#‘and so if you are outraged at the loss you should be outraged by the loss on both sides

[thoughtportal]

Who needs another measles vaccine dose? Answering your questions.

Many readers expressed outrage about the measles outbreak that began in an under-vaccinated community in rural West Texas, as I described in my column this week. The outbreak has infected more than 120 people there and in neighboring New Mexico and already led to the death of one child. Several shared their own devastating experiences with the disease as children.

Angela from Wisconsin contracted the virus when she was 5. She recalls becoming so ill that she spent months in the hospital. She is living with permanent disabilities from it, including hearing loss and blindness. “I cannot express to you the rage I have when I hear people say that measles is a harmless disease,” she wrote.

Before widespread vaccination, measles caused 5 to 10 percent of profound hearing-loss cases in the United States. Worldwide, measles used to be a leading cause of blindness among children; as many as 60,000 a year lost sight because of the disease.

“In your column, you mentioned that measles can ‘wipe out the immune system’s memory of past illness,’” wrote Darryl from Virginia. “I heard it was the opposite. Did you mean that the vaccine wipes out your immune system?”

What Darryl had heard is, in fact, reversed. Contracting measles can impair the immune system through a phenomenon called immune amnesia. The measles, mumps and rubella (MMR) vaccine prevents infection and therefore stops individuals from losing their immune memory.

In 2019, an international group of researchers published a landmark study in the journal Science. They took blood samples from children before and after contracting measles. After measles infection, unvaccinated children lost 11 to 73 percent of the antibodies against other viral and bacterial diseases. Vaccinated children did not lose these antibodies.

The researchers later documented that children with immune amnesia can regain lost immunity, but this takes months or years. During that period, these kids are at elevated risk for contracting diseases, including ones they previously suffered or were vaccinated against. The possibility of immune amnesia is more reason to avoid measles infection through vaccination.

Bill from North Carolina, a pediatrician, says he is treating numerous children who fell behind in their immunization schedule. He asks: “Can you please remind your readers that it’s possible [for kids] to make up their shots?”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention publishes a recommended immunization schedule that describes which vaccines children should receive and by what age. Kids should get the first dose of the MMR vaccine between 12 and 15 months of age and the second when they are 4 to 6 years old. Those who missed one or both shots can and should make them up. The second dose can be given as soon as 28 days following the first dose.

Many readers wanted to know if they, as adults, need additional MMR shots. Anne from Massachusetts inquired how long immunity lasts; she had measles as a young child, but that was more than 80 years ago. Stephanie lives in Texas and is concerned about the outbreak in her state. “Should I try to get a booster dose for myself and my family?” she asked.

Both prior infection as well as MMR vaccination are thought to convey lifelong protection against measles. Anne should still have protection because of her childhood measles bout.

The answer is less straightforward for Stephanie. Whether she and her family should receive additional doses depends on their age and number of past vaccines.

Measles was so prevalent before 1957 that everyone born before then is presumed to have had the virus. Those who received two doses of the live attenuated measles vaccine, which became the norm in 1968, do not need a third.

But those who were born after 1957 and were vaccinated before 1968 should get revaccinated to receive the more effective vaccine. And people who received only one dose of the MMR vaccine should consider a second. One shot is 93 percent effective against measles; the second increases protection to 97 percent.

John from Maryland wonders why a measles outbreak should concern those who are vaccinated. “Everyone in my family is vaccinated. My grandchildren are grown. Is it really a big deal if other people choose to not jab their kids?”

Essentially, John is asking why we should care about the return of measles. Two reasons: Though 97 percent effectiveness against infection is high, it’s not perfect. Breakthrough infections are possible. The more virus there is in a community, the more likely someone who is fully vaccinated could contract it, too. This has already happened in Texas, where five of the people who were infected are vaccinated.

Second, many people cannot be vaccinated and would be at high risk if measles were circulating in their area. This includes newborns and individuals with severe immunocompromise. These people are most likely to become severely ill from measles. In other words, those who are capable of getting vaccinated have an obligation to do so to protect the vulnerable.

There are already many respiratory viruses that can cause significant illness in the United States. Measles used to be one of them. What a shame it would be if it returned as a threat and infected Americans — not just those who chose to be unvaccinated but also others who want to protect themselves but cannot.

[anythingforourmoonysstuff]

No because literally anything Israel does is labelled as evil. Literally the only thing people would accept is for Israel to stop fighting.

If it stops fighting it doesn’t exist. THAT is ethnic cleansing. If Israel stops fighting and most Israelis are murdered and those that survive are forced to leave, that is ethnic cleansing and Hamas would have accomplished its goal. Is that what you want?

And I will say once again: war is a horrible thing and the loss of innocent life is horrific. I am experiencing that loss first hand. And it is horrific on both sides. All I am saying, is that if a country is attacked and it's existence is being threatened, to expect it to just sit there and do nothing is insane. And you would never demand or expect that from any other country. So why Israel? The answer is simple. Even if Israel had never done anything wrong. Not even one tiny thing. It would still be under constant surveillance and criticism and it's right to exist would be questioned simply because it is the Jewish state . And that's not to say Israel has never done anything wrong. That would be a lie and as I’ve already stated, I am the first person to criticise the Israeli government. However, what is not a lie, is that if it was not the Jewish state, no one would be questioning its right to fight for its life right now.

And before you place all the blame on Israel, let’s not forget who started this war. Regardless of what you think of the very complex history, do not forget who, in the war that is being fought right now, attacked first. Who attacked first and who was forced to respond in order to survive. Do not paint Israel as this all powerful, all evil force that doesn’t need to defend itself. If the events on Saturday proved anything is that that is simply not the case. The consequences of this are awful and no one can even begin to comprehend the loss on both sides. All I ask is that if you choose to comment on it, you remember that this is a fight for existence. A fight for survival. And so if you are outraged at the loss you should be outraged by the loss on both sides and you should express That, instead of forgetting to even mention the loss of one of those sides in your posts.

Instead of placing all the blame on Israel, don’t forget to place blame on Hamas. Don’t forget that Palestinians are oppressed by Hamas and that the war being fought at this moment would not be happening if it wasn’t for them. (* the bombs mentioned in the screenshot- these bombs are dropped on places where Israel knows Hamas is operating from eg firing rockets from and to avoid innocent civilian loss, they warn them. This is only required because Hamas intentionally operates from civilian buildings. then, Hamas forces the civilians to stay, using them once again as humans shields. If you are calling out Israel for dropping the bombs, Surely you should be calling that out too.) All I ask is that you don’t forget and don’t leave out these very crucial pieces of the story. Because narratives matter and narratives are leading to actual harm being done to Jews all around the world right now so just don’t leave these things out.

And I’ll also attach this clip on ‘proportionality’. When you call for proportionality this is what that would look like and no one wants that. No Israeli wants that. The Israeli government would never want that let alone give orders for that. And that is the difference between the Israeli government and Hamas.

Also you might have noticed that I haven’t been using the Palestine tag and in case that was giving anyone the wrong idea, the only reason for that is that I can’t handle getting any hate or threats right now so I’m doing the most I can to avoid it because just one scroll down the tag was enough for me. So yeah if you thought there was another reason, there isn’t. At first I wasn’t using any tags but I do want at least some people to see this because it’s important. Thhat’s why I make sure to express the tragic loss on both sides in my post. Which is what you should all be doing.

[robertreich]

10 Worst Things About The Trump Presidency

Donald Trump left office with the lowest approval rating of any president ever. But some people now seem to be suffering from amnesia.

Let me jog your memory. Here are 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency — in no particular order.

#1. Trump fueled division and sparked a record uptick in hate crimes.

#2. Murder went way up under Trump. He presided over the largest ever single-year increase in homicides in 2020. A number of factors might have contributed to that, but a big one is…

#3. Gun sales broke records under Trump, who has bragged about how he “did nothing” to restrict guns as president in spite of…

#4. Under Trump, America suffered more than 1,700 mass shootings.

#5. Trump said there were "very fine people" among the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville.

I’m halfway to ten. If you think I’m missing something big, leave it in the comments.

#6. Trump allied himself with the Proud Boys, a violent hate group who helped orchestrate the Jan 6 Capitol attack.

#7. Trump’s not wrong when he says…

TRUMP: I got rid of Roe v. Wade.

It is entirely because of Trump’s judicial appointments that 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age now lives in states with abortion bans.

#8. One of Trump’s Supreme Court justices was Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused of sexual assault by multiple women.

#9. Trump’s White House interfered in the FBI’s investigation of Brett Kavanaugh’s alleged sexual assaults.

And now: #10. Trump has been convicted of committing 34 felonies while in office. The criminally false business filings he got convicted for in New York? All of them were committed while he was president.

I’m sorry, did I say the 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency? I meant 15.

#11. Trump’s failed pandemic response is estimated to have led to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. By the time Trump left office, roughly 3,000 Americans were dying of covid every day. That’s a 9/11-scale mass casualty event every single day. How did Trump screw up so badly?

#12. Trump’s White House discarded the pandemic response playbook that had been assembled by the Obama administration.

#13. Trump disbanded the National Security Council’s pandemic response team.

#14. Trump repeatedly lied about the danger of covid, saying it was no worse than the flu or that it would go away on its own.

But behind closed doors, Trump admitted he knew covid was deadly.

#15. Trump promoted fake covid cures like hydroxychloroquine and even injecting people with disinfectants.

After Trump’s “disinfectant” remarks, poison control centers received a spike in emergency calls.

That’s fifteen things. Should I keep going? Ok, I’ll keep going. The 20 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#16. Trump presided over a net loss of 2.9 million American jobs — the worst recorded jobs numbers of any U.S. president in history.

#17. Trump profited off the presidency, making an estimated $160 million from foreign countries while he was president.

#18. Trump also billed the Secret Service over $1 million for the privilege of staying at his golf clubs and other properties while they protected him. That’s your money!

#19. Trump caused the longest government shutdown in U.S. history when he didn’t get funding for his border wall, which he said Mexico was going to pay for.  

#20. Under Trump, the national debt increased by about 40% — more than in any other four-year presidential term — largely because of his tax cuts for the rich and big corporations.

You didn’t really think I was stopping at 20, did you? We’re going to 25 —

#21. Trump separated more than 5,000 children from their parents at the border, with no plan to ever reunite them, putting babies in cages.

#22. The Muslim Ban. Yes, Trump really did try to ban Muslims from entering the country.

#23. Trump sparked international outrage by moving the American Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine.

#24. Trump tasked his son-in-law Jared Kushner with drafting a potential Middle East “peace plan” with zero Palestinian input.

#25. And finally, Trump recognized Israel’s occupation of the Goh-lahn Heights, which is considered illegal under international law.

So there you have it, folks: The 25 Worst — Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did I mention the impeachments? We’ve got to do the impeachments. Let’s go to 30.

#26. Trump broke the law by trying to withhold nearly $400 million of U.S. aid for Ukraine in an effort to extort a personal political favor from Ukraine’s Pres. Zelensky. Trump wanted Zelensky to interfere in the 2020 election by announcing an investigation into the Bidens. Delaying this aid to Ukraine weakened Ukraine and strengthened Russia.

#27. Trump personally attacked and ruined the careers of everyone who stood in the way of his illegal Ukraine scheme, including Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and Lt. Colonel Alexander Vindman.

#28. To cover up the scheme, Trump ordered the White House and State Department to defy congressional subpoenas.

#29. For these reasons, on December 18, 2019, Trump became the third U.S. president to be impeached. He was charged with Abuse of Power and Obstruction of Congress.

#30. Even while he was being investigated for trying to get Ukraine to interfere in the U.S. election, Trump publicly called for China to interfere in the election.

So those are the 30 Worst Things —

I’ll go to 35.

#31. Long before Election Day, Trump started making false claims that the election would be rigged.

#32. After losing, Trump falsely claimed the election was stolen, even though his own inner circle, including his campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his own Justice Department and attorney general told him it was not.

#33. Trump kept telling his Big Lie even after more than 60 legal challenges to the election were struck down in court, many by Trump-appointed judges.

#34. Trump ordered the Department of Justice to falsely claim that the election “was corrupt.”

#35. Trump and his allies used threats to pressure state leaders in Arizona and Georgia to falsify the election results.

We may go to 40.

#36. When none of the previous schemes worked, Trump and his allies produced fake electoral votes cast by fake electors in multiple swing states. His former White House chief of staff and Rudy Giuliani are among the many members of his inner circle who have been criminally indicted for this scheme.

#37. Trump tried to bully Vice President Pence into obstructing the certification of the election.

#38. Trump invited a mob to the Capitol on Jan 6 with his “be there, will be wild” tweet.

#39. Sworn testimony alleges that when Trump was warned that members of the crowd were carrying deadly weapons, he ordered security metal detectors to be taken down.

#40. Knowing the crowd had deadly weapons, he ordered them to go to the Capitol and…

TRUMP: …fight like hell.

#41 — Yes, yes, I know, bear with me.

Trump betrayed his oath to defend the nation by doing nothing to stop the Jan 6 violence. Instead, according to witness testimony, he sat and watched TV for hours.

#42. On January 13, 2021, Trump became the only president ever to be impeached twice. This time he was charged with incitement of insurrection. It was a bipartisan vote.

#43. The majority of senators — 57 out of 100 — voted to convict Trump, including 7 Republican senators.

So that’s the two impeachments and the Big Lie, but wait, we haven’t dealt with Russia, right? So we’re going to 50.

#44. In a likely obstruction of justice, Trump pressured then FBI Director James Comey to stop the FBI’s investigation into Trump’s National Security Adviser, Michael Flynn. This was documented in the Mueller report.

#45. When Comey didn’t bend to Trump’s will, Trump fired him.

#46. Trump tried to shut down the Mueller investigation by ordering White House Counsel Don McGann to fire Mueller. McGann refused because that would be criminal obstruction of justice.

#47. When news got out that Trump tried to fire Mueller, Trump repeatedly told McGann to lie — to Mueller, to press, to public — and even create a false document to conceal Trump’s attempt to fire Mueller.

#48. Trump ordered his staff not to turn over emails showing Don Jr. had set up a meeting at Trump Tower before the 2016 election with representatives of the Russian government.

#49. Trump convinced Michael Cohen to lie to Congress about Trump’s plans to build a Trump Tower in Moscow, and Cohen served prison time for lying to Congress.

#50. Trump was not charged for criminal obstruction of justice because it’s the Justice Department’s policy not to indict a sitting president, but more than a thousand former federal prosecutors who served under both Republicans and Democrats, signed a letter declaring there was more than enough evidence to prosecute Trump.

So those are the 50 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency. Now I could go on…

And I will! The 75 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#51. Trump said he’d hire only the best people, but…

His campaign chair was convicted of multiple crimes.

So was one of his closest associates.

His deputy campaign chair pleaded guilty to crimes.

So did his personal lawyer

His National Security Adviser

The Chief Financial Officer of his business

A campaign foreign policy adviser

And one of his campaign fundraisers.

They all committed crimes, and Trump pardoned most of them.

#52. Trump said he’d drain the Washington swamp. But he appointed more billionaires, CEOs, and Wall Street moguls to his administration than any administration in history

#53. Trump intervened to get his son-in-law, Jared Kushner top-secret clearance after he was denied over concerns about foreign influence.

#54. Trump hosted a Russian Foreign Minister to the Oval Office, where Trump revealed top-secret intelligence.

Oh, and Trump’s economic policies!

#55 Trump promised that the average American family would see a $4,000 pay raise because of his tax cuts for the wealthy and big corporations. How’d that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise? Of course not! Nobody did!

#56. Trump vowed to protect American jobs, but offshoring increased and manufacturing fell.

#57. Trump said he would fix America’s infrastructure, but it never happened. He announced so many failed “infrastructure weeks” they became a running joke.

#58. Trump said he would be “the voice” of American workers, but he filled the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union flacks who made it harder for workers to unionize.

#59. Trump’s Labor Department made it easier for bosses to get out of paying workers overtime, which cheated 8 million workers of extra pay.

#60. Trump repeatedly suggested he might serve more than two terms in violation of the Constitution — and continues to do so.

#61. Trump called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries.

#62. Trump tried to terminate DACA, which protects immigrants brought to the U.S. as children. Luckily this was struck down by the courts.

#63. Trump called climate change a “hoax.”

#64. Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement.

#65. Trump rolled back more than 100 environmental protections.

#66. Every budget Trump proposed included cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

#67. Trump tried (and failed) to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would have resulted in 20 million Americans losing insurance. And striking down the ACA’s protections for the roughly 130 million people with pre-existing conditions could have driven up their insurance premiums or led to a loss of coverage.

#68. Trump made it easier for employers to remove birth control coverage from insurance plans.

#69. By the end of Trump’s term, the number of people lacking health insurance had risen by 3 million.

#70. Trump lied. Constantly. He made 30,573 false or misleading claims while president — an average of 21 a day, according to Washington Post fact-checkers.

#71. Trump allegedly took hundreds of classified documents on his way out of the White House, reportedly including nuclear secrets, which he then left unsecured in various parts of Mar-a-Lago, including a bathroom. He was even caught on tape showing them off to people.

#72. Trump seriously discussed the idea of nuking a hurricane.

#73. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, Trump delayed $20 billion of aid and allowed Puerto Rico to be without power for 181 days.

#74. Trump suggested withholding federal aid for California wildfire recovery and said the solution was to “clean” the “floors” of the forest.

#75. Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, placing Iran on a path to developing nuclear weapons.

Honestly, there’s so much more, from exchanging “love letters” with North Korea’s brutal dictator to publicly denigrating a Gold Star military widow and making her cry, to the way he attacked journalists, to late night tweet binges.

Look, I can understand why a lot of people want to block all of this out of their memories. But we cannot afford to forget just how terrible Trump’s time in the White House was for this nation.

And we sure as hell can’t afford to put him back there.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ SORCERY SCHEMES — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non sorcery au!, husband! suguru, gn! reader, nanako and mimiko are still your kids, silly lil shenanigans of cult leader! suguru being in your dreams

suguru has been the source of your anger for lots of things over the years. some fair, others not so much.

that one important date he accidentally missed because he got caught up at work. that time you vented and he tried to tell you to toughen up instead of picking your side. that time he accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater in the laundry. that time he fell asleep while you were talking late at night (he had insisted he was tired, in his defense—you were just too stubborn to let him sleep.)

marriage has its ups and downs, but suguru likes to think you’re a strong couple—but this? this is the most outrageously ridiculous reason to be mad at him—he’s simply at a loss.

“so let me get this straight,” he starts slowly, as if trying to comprehend something far too complex for his simple mind, “you’re mad at me because i had some superpowers in your dream—”

“it was sorcery,” you hiss, “were you even listening?”

“right. sorry. i was…a sorcerer,” he apologizes. he looks at you like you’re insane—your eye twitches just a little. “and then suddenly i went crazy in the head and killed a village and adopted nanako and mimiko and…left. to basically cleanse an entire demographic. is that right?”

“you had a cult too.”

“and the cult,” he nods slowly, “can’t forget the cult.”

“yeah,” you glower—if looks could kill, suguru thinks he might have never been born at all. this is a new one, he has to admit. “and it was really fucking rude. you left. and you took the kids before i could even meet them.”

“okay,” he says tiredly, rubbing his forehead, “baby, i don’t know if you realize this, but i don’t…i can’t perform sorcery. and i don’t have a cult i can lead either. i’m just a literature teacher—”

“i know what you are,” you snap, shoving away the hand he tries to reach at you with, “you’re a selfish psychopath who committed heinous crimes and left me single and alone as you led a group of people to follow your crazy ideas. don’t even think about touching me—”

“so do you want me to apologize?” he sighs, “because i’m sorry—”

“what if i left you? huh? and just started killing everyone who has blue eyes? what then? i’ll take the kids this time and leave you alone, see how you like it.”

“well, at least that gets rid of satoru,” he mutters quietly. and then he grins—chuckles a soft little laugh that makes the edges of your lips curl just a bit. “you’re crazy,” he snorts, shaking his head. and then— “but i love you. c’mere.”

you don’t fight the hand the reaches towards you this time, letting his arm curl around your waist and pull you into his side. that’s a good sign, he thinks, so he tests the waters and plants a kiss to your head. you melt just a little.

“i’m still mad at you,” you mumble.

“yeah, i figured,” he grins, “anything i can do to erase my sins as a mass murderer?”

“you can make breakfast,” you hum, leaning closer as you rub circles into his chest, “and wash the dishes.”

“easy enough,” he nods, pulling a scowl from you.

“you’re not off the hook yet,” you click your teeth.

“of course,” he nods in agreement, “i still have to atone for my radical actions. i’ll start by resurrecting all the people i killed. that should do it, right?”

“suguru, be serious,” you huff, “i was very sad, okay?”

“did you miss me?” he wriggles his brows—you look at him incredulously before slapping his chest. he chuckles a little too long for your liking.

“what a stupid question,” you pinch your nose, “so if i became delusional and ran off to erase a population, you wouldn’t be upset with me?”

“actually, i’d follow you because i love you,” he shrugs, pinching your nose lightly, “i’d be your cult’s second-in-command. obviously you just didn’t love me enough in your dream to do the same for me.”

“you didn’t invite me,” you pout through a glare, “what was i supposed to do? show up unwelcome?”

“well, nothing was stopping you. was i at least a strong sorcerer?” he asks in wonder.

you think for a moment before nodding. “yeah,” you say thoughtfully, “one of the strongest.”

“nice,” he grins—he seems a bit too pleased for something that happened in your dreams.

you decide to deal the harsh blow. “but not nearly as strong as satoru. you know he was the literally the strongest?”

“okay,” he scowls, “if you do kill blue-eyed people, start with him.”

you giggle, leaning up to kiss his jaw as he lets a soft grin pull over his features. he laughs with you—and suddenly, you’re both chuckling together uncontrollably.

it’s a bit of a silly circumstance, but he kisses your forehead and means it when he says, “sorry i left you to kill people and led a cult and committed a bunch of crimes while i wiped out a whole group of people. i didn’t mean it.”

“you took the kids too,” you remind him.

“i don’t know what i was thinking,” he shakes his head, “those two are a handful. how was i managing being a single father with all that on my plate?”

“that’s why you shouldn’t have left me,” you point out.

“you’re right,” he agrees, “i’ll invite you if i ever snap and lose my sanity.”

“good. you’re forgiven. now, i want chocolate chip pancakes—and make coffee while you’re at it.”

“yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes. he kisses you though, a soft little peck over your lips as you hum into the kiss and cup his cheek, “you got it. whatever you want.”

“i want you,” you murmur, “unhinged sorcerer and all.”

he laughs at the craziness of it all—but he loves it anyway, loves you despite it all.

“and i want you too,” he grins, hopelessly in love, “if you’ll do me the honors and join my crazy sorcery schemes.”

hi i’m tee and i had a dream that my rude ass sister stole my car and totaled it and now im very mad at her and i am not speaking to her until she apologizes. she refuses so im now double mad

[jaegerbby]

➳ my soul searches

--͙[naoya zenin x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 6512

╰┈➤ rundown; you might be ignorant about anything concerning naoya zenin but somehow he knows everything about you.

╰┈➤ caution; mean! naoya, DUBIOUS CONSENT, virginity loss (mentions of blood), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, no prep, choking, use of the words slut, whore, bitch (degradation), MISOGYNISTIC ideologies mentioned, manhandling, 1 thigh smack, cum eating, cunnilingus, fellatio (head pushing & rough), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, mentions of fingering, hair is referred to as 'cascading' on one occasion. sex on a futon (just so it won't be confusing).

if there are any more warnings i should add please let me know. not proof read!

naoya is awful.

he is a horrible man.

everyone knows it.

whether it be due to the countless stories everyone gossips about or witnessing firsthand the vicious things he does.

you were privy to outrageous hearsay spreading but you did not care enough to understand.

as far as you know, he is a powerful man.

and in your clan, you bow down to powerful men.

you have been fed lies that you do not have much to offer.

women were responsible for wifely duties and child bearing.

it is all you learned your entire life.

you are surprised when there is news of a member of the zenin clan's impending visitation. the people within your district make countless preparations and take any precaution necessary to ensure they meet naoya's standard. the last thing they want is to face his acrimony.

there are rumours of a potential alliance and it seems exceedingly promising to be closely associated with such a powerful family.

the day of his arrival, everything looks auspicious. you are shocked at the innumerable women adorned in luxurious clothing and decked in lavish jewellery.

you certainly do not understand all the fuss about him. you swore everyone hated him.

the welcome is extravagant and curiosity gets the best of you because you find yourself tip toeing to catch sight of him.

he is definitely not what you expected. he is young, his expression is all too smug. you never had the opportunity to see him before but he is gorgeous. in every sense of the word.

he is the definition of it.

sharp narrow eyes were lined, push pink lips with a barely visible cupid's bow and a straight nose although the tip was slightly upturned. his brows were thin and straight. if anyone looked for long enough and he smiled you could see the indents of dimples. he was truly pretty.

naoya tells the head of your clan that an alliance will only be formed provided he receives something. that whatever he wishes must be granted to him for congruity in return.

somehow, someway he pinpoints you in a crowd of too many people.

you were astonished when his stony eyes found yours. you try to tell yourself, you are not the one. it must be someone else. it has to be! you are proven wrong when your mother grips your arm and drags you up to him.

she bows, her hand roughly shoving your head down while you fidget. his stare is heavy, it makes you want to hide away. your parents practically offer you to him on a silver platter.

your eyes look everywhere but at him while he requests a room. unabashedly he speaks for everyone to witness.

his fingers find your chin, tipping your head back to look over your face. he towers over you. "dress her up." his voice is raspy and deep. he speaks to your mother though he does not spare her a glance.

you are speechless, you can only imagine what it means. an uncontrollable amount of thoughts pile into your head as your mother takes you away.

virginity means everything to a young girl like you. you need to be one to get married. it is your clan's way of life so why do your parents not care? your mother dresses you in the finest silk, something they could never afford before. she knots your hair in a bun and it hurts when she pulls at the strands.

decorative pins are stuck into your hair, some nicking your scalp. she drapes a heavy chain around your neck and squeezes your hand as she forces bracelets onto your wrists.

you look just like every other woman that dolled up for naoya zenin in anticipation of his attention.

you realise your parents do not care for your dignity as they usher you into an intricately decorated room.

they crave the validation of everyone else more than they care about you. you always knew that but you never thought they would go to this extent.

"be good and listen to everything he says." your mom commands. she shoves you to your knees on the thick layers of satin.

"this is for everyone's betterment." your father adds like it would make any of this right. you have no choice in the matter.

they were giving you up for naoya to do whatever he pleased because they were greedy for admiration.

you worry what it meant for you afterwards. you worry what people would think once you left these four walls.

the door slams shut upon their exit, you nervously shift. you wonder if you could run away. the weight of the jewellery feels uncomfortable, the clothes are so thick you swear you are sweating. they seem impossible to do anything in.

it feels like an eternity when naoya enters. his broad back faces you as he closes the door. his presence is intimidating, his aura is immense.

you swallow hard.

you are only to speak when spoken to.

yet you want to ask what took him so long.

why did you chose me?

what are you going to do to me?

you cannot question him. that is not your place.

you are sitting, hands anxiously twitching where they rest on your thighs. your eyes drop to the floor as he faces you.

he draws closer, your breathing stops as he circles you. he does it slowly, intently like he wants to memorise you from every angle.

you feel like prey, you are awaiting your predator to strike. there is absolutely no escape. his gaze sears into your being.

in a way he is scary. "strip." his deep voice instructs. your body tenses, breathing more laboured. you are unmoving as he steps closer. he cups your head, it is softer than you expected. he tilts you back to look at him, you are made aware of his bulge right in front of your face.

it is when he grips your hair, disheveling your bun that you realise it is all pretence. you shriek as he forcefully lifts you to your knees. the way you reach for his hand is futile because you cannot stop him no matter how hard you try.

"don't make me speak twice, y/n." you wonder how he knew your name. you were no one. you were not anyone important to this clan or world. "now take your fucking clothes off before i do it myself."

he shoves you back, you just barely brace yourself. his nimble fingers reach for the laces on his robe as he undoes them with ease. tears prick your eyes, you shakily tug at your bracelets. your movements are frantic enough to send them scattered across the floor. you rip the necklace from your throat, it stings where it nicks your skin.

your hands endlessly tremble when you pull off the layers of heavy fabric draped on you. you are too busy removing your clothing to see that he is already bare.

once you are rid of anything that preserves your modesty, you fold your arms to hide your body. a man has never seen you like this and you never thought the first time would be under this circumstance.

naoya's eyes trail over you, he is already hard. it is borderline painful. he was hard from simply thinking about you obediently waiting for him.

you feel his presence behind you, he lowers himself to his knees. his hands reach for your shoulders first. they are large and rough, they elicit goosebumps across your skin as he trails them down to caress your arms.

he pulls you into him, the hardness of his chest meeting your back. his arms surround your body and you tense at the feeling of his heated cock brushing your skin. his dexterous fingers remove the pins from your hair, he undoes the bun to allow the strands to cascade down your back. he brushes it over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your nape.

you are shocked by the softness of them. he trails more kisses down the upper part of your spine. it is mind muddling.

"i can tell you haven't fucked before." you jolt at the sound of his gruff voice. his warm breath meets your skin and you shiver. his forearm comes around your front to keep you flush against him.

"spread your legs, let me see your cunt." he speaks without any shame. you hesitate and his displeasure is evident because his palm connects with the flesh of your thigh so hard that you shriek. your skin stings.

you have no choice but to open your legs for him. he slips his hands between them, his wide palm cupping your cunt.

you cannot breathe. it is all so overwhelming. you notice the evident veins on his lower arm as his hand covers your sex completely. it dawns on you that you have never had this intimacy before. you have never even touched where he would be.

he clicks his tongue, his presence makes you anxious. everything he does makes you tense.

he grimaces, you are not wet. not in the slightest.

naoya removes his hand to spit into his fingers, the fluid is pressed to your clit as he strokes it. he does not like the way you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds. he hates it.

he rolls the bundle of nerves, pinching it before he slowly trails his fingers down your slit. the tip of his finger prods your entrance, gliding along it though he does not enter.

your smaller hands grip his forearm and for some reason it makes him hug your body tighter.

you breathe shakily in anticipation of his next move. it is a foreign feeling to be caressed but you can hardly complain. it is the furthest thing from unpleasant. it annoys you how good it feels.

"i'm shoving my cock in here." he huffs. the length of his finger coaxing through your lips has you writhing.

"going to stick my dick in this little hole and make you my bitch." his words are vulgar. the obscenity of his remarks have you furrowing your brows.

"it sounds good, right? having your pussy filled to the brim. i'll even fuck my cum into you." his jaw presses into your temple and you unsurely blink. he is so big, you feel like you are tucked into him.

he pinches your clit and you choose to focus on that rather than what he is saying. it feels good, enough to make you squirm. each time he does it, your cunt leaks with liquid. his entire palm strokes up and down, smearing sticky liquid over your cunt.

"naoya." you mewl. he has you spread open on his lap as he strokes your dripping pussy. he knows one thing for certain, your pretty voice forming his name is the greatest thing he has ever heard. he loves the sounds you make because of him.

you are so wet now, you are drenched and leaking. the sticky liquid trails out of your slit endlessly. his fingers steadily collect it and your lips part when he pulls away. your eyes follow his hand as he brings the sodden liquid digits near his mouth.

it is dirty. it is gross, it must be. somehow, you find yourself entranced. his tongue slips out to lave over his drenched palm.

"so fucking messy." he grits his teeth, he tilts his head to you. his wet hand grips your jaw, "you always taste so good." he presses his mouths to yours.

you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he aggressively kisses you. despite your inexperience you try to replicate him.

his expression looks irritated as he wetly separates from you. he forces you onto your back, leaning over you. his eyes glimpse at your cunt and they trail up your body.

you are on display for his prying eyes. he gropes your breasts, kissing and licking down your sternum. you are delirious as he sucks on your skin. he kisses all the way up to your jaw before he covers your mouth with his.

he licks into your mouth until you are a breathless mess.

"i'm not prepping you. m'not." he squeezes your jaw. "the first thing i'm stuffing in your pussy is my cock and it's gonna hurt. it'll hurt a lot but you deserve it." he airily speaks, his eyes dark.

you stare in confusion, panic sets in your chest. what wrong did you do? you wonder what warranted having your virginity stripped with no compassion.

you were more than aware he did not care for you.

as far as you know, you are suppose to pride yourself in your virginity. you were to save it for your husband and no one else. the man between your legs is a stranger, the man telling you such nasty things is nothing to you.

you swallow hard as you stare at his intimidating size. the head of his cock is purplish and dripping pre cum. his shaft is thick and it seems to go on forever. you wonder how it is suppose to fit inside you.

naoya grasps his aching cock to tap the head on your clit. you try to move away, you really do but he is so strong. he is completely unmoving. he coats his tip in your slick before pressing into your hole.

despite how tight you are, despite how big and thick he is. you shove at his abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms. "naoya please." tears stream down your cheeks but he relents. he cups your thighs to bring them over his and spread you open.

his rough fingers find your perked clit, rubbing it in aggressive circles. you hate to admit it but it feels too good. your hands clamp down on your mouth to mute the moans escaping you.

you gush on him with no fanfare. this entire circumstance makes you feel like an easy slut. he presses more into you, reaching the ridge where his cock and shaft meet. your legs jolt the further his girth fills you.

your insides squeeze and clamp down trying to deny his intrusion, you make naoya crazy. "fucking stop." he hisses. you are like a vice around his pulsing cock.

he says what you should be saying. you should be telling him to stop but you do not. you should be screaming and crying, telling him to get off of you but that is the last thing in your head.

it feels good. more of him is pressed into you and your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. it is an unfamiliar feeling but the pressure in your abdomen is more pleasurable than painful. you find yourself adjusting, you are still so tight that naoya loses his mind.

he presses down on your clit an inch accompanying the motion and you shriek at the feeling. he continually rocks his hips, slowly coaxing over your bundle of nerves. your hands find purchase in the sheets, panting while you try to gather your bearings.

the stimulation has you fidgeting, it has you moaning his name endlessly. your thighs tremble on either side of him and your expression is contorted at the feeling. he looks down at your body, tongue slipping out to coat his lips and you find yourself wishing it was in your mouth, on your skin. anywhere you wanted him.

he leans down, his muscles rippling and the flesh along his abs bunching in little rolls, his biceps are almost as big as your head. you feel like he was strong enough to lift you with one finger. he seemed that way, strong and mighty in all that he did.

his hips shallowly move to thrust the portion of his length he has managed to shove into you. "you're fucking me." you stutter, your voice barely audible. you have never spoken those words, have never even conjured them up.

naoya's eyes flash, his large hand spanning over your stomach, trailing between your breasts and then gripping your throat. "m'not. but i can, i can fuck you so deep you feel it here." he squeezes the sides of your neck, eyes glancing to your leaking cunt that soaks him even though he has not gotten to the hilt.

the warmth and tightness of you makes him ache to have his entire cock deep in your pussy but you are little and you are looking at him with the sweetest eyes.

he wants to hurt you, he wants to make you cry but you are so adorable. "i can fuck you and have your belly bulging every. single. time. i shove my cock in your dripping cunt."

you have never had someone speak to you like that. you never heard those words strung together nor spoken in such a depraved tone.

you wonder how he could be this handsome. you wonder what led him here, with you.

"i'll make this pussy mine whether you want it or not but you want it, don't you? you want me to fuck you, you want me to have you shaped to my cock and mine alone" he pants. you nod your head, you swear there is cotton between your ears, there is empty space perhaps but there is surely not a working brain.

not after he painted such an image of him fucking you like you were his and turned it to mush. "say it. say it all, say you want naoya zenin to fuck you." you whine, he squeezes your throat, his grip so strong you swore he could crush it to dust.

you whine and babble and your hips move to get more of the stimulation as he shallowly fucks you. your hands find his broad shoulders, just barely gripping them and he leans down. no you could never move someone like him, he let you. he conceded because it is you.

his face is so close, he is composed and collected while you are a mess beneath him. "i want naoya zenin to fuck me" your voice is broken by a moan as he forces more of himself into you.

you whine in his face "i want him to claim me, break me. i only want him in my cunt." your voice is a warbled mess and for some reason naoya did not expect you to be so nasty. to tell him those things. claiming you is one thing but breaking you?

he would do more than break you. he would wreck every inch of you, destroy and decimate it all, there would be no way to return you to what you were.

"then loosen up, slut." you cannot mute the scream that escapes you when the thickness of his girth is pushed entirely into your walls. your legs desperately hook on his hips, so tense they feel sore.

it burns, it hurts and stings but it feels unbelievably good, it did not feel like something you could fathom in a real world only in fantasy.

why, why, why? why does it feel so good? you had no expectations of sex. absolutely none.

when the women spoke they did not entertain such topics. was this what they did behind closed doors? did such depravity remain hidden while they portrayed themselves as saints?

he is so hot, you feel him everywhere. he is nestled inside you like he belongs there, he throbs into your gummy walls.

his large palm graces your tummy, gliding to your lower abdomen. he presses down and you sigh in unison. your eyes wildly look down. "look where my cock is in you, you really are too small to take it."

he is not your husband, he should not have stuffed his cock all the way inside you that his head impresses in your stomach. what right did he have to lay claim?

it does not matter, not anymore. he has your cunt wrapped around him and your body does not protest. no, your body welcomes him with endless slick. it yearns and begs for him. it felt like you were just waiting for him to come and take you.

he pulls out until only his leaking head is enclosed by your cunt. his expression is pleased at the sight of red streaks along him. "got your blood all over my cock. y'know what that means?"

your head is too empty to hear, to function. you cannot quite make out his words but the sound of his voice makes you mewl. you are soaking him again and again.

"means you're all mine." you eyes roll as he shallowly pumps into you. you swear you cannot see beyond him.

his hands grope the perimeter of your waist. "i haven't even fucked you yet and you already look like a brain dead whore." he coos but his eyes are dark.

he is caught up in the sight of your dripping slit stretched around the girth of his cock. his strong thighs flex, you shriek when he starts pounding into you.

naoya bullies his cock into your pussy that will not stop pulsing around him. you are so tight he sees stars. your insides are gooey and warm. he wants to be wrapped in you forever.

his abs strain, his cock is coated in your juices. slick strands are covering him. the more he slams into you the nastier sounds your pussy makes.

"shouldn't be this tight or feel this good." he huffs, he uses your body like a sex doll. he holds you down and thrusts into you so hard your skin stings. every loud collision of his flesh with yours hurts.

"you're my slut, fuck, you're the only bitch i want." your entire body shakes with the weigh of his movements. your eyes water and you fist the soaked sheets.

naoya looks too good above you. the sweat on his forehead dampens his hair and his muscles shift every time he sinks back inside you.

you are delirious, he did as he said he would, he makes your stomach bulge over and over again. he turns your brain into useless chum.

your cunt sputters liquid, his movements are flurried and aggressive. your sex loudly squelches. you never thought it would feel this good.

every vein on his cock slides along your gummy insides, you feel like you are about to pass out. "a whore like you doesn't deserve to cum but i need to feel you gripping me. i need to know how tight your pussy gets when you're cumming." his fingers find your buzzing clit.

"m'not a whore."

"you're getting fucked like one."

all you can focus on is him, he rolls your clit with experience. a part of you hates that despite him being nothing to you. your vision is blurred by tears but blinking them away allows you to see him.

his body seems like a sculpture. every muscle is evident for prying eyes. beads of sweat leak down his temple and his jaw is locked. he looks unreal. you wish he was yours although you do not know him. you have no relation but he is stretching out your cunt and making it his.

your hand grips his, head thrown back as you writhe on the sheets. you breathe in exasperation as his much larger fingers intertwine with yours. he is holding your hand. he is holding it while he pummels your insides.

you are too sensitive and too overwhelmed. when you cum, your entire body trembles. your eyes squeeze tightly and you clamp down on him like a vice. you cream on his cock your entire body coated in sweat while you shake.

the sight of you throws him over the edge.

"shit, fuck, no one is as good as you. no one." he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering. his length is soaked in you, strands coating him and the harder he pounds the more frothy cream collects at his base.

"want you like this forever." his body covers you completely. his arms wrap around your waist to hold you tight to him. all his weight is pressed into you, desperately thrusting his hips as he chases his release.

despite how you whine and cry at the excessive stimulation. your nails digging into his flesh and scratching lines down his skin.

you seem to mark another area of his back every time he pounds into you.

his movements have your body jerking and his muscles flexing. your cunt feels like it is forcefully drawing the orgasm from him, his teeth grit and his eyes flicker as they threaten to roll back.

he is so powerful but right now he looks like he is losing it. his mouth roughly presses into yours, his tongue and spit in excess and his hips stutter for a moment before he slams into you so hard your cunt squelches.

his hips rock as he stays flush to you and for the first time you are getting filled up. it is even hotter than his cock, it sears along your walls, endlessly pouring and leaking as he grows soft.

"you take it so well for a virgin." he pants before his lips claim yours in a nasty kiss.

he says that like he has not already stripped that title from you.

his weight crushes you beneath him but somehow it is comforting. somehow you like it. you like that there is no space between you and him.

your arms reach around his neck, tears streaked down your cheeks while your mouth desperately returns his kiss.

he briefly parts before leaning back in. it is unfair that he has everything. he is too pretty and he seems to be good at everything.

you whine when he sits up on his knees, your hands losing their grip on his muscles. his eyes train where his cock still fills you.

you wince while he slowly pulls out, the cum still dripping out of you. you feel empty without him.

he takes in the cum leaking from your used cunt. all he can think about is doing it again and again. without tire or care. a surprisingly gentle touch swipes your hair from your face before he strokes your cheek and leans down.

his soft lips though swollen softly move along yours. he breathes a bit more laboured as his hands touch and squeeze along your body and his kisses make their way from your neck to your sternum and tits.

you are panting while he trails open mouthed kisses on your skin. his eyes do not leave yours and they are so golden you swear they glow.

your body grows tense when he drifts lower than your belly and suddenly he is kissing right above your cum filled slit and your inner thighs.

"you're so soft." you did not expect it. was that a good thing? his breath is so close to your pussy, it is weird to think he was just inside you.

you squeal, a hand covering your mouth as his tongue swipes over your cunt. "naoya, that's dirty." your voice is muffled beneath your palm, all he does is clamp his mouth on your clit and suck.

laughing into your cunt before his tongue is gliding up and down your slit endlessly.

a man of his calibre was between your legs with his mouth in such a place. it did not make sense. his heated muscle slips into your pussy, saliva coating you in excess.

your feet lift onto the tip of your toes while you moan. you moan for naoya like you were made for it, made for him.

his fingers gently caress the back of your thighs, all while he sloppily sucks up your messy cunt.

he does not want to stop, his cum is inside of you, it is in your pussy.

he came there. he came within your silky walls and he will never stop thinking about it, about you. he pulls back, licking his lips and nipping the flesh of your thigh before trailing his tongue along your slit.

his cum is still seeping out despite the amount he lapped up from your hole. there are sticky strands of liquid on his jaw and mouth as he brings his face to yours

"it's not dirty. what's filthy, is that you let me fuck you like a cock hungry slut." his large palms grasp your tits while you are speechless.

"is that what you are, my cockslut?" you find yourself nodding your head, whimpering in agreement.

you just want to be something to him.

his thumb strokes over your lips while he grips your face, you are so much smaller his entire hand seems to hold it. "you think you can suck me off? get me nice and wet in that little mouth and make me cum?"

you stare up at him with the prettiest wide eyes. you were crying for so long. you cry so much it makes him hard. "i can." you softly whisper and naoya cannot help but kiss you sweetly.

he nips your lips, laving his tongue over them before he sits next to you.

you swallow, he helps you up by a firm grip on your upper arm. your head feels light.

you are surprised when his hand cups the back of your head and shoves down. his erect cock presses against your cheek. "c'mon, don't waste time."

your hand unsurely surrounds the base, you cannot believe something like this had managed to fit inside you. naoya sighs at the softness. your tongue clumsily laps at his slit, the taste of his cum and your juices filling your mouth.

your lips enclose just before his shaft, your mouth insanely warm it makes naoya pant. "take more of it, i don't fucking care if it's your first time." he gruffly says. you are perched on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

moments before you had never seen one in your life.

you are so unsure, you lower on him but the second his tip brushes the back of your throat you gag. you lurch, the muscles constricting around him.

you pull back frantically, coughing as you clutch your throat. naoya finds your eyes more teary. "so fuckin dramatic." he tuts.

his tip presses against the seam of your lips and you have no choice but to open up.

you really do try to be good. you try your hardest to take more but it seems never ending. you gag so much desperately trying to get him seated deep in your throat. but you can't.

that tight little throat of yours can hardly get even half of him in on your own.

"you're shit at this." he laughs airily. you are drooling so much it is insanely messy, he never had it like this before.

every bit of him says to bruise the back of your throat, to fist your hair and fuck into your mouth so that every inch of him feels the silky walls of your throat.

he listens.

at first, his fingers gently caress through your hair. it lasts for a second before he is pushing your head down. your throat constricts and he shudders. he cannot tell which liquid that drips onto his skin is your spit or tears. 

he is vicious and rough. constantly bobbing your head along his cock regardless of how you choke. the sloppy noises are all he needs to get there. the feeling of your gooey throat objecting his forceful intrusion. your muscles resisting. "fuck you're such a good bitch. little baby throat s'taking it all."

his body tenses, hips stuttering to fuck into your mouth. he does not usually come this fast. he shoves you down until your lips surround his base. he swears he can see your throat bulging from his cock. your hot sticky saliva drip all over him as he shallowly ruts his hips.

naoya grits his teeth, moaning loudly before he spews cum down your throat. you jerk in confusion but he does not release you. your hands scramble. he feels you swallowing around him but it is not enough.

liquid spills past the perimeter of his cock.

he tugs you off, your mouth wetly separating with a sticky pop.

"you look pretty like this." your hair is knotted, tear streaks coat your cheeks, your lips are swollen from sucking his dick and his cum is spewed in your mouth in a sticky web. it drips down your jaw but he still kisses you.

still does it all sweetly and cups your cheeks as if he is a nice man.

you eagerly accept it. you kiss and kiss and his salty cum is messily exchanged. you are a breathless mess when he pulls away with spit still connecting you.

"so stupid." he shoves your forehead with his forefinger. you want to cry. he leaves you sitting while he lies on the sodden sheets.

it hurts to hear. you sniffle, looking at him. you let all this happen. you slept with him. this is not some lucid sex dream, it really occurred. he came in you, he touched you everywhere.

he had you in way a man never did before.

you are crying for a different reason now. when the lust that clouded your brain finally dispels you realise everything is ruined.

"do you have any idea what you've done?" tears are profusely coating your cheeks, you tug the blanket to your chest.

you are hiding your body as though he has not violated every inch of it. as if his desecration has not tainted you in the form of bruises and cum.

naoya breathes, his eyes rolling as he folds his arms under his head. "i fucked a bitch, s'all."

your face contorts in more pain. this was never supposed to be your life. you meant nothing to the man who was just inside you.

you were nothing to him. "i can't get married now."

naoya looks angry. the muscles in his arms flex, eyes flitting over to you.

in a second he sits up, the expanse of his palm covers your throat. it draws a sound of shock from you. his face is all too close and you wince at the flashes of him fucking you as they are forced into your mind.

how can you forget it? especially when he is at this proximity, when his hands were all over your body and now he simply held your neck.

his gaze flits downwards, he is angry without a doubt. it is hard to not see it when his skin is flushed red and his jaw is locked.

he rips the sheet from your body before he roughly shakes you.

your eyes flash in panic as you grip his tightening hand. "you have me and you want to marry some lowlife prick from your shitty clan?" he hisses into your face, his nose brushing yours over the nonexistent distance.

you gasp for air because he holds too tight. "you weren't a good fuck. not at all." his hand slips between your legs to cup your cum filled cunt and you blanch.

"you're just a prissy little virgin but you're pretty. i'll give it to you, you're gorgeous." without any warning his digits slide inside of you.

it is forceful and rough as he repeatedly thrusts his long fingers into the soaked walls of your pussy. you grit your teeth. it should not feel good. it should not but you cannot help the uninhibited movement of your hips.

your legs practically part for him on instinct despite how badly you want him to get away from you. that is what you want, right?

you should not want him and your eyes that are trailing all over his defined muscles should be looking to the heavens for some hope.

they should not be gleaming at his pretty features or his damp hair. "and you'll be one hell of a bitch but you gotta prove it to me before i marry you." marriage.

oh marriage, marriage, marriage.

it had been on your mind since you were a little girl. you have ached and dreamed and wished upon the stars for it to find you.

"how?" his brows tilt at your broken voice. he shoves you down until your head meets the wooden flooring and your back stings at the impact.

he is over you, his shadow casting along your figure. "let me fuck you. submit yourself to me alone. if ever you touch another man, i'll know."

his voice is deep, his expression dark. he is terrifying, you wonder how someone so pretty could look so horrific. you swallow hard.

"i'd kill him and i'd kill you." his eyes do not leave yours for a second. he brings your legs around his narrow waist, the weigh of his erection digging into the flesh of your inner thighs.

"but if you be good, i'll marry you. i'll take you away from this place."

you want so desperately to escape, you want so desperately to be anywhere but here. you want to be with him even if he is awful.

"will you marry me?" your fingers itch with the urge to draw him closer, your voice a warbled mess. your legs tighten around him, you want him close. so close.

it seems he knows because he nears until his body is flush to yours. until you are engulfed by his scent and the hardness of his figure.

"i swear it." his eyes flick to your lips, so close to him that they brush with his words. his admission has you gripping his cheeks and kissing him.

it's an inexperienced and sloppy kiss but you do as best as you can and naoya finds your mouth one of his favourite things.

tears leak from your eyes as he shoves his entire length into you and your body tenses.

for the second time that night he claims you.

---

despite wanting to be angry at him, you cannot. not when he kissed every bruise he left on your skin, not when he pressed his lips to yours like you meant something to him.

not when he tugged you into his side and you find revery in his scent.

something about naoya is so comforting you find yourself falling asleep with no issue.

or maybe it is because he used and exhausted your body.

he has you wrapped in his arms with familiarity. your face mushed to his chest and your leg thrown over his waist.

his thumb coaxes along your back, his face nuzzling your hair. you look adorable, you look too precious. even in your sleep you press into him more.

naoya wants to burn the sight into his brain.

you are his forever.

"my soul always searches for yours but you have never remembered mine. not once." he whispers into the air although you cannot hear it.

although you do not respond.

isn't he so dreamy ^^

[chipsbarista]

Look at the amazing art I commissioned @lorbalith. This was commissioned for my Formula One Bagginshield AU, and in commemoration of this beautiful art piece, here is a snippet!!

“Azog Steeler from The Racing Tribune. Thorin, you mentioned a supporting team, I can’t help but wonder if you had this supporting team back when you had your stay at Heart of the Mountain facility? You’ve had quite the tumultuous past.”

Bilbo’s face went pallid. He knew of course, but to speak of it so plainly was outrageous. Bilbo turned his face, to look at the angered Thorin and then at the moderator who looked afraid for his life. Do something.

“I have been lucky to have had a supportive team, yes, even back then. Every racer has his own challenges, I’ve overcome mine and am now choosing to focus on my career.”

“Speaking of challenges, what are we to make of your public disownment a few years back? Did that affect how you perform?” Azog smiled, he tried to make it an innocent thing, but to Bilbo, it only came across as evil.

Thorin sighed, a heavy thing, fingers drumming on the table before replying, “It’s not up to the public to make assumptions about my personal life.”

Azong’s smile didn’t falter, only widened. “Sure, but personal life, whether you want to or not, does affect performance. And you especially have gone through a lot. Loss, pressure, and… What happened with your grandfather. How do you separate that from the track?”

Bilbo was starting to get angry now too. 

Thorin’s eyes darkened a shade or two. His voice boomed, even as he didn’t yell, he wanted to be heard, “Everyone faces pressure, especially in the sport world. My focus has always been on proving myself on where it matters: On the track. Which is where I think this conversation should focus on.”

I sincerely hope you enjoyed that. I promise I am working on this fic as fast as my brain can think it.

[parasiticstars]

hey friendly reminder that “the loss of any human life is an inherent tragedy” and “the ≤1% paying a quarter of a mil. a head and signing a contract that explicitly mentions ‘death’ to disturb a mass grave while shoved in a literal bluetooth cheap-ass metal cylinder made by a company that eschews safety got exactly what they signed up for” AND “we shouldn’t have wasted taxpayer money to find a crumpled up Pringle’s can during several refugee crises” are all opinions that can and should co-exist.

Of course, we shouldn’t be so gleeful in their horrific deaths, especially there was a literal teenager that didn’t even want to go in there. Internet anonymity be damned, it’s the death of basic decency. And of course, we should rightfully be outraged that watching a bunch of ultra-rich blow their money to do something objectively incredibly stupid (to a MASS GRAVE with human fucking bone dust and preserved shoes, I cannot stress enough) is what’s hitting headlines and what people care about.

However, if you have any sort of basic human decency and a morality view more complex than that of a six year old, I’m sure you can easily reconcile all three valid opinions.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: I’ve got nothing to say except for the fact this is entirely inspired by the song

warnings: shrimp gets beat up pretty bad but you singlehandedly take out like 3 guys so xoxo

Holding Out For A Hero

The entire team, save for one, are gathered around Penelope’s monitors, holding their breaths. As the newest member of the team, you had anticipated that in a situation such as this, you’d be having the least severe reaction to the scene before you, but upon seeing Doctor Spencer Reid get thrown against a wall, you are entirely unsurprised by the squeeze you feel in your chest.

“Damn it, Hotch, we’ve gotta do something!” Derek Morgan yells, clasping his hands behind his head but unable to tear his gaze from the screens.

What should have been a simple task of meeting some witnesses regarding a local case has quickly become a hostage situation that none had anticipated. There are unified gasps as a harsh kick is landed against the young genius’s midsection, and Hotch sighs, knowing that something has to be done, but the team are presently at a loss.

“Any presence recognised as official could get Reid killed.” Hotch reiterates, though it’s a fact none of you have forgotten.

Another kick causes Spencer to curl up in the corner, his form cowering on the monitors, and you decide that’s enough, storming out of Penelope’s office.

“Must be tough on her.” Emily glances sympathetically at the door you left through, the rest of the team nodding in agreement, seemingly accepting that you had to step out because you couldn’t stand to see Spencer get beaten up like that. While that isn’t entirely untrue, there is more of a purpose behind your exit.

Just a month ago, during your first case with this team, a local police officer had decided you were the object of his affections. While you’d dismissed his advances as politely as you could, Spencer couldn’t help overhearing the conversation, and his blood boiled.

“No need to be so stuck-up about it!” The cop huffed at you, and in the time it took for your eyebrows to shoot up, Spencer had arrived at your side.

“Speak to her that way again and I’ll have you removed from this case.” His words were cool, calculated, and enough to send the police officer shuffling away from you.

Looking up at Spencer with a grateful smile, you parted your lips to speak, but he smiled right back at you and interjected.

“I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t need to. All I did was the bare minimum, as a guy.” Spencer excused his chivalry with a bashfulness that you found beyond endearing, and have continued to do.

It seems that now, an opportunity has presented itself for you to perform your equivalent of the bare minimum for him.

Speeding through the office and over to your desk, you retrieve your overnight bag and head for the staff toilets. Digging through it, you find your emergency attire that’s typically reserved for undercover missions; a thin strapped, silky red dress that’s enough to stop traffic, and a pair of killer black stilettos.

Within five minutes, you’ve slammed the door of Penelope’s office open again and dropped your go bag on the ground, attracting the attention of the rest of the team.

“Well damn, mama, I didn’t think this would be the time, but-“ Derek begins, unable to resist a moment to flirt; with no time to spare, you cut him off.

“Button it, Morgan. Text me the location, I’m going to get Reid.” You instruct, not wanting to waste another second.

Penelope’s office is momentarily silent, several jaws falling open in shock. That is, until Derek speaks up again.

“What?! No!” He exclaims, outraged at your proposition.

You sigh. “One plus one is two, you need someone to get inside without raising suspicion - problem?”

Derek scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, actually!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention to the only member of the team that’s aware of your applicable qualifications.

“Gideon?” You raise an eyebrow.

With a slow smile, Jason Gideon nods. “…She can do it.”

Derek throws his arms up in the air. “Am I missin’ something here?!”

Hotch is notably silent. Though knowledgeable on the ‘classified’ portion of your resumé, he does not know the details of your work prior to this team, save for your glowing letter of recommendation from your old boss; that, in itself, was enough to land you a place on this team.

You nod, reaching down to grab a small purse from inside your go-bag. “Yep. I’ll catch you up after. See you guys in 30.” Glancing around at the rest of the team one last time, you speed out of the office with a determination to match the loud clicking or your heels.

By the time you reach the parking lot, your phone has dinged with a text from Penelope with the exact location where Spencer is being held by the gang that are currently beating him senseless. Whistling a nearby cab, you slide into the backseat, give the address for the next street over to where you need to be, and apply the finishing touches to your outfit. With expert precision, you coat your lashes with thick layers of mascara, only to rub them, then hold your eyes open long enough to induce tears that cause trails of mascara to run down your cheeks. And with reckless abandon, you tear a slit up the right side of your dress. As the cab pulls up on the next street over to your destination, you step out with a grateful tip and begin your walk.

The closer you get to the only lit up house on the mostly empty street, you ensure your steps are unsteady and work yourself up enough, focussing your thoughts on what Spencer has endured until now to force fresh tears and actual upset to bubble in your chest. Approaching the house, you raise a shaking fist to knock on the door with deliberate weakness. The doorknob twists, and you sniffle. Action.

Standing in the doorway are the very men you’re here to see, and your bottom lip trembles as you give them your biggest doe eyes.

“H-Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you, b-but I was just wondering if I could use your phone? M-My boyfriend broke mine.” You blubber, holding your face in your hands for dramatic effect. Stuttering to feign anxiety and upset, mention of a boyfriend but purposely indicating mistreatment and vulnerability: you are no more than an easy target.

The men share a smirk.

“Oh, of course! You poor thing! C’mon in!” One of them says, ushering you inside with a cheshire grin.

These poor fools really think they’re lucking out with a punching and an upgrade from a sock.

Nodding gratefully, you stumble into their shack of a ‘home’, knowing this is just a temporary hold up for them, and mainly a location to hold Spencer.

“Wh-Who’s that?” You ask shakily, eyes widening with what should be pretend shock, but your surprise at seeing the sorry state of your favorite genius is as genuine as your intentions in being here.

At the sound of your voice, the one eye Spencer has that isn’t black with bruising, winces as it opens, then widens as much as it can to take you in. Are you real, or a vision from heaven? He’s asked himself that everyday since you joined the team, but that question has never felt more relevant than it does in this moment.

“Ignore him.” One of the other men instructs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and dragging you harshly over to a chair at the dining table.

That quick glance in Spencer’s direction was enough to bring him a second wind, a cause to fight to stay conscious. The mascara stains down your cheeks and the tear in your dress - which, on any other occasion, Spencer is sure would send him into cardiac arrest - cause alarm bells to ring in the mind of a genius. Who made you cry? Did someone hurt you? What are you even doing here? The questions in his mind are ordered in importance to Spencer, the blood in his veins that’s fighting to fix the wounds he’s sustained through his beating, burning under his skin at the thought of someone having harmed you in any way, despite his current circumstances.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” One of the men asks, and you pretend that the thought of your completely fictional boyfriend makes you wince.

“He stood me up.” You cry weakly, putting on the performance of your life.

Spencer wonders if his injuries have made him delirious as he now prioritizes whether his heart should have spluttered at your mention of a boyfriend he is certain - because he’s currently scanning through his eidetic memory at the speed of light - you have never referred to having before.

“Oh, now, what kind of man stands up a dime like you?” The man who had invited you in, jeers.

“Thank you.” Sniffling, a small smile reaches your face as all three men stand within range; one at the table with you, one against the wall to your right, the other standing behind your chair. Perfect.

The team crowd around Penelope’s monitors, the anxiety in the room palpable.

“What the hell is she doing?!” Derek yells, frustrated and confused by Gideon’s allowance for your reckless one-woman suicide mission.

“Trust me, if anyone can do this, she can.” Jason attempts to reassure the worries of everyone, a soft smile on his face as he watches you do what you do best: set your scene.

“She’s ballsy, that’s for sure.” Emily comments, undeniably impressed.

The air in the office is thick, the tension only capable of cutting with a knife; there’s a certain irony in that.

One of the men pats your shoulder with force.

“You stay with us, we’ll take care of you.” He laughs darkly, and you smile up at him.

Alright, show’s over.

Standing from your chair, you pretend to stumble over to the front door, before locking it.

“What’re you doing, pretty lady?” The man leaning against the wall asks you with a smirk.

“Actually, boys, I think you’ll find it’s me that’s going to be taking care of you. Or, to put it another way-“ Reaching into your purse, you grab a makeup wipe and quickly remove the mascara from your cheeks, smirking right back at all three men. “-I’ll be taking you out.” Looking to the corner of the room, you smile at Spencer. “Sit tight, handsome.”

He must be dead, he thinks. Doctor Spencer Reid, beaten to death and the best comfort his subconscious can provide him is the illusion of you calling him handsome.

Pulling the slit of your dress just a little higher, you retrieve the blade previously concealed in a particularly scandalous garter you acquired entirely for the aesthetic, and twirl it around your fingers.

“So, any takers? Let’s see, eenie-“ You point your blade at the man leaning against the wall, “-meenie,” You point it to the man who is standing behind the chair you’d sat in, “-minie,” You point it at the man sitting at the table, and as he reaches for something in his pocket, your eyes twinkle with mischief. “-mo!” You chirp, throwing your blade at the exact moment he raises his arm to you, pinning his wrist to the table.

In a fraction of a second, both of the other men lunge for you, and you manage to roll out of their way in the nick of time.

“Awh, c’mon guys, fair’s fair! At least give a girl a chance!” You taunt, kicking your killer heels off and chucking both at the larger man’s head, sending him stumbling backwards into the wall with the impact. One on one, much better.

Sights set on the only other person standing up in this room, you watch as his eyes dart to Spencer, and in an instant you’ve rolled back across the floor to stand in front of the corner that he’s cowered in.

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten quietly, icy stare fixed on the last man standing.

“Oh, but pretty lady, you’ve got nothing left to throw! You’re out of options.” He sneers, taking a step closer to you.

Very presumptuous to suggest you actually needed your props beyond your dramatic flair and desire to get this done as quickly as possible.

But, in the moment, you decide to humor him.

Pretending to cower further into the corner with Spencer at your feet, your eyes widen with feigned fear, the confidence in the idiot’s smirk growing as he takes another step.

“That’s it. We can forget all about this. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” The man’s voice softens with condescension, and you nod up at him with your doe eyes.

Does he seriously think you’d incapacitate both of his friends and then decide to sleep with him? Men.

Counting the seconds, you wait until his figure looms over with you, and you lean back against the wall. You hold his gaze, doe eyes widening and bottom lip trembling, until the facade drops like a mask. Fury is a woman, and she wears a torn red dress with a smirk, her heels having left imprints on some idiot’s skull.

The last man standing’s smirk drops to a confused frown, but he doesn’t have time to step back before you lift your leg and send your knee into his crotch with as much force as you can. And while he stumbles backwards, you kick him to the floor, then kick his midsection again for good measure.

With him dealt with, you walk back over to your heels and slip them on, but as the man they previously knocked out begins to stir, you issue a well deserved roundhouse kick to send him back to sleep. Strolling over to the man who’s wrist you pinned to the table, you find that he is very clearly in shock and losing a lot of blood, but not enough to be dead just yet; you left the blade in for a reason.

“My team are watching, and they’ve probably called an ambulance by now. Whether they’ll make it in time to save you or not, I don’t care. For your sake, though-“ You pull the blade out of his wrist, tucking it back into your garter and watching the blood gush against the table, leaning close to the man’s ear. “-I wouldn’t bother applying pressure to that, because if you live long enough to serve your sentence and get out, I’ll do much worse than what I’ve been allowed to do here on company time.” And with a malicious smile, you stand back up, then spin on your heel and rush over to Spencer.

Crouching down beside him, you brush his hair out of his eyes with your fingertips, tucking it behind his ears just the way he likes it.

“Hey, pretty boy. Sorry for the wait.” You give him a sweet smile, your tone gentle, far and away from the venom with which you’d been speaking throughout your cleanup operation.

Spencer tries to speak, but immediately starts spluttering and clutching at his bruised abdomen.

“Shh, shh, don’t speak, it’s okay. The team’ll be here soon.” You coo, continuing to stroke his hair behind his ears, though it’s no longer out of place.

“N-No, it’s important.” Spencer utters, voice hoarse and strained.

Your eyebrows furrow as you lean closer to him so that he doesn’t have to try speaking any louder. “What is it?”

Taking a deep, wheezing breath, Spencer manages to find his voice again.

“Think…I know someone…who can fix your dress.”

You blink rapidly, a wide smile spreading on your face as his words set in, before you start laughing heartily.

And Spencer struggles, but he opens his one good eye to gaze upon your smiling features above him, etching every detail to his eidetic memory.

“So, I can assume that you like the dress, then?” You ask rhetorically.

This time, Spencer doesn’t say anything. Instead, you watch in equal amazement and amusement as a smirk curls at the corner of his split lips.

Within a matter of minutes, the rest of the team pull up in government issue vehicles with police cars and ambulances close behind, your targets being tended to and arrested, while Hotch and Derek help carry Spencer out to the ambulance. Due to the severity of his beating, the paramedics advise it’s best to keep him unconscious and medicated for the journey to the hospital. Naturally, you sit at his side, holding his hand the whole way.

And that’s a gesture you continue the moment he’s been checked over, too. You stay at Spencer’s hospital bedside, holding his hand until he regains consciousness, at which time you relay his diagnosis from the doctors: no serious injuries or internal bleeding, just a large amount of bruising that’ll be substantially painful for a while. Spencer is relieved by the news, but mostly relieved by your presence. He’s so simultaneously exhausted, and taken by the way you glow at his bedside, he can hardly say more than a continuous mantra of “Thank you”.

Due to his lack of serious injury, Spencer is cleared to return to work without delay, under the advice of being careful of his bruises when out in the field. In truth, Spencer knows that as long as you’re around, he won’t feel an ounce of the pain that’s supposed to be plaguing him.

The very next night, the team are called back into the office for a case, and the smile on your face when you see Spencer has him questioning once again how you can possibly be real. You seem so much more like a vision from heaven, or of heaven itself.

It’s late and the flight to the location of the case is a long one, so Hotch instructs everyone to board the jet and get some sleep, assuring you all that he’ll wake you with enough time for a briefing before you land. And the ever-calculated Spencer Reid knows exactly how to use this to his advantage. Counting in his head the average time it takes someone to fall asleep, he waits for each and every member of the team fo fall asleep before he rises from his seat on the jet and crosses the cabin to sit beside you, visibly giddy.

“I was thinking about what you said to those guys.” He begins, words rushed because he doesn’t have the patience to greet you right now.

“Which part?” You ask with an amused smile.

“When you said you’d take them out.” Spencer clarifies quickly. “I’ve been thinking about those words a lot, and- well,” He chuckles nervously. This is about to be the cheesiest thing he’s ever said. “-I wondered if you might consider letting me take you out, but in a different way?”

Your expression flashes to one of surprise, the realization hitting you like the sweetest bullet. “Like a date, or a different method of incapacitation?” You ask playfully, accurately predicting the way Spencer’s eyes widen in panic at the thought of the double entendre.

“A date!” He squeaks.

You can’t help giggling, nodding at him. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you for asking, Spencer.”

The relief on his face is palpable. In fact, he’s never felt his face relax quite like it did in that moment. “No, thank you for accepting. Are you, uh, free on Saturday, by any chance? If we don’t get called away on a case?” Spencer enquires, desperately hoping that he isn’t coming across as too eager.

You grin. “I am.”

“Good.” Spencer answers, a shy smile on his face as the reality of this situation sets in.

“Are you going to sleep?” You ask him quietly.

“To be honest, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to sleep at all until Saturday.” Spencer chuckles nervously.

You giggle at that. “Well, it’s probably a good idea to try. Do you mind if I borrow your shoulder?” You question with a teasing smile.

“No! Not at all!” Spencer says without hesitation.

“Thanks, handsome.” You say softly, resting your head on his shoulder from where you sit beside him on the jet, bundling your blanket around yourself.

There it is again, Spencer thinks. Unless this plane crashed in a microsecond and killed everyone onboard, he’s pretty sure that this time, it’s not his subconscious creating a comforting illusion. You really did call him that.

And, in light of such a life-altering revelation, Spencer plucks up courage that he didn’t know he had.

“You’re always welcome, beautiful.”

[mandalhoerian]

Shai! Shai! I've thought of another scenario for Leon😊 Altho being a new fan I've come to the conclusion that Leon is the type to believe he's not good enough for his partner, he believes they could do better then him. So imagine a Leon who has finally accepted he has feelings for you and works up the courage to confess only for you to turn the tables on him and say you dont feel good enough for him. I imagine he would be in disbelief? How would he react to his crush telling him "You're too good for me Leon."?

too good for me | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x reader (unspecified gender) genre: fluff, miscommunication, the "endeared badass x normal person scared shitless of the endeared badass" trope. no spice, unfortunately. only good vibes and leon being head over heels smitten. enjoy! word count: 2.7K? It's short! notes: hi sarah! i am SO SORRY this has taken forever. you requested this one month ago! its been so hectic lately, i've been having health problems that required regular hospital visits and tests upon tests, but now that my surgery (yeah i know... yikes) is authorized i'm only waiting for them to call me for the date and have all the time in the world to get my rest and write. i'm also working on your other (wink wink) request! thank you so much for being patient with me. hope this is what you had in mind! i also added my touch and ideas to it lmao. happy reading!!

🌀 read on ao3!

“You’re too good for me,” is the hesitant, small answer you give him while avoiding eye contact and playing with your fingers in front of your office’s shared coffee maker Leon had made countless paperwork excuses to be able to simply stop by — to his question, that is, about why you wouldn’t go on a simple date with him. 

You puff out an awkward laugh to smooth things over as humorous but it’s forced and not at all sincere. 

It’s taken Leon a whole inner journey (Spain. Mostly the simultaneous trauma and catharsis of Spain) to get over himself to recognize what his heart truly wanted but was too pussy to look at before, yet here you two are. The lone angel in his life telling the failure Leon is that he’s too good? For you?

He simply stares, dumbly standing there, piping hot coffee that’s actually incompatible with his taste buds he insists he must do a detour to get from here simply because you often do, stiff and awkward in his hold, thinking he heard you wrong because he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest — rest, not sleep — in forever since he came back from Spain. 

He’s been forcing himself to come to work just for a glimpse of you and your pretty face to recharge his battery, heal his soul a bit, let you be all that occupies his mind despite being laid off after that outrageous mission that resulted in the president’s unwanted favor and nightmares upon nightmares with only anxious yet soothing thoughts of you as the best bad out of the worst he’s had to face— and what is it that you said again?  

“You’re joking right?” Leon says, pride not knowing if it should be broken or not because he’s not sure to take this as a rejection, and it isn’t his intention for it to sound that harsh. He’s not some asshole who can’t take no for an answer, it’s your reasoning that has him downright jamming like a gun.

Leon has to remind himself to switch off work mode because now you look mousey as if he has a paw on your tail, shoulders pulled into yourself.  “Sorry!” He feels so bad, heart expanding within his ribcage and it aches, fuck, he just wanted to ask you out and all he’s doing is scaring you. “I’m sorry, you were kidding. I didn’t get it— I’m kinda slow and you sound flat sometimes, of course you weren’t serious, I’m—”

“No, I was serious.” His eyebrows furrow at yet another self-degradation from you. “It’s you who has to be kidding. What do you mean too good for you?”

You are at a loss of words, mouth opening but nothing coming out, and finally look him in the eye and all Leon wants to do is lean down and capture your mouth, he’s heavily distracted by you licking your lips and swallowing, the sighting of the tip of your pink tongue makes his shirt suddenly suffocating and tight. 

“I mean,” you begin tentatively, unaware of what’s going on in his head, vaguely gesturing to Leon. “Well… You’re you, I mean… And I’m. Me. Look at you and look at me. Why would you even…?”

“Hey,” Leon sets his mug on the counter, closing his eyes and pinching the insides with his thumb and pointer. The implications alone sent a zapping headache through his skull that he knows he has to rest to be able to unpack, especially when he’s finally decided on seriously pursuing you in spite of himself. Leon can’t let this remain unaddressed, for your sake and his sanity. “How about I wait for you after work today and we talk about this somewhere else?” He’s squinting. “In detail.”

“We don’t really need to—”

“We do.” Leon wants you to see he’s serious about this — about you. “Because I see something here that I want to pursue and we can’t have any misunderstandings. Would appreciate it if you at least give me the chance to clear the air.”

“P-pursue?” You swallow and Leon’s mind wanders again. “Clear the air you say…”

He breathes in. “Can you give me your phone?”

You slap it into his palm almost immediately, the speed with which you obey him without asking him any questions surprises him. He wants to scold if you’re willing to hand over your mobile to any guy who asks, but supposes it’s not his place — is frustrated this is what it takes to get him annoyed, as well. He isn’t some young adult. Weirdly, you make him feel like one.  

He’s punching his own number in, despite the conflicting feelings, finally feeling like this is getting somewhere and he’s doing it when you start talking again, nervous. “You can uh, clear the air… right here… without taking me to a secondary location…” 

His eyes flick up to yours in confusion and you look to the right immediately, and back to him. To the right. Back to him. It’s somehow comedic, because why do you look like you’re cornered by some bad guy? 

You really look like you want to be anywhere else than here, Leon’s fucking this up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. Was he going too fast? Should he have told you his number and let you save it instead? 

You’re mumbling, nervousness clear as day for reasons he can’t fathom, he hears you, but he doesn’t really understand. 

“What? What's wrong?" Leon asks, his voice laced with genuine concern. He takes a step closer, wanting to bridge the gap between you and alleviate whatever discomfort you were experiencing. "You seem... uneasy. Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes meet his briefly, then quickly shift away again, as if you are struggling to find the right words. 

Leon's heart sinks. His intention wasn’t to make you feel nervous or pressured, especially when he is genuinely trying to connect with you — then, in a brilliant moment of heart-stopping realization, the fact that you might just not be interested slaps him in the face and he’s…

Well. Wouldn’t that be the reality? 

Leon is… He isn’t exactly the ideal man. Not with what he does, and how his life is. He’s aware of that. Have been running from forming connections because of what he knows will end up happening because of that. He can’t get attached and keep losing people — can’t keep getting hurt in the vicious cycle to prevent everyone from getting hurt. It’s been the bane of his existence ever since STRATCOM plucked him off straight from Raccoon City. Even if you work in the same field as him, just different offices, who is to say it will work out anyway? 

He’s getting ahead of himself. You might not like him at all in the first place. Jesus. 

Maybe you see him for what he is. Maybe you think he’s not  —- the effort’s not worth it, and you wouldn’t exactly be wrong in thinking so. You could be wanting something else in life that he only has the desire to give you, and not the promise. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, who would blame someone for being their own person with their thoughts, wishes, wants and goals in life? 

You’re too good for me, really, is his line. It has been right from the beginning, his excuse in running away from his undeniable, frightening attraction to you.

"No, it's not you," you finally managed to articulate, prompting Leon to release the breath he was holding, your voice shaky, playing with your fingers. "I just... I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast, and I never expected..."

Leon nods, his expression softening as he realizes the weight of the situation. He hasn’t fully considered how his sudden confession and determination to pursue you might have caught you off guard. He has been so focused on his own feelings that he hasn’t taken into account your own thoughts and emotions.

"I understand," he replies, voice gentle and reassuring. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just... I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. But please know that I don't expect an immediate answer or any commitment from you. I just… Well. I just wanted to tell you. See where this goes. Or, maybe, if that’s not the case… Get rejected for good so I can move on, you know?"

You laugh a little and it’s genuine — you have no idea how it turns Leon’s heart into putty right where it hangs between two lungs. “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Of course,” he says, offended the tiniest bit. “Why do you think I would joke about something like this?”

“It’s not about you joking, really…” You’re uncomfortable again, hesitating to tell him something. 

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“Can you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What am I, your father?” He snorts. “Come on, tell me.” 

You brace yourself for it and he doesn’t understand why until you say it. “You, um… You’re kinda scary.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Sorry!” You raise your hands up in panic. “I don’t really mean it like that, not to insult you or anything, it’s actually admirable, I’m just saying! Discipline, work ethic, unmatched field performance! You’re very… Very, uh… Intimidating, yeah, that’s the word…? I mean, like… You, uh, you’re famous, you know, we all know your work, you’re very hard working, working hard, very hard work — uh, um… So it’s…”

“I scare you?” Leon swears he felt his eyes get bigger the faster you kept on vomiting words. “You think I would hurt you?” 

“No!” You reject strongly, waving a nervous hand at him. Silence befalls later, which you follow awkwardly with a silent, guilty. “Maybe,” after clearing your throat. 

 He had always strived to be a protector, but he hadn't realized that his image and reputation — what it had become after Spain — could have such an effect on someone he cares about. 

"I never meant to scare you," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse, he puts the coffee mug on the counter and leans his hip on it, shoulders sagging a bit as he crosses his arms. The thought of you only feeling intimidation about him leaves a bitter taste worse than the coffee does. "I guess... I've always been so focused on work, on the dangers just around the corner — I’m aware how it might affect my relationships in the long run so I never attempted to form any at all, but I never realized how it might affect how people see me in the first place. I never wanted to make you, of all people, feel this way. I could never hurt you. Never."

“I didn’t want to imply you’re a guy who’d intentionally hurt someone—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, ruffling his hair to get rid of the awkwardness. “So I’ve just been bugging you this whole time, huh? Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, don’t say that, you’re amazing! You’re like a hero around here…”

“Around here doesn’t mean shit,” he replies curtly, and regrets cursing like that in front of you immediately. It’s unbecoming of him — and doesn’t help his image in your eyes at all. He’s getting frustrated. His tone lowers into a softer, more disappointed, heartfelt one. “I only care about how you think of me.” 

“Well, you’re amazing,” you say again, bashfully this time, and it prompts him to look at you. There’s something shy about you now that has him standing taller in anticipation, wondering if it’s him reading this wrong or not. “It’s pretty well-known if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” he prods, idiot heart fluttering at the way you’re flustered. “What do you think? Besides intimidating, I mean. Not reporting on the local gossip this time, if you don’t mind.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” you settle. The middle ground. “I’ve seen you with the president’s daughter.”

Leon's expression softens at your words, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that had built up within him. The mention brings a slight smile to his face, memories of Ashley flooding his mind, a fondness evident in his eyes. "Ah, Ashley. Yeah, that was quite the adventure. Though what can you be other than a nice guy when your mission is the president’s daughter?"

“I know a couple people who’d treat her like a package to be delivered. You prioritized her wellbeing more than anything.”

“What else was I supposed to prioritize?”

“You know what I mean. Emotional wellbeing. I’ve read your initial report and her statement. You cared about her.” A smile tugs at your lips, he can tell you’re a bit more comfortable now. "Especially during what you’ve been through. It's impressive how you handle yourself in those situations."

He shrugs modestly, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. You respect him. "I guess you could say it comes with the job. But it's not all action and danger, you know. There's more to me than just being a government agent."

Your curiosity piques, and you tilt your head, prompting him to continue. "Tell me more. What's Leon Kennedy like outside of work and missions?"

It catches him off guard that you want to know more and take the first step. You could have just rejected him. His heart picks up, chest expanding in excitement, he’s glad for the opportunity to share a glimpse of his life beyond the chaos of his work — he’s normally not eager to share pieces of his life like this, but… He’d give it to you on a silver platter, whether it'd lure you in or not. That’s how Leon knows he wants this with you so bad. “I wanna lie to woo you but… Would it be too unattractive to tell I really don’t have a life outside of work? I’m still trying to find some balance in my life. The upper echelon guys are pretty ruthless and demanding. I guess it means I can say I’m into traveling?”

“Is this the cool guy way of saying you’re an introvert these days?”

The unexpectedness of it is what gets him to throw his head back to laugh, and he catches you staring, scrambling to rub his face to get rid of it and regain some composure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Pretty much.”

“Well,” you gesture at him, there’s a vague pink hue dusting your cheeks. “What are you into, then?”

God, he can’t stop, “Other than you?” from escaping his dumb mouth. He shouldn’t have said it. It’s too corny. So uncalled for. Your mouth hangs open and he wishes he could rewind the tape to take it back and choose some other option. “Say… What about we continue this discussion after work? I know a good coffee place. Let me make it up to you for invading your lunch time. I’ll tell you all about me, what do you say?”

You look at the clock on the wall, he knows you didn’t get to have anything because he decided to turn up and serenade you with unwanted attention, it’s two birds with one stone for him if you decide to accept — he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see a perfect moment to seize the chance. 

“Coffee sounds perfect,” you nod, with no pressure from him, and it lifts a great weight off his shoulders. “Would it be okay if I eat something too?”

Why are you so adorable? You don’t know that you own the power to get Leon to have your superiors let you go for the day, but he can’t get too excited right now. “Say the word and it becomes a dinner date.”

It gets you flustered again, you don’t know where to put your hands, and he’s so happy about it. “It’s a weekday… That’d be a bit exhausting…”

“Okay. Coffee date it is.”

He’s noticing you like the cheeky confidence, and it makes sense, considering the intensity had you intimidated. “Thank you,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Believe me,” Leon can’t stop the grin from overtaking his expression. “My pleasure. You’re honestly too good for me.”

There’s the sudden urge to kiss you when vulnerability and shyness lights up your whole face, but he’ll take it slow. He has to take it slow. For himself. 

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: remember that poll you guys voted in on what fic i should work on? this is the fic that one 😂 i’ve been wanting to write this one for a minute and had so much fun doing it!! i love the soft vibes and i hope you guys do too 🥰 lots of fun stuff coming up 🤍

word count: 4.9k

tw: a little dirty talk, a little horny making out, nothing crazy

summary: sunrise on the beach with mat becomes your favorite memory

Sleep fades away slowly, a warm hand working its way gently into your hair, fingertips rubbing against your scalp. You hum and press your face into the pillow bunched up under your head.

A familiar chuckle pierces the veil of sleep, fingers continuing their gentle rub. “Hey, come on Sleeping Beauty,” Mat’s voice is low and amused in your ear. “Time for that sunrise.”

You whine and roll over, sleep still clinging stubbornly to your brain. In your hazy half-awake state, you remember that you’d told Mat you wanted to see the sunrise on the beach, but you honestly didn’t think he’d be able to manage to get up this early. “Time’s it?” you mumble around a yawn, eyes still shut and hand groping for Mat’s. He laces his fingers with yours, taking pity on your floundering hand. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, his palm dry and warm in your own.

“Four ten,” he says, laughing at the outraged noise you make. “Babe, sunrise is at 5:20, had to get you up early.”

One eye cracks open and Mat comes into view, sitting on the edge of the mattress, hair looking a little crazy. He’s got a soft smile on his face even as his lips are tilted up with amusement. “This is cruel and unusual,” you mumble, stretching your legs out under the pile of blankets. Your calf cramps slightly and you flex your foot to relieve the twinge.

Mat’s fingers twitch in yours and he shrugs a little. “You said you wanted to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, tugging at your hand and pulling you into a sitting position. “Not too many more days left on the Island for that to happen.”

He’s not wrong - after the six-game playoff loss to the Canes, you’d hung around the Island so you could spend your birthday with your friends, but you’re leaving in a couple of days to visit Mat’s family before the Bear wedding and then hopping over to Europe for a couple of weeks of vacation. The summer is jam-packed full of fun plans that you’re looking forward to.

“I hate that you’re right,” you sigh, more awake now. Mat leans in and kisses you quickly. He jumps up before you can really kiss him back, making your forehead crease in confusion.

“I’m always right,” he teases, rummaging through your drawers to find you some clothes. You stretch your arms over your head, t-shirt riding up and exposing your stomach to the cool air of your bedroom. You shiver a bit, that full-body shake that’s the result of a really good stretch.

With a scoff, you swing your legs out of bed and mutter, “you weren’t right when you missed the exit and drove us into Staten Island last week, making us very late for dinner.”

Mat blows a raspberry at you. “I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again?” He whines, pouting like a toddler.

You shoot him a cheeky grin over your shoulder and pad to the bathroom to clean up. “I’m bringing that up until the end of time, Mr. I Don’t Need Directions Babe I Know Where I’m Going,” you laugh to yourself before knocking the door shut with your foot so you can have a minute of privacy.

Mat’s got the bedside lamps on when you leave the bathroom, casting your bedroom in soft light that doesn’t hurt your tired eyes. You smile gratefully and flop back down on the bed. “Are you sure we have to do this?” You yawn again. “What about staying in bed and fucking like bunnies? That could be fun.”

Your boyfriend laughs and comes to straddle your legs, knees on the outside of your own, leaning down over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “I think we can do that later,” he mutters against your skin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Get dressed.”

Looking at him, you notice for the first time that Mat’s already dressed in a navy quarter zip and jeans and you wonder exactly how early he got up. It doesn’t really matter at the end of the day and you change into a comfortably oversized royal blue cashmere sweater and a pair of leggings, ignoring the jeans Mat had pulled out of your drawer. He’s staring blatantly at you as you dress, grinning when he notices that you don’t bother with a bra. You wink at him, teasing, “I know that backseat of yours is very spacious.”

Mat’s laugh is contagious and you giggle along with him. “Babe, I’ll let you do whatever you want in the backseat of my car,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, catching your foot when you kick it up at him to put on your socks. He tickles the arch of your foot gently as he pulls a pair of his own thick Nike socks on your feet and lets them bunch up over your leggings.

You wiggle your toes in the warm socks, squirming when Mat captures your ankle and tugs gently to drag you down the bed. “Whatever I want?” You ask on a breathless giggle, letting him pull you to your feet and crash against his chest.

“Anything but eating Goldfish back there,” Mat shakes his head at you, both of you remembering the time you’d been babysitting the Martin girls and Winnie had asked for her snack sized bag of Goldfish to be squished into crumbs since they “taste better” that way and then had dumped the entire bag out on your lap when she was trying to share.

“That was an accident!” You protest, distracted by Mat’s warm hands snaking under the hem of your sweater and dancing over the soft skin of your lower back. “She was sharing. We’re supposed to be encouraging sharing, Mat!”

Mat snorts. “Only because you asked for a Goldfish,” he kisses your cheek, “now come on. We’re going to miss the sunrise.” He taps against your lower back and you wiggle against him.

You’re awake now, but you still try and convince him to get back in bed, “sure you don’t want to just undress me under the covers instead?”

“Later,” Mat promises, tugging at the waistband of your leggings and spurring you into following him down the stairs. You snag your phone off its charging pad on the way out and nearly fumble the tube of Summer Fridays lip balm when you lunge back at the last second for it too.

Downstairs, Mat grabs his keys out of the little bowl on the hall table and you shove your feet into a battered pair of Ugg Tasmans, going for maximum comfort. Mat pulls on a pair of Nikes and you follow him out the door, sighing when you see how dark it still is.

“Can I guarantee at least two orgasms for myself?” You ask, climbing into the passenger seat of Mat’s Defender. “It’s criminally early.”

You look over your shoulder and see that Mat’s already pushed down the second row of seats and the car is full of pillows and blankets to nest in while you watch the sunrise. A delighted smile curls your lips and Mat laughs at you when he gets behind the wheel.

“You literally begged me to take you to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. He plays with the radio, finding your preset Taylor Swift Sirius station and you smile happily, kicking off your Uggs and pulling your feet up onto the seat.

“I forget it’s so early in the summer,” you laugh lightly, humming along to ‘Paper Rings.’ You reach your arm out and rest your hand on the nape of Mat’s neck, scratching your nails lightly into his hair, letting the silky strands curl around your fingers. He hasn’t cut it yet and you begged him to let it grow a little longer during the summer, just until Ethan’s wedding in July. Luckily for you, Mat agreed, mostly because he loves when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull when he’s going down on you. Now, Mat’s shoulders drop and you can feel his body relax under your touch. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Robert Moses,” Mat replies, merging onto the Meadowbrook. Despite the early hour, a car nearly sideswipes you as you merge in and Mat lays on the horn, shouting through the closed window. You wince, fingers freezing in place on Mat’s neck.

“I hate the Meadowbrook,” you mutter. “Meanwhile, where was he going? It’s literally five in the morning.”

“It’s also Monday,” Mat reminds you, grinning when you resume scratching at his scalp. “People are going to work.”

You hum a little laugh, “right, the employed, upstanding citizens making the rest of us bums look bad.” The parkway opens up now though, the road clear in front of you and you zone out a bit while staring at the sky as it lightens. The music changes and you mumble-sing along, tapping your socked foot against the leather seat. Mat’s fingers alternate between tapping against the steering wheel and clenching it so hard his knuckles go white. You turn your head to look at him, studying the line of his jaw and the stubble that he’s letting grow in for a few days before he’ll decide to shave again. His hair curls around his ears and you run your fingers through it, brushing your fingertips over the hinge of his jaw.

His lips tilt up in a smile even as his eyes stay on the road. “Enjoying the view?” He teases and you giggle.

“Yeah, actually I am,” you murmur. “Call it sleep deprivation, but I can’t stop staring at you right now.” You angle your body towards Mat’s, still studying his face. “I love you,” you say on a little sigh, never tired of the way his ears go a little pink when you say those three words.

“Fuck yeah, same,” he replies, smirking a bit before laughing at the inside joke. You wrinkle your nose at him, thinking about that first confession - both of you drunk out of your minds, Mat holding you up while you danced on the beach, half of his teammates partying around you in the late July warmth. Influenced by High Noons and beers mixed with too much tequila, your hangover the next day had only been worsened when you remembered the way you slurred the three words into his ear and his response, three different words. But tangled together on the oversized couch in Matt and Sydney’s Hamptons home, with the sunlight nearly blinding you and the sounds of the waves breaking, Mat had pulled you close to his chest and buried his face in your hair and mumbled, “for the record, I love you too.”

From there it had been a wild year, so much fun and excitement, mingled with the heartbreak of missing the playoffs and the month-long break you’d taken after a blowup fight.

Before you can linger too much on the past, Mat pulls off the Meadowbrook and navigates the traffic circle to merge onto Ocean Parkway. You roll down the window to get the ocean breeze into the car, inhaling deeply. “God, I love the smell of the ocean,” you sigh, wiggling happily in your seat. “I miss the days they would prescribe going to the shore for your health.”

Mat’s laugh fills the car, “you already spend more time at the beach than any other person I know! Who takes four mile walks on the sand in the middle of January?”

“I’m a summer baby, Mathew,” you sniff haughtily, tugging gently on the piece of hair twirled around your fingers. “I need my designated beach time to thrive.”

“You’re crazy, that’s what you are,” Mat says, but his tone is laced with affection. “Hopefully this morning fills the quota for when we’re up in Vancouver.”

“We’ll see,” you laugh, the car bouncing slightly as Mat takes the turn off the road and navigates the Defender into the sand. The sky is lightening slowly and you’re still ten minutes away from actual sunrise, so it’s perfect timing. He situates the car so the front is facing west and turns it off, turning to grin at you.

“Ready for a show?” He asks, tossing the keys into the cup holder and reaching up to lace his fingers with yours.

You nod, wide awake now and excited to cross something off your summer bucket list. “Let’s get cozy,” you lean over the console and press your lips to his in a quick kiss before shifting onto your knees and climbing over the console into the back of the car, head first and nearly kicking Mat in the head with a stray foot. He’s laughing behind you, tugging at your ankles.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to get out of the car?” He’s opening his door, half out onto the sand as he talks.

You’re perched happily in the pile of blankets when May pulls open the hatch, exposing the full view of the beach and eastern horizon. He’s backlit by the rising sun and you reach for him, wiggling your fingers to encourage him to climb into the expanded backseat with you. “My way was more fun,” you chirp when he climbs in, kicking his sneakers off and leaving them in the sand.

“Crazy,” he mutters, scooting you to the side so he can wedge in behind you. His elbow bangs against something and makes a sort of thunking noise.

“What’s that?” You settle in between Mat’s legs, resting your back against his chest.

He leans a little to the side and tugs at one of the blankets, exposing the Yeti cooler that usually lives in your garage while it waits for summertime. “Breakfast,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ohhh,” you grin, angling your head back so you can see Mat’s face, “you’re really gunning for boyfriend of the year, huh?”

“How’re my odds looking?” Mat flips open the lid of the cooler and pulls out a snack sized bottle of Tropicana, holding the bottle in front of you while he cracks the top. You take it from him with a quiet, ‘thanks’ and sip at it. His thighs are firm against the outside of yours, warmth radiating off his body.

“Holding onto a solid second place,” you tease, knocking your knee against his.

Mat cracks open his own bottle of orange juice and knocks back half off it before replying, “second? Jesus, what’s my competition like?”

You shift a little, angling so your shoulder is slightly pressed against his chest and Mat’s left arm is draped over your shoulder, one big hand inching closer to cupping your breast. “Well,” you hum, tapping the lid of your orange juice against your lower lip, “Andrew Price did save the last cherry BlowPop for me back in first grade. I thought that was very gentlemanly.”

“You’re a menace,” Mat grumbles against the top of your head, flicking at the side of your breast with his index finger. You jolt and giggle, bringing your hand up to play with his fingers.

“Yeah, and?” Mat’s foot hooks over yours and you lean to the side, resting your elbow against one of the pillows piled around your bodies. “You planned all this, so you must love me.”

“Against my better judgement,” Mat teases. You look up at him again, pouting and wrinkling your nose, making him smile and lean down to plant a quick kiss on your pout. Humming happily, you rest your cheek against his arm and go quiet, watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon, coloring the sky in gorgeous pastels. Mat’s chin rests on the top of your head and his other arm comes around to wrap around your stomach, keeping you held tightly against his chest.

The waves crash against the sand and you zone out a little watching them, breathing in the ocean air and feeling your entire body relax. Your stomach grumbles quietly, a little vibration that you hope Mat can’t hear. He chuckles and you roll your eyes. “You can move up the boyfriend rankings if you’ve got a cherry BlowPop in that cooler,” you murmur.

Mat shifts behind you, unwrapping his arm from a round your stomach and leaning to the side, taking your body with him. “Even better,” he says, the crinkling of a bag echoing in the small space. You look over just as he withdraws the cream and gold pastry bag from one of your favorite bakeries. “Almond croissant from French Workshop,” he continues, displaying the bag in front of your face with a flourish.

“Ooh!” You perk up, leaning forward to pluck the bag from Mat’s hand. You can smell the buttery pastry and your stomach grumbles again. “Okay, you’re officially in the number one boyfriend spot. I don’t think there’s anything better than almond croissants at sunrise on the beach.”

Mat pulls a second bag from the cooler and you sniff out the scent of Nutella, which only widens your grin. Mat doesn’t have too much of a sweet tooth, except when it comes to Nutella. You’re constantly buying the little snack packs for him to get a quick energy hit.

“Nothing at all?” Mat teases you while you shift in his lap, turning so your back is resting against the side of the car and your legs are draped over his thigh. He takes a bite of his croissant, flaky crumbs landing on your leggings before he brushes them off with a casual hand.

Around a bite of your own treat, you hum. “Nothing I can think of,” you retort cheekily after swallowing.

You shriek and wriggle around when Mat’s fingers tickle your side, your stomach hurting as you laugh loudly and wildly. Mat’s body is on top of yours, nearly flat against the floor of the trunk, croissant crumbs all around you. “Mat, no! Stooop,” you whine, laughing and trying to fight off the onslaught.

“Take it back,” he laughs, peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses. “Say I’m better than breakfast pastries.” He nips at the edge of your jaw.

You hook your legs around Mat’s waist and bump your hips up against his, trying to distract him but all it does is make you hotter for him, heat flushing up your chest. Mat grins against your neck, fingers slowing a little, but still pressing into all the spots that he knows are vulnerable.

“Mercy,” you choke out on a laugh, tugging at Mat’s hair, breathless.

He presses a final kiss to the pulse point on your neck and then his fingers are smoothing over your skin, fingertips gentle as they draw goosebumps in their wake. “I’m taking that as a win,” he informs you, leaning on his forearm so his full weight isn’t on top of you.

You lean up and capture his lower lip between your teeth, biting down a little sharply and tugging. Mat groans into your mouth and you shiver, the noise vibrating down your spine. “Only,” you pull away, your back resting on the floor of the trunk again, “because you play with dirty tactics.”

“Gotta take the wins where I can get them, Squeaks,” he laughs, rolling back onto his side and then sitting up, taking you with him so you’re straddling his lap, the top of your head grazing the roof of the car. You lean down and graze your lips over Mat’s, grinding down a little on his half-hard cock. He grunts in the back of his throat, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

“I’m missing the sunrise,” you chirp, pecking him quickly before wiggling off his lap and settling against his chest again. “You distracted me, back down to number two boyfriend.”

By now, the sun is mostly over the horizon, the sky bright and promising a gorgeous weather day ahead. You pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping an arm around your knees, while you watch the sky change colors. It’s so peaceful and your shoulders relax, the stress of the last few weeks of the regular season and the first round of playoffs dissipating. You’re looking forward to the summer, to getting to spend some real time with Mat. He shifts behind you - you sway to the side a little when he reaches for the cooler again and then back when he adjusts his position, his legs bending at the knee to bracket your body. A breeze off the ocean makes you shiver and press harder against Mat’s body, the hard ridge of his collarbone pressing against the back of your head.

He hums in your ear, breath kissing your cheek when he murmurs, “number two boyfriend, but how about number one fiancé?”

You blink, your brain processing the words, and he reaching around your body to rest his hand on your knee, a black velvet box held loosely in his fingers. You stare at the little box, barely comprehending what’s happening. Mat’s thumb taps carefully against the seam between the two halves of the box, his thumbnail wedged into the spot so he can flick it open at any second.

“What?” The syllable is barely a breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel his cheeks rise with a smile against your temple. “Mat…” your voice is shaky, nervous excitement making your tone higher pitched than usual.

He taps the box against your knee and you immediately move, turning so you’re facing Mat, kneeling in between his legs. He’s got your favorite crooked smile on his face and when his features go a little blurry, you realize you’ve got tears in your eyes.

When he starts talking, Mat’s voice is a little wobbly too. He clears his throat twice before he manages to say, “you know I, uh, usually have a lot to say.”

A laugh slips out of your mouth and you cover your lips with a trembling hand. He grins at you even wider, showing off all his teeth.

“But,” he continues, fingers fidgeting with the box, “I thought about what I wanted to say, what I wanted to tell you, and I… couldn’t think of anything.”

Your heart pounds behind your ribs, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“There was just too much I wanted to tell you,” he says, leaning up on his knees so you’re both kneeling in the trunk of the car. His hair rubs against the roof of the car and gets a little staticky, sticking up in all directions. “Every single time I tried to come up with a speech, all I could get down was how much I fucking love you. Every single day that you’ve been in my life, you’ve made it better. Even on my worst days, you’re the bright spot.”

“Mat,” you gasp his name softly, mouth still covered by your hands. “Oh my god!”

“I want to have a million more days with you,” he says softly, leaning forward and popping the lid open on the ring box. You were so focused on what he was saying, you barely realized that he hadn’t even shown you the ring. It’s gorgeous, a big oval diamond sparkling in the early morning light filtering in through the windows and open trunk. No smaller diamonds surrounding it on the band so the focus is just on how perfect the diamond is. You cry harder because it’s perfect, simple and stunning and everything that you’ve ever wanted in an engagement ring.

Mat cups your cheek with his free hand and you look up at him, nodding and laughing and babbling an answer to a question he technically hasn’t even asked yet.

Off of his own laughter, because he realizes that you’re giving him the answer he was expecting, Mat asks, “will you marry me? Give me all the best days and -“

He’s cut off when you shout a ‘yes!’ and throw yourself against his chest, arms around his neck and mouth covering his in fervent, excited kisses. In between peppering his face in kisses, you keep repeating “yes, yes, oh my god! Mat! I love you so much.”

Mat’s arms are tight around your back, keeping you held close to his chest, and he laughs against your mouth, entire face scrunched up with happiness while you kiss him. “Want your ring?” He mumbles the question, words muffled by your mouth on his.

You lean back in his arms, eyes wide and still glassy with tears, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please!” You hold out your left hand and Mat slides the ring home - a perfect fit. The sunlight glitters off the diamond as you twist your hand in the air, a stupid grin on your face. “Mat, god, it’s gorgeous. Holy shit, I love you.”

His laughter fills the air and he presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Aren’t you glad I woke you up this morning?” He teases, bracing an arm around your lower back so he can sit back on his ass and you can straddle his lap. No chance you’re letting go of him just yet.

“Oh yeah,” you nod like a bobble head, still looking at the ring on your finger. It’s surreal, you’re engaged to Mat, you’re going to be his wife! He’s going to be your husband! “Best reason for an early morning wake up.” A wild giggle bubbles up in your chest. “I can’t believe it, we’re engaged!”

You cup his cheeks with both of your hands and pull his face to yours for a kiss, your lips turned up in a permanent grin. Mat rests his forehead against yours when you break apart, your hands still holding his face.

“One more surprise,” he tells you.

“There’s a bottle of champagne in that cooler?” You joke, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Okay,” Mat chuckles, “two more surprises.”

“Lay it on me, you big romantic,” you wiggle happily on his lap, the fizzy excitement of Mat’s proposal making you feel a little lightheaded.

Mat’s hands trace a lazy path up and down your sides, slipping under your sweater and ghosting over your warm skin until his fingertips are brushing the undersides of your breasts, making you inhale sharply and arch into his touch. “Y’know how we’re going to visit my parents in a few days?” He asks, turning his head so he can kiss your palm.

It’s hard to concentrate with his hands on your body, but you manage a faint nod.

“We’re taking a little detour to Punta Cana first,” Mat says, punctuating his words with a kiss to your lips. “I wanted to make sure I got to see my gorgeous fiancée in a skimpy little white bikini as soon as possible after proposing.”

“Oh, do you?” You giggle, kissing his cheek. “When do we leave?”

Mat lifts his left wrist up so he can look at his watch. He squints at the face and you can see him doing the mental math before he says, “like thirteen hours?”

“Seriously?” You lean back, face scrunched up, shocked at the quick departure. “You must’ve been really convinced that I was going to say yes,” you tease.

“I know that you’re nuts for me,” Mat smirks, leaning forward to kiss the argument right out of your mouth, his fingers expertly twisting over your nipple and making you melt in his lap, pliant and horny. He licks into your mouth and you lean closer against his chest, pressing Mat back against the back of the passenger seat, the heat of his cock pressing against your core while you rock over his lap.

While you’re making out like horny teenagers, Mat’s phone vibrates incessantly in the cup holder in the center console. Mat laughs into your mouth and breaks away with a gasp, “that’ll be everyone waiting to see what you said.”

Licking at your swollen, chapped lips, you reach around Mat and grab his phone, the screen lit up with dozens of messages. “Did you tell everyone that you were proposing?” You ask, scanning the messages from the guys and spotting a few from Sydney too.

“Uh, yeah?” Mat plucks his phone from your hands. “I needed Syd and Holly to pack your bag for you and I liked the positive encouragement. You would not believe how many wife guys are in that locker room.”

“I believe it,” you assure him, beaming and holding your left hand up by your face when he turns the camera on you. “Selfie time, Mr. Barzal.”

You smush your cheek right next to his, matching cheesy grins on your faces when Mat snaps the picture, sending it off to the group chat. You tuck your face into Mat’s neck, breathing quietly and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Hey,” you murmur against his skin, getting his attention, “I’m really excited to be your wife.”

Mat’s chin knocks gently against your forehead. “I’m really excited to be your husband,” he replies, hugging you to his chest. “Ready to start FaceTiming everyone?”

“Hmm,” you hum, brushing your nose against Mat’s neck, “can it just be us for a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, it can,” Mat agrees, tossing his phone back into the driver’s seat and tangling his legs with yours. He plays with the ring on your finger, running his thumb over the band. The diamond catches the sunlight and you watch it sparkle, casting rainbows on the roof of the car.

The waves keep crashing and now there are some seagulls making noise outside too.

Mat’s heart beats steadily at your back and it’s the perfect way to start the next chapter in your lives.

[aclowndoll]

Neytiri’s Fatal Flaw and Her Future Arc.

I was watching the deleted/original cut of the scene with Neytiri holding Spider hostage which — first off, incredible scene by the way like holy shit — but it made me think about how perfectly it served for Neytiri’s character.

Someone might’ve already talked about this already, but what I don’t think a lot of people realize is that this scene serves as the payoff for earlier Neytiri-related scenes as well as a starting point for her arc going forward.

If you haven’t watched the scene, here, it’s a far more impactful version of an already hard hitting scene and I’m going to treat it as what “really” happened in the story for the sake of analysis.

The first moment I’m focusing on is this one where Neytiri goes to pick up her bow after killing a few RDA grunts, only to find that the bow is now broken and unusable.

There’s a running theme in these two movies that I’ve seen people point out and that’s how Neytiri keeps losing things that are precious to her, whether they be people, places, or objects.

In the first movie, she loses a lot including but not limited to the Hometree, the Tree of Voices, her older sister, Tsu’tey, her Ikran, and her father. When her father dies, he grants her the Ceremonial Bow and that’s what she ends up using to fight in all subsequent battles.

In the second movie, she thankfully doesn’t lose as much, but she’s still forced to leave her home and her first born son is killed in the heat of battle, rough times all around.

You’ll note that I didn’t include losing her precious bow on the list of things she lost and that’s because she didn’t lose the bow, she broke it.

All the other losses I’ve described are caused by the RDA, but this one isn’t. Instead of her bow being broken by another grunt in the heat of the battle, she’s the one who breaks it by swinging it haphazardly at her enemies.

I may not know all that much about archery or making weapons, but I’m almost certain that bows aren’t designed to be used like that, which is why her bow broke the way that it did.

And it cannot be understated how important this bow must be to Neytiri. I mentioned before that it was given to her by her late father, making it an important connection to her family already, but it’s also made from the wood of Hometree. So not only is it a connection to her family, it’s a connection to her people and the home that was stolen from them.

All that and she still broke it, not because she didn’t cherish the bow, but because she just couldn’t control her anger enough to handle it properly.

And that’s what I feel Neytiri’s fatal flaw is, as well as what her arc will be primarily focusing on in the upcoming movies — Neytiri’s anger and hatred leads to blind rage, and she becomes liable to hurt those she cares about.

For the record, I am not making the claim that Neytiri’s flaw is that she gets angry. Being outraged by death and destruction, hating those who bring about injustice, these aren’t flaws and aren’t things she should be vilified for. What is a flaw is how she uses her anger, or rather how it uses her.

Jake spells it out pretty cleanly in a scene that happened a while ago. When Tonowari told Jake and Neytiri about the destruction the RDA was causing to the nearby villages, they immediately connect it back to Quaritch. Neytiri describes how they have to finish off Quaritch — “we have to hunt this demon, trap him, kill him” — and this is what Jake says in response to that idea:

“We gotta be smart…”

He’s not dismissing the idea of doing something, he’s just cautioning her on how they go about doing it. That’s the crux of Neytiri’s most prevalent flaw, it isn’t her becoming angered at the injustice she and her people face, it’s her not being smart about how she acts on it.

The last two moments I’d like to draw attention to are the one where one of Quartich’s lackey calls Neytiri a “wild animal” and the one where she actually acts like one.

For the record, Lyle and Quaritch are in the wrong for likening Neytiri to an animal and dehumanizing her in the process, especially when the reason they insulted her was because she was acting violent in the video where she was protecting her husband. However, it’s undeniable that during the fight on the Sea Dragon, Neytiri is the most violent and rage filled we’ve ever seen her.

It’s particularly noticeable right before she realizes she broke her bow, which is definitely not a coincidence I’ll tell you that much.

She screams in the guys face and stabs him over and over and over again, after which she gets up and starts growling, searching for anything else that moves. It’s not a stretch to say that, in this moment, she’s acting almost like a bloodthirsty animal hungry for vengeance, not too dissimilar from the wild animal the recoms painted her as.

And all of this, her accidentally breaking her father’s bow, being asked to be smart about it all, acting like a wild animal, it all comes to a head in the moment where she uses Spider’s life as leverage to save Kiri’s. It starts off good when she makes Quaritch let Kiri go, but when Kiri is freed from Quaritch’s grasp and she can turn her attention to the man himself…

…she puts the blade back against Spider’s neck and utters those infamous lines:

“A son for a son.”

I’ve seen a lot of people comment on how “powerful” of a scene this is, and while I agree that it’s a powerful storytelling moment and extremely important to Neytiri’s character, I think a lot of people miss the fact that this isn’t an admirable moment of a mother’s rage, but a scary and dark moment where Neytiri is about to fall to Quaritch’s lows.

Because if Neytiri had actually gone through with this decision, then she would’ve done the same thing to her family that she did with her bow — destroy it. What’s important to note about Neytiri’s hatred towards Spider is that; while it’s understandable considering all the trauma she went through at the hands of his father and the RDA, she’s the only one in her family that feels this way towards him.

For one thing, Spider is both Lo’ak and Kiri’s best friend and they know how much Spider hates being Quaritch’s son, there’s no way that they’d just accept Neytiri after she killed their best friend. We don’t get much development on Spider’s relationship with Tuk or Neteyam, but we see Spider protect Tuk, tease Neteyam, and cry during Neteyam’s death, so they must be friends on some level.

And finally Jake. Admittedly, Jake is pretty lukewarm towards Spider throughout the entire movie, but I’d argue that’s him keeping a respectful distance because of him wanting to side with his wife and not any malice Jake genuinely holds towards Spider himself. We even see him checking over Spider at the end of the movie like he does with Lo’ak and Neteyam.

As much as Jake unconditionally loves Neytiri, I cannot see a world where he’s able to look at her the same way if she killed an innocent child.

And I do mean innocent, because at this point in time Spider’s only “crimes” are being human(not his choice) and being Quaritch’s son(also not his choice). Even if Neytiri’s feelings towards him are understandable and valid, her actions at this point are not justifiable and Jake knows it.

That’s not even mentioning how she hisses at Kiri during this scene, she’s not acting with her family’s best interest in mind, she’s acting on pure rage.

If she had gone through with it and killed Spider, Kiri and Lo’ak would hate her, Tuk wouldn’t be able to look at her the same way again, and Jake probably would’ve left her. She truly did come a hair’s width away from destroying something precious to her once again.

Now let’s talk about Spider for a minute because he’s crucial to all of this, as Neytiri’s hatred for humans extends to her hatred of him.

We already know that, to the Na’vi, “I see you” is considered a respectful greeting, but it’s also a show of great understanding between two people; it’s why Jake’s two pivotal emotional moments at the end of the movies are him telling a loved one “I see you,” it’s because he’s come to understand them as a person beyond what he initially thought.

In contrast, Neytiri does not see Spider, her eyes are shut. Instead of seeing Spider as a person, all she sees is just another human who ought to be with his own kind, a demon. And this is honestly fine, Neytiri isn’t Spider’s mother or caretaker so she’s not obligated to try and understand him as anything deeper than her enemies child and her own children’s best friend.

However, because Neytiri refuses to see Spider as anything other than another human, she lets this hatred for him and his heritage fester until she feels comfortable to threaten his life and see him as a means to an end. And that, no matter how much one may argue it’s understandable from her perspective, leads to dire consequences.

Namely, Spider’s choice to save Quaritch.

Now, before anyone yells at me let me clarify — I am not saying that Neytiri is responsible for Spider’s choice, nor is she responsible for any harm Quaritch will cause in the upcoming movies. However, it’s undeniable that her actions influenced Spider’s decision, whether directly or indirectly.

When Neytiri threatened Spider’s life, Quaritch initially plays off the fact that he’s technically not his son, citing that they aren’t even the same species. But when Neytiri pushes even further, he breaks and shows that he does actually care about Spider, willing to let go of his hostage in order to protect him.

This is big for Spider as his only major desire is to have a family, specifically a parental figure who genuinely cared about him as he is. I’d even go as far as to say that this moment probably proved to Spider that Quaritch cares about him as more than just a mean’s to an end. He’d already helped Quaritch bond with an Ikran and find the Sully family(against his will), he had nothing else to offer but Quaritch still wanted him alive.

This, along with the months they spent together, are what pushed Spider to make his decision at the end of the movie, a decision he was explicitly conflicted about.

And this came about from Neytiri’s decision. I know a lot of people would argue that Neytiri had to do this because it was the only way to save her daughter, and I’ll agree that there weren’t many options for her. But this wasn’t a tactical move she was making, she wasn’t bluffing or putting on a show to force Quaritch’s hand, she was explicitly going to kill Spider just to make Quaritch hurt in the same way she was hurting.

Also, if we want to nitpick we could also say that the months Quaritch and Spider spent together also came about as a result of her actions. When they’re running away from the Recoms, Spider is the only one who falls to the ground and Neytiri doesn’t even think to try and go get him.

“B-But there’s no way Neytiri would’ve been able to save him and get away! She has her own children to worry about!” I hear you typing in the notes of this post, and to that I say you’ve got a point.

However, the fact that Neytiri doesn’t even consider going down to rescue him, doesn’t look over the branch and hesitate before making the difficult decision to prioritize Kiri and feel bad about it later shows that her reasoning is solidly NOT rooted in him being one of her kids or not.

She doesn’t even try, and because of that Quaritch and Spider end up forming the basis for a solid bond.

TLDR; Neytiri’s fatal flaw is that she allows her anger and hatred to cloud her better judgment and control her, leading to a destructive attitude that can ultimately hurt the people she loves and make things worse for her.

Now, what does this have to do with her arc going forward?

At this point, I’m pretty sure everyone has heard at least a little bit about the next movie, Avatar Fire and Ash. I’ve seen people theorizing that the fire tribe will be joining forces with the RDA, that they don’t believe in Eywa, and that Neytiri will have to infiltrate the tribe in order to rescue her children.

I’m not certain whether any of this is true, but what I am certain of is that — if these concept arts hold water by the time the movie is released — then the fire tribe we’ll be encountering in the third movie is going to be an extremely violent community, likely one that puts emphasis on anger and hatred.

And if the rumors are true and Neytiri really is going to be infiltrating them, then Neytiri’s flaws might be able to inform what narrative role the Ash People and Varaang in particular will have in the third movie.

I’ve already explained how in depth how her flaw is how she allows her anger to take control of her and close her vision; she’s volatile like lava and burns hot like fire, becoming liable to burn everything and everyone around her.

From that perspective, she seems more suited to be a fire Na’vi rather than a forest or reef one, no? The choice to take us to a volcanic, fire steeped region isn’t just James Cameron checking off the boxes like “oh we did forest and water, fire next!” its him taking us to a we might find uncomfortably befitting of our worst traits.

And that’s basically what I think Neytiri will have to face upon encountering the Ash People — they are the embodiment of all her flaws put on display.

Varaang specifically may work as her narrative foil, a literal funhouse version of her at her worst(from my perspective the concept art of Varaang actually looks a lot like Neytiri, so that’s interesting).

I also think it’s important to note that Neytiri is absolutely going to find out that Spider saved Quaritch in the third movie, or at least it’s incredibly likely if the Ash People really will be working with Quaritch. That means that her hatred for him and her need for revenge will come back into play, this isn’t over.

But this time things will be different, because in between Neytiri learning of Spider’s betrayal she will also get especially close to the Ash People and find that she is uncomfortably similar to them at her worst. Before she does something she might regret, Neytiri will be forced to ask herself some important questions:

Is revenge really worth it? Is this the kind of person she wants to be? If Jake wasn’t there that night, would she have the blood of a child on her hands? Will she hurt other people she loves because of her anger?

These questions are ones she likely never wanted to ask herself, but they’re necessary because she’s starting right in the face of people who didn’t.

Hopefully, she finds that the answer is no.

[beannoss]

Do you ever think about how Endo said something like, "Fans think Twilight is kind, but I think he's actually matter of fact" and like... the profound philosophy of that?

Let's take it as writ: Twilight isn't kind, he is matter of fact.

And yet, that matter-of-factness manifests in ways that are, almost unerringly, kind. He values consent, he values empowerment for those around him (with some limits, if they impinge on his mission), he privately espouses and practices other values that align with progressive ideologies, like feminism and the rights of the child. Obviously he's 100% antifa and anti-war. One could argue (and perhaps this is what Endo means) that Twilight makes those decisions because they often result in the path of least resistance, making his job easier. And okay, maybe. Except that we're given to understand that the usual company Twilight keeps whilst on missions are the worst of the worst of people; and we've also seen that decisions along the lines of his values, when done publicly, can actually harm his missions (thinking, for instance, of the Eden interview; Henderson intervened on the Forger's behalf, of course, but that was essentially dumb luck). I think it's also true that we're meant to infer that before Strix, he'd started to become cynical or hardened (I often think of his initial reaction to seeing the old woman robbed, that his knee-jerk response is "She should have been more careful" and only when Yor directs her outrage in the right direction does his perspective shift/his compass correct). Even taking that as it is, his values quickly flow to the surface, so they can't have been that deeply buried, only needing someone to tap the ice to let the water flow. (have i lost the metaphor? nvm, you get me)

He lost everything and for a time he poured that devastating loss into destruction and wrath; watched how that did nothing but create more loss and more destruction and more wrath, and instead turned the devastating loss into what is, arguably, a profound act of love. It's complicated, of course, his turn to spying and the sacrifices he made and makes, and the motivations he has and the motivations he tells himself. But also, foundationally, to dedicate oneself to the betterment of society, in this case the eradication of war, because one wants to stop the suffering, is an act of love.

So circling back to Endo. We take as writ that Twilight is not kind; he is matter-of-fact. Taking who he is on the whole, the values he practices and those he prizes, the actions he takes and how they can be perceived, and one must conclude that to be matter-of-fact by Endo's metric is to act in ways which are perceivable as kind, compassionate, progressive and loving.

And I don't want to get too far down the track of how men are often written, particularly men of the archetype from which Twilight (superficially) comes, and certainly the archetype on which Endo is riffing (maybe more accurately, subverting?). But it is true that such a leading man is rare; to conceptualise their interiority in such a way is vanishingly rare. And I think it goes a long way, actually, to explain the tone of SpyxFamily overall.

No idea if this makes any sense but it's been eating my brain for weeks and I just had to get it out!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo for Think Big Picture:

We’re all still grieving the electoral loss and feeling queasy about the prospect of Trump returning to the White House in January. But in response to the giddy pronouncements from the GOP and the Trump campaign, some have already begun to think about an effective political resistance to Trump and Trumpism. 

Democrats need to make these plans knowing full well that Trump will be backed by a sycophantic GOP Congress and blank check-writing SCOTUS. And this time around, there won’t be any adults in the room, including White House counsel who during his first term would quietly shelve Trump’s most outrageous requests, or chiefs of staff like John Kelly who would struggle to moderate, educate and soften his most extreme positions. No, this time around Trump will be surrounded by people even further to the right of him. They will seek to implement the most dangerous and destructive of policies, many drawn from the Project 2025 blueprint. And they will encourage Trump to issue Executive Orders that could reshape American democracy, insert our armed forces deeply into civil affairs, hurtle our economy into an abyss, and upend the lives of millions of minorities.

This is a thought piece, an early stab (and work in progress) about how Democrats (and the lawyers who are aligned with them) can ready themselves to resist Trump. We’re in very new territory here, but the ideas are based on what we’ve learned about Trump from both his first term and the four years he’s been more or less idle when he wasn’t sitting in courtrooms or stumping on the campaign trail. They play into both his ego and the worst aspects of his character and leadership style. I hope you find this early exploration a good starting point for how the next four years could go if Democrats play their cards smartly, even if the strategy seems highly unorthodox. Note that I won’t be discussing what average citizens might consider doing. This, for now, is the beginning of a political and legal strategy. Others involved in grassroots organizing may have ideas for direct resistance by citizens, but that is for another discussion.

[...]

Hit ‘em with lawfare

One of the most effective weapons against Trump’s policies during his first term was the slew of lawsuits that his executive orders met when they were first announced. Remember the Muslim ban? That bounced up and down the courts for years before it could finally go into effect in a watered-down form. 

Lawyers from every non-profit walk of life should be readying civil complaints today, just as people like Russ Vought are already preparing horrific executive orders for Trump to sign. The minute Trump announces his Day One policy to deport millions of undocumented migrants, for example, lawyers everywhere should file suit. It shouldn’t just be one suit; it should be several. Tie up the White House lawyers and the Trump Justice Department with as many cognizable claims as they can think of. More than the sheer number, they should file these cases before judges in jurisdictions where the appellate courts will be more friendly, such as in the Ninth Circuit. This is the inverse of what MAGA and Christian Nationalist legal counsel have been doing now for years by picking a single court near Amarillo, Texas to ensure their cases are heard before radical judge Matthew Kacsmaryk.

Once those cases are filed, judges (and their clerks) should slow-walk them. Act like the nun in The Sound Of Music, opening the gate as slowly as she can so the Nazis are delayed. Then, after issuing temporary restraining orders, set the hearings out as far as possible. Have the lawyers demand extensions. File motions that could receive interlocutory appeals, to further gum things up. In short, drag things out as long as possible to prevent his policies from going into effect. Governors in blue border states could also get involved. California and Arizona both have Democratic governors, after all. And they also have Democratic state attorneys general. These states could move to intervene in suits or file them on their own, just as the red states have done to block Biden’s policies like student debt relief. Sure, this will eventually get up to the Supreme Court and get overturned, but the point is delay. Run out the clock, run out the clock, run out the clock. Trump only gets four years, two before the midterms. [...]

These are but a few broad-stroke ideas, but it’s time everyone who will be part of the resistance start thinking about how they can play a vital part in pushing back. Some of these tactics are admittedly unorthodox, others quite petty. Still others are variations on what has worked well before. Together, they could bog down or distract Trump and the White House just long enough for the midterms to give Democrats a chance to regain control of one or both chambers and really turn up the heat.

It may make many quite uncomfortable to consider deploying these kinds of strategies. They make Democrats into obstructionists, even political saboteurs, much as the GOP has been for the few cycles when Democrats have been in charge.  But here there is a difference, though it’s one MAGA Republicans will never acknowledge: When actual fascists have taken control of the government and are trying to destroy democracy, patriotic opponents must use every peaceful means at their disposal to prevent them. Indeed, it is a moral imperative, because millions of lives are on the line. We cannot act as if the world has not changed, and Democrats must grow far more accustomed to acting outside the box and getting creative in their approaches.

It’s time for Democrats to play rough by delaying and gumming up Donald Trump’s tyrannical proposals to run the clock down.

[actuallysaiyan]

Waiting For The Miracle(Villain!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

I dreamed about you, baby It was just the other night

Let's see if we're that strong Yeah let's do something crazy, Something absolutely wrong

warnings: Dark themes, murder, violence, abuse, blood, smut, unprotected sex, weapons, swearing, choking, rough sex, Yandere themes pairings: Villain!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader word count: 3.5k summary: Nanami Kento has a rage that builds deep inside of him for years. The minute he finds out that you are the victim of abuse, he snaps...and what ensues is the madness that you both descend into. taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @an-ever-angry-bi @benkeibear @namikyento @adharadotcom @anonimusunnoaniswriting @erebus-et-eigengrau

I cannot stress this enough, this is a VERY VERY VERY VERY dark piece of writing. I do not condone these actions, but I just want everyone to know that this isn't for the faint of heart. If you cannot deal with any of the warnings mentioned above, please you should skip this. Heavily inspired by the film Natural Born Killers.

Nanami was outraged. He’s been holding these feelings deep inside of himself for years. They threatened to spill over so many times, but he was so good at keeping himself in check. So many times he clenched his fist and bit his tongue. Losing his best friend and watching his upperclassman defect, it made the fire deep in the pit of his belly become even more heated.

Kento took lots of comfort in knowing he always had you. You, the bright eyed smiling girl of his dreams. You worked hard to become a sorcerer that was at his own level. Both of you became Grade One sorcerers in no time. But what Kento never knew was that you were hiding your own secret. He had no idea that you harbored just as much pain as he did. Maybe you harbored even more pain than him.

For years, you endured the abuse of your family. The minute they found out that you could see curses and that you weren’t just mentally ill, they found it so repulsive to keep you around. During the summer vacation, you always wished you could go somewhere else but home. They tried to hide you like some dirty secret, but you always found solace in coming to school.

Meeting Kento and Haibara has been your saving grace. Having two best friends who would do absolutely anything for you made you feel like a normal person. It’s why you hid your secret from them for years. Neither of them had any idea that your family was treating you like some sort of pariah.

After the loss of your sweet friend Yu Haibara, something broke deep inside of Nanami. You watched him shift from calm and collected to sullen and deep inside himself. Then both of you felt so helpless losing Suguru as well. You, Satoru and Kento tried to pick up the pieces, but it all just seemed to be too hard. Gojo became too strong for any of you to match him, and Kento grew increasingly angry at the world.

It started with one mission gone wrong. Kento found himself in a conundrum where he could save someone at the cost of losing the curse. The curse taunted him one too many times, and so he allowed the victim to be hurt to be able to exorcize the curse. 

The blood that splattered from the victim ended up on Kento’s face. He shuddered at the way it suddenly excited him. His eyes rolled back and he smeared that blood. The victim watched in horror before their life was snuffed out. He used his Ratio technique, hitting them right in their weakest point.

From that moment on, Kento finds himself growing addicted to the spilled blood. He knows it’s wrong to allow innocent people to die, but he also knows he can’t stop the anger that fuels him. He’s gone too far down this path, and he doesn’t think he could ever deviate from it.

So the moment he found out that your family had been abusing you, Kento grew even more angry. It was like his whole body was crying out to end this madness. You were his everything. The apple of his eye. His sweet angel. He knew he’d kill for you if he had to. And he would stop at nothing to keep you safe…

It’s late one night when he knocks on the door of your family home. You open it to see him, and you swear you’ve never seen this look in his eyes. It’s pure rage that you can see. It excites you in a way that is confounding and eerily comforting. 

“Are you home alone?” he asks, his fists shaking from being clenched so hard. 

“N-no.” You reply in a quiet voice. 

You know that you shouldn’t let him in, but you feel it in your heart that this could be your way out. As you shut the door behind him, you hear your father calling out from his spot on the couch.You wished that he would just leave you alone for once in your life. 

“Who the fuck is here?”

You shudder and cower when you hear that tone of his voice. Tears sting your eyes, and Kento is quick to notice the way you’re reacting to this. He gently cups your face in his hands and he leans in closer.

“I’m here to deliver you from this pain,”

His words make your heart skip a beat. Your eyes widen and you try to understand just exactly what he means when he says he’s going to deliver you from this pain. What does he plan to do? Your heart races as you watch Nanami pull the carrying case from his back and unsheathes his blunt blade.

“K-Kento, what are you—”

But you’re interrupted by your father coming in to investigate what’s going on. His eyes narrow at the blond standing in front of you. You can tell your father is beyond pissed off at this point. You make no move to intervene.

“I knew it! You really just let any man into this house,” your father spits out. “Who’s this scumbag anyway?”

Kento sneers, “You’re never putting your hands on her ever again.”

Your father is about to laugh in his face, but you watch in surprise as Kento uses his ratio technique on your father. There’s a split second where your father doesn’t quite realize what’s just happened. Then the blood begins to gush from his throat.

You blink and squeal in surprise when some of the blood splatters on your face. With shaking hands, you try to wipe it off your face. Yet all you manage to do is smear it, and just like Kento some time ago, something changes inside of you. You look at the man you love.

“You…you killed him,” you say in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I did it for you. Nothing’s going to take you away from me. Never again,”

Kento wraps his arms around you, ignoring the gurgling noises that your dying father makes. Then you feel Kento’s lips on yours in such a heated kiss. Neither of you know where this passion has come from, but it feels like it’s growing with every second.

“I don’t know why you hid this from me,” Kento says as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I was ashamed. I was scared you wouldn’t see me the same way.”

Kento growls, “You are my one and only, do you understand me?”

You’re about to reply when a blood-curdling scream interrupts you both. Your mother is pointing at you, trying to convince you to move away from Kento. Then her eyes widen in horror as she sees the blood splattered and smeared on your own face. You begin to laugh as she’s piecing it all together.

“Oh sweet mother of mine,” you coo mockingly. “How many times did I ask for your help or for you to lay off me?”

“I-I-I-” she tries to get the words out, but she’s so terrified.

“I-I-I…what? You’re too scared to fucking talk to me now? After all this fucking bullshit?!” You cry out. 

Then you grab Kento’s blunt blade, imbuing it in your own cursed energy. It glimmers with red energy, pulsing and glowing. You spin it around, catching it with a scary precision. 

“Go on, darling. Show her just how strong and powerful you are,” Kento coaxes you, knowing you’ll do what you need to.

Your eyes flare with rage as your mother begins trying to reason with you. She tells you that she never meant to hurt you. She gets down on her knees and begins to beg for forgiveness. You slowly slide the blunt blade down her cheek, making a cut from the imbued cursed energy.

“What kind of mother hurts her own flesh and blood?” you ask her, tears in your eyes. “What kind of mother lets her little baby become the victim of years of abuse?”

Your mother tries to defend herself, but it’s too late. Kento watches you proudly as you slash the blade. Blood pours out of her wound, and she grasps at her neck pathetically.

“You let him hurt me for years. You let my own father— you let him touch me. You let him do anything he wanted, and all you did was watch.” You finally tell her.

You hand Kento his blade back, and he can see it on your face. You never knew that you’d be capable of doing something like this. But after being hurt so deeply by the two people who were supposed to protect you and raise you, your heart had been filled with so much rage.

“You’re free now,” he whispers softly before kissing you.

“We’re free.”

You hold his hand, and he leads you out of the house. You look at your childhood home one last time before Kento lights a match and throws it at the building. It goes up in flames within seconds, making you cheer loudly. 

Then he guides you to the car he managed to acquire. You jump into the passenger side, and Kento gets behind the wheel. He starts it up, winking at you. You never knew you could feel so liberated in your entire life.

With the music cranked up, Kento drives you far far away from all of this…

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

In the hotel room, Kento’s hands are all over you. After a long shower to clean the blood from your skin, you feel new. He kisses you hungrily. His tongue wrestles with yours for dominance, his saliva filling your mouth sweetly. You moan at the taste of your lover. When he pulls away you watch the strings of spit keeping you both connected.

“You’re my angel,” he whispers gruffly. “Nobody will ever take you away from me.”

Your eyes widen, “Nobody will ever take you away from me either.”

His hands pin your wrists above your head. You let out such a cute moan for him as his knee spreads your legs. Kento’s eyes are alight with passion as he leans in to kiss you once more. Your lips meld together with heat and desire. Your whole body shudders as he tightens his grip on your wrists.

“I fuckin’ mean it, angel. Nobody’s taking you away from me,”

Your heart races at the sound of his voice. His words are genuine and true. He’d do anything to keep you safe. One of his hands comes up to your throat, squeezing just a little to have you gasp for him.

“You are all mine,” he growls in your ear. Then he squeezes your throat harder. “I’d rather fucking die than to be on this earth without you.”

You let out a strangled moan as you feel his hand dragging down your naked body. He smirks as he tweaks one of your nipples, then the other. Then he presses a kiss to your breast, his teeth gently biting down on it. 

“Shit!” you cry out, your hands gripping his hair.

Nanami chuckles darkly as he licks the deep bite mark he’s left on your sensitive flesh.His eyes flicker up at you as his large, calloused hands cup your breasts. You let out passionate gasps and whimpers as he begins to suckle on your nipples. His teeth graze them, making you jolt into his touch.

Eventually he gets fed up with waiting. He spreads your thighs wide, spitting onto your already wet cunt. Using two fingers, he smears your arousal and his spit all over your weeping hole. Then he stuffs you full of his fingers, making you buck up.

“That’s it,” he coaxes you. “Think you’re ready for me?”

His cock rests against your mound and he pulls his fingers out of your cunt. You nod eagerly, begging for him. With one fluid movement, Kento bottoms out inside of you. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, slamming into you over and over.

The air from your lungs is forced out, making you gasp and pant from the intense pleasure. You’ve never seen him look at you like this. It’s like he’s trying to bound your souls together. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down with each harsh thrust. 

“Don’t worry about anything,” Kento growls against your ear. “Never going to let anyone touch my fuckin’ angel ever again.”

You cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “I love you so much. I never want to let you go.”

Kento picks up his pace, nibbling at your neck. With every thrust, he tells you about how he’s never letting anyone come near you anymore. You’re always going to be right by his side where you belong.

“You belong to me, and only me…” he pushes his cock deeper inside of you.

The coil inside of you snaps and your orgasm comes crashing down over you. You cry out, your nails digging deep into the muscles of Nanami’s well-toned back.

“Fuck that’s it,” Nanami grunts as his hips go faster. “Good girl, my good girl.”

He grips you even harder, his fingertips surely going to leave bruises into your skin. His eyes are boring into yours, a flame of desire building between the two of you. It’s going to consume you both.

“Nobody’s taking my baby away from me!” Thrust. “All mine, you got it?!” Thrust. “Gonna claim you and keep you safe!” Thrust.

And with the final thrust, his cock is nestled bruisingly against your cervix. Shots of his thick potent cum begin filling your awaiting womb. You let out another sweet cry of love, making Nanami growl loudly.

“Mine!”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The days and weeks that follow are a whirlwind of pain, pleasure and killing. You and Nanami find yourselves unable to contain the bloodlust that seems to have infected the two of you. The rage that built so deep inside both of you has become uncontainable. It grew so fast.

Each and every little village you go to, you find yourselves unable to stop killing. With you seducing the worst types of people, Nanami is right there ready to attack them. Doesn't matter if they are men or women, you two get your fix together.

One night you’re in a small bar together, enjoying each other’s company. To anyone looking at you, nobody would be able to tell you’re the infamous curse users. Nobody knows who you two are. 

The music starts up on the jukebox and your eyes light up with excitement. You get up from your seat, getting closer to the source of the music. 

“This is my favorite song!” You exclaim, losing yourself to the music.

Nanami watches you, his eyes full of nothing but pure love. This soon turns into something else as a few men begin to take notice of you. His eyes are narrow and precise as one of these scumbags approaches you and tries to place his hand on you.

“Hey fuckface! I’m just tryin’ to dance here!” You spit out, pushing him off of you.

“What’s your fucking problem!? Stupid cunt!”

He’s about to hit you, when you slam him into the wall. The man’s eyes are wide as he notices how you are much stronger than you appear. Everyone is looking at the display, but Nanami’s got his eyes locked on just you. He thinks to himself how proud he is that you’re his girl.

“Now, now…let’s settle this calmly, little miss.”

You spit in the man’s face, “I told you, I was just dancing. You’re the one who got fucking handsy with me!”

The man’s eyes widen when he sees you pulling back his fist. Nobody in the bar can see the cursed energy imbued in your fist. The guy tries to reason with you, but it’s much too late when your hand connects with his fist. Everyone screams in horror as the blood comes flying out of the guy’s nose and eyes.

“Holy fuck!” Someone from the crowd exclaims.

Before anyone else can do anything, you watch as your true love pulls the blunt blade from his harness concealed beneath the cream blazer. Everyone watches you both as you begin attacking the people in the bar.

“Think you can just watch as a couple of scumbags try to take advantage of a young woman?” Kento asks the scared patrons. “Is this really what you want to see happen right in front of your eyes? How disgusting!”

One of the men comes over and tries to reason with him, which makes Nanami swing his blade while pairing it with the Ratio technique. You squeal in delight as you watch your lover dispatch these evil people.

Soon it turns into an all-out brawl. The bar was packed with so many people, and here you and Nanami are trying to teach them all a lesson. All you wanted was a night out for fun, but they showed you their ugly side. 

“Don’t even think about touching my pretty little angel,” Nanami sneers as he grabs someone by the back of their neck.

And he holds the person steady for you, causing you to use your cursed energy to set their nerves alight. They foam at the mouth from the intense shock to their system. Their eyes flutter shut, and then you strike them with your fist.

The last person alive is a writer named Genevieve. She pleads for her life, telling you she’s nothing but a lowly writer. You look over at your lover, smirking playfully. Then Kento sheathes his blunt blade back into the holster.

“Take your swing, honey.”

The last thing the writer sees is your fist coming straight for her face…

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The car slows down on an empty bridge. You’ve been driving for a long time. Kento looks at you when he cuts the engine. Then he gets out of the car, coming around to open your door. He takes your hand in his, leading you towards the railing.

“Look at that beautiful river,” Kento whispers in your ear. “The water flows endlessly…just like our love.”

Your pupils are blown wide with love. Kento cups your face gently, kissing you so tenderly. It’s been such a wild ride already, but you’re ready to continue this life with him. You know you’d happily die for him. You’d happily kill for him again and again and again…

“Let’s do this properly, yeah?”

You nod your head. Kento leads you back to the car and you gather up some stuff from your past life. He helps you push it off the side of the bridge. Mementos, pieces of clothing you’d never wear again and even family photos scatter in the water.

“Goodbye bitch,” you say to your former self. “I’m a free woman now!”

You climb onto the railing, raising your arms up and letting out a loud cry. Kento looks at you like you strung the stars in the sky just for him. He places his hand protectively on your back, keeping you steady.

“Let’s get married,” Kento finally announces.

You look back at him, your eyebrow cocked when you finally take in what he’s just said. You laugh wildly.

“Right here? I mean…we got no priest. No officiator. No church…no temple.”

Kento helps you down onto your feet, pulling you into his arms. Your face nuzzles in the crook of your neck as he begins to play with your hair. He then leans in to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and full of desire.

“No need for any of those things. Our church is right here. We are our own officiators. Our own redeemers.”

You look deeply into his eyes, your heart thumping wildly in your ribcage like the wings of a hummingbird. Then you nod, unable to properly form the words just yet as you are overwhelmed with so much happiness.

“Give me your hand,” Nanami asks, and you do as he says.

You watch as he pulls a small buck knife. Then he makes a small incision in his hand. You gasp when you feel the cold metal on your palm next, whining softly from the pain. Then Kento clasps your hands together, holding it out over the flowing river.

“There we go,” he whispers huskily. “Now we’re husband and wife.”

You tear up, “Y-yeah! Yeah we are!”

Kento then uses his other hand to cup your face. He kisses you with all the love he can muster. Then he leans his forehead against yours, keeping your hands together and dripping blood into the river.

“And there we go…flowing in all the rivers and oceans and lakes and seas of the world. We’re everywhere all at once.”

You look into his eyes, then you wrap your arms around him completely, kissing him so sweetly. You never knew that life could be so free. You know that things aren’t going to be the most normal with this relationship, but you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

“I love you forever, Kento.” 

He smiles, “And I love you forever, darling.”

[dadsbongos]

wash me down something cold

1.6k words / warnings - arguing couple, cunnilingus

summary - vi stumbles home after another drunken loss, and you're not very pleased.

Vi isn’t self-critical, she knows.

She should be, at least a little.

And she’s not as fast as she should be, either.

(Purpling knuckles crack her ribs right about now, she grunts and retaliates wildly. An outraged animal biting rabidly, no plan or forethought beneath the barrel of a gun.)

And she still blocks with her face.

(One fist knocks her head right, a second whips it left feeling like her neck was about to rip straight from her collar.)

You’d think after countless alleyway black eyes, and canteen brawls ending with split lips, and Sevika’s big metal claw sending her sprawling unto a cold bar floor, and Jinx’s snappy palm, and the fucking butt of a gun -- Vi would’ve learned better. And you’d be wrong.

Because no matter how many times she’s knocked on her ass, Vi gets back up and always chooses wrong.

Like maybe drinking between fights wasn’t the best idea: her vision’s lopsided, the man in front of her spontaneously doubling and swirling around the ring.

Vi loses in a knockout. Roused only seconds later by four sluggish hands raising her from the dirty floor. She elbows off the good samaritans before stumbling onto both feet, tripping over herself mere seconds later and having to catch against the wall. Dazed, Vi looks up into the previously clogged seats and finds them unusually devoid of life.

She looks back to the two who’d been kind enough to hoist her up: blank faces, she doesn’t know if she’s seen them before but they look at her like she has. Like they’re expecting an apology for the rough treatment.

She doesn’t extend one, instead asking, “Where is she?”

Both shrug, one deciding to cut losses here and let the drunk pitfighter scramble her way home. The other, however, stays and asks in return, “Can you walk home?”

An earnest bend between his brows makes the question less sleazy. He frowns as she moans in pain.

“Do you need help getting home?”

Vehemently, she shakes her head -regretting it milliseconds later when a new incessant pounding is introduced. Like that same punch that sent her out is just driving into the side of her temple over, and over, and over again. It needs ice. Or a stiff drink. Or both.

And maybe a kiss. If she’s lucky.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” he backs off, watching silently as Vi claws her way onto ground level between pausing grunts and aches.

***

“Missed you out there,” is all she says. Bitterly. As if she has any right.

“Missed you all night,” you scoff. Arms folded. Scowling. Ugh, she mentally weeps, there will be no coddling or cooing from you tonight then…

“You knew I was working…” she grumbles, sliding a frozen wad of medical wrap bound in common cloth against the surely discolored lump in her head, “Not everyone can get a gig at Babette’s.”

“Oh, as if you’d even want it,” you roll your eyes, so much disdain it makes her want to suck the venom straight out of your tongue, “You don’t listen to me, how could you listen to the clientele at a brothel?”

“I’m sure it’s easy stuff, baby,” she seethes, sucking her teeth obnoxiously as if to punctuate some joke you’re not in on, “Get on your back, look pretty, be sweet: you’ve got all that down already.”

Vi is perpetually on this edge, and you hate it more than your propriety lets you describe, one step in either direction away from fighting or playing. Somehow completely serious while just teasing. She’s hard and soft, protector and predator, ugly and cute. On nights like these, where she’s one half stronger than the other, you wonder if there’s anything of substance here.

Chemistry is great, but do you two have anything to actually cook with?

Would this have worked out if you were two years younger and her one older? Would this have worked out if you two grew up topside? Would this have worked out if you knew her back in prison?

Suddenly there’s two rough fingertips prodding the middle of your forehead. A single jab before wisping down the apple of your cheek, cradling your jawline and propping your face up to look Vi in the eyes.

“You’re thinking nasty thoughts,” she doesn’t bother wondering aloud how you’re feeling anymore, not when she can read it like black ink.

“Why would you keep buying bottles after I told you it’d ruin the night?”

Vi shrugs and crouches to be the one looking up at you now. Clasping her hands around yours in your lap -ice pack clattering onto the floor, “I don’t know, but whatever you’re thinking is way too malicious for it to be real.”

“It felt like you just wanted to upset me.”

“See?” she tilts her head, “Way too malicious.”

“But that’s how it feels,” you have half a mind to just shove her hands off, “You can’t tell me to not feel a certain way just because you think it’s out of character.”

“Well, I’m telling you I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to get drunk.”

“I think you ‘just want to get drunk’ a bit too much.”

“You’ve told me.”

“And you don’t care!”

“I care, I just- “ she has to stop herself with a sigh, “I’m a grown woman, I can get drunk if I want.”

“You always lose when you drink before matches…”

Vi slinks back, retrieving the ice pack as she goes. Replacing the cooling device on her temple before you stand and snatch it from her.

Vi’s mouth opens, an upset rattle on the tip of her tongue before you slip it back onto her head. Now in a much better spot, the washing soothing sensation making her subconsciously unwind those tense shoulders.

“Good?” you ask quietly.

She hums, eyes fluttering shut, not risking another painful nod.

“This is why I don’t want you drinking before matches…”

“Okay, baby,” wrapped hands come up to curve around your hips, thumbs venturing up to massage beneath your ribs. Squeezing in what you could call affection or frustration, “Let’s not fight about it anymore.”

“Fine, but- !”

Again, she squeezes. Now pulling you closer with the pinch. Her lips pucker obnoxiously, and when you don’t immediately fold she just makes the loudest ‘mwah, mwah, mwah’s until you cannot ignore her. Leaning forward enough to chastely peck her lips is all the reward you allow.

Her pleased little smile follows. Lips still red beneath black lipstick, long since faded against the rim of a glass. A scar swollen over the left side of her cupid’s bow -- that whole side of her face seems slightly raised over the other. In the most insane way, it makes your cheeks hot.

Vi is hard and soft. Rugged and pretty. Round puppy eyes and long lashes and thick eyebrows and shaggy hair and scars. Muscles and lithe fingers and tits pressed against yours.

…was that intentional?

“You weren’t wearing this little number earlier, baby,” Vi finally noticed too, you guess.

“I was just about to go to bed when you finally came home,” shrugging so casually, as if the lacey nightgown didn’t let her see straight down your cleavage.

“Uh-huhhhh,” her right hand snakes downward, toward the bottom hem a little below your pelvis. Her left knocks the ice pack from your grasp before she thunks her forehead to yours. Blunt nails barely skimming your thigh as she grasps the flimsy material, “And let me guess: you were just about to go to bed camo, right?”

Her breath heavies just as yours does, your heated face tucking into her neck as your hands find their way up the back of her jacket.

“Bet there’s nothing under here,” she whispers, dragging up your thin dress until it’s bunched at your navel, “Yeah. ‘About to go to bed��, my ass.”

Pushing thighs against each other in dramatic shame, you whine into Vi’s pulse, “Don’t tease me! I’m just lonely here when you go off out there…”

Vi snorts in your ear and drops to her knees; headache entirely forgotten as blood pumps through her whole body. Jittery hands shock up your thighs, one still cinched around the material of your dress while the other forces you to spread your legs.

“Then let me make up for tonight,” she says it overly saccharine, in that special tone she has that you know means she’s about to say something snarky, “Will you stop biting my head off if I just let you fuck my face?”

“Ugh-!” your aggravated trill is snapped in half because Vi is diving between your thighs.

In a way this is sentimental enough to make up for her -yet again- completely disregarding your opinion, after all the gesture is kind of how you fell in love. When she came into Babette’s with the single request to make ”the toughest girl you got fucking cry”. After that, she kept coming back with your name in her drooling mouth, and hers soon roaring out of yours.

Shaking a hand into her tarred hair, you yank for purchase as she suckles your clit. A pleased sigh fans from her nose just as a cute little hum vibrates from her; plump lips popping off long enough for her to wetly spear her tongue inside you. Warm and sloppy and she fucking loves it. Already nuzzling your lonely clit with a thumb just for you to drip and clench on her.

Words are a waste when she can just make you cum to see that she’s really, super, very sorry.

It’s not like you listen to her either, anyway.

[raivenantcravings]

Round 6 Reaction/Analysis

SDFFSDHFLSDHF ROUND 6 FSDHKFDSH ROUND 6 FSDKFSDHFDS ROUND 6

I woke up to twitter analysis saying that Till never even looked at Ivan until his final moments. And I made pre round 6 fanart titled "look at me." Couldn't manifest it. He never looked at him in the end,,,

broo dont look so happy. oh my god you lovesick fool.

reaction and analysis under the cut

First detail I noticed was that are the mics clear because both Ivan and Till are being vulnerable? They have nothing to hide anymore, so they'll show the world their whole being.

Anyways, to my main point,,

My interpretation of the ending was that Ivan was really trying to "cure" Till.

Till opens up with wanting to feel pain, to feel hurt.

"Please, leave me scars"

"Please, hurt me so that not a single drop of me remains"

Which, I realize he's talking to Mizi, but it's a cry for "help" either way.

Ivan's part goes:

"Notice my pain and mend me right now"

Again, he's talking about himself, but I think it could apply to what he does to Till.

So they kiss.

And, I've seen a lot of other people already say this, but I also do feel the kiss was not only meant to be for Ivan to selfishly show his love for Till.

Like bro don't go nonconsensually kissing your crush, what are you doing!?

When the scores came out, Ivan was much lower than Till than I expected. I thought it'd be a Mizi-Sua situation where the scores were close, but Mizi barely edged it out.

But Till almost had 20 points over Ivan.

And I know it's because Till is a rising star. And his new image change would really garner the attention of everyone. But it's not like Ivan is a nobody either. I didn't expect the scores to be so different.

I do think its because Ivan kissed Till. As a final nail in the coffin that guarantees his loss.

Alien Stage is commentary on the idol industry. One of the most prevalent issues in the idol industry is the romantic lives of the idols. Idols are not supposed to be in relationships, at least not outwardly. Their whole image is for the fans. Nothing they do should ruin that public image as an idol.

Much less in a in a queer relationship.

Now I don't believe the universe of Alien Stage cares about LGBTQ+ issues because there's bigger issues surrounding their human pets. But I think that it is an issue that Vivinos is trying to address because they certainly never shy away from queer issues in their other works.

And I feel the idea that idols/pets should not be swayed by their romantic emotions is still prevalent in their society.

So for the audience to see Ivan kiss Till, in one of the most outrageous and public displays possible, further pushes the votes in Till's favor.

And yeah, I also do believe that he kissed Till for him to finally look at him, but I also feel that it was a self-sacrifice too.

And then Ivan violently chokes Till.

Possibly, as another way to give Till votes. Since when Mizi started punching Luka, the audience was outraged at her actions.

Violence is definitely frowned upon on the stage.

More on the choking scene,,

I also saw some people saying that it's because Ivan wanted Till to die with him, which may be part of it. I don't think everything Ivan did was completely selfless.

But

Till accepts it. Earlier when he is at the bar (party? venue? the private show either way), he fights the alien who tries to punch him.

He did show him Mizi's missing image, so he is enraged in this moment, but he does have fight left in him even then.

He doesn't resist when Ivan chokes him just closes his eyes and awaits death. Perhaps if Mizi was already dead, he can just join her in the afterlife since he had no way of knowing she was still alive.

In this way, Ivan is his savior. The one who is finally freeing him from all this pain he felt after losing Mizi. This is his "cure."

And for Ivan, he sorta wants to be a savior to Till. He has freed him on multiple accounts from his shackles. Even helping him run away with him, so they can experience freedom together.

They both get what they want, but,,

Ivan lets go of Till and Till, with an expression that feels like shock, finally looks at Ivan.

Killing him would not give him the freedom that Till needs

that Ivan wants Till to have.

So, like the countless times Till has been chained around his neck, Ivan gives him his chains:

hurting him like he desires.

A scar around his neck.

(Where the scar from his name is)

And mending him,

by taking away the final chain that Ivan could release from Till.

His "cure."

It felt like his final desire was to get Till to snap out of it, to realize that he needs to find true freedom, to not get apathetic at the situation, to keep on going and to live.

He really, truly loves Till even if Till does and never will understand it.

Also final thoughts, is it not strange that Ivan is able to release Till's bindings so easily?

No one else is shown releasing the bindings, so maybe it is just as easy as a press of the button. Yet, I don't feel like it's just poorly designed if that's the case. Because you literally have a person like Ivan releasing a dangerous human like Till. Shouldn't a cautious society like the world of Alien Stage made sure it wouldn't be super easy to get out of.

If there is more to it, I wonder if that'll be a plot point later on. With Ivan leaving behind the secret to getting out of the bindings for Till. So, when a character maybe Till or even Hyuna or Mizi have been captured, they're able to escape since they know how to remove them.

Maybe, I'm just being delulu

And final final thoughts, the kiss was great and definitely made me almost scream. But the way Ivan nuzzled Till has got me acting up.

Like, it's just so soft and sweet and not a big show of it like when Ivan kisses Till on stage.

It feels so intimate, so personal, so full of love.

I just, I just can't. They'll be the death of me.