rustling a crisp packet out of the passenger's side window to get Eagly to follow the vehicle. Leota was in the process of changing out of her blood-soaked clothes in the tiny RV bathroom, which was a real test of flexibility. John was driving. And Adrian was pitifully sighing every two seconds in an attempt so that Peacemaker would pay attention to him and help him patch up his shoulder.

Somebody had to help the bleeding idiot out. Emilia was the only one left. Fuck. She didn't want to. She really didn't want to interact with him when she had the chance to put headphones on and disassociate until they got back to HQ. But... she couldn't let him injure himself further. He was an effective member of the team and it would be best if he didn't give himself an infection.

"Don't say a word."

She snatched the antiseptic wipe out of his hand and cleaned his wound haphazardly. Honestly, she didn't care if she was being too rough. He was fucking annoying her and, well, she wasn't afraid to show it.

"Ow, ow, ow, what the fuck?" He whined, swatting weakly at her hands but Harcourt wasn't budging. "Be careful with those man hands of yours."

If looks could kill, Adrian would've been dead so long ago. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case and, therefore, Harcourt just ignored him instead and continued her ministrations, muttering, "Shut the fuck up," which she knew was going to be ignored anyway.

After cleaning the wound up a bit, she grabbed the needle and Adrian swore he saw his life flash before his eyes. Was this the moment that Harcourt went crazy and finally sewed his mouth shut? She'd threatened to do it before. He'd pushed her so far. Shit. Shit. Oh shit. He swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for whatever came next.

But, Harcourt just began to stitch his skin together - albeit begrudgingly - and blocked out Adrian's borderline embarrassing whimpers of pain. He was loud so it was hard to ignore. Still, he could help but stammer out, "Fuck. I wish we had a nice nurse instead of this shit. You wouldn't have to patch me up then," and, for once, the dumbass had a good point.

Leota was the best when it came to first aid, but she wasn't a nurse by any means. The group had often got into scrapes and dumbass fights, and it was rare that they got out of them without a cut or a broken bone or two. So, yeah, a 'nice nurse' would be a godsend. And, even better, Emilia had the perfect candidate in mind.

As soon as they got to HQ, Harcourt ordered everyone home so she could pace around Henenlotter Video in peace and think how she would bring the idea up with Y/N, mentally preparing the conversation in her head. It's not as if Y/N was difficult to talk to, quite the contrary actually, but Emilia knew that Y/N got out of the game so did she really want to be the one responsible for bringing her back in.

There was no harm in asking, right? All it was was a phone call. It was Y/N's choice.

"What do you want, Meeley?" was the first thing that Y/N said as she picked up the call.

Emila let out a chuckle at the nickname. Only two people in the entire world were allowed to call Harcourt anything other than her name - her father was six feet under so it was unlikely that he was going to say anything to anyone anytime soon - so it was a very exclusive club.

"What makes you think I want something? Can't I just call to check up on you?"

"Are you checking up on me?"

"Maybe."

Y/N laughed. The pair had always been able to understand each other without saying much. Their minds were wired that way, the two of them. There was little doubt in Emilia's mind that Y/N knew exactly why the call was happening, and that was only confirmed when she said, "Okay, I'll play along." The smile was evident in her tone.

"How are you?"

"A child threw up on my shoes today," Y/N answered dryly. "So I've spent most of my time since I got home from work unpuking my sneakers."

"Sounds thrilling."

"Yeah, I'm really living it up over here."

"I bet."

There was silence. It stretched on for another couple of moments, both women waiting for the other to give in to the inevitable. Neither of them wanted to be the first, but they both knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Pleasantries had never been their thing anyway, so why would they bother wasting their breath.

Finally, Y/N sighed and asked, "What's the gig?" Emilia had won.

"Medical aid on my strike team."

"When do I start?"

"How fast can you get to Charlton County?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

That was it. The job had been accepted with exceptional ease. In fact, it almost seemed like Y/N already expected she'd be pulled back into the biz at some point, so why not be pulled back in by Harcourt of all people?

Just as she said, Y/N was in Evergreen by the next day. Her time as a 'normal person' had consisted of waking up every day at 7 to work as a kindergarten teacher and she was giving that up at the drop of a hat. She'd called into work to inform them that she was leaving, which must've seemed abrupt to her employers and, if she were being honest, she felt a little shitty for doing it over the phone. Plus, she'd given them such short notice, which was a dick move.

It wasn't like she needed the reference, though. Emilia knew how she worked. Technically, one of her first jobs at the DEO (Department of Extranormal Operations) was acquired through nepotism since Emilia had been the one who put her forward for it.

Walking through the doors of the gross looking building that The 11th Street Kids used for their base, Y/N looked totally out of place. She wore comfortable jeans, a flowing button up and rounded spectacles. She looked like a kindergarten teacher, well, because she was. Had been.

"Hey lady! I think you've got the wrong place!" Chris exclaimed. It's not a super secret base if just any innocent looking woman can walk in. Henenlotter Video had stopped being a renting store more than a decade ago when all the other blockbuster type establishments did. There was no way she was looking to rent a video 2023.

Adrian had been in another room. Harcourt had gotten tired of his constant yapping and forced him to sort some of the files in the back office out, which was totally unneeded and tedious by design. As soon as he heard Peacemaker's calls, he ran in, gun in hand and ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. 'Would be a shame to shoot that face,' he thought as he took in the sight of this intruder.

"Woah, put the gun down, hot stuff," she urged, nonchalantly raising her hands to either side of her head. She nodded towards the guy in the spectacles "I'm assuming that's Vigilante."

"What?! No!"

"That's totally him," Chris shrugged casually.

Y/N slowly lowered a hand, assuring them, "Harcourt told me to," as she rifled through her back pocket to pull out a post it note that she'd hastily written all the information Emilia had given her the night before and read it, "Patch up the, uh, idiot named Vigilante."

Oh boy, being injured was going to get a lot more fun for Vigilante now. It was so cool that Harcourt had given in and given him a sexy nurse. He'd fantasised about this moment. Still, he retorted, "I'm not an idiot."

"Her words, not mine."

Emilia, with John hot on her heels, entered from her office and was rather surprised by the standoff going on before her eyes. She glanced between her three employees, a sigh leaving her lips as she shook her head. "Adrian, put the gun away."

He obeyed immediately, but didn't look happy about it and crossed his arms with a pout. Harcourt gave him a glare, almost like a mother disciplining her child when they don't greet a guest in a polite way. Adrian huffed and let his arms drop to his sides. He was adorable, Y/N realised, and immediately chastised herself as she was about to infantilize an actual serial murderer.

"Take him to the back office and redo his stitches."

Saluting her new boss, Y/N waited for Vigilante to move in their intended direction - she had no fucking clue where she was going - and followed after him once he got the memo, which was when John caught his eye and nodded his head to gesture for him to lead this newcomer to the back office.

Chris, John and Leota - who'd just walked in from their lunch run - all watched as Vigilante opened the door wide, let the pretty girl walk in before him and look over his shoulder to catch Peacemaker's eye. He was rewarded with a suggestive thumbs up from his buddy, one of which Chris was harshly slapped on the bicep by his boss for.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Stop being a pig!"

"Not for me, for him! His type! His type, not mine."

Chris was practically squealing whilst trying to defend himself to the woman he had to look so far down to observe. Harcourt is like a chihuahua, small but fierce and willing to bite if given the opportunity.

"She's nerdy-hot. He's crazy for those." Leota added as she began handing out the food. "You didn't think that part through, did you?"

No. Emilia hadn't. "He's crazy. Period."

On the other side of the door, Adrian was pretending that he couldn't hear his friends talking about him through the door - which was a situation he'd been through way too many times for his liking throughout his life - and haphazardly jumped to sit up on one of the filing cabinets, his butt creating a loud thud against the metal once he made contact. Yet, that sound was overwhelmed by what would become a very familiar one to Y/N from this point on.

Thanks to his energetic display, Adrian had managed to knock over the pile of case files that was to the right of him and were stacked in a wobbly 7ft tower. That was what he'd been doing when she'd first arrived. There were a lot of case files (most of which were classified and mostly contained lots of pages filled with redacted black blocks) and he'd barely gotten halfway into putting them back in the cabinet in alphabetical order like he'd been told to. Honestly, he often wondered why they even bothered with the files in the first place. It was an unnecessary paper trail.

A bunch of binders fell directly onto his shoulder, causing him to whine out, move way too quickly, and rip his stitches, which made another, even louder and pitiful whine come from his mouth. "Motherfucker!" he swore while clutching at his shoulder tightly.

Yes, he was in pain and that sucks. But also, it was kind of funny. Y/N had a hard time not laughing at him, which was unprofessional, but still, she let out a huff of laughter and was rewarded with a glare. "Sorry. Sorry." She calmed herself. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go for it."

After carefully moving some of the files off his lap, she pulled some gloves on and waited for him to take his cardigan off so that she could take a look at the wound. Stupidly, he'd decided to wear a long sleeved shirt and 'unfortunately' had to take it off. 'Hot' was the one she would use to describe what she was seeing, and cut that thought short before it got more detailed.

And sure enough, there was a circular thumb sized hole in his bicep that was beginning to bleed again.

"Is it okay if I touch you? I mean, it will be pretty difficult for me to fix you up if you say no... it's nice to ask beforehand."

"Yeah, sure. Touch me all you want. I'd love you to." He paused to clarify, "As in, I'd love to not be bleeding anymore. Not that you should jerk me off or anything."

Despite how he was acting, Adrian didn't mind being alone with this woman. She was nice to look at and, so far, she seemed generally nice. No other members of the team ever asked before touching him. She didn't even get offended at his slip up. Adebayo would've called him a perv, and Harcourt probably would've swatted at him.

As she examined the wound, Y/N teased, "Well, I wouldn't want to show favouritism on my first day, would I?" and any sign of his previous grumpy mood had vanished, replacing it was a goofy, wide smile with pink blush that was far too obvious against his pale skin.

Weird. He felt the need to blurt out, "I'm Adrian. My name is Adrian, w-what's yours?"

"I'm Y/N."

"Good name." He could feel heat rising to his ears. Shit, was it noticeable? Hopefully not.

"You feeling warm?" She brought the back of her hand to his forehead due to his sudden change in hue. Her eyes darted from his bright, almost sparkling green eyes to his flushed cheeks as he gave her a slight nod. His head was definitely a little warm. "Have you been feverish at all since the injury?"

"Uh...no."

"Tell me if you do, okay? Infections are a real bastard to deal with."

"Okay."

She moved to find the first aid kit Emilia had told her they owned to find a banged up old box with huge dents and rust around the edges with a 'Medical Shit' sign hastily stuck on a diagonal along the top. Inside wasn't any better. It was only the bare essentials. Thread. Bandage. And three remaining needles. Luckily, Y/N had prepared for this as, in her experience (especially with Emilia), secret agent types are careless when it comes to first aid. They'd rather painfully limp a mile on a broken foot than take five minutes to make a splint and limp that mile less painfully.

Removing the straps of her backpack from her shoulders - which Adrian hadn't clocked until that point because the straps were the exact same colour as her shirt - she lowered it atop the scattered files to the left of where Adrian sat and unzipped it to reveal a bunch of stuff that looked very clinical to Adrian. He recognised some of it but he'd never been very good at the whole patching up thing, despite how much practise he had.

"Who's responsible for these?" She gently wiped away some blood that was about to drip off his elbow. "Was it Emilia?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Cause it's so shitty."

Not very many people knew that Emilia had a phobia of blood. It wasn't as severe these days, mostly on the account that it would be impossible to do her job if she let her fear get to her. Throughout her career, she'd gotten better at controlling herself, yet there were still moments when the sight of ichor still unnerved her.

"How's the pain? I've got some numbing drugs to make it painless, if that would help?"

Numbing? None of the others had ever offered him that before - probably because they didn't have it, but if they did and John got hurt first, Economos would definitely use up their supply on one injury. Someone offering to make his experience better without needing to? Shit. He was totally enamoured.

"Drug me up," he practically sang, only for his face to fall for a second. "Wait, it's legal drugs, right? You're not going to inject me with heroin or some shit, are you?"

What an idiot. An amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips at his concern and she shook her head. "How have you caught onto my plan of slowly drip feeding you opiates on my first day?" she joked, and to help him figure out that it was, in fact, a joke, she held up the bottle of anaesthetic so he'd be able to read the label. Sure, he didn't know what lidocaine was, but he could guess that it was the type of drug that a medical professional would use.

And by the way she warned, "Now, relax while I do this. You'll feel a small pinch, but that's it. Ready?" he could see that she definitely was used to this procedure. Maybe she'd done it hundreds of times before, maybe thousands. But, this was a type of bedside manner that he'd never experienced before. Doctors were like this, weren't they? They were like this on some of the tv shows he'd seen.

Honestly, he had no clue and just nodded dumbly. Getting checked out professionally was out of the question - mostly due to the cost, but there was also the need to hide his secret identity and explaining to a ER nurse that a drug dealer stabbed him in the shoulder whilst they were mid fight was a great way at blowing his cover - and this lack of proper care was evident by all of the jagged and wonky scars he had across his chest and shoulders that she gave a quick once over to ensure that there was nothing that was screaming 'BIG PROBLEM' that she would need to attend to immediately.

All of his DIY attempts had done the job. They weren't clean or well done but they'd worked, she concluded and started on her repair.

"You have a habit of getting hurt."

"No, I do-"

"That wasn't a question." She silenced whatever bullshit excuse he was about to try to get her to believe and gave him a look. Not one that was unkind, nor accusatory, but one that conveyed the general message of: I've read your case file, don't even try to deny what I've been briefed about. "Before these guys, did you patch yourself up?"

A small - and somewhat sad - "Yeah, still do most of the time," was what he responded in a soft whisper, making Y/N's heart crack a bit inside her. She knew Emilia could be cold and dismissive at times, but surely the rest of the group weren't the same?

"From now on, if you get hurt, you call me. Deal?"

The way she said it felt like a promise and, as he saw the determined glimmer in her eyes when she looked at him, Adrian felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. He wasn't exactly happy to admit it to himself but he couldn't shake the feeling that he liked having someone he could rely on looking out for him. Especially if that someone happened to be a pretty girl.

"Deal." He smiled, hoping that she could see the gratitude that flooded through his eyes.

Y/N returned that smile with a grin of her own and focused mostly on her stitching as he sat there watching her work. She was efficient and precise, never wasting time or effort. It wasn't rushed, nor was she sluggish. Just calm and steady and comforting, something which he appreciated a lot more than he thought he would ever. The way her fingers touched him so delicately with such expertise, as though she were performing surgery instead of doing simple patching, made him melt into a puddle and forget about all of the thoughts that had been plaguing him that day.

If he happened to make a noise, she stopped and let her eyes drift to his and wouldn't continue until he gave her a nod that he was fine and she could carry on. He was always fine. He always gazed back with a goofy dazed smile on his lips and his legs swinging right next to her hips, like a child whose favourite toy has finally arrived after weeks of longing and waiting for it. If he had any self control, he'd turn his gaze to anything but the beautiful girl, yet he couldn't bring himself to do so and his eyes were transfixed on her every move. It didn't matter if it was his stomach rumbling or the sound of their coworkers arguing in the next room - they both disappeared into the background, forgotten in the warmth of that moment.

Stitching him up took no time. She took one last look and ran her finger across it to make sure that everything was properly sewn. "Not too shabby, huh?" She glanced at him, smiling softly before reaching for a bandage and wrapping it carefully around his arm to secure it.

As soon as she was done, she ruffled his hair, cheering, "Way to go, champ," then realised what she had done and rushed to apologise, "Sorry. I've been working with children for years. I didn't realise it was demeaning until I did it."

"Oh, no no no! It's fine," he assured, "I liked it. Not in a weird way. It was funny."

"At least I didn't try to give you a sticker or a lollipop."

"You've got lollipops?"

Did she? She had said that as a joke. The only two types of people that have candy on them constantly are teachers and perverts. And, often, it's hard to tell the difference between the two. Still, she searched through her bag and found one to hand to him. Adrian walked back into the main room with a fixed arm, a lollipop and some pep in his step. The lollipop was the only part that Chris noticed and instantly complained, "Where did you get that from? I want one."

"Y/N gave it to me." It was the smuggest Adrian had ever sounded. "It was the last one she had."

Despite a jealous Peacemaker constantly asking for sweets, the rest of Y/N's first work day was a success. Emilia went over how they would proceed - for now, Y/N would assist John in the van so she could prepare her kit and be ready to fix up whoever (Adrian, most likely) needed it as soon as the field team got back - and the squad all sat around firing as many questions at the newbie as possible.

Leota was interested in Y/N's previous life as a kindergarten teacher, but she was definitely more interested in the way Vigilante was sliding his arm around the back of her chair. That boy was anything but subtle. He kept flicking glances at her from time to time and, whenever he did so, a bashful flush appeared on his cheeks before he ducked his head down and turned his attention to his feet for a few seconds in an effort to un-pinkify his being. Adebayo had never seen Adrian act so shy before.

Anytime they went out to bars, Adrian would never really act that interested in anyone of any gender (other than Peacemaker, of course) and she assumed that his flirting technique would be like his personality - loud and crude and brash. This gentler approach was something that didn't suit him at all. He seemed much more reserved and sweet than the cocky and arrogant Adrian she had come to know.

Chris, on the other hand, kept asking very personal questions that Emilia had to keep stopping him from committing multiple HR violations in one single breath. While everyone else found it amusing to hear his incessant babbling directed towards Y/N, Harcourt spent most of her time nudging him and telling him to "knock it off" or "Shut the fuck up cause I don't wanna know this shit."

That was until Emilia happened to notice what Y/N was wearing. The button up. She'd seen that before. "Hey, is that my shirt? I thought I lost that years ago," she accused, reaching her arm over to pinch at the fabric of Y/N's sleeve and pull a face at the offending item.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Meeley."

Bullshit. Y/N was a pretty good liar but the thing about sisters is that they can often tell when their sibling is lying. Emilia now knew that it had been stolen from her wardrobe all those years ago, just as a lot of her clothes did back then.

Next Chapter: BG3

#adrian chase #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante #peacemaker

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gretavanfanfic · 4 years

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Room 419

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 7200ish

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Summary: You and Jake are tricked into sharing a hotel room by your friends following their wedding.

Being a maid of honor in a wedding is no small feat. While you were flattered that your best friend had asked you to stand next to her on her big day, you quickly found out that it is a demanding and expensive role, and it has left you feeling overwhelmed more than a few times over the past couple months. Therefore, when she and her then-fiancé told you that they would book your hotel room for the night of the wedding, you were more than happy to let them take that responsibility out of your hands. It would be one less thing to worry about on a sure to be hectic day.

Maybe this was your mistake, but you were fully expecting them to book you your own room. Or if not your own room, you figured they may have paired you with one of the other bridesmaids. You’re not particularly close with any of them, but you would be fine for one night.

What you were not anticipating was having to share a room with the best man.

So when the reception comes to an end and you insert your key into the card reader for room 419, ready to shower off the day and crawl into bed, you're shocked to see that a body is already occupying the mattress. More specifically, Jake Kiszka’s body.

His brown shoes have been kicked off near the door and he’s still clothed in his navy dress pants, but his white shirt is fully unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest as he lounges on top of the plush comforter with his phone in his hand. His head pops up when he hears you enter, and while he looks surprised at first, a smirk quickly forms on his lips.

Now, you know Jake fairly well, but you wouldn’t say that you consider him a friend. Acquaintance is probably a better word. Your best friend and her new husband have been trying to set the two of you up for years now, and while you had gone on one date with him in the past, it never amounted to anything. He was very obviously only interested in casual sex, which he offered up multiple times on your date, and he was a bit cocky for your tastes. And while you can’t deny that you were very attracted to him and very tempted by his offer, you were looking for something more serious, so you declined his advances and the two of you never went out again. Since then, you’ve heard plenty about Jake’s various conquests with all sorts of beautiful women, and so you’re not upset with your decision to let it be a one and done sort of deal.

Still, your friends haven’t let up on their quest to get you and Jake together, claiming that your compatibility is off the charts. Every time you hang out with them and Jake is there, they make remarks about how perfect you are for each other, which you always try to brush off. Jake, however, has fun feeding into their delusion and will frequently make flirty comments to you, ranging from, “Come on, Y/N! Give the people what they want! You heard them, we’re perfect for each other!” to, “You know you want a piece of this, babe. There’s no need to fight it!” You try not to make it obvious that his little jests usually leave you a bit flustered, but he seems to always pick up on your embarrassment anyway. Sometimes it even seems like he’s...proud of the fact that he can so easily ruffle your feathers.

“Well, well, well. Y/N,” Jake says arrogantly from his spot on YOUR bed. “I’m glad to see you’re finally ready to admit that you want me. I have to say though, this is a bit unexpected.”

You give him a small, humorless laugh, but your unease is clear as you question in a somewhat shrill voice, “What are you doing in my room?”

Jake’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as he answers, “Actually, this is my room. Got the key and room number directly from the front desk. You can check if you want.” He points to the key card lying on the dresser so that you can look for yourself.

Wasting no time, you let out a small huff and march over to grab the card that’s still in its paper pocket on the wood surface. Sure enough, the number on it matches the number on yours.

Annoyed at the fact that you now have to pay the front desk a visit before you can crawl into YOUR bed, you frown at Jake’s smug face and stomp out the door and onto the elevator to return to the lobby.

After waiting in line for 10 minutes behind a couple who was checking in, you approach the desk at last and are greeted by a friendly looking young woman who asks, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you reply, “Hi, I think I was given the wrong room number. When I went inside just now, there was already someone in there.”

The woman immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry about that ma’am. Let’s try to get that straightened out. What’s your name?”

You give her your information and watch as she types it on the keyboard, then clicks around on their computer system.

“Okay, I see we have you in room 419. Is that what you were told before?” she inquires.

“Yes,” you respond. “It looks like someone must have made a mistake with the other guest then, because he is insisting to me that 419 is his room.”

She clicks around some more and then states, “Well it looks like your reservation is for two adults. You and a Mr. Jacob Kiszka. We have a note here saying that you would be checking in separately.”

It’s at this moment that your blood begins to boil. In your head, you curse your best friend and her new husband, knowing that they are to blame for your current predicament. Even though they had pulled a few tricks in the past to try to get you and Jake together, you genuinely never would have expected them to go this far to couple you up.

It’s not that you have any particularly negative feelings toward Jake. More than anything, you’re upset that your friends have so blatantly disregarded your multiple refusals to go out with him. You know that they fully believe that they have your best interest in mind, but it still bothers you that they think they know what you need better than you do.

It would be one thing if the room had two beds, but, of course, they purposefully booked one that only has a single king-sized bed. You feel your skin itching with nervousness at just the thought of sharing a bed with a flirt like Jake.

Exasperated, you tell the front desk worker, “That’s not going to work for me. Can you get me booked in another room, please?”

The pleasant woman moves the mouse around some more, and then a frown appears on her face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more rooms available tonight. Is there anything else I can do to make yours and Mr. Kiszka’s stay with us more comfortable?”

Blowing out an aggravated breath, you give her a tight-lipped smile and sigh, “No, thank you for your help.”

You hear her wish you a good night as you walk away, defeated. It’s one night, you tell yourself. It will be fine.

When you re-enter room 419, Jake is exactly as you left him, lying on his back, phone in hand. Without looking up he concludes, “So they pulled a fast one on us, eh?” His voice is neutral, not giving away how he feels about the situation at all.

Dropping your bag on the table in the corner of the room, you gripe, “Ugh, yes. I really should have known better than to take them up on their offer. They’re pretty relentless, huh?”

“You’re not kidding,” he agrees. “I might be pissed if they were trying to set me up with any of the other bridesmaids, but I can tolerate you I suppose.”

You give him a dry laugh in response and sit down to rid yourself of the uncomfortable high heels that you’ve been wearing for far too long. Your feet ache, and you release a relieved sigh when you’re free of the painful shoes. After that, you begin digging through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and toiletries and carrying them with you into the surprisingly roomy hotel bathroom.

Beginning the process of de-glamorizing yourself, you start by taking the obscene number of bobby pins out of your hair, then painstakingly run a brush through your heavily hairsprayed tresses. Next is your face, and you have to use multiple wipes to remove all of the make-up that is caked onto your skin.

It’s not until you’re fresh faced and finished brushing your teeth, ready to finally jump into the shower, that you realize that you’re not going to be able to get out of your dress on your own. The zipper is oddly placed on your back and there’s a hook and eye that’s just out of your reach. The other bridesmaids were there to help you get into it this morning, but now the only person available to assist you is Jake. Knowing what your options are, you spend a considerable amount of time attempting to get the garment off on your own, but it is to no avail.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to ask for his help, you trudge out of the bathroom and come to a stop next to the side of the bed that Jake has claimed. At your appearance, he peers up at you from his phone and gives you a curious look.

Spinning around so your back is to him, you request, “Can you help me get this thing off, please? I can’t reach.” For some ungodly reason, you feel the need to show him that your arms are too short to get to the fastenings, and you flail them around helplessly.

Jake chuckles at your demonstration, and then you hear the creak of the mattress springs as he rises from his spot on the bed. You weren’t actually expecting him to get up, thinking he would easily be able to do the job from his lounging position, so your bodies end up uncomfortably close when he stands behind you. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back for just a moment until you shuffle forward a bit to create some distance between the two of you.

Jake begins by sweeping your hair over your shoulder, his fingers delicately brushing the skin on the back of your neck in the process. His touch feels weirdly intimate, and it causes goosebumps to appear on your flesh where his fingertips are. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t break the contact between your skin and his as he trails his fingers down your back to the top of the dress. When he reaches it, he takes hold of the seam, and his other hand comes up to smoothly drag the zipper down to its end, right below the band of your admittedly skimpy underwear. As he makes his way back up to the hook and eye, he allows his fingertips to glide up your spine, and you reflexively shiver.

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. Jake deftly undoes the small hook and the dress falls open, the entirety of your back on display. You feel exposed, and your arms instinctively rise to keep the gown from revealing any more of your skin to Jake’s eyes.

Not wanting to prolong the embarrassing moment any longer, you take a step forward with the intent of returning to the bathroom. Your movement, however, is halted by Jake quietly exclaiming, “Hey, wait!”

Turning your head to face him, you raise your eyebrows and look at him questioningly.

He closes the distance between you again, and his hand reaches up to toy with the piece of jewelry that adorns your neck. In a husky voice, he asks, “Do you want me to take this off too?”

You had forgotten all about the necklace that your friend had given you as a bridesmaid gift, but Jake was right. It was fairly elaborate and would not be comfortable to sleep in, so it would definitely need to be removed. And while you could probably navigate getting it off on your own, you still find yourself nodding at Jake to accept his offer.

Whirling back around, you use one hand to gather up your hair and hold it in a knot at the back of your head, giving Jake easier access to the clasp. Your other hand continues to clutch the front of your gown to your chest, the thin straps not doing much to maintain your modesty.

Jake inches even closer, and again, you feel his body heat against your back. You hate to admit it, but the proximity makes your breathing speed up significantly. With nimble fingers, he grasps the chain and swiftly undoes the clasp, catching the heavy piece of jewelry in one hand.

Dropping your hair, you spin to face him and take the necklace from his extended palm. You look up and see that the smirk from earlier is painted on his face once again. Cheeks burning, you

mumble a shy, “thank you,” before fleeing to the bathroom.

Regretfully, your thoughts drift to Jake while you’re in the shower. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, you can’t help but visualize his form lounging on the bed in that unbuttoned shirt and those perfectly fitted dress pants, and then that leads you to relive the moment you shared not even ten minutes ago of him helping you out of your dress. Then your imagination runs a little wild and you have to force yourself to push him out of your mind before it goes too crazy.

By the time you’re rinsing the last bits of conditioner out of your hair and turning off the water, the tiredness from the long and hectic day has totally crashed over you. You can barely keep your eyes open as you comb the knots out of your hair and pull on the loose t-shirt and short shorts that comprise your pajamas.

Deciding to forego drying your hair in favor of getting to sleep sooner, you leave your belongings scattered on the vanity and traipse out of the bathroom, rubbing your eyes tiredly. The first thing your eyes land upon once they clear is Jake’s nearly naked form, slightly bent over and rifling through a small bag, his back to you. The pieces of his suit that he was still wearing when you last saw him have been discarded and hung up in the open coat closet, and his form-fitting navy boxer briefs are now the only article of clothing left on his body.

Though you’re ashamed to admit it, you ogle his ass for a good few seconds until he abruptly stands straight up, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. You’re sure you resemble a deer in headlights when he spins on his heel and catches sight of your wide eyes practically drilling holes into his scantily clad figure. A smug grin tugs at his lips and you quickly avert your gaze to the floor.

Not embarrassed in the least, Jake struts past you and into the bathroom that you just vacated, swinging the door closed with a loud click. A second later, you hear the faucet turn on.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you flick on both of the bedside lamps and turn off the overhead light on the ceiling, a softer glow replacing the harsh brightness of the room. Even though you don’t appreciate his arrogance, you don’t want Jake to trip and fall on his pretty face when he exits the bathroom because the room is too dark.

You then plug your phone into the outlet next to the bed, and, finally, pull back the covers of the side of the mattress that has not been claimed by Jake. Climbing in, you turn on your side so that you’re facing away from the middle of the bed and scoot yourself almost to the edge, moving around until you’re comfortable. While you’re mature enough that you would never make Jake sleep on the floor when the bed is perfectly large enough for both of you, you do NOT want there to be any unnecessary contact between the two of you in said bed. Hence you confining yourself to a small space as far away from Jake’s side as possible.

Tugging the plush covers up to your chin, you allow your eyes to fall shut, and you are almost instantly overtaken by sleep. Your slumber doesn’t last long, however, because you’re awoken by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Jake padding back towards the bed. Your eyes snap open and you watch him, still clothed in only his underwear, come to your side of the bed and switch off the lamp, then walk to his own side and turn off the lamp there.

The glow of the moon is the only source of light as he lifts up the comforter and plops his nearly nude body unceremoniously between the sheets. He shifts around a bit, then exhales a loud breath when he finds a comfortable position. You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he turns his head to you on his pillow and says in a sickly sweet voice, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Too tired to respond, you give him a grunt of acknowledgement and close your eyes, praying you can fall asleep as quickly as you did the first time. It seems like you only listen to the rhythmic sound of Jake’s breathing for a few minutes before you slip into unconsciousness.

⏭

It’s still dark in the room when you awaken a few hours later. You’re lying on your side with your arm in an uncomfortable position, and you can feel the sensation of pins and needles traveling throughout the limb. On top of that, you are entirely too warm, an unidentified heat source attached to your back.

It only takes a few seconds for the sleepy fog in your brain to clear and for you to realize that the source of your discomfort is a body. More specifically, Jake’s body. And not only is he cuddled up against you, he also has an arm thrown over your waist and a leg slung over your thigh, holding you snugly against him. You’re not sure how you ended up like this, but you know that you need to move now. Meer acquaintances do not snuggle like this.

Without much thought, you make an attempt to slip free from his clutches and migrate back to your side of the bed. Jake’s hold on you is so tight though, that you’re hardly able to move an inch. The little bit that you are able to shift, however, has made you acutely aware of the fact that there is something rigid poking your backside, and it twitches slightly as you wriggle against it.

At first, the discovery of Jake’s boner pressing against you has you feeling ridiculously embarrassed. You can feel your cheeks heat up and your breathing quicken, and the combination of your absolute mortification and his body heat has you sweating.

You try again, a bit more forcefully this time, to break free from Jake’s grip, but it is to no avail. Your stirring must disturb him just a little, though, because he emits a low groan from his throat, then uses the arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him.

Quickly, your embarrassment turns to annoyance. You’re annoyed because you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just taken it upon yourself to book your own hotel room. You’re annoyed because you could have asked one of the other bridesmaids to let you sleep in their room, but you decided to just bite the bullet and share with Jake for this one night instead. You’re annoyed because you made it a point to stay on your side of the bed, and you still somehow ended up in Jake’s clutches. You’re annoyed because your best friend and her new husband would have a field day if they could see you and Jake right now. But mostly, you’re annoyed because Jake’s hardness against your ass has your head swimming with thoughts that you definitely should not be thinking, and your thighs squeezing together in search of some sort of relief from the sudden rush of arousal between your legs.

It’s this overwhelming feeling of irritation that leads you to growl out, “Jake,” in an attempt to wake him.

Your efforts result in nothing. Not even a stir. He continues to snuggle you and sleep peacefully.

Raising your voice even more, you slap his arm lightly and bark, “Jake!”

Once again, he does not respond. The man sleeps like a log, apparently.

His lack of a response only fuels the aggravated fire in you, and so you turn your head towards his and shout, probably too loudly, “Jake! Let me go!”

Finally, in reaction to your yelling, Jake’s body jumps and his eyes pop open in alarm. He looks around in confusion for a second and his arm leaves your waist briefly to rub at his still partially closed eyes, but he returns it to the same spot as he questions, “Jesus, babe. Why are you yelling? Go back to sleep.” His voice is gravelly and you watch as he closes his eyes again as soon as he gets the words out.

You balk at both his nonchalance and the pet name he called you. You shouldn’t be surprised at either, but you are.

Squirming against him again, you agitatedly snap, “Are you going to let me go, or do you plan on holding me captive all night?”

From behind you, Jake hums against the back of your head and flippantly states, “I don’t know what the issue is, babe. I’m very comfortable like this.”

You’re positive that, even though he’s hardly awake, there is a smirk marring Jake’s features at your current lack of composure. The thought makes you clench your jaw in ire.

“The issue,” you start, through gritted teeth, “is that your dick is literally poking my ass. Now, let me go.”

Wordlessly, Jake flops from his side onto his back, ridding you, at last, of the arm and leg that were holding you against him. As soon as you’re free, you scramble as far as you can away from him and flip to your back as well, hoping to improve the circulation in your arm that had fallen asleep.

“Please try your best to stay on your own side,” you request tersely. He just hums in response.

Despite being free and more comfortable now, you are unfortunately still wide awake, mind racing and incredibly (disturbingly) turned on. You stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to will away the throbbing of your clit that has only seemed to become more intense since you separated from Jake. You curse him in your head for having this effect on you.

A few minutes pass and you decide to chance a glance at him, curious if he already fell back asleep or is lying wide awake like you. Slowly, as to not raise his suspicions, you turn your head on the pillow to look, and immediately regret doing so.

Neither you nor Jake had thought to shut the curtains before climbing into bed, and the moon is shining particularly bright tonight. Bright enough that Jake’s form is illuminated next to you, and you can clearly see that he is still hard. A sizable tent is present in the thin sheet covering him from the chest down, and he is lying with his arms stretched upward, hands cradling his head, and eyes wide open. He is taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself down.

The sight does NOT help quell your arousal in the slightest, and you know you need Jake and his erection to vacate the premises before you combust. You know you shouldn’t say the words before they even come out of your mouth, but the suggestion falls past your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Maybe you should, like, go take care of that or something.”

Jake’s head whips toward you. The moonlight reveals raised eyebrows, but then the dreaded smirk appears. Again. You really cannot fathom how he can be so shameless and confident at a time like this.

He takes some time to consider your recommendation, then retorts, “Actually, I was hoping maybe you would help me out…”

A noise that’s something between a strangled cackle and a sputter leaves your throat at his proposal. You give him a look as though he has lost his damn mind, and disbelievingly croak, “Excuse me?!”

Jake is undeterred. “Come on, babe,” he goads. “We both know that the sexual tension between us is off the charts.”

Astounded, you gape at him for a second. The irritation you were feeling replaced by bewilderment. You truly do not know how to reply, and so you stutter out, “I-”

“Please don’t try to deny it,” Jake cuts you off. He sits up, reaches over to flick on his bedside lamp, and turns his body to face you before going on. “I see how you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention. I see how flustered you get when I flirt with you in front of our lovely friends. And I saw how you reacted when I touched you earlier. You got goosebumps the second I laid my han-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you interrupt, having heard enough. But Jake’s not done.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t find me attractive, Y/N.”

And he’s right. You can’t say that. Because he’s probably one of the most beautiful humans you’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though you hate feeding into him, you aren’t a liar.

“I never said that,” you resolve, and Jake’s face lights up. “I just think that us hooking up could make things messy. Like, I don’t want to feel awkward if I try to hang out with my best friend and you’re there. Because let’s face it, we see each other all the time. How weird would having a one night stand make that?”

You’re proud of yourself for being able to coherently voice your thoughts and maintain your rationality. As much as your body may want to fuck Jake in this moment, your head is well aware of the implications a meaningless hook up with him would have.

Jake, apparently, does not understand the implications though, because he is staring at you with a perplexed look on his face. “Who said it would be a one night stand?” he asks, and his tone tells you that he isn’t joking.

What does that mean? What does this man want from me?

You involuntarily scrunch your face, then sit up as well. “I thought that was implied,” you admit, skepticism evident. “When we went out that one time, you were definitely more interested in a casual fuck than a relationship.”

Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Y/N, that was literally years ago.”

“And? What’s changed? I’ve seen how many girls you’ve gone through since then,” you counter, not buying that Jake is suddenly ready to commit to one person.

He emits a loud sigh. “Listen,” he begins, running a hand through his mostly straight brunette hair. “I realize my past behavior may be a little...off putting. But I have to tell you, I’ve been pissed at myself for scaring you off ever since that date we went on.”

You’re dumbfounded. It never even crossed your mind that Jake may have regretted how things between the two of you turned out. He certainly never gave you any hints that he was interested in you.

You want to ask him for further clarification, but he speaks again before you’re able to.

“I can tell that you want to ask me a million and one questions, but I really don’t think we need to make it that complicated. I’ll just say this: I like you. And I think maybe we should just...see where things go. No pressure.”

The suggestion is tempting. Especially the sex aspect. Your heat is practically begging for Jake’s touch at this point, the wetness starting to become uncomfortable. But the “seeing where things go” part has you feeling apprehensive.

Does that just mean that he wants to fuck you regularly? Like a friends with benefits situation? Or does that mean that he wants to, like, take you out on dates and be exclusive? You can’t say you would be opposed to that, but he’s being so...vague.

You decide to voice your apprehension out loud. “I don’t know, Jake…” you drawl, staring at the wall behind his head.

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your pajama shorts, a visible display of your nerves, until Jake inches closer to you and takes your hands into his own. He uses his thumbs, calloused from years of playing guitar, to run gentle circles on the backs of your hands as he pleads, “Come on, Y/N, let me make you feel good.”

And you’re ashamed that that’s all it takes for you to give into him, but not even a second passes before you’re mumbling out a quiet, “okay,” and watching a smile, a genuine one, take over his face. Then you’re gracefully (you hope) climbing into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. At the same time, your arms find their way around his neck and his wind around your waist, hands settling on your lower back.

Surprisingly, the two of you don’t dive into it right away. For what feels like multiple minutes, Jake just stares up at you and you stare back, both of you breathing heavily through parted lips. The tension in the room is palpable. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, and its pace quickens even more when you become conscious of Jake’s erection, hard and warm and dangerously close to your heat.

Unable to refrain, you look down between your bodies and see just how close your sexes are, only an inch of space and a few thin layers of material separating your most intimate area from Jake’s. And suddenly the room feels 10 degrees warmer.

Spurred on by the sight, you dig your heels into the mattress and use the leverage to drag yourself even closer to him, so that your clothed core makes contact with his covered cock. At once, your nipples harden to stiff peaks and your hips instinctually rock forward.

This motion is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Jake. A pained groan sounds from the back of his throat and then his hands are gripping the back of your head and he’s pulling your face down so he can fervently plant his lips on yours.

All of the remaining walls you had raised to protect yourself come crumbling down in that moment, and you kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm, consequences be damned. You would never confess out loud to having thought about this moment before, but in your head you think that his kiss is even better than you imagined.

Hands gripping his hair, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip momentarily before thrusting your tongue in his mouth. It tangles with his and you feel tingles throughout your body. But unlike the tingling sensation you had experienced in your arm earlier from lack of circulation, this tingling is actually pleasant. You sigh into his mouth.

Jake’s hands find your waist and begin to explore under your flimsy pajama shirt, all while he continues to kiss you like his life depends on it. His fingers glide up your rib cage to just below your breasts, then back down again, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Every time he does it, you hope he’ll venture higher, but he never strays from his path.

Wanting nothing more than for him to pay your breasts some attention, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pulling your lips away from his, you lean back the smallest amount and swiftly yank the shirt off your body, leaving your chest exposed to his greedy eyes. You toss it haphazardly to the floor and revel at the whine that comes from Jake at the unveiling of your bare tits. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he stares at them like they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

When he meets your gaze again and asks, voice strained, “Can I?” you expect to feel his hands paw at your chest upon receiving your permission. Instead, you’re taken aback by the moist heat of his mouth enveloping your nipple, the suction he applies makes you toss your head back and moan. Loudly.

He works furiously at the tiny bud, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his perfect lips. It feels so good that your hips begin grinding against him on their own accord, your grip on his hair holding him to your chest. You know your underwear is probably soaked by now. Hell, your pajama shorts are probably soaked too. And you should be embarrassed, but Jake is making you feel so euphoric that you simply do not care.

Jake’s hands have moved to your ass, and it’s the small pinch he gives the flesh there that makes you loosen your grip on him slightly and look down at him. He releases your nipple with a small pop and pulls your face down to his again, giving you a brief, but still deep, kiss on the lips. Then, in stark contrast, he starts to trail feather light kisses down your jaw and neck, making his way to your other breast.

The two of you make eye contact as he takes that nipple into his mouth, and your jaw falls open at both the sensation and the sultriness of his gaze. Little whimpers sound from your throat as he pays just as much attention to it as he did to the opposite side.

When Jake’s decided that he’s had his fill of your boobs, his lips move up to your collarbone and he leaves a decent sized hickey on the skin there. You fleetingly think that you’re going to have to cover it up before the bridal party brunch in the morning, but that thought disappears when Jake’s right hand seeks out your lower abdomen and his fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts.

Much to your chagrin, he doesn’t let them slip into your underwear, instead choosing to rub you through the damp fabric of your panties. As soon as his thumb makes contact with your clit through the material though, you’re practically melting, core clenching in delight at the pressure. You choke out a gasp and allow your eyes to fall closed.

Jake doesn’t find this acceptable though, as he uses his free hand to grab your chin and coaxes, “Hey. Look at me.”

And so you do. You stare into his eyes, pupils so dilated that they are almost entirely black, while biting your lip and grinding against his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a softness that almost feels like adoration, and it makes your cheeks flush. He has definitely never looked at you like this before.

In what feels like no time at all, you’re dangerously close to your peak. Only a few more strokes of his thumb and you know you’ll be seeing stars.

Then, right when you’re about to explode, Jake’s touch disappears. And while it may be dramatic, you really feel like you could cry from him ruining what was sure to be an amazing orgasm.

You’re about to voice your dissatisfaction, but Jake promptly removes his hand from your shorts and gives you a gentle smack on the ass.

“Lay down,” he demands raspily, patting the unoccupied area of the mattress to his side.

In a rush to have him touch you again, you do as he says and remove yourself from his lap, settling against the fluffy white pillows. You almost allow your hand to fall between your legs and pick up where he left off, but you refrain.

Your eyes follow Jake as he lazily rises from the bed and saunters over to his bag, combing through it until he locates his wallet and produces a foil packet. Before he joins you back on the bed, he shoves his tight boxer briefs down his legs, kicking them to the side once they’re low enough. His erection springs free from its confines, and your eyes immediately lock onto it. From where you’re lying, you can see the pre-cum leaking from the tip, and your mind starts to feel hazy with desire.

You watch in awe as he circles his hand around his cock and gives it a few lazy strokes while he makes his way back to you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight is downright obscene, and so is the noise you make in response.

When he crawls back onto the bed, he settles himself between your legs, and, without pausing, reaches for the waistband of your shorts. Looking to your face for permission, you give him a small nod and then he’s pulling both your shorts and your panties down your thighs and past your calves until they lie forgotten at the end of the bed.

Still on his knees, Jake inspects your nude body head to toe, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He moves to stroke himself again, but you sit up a bit and reach for him instead, rubbing your palm from the tip of his dick to the base, shivering at the groan he releases from his throat.

He allows you to continue for a few more strokes, clearly enjoying himself, but then he’s batting your hand away, whispering “Not gonna last if you keep that up,” and slithering over your body, trapping your lips in a kiss and taking your breath away.

You’re so caught up in the kiss that it takes you by surprise when his fingers find their way between your legs and he plunges two of them inside of you, alternating between pumping in and out and curling them so that they hit that one magical spot that makes your toes curl. He keeps his thumb busy on your clit, and his actions have you panting into the kiss, little whimpers passing from your mouth to his.

In no time at all, those whimpers turn into full blown moans, and you unintentionally break the kiss as you writhe against him. Taking the opportunity to kiss a path to your ear, Jake playfully bites at your lobe, then whispers, “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. So wet for my fingers. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

By now, you’re desperate for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, and so you scratch your nails lightly down his back and breathe, “Then do it. God, please.”

Jake doesn’t need any further prompting. Abruptly, he pulls back and reaches for the condom, tearing open the foil and rolling it on his perfectly sized (in your mind, at least) dick as you observe with hooded eyes.

Draping his body over yours, Jake encourages you to part your legs wider, and extends a hand to grip his cock. Teasing you, he rubs the head of his penis over your clit a few times, causing you to hiss. You can tell he wants to shoot you that infuriatingly sexy smirk, but the pleasure of the contact between you has his jaw hanging open instead.

When he does push into you, at last, you both breathe a sigh of relief. His eyes lock on yours as he finds a rhythm, slow and deep at first but gradually increasing in speed and pressure. There’s an undeniable fire between you as he thrusts his hips into yours, filling you and making you moan.

The tender look in his eyes from earlier has returned, and you can’t help but melt into a puddle of pleasure and affection when he grunts out, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

He kisses you again, tongue seeking out yours and battling with it, somehow heightening your senses even more. This doesn’t feel like just a kiss though, it feels like Jake is using his mouth to convey exactly how much he likes you, and you’re eagerly responding.

As he continues pumping into you, your hands land on his shoulders, squeezing every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. One especially hard thrust has you clenching around him, and Jake buries his face into your neck, groaning deeply. You can tell he’s close because his movements start to become a bit erratic, and thinking about Jake coming has you close to your climax too.

And it’s like Jake can read your mind, because as soon as you start feeling like you need just a little bit more to push you over the edge, he uses his arm to hook your right leg and raise it up, changing the angle in a delicious way. That, in combination with his thumb finding your clit and applying some much needed pressure, has you crying out his name, your orgasm shuddering through you in waves.

He’s not far behind you, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before his face is overtaken by pleasure and he’s cursing, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lie like that for a moment and catch your breath, his weight fully on top of you and his head resting on your chest, and it’s scary how much you enjoy it. How right it feels. When you do part ways momentarily so that you both can clean up, you feel a strange pang in your heart that dissipates as soon as you’re back in bed and in his arms.

And while a part of you wants to check in with Jake, see how he felt about what you just did, ask more questions about his current stance on relationships, you decide to let it go for the time being and just enjoy the moment. As you cuddle into him and fall back asleep for the few short hours you have left in this hotel room, you think to yourself that, while you’re not thrilled about having to admit to your best friend and her new husband that they were right, you’re more than just a little excited to “see where things go” with Jake.

#Greta Van Fleet #jake kiszka #smut #fanfic #imagine #my writing #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van smut #one shot #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #gvf #gvf fic

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nataliaphantomhivesblog · 3 years

Text

In the end of it all, Monaca Towa was still a child.

To start this off, this isn't my usual Black Butler posts but ive been meaning to talk about Danganronpa for a hot minute, so please bear with me! Second, this is solely my opinion and before anyone wants to attack me please read thoroughly first. Thank you:)

(Spoiler warning for Danganronpa: Ultra Despair Girls and Danganronpa 3)

Also, before we dive in I'm going to list some trigger warnings:

Physcological abuse

Physical abuse

Manipulation

P*dophillia

Suicide attempt

Violence (?)

Childhood trauma

Please take care and read at your own risk<3

Hello there Danganronpa fandom! Today I will be talking about Monaca Towa (as stated in the title) and how people often minimize her trauma and sometimes forget the fact that shes still a child who got heavily manipulated by Junko too.

Monaca is seemingly very amiable and caring, because of her charming personality, all of the Warriors of Hope love her and try their best to keep her happy and go along with what she wants. However, it's slowly revealed that she is actually manipulative and cunning behind her friendly facade.

Monoca is a character that is cruel, manipulative, and extremly unhinged. Many of her actions cannot be excused or justified, but you can understand where she's coming from.

Monaca's Backstory:

She was born an unwanted child by both her father and her mother. Monaca's mother was supposed to take care of her but instead abandoned the child soon after her birth. Because of all her actions, Monaca saw her mother as a completely selfish and pathetic person. Monaca's father thought of giving her to an orphanage but instead took her into his family.

However, Monaca was always unwanted and everyone else felt uncomfortable around her. Every time Monaca smiled or joked, the others looked at her coldly, as if she didn't deserve to laugh. Every time she spoke, the others turned silent. His older-half brother thought of her as an alien, not part of the family.

She was also physically abused to the point that she pretended to be seriously wounded for them to stop as a result.

Monaca also attended Hope's Peak Elementary School and was part of the "trouble-makers class" along with Nagisa, Masaru, Jataro, and Kotoko.

Along with her fellow abused classmates, she planned a group suicide; however, Monaca never had any plans to commit suicide in the first place and was planning to let the others die as a prank.

The group suicide was stopped by Junko, who took the kids in and manipulated them by treating them with kindness and love.

Monaca then helped Junko mass produce Monokumas for the Tragedy by using her position as a representative of the Towa Group.

She lied to her father and the other adults in order to produce the Monokumas, telling them that she wanted to create futuristic robots that could be domestic helpers and emergency aid workers.

Due to her separation from the family and her genius, her family decided to give her leg room to do what she wanted as long as she brought in profits to the company, and didn't delve too deeply into her plans.

Things to keep in mind about Monoca's backstory:

She was emotionally and physically abused from a very young age.

She started to pretend to be paraplegic because she was finally treated with some kindness and she could have more control over people.

She convinced Nagisa, Jataro, Kotoko and Masaru to commit suicide.

Out of all the Warriros of Hope, Junko took the most intrest in Monoca due to her position, meaning that she was the one who got used and manipulated the most.

How Monoca's mindset works:

The moment she got physically abused to the point that she had to fake her injuries to make her family feel bad was the moment she learned that through sympathy from others comes power. Due to her families neglection and abuse, she started to quickly pick up on things in which benefited her yet hurt others.

She started to use manipulative tactics on her family to gain control over them. She then started implicating these tactics with the Warriors of Hope.

When Junko got into the picture, everything changed for the worst. Junko was the only person in Monaca's life who showed her affection. Even though deep down Monaca knew Junko only cared for her as a means to use her robotics genius for the Tragedy, Monaca didn't care, and happily helped out Junko with her plans if it meant being loved and appreciated in return. At the heart of it, despite all her horrific acts, that's a very child-like thing to do, right? So when Junko dies, Monaca's entire reason for living basically disappears.

AI Junko via Kurokuma may have planted the idea of a successor in her head, but in Monaca's mind it's a way to get her big sis back, and very specifically chooses to mold Komaru into becoming Junko's successor. That's for a big reason, Monaca doesn't want to become Junko, I'd say she actually just wanted her big sister back who would love and appreciate her again, and hence tried to make someone else take on that role initially. Once again, that's the mindset of a child.

Monaca's relationship with the Warriors of Hope:

The Warriors of Hope are a group of children who are extremely resentful and hateful of adults, regardless of whether or not they were involved in their rough paths.

We all know that the Warriros of Hope are extememly tramutized kids. Masaru had alcoholic parents who physically abused him, Jataro was physcologically abused to the point he bealived he was so ugly that if anyone saw his "repulsive" face they would die, Kotoko was r*ped multiple times by disgusting p*dophilic men (not to mention, Monaca's brother was attracted to her), and last but not least we have Nagisa who had pressuring parents who wanted to raise him as the child prodigy and expirimented on him constantly.

Monaca used the Warriros of Hope's trauma against them, manipulating them to the point were they had to do her bidding completly.

As much as I hate to say it, Monaca truly saw them as pawns. Although there are some instances where she openly declares her care for the Warriors of Hope, it's likely she does that as a form of emotional manipulation.

If anything, she probably did see them as equal in the beginning but then when she started to gain control over her own family, she started to do the same with the Warriors of Hope as a way to protect herself from getting hurt, then again this is my baseless assumption.

Her dynamic with Nagito:

Monaca was amused by Nagito's strange behavior and contradicting beliefs and appeared to be somewhat annoyed with him at the times. However, the two appeared to at least seemingly respect each other in some way, as they treated each other somewhat formally as allies.

Her dynamic with Nagito is one of the most intresting ones. Obviously I think that her being rasied by Nagito was potentially a dangerous thing, considering Nagito's goal was for Monaca to become Enoshima's successor. Monaca seemed to agree with this goal, but Nagito's constant rambling about hope and despair made Monaca bored and feel embarrassed about the whole thing.

She claims he made her an adult in a way, as she grew up in the mental sense and became more cynical and apathetic, not really caring about anything.

In the end, Monaca found Nagito creepy and annoying, but she also appeared to get closer to him during their time together, while originally calling him just "Mister Servant" in UDG, she later refers to him as "Big Bro" in Danganronpa 3. I do think their dynamic was sort of soft and I would've loved to have seen more of it. Honestly the concept of Nagito being a soft brother to Monaca warms my heart, and the wasted potential will forever anger me.

(If any Danganronpa fanfic writer or any writer in general is reading this post: if u could be so kind and do a PLATONIC Nagito and Monaca prompt and tag me in it, I would love you forever!!)

My opinion on Monaca:

I think that Monaca was a very well-written character who deserved more than what she got in the end of Danganronpa 3. She was abused, mistreated and belittled by her family. If anything, I see her as a completely misguided little girl. If she actually had a positive authoritative influence in her life, she wouldn't have turned astray.

A lot of people disregard Monaca's trauma and forget that at the end of the day, Monaca was a child who the moment she was born, the people who were supposed to love her were unwelcoming.

Don't get me wrong though, there is no way in hell I will ever justify or condone the things Monaca has done. If anything, I just think that she alongside the rest of the Warriors of Hope should've been properly taken care of.

Also, if you dislike/hate Monaca thats 100% valid! She did a lot of inexcusable things and its alright to hate on her. I personally love her character but I know she is not everyones cup of tea.

If you read all the way, I'm actually surprised! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed<333

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sam-t-a · 3 years

Text

Okay.

*Deep breath*

I think I’m finally calm enough to put into words exactly why I hated the finale and why I wasn’t completely surprised that I hated it.

(Heads-up: this is really long and pretty negative. If you disagree, I would of course appreciate your point of view and love to hear it, but just thought I’d let you know in case this is the kind of post you would like to avoid.)

To me, it felt like every character on the show got betrayed in some way or another, but the main ones are Han Seo (devastatingly), Chayoung (obviously) and Han Seok (bear with me).

Cha Young:

She started out as a solid FL who annoyed some people for sure, but who had so much promise as someone unconventional and bold. The way her mother’s death affected her and caused a clear shift in her personality was a super interesting plot point that really never got explored. We have no idea how she came to sacrifice her morality in joining Wusang, just that she wanted to spite her father, which is a very superficial exploration. She gets cute idiosyncrasies in lieu of an actual character and an actual character arc.

We also, halfway through the show, seem to forget that her father's death was the initial trigger. Cha young does not suggest bold ideas or intricate plans, she doesn’t fill the gaps Vincenzo is incapable of filling (because that would require that Vincenzo have flaws, and that’s not something the writers can abide), and she’s literally victimized in episode 19 and bedridden in episode 20, and that is IT.

Someone who started out supposedly as Vincenzo’s equal just became another piece in his chess set, no matter how important a piece she may be.

So her role as a badass avenger is trashed. That leaves her role as a love interest. Now, as Vincenzo’s love interest, she was supposed to get kidnapped in like episode 5 or 6 at the most if the villain has any brains whatsoever (Han Seok may or may not, more on that later). We need a reason for that not to happen too early. Cue villain is somehow in love with her for all of 15 minutes or so throughout a 20-episode series because a love triangle is inconceivable with the show’s current structure and for its purposes.

So, she spends 15 or so episodes making the first move on Vincenzo, every time, putting herself out there, creating cute moments, getting nothing in return, and then he leaves. No confession, nothing much, he wasn’t even going to say goodbye or give her the choice of coming with him.

I’m sure more chayenzo-oriented fans have already expressed all the necessary outrage over this, so I’ll move on to the part that I’ve personally been way more emotionally invested in from the get go: the Jang brothers.

Han Seo:

I was among the minority that hated the “Vinny hyung” angle from the get-go and I’ve ranted about it in another post, so I won’t get into it here in-depth, but basically it was because I felt like Vincenzo hadn’t earned it, so to have the last words Han Seo hears be “You deserve to be my brother” or whatever the fuck he was on about PISSED ME OFF. It’s VINCENZO who doesn’t deserve to be Han Seo’s brother and hasn’t done a single thing to earn it. He was a good ally. The situation he allowed Han Seo to be a part of was beneficial to him, but Han Seo’s attachment to him was neither healthy nor heartwarming, and it certainly wasn’t returned on the level he offered it.

Vincenzo’s disregard of his death didn’t strike me as odd because I never saw enough indications that this was a two-way street and Han Seo’s safety and well-being came second so often that I didn’t get the impression Vincenzo was doing much to keep him alive. This is what I meant when I said the show was glorifying a torture survivor’s trauma responses. Han Seo himself, as a torture survivor, meant nothing to them. He was just there to create one more contrived comparison between Vincenzo and Han Seok. Instead of recovering from the trauma, it’s simply employed to someone else’s favor. He doesn’t go to prison for Han Seok, he takes a bullet for Vincenzo, and we’re supposed to see that as so much better.

All of that might (JUST MIGHT) not have ruined the show for me if he’d died better. 1) It was narratively pointless and totally avoidable, 2) they could’ve framed it as heroic, but instead Han Seok’s hand patting his head is pushing it down, so he can’t even get shot with his chin up and his back straight, Taec’s already taller, so the angle’s fucked and the whole cinematography screamed “kicking an injured puppy” and most certainly NOT “survivor finally stands up to his abuser”. The final nail in the proverbial and literal coffin is that he is mourned by no one. They’re FLIRTING not 3 MINUTES LATER, it felt so tone deaf and left such a bad taste. As I said, I didn’t expect significant mourning from Vincenzo (gotta say, I didn’t expect no mourning, that was a shocker), and Cha young and the tenants had no real interactions with him and no reason to mourn him, which left only one person who could.

Which brings me to Han Seok.

Han Seok started out as a solid villain, clear goals, clear skills that help him achieve his goals and basically make him a villain worth defeating, and a very complex relationship with both his own psychopathy and his brother.

Let me get it out of the way: I do not believe Han Seok is capable of killing Han Seo because he had every reason and every opportunity to do so in previous episodes and couldn’t do it (I say couldn’t because a certain degree of reluctance is in itself inability). Han Seo’s danger far outweighed his material value the minute he shot Han Seok and then completely lost any value once he came out to the world as the chairman and it became clear that the prosecution would be going after him if anything happened, and not his brother. But time and again, he’s proven he’s all bark and no bite when it comes to Han Seo (killing-wise, specifically).

The scene where he asks him to beat Vincenzo to death could be interpreted as him wanting to give Vincenzo the “painful death” he would have given him, but honestly, I think he was way past that point. He just wanted him dead in the “You crazy? we have to kill him before he kills us” sense. To that end, killing off a key ally of Vincenzo’s, who betrayed you and almost got you killed a bunch of times, should take priority, but Han Seok’s priority is reclaiming Han Seo by forcing him back onto his side. Now, much like his “love for Cha young”, Han Seok’s keenness on not killing his brother was essential to the writers so that Han Seo can justifiably make it this far and still be useful to Vincenzo (he can’t help if Han Seok completely excludes him from all events, plans and management processes, so Han Seok needs to want to keep him on his side enough not to do that even when it’s more prudent).

All of this isn’t to say it’s unbelievable that he would kill Han Seo, but it’s DEFINITELY unbelievable that he would stay the same man after killing him. Someone here (I’m sorry, I don’t rememebr who) once said that Han Seo had become, over time, far more of a foil to his brother than Vincenzo was. To me, this means that Post-Han Seo Han Seok would be out of balance (tilted screen), unhinged in a way he never was before. The Han Seok we see shrugs and “oh, well”-s and moves on in a flash, not really any different from the villain he was four minutes and a whole brother earlier.

This is very consistent with the way the show has been de-humanizing him from the start. I’m not saying this to defend Han Seok in any way, he’s a serial killer, an abuser and a total maniac. But you can be all those things and still a human being. In fact, you can ONLY be those things if you’re a human being. The show used its villain vs villain idea to justify a lot, but in the end, Vincenzo had to be a protagonist. He had to follow up every “I’m a villain” with a contrived “but at least I’m not (insert something worse)”.

On the level of humans:

1) Vincenzo is supposedly different because he doesn’t hurt children or women (unless the women deserve it, and shooting a parent in front of their kid doesn’t count as hurting.)

But we never see Han Seok hurting women or children either. In fact, if we proceed with the “chayoung is the myung hee of the good guys” comparison, he hasn’t hurt any women nearly as badly as Vincenzo did.

2) Babel vs Mafia

Babel’s corruption is compared a lot to the mafia, with Vincenzo commenting repeatedly that the people are WORSE than the mafia...which is bullshit. Babel is a set of companies that provide goods and services, but use illegal means to maximize their profit, so they hurt/kill people in the process because they want more money and care about money more than ethics. The Mafia is an inherently criminal organization that functions PURELY on the basis of its criminality. Every single dime Vincenzo spends is blood money. None of it is clean. And while we’re on the topic, I find the whole “taking Miri under his wing” thing pretty unreasonable too because he tried to have her killed you guys, I cannot believe we’re just glossing over that. He had everyone who worked on that vault killed, just random fucking construction workers. And he’s not sorry. And the show tells you he shouldn’t be.

3) Repentance

Han Seok says outright he won’t atone, and while Vincenzo says no such thing out loud he just...doesn’t repent, I guess. He keeps the blood money, he goes back to being a full-time mafia dude doing mafia things. He leaves the same man he arrived.

So, if on the level of harm inflicted upon humanity, Vincenzo and Han Seok are pretty much equal (and Vincenzo might actually be worse), then why should we root for Vincenzo?

Well, my friend, that’s where the dehumanization comes in!

I was initially very excited to see their portrayal of a psychopath because of the very interesting ways in which the informal moral code and official justice system surrounding a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist affect their behavior and their chances of not turning out rotten, and the show looked like it was looking at corruption in general.

But as the show went on, the villain vs villain thing proved not to be enough, Vincenzo has to be better in some way (or if you’re as obsessed with him as the writers are, then ALL ways), so it became a villain vs monster narrative. Vincenzo isn’t ethical or fair or in any way interested in having a remotely positive impact on society, but at least he’s A HUMAN BEING unlike SOMEBODY. So, the characterization goes to shit, Han Seok becomes a cartoon card-board cut out of a villain and emphasis is put on how pointless his violence is, as opposed to how purposeful Vincenzo’s is.

This is dangerous on multiple levels (and I promise this is the last point I’m making).

1) For people in general, dehumanizing abusers/murderers/etc. makes us very liable to forget that you don’t have to be “a monster” to cause harm, and it makes people complacent in their belief that they are “not bad people” since they aren’t total monsters. The Banality of Evil is a thing, and in this series, it goes completely ignored. No one is inherently incapable of good or inherently undeserving of humanity.

2) For victims of abuse in specific, it’s dangerous to portray abusers (including serial killer and non-serial killer ones) as entirely bad and unlovable, because it poses the dual risk of making victims less likely to acknowledge their abuse if it comes from someone who cares about or loves them on some level because the idea that someone cannot both love and hurt you is so stereotypical. Your abuser can genuinely want you in their lives and need you and, on some level, love you, and IT DOESN’T MATTER if that love doesn’t stop them from hurting you.

On the other hand, portraying the victims of abuse as capable of flipping an off switch and hating the abuser with no hesitation or second thoughts to the point of unapologetically and cheerfully helping someone kill them and having no mixed feelings about it sends the message that if you CAN’T do that, then are you really abused? Are sure you’re not complicit in your own abuse? Do you even want to get rid of them?

So this is basically why the way the show ended was so painfully disappointing for me. And the main reason it hit so hard was that it was initially so good and had so much promise. I really expected more.

#Vincenzo #vincenzo meta #vincenzo spoilers #not that mad anymore but still so disappointed #hong chayoung #jang han seo #jang han seok #so much it to fix #my brother says hi #he is disappointed too

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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mewtonian-physics · 3 years

Text

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it.

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes.

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck.

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard.

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one.

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.)

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments...

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

#alex rider #spoilers

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cruelfeline · 3 years

Note

(1) "[H]is needs, physical, emotional, and mental, must likewise be addressed and comfortably handled. I do not accept the idea of something being done specifically to 'punish' him..." Sure, I guess. Hordak should have medical care and mental heath care if needed. He shouldn't be physically hurt or put in jail, Entrapta can help him, etc. And he'll probably be in a lab most of the time anyways. Treating him with humanity will help him be a good person. (Insert swedish prison studies here).

I... ah... Well. Yes. It will.

Though. I guess, for me, treating him with humanity doesn’t have anything to do with helping him be a good person. It’s just a thing that I feel should happen. Whether it makes him a good person or not.

Ensuring that he is safe and comfortable and well isn’t something that I’d want to do in order to help him be a good person. It’s something I’d want to do to ensure that his safe and comfortable and well. For its own sake.

Like... to look at it from the opposite direction: I wouldn’t withhold care or comfort from him if he wasn’t being a good person. Y’know? Like... I wouldn’t deny him a comfortable sleep or medication that helps him feel well because he wasn’t hitting someone’s moral goals. If that makes sense?

(2) So that leaves this: How much freedom should he have? If there was an event where princesses could invite someone, like with princess prom, could Entrapta invite him? On one hand, all the bad stuff he did, his rebuilding/renovation sentence, and the fact that his presence might make people uncomfortable. But on the other hand, saying “you can’t sit with us” punishes Entrapta for something she didn't do. (Entrapta's war crimes and extenuating circumstances are an ask for another day).

I would venture to say he should have as much freedom as is safe for him to have. I suppose I don’t see the point in limiting it? He’s not dangerous. His motivation for taking over Etheria is literally dead and gone. I don’t see a point to imprisoning him.

As far as the specific scenario you mention (Princess Prom), well... remember that the Princess Prom seemed to have specific rules to encourage socialization and harmony in times of conflict (weapons and quarrels left at the door, so to speak). It’s very likely that enemies regularly met at the Princess Prom and were expected to treat one another with civility; I’d expect the same courtesy to be extended to Hordak.

And in terms of him making people uncomfortable... this is a difficult thing to address. On the one hand, yes: people will likely be afraid of him. And rightfully so, considering what he did. And people should not be forced to interact with him if they do not want to.

But on the other hand: such people are likely to be afraid of all of the clones, seeing as they all look the same. And sound roughly the same. And were part of a much more damaging war on Etheria.

Is it “fair” to segregate all clones, Hordak included, forever, to keep other people comfortable? Is Hordak to be kept out of society for the rest of his life, because people are afraid of him? Or should he be kept out of it until... well, when? When he reaches some arbitrary level of “penance performed?” If he finishes rebuilding Etheria, are people automatically going to not be afraid of him now? Yes? No? If they still are, does that mean that he still needs to be kept locked away?

One can go around in circles like this all day because there is no real answer. This is all entirely subjective. The level of segregation, of penance, of restriction, is entirely subjective. And that’s why I don’t really believe in it. I don’t believe in limiting freedom or inflicting suffering due to someone’s subjective opinion.

Rather, I try to ask how further harm can be minimized or prevented. And whether a restrictive measure is actually necessary to prevent said harm.

In terms of Hordak being restricted in some way: I don’t see a reason that he has to be locked away or forbidden from socializing. Do I think that he should be forced onto people? No. I don’t think anyone should be forced onto anyone else, former warlord or no. But I also don’t think that he should be sequestered away from the community that he is supposed to be working to join.

(3) Also, should Hordak have to work constantly on the rebuilding/renovation, save for sleeping and medical leave? Or should he get to take breaks? It wouldn’t be fair for him to take a vacation while villages are still in ruins. Humans and Etherians need rest to have good mental health and be productive, but Hordak is a Prime clone, and the clones are probably designed to work without much rest. So would that be okay for him or no? Do you have any posts that explore this sort of thing?

Absolutely he should be allowed to take breaks. No question. None. For multiple reasons.

First: I do not view Hordak helping to rebuild Etheria as a punishment. And I feel that viewing it that way is... I’m not sure that “mistake” is the right word. Inaccuracy, perhaps? I’m not sure. Whatever one wishes to call it, the point is that Hordak fixing what he broke should not be considered a punishment. Any more than me cleaning up a vase I knocked over should be considered a punishment. It should be considered... well, “fixing what one broke.”

Etheria is Hordak’s home now. The Etherian community is his community. Helping repair the parts of it that he broke isn’t something that should make him suffer; it should be something that he does in order to be a contributing, responsible member of the community he belongs to. If he wishes to stay on Etheria, then it is only logical that he contributes to its successful functioning. Not because he has to “pay for what he’s done,” but because that’s what a responsible community member does.

Keeping him from having breaks or... I guess “enjoying himself” as he does this is, in my mind. an actual mistake.

Something that I always have at the forefront of my mind when considering these things, anon, is that Hordak is healing. Whatever damage he caused, whatever traumas he is responsible for, he is just as damaged and traumatized. He did what he did not out of greed or genuine malice but out of a form of emotional sickness. He did it out of a need to be loved and welcomed and wanted. He did it because he wanted to belong.

Denying him those things until he reaches a certain level of “punishment complete” is... well. In my opinion, it’s another form of what Prime was doing. Another form of “you’re not worthy of happiness or love until you’ve done XYZ.” And I don’t like that. I don’t like that because it disregards the fact that, though Hordak should strive to fix what he broke, he is still an individual who underwent a severe amount of trauma and needs time and support in order to heal. If he does not get that time and support, chances are he will be further harmed. Chances are, he won’t become that well-adjusted member of society. Chances are he will remain emotionally sick and bitter and self-loathing. And those are not chances that I think are worth taking in the name of chasing an arbitrary sense of “fairness.”

Second, though just as important: I take significant umbrage with the idea that it would be acceptable to work clones harder because they’re “designed to work without much rest.”

The clones were “designed” to be brainswashed slaves. They were “designed” to labor and glorify and sacrifice themselves for their god. That absolutely does not mean that they should be exploited as such. To do so would be vulgar.

The clones are people; they should be treated as such, not as the tools their slavemaster indoctrinated them into being. Now, if a clone wishes to work hard because he is comfortable doing so, then so be it. But he should not be expected to do so and be denied rest and relaxation because he was “designed” to go without. That... I’m not sure how to accurately convey how much such a concept disturbs me. A lot. It disturbs me a lot.

Horde clones were purpose-bred as livestock. This was horrific. It is not something that should be taken advantage of by their new Etherian neighbors.

And while I do see that you specify “medical leave” and thus may have taken this into account, I still wish to mention: it is generally understood in this portion of the fandom that, despite the show not really going into detail regarding it come season five, Hordak still suffers from his defect. He is still chronically ill. He is disabled. Demanding that he work at a certain level because he was technically “designed to” is ableist and cruel and can only contribute to his already-deep self-loathing. And this applies to any other clones who might be disabled and hiding it.

Finally: I do actually have a post addressing some of this! And as a bonus, it’s not just about Hordak. It includes Catra, too. It was written in response to some of the complaints I saw regarding both Catra and Hordak being forgiven “too easily.” Specifically, about Catra being so quickly invited into the group, if that means anything. It goes into my distaste at the concept of denying someone a sense of belonging until they achieve a certain level of “redemption.”

Here is that post. A quick warning: it’s a little sassy. I was annoyed when I wrote it. Should be read at one’s own risk, if one is uncomfortable with me being sassy.

I also have an older post about the importance of emotional support in the healing process. I feel like it’s also relevant, as it addresses things like providing companionship to people who may be considered as “not deserving it.”

Here is that post.

Let’s see... what else...

Oh! I also have this post about Hordak being forgiven without being redeemed.

And I think those are the most relevant.

Anyway, anon, I hope that this provided some sort of useful answers for you! If, at any point, I came off as too sassy, I apologize for it. It is not my intention to sound rude, but sometimes I don’t realize when I do. Especially when I write about things that stir emotion in me.

So! Thanks for the questions, anon. Have a lovely evening!

#hordak #horde clones #Anonymous

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

Growing Together - Chapter Two - No Monkey Business

Victor was awakened by the soft rays of morning sunshine that entered their bedroom through the huge windows. It had been a while since he had slept so long and so much. Since they arrived in Bali three days ago, they had done nothing but sleep, eat, explore their intimacy and take the occasional dive in the swimming pool. They hadn't even unpacked, since there was no need for clothes. The only thing Victor would put on would be his robe, when he opened the door to the bellhop that brought their meals. During the past few days it was just them and their naked bodies, drowning in their senses, drinking from their love and lust.

If someone told Victor a year ago that he would spend a great part of a week in the nude, disregarding work and doing nothing but having sex and recharging for more sex, he would think they were insane. But if he was to be truly honest, he didn't mind the current situation at all. In fact, he wondered if they could replicate it back at home, maybe one day a week. He had everything he needed and truly enjoyed: good wine, good food, extraordinary weather, and Andrea in his arms, undistracted from the ordeals of the world. Past him would think he would have died of boredom, just laying around doing nothing, but he happily spent his time counting her eyelashes while she slept, or running his fingers gently over her soft skin, making her sigh in her slumber.

Victor was amazed at how much one can discover when sharing stillness with a loved one. They spent nights talking about the most varied things, telling stories of their lives before the other, laughing, drinking and playing, or simply enjoying the view holding hands, sharing a smile or a stolen glance, as they heard the ocean waves crash in the distance. Bali had been an excellent choice for a honeymoon destination. Nature brought in them the peace to fully focus on each other, and they had all the privacy in the world, acting on their hearts contentment.

He rolled over in bed, trying to find her warmth, only to find her place empty. Victor found it rather odd that he hadn’t awakened when she left; he had always been a light sleeper, and his protective instinct would jolt him awake if Andrea moved a little bit out of the ordinary. That's how Victor realized how peaceful he had been for these few days: he was becoming a heavy sleeper. Lifting his head a bit, he looked around through the tulle curtains on the bed, trying to find his loved one. The sound of water splashing outside made him look in that direction, and there he found her, in all her naked glory, swimming in their private infinity pool. That was all the motivation he needed to peel himself off the bed.

"Well, good morning, handsome." She swam to the edge of the pool, noticing him arrive.

"I missed you in bed." He kneeled in front of her, lowering his head for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly." Her hand ran across his naked chest, the coolness of the water making him shiver slightly.

“You’re wet.” He complained. “I’m going to order breakfast, are you in the mood for something in particular?”

“Just that awesome coffee.” She relaxed her body in the water, making it float. “The rest is up to you.”

“Do a few more laps.” He teased, leaving with a kiss on her forehead. “That’s not a bathtub, you know.”

He couldn’t hear clearly what she said, but he still chuckled, picturing how cute she must have looked all riled up due to his nagging. He ordered a full breakfast with the thing he knew she liked, pancakes, sunny side up eggs, and the local fruits.

“Do you want to go to the monkey cemetery today?” Andrea asked as she happily ate her breakfast.

“Sanctuary.” Victor corrected.

“God, why do I keep saying that?” She sipped her coffee. “Weird.”

“I’m starting to fear for the monkeys.” He joked.

“You’re hilarious.” She threw him a napkin that he easily avoided, chuckling. “I was reading about it earlier, it sounds really mystical. They have three temples of worship there, including one for Shiva. It’s too bad we can’t get in.”

“Since when do you care for Hindu religion?” Victor frowned. “Or any religion at all? Or Shiva?”

“Do you want to go or not?” She pressed, unwilling to reveal her reasons.

“Get ready.” He got up. “I’m asking the resort for a tour guide.”

The tour guide dropped them by the two large stones statues at the entrance of the Ubud Sacred Monkey Forest, but not before making some important recommendations: never look the monkeys in the eye as they may become aggressive, avoid sudden movements if the monkey goes to one’s lap, and never try to pry things out of the monkey’s hands, even if its a personal item. However, Andrea didn’t care much about the monkeys, her interest focused more on the religious culture of the place, and Victor allowed himself to relax a little, knowing that his wife wasn’t interested in trying to pet them.

They walked into the deep of the Forest for a while, monkeys jumping from tree to tree over their heads, until they reached the temple of Shiva. Andrea, who had been extremely talkative the whole time, grew unexpectedly quiet, lost in thought. She sat on a rock, her gaze lost on that temple, as Victor sat in front of her, rummaging his backpack for a water bottle.

“Care to explain the sudden fascination with Shiva?” He asked, uncapping and handing her the bottle.

“Shiva is the god of destruction and renovation.” She simply stated, like it was self-explanatory.

“So?” Victor frowned, annoyed at how vague Andrea could be sometimes.

“Two years ago, I was a completely different person than I am now. I was a fragile woman, recovering from abuse, trying to find my place and purpose in this life. Daniel did more than beat me, he beat me down. He left me for dead, helpless and hopeless. Look where I am now. I am strong and assertive. I built myself a career, got married. I don’t fear life any more.” She paused, turning her gaze from the temple to her husband. “If you knew that some specific god might have aided in such a transformation, wouldn’t you want to thank him?”

“So now you believe in Shiva?”

“I believe that I have changed, for the better. I believe there was indeed a transformation, a renovation of sorts. And I am thankful. To whoever I should be thankful for.” She took a swig of her water, lost in thought again.

“Don’t be too hasty giving all the credit to Shiva. In all fairness, you always had those qualities.” Victor offered with a smile. “Perhaps only now you see them in yourself.”

Immediately, Victor felt something tug the back of his polo, making him freeze. Something was climbing his back. It didn’t take long for him to figure out it was a monkey.

“Don’t move.” Andrea whispered with a smile, watching him closely. “I think you made a new friend.”

Much to Victor’s dismay, this monkey did not come alone. Soon enough, he had three monkeys trying to climb him, tugging the fabric of his pants and his polo, trying to find some food.

“Wow, look at that!” She laughed. “It’s like you are covered in monkey catnip!”

Victor sighed, exasperated.

“Don’t ask me how this happens.” He tilted his head back, trying to avoid getting a monkey’s ass rubbing on his face. “Same happens with cats, I can’t figure out why.” Victor motioned to get up in an attempt to make them leave, but Andrea stopped him.

“No, wait.” She reached for her phone in the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Let me take a picture. I just need to turn this on.”

Victor waited patiently for her to turn on the device, shuddering when the monkey that rested on his shoulder inserted the tip of his tail into his ear.

“You have ten seconds before I get up and shake them off.” Victor warned, disgusted.

But apparently, Andrea was not worried about the picture anymore. She paled slightly, tapping furiously on the screen.

“I have fifteen text messages from Olive asking me to call her back.” She looked at him. “What do you think she wants?”

Before Victor had the chance to answer, one of the monkeys decided that Andrea’s phone was far more interesting than his lap and jumped to the spot next to her, trying to take the phone from her hand.

“What are you doing? No.” She frowned at the cub, taking the phone back absentmindedly. “You can’t have this, it’s not yours.”

Victor’s heart stopped for a moment, expecting a reaction from the animal, but none came. The little monkey scurried away and Victor sighed, getting up slowly, his careful eyes on the monkeys jumping to the ground.

“Put that thing away.” He softly scolded. “You really need to mind your actions he-”

“Aaaaahhh!” Andrea screamed in pain, and Victor turned to her. Apparently, that little monkey’s mother was nearby and jumped from behind her, sinking her teeth in Andrea’s shoulder.

“Don’t move!” Victor ran to her, taking a closer look at her injury, which was now bleeding profusely. “Wait. Let me wash it.”

He emptied the remainder of water in his bottle on Andrea’s shoulder, but to little effect to her wound, that kept stubbornly oozing blood.

“We need to get you to the infirmary.” He stated, frantic, taking Andrea in his arms and bolting to the exit, where the infirmary was located.

“Victor, I can walk! You can put me down, it’s not that bad!” He heard her call.

Even though Victor could hear her voice, he was in no condition to listen. His own heartbeat pounded heavily on his ears as he ran, his mind reeling as he furiously pondered the setbacks and possible solutions of the situation he was facing.

They had received inoculation before the trip, but he foolishly forgot to confirm if rabies was included in the pack, leaving it all in his physician’s hands. There was no way to guarantee that the monkey wasn’t infected, with that or some other disease. Untreated, rabies could kill someone in merely weeks, and Bali was a third world country, with an extremely poor healthcare system, so a vaccine could well not be readily available. And even if Andrea wasn’t infected with rabies, the wound was deep enough and the bleeding considerably profuse to hint damage at a major artery, taking mere minutes for Andrea to bleed to death, which rose the exact same problem as before: they were not in Loveland, where the best doctors were just a phone call away. He would have to get a plane as soon as possible to fly them back, at the risk of becoming a widower right on their honeymoon.

“Victor! Andrea!” He heard the tour guide running towards. “Shit, she got bit?”

“She needs help, she’s bleeding a lot!” Victor took a quick look at her shoulder and back, now drenched with blood, dripping to his arm.

“Come, get in the car, I know a clinic nearby where she can get treated.” The guide led them to the jeep, opening the front passenger door. Victor sat Andrea as the guide opened a water bottle, pouring more water on her wound. He sighed in relief. At least the bleeding had finally stopped.

“See?” He heard his wife’s gentle voice. “I’m ok, it’s not even bleeding anymore. Relax.”

Without a word, and despite Andrea’s protests, Victor unceremoniously transferred her to the back seat and sat beside her, a protective hand around her waist, his other pressing on her wound with some cloth the guide provided, as his lips rested on her temple, wishing it would bring her some comfort. As for him, he would relax when he saw his wife completely safe from harm.

Andrea talked to him the whole way to the clinic, trying to calm him down, but nothing could quiet his worried mind. They weren’t supposed to leave the hotel, maybe only for the occasional stroll, but never take a car and drive for an hour towards the forest. Bali was indeed a paradise, and they went there to enjoy some of the culture, but their intent was to relax, not to venture away.

The clinic looked nice and clean, although very far from Victor’s standards. The doctor carefully analyzed the bite mark, disinfecting it properly. The doctor concluded the wound itself was not dangerous, and certainly not as deep as it looked, and administered a vaccine for rabies. In less than ten minutes they were back in the car, with the recommendation for a lot of rest and fluids, since the vaccine would apparently do more danger than the bite. However, even after the doctor had deemed Andrea would heal properly in the next couple of days, Victor would not be satisfied until the resort physician examined her too.

By the time the doctor left their room with the very same recommendations, Andrea was exhausted. And Victor was worried. And furious.

“I told you it was not that bad.” Andrea tried to appease him, as she laid down on their bed, him sitting beside her. “You were worried for nothing.”

Victor scoffed, but didn’t say a word. He felt the roaring fire of anger inside him, and he was trying his best to keep it in.

“Are you upset?” She spoke again, reaching for his arm. He got up, avoiding her touch. “Victor…”

“I should’ve known better and just stayed in.” He shook his head, feeling his ears grow warmer. “I should’ve known you’d be reckless and do something foolish.”

“Wait.” Her voice was slightly angry, taking offense at his words. “How is this my fault?”

“We had clear instructions.” Victor turned to her and lifted his hand, enumerating the instructions with a show of fingers. “Not to make sudden movements, not to take things from the monkeys, not to make eye contact. You disrespected all three!” His voice became slightly more aggressive, and part of him felt bad for it, but she had been careless. She needed to hear it. “You risked your life out there, and the only reason we are here now is because you got lucky! And for what , Andrea? To read some texts you shouldn’t even be reading in the first place? It’s our honeymoon! Can’t you let go of work even now?”

Victor braced for her angry comeback, but the comeback never came. She simply looked at him with sad eyes, and dove deeper under the comforter.

“You are right, I am sorry, I got distracted.” Her voice was weak and defeated, and that hurt Victor more than any furious retort. “I didn’t reply to any of the texts, and I don’t intend to. I’m sorry I ruined our honeymoon.”

That last sentence was the final slap, the one that ended the discussion. Victor was still furious, but now he was the target of his own rage. At a loss for words, he simply left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her to rest.

Of course she didn’t mean to get hurt. She was startled by the large incoming of messages, and forgot her surroundings. Besides, one can never predict behavior towards a wild animal. She acted out of instinct.

Regretfully, Victor had been extremely unforgiving towards her. It was rather incomprehensible how he was usually so good and putting aside his feelings when making decisions, while with Andrea he simply couldn’t do it. His heart spoke louder every time, jumbling his thoughts and clouding his judgment, and no matter how hard he would try, it would always get the best of him. Victor sighed and poured himself some whiskey from the bar, hoping it would relax him and clear his mind. Sadly, it was to no avail. The only thing that could soothe him was to know Andrea did not resent him.

After a while, he decided to order dinner, making sure he included his wife’s favorite dishes. After the food arrived and he set the table, he went to the room to wake her up, touching her forehead gently to check her temperature. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him sleepily, a neutral expression on her face, instead of the loving one she had for him. Although she didn’t seem to be angry, she was probably still upset.

“Dinner is served.” His hand rested softly on her shoulder, assessing her reaction. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, I mean, It’s a bit tender, but... I’m alright.” She answered with a soft voice, her tone indicating she was open for communication. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Andrea got up slowly with his loving hand helping her. He looked into her eyes, the ones that always gave him so much comfort. Without much thought, Victor pulled her into a hug, his silent apology. She hugged him back, leaning her head on his chest.

“Andrea…” He needed to apologize for being so rude. If only there were words that matched his feelings. He simply couldn’t find them.

“I know the man I married.” She smiled at him. “He may be sometimes harsh, and despite his rational ways, he can blow things way out of proportion, but I know he has a good heart, and he means well. I know he loves me and he cares.” She softly brushed his bangs with her fingers. “And I love and care for him too.”

Victor smiled at the love of his life, finally allowing himself to relax. She was safe, and she was his. And it dawned on him that’s exactly what a happy marriage is supposed to be like. Not perfect, but loving, even when one of them shows his ugly side.

“Maybe the monkeys heard me call that place a cemetery, and thought I wanted to kill them all.” She turned to him with a smirk. “They are not taking any monkey business.”

Victor glared at her, unamused.

“Too soon?” She grimaced.

“I’m the one who almost had a heart attack with your monkey business.” He pulled her closer. “So, yes, too soon.”

Victor held Andrea tenderly, feeling grateful for having her safe in his arms. He wondered if there were any deities watching for her at the moment she was hurt and thanked them for the protection. Just in case.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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usagichibamamorutsukino · 4 years

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To all of the Mamoru/Tuxedo Mask Haters

This is my post on the Sailor Moon subreddit! I am very proud of the arguments I made and am extremely thankful for the amazing response I got! I got Reddit Gold for the first time in my life! I’m sharing it today here on my Tumblr, the place where I have found a wonderful niche of Tuxedo Mask and Usamamo lovers like me! Here is the link: https://www.reddit.com/r/sailormoon/comments/d0zm4c/to_all_of_the_mamorutuxedo_mask_haters/

Here is my post:

Hi everyone! I wanted to share my comment on a video interview of the Viz dub voices for the Sailor Moon and Sailor Moon Crystal anime, Stephanie Sheh (Usagi), and Robbie Daymond (Mamoru). The interviewer talked about why she believes it's justified to hate Tuxedo Mask and why he isn't right for Usagi. The topics I covered in my initial comment are included here in greater detail. I am basing my response below on: the manga, the original 90's anime and its 3 movies, Sailor Moon Crystal, Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, interviews with Naoko Takeuchi, articles that analyze the storylines and utilize fact-checking references, as well as my interpretation and analysis that bases itself on the cannon and overall understanding of the portrayal of the human characters and interactions in the story.

Obligatory note: You are entitled to your own opinion as I am entitled to my own. However, I feel obligated to voice my opinion and defense for Tuxedo Mask as he gets so much hate in the fandom, and there is so much misinformation about him. There are so many posts and articles trying to prove that Tuxedo Mask/Mamoru is definitively a horrible character, that he sucks, he is useless, etc. It is one thing to have your opinion. It is another to be so vocal about your hatred for a character basing your hatred on misinformation and superficial arguments.

In my lengthy post, I will discuss specific topics and arguments that people bring up to defend their hatred of Tuxedo Mask/Mamoru and his relationship to Sailor Moon/Usagi. I hope you enjoy reading and gain some perspective.

In the original anime, Usagi and Mamoru didn't have any feelings or love for one another UNTIL they remembered their past lives

I rewatched Season 1 of the original anime this past week and took notes of each encounter between Usagi and Mamoru until they remember their past lives. I analyzed their dialogue, how the animators portrayed their body language around each other, as well as how they talk about one another to other characters. Let’s begin our study by reading this quote from the manga in Act 10 when Usagi recounts that in her encounters with Mamoru: “I would get defensive, and we would get into a fight. We actually never had a real conversation. But the truth is… I was always so excited and happy to see him. That’s why we ran to each other… isn’t it? The two of us were drawn to each other.”

In the 90s anime, Usagi and Mamoru have an initially confrontational relationship. Mamoru’s first impression of Usagi was of a girl who hit him on the head with a crumbled-up test with a horrifying grade. Usagi’s first impression of Mamoru was a guy who told her she should study more; she was mortified and embarrassed by this, so she stuck her tongue out at him and walked away, disregarding him as a “weirdo”. The second time they bump into each other, Usagi throws a shoe at his head by accident, and she doesn’t apologize. The third time they meet, they bump into one another when Usagi is dreaming about “her future boyfriend.” She mistakenly apologizes to a pole, and Mamoru finds this funny and says that she should watch where she is going. Naru asks Usagi if she knows who that guy is, as he is “totally gorgeous” and Usagi responds “Wrong! There is nothing gorgeous about him!” By the 5th and 7th episodes, when Mamoru sees Usagi, he goes up to her and says, “Hey!” like they were friends. At the end of their conversation in Ep. 7, when Usagi walks away annoyed, we pan back to Mamoru, who is smiling at her genuinely. Through all of these interactions, Mamoru and Usagi go from strangers who are annoyed by each other’s existence to people who run into each other so often that Mamoru can find some humor in it.

You have to consider that Mamoru is acerbic since he is becoming Tuxedo Mask without his knowledge, is sleep deprived, has retrograde amnesia, and barely has anyone in his life who truly cares about him. He meets this girl who has hit him on the head, has bumped into him and has been rude to him on multiple accounts, of course, he’s going to return Usagi’s comments. But as he spends more time around her group, the teasing becomes well-meaning. Usagi shows that she values his advice, such as in Ep. 17 and when she is deciding if telling Naru about Nephrite's evil doings is a good idea or not. Usagi was visibly jealous of Rei’s crush on Mamoru and her three outings with him. Mamoru brought up "Bunhead" when Rei stopped him on the street to ask him out. He mentioned "Usagi" when talking to Motoki when the conversation wasn't about her but rather about Makoto. She's on his mind from early on.

There is a fantastic post that also discusses some of the points of evidence that Usagi and Mamoru had crushes on one another before they remembered their past lives, https://aminoapps.com/c/sailor-moon/page/blog/my-thoughts-on-mamoru-and-usagi/eYX5_MMdI3udVa3xwNvqExdKarRMM0xGlrm . One of my favorite observations is this: "Mamoru mostly teased her about her love life. When we look at what a person mostly tease someone about, it can give us an idea about their true intentions behind it. Mamoru teased her about romance-related things quite a few times, saying she wouldn’t get a boyfriend if she weren’t more lady-like, teasing her about Motoki twice, and her 'not-so-date' with Umino (it really wasn’t though). Not to mention when Motoki asked Mamoru why he always treated Usagi like that, Mamoru says, 'I guess we weren’t meant for each other.' " Also, in reply to this post, u/Rockabore1 made a fantastic analysis regarding the deeper meaning behind Usagi and Mamoru's teasing in the beginning:

"I love that you point out all the nuance in the way Mamoru and Usagi's relationship grew from roasting each other to realizing they care about each other and actually love being around each other. When they met, neither were really emotionally mature enough at that point to figure out an excuse to spend time together, and they kept using teasing each other as a reliable way to do it. I talked to another redditor about a scene that strikes me as a very multilayered in that regard. In episode 17, since when Mamoru talked about qualities, make a girl beautiful after Usagi feels discouraged to meet with the photographer. He describes 'someone with a kind-heart and bravery to do the right thing even when it's hard to do.' He says it with a directness like he means it as 'I see these qualities in you.' Yet he plays it off by saying, 'Obviously, you lack those qualities,' in a challenging way. I read it as him giving her the determination to try and prove him wrong because he knows she's not a quitter. Usagi went to the arcade to get Motoki to boost her ego, which she knew he would since he's always supportive, and Motoki's platitudes made her happy but didn't inspire her, whereas, Mamoru challenging her was what pushed her to actually go out and prove it. When she leaves, Motoki notes how the two always bicker, and Mamoru seems to half-heartedly lament that things always turn into an argument when they see each other and that 'I guess we're not meant to be.' It seems like he's admitting that he doesn't know how to give her a compliment without feeling silly or embarrassed to act like a softie, and he doesn't know how they could change (which obviously they do, but at the time both were really stubborn)."

In Ep. 28, they already demonstrate to the viewer that they have crushes on each other. Usagi, sitting next to him, thinks to herself, “but hey, he does look pretty handsome," then out loud, she says, "Oh geez, what am I thinking stop it Usagi, Tuxedo Mask is the only one I love!” He looks at her, and when she looks away embarrassed, he smiles at her. At the end of the episode, when Usagi says that their painting came out beautiful, Mamoru says, “I’d say it looks pretty good considering who the model was…” and his eyes immediately shot at USAGI! But she thinks he’s talking about himself, so she reacts annoyed. And in the last episode of the first season, when everyone gets their memory erased, Mamoru smiles genuinely after meeting Usagi. This encounter was just like the first one they had at the beginning of the series and similar to their third encounter as well. His reaction could very well have been the reaction he had after meeting her for the first time, but we, the viewers, didn’t get to see it. They had an attraction to each other from the start. Usagi felt that she made two horrible first impressions on Mamoru and even though she obviously found him attractive (as she later states on countless occasions), she felt that “this is an attractive guy I would’ve had a crush on now thinks I’m a ditz, so I’m going to treat him like I don’t care about him.”

Mamoru is someone who came from an upbringing with little attachment and has been pursued for his looks and wealth for presumably a long time. Think about how many characters and villains have hit on him. How Motoki told Rei that he lives in an expensive apartment all alone because of his inheritance, and her eyes lit up. Usagi probably is the only girl who isn’t fawning over him when they meet and instead is capable of sparing jokes at each other’s expense. His way of showing his attraction is not the best, but Usagi isn’t perfect either. I also noticed how, when Rei bumped into Mamoru in a ploy to ask him out, he acted concerned for her falling down for a moment, asked if she was alright and went on his way. Rei stopped him again, and he reluctantly stuck around for coffee. Meanwhile, every time Usagi bumps into him, he sticks around for a bit to tease her and get teased back. Why did Mamoru go out of his way to spend more time with "the annoying Bunhead” than he needed to? He even goes up to her to spar and teases her, and she reciprocates too.

At the end of Rei's first "date" with Mamoru, she tells Usagi that Mamoru is probably Tuxedo Mask, Usagi says that there's no way that he could be. Mamoru asks, "huh, who is Tuxedo Mask?" like he’s genuinely curious after Usagi noted the comment about Tuxedo Mask. Umino interrupts and asks Usagi to continue their own “date,” Mamoru says, “uuu, so that’s your type, huh?” in a flirty manner. This implies, "oh, so that's why you act like you don't like me. I'm not your type." Usagi is embarrassed and blushing during this whole encounter. Later, in Ep. 30, when Yuichiro and Rei are hitting it off, Usagi is ecstatic about getting them together. Rei tells her, "you know Mamoru is my guy, so what are you trying to pull here?" Usagi blushes embarrassed, her crush on Mamoru is obvious, her jealousy of Rei is evident. Even Ami starts to see this in Ep. 31 where Rei excuses herself from a Sunday outing with the girls for a "date," Ami tells this to Usagi while nervous, knowing Usagi will react annoyed at the thought of Rei going on a date with Mamoru. However, on Mamoru's part, he never took the outings with Rei seriously. He saw her as more of a friend while she was the one pursuing him to go with her on “dates.” Also, when talking with Motoki about the girls, he seemingly got really nervous at the thought of Rei “liking” him as more than a friend. After he realizes that he is Tuxedo Mask and realizes his strong connection with Sailor Moon and the princess to who appears to him in his recurring dream, he basically stops interacting with her altogether. In fact, in this same episode I just mentioned, Rei calls Mamoru to ask him out on a date but is met with his voice mail. We pan to Mamoru in the balcony of his apartment, ignoring Rei's voice message and instead of thinking about how he is determined to get the last rainbow crystal to find the legendary silver crystal and recover his lost memories.

Who can forget episode 34, where Usagi and Mamoru discovered each other's secret identities. Usagi recognizes Mamoru walking along the Juban Shopping District; she playfully hits him on the back, “Hey there, how you doing guy?” He grunts in pain. She genuinely asks him, "What’s wrong?" He responds, “Oh, hey Bunhead, you're sure cheerful today.” Usagi: “Well, excuse me then, it just so happens that I am a cheerful person all of the time!” and sticks her tongue out, as she does. He responds with a smile, “I hope you’ll always be that way. Take care, okay?” and walks away, holding his shoulder. Usagi reacts, confused, “What’s with him? He isn’t acting like himself.”, and notices his shoulder is hurt, “Could he be hurt in some way?” Mamoru probably thought he was going to die in the battle with Zoisite; he was also depressed about not being able to protect Sailor Moon, in what Mamoru thought was his last time seeing Usagi, he was kind and told her that she should always remain her cheerful self. Worried, she follows him. When he discovers this, he is genuinely surprised that she was worried about him. Mamoru didn't have anyone in his life who worried about him. In the iconic elevator ride, he genuinely opens up to her. He tells her about his past, his recurring dream, why he is looking for the silver crystal, things he hasn't told anyone else before. When she tells him, “You know what? Before, I thought you were the worst person in the whole wide world. But not anymore, now you’re the second worst.” The way Mamoru looked at her as she blushed saying that, the way he prioritized Usagi’s safety over the rainbow crystals, the way he pushed her out of the way from falling icicles, the way he looked at her when he saw his Bunhead transform into THE Sailor Moon, the way he looked at her when he pulled out that rose and turned into Tuxedo Mask. Mamoru and Usagi fell for each other long before they discovered they were Serenity and Endymion. Sure, it's not as explicit and cinematic as how it is portrayed in the manga and Sailor Moon Crystal. But their attraction is there. They are on each other's minds from early on.

The way the writers developed their relationship is actually genius. By the moonlight, Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon flirt, and he calls her smart and beautiful, and he believes in her leadership and talent as a superhero. Meanwhile, by daylight, Mamoru and Usagi bicker like a married couple. It's like Lois Lane falling in love with Super Man but dismissing Clark Kent. The dialogue they share, their body language, how others notice their connection goes a little further than they realize; I recommend that you rewatch Sailor Moon Season 1 and the first arc of Sailor Moon R (Makaiju) and notice how Usagi and Mamoru act around each other and how their feelings for one another develop. It's there as clear as day, and honestly, it's one of the reasons I love Sailor Moon. It's the best story ever told. Heck, even the intro song is from Usagi's perspective, singing about her miracle romance with Mamoru.

I think the most notable difference between Usagi and Mamoru’s relationship in Season 1 and Season 2 is that Usagi is much nicer to him in Season 2. As a result, Mamoru is much friendlier to Usagi. This, in turn, provides heartwarming moments between them, such as when they took care of a baby, their first “date” at the arcade, Mamoru’s sigh of relief when Usagi shows up to interrupt Natsuki’s incessant flirting, his blushing when Usagi called herself cute and when he thought Usagi was on a date with Seijuro, as well as many more moments between them. The reason Usagi treats him much nicer is because, at the beginning of Season 2, Usagi remembered her previous lives, she remembered who Mamoru is, his personality, what they went through, how he puts himself in danger to protect her, how he died for her, and most of all, she remembered why she fell in love with him. It becomes her mission to get Mamoru to remember who she is, what they’ve endured together, and how they fell in love. The Makaijju arc serves as a retelling of their love story, as Mamoru falls in love with Usagi all over again. This happens gradually; he starts to see how this Bunhead girl went from someone who is rude to him to someone who enjoys his company, cares about others, brave, fun to be around, and is a kind friend. When they are both captured by the Makaiju tree, Mamoru asks Usagi if she is alright and reaches out to hold her hand. When he and Sailor Moon are being thrown and flung around the room, he holds on to Usagi/Sailor Moon’s hand even though this aggravates their antagonists more, causing them to inflict more pain on them. He jumps in front of Sailor Moon to protect her near-fatal blows, as she did for him, because in Usagi’s words: “I’m willing to risk my life in order to protect anyone I truly love.” At this moment, Mamoru had already fallen in love with Usagi again. It wasn’t until he felt the same love he had felt in his past lives that his consciousness, the Moonlight Knight, returned his memories. Therefore, he fell for Usagi before he remembered their past lives. His undying need to protect her literally took physical form as the Moonlight Knight. This proves that Mamoru doesn’t love Usagi because she is Serenity and because of destiny, but because he genuinely loves Usagi. The cutest part of this moment was Mamoru waking Usagi up after the battle, and calling her his little Bunhead Usagi Tsukino.

Many people argue that he fell for Sailor Moon and settled for Usagi once he found out they were the same person. It is undeniable that Tuxedo Mask felt strong feelings for Sailor Moon since he could sense when she was in danger and felt this urge to protect her. However, Tuxedo Mask made an enemy of Sailor Moon and the Sailor Senshi when it came to finding the rainbow crystals. In The Shining Silver Crystal, Mamoru and Usagi are confronted by Zoisite, who demands that Mamoru surrender his own rainbow crystals so that they can fight, and the winner takes all. Mamoru tells Zoisite that he will do so only if he promises not to harm Usagi and let her go. This was BEFORE he knew that she was Sailor Moon. He prioritized Usagi’s safety over his unwavering personal mission of finding the silver crystal. He didn’t do this for Sailor Moon; he did this for Usagi.

One of the most important arguments, if not, the most crucial evidence for the validity of Usagi and Mamoru’s love for one another is why they fell in love and if it is merely because of destiny, as many skeptics online cite this as the only reason Usagi and Mamoru are together because they feel obligated to stay together due to past in the Silver Millennium and “destiny.” I found a fantastic essay series by Sailor Moon and Me, all about studying the dynamics of Usagi and Mamoru’s relationship to ultimately answer if they truly love one another in the original 90’s anime. You can find the whole series here; I highly recommend you read it! https://sailormoonandme.tumblr.com/post/93343451085/usagi-and-mamoru-essay-series-contents-page-and

In conclusion, the author writes: “Would Usagi and Mamoru have wound up together if they had not regained their memories from their past lives? If given the right opportunities to get to know each other better, almost certainly yes. And those opportunities would’ve probably presented themselves somehow because their past lives/destiny would’ve been influencing them. Remember, they even met as children. Were they obligated to be together because of their past lives? Not exactly. Their past lives guided them and influenced them, but the personality traits that Serenity and Endymion found attractive in one another were present in Usagi and Mamoru and was likely what they’re modern-day incarnations found attractive too. In particular, these traits were on display as Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask and Usagi and Mamoru already effectively loved one another in through those identities anyway.” The author highlights a key aspect, the reason Usagi and Mamoru have fallen in love over and over again: they find each other’s personality traits attractive! Earlier in the essay series, the author brilliantly proves how, in the anime, Mamoru/Tuxedo Mask and Endymion act in the same way, as well as Usagi/Sailor Moon and Serenity. They are the same people, so if they fell in love during the Silver Millennium, they can fall in love again for the same reason, they like each other’s personalities!

Mamoru's breakup with Usagi

In the anime, after they finally get together during Sailor Moon R, he finally feels like he’s not alone. Then he gets these visions prophesizing that the woman he loves will die if he continues to be with her. He struggles with what to do; he just found someone who completes him, who gave him his lost memories and the meaning of his life. Who saw the best in him and believed in him even after him being brainwashed and soul strangled by the evil Metalia. He knows the pain that he’s caused her. He still has memories of being under Metaria's evil magic. He realized how possessed he was, enough to attempt to behead Usagi without question. He just learned that continuing to be a part of her life could put her in grave danger. He doesn’t take this lightly and breaks up with her because he thought he would protect her.

Mamoru thought that HE, HIMSELF, was the danger to Usagi. That's why he tried to get her to hate him. Even I initially judged the breakup arc as a victim of "bad writing" for Mamoru and Usagi's relationship. A few lines littered over a few episodes are unfortunately very negative coming from Mamoru's part. I cannot defend them when taken out of context. I am disappointed that the writers decided to include those few lines since they don't even correlate to Mamoru's character growth and overarching character arc over five seasons.

Furthermore, from his part, these comments are blatant attempts to portray himself as a despicable person, so Usagi would forget about him and move on. He thought that by getting Usagi to hate him, she would distance herself from him and be saved from the horrible fate he kept seeing in his nightmare. Many people use this as "evidence" that Mamoru "didn't love Usagi," and that he is a "horrible person." It is very easy to judge a guy breaking up with a girl as wonderful as Usagi and being so cold towards her. However, when you see Mamoru realize that marrying Usagi will cause her immediate death and that his only way of protecting her from this doom is to break up with her, he already hates himself. To provide more perspective of how this impacted him when he meets King Endymion in the future and realizes he was the one prophesying Usagi's death if Mamoru continues to be with her, Mamoru charges at him with anger.

There is no logical reason that Mamoru would willingly choose to make Usagi suffer. Why would he purposely put the only person he considers his family and his soulmate through so much pain and suffering. The breakup is as hard on him as it is on Usagi. This is clearly seen in Ep. 69, at the end, when he is crying by his motorcycle. He should’ve told Usako the truth about the dream. But she beats him to it in a later episode, and they decide to take control of their lives and be together, instead of believing in the nightmare. She was the one to believe in the strength of their love and do the right thing. Thanks to this arc, they learned that together they are unstoppable. Mamoru learned to trust Usagi wholeheartedly and to trust himself, as he felt that HE was the danger in her life. After the revelation that the messages from King Endymion were to test Mamoru's love for Usagi, even Mamoru realizes he made a horrible decision to lie to Usagi and hurt her the way he did. He realizes how dumb he was and latches on to Usagi and never lets her go again.

Furthermore, to provide a silver lining to the breakup arc, we have further evidence of just how much Mamoru loves Usagi. If he didn't love her, as so many people in the fandom like to claim, the breakup was his way out. But he didn't just up and leave. He hated that he had to be apart from Usagi. He truly loves her with all of his heart. He never once stopped calling her Usako. He never stopped being in awe of Sailor Moon's power, calling her invincible when talking about her to Chibiusa. He continued to help her and the Sailor Senshi in battle. He dreamt about marrying her; he imagined her face reflected on rivers; when he continued to run into her after the breakup, he was solemn realizing that it is fate that keeps making them meet.

This breakup isn’t my favorite part of the season at all, but it provides real character development and allows us to explore Mamoru’s fears and heartache. You see Usagi gets heartbroken, but she doesn't lose faith; she doesn't stop believing in Mamoru and love; she still has her circle of friends and family to fall back on. Mamoru had no one. Usagi was the only one he let in his heart. In the Sailor Moon R movie, he tells Usagi that his years of loneliness were worth it because he found her, and that she is his family. For years, Mamoru had the same dream about a princess who pleaded to him “find the silver crystal, find the silver crystal.” And this princess ended up being a real person! The girl with the weird hair he kept running into, Bunhead, Usagi, Usako! Are we internalizing how insane that is? To have literally no memories before your sixth birthday, to not remember your parents, to be an orphan with no family or close relationships, to have a recurring dream that wakes you in a cold sweat about the same person every time that pleads that you find this mysterious crystal you know nothing about? It’s insane. Of course, Mamoru has trouble with interpersonal relationships in the beginning. It’s thanks to Usagi’s constant love towards him and their growth as a couple that he becomes a kinder and more trusting person as the series goes on. Mamoru's connection to Usagi is so much deeper than the anime lets on at surface level. Mamoru went from someone who has had his memory stolen already three times, to someone who has finally found the love of his life, who was no longer alone, to someone who was forced to break his soulmate's heart and be pushed back to loneliness.

I recommend this great article that talks more about the breakup and Mamoru's perspective! http://starlight.csmalecki.com/reads/breakup.php

Mamoru's relationship with Chibiusa

On that note, of course, Mamoru felt a connection to Chibiusa. He was an orphan with no family, he finds this little kid all alone, of course, he is going to feel an urge to help her feel less alone. He connects with Chibiusa because he sees Usako in her; because he no longer has anyone else to fill the void of loneliness. Mamoru and Chibiusa are some of the characters that carry the underlying theme of loneliness in the Sailor Moon story. Chibiusa saw Mamo as someone who reminded her of her dad, and for a little girl who feels helpless and is separated from her parents, utterly alone in this strange world where she doesn't know who to trust, it is reasonable for her to latch onto him. She sees these people who look like her parents and Sailor Senshi back home but behave nothing like them. Mamoru is one of the few characters who is continuously nice to her and there for her; logically, she would want to be around him. There is an excellent article that talks about Chibiusa's "Electra Complex," I highly recommend you read it: https://shojopower.com/beautiful-like-you-black-ladys-uncomfortable-electra-complex/. Basically, it concludes that Chibiusa's "Electra Complex" is NOT sexual desire for her father but instead not being able to relate to her mother, "The Electra Complex is less about a daughter’s sexual desire for her father, but much more about the relationship between daughter and mother; the female child and her best friend." Once Chibiusa becomes Black Lady, her innocent feelings of love and attachment towards Mamoru get exploited and tainted and manifest as "sexual" attraction. But in reality, once Chibiusa can relate to Usagi, her "Electra Complex" is resolved, and Black Lady is defeated.

Tuxedo Mask is "useless."

What a double standard. Just because he is a man, he has to be the Batman or Spider-Man of the story? It’s called Sailor Moon. She is Wonder Woman; he is Steve Trevor. Tuxedo Mask exists to help Sailor Moon and support her, but Sailor Moon is the protector of the universe. The story is all about her and her fellow Sailor Senshi. It’s a female empowerment story; if you think that a male character is “useless” because he isn’t the one saving the day, you are missing the point. Tuxedo Mask has physically aided the Senshi in combat on countless occasions.

Furthermore, during numerous battles, if Tuxedo Mask had not shown up to shoot a single rose, Sailor Moon and the Senshi would have been goners. He utilizes his knowledge of physics and math during battles and is capable in hand to hand combat, as well as a formidable swordsman. In the manga and Sailor Moon Crystal, he has his own super-powered attack, Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber. Even cooler, he has a combined attack with his daughter, Pink Sugar Tuxedo Attack. He takes the place of Sailor Earth and Sailor Sun, as he possesses the golden sailor crystal. Concerning Earth, he recognizes it as his guardian planet and can "see" what the Earth feels. Concerning the sun, Takeuchi made him a Leo, a constellation related to the sun, also, when he dies, Nehellenia states that he is "The Prince of Earth, protected by the Sun."

He buys the Senshi time to power up for their Sailor Planet attack; he's freed them from traps from where they can't escape alone, he distracts villains and disables them with supernaturally strong rose darts, allowing the Senshi to give the finishing blow. I have to note; his aim is deadly. His rose darts took down Queen Beryl and Fiore, as well as others. He doesn't leave the scene until he sees the situation is under control and that the girls can handle it from there. In his dying words during the Stars arc, he proclaims that the Senshi will stop Galaxia, that she doesn't stand a chance. He believes in each of the Senshi's strengths and gives them useful advice that they apply to the situation and helps them succeed. In the story, his character supports female heroes and helps them do their best. As a female, I feel completely empowered and inspired by Sailor Moon/Usagi, by each of the Senshi and the story in general. It is rare to see female superheroes kicking butt, in a world of countless Iron Man, Captain America, Batman, Superman, and Spider-Man movies and a less than a handful of Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel movies. A male superhero in a female superhero driven story is not "useless," they simply aren't the star of the battle, and there is nothing wrong with that.

The consensus is that Usagi's kidnapping by Prince Demande is straight-up assault and absolutely repulsive from Demade's part. And rightfully so, Usagi, in tears being grabbed and forced to kiss him is horrible and uncomfortable to watch. Compare this moment to Mamoru's kidnappings. He has been objectified and kidnapped by countless villains in the story. How is this different from Usagi's kidnapping? He is forced to kiss his own daughter possessed by evil, pinned against a wall by Fish's Eye trying to get a kiss from him while he is explicitly rejecting this and saying no, was submitted to bodily possession by Metaria's dark magic on two occasions with Queen Beryl (who is obsessed and infatuated with him) doing who knows what to his unconscious body. I could go on and on, Fiore, An, Mio Kuroki; there are many occasions where Mamoru has been objectified, kidnapped, and assaulted. It is disturbing that so many people interpret this as "weakness" from Mamoru's part. These assaults and objectification are against his will. A man who has been through these horrible experiences is NOT weak. Please don't contribute to this harmful double standard. A person being assaulted is a victim, regardless of their gender.

Finally, in the first episode, when Sailor Moon is crying because she doesn't know how to fight the monster terrorizing her best friend, Tuxedo Mask appears to her and tells her "Sailor Moon, crying won't solve anything." Taken at face value, this comment is bewildering since, in that scenario (and another battle scenario in Sailor Moon SuperS), her crying became ultrasonic and incapacitated her enemies. But this comment goes further, this comment sets the tone for Usagi's series-long journey into maturing and getting over her crying habit; this is part of Sailor Moon’s character development. This personal growth is highlighted in Ep. 74 when Usagi decides to face Rubeus alone to save her friends. She reflects on how, before she would've been a total crybaby if she had to go by herself to defeat a villain, she is amazed at how far she has come emotionally. She realizes that truthfully, "crying won't solve anything." As the seasons go on, her being a self-proclaimed crybaby is still used as a point of comedy, but in the moments of real desperation, she handles herself with maturity and bravery. So, ultimately, she valued what Tuxedo Mask said to her the first time they met.

Usagi and Mamoru's age gap

One of the biggest points of misinformation in Sailor Moon is Mamoru and Usagi's age difference and the legality of their relationship. Mamoru Chiba is 17. At the start of the manga, Takeuchi intended for Mamoru to be as young as 16. Usagi Tsukino starts the story as 14, but she actually isn’t 14 for very long. The Japan school semester begins in April, and her birthday is in June. This means that Seasons 1-3 happen pretty quickly. Therefore the age difference between Mamoru and Usagi isn’t that drastic at all. Furthermore, the fact of the matter is, Mamoru behaves older than he is. Why? He has had to mature very early on in his life. He has had to take care of himself for presumably a long time. Usagi has the perfect nuclear family and at the start of the series and is rather immature. She matures as the series goes on because of her responsibilities as a guardian and protector of the galaxy. At face value, it's easy to judge Mamoru and Usagi's relationship as one with a significant age gap. However, this isn't the case. 2-3 years of age difference is not outstanding at all and in Japan even less so. They are both above the age of consent of 13 and are still both teenagers. Even in the original anime, many scripts list Mamoru as a 17-18-year-old college student, and Usagi becomes 15 early on in the series timeline. He is shown to be extremely intelligent, so being a 17 year old in college is absolutely plausible. An important point to address, he is shown driving a car when the minimum driving age in Japan is 18. However, Haruka is 16 and drives a car and even a helicopter. I’m not losing any sleep over the fact that Mamoru could be driving a car before he is 18.

People argue that if Mamoru were precisely the same age as Usagi, the "problems" would be "fixed." But like I stated earlier, Mamoru behaves more mature because he was forced to be independent and self-sufficient from a very early point in his life. Even at 14, Mamoru would appear and behave much more mature than Usagi does. He is still obviously immature in how he deals with his crush on Usagi. When Takeuchi wrote the story about Serenity and Endymion, she was basing herself on medieval romance stories where the lovers are many years apart in age. Hence, the age gap was intentional in that aspect. Again, as I stated previously, 2-3 years of age difference is hardly noteworthy, especially as the series goes on, and they mature together.

Here is an excellent post that further discusses and debunks the age gap legality rumors: https://tiny012.tumblr.com/post/184025521241/in-the-defense-of-mamoru-chiba-because-bitch-im

Final thoughts and conclusions about Usagi and Mamoru's relationship and Tuxedo Mask

In the end, Usagi and Mamoru mature and grow together; they are each other’s rock. Mamoru becomes a more laid back person around Usagi, like when he takes her to see the cats at the abandoned house to cheer her up in Ep. 91. Usagi asks him, “but are we allowed to go in there?” and he responds, “I don’t know! Who cares!” and hands her a little kitten. I love Diana’s comment in Ep. 146 about how both Neo Queen Serenity and King Endymion fake being sick together to get out of meetings and commitments.

Mamoru loves Usagi for who she is; in some ways, she is everything he's not, and he loves her for that - they complete each other; he keeps her grounded while she lifts him up into craziness. And he adores it. Mamoru has told Usagi: "Never apologize for being yourself.”, "Your strong will is what I love about you most.” and “Just being with you makes my life complete.” When Fish’s Eye questioned Mamoru on why he doesn’t want to be with anyone else but Usagi, he responds, "She’s full of dreams. That’s why.” In Stars, as Chibiusa is fading from existence due to Nehellenia’s curse on Mamoru, she pleads that he remembers that both him and Usagi have always shared the same dreams. Mamoru and Usagi are pretty different, sure, but in reality, they have the same visions for the future; they share the same values, and they have the same dreams. They complement each other beautifully, and that is why their love is as strong as it is. Usagi may be a bit clumsy and a crybaby, but in Mamoru's eyes, she's perfect.

People also bring up Mamoru's avoidance of public displays of affection with Usagi as evidence that "he doesn't really love her." In Japan, public displays of affection are seen as rude and inappropriate. When Mamo is alone with Usako, they share countless cute moments. Kisses, hugs, affection.. they love each other. Let's not forget when Mamoru gave Usagi a promise ring at the airport and kissed her like they were the only two people on Earth. His last words were "Usako." He has taken countless blows and stabs in Usagi's place, and she has for him too.

We saw them fall in love over and over, as Serenity and Endymion, and as Bunhead and Jerkface. Even when brainwashed initially in Season 1, Mamoru couldn’t bring himself to hurt her and kept unconsciously helping her succeed. You can brainwash him, kill him, erase his memory, separate him from her, but there is nothing you can do to make Mamoru’s love for Usagi fade. In the words of Toru Furuya, the voice of Mamoru: "He loves Sailor Moon and Tsukino Usagi with his whole heart. I think he’s a very great person."

Finally, Tuxedo Mask gives Sailor Moon strength; he supports her to become the best superhero he knows she can be. He does his best to help the Senshi in battle, but it’s a story about girls protecting the world. Takeuchi wrote this character to fit that narrative; he is one of the characters she holds dearest in her heart. Few people can really understand the beauty of Usako and Mamo together and how Sailor Moon is breaking the stereotypes of gender roles. If you can’t understand that, it’s your loss.

Tuxedo Mask is the hero Tuxedo Mask haters deserve, but not the one they need right now, so they’ll hunt him. Because he can take it, because he’s not a hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Moonlight Knight.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#sailor moon #tuxedo mask #usagi #usagi tsukino #usamamo #mamoru x usagi #usagi x mamoru #pgsm #sailor moon aesthetic #sailor moon crystal #anime #90s anime #mamoru chiba #mamoru #pretty guardian sailor moon

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comradekatara · 4 years

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I asked this question to another blog but never got an answer. I asked google but I couldn't find anything. How in God's name does me being a zutara shipper (and no I'm not sensoring the name bc why the fuck) make me a racist?

i appreciate the active hostility with which this question was asked. you seem to be really steaming right now, which makes me super inclined to answer your question with patience and respect!

by the way you phrased this, you seem to have made shipping a part of your identity. the phrasing of “a ___ shipper” vs “someone who ships ___” really speaks volumes. i’ve noticed this is the case with a lot of insular fan communities that become heavily attached to a specific romance within the show. especially when said relationship is not canon. i know it’s easy to get riled up over nothing, but i promise you this: you are not under attack. bryke did not slight you by not making your ship canon. no fan of atla is under attack for their opinions on atla. it’s a show. these are not real problems. it is perfectly valid to feel upset over the writing of a show (i, too, for example, think the mai/zuko and katara/aang resolutions in the finale were slapdash, poorly-written, and borderline-misogynistic) but at the end of the day, it’s just a show.

on the other hand, when fans of a piece of media say “hey, this phenomenon (either within the text itself, paratext, or fan engagement) with regards to this thing i like is racist, actually,” they are not just saying “i feel hurt by this fictional narrative,” but they are also saying “this is actively harmful, because even the smallest form of racism is microcosmic of a larger issue that actively gets people killed every day.” (listen. i know this is very obvious to anyone who has ever experienced racism, but i’ve encountered a lot of white people who don’t seem to grasp that racism has explicitly harmful effects, so i thought i would elucidate this matter nonetheless.)

the pairing of zuko and katara, from what i’ve witnessed of fan communities over the past decade, seems to be founded on “the inherent sexiness of antagonism.” i’ve seen people say it’s about the parallels, the yin/yang, the thematic importance of forgiveness, and sure, i’ll give you that. they do parallel each other in resonant, deliberate ways. they are fire and water. katara coming to forgive zuko represents significant growth, and their friendship is poignant and meaningful. but i fail to see how any of this is inherently romantic. it is actually possible to love someone without having sexual chemistry. i know people ship zuko with literally everyone, including twelve year olds, but for a moment let’s put our common sense hats on and assume that it would be absurd to ship him with either aang or toph. shipping him with katara seems just as absurd to me. he certainly comes to respect her a great deal, but at the end of the day, he still regards her as a child. a child whom he loves and respects, but, just like aang and toph, a child nonetheless. katara is fourteen. a grizzled war veteran, yes, but an eighth grader nonetheless. if a junior in high school started dating a fourteen year old, they would be considered a creep. you know why? because it’s creepy!

so back to what you zoot shippers seem to consider the crux of their chemistry: the antagonism. i could easily pull together eight scenes of them getting along, and yet every single gifset i’ve ever seen compiling moments of the two of them includes at least two or three in which katara still wants zuko dead. doesn’t seem very romantique to me! but what i regard as justifiable rage, a lot of you seem to think denotes sexual tension. the thing is, it’s not sexual; it’s just tension. katara has absolutely no reason to like or trust zuko, as to her, he has done absolutely nothing to prove himself distinct from the people responsible for the destruction of her home, the genocide of people like her, the murder of her mother, the spreading of an imperialist colonialist project. she trusted him to side with good in ba sing se, and nearly cost aang his life, so she knows she can’t afford to make that mistake again and risk aang dying. from her perspective, her rage is one hundred percent reasonable, and she has no plans of trusting him ever again, until he actively works to earn her forgiveness. from zuko’s perspective, he was just staring up at the sky, and now this incessant little five year old won’t stop bullying him, which is really annoying, sokka please get your irritating little sister to cut that out, why’s she being so meannnnn :(

when zuko uses katara’s necklace as leverage, that is not sexy; that is him threatening katara with a family heirloom, and all that she has left of her mother. when zuko rolls on top of her to protect her from falling rubble, that is not sexy; that is him not trusting katara is capable enough to protect herself. by the end of the episode, he realizes that she is far more powerful and capable than he ever gave her credit for, and he is awed by her power. him treating her like a child (which, frankly, is fair, because she is) is decidedly not sexy. when zuko jumps in front of lightning for katara, that is not inherently romantic; he would have jumped in front of lightning for momo, and you know it. for one thing, he wasn’t risking a single thing; he was confident that he would be able to redirect it, then azula pointed it at the wrong person, but because he is impulsive, he dove in front of it anyway because he thought he still could redirect it, even though his stance was all wrong. but when actually given a moment to think, he chose katara to fight azula with him because she was the obvious person for the job on every tactical level. she is the most powerful bender he knows. period. water extinguishes fire. and fire is at its greatest and most powerful on this day. he’s not going to let toph into the line of fire; even if suki could fight azula, it would be deeply insensitive to make her considering azula tortured her in the past; and sokka has places to be, he doesn’t have time for your sidequest! katara is obviously the person you take. and there is nothing inherently romantic about zuko’s friendship with her.

ah, but what about that time she touched his scar? was that not an unparalleled act of tenderness? a beautiful moment of gentle caress? i mean, yeah, sure, but i don’t see why that needs to be romantic. i mean, you can read romance into it, if you want to, because, like, i said, sure, but if anything, i think acting like that moment is romantic lessens its impact. this is an important moment for katara; she is humanizing the enemy! this is an important moment for zuko; he is allowing himself to be helped. i could analyze this moment for a writing standpoint endlessly, because it’s beautiful, but i won’t, because that is pointless analysis when i am, instead, trying to explain to you why i think the act of shipping this pairing is more often than not rooted in racism.

i will say this: i don’t think shipping them is inherently racist. i think if you think their friendship has potential for something more, and you think they should have gotten together, you’re not necessarily racist to think so. i think you’re wrong, but racist? well, that’s a different matter. no, i think this ship is rooted in racism for the simple fact that so much fan-generated content i’ve stumbled across over the years has been deeply, horrifically racist. i think this ship also lends itself to that kind of racism because it is so reminiscent of racist tropes that the majority white fans of the ship, either unaware of the harmful connotations of these tropes, or active fans of these tropes, love to employ uncritically. i’ve seen pocahontas aus. i’ve seen beauty and the beast aus (wherein, mind you, katara is the beast...........yes, you read that right). i’ve seen wildly popular fanart that sexualizes katara––who, may i repeat, IS FOURTEEN––in disgusting ways. and most of all, i’ve seen the delegitimization of katara’s anger towards zuko, as if she is simply supposed to “get over” the harm the fire nation has caused her. she is clearly deeply affected by the death of her mother, and zuko used her love for her mother as leverage: first, with her necklace, and second, when he used his empathy over their shared loss as a means of gaining katara’s trust. it’s clear that fans (not all, but many i’ve seen, at least those passionate enough to send me an ask with this phrasing) of this ship don’t actually give a shit about katara’s role as an indigenous woman, or why she would have no desire in dating a colonizer. sometimes it’s clear that people are actually cognizant of this, and even get off on it. they think it’s sexy. they think the racism is hot.

katara and zuko have a fascinating dynamic. they are clear foils, and their relationship is poignant and has great depth. of the little we do see of their friendship, it’s clear that they care about each other a lot. but to imply that their relationship is in any way sexual veers into racist territory really, really quickly. now, i have no idea whether you, yourself are racist. i can guess, based on your phrasing of this ask, and knowing that anyone who thinks that “being accused of racism is worse than racism” is definitely racist, but i’m not going to make any assumptions one way or another. i hope you appreciate my taking the time to answer this, because much like that other blog you sent this ask to, i have absolutely no obligation to. it shouldn’t be my role to educate people on why [x thing] is/can be harmful, especially when they are clearly asking me in bad faith and are likely to disregard everything i just wrote. so all that being said, you’re welcome.

#asks #anon #hot takes #oooh boy #zvtara

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theclanscript · 5 years

Text

the stages of yoo kihyun

⋈ pairing: kihyun x reader ⋈ word count: 3,570 ⋈ genre: fluff ⋈ notes: a little kihyun to brighten up your day ♡

“There you are!”

You recognized that upbeat voice anywhere. You turned away from the counter to see Minhyuk approaching you with purposeful steps. You had just finished preparing your morning tea from the break room of your workplace and were in the process of leaving. The smell of coffee percolating through this area never really pleased your senses—in fact, it made you nauseous—so you were hoping to get out of here as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, your coworker had different plans.

“What is it?” you asked, mentally strapping yourself in. You knew that Minhyuk’s conversations weren’t exactly the briefest, no matter how much you tried to make them so.

“Whatcha doing Friday night?” he asked with energy you couldn’t believe people had at this early hour.

“I told you I’m not interested,” you said casually as you took a careful sip of your tea.

“I’m not asking for me, ew.” As if the ending to that sentence wasn’t offensive enough, the face he pulled was one of overt disgust. That was what you got for trying to be clever, you supposed. There was no winning against him in a battle of wits. “It’s Kihyun,” Minhyuk suddenly continued. “He wants to ask you out.”

At the sound of the familiar name, you perked up. You remembered Kihyun—how could you forget?

Kihyun was Minhyuk’s best friend—bless his heart—and he worked under the same company as you two, just in a different division. Due to that circumstance, you had never really had many opportunities to see him around on your floor of the building. You had only met him a few days ago when a group of your coworkers had decided to meet up during the weekend for a nice, friendly luncheon. There, Minhyuk had brought Kihyun along, and over the period of the day, you had gotten to know him a little better.

To say that he had piqued your interest would be an understatement; he had been humorous, charming, and polite to boot. To be honest, you had been hoping that something would become of the first meeting. Still, you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at Minhyuk accusingly, unsure of whether or not he was pulling a prank on you.

“If he wants to ask me out, why is he making you do it?”

“He’s not,” Minhyuk replied matter-of-factly. “He’ll probably be here any minute now, but I just wanted to beat him to it.”

There it was, that evil grin. Immediately afterwards, he broke out into a cackle that you swore only witches from storybooks could emit, which earned a few startled looks from the other workers tending to their own servings of caffeine. He then turned around to scurry off without another word, completely disregarding the fact that he had stolen Kihyun’s thunder just to see your reaction.

Apparently, it was worth it.

It took a few seconds to recover as you stood there in your baffled state, but once you snapped out of it, you urged your legs to head out of the break room. You were about to hunt down Minhyuk to make him explain or repent—maybe both—but it seemed that there was no use for that.

“Hey!”

Lo and behold, as you turned to walk across the main room, you saw Kihyun on the other side, having rounded the corner from the hallway to lock eyes with you.

“Hey,” you reciprocated, offering him a wave with your free hand. A brilliant and pleasant smile appeared on his face as he picked up the pace to head towards you, and you did your best to meet him halfway. He clearly didn’t belong on this level—he had mentioned working about two floors below yours. Once you two stopped in front of each other, you hoped that Minhyuk had been telling the truth.

“How are you—”

“Yes.”

Kihyun halted in the middle of his sentence, surprise etched onto his face. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, I would love to go out with you,” you explained, saving him the time and potential embarrassment. Although, you could have just opened yourself up for humiliation by falling for a trick, but fortunately that wasn’t the case. A mixture of emotions flashed across Kihyun’s face for a split second as he processed what you had said before a look of realization dawned on him.

“Minhyuk?”

“The one and only.”

“I should have known.”

Thankfully, Kihyun was a good sport, letting out a chuckle of amusement while never losing his smile. He probably knew how to take things in stride by now—Minhyuk tended to be one step ahead of everyone at all times, and being friends with someone like that, you learned to adapt. As for you, you would take every chance you got to expose his tomfoolery.

“So, Friday?” you inquired as confirmation.

“Yes,” he answered with a noticeable lift in his tone of voice. “I’ll come by after work’s done.”

“Sounds great.”

Bidding you farewell, he turned on his heel to retrace his steps, no doubt returning to his own work station. You watched his retreating frame as he left, a beam making its way across your lips when he stopped to bow to one of the senior officers passing by, his soft, dark hair bouncing up and down with each tilt of the head before he continued on his merry way.

Content with how the event had unfolded, you spun back around to get back to work as well, but that was when you noticed a strange figure out of the corner of your eye. Diverting your gaze, you immediately spotted none other than Minhyuk creeping behind one of the windows of an office nearby. He was just standing there, pressed up to the glass with the widest grin on his face, resembling a villainous mastermind watching his secret plan unfold.

It was a wonder how he and Kihyun were friends.

“I still can’t believe you don’t like coffee.”

Kihyun and you were currently walking down a fairly busy sidewalk after having had a wonderful meal just prior. You had gone on enough dates to say that you two were officially dating by now. Each date had been special—visiting the dog café was your personal favorite—and while you had gone to a variety of places together, fried chicken was your mutual favorite and go-to for a casual lunch date. Of course, there was no better way to top off a date than to grab some dessert. This was what had sparked the subject matter of your conversation on your way to a nice café.

“What’s there to like about bean juice?” you questioned, remaining unimpressed by the drink and his apparent love for it. This made Kihyun burst out in laughter beside you. His features scrunched up as he threw his head back for a quick moment; it was a cute habit you had noticed over the past few weeks, and it never failed to make you smile along with him.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he started before you saw his stare trail off just like his words. Something up ahead on your side of the street seemed to have caught his attention, causing his footsteps to falter. “Hold that thought,” he told you, placing his hand lightly on your arm to slow you in your tracks. As you did so, he moved his hand to the small of your back to gently usher you out of the middle of the street and off to the side where you were not in the way of other pedestrians or speeding delivery scooters.

Once you were in a safe place, Kihyun jogged off in a hurry. Lingering in your spot, your gaze followed him as he approached a nearby storefront where a middle-aged woman stood by the entrance. She appeared to be having trouble with a dolly stacked with beverage crates to restock her convenience store, unable to lift the wheels up onto the curb.

“Here, let me help you with that,” you heard Kihyun say as he swooped in from the side. He took over for her by grasping the handles, and with an effective heave, he pulled the cart up over the ledge, backing up carefully as he did so.

“Thank you, young man,” the lady responded with a grateful tone.

You were expecting Kihyun to then let go of the goods after having done his good deed, but instead, he continued to step backwards into the store, pulling the crates with him. He disappeared past the entryway, but you heard his voice courteously asking the woman, “Where should I set this down?”

It didn’t take long until you saw him appear from the threshold again, walking briskly out of the front door to catch back up to where he had left you. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you immediately encouraged. “That was a very kind thing to do.”

Kihyun merely waved your compliment off with a shy smile. “Anyone else would have done the same.”

This made you smile admiringly at him. It was sweet of him to think that, but you knew that not everyone would have done what he had just did. Not everyone would have stopped in the middle of the street and gone out of their way to help out a stranger—all the other passersby who had sauntered up and down the street without sparing so much as a glance towards the struggling shopkeeper were proof enough.

“So, where were we?” Kihyun spoke again as he motioned to recommence your walk to the café.

“Bean juice,” you reminded him.

“Oh right,” Kihyun said, another laugh radiating from him as genuine and amused as the first. Your own smile never left your face for the rest of the date, and by the end, you solidified a thought that had been brewing ever since the first date.

This one was a keeper.

There weren’t many times where you saw the full intensity of Kihyun’s wrath. Sure, he got annoyed at minor, almost trivial things—when people littered on the ground carelessly, when Minhyuk dished out his daily insults, when the company executives swatted away his polite greetings with mere nods—but this was different.

Kihyun was angry.

“Come on, babe. It’s okay.” You tried your best to speak in a soothing tone, hoping that it would calm your boyfriend down.

It was already nearing the late evening, and the two of you had decided to visit a bar after dinner for a couple of drinks. Unfortunately, a brute of a man had felt it was necessary to approach you in an unpleasant manner. The stranger had refused to leave, even when you had specifically told him that you had arrived there with someone. Kihyun had gone to get your orders in at the time, but when he had come back to your table, he had been less than thrilled to meet the unwelcomed guest pestering you. Thankfully, you had been able to pull Kihyun away and out of the establishment before the situation got out of hand. Thus, you were standing outside on the dimly lit streets now as he attempted to cool off from the encounter.

“It’s not okay,” Kihyun argued, his eyebrows creasing with the expression of pure irritation that he couldn’t hide. “What he did was not at all okay. He had no right to grab your arm like that. He was about to drag you away!” he disputed, his voice rising along with his blood pressure, no doubt.

“It’s not a big deal,” you admitted, having gone through far too many instances similar to this in the past. “Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, but something could have if I wasn’t there.”

You frowned as you watched him display his frustration. He looked off to the side, reaching his hand up to rub his temples in an effort to compose himself that you weren’t sure was working. Stepping closer to him to help, you wrapped your hands around one of his, giving him a secure squeeze in order to ground him again.

“But you were there. And I’m fine now—really. I’m okay.”

His other hand fell back to his side, and he turned to lock eyes with you, his gaze thorough and meaningful. As the seconds passed, you saw the fire in his eyes start to smolder down, anger seeping away with each breath he took until he released a lengthy sigh.

“It’s guys like those who make people believe that men are the worst.”

You chuckled at his complaint, relieved that most of the tension seemed to have dispersed. While you knew that Kihyun had a temper, you also knew the caveat that it never really lasted very long.

“Good thing I have you to prove that theory wrong.”

Kihyun lifted your hands up, placing a warm and affectionate kiss atop your knuckles. That was all you needed to know that things were going to be okay.

“How did you even survive going to these places alone?”

“I ask myself that every day,” you exclaimed, your exasperation expelling from you in the form of your own sigh.

“You won’t need to anymore, okay?”

As you stared at Kihyun, you knew that he meant what he said. His face showed no signs of hesitation, deception, or embellishment, only certainty, sincerity, and a promise. His words hit you like shockwaves sent straight to the core of your being to move you, but sometimes, he made you feel so delighted, so respected, so special that there were moments when you wondered if you truly deserved him—but you supposed that was a thought for a different day.

For now, you had him, and he had you—boy, did he have you good.

The first thing you heard when you woke up from your sleep was the sound of activity coming from your kitchen. Your groggy eyes darted over to the clock to see that it was about 9 in the morning. It technically wasn’t too dreadfully early to be up, but it was the Saturday after a company party, which meant that any time before noon should be deemed too early to be conscious.

Your mouth felt a bit dry and your head felt heavy from the night of drinking, but this was certainly the best you had ever felt on mornings such as this, especially compared to the first few experiences from your beginning of your working days—and you only had one person to thank.

Speaking of, Kihyun wasn’t in the spot next to you in bed, so you could only assume that he was the one creating the noise in the kitchen just now. You both had gone to bed at the same time, having come back home from the gathering pretty late, but it seemed as though nothing was capable of stopping Kihyun from being an early riser.

Sluggishly willing yourself out of bed, you took a quick detour to your bathroom to fulfill your morning duties before dragging your feet all the way to the kitchen. Sure enough, you were greeted with the sight of Kihyun busily in the middle of cooking something or another.

“Good morning,” you called out. This immediately caught his attention as he whipped his head around to acknowledge your presence.

“Good morning,” he replied with twice as much vitality as you. “Perfect timing.”

“What are you up to?” You treaded a bit closer to investigate the stovetop, noticing steam rising from a pot above one of the burners.

“Just making some hangover soup for when you got up.”

You laughed, recognizing that the scent wafting from the dish had seemed extremely familiar. “Are you sure you don’t need it more than me?”

The truth was, you hadn’t drunken nearly as much as you had anticipated you would have last night. You hadn’t really been feeling up to the occasion prior to the dinner, knowing full well that you would have had to fall victim to the unspoken mandatory drinking rule that came with events like these. They called it good manners, you called it peer pressure.

Making matters worse, your supervisor had tried his darnedest to get you to drink more, filling up your shot glass with soju the second it had been emptied and urging you to gulp each one down with excessive clinking of glasses. You had expected as much from previous occurrences of his cheeks becoming rosier and his requests getting bolder. There hadn’t been much you could do in those instances, at least not many that wouldn’t have gotten you fired, so you had held your tongue and tipped your glass, unsure of whether the burn of the alcohol or your unspoken objections had been more painful.

You knew the reason for his persistence. It was the same suspicion that had been strengthened every time you had noticed that no one ever bothered Minhyuk for refusing to drink a drop. To be fair, he had given specific and dramatic excuses such as “I’ll die if I drink” or “my head will explode”, but you still couldn’t help but resent that those defenses probably wouldn’t have even worked for you.

Luckily, Kihyun had not only been present for the gathering, but as the pressuring from your supervisor had increased, so had his interceptions. He had been your black knight, swiping up most of the soju shots that had been pushed into your possession to take them himself. He had done it with respect and a disarming smile to maintain the party mood, you had almost been convinced that he hadn’t been internally judging your supervisor’s vulgar behavior.

Much to your relief, the older man had caught on after a few failed attempts and given up his frivolous pursuit, and you had been able to enjoy the rest of your night and in turn, not hate your morning.

“Don’t worry. I made enough for the both of us,” Kihyun assured before heading over to the other side of the kitchen. “It should be ready soon. Why don’t you go sit down?”

“Take your time.”

You did as he said, scuffling over to the dining table to take a seat. From there, you found your eyes following Kihyun as he worked, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction just from the view of his back. He opened up one of the cupboards, and you broke out into a smile as he stretched up on tiptoe to reach a box on the top shelf. He then proceeded to fiddle with the electronic kettle, pouring hot water into the cup he had set before him. It was all the most mundane actions, but to you, each movement brought you joy to witness.

Before you knew it, Kihyun was walking up to you to hand you a steaming mug of what you discerned to be green tea.

“Here you go,” he presented warmly, and you gladly took it in your hands with a small thanks. You set the drink down on the table beside you, but you didn’t pay attention to it. You didn’t dare take your eyes off of Kihyun, and he noticed this, stopping in his tracks as he was just about to turn back around.

“What is it?”

He took a step forward to stop in front of you. He lifted his hand up to nudge a few stray strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheek in a soft caress. You leaned into the touch, one you found so incredibly fond and just a little doting.

“Nothing. Just appreciating my wonderful, handsome boyfriend.”

His beautiful laughter surfaced again, and he held the embarrassed expression he often did when you praised him an exceptional amount. “Are you still drunk?” he joked.

You laughed as well as you shook your head, but soon, your smile slowly faded from your face. You thought of what to say, how to put all your emotions into coherent sentences. You had contemplated for a while now, but the results had always been the same—just you stuck in your mind filled with whirling worries.

But Kihyun knew. He could tell by just meeting your eyes—just two years of being together had given him this uncanny ability. He gave you a knowing look, the corner of his lip quirking up in an endearing and comforting smile. He placed both his hands on either side of your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb tenderly as he stared intently at you.

With just a simple gesture, Kihyun not only made you feel loved, but he made you feel worthy of being loved.

He dipped down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you felt a flutter across your skin as if the contact wiped away all your disruptive doubts. He then moved on to place an even softer kiss on your lips, capturing them in such a sweet and compassionate way that made it seem like he was handling the most precious entity in the world.

After he pulled away, the only thought left in your mind was how you wished to tell him how lucky you were to have him. But as he smiled down at you during the silent exchange with his untiring and steady gaze, you realized that he had been telling you something all along.

You are my greatest treasure.

#kihyun #monsta x #monsta x scenarios #kihyun scenarios #monsta x fanfiction #kihyun fanfiction #monsta x imagines #kihyun imagines #monsta x fanfic #kihyun fanfic #monsta x fluff #kihyun fluff #lucy lit

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madara-fate · 5 years

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Hi! I was sent here by a friend XD Not that it matters. Anyway, I am trying to gather some information on SasuSaku, namely from the shippers. Please answer the question if you're willing: Why do you ship SasuSaku?

I’ll just repeat the answer I gave when I was asked this question previously 😊

I ship SS because Sakura was the only girl who not only always wanted what was best for Sasuke, but also actively and constantly strove to make that happen. Karin always just wanted to help Sasuke, and I respect her for that. I’ve always been very grateful to her for helping to keep my favourite character alive on numerous occasions, and I believe her affections for him were genuine. However, that’s all I can say about it. Whereas not only were Sakura’s feelings for him also genuine, but she was also actively trying to secure a better future for him by trying to dissuade him from continuing down his dark path. Karin noticed how sinister he was becoming during the arc in the Land of Iron. Yet, she was still aiding him in committing all those crimes, and it was only after he had impaled her and completely disregarded her life, that she realized that helping him while he was in that frame of mind, wasn’t doing any good for anybody. It shouldn’t have taken that long, and that much for her to reach that conclusion. I know she was just trying to do all she could to help him, but she should have known that “helping” him in that situation wasn’t doing him any favours in the long run.

Sakura knew that from the very first instance she witnessed Sasuke’s darkness in the Forest of Death. As soon as she saw it, she tried to pull him out of the darkness, and this desire never diminished.

People tend to look at Sasuke’s side and say he always hated her or doesn’t care about her at all, when that’s just not true. Tobirama and Hagoromo explain Sasuke’s character brilliantly in 619 and 693 respectively. They basically reveal that the only true representations of Sasuke’s character were before the massacre, and after 698. Essentially, the times when he wasn’t afflicted by the curse of hatred which constantly caused him to push away love, and magnify the negative emotions, including resentment, hatred, jealousy etc.

But despite his affliction, you could still see that he cared for his friends, including Sakura. He described her as someone “dear” to him in 133, which was only reiterated in 177, when Kakashi stated that they had both found “precious” companions, to which Sasuke then thinks of Sakura and Naruto. He sincerely thanked her for everything she had done for him in 181. He was reminded of his relationship with Team 7 when he saw how much Taka were doing for him against Killer Bee in 414. Naruto indicated how Sasuke’s body just moved on its own to save Kakashi and Sakura from the infinite Tsukuyomi in 680 etc.

All these indicators that demonstrated that despite Sasuke’s outward desires to be alone and push away the affection that was offered to him, he still deeply valued his friends. This told me that when Sasuke would be saved from the darkness, he’d welcome Sakura’s affections and start seeing her, as well as the entire world from a new perspective, and that’s exactly what happened. His hatred turned into love (as Hagoromo predicted it would in 693), and he was able to see things with clarity (as he described in 699).

I just really liked that Sakura (and Naruto) were always striving to attain a better future for their dear friend who was suffering so much. And that Sasuke, despite his internal struggle with his affliction, was still able to demonstrate that he cared about his friends, and that once the curse no longer had a hold of his heart, he was able to give Sakura such a meaningful expression of affection.

Other than that, I also often tend to see certain criticisms of the SS ship that I just don’t agree with.

For instance:

“Sakura never understood anything about Sasuke” - And that’s usually referring to his loneliness, as if Sasuke’s loneliness was the only aspect of his character that was available for people to understand, when that’s not true. In Part 1, Sakura proved how she understood Sasuke’s darkness better than anyone else. While Naruto and Kakashi were brushing off Sasuke’s behaviour as a minor phase, Sakura knew better, and understood how deeply it was affecting him. That’s why she not only anticipated his decision to leave, but also the day and time.

“Sakura’s desires were selfish” - I really don’t agree with this. Nothing about what Sakura wanted regarding Sasuke was selfish after chapter 49. In 181, she tells Sasuke that revenge won’t bring him happiness, and that’s what she wanted for him. She knew his path would only lead him to more misery, and Sasuke himself said he was aware of that, but his desire for revenge was too great. Furthermore, I’ve always found it annoying how Sakura’s desires always get labelled as selfish, but Naruto gets a free pass, solely because he had a better “understanding” of Sasuke’s situation. It’s the incentives that determine whether the action is selfish, not the level of understanding. Naruto and Sakura always, always had the same incentives for wanting to save Sasuke; they both just “hurt”seeing Sasuke suffer (Sakura’s words in 693 prove that on her part). Therefore, if one is labelled as selfish, then so must the other. I don’t believe either of them were selfish, but it’s either they both were or neither of them were.

“Sasuke didn’t care about Sakura at all” - I won’t go into detail here, but I made an entire post refuting this point.

“Sasuke constantly insulted Sakura” - Fact is, Sasuke never insulted Sakura once in the entire series, not once. Calling someone annoying isn’t an insult; it’s not demeaning to their intelligence, physical appearance or anything else. He also didn’t call her useless, he said that their was nothing she or Kakashi could do now, and was solely referring to that situation. You know who Sasuke did insult? Naruto. On numerous occasions, he called Naruto a loser, an idiot, a dimwit, said he was full of himself etc. These are insults, and Sasuke treated Naruto far worse than he did Sakura over the course of the series.

“Sakura doesn’t know anything about Sasuke” - I’ve always wondered what gave this impression? The fact that she didn’t know the truth behind the Uchiha massacre? The fact that she avoided Sarada’s question on whether Sasuke wore glasses? (Which itself can be proven by the mere fact that she had a photo of Sasuke as evidence that he didn’t wear glasses). There’s so much more to know about Sasuke other than the slaughter of his clan, and knowing about it doesn’t somehow make you eligible to be an Uchiha (since this seems to be a large reason why so many people refuse to acknowledge Sakura as one). She knows about Sasuke’s likes, his dislikes, his techniques, his style of fighting, his ambitions, his mannerisms, his way of thinking - you know, his actual personality and character. That’s what actually makes you “know” someone. Being privy to the specific truth about one aspect of someone’s past doesn’t mean you know that person.

And well, those are the reasons why I like SasuSaku.

#captainsnoozalssmetz #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #sasusaku

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

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Crazy Ex-Girlfriend season three full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

100% (thirteen of thirteen).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

41.16%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Seven, so just over half. Three of those are 50%+.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Zero.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Twenty-four. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, five who appeared in at least half the episodes, and two who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty-nine. Eighteen who appeared in more than one episode, seven who appeared in at least half the episodes, and one who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Not nearly as good as you might expect or hope. As with previous seasons, the show’s most impressive content is not the feminist stuff at all, and on the feminist front it feels sometimes as if the show spends more time denouncing different aspects of the feminist movement as ‘the wrong kind of feminism’ than it does declaring and upholding the aspects it does approve. I tend to feel that it spends time talking the talk on women’s issues, but doesn’t often get up to walk the walk (average rating of 3).

General Season Quality:

Easily better than the previous two seasons, despite a deflated ending. It takes a much more focused approach to its storytelling in the beginning of the season, in a manner which briskly becomes refreshingly confronting and leads in to a powerful middle. Unfortunately, it never sustains quality for very long, and overall the show still suffers for being too easily distracted. It’s not infuriating, but it can be frustrating.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Ok, let me explain something about myself first, something I’ve mentioned in other (non-Crazy Ex) posts which have gone live long before this one will, but for anyone who missed it in any of those other places, here it is: I am, right now, pregnant. In fact, I am pregnant with a child conceived non-traditionally with a gay friend of mine, and as such, Darryl’s non-traditional quest for biological parenthood in this season struck a very personal chord (though, unlike Darryl, I used the phone-a-friend option as my first choice, not a fallback. Would recommend, if it’s ever relevant to your life). I bring all of this up because I can categorically declare that there are certain plot threads that you absolutely will NOT have the same reaction to if you don’t have that very personal chord being struck, and even moreso if that chord is relevant to your life right now, rather than being something that you’ve experienced in the past but has since slipped from the forefront of your attention. Thus, when I talked about feeling like the emphasis was in all the wrong places for Darryl’s part of the narrative, and expressed irritation with Heather’s pregnancy and birth? I sure ain’t mad about it for no reason. I am extremely, extremely aware of what those processes are actually like right the heck now.

I’m not going to linger on all the details, but I am particularly annoyed at the writers for dropping the ball on the pregnancy/birth part, specifically because it’s something which is so often badly dramatised in tv and film already, and the writers not only know that, they openly reference it as if they’re somehow doing better. The same way that medical professionals sometimes find it too frustrating to watch hospital dramas because of all their inaccuracies, or someone in law enforcement might cringe their way through all the egregious breaches in procedure in a cop show, there’s always a significant risk that anything depicted in fiction will make you want to tear your hair out over the way the plot warps or disregards reality that is pertinent to your life, either through a lack of proper research or understanding of the subject matter, or a conscious choice to prioritise desired storytelling beats/developments over actual logic and realism. Suffice to say there are a LOT of concessions Crazy Ex-Girlfriend asked me to make to their storytelling with this little subplot, some of which most people who have never been pregnant wouldn’t notice, and yes, some of which I would probably dismiss if I were not in the midst of the reality right now. I’m someone who has been present at actual births before and has been raised with an above-average understanding of what’s involved, so I’m used to gritting my teeth and hoping to just not be too annoyed by the way pregnancy and birth is typically depicted on screen. The fact that I am currently immersed in the reality of preparing to give birth makes me less forgiving of fictional contrivances, yes, but in the case of this show’s approach, it’s also more than that: it’s the fact that this show actively promotes itself as a feminist text. And if you’re gonna do that, and criticise the way other things (”written by men!”) depict labour, but then you also choose not to include any education/empowerment of your pregnant character, rattle off a variety of (uneducated, disempowered) cliches anyway, and then handwave it all with ‘nevermind, she just got an epidural!’ as if that ‘solves’ the difficulties of birth (and post-birth recovery, for that matter), frankly that’s just...a really unimpressive failure of feminist storytelling. Congratulations, you neglected the subject completely, at the same time as actively claiming your intent to do better than all that written-by-men schlock out there! What a tiresome charade this turned out to be.

Setting that aside though (difficult for me, as I am...very preoccupied with it), there was actually a good lot of things to like about this season, even if I do still feel that I ultimately have more criticisms than I do praise. Having Rebecca actually reach crisis point in the form of a suicide attempt, and consequently getting a diagnosis for her mental disorder and finally being able to move forward in learning to live a balanced life with BPD? Frankly, it’s not a move that I anticipated, and if you’d asked me where I thought Rebecca’s mental health plot was heading, I probably would have just shrugged it off as an unfocused thread where the ultimate goal was just ‘figure out how to be happy on your own terms instead of defining happiness through someone else’ (which is solid advice, but generalised advice, not something that would require the show to commit to a genuine mental illness). Acknowledging that Rebecca’s behaviour comes from a more distinct source than just the nebulous idea of being ‘crazy’ is a vitally important development, and it ushered in some of the best storytelling the show has offered thus far, at least when the plot maintained steady focus and made an effort to be responsible and mature in its exploration of the issue. As ever, there were still times when the show used Rebecca’s mental state for comic relief in a manner which made me uncomfortable, and times when I couldn’t interpret the intentions of the narrative - I have come to the conclusion that this show and I are on completely different wavelengths, which makes us a bad match, regardless of any elements which I do appreciate.

On the subject of things I appreciate, I’m going to discuss the true character highlight of the show, someone I wanted to talk about after last season, not realising that if I held off until this review instead, he was gonna wind up so terribly underused in the meantime that it’s almost weird that he’s still technically part of the main cast at this point: Josh Chan. Josh Chan is...kinda the most believable part of this show, both in the bumbling good-natured balance of the character himself, and in other character’s feelings about him. Being able to buy the idea that someone would give up their whole life as they knew it to chase after this guy is kinda important to selling the concept of the show from the outset, and honestly, Josh Chan is the only time I’ve ever seen a central male love interest for whom the hype seemed to make sense. Is he perfect? Not by a long shot, but that’s fine because ‘perfection’ is as conditional as it is unattainable. The problem with male love interests, often, is that they’re written by heterosexual men who treat the character as some kind of masculine wish-fulfillment, a combination of ‘guy I wish I could be’ and ‘guy I think women should want (me)’. Josh Chan is a great example of a love interest written by women for women: he displays positive masculine-coded traits (protective, physically capable), while rejecting negative, toxic-masculine elements (aggression, possessiveness), and he embraces key ‘feminine’ traits (non-threatening, kind, soft, emotionally expressive, family-oriented), while his flaws are unobtrusive and potentially even endearing (the main one is that he’s quite stupid, which is something a lot of straight women will happily admit to liking (at least in theory), and other traits such as Josh’s childish streak can be a source of joy under some circumstances, as well as being something Josh mostly keeps a hold on so that it doesn’t become a burden to his partners). Also, it would be remiss of me to neglect to mention how refreshing and meaningful it is to have an Asian male love interest. I really enjoy not being bored to death by Josh Chan, and I am annoyed at how little of him we got this season while we wasted time with that generic slice of white bread, Nathaniel. Bring back the Chan plots, season four. Do it for me.

#Crazy Ex-Girlfriend #Crazy Ex-Girlfriend season three #Bechdel Test #female representation #full season review #Crazy Exgirlfriend

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