#that only appeals to me in that it lets me tick off another of my bingo 2025 squares (WWE release returns)

[chrkrose]

Just wanted to say that I completely agreed with your Sunrise take. It's almost as though you plucked it out of my brain and put it in words.

Its a shame that the Maysilee/Haymitch ship has been struck down so explicitly. I can't see the ship being popular now without fans claiming that we've 'missed the whole point'.

I also agreed with your take about Lenore: to me, she's far too similar to Lucy Gray for me to care about her in her own right and that's a shame.

I'm interested to see if you have any other thoughts since I enjoyed your first post a lot.

More thoughts on SOTR, Maysilee and Maysilee/ Haymitch.

I mean… I have issues with several aspects of Sunrise on the Reaping (SOTR), honestly. Like, the way the book handles its themes is just so on the nose. It lacks the subtlety Suzanne used to have. One of the biggest appeals of the original trilogy was that Katniss wasn’t a chosen one—she wasn’t special, she wasn’t trying to be a rebel, she was just surviving. And now suddenly we’re rewriting that entire foundation to make her destiny feel preordained? Add in all the fan service, which felt so Marvel-level with its cameos and callbacks, and yeah… I struggled with a lot of it.

The Maysilee stuff—and the Maysilee/Haymitch potential—is just one example in a list of things that didn’t work for me, but it’s a great one to highlight what went wrong.

First off, my gripe with Maysilee and Haymitch isn’t even just that they weren’t romantic. Sure, I do think a romantic storyline would’ve added more depth and been more compelling, but what really bugs me is the way people jump to that “not every relationship needs to be romantic!!” discourse like it’s some mic drop moment. And like—yeah, of course not every bond has to be romantic. The series already gives us beautiful platonic relationships, so what are you truly saying here? I always feel like that argument has a bit of a misogynistic edge, like romance automatically weakens a story or a character. That it’s less serious or important just because it’s “girly” or emotional. It’s the reverse of the people who think romance is the only thing that matters—it’s still minimizing, just from another angle.

Personally, I think a romantic connection between Maysilee and Haymitch could have added a lot to the story. Not because romance is inherently better, but because it would’ve allowed us to actually see the relationship develop. Imagine Haymitch having to confront and dismantle his class prejudices toward her. Imagine the layers that would add to his trauma, to his choices, to the person he becomes. That arc would’ve felt way more grounded than suddenly introducing Lenore Dove—a character who feels like a Lucy Gray copy-paste—and expecting us to accept her as the Great Love of Haymitch’s life.

And look, I’m a sucker for a good love story. I would have eaten it up so fast if this was a good one. But it simply wasn’t. There was no tension, no buildup, no spark. Just symbolism on top of symbolism, and a girl who was written to be “quirky” and “different” and important, but never felt real. She was too mythical, too much, too “main girl who haunts the narrative” without earning that weight. At least Lucy Gray had quirks and nuance. Lenore just felt like Suzanne ticking boxes: rebel, covey, singer, poet attached to her name, dead too soon. And I’m sorry, but having Haymitch still pining for his 16-year-old girlfriend decades later, when we barely get to see him reflect on his family or his fellow tributes? At least give space to his mother and brother, to the tributes he bonded with, to all the people he lost along the way.

And that’s what really bothers me. Suzanne always trusted her readers to come to their own conclusions. She showed us dynamics—Katniss and Peeta, Finnick and Katniss, Johanna and Peeta, even Katniss and Gale—and let us interpret. She never had to spell out who these people were to each other. But it seems like she didn’t trust that when it comes to Maysilee and Haymitch, and to Lenore and Haymitch as well. Suddenly we were told what to feel, how to perceive every relationship. And that just doesn’t land for me. It actually undermines the emotional weight because it feels like she didn’t trust the story to stand on its own.

And if the whole idea was to subvert expectations and say “Surprise! Everything you thought you knew about Haymitch’s Games is actually propaganda,” then… I don’t know. That twist didn’t work for me either. It didn’t enhance the themes, it just made me feel, again, like I wasn’t capable enough to reach conclusions on my own. For a book who speaks of propaganda, she sure tried to determine how we would interact with it without room for anything else.

Now, about Maysilee herself—she would’ve worked so much better as the ghost in Haymitch’s narrative. Platonic or romantic, an ambiguous bond between her and Haymitch had more potential than what we got. The Capitol downplaying her role would’ve tied beautifully with Haymitch’s later manipulation of the Katniss/Peeta narrative. She mirrors both of them in ways Lenore doesn’t: she’s a merchant girl like Peeta, she’s got Katniss’ fire, and her pin—her pin—becomes the ultimate symbol of rebellion. She painted the final poster. Not to mention the quiet tragedy of him having to see her twin sister around town for the rest of his life. That’s the kind of subtle, haunting storytelling that would’ve worked.

But instead, they stripped all that from her to give it to Lenore, and in the process, even Katniss’ story gets hurt. Because now, Katniss isn’t just a girl who stumbled into something bigger than herself—now she’s been chosen since the beginning. Which removes one of the most powerful things about her arc: the idea that regular people, caught in the right place at the right time, can change the world.

Lucy Gray worked as a ghost in Snow’s story. Maysilee should’ve been that for Haymitch. But unfortunately, all that depth, all that symbolism, was handed to a character who didn’t earn it and who honestly just didn’t deliver the emotional payoff Suzanne thought she would.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Belle Mort || LN4

AN: this was deep in the archives of abandoned fics but figured I’ll just post it anyway.

Pairing: Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader

Summary: Your paths weren’t meant to cross - he was a famous driver and your brethren were the thing of myths and nightmares.

Warnings: smut, major character death

He didn’t belong here.

You could only surmise Vinny let him in the club because he knew an easy target when he saw one. Rich, young and handsome - he was ripe for the taking. A part of you knew not to get involved but, unlike your brother, you had a small conscience, especially when it came to the pretty, blue-eyed man who had shared your bed.

Making your way across the busy dance floor of Belle Mort, you snaked between the women who were selling themselves to the richest man one sway of their hips at a time. You slapped away roaming hands that tried to pull you into their laps and glared at the men until they looked away with wounded egos.

Your brother spotted the target and you stepped lightly in your high heels as you dodged the revellers, finally making it in front of the handsome man. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais, garçon perdu?”

Lando smirked as he cast his eyes over your body, the tight fitted dress hiding very little of the body he knew intimately. “I don’t speak French.”

“I know.”

His hand caught your waist and pulled you closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You didn’t call me.”

You rolled your eyes at the need that laced his words, but it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it. You had even kept his number when you should have deleted it. Your worlds were so far apart you didn’t see the point in making it more than a one night stand, it was safer that way. “I know. Find another bar.”

“I like this one.” His hand tightened and his thumb brushed over your ribs, tracing the curve under your breast. His smirk grew as he felt your ribs expand with the sharp intake of air you took.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own it.”

“Co-own, dear sister,” Nix added as he stepped to your side. “And if Lando wants to party then who are we to deny him.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. “It’s bad for business.”

“Why? Because you mixed it with pleasure,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair, cracking your neck as he pushed you away to leer at the man himself. “I can see the appeal. No one can deny you have good taste, it’s just a shame you always leave them broken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lando asked as he helped keep you steady from your brother's push.

“Nix has always been jealous of me, haven’t you?” you taunted him. “Always wanted my dolls for himself.”

Nix’s jaw ticked and if the music wasn’t so loud you probably could have heard a tooth break. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on a break,” you stated, catching Lando’s attention as you grabbed his wrist and started to drag him to your office before freezing. Your hand met bare skin and you held your hand out to your brother. “Give it back. Now.”

Nix rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket to return the watch he had easily lifted from Lando. The glass and diamond face slapped into your palm but you curled a brow at him and cleared your throat, waiting for the rest.

“You really used to be more fun,” he grumbled as he returned Lando’s wallet too. “Don’t worry, the condom is still in there.”

“And the cash?”

“I don’t think that is really your worry, but yes, cash too.”

Nix disappeared into the crowd and even you found it difficult to trace his movements but he was one of the fastest vampires you knew.

“Interesting family you have,” Lando commented as the music was cut off with your office door.

“You should be more careful,” you warned as you slid the security chain onto the latch. “This side of town could get a guy like you killed.”

“A guy like me?” he asked as he accepted the whiskey you poured, neat. “Handsome?”

“Well known,” you corrected, despite his knowing smirk. Of course you found him handsome, or else you wouldn’t have let him fuck you in the bathrooms of another nightclub in the city. You had a business meeting, with a wolf no less, and the owner had left you displeased, so you found another form of pleasure in his den. “Where you go, pictures are taken. That is bad for my business.”

Who knew what illegal activities those pictures or videos might capture and be uploaded. Voices had been silenced for less in the dark alleys around the club - but the bodies were never found.

Lando took a sip as he weighed your words of warning, but it didn’t stop him wanting to go another round with you. He knew you were different from the moment he saw you. Determination and strength rolled off you as you stalked through the club to a door labelled ‘staff only’. A different look of determination had been seen when you emerged, scanning the crowd for someone to use - he had come to the club for the same reason.

“I can be invisible, when I want to be,” he promised as he followed you to the desk you leaned back on, crossing your heeled ankles in front of you. He placed the glass on the wood beside you and smelt the smooth spirit on his breath when he kissed the corner of your lips. “But I wanted you to notice me, again.”

His hand ran down your thighs and your ankles uncrossed. He took the space given and parted your legs so he could step between them and steal your moan with his kiss. His tongue parted your lips with the same confidence he parted your legs and he hummed when your hands slipped under his shirt, your nails dragging down his spine.

“I’m going to fuck you on your desk and every time you have a meeting here you will think of me.”

Desire pooled between your thighs at the promise and when his fingers found your body bare beneath the dress he felt it slick and warm. “You like that idea don’t you?” he chuckled in your ear, the deep timber of his gravelled voice making you clench around his fingers before they withdrew from you. “Turn around.”

For a woman who considered herself to be the bossy one, you were quick to follow his instruction and it didn’t go amiss from the smirk on his face. “I don’t remember you being this demanding last time,” you said over your shoulder, feeling the air on your skin as he pushed your dress up over your hips.

“That’s because you looked like you needed it more than me.” He flipped his wallet open and pulled the condom out, tearing through the foil packaging before rolling it down his hard length. With one swipe of his arm he cleared space on your desk and started to push you down before he changed his mind and spun you to face him. “Actually, I want to see your face when I make you come.”

The mahogany wood was hard under your ass and you spread your knees for Lando to step between. His cock pressed to your entrance and he watched your lips part as he slowly began to stretch you, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“You’re going to call me, aren’t you?” he asked with the teasingly slow retreat he made. He stopped just short of leaving you empty and made no move to fill you again. “I’m not going to fuck you until you answer me.”

You tried to shuffle your hips closer but he held them tight and your feet were off the ground so you couldn’t move, not without revealing your unnatural strength. Finally a frustrated sound left your lips and he smiled triumphantly when you agreed. “Now would you please fuck me?”

He answered with the snap of his hips and you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The computer screen came to life and the mouse moved with the rocking desk and the cup of pens tipped over, scattering among the mess he had already made. Stars danced across your vision and your body pulsed with the deep bass that made it through the soundproof door.

“Lando,” you moaned as you tipped his head back, baring his neck as you felt your canines elongating behind your lips. The throb of his rapid pulse invited you to taste him and you dragged your nose over the vein, inhaling the rich scent hidden beneath his cologne. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He shivered as your teeth grazed his skin but he was too far gone in his pleasure to question the sharp points. Just a little sip, you told yourself.

Lando gasped as pain flared, but just as quickly as it came it bled to a burn that felt better than any high he had ever had. He couldn’t breathe as you sucked at the puncture wounds, filling your belly with the same need you had for his cock.

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sat on the couch in your office with you on his lap, he had only blinked. You were high on him, making silly errors like using your speed and strength carelessly. You weren’t new to this life, but you were acting like it with him.

“Why did you come here?”

His head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your pleasure in riding him. He couldn’t think, there was only the tight feeling in all his muscles as his orgasm threatened to shatter him beneath you. “Just wanted you,” he choked as he bucked his hips up to meet you. “Again.”

You cried out as your climax peaked and Lando followed, unable to hold back with how tight you felt around him. Your head spun as the high receded, but you wanted more - it was the curse of immortality, you always wanted more.

You turned his head and struck again, lapping at the twin lines of life blood running down his collar. Cursing inwardly, you realised you were taking too much, you always took too much when you played with your food. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing laboured, his skin fading before your eyes. Nix was right, you always left them broken.

“Fuck,” you growled at the thought of losing another man. Tearing the skin from your wrist you made what was possibly the second biggest mistake of your life, the first would always be asking for this life. Your blood was thicker and darker than his, staining his lips as you squeezed it out before the wound could heal.

“Wake up…” You prayed you weren’t too late, the seconds ticking by with quiet reassurance that time would continue to move on even if Lando never did again.

—

Nix crashed through the office door as dawn approached and the club closed. His black eyes found Lando’s body on the couch and a sneer carved across his lips. “What a waste.”

You barely lifted your head from your hands as you sat at your desk. You had felt lethargic from a full belly and drained veins. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do,” he snickered. “There will be people looking for him, I’ll have Vinny dump him in the marina - another rich boy who partied too hard.”

Lando gasped as he jolted upright, his eyes ringed red from the transformation, and a war waged within you. Rage exuded from Nix as he realised the danger you had put the entire coven in and his features sharpened as his fangs pierced his lips. “You would bring the Council down on our heads, sister?”

“I said I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stand to see another die because of my weakness.”

“I would rather you have just killed him.” Nix pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. To change a human required petitioning to the Council, and permits were rarely given this century - and certainly not to those well known. People tend to notice when someone doesn’t age at the same rate: Jennifer Anniston, Cillian Murphy, Paul Rudd, Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Those half breeds could get away with it for a little longer but they would soon be faking their own deaths to keep the secret of their heritage.

“Take him to the mountains,” Nix said as he crossed the room to where Lando writhed in pain on the carpet, the transition destroying his delicate human cells for something much more robust. “I’ll tie up the loose ends here.”

Nix took the car keys from Lando’s pocket and checked his watch. There was still enough time before dawn came to wreck the car off the cliffs and into the French Riviera. When the car was found empty they would assume his body was carried out to sea. Lando Norris was dead. Lando de Belle Mort had risen.

[h0bg0blin-meat]

I think I need to make it clear for many Vaishnav (looking especially at you, ISKON) Hindu extremists (and even many Shaivites) that ya'll can have your sects and your beliefs as Vishnu or Shiva as your supreme lords. I don't have an issue with that.

But when you try to say that this is the ONLY truth about the Vedic religion (I'm not using Hinduism here because it doesn't sum up the pantheon as much as the ''Vedic" word does, despite the term being associated with the Vedas, and yes we need to come up with a better word that comprises this entire pantheon as a whole), that's when I have a problem, because that is definitely NOT the entire pantheon.

Do not spread the beliefs of your sect as the ONLY canon belief and don't speak for the people who don't fall under this category. I have seen this in all of social media and it pains me how much of a linear pantheon this once oh-so flexible culture has become.

Yes the concept of Prajapati and the Supreme being has existed since the Vedas. But when you say that Vishnu and Shiva are somehow superior to other gods as the ONLY CANONICAL BELIEF, that just flips me off, and I'm gonna call it out.

How dare you forget the four Vedas, that had no mention of such an idea? This might tick some people off but Indra, Agni, Rudra (which later became synonymous with Shiva, but is a whole different deity), Mitra, Varuna, Vayu and a few other Gods were just as much powerful as Vishnu or Shiva, if not more. This is ANOTHER canonical truth that these extremists (again, somehow mostly Vaishnav) are denying.

Ancient pantheons weren't some linear path with just one canon event. These were their own multiverses of a plethora of VARIOUS canon events, myths and legends. So stop making the Vedic religion a linear, rigid pantheon. Remember? It's not an organized religion. There can be SEVERAL canonical truths. Like I definitely understand that a religion/culture changes overtime. It evolves. Fine. Vishnu is the supreme God now, fine. But you can't deny the history. The Vedas that didn't canonize this. Are you gonna say that these Vedas, that came BEFORE this Vishnu/Shiva being the considered the supreme lord(s), were wrong? I hope not lol.

Besides, I'm not even gonna get into ISKON. They have regarded anyone that's not Vishnu as a demigod, which is ABSOLUTELY VILE AND DISRESPECTFUL. Do they even KNOW what a demigod is??? FUCK NO. They don't. They just like to use that word to inferiorize other deities, due to their unhealthy and toxic obsession with Vishnu, who doesn't deserve it. On top of that they have claimed that worshipping such gods will not lead you to eternal peace, or that it's somehow wrong. Ah yes. Gotta love gatekeeping and toxic cult fan behavior. Call me rude but if you disrespect a GOD (yes, Indra, Mitra, Varuna and others are ALSO GODS, FYI) is WILD, and they should be called out for it. (Some Shaivites have done the same in case of Shiva, and they need to be similarly called out.)

In conclusion, worship whoever tf you want, but remember that theologically, and even historically, there can be more than one canonical story. It really depends on which sect/region you belong to. You CAN be a polytheist. Idk why Hindus these days are inadvertently trying to appeal to the monotheistic pantheons so much, to the point that they have an internal dislike for polytheism, which they're not aware of, but it shows when they speak up.

This pantheon (like every other pagan pantheon back in the day) is very broad. Remember that. And it's very flexible. So let it be like that, and stop gatekeeping it and having a war between who supreme Lord is. I'll stop my yapping here. But I hope people understand this. Cuz damn.

[cielie-voss]

I usually ignor ficus when I see rockstar!eddie but I’ve thought of something. What about reader x rockstar!eddie where you have worked with other bands before in some way so you know those members would never be reliable relationships so you avoided at all costs. But when Eddie meets you and falls hard. He tries so hard to make sure you see that he has never been and would never fall into that stereotype of a rockstar in those times of the 80s. He was truly only passionate about the music . Not even caring if he ever got famous. That’s not his intention like how most bands back then, their members goals were just to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible.

So with you he really tries to win you over so hard, and finally you let your walls crumble for him and he really does prove to you exactly how truth he was from the moment he met you.

No sex and drugs - just rock'n'roll

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x guitarist!Reader

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to be, started over 4 times and accidentally deleted my favorite attempt but here we are! 😄 Hope you like it! 🫶

Warnings: rockstar au, a little bit fluff, some kind of enemies to lovers, some curse words, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, mentions of reader being used by men, smoking, pizza with pineapple (I think this deserves to be mentioned here), not proofread.

Bonus points to everyone who notice my little easter eggs. 😅

Wordcount: 9.9k

Taglist: @violettsoul

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

The road called your name again.

Well, it wasn't exactly your name but rather the name of your and your cousins band - The Sleepless. You’ve been lying in your bed, awake, for at least two hours and watched the dust dancing like little fairies in the golden sunbeams, that successfully fought their way through the gap of your thick curtains.

Ironic, isn't it?

It was still early in the morning, the bustling life of the city was still deep in slumber, with only the occasional roar of an engine cutting through the silence. Unable to find the sweet bliss of some desperately needed sleep, you were alternately watching the fairies dancing in the gentle rays of the rising morning sun and the miserably slow ticking of your clock, which was enthroned above the door and of which you were not quite sure whether the time it showed was correct.

The shrill beeping of your alarm clock saved you from this never ending misery. You sat up and let your legs dangling off the edge of your bed for a moment as you stretched your back. Yawning, you slowly slid off the edge and dragged your feet over to the little corner you called kitchen.

The screeching of the floorboards echoed like a disgruntled sigh from the naked walls and the worn out carpet you had bought at a flea market ages ago offered little protection against the cold that radiated from the wooden floor and crept through your feet into your legs. You couldn't say exactly how long the heating had been broken, or whether it had ever worked at all. But the constant cold wasn't really bothersome for you, as rarely as you were in this apartment. And yet the thought of returning to your home after another stressful tour and not to another hotel room seemed much more appealing. Although a hotel room would be much more financially affordable than this apartment, which was furnished with mismatched furniture from flea markets, dried flowers on the windowsill and a tap that was like a round of Russian roulette - you never knew exactly when it would next decide to jump off the edge of the sink and give whoever dared to touch it an unwanted shower.

The smell of coffee slowly filled your little apartment. You watched the dark, steaming liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, into the oversized and absurdly ridiculous looking cup, the handle of which was too small, to stick a single finger through and was painted so hideously that it could almost be described as an abstract work of art. It would certainly have been pretty, with its unevenly sized flowers and smiley-faced butterflies that were almost creepy, if one had made even the slightest effort. But what blame could you possibly give your elementary school self for this trash? Drawing, let alone any other kind of craft, was never one of your strengths. The only thing your clumsy fingers could do was play the guitar.

After you gulped down your minimalistic breakfast, you rushed into your bathroom. The hot water ran down your body, washing the night from your skin as you hummed a new tune that had found its way into your mind and was gnawing there like a terrier.

“I have to write this down straight away,” you promised yourself, but as soon as you stepped out of the shower, now standing in the fog of your hellishly hot shower session, the melody escaped as quickly as it came.

Scowling, you got ready, plaited your wet y/h/c hair into a simple braid so it wouldn't stick across your face, slipped into your favorite jeans, a faded T-shirt and comfortable shoes that would carry you from gig to gig over the next few weeks. You threw a jacket over your shoulders, grabbed the suitcase, shouldered the guitar and let the door close behind you with a loud click. The keychain, which consisted of more pendants than keys, jingled loudly as you locked the door.

The hum of the city, now gradually awakening, echoed through the streets of Los Angeles; a soundtrack that accompanied your departure into a new adventure, a new tour. You would be away for some time again. But to be honest, your apartment never quite felt like home and probably never will. But what does home even mean? Oh boy, let’s not open this box.

Spending the time with your cousins, the three goofy guys you grew up with and were more like brothers for you, always felt more ‘home’ than being in your actual home.

When you reached the parking lot you were loudly greeted by your cousins, as if you hadn’t seen them in ages. But you haven’t seen them for only three days.

What drama queens …

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping upon your lips as all three of them tried to hug you at the same time.

“Whoa! Take care of that guitar!”, you admonished them laughing.

"Excellent!" Rick, the tour manager, clapped his hands as you joined the already waiting group. “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get on the road. Are you guys excited?”

Oh god, that was too much enthusiasm for an early morning. And by the groaning of everyone else, you knew you weren’t alone with that opinion.

Your luggage was taken by the driver and stored into the bus that would be your home on wheels for the next few weeks. But as he was about to take your guitar, you pressed it against your chest, making clear it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Soooo,” someone snuck up behind you, “and you are the next Stevie Nicks they say, huh?”

You turned around and looked at a guy from the other band, Corroded Coffin. His face was framed by wild, dark curls and his brown eyes sparkled for a moment with something like delightful anticipation. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he cocked his head and examined you closely from head to toe.

"Well, I wouldn't dare say that," His eyes snapped back up to your face when your soft voice sounded, "But I think I can fairly say that at least I won't be the next Cyndi Lauper." Was that a joke you had just made? You weren't necessarily the kind of person who cracked a lot of jokes, as a lot of people didn't understand your type of humor. But the guy in denim jeans and studded belt seemed to unexpectedly appreciate your humor.

"God forbid! The world wouldn’t be able to tolerate another horribly squeaky voice like that. Not to mention those ridiculous lyrics. I mean - " He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as if quoting the lyrics would cause him physical pain, " - The hour is late, don't you want me baby? Through your garden gate. Really? I even write better lyrics when I'm drunk." A hoarse giggle escaped his throat and you couldn't suppress a shy giggle either.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself without further ado, relieved that you also seemed to find his joke funny, and offered you his hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Eddie.” You shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the fancy rings that adorned his fingers. But before you had the chance to take a closer look at them, Chad, your cousin and drummer of your band, hurried you inside the bus.

A brief fight about who would take which bunk broke out among your cousins. But instead of joining their childish behavior, you simply threw your guitar on the bunk you found most appealing.

“Hey!” Doug, the lead singer and oldest member of the band declared upset. “That’s not fair! Who said you could just claim that bunk!”

“Isn’t it ‘Ladies first’?”, you asked, smirking as you let yourself down on the rigid mattress.

“Oh come on, you’re not a lady,” he laughed but you just shrugged, not even thinking about giving up your bunk. You heard a muttered ‘Princess’ from them as you began to make yourself comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Being the only female sometimes had its perks.

Since it was still early in the morning, you decided to take a nap, but the smell of coffee woke you up after an hour, followed by Cliff’s “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, please Cliff, don’t give her a reason to think she’s an actual beauty.”

“Shut up, Doug,” you sighed but took the cup Cliff handed to you. You took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and wrapped your hands around the cup.

“So when’s the next stop?”, you wanted to know after you took a look at your watch.

After Chad studied the leaflet with the exact time schedule of the tour, he answered: “We should be at the location tomorrow morning at 8 am.” He turned the piece of paper, trying to find any other information. “God, I hope we’ll take a break soon. I won’t survive without a cigarette until tomorrow morning.”

To everyone's relief, later that day the buses pulled over to a rather abandoned parking lot for a quick break. Being crammed up in a bus for hours with you slightly hyperactive and childish older cousins could be seen as some sort of torture. From burping contests to silly bickering, you weren’t spared of the usual bullshit today. So when the bus stopped and the door opened, you literally fled outside. The fresh air filled your lungs and you thanked god for the break. You loved your cousins, really, but they could be a nuisance.

“Finally managed to escape the madness, huh?” You could hear the smile in the voice of the guy who sneaked up on you. You weren’t expecting someone to come up to you for a chat, so the sudden sound of this guys voice startled you.

“Jesus christ!”, you screeched out in surprise and turned around to see Eddie's amused face.

“You can call me Eddie,” he winked at you. “Little jumpy, huh? Adorable.”

“Are you done with this?” You weren’t on the road for a day and yet the Rockstar was trying to flirt with you. Must be a new record.

“What? I - uh,” Eddie stuttered surprised, his eyebrows curled up in a frown.

“Oh, so you already met.” To your surprise, it was Cliff who saved you from another flirting attempt from Eddie. You were about to answer ‘Unfortunately’ but figured this would probably ruin this whole trip beforehand. So you decided to just nod and shut your mouth.

You hated rock stars. Ironic, huh? Since you were the guitarist and singer of a band, soon to be a rockstar too. Most of the guys didn’t care a lot about the music as soon as they got famous. The moment they were cheered by fangirls, all they cared about was to get as many girls as possible into bed. They never missed the opportunity for a small, insignificant quickie, took advantage of their status to get women into bed, only to then push them out of bed after a short bit of fun in order to seek confirmation from the next slut. Playing with women to boost their egos was more important to them than their music, the one thing they got famous for. At some point, you thought they just used music to get famous so they could bang sluts; it wasn’t about music from the beginning. And now, here was Eddie, seemingly just like the rest of them, with his charm and his smile, trying to play the same game. But you weren't going to fall for it. Bitches always know, and you weren't about to become another notch on his bedpost. You were pretty sure he was just another one of those bastards, flirting with you for his own amusement and validation, to eventually get you into bed like so many others before.

In the last few years that you had been working in the music industry, you had experienced many pick-up attempts from a number of musicians. Both when you initially accompanied the bands as an assistant to the tour manager and during your recent time as an opening act with your band; you were not spared the pick-up lines.

In the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting, you went for it, felt flattered and unfortunately fell for the charm of some of the musicians. It would probably be an exaggeration to say you fell head over heels in love, but at least a handful of the musicians swept you off your feet. But every time you had to painfully learn anew that musicians, especially rock stars like Eddie, were all bastards. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - that was the motto they lived by.

Obviously, your aversion to rock stars was merely a reaction to the many times you had been hurt, exploited and betrayed. Painfully, you had to learn time and time again that it was probably a pathological habit of these guys to use women to confirm their tiny egos and were incapable of anything like a lasting relationship. And this Eddie was no exception.

“Y/N, this is Jeff, he plays the bass,” Cliff pointed at the guy next to him, a tall guy with dark skin and a smile as sweet as honey, “Jeff, this is Y/N, she’s our guitarist and second singer.”

Jeff shook your hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you told him, ignoring Eddie next to you, who was not so patiently waiting to chime in. Jeff noticed his friend's urge to say something, but with a smile he continued to talk to you.

“Now you just have to meet Gareth, he’s our drummer, and Grant, one of our guitarists. And Eddie,” he points at the fidgety guy next to you, “is our singer and lead guitarist.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Rick called out to get back into the buses.

“Alright, see you later.”, Cliff said and, with you in tow, hurried back to your bus and waved Jeff and Eddie goodbye.

The next day you played your first show of the tour, the prelude of this adventure. And it was a great success. The crowd was hyped, thrilled to see your band perform before Corroded Coffin entered the stage. By far, this show was the best one you’ve had. Adrenaline flooded your body as you hopped off the stage after the last song. You were soaring higher and higher on the feeling, an addicting mixture of dopamine and endorphins.

“What was that?” Doug, excitedly jumping up and down, looked at you with wide eyes.

You mirrored his smile and tried to find the right words to sum up what just happened.

“That was absolutely insane!”, yelled Cliff out. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to place a kiss at the crown of your head. “You were incredible! And that solo?” Cliff let go of you. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed out, and mimicked the motion of his mind exploding. His palms hovered inches away from his temples as he widened his eyes in astonishment, as if trying to contain the explosion of thoughts within his skull. You started to giggle, touched by your cousin's excitement about your freestyled solo.

“I really hope you remember what you did up there. Brillant!” Thankfully you took the beer Chad handed you. “I swear to god, when this tour won’t be our breakthrough, I’ll be damned.”

For the rest of the show you stayed backstage with Chad, while Doug and Cliff roamed around the venue, drinking beer, celebrating, and probably trying to flirt with some girls. You sipped at your cool beer and wiped away the sweat on your skin with a towel Chad threw at you. The high slowly subsided. But you had to agree with Chad; you could literally sense how this tour might be your last step before your big breakthrough. Satisfied you laid back in the small armchair backstage and spent the time talking with Chad as long as Corroded Coffin were on the stage.

After Eddie and his band had to play bonus track after bonus track, they finally left the stage. The time schedule was very tight knit, which left you no time to stay and relax. As soon as the crowd left the venue, you quickly gathered your stuff and stowed away everything in the buses. A quick ‘Great show’ was all the bands interacted with each other before they disappeared into their home on wheels, carrying them to the next location.

The next shows were no different to the first one; success after success. Your fan base grew, you were asked for autographs, fans bought your merchandise and wanted to take a photo with ‘The Sleepless’. Everything felt like a dream.

“I think Eddie really has his eyes on you,” Chad whispered to you with a mischievous grin when, during the sound check, he spotted Eddie walking up and down next to the stage, hidden behind the sound boxes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and changed your position without comment, under the pretense of tuning the guitar undisturbed.

One evening, after another successful show, you had the chance to stay at the venue, no time schedule stressing you to leave the town right away. You were sitting at the bar and drinking some beer. Before you went back to the hotel, you wanted to take the time to chat with Corroded Coffin.

Eddie rocked back and forth indecisively, the label on the beer bottle in his hand hanging in shreds after he rubbed it nervously throughout the last twenty minutes. He was fascinated by you, your demeanor, your humor, your talent, not to mention your beauty. But he was also confused by your cold, dismissive manner towards him. So he gathered his courage, clutched his beer bottle. As you were casually chatting with Gareth, Eddie approached you from behind, trying to appear as cool and collected as possible.

“So, um… Do you like raccoons?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have slapped himself for it. What was that supposed to be? Cringing about his failed attempt at gaining your attention, Eddie frowned.

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out if your mind was just playing some tricks on you. Luckily you couldn’t see Gareth’s amused grin, deriding his friend's horrible attempt to flirt with you.

"What?" Eyebrows raised, you turned her head in Eddie’s direction, thinking that you probably misheard what he said over the loud music. Because nobody would ever think of starting a conversation with “Do you like raccoons” right?

“Oh, uh … nevermind.” Embarrassed by his defeat, Eddie turned around, leaving you and Gareth alone again.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeff hissed as Eddie sat back down next to him at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Eddie whined, burying his face in his hands.

The evening wore on and the more Eddie drank, the more confident he became until he plucked up the courage to talk to you again. His gaze lingered on you a little too long as he waited until you were alone again and he could shoot his shot. After Gareth left you, Eddie took a deep breath and took his chance.

“Your performance was really good. You are so talented,” he let you know, as casually as discussing the weather. There was a lot of nervousness bubbling under his cool facade, but he was able to hide it surprisingly well.

“Thanks.” Your answer was short and might have come out ruder than you intended. Without even looking at him, you sipped your drink. Eddie felt himself continuing to run into the walls you had built around you. So he tried again.

“You have a really nice guitar. You rarely see such gems on a stage.”

Sighing, you put the glass down and turned to him. For a brief moment, a spark of hope flickered within him as your eyes met his. You were just about to give him a rather sarcastic answer when he spoke up again.

“I would really be happy if I could get to know you a bit. I mean, we've been traveling together for a while now, so I'd like to know who I'm dealing with." For better or worse, you had to agree with him. After a moment's consideration, you nodded in agreement.

So Eddie cautiously tried to get to know you. At the beginning you were rather shy and your answers were short. After a few minutes, however, you thawed out a bit and Eddie allowed himself to make a joke or two that surprisingly made you smile.

“What do you do in your free time, when you’re not out and about making music?” Interested, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter and literally sank into the depths of your eyes.

You thought for a brief moment before answering him. “I'm trying to recover from the tours and unpleasant flirtations of horny rock stars.” With a wink, you leaned back, eager to hear his answer.

“Oh come on, touring with a rock band can’t be that bad,” he replied incredulously. You raised an eyebrow almost defiantly.

“You think so?” You snorted disdainfully. “Oh, you have no idea what it's like to tour in the wake of a rock star. Besides the crappy hotels, poor pay and miserably long bus tours, someone like me has to put up with the constant bragging about who's the band's biggest player." With a teasing grin, you tilted your head and slowly ran your finger along the rim of the glass.

“Between all the…how do I best put this?” You narrowed your eyes and seemed to think. “Between all the meet-and-greets, there’s hardly any room to rest. If you know what I mean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.” You raised the glass to your lips again and as you sipped at the drink, you looked Eddie almost challengingly in the eyes.

Eddie held your gaze, felt challenged and saw his chance to win you over. Just don't make any mistakes now.

“You know, maybe you just need the right rock star to change your mind,” he countered playfully, lowering his voice. “I would rather spend my time on the couch with a good book than with groupies at a wild party.”

“Oh really?” you replied incredulously, voice dripping with sarcasm. You liked playing the game, maybe even making him think he had a chance with you. A game of cat and mouse, except that it wasn't entirely clear who was the cat and who was the mouse.

"Oh yeah!" He confirmed his statement exuberantly and nodded eagerly. “It’s a lot more rock‘n’relax, you know?”

You snorted, barely hiding a giggle. “Rock’n’Relax, yeah?” You looked at him skeptically with a lopsided smile. “No scandals? No wild parties? No paparazzi madness? That almost sounds too good to be true. You’re like the last unicorn in a herd of wild donkeys.” You leaned forward a little and let a strand of your y/h/c hair slide between your fingers.

Eddie felt like he had found a small crack in your wall. With a triumphant smile on his lips, he took another sip of beer.

“You know,” he put the bottle back on the counter, “to be honest, I don’t really care. Just because I'm famous doesn't change my passion for music. For me it was never about anything other than my music and not about fame.” Confident of victory, he enjoyed the moment in which you looked at him admiringly, not knowing that you were just playing with him, the way everyone had always played with you before. Encouraged by your feigned affection, he took the next step.

“You know, maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else. In a nice restaurant perhaps? Just you and me. What do you think of that, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Not gonna happen, Munson.” There was something mocking in your voice as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the club. He watched you leave, speechless and confused. What just happened? Was he caught up in a bad dream? No, one look at his friends, who were looking at him just as stunned, he knew that he couldn't have dreamed that.

The first stop of your next ten hour journey was early in the morning. You were given a good 15 minutes to stretch your feet, smoke or just get some fresh air.

Half-awake, you strolled across the rest area with a steaming cup of coffee and joined Chad and Cliff, who were smoking by one of the trash cans.

With a grin, Chad noticed Eddie trying to get close to you unnoticed. “Look, your shadow is already awake too,” he teased whispering, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“God, this guy just won’t leave me alone,” you moaned and squeezed your tired eyes shut in annoyance, which was a dangerous endeavor, since you feared you might not be able to open your eyes again.

"How come? He’s quite nice, isn’t he?” Cliff objected.

“He’s a rock star. And they’re all the same,” you replied wearily. "Superficial. Arrogant. Narcissistic. And oh, very important; They fuck everything that’s female and has two legs just to reinforce their puny ego that they’re the hottest.”

“Woah! Hold on, hold on," Chad interjected laughing. “Seems like someone's gotten out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“Oh come on, it’s true,” you whispered and looked at your cousin, pressing the warming cup of coffee against your chest in a poor attempt to warm yourself. “Every band I’ve worked with so far has, without exception, been out to meet as many groupies as they can.”

Both rolled with their eyes, ready to say something, but were silenced by Rick's voice. “Okay, everyone, break is over! We need to move on!”

Sighing you shambled back to your bus, hoping to get some more time to doze off in your little bunk before your slightly hyperactive cousins would return to their typical banter and bullshit, keeping you awake and denying you the rest you needed.

“Why don't you just give him a chance?”, Chad groaned and plumped down on the beanbag.

Cliff climbed up into the bus and agreed with his brother. “Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy.”

“I really have to agree with them. You should give him a chance. I don't see what your problem is anyway.” Doug’s voice echoed from the small bathroom of the bus.

You dramatically rolled your eyes and sighed. Didn't they see how all your ‘just give him a chance’ romances ended? It's like they forgot about all the times your heart was broken, all the times you’ve been used and played with, like none of that ever happened.

“Because,” you started, almost sounding like a teacher, “Rockstars are assholes.” The eyes of your cousins followed your every move as you crouched down in front of the little fridge, searching for some milk for your coffee. There was no chance they’d shut up to let you sleep, so you could just as well down another coffee to wake up the rest of your body.

“Well, the four Armenian guys we played with a few months ago didn't seem to be assholes. You spent a lot of the time with them. Like … a lot!”, Doug said with special emphasis on the last part of his sentence after coming out of the bathroom. And he was right. You did enjoy the time with these four weirdos from L.A. on your last tour.

“Yeah,” you huffed and filled your cup with the worst coffee you’ve ever had, “‘cause they were stoned the whole time and wanted me to help them with their make-up!”

The three guys looked at each other but eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay, totally forgot about that.” Cliff acknowledged.

For a moment there was silence. An awkward kind of silence and you felt like you won. Maybe you could unexpectedly get a few more minutes of sleep? Until Chad started this discussion all over again. “But what if he’s different?”

You groaned in annoyance at your cousin's remark and laid your head back. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why do you desperately want to -” Mid Sentence you stopped, an idea shooting up in your mind. With wide eyes, and a nearly insane look on your face, you glared at them. “Now I see it. I can see it pretty clearly!”

“What are you talking about?” Chad’s question let you twirl around. You pointed your finger at him, sensing a conspiracy. But it could’ve been the caffeine in your blood as well, you didn’t know but it didn’t matter anyway.

“You guys want me to fuck with him! You want me to fuck with him, so we might get some publicity for our band!”

“Bullshit! No one wants you to fuck with him.”, Chad huffed with a frown, offended by your suspicion and shook his head.

“Unless you want to fuck with him. You know, you’re an adult, you’re responsible for your own actions and who are we to tell you -” You interrupted Doug quickly.

“Okay! Okay! Could we stop discussing my non-existing sexlife? Please? I’m not gonna fuck any Rockstar at all.” You sat back down on the little sofa and sipped your coffee. “Rockstars are just horny little assholes with little egos. All they ever want is to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible, just to boost their ego. Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll - that’s all they ever want.”

“Oh come on, Y/N/N, not everyone in this industry is like that,” Cliff tried to calm you down, unsuccessfully.

“Not everyone, but an incredibly large amount of them are and I’m not willing to go through all of that bullshit again to find out who might not be like the rest. End of discussion.” You downed the coffee and stood up to get some alone time in your somewhat cozy bunk, where you would stay for the rest of the drive.

“Oh, and don’t ever call me Y/N/N again. I’m not eight anymore.”

When you arrived at the club where you were scheduled to perform that evening, it was pouring rain. The thick raindrops splashing against the window panes had a calming effect on you, always has. To pass the time while Rick was dealing with the hotel, which had canceled the reservations for some unknown reason, you made yourself comfortable on one of the padded benches in the entrance area of the hotel and soon closed your eyes. You let the patter of the rain lull you like a gentle massage.

“Could you please stop staring at me like that all the time?” You didn't have to open your eyes to notice Eddie, sitting in a chair just a few steps away from you, watching you and thinking you wouldn't notice.

“I uh…” He felt caught red-handed and nervously jumped up from his seat. Giggling, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at me like a creep?” you interrupted his stuttering. He nodded sheepishly.

“Listen, I would really like to get to know you,” he began after taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair right next to you. “I'm really serious, no games. I’m not one of those cliche rock stars, believe me.” You also sat up and looked at him. Skepticism flashed in your eyes.

“Please give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. I would really like to know who you are off stage. Just an honest conversation, you and me.” Eddie looked at you pleadingly, with big, round puppy-dog eyes that, to be honest, no one could resist. But you hesitated for a moment, indecisive if you should dare to trust him and give him a chance.

“Please, Y/N.” You could tell from his look that he really was being serious. Every single fiber of your being screamed ‘no’, your instinct screamed at you not to trust him, but eventually you gave in.

"One chance." When you finally gave him the opportunity to prove himself his face lit up. “Really just one chance. I've had enough of being played with by guys like you. You have one single chance to convince me that you’re not the kind of rock star that just uses women. Don't make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t regret it, promised,” he solemnly swore, excitedly holding out his pinky for the sacred pinky promise.

“I hope so for your own safety,” you admonished him and sealed the promise. Was this really the right decision?

Later that evening, after another incredible show, Eddie approached you, a wide, excited grin painted on his face. His friends watched him from a distance, ready to help him if needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” He snuck up on you from behind and slung his arm around your shoulders. Was the touching already too much? Too intrusive?

“Oh, hey, there’s your shadow again,” Chad winked at you. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Laughing, he turned away from you and followed Cliff and Doug to the bar.

“That was a good show, huh?” Still high on the evening's success, he grinned broadly at you. “The best show we've had so far!”

"Oh yeah, especially considering all the screaming and bra-throwing fangirls," you told him with a sarcastic tone that immediately wiped the smile off his face.

"What? No, that… well -” Again he burst into incomprehensible babble, which was probably intended to be an apology or justification.

Laughing, you placed a hand on his arm. "Eddie, that was a joke," you explained.

“Oh, yeah, uh - a joke,” he stammered, still a little taken aback. “Shall we maybe eat something?”

“Eat something?” you asked and looked at your watch. “It's almost half past one. In the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: “Some pizza place will be open by now, don’t you think?”

Miraculously, the two of you actually found a rather shabby pizza place that was open at that time. Between a few drunks stumbling out of discos and the smell of greasy food, you found a small table in the corner. While you waited for the pizzas, you observed the unusually lively hustle and bustle in this small diner and were thoroughly amused by the unsuccessful attempts of a drunk German tourist who wanted to order his pizza in Italian from the Pakistani-born owner.

“Really? Pineapple on pizza?” Disgust was written all over Eddie's face as the waiter brought your order.

“What? Believe me, this is the best combo. You have to try it!” Laughing you grabbed a piece and held it up to his face. With a scrunched up nose he tried to get away from your rather pushy attempt to make him try the pineapple pizza.

“Come on! You have to try it, trust me.” Still giggling you looked at Eddie, his eyes darting between you and the piece of pizza, dangerously near his lips. He weighed his options for a moment until he decided to give it a try. With a frown he sighed but leaned forward to take a bite. As he chewed you looked at him expectantly and waited for a reaction. It took him a few seconds until his face lit up. “Well, it’s not that bad actually, but I wouldn’t call this ‘the best combo’,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay Mister Gourmet,” you jested and moved aside on the bench to get away from him in a playful manner, acting pouty. “You obviously don’t have a good taste.”

“I don’t have a good taste?!” The expression on his face was theatrically offended.

“Yeah, you don’t have a good taste. But it’s my fault, sorry, I should’ve known it already the first time you tried to flirt with me.” You shrugged and returned your attention to your pretty oily pizza. Eddie, however, couldn't turn his eyes away from you. With his mouth wide open in shock, trying to find the right words, you couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fish out of water. Grinning to yourself you continued to ignore him until he finally found his voice again.

“What?”, was everything he was able to get out. “What?!”

As you were trying to grab another piece of pizza he shoved the plate away from you, forcing you to look at him. “I have no taste because I think you are fucking cute and talented and gorgeous?”, he summed up your sarcastic remarks.

“Oh please, you don’t honestly think I’m cute or gorgeous or anything,” you snorted, leaning back on the sticky bench, knowing damn well he wouldn’t make it easy for you to get your pizza back. “You just want to flatter me because you want to end up in bed with me like the guys before you.”

Still in shock he stared at you. “No, no, no. Hold on.” Eddie gently turned your head by placing his index finger on your chin so you had to look at him. “You still think all I wanna do is lure you into bed?” He waited in vain for you to reply, but all you did was look down at the dirty table.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to get to know you. Not like the assholes before. I wasn’t joking when I told you I care more about my music than being famous. Even if I wasn’t famous, you would still be that girl I desperately would want to spend my time with, okay? I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect than you. I would gladly give up everything I have just to get to know you. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now, Y/N.” Eddie's voice was soft but determined. You could feel that he was being honest with you, not joking around or acting up just to lure into bed.

All this time you were played with, and not just your time in the music industry but the years at school too, you were so used to only getting a guy's attention because he wanted one thing. But as soon as you made it clear to whoever was shooting his shot, you were nothing more than garbage to them. So it was pretty much understandable that getting compliments or even the slightest attention from someone made you hide behind your wall you built around you to protect you. In your own mind you were worthless, no one would actually want to get to know you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you whispered after some quiet moments, finally looking up into his eyes again. “I’m just not used to all of this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “Well, honestly it’s not okay, because it seems like you’ve been treated like an object before and that’s not okay. But it’s okay that you’re insecure. Let me help you, okay? Let me show you not everyone is like this. I really want you to see what I see when I look at you or hear you sing or simply hear your laugh.” He moved closer to you again, closing the gap you created before. “You can trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you or play with your feelings or anything.”

You just sat there for a moment, your pizzas already turning cold, while a battle raged within you. On one hand, there was the overwhelming desire to trust Eddie, to believe his kind words and let him in. But on the other hand, there was the lingering fear, the scars of past betrayals and heartaches, whispering caution in your ear. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, reminding you of all the times you had been let down and used. It was a struggle between the longing for connection and the instinct to protect yourself from further pain.

As Eddie's warmth enveloped you, a part of you wanted to surrender to the comfort he offered, to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. But another part hesitated, clinging to the safety of your walls, wary of the vulnerability that came with trust.

Eddie's gentle touch and reassuring words began to chip away at your defenses, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts. Could he truly be different? Could he be the one to break the cycle of hurt and disappointment? Or was he just another one to kick you in the back, to play with your feelings just for his amusement?

Eddie sensed you might need a hug, someone to hold you tight and make you feel somehow safe. “Is it okay if I lay my arm around you?”, he carefully asked. You needed a second to muster your courage and finally nodded. Eddie laid his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer. As you leaned into his embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within you, tentative but undeniable. Perhaps, just perhaps, this time would be different.

“I don’t care what you’ve been told by these pricks. All I know is I want to spend my time with you and make some music, nothing else matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Slowly you began to let your walls crumble down, bit by bit. This kind of safety was something you hadn’t felt in quite some time and you nearly forgot what it was like to hold on to somebody. There was still a voice in the back of your head, admonishing you to keep your defense up just in case, because no one could ever really like you, right? You were always the second choice, why should it be different this time?

Time seemed to fly by as you were lost in Eddie's warm embrace and soon you were told to leave by the owner of the diner, it was closing time. You already forgot about the pizza, with all the grease they were disgusting anyway.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back.” Eddie stood up and held out a hand for you. For a second you looked at his hand, his calloused fingers and the chunky rings adorning them, unable to decide if you should accept his offer to hold your hand. But without your heart's consent you eventually grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Eddie cast you a reassuring smile, proud you overcame your doubts.

After that evening you slowly began to trust Eddie. He brought you coffee in the morning, smiling like an idiot at your grumbled insults; even though you were the complete opposite of a morning person, he found your rather grumpy attitude inexplicably endearing. You spent the breaks together, and to your cousin's great confusion, you laughed at his jokes and found yourself drawn to his incredibly mesmerizing and warm eyes. And when you were exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, he simply sat next to you and enjoyed your presence. Sometimes he would play some melodies on his guitar for you or read to you out of some crappy books he bought at a gas station; he always picked the ones with the most ridiculous titles or covers.

Your little pizza dates after your shows quickly became some sort of tradition whenever you had the chance to stay in the city for the night, giggling at the drama of the drunk’s around you. Soon he began to appreciate your choice of pizza, stealing pieces of your pineapple pizza when you weren’t looking.

He truly was the sweetest guy you ever met. Eddie managed to make you laugh when you felt like never laughing again. He made you feel valued. He made you feel important. When you were on the stage you found Eddie either right beside the stage or in the front row, cheering, screaming, as if you were the greatest rockstar on earth. And when he was on the stage his eyes were glued to your face wherever you were standing. He always found you, the rest of the crowd disappearing for him; there was nothing more important to him than to see your smile while he performed.

As a sign of love and affection he let you play with his lucky pick while you gave him your favorite lighter.

Time flew by, you and Eddie were literally glued together which started to annoy the rest of your bands. You weren’t spared the mocking and teasing comments of your cousins and even Eddie had to deal with bad jokes from his friends. Some weeks had passed, all your doubts and worries vanished and you enjoyed your time with Eddie. There were innocent touches, his hand brushing yours when you walked next to each other or crossed paths backstage between you performances, hugs whenever you were alone, he even held you hand under the table when you were at a restaurant with everyone else.

One evening you found yourself outside of the club for a smoke to calm down your nerves. During your band's performance there were a few dickheads trying to sabotage the gig, hollering insults and booing because they thought your band was crap. So you stood outside, the cool air of the night wrapped around your body and literally cooling down the racing thoughts that started to pull you down again. You took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke filling your lungs. As you inhaled the smoke, your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath for a moment before releasing a little cloud of tobacco smoke into the night sky. The buzz of pleasure combined with the slight flash of adrenaline and energy rushing through your body were slowly numbing your mind.

“That shit could kill you, you know?” The voice pulled you out of your trancelike state. You opened your eyes and turned your head just to find Eddie, sneaking up behind you out of the dark.

“So does life and yet here we are,” you taunted, shrugging your shoulders and taking another drag. “Aren’t you supposed to get on stage by now?”, you stated after taking a look at your watch.

“Yeah, but the security is currently busy with removing some shitheads that insulted my favorite person,” he declared casually and took away the cigarette that bounced between your lips. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you watched him taking a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs, before he handed you the cigarette.

“You didn’t -” you stated flabbergasted.

“Of course I did.”, he huffed, releasing the smoke, and looked down on you. “A behavior like that is not appropriate and should not be tolerated.”

You shook your head and took back your cigarette he offered back to you. “Moron,” you whispered and couldn’t contain your laughter.

“I’ll gladly be your moron,” he winked at you before returning back inside for his performance.

You stayed in Indianapolis for two more days after your show before moving on with your tour. Rick allowed you to take a short break there to relax and recover from the stressful tour life. And with Chad’s birthday right around the corner you and your other cousins decided to spend the whole day together, so you informed Eddie that you would be away for the day.

This day felt like childhood again, exploring the city, visiting a museum and going to a mall in the afternoon to shop for some new clothes. Later in the evening you wanted to celebrate Chad’s birthday at a pub, the only thing that didn’t feel like childhood.

Before you headed to the pub you wanted to change your clothes and freshen up a bit, maybe you could even say hi to Eddie since you hadn’t talked to him for the whole day. As you knocked on his hotel room door you were disappointed with silence. Maybe he was out with his friends too? You sighed and hurried into your room to change. But when you excitedly exited the elevator and caught a glimpse of Eddie, your heart skipped a beat and shattered into a million pieces. It was like a rope wrapped around your chest and with every breath and every heartbeat it got tighter and tighter, making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. Everything around you seemed to freeze, moving in slow motion as your eyes followed Eddie and the girl next to him.

Ouch.

He had slung his arm around her shoulder and as he leaned closer to whisper something into her ear, you could see the huge smile on his lips. Seeing them laughing and being pretty close felt like someone pierced your heart with a million daggers. Just when they disappeared into the elevator you were finally able to catch your breath again, nearly hyperventilating.

Like being stuck in a nightmare where you couldn’t wake up from, you couldn’t get the picture of Eddie and this beautiful light-brown haired girl out of your head. You didn’t know how long you stood there and stared at the place where Eddie and his groupie vanished into the elevator, but judging by the concerned expression on Dougs face you must’ve been in your trance for quite some time.

“Y/N?”, he asked multiple times and after you hadn’t shown a reaction to his attempts to catch your attention, he tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. “Hello?! Earth to Y/N?!”

This snapped you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“God, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked and shook his head. “We’re late, let’s go.” And with that you left the lobby.

Although you tried to distract yourself from the spiteful voices in your head and the images of Eddie and this girl doing whatever in his hotelroom, you were unsuccessful. Your mood was at its lowest and after Cliff noticed your discomfort and asked if you're alright, you tried to drink away this overthinking and obstinate voice inside of your mind.

Downing one drink after another, your mood finally started to light up. You danced, laughed and got drunk. After not even two hours you were completely wasted and your mind blacked out. You vaguely remembered seeing Eddie in the lobby as Chad brought you back to the hotel and that you threw a pillow at him, followed by some slurred insults. Luckily Chad could hold you back before you had the chance to jump at Eddie's throat. Whereas your drunken state probably would’ve made any attempt to jump at Eddie unsuccessful. As Chad dragged you into the elevator, you growled “Fuck off and leave me alone. Don’t you dare to ever talk to me again” after Eddie confusedly tried to find out what had happened.

Somehow you ended up in your bed with a bucket next to your nightstand, just in case.

A knock on your door woke you up eventually, but opening your sleepy eyes was a strenuous act. You tried to rub away the sleep from your eyes, as it knocked a second time.

“Good morning, princess,” Eddie’s voice came chirping from the other side of the door. “Wake up. It’s time to get up and get ready for the day!”

An exasperated groan escaped your throat and you looked at the door, wondering if you should just ignore him, tell him to fuck off, or give him a chance to explain himself for the sake of the tour.

As he knocked a third time, you sighed and squeezed your eyes, already regretting your decision.

“Do you have coffee?” You had no other choice, your tired mind and hungover body were desperately in need of caffeine.

“Open the door and find out!” he cooed and no one could have overheard the smug grin in his voice. He was still confused about what your encounter last night meant, but he hoped you just had been drunk. Most people he knew tend to become aggressive under the influence of alcohol, maybe you were one of them?

“God, a simple yes or no would have been enough.” Slowly you got out of bed and slipped in one of your hoodies.

Eddie was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you were too tempted by the prospect of a steaming hot coffee. So you dragged yourself to the door, unlocked it and carefully opened. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a mustache painted on his face, with what you suspected was eyeliner, and the desired cup of coffee in his hand. Unimpressed, you stared at him for a moment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he said with a bad french accent, seemingly trying to be funny, and wiggled his eyebrows, as if nothing had happened last night. You kept your unimpressed expression, even though this sight was kind of hilarious.

“I’m fucking mad at you,” you grabbed the cup and held it to your chest. “And that mustache looks ridiculous.”

“What? But what did I do?”, he protested.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Without further ado you closed the door again.

“Please, tell me what I did wrong and let me apologize.” Eddies voice was desperate as he begged you to explain to him what he did to upset you like this.

The warmth of the coffee spread through your body and life seemingly came back into your hurting limbs after you took a sip. Should you really enlighten him? Should you really give him a chance to apologize? You already gave him a chance, he fucked it up and now acted like he didn’t know what he did wrong. If he didn’t know what he did, how should you accept his apology? How could an apology be honest without even knowing what the problem was? If he didn't realize on his own what he had done wrong, how could he regret it and apologize?

That’s just not working.

And that made you furious. Driven by caffeine, anger and the residue alcohol in your system, you yanked the door open and glared at him. “You told me, yeah, you PROMISED me, you were different, not like the other rock stars who play with girls. You begged me to give you a chance to prove you really wanted to get to know me. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you,” you hissed through gritted teeth and put the cup of coffee down at the dresser next to the door precautionary before you accidentally spilled the much needed coffee.

At the sound of your tremulous voice Eddie lost his self confident composure and turned into a scared little child that was scolded by its parents. He looked at you with his incredibly lovely puppy eyes, something no one could resist. On one hand you felt bad for yelling at him, on the other hand, however, you were still boiling with anger.

“I’ve seen you,” you began, voice now softer. “I’ve seen you with this girl last night. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulder and took her with you into your room. How could I even believe that you were resistant to these horny groupies.” Eddie froze as you explained to him why you were so angry with him.

"I mean, she's absolutely beautiful, breathtaking. I can't really blame you, she's gorgeous. I would choose her over myself too, honestly -”

“Y/N,” Eddie interrupted you, his voice soft and … amused? “That’s Robin.” He was unexpectedly calm, nearly optimistic, and not like he was trying to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, great. At least you can remember her name,” you laughed hysterically. “Congratulations! Bonus points to Eddie fucking Munson. You’re right, you are indeed different from all those horny rockstars.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Even if you tried to hold back your hurt and anger, it wouldn’t have been successful. But letting it all out felt good, freeing. You looked at him, waiting for some lazy excuses, but he was just calm, like your accusations didn’t bother him. Was that a smile? Was he really smiling right now?

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. A moment that felt like eternity as you waited for his answer.

“Robin’s a lesbian.” Eddie tried to fight it, but it was a hopeless fight. The teasing grin tugging at his lips spread across his face.

“Oh … “ This caught you off guard. Your expression shifted from hurt to embarrassment, your hungover mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “Oh!” To hide your blushing cheeks you covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“She’s an old friend of mine. And since she lives here, I decided to meet her, ask her for some advice on how to win you over, you know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, really. I didn’t know - I just saw you and her and -” you apologized stuttering, ashamed you judged him too soon and unjustifiably screamed at him. A knot of guilt and remorse formed in the pit of your stomach as the realization sank in.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured you. “I never meant to upset you. I actually thought you were already out with your cousins.”

“I was on my way to meet them outside when I saw you with her,” you interfered.

He sighed and looked down on you, his expression softening with understanding.

“I never was good at talking to girls. To be honest, I’m awkward when it comes to flirting or talking with a girl I like. So I asked Robin if she could help me out. I wanted to do it right, you know? And not scare you away because I’m clumsy and weird since it was getting serious between us.” Eddie shook his head and huffed, seemingly amused about a memory that popped up.

“You know, I figured calling someone I like M’lady and stuff isn’t really what girls want.”

"Eddie, I'm so incredibly sorry, I really am," you apologized over and over again. The guilt seemed to eat you up inside.

“Please believe me, my love, and I’ll give you those things you thought unreal - the sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal,” he whispered, his rough hands cupping your face.

Even when everything would fall apart someday and the world burned down, all he would want was to hug you tight. There was nothing more important to him than you and his music - as long as you were with him, nothing could go wrong, you’ll be the light to guide him back home. He lost himself in the depths of your y/e/c irises, his heart beating violently in his chest. Just as you were about to say something he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss sparked something inside of you you’ve never felt before, something you never wanted to miss again in your life.

Out of breath you pulled away. Your mind was dizzy, but you were unsure if it was from the lingering effects of your hangover or the intensity of this moment, this overwhelming kiss.

“Come on, get ready and we’ll go out to get some breakfast,” he whispered, his smile was filled with warmth and affection - just pure adoration for the most wonderful woman in his life.

__________

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

[younmexreaders]

~~ Kuro x Reader 18+~~

An Odd Request and a Dutiful Butler

Kuro is your butler and he is happy to help you with some of your needs. All you have to do is ask.

Fem, Shy reader/Butler!Kuro | 2.4k words

Includes:

loss of virginity

fingering

oral

creampie

You couldn't sleep at all. You hadn't had this issue before, but this night you were having a problem and you weren't sure how to take care of it.

Your libido was keeping you awake. You wanted to rub up on everything and you've masturbated a couple times in an effort to make it stop, but it wasn't enough. You only had your fingers. They weren't satisfying you. You didn't have a partner you could call up or a toy to take care of that itch too deep for your fingers to reach. But... you did have someone you trusted. Taking the candle from your bedside table and lighting it, you tip toed out of your room and down the hall. He had to be asleep. It was late, moonlight filtering through the windows in the halls and reminding you that you should be in bed. The heat in your core was nagging. You wished you could stop it yourself.

There was candlelight ahead that gave you some hope. Hastening your step, you stepped into the den and found Kuro sitting by candlelight and drinking tea. He lifted his head as you approached, his piercing gaze flickered behind the glint that crossed his glasses.

"My lady," he greeted you, "what are you doing wandering the halls so late?"

You gripped the candle a little tighter, your other hand fidgeting with the hem of your nightgown. It was all that covered you. No robe over top, nothing underneath. It's how you preferred to sleep. And it would prove a useful decision if Kuro was willing to hear you out.

"I... I thought I heard something..." you lied, averting your gaze momentarily, "what are you doing up?"

A small smile played on Kuro's lips, his eyes flickering over you. You could feel blood gathering in your cheeks. Maybe your nightgown was a little too form revealing. You hadn't really worn it outside of your room before. He took another sip from his cup before gently setting it down.

"Oh, just enjoying the night air," he answered simply. He returned his gaze out the window, watching the stars and enjoying the night. He still wore his uniform. A pressed suit with golden adornments and buttons. It appeared that he didn't even attempt to go to bed yet. You took a seat across from him on the other side of the window, placing your candle down on the table beside you.

"I guess neither of us could sleep."

A moment of silence passed over you both. A clock ticked rather loudly nearby. Kuro could feel your eyes on him and decided to speak first.

"Is there something you wish to confide in me?"

You needed to think of your response carefully. You were afraid of saying anything too crass. Something that might put him off and leave you wanting for the rest of the night. And who knows how desperate you'd get then. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat and looked at your feet.

"Well... I do. I have a... need. But it feels outside the realm of your tasks." You hesitated and stammered. Kuro raised a brow and leaned forward, visibly interested.

"And what is this "need"? Is it something I can help you with?" He had a knowing quirk to his lips.

"It is. I assume you could help me with it pretty easily," you slowly reached out to take his hand, "You have slender fingers... and... you are very appealing."

Kuro stared into your eyes intently before taking his hand back. He seemed to understand. He moved closer, pulling his seat towards you and bathing himself in moonlight.

"Tell me everything, my lady. Everything you need from me." He leaned closer, faintly smiling.

"Kuro..." the nervousness building in your chest makes it hard to speak. Nothing comes out quickly and you can feel the seconds pass by agonizingly slowly. You try to keep eye contact, but it's hard to in general, let alone with your inability to spit things out.

"I need your help. I need your lips on me. Your fingers inside me..."

At first, he seemed stunned by your request, but the intrigue and desire quickly overtook his expression. He held your hands and brought you closer to him.

"Of course, my lady." His voice dropped low and he pressed his lips against yours. He's so quick to accept that you wonder if he wanted this too. Before you can dwell on that, he sets you back in your seat, deepening the kiss. You fluttered your eyes closed as his hands left yours, taking the hem of your nightgown and lifting it above your lap. You were a little lightheaded from your first kiss. It took you a moment to realize that Kuro was standing over you and lifting your nightgown higher until he pulled it over your head. You were bare before him. The cold of night giving you goosebumps and stiffening your nipples. The heat returned to your cheeks and you averted your gaze.

"I'll do everything in my power to please you." Kuro vowed. He cupped your cheeks, pressing his lips to your before feathering them across your jaw yo your ear. His breath was steady and warm.

"Close your eyes... and let yourself relax." He whispered. You shuddered and nodded silently. Your eyes shut quickly. His hands traveled down your body, gracing your neck and shoulders with gentle touch before caressing your breasts. His lips followed, dusting your neck and more in kisses as he moved lower and lower. His lips ignited your skin. You tingled everywhere he traced your skin and lightly pecked.

His trailing hands brushed along your thighs. He gently urged them open. As his lips moved dangerously close to your core, the tingles grew more intense. He teased your slit with the tip of his tongue and a whimper escaped you. It was barely a touch, but it was new and you hadn't let another person touch you before. He pressed his fingers against your clit, the shudder and whine that elicited were much stronger.

"Does that feel good?" Kuro softly chuckled.

"Yes. That feels good." You affirmed, nodding.

You shouldn't be so reactive to this. You've done this part before. You've rubbed yourself raw before. But when it's someone else's fingers circling your clit and slowly slipping inside you, you realize how sensitive you can be. Or just how desperate you were for someone else's touch.

"Good. I'm just getting started," he slipped another finger inside you and hastened their pace, he flicked his tongue over your clit. You writhed in your seat and gripped the armrests. You panted and moaned. You were weary of the window and glad there was a gate surrounding the estate. His digits explore inside you. His tongue on your lips made you so hot. You could barely sit still now. His pampering felt amazing and you wanted him somehow deeper still.

"There's so much more to show you..." Kuro hummed, warm breath billowing over your wet pussy.

"P-please don't move on yet. Not yet," you said, between heavy panting, "A little more."

"As you wish, my lady."

His fingers stroked deep inside you and assaulted all of your most sensitive spots. His tongue flicked and swirled around your clit. Every motion made you burn so hot. You looked down at him as he worked you over. He was focused and determined to do his job well. You squirmed in your seat and whimpered. The pleasure building within you was about to reach it's peak. Before you could tip over the edge, though, Kuro pulled away and slid his fingers out of you. You panted and whined at the sudden end, furrowing your brow as you gave him a pleading look.

"You're doing very well for someone new to these things." Kuro hummed as he stood and adjusted his glasses with the heel of his hand.

"Well, I've masturbated before. I'm not super new to that part," you caught your breath and eyed him longingly. As you trailed your eyes along his form, you noticed that he had grown pretty excited from his task. His manhood strained against his pants and he had slightly hastened breath. His composure had cracks. You bit your lip and met his gaze.

"I think I'm ready, now." You said, smiling up at him.

Kuro removed his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from it's confines. He took your hands and led you to the table, hoisting you up onto it and positioning himself between your legs. You ensured the candles were moved so there wasn't any danger with them. He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. The head of his cock pressed against your opening and you whimpered.

"Are you certain you're ready?" He asked.

You hesitated. The sight of him above you made your heart race, gazing down at where his piece rested against your entrance only made it worse. You took a breath to steady yourself and you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I'm ready."

Slowly, he pressed further, easing into you. You were more than wet enough to handle it, but you hadn't felt anything like this before. You tensed and clutched the edge of the table. It was a little uncomfortable at first. Your walls hugged his member tightly and it didn't deter him. He pushed until he was hilted inside you. You both groaned softly. Kuro let you get used to the feeling. He kissed your neck up to your jaw, meeting your lips.

"You're doing well, my lady." He said, caressing you and carefully pulling back. He thrust into you, enjoying the sensation of being inside you. He was mostly quiet. Simply panting. You couldn't make yourself so quiet if you tried. You were moaning and whining with each probing stroke of his cock. You were almost reluctant to look at him. You assumed the worst, thinking you looked awful or that you were being too noisy. You were embarrassed more than anything. It felt silly, you knew it was just your nerves, but you just didn't want to look. You tried to hide your burning face behind your hands, attempting to stifle your sounds.

Kuro graced his fingers over one of your hands. He entwined his fingers with yours and pulled your hand away from your face. Just one. He laid your hand down beside your head and held it. Soft grunting escaped him as he hastened the pace just slightly.

"You're beautiful. You needn't hide your face from me." He reassured you. You kept your eyes shut, leaving your other hand over your face, gripping your hair a little. You gasp with each thrust. You wished he would make a sound, but beyond panting he was so quiet. Was he enjoying himself at all? You knit your brows.

Kuro picked up the pace, bracing himself against the table with his free hand so he didn't hurt your arm. He thrust deeper and faster. You held onto his shoulder instead of tearing at your hair. You cracked an eye open to look up at him. The sight was amazing. Seeing him in his suit while you were bare beneath him, his composure cracking more, his focus solely on you. Your moan came out more desperate than usual after that. Kuro shivered at that sound.

"You're so responsive," he panted, "and you feel so good." He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you to a seated position, pulling you close against him as he rolled his hips faster. He struggled to keep himself quiet. With his face past yours, your breasts pressed tightly to his chest, you were finally given his audible pleasure. They were soft, but he was moaning and it was music to your ears. You both clung to each other, the table creaking beneath you with every motion. He was so deep inside you, scratching the itch that had nagged you all night. As much as you wanted this to go on, you were about to reach your end. You kissed him desperately and he returned it with equal fervor.

You wrapped around him, arms and legs hugging him close. You shuddered and twitched as your climax crashed through you, pulling away for air and hungrily going in for more. He gives a low groan. Your pussy gripped his cock and he couldn't take it. Nor did he have the space to pull out. He came with a few final bucks, stopping and holding you as he caught his breath. You needed some time to gather yourself as well.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Kuro set you down and pulled out, "was that what you needed?"

"It was. And I feel good." You nodded and looked up at him shyly. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, smoothing his hair down and tucking himself away.You grabbed your nightgown and pulled it over yourself. You felt really messy, but you weren't expecting him to deal with that. He already helped you enough.

Kuro blew out the candles. He picked you up in a bridal carry, taking you down the halls by only the light of the moon. You made a small noise of protest.

"You don't have to take me to bed, Kuro. It's alright." You insisted.

"You need to clean up before you go back to bed," he said, glancing down at you, "I'll draw you a bath, my lady."

You were willing to do that yourself, you wondered why he was insistent on taking you there and doing it for you. You shrugged and rested your head against his shoulder. He brought you to your room and set you on your bed, ensuring that your nightgown was under you so nothing more got too messy.

Kuro pecked your forehead before heading to the bathroom to make your bath. You watched him leave and folded your hands in your lap. You wondered how this would affect you both. You wouldn't mind the small affections that might come from this. You wouldn't mind doing this with him again either. Looking down at the floor, you lightly kicked your feet and smiled. Whatever might happen, you were sure you'd like it.

[wlwcatalogue]

Valentine's Special ~ Aerith/Tifa from Final Fantasy VII: Remake (Compilation)

Since today is Valentine’s Day, and FFVII: Rebirth is releasing at the end of this month, it’s the perfect time to get caught up on Aerith/Tifa, a.k.a. Aerti, a.k.a. possibly the most unexpected F/F ship in gaming! Here is what I consider to be the most comprehensive compilation of Aerti scenes from FFVII: Remake, prepared by yours truly for your viewing (and shipping) pleasure :)

Quick sales pitch: While Aerith is famously The One Who Dies and Tifa is known for her sexy character design, they are also popularly remembered as main character Cloud’s two equally appealing love interests, as attested to by one Robert Pattinson. However, just as the elements present in the original 1997 game Final Fantasy VII were expanded on and added to in FFVII: Remake, the relationship between Aerith and Tifa was also fleshed out… to the point where it became very, very easy to ship them together. To put it in Tumblr terms, it’s like Betty and Veronica, but taken in a different – but still (subtextually) gay – direction compared to Riverdale. Check out the video above, it's just 1.5 hours!

(Longer sales pitch / commentary below the cut)

Originally from the hit 1997 Japanese role-playing game Final Fantasy VII, Aerith and Tifa, along with the main character Cloud Strife, were one of the most famous love triangles of video games at the time, and arguably even now. (Note: Think Betty and Veronica (Archie but pre-Riverdale), or if you’re more familiar with anime, Rei and Asuka (Neon Genesis: Evangelion) or Saber and Rin (Fate: Stay Night).) Although they barely had any interactions together and really were primarily love interests for Cloud in the original game (and subsequent related works), the relationship between Aerith and Tifa was significantly more fleshed out in Final Fantasy VII: Remake (2020), going beyond your standard box-ticking “look, girl power!” exercise. There seems to have been many a fan who walked out of playing Remake who found Aerti (i.e. Aerith and Tifa’s relationship) memorable – whether read romantically or platonically – resulting in many GIFs, fanart, and even compilations of memorable scenes of their “friendship”.

Not only do they interact with each other outside of speaking about Cloud or other male characters (scraping a pass in the Bechdel test, yay!), Remake gives the relationship space to develop from “strangers who hit it off” to “individuals who care about and trust each other”. Significantly, Aerith is the one who seems to take Tifa’s concerns the most seriously and comfort her, and Tifa is also able to see past Aerith’s cheery façade and reach out to her at her times of greatest need. In my opinion, each of the pair offers the greatest emotional support to the other out of all the characters – even more than what they do for Cloud (or what Cloud does for them).

So what makes their relationship romantic rather than simply platonic to me (other than sheer force of will)? Even though there isn’t really any direct flirting or explicitly romantic lines, there are a number of moments which are framed romantically or parallel romantic moments between Cloud/Aerith or Cloud/Tifa. Perhaps the most obvious of this is when Tifa protects Aerith from falling (twice), which is animated and shot in a way which suggests that it’s just as swoon-worthy as when Cloud protected Tifa from a fall in a prior scene. However, another notable example is how the high-five gesture is linked to Cloud’s opening up to Aerith (as he has to be persuaded over the course of several scenes to do the high-five), but Aerith also high-fives Tifa in other scenes later, effectively appropriating the gesture. So while I never expect it to ever become canon, Remake’s Aerti has been a wonderful surprise and I hope to see even greater developments in their relationship within this subtextual space as the FFVII: Remake trilogy progresses.

Let's all hope for the best-- in the meantime, please enjoy this compilation!

[ask-codeearasure]

I have one complaint to voice before I go in for a nap, if my anger and anxiety would let me. This is something that really bothers me from the few times I've seen people say it in reblogs, posts, and whole rants hidden within tags, and hopefully I've gotten the wrong impression here. Please correct me if I did.

It pisses me off when I see people say "canon doesn't matter" when analyzing characters they didn't fucking make.

This is not me saying it is in any way wrong to dislike canon and prefer one's own spin on someone else's work, because that by itself tells me that one enjoyed another's story enough to indulge their imagination with it further. There is nothing wrong with that and that is not what I'm talking about here. The problem I have with "canon doesn't matter" is it is actively contradictory to what this fandom preaches it's all about.

You say we should defend and respect artists. You say we should properly credit them and appreciate the work they share. I don't disagree, in fact I aggressively get on people's cases for not doing that! Yet at the same time, here you are saying "canon doesn't matter" in regards to the stories they have created and chosen to share with the internet. These works have taken them hours, days, weeks, months, years to complete, and that takes a fuckton of thought and motivation to manage in order to entertain a couple hundred people at the very least.

And it also takes an insane amount of entitlement and disregard to imply absolutely none of that work fucking mattered. This may not have been your intent with the phrase, and perhaps I'm just taking it at face-value, but that is how it reads to me with how quite a few of you are incorporating it into your speech, and it's with complete dismissal for others too.

I am well aware that the Undertale Multiverse fandom is in and of itself based on fanon. You don't need to repeat that to me a million more times thinking I "just don't get it" and am being a dick or overreacting because I don't like differences in opinion.

If that was a thought you've had while reading this so far, genuinely, you haven't paid attention to my introduction or the point I typed out in red.

Just because this division of the Undertale fandom is based off of fanwork and that's it, that doesn't mean that the original stories don't matter, and hearing this shit over and over again is discouraging, because I seem to be in the minority of people who like a lot of the original stories for exactly what they are and the characters they have introduced and I quite enjoy the vision I can gather from what the original works provided so far. This does not mean in any regard that I dislike fanon either. I actively combine elements of the two for my own amusement.

It ticks me off when I hear "canon doesn't matter" over and over again, even from mutuals, because I want to be able to bond with these people and have fun with them, but that can be difficult when I see them putting down not just my interests, but all the effort and time their creators put into them. I don't believe I am the only one who has been led to feel this way.

It's just... mean. It's really fucking mean. I thought we were trying to move on from that. I thought the goal was to change that so people can actually have fun here.

I don't understand the appeal, and I don't like that it's being done so casually and without much thought either. Have Creators become so trivial to you that you don't think of them as people anymore? That you have to put them on this pedestal of "I am untouchable" and that's your justification to not care? Are their works, their art, just images and practice writing to you? Is it nothing but a product now? If that is indeed the case, that is dehumanizing. That is disrespectful. This sort of idolization and complete disregard for their humanity, sometimes both at the same time, is a dismissal for them as individuals, as people.

Artists put a piece of themselves into everything they make. That is a vulnerability they are sharing with you. You are free to dislike it, but saying it "doesn't matter" is fucking awful.

Cause that's what it sounds like. That's the impression you have given me and I don't feel good about it.

If I were to make an AU and it got popular, spent months to tell this story and a fraction of my following chanted "canon doesn't matter", I would be absolutely livid. I would be insulted. I would be led to believe that my efforts were not appreciated, and it would discourage me, as an artist and a writer, from continuing to share the things I made with you.

Or perhaps that's just my personal problem and me taking offense to the concept pisses you off too, cause it reads as pathetic or hysterical or however else you'd describe it.

Please at least think about this for a moment. I could be wrong, I could be right, I could be somewhere in the middle. What I know for sure is something is not right about this.

Canon and fanon should be allowed to coexist without bullshit like this clogging the pathway between them. Can you at least agree with that sentiment?

-- Sarco

[ermwhattehsigma]

Ay another swsh AND Hop fan!! So I have a short prompt!*

Due to Hop's diligent work at the lab, Sonia gives him a short break off! When she asks what his plans are; all he says is that he'll be off camping. Sonia assumes he means the Wild Area- but when his phone is out of service and no one can find him in said wild area, it throws everyone in a panic (prolly Leon especially lol)- that is until 3 days later when he comes back from the Slumbering Weald perfectly fine lol

*(i..think this is a short prompt; sorry if it isn't lol)

Short enough for me! Besides, I love to write. ^w^ Thank you for the first ever prompt!

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“Say, Hop, how would you feel about taking a break?” “A break? What for?” Sonia pouts at the young trainer sitting across from her. It’s been a few months since Hop has become her assistant, and since then, she’s gotten more than she could ever ask for in a regular employee. For one, he hasn’t stabbed her in the back and given dangerous materials to a pair of lunatics, as her last one did. Not that that’s a very high bar to clear. 

His drive and work ethic, on the other hand, are not to be understated. He has gladly been conducting all of the fieldwork Sonia loathes, heading out into the wilderness and to raid dens in order to collect data and observe Pokémon, not to mention helping out around the lab.

If it were her doing all of this on her own, or even his share of work alone, she would’ve all but rioted for a day off.

“What do you mean, ‘what for’? I’m surprised you haven’t asked for one already! Don’t you have somewhere else you’d rather be than here? Or better yet, something else you’d rather be doing?” He seems to consider her words carefully, tapping on the mug in his grasp while he thinks. The two of them are sitting down at the table in the small kitchen area of the lab, sharing a cup of tea each before going back to their assignments. Sonia watches him expectantly, taking a sip as she does so. Eventually, he comes up with an answer that seems to satisfy him.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind going camping sometime soon.” She frowns a little at this, not nearly as understanding about his decision. “Why would you wanna do that? You already camp enough when you’re out studying in the field.”

“Yeah, but it’s just not the same, y’know? I miss the kind of camping I’d be doing during the Gym Challenge, with my team hanging around and a pot to make curry in. It just can’t be beat!” It makes sense when he says it, but she simply doesn’t see the appeal. He already spends a good amount of time on routes and in the Wild Area, so she figured he’d want to step away from that, perhaps visit some cities and shops. Then again, he’s already toured the whole region as someone who’s completed the Gym Challenge, not to mention he got farther than she ever did in the circuit. “If you say so,” She says with a shrug, then asks, “How does three days off starting tomorrow sound?” Hop grins at this, visibly excited at the prospect.

“Sounds brilliant! Thanks, Sonia!”

She returns the smile, taking a final swig of her tea before setting it down.

“Anything for my favorite assistant. Now, let's get back to it!”

. . .

In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to offer Hop a few days off when he didn’t feel compelled to ask. Having to complete all of the paperwork on her own is one thing, but as the clock ticks on and time passes, she realizes just how bowing it is to work on her own. Usually by now, Hop would be well into the meat of a topic by now, gabbing into her ear while they work on their separate tasks. It’s a good dynamic they have going on, she thinks– He gets someone to talk to about whatever it is that has caught his interest that day, and she has some background noise for her brain to latch onto instead of having to write in silence.

Now, the only sounds she has to accompany her are her nails tapping on her keyboard and the Rookidees chirping outside. In short, with Hop gone, the lab is agonizingly dull.

She throws back her head and groans. Trying to get any writing done like this is impossible, so she decides to throw in the towel. If it isn’t happening, it’s not happening! Simple as that. She takes this opportunity to stretch, clasping her hands above her head and pushing them out as she bends her spine. A knock at the door startles her, and she yelps as she nearly falls out of her chair, just barely holding on and righting herself.

“Coming, coming!!”

The red-haired professor gets out of her seat, smoothing out whatever wrinkles may have formed in her lab coat before rushing to the door. She wasn’t expecting a visit from anyone today, which is why it comes as a surprise when she finds Hop’s mother standing with an anxious look on the doorstep.

“Elena! What brings you here?” She asks the woman, who rings her hands as she glances past Sonia. “I was wondering if you’d know where Hop is. He took off this morning in a hurry, carrying a pack. I’ve tried to get a hold of him a few times since then, but I can’t seem to reach his phone.”

Sonia hums, puzzled by this development. She isn’t able to reach him? That doesn’t sound right. When in doubt, test it out! She summons her own phone, the Rotom phone flying out of her pocket and hovering a few inches in front of her the moment she gives the word. From there, she pulls up her contacts and dials Hop’s number. Sure enough, after only a moment, her phone beeps.

“Zzt! Number currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

“Huuuh? What do you mean, unavailable?!” She exclaims, to which the Rotom inhabiting her phone makes an ‘eep!’ noise and flies back into her pocket.

Without any real answer to go off of, Sonia crosses her arms, unsure of what to tell the fretful mother in front of her. She also isn’t sure what to tell herself, now feeling a bit worried as to her assistant’s whereabouts. Surely he hasn’t broken his phone in the short timespan he’s been gone, right? Then again, if he’s roughing out in the Wild Area, there’s a chance that might be the case.

Whatever may be going on, it can wait until after she’s reassured his mom. Sonia puts on an unbothered smile and waves her hand.

“Not to worry! I’m sure he’s just somewhere with a spotty connection. I told him he has three days off, so he’s probably out making the most of it right now.”

This seems to work in calming the other down, who lets out a sigh of relief and thanks Sonia. She heads back down the road to her home, Sonia smiling and waving as she goes, only to drop face soon after.

Just what is Hop up to right now, she wonders.

. . .

The second day alone isn’t nearly as boring as the first, though frankly, she sort of wishes it were. She’s been outside nearly all day now, having taken a train up to Motostoke that morning, then a Corviknight Taxi to Hammerlocke from there. All of this travel just so that she can bumble about in the Giant’s Cap in the northern half of the Wild Area. She is supposed to be documenting how wild Mimikyu interact with the Pokémon around them and each other, but she’s yet to even encounter one, let alone watch it for long enough to see how it acts.

And to make matters worse, she can’t get her mind off of the interaction she had yesterday with Hop’s and Leon’s mother. Although Hop is an extremely capable trainer with a strong team of Pokémon, she can’t help but worry over his safety now that there is seemingly no way of reaching him. That part bothers her as well, because there shouldn’t be any reason for them not to be able to contact him unless his phone got wrecked.

She finds a nearby rock and sits down, holding her chin in her hands. All of this overthinking isn’t like her, nor is she a fan of it. Surely Hop isn’t in any danger, right? He can handle himself just fine. He’s probably out there having a great time, playing with his Pokémon at the Giant’s Seat or enjoying the view at Lake Axewell.

“Boo!!!”

Sonia shrieks, jumping up from where she was sitting and spinning around. Standing behind her with a cheeky expression is Gloria, who is followed not long after by an exasperated looking Victor.

“Did you really have to do that? Sorry about her, Sonia.” “You’re not the least bit sorry. Otherwise, you’d have warned her!”

She stares blankly at the two for a moment with her hand over her chest before letting out a breath she was holding. Then, she pouts at them.

“Way to scare the wits out of me! Haven’t you two got something better to do than sneaking up on unsuspecting people?”

“Nope!” Gloria responds cheerily.

“Oh,” Victor says, looking like he’s suddenly remembered something, “Why don’t we ask Sonia as well? She’s got to know where he is.”

“Oh, yeah! Sonia, have you got any clue where Hop is? We’ve been trying to call him all day, but with no dice.”

So even they can’t reach Hop? Great. Now her worries, which she had been attempting to tell herself were unfounded, have only returned tenfold. She raises a finger to her hair, toying with her ponytail as she thinks of an answer.

“I’m pretty sure his phone is busted. I gave him a three day break, and he told me he’d go camping, so I figure he’s probably somewhere out here in the Wild Area doing just that.”

Victor and Gloria react in tandem to her words, giving each other a tense look before returning their attention to Sonia. The former speaks.

“We’ve been up and down the Wild Area, and we haven’t seen him at all.”

Her jaw drops at this. She quickly shakes her head to get rid of the expression, looking wide eyed at the two of them.

“Wait– Seriously? The entire Wild Area?”

“Yeah! We’ve been on a Raid Den battling spree, so we’ve covered just about everywhere there is he could be!” Gloria adds.

Upon hearing this, Sonia feels a pit form in her stomach. If Hop isn’t in the Wild Area, then where could he possibly be? He could be in one of the various camping spots found on some routes throughout the region, but if that’s the case, she doesn’t understand why none of them are able to call or message him at the moment. She can’t see him having broken his phone in an environment as undisturbed as a route campsite.

“That’s… I don’t get it. He should definitely be here.”

“M-Maybe we missed a spot! Right, Vic?”

“I dunno… I definitely think we would’ve spotted him at some point.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs between the three of them, interrupted only by the chittering of Pokémon in the distance. Gloria, apparently unable to stand the pregnant pause, shakes her fists.

“Nobody panic! I’m sure he’s safe. Until we know for sure, though, me and Vic will do another look around.”

“We will?” He asks, sounding quite reluctant, only to be met with Gloria jabbing him with her elbow.

“Yes, we will!”

“Good luck with that, you two. And thanks,” Sonia tells them, doing her best to convey her gratitude.

Gloria and Victor depart soon after, with the young girl practically dragging him by the hand as they head back the way they came. Sonia watches as they leave, not taking her eyes off of their direction until they’ve disappeared from sight. With them on the case, she’s certain Hop will be find in no time.

That’s what she tries to convince herself of, ignoring the gnawing feeling in her gut as she heads back for the day.

. . .

It’s now been a full 48 hours since anyone’s last seen or spoken to Hop, and Sonia is in full crisis mode. Gloria and Victor’s search yielded no results, and even after splitting up to check some routes around Galar, they’ve still been unable to find her assistant. She’s tried everything she can on her side of things to get in contact with him, even going so far as to email him, with no success.

She drops her head into her arms, folding them over her desk. The Rotom phone floats to stay in her peripheral vision, the screen displaying her contacts list. She’s been staring at it for a while now, hoping for a notification to appear. It’s got her feeling like she’s at the end of her rope, not knowing what else to do or how else she can help look for Hop. She could file a missing persons report at the station, but there is the off chance he may be perfectly fine. Besides, she feels as though it isn’t her decision to make.

Her eyes wander to the screen again, looking at the names listed. One in particular speaks out to her. If there’s anyone who deserves to know what’s going on, not to mention who could lend a hand, it’s him.

She grabs her phone from where it hovers in the air and presses the call button next to one of the contacts. It only takes four rings before she hears a voice on the other end.

“Sonia! What’s the sudden call for?” Leon asks with a chipper tone. If this were a normal day, she’d probably badger him for not having given her a ‘hello’ first, but today is anything but normal.

“You haven’t heard yet?”

“Heard what?”

She takes in a deep breath, bracing herself.

“Hop’s sort of… missing.”

A beat.

“Missing? What do you mean he’s missing?!”

“H-He’s probably fine!” She quickly blurts, then explains, “Y’see, I gave him some time off, about three days worth. He said he’d go camping, but since then no one’s been able to ring him, nor find him. He’s definitely not in the Wild Area, at least…”

She hears a noise on the other end that sounds like Leon sinking back into his chair. When he got up, she has no clue.

“And you didn’t tell me this until now, why?”

“I didn’t even know myself until yesterday! And even then, I still had my doubts. Since then, though, Gloria and Victor have been looking all over for him.”

“They have? They’re good for that,” He says, then there’s a pause before he asks, “Do you know where they haven’t looked so far?”

“A couple of routes, probably the Glimwood Tangle… Why?”

“I’m going to join them.”

“You’re— What?! But don’t you have Chairman duties to attend to?”

She can practically hear him rolling his eyes from wherever he is, with a small scoff under his breath.

“Those can wait until after I’m certain Hop is safe and sound. I won’t be able to concentrate without that peace of mind anyways.”

Sonia raises her head down, leaning back in her chair.

“I feel you there. I think these have been the most unproductive three days I’ve ever had, with him gone. I just hope he’s alright…” She admits, allowing her worries to seep into the conversation.

“I have faith in him. He’s able to take on anything thrown his way.”

“Are you telling me that to make me feel better, or for yourself?”

Leon chuckles.

“A bit of both, really. I’ve got to go now, alright?”

“Alright. Take care, and let me know if you find him.”

“Will do.”

She hears the sound of a Pokéball summoning a Pokémon, followed by the familiar roar of Charizard before the audio cuts out as the call is ended. The phone clatters onto her desk shortly, dropped there without a care.

Her eyes wander to the unoccupied space of the laboratory around her. She sincerely hopes that Leon’s hunt bears fruit, for everyone’s sake. Otherwise, she’s confident Leon will flip the region upside down looking for his little brother.

. . .

“Thank you again for letting us stay the night, Elena.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal. We’re all family, aren’t we? And you’ve all been working so hard…”

Sonia lets out a small hum of acknowledgement at her words, taking a sip of her coffee. It’s been a full three days now. Leon had reached out to Gloria and Victor shortly after his and Sonia’s conversation yesterday, asking what areas they haven’t explored that he could check. No luck in any of them. Apparently he even called Mustard and Honey over on the Isle of Armor, on the slim chance Hop had possibly gone there for his break. They told him they hadn’t seen him.

At some point, Elena asked for Leon to come home, and then extended that invitation to Sonia, Gloria, and Victor. Eventually they had all gathered that night, being treated to a hearty dinner and sleeping under the same roof. It’s a bit silly considering they all live so close to one another, what with Sonia not too far off in Wedgehurst and the twins residing literally right next door, but none of them bring it up. It felt nice to be together during this time of uncertainty, where they’re missing a part of their group.

Sonia takes another sip of her coffee before setting it down.

“That’s a given. We want to make sure he’s okay just as much as you do— And I’m certain we’ll find him soon.”

“Yes… yes, of course. I just wish soon would come sooner.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, having no consolations to provide to the other. None that are truthful, that is. So, she doesn’t say anything, instead lifting her cup to her lips.

As it turns out, she doesn’t need to, because not even a minute later the door swings open.

“I’m home!”

Sonia nearly spits her drink out, covering her mouth as she slams the mug down. She whirls her head in the direction of the door, and sure enough, standing there with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a grin on his face is Hop.

“Hop?!” She cries.

“Hop!” Comes Gloria’s voice from the living room, as well as the sound of her feet pounding against the floor as she charges into Hop. He yelps in surprise, nearly being bowled over from the force of her tackle. His bag drops to the floor as he takes in an armful of his friend.

“Glo! What are you doing here? And Vic, and Sonia?”

“Who cares about that! Where have you been?!”

“What’s?...” Leon begins as he comes from upstairs, rubbing his eyes with a fist. He doesn’t even finish his sentence, eyes widening when he sees what all the commotion is about.

“Lee! You too?”

The older of the two doesn’t answer, instead hurrying down the rest of the steps and throwing his arms around both Hop and Gloria. Gloria giggles, looking incredibly relieved, as opposed to Hop and his confusion.

“Okay, seriously, why is everyone here?? What’s going on?”

“We should be asking you that,” Leon tells him as he finally lets them both go, “Where were you?”

“What do you mean where was I? The Slumbering Weald, of course!”

“What? Why were you there?” Victor asks, now joining the group.

“Because, it’s scenic, and I figured Zamazenta would enjoy visiting it again.”

Sonia gets up from her seat now, having recovered from almost choking on her drink. She almost can’t believe it, the fact that he’s turned up without them needing to do anything. His explanation doesn’t answer some of her lingering questions, though.

“We’ve been trying to call you this whole time! Why didn’t you answer?”

“Huh? You were?” Hop asks, seeming none the wiser. He takes out his phone and checks his calls, and sure enough, there are now a ton of missed calls that weren’t there previously.

“That’s odd. I didn’t get any of these while I was in the Weald. I guess the connection there wasn’t great? You know how weird and fickle that place can be.”

Sonia rubs her temples. She sure does know, having gotten lost there once and stripped of her sense of time. It’s not hard to imagine, then, that the Weald would have no reception to speak of.

Leon claps a hand onto Hop’s shoulder, not looking nearly as pressed over the circumstances leading to his seeming disappearance.

“I’m just glad you’re alright. You didn’t run into any trouble while you were there, did you?”

“Nope. I had a grand time!”

With those words, it feels like everyone can breathe easily again. Gloria ushers Hop into the kitchen, at which point his mom welcomes him home and tells him to never run off without letting them know where he’s going again. He apologizes, and soon after they’re all treated to breakfast by her. Chatter and laughter fills the room as they recount the needless worry of the past few days.

From outside the window, fog rolls off of the tree line from the Slumbering Weald, as though the forest is alive and breathing.

[minevn]

(I'm sorry for the mistakes) (silly) *left a note for all my clothes thieves* “Please don't steal my clothes! I’m not rich and I can’t buy new clothes every time!!!”

Minato: Doesn't steal your clothes but is shocked when you invite him over and he sees the note. "You...have people stealing your clothes?" He looks at you, mortified, shocked that stuff like that actually happens and it's happening to you. Offers to stay watch if you want him to.

Haruto: Doesn't steal your clothes, but you two probably share clothes if your clothes fit him, he also gives you his clothes often. Is also surprised when he sees the note, honestly, a bit upset he hadn't thought of doing that himself but also gets upset at himself for thinking that. "I'll buy you new clothes, how does that sound?"

Jun: Has definitely stolen your clothes, especially now that she's back in town and so close to you. Feels bad when she sees the note and returns your stolen clothes back to you, washed of course. She'll also buy you some new clothes and takes one article of clothing, she needs your smell y'know? She'll make sure to wash and return it when your scent is gone.

Hoshi: Hasn't stolen your clothes, but has definitely thought about it. Laughs so hard he falls to the floor when he reads the note you left. "People are ACTUALLY stealing your clothes?!?" Despite laughing, when he thinks about it, it ticks him off. If any one is going to be stealing your clothes, it should be HIM! He's the one dating you! "I'm buying you new clothes and getting you a safe to store them in. That, or you could come live with me and I'll beat the shit outta anyone who comes by to steal 'em"

Habiki: Hasn't thought about stealing your clothes so he hasn't done it. Doesn't notice the note until later in his visit. "Is... Is that a joke?" He points to the paper, looking disgusted. Why would anyone steal worn clothes?? After confirming it's not a joke, Habiki just sighs. "Lets get you some new clothes. Don't worry 'bout paying me back." He doesn't steal your clothes, but he tries to find the appeal about stealing worn clothes. He understands when all he smells is you. Still, you two are dating and he can smell you anytime he wants to.

Kage: He's solen your clothes so many times. He feels bad when he sees the note when he's about to steal some more clothes. He sighs and drops his plans of stealing your clothes. He heads back home and finally does the laundry, it's mostly your clothes. He'll return them back to you when he's done washing and drying them. He'll take a little something as a reward for giving you back your clothes.

Kei: He's stolen one thing of yours(your heart jk) and that's a shirt that you go to sleep in. He only ever steals that shirt. Once the scent is gone, he washes it and returns it back to you, waiting for you to wear it and get your scent all over it again. When he sees the note, he knows he's included, but definitely not the only one. Next time he goes to steal that shirt, he buys you a new shirt to wear every time and leaves you some(a lot of) money.

Yani: The main culprit honestly. He'll go to steal another article of clothing and see the note. It doesn't stop him from stealing your clothes. But the next day he returns with all your clothes that went missing months ago, but he didn't even wash them. You ask how he got your clothes, not wanting to expect the worst, but he just flat out tells you it was him before going over to you laundry basket, picking up a shirt and smelling it while telling you she likes your scent. Will ask you if you know how to turn your scent into a perfume that way Yani doesn't have to steal your clothes anymore. Still, he feels bad so he'll take you shopping, letting you know that he'll be stealing these as well after you've worn them, but at least you have all your other clothes back and Yani will start returning them to you, unwashed however.

Aki: Chokes as soon as she sees the note. Thinks it's a joke but quickly turns disgusted when she finds out it's not a joke. "That's serious, buddy. Call the police??? For now, lets get you some new clothes, don't even worry about paying me back." is so disgusted by the idea of others stealing your clothes that she stays over for a month and doesn't sleep at night, just stares at the window.

[yunoteru4ever]

Musing about the forbidden appeal of stalkers and how Mirai Nikki's framework benefits the overall love story

Something I think is unspoken about the appeal of... oh, let's politely say off-kilter *cough* love stories such as the one at the center of Future Diary is that, for many people, the idea of having a stalker can sound... appealing? Romantic, even?

Let me explain what I mean in more detail: If you've never truly experienced the horror/stress of having a stalker? The idea of someone choosing YOU to fixate upon as the object of their unyielding love/lust can actually sound pretty nice, in concept. Hell — even moreso if you've never had anyone openly and proudly declare their love for you. The notion of having a stalker can feel VALIDATING, even! The less luck you have in love, the more that discovering you have your own stalker can sound like a weird, wonderful fantasy. Or, shit... even if you're doing just fine in the dating/romance department, imagining someone harboring an undying obsession/devotion can still feel like a massive ego boost.

My point is: When dealing with a stalker is only a distant, abstract and purely theoretical concept, the "horror" side of it can easily fade into the far background. So yeah, I think there's a certain Forbidden Appeal to stalker-romances for many, despite the inherent darkness and danger that could/should logically come with such a thing. (Especially in RL, of course.)

In that context, the way Mirai Nikki's central love story is presented and framed is especially genius. And I say that for two primary reasons:

First reason — Mirai Nikki taps into that Forbidden Appeal partly by giving Yuno an increasingly sympathetic portrayal, but importantly also by placing this unhinged stalker character into a framework where her biggest downsides become comprehensible or even beneficial. Sure, Yuno seems to have a taste for violence and blood, but she's trapped in a goddamn Killing Game where both her own life and the fate of the fucking world is at stake. Furthermore, we later learn there's a ticking clock element that demands the "game" crown a victor ASAP. Against this background, Yuno's violence and darkness becomes, at worst, a bit of evil that's also handily beneficial. And at best? Her behavior becomes totally understandable due to contextual morality. (Besides, it also provides us with a reason to exploit yet another off-kilter romantic concept that can hold a dark appeal for some: the "willing to kill for you"-level love.)

Second reason — Yet in spite of what I just said, Future Diary doesn't shy away (...much*) from the threat inherent to having someone develop an unhealthy obsession with another. Yuno isn't some harmlessly funny sitcom stalker, nor is she the kind of stalker who the narrative fails to ever acknowledge as such in order preserve the "purity" of the central relationship's appeal. Yuki recognizes her as an obsessive stalker from the very beginning! There's no denying that she's violent and clearly dangerous! The fact that she's mentally unstable and therefore seems unpredictable is absolutely core to her character! The story is utterly up-front about these things... and it never lets us forget that, for all that we may feel bad for her or understand her actions, she's still a threat/potential threat to EVERYBODY around her.

Long after it's clear that the bizarre situation makes Yuno's worst traits much more positive, there are still MANY instances when the narrative reminds us of just how much of an unpredictable threat she is to even her supposed allies.

However...

*...I added that "(...much*)" caveat because there are some rare exceptions . A signature aspect of every Sakae Esuno story to date is the way he delights in swerving from the primary horror/suspense/action focus over to sudden bursts of comedy. For that reason, Mirai Nikki is definitely guilty of playing Yuno's stalking as mere 'wacky hijinx' on select occasions — for better or worse. For me, these sudden breaks in the tension are quirky and delightful, but I can understand if individual mileage varies.

All of this is really just me thinking out loud about why the portrayal of such a clearly "problematic" relationship works so well for me and many others. It isn't afraid to confront the inherent problems, but it also provides a (totally unrealistic) framework in which the problems are more tolerable, maybe even acceptable. It makes the stalker sympathetic via the gradual reveal of her backstory, but it also never lets us forget that's she's legit dangerous. And it does all of this while showing us a twisted relationship that might already be oddly appealing to some members of the audience.

Besides, look — Esuno knows this is pretty "out there" stuff. He was once asked if he'd want to date someone like Yuno himself. In that interview, he laughed before replying, "It's probably best we keep that kind of relationship in the realm of fiction." So it's not like he's legitimately recommending that anyone go out and date a crazed stalker. That's part of why the framework has to be SO extreme and SO fantastical for it work so well, IMO.

[carrionmeat]

relay (astarion/reader)

ao3

words: 4.1k

Summary:

(I don't want to hurt myself even more) //

Astarion has spent an eternity as Cazador's servant. For half that time, he's been somewhat aware of another vampire lord, a friend of Cazador's-- he's seen glimpses of them in the palace's halls, in the grandiose parties thrown in the ballroom, and now here in the guest bedroom.

At first, he begs them for their story of freedom.

a/n: Tav is gender-neutral & their name is never mentioned -- im making a pt.2 smutfic where it starts when astarion gets on his knees 🙏

//

Disgusting. The whole thing ticked under your skin, and there was nothing more you’d like than to leave. 

Smoothing down the silken fabrics of your intricate attire, the gentle orchestra of the bards grated your ears. The Szarr Palace’s ballroom that trapped you was grand. Grand enough to impress you the first time you attended one of his silly parties. He threw one every moon cycle. Just on the cusp of the full moon, just as the wicked creatures of the night got antsy for blood. 

You put your thumb to your lips. Sharp, your eyes traced dancing aristocrats and politicians alike. 

It was getting tiresome. Cazador and his appearances, him and his insistence on being the one to pull Baldur Gate’s strings. Sometimes the fact that he lagged behind newer, younger nobodies was amusing enough for you to forget your annoyance. 

That Gortash fellow, to name one. How quickly he rose from nothing. A handsome and charismatic young man– though his visage was much akin to a wet dog, Gortash was still more appealing than Cazador. 

“I’d like to think,” Speak of the devil. You hadn’t even noticed him slink up to you, though you were sure the manner he did it was in the grandeur sort. “That you aren’t going to squirrel away as you always do, hm?” 

Taking the chilled wine glass in your hand and putting it to your lips– not yet drinking, just musing over the thought– you turned your head to look at him— Cazador, with his slicked-back hair and unattractively sharp features. You studied him. For a moment, nothing more. 

He was in a good mood. Something just went his way. You knew he had dirt on one of the Flaming Fist officers, so perhaps he just cornered them into a favor. He was in a good mood– and it’d be wise to keep it that way. You raised a brow in a perfectly manicured expression, and a light smile played on your painted lips. 

“Of course not, my lord,” An endearing term that only stemmed from how long you’ve known each other. Little over a century. Not that you were counting the years until you could move to the other side of the Sword Coast or anything. “I am simply finding it hard to restrain myself right now. With how these nobles move and flourish, I cannot think of anything but the blood running under their thin skin.” 

“Oh?” Cazador’s attention flitted from your face. Back to the ballroom’s floor, back to his esteemed guests. “I suppose I understand your plight. But I have already marked the most beautiful in the room. Unfortunately, my dear, you’ll have to feed off scraps tonight.” 

Tilting the glass pressed to your lips, you let the wine give you a respite from the conversation. 

“... Yes, I’m sure,” Even though you were able to control your hunger and your desires, playing into his idea of you– the illusion that you were no more than an immature vampire who managed to become pure by a stroke of luck– made your fingers twitch to rip your hair out by the very roots. “I’ll wait until I go back home for the night to feed. But I…” 

Cazador was in a good mood. Still, you didn’t want to talk to him or any nobles eyeing your unlikely duo standing in front of an impeccably furnished window. You make a show of tapping a finger to your chin. Deep in thought– just for his viewing pleasure. 

“Oh my. I mustn’t ruin your wonderful ball, Lord Szarr. What a blight that would be. If I could keep my spawn on as tight of a leash as yours, I’d have been able to bring one with me as my blood bag for the night,” Tilting your wine glass as you talked, you watched the dark liquid swirl. “Pity, pity. I have never been as proficient as working the mind as you.” 

He exhaled. A huff, an amused noise that let you know he was proud of himself. Cazador lost his focus on you entirely. Now, his gaze flitted across the ballroom. Through its patrons and guests, he searched for a head of white hair. “It’s a talent I’ve finely honed, yes.” 

“I never tire of your demonstrations,” You said lowly, and too, your eyes searched. Where was his little star? Not far from him, surely. Never far from him. “I am good with business. Not so much intrapersonal nonsense that goes on between. But… I believe if I were able to have one of my spawns as obedient as yours, I’d be able to fully enjoy your next splendid ball. I won’t squirrel away, as you so affectionately said.” 

“You just need to break them,” Cazador’s voice dropped. Both to protect yourselves from prying ears, but he was also speaking quicker– more excitedly. Psychological intrigue was his favorite self-indulgence. “We have the gift of immortality, and it pains me that you’ve yet to explore the weak human psyche. Perhaps that’ll change tonight.” 

“I do hope it will,” Hiding your smile behind the chilled glass, you felt Cazador’s demeanor lighten. Following his eyes led you right to him. The jewel of his servants, dressed in a uniform overcoat with the same frilly white dress shirt you’ve seen him don for the past century. “A deal, then?” 

Cazador didn’t even seem to hear you. He was much too entranced by his plaything. He tilted his chin up slightly, an affirmative gesture. “I’m listening.” 

“You faithfully entrust your favorite spawn to me for the night,” You watched as Astarion animatedly excused himself from the conversation he was entertaining (his first mistake, or was it a deliberate act of defiance?), “I some take notes, and by the next ball I’ll be fully… social, with a servant in tow. It works, doesn't it? You won’t ever have to worry about getting to be ‘too much’ at one of your events– because of my hunger, that is.” 

Which, believe it or not, did happen fifty or so years ago. It was a mild scandal– how eagerly you dug your nails into the arms of a ‘suitor’ and dragged them to ‘Cazador’s bedroom’! No, it was just a persistent noble who was pissing you off. It was a miracle they left the party alive. 

“Child,” Cazador demeaned when Astarion drew closer. Out from the crowd of lively bodies, closer to your long-dead chill. He held himself in a very particular posture when he addressed him like this: his head raised, eyes slanted down at him. The spawn fell into a matching demeanor: his chin lowered, and he raised his red eyes at him. “What have you been up to?” 

Astarion didn’t avert his stare. Already more notable than the other servants, than the others who scurried in Cazador’s overwhelming presence. Instead, he spoke evenly– practiced, weighted. “I’ve been tending to your guests.” 

“Very good, boy,” Cazador said, and you now just noted the silver tray of finger foods precariously balanced on Astarion’s hand. His bare hand. Which, in its casted shadows, was starting to redden. How interesting. 

Cazador analyzed his ward’s face, then tore away. For the first time since Astarion was mentioned, he glanced at you. “You’ll be under our dear noble’s jurisdiction for the rest of the night. Do not misbehave.” 

With the last hiss, Cazador leaned in– his lips at Astarion’s pointed ear. Low, cold. The spawn’s jaw tightened. A muscle in his cheek twitched. His throat moved with a thick, nervous swallow. For a moment, he stared at the side of Cazador’s face (you couldn’t imagine him so close. Cazador smelled like a ruminated mummy) before forcing his attention away in an unsurmountable show of willpower. He fixed his eyes on you instead. 

What an interesting look. Astarion had long, dark eyelashes, framing his watery eyes very femininely. How piercing the color; in the dim, gothic lighting, the shade of red his eyes bore dark. It reminded you of a set of ruby gemstones you had. Not to mention the smoldering emotion– fiery resentment barely kept back by a thin, feigned veil.  

Astarion seemed to be many things. ‘Tamed’ was not one of them. 

“If you insist.” He mumbled, and Cazador finally retreated. 

Looking between the two of you, the vampire lord had a rather cruel tilt to his politician’s smile. “Don’t have too much fun, my dear. Try to leave him… sensible, by the time you return him to me, yes? It’s easy to get carried away. He makes the prettiest noises.” 

“Of course,” Impeccable, you took a step away from Cazador. A quick survey of the ballroom revealed a handful of eyes on you, but you didn’t particularly care; you would outlive every one of these ant-like aristocrats. Sooner or later, you’ll hear the crunch of their skulls under someone’s heel. With that wistful thought, you beckoned the little star to follow you. “Come, Astarion.” 

You knew Cazador’s palace very well. Many times have the two of you spent bickering over his decoration choices– with his ghoulish appearance, eerie mansion, and actual bats roosting in some parts of the structure, you told him everything was a bit on the nose. He digressed. So when you passed by the table of drinks on the way out, you swapped your empty glass with a bottle of finely aged Ashblossom Wine and popped the cap with a curved nail. 

Astarion was silent while you moved through the winding halls. Lessar servants moved out of the way and bowed their heads to you. Mortals who vied for the curse of vampirism– their eyes were piercing, following not you, but the spawn at your tail. Greedy and envious stares. Whether or not this bothered him, you didn’t check. You only heard him handing off the silver platter to the first body you came across. 

At the top of the lavish staircase, you made a right and waltzed down the hall. At the twelfth gold-accented mahogany door, you stopped. 

“You sure seem to know your way around,” Astarion said, and his voice was much smoother than in the ballroom. Not relaxed. No, there was still a twinge of unease that dripped from his words still.  

“Mhm.” Was the response you dignified him with, and you pushed open the door by its gilded handle. 

The room was as luxurious as the rest of Cazador’s palace. A velvety red carpet, a king-sized bed with a frame of hard maple, fine dressers, and wardrobes with shiny trinkets and amenities. Other pieces of expensive furniture were laid out appeasingly. You strode to the dresser, watching the door close in the lifeless reflection. Lifting the bottle of Ashblossom Wine, you waved over your shoulder. “Take a seat, Astarion.” 

He sat noiselessly. You took a swig of the spiced drink and savored its liquid smooth— one of your more profitable flavors, and certainly one of your first picks. Letting your hand fall limp at your side, you leaned against the dresser and turned to face him, free hand moving to loosen your stuffy clothing, “Ugh. I’m not–” 

Your eyes dropped. Astarion’s broad-shouldered form was knelt on the ground, his back straight and his knees pressing into the downy rug. He refused to bow his head, even in such a subservient posture. Reflecting on your surprise, you raised your eyebrows at him. 

“... I meant in a chair, Astarion.” You put a hand to your face in exasperation, the other loosely on the weighted bottle. “Nine hells. I am not Cazador. Make that distinction now.” 

His eyes, a much brighter red in the room’s enchanted light, caught a clear note of surprise. Then, his lips parted. 

“I knew that,” Astarion fumbled to regain himself, and you had never seen someone rise to their feet so quickly. “Haven’t you seen the newest clerical article in Baldur’s Mouth? Sitting on your ankles does wonders for your joint health.” 

“I’m sure,” You dismissed, turning your head to the side. “Like you need to worry about things like that.” 

“Longevity is not without its drawbacks,” He went to a chair, but notably the one closest to him– and he had a slight hesitancy in how he moved. Astarion wanted to stare but kept averting his effeminate eyes. “Got to keep young and spry, after all. Not all of us have the privilege of bathing in virgin’s blood every other day.” 

“He told you about that?” The wine bottle almost slipped from your clawed hand from the sudden revelation. This spawn was good on his feet. You embarrassed him, and he dropped some intimate fact about you like it was nothing! Wiping the surprised look off your face, you relaxed your posture. “Tell me, what else do you know about me?” 

“That was a lucky guess– you just seemed the type. And he doesn’t talk about you,” Astarion mimicked your relaxed posture. He crossed his legs, leaned back, and propped his face on his knuckles. Still, the stress from his shoulders did not leech. “Not really. You’re the vintner, aren’t you?” 

In a mock toast, you tilted your bottle towards him. “Has my name on it, too.” 

“Ah.” 

Something in his eyes caught in the light. A twitch of his lips accompanied. Curious? Was he curious? Yet he bit down whatever words prattled on his tongue, stopping them just before they could tumble out and ruin the evening. 

“Catch,” You tossed the bottle to him. He startled terribly, but smoothly caught it out of the air. He inspected it– glancing between the label and you. “You can have the rest. Finest wine in Faerûn, guaranteed.” 

“I’ve heard,” Astarion said, and he studied your demeanor. Was he trying to decide if he could trust you or not? He was going to drink either way. You knew for a fact that Cazador didn’t treat his property to luxuries like alcohol. Not unless he was pouring it over their open cuts, anyway. “Are you going to keep me in suspense about what we’re doing this fine evening, or can you just tell me? I’ve never liked surprises much. You’d have to get a different spawn for that, I’m afraid.” 

“What the tongue,” You mused and briefly wondered how snarky he was when there wasn’t such a power dynamic. “I don’t have anything planned. I was just getting dreadfully bored of your master’s lackluster party.” 

His face relaxed from its slight grimace, and he leaned in. “Aren’t they just the dullest thing?” 

Here it was. The key to getting Astarion to drop his guard was just criticizing Cazador! Perfect. You gestured with your hand, still leaning most of your weight on the fancy dresser. “He thinks them high fashion, too. It’s embarrassing. I’ll have you know, Cazador’s never invited to any of the Four Grand Duke’s parties.”

For the first time tonight, Astarion grinned. His little fangs glinted in the dim light. “Really? Do tell me more.” 

“Oh,” You got tired of leaning against the dresser and finally went over to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Not even Duke Eltan can bear his face. No noble enjoys entertaining Cazador. Whatever service they think he could do for them, I can do the same. So I catch all of their invites.” 

He raised the bottle to his lips and tilted his head, taking a swig of the drink like it was cheap beer. “I hardly blame them. Your company isn’t nearly as bile-inducing.” 

With the way he swiped his tongue over his lips and how he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, you could only understand the age-old reach of hunger. Vampiric, primal. He was trying to hide the urge but was doing a poor job of it. Besides– you could hear his faint heartbeat quicken. From stress or something else was indiscernible.

“Honeyed words will not flatter me so easily,” You said amusedly. Cazador did keep him on a tight leash. Maybe being treated like an equal by someone of his master’s status was something Astarion craved. Whatever was happening, he was enjoying it, judging by his still-crossed legs. “Relax. I’m not going to send you to your Master covered in little marks.” 

The tension in his body did not lessen. He moved and shifted in his seat like it did, but you had a keen eye and he was young. Astarion’s voice was thick with his sardonics. “Oh, what a relief to hear. I won’t get sent to the kennels just because you wanted to have a little fun.” 

Your eyes flashed. In delight, maybe– because he finally dropped the performer’s curtain to how he felt. The string tying his emotional baggage started to fray. 

“Vindictive, are you?” You murmured and met his fearful eyes. “I told you a minute ago. I am not him.” 

“Well, I’ve never met a vampire lord who played nice,” He bit. “I’m still waiting for you to drop your pleasantries act. Hells, you’re even sitting on the bed right now! There is one reason and one reason only that my master’s ‘friends’ drag me to the guest rooms. Which by all means for someone like you I’m more than happy to provide, but can you blame me for getting a little antsy?” 

So he was trying to goad you into just taking him? In a roundabout way. In another lifetime, perhaps, you would’ve done just that. For now… the prospect was entirely uninteresting. You grabbed one of the lush pillows and propped it behind your lower back.

“I can assure you I’m very real, though ‘nice’ isn’t a term I’m too familiar with,” While you talked, he took another drink. The bottle should be nearly empty by now. The poor little spawn didn’t have a fraction of your tolerance and seemed to be letting himself get carried away. “I was simply getting bored. Besides, Cazador talks about you more than you know. I wanted to know what I’ve been missing this past century.” 

“Like I’m some show pony.” Astarion bitterly mumbled. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, preening in a way you weren’t sure he realized.

You smiled. “Something like that.” 

“Well, he talks about you too,” He said quickly, tacking the sentiment onto his prior thought. “Too much. I’d be careful. He’s threatened by you. It’s a miracle I’m even in this room.” 

While not surprising, the very thought of Cazador quaking in his boots on what he planned to do about you was hilarious. You barked a laugh, your hand fluttering to your chest. “Oh, oh my. Well, little spawn, thank you for the heads up.” 

“I’m being serious!” The bottle of wine lolled from his hands, and he put it on the floor next to him before it slipped and shattered. “I don’t even know how you can fraternize with him so carelessly.” 

“Someone sounds worried,” You teased. “I’ll be just fine.” 

“Tell me how you did it,” Astarion leaned forward. At the edge of his seat, his eyes desperately searching for something in your face. “Tell me how you did it before it’s too late. How did you– how did you drink the blood of your master? How did you become a lord?” 

Ah. What a surprising letdown. He was getting so frantic, so caught up, just because he wanted to be free? You climbed out of serfdom over a century ago, but it was recent and painful enough for you to sympathize with the man. 

“And what’ll you do with this knowledge?” You sighed, though your softening demeanor was making it difficult to play hard to get. “What’ll you do for this knowledge?” 

“It’s not like what worked for you will work for me,” His stammer was a poor attempt at downplaying it. “Besides, we’ve exchanged less than stellar comments about my– about him. I thought I was safe in assuming you didn’t like him. The enemy of my enemy is a friend and all that.” 

“That’s true. I intended on telling you anyway, I just wanted to mess with you.” Reaching into the innermost pocket of your intricate outfit, you pulled out a flask. Astarion seemed surprised. “What? This is literally my job. Anyways, you’re going to insist I’m lying– but I admit I had to get help.” 

“From who?” Astarion disregarded your show of alcoholism, instead greedily pressing for more information. “Who would be stupid enough to stand up to a vampire lord?”

“I was under my captor for three centuries,” You punctuated it by holding up three fingers, “Three centuries. I shouldn’t have made it out. No, not really. But nearer to the last… twenty or so years, I stumbled into a little group.” 

“I can’t last that long,” Astarion’s voice dropped to a low murmur. Realization set in, and it reflected in his watery eyes. “Oh, shit. I can’t last that long. Tell me about this group.” 

“No one special,” Another gulp from your flask. It wasn’t strong enough, but it burned when it went down your throat. “But they were a new look on life. A new way to live. I was a little braindead back then, from the near-eternity, so after I realized there was something different out there for me– we schemed.” 

“So you managed to get some of your former master’s blood with this group,” Astarion tapped his fingers on the chair’s armrest. “And you escaped, then it was all kumbayah?”

You snapped at him, “Be patient. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing you a favor.” 

Though restless and shaky, Astarion pursed his lips shut. 

“Anyway, I’ve long fallen out of contact with them. The ‘leader’ of the group, ironically a lycan bloodhunter, was the one who got a vial. We left the city. I left that part of Faerûn entirely. I went with them, at first, but they were just as bad,” You paused. “Not as bad, but a little below that. Out of the frying pan into the fire, as they say. I left them too. They’re still alive, I assume. They all are. All powerful enough to live forever. Just… out there. But I don’t look the same as I did all that time ago. I don’t carry the same name. I am not the same person. If you’re lucky, you won’t be either by the time you escape.” 

Astarion grimaced. “You’re telling me that if I am ever to get out from Cazador’s thumb, I need some kind of external help? And even then, I’ll live in fear for the rest of my life?”

“Yep,” You didn’t look at him. Instead, your eyes blurred, and you stared off into non-discrepant space. “Victims are hardly as lucky as media portrays, you know.” 

“That’s bullshit,” He simmered and stood up. Astarion’s anger wasn’t turned at you, surprisingly. Instead, he paced throughout the room. “I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve any of this!”

“Well neither did I, spawn,” You spat. The cold flask in your hands weighed empty. “Neither did I.” 

Astarion paced. His footsteps against the floor were the only things breaking the tense silence. He was only so upset because briefly, you had been something more precious than anything else in the palace. You had represented his freedom. But the magician’s cape atop your bird cage had been ripped away; you were free, but forever burdened by the open sores of your past. 

His illusion of a perfect escape shattered, and it made him volatile. 

“I wish you luck,” Your words were starting to slur. Just a little messy, your tongue was thick in your mouth. Astarion’s rabid pacing was more in tune with a stumble now too. “Because you will break free. It’s in your nature. It’s just a matter of time.”

“I have endured so much,” He seethed, and again his hand was in his hair with curved nails digging into his scalp. “And it’s a matter of time? Time!? I have to live with him for– you were there for three centuries?” 

“I should be dead,” You stood. Astarion’s head whipped towards you, and he clumsily took a step back when you strode for the door. “But I’m not. I lived. You’ll live, too. Even if you don’t want to.” 

“Like that’s comforting.” 

You threw the door open and stuck your head out. There, much further down the hall, was one of Cazador’s little footmen. Waving, you raised your voice. “Hey, you. Bring me as many bottles of wine as you can carry. Quickly.” 

They froze before scampering off. Then, you looked to Astarion. From the long-casted shadows of the door, he looked so small. The broad-shouldered charismatic sire was reduced to a mess of equal parts fury, indignation, desperation, and fear. 

“Let’s drink until we forget all about this conversation,” You offered. Your voice was quiet– the shushing of a wounded animal. “And until Cazador kicks me out in the morning.”

The proposition didn’t do much to soothe him. Astarion’s breath shuddered, and his voice trembled. A stowaway to the shadows, he hugged himself. “Deal.”

[youhideastar]

hi! i love to be seen aright, and especially amends, and i was wondering if you’d be inclined to talk about flower’s submission? as an outsider to his and vero’s particular dynamic i found myself struggling to understand aspects of their relationship sometimes. i’m really curious as to what really makes flower tick!

First of all, thank you so much, that is so kind of you to say! Real quick, if others are wondering about the fics: To Be Seen Aright and Amends. Second, I am taking the question to mean "why does Flower want the kind of relationship where, in his dom's words, 'everything Marc-Andre does is my business'" and not to mean "I am very familiar with this kind of relationship but I'm curious about this couple's particular protocols." If I read the question wrong, I apologize; this response is going to be very off-point. 😂

So the truth is, I am very much the wrong person to answer the question of why a 24/7 BDSM relationship (i.e., a relationship where the dominance and submission dynamic extends beyond defined "scenes" into everyday life) would appeal to the submissive partner, because that kind of relationship has zero appeal to me, as either partner. 🤷‍♀️ Writing Flower's scenes in the TBSA series was, therefore, an exercise in (hopefully respectful) curiosity and empathy: given that there are many people who do find a 24/7 relationship appealing, I tried to put myself in their minds (aided by first-person writing that, unfortunately, I no longer have working links for) and ask what it is they might get out of that kind of relationship that would make it appealing. The results of that thinking are on display in the series, mostly in Flower's scenes.

I don't really feel comfortable opining on the question beyond what is present in my fiction, because, again, I'm the wrong person. There are many folks who are in 24/7 relationships who have written thoughtfully about why that's something they value and desire, and for me to presume to speak for them would, I think, be disrespectful--and also kind of silly.

That prompts the question, perhaps, of why I wrote such a relationship into TBSA at all--and the answer to that question goes to why I wrote TBSA in the first place. That's a long answer for another time, but the tl;dr version is: I was really pissed-off about domism, role policing, and the privileging of 24/7 relationships above others (at least at the time when I was more plugged-in to those conversations than I am now, which was almost 10 years ago - maybe things have gotten better. I hope so.), and I wanted to write about how fucked-up all of that was. BUT I wanted to be SUPER CAREFUL not to let "writing that it's fucked-up to act like people who don't want a 24/7 relationship aren't real subs/doms" unintentionally turn into "writing that it's fucked-up to want a 24/7 relationship and there's something wrong with those relationships." Which it easily could have. For that reason, if I was going to write the story responsibly, I had to include a positive and sympathetic portrayal of a 24/7 relationship. And so: Flower!

I know this almost certainly doesn't answer your question, and I'm sorry about that! I hope I at least understood your question properly, and explained in a satisfying way why this is the only answer I can really give. Feel free to follow up with another ask or a message if I got the question wrong or anything I said here sparked additional questions!

[incorrectoverthehedge]

Why I got back into Over the Hedge.

So I can't sleep, why not write.

Over the Hedge was for a while a movie that, up until a few months ago, has been relatively unimportant to me. I remember seeing it once when I was a kid, and I do remember playing the hell out of the video game (I even beat it once in an entire day one summer), and that's about it.

It was always a movie that I found good as a kid, and for a while I never went back to it because I didn't want my childhood ruined. Granted I usually grew up with a lot of Disney and Pixar movies, so bad childhood movies were going to be hard to come by. I guess the closest was I think Snow Buddies, but even then it's more generic than anything.

Okay, getting off topic, Over the Hedge I didn't go back to for a long time because I didn't want to think the movie was lame nowadays. Granted I thought about it a few times, mainly because I liked the names RJ and Ozzie, and I used them whenever I wanted to make a neat OC that I would inevitably forget about in less than two weeks, but aside from that, nothing really prompted me to go back, which eventually resulted in me pretty much forgetting about it.

That was until a few months ago...and it involved a certain fan-favorite Opossum.

You see, on Left 4 Dead, there's a workshop where you can play as other characters. They can range from meme characters, to anime characters, to video game characters, and of course, animated movie characters. That of course is where this starts.

I had to find a model that would replace either Francis or Louis since my friends were sick of the model I was using. In case you were wondering, I was using this model:

Terrifying, I know.

It was funny to me at the same time. However, the biggest problem with it was that it was way too big and pretty much took up half their screens whenever they looked at me. So I had to find another model that would fit…I decided to use Louis this time, and then I found…this.

I decided why not, got it, realized that it had the exact same issue with Thumper the Monster Bunny, yet ignored it for some reason, and with the model, we beat the challenge, and everything was fine. That was until I really started thinking about it.

Why did Heather of all characters get a model in this game? In fact, while doing research for this video, it turns out she's the SECOND DreamWorks character to have a Left 4 Dead 2 character model, and the first was Shrek. Speaking of which, she now has TWO character models for survivors, and she's only second to Shrek who has only three.

LET ME REPEAT, SHE IS SECOND TO SHREK.

Anyways, this really got me thinking about what was the whole appeal of her, because I recently rewatched the movie and let me tell you, she probably has the least amount of screen-time in the film. Yet, she's the only one of the cast to have a model in Left 4 Dead 2 (at least until Ozzie was also ported), that was also ported to GMod?

That's when I started to look at the fandom more, and I realized that last year the subreddit had a bit of a resurgence when it came what I like to call "Heather-posting".

Posts about Heather were all over the subreddit, and not only that, they were some of the highest upvoted there. The image I'm providing is only the second highest, with 265. Granted that doesn't seem like much compared to others, but it's still noticeable. In fact, Heather is the main focus of nearly half of the highest upvoted posts.

Not only that, she's also fairly popular on DeviantArt, and even more surprisingly (and also thankfully), there's no...weird stuff involved there I've seen.

Have you ever heard the term "Ensemble Darkhorse" in TV Tropes? It's when a character who is rather minor or unimportant to the main plot get a massive following. Heather pretty much ticks all those boxes, and it's probably one of the most surprising ones I've seen.

How powerful is it overall? Well, I actually decided to make a character based on Heather and put her in a Hell's Kitchen roleplay. I didn't exactly expect to get far, or even really be that noticed.

Heather actually won.

She won.

Not only that, she actually had two people have a crush on her, one male, one female. That's actually wild.

In the midst of all that however, it resulted in me taking another look at the movie itself, finally looking to see if it lived up to the vindication it had been receiving recently.

Turns out that yeah, it's still a great movie. It's not going to be better than something like The Last Wish or Shrek 2, but it's a film that, in my opinion, has no real flaws. Maybe the cast could be a bit smaller, like remove the porcupine family so there could be some more screentime for Heather and Ozzie, since they're the two more popular characters compared to them. Despite this, the cast itself is likable, the story is easy to follow, the satire and visual humor is really funny, and man for Dreamworks film the movie looks absolutely GORGEOUS.

Of course, there's also the banger music, with Heist and Family of Me being my two favorite songs in the film, and it always inspires me to write about the gang and their wacky hijinks.

Oh yeah, the writing stuff. Yeah, I never actually wrote a lot of Fanfiction in my life, I usually kept it original for the most part. I think the only thing Fanfiction-y I've ever wrote was some absolutely hot dog water, dumpster fire trash about...

Sonic OCS.

I'm shivering just thinking about it.

Regardless, my writing has improved a ton, so at the very least I could do the gang justice by not looking like I just half-assed my writing whilst working on writing comedy, which is a style I've never tried before.

And let me tell you, it is really fun to do.

So yeah, what started as a simple dive into a character that I didn't expect to be popular, soon turned into a genuine appreciation for a movie that had at one point been treated as merely an afterthought, as well as a new love for writing comedy detailing the wacky misadventures of some fun characters.

That is why I got back into Over the Hedge.

Speaking of which, I've also been collecting some old merchandise from Over The Hedge, and let me tell you, some of that is real interesting...

[tirorah]

PGSM (2003) Is a Story About Human Beings, and I LOVE It

Years ago, I attempted to watch the live-action Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon show, or PGSM for short. And I quit because it looked so silly I couldn't maintain my sense of disbelief.

I've learnt not to judge a show by its looks since then. So, when I stumbled across a 20-second PGSM clip two weeks ago, I thought, "Shouldn't I give that another chance?" I'd heard a few interesting things about it, so I decided the answer was yes.

It took me a little while to adjust, sure. Some things still looked ridiculous to me. And yet, with every episode I became more and more emotionally invested. I started to see PGSM for what it truly was: an intricate tapestry of character-driven storytelling.

If you've read my other posts, you know I love characters more than anything. What I also love is an emphasis on narrative consequence and a willingness to explore new and/or interesting ideas, particularly when it's a new entry in an already-established franchise. And it just so happens that PGSM ticks all of these boxes!

In short, this show was made for me.

I'm not going to write about all of the clever things this show does because that would take far too many words. Here's my quick two cents: I think PGSM is excellent. It has flaws, and I think it only appeals to a certain type of viewer. But if you are that type of viewer, like I am, you're likely to be swept off your feet!

So yeah, I never thought I'd say this, but I love this show. It's by far the most fun I've ever had with Sailor Moon. And as is standard by now, I'm going to tell you why I feel that way under the cut.

First, I'll go over how PGSM manages to work at all. Then, I'll outline the theme; the central questions at the heart of the story. Finally, I'm going to illustrate just how well this show pulls off its primary goals---by examining the character arc of a certain old favourite of mine.

[FULL spoiler warning!]

[Word count: ~6,000]

New Kid on The Block

Ever since its inception, Sailor Moon has been an enduring presence in Japanese media and merchandising. Its presence has waxed and waned over the past decades, but it has nevertheless managed to remain incredibly successful. The original 90s manga spawned a concurrently running anime series, musicals, the Crystal anime series in the 2010s, and much more.

The fun effect of all these different versions is that each is its own thing. Even Crystal, which adheres much more closely to the manga than the 90s anime, is still different; a story can't be told the same way in every medium. This is why adaptations are difficult to do and are likely to piss off someone, regardless of intent or execution.

Smack-dab between the original and recent versions, a bold little beast emerged.

Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon aired from October 2003 to September 2004. Unlike the versions before and since, it's a live-action tokusatsu superhero TV series, like Super Sentai--a show the manga also drew inspiration from. This again marks a significant change when it comes to storytelling possibilities.

PGSM faces several challenges on top of that. It only exists because the musicals were so successful, yet it has a shoestring-looking budget that makes some aspects of the show look underwhelming. The lead actors were young and inexperienced, so it can take a bit for everything to click performance-wise. Lastly, the characters tend to have their faces in full view during action scenes, rendering the use of stunt doubles difficult and therefore limiting choreographic possibilities.

And yet, under the stewardship of writer Kobayashi Yasuko and a ton of passionate and experienced staff, this show found a way to stand shoulder to shoulder with beloved works of the franchise.

Let's examine how.

Limitations, Genre and Theme

If I'd given you a rundown of the obstacles PGSM faced without my glowing praise attached, you'd probably think this show was sent out to die. Maybe it was, I don't know. Perhaps someone at Toei thought it would hoover up some merchandise sales before it fell off a cliff to its pyrotechnic death!

The amazing thing about PGSM is that it takes these challenges and turns them into its greatest strengths. This is a show that understands the constraints it has to operate within. It can't compete on action and special effects, so it hones in on something it can execute well and bring a unique twist to: characters and story.

Its best claim to fame, at least in the little discussion I saw of it, is how it reworks its characters to serve a brand-new spin on a familiar narrative. But I believe this description to be...insufficient. The changes made here go beyond adjusting and emphasising personality traits. This is a paradigm shift; a top-to-bottom overhaul and a tribute to Sailor Moon all at once.

While there's still an overarching story that involves protecting the world from evil and salvaging a doomed romance from a previous life, the real meat of PGSM lies in the rich inner lives of its cast. This shifts the genre to character-driven drama with a dash of soap opera.

As a result, those aforementioned inner lives are established, built upon, and allowed to emerge and clash naturally. All the while, the characters contend with a turbulent new reality which further affects their interpersonal relationships. That in turn shifts the theme to something much more personal: past life versus current life.

What does it mean for your identity to be reborn with memories from a past life? What do you do when that past life has a stranglehold on your current one? Are you doomed to repeat the mistakes of ages past?

And what effect do these challenges have on a person's psyche?

PGSM spends its 49-episode runtime exploring these questions to the fullest. I consider it a true ensemble work, as every major character is relevant to the story and drives it forward at some point. And because each of them is unique, we're shown a full spectrum of viewpoints that are informed by personality traits and emotional baggage.

So, yeah, it's really good. Really damn good.

In fact, to demonstrate just how in-depth and detailed the characterisation is, I'm going to spend the rest of this post analysing my favourite example of a PGSM character arc: the understated and expertly-paced struggles of one Kino Makoto.

Wood and Thunder

A core part of Makoto in every version is her dual nature--possessing both traditionally masculine and feminine characteristics--and how this clashes with societal expectations. With her curly hair and long skirt, she comes across like a typical sukeban (a delinquent girl) of the time. Her imposing height, incredible strength and fighting skills confirm that image.

In truth, the sukeban resemblance is exactly that and nothing more; her hair is naturally curly and her new school doesn't have a uniform in her size. She only uses her strength to protect others. Notably, she has a romantic heart and yearns for a place to belong, perhaps even a person she can belong with.

Absolutely none of that matters to society. Through no fault of her own, people only see one side to her and assume the other doesn't exist. Prejudice and ostracisation follow.

You might think this would cause Makoto to be ashamed of her more masculine traits, but that's not the case. She might feel embarrassed by them at times, or attempt to play up her feminine side to compensate, sure. But in the end, she embraces all of these characteristics and doesn't think it's wrong to be this way. People just refuse to see the feminine side that's openly on display.

So, here we have a character with a compelling set of characteristics that can be utilised in different ways. The approach taken is something that differs per version. But like all things Sailor Moon, Makoto is a product of her time; the sukeban aspect is particularly dated.

As an early 2000s show, PGSM had a chance at a fresh start with this concept. Suffice it to say I was very interested to see how it would update Makoto to a new millennium and modify her without erasing her core traits. What I got was far more than I bargained for.

Makoto's PGSM debut gives us an effective overview of her as a person that hits many familiar beats. She protects Usagi, returns Usagi's friendliness with her own, develops a crush on a guy, and kicks ass both in and out of Senshi guise. She had her heart broken by her senpai at her previous school, but she also felt like something was urging her to come here. Now she knows why: she had comrades to meet.

This looks like a mix of Makoto's introduction in the manga and 90s anime, adapted to modern times. But all that familiarity is distracting you from something. There's actually a big deviation here, and you can see that before she even does anything.

Take a good look at this picture. Obviously the sukeban influence was removed from her design, but that's not the most important detail here. Hopefully you'll notice what I didn't:

There are no rose earrings.

Everything spirals out from there. The Makoto from the 90s was open about her femininity, but the Makoto we meet in PGSM barely shows her feminine side at all. In fact, she takes great pains to hide it.

This affects her character on a fundamental level. When she first appears, she comes across as unusually withdrawn and stoic. As is typical of the character, she swiftly opens up to Usagi and that seems to be the end of aloof Makoto. But that feminine side doesn't surface. She still dresses in unisex clothes that lean more toward masculine than feminine.

Likewise, her flat may have a few plants and a neat kitchen, but they don't take centre stage. There's a skateboard and a hat collection (my beloved!) that are displayed at the entrance. A logical location, but that also means it's the first thing you see when you enter.

So, what gives? Here's the thing: the characters in PGSM are emotionally complex. Much work and care went into characterising all of them. Because of this, the characters feel like real people. They argue, make mistakes, agonise over things... Not to say this isn't the case in other versions, but PGSM takes it further and really emphasises how vulnerable--how tragically human--these characters can be.

That's what is being tied into here. Being mistaken for a tomboy, despite being openly feminine, is an external issue. But for PGSM's Makoto, the conflict is internal. She doesn't want to be seen as feminine. When exposed or questioned, she denies it despite being a terrible liar. If the questioning continues, she actually uses her tomboy image to refute it.

She does this because her feminine side makes her vulnerable. This Makoto has been burned so many times that she's developed abandonment issues. She's one bad experience away from yet another cocktail of intense sadness and deep-seated anger. Sometimes a mere reminder is enough to get her down, too.

No one wants to feel like that. She's learnt the hard way that opening herself up to others puts her at risk. That's why she prefers to play these darker feelings close to her chest.

To demonstrate all of this, her debut episode shows us exactly how bad it can get. It puts her through an especially cruel combination of deception, humiliation and rejection, no punches pulled.

It's at this moment that Makoto has had enough. Taking this risk was a mistake and it should never be repeated. She slams the gate to her wounded heart shut and locks it tight. The walls of her inner fortress become that much higher.

Learning to lower those walls and make another try for happiness is Makoto's character arc in PGSM.

This is why she was shifted so much toward the tomboy archetype. By giving Makoto an emotional incentive to deny a part of herself, PGSM gives her a believable, deeply personal obstacle that can take her the entire show to overcome. She now has to engage with her abandonment issues in order to become the more balanced person we know she can be.

Her powers as Sailor Jupiter also connect to this: there's the explosive power of lightning on one end and the soothing aura of nature on the other. Two distinct halves that each bring their own benefits. But Makoto's starting point is pure lightning.

Multiple times throughout the show, we're shown that nature is trying to communicate with her. But because she starts out as a lightning bolt, she doesn't understand it at all. This is another avenue for self-improvement, and PGSM understands that too; it explicitly ties the awakening of a Senshi's full powers to overcoming a core character flaw.

So, given all of that, how does PGSM build on the devastation she suffered during her debut episode and the emotional consequences left in its wake?

I'm happy to report it does nothing for 24 episodes. Yes, really.

For half of the runtime, Makoto acts as the support of the group; often present, but never centre stage. Sure, she develops a dynamic with each of her new friends, and she even begins to show some of her feminine aspects as that trust grows. The more she does this, the more her affinity with nature subtly increases; she begins to use non-lightning attacks and comes ever so slightly closer to understanding what the wind and trees attempt to tell her.

But when it comes to the story, Makoto doesn't drive most of the events that occur at this point. She becomes involved, or agrees to go along with something, but rare is the instance where something happens directly because of her actions. She contributes, but she's never in the driver's seat. She's the one who helps others become better versions of themselves.

She develops, but she doesn't grow.

This delay is 100% intentional. A Makoto who's only giving, only protecting, is completely fine. There are no lingering issues she needs to deal with because they've been swept under the rug, tucked away behind the walls of her fortress. For all she reveals of herself during this time, her abandonment issues might as well not exist.

This is PGSM's devotion to character-driven storytelling and narrative consequence on full display. As Makoto ignores her emotional baggage, PGSM is likewise content to misdirect you away from it.

Cycle of Fear

It's not until episode 31 that Motoki--the most endearing turtle nerd to have ever lived--unwittingly pokes at Makoto's defences. Up until that moment, she'd first considered him an acquaintance and later a supportive friend. In other words: a safe coexistence.

The moment she realises he has a crush on her, that safety disappears and all her thoroughly-buried insecurities rush to the forefront. Her old stoicism slams into place as the mask we now know it to be and she does her best to avoid eye contact. As brash as she usually is, she now struggles with all her might to seem detached and logical. She has to; the alternative is revealing how anxious this situation makes her. Although Usagi, Ami and Rei have earned her trust, showing that most vulnerable side of herself is still a bridge too far.

She drags herself to the date (probably because Usagi wouldn't let her worm her way out of it) and spends the entire time being awkward in spite of Motoki's oblivious excitement. It's clear that her heart isn't in it, but in typical Makoto fashion, she places the needs of the kind, sensitive Motoki above her own and does her best to let the date die a natural death.

Then, a sudden connection!

Makoto is stunned at first. No one has ever said that to her. As Motoki continues to extol her virtues--half of which are about how incredibly nice she is--she lights up! Aww!

...Only for her insecurities to take over again after an offhand mention of parents by Motoki, because PGSM is a story about fallible human beings. She immediately attempts to leave and is only stopped by a nosey Luna. It's impossible for Motoki not to notice something's off at this point. Keen for clarity, he decides to confess his feelings when they're not surrounded by other people. Makoto rejects him--by denying her femininity.

This is a direct result of Makoto's actions in the first half of the show. When she started to open up to her friends, she could've taken it further and started to navigate her issues. Her friends could've helped her. Instead, she chose to pretend that there was nothing to fix.

Now here she is. Avoidance--her first line of defence--has failed. Her second wall, rationalisation, has also been bypassed. Emotionally cornered, she falls back on the same defence mechanism she used at the start: denial wrapped up in irrational beliefs and low self-esteem.

"I'm really strong and get into fights. People are scared of me. That means I'm actually not feminine at all and what you saw was an anomaly. And because I'm not feminine, I'm not dating material."

By maintaining her tomboy image and denying her feminine attributes, this reasoning allows her to pre-emptively sabotage any blossoming relationship for herself. While this might bring relief in the short term, it's also the very thing that keeps her from happiness. Makoto is the Senshi of courage, but here she demonstrates how afraid she truly is.

Motoki seems to recognise this on some level. To him, Makoto is a strong, confident person. But she's also reserved in a way, and now that the emotional mess underneath is being dragged into the light, it's clear she's like that for a reason. He sees her for who she truly is and he likes what he sees, but she's not in a good enough place, mentally, to see that too. So he does the only thing he can do: he gives her space. He reassures her that she is feminine and then leaves her be.

"Why?"

This is the question that has plagued her for years. Uttered by a young Makoto and echoed by her present self, this representation of her thoughts comes up whenever loss or rejection hits. What matters here is the context: for once, it's Makoto who did the rejecting. She's in control.

So then, why does this still happen?

This is one of the uncommon moments where PGSM engages in subtlety. We don't get a definitive answer here. Makoto asks, "Why?" but we don't know what that refers to in this moment. We have to infer that ourselves.

My reading is as follows: "I rejected him before he could reject me. I removed him from my life before I could lose him. So why does it hurt? Why do I feel sad?"

During the subsequent fight against a powerful Youma, the other Senshi are held up and she ends up cornered and alone. It's an all too familiar scenario. She flashes back to all of the people she's lost.

Motoki shows up too, but he's almost impossible to make out.

At that very moment, the wind picks up around her. She lets out a breath in awe, gazing up at the swaying branches as the wind seems to communicate something. And then she awakens. Although she still summons a lightning attack, it's now taken on a green colour, signifying a new equilibrium.

When the others ask her what triggered it, Makoto naturally tells them the lesson of this episode: that she had to acknowledge her feminine side and truly open herself up to being loved--

--Wha...?

Yeah, you're seeing that right. Makoto just learnt the wrong lesson.

Needless to say, I was flabbergasted by this outcome. Deep down, as much as she wants to refute it, Makoto needs companionship, people to belong with. It's a core aspect of her character! It makes no sense for her to gain power from solitude.

However... If you think about it, why wouldn't this be her takeaway? She was alone and she made sure to sabotage her relationship with Motoki before it could go anywhere, so this is the only logical explanation, right? Her powers awakened, so the narrative is proving her correct as well.

Except no, the narrative is simply adhering to the consequences of her actions. By coming to the wrong conclusion, Makoto has once again delayed her growth.

For the next 13 (!) episodes, Makoto seems to be okay again. She easily slips back into her role of casual, friendly and supportive friend. But something's changed: Usagi, Ami and Rei have glimpsed Makoto's scars, and they're not content to let her ignore them.

They attempt to challenge her new outlook, but Makoto's resolve is ironclad. Even when she's forced to reveal her secret identity to Motoki, she still reiterates her rejection of him. What's worse, she now she has an extra defence: her duties as a Senshi. Although Motoki still carries a torch for her, he resigns himself to supporting her as best he can.

Still, despite her determination in this matter, Makoto herself has changed as well. There's conflict and pain present whenever she's forced to acknowledge her decisions. And ever since the start of episode 31, she can't help but look sombre whenever something reminds her of her parents. Somehow, despite her best efforts to repair the holes in her walls, some cracks have remained.

All of this comes to a head when Makoto's character arc collides with Minako's.

Diminishing The Self

Ever since the girls found out they were reborn after their past lives ended in disaster, they've been grappling with PGSM's theme more and more. With their past swiftly squeezing the life out of their present, each of them is forced to form an opinion: How much do their past lives affect their present lives? How much should it affect them in the first place? And what do you do?

Here's our spectrum: On one extreme we have Rei, who's become resentful of her past life and rejects it completely. She asserts that she is her own person and that her past life shouldn't dictate who she is and how she acts now. Makoto's stance is adding fuel to that fire. When Minako counters her coup with one of her own, Rei is kicked out and decides to fight on separately.

At the other extreme stands Minako. Diagnosed with a terminal illness that she has almost no hope of curing, she's completely rejected her present life and is devoted to completing the mission from her past life. She won't be around for much longer and she's determined to save the world as much as possible before she dies. She asserts authority over the Senshi for the sake of the mission.

Usagi and Ami fall between these two polar opposites. Usagi is the reincarnation of the Moon Princess and is literally anchored to the past life through her Silver Crystal. She can't deny that her current existence has been heavily shaped by the past. But she's also determined to prevent a repeat of the past, even if it's the hardest thing she's ever done. She works hard at controlling her emotions and is convinced she and Mamoru will succeed.

Ami's current circumstances don't seem to be shaped as much by her past life, so she's the most neutral out of all of them. But as someone who was turned to evil and emerged a changed person, it's hard to deny: Their lives have been affected by the past and it's necessary to acknowledge that. What to do with that information is something she doesn't have the answer to. She fights alongside Minako and Makoto, but stays in touch with Rei.

Makoto has been firmly in the 'this mission is paramount' camp from the start, but not to the extreme that Minako is. You see, Minako almost always chooses to refer to them by their Senshi monikers. Makoto doesn't; she and her three friends always refer to each other by their present life names, even during battle. This is a conscious change that establishes their current identities as distinct from their past selves.

But remember, Makoto came here because she was meant to. She was meant to meet her comrades. She was destined to be alone, so she could listen to nature and let it lead her to her true purpose in life.

So when Minako tells her she's so devoted to the mission that she will cast aside her life to complete it, Makoto can't help but be stirred. Finally, with Minako's help, she realises that the truth is even simpler than she thought: She's always been alone because her current life isn't what truly matters. She exists to carry out her duties, regardless of the personal cost.

This is the final piece of the puzzle for both her and us. Her shift to a tomboy archetype, her character arc and the theme of the show all combine here.

For years, Makoto has been haunted by something: "Why?" Why was she left to suffer all alone? Why was she abandoned over and over?

Then this Senshi business comes along, and with it comes a duty and moniker from a past life. For Usagi, this upheaval of her identity is upsetting. But for Makoto, it's a comfort. Being a Senshi gives her purpose, stability and even friends. For someone who's sorely lacked all of that for years, this development is nothing short of a godsend.

And so, from the very beginning, she took this newfound 'destiny' and ran with it. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she crafted her entire outlook around that. Heartbroken and expelled from school? That was just another way to get her to where she needed to be. Her powers awaken while she's dwelling on how she always ends up alone? Obviously that isolation was also intended.

From there, it's a hop, skip and a jump to what she's doing in this scene: discarding her current identity in favour of her past one. She perfectly expresses this by (in the next episode) copying Minako's statement: she might die, but "Jupiter won't disappear". Kino Makoto is a shell to house Sailor Jupiter, and shells are expendable.

This is Makoto at her most extreme. She's always downplayed her own importance and achievements, and now here she is, downplaying her very existence. No individual, only the greater good.

It doesn't even matter that Minako lied to them about her identity, illness and powers. Makoto understands by this point that a secret can be kept for good reasons; she's done it herself. If anything, Minako's deception and her ensuing burdens feed Makoto's view of her as a martyr and a leader.

By choosing to follow that example, Makoto joins Minako on the very extreme of the thematic (past life versus current life) spectrum. In turn, Minako gains the staunchest of allies--but she fails to realise how thoroughly Makoto has just been primed for the pinnacle of martyrdom.

A powerful Youma attacks. When Makoto, Ami and Luna wound it, Metalia possesses it, scaling its power beyond that of the Senshi to overcome. Minako can't transform. Ami and Luna have been knocked out of their Senshi forms and can't fight anymore.

Metalia is about to win. They're going to fail.

Makoto decides to fulfil her purpose. She grabs hold of the Youma and overloads herself with lightning, creating an explosion that annihilates them both.

Minako calls out to the person--not the Senshi--in front of her.

True Courage

Makoto wakes up in a hotel room, wounded but alive, watched over by Minako. The Youma threw her off at the last second, saving both of their lives. Makoto only laments her failure; she doesn't even seem to care that she almost died. In fact, she outright states that she was meant to be alone so that her possible death wouldn't make anyone sad.

Minako has been horrified by this entire ordeal and that feeling only grows with every sentence Makoto utters. When Makoto explains she was fulfilling her past life's mission, it hits Minako like a ton of bricks: this is her doing. By influencing Makoto in this direction, she almost had Makoto's blood on her hands.

She tries to sway Makoto from a repeat attempt, but is taken aback when Makoto unintentionally throws every single one of her own arguments back in her face. When she claims that her own situation is different, Makoto looks her squarely in the eyes and says, "A life's a life. They're all the same."

Minako doesn't deny it. She can't. How could anyone refuse such a simple, factual statement when it comes from someone as forthright as Makoto?

It proves impossible to change Makoto's mind, so she changes tactics. Rather than challenge Makoto's standpoint directly, she questions one of its cornerstones instead. She does so by revealing that Makoto had muttered Motoki's name in her sleep. Perhaps, she posits, Makoto is more tied to the present than she believes herself to be.

This succeeds in shaking Makoto's beliefs. Minako leaves her to her thoughts, victorious in a way, but her own conviction was caught in the crossfire. While Rei's insistence opened the way, she was also easy to dig in her heels against. Makoto, on the other hand, has fundamentally disproven Minako's views by agreeing with her. In that suicide attack, she saw first-hand the logical endpoint of her own ideology. She's more than a little disturbed.

It's the opening Artemis needs, even though he doesn't know it's there. When he subsequently shows her how much joy and comfort her songs bring to others, she finally realises what she's been missing in herself. Her current life does have value, her achievements do matter, and she shouldn't dismiss them so flippantly. She should love herself, love the person she is now.

In the following battle, she awakens her full powers and transforms. The Senshi are finally united for good.

Now that Minako has admitted to herself that she also resents the past life for what it's done to her, Makoto has become the new extreme on the thematic spectrum. However, Minako's revelation is forcing her to reconcile conflicting truths. She awakened because she was alone. But if Motoki's still on her mind like that, if he's still part of her life like that, then she's not alone. If she's not alone, then her reasoning is intrinsically flawed.

When she sees Motoki in a Youma-induced coma, the question of "Why?" returns for the final time. And then she sees him, clearly this time.

In that moment, she realises all of her beliefs were wrong. She didn't reject Motoki, she lost him through self-sabotage. Foiling a possible relationship didn't work; he'd cracked her armour before then. Their connection was gradually built up over the entire show and came cocooned in comfortable friendship, the only type of connection she did allow.

When that connection touched her heart and stirred something more, that was when she unlocked her full potential. He cares about her, the real her, not the skewed facade she puts on. She's not alone anymore. When she told herself that she was alone and always had been, and the wind rustled the leaves, that was nature calling her out on her self-deception.

But why did that self-deception even occur? She didn't need to draw this conclusion from the start, did she? Unfortunately, she did. That's the final, heartbreaking part: Being a Senshi was the ultimate coping mechanism.

There's a reason this shot is repeated multiple times:

Makoto was constantly looking back at the past, looking for answers. Because her abandonment issues went unresolved, that question of "Why?" was burning a hole in her. She was desperate for a reason, any reason, so she could understand. If her hardship and loneliness were predetermined and in service to this all-important duty, then being a Senshi justified her suffering. She craved that more than anything. No wonder she transformed without even questioning it.

And hey, if that duty meant she had to avoid the type of relationship that terrified her most of all, well... That was a happy coincidence, wasn't it?

Fortunately, for all the trouble her uncompromising, black-and-white outlook has brought her, that same determination also allows her to accept this new truth in an instant. She screwed up big-time, but as long as she lives and breathes, she can work to set things right.

She strokes Motoki's hand and runs off to join the fray--not to throw herself at the enemy through all her lifetimes, but to protect those who are dear to her now. After the fight, she looks at the turtle-shaped charm Motoki bought her and smiles, allowing herself to dream of the future for the first time.

Minako passes away the next episode, but she does so with no regrets. Although grief follows, that final unifying moment, jump-started by Makoto, was enough. Ami, Rei and Makoto head off to the finale together, as a true team, never losing sight of what's important to them.

PGSM is exceedingly compelling to me, and the structure of this character arc exemplifies why. Makoto learns the wrong lesson three times: when she first becomes Sailor Jupiter, when she awakens her full power, and when she embraces Minako's ideology to an unhealthy degree.

Not only does PGSM allow her to miss the mark so spectacularly, it also gives her the time to deny and then address her irrational beliefs in a plausible manner. Moreover, because she and Minako drive each other to unlearn their internalised misconceptions, Makoto gives both Minako and the story one of the last pushes they need.

The last we see of Makoto's new and improved self, in relation to romance, is her final encounter with Motoki in the show. She shows him she's attached his cute turtle charm to her wallet, out there for everyone to see. Motoki treats it with cautious optimism, then relief. It's a deliberate signal: Makoto is open to new possibilities now. Maybe they can try again. They laugh a little, sharing their first comfortable moment together in this context.

Sadly, likely due to a few cut episodes, this is the last we see of them. Makoto's character arc is definitely complete, but because the ending shows the Senshi alone before they meet up with Usagi again, her relationship status with Motoki is left ambiguous.

But not to worry! Due to the success of the show's DVD sales during its runtime, both a special prequel and sequel act were produced! The sequel act is a 1-hour movie that shows us where everyone ended up four years later.

In that time, Makoto has undergone a significant transformation. In the show, her dreams for the future were never even mentioned. But here, we find out she's studying floral design, something that she's obviously passionate about. Reaching for happiness indeed.

On the wardrobe side, she still owns unisex clothes (you see this when she charges off to the action portion of the movie), but otherwise her femininity is on full display. A blouse, an embroidered shirt, even a bright yellow skirt, it's all there. Not to mention the stunning dress she wears at Usagi's wedding. And to symbolise how full-circle we've come, she's even wearing earrings!

Her flat has likewise seen major changes. The skateboard and my beloved hats have been moved to make way for what appears to be storage (a fulfilling life can result in extra possessions!) and a picture of something nature-y on the wall. And the room is now filled with plants!

All of these differences stack up. The flat looks...filled, for lack of a better term. It started out rather sparse in her debut episode, but back then she'd just moved in and probably hadn't finished unpacking yet. However, even after she gained more possessions, there were parts that felt like they had just a little bit of empty space to them. Now the entire space is lavishly furnished!

Speaking of which, there's a large stuffed turtle on her sofa, indicating she and Motoki have pursued their relationship and now live together. This is later confirmed when she takes Motoki's car--which she had the keys for--to save Usagi and Mamoru.

At the very end of the epilogue, Motoki clumsily but earnestly asks Makoto for her hand in marriage. And Makoto, overwhelmed and overjoyed, accepts. She's the only version of the character to have achieved this.

It's immensely satisfying seeing a character brought so low, only for them to soar higher than ever before. This Makoto has undergone an immense personal journey. There's no telling what kinds of challenges she might need to overcome in the years to come, but she's already climbed this mountain. Perhaps there's nothing she can't do. And no matter what, she'll always have someone at her side. She'll never be alone again.

I love it. I love all of it. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this is my favourite take on Makoto in the franchise. She's the best, and PGSM is the best for treating her with the nuance and maturity she deserves! Bravo!

---

That's the end of this post! It was meant to be way shorter, but I suppose that was an exercise in futility. If you made it all the way here, thank you very much!

I know I just said PGSM was the best. This is a subjective statement. PGSM is far and away my favourite incarnation of Sailor Moon, but I hold to what I said at the start: Every version is different, and I think that's great. We all enjoy media differently; the more people that can find a version of Sailor Moon befitting their preferences, the better.

It just so happens that PGSM was made for me! And hey, if you've never watched it before, or you dropped it like I first did, maybe it's worth another try. You never know, it might just be your thing too.

Like a certain person once sang:

~Just like predictable movies and books are boring When life is a little bit off, it might be more fun~

[sharpth1ng]

No joke bruv I really haven't read ff in a while but GODDAMN HAVE I DEVOURED THE ACTUAL FUCK OUT OF DEBASER IT IS THE MOST PSYCHOLOGICALLY COMPLEX AND YET PALATABLE PIECE OF FICTION I HAVE EVER READ ITS FACINATING. I'm a big whore for like circumstantial relationships and destiny and all that bollocks and you have actually completely ticked all my boxes well fucking done man five stars. jigsaw type dynamics yk (like metaphorically not the horror franchise)? and the fact that you made sadism so appealing despite the fact that I am 100% not into that shit? hats off to you sir. also if there are any other ships with the same type vibe/dynamic that you are aware of PLEASE LET ME KNOW cheers. like anything psychotic horror-y knifey would be mad appreciated. murderous boyfriends or really who the fuck ever idc ILY MWAH

also p.s. I don't mean to sound demanding or wtvr but you gotta write much fucking more like now ur way too good not to and plus ur the only one I've read that's captured stuilly properly. like not romanticising yk proper fucked shit u wizard fucker pls do it again

Hooo damn there are so many incredible compliments here thank for all of them 🫣 when y’all tell me I made sadism or idk some random kink appealing to you I feel so powerful lmao.

In terms of other ships like this I can offer GhostFrank, which is the Ghostface from dead by daylight with one of the other in game killers. Proceed with caution, there’s a lot of dark themes with them, and a lot of fics with them deal with some real fucked up stuff so read the tags carefully. But I’d recommend this fic “Two of a kind” if you want to check them out. I actually started writing them before I wrote debaser, I just never finished it or published it.

Hannibal/Will Graham would be another, although I haven’t read much fic with them, but the show is incredible and I know lots of people write for them.

Otherwise if you like wlw stuff too I would suggest Jennifer/Needy from Jennifer’s Body or Eve/Villanelle from Killing Eve.

And hey don’t worry I have lots of plans to keep writing these two, I’m not done with them. I’m actually really pumped for the Sequel I have planned, I’m already writing little bits of it and I haven’t even finished debaser 😅

[sufandomgirl]

Prompt 25 x Hell's Belles Short Story

"WHHHHAAAAAAATTTT?!?!?!" the man yelled, exasperated.

The woman took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and repeated herself. "I said in my will to let me go. Find someone else who makes you happy. It was until death do us part, Kevin. I made my peace with it long before I died."

Kevin was not happy with his wife's answer. "Gabriella, if this is about Eleanor, I told you that I have urges as a man. Same as when you didn't want to put out."

Gabriella crossed her arms. One of several things she didn't miss about Kevin. "Even when it's entirely your fault, you still blame me. You didn't even want to be married to me. You felt trapped, you told me so, yourself. I died, Kevin. Send me back so that you can go be with Eleanor or whatever woman you manage to gain attention from for more than five minutes."

Kevin groaned. "What were you even doing in the afterlife that was so important not to come back and serve me?"

"Not being a slave to you. Reuniting with dearly missed family members. Exchanging stories with my Nana. Spending time with my mother. Being happy for the first time since I married you." Gabriella put fingers up with each point she made.

Kevin raised his hand to strike her. She braced herself. Before his blow could land, he screeched in pain. Gabriella dared to open her eyes and an arrow made of golden light was sticking out of Kevin's forearm. She snapped her head in the direction of the archer. She let go of the breath that she was holding. Apollo. Sure, she lived in her own Paradise, but she had always been fascinated by Greek myths.

"Apollo!" Gabriella exclaimed excitedly. He smiled at her, unleashing another arrow at Kevin, this time hitting the writhing man on the floor in the stomach, causing even more pain. A third found itself in a rather...conspicuous place.

Gabriella gasped. Apollo came to her. "Gabriella, he can't hurt you anymore. If he dies, he's going to try to appeal down at the Hellp Desk. They're going to either laugh or beat the shit out of him, probably both.

"H-h-h-he b-brought me back to life. Who knows what else he could do? I'll never be safe from him, Apollo." Gabriella's eyes welled up with tears.

Apollo shook his head and reassured her. "Gabriella, he only 'succeeded' in bringing you back to life for half an hour. The clock started ticking since you opened your eyes. It was a simple mistake made by an intern who I promise you did not want to put you back into an abusive relationship. They went to their superiors right away once they realized. I was summoned to go through the Veil and make sure that once it expired, you met your second demise peacefully. Also, I want to help you because I'm your boyfriend."

Gabriella blushed. She couldn't help but fall for Apollo's charms and had become his partner. She suddenly remembered something and set off to finish some things that she wish she had before her first death. She sent her real will to an attorney anonymously so that her relatives would be taken care of and Kevin's family got nothing, as he forged a gaudy-looking second will that she was surprised anyone believed. Apollo had finished off Kevin, finally shooting him in the head and after some time, Gabriella re-entered the room and before she could make it to Apollo, collapsed and lost consciousness.

She woke back up on Olympus, where she had previously been before being resurrected, conversing with Athena. Her eyes met those of the goddess, filled with worry and relief to see her waking up. "Athena?"

The goddess nodded, cradling her in her arms. "What happened? Where did you go?"

Gabriella winced as a flash of light to Athena's right entered her peripheral vision. Suddenly, Apollo was back and he joined Athena.

"Thanks for watching out for her, Athena. I was very sad to see how scared she was that her ex may come for her after 'successfully' resurrecting her. Abusive bastard. I made sure he was dragged to the Hellp Desk where he'll be dealt with."

Athena met her eyes once again with sadness. Gabriella looked away. "If I could feel my legs right now, I'd ask to be put down."

"The Front Death-k said that that's normal after being brought back for any amount of time. It should only last a few minutes. The intern who mistakenly allowed it profusely apologized and accepted disciplinary action. The Hellp Desk said they'd be reaching out with a custody arrangement to send him to Tartarus."

[A/N: These two will appear in ongoing Hell's Belles fanfictions]