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heartshapedmisery · 1 year ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which you and art can't seem to keep your hands to yourself after your first victorious win in weeks.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex (please stay safe y'all), art references to being turned on by watching reader play tennis, power dynamics?, switch!reader, switch!art, semi-public!sex, praise kink, hair pulling, oral (fem!receiving), obsessive!art (he is literally obsessed with the reader omg), p in v sex, art and reader almost get caught lmao, lmk if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.1k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

PART 2 OF LOOSEN UP!

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ if you haven't read part one, please do so before reading this! also i am a firm believer in art giving you aftercare after sex, no matter where it is in case you couldn't tell ;) i kinda rushed the ending sorry i just wanted to get it out in time :/ hope you enjoy!

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ may 17th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

A breathy groan escaped your lips as your racket smacked the tennis ball across the net, your final attempt at winning points in the match. You intensively watched your opponent—some hot-shot blonde from North Carolina—as she darted to hit the ball back to you. Your breath hitched as you saw her ankle roll from the impact, making her legs give out beneath her and ultimately miss the ball.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as the ball bounced out of the court. The game was yours.

"Game, (L/N)," the announcer sounds over the PA system, cheers erupting from the stands. Your eyes searched for Art, before seeing him standing on the sideline clapping his hands proudly with a smile.

Ever since his visit to your apartment, the two of you had been inseparable. Your preceding professional relationship had blossomed into a personal one within the blink of an eye, and your once light-hearted repartee had become rather flirty and intense.

He couldn't seem to keep his hands off of you, and you couldn't seem to ignore how much you loved it. Whether it be at his place, in the locker rooms, or even on the fucking tennis court (it was late at night and dark, and of course, art had been adamant to make sure everyone had gone home before he proposed the idea.)

You were addicted to each other. Drunk on each other's touch, and you never wanted to get sober.

"You did great out there. Congratulations," his lush voice cuts into the sporadic ringing in your ears when you finally make your way over to him, your chest still buzzing after your win as the two of you walk off the court.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, and not just because Art's hand didn't leave the small of your back until you were out of everyone's view and walked down the somewhat empty hallway of the athletic center.

"You think so?" you pondered lightly, still trying to catch your breath as you caught his eye. You recognized the look on his face; it was one you had grown to know all too well. The way his lips parted slightly, and his eyes seemed to darken as they drank in your elated state.

It was a look of lust.

"Oh, I know so," he corrected you, his voice low. His arm snaked around your waist as the two of you came to a stop outside the women's bathroom, your chest flush against his as he pulled you into him.

"I couldn't take my eyes off of you," he admitted. "The way you lose yourself when you're out on that court, it's mesmerizing."

His gaze trailed from your face to your chest to your ass, drinking in your appearance. He had always loved the skirt you had decided to wear for today's match; just a simple, white tennis skirt that seemed to be just a little bit shorter than the rest and hugged you in all the right places.

"Oh yeah?" you tested, a small smirk tugging at your lips. A giggle escaped your lips as his hand ran down your hip before settling on your ass, giving it a good squeeze as he leaned into you.

"Yeah," he whispered against your lips, before pulling you in for a hungry kiss by the back of your neck with his free hand. You let out an excited moan from the back of your throat the second you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, completely enveloping himself in you.

"Fuck, you're killing me, sweetheart," he muttered to you once he finally pulled away, grasping your arm and pulling you into the women's bathroom behind him. Thankfully, there was nobody in there, or else it would've made for a very awkward conversation.

"You wanna do this now? Here?" you ask unsteadily as the two of you stumble over to the sink, looking around at the highly impractical place he had chosen to hook up with you.

"You did so well today," he told you sweetly. "You deserve a reward, baby."

The spot between your legs dampened at his words, your thighs rubbing together as he pushed you up against the sink with his hips, searching for any sort of relief.

"Yeah?" your worries washed away. You decided to have a little fun with this.

"You wanna be my trophy, baby?" you played lightly, running your hands through his hair. A slight gasp escaped your throat as you felt his erection press against your thigh, a dazed grin on his face.

"Always," he growled in your ear, his nose nuzzling the soft skin of your neck as he left sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the side of your jaw.

Carefully, his hands ran up and under the hem of your skirt, caressing the softness of your thighs before he hooked his fingers on your panties and tugged them down in one swift movement. A smirk cracked across his face as he tucked them into the back pocket of his shorts, the pale lace hanging out messily.

A surge of excitement ran through your veins as your eyes fell on the unlocked bathroom door. Anyone could walk in on the two of you and see just how well your tennis coach really treats you.

The mere thought itself drove you wild.

Quickly, he set you up on the sink and nudged your knees apart, giving him the perfect view of your soaked core as he sunk to his knees to be level with your lower half.

His eyes poured into yours as he pulled your legs over his shoulders, grasping your thighs firmly to keep them in place. The mere sight of him before you made a shaky whimper blow past your lips, your fingers moving to brush the stray strands of hair that hung over his light eyes.

"So, so pretty," you whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips met your soft skin.

He pressed wet kisses along the inside of your thighs, slowly making his way to where he wanted you most. You shuddered deeply when you felt his tongue finally lay flat against your wet core, his nose budding against your clit as he delved into you as if you were his last meal.

"Oh my g-god," you whined, digging your heel into the muscle of his back, his grip on your thigh tight enough to leave a mark. He held you in place as you squirmed around at his touch. You simply couldn't keep still as his lips sucked at your wetness, his tongue lapping at you mercilessly.

A groan reverberated in his chest when your legs tightened around his head, your ankles interlocking and pulling him closer to you.

"Please," you whimpered, the vibrations of his low moans stimulating your core. Your eyes peered down as his hand moved to the crotch of his shorts, palming the erection he had gotten from the sweet taste of you.

It no doubt sent you over the edge, a moan falling from your lips as you watched him pleasure himself. You couldn't take it anymore; you needed to feel him.

"Art," you breathed, pulling him away from your core. His head lulled back lazily, his pretty eyes meeting yours as a dazed smirk bloomed across his lips. His chin was glistening with your slick. "Please fuck me."

He didn't hesitate to stand to his feet, his lips smashing against yours exasperatingly. Despite how much he loved pleasuring you with his tongue, you didn't need to tell him twice.

You could taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, moaning against your lips. His behavior was obsessive, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you as close to him as possible as his clothed hard-on rutted against your bare core.

"See you what you do to me?" he whispered to you with a sigh, bringing your hand to the front of his shorts to feel him. You couldn't help but moan, taking it upon yourself to dip your fingers into his waistband and grasping him.

"It's a good thing I know how to control myself when you're the court," he laughed lightly. "Otherwise we'd have a real problem."

You nodded as you gently pumped him, excited at the thought of Art getting a boner while he watched you play. "Yeah? Do you like watching me play, Coach?"

He groaned into your neck at the nickname as you continued to jack him off, his balls stiff and his tip reddened. You were being such a tease and he hated it.

"I like watching you win," he suddenly pulled you off the counter and spun you around, bending your body over the sink.

"And you're a winner, right baby?" lips brushed against your ear as he caged you between his body and the counter. You could feel his dick pressed against your ass, eager to feel you.

"Yes," you whined, white-knuckling the counter as you could feel him moving around behind you, running his tip along your wet slit.

"Yes, what?" he was having fun with you now.

"Yes, Coach," you groaned, meeting his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark, and you could've sworn you saw a mischievous smirk flash across his face before he pushed himself into you swiftly.

His hips stuttered at the sound of the moan that fell from your lips, his grip on your hips tightening mercilessly.

You whimpered pathetically as he bottomed out inside of you, his pelvis bone flushed with the round of your ass. You stretched around him sweetly, watching his face contort in the mirror with pleasure.

"God, you're so tight," he breathed out, but his tone was almost desperate. His hips slowly began to move, which you were thankful for. The sweet burn of his cock sliding in and out of you was something you had only dreamed of, especially after the night at your apartment.

His free hand moved from its spot on your hip and reached around you to squeeze your right breast, his large and veiny hand cupping it perfectly. You couldn't help but moan at the dense feeling as it heightened your pleasure, your core clenching around him subconsciously.

"Feels so good," you mumbled as his hand moved from your chest to your hair, his slender fingers combing through it before giving it a harsh tug, the force pulling your back to his chest roughly.

"That's it, baby," he groaned in your ear, not letting up on his rhythmic thrusts up into you. "You can take it."

He watched you through the mirror as your eyes rolled back, his grip on your hair still tight enough to hold you in place against his chest. He took the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses, trailing from the spot right beneath your jaw down to your exposed collarbone.

His lips sent you into a frenzy, the sensation making the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as it mixed with the pleasure between your legs. You wouldn't last much longer at this rate, and Art could feel you coming undone with each thrust.

"Gonna come for me, baby?" he cooed gently to you as he met your gaze, holding it intensely as you nodded lazily. He wasn't far off either, so he quickened his pace to bring the both of you to your climaxes.

"So good," was all you were able to say, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a chant as he panted behind you from his relentless momentum.

Before you knew it, warmth spread throughout your lower belly as he pulled your orgasm out of you with a helpless cry, your head lulling back against his chest as your muscles tensed. An unsteady groan ripped from his chest as he sighed into your hair, his eye screwing shut as his release washed over him as well.

A string of incoherent pleas fell from your mouths simultaneously, the both of you in utter awe of one another. It took a moment for both of you to come back down from your highs, speechless from what had just unexpectedly unfolded in the women's bathroom.

Art helped you look presentable again after he tucked himself away, moving the stray hairs from your face and slipping your underwear back up your smooth legs for you. You watched him with a smile, elated at the way his hands lingered on your hips as he flattened your skirt down.

"Good as new, sweetheart," he placed a kiss to your temple as the two of you moved to walk out the door until it swung open.

You were met with a disgruntled old lady as the two of you stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom, unsure of what to say.

Oh shit, you thought. You would guess Art was thinking the same thing based on the deer-in-headlights look that he had on his face.

"Excuse me," she brushed past the both of you with a confused look, before disappearing into one of the stalls. She wanted no business with whatever she had just walked in on.

You looked at Art, finding it hard to hold back the laugh that bubbled up from your chest.

"Let's get out of here before we traumatize more little old ladies..."

#art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #art donaldson smut #mike faist smut #scarlet was here!

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Part 5

(Told y'all I was back!!!)

Content: Established BDSM Dynamics, Attempted Intimidation, Threats, Mild Violence and Injury

You suspect Konig gets off on watching you interact with others.

He’s an insecure man, there’s no doubt about that. He gets twitchy about other men interacting with you beyond brief, bland exchanges. A sleepy cashier at the grocery store? That’s fine. The waiter complimenting your choice of meal for some reason? Konig’s eyeing the steak knife.

That said, something about the way you are in a public setting has him constantly shifting. Practically squirming. And it’s not just social anxiety.

You smile at the employee that showed you where the towels are and Konig adjusts himself as soon as their back is turned. You politely brush off a mistake in your food order, his pupils spread like an oil spill.

You ask him about it one night, ever curious about this strange, obsessive creature clinging like remora.

“You are… very nice to people,” he explains slowly.

The two of you are doing a puzzle. You watch his big, calloused fingers fidget with a border piece. He’s forgotten to hand it to you while thinking, but you’re not in any rush.

“You are good at being… normal. No one knows that you are a killer. They can’t tell.”

You snort softly. “I am normal.”

He shoots you a skeptical look and you laugh. (Don’t miss how he flusters either.)

“Am I that different here than out there?” you wonder.

“Yes.”

You hum. Have never really considered that, but it makes sense. In privacy, you have nothing to react to. No faces to make or scripts to follow. You have Konig now but he’s different, there was never a reason to treat him like everyone else.

“So what about it arouses you?” you finally ask.

“That they don’t know.”

You don’t understand. You hardly ever do. You’re extra nice to the poor teenager that prepares your coffee next time you two go out. (You make Konig edge himself on the drive back home, then overstimulate him to near unconsciousness on the dining table.)

It’s not surprising, then, when he shyly asks if you’ll come meet some of his KorTac teammates.

He asks with his face smooshed between your thighs, nose crushed against your pubic mound. Just getting started, the taste of you already clouding his thoughts. The toe of your boot is nestled beneath his heavy balls; his voice pitches up proportional to the bend of your ankle.

“Why?” you ask, flat and emotionless. It makes him drool when you bleach the inflection from your voice, stripping it down to phonetics and fricatives. A drop of saliva trickles down your thigh. You twist your fingers in his hair, making him lick it up. (“Keep it tidy,” you’d told him. So far he’s barely managing, but he gets off on the struggle to please you.)

He mumbles something you can’t make out, so you force his head up and watch him blink. His swallows thickly, chin already glistening with slick, pink tongue lolling out across swollen lips.

“Again,” you command. Calm, even.

“I w-want them to meet you… if they can tell…”

You tilt your head. “If they can tell I’m a murderer?”

He whimpers, teeth sinking into his lip hard. You hitch your boot up, watch the tears collect in the corners of his eyes. Precum drip, drip, drips down his stomach from the vivid, weeping head of his straining cock.

“Is that all? You want me to meet your little friends with blood on my hands?” you coo.

He tries to nod, but your grip is far too tight. You click your tongue off the roof of your mouth. His hips jerk with the derisive sound.

“Or is it that you want to show off your owner?” you wonder. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. You huff in amusement as the pieces click into place.

“I see now.”

You cram his flushed face between your thighs again, grinding your pussy on the flat tongue he instantly presents.

“You want me to be a pretty, sweet thing. You want to show me off in some frilly sundress and play helpless civilian. I’ll shake their hands and they won’t know I’ve ripped a man’s guts out. I’ll smile pretending I haven’t bit someone’s finger off.”

He’s whining high and needy, rocking himself on the laces of your boots. You continue, rambling in a way you never do outside these moments.

“And you want me to do all that with my collar around your throat.” You press his face in tighter and close your thighs. “Maybe I should stab someone, huh? I’m sure I can find someone worth the effort.”

You feel the hot pinpricks of tears on your skin, his voice uncontrolled and breaking with desperation. He’s now arching his hips away and you know it’s because he’s trying not to cum. It’s a new rule you just recently established - that if he’s allowed access to your cunt, he gives it his full attention. Treats it like the rare and fleeting privilege it is.

All that just from your little tease.

The image is an intriguing one. You’ve never taken any pleasure from hiding your actions from others. But there is something almost… quaint, you suppose, about meeting men who kill for a living as a killer yourself. They’ll look at you and see Konig’s quiet civilian girlfriend. This will be a secret just for you and Konig. You’ve never had someone else know while you play a part.

An unexpected wave of pleasure knocks the breath out of you. You didn’t expect to find the prospect so…

“Fuck,” you whisper, blinking through stars. “I’ll meet your friends if you make me cum in the next thirty seconds.”

It takes him thirty-two, but considering the intensity of it, you decide to be generous.

You show up to base in a floral-print dress and pretty sandals. The key to Konig’s collar shines in the hollow of your throat on a dainty chain, prominently displayed. (His eyes keep skipping down to it. You pinch his thigh when he nearly misses a red light, chastising to be more careful. That only results in a plump outline down the thigh of his pants. Your mistake.) Hair done, a bit of makeup, you make for a nice character.

The head of Konig’s squad meets you first. Declan O’Conor, a shorter man who introduces himself with a wide smile, a rough Irish accent, and - most favorably - no appreciative glances at your body. Off to a surprisingly commendable start. You smile back and let Konig introduce you, eyes roaming the private KorTac compound.

Sleek black vehicles, modern-looking buildings. Distant pods of joggers on what looks like a training field. Even more distant sounds of guns. Passing personnel. Some of the men doing double takes, a couple of nudge-nudges. There’s not much of interest to you.

Declan shoos the two of you off after some pleasantries and an idea of where to find other members of Konig’s main squad.

You meet Aksel, Roze, Horangi, and Stiletto playing cards in one of the rec rooms. Roze teases Konig about finally bringing you ‘round. Aksel takes the initiative to stand to greet you - unnecessary, but not offensive. While his back is turned, Horangi peeks at his cards. You make eye contact with Stiletto when she notices as well and twitch your lips in a tiny, knowing smirk. Neither of you say a word.

Only two of them (Horangi and Roze) are on Konig’s usual team, but he’s worked with the other two before. You’re more interested in watching Konig interact with them. Like you, he tends to let others lead conversation in public - though the reasoning is different. At home, though, he usually initiates and you enjoy letting him talk and talk, only chiming in when asked for your opinion or reaction (or lack thereof).

Though you’re not left completely unincluded - the other KorTac members ask polite surface questions that you respond to automatically. It’s all habit, a performance you’ve given a thousand times, a veteran actor. You’ve perfected volume, pitch, inflection, spaces, down to the shape of your mouth as you speak. Your face is easier. People are good at expressions - too good. You hardly have to do anything to express easy-calm-friendly. Relaxed brows, a slight curve at the corners of your mouth, loose jaw. There: Konig’s normal, if shy, girlfriend.

When the two of you leave the rec room, Konig pulls you down a little side hallway and kisses desperately along your jaw.

“You are so good…” he mumbles breathlessly, “...so good at pretending.”

You snort, bemused. “Is that what it is?”

This is just being a person, out in the world. No one is their true selves around strangers, you thought. Is it so different when it’s you doing it?

He groans softly into your throat, mouthing at your necklace. “This will be harder than I thought.”

“We’re not fucking here,” you say.

“Yes, miss.”

You let him hide there for a moment longer, then usher him along to the next thing. He does manage to give you a decent tour of the facilities, telling you stories and explaining how KorTac does things.

You meet Hutch along the way, just a brief greeting in one of the halls. Again, not a usual member of Konig’s team but they’ve worked together before and Konig is full of pride and enthusiasm to show you off. (Maybe you’d be annoyed if his presentation was more “look what I bagged” rather than “look at who found me worthy”.)

It’s as he’s showing you one of the briefing rooms that you meet Krueger.

And you know, instantly. From the slow, exaggerated twice-over, to the obvious way he shifts his lower half, eyes lidded. You feel the mask of the day slip.

“Is this the tail you’ve been chasing instead of your own, Bruder?” he asks, sauntering closer. He could say it in German - but he wanted you to hear it.

You blink once, slow.

Konig, at your side, hisses an embarrassed correction. Even with that ridiculous hood on, you know his face must be burning. You take a single, small step forward, meeting Krueger as he sidles up too close to be appropriate. You introduce yourself without offering a hand.

“Do you know what it is we do here, little girl?” he taunts. “What your boyfriend does?”

“Yes,” you answer.

“You know he is a sadistic fuck, eh? Can break a man’s spine over his knee.”

“It’s impressive,” you admit, shrugging.

He narrows his eyes, but it seems more mocking than challenging. He doesn’t think you are anything to take seriously. An interesting bauble to bat at and toy with, to see if you’ll jump or squeak for his entertainment. He cracks his neck and takes another step, the netting that hides his face playing shadows across what little skin is visible.

“Has he told you about me?” he asks, voice dipping.

He has. “Only some.”

He looms in closer, radiating menace. He’s a broad man, makes up for height with presence alone. Objectively intimidating, you suppose.

“Trying not to frighten you,” he coos, “what a sweet boyfriend.”

You hum, noncommittal. Not even sure if you can feel fear while conscious. In your nightmares, it’s visceral enough to taste - but it only ever lingers on the back of your tongue once you wake. After all, there’s nothing to fear among the living. Not anymore.

“Is there something to be frightened of?” you ask.

“I could tell you such tales,” he croons, bending his head to speak low and intimate. “Maybe even a demonstration… of the things they accuse me of…”

You see the flicker of his hand in the corner of your eye.

“Don’t touch me,” you warn.

He laughs, rust and dried blood. “Or what, little mouse?”

“You’ll regret it.”

You hear Konig shift behind you, though you can’t tell if it’s in preparation to intervene or out of pure arousal. Perhaps both.

“Is that a threat?” Krueger mocks.

You are under no delusions that you’re better equipped for a fight than him. He has more experience and training, he’ll win in an altercation, that’s just a fact. But you don’t have to win, that’s not what you’ve promised. You’ll just make him regret starting it in the first place.

You look him in the eye.

“Yes.”

His fingertips skim the strap of your dress. You lunge, slamming your forehead into his nose. It crunches. He jerks his hand back, instinctively reaching for his face, folding a bit. Point made, step back, adjusting your necklace into place again.

And then Konig reaches past you, snatching the shoulder of Krueger’s shirt and shaking him hard. He snarls out something in German, sending Krueger to his knees.

“I am sorry, miss,” he says to you fervently, “I am so sorry. I did not think - he is an asshole. I am sorry.”

You pat his arm, lean past his hulking form, still gripping Krueger now on his knees. You curl your fingers in the netted mask and jerk his head forward.

“This is the best way to stop the bleeding,” you say. “Don’t be rude again.”

He gurgles something out, you can’t even tell if it’s English or German. You release him and turn on your heel.

“The range is next, right?”

Konig is at your side instantly. “Yes, miss.”

You meet the last of Konig’s regular teammates outside the range. (You had to cut that little excursion short. Even seeing you with a gun in your hands had his knees shaky. You got through one magazine before he was making noises in the back of his throat. It took fifteen minutes for his erection to deflate a reasonable amount.)

He’s a big man, covered from head to toe in black tactical gear - again, with a mask. Coming in with a sniper rifle over his shoulder as you and Konig are leaving. His name is Nikto. You meet his eyes as you smile and nod in greeting, Konig introducing you like before.

Maybe you haven’t quite sunk back into your Normalness yet, or perhaps Not Quite People recognize each other. But he takes one look at you and knows. You know too.

Apropos nothing, he offers you a wicked knife, hilt first. Your fingers don’t touch as you take it.

“For your next hunt,” he rumbles. “Konig is lucky.”

You blink as he walks off, glance at the blade in your hand. “It’s nice.”

Konig fidgets, staring after Nikto. “How did he know?”

You shrug.

Konig turns back to you, nervousness swirling. “Are you worried?”

You snort. “No.”

Why would a bear bother a mountain lion?

That night, you lay Konig down and grind your dripping pussy along the rigid length of his cock. He twists his fingers tight in the bed sheets (you already hear them tearing; you have spares for this) and cries while you recount every part of the day as if he wasn’t there with you. He’s stark naked, vulnerable, trembling while your dress drapes over your thighs, obscuring the obscene view of his cockhead rubbing your puffy clit.

He begs in intervals but you just keep speaking over him, recounting needless details like building names and the food served in the cafeteria. When you reach the end of the visit, you lean down. Propping yourself on his chest, you speak soft and syrupy warm into his ear.

“You did so well handling Krueger today. Such a good boy, keeping him down for me. I’m proud of you for knowing to wait. My good guard dog.”

He dissolves into a puddle in seconds, weakly asking permission to please, please, please let him cum early just this once.

You let him.

In gratitude, he eats you out until you fall asleep.

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #cod konig #konig x reader #pathetic stalker konig #rabid reader #in love with a fever fic #heavy kink

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netherfeildren · 6 months ago

Text

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost.

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die.

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows.

You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting.

After, he’s like a raging bull. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home.

You wonder about her.

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. A brother far away in Wyoming, Maria tells you later. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.”

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him.

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information.

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor.

You wonder if her sickness might be a baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself.

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near.

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts.

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years.

And you’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. Going out of your way to avoid him is childish when you’re supposed to be here to get to know people. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still, even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife.

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat.

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly.

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs that catch you anyways.

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology.

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry.

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain.

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow.

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass.

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there.

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears.

His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more.

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips.

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural.

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. Turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior, likely, and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality.

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years.

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so.

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him even when you didn’t want to. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain.

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next.

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it.

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him.

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home, then?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. You breathe him in deeply. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding.

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” The way he says it, like a question—he’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard.

“No…” the click of his tongue snaps you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be.

“Do you hate each other?” you ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like.

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too.

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.”

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery.

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject.

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him.

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.”

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart.

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” you beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty.

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession.

He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned dangerous.

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?”

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence.

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.”

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.”

And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it.

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive.

A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air.

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere.

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs.

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?”

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate.

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Like an alpha. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant.

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation.

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control.

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it.

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.”

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine.

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways.

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God.

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours.

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied, scent mounting.

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust.

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday.

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he finally looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks.

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions.

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath.

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious, himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself.

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back.

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.”

And Joel suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy.

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him.

“Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t.

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them.

A miracle move on drug, is what she calls it.

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all.

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.”

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.”

Joel hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words.

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look.

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you.

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are.

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat.

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now.

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he thinks he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more.

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms.

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom.

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s stalking after the sound of your crying.

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown.

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten.

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering half-scream. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. Baby baby baby. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid.

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.”

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow, cringing with mortification at his crass words.

“Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment.

“Then how?”

You flush hotter, so embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help me.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. In a rush of air out of your nose, it’s all okay.

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly.

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. A frightened thing. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan.

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast.

“Yes.”

His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin.

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear.

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, acknowledging what it is that will now happen between the two of you soon, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your backside. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—”

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say.

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes.

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another, he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt.

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis.

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine.

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair.

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you.

“Right there?” He hums.

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning.

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope.

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#busy dying fic #vic fic #joel miller #joel miller x you #Joel Miller fanfiction #tlou au

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ironandglass · 1 month ago

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The Descent - Chapter 3 - Thin Red Line

Silco x female reader - Dark Slow Burn - Modern Au - Stalker Silco

A strange man moves into the apartment across from yours, he likes to watch and you start to like him watching. What could go wrong?

<<<Go back to Chapter One

Warnings: stalking, obsession, veiled threats, and unsettling power plays, romanticized toxic behavior, alcohol use, toxic relationships, power dynamics, classism, unwanted physical touch, mental health probably, class based power dynamics, swearing, bad editing (notsorry), evil Silco, dark Silco, cold Silco. He’s not gentle and sweet ya feel? No jinx.

Chapter three

Thin Red Line

Wearing a ballgown on another man's arm, one would think she was brave if it wasn't so ignorant, so tempting. Did she think she would get away with it? Did she really think he wasn't watching?

—

The next morning your phone vibrates loudly on your bedside and you fumble for it, body still heavy with sleep. Squinting at the bright screen, trying to focus your sore and blurry eyes, one new message.

MIA: "See you in thirty minutes, you better be ready for the ball tonight biiiiiiitch, time to go pick up our COURTURE!!!✨"

"Shit" you rasp and stumble, half tripping, towards the shower, rushing to get ready.

—

“Okay” Mia says practically vibrating with excitement. “I think I’m ready”. You’d both been standing at the front door for about five minutes while Mia emotionally prepared herself to enter.

Mia places her hand on the brushed steel handle and blows a breath out. You place your hand on hers, look into her eyes and nod, pushing the door open together.

“Welcome, welcome.... finally” A stout fussy man with half moon spectacles and an accent approaches looking you both up and down.

“You two are here for a dress fitting, yes?” You and Mia nod in unison, Mia produces a card and hands it over.

“Very well” He nods handing it back. “Follow me.”

Mia grins wide at you shrugging her shoulders up in delight as you both follow after him. You notice that he walks in an unusual way, lots of rapid smaller steps rather than normal strides. It gave him a cartoonish effect as he glides around the room.

“Mia is who?” He says suddenly, turning to see the response.

Mia raises her hand.

“Mia talks yes?” He presses.

Mia nods, then immediately realises her mistake and laughs “Sorry yes, I’m just, SO excited to be here, this is one of my favourite designers.”

The man is seemingly disarmed by her honesty and genuine excitement. His shoulders soften and he smiles at her.

“I am Reynard” he says warmly. “It is lovely to meet you, and you are going to look, STUNNING, I assure you.” Mia smiles wide and makes an excited gesture as Reynard pulls two dresses from a closed rack and hangs them up before you both for display. "These are the dresses that were specifically commissioned for you from our atelier. You can thank him for the colour palette though" he adds with a hint of distaste. "He was very insistent." Reynard fixes the hem so the black silk material sits correctly and stands back to let you both drink them in. The dress in front of you is a sleek black silk gown with a twisting yellow flourish over the hip. It’s bold, refined and unexpectedly beautiful. You cast a glance over to see Mia's dress is similar, also black and yellow silk, but hers has much more yellow, the design slithers further up her body. She is looking at her dress like a kid presented with infinite candy.

“Please, follow Artemis" Reynard says to Mia, ushering her towards a nearby female staff member. "She will assist you to the change room darling.” Mia thanks Reynard before following Artemis up the hall, giving you another signature big smile over her shoulder before she slips out of view. You turn back to your dress, gentle smile on your lips. It's not a dress you would ever choose for yourself, but it's beautiful, custom, couture. You’ve never had anything like this.

“As for you, follow me, thank god you both have such a beautiful skin tone to compliment the colour pallet, I won’t lie I was concerned.” He says waving a hand as he talked as if to wave away the stress of it all.

—

“Hair and makeup included? We’re basically celebrities,” Mia squeals as you both climb into the dark and moodily lit limousine. “I feel like a fucking PRINCESS” She says punching the air with energetic glee.

“Me too” you admit smiling wide, climbing in after her as the driver shut the door behind you.

It felt indulgent, pampered, dressed to kill, and gliding off in a limo to a literal Ball. You feel so lucky right now as you run your hands over the seats, a rich buttery soft leather. It even smelled expensive.

The small privacy screen at the front end of the limo lowers slightly revealing the driver. “Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I forgot to mention, there’s champagne in the side bar, as well as a few other drinks if you open that fridge there, please make yourselves comfortable, we should arrive in about fifteen minutes”.

“Thank you!” You both chirp gleefully in unison, making the driver chuckle as the screen goes back up.

Mia swiftly cracks open the tiny fridge, assessing her options. “If we get murdered after this, so be it. Worth it,” She pulls out two drinks and hands you one she knows you will like.

You smile and accept it, twisting off the lid. “Speak for yourself.” you clink your glasses together. "I'll kick your corpse under some bushes though." You add, receiving a playful thigh smack for it.

The engine vibration pauses as the car stops again. You shuffle towards the door, assuming you had arrived at the venue but Mia pulls you back.

“We’re picking up the guys.” She explains. “They’re funny, you’re gonna love them.”

The door opens. A first man enters dressed in smart black, he introduces himself warmly as Wes, while the second climbs in, wearing a bright yellow and black custom ensemble that somehow looks tasteful and stylish as hell.

Your eyes lock and recognition sinks in. That’s the guy—the one in the ridiculous tartan suit who helped you carry Mia’s pottery wheel.

“Difficult girl?” Finn asks with a curious smirk.

Mia looks between you both wide eyed. “No way!”

“He helped me with your mystery box from the post office.” You explain.

“And she was soooo grateful” Finn teases while reaching towards the small bar fridge and selecting a beer for Wes and himself. The two cans hiss as they're opened. “To unexpected surprises” Finn toasts before turning towards you and Mia.

“-and to you both, thanks for joining me tonight. You look perfect.” He smiles at you, with a look that lingers a little too long. “Thank you, I try” the stony faced Wes says softly pretending to tuck hair behind his ear and turning towards Finn. His eyes gaze lovingly, hand over his heart. Finn freezes for a moment perplexed.

You all burst into laughter at this and clink your glasses together.

—

Wes and Mia climb out of the Limo before you.

Then Finn exits to assist you. You hesitate for a moment, looking at his outstretched hand. He's kind of a dick but thinking of your heels, and the logistics of manoeuvring out of a vehicle elegantly in your dress you decide to take it, placing yours in his and letting him help you. His hand is warm and slightly rough against your own. His pale green eyes sink into yours for a moment appreciatively, before he offers you his arm. Also warm and for some reason that annoys you.

Behind him is a huge, white stone staircase, draped in a red carpet, leading into a giant, beautiful old money mansion. Vines scramble up the huge stone blocks. You don't even really get a chance to drink it all in before you ascend the stairs together.

Flashes go off all around as photographers take photos. Finn steers and guides you to turn and smile a few times his hand on the small of your back. Normally you would find this off-putting or uncomfortable but right now, you feel so beautiful and confident that it doesn’t bother you at all. “You did great” Finn says giving you a wink as you reach the top of the stairs. You smile because you know you did, effortlessly for once, and it feels good.

“Mister Finn” one of the door people greets him and yourself.

You can hear music now, drifting out from within. Finn leads you inside, the building is some kind of historical grand estate, the kind of thing you’d only ever seen in period films. Tall ceilings, marble lined walls, fresh cut flowers everywhere, waiters with little trays of mysterious bright foodstuffs and grand guests regally dressed in beautiful clothing.

“This is amazing” you say, slightly overwhelmed.

Turning a corner toward a giant mirror lined wall. Looking at your reflection, you and Finn make a handsome pair. The yellow of your dress compliments his suit perfectly.

The dress he had selected for you. Something about that feels incredibly uncomfortable but you can't quite place it.

This obnoxious yellow should make someone look terrible but you both look good. Really good, expensive good, like runway models, magazine good.

Finn looks down at you gazing into the mirror and smirks, “We can admire ourselves later” he says gently and leads you up into the main ballroom.

You’d seen ballrooms in movies before, fantastical, grand, almost unbelievable. But nothing prepared you for this. Standing on the balcony, staring out over a sea of glittering dresses, tailored suits, and champagne laughter. it all hits you suddenly like vertigo. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was overwhelming. A cathedral of excess. The chandeliers alone looked heavy enough to crush a car, suspended like silent gods far above.

“Ahhhh Finnnn!” A loud booming male voice approaches taking Finn's hand he nods and grabs him by the bicep with his other hand. “Good to see you my friend! Ahhhh and who is this beautiful creature on your arm? Hmm?” Finn shakes the man’s hand and introduces you.

“Ahhhhh a beautiful name!” The man booms, taking your hand and kissing the back of it gently. “I will catch up with you later, I’m very interested to negotiate on that offer, but later. Please, go, enjoy the night!” he finishes by slapping Finn on the back twice.

"Finn hello darling" a raspy voice belonging to an older woman sweeps in, Finn greets her politely, but being on his arm, you feel him tense up just a fraction.

“We’ll need to review the matter of our shared port arrangements soon. There’s been some... unexpected congestion.” She says it all with a soft smile that doesn’t reach her cold eyes before adding. “I’d hate to think you're letting the embargo become a reason to disengage.”

"Lady Celeste, I'll make some time-" Finn starts before she cuts him off. "Tonight, wonderful. It's settled darling. So glad you agree." She's already turned her back on your both, waving a gloved hand as she leaves.

For just a moment, Finn looks tired.

You glance at him out the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t return it, eyes fixed on a new person approaching. A man with short cropped hair wearing a brown suit, looking wealthy but dull. He shakes Finn's hand, you miss his name as Finn introduces you. Too busy mentally planning an exit strategy.

“You look remarkable tonight miss.” He says, looking at you with intense sincerity, and something else you cant place, but don’t like. He’s holding your hand just a little bit too long, enough to make you feel unsettled. You gently and carefully try to pull it away from him, so as not to be rude or make a scene, but his fingers lock firmly around your wrist, your arm wavers slightly with the strain of your pulling. Finn notices.

“Hands off the merchandise” Finn warns playfully, but firmly, he steps forward slightly between you and his eyes sharpen. A carefully disguised threat.

It's effective, the message is received and the spell breaks, creepy guy breaks eye contact with you finally, letting your wrist go and backs off into the crowd mumbling an apology. You move slightly closer to Fin, grateful for the buffer.

“Some people truly have no manners at all.” Tuts another man who had evidently been watching nearby. This one is tall, thin, holding a drink, white suit, a little too clean, hair swept back and greying at the temples slightly, he looks sharp.

“Are you alright miss?” He asks looking at you with apparent concern. “I assure you that behaviour is not in the majority.” He speaks in a strange way, like he’s always in on the joke.

“Lucian Vale.” Finn says, his smile going cold.

“Enjoying the ball?” He asks turning to you. “Or just surviving so far?”

You hesitate, his words cut so unexpectedly. You wonder if you had really been keeping a polite smile on your face like you thought you were.

He smiles softly, as if you reaction says enough before he continues.

“You make a handsome couple. That colour isn’t for everyone, but you’re wearing it well.”

“Lucian, be careful ,that almost sounded like a compliment” Finn's voice is low, he smiles, tilting his head slightly.

“You know I heard that someone is being auctioned off tonight” he pauses to sip his drink. “For charity you know, dinner with a celebrity or something I think? I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t quite catch the why.”

Finn grins at him, wider now. Impatient maybe.

“Must have missed that in the program.”

“Mmm shame.” Lucian finishes the last of his drink. “Would have been quite the prize.” He places his empty glass on a passing waiters tray. “Enjoy the night.” He bows slightly before he strolls away, unhurried.

It seemed like you could barely go five steps without Finn having to stop and talk to someone briefly and introduce you. Some were polite, others rude, they looked at you in an unsettling way as if measuring your worth. It was awful, you couldn't imagine living like this.

Luckily there was a lot to look at to entertain yourself, but still. It was exhausting, they were all weird and wealthy. Speaking in riddles and business jargon and you were dying to look around more. You stayed with this for as long as you could tolerate (which to your credit was probably a solid ten or fifteen minutes). Once the current visitor was finished their greeting dance you squeezed Finn's arm.

“Would it be alright if I take a walk and look around?, I’m a bit greeting'sd out.” You confess.

Finn laughs and pats your arm and untangling his from yours. “I can imagine it’s a lot.” He raises his arm and lifts two fingers, immediately two men in suits seemingly fade into the foreground, “Don’t let her get into trouble.” He says to the two men who nod and step backwards.

You feel concerned for a moment, thoughts rushing through your mind; Who is this guy? Is this a security team? Why would he need that? Why would he need that here? Have I been reading too much crime stuff researching Silco? Is this just a rich people thing?

“Is that necessary?” You ask. He just winks at you and turns away, barely getting five steps before starting yet another conversation. You decide to let it go before you get drawn back into Finn's cursed greeting ritual orbit.

Making your way down the stairs you’re relieved to spot Mia and Wes by the bar. Mia waves you over enthusiastically when she sees you approaching.

“You have got to try this grapefruit thing” She says pushing a drink into your hand.

”Gladly” you say taking a drink. Damn, that was dangerously good.

“How many people did you have to say hello to just then.” Mia laughs “That was crazy! I watched the will to live slowly drain out of your eyes with each one”

You nod taking another sip “It was A LOT.”

“It is important for business to be seen at these events" Wes explains, not unkindly. "To network and pay respects. This is not a fun relaxing time for him, he’s working tonight.”

You nod and the feel a bit bad for a moment, was it ungrateful of you to abandon him?

Wes catches your eye, as if recognising you train of thought.

“I can’t stand it either.” He confesses. “A lot of words, but nothing useful or meaningful is said.”

“I mean, I like to talk a lot of shit myself but that looked like a whole other level” Mia muses, almost curious.

You nod and take another swig, it’s so good. "Maybe you missed your calling Mia." You tease. "Oh I could do this." She grins with confidence. "People love me."

You stay and chat with Mia and Wes for a while, laughing and enjoying a few more salted grapefruit cocktails before nature calls and you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Of course the bathroom is grand and magnificent and there’s huge bouquets of fresh cut flowers either side of the handwashing basins. You decide they probably just look good but no, they also smell glorious. You check yourself in the mirror, touching up your lipstick. Feeling slightly tipsy always makes the bathroom mirror experience fun. Tucking the lipstick back into your clutch you give yourself a wink and pretend to shoot the mirror a few times before holstering your finger guns and walking back out, into the party.

You walk confidently, intending to go back to Mia and Wes. Somehow you get turned around though, (probably because you have the navigational awareness of a baking dish) and now you’re in some random hallway of rooms totally lost.

You look around for the two suited guys Finn summoned earlier but you can’t see them.

A door clicks then-

“Beat it wasp girl, this hallway’s off limits” Comes a stern female voice from behind you.

“Wasp girl!?” you laugh turning to see who this comedian is, coming face to face with a tall, impressively muscular woman, in a dark suit. Her cold grey eyes looking down at you.

There’s not a single trace of humour in her expression.

“Tetrad aren't welcome here" she growls, her top lip curling into an aggressive sneer.

“Huh?” is all you can manage, because this woman is insanely intimidating. Her eyes and nostrils flare as she slowly crosses her arms with the air of someone giving an idiot one final chance.

“Okay, okay, I'm going.” you say raising your hands in surrender and stepping backwards for a few steps before cautiously turning, maintaining eye contact and making your way back up the hall. She watches like a hawk until you’re out of sight.

What the hell is a Tetrad? What was this place hiding? These wealthy people must have some secrets to go to such lengths.

Following the music leads you back to the main ballroom, where you run into Finn again, both of you easy to spot in the crowd wearing his signature vibrant yellow. It really did seem to paint you as his, the passing thought snags and makes you feel itchy, so you push it down.

He smiles widely when he sees you again and offers his arm which you take.

“Having fun difficult girl?” He asks walking with you down the stairs to the main ballroom floor.

A shiver shoots down your back suddenly but you shake it off.

“Clearly more than you.” You say smirking.

He barks out a laugh at this, the most genuine one you’d heard from him so far.

A waiter passes with a tray of champagne glasses and Finn grabs two, passing one to you.

“Thank you” you smile appreciatively at him.

You’re not sure if it’s all the drinks going to your head but the vibe of the party subtly shifts, maybe it was a new song played by the band? You can’t quite put your finger on it.

The air feels still, thick, a knot deep in your chest tightens.

You're almost at the bottom of the staircase laughing politely at some stupid joke made by Finn when you hear-

“Ah Finn, so glad you could make it.”

Time seems to slow down, the recognition hits you, like ice water down your spine.

You know that voice.

As you turn the room feels silent and empty around you.

Standing at the base of the staircase, perfectly composed.

Silco.

He looks lethally handsome in full ballroom attire, all clean sharp lines.

His eyes sharper still.

He is calm, he is dressed like royalty and he’s looking directly at you with burning attention.

“Silco, of course, I would never miss one of your events” Finn says with a smile like dry ice before proudly introducing you.

Silco’s expression doesn’t change but it’s as if something behind his eyes flinches.

“You look….” He says to you, “Like somebody is trying to make a statement.”

Your heart stumbles.

Finn chuffs. “Aren’t we all?.” Finn says gesturing around at the grand hall with a smirk.

Silco’s eyes bore into yours.

“The Ball is beautiful” you manage, reaching for polite nothings in the face of this emotional annihilation.

“No need to flatter the host” Finn chides playfully as if he doesn't notice the tension. “This man already has it all”

Silco glances to Finn for the first time briefly.

“Almost” The word cuts like a promise wrapped in threat.

Silco turns back to you with a steady unreadable gaze that makes your skin feel tight. It was as if he exuded a hunger so strong that it took ghostly form to envelope you, possess you. Your heart was in your throat with the burning intensity of him.

“Thanks, for the entertainment.” Finn says tugging your arm gently to lead you away into the crowd.

Unable to resist, you look back over your shoulder at Silco, standing still, his eyes locked on yours like a vow. It's in that moment you notice his lapel pin, an intricately folded, deep red, silk ribbon. Your ribbon.

It sits there, delicate and deliberate. Folded like a ritual, worn like a secret only you would understand. Or a threat only you would recognise.

The crowd swallows you.

After a few moments you blink, taking a deep shuddering breath, you're trembling.

—

Thanks so much for reading Chapter 3! 🔪📖🖤

This was a MASSIVE change of pace, but it’s going somewhere, so I hope you dig it!

We are really just starting to take the first steps of our descent; it's all going down from here.

<3 Iron

VIP AREA @mistershotz @manicmauve @deviantgamergirl @oceansssblue @eeveep1ays @wh1msyk1tten

If I missed anyone, or you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! <3

>>>Chapter Four TBA

>>>BONUS Silco POV Chapter 3.5 - Staircase scene

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periwinklekryptonite · 10 months ago

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I accidentally deleted the ask after spending an unfortunate amount of time on it, which is... 🤡 Finally going to answer this now, because I have lost the debuffs to my morale.

TL;DR

1) Travis manages to integrate into the group in a way that excludes coach ben and javi, and is indistinguishable from the rest of the girls.

2) From doomcoming (1x09) to qui (2x06), he goes through a phase of transition, which can be taken literally.

3) I personally like it and obviously my word is final.

Onto the actual post lol.

I sort of answer this in a previous post! (This post goes into the rest, and also includes my favorite interviews from kevin alves! He has such great things to say about travis.)

But, to make a long story three paragraphs longer, travis makes himself a part of the group, actively engaging in the rituals that they create. He's an integral part of their dynamic, as one of two hunters, and more importantly, he's one of the seven survivors! Despite dying as an adult before truly interacting with anyone in the show (yes, lottie and nat both see him, but they're isolated incidents,) he clearly has an effect on the group dynamic. The other two male characters that were in the woods with them, ben and javi, actively opposed them or affected them through their absence (death) more than with their presence.

Travis starts the show very isolated. In his day-to-day life, we can gather that he's kind of an epicly insecure asshole and a misogynist. What he believes is the ideal way to perform as male hurts him, and hurts others just as much. Despite finding comfort in nat, he spends a lot of the first season hurting her whenever he lashes out due to insecurity. We aren't actually supposed to like him right away. When Kevin spoke with Times of Toronto, he said part of becoming the audience was hating him.

And then I watched it. And I went, ‘Man, I hate that guy.’ I was finally a viewer, and I wasn’t Travis trying to be the best he can be

Not even four minutes into his yellowjackets buzz interview (3:35) he's saying the same thing.

(Why am I focusing so much on kevin hating travis? It's funny)

Then the transition begins. For most of season one, he's fumbling a lot, constantly misstepping. It seems like he wants to take the lessons he learns to heart, but whenever pressured or uncomfortable he snaps back to place. Doomcoming is the grand conclusion to this particular phase. Travis is stripped down (literally) and takes part in the beginning of an orgy. There's a lot of... Stuff, happening to him in this moment, and I do want to take a moment to say that the fandom should probably think about the implications of what the girls did, but this marks the weird beginning of his immersion into the lives of these girls. After this point he's part of the mystery, the drama, the intrigue that comes with it. Ben doesn't get this moment, javi doesn't get this moment.

By the end of qui, travis belongs to the group. Not even the end of qui. It's in the middle, when travis cuts open his hand and gives blood to shauna, that he belongs to the group. He eats jackie with them, he gives the okay to eat javi. Travis is THE blood sacrifice enthusiast in season two, actively engaging with lottie from everything between therapy and actual sacrifice.

And here's my first post. It has some additional information despite being kinda rushed, and includes my favorite kevin interviews.

On blood sacrifice, there's a post I'm a little obsessed with by @lesbianjackies that goes into detail about the blood stuff.

And finally... I just think it's fun. Travis transitioning through tragedy is as yellowjackets as it gets, and I love it. Despite the grand suffering that is his life, he gets something in return, and loses it the moment he leaves the wilderness. One of the best consequences that comes with this reading of travis is that he doesn't get this forever. He tries to live normally, he hides away from everyone, and then he dies the moment he tries to find his way back. For a year and some change, not even the full time in the wilderness, travis is just one of them. Despite being travis, who didn't start out as one of them, despite travis not transitioning in any physically tangible way, he's still a girl. A yellowjacket. And he loses it.

#yellowjackets #travis martinez #SOOOOOOO unpolished bc i hit post instead of save 😭 so ask away if anything is confusing

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years ago

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Gale Reviews: Spider-man : Across the Spiderverse

thanks @knightsweeties for drawing my icon's spidersona

So I am WAY behind on movies I should have been watching and Finally cleared my schedule enough to watch this movie

So I think I will break it down into the following. As a fan of into the spider-verse, my expectations for this film are a lot higher than most movies. Here's how I am breaking it down.

Animation

Plot

The Characters

The Lesson

Does it live up to the hype

Final Thoughts

____________________________________________________________

Animation

Across the Spiderverse is an animation marvel.

I wouldnt call it beautiful, because that is such a mundane term. It is artistically masterful. It even goes beyond what it had done in the previous film.

The way the film has each universe has its own art, color and style that transfers to each character. The level of detail is beautiful. The way colors are used in Gwen's universe. How Hobie is never looking consistent in any shot he is in because in his own words "He hates consistency" Its incredible.

The animation is the best part of the movie. If the animation is a cut above the rest and it is the best I have every seen in a CGI film.

10/10 (And that is a hard 10)

Plot

The film takes place a year and 4 months after the events of Into the spiderverse. There is a group of inter dimensional spider people that go around to fight anomalies and ensure the "Canon" is maintained.

Miles aka Spiderman is just trying to get a hang of his life as Spider man, his parents are worried about his future and now he has a new villain, the Spot. The Spot is obsessed with becoming Miles/Spiderman's nemesis and is hopping universes to increase his power.

Miles ends up in trouble with the interdimensional spider people and their leader, Miguel o'hara. And it culminates in the Spot becoming a massive threat to the multiverse, Miles being chased down by the spider people because he is an anomoly and him ending up in a dimension from where the Spider that bit him came from. A world where there is no spider man.

Now there is SO much to cover and this movie is a 2 hour and 20 minutes and it is only PART 1!

Now there are also a bunch of other story lines like with Gwen and her dad, Peter B parker becoming a father and The Spot figuring out his powers. But that is only the beginning.

Now the way the movie takes its time to set things up is fine... but it also feels like there are some things that could have been cut. It feels so long. The movie does do a good job to ensure it never feels boring, but at the same time it feels cluttered and empty in random intervals.

The first part does leave me excited for part 2, but I also feel like I have a lot of movie to process already and I am not in a rush to see part 2.

I think the previous film did a better job maintaining the hype and pacing, while also giving so much development.

Overall 8/10

_____________________________________________________________

The Characters

Miles Morales: Miles is as great as he was in the first film. You sympathize with his situation, he never comes off as annoying or jerkish because the movie does a good job in making sure you understand his perspective. Even when he is arguing with his parents, you know he wants to tell them but all the advice he has been given is NOT to. The problem with Miles though is that his problem is basically the same as the first one, people keep telling him what he is or needs to be and he has to find his own way and rise up. It feels a bit repetitive. But that being said it is a twist on it because with the situation we as the audience have to figure out if Miles is in the right or not.

Spider-Gwen: Gwen gets more development here, including the focus on her dynamic with her father. The strain that occured when he found out that his daughter was the vigilante that he believed killed his daughter's best friend. Its a whole can of worms as Gwen is basically dimension hoping to avoid dealing with that. We also see how she and miles grow closer ONLY to seperate as he learned the truth on why she never visited and why he is an anomoly. Gwen does manage to make up with her dad and she has a new mission, saving Miles. She is in her own way just as much of a main character in this as Miles, which is great for her as it allows us to explore her character more. Her character is one of the best.

The Spot: When it comes to pathetic villains that grow into massive threats, you can say I have a soft SPOT for them. I like the backstory and how absurdly dumb it is but how it makes sense. The spot is growing into his own and a twisted version of miles, like he had to deal with in the first movie. Coming into his own but lacking control only to grow exponentially as he grew in confidence. The spot now has a mission, be the true nemesis of Miles whether he wants it or not, and he is willing to rip apart the multiverse to do it.

Miguel O'Hara: The hard ass future spiderman that is obsessed with making sure no other universe collapse. He is fervent in his belief that Canon can not be broken and any and all threats to the spiderverse need to be dealt with. He is also a foil to Miles because he is a bigger, serious and seemingly more competent version of him. Miles' own friends take this guy's side over his, and it is a great point of tension. Personally, I think he is wrong with his takes and while the movie tries to show him as right, it fails to take into account how inaccurate it is by ignoring the times things DIDNT break. If Canon was so definitive, than Miles universe would have collapsed when his world's spiderman died. Regardless I do like the character.

The Spiders: The other spider people were great. Seeing Peter b parker, and Spider byte were some of my personal favorites. Spider woman was great... but it bothered me that a PREGNANT WOMAN was doing all this crazy dangerous stuff. I dont care if she is a spider person that is dangerous and could cause a TON of complications. WHY DID NO ONE POINT OUT THE DANGER TO HER? Rant done, I did enjoy all the jokes that were made and most of the spiders were endearing and fun to see. (Lego spider man is the best one confirmed by Miguel)

Overall solid 9/10. While Gwen got an upgrade and Miguel was a welcome antagonist I think there were a LOT more characters here and it cost some of them development. But despite that it is still good.

______________________________________________________________

The Lesson

Its basically a coming of age story that life is unpredictable and that people can advise you but you are the only person that can decide how you write your story. That is similar to Miles story in the first one and it could be argued that this is just an expansion on that. Or it can be said that the first lesson was to rise to the occasion and never fear failure while this is to push forward and decide whats right for you.

Overall its done well if a bit of a rehash.

9/10

__________________________________________________________

Does it live up to the Hype?

Yes. 100% if you liked the first one you will love the second one. But I can also see the argument that the first movie was great as a stand alone, and with this being part one it now becomes dependent on how the second part delivers, that is the problem with movies in Parts. I do think it will deliver, so I am not worried on that end. So yes, it lives up to the hype.

_____________________________________________________________

Final thoughts

Across the Spiderverse brings a new redefinition of animation as we know it, it is a solid plot and it has a lot of hype and build up going into the next part. I am glad I waited before watching as it allows me not to get sucked into people's opinions and I can say I enjoy it without just agreeing with the crowd.

solid 10/10 for me. It is one of the best Animated movies I have ever seen and I cant wait for part 2.

Also what is with spider people and child endangerment? Spider woman and peter B parker. I got my EYE on you

TLDR: Its an INCREDIBLE movie, its long and it lives up to the hype.

#spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman #gale reviews #spider man: across the spider verse

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k-s-morgan · 2 years ago

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Hello! I made a Tumblr account just so that I can tell you how amazing your writing is and how awesome you are! I watched Hannibal just so I could read more of your stories - the way that you keep shifting the power dynamics and building up these obsessive relationships creates some of the most intense and best stories that I have ever read. Do you ever think of writing a story with original characters that you might try publishing? (I would definitely buy and read it!)

Also, thank you so much for the personal updates that you do about yourself and Ukraine. I am so sorry for everything you and your country has been experiencing with Russia. I think you are remarkable with your communications and how much good you are putting out in the world despite the horror you and your country are being put through. I wish you and your loved ones all the best. Thank you for everything you do!

Hello! Oh wow, I really appreciate it! It's so flattering that you decided to watch the entire show just to read my fics, and I'm happy that you enjoyed them! I love obsessive characters, and I love obsessive, dark relationships between them even more. If you're interested, I have a Hannigram AU one-shot here that I didn't post to AO3.

As for original novels, I actually have three published romance stories, but I wrote them when I was like 17, and two of them are M/F. I don’t talk about them often because my style has evolved over the years, and the ideas and execution in them are probably problematic - and not in a good way!

My first book was Until Hell Freezes Over. It’s a semi-dark Gothic M/F romance with a twist that takes it from a more ordinary genre to a somewhat supernatural one. Ironically, I got most attached to my gay dark secondary character who’s in unrequited love with the main character. I just couldn’t get into M/F to the extent I wanted. I love this story in a way, it's my baby, and it has an interesting way of character development, but I wrote it because I naively hoped to gain more attention in the M/F market, not because I was really inspired. And both protagonists are not the best people in shallow and grounded ways.

My second book was Layers of Freesia. It’s a short and far less serious M/F romance. Basically, they met, they fought, they made up, all in 100 or so pages. I love my female character there - some readers mentioned she’s autistic, and while I didn’t think of it when I was writing, I believe it fits. She holds a special place in my heart.

My third book was All Roads Lead to Hades. It’s a short M/M obsession-based novel. Some readers mentioned it’s rushed, and it might be so because I was excited to be finally writing in the genre I wanted and I had a specific deadline by which I needed it to be done) I’ve never re-read it and didn’t have the heart to edit it.

I have 200 pages of another dark M/M romance written, and I do intend to finish and publish it at some late date. Here’s the synopsis I wrote back in 2016.

There were times when the Lettvin-Nostrand Empire was one of strongest, full of pureblood nobility who possessed powerful magic and feared no one. But seduced by the promises of more freedom from a neighboring Empire, the society split up, unleashing war that had been ravaging their own territory until Emperor Glacirien had enough.

Ruthless and cruel, Glacirien is feared by his enemies and his own people alike because the abilities he possesses are like no others. He puts an end to the war and keeps ruling over his burned Empire, not letting it heal, condemning people to suffer and die from starvation and diseases for their betrayal. When he visits one of the dying villages, he meets a golden-haired young man who evokes feelings in him Glacirien never expected to experience.

Caelus is warm. Caelus embodies the light and the brightness remaining in this world, and Glacirien is growing obsessed with him.

Caught in a dangerous web of political intrigues, betrayals, love, and his own dark nature, he has to tread carefully in order to preserve the remains of his country… for however weak Caelus’ magic is, in the end, he might be the person destined to destroy Glacirien’s Empire for

I have a prologue for it posted here.

Last year, I published a small book with short war-related stories. It felt healing to write it.

Also, thank you so much for your kind words about my country, me, and my people! It really means a lot. I still cannot believe this is our life now... Even sleeping a night properly, with no attacks and alarms, is a blessing. It should never be this way for anyone, but unfortunately, I doubt the guilty Russians will ever learn.

#my fics #my books #hannigram #personal #ukraine #russia is a terrorist state

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chameleonsallinvermillion · 1 year ago

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So, after all these years, I've finally watched Star Wars for the first time. Just the first one, mind. And I have Many Thoughts that I shall inflict upon the world. I thought I knew everything about Star Wars just by existing in this world for several years but apparently not.

Darth Vader is just some guy??? I thought he'd be Space Sauron. I thought he'd be this towering intimidating spectre looming like a shadow over everything. Instead he talks and moves like just a regular guy. He's not even that tall. He's not even in charge. He's just a guy in a cape.

There's something absolutely charming about the dated effects that's a bit like watching old-school Doctor Who. The budget is higher than that but some of the earnest attempts with noticeably shoddy outcomes are very pleasing to me.

I honestly thought blowing up the big space orb of death was how the whole trilogy ended. That seems like a culmination. That's a big deal. But they've already done it?? So what are they doing in the other two films???? I was so sure this was the climax of the trilogy!

It is genuinely not clear to me how old Luke is supposed to be, and therefore not clear to me whether I should be reading Han's instant affection for this earnest dorky revolutionary kid as brotherly, romantic, or paternal. Someone tell me if that's meant to be a child or not.

There are very few aliens in this space movie. Like, they had them around. There were some people draped in cloth on the desert planet that were probably aliens. There were all those aliens in the bars. But the empire and the rebels seem to be human all the way. Why? Are they racist? Is space racism going to come up in the next two movies?

The rebels completely bewilder me because they seem both very small and scrappy and hopeless - and very well-funded, trained, and organised with excellent discipline and matching uniforms. I cannot tell whether they're a fly buzzing around the empire's picnic or this is more like a legit civil war.

I thought the gold robot and the tin can robot were the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of this piece but it turns out they're the main characters? Like, sure, once the plot really gets going, the others take up more screentime, but the main character arc seems to belong to the gold robot man and the plot is completely driven by those two. I did not predict that.

Obsessed with how nobody in this universe experiences grief. Farm burns down and only family you've ever known is dead? It's whatever, you're over it already. Entire planet blows up, destroying your home and killing millions of people, probably including most of those you love and care about? Literally never addressed again.

So, like, what were they farming? I think I must have blinked and missed that. What were they farming in the desert?

Han Solo and Chewbacca were less important and less interesting than I expected. I kind of assume they get more to do in the next two movies because I didn't feel like I had time to get to know much about them.

Actually, the only characters I felt I got time to know anything about were the gold robot and the tin can robot. Everyone else was too busy rushing about.

So, am I right in thinking that Luke and Leia turn out to be siblings? I thought I knew that was a plot point but now it feels like they're teasing a potential romantic dynamic between them. If they are siblings, was that always in the plan? Did they intend to have that very YA romance oops-almost-incest moment or was that a last minute choice?

The lack of diversity in this entire galaxy is staggering, even for the '80s, and I wouldn't have even noticed it if there had been enough aliens to distract me. I'm currently pretending to believe wholeheartedly that all the stormtroopers are black women because committing to that is driving my dad nuts and he hates that he can't remember anything (not having seen the films since they were first made) that would 100% prove me wrong. I'm enjoying this bit, but also genuinely why is there so little diversity, both in humans and in other species? Star Trek wasn't like this.

I feel like I was given a lot of exposition and yet I understand absolutely nothing about this world and the mentor-guide is already dead. Presumably - he kind of disappeared in a puff of smoke not leaving a corpse behind but I figure probably dead. I'm not mad about this but I am a bit overwhelmed by how many words have been thrown at me and never explained.

Occasionally the acting is so endearingly stagey and fake, in that slightly old-fashioned low-budget way that makes it seem like a school play, that I kept laughing any time someone had to pretend to die.

At times it genuinely felt like they were making the story up as they went and I love that! It was so messy and it felt like they were improvising around unexpected technical limitations or just time constraints or bad planning. The whole thing had this chaotic playing-pretend-with-your-friends energy that I honestly adored.

The animals! Nobody told me about the animals! Honestly, the animals on the desert planet were the best part of this entire movie. The little jumping rat things?! The big buffalo things with the horns?! The giant desert lizard that a guy was riding on!!!! The desert lizard was only in a few shots but it was my favourite thing about the whole movie and I would be happy to watch this entire franchise if I just got a handful of cool new animals in every one.

Do you get to meet the animals in that theme park they have now? Is there content related to the giant desert lizard that you can ride on? Do we ever see more of them? Do they have a name? I'm very invested in the giant desert lizard

Anyway, those are the things on my mind now that I've finally seen this movie! It was somehow simultaneously everything I thought it was going to be and absolutely nothing like what I had in my head. My predictions for the future are that Han becomes more interesting, Luke gets a cooler outfit, the mafia boss slug man comes back (and hopefully those jazzy little aliens in the band, do they have a spinoff series? they were great), and....hopefully space lizard???

#please bring me space lizard #star wars #i honestly really enjoyed it #i kind of glazed over during the action sequences #but i found the whole thing very charming #a new hope #long post #star wars a new hope

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tellytuber · 3 years ago

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12 Shows of 2021

The new (and sometimes old) series and seasons that made my year.

Landscapers [HBO]: During the first episode I thought: “Boy, this is pretentious. And an arthouse Fargo by Noah Hawley rip-off.” But then I remembered that I adore all of those things. Sharpe’s literal interpretation of this being a dramatization injects much needed creative life in the now very tired genre of true crime. Stunningly artful with flairs of fly humor. And if they were to make a spin-off of the police squad that I am very much obsessed with, I’d be very happy.

Queen of Mystery [KBS/Viki]: Picked this one up after Hello, Me! because of how much I enjoy Choi Kang-hee and became absolutely obsessed. (Even though it ended with rushed infuriating cliffhangers and never actually delivered on the teased romance...)The chemistry of the leading pair was sparkling (even when it was all yelling), and the premise of an enthusiastic amateur detective and the put-upon detective hooked me deep. So much so it inspired me to develop my own take on this fun trope.

Motherland (S3) [BBC Two]: As my previous year’s repeat watch pick-me-up, this was my most highly anticipated show. But what I wasn’t expecting was this season’s more serious tone. (Even though I should have after S2’s dramatic finale.) It was thankfully still very funny and ridiculous (like the sideways pandemic take with lice), and the more somber turns were lifted up and lead to a light and hopeful end. Julia’s storyline of fancying her builder had me cringing through the episodes, but the conclusion was both hilarious and poignant. And that very last scene with that certain character strutting in? I screamed. I appreciate a show that isn’t afraid to abandon its own conventions to stay fresh.

Mad For Each Other [Netflix]: This cute romcom quickly became a huge joy to me. As it aired, I’d look forward to every workday when I could watch the new episode on my phone during lunch. As a sucker for an icy but fragile woman and a combative but protective man, the sweet romance hit just right. The actors had great chemistry, and delivered the sweetest and sexiest first kiss ever. The series’s side focuses on mental health, identity, and acceptance of those who are different were also handled fairly well, and nice to see in a Kdrama.

Evil (S2) [Paramount+]: A religious/psychological/horror procedural following a ragtag team? Yes, please! Thank you Kings for giving me more of what I loved the most in S1: Kristen/Ben & Kristen unhinged. While watching this season (”S is for Silence” especially), I was struck with just how affecting its quietness is. Without layering on music or action beginning to end, they let scenes breathe, the acting to emote, and the creepiness to tingle. I can’t wait to be freaked out even more next season.

Taskmaster [Channel 4/Dave]: Influenced by my tumblr dashboard, I was curious about this silly gameshow that featured a charming mustachioed suited man twisting himself upside down to produce a fart. It was indeed silly. Joyously & absurdly so. It was just the injection of good humor I craved this year. I sped right through all 11 seasons, and now I crave at least 20 more.

Feel Good [Netflix/Channel 4]: One of the shows I watched as a part of my marathon of projects related to the cast of my previous pick, which absolutely blew me away. I went in expecting a sweet and dirty relationship comedy, but what I got was a powerful exploration of sexuality, gender, addiction & recovery, strained family dynamics, sexual harassment - All in an incredibly funny, beautiful, fantastically soundtracked show.

Succession (S3) [HBO]: While watching the premiere, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be alive to experience this show in real time. There is truly nothing else like it that weaves comedy (insult to dark to farce), tension, high drama, literature, and dynamic character study together. It truly deserves a genre of its own. Like, Best of All Television. The only reason it’s #5 for me this year is because of how invested I was! It was a real rough ride for the Roy kids, it really bummed me out.

The Other Two (S2) [HBOMax]: Finally!!! The funniest comedy returned! It was great seeing Brooke & Cary inching up the industry ladder this year. (Alessia Cara!) Even though I would have loved more Lance, Chase, and Skeeter, more Molly Shannon and scene stealer Brandon Scott Jones made up for it. But Brooke/Helene York was the real standout for me: From her beautiful candy colored woman-boss wardrobe (that had me buying up suits) to the knockout performance of that dressing down of the Chex Mix bitch.

Awkwafina is Nora from Queens (S2) [Comedy Central]: As loud and brash and wacky as its debut, from time traveling to 2002 with a future serial killer to sidelining the pandemic with a cult stay. This show is a lot of fun. But what really hit me hard this season was how it leaned even further into its exploration of what it feels like to be a late twenty-something wash out in the world today. When social media is a brag board of friends and strangers flying by you with professional and personal accomplishments, how can you possibly catch up? If you’re directionless, how to find your way forward? What does that even mean anyway? Especially when the world the seems to change everyday.

Search Party (S4) [HBOMax]: This show pulled out all the bananas for this season and I loved it. Elliot unabashedly grabbing the Republican cable “news” money. Portia playing the role of Dory. The cinnamon roll twink and that twisted family. The guest stars. Every single performance. The trio kiss! And everything else really. But my top highlight: Elliot’s meta speech about being unlikable. Both a response to every person who complains about intolerable, whiny, self-absorbed millennials. But also (I’d like to think) a slap to every review (at least on tumblr) that claims the show is bad because the characters are bad. And to them Search Party says: You stink like shit too.

How to with John Wilson (S2) [HBO]: There is nothing else like it. Video snapshots that prove reality will always be stranger than fiction, intimate little interviews with real people, and Wilson’s comedic existential narration all ingeniously cut to illustrate whatever story Wilson is telling that week. Taking us on twisting journeys, like being led to a group of Avatar heads seemingly to laugh at them, but instead leave them with heartfelt compassion. As if taking heed of the life coaching from the interior designer from last season, How To’s voyeuristic charm is maximized as he exposes more of his personal life into the narrative. We feel even more connected with him, New York, and all of humanity.

Honorable Mentions: Seeking Sister Wife, Damned, Love 101 S1, A Black Lady Sketch Show S2, Mythic Quest, Inside No. 9, The Duchess, I Think You Should Leave, Frayed S2, Law & Order, Five Bedrooms, Stath Lets Flats, The Other One, Yellowstone S1/S2, C.B. Strike.

#top shows of 2021 #tv review #how to with john wilson #search party #awkwafina is nora from queens #the other two #succession #feel good #taskmaster #evil #queen of mystery #motherland #mad for each other #landscapers

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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docholligay · 2 years ago

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Eurovision Rehearsal quick takes

I’m not linking the tiktoks because I openly resent the fact that Eurovision wants me to use tiktok, but clearly I don’t care THAT much, or I wouldn’t watch them. I’m not gonna be one of those people pretending seeing Eurovision rehearsals or whatever is a right, and I HAVE to use tiktok by force. lol. I’m more self-aware than that, thanks.

ANYWAY, here’s my off the cuff takes on each of the performers who went today. YOutube clips should be up May 3rd, and also be BETTER, so any in-depth thoughts I share will be then.

These are in running order:

Norway: Can she hit anything BUT the whistle note? It is all over the place here, and considering MGP is out of its fucking mind and lets competitors use autotune--though Alessandra claims she didn’t--I wonder if we’re gonna see shaky vocals on the night. it’ll qualify anyway, the tiktoks girlies are all over this one, and televoters don’t always punish bad vocals. (YOU SHOULD START.)

Malta: Love the sparkle sweater and the use of the LED screens. Also, he can actually sing the song he represented he could sing. Very dynamic, i’m not sure I think it can save them, but it maybe DESERVES to?

Serbia: I cannot wait to see what the fuck the casual viewers make of this. Bringing the NF staging, strange discordant gamer chaos that I am strangely unopposed to? I think?

Latvia: It was nice knowing you. They can sing it, but they brought a staging that is not going to stand out in this semi and it’s just too tough.

Portugal: GIRL NO. When you said you were bringing “A luxurious and glamorous cabaret:” I assumed like, a prop. Maybe some glitter. Just a thought. Even the couch is gone.It’s 5 of you on a bare stage with lights in the back. I have so many concerns now. She can still KILL the vocals, but the staging is not it, friends. Best dress she’s had so far though.

Ireland: OBSESSED with how much I hate this guy’s jumpsuit. There’s stairs! BOY PORTUGAL WOULDN’T STAIRS BE NICE? There’s pyrotechnics! The staging actually looks good, and he can sing while moving about the stage, I bet the odds board is ALL OVER THE PLACE rn.

Croatia: This is going to be so much fucking fun to see live, and unless they REALLY fuck it up I am going to pay human American dollars to vote for it because this MUST be in the final.

Switzerland: I am so disappointed at how they burned this kid with this song. He can SING. He can sing WELL. He can RUN ACROSS THE STAGE WHILE HITTING A STRONG NOTE, meanwhile käärijä and mae are out of breath singing and walking across stage, my god. I do not think any of that can save this, and I don’t even WANT it to be saved, I fucking hate the song and think it is in EXTREMELY poor taste for Switzerland, but GOD, Remo deserved better.

Moldova: Oh Moldova is QUALIFYING. That was great, he can move and sing with ease, his flutist is incredible, my only negative is a miss the deer antlers and don’t care for the new headgear on the gals. But I am feeling SO much more confident about a Moldova Q, we love it.

Sweden: Finally got to see the solution to the panini press problem! It looks a little rinky dink in a wide shot, but I think with the close in camera it’ll look very similar to Melfest at home. It sounded a bit like she was rushing the vocals! I’m so used to Loreen sounding perfect all the time that it was pretty jarring, and the odds changes reflect that, but when one takes the average of her performances, i’m not actually concerned.

THERE WILL BE MORE TOMORROW AND THUS I WILL BE BACK WITH MORE.

#translated from the original European

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imsailorpluto · 2 years ago

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True Beauty - spoilers; ep 1, 2

tw: bullying, violence, suixxxcide

Our main character is Lim Ju-kyung, a girl who's been bullied for her looks ever since she was a child. Everyone's belittling her, starting with her family, to school peers, she just can't catch a break. She's trying to make her life easier by going with the flow, but nothing seems to work.

Oh girl, looks are not the single most important thing, it's all about the attitude. Her teen life would have been so much better if she at least had some support from her own family. This show has already got me screaming "protect this child at all cost" (⁠╯⁠ರ⁠ ⁠~⁠ ⁠ರ⁠)⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

I'd put a large warning sign, for the first episode especially. It's a lot. I'm a grown up, and it triggered me so badly, honestly gave me so much anxiety. There are scenes of severe bullying: both harsh language and physical violence, which leads Ju-kyung to the point of wanting to end her own life by jumping off a building. Thankfully she gives up the idea in the last moment. Second episode also has a few scenes of bullying, so consider yourself warned. I'm pretty sure the whole series will be addressing this problem so it might not be for everyone, especially if you've been through something similar yourself.

If something like this ever crosses your mind, just please reach out to adult you can talk to, tell them about your problems and I promise they will help. Every reasonable adult will surely help. Just don't make the worst possible option. There is always a way out, a solution

Thankfully, everything worked out in her favour and, well, she didn't go through with it. I'm glad that dramas address bullying so seriously. Even though I am sure it brought back bad memories to lots of viewers, myself included, rasing awareness of tragedies which bullying causes is extremely important. If we ignore it, it won't magically disappear. It needs to be addressed and it needs to be prevented for real. People need to stop acting like the cave men.

Well, after that it all kind of went uphill, the drama dynamics changes, and it starts turning into a comedy. Thankfully, due to some other unfortunate events, our main ugly duckling changes her life completely. Her family is forced to move back to their old house, which is far far away from her bullies, and so she finally gets a transfer to another school. Oh and, she masters the art of make-up so well, that she becomes unrecognisable. To the point of becoming the beauty queen of her new school.

Even though my inner skin-care obsession is making me scream at the screen for her not going to a good dermatologist, because it's just her skin breaking out and that can easily be fixed and she could've live a stress-free life (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Anyways, seems like she made two really good friends. But bullies from the previous school left some serious scars on her. If you watched this, then the following screenshot will be more than familiar.

I almost cried at this. It literally hurts to watch this scene. Her friends are asking about food and her initial response is to rush and get them what they want. They're showing what it looks like when you've been victimised for so long by others, your responses become so f*cked up honestly. And there's so much repair you have to do afterwards. Make-up isn't enough.

Girl on the left is such a girlboss. She has her friends' back. I mean, she literally chased a perv and handed him over to the police. To help our girl. Loyalty level so high nobody can catch up... (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Hopefully she'll stay like that till the end. The one on the right is such a cinnamon roll. I can't imagine her doing anything bad to anyone. Hopefully they'll stick together and stay friends.

The main girlie is also actually a girlboss, she just needs to be reminded of it. Plus, she doesn't know it yet but being yourself is always the best option, no matter what. It's too bad they don't teach us that at schools.

I mean, come on, heavy metal and horrors? We'd sooo be besties in high school. Personality over looks, always!

Of course this can't go right without the main male lead, Lee Su-ho. He's the guy on that second screenshot, taken from a scene when he "rescues" our main girl. She can't see him though as her glasses got knocked off her face, but he memorises her bare face well. It becomes obvious he lost a friend to sui*ide. And as we find out later on, he is extremely smart, does martial arts and lives separately from his dad. That makes no sense at first but then we also find out his dad is the world's greatest a**hole. So, yeah, there's a lot of baggage from his side as well.

Well, soon enough things start to get complicated, as expected, Su-ho ends up being Ju-kyung's new classmate who enjoys long walks to her favourite comic store. So, now she has to do all these silly things just so he doesn't find out her true identity. You know, it happens also that she goes with no make up to the comic store but with full face to school and the poor guy has zero clue that the new girl at school and the comic girl(the girl he saved) are the same person.

I wonder how long will hiding the truth work out. Judging by our girlie's character, not too long (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) but it's all right.

I almost forgot about the second male lead, Han Seo-jun. He's the "bad boy", but I bet he's actually the main cinnamon roll of this series. It's just ... a kdrama thing, let's say.

Of course his motorcycle helmet is now owned by our main girl, don't even ask how, just go watch this precious kdrama.

Till next time, Sailor Pluto

♡

P.s. I know many watched True Beauty because Eunwoo is starring, I didn't even know he's such a big deal in Korea, ooops, i hope you don't get mad at me for saying that. In my defence I really don't know much about Korean scene, I know maybe 5 k-pop songs from groups that probably no longer exist, and I watch kdramas because I find them more funny and relaxing than what's usually available. So. That is it. Hope you enjoyed these scribbles. If you made it till here - thank you so much, feel free to leave me a message with your suggestions and drama recommendations. xo

#true beauty #kdrama #imsailorpluto #kdrama recommendations #kdrama review #lee suho #lim jukyung #han seojun #kang sujin

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ackerpreach · 4 years ago

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This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could. She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared.

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN)

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her??? He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.

Like seriously??? What is this???

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for.

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa.

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that? Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way. Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO! All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship.

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this.

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way.

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy.

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR.

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that???

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below. I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place... It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga.

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all got thrown out of the window...

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’)

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to. I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative.

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

#rivamika #snk leaks #snk 139 leaks #levimika #mikalevi

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