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yandere-sins · 6 months ago

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The Orcas' Tale - Krill's Story I

a/n: I have... not much to say, although you should read the warnings. But I need you guys to know that this is 7.666 words long. I didn't make it this way intentionally, but if that isn't devilish, I don't know what is :')

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Nothing explicit yet just drug-induced neediness and description of a cock doing what a cock does, Size... adoration, Begging), Violence (Thrashing, Breaking of bones, fighting machines, Verbal threats, mention of medical tools, syringes), Getting drugged non-consensually, Description of being drugged up, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Mention of Slavery, Mention of Abuse, Depiction of spoiled Food and Seal Meat, Very long post

"It truly is an impressive recovery of such a valuable resource! Being able to compare the exact date from years ago with now makes for a great opportunity in our research, and now we have two of them! This is your chance to recover from your mistakes all those years ago!"

With pep in his step, your supervisor led you through the long, cagey hallway of the facility, making it almost hard to follow him with all the enthusiasm he was displaying. You, on the other hand, felt nothing but dread as you held onto the notes you had been giving about your new project, almost feeling scared to glance at the papers.

You already knew what they'd say. The mistakes they'd speak of.

Because you were already familiar with the mermen, who had recently been caught by the facility. You freed them all those years ago out of shame and sympathy. And you paid the price, your unpaid labor bordering on slavery. Your choice had been death or continuing their research, and after looking down a gun barrel once, you decided to invest in your studies instead, the company willing to further your education and allow you to continue testing and working with the poor creatures they kept here—albeit with supervision.

"Talent like yours shouldn't be wasted," your supervisor recited the words of the facility owner, but they sounded like a warning coming from him rather than encouragement.

When he finally stopped at the door farthest down the corridor, you were appalled to see the number on it, finding it less than funny that they'd assigned the same room from years ago as your new laboratory again. All these little digs they made at you never let you forget that they were still angry about what you did to sabotage the facility—as if you could ever. These digs were just there to make you miserable and establish who your life belonged to. You were replaceable, but you wouldn't get out of this alive. If you wanted to survive and have even the slightest chance of escaping this place of horrors one day, you'd have to obey.

"So do better this time," your supervisor said, smiling down at you smugly as he pushed the door open, the heavy metals screeching with cold, metal bitterness. Bastard, you thought, walking inside the laboratory. The grate floor spread above the large pool beneath your feet throughout the whole room, making your steps audible as you entered. The water was calm, undisturbed—suspicious.

"Oh, also, this one's been really angry ever since we brought him in. Better not let your head get bitten off! Would be a waste. You're too pretty to be a corpse just yet."

You whipped around with a glare, but all you saw was the smug grin on your supervisor's face before he shut the door with a loud bang. A mechanical lock slid into place with a whirring sound before everything became quiet around you. It was strange that they'd leave you here alone after what you did, but then again, there was no way you'd be able to recreate the mistakes you made. Even though you'd never receive any respect or sympathy from anyone in this cursed place, you couldn't help but stare at the metal door, plastered with warnings and reminders to leave equipment in the laboratory before leaving, wishing it would open again and let you out of here.

But that wouldn't happen.

It was ironic that they'd leave you alone with the merman you helped escape before, but the only way out was that door, and it needed a passcode to leave. One you didn't have. You'd eat, sleep, and work as they intended; there was no escaping this, even if the hope never left you. They didn't think you'd make it out alive unless they let you. Much less would you be able to help anyone escape again. Slowly, you turned forward, raising your head to look at the workstation on the opposite side of the room. You couldn't help from glancing downwards every few steps; caution was the only thing that kept you alive in this place.

But even as you made your way over to the station, your shadow undoubtedly making your presence known to the water, everything remained calm. The sound of machines running, keeping the pool intact, and the water bubbling from the pump were all that matched the sounds of your steps and breaths. For a "really angry" merman, this was suspicious. He must have known you were here, yet neither came to watch nor to attack you? You sighed inwardly, thinking about how much of a hassle it would be to actually get him to your examination area if you couldn't fish him out of the pool.

Once you reached the counters with the equipment, you set down the papers you had been given, spreading them out to scan over them. Even if you didn't want to interact again with these pitiful yet obscenely fascinating creatures, you knew that without any results from experimenting on them, you'd be stuck here for all eternity. The expectations were high that you'd find what everyone was looking for, even though the experiments were nothing short of cruel and disgusting. Drugs, surgery while awake, mutilations—those were just a few things you had watched the researchers do to these creatures. And for what?

Eternal life.

A fantasy.

How did you know? You were the one finding out that even if their life expectancy was closer to that of turtles, even the merfolks would die one day from old age. There was no such thing as living forever with the help of a mermaid's flesh, tears, or blood, and researching them brought forth interesting facts but not the results that this facility had been constructed for.

And yet, here you were, doing as you were told, trying to find anything that would be deemed interesting enough.

You heard a splash behind you, making you whip around, trying to make out a sign of life. Even though the floor was raised a few meters above the surface and the partition was closed so nothing could fall in or jump out of the water, it was still unsettling to hear but never see the creature you were locked up with. You knew better than to show fear openly to apex predators like the mermaids, but it had been so long since they let you near one that you could feel its presence—or the lack thereof—frightening you to the bone.

But you had to keep going, no matter what. Turning back to your papers, you spread them out with shaky hands, scanning over the information the first-contact team had collected. A large species, presumably orca-related, male, mature, and chipped. The last fact had been underlined twice, emphasizing the importance of it. This merman had already been in the facility, and they tracked it back to when you had been foolish enough to think you could save them. It had been years. Yet he and another one, as you heard through the grapevine, had come back against any better judgment, making you wonder about the intelligence you knew these creatures possessed.

However, no matter how much information you could absorb through the notes, you knew you were only stalling time. The next step would be getting this creature out of the pool and proceeding with your experiments, but the fear made you hesitate. This merman had been starving for a week in preparation for his exams, and although hunger wasn't a good state for anyone to be in, it was thought it might help to be the one feeding them when you needed their cooperation. Like you'd do with an animal. Unfortunately, they were too clever to fall for these ruses most of the time.

You still had to try.

Picking up some gloves, you went to the extensive double-doored fridge, pulling out the trays with seal meat on them. However, someone placed dead fish-heads between the pieces in varying states of decay. You took a deep breath, unwilling to give spoiled meat to the creature, even though you'd have to rely on it if you wanted to get anywhere. Picking out a slab of seal meat on the furthest corner of the tray, you just hoped it was mostly uncontaminated as you carried it over to the buttons that would part the floor into an opening from which the merman could be caught.

You hated pushing these buttons, everything reminding you of the biggest mistake of your life. Sure, you saved three mermen from this cruelty, but look what your efforts got you. 2 of them came back, and you were nothing more than a slave. Nothing turned out to be as heroic as in the books you read.

The metal grated against itself as it parted wide enough to allow feeding. Smaller species could have stuck an arm through the gap, but you knew from the past that it didn't work for any of the large specimens. At least that meant you were safe from an attack for now, though it was debatable how long. The meat sunk further and further down into the blue, but nothing happened. You leaned forward over the gap in anticipation, waiting for any kind of appearance in the wet. However, when the water finally stirred, causing slight waves to appear, it wasn't a shadow that moved through it, and neither did it give any mind to the food.

You jumped back in surprise, your body hitting the wall next to the buttons, when fingers lurched out of the water, gripping the ends of the partition and pushing them apart. Water splashed everywhere as the merman tried to widen the gap. The metal resisted initially, but even such a strong material bound to an even stronger machine relented under constant pressure.

As the cool water hit your face, you finally snapped out from the shock, slamming your hand down on the buttons that would close the floor and set the machines into motion to work against the abnormal strength of a merman. The two forces rung with each other for a few seconds before the machine finally did its thing and closed the gap, but it felt like minutes of struggling, of holding your breath in anticipation.

The merman held onto the metal for as long as possible, and you listened to the gut-wrenching sound of something breaking before he finally let go, the splashing of water dying down. The floor never fully closed, leaving a small gap not even your hand would fit through. Still, you were unsure if the merman succeeded in the end by breaking the mechanical device or if it had been his fingers that broke from the pressure. You wished you didn't have to find out.

Sinking to your bottom, you took deep breaths, calming yourself. Heart racing and head spinning from the lack of a constant airflow, you watched the water, terror, and anticipation mingling. If the floor broke, it would at least delay your second encounter with this creature for a while. But if not, you'd have given it one more reason to be angry. You watched as his dark shadow—no, body moved through the water, his movements agitated, restless. All you felt was misery, knowing you were causing this distress to him again.

You still had no clue which one of the three it was, although the body was too large to be the smallest of the three "Lyr". Due to the experiments, he had lost a significant amount of body weight and muscles, as well as his mental stability. They would have put him down had you not freed them, as he became a risk quickly. You thought you were doing them a favor by saving them, but you had no idea if Lyr ever made it out in the wild. Judging by the quick thinking and the strength of the orca roaming below you, it was more likely to be either "Nerrocan" or "Krill". Their names were burned into your mind like silent reminders of your biggest mistake and greatest accomplishment alike.

But the secret was quickly revealed when the merman finally seemed to calm down, swimming out into the back of the room for a moment and giving you time to collect yourself, too. You were still sitting on your ass, none the wiser, when you noticed black and white hairs emerging from further down the pool, slowly, cautiously drifting back towards you. As if on the prowl.

Surely he was waiting for another chance to wreck the floor open and try to escape. There was no reason for this creature not to be out to harm you, and you were such an easy prey, caught in this room with him. Your death wouldn't be mourned, but you also couldn't help pitying this merman, not knowing that your death would probably be his, too. Soldiers wouldn't hesitate to shoot something that was stronger, more deadly, and had too much freedom if they had to, even if it was a valuable species to study. You wondered which merman it was, and feeling a little safer with the floor closed, you leaned forward, trying to make it out.

The most brilliant of red spied out of the water the moment you looked down at it. Unmistakably, like polished rubies, these eyes followed your every move. You watched your own muscles tense and the horror in your expression as you realized which of the three mermen it was before you saw your own gaze fill with sadness in his eyes.

Krill.

The reason you risked everything.

His brows furrowed, then lifted as if surprised, too, although his body stayed submerged, tense and ready to act. There was no way he'd remember you, was there? Despite your doubts, you raised a hand, giving him a silly little wave before addressing him directly.

"Hello… again."

He said nothing, and you realized he must have forgotten you. It was better that way for now… even if it stung after all you did to help him.

Holding onto the wall, you got back on your feet, not wanting to be such an easy target and so close to him. He could try something again, and you'd be at a disadvantage if you couldn't even walk. "I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but I need you out of the water for a while. You remember it, right?"

You held your palm above the button that would activate The Fisher, a machine that could detect and catch unwilling mermaids by itself. But you were still close to the opening, so any reassurance from the merman would have been nice to have.

"Go ahead, open that gate again. See where that gets you," Krill threatened, and you believed him. His brows furrowed, teeth gnashing as his anger returned, and you had to realize that he was no longer like the sweet merman you once cared for. Sure, he had been drugged and broken into submission back then, but he had still treated you somewhat kindly, gifting you rocks and following you around the enclosure like a lost puppy. If you didn't know it better, you two had been somewhat close back then, having come to an understanding despite your differences. That was not the case anymore, you could see it.

"You'll see, I'll get out of here, and you'll regret capturing me again."

That hurt. It hadn't been your choice. If it had been your choice, you'd have helped all those poor souls confined inside this facility, making sure that neither merfolk nor humans suffered the consequences of the greed of some rich people. But you had no choice in this matter. You never had.

Pressing the button, you stepped aside so The Fisher could do its wonder. You didn't want to, but you had to. Didn't want to put him through the same torture again at your hands. But Krill had been foolish enough to get captured again, and you were foolish enough to still hold on to the hope that you could make a change in your life if you obeyed. This time, the machine parting the floor stuttered, and although The Fisher descended from the ceiling, it couldn't open.

"You are a fool if you think you can capture me with that. Force me to play your little games again, Human!"

Even though you tried to ignore him, it was hard when Krill paced around the opening, taunting you. You had to watch the machines work and fail as the floor was stuck. The Fisher was unable to move as it detected the closed floor, and you wondered how you would proceed if the location became unsuitable to work with.

With a loud crash, Krill threw himself against the floor, and you gasped as a wave of cold water splashed over you. As you sputtered, you heard the floor grating, the sound painful to both of you, evident by Krill trying to escape it by dropping below the water. But with the sudden opening appearing, the metal claws of The Fisher snapped forward, scanning and detecting where they had to go.

Until you saw it with your own eyes, you could have never believed such a flimsy-looking machine could restrain the apex predator of the sea, effortlessly capturing him by his wrist, neck, and the space between his fin and tail. Sure, he could throw his weight around despite being restricted, but there was little he could do to hurt you unless he broke free. However, no mermaid ever broke free from The Fisher in your years of working here. It was that effective.

You watched as The Fischer pulled Krill out of the water, shiny droplets of wet falling off of him, elevating every muscle, every toned ab on his belly. He was glistening in the unnatural lightening of the laboratory like a precious gem, and your heart clenched with sadness, knowing there was nothing you could do for this beautiful creature. You had to cover your ears as he began shrieking and cursing, most of it in a language that you never bothered to learn as you'd be incapable of ever speaking it. Siren was more of a singing rather than talking in the first place, and though you liked to sing to yourself, you'd never learn it on a level that could match the skill that his language required.

As you watched him, the first thing you noticed was his size. He had grown, although the rough weight and measurements would be taken by the machine holding him in place. The time in the ocean seemed to have done wonders for him. His fins were intact, and the tag on his tail was blinking despite being such an old model. Since then, there must have been at least seven upgrades over the years, and you'd be responsible for changing it eventually.

Once he was dragged onto the research area, he finally seemed to calm down a little, although he glared at you, fury revealing in his eyes. The Fischer restricted his head movement, but his willpower remained. "You are truly the worst," he sneered. "First, you let us go, then you capture us again. What do you think we are? Your little playthings? Is it fun to mangle us? You enjoy this?"

Testing his strength against the shackles, Krill twisted and turned in the hold, but you tried not to give his words too much attention. He was different from how he was years ago, and you had to say goodbye to the semi-good relationship you two had before, the precious image you had held onto of him. Both of you were fighting for survival, as pitiful as it was, and you had a crapload of tests to run before they'd let you get away from him and pity his fate and yourself.

With new-found confidence as you watched him rendered immobilized, you returned to the fridge, luckily not encountering any more poor attempts at making life hard for you as you opened the drawers full of tranquilizers. There was yet one to be found that could entirely knock out these creatures, but they had a significant calming effect. And—as you hoped—pain-relieving. Because there were a lot of things you had to do to him that wouldn't be easy for both of you.

Gathering the tranquilizer shots, various test tubes, tools, and your to-do list on a tray, you carried it over to a table closer to him, taking deep breaths to brace yourself. You were tense, your fingers growing numb from anxiety. You had been assigned to the labs for most of the years, rarely encountering a merman again after what you did. And although you trained for this, the thoughts of hurting him were twisting your stomach.

"You might think it's fun for us humans, but I wonder what you were thinking coming back here. Maybe you enjoyed the treatment more than you let on, hm?"

Your voice was feeble, even when you tried to act superior. Bantering wouldn't magically develop a relationship between you two, but you couldn't endure the silence when no one spoke. It felt wrong—like he was going to attack you again any second. You needed to keep yourself anchored to reality, or you might have fainted. After everything you went through, you couldn't remember the confidence you had to allow yourself to do something as drastic as release three orcas from a highly secured facility like this. A shame, really. You deserved confidence as you were one of the best, after all.

Even if you couldn't let him know, you still felt anxious about something happening. You returned to the original counters, providing you with everything you needed, put on new gloves after wiping your still-wet face from being splashed with a towel, and proceeded with a mask and apron to achieve even the smallest amount of cleanliness. You'd be unable not to hurt him at the end of this session, but you at least wanted to avoid him dying from sepsis as well as getting his blood all over yourself.

"I do not," he snapped, watching as you prepared everything, seemingly having given up fighting the machine but not you. "I came back for Nerrocan."

"Huh…" you mumbled, intrigued by this information. So it was Nerrocan who came back here, not Lyr. Interesting. "Risking it all for your cousin?" you asked, and his eyes narrowed.

"I see you still remember us," he snarled, his lips parting in a cocky grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. Krill looked… uncomfortable almost. You couldn't blame him. This all must have been beyond uncomfortable for the merman.

"And you, me."

Silence befell you two again as you picked up the tranquilizer, wrapping your hand around the container, surprised when you realized what you were doing. It had been so long that you thought you wouldn't remember your old habits. You used to always warm the drugs so they wouldn't be so bitterly cold when applied on the mermaids.

Krill flapped his fin despite being restricted, and you looked up at him, catching a glimpse of worry as he looked at the syringe in your hand. "Ran out of the good stuff, eh? I remember it being purple, not that icky color," he mocked, but he didn't sound as confident anymore as he was before.

"Should have come earlier if you wanted that. I heard this one has interesting side-effects when applied."

Rounding the table, you noticed his fin flap again pitifully, almost making you hesitate. He seemed nervous, muscles spasming in the tension of his restrictions. Stepping up to his hips, you felt his eyes follow your every step, almost making you feel reminiscent of the past. You took the integrated step upwards at the side of the research station, effectively standing above him now to see better. Everything was perfectly laid out so that your work could be done effectively. That's how you had to see it, too. This was work, nothing personal.

"You don't have to do this," Krill suddenly said, unusually calm but determined. "You're not a bad person, you saved us before."

This time, you did look directly at him, giving him your full attention for a few seconds of silence. His gaze didn't waver, didn't move away. He meant what he said. At least, that's what you were supposed to believe. Sirens were prone to lying to get what they wanted, and Krill did not want the drug in your hands, warmed up by your palm wrapped around it. But it wouldn't stop you. You gulped, inhaling deeply. It couldn't stop you.

"And now I have to save myself. Please hold still so I don't hurt you."

Diverting your attention back to his hips, you drove your hands along the slick surface of his body, trying to find any space capable of being squeezed. He jerked once when you touched him, trying to get away but ultimately pressing his hips up into your palm. Eventually, you found a soft spot, pinching the skin between your fingers. Krill shuddered, his body twisting, but The Fischer kept it in place. You'd be safe, even if you hated yourself for doing what you had to.

The syringe punctured his flesh with only a bit of resistance, and you injected the liquid tranquilizer quickly, stepping away when you were done to watch what would happen. The medication used to be a fickle thing, sometimes agitating, sometimes drugging the mermaids out of their minds. But it usually took a while before it worked. Not this version, though. So many things changed since the last time you worked with the mermaids. But it was cruel all the same.

You listened to Krill groan in pain and relief at the same time. Pressure built, his body twisting and arching, with his spine bending uncomfortably for you as the drug spread throughout him before every muscle seemed to suddenly give out, relaxing him completely and making his body sack in his holds almost lifelessly. Worried, you stepped closer, searching for a pulse. It wasn't for another half a minute before you noticed the even rise and fall of his chest, his gills flaring even though he wasn't using them. The seemingly calm state of the merman made you bolder, although the fear of him faking something never subsided. You walked up to his face, staring into the clouded rubies of his eyes, surprised to find them moving around still, searching for something or someone, despite being slower, less alert than before.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure if he could even hear you, but you felt terrible seeing what you did to him. Even if he was a creature that wouldn't hesitate to kill you, he didn't deserve to go through what the facility wanted him to. Reaching up, you brushed the hair out of his face, the strands gently gliding through your fingers without any resistance, almost as if they were a liquid defying all the physics you knew.

Even after all this time, you remembered he used to have longer hair. It used to float above the water, coating it in strings of glossy silk. But now he sported a wolf cut that fitted him just as well. Part of his hair had turned white, with only the top remaining in the same black you were used to. You wondered if it was because of the experiments or just a natural change of color over the years when his head suddenly turned, his cheek feeling heavy as he rested it in your palm. Krill seemed as unaware of his actions as he should be after being forced into surrender by the drug, but it seemed to make the forgotten part of him that felt safe with you submerge again, the feeling almost the same as from the past. You quickly caught yourself falling back into thoughts of things long gone and got to work, cutting off both black and white strands with small scissors, hoping it wouldn't suddenly agitate him. But Krill remained unresponsive, and you pushed away your guilt to quickly store your samples.

Focusing your mind on your work, as there was so much to do, and you didn't want him to recover his strength before you had completed most of the preparations you had to make. You measured and cut down his claws, trying your best not to cause any harm to him and quickly storing the talons for further research. The size of his hands was massive, and you marveled at their humanness for a moment, driving your finger gently over the ridges and joints. Unfortunately, as expected, some of his fingertips were broken, smashed by the struggle with the floor grates. You wanted to clean and wrap them securely. But when Krill let out a long sigh, sounding almost pained just by your touching his hands, you immediately stopped, fearing his wrath upon regaining mobility.

You did further measurements on smaller areas like his hands and fins, everything that could be deducted more thoroughly by hand than by machine. Every time you came around to his head, you looked into his eyes, the guilt threatening to wash over you when they locked with yours, steadfast despite him being out of it, so you quickly moved on.

While you were at it, you connected his chip to a reader, interested in the data that could be found on it, and removed the jewelry that hung from his body. It would only be a hindrance to your experiments, and perhaps remnants on the metal could determine where the merman was originally from. However, the weight of some of the decorations he had prided himself with—like his necklace of teeth—weighed so much that you needed to drag them over the floor, wondering how this could be efficient for a predator.

"So far, so good," you mumbled as you let the program run its course, wiping off some sweat from your forehead with your sleeve and looking at the situation for a moment. It had been too long, you couldn't really remember the exact procedure to which you should have stuck, but instead of giving your to-do list the attention to find out, your eyes fixated on something else—scars. Albeit not uncommon, there were a lot more now than you remembered, and you raised a hand to his tail, sliding your fingers over the scarred tissue, putting slight pressure on it.

Krill's body jerked immediately, and you jumped back from him, observing the merman. His head rolled forward in the restraints, tired eyes searching for you but unable to focus.

"Not there… touch..." His speech was slurred, another effect of the new drug, but you couldn't help but smile faintly at him, seeing how he still resisted.

"I need to count them," you explained, hoping it would soothe his mind. If he could understand it. You couldn't be sure it had any effect, but if you were in his position, you would have wanted to be told what was going on, you thought. "It won't hurt, I promise."

Measuring tape in hand, you placed your clipboard with an empty page on top of his body, moving from his fin slowly upwards and jotting down your findings. There were a lot of prominent scars standing out from his body markings, but even more smaller ones barely visible. It felt quite intimate to search his body so thoroughly, but it had to be done. Krill moved pitifully against and into your touch as if unsure where to go and unable to understand what was happening. Even if it made you lose your balance a few times, you let him, feeling bad for all you were doing. It was the slightest bit of freedom you could give him without risking your own head.

By the time you reached his chest, some clarity had returned to his eyes, and he couldn't control the sounds coming from him. You tried not to agitate him with pressure and touch, but you had to do your work. An arrangement of chirps and sighs, some grunts, and nervous jittering rang out, echoing through the rooms. Deep breaths pushed his chest out, and sighs bordering on moans shivered through his whole body. But you were content as long as he didn't throw his weight around and push you off the step and into your medical equipment.

"Must you be so thorough," he slurred as you examined his chest, following the curve of his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You looked up at him, his head crooked to the side, still too heavy to hold up on his own despite the metal neck brace, but his eyes were clearer now, following you more intensely.

"I have to, I'm sorry. I don't want it to be uncomfortable, but I have to document them."

Writing down your finds on your clipboard, you must have pressed it down a bit too hard on his chest because Krill's head fell back, a long groan escaping him, back arching again. "Sorry…" you repeated, the guilt beginning to eat you up, but he only rolled his head in the restraint.

"No…" he muttered. "Not uncomfortable... I feel weird. It's hot. Make it stop."

You were unsure what to do, but there were only a few more scars before you'd have to move on to his arms and, eventually, his backside. You wanted to at least get the chest ones down before you would have to give him another shot of tranquilizer, as Krill was growing more restless every time you touched him. You wished the examination could have stopped there. That you could have released him and put him back into the cold wet, but you needed to finish this. Even when he started gnashing his teeth and twisting in his restraints again.

"What are you doing?!" he suddenly snapped, much more coherent than before, his head jerking forward, ruby-red eyes glowering at you. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to make it quick so he wouldn't have to suffer, but Krill wouldn't let it go.

"Stop it!" he demanded as you inspected another small scar around his nipple. It was barely visible against the lighter-toned skin there, but you found it, grazing over the nub a few times while working out the details of the scar you needed. Krill was getting more aggressive with his protests, lashing out at you while many different kinds of sounds escaped him, and it was almost amusing to think that it was because of your touch. You couldn't help spreading your palm over his nipple once, letting the elastic of your gloves weigh down and rub over it, causing every muscle in his body to harden instantly. You shouldn't have abused this situation like this, but seeing him react so sharply, his breath coming out in a drawn-out hiss, was somewhat a relief. Knowing it wasn't all terrible, all cruel and painful. But you caught a grip on yourself quickly, working efficiently until you could finally step away once you had found every last scar on his chest.

"All done," you assured him, unable to keep yourself from grinning a little as he let out a strained but haughty hmpf. He was almost back to his new normal, which made you glad. The drug was awful, but it was good to know he wouldn't be broken down this easily. Your back was turned for only a second when you heard him rattling in his restraints, more clear in his mind again as it seemed. It caused you to want to tease him a little.

"I liked it better when you were quiet, Krill. You didn't react to every one of my touches as if I was trying to seduce you."

"How dare you! I can't believe I am back here with you as if you are…" The word seemed to elude him as he bit his tongue, and you turned to look at his face, so much tension in his expression that you thought he was going to burst. Krill wasn't looking at you for once, focusing on his own body. Walking up to him again, his gaze shifted from straight down back to you, a spark of something you couldn't pinpoint washing over him. Insecurity? Fear? No way.

"Don't come closer again!" he hissed, tossing a bit more in his restraints, and you stopped in your tracks, subconsciously listening to him like an idiot. But Krill wasn't being malicious; something was wrong. Even though you two weren't on friendly terms, you could tell something was off. His gills were flared, pupils blown wide open. He looked mostly like the monster you had to believe he was, but there was a sense of panic that an apex predator shouldn't ever display unless something terrible was happening to them. And you couldn't ignore it, or him for that matter.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping your voice could ground him from whatever he was going through. Stepping closer despite his body thrashing wasn't easy. You had to be careful, but you weren't heartless enough to leave him to his own demons after you caused them. The drug could have had hallucinogenics, which would not only have put you in danger but Krill too. You needed him if you ever wanted to regain some recognition or freedom in this place, and he needed you since you were probably the only person in the whole facility who would do anything to make the experiments at least a bit more humane. You couldn't abandon him like this after all he's been through.

Instead of putting yourself at risk of being thrown across the room by Krill accidentally slamming his body into you, you stepped up to his head instead, waiting for the moment that you could grab onto him and hold on with all your strength. You expected a struggle that would leave both of you wounded, but the moment your hands clasped around his face, Krill went rigid, suspiciously still. Another wave of fear overcame you, your instincts telling you this was wrong, but you tried your best to stay strong for both of you. "Shh, shh," you mumbled, calming him, and finally, the strength in his neck gave way, and his head fell back.

You two stared at each other for some silent seconds, and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek comfortingly. "It's all your fault," he uttered, exhaustion washing over his expression. You couldn't blame him for feeling this way, and you made sure his hair wouldn't sting his eyes by swiping it out of his face gently, still shushing him like a parent would to their child. He looked like he was in severe pain, as if he felt fear for the first time in his life. You couldn't believe it was true, but you felt heartbroken for him all the same. Even if he was called a monster, even if he was a killer and a creature or an animal. Even if he wasn't like you, he didn't deserve any of this.

"Why are you doing this to me again?" he asked, his voice cracking as a wave of sadness washed over his expression. You had never seen a mermaid actively being sad. Angry, panicked, drugged, yes. But sad? You didn't even think that was possible. What could you do to soothe this whale of a man to the point that you weren't suffering the consequences of other people's decisions? Nothing came to mind, and it was awful.

"I haven't done anything yet, just precautions," you assured him. "You're okay, you're safe. I can't change what I have to do, but I promise I'll try to make it as painless as possible. I–"

"No," Krill interrupted you. "Not that. Not the experiments. This."

You heard the restraints rattle, causing you to look up at his hand, his cut-down, broken claw pointing downward at his body. You halted your comforting, leaving your palms on his cheeks while looking at Krill with a confused look before you stepped away, fully aware that he looked after you, even forcing his head forward again to watch what you were doing as you stepped around him.

A loud gasp escaped you as you watched the tip of his cock exit from its slit. The moment your attention was on it, it shot out inch by inch until its massive size stood proudly, pulsing and jerking above his hips, having emerged fully within seconds of horror and amazement. A glistening drop of pre-cum collected at the tip as you stared at the massive erection, the bubble popping and spilling onto his chest as you watched it, unable to look away.

"I tried to forget," Krill lamented from behind you, his body sacking in the machine holding him up before tensing and straining again, a pained groan escaping him while his cock flopping in the air, unbothered by its owner's distress. It only produced more pre-cum and jerked ever so often, the shaft pulsing with need.

"I wanted to forget you so badly."

You forced yourself to look away from his cock, and Krill let out a brief trill in response, sounding almost disappointed. But he didn't shy away from your eyes, gazing at you, defeated and a little… desperate.

"Help. Me," he breathed, and you let out your own shuddering breath at his request. You only ever wanted to tease him. You didn't want to cause any pain or suffering, especially not the sexual kind. It was unheard of that the drug caused the mermaids to act this way. But you were about to learn what caused this.

"Why me?" you whispered, knowing now he could hear you.

"Because I remember every touch of you. Every moment we spent together. Every little piece of memory we made in this godsforsaken place, and I need you. I already feel like I'm losing my mind, and I can't take it anymore. At least take responsibility for what you're doing, this is your fault."

"Krill…"

"It's useful for you, isn't it?" he suddenly changed his tune. He looked angry, but the twisted desperation was unconcealable. "My seed. You can have it. Take it all if you must as long as you do something."

His words were followed by a groan, sounding in so much pain, and you watched his cock jerk, hips lifting, trying to reach an unavailable source of comfort, a connection to something that wasn't there. "Fuck, I held it back for so long. You and your shitty drugs! I had it under control! I didn't need you at all—didn't even think of you!"

Another long howl escaped him, head rolling from one side to another. He looked completely out of his mind when his gaze fixed on you again, needy and desperate. You had no way to find out if it was because of the drugs, and that worried you.

"I lied," he confessed, his breath leaving him ominously. His admission was completely out of character for a creature like him, which took you aback, but when Krill looked back at you, there was a different kind of determination in his eyes. A savage one—mad even. You wanted to run away, far, far away from him, but his eyes, full of drugged madness and terrifying adoration, didn't let you act on your whims. As if he hypnotized you.

"I thought about you constantly. You were always on my mind. I thought about coming back so many times, but I couldn't leave the others. But now they don't need me anymore, and I have you back. You're the only one left for me, please. Please help me. Help me, my mate."

His voice was sugary sweet as he pleaded with you, your heart skipping a beat when you watched this destructive, dangerous creature reduced to a begging mess. It wasn't what you wanted for him, and you didn't want the kind of control he was hovering over your head. But you felt the heat spreading throughout your whole body as he called you his.

"We're not mates," you tried to deny it, shaking your head, the implications too severe. "That's the drugs speaking."

"Gods," he groaned loudly, licking his lips as his eyes scanned over your body. "I wish they were."

His hips jerked again, impatient and in desperate need of release. If you were truly mates, that would be bad. It would be an instant invitation to be locked in this facility forever until you passed away. If anyone happened to check on you, seeing the state Krill was in, they'd assume the worst, delighted by these new possibilities. You had to find a solution before that.

"Fuck," you muttered, and Krill groaned in agreement. "We're not mates!" you insisted, moving towards his side again. This was absolutely bonkers, but every touch seemed to send him further down the spiral—and so were you, even though you refused to admit it.

"This is strictly professional."

"It's whatever," he rejoiced when he felt your hands back on his chest, a little too happy about this smithereens of body contact for it to be just because of the drugs. "Help me, mate."

"Do me a favor," you asked, rolling your shoulders and readying yourself for what you had to do. You couldn't believe you were going to do it; jerking off a merman was definitely not in your job description. But if it would help with not being confined for all eternity as a pathetic mating buddy, then you had no choice. You just needed the push to actually do it.

"Say 'please' again."

Krill's lips parted in a disturbingly wide grin, red rubies sparkling as he looked at you, filled with a sickening hope and adoration that made you shudder.

"Please."

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taintandviolent · 1 year ago

Text

morally violating ; Kai Anderson x reader

warnings: kai is the warning. okay okay, real warnings: hatefuck (surprise, surprise), female receiving, clothed sex, rough sex, spanking, aggression, choking, degrading language, unprotected sex. a/n: 2.7k words! turned out to be part 2 to my howlin' for you fic. i feel like an anon requested this, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one. if it was you -- here you go! it's late, but who cares. you guys don't care, it's Kai. was originally part of my lazy (and embarrasingly late at this point) kinktober. week two AND three; spanking, clothed sex and degradation. so uh... enjoy. sorry if it's clunky and bad and weird and rushed!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

You swept the blush brush over your cheeks and heaved a sigh. Ultimately, you were disgusted with yourself. Right? It might not have been surface-level, but somewhere, deep down, you really were. You had to be. It was sickening that you hadn’t stopped thinking about the furious fuck you two had had almost two weeks ago. You, as a proud feminist woman, found that very morally violating. Actually, you found Kai very morally violating. And yet, here you were, threading the ribbon of a Red Riding Hood costume through the faux-corset front. You knotted it tightly and gazed in the mirror.

You made a cute Red Riding Hood and your tits sat nicely in this corset. At least there was that. There was the possibility that he wasn’t even going to come, which was probably the best option. There was also the possibility that he would walk through the door with Winter. If the latter happened, you’d feel like a fool in front of your friend, and an absolute pathetic, begging whore in front of her brother.

Which is what you were. You knew Kai would make sure to tell you that.

You heard the first ding of the doorbell. Giving yourself a final once-over, you turned and bolted down the stairs. Your eyes swept over your living room, making sure it was presentable. You’d decorated modestly. Streamers of orange, black and purple hung from the ceiling, those little table top decorations were clustered on your coffee table. Carved pumpkins greeted guests at the door.

With a bright smile on your face, you swung open the door. A cluster of friends from college stood on your doorstep; hugs were exchanged before you ushered them inside. It was non-stop after that. Your guests flooded into your home, and before you knew it, you had to hold your drink above your head to navigate. Within a few hours, you had yourself, by all definitions, a successful party. You were two Red Solo cups deep, and you still hadn’t spotted either of the Anderson siblings.

Your eyes unfocused, watching the throngs of people as they undulated to music and clustered in corners of the room. Reminiscent activities of a college party, some playfully slapped each other, some made out, while others danced, feeling the beat of the song playing. Others had taken to sitting on the staircase, lounging against the wall and the bannister as they chatted.

“Hey there, little Red Riding Hood…” a voice said. Your eyes refocused onto a particular head of blue hair, wavy locks hanging on either side of his face. His dark, brown eyes penetrated — no, violated yours.

“You sure are looking good.” Song quote. Cute. Not.

Everything he said sounded so threatening, even when it was complimentary. Especially when it was complimentary. He was scanning your body like a drill sergeant examining a soldier, scrutinising every minute detail. Intentionally, you puffed your chest out, lifting your cleavage and squaring your shoulders.

“Did you let yourself into my house?” You snapped, incredulously. “Where’s Winter?”

He stiffened, obviously put off by your immediate attitude. “She’ll be here. Later. Had something I needed her to do.”

“The fuck?”

A beat.

“…did you let yourself into my fucking house, Kai?”

“Did you intentionally dress up like Little Red Riding Hood after I dressed up as a wolf?”

Your open mouth closed wordlessly, lips rolling inwards. The question was rhetorical, and answering would only humiliate you further.

“Why don’t we go discuss your choices upstairs?”

You stared at him, a vicious fire burning behind your eyes. Hoping he’d… what? Retract his statement? Run back out the door, finally realising that you weren’t one to be fucked with? Doubtful. He never backed down in front of a woman. Besides, if he did, you’d likely stop him, catching his arm at his bicep and yanking him back towards yourself — because you didn’t want him to leave. And you knew it.

With a huff and a sharp turn, you headed up the stairs, navigating around the people that sat on the steps. Every feminist cell in your body screamed perilously at you as he followed you up your carpeted steps, the heavy stomp of his boots following closely behind you.

You were in no mood to self-rationalise, you were too busy trying to calm the drooling monster between your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut, silencing the thoughts as you opened the door. The guests would entertain themselves — this wouldn’t take long. It didn’t last time.

He began surveying your room, walking it with his hands behind his back as if grading you. When he came to your bathroom, he toed open the door with his boot, and peeked his head inside. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw — maybe his own reflection. All of this made you acutely uncomfortable. You shifted your weight, flipping the frill of one of your petticoats.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… come…. Here.” He repeated, more sternly than before.

For whatever stupid reason, you obeyed him. You marched your sorry little ass over to where he was standing, staring up at him like a lost puppy. The bathroom door was still ajar, and you could see inside, courtesy of the little butterfly night light that was plugged in above the sink.

Kai reached in, flattening his hand against the wall and flipped the light switch.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

You hesitated. This didn’t sound good. But as soon as Kai jerked his head in the direction of the countertop, you hurriedly flattened your hands on the counter, keeping your eyes locked on his reflection.

“Good. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’ve thought about our little encounter at Winter’s party often, haven’t you?”

You shook your head.

THWACK!

Your jaw dropped, stunned, as a burning red welt swelled on your right ass cheek, the flesh tingling with pinpricks of pain as the blood rushed to the surface. There had been no warning for the first, and there wasn’t a warning for the second, or the third.

“Let’s try that — wait. Oh. You like this.” He spat. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head again, indignantly, and Kai reared his hand back. You flinched and tightened your muscles, waiting for the impending impact. You knew it would piss him off — maybe that’s why you did it. Filling your mind with horrible things that would hopefully keep the arousal at bay wasn't working. You were failing… miserably. Spanking wasn’t something you’d explored in the past, never would have thought to. But the way that he was leaving large, burning handprints on your ass cheeks had you leaking out into your underwear. You could feel it, you knew it. Fuck, so wet… fuckfuckfuck.

As if he could hear your thoughts — a terrifying thought — Kai hooked one finger around the crotch of your panties and harshly yanked them to the side, exposing your slick folds. The tip of his middle finger explored curiously, unsurprisingly finding the beginnings of a juice-fest. Slippery, clear liquid oozed from your opening, and you heard Kai chuckle through his nose.

“Oh, no? What’s this?” He asked, knowingly. You had yet again lied to him. You personally didn’t see it as a lie but as a vicious betrayal from your own body. A wet, vicious betrayal.

“Nothing,” you rasped, ashamed, and knowing full well what was coming.

“What was that?”

“I said… nothing.” Might as well accept your fate now. You gripped the edge of the counter, bracing for impact.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Your knees buckled in pain, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. Welts rose until your entire backside was a crimson, burning masterpiece of his hands.

“Clearly, you haven’t caught on. Allow me to explain this to you. Every time you lie to me, you’re going to be punished. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, but Kai, I like it when you spank me like the disobedient bitch I am.’ Maybe so.”

You didn’t appreciate the mockery of your voice.

Kai flattened his palm on the searing mound of flesh, caressing it tenderly as if deep in thought. Somehow though, the gentle touch made it sting more than before. You writhed away from his hand, only getting an inch or two away before he crudely yanked you back into place. Tossing you around like some sort of rag doll. “But, eventually, pleasure turns to pain. It’s up to you if you reach that point.”

Condemn yourself or liberate yourself? The answer was obvious. You sought pleasure not pain, and if Kai was willing… You met his eyes in the mirror, boring deep into them. You bent your arms at the elbows, stretching them across the counter and arching your back, pressing the curve of your juicy ass against his groin.

“Just fuck me,” You begged. Pathetically, desperately, whiningly. “That’s all we both want. It’s why we’re — why we’re here. There’s your truth, Kai.”

For a moment, Kai didn’t speak, he just stared. Just… watched you in the mirror. You drew your bottom lip in and bit down hard, hoping to entice him further. Slowly, his large hands slid up your back, going as far as the fabric would allow before dragging them back down again, his nails raking against your bare skin. Abruptly, he took hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh too hard, twisting your expression into one of pain. With the still warm pain of the spanks, you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

“Is that really wha—

“Don’t ask me if it’s what I want,” you groaned. “Don’t fucking ask me that.”

That launched him into action; his hands leaving your body. He unbuttoned his jeans, reaching in to pull his throbbing cock free. His gaze drifted from you to himself, looking down at it. Decently hard, but could be harder. The chase hadn’t been as long as last time, giving him less time to get worked up. He gave it a few angry pumps before lining it up with your slit.

This was the second time you were going to fuck Kai Anderson — and in a similar way; pissed off and completely clothed. Behind you, Kai used the tip of his cock as a toy, slapping it messily against your swollen, blushing cunt, threads of precum stringing from your clit to his head.

You shuddered. Kai dragged his cock down, pressing the bulbous tip into your pink, weeping slit. Gushy and searing hot, the spongy walls clenched, forcing it back out. Kai grit his teeth and pushed the head in harder, breaching it. Slithery warmth washed over him, gripping it tight. His cock twitched inside of you, seeking out depth. “Ohhhhh…. Fuck. Fu-”

With the head of his now rock-hard cock planted inside you, he no longer needed his hands and let go, moving them up to sweep his hair out of his face. He was embedded inside of you now, slick walls gripping his shaft, carnally begging for more. Using only the strength of his core, Kai backed out and plunged his cock back in repeatedly, popping the head in and out of your wet pussy. With one determinate thrust and a deep groan, he pushed himself all the way in, his lower abdomen bumping against the fullness of your ass cheeks.

His hands dropped heavily to your ass, taking fistfuls and pulling the cheeks apart to watch as it slid in and out, coated in your arousal. You whimpered, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering speedily. You hated him so much, but it felt so good. To turn dick down this good… would just be a waste. Not only was it long enough to hit your cervix, his cock was thick and veiny and massaged your insides in all the right spots.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, reaching one hand around to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips puckered out like a fish. “Look at what a little whore you are.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to the mirror. You couldn’t deny your reflection; your red and white petticoats fluffed up around your waist, your previously perfect curls knotted in his fist, and your face distorted in a whorish display. The cherry on top was every time Kai’s cock bottomed out inside you, you winced and let out the most pathetic, whimpering moan. It was like a bad porn moan, and it was coming from you. Kai’s hand retreated from your face, slithering down to your neck, where he gave a firm, warning squeeze before returning to its place on your hip.

“I bet…” He paused, thrusting hard into your cunt a few times. His words were breathy and laboured. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this since that night. You like this.”

You had — that part was true. The other part about ‘liking’ it? Up for debate. Your pussy certainly did with the way that she clenched her slick walls around his thick cock, hungrily gripping it every time he tried to slide out.

“You fuckin’,” You clenched around him, letting out a shrill moan through gritted teeth. Your voice cracked. “You fuckin’ wish, Kai.”

THWACK!

That one really hurt. Hot tears welled up before streaming down your cheeks, leaving lines in the rouge. Kai slowly leaned over you, pressing his toned stomach against your back and even through clothes, you felt the muscles tensing. He angled his lips right next to your ear, and hissed: “I don’t have to wish for anything. I get everything I want.”

His hot whisper made you shiver violently. And he didn’t — he was right. You were giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for. Just like one of his little pathetic, whinging groupies. He started pulling you onto his cock, hard, and your entire body seized up, your walls shuddering, pulsing, quivering with the sensation. You pressed your head into the countertop, moaning loud into the sink. The wet, slapping sounds drifted into a singular dull thudding noise; your ears were ringing, your chest heaving. His pace quickened, his thrusts merciless. The taut coil in your tummy wound tighter, creating a deep pressure above your bladder. Your thighs quivered, knees feeling like jello as you tried to hold yourself up against the counter.

“Fuck, Kai - fuck-fuck-I’m gonna’ fucking—

With a winded groan, Kai tensed up, and plunged himself as deep as he could go, pulling your hips hard onto his cock. Hot, white euphoria erupted inside of you, filling you up and oozing out the sides of your cunt with each unsparing thrust he gave. Unable to hold it any longer, you arched, screaming towards the mirror. Kai leaned back and pulled out slightly, just enough to watch as your pathetic little cunt clenched through your own orgasm, fluttering desperately around the tip of his dick. He gathered your underwear again and pulled them up, before snapping them down on your ass. The strings of cum that dripped from you seeped into the fabric, sticky and warm.

Kai reached around again, lifting you up by your neck. This time, his cheek pressed against yours, rubbing it like a dog nuzzling its owner. “You’re going to spend the rest of your little gathering feeling that, understood?”

You said nothing and he gripped harder; slight pressure on your windpipe.

“Understood?” Again, nothing and Kai pressed his palm against your throat until you gasped, thrashing your head up and down in a panic. “SAY IT.”

A weird whine came from your throat as you desperately gasped for air. Your pupils dilated. Finally, you croaked: “I-I’m going to feel your c-cum between my… my-legs all night long.”

The pressure released, and Kai had turned away from you, busy stuffing his heavy, flaccid cock back into his dark jeans. Shakily, you straightened up, pulling your skirts back down where they were intended to sit. Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked up your makeup like he did last time - you could pass as just a tipsy girl who had just smeared her mascara a little.

Once you two were downstairs, you paused at the bottom of the stairs. The party thrived; nobody had noticed you were gone. You heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that now, nobody could pin it against you. No questions, no accusations. Me? Fucking Kai Anderson? Absolutely not, I’d rather die. Gag.

“We’ll have to discuss your constant lying at a later date.” And with that, he was gone. Gone to spread the good word of his weird little fucked up cult, and get more people to campaign for him, or whatever it is he did. You watched him, eyes narrowed, as he manoeuvred through the groups of people. He’d done it again. Motherfucker. You shifted your weight, feeling the sticky mess between your legs as dried into the fabric of your panties.

Coming down off the orgasm was one of the worst feelings; reality set in, and you were painfully reminded that you’d just fucked your sworn enemy. A poster boy of toxic masculinity had just filled you up with his seed. Sickening. A voice from behind jolted you out of your fuming stupor — Winter.

“You should really stop lying to him.”

You barked out a flabbergasted laugh. “That’s what I should stop, Winter? Lying to him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered lowly. “He hates liars.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz / @poltoreveur

#i'm literally so sorry if this is bad #i'm v insecure over this fic because the writing juices have just not been there lately folks #kai anderson #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs smut #myfics #lizzieslazykinktober

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

compos mentis 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: ookay here we go with this guy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The restaurant is buzzing with voices. It adds the disorienting ripple in your head. It feels like there’s something crawling over your scalp as you try to blink away the haziness. It’s just fatigue. That never goes away, only ebbs and flows.

You sit on the leather cushion of the curled bench. The booth is lit by a small chandelier hanging above and the plucking of strings strums under the drone of patrons. The sconces against the wall are blurry and bright and the people all around are merely shadows.

The server appears and doles out the food. You got the butternut squash soup with a French bread roll. With the weather turning chill, it sounded delicious. Besides, you don’t have the stomach for anything heavy.

You glance over at Andy’s thick sirloin and your mother’s glazed chicken. Your hunger roars in your stomach. You shakily unwrap the cutlery from the cloth napkin and thank the server as your mother taps her glass. The man, in his pressed white shirt, smiles and pours her some more. Andy clicks his tongue but says nothing.

“Anyone else?” The server offers.

“We’re good,” Andy answers for both of you.

You could laugh, if you had the energy. Anyone would look at you and know you shouldn’t be indulging. No, you have your lemon water and that’s good enough.

“This looks delicious,” your mother chirps and takes a gulp of chardonnay, a hum at the flavour. “Oh, that is divine too.”

“I hope you enjoy. Both of you,” Andy says. “I know you had a busy day.”

His elbow touches yours, almost as if it’s intentionally. You look at his shoulder but no higher. You steady the spoon over the bowl and dip it into the soup. You lean forward to taste as your mouth jabs into one of the slices of grilled chicken.

“Mm, the maple is nice but a bit much,” she complains after a sampling.

Andy exhales slowly, measuring his breath as if to conceal his sigh. It’s strange. He seems annoyed by your mother more often than not and yet he takes her out for dinner and got her that fancy ring. You don’t understand relationships. Not past the shallow ones written onto the screen. You probably won’t ever know the real thing.

You rest your spoon on the wide brim and take a piece of the bread. It’s still warm and it smells wonderful. You pinch off a morsel and dip it into the creamy broth. You nibble on it, resisting the urge to shovel it down.

“You sure the soup’s enough?” Andy asks. Again. He questioned you when you ordered an appetizer over and entree. He even offered to get an appetizer for the table instead.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother swallows around her words. “You know she doesn’t eat very much. Her stomach is so sensitive. And look, that’s such a lot of soup. She probably won’t even finish the bread.”

You nod. You could gobble it all down but you know better. You’ve been sick before from letting your appetite deceive your mind. She’s right. You’ll be full soon enough. Your stomach always starts to ache after a few bites.

“Ah, sorry. I don’t mean to pester. I just want to make sure you have everything you like. If you wanted a piece of my steak, I think there’s a lot more than I need here,” he chuckles and cuts into the sirloin.

“Oh, she can’t have red meat. Too heavy for her,” your mother tuts. “Really, Andrew, you are so sweet to offer though.”

“Yes, thanks,” you murmur as you squish bread between your fingers. You’re suddenly very conscious of every bite you take.

“So, any more doctor’s appointments?” He asks. “I could come along next time? Since we’re gonna be one big family. I’d like to help out if I can. All this work shouldn’t be on you, Danica.”

“Oh, my,” your mother slurps more wine. “You really are a dream,” she touches his sleeve. “That would be wonderful. Nothing this week though. Just next month but she does need her script filled. If you don’t mind getting that, it would be a great help.”

You want to shrink into a speck of dust. You hate it. You’re rarely ever included in conversation. Not for real. You’re only ever the topic of discussion, like you’re not even there.

“Mom, I told you,” you insist and wipe soup from your oxygen tube. “I can go get it. It isn’t very far.”

“No, no, no. I told you before. You cannot take the bus. It’s absolutely out of the question. You could get caught on something or worse, you could fall.”

“Hm, that’s... she’s an adult, Danica, if she wanted to--”

“Andrew, you don’t know the risks. I do.”

He opens his mouth then shuts it. His lips thin as he holds back his retort. He saws into the steak.

“Well,” he looks at you, “if you’d like to come along, I can always drive you.”

“I can just do it myself,” your mom insists sharply.

“Relax,” he warns. “She wants to do it herself, she can. She’s not entirely helpless, is she?”

You chew your lip. Your mother has that look. The dangerous one. Andy’s never seen what it can truly lead to.

“Whatever is less trouble,” you utter and focus on your soup. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Andy challenges, “you did nothing.”

You nod and take another spoonful. It’s really good but you can’t truly enjoy it. You just want to go home. Away from these strangers. Home where you can be alone. Where you can put some walls between you and your mom. You know you’ve already ruined her night just by being there.

🩷

Your mother almost finishes the bottle. That’s not unusual but since she met Andy, it’s less frequent. As you leave the restaurant, she’s leaning heavily on him, her heels click unevenly as one shoe keeps slipping loose. You follow, clutching tight the handle of your tank.

You stop by the SUV as your mother purrs and wraps her arm around Andy. She squeezes his butt and you look away, slowing as you try not to intrude. He flinches and pushes her away, clearing his throat.

“Danica,” he girds quietly, “please, not here. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I feel good,” she slurs.

Embarrassment scalds across your chest and down your spine. You never wanted anyone else to see her like this. You know it’s not her fault. It’s yours. She’s stressed from taking care of you and gets a little carried away trying to unwind.

“You’re all over,” Andy gets her to the passenger door as she staggers clumsily, “come on.”

He angles her around with one arm around her back and opens the door. He gets her into the seat as she giggles and her hand flutters down his shirt. He pulls away as he catches her hand before she can get any lower. You linger by the back of the car and act like you’re not watching.

He mutters but you can’t make out his words. He clicks the seat belt around your mom and slams the door. You wince and the wheel of your tank squeaks. He sighs and his shadow turns to you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he opens the backdoor, “come on. I’ll get you two home.”

You nod and come forward, head and shoulders down. “Thanks,” you drag your tank with you, “sorry.”

“Sorry, for?” He wonders.

You sniff and shake your head. You don’t know how to answer. How do you explain the truth to him?

“Here,” he reaches for your tank as you say nothing. “Let me help.”

You have to keep from crying out and reach to shove him away. You’re overly protective. You have to be. That’s what keeps you going and you’re just not used to other people touching it. He lifts it as he nudges you gently.

You grab the side of the door and haul yourself up. You heave as you fall into the seat, light-head and he fits the tank in in front of you. He reluctantly lets it go and tickles your knee.

“You okay?” He asks.

You watch his hand. You nod and grab the seat belt, “fine.”

“Hmm, I should probably look into some more accessible, huh?”

“No, no,” you protest weakly. “I manage.”

“Well, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have to just manage. You should be comfortable. That’s why I took your case.” He brings his hand up and surprises you as he brushes your cheek. You twitch. “You like dinner?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer and flatten yourself to the seat. “Thank you.”

He hums and tickles your skin before he recoils. He draws back and grabs the door. He gently shuts it as his eyes cling to you. Your heart is racing. You’re breathless yet that isn’t so unusual.

He gets in the front seat and your mother babbles and reaches for him again. He swats her back and starts the car. She mutters and slumps into the door.

“Danica,” he says. She doesn’t respond. He repeats it louder. She snorts. He curses under his breath. You’re happy she passed out, it’s worse when she doesn’t.

You sit in silence as Andy backs out of the space. He looms rigidly as you shrink as small as you can. Usually, he’s nice. He has this way about him that you assume comes from being a lawyer. He makes himself approachable. But not right now. He’s agitated. You can feel it fuming off of him.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out as the tension strangles you.

“You don’t need to apologise for her,” he insists with another sigh.

“But... she drinks because of me. I know.” You say. “Because I’m sick.”

He clucks and squeezes the wheel tighter. “No, that’s a bad excuse. She’s an adult.”

You don’t argue. There’s no reason too. For once, someone isn’t blaming you. Besides, how far did it ever get you.

He drives on and you turn to watch the dark buildings pass outside the window. The moon is a sliver above and the stars a speckle around the wisps of clouds. You stare up into the expanse, admiring the streaks of dark blue, black, and grey.

As the car slows, you tear your eyes from the sky. You blink in confusion. You’re not at your house, but Andy’s. You’ve been there once before.

He shuts the engine off then sits back and spreads his hand across his forehead, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just realised I’m at the wrong house.”

You stay silent. You thought your mom was asleep. He turns to look at you as he flicks on the compartment light. You squint at the sudden brightness. He means you.

“Do you need anything at your house?” He asks. “Medicine or...”

“It’s... in my pack,” you touch the belt bag across your stomach. “Tank’s mostly full.”

He nods and looks you over, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. You don’t mind the guest room?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to make his life any harder. And he should apologise to you. No one does that. They don’t owe you that.

“Alright, again, I know it’s not easy for you. Probably a lot cozier at home,” he turns straight and shuts off the light. “Let me get your mom inside.”

He unbuckles his seat belt and his keys jingle as he opens his door. You click the button on your belt and pull the handle. You push outward and the door is pulled from the other side. Andy appears in front of you. He helps get your tank to the ground and offers his hand.

You don’t want to be rude so you let him help you down. You wheel around your tank as he shuts the door, the opens the passenger side. He ducks into the car and drags your mom out. He stands straight and shuts the door with his elbow.

“Sorry to ask but could you unlock the door? Code is...” he gives you the numbers and you blink as you try to keep track of them.

“Okay,” you nod and shuffle past him as he waits. You go up the walk and lift your tank up the low stone steps. You’re overly aware of him behind you.

You get to the door and stare at the keypad. As you enter the numbers, you realise they’re familiar. It must be a coincidence. In a certain format, they would denote your birthday. The pad flashes green and the door clicks.

You push down the lever and step back out of the way.

“Go on,” he nods.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “Mom needs to lay down.”

He looks down at the woman in his arms then at you. Even in the dark, you see his disappointment. Again, you can’t help but wonder why he puts up with her. You have no choice, as she has no choice in taking care of you, but he does.

“You’re a good daughter,” he says as he slowly steps past you.

You trail after him, your tank bouncing through the door, and you shut it behind you. You stand on the mat and roll your wheels back and forth, trying to get the excess dirty from them. Then you sit to take off your shoes.

“You can turn on a light,” Andy chuckles as his shadow looms over you.

You stare up at his silhouette. He’s close. He must not realise it in the dark. You turn and flip the switch.

He smiles as he keeps a hold of your mom, “I’ll put her on the couch for now,” he says, “then I’ll get you settled.”

You nod and bend to move your shoes onto the rack. You don’t look up again. You’re hot. Very hot, even though cool air flows from the vent just across from you. It’s just because you’re used to being at home. That’s it.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #defending jacob #compos mentis

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mrs-kmikaelson · 1 year ago

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01| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x reader (platonic) Summary: While you're away on an impromptu break, Marcel comes to try and get you to come back to help him face the Mikaelsons who just so happen to be your long lost family (but no else knows that). Warnings: none Words: 3.2K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i guess this kinda fits in with season one, but it's more of an AU than anything. so, it has elements of the s1 plot, like the marcel and klaus feud, the hope plot, but the villains from s1 won't really be present. like i said, AU. but without further adieu, on we go.

New Orleans was a land of plastic beads and festivals for days–a tourist attraction, which basically meant a blood bank. I knew what lurked in the shadows, what whispered through the grapevine behind the music, but Originals... I didn't know they were back.

Word travels fast around the Quarter, but I haven't been there; I was in Mystic Falls, too busy following up on a lead about the Mikaelsons to even realize that they were at the place I started, my home.

Marcel wouldn't stop talking about it. As soon as I got back, I was flooded with information and, as soon as I got back, I could hear the whispers from a mile away. Most reactions to the arrival of such a family were scared, livid, shocked, but I was none of the above.

I didn't have a thing to say back to Marcel, not a thing to say to the people who were suddenly confusing me with Rebekah Mikaelson. I didn't have an inch of emotion about it, not surprise, not fear. I mean, how could anyone be surprised? How could I be surprised, scared?

How could I be surprised by my own family?

"Klaus needs to learn his place." I internally rolled my eyes at Marcel's, basically, monologue, continuing to sift through pages of the magazine in my hands. "He's outta line."

Klaus Mikaelson was always out of line– he had no line, no boundaries. He was Klaus Mikaelson and that was the only line there was, but I didn't say that. When Marcel was having one of his tantrums, I learned to just listen to him; interrupting or putting my own two cents in just made the conversation longer and I only wanted it to end.

"He thinks he can just kick me out of the Quarter, out of my home, the bastard. Who does he think he is?" Rhetorical question, I had to remind myself, holding my tongue. The former king of New Orleans was sitting across from me at a coffee shop in New York. A coffee shop.

He was calling this his 'vacation' but we both knew that the only reason he was here was because boss man told him to leave. Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be in a university class, but it doesn't really matter if I can just compel the grade, right?

I was doing psych this time; Cami's always saying all these things to me about how she thinks my brain works and I honestly want to learn how it does. Saying I have a PhD might actually get me a significant other, but, knowing myself, the whole triangle of creatures thing might freak them out.

At least I haven't gone as low as Marcel.

"Y'know, just because that ass is an Original doesn't mean he's suddenly the shit."

This time, I didn't bother trying to hide the roll of my eyes, continuing to flip through my magazine as I responded. "Uh... it kinda does." I could feel his glare on my forehead as my eyes widened at Kim K's ass. Not even being a Vampire gives you that- "And, Marcel, I don't know if you've realized it yet, but he isn't just an Original."

I looked up at him for the first time since his rant started and gave him a pointed look. Sometimes, he didn't think with his head.

Marcel shrugged like he was saying, 'so what' silently. "Tyler what's-his-name is a hybrid, too."

I raised a brow at him. "A hybrid turned by Klaus, and wasn't he the guy who tried to kill Klaus' wife or whatever, inadvertently but intentionally trying to kill himself, and then failed?"

"Not the point, Y/N/N." The fuck it isn't- "The point is that the man is such a dick because his is so small." Gross. Didn't need to hear that.

"Didn't he adopt you or something?"

"Is that all you're getting from what I'm saying?"

I made a face at him, putting my magazine down on the table. "Can I be honest and say I don't get anything from this conversation?"

He deadpanned, "You're annoying."

"Glad you're just now figuring that out, Cellie." I got up from my seat, patting him on his back. "Please, though, go have this talk with Camille instead."

I started walking away, but Marcel only got up and began following me out, making me hold in a groan. God, men, they can never take a damn hint.

"Hey, where you headed?" He asked, but he dismissed his own question just as quick as I would've. "And aren't you supposed to talk to me and help me figure out my problems? You're studying psych, aren't you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah, people usually pay for a psychiatrist to talk to them." Honestly, I don't know why Marcel was here. With a God complex like his, you'd expect him to stay and, y'know, get himself killed. It's not like him to use his brain so suddenly.

He could've gone to damn Vegas, maybe LA, but he just has to come to where I am, right after I leave. He's getting a break from his 'Kingly' duties; Klaus is taking that off his hands, so why isn't he enjoying it and taking an actual vacation instead of visiting me and calling it a holiday? I'm not the Eiffel Tower, for Pete's sake.

It's a power struggle. People like him, came from the bottom and wanted nothing more than to be at the top, fighting against people like Originals, who had been where my friend wanted to be since the beginning of time.

Marcel didn't want to admit he was playing a losing game.

"You telling me to go home, Y/L/N?"

I rolled my eyes. What gave it away? "Precisely, Gerard."

I was just about to make it to my car when Marcel sped in front of me. I looked up at the sky and pinched my eyes. God, he was insufferable. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised me that he came all this way just to bitch. But what he said next did surprise me.

"Come back with me, then."

My eyes snapped open and I stared at him incredulously. What the fuck.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating and Cellie slapped my arm. "C'mon, Y/N/N. It'll be funnnnnnnnn." The way he dragged out the word did not convince me in the slightest.

I got over my shock and voiced my thoughts. "You want me to come back because you think drama with the Mikaelsons is- fun?"

He was quick with his response. "It could be." He then snorted. "Hell, I'd love to see Klaus' reaction to a girl like you, stronger than him-" I cut him off with my magic, his lips slamming shut immediately. It was only a temporary thing, just stops a person from speaking for a second, so he'd be able to continue right after, but he got the point and shut up.

I've known Marcel for close to fifty years. Met him in the seventies. He tried to kill me and I knocked him off his feet with a classic telekinesis spell. Since then, he's known about who I am and he's also decided that he's better off having me on his team. Whatever the hell that means.

I usually like to keep the whole tribrid thing under wraps, hence why I got Marcel to stop talking.

I gave him a look. "Klaus wouldn't have any reaction what I am, because he wouldn't know." Apparently, my gaze conveyed my message well enough because Marcel raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "No one's gotta know. But you should come back anyway."

I can't say I haven't thought about it. I know I can't stay out in New York forever.

I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I'm actually giving thought to something Marcel says. "Okay, gimme time and I'll think about it."

He grinned and pointed finger guns at me, walking backwards away from me. "Think it over and we'll talk about it tomorrow." He turned around and walked away with a kick in his step before he disappeared completely, moving too fast for the human eye to detect.

I sighed and shook my head, the smallest of smiles growing on my face. Ah, Marcel.

I pulled out my keys, walking to my car and thinking about what he asked.

It's sorta odd, I suppose. Considering how long I've been watching the Mikaelsons, you'd think I'd be the first one there in New Orleans, keeping tabs on them, but the only way I knew about their escapades was from Marcel who told me voluntarily.

That was one thing he didn't know about me; no one did. No one knew about my connection to the Mikaelsons, not even the Mikaelsons themselves, which is partially why I don't wanna go back to NOLA just yet.

My apartment's in the Quarter, way too close to the Abbatoir and, according to Marcel, that's now Original HQ. It's too risky, my rational side said.

Yet, the other part of me that spent almost my entire life tracking them, being infatuated with them, thinks that being so close to them would be favourable.

And, like most times, the irrational part of my brain wins the battle in decision-making.

Fuck. Marcel's gonna have to buy me a lot of alcohol for this one.

Walking through the quarter again is like that human expression 'like riding a bike.' I've obviously never ridden a bike, but I get what the expression is meant to say. It's referring to doing something that comes naturally to you.

That's what this is.

Marcel is beside me as we walk past both all the tourists and locals. It's easy to tell the difference between the two. I compelled movers earlier to unload all my stuff back into my apartment so I have nothing to worry about other than getting reacquainted with my city.

The path we took eventually led us to Rousseau's and as soon as we entered my eyes scanned the bar for Cami, who I know for a fact Marcel is obsessed with. But she's way too good for him.

I went and sat down at the bar and waited for her to come our way. She wasn't paying much attention when she came over, wiping down some glasses. "Hey, what can I getcha?"

"The usual." Her head shot up when she heard me and a smile broke out on her face. "Y/N/N?" She put down what she was holding and came around the counter, embracing me in a hug. "Oh my God, I thought you were gonna be stuck in the big apple for a while still."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well Marcel happened to- no, nevermind, Marcel just happened." She let out a laugh and went back around the counter, greeting Marcel and getting to work on our drinks.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," she said.

Marcel inserted himself into the conversation and I tuned them out after that, letting the two of them flirt. Cami probably didn't define it as flirting, but she definitely was.

I think she liked Marcel, but she was in denial about it. I get why though. She didn't wanna fall for a guy that was bad news and she had doubts about him, reasonable doubts.

But beyond the vampirism and ego, I knew Marcel would treat her right. That's why I got up from my seat straight after downing my drink, catching their attention.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out, It's getting late anyways and I still have to unpack." Marcel rose a brow at me, knowing I didn't have to unpack shit, but he should be grateful. I'm basically cupid and I'm shooting them both right now.

Cami gave a little sigh. "You just got here, though-"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" I smiled at her for emphasis and she untensed and reciprocated the action.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." Her and Cellie both waved bye to me and I walked out the door. God, I was just itching to get out of there. The tension between them was suffocating me.

I put my hands into my pockets and glanced at the sky that had darkened significantly from when Marcel and I entered the bar. I guess we were there for longer than I thought.

There weren't really any tourists left walking around, only a few people that actually lived in the area. No vampires were allowed to fuck with the locals and, besides, most of the locals were witches, anyways.

Even humans like Cami should be safe walking through the Quarter at night, but even then, if you didn't know about the supernatural while living in NOLA then you were in a whole other kind of danger. Knowledge is power.

Even if you were a witch, that was still risky. And if you were a werewolf, then forget it. Vampires were the only people without fear nowadays, it seemed.

Luckily, or unfortunately, I was all three creatures.

"Back off," My ears picked up the sound of a girl growling. My eyes hadn't found her yet, but my nose worked faster. Werewolf.

Whoever she was talking to seemed to have that ability as well and murmured, "You're a werewolf." He was shaken but then he laughed, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you." Vampire.

Damnit, my first day back in the Quarter and, already, I'm dealing with the remnants of drama caused by Marcel. I sighed, thinking it's none of my damn business. But I could hear the sound of that girl's heart pitter pattering and I knew I couldn't just ignore it.

Motherfucker.

I rolled my eyes and strained my ears a little more to guide me to where they were, my senses leading me to an alleyway where the wolf girl and the vampire stood. His back was facing me so he couldn't see me, but the girl caught my gaze and her eyes widened.

The vampire's head cocked. "What are you looking at?" Just as he turned to face me, I ran up to him and snapped his neck. His body fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump and I pushed a lock of hair away from my face, looking up to the girl who wore an expression of shock.

I had a sarcastic comment in my head that I felt like saying, but honestly, I just wanted to go home so I pushed it to the side and gave her a serious look. "You shouldn't walk all alone in the Quarter at night. It can be dangerous."

She shook off her surprise and stood taller, scoffing, "I can handle myself." Oh, for sure, I thought. This time, I was gonna speak my thoughts, but a heartbeat caught me by surprise. I held back a stagger and looked down to her stomach where the little thumping was coming from.

A pregnant werewolf.

My stare remained on her stomach as I cautioned, "You really shouldn't be out in the Quarter on your own. Especially if you're pregnant." I looked back up to her when her arms quickly wrapped themselves around her stomach.

She was a little more reserved now, stepping away from me a little and saying, "Trust me, I've got people looking out for me."

I snorted. "And where are they?"

She didn't reply, instead she only wrapped her arms around herself tighter. I get it; werewolves oughta be careful with vampires in this city and she thinks I'm a vampire- or just a vampire, rather. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it. "I'll call the baby's father now and he'll come get me." She kept staring at me for a few more seconds before adding, "So thank you, really, but I'll be fine now." Translation: please go away.

I nodded at her and turned around as she began dialling. I wanted to get home anyway and I didn't need to stick around to see any baby daddy drama. Since that girl was a werewolf, baby daddy was probably some form of supernatural and therefore huge ego. Entertaining, but could get annoying.

I continued back on the route to my apartment per usual, passing by a few people and a few other neighbours I waved to. I knew all the locals, and I know for a fact girl doesn't live in the Quarter for two reasons. One, I don't know her, and two, werewolves aren't exactly welcome in the Quarter.

Of course, I'm a werewolf too, but no one knows that.

Knowing that werewolves aren't welcome here makes me wonder if she knew that, makes me wonder why she's here in the first place but as soon as my mind starts wandering, I steer myself back, reminding myself it really is none of my business.

I'll probably never see her again, anyway.

Sooner than not, I make it to my townhouse. Just before I'm about to go up the steps to the door, I stop and turn to the side, staring out at all the other houses and little shops. If I walked a little further, I'd make it to the compound that was no longer Marcel's territory.

If I walked a little further, the Mikaelsons would be right there. And should they ever walk this way, they might just see me.

I shook my head and walked up the steps, opening my door.

The Mikaelsons are a problem for another day. Right now, I'm going to bed.

When I wake up the next day, it's noon and someone is calling me. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, knowing who it was anyway. "Yes, Marcel?" I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and turned over so the sun wasn't fucking my eyeballs.

"Ooh, you sound happy to hear my voice."

"Just elated, Cellie." I stuck my head into my pillow and grumbled, "Elated."

Marcel snickered. "Well, good because we have a party to go to."

My head moves up from the pillow. "What?" Marcel threw parties all the time, but since he lost his power, he didn't have anywhere to throw one.

"It's a Mikaelson bash." My breath got caught in my throat at the mention of the name, but Marel didn't notice, continuing on with bitterness in his voice. "It's to show the city who's in charge now."

I quickly got over the Mikaelson name drop like usual and probed, "But aren't you supposed to be banished from the Quarter?" I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. "Going to that thing just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Sure, you could view it like that, but Klaus won't try anything while we're there."

"And why's that?"

"Because the party's supposed to be a symbol for peace, too. We'll be fine. Plus, I need a date."

I held back a snort. "What, Cami's busy?"

"She's working the bar tonight," he replied. "So you've gotta come with me."

I felt a sigh coming on. For fuck's sake, I just got back. I wasn't expecting this to happen yet.

I was gonna contemplate for a while longer but Marcel didn't give me that time. Instead, he just quickly told me he'd be picking me up at 8 and hung on me, making me gasp.

Son of a bitch.

#klaus x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #the originals #tvd #tvdu #tvd fandom #angsty imagine #camille o'connell

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bambinambi · 3 months ago

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Most Women are NOT Girl's Girls and Men are NOT Your Friends

A reflection on having Lilith in the 11th house (and to a lesser extent, Pluto in the 10th house)

"Lilith in the 11th house are usually ostracised from their society and their communities, usually struggle with developing friendships, especially with women, attract toxic friendships, attract jealousy and envy from other women, are overly sexualised, are usually befriended by men with ulterior motives, are often isolated or ostracised in their own friendship groups and incessantly shamed, and accused of trying to seduce or steal away other women's men."

(Disclaimer: All of these observations can, of course, be experienced by any other placements, one might argue that this is simply the female experience of friendships and relationships, but I personally attribute a lot of my experiences to this placement (as well as others) and thought it interesting to write out how I believe this placement has shaped my relationships with others, and definition and feelings towards "community")

The quotes given above are just a few of the observations I've seen written about Lilith in the 11th house. These placements has caused a variety of questions to arise, in my head, over the years;

"How can women maintain relationships with the same individuals they perceive as their rivals?"

"Can women ever be friends with other women when men and social standing are at risk?"

"Can men ever truly see women as "just friends"?"

"And how do societal issues affect how and who we forge our friendships with?"

When I was in primary school, a couple of fellow netball moms all rallied together to protest against how "inappropriately short" and "tight" my netball shorts were. My coach even went as far as taking me to the school shop to exchange my school assigned shorts for a larger pair, better equipped to hide my African body. I was 9. How could a 9 year old be "inappropriately dressed" in school uniform? There is no other way of putting it; my 9 year old body was being sexualised because it didn't reassemble those of the skinny, little white girls. It was curvier, and therefore "womanly" in their eyes, in spite of my age.

They voiced their disapproval, like I was intentionally trying to show off my body and seduce the non-existent men on the grounds. I was 9. I was made to feel ashamed. I think this event, and many others that followed after it, were the catalysed for not only the shame I felt towards my body but also my discomfort with being seen as sexually appealing. If my body was so incredibly evocative, then how could I prevent people from sexualising me in the future? And if I couldn't, what dangers could possibly arise as a result of it?

I was already being catcalled before I had even gotten my pen license, a means for insecure men to feel powerful, to instill fear into the most vulnerable like the powerless men that they were, but I interpreted it as yet another piece of evidence that the world would not see me for the child that I was, worthy of having their innocence protected like the white girls' were.

My primary school principal went out of her way to ensure I never had the chance to hang out with my guy friends. She barred them from entering the school grounds, despite having younger siblings at school, and in turn barred me from hanging out with my friends directly outside of the school grounds. She would deliberately drive from the faculty parking lot to the front of the school and sit and watch for whether we would meet up at my school. First, she barred us from hanging out directly outside the school grounds on the pavement, then from hanging out at a local café, then from hanging out at local parks, and then from walking home together (which we did so we could hang out at our respective homes). All this in spite of me stating, on numerous occasions, that my parents were aware of and approved of my plans.

I remember when my school held their annual Christmas carols. My best friend (a boy) asked if we could walk home together. We both asked our parents (who had been attending the carols) for permission to do so. After being granted said permission, we walked down towards the exit of the school, where my principal was standing to greet parents. She stopped us, stated that she didn't believe my parents had given me permission, told me to stand by her side, and told my friend to go home.

Whether she was a puritan or a separatist, her intention definitely did not seem like she was trying to protect. She sought to publicly embarrass me on numerous occasions by barring the entire school for doing things everyone knew I was solely "guilty" of. If anything, she was these white boys from me, from the "fast" black girl that I was. I never even had any real interest in boys and dating, but what does that matter in the face of stereotypes?

When I was in high school, I was one of the only black girls in a predominately white school, community, and city. White boys didn't notice us. White girls never saw us as competition, and black boys would bully and berate us for just about anything you could think of. I remember my black friend getting anxious about being intimate with a boy for the first time because she thought he would be disgusted by the fact that her nipples were brown. When I asked her why she would feel insecure about that, she explained that black boys had been saying that brown nipples were ugly and that pink nipples were prettier. The same individuals with brown nipples, nappy hair, and all the other features they criticised us for black girls for having.But honestly, I couldn't take the criticism of individuals who looked like me to heart. They evidently had inferiority complexes that, instead of dealing with, were projected onto black girls because they knew there would be no real consequences. No one stood up for black girls, including other black girls. Anyway, I digress.

Black girls would gossip about the (eventful) lives of the white girls (from a place of envy, but how would they know considering their judgement was being shared and agreed upon in an echo chamber?), focusing especially on their perceived flaws, mistakes and the unforunate happenings in their lives with excitement, like we were excited their perfect pristine lives also came with issues like ours.

Black girls would gossip equally about other black girls and boys, criticising them for everything from their economic backgrounds to their hair, to their clothes, to who they chose to/didn't choose to hang around with ("How long has she had those braids in? They look bad." "Yoh, for someone with money, you would think they would buy nice clothes." "You can tell he likes white girls." *Points at his relaxed hair and laugh*). This judgemental outlook also extended to fellow black girls, either behind their backs or directly to their faces. I was often a subject of their gossip. I was made even more of an outsider for not having a similar ethnic background or economic background, for not being able to speak the same language as them and being able to assimilate better than them. "Coconut" is the term often used, white on the inside and black on the outsider.

These black girls used their incessant gossip sessions as an outlet for all their frustrations, a time in their days when their insecurities could be laid to rest in their minds. Black boys and black girls were equally unsatisfied in their places in the world. Black boys for not being "white enough" and black women feeling frustrated that they were being made to conform in a world that was never made for them, and made no concessions on how one could gain access. You had to be agreeable and not disrupt the status quo, or dare to criticise it. You were either like them, or you were an outsider. You chose, but you'd paid either way.

Entering the 10th grade, I decided to improve my physical and mental health. Until then, I had spent my time feeling like a victim of my black personhood. I eventually realised that I didn't have to worry myself with societies over criticism, lack of empathy and complete disregard for black women, that I didn't need to carry the shame imposed upon me, that I didn't need to carry/pay any of it really any mind. And so, I exercised regularly, ate well, developed a skincare and hair routine, read affirmations every day, and grew to be a far happier and contended person. I no longer needed nor concerned myself with external validation, and in doing so, I decentered men completely and became my own source of happiness. I became like a child again, uninterested in gossip, because it no longer fed my ego, knowing others were suffering. I became preoccupied with my 100s of hobbies because I realised that I would be the only individual capable of bringing true peace with myself and to my mind.

Going into university to begin with was great. I made a group of acquaintances that for the first time looked like me, had the same interests as me, came from similar cultural backgrounds to me and had similar childhoods to me, due to having similar upbringings and coming from similar economic backgrounds. I didn't feel like an outsider in my friendship or community anymore, like Lilith in 11th house natives usually do.

Things took a turn when my two girls in the friend group started dating some men in my friend group. It wasn't their relationships that caused issues in the friendship group, but how the other women in the friend group reacted. Their colours began to show. Let's call the girlfriends 'A' and 'B', and the two boyfriends 'C' and 'D', and the other girls in the friend group 'the trio'. 'C' and 'D' were not particularly close with 'the trio' prior to getting to relationships with 'A' and 'B'. But the trio subsequently started trying to get closer and closer to 'C' and 'D' (I know this sounds like high school drama, but bare with me).

'The trio' insisted on spending as much time as possible with 'C' and 'D', linking arms with them as they followed them around on campus. They even used to greet the boys by excitedly screaming, abandoning whatever they were preoccupied with before, running at full speed, and the flinging themselves into 'C' and 'D's arms, the way a girlfriend would do.I recall the trio regaling us with the previous night's activities, hanging out in 'C' and 'D's residence rooms. I thought all of this was completely inappropriate, that it was strange to act this way towards someone else's partner, someone you know is taken. What made it worse is that the trio were closer to 'A' and 'B' prior, having lived in the same residence. The trio's loyalty should have been with the 'A' and 'B', but they chose male attention over friendship.

One could argue that a complete abandonment of concerns surrounding societal pressures and expectations and a complete decentering of men would remedy this situation, this insatiable need for positive attention (especially from men). But that would be completely untrue (and naive) and would completely negate the obsession society has as a whole by bullying women into submission and the repercussions that come with it.

These women ('the trio') unknowingly played into the oldest narrative underpinning many societies; women "need" men to be worthy and valid in society. More male validation means you are more valuable. I just know someone is going to say I'm being misogynistic or anti-feminist, but it takes one look at society to see that this is exactly the narrative that lives in the subconsciouses of many women's minds, even the many of us who think we're more progressive, or "above" that kind of thinking.

'A' and 'B' had always been uncomfortable with the trios' behaviour, grew weary of them, and became distant. In the end, the final undoing came from 'A' and 'B' connecting the dots as the to how 'the trio' had been sowing doubt in the respective relationships on both sides. Dissuaded both parties ('A' and 'B', and 'C' and 'D') from continuing on with their individual relationships based on "intel" they had gathered by playing both sides. 'A' and 'B', rightfully so, cut severed ties with 'the trio' and the rest of the group as a result of this situation, and I developed a disgust for everyone involved, excluding 'A' and 'B'.

It was the first time, I had seen women clamour for male attention at the expense of their female relationships, to intentionally ousted and wound the women in their lives to knock them down a peg, to feel superior. I didn't understand why they had even thought to do such a thing, as they all individually had partners of their own. The main instigator had been in a relationship with her boyfriend to 5-6 years. Why would she be threatened by her male friends having girlfriends?

But I guess that's the point. Some women can't handle having male attention, not solely being on themselves. They need to be the prettiest girl in the room, and if not that, the funniest, or the most relatable, or the most understanding, or the most caring something that will make the men in their lives appreciate them. Daddy issues are rampede in our society, combine that with society's insistence on obsessively comparing women, merciless fault-finding, and incessant instilling of fear as to what life would be like without a man by one's side (including what sins to never commit and the horror level consequences of not achieving such), and you have a swarm of anxious pick me's.

'A' and 'B' were jealous of me. There's no other way to put it. I was entertaining, outgoing, funny, smart, and confident. I was beloved. It started with critical comments and snowballed into outright bullying, in which they both took part in and enjoyed their unsympathetic barrage on my personhood if the twinkle in their eyes was anything to go by. They revelled in their perceived victimhood while not recognising that they too were often perpetrators of the same things they accused others of. I was cognisant of their hypocrisy. They were not. A person with BPD with her favourite covertly narcissistic person, a recipe for disaster for anyone caught in their crossfire.

Because I had gone to a girls' only school, and had grown up with a strict mother (I have moon in the fourth house). My comprehension of how women and men interacted when in social settings was very limited. I interacted with men the way I did women and unintentionally 'led on' a lot of men who I was only seeking to befriend at most. Also, I realised how territorial women could be over the men in their lives, even when they were merely friends.

In high school, this one girl who had been at my school, had moved to a co-ed school, and went from being a kind girl, who always sought to uplift the women around her, to being a girl with only male friends, struggling with forming female friendships and maintaining her already established ones, who became boy-obsessed and consequently, obsessed with increasing her own desireability from men, body-shaming and being highly critical of women, and in turn, developing an eating disorder of her own. She had gone to girls' only schools her entire life and had only made this change once socialised around men. I'll refer to her as 'E' from here on out.I remember 'E' inviting me to her 18th birthday party. I did not know anyone else attending the party, with the exception of other girls from my school who had already socialised extensively with the other party goers at previous gatherings. So I wouldn't be alone, I asked the 'E' if I could invite one of my friends who she had been best friends with in primary school. She went on to say that she didn't think the girl was "pretty enough" for any of her male friends, and that she would check with them to see if any of them would be interested in hooking up with her. It was at that moment I realised that 'E' had only invited girls to her party so that she could essentially have us hook up with her male friends. She invited only girls her male friends were sexually interested in while also being incredibly territorial over all of them. I learnt this when a male friend of hers had a clear interest in me at a New Year's Eve party we both attended.

I was always the type of drunk to be all over the place, bouncing around excited and gleefully trying to find any source of drunken entertainment. I was not fussed with who I was with. I just wanted to have fun. He tailed me around the party the entire night. I decided to play drinking games, and he would come along. I wanted to jump in the pool when the clock struck midnight. He expressed that he would do so along with me. When I expressed being cold, he leant me his jacket.

At some point in the night, when we had separated, 'E' came up to me stating that he wanted his jacket back, I obliged and handed it over to her. Once returning to my side, he expressed confusion why I was no longer wearing his jacket and where I may have placed it, as we were at a house with random people. The story that everyone heard about that night, from her, was that I was "all over him", and it was "so embarrassing to watch". It was believable.

Since when would an objectively attractive white boys be interested in a black girl? When blue-eyed blondes existed in abundance? Why would he pick the black girl? It was easy for 'E' to use this unspoken but well-known societal "code of conduct" (or "rule of thumb") to shame me. It goes white girl with blues eyes and blonde hair, white girl with blonde hair and green eyes, white girl with... you get the gist. Black girls rank at the absolute bottom of the list if they even make it on the list at all (which they rarely do).

These experiences made me realise that she didn't care about a single one of her female friends. That their were competition instead of companionship. That she didn't care were or not we attended her party, celebrated her birthday with her. A milestone. I declined 'E's birthday invitation shortly after.At university, I started working with an events company. The company was started by a tight-knit group of friends. I quickly became friendly with everyone. Or so I thought. After the first or second meeting, two of the girls had grown cold towards me, we'll call the 'F' and 'G'. Or rather 'G' had begun giving me the cold shoulder, and 'F', always following along with whatever 'F' did, copied 'G's actions, mostly in her presence. But 'F's decision to follow along with 'G's mission of making me feel unwelcome soured my opinion of 'F' altogether.

I remember 'G' was the only person in the organisation to have a car. She was the only one capable of lifting us the event sight to set up for the event that evening. She sent a message on our company group chat, stating that she would be picking up people from campus at a certain location and time, and requested we indicate who would be able to come. A number of us indicated that we could, including myself. In spite of arriving ahead of time to the location, she had decidedly left early, without me and another girl, in spite of being the first one's to respond to the message, and there only being 4 people, she needed to remember to lift at that time.

Once arriving back to the sight for the event itself, I was initially going to partake in ticket sales, but another me and the same girl who had been left behind before (who was also meant to sell tickets that night), were told to go back to the main sight because there were enough members already servicing the ticket stand. 'G' was instructed to take us back to the sight, which she begrudgingly did in almost complete silence.Now you might be thinking to yourself, "Girl, what if you did something to offend these people, and their actions are justified?" Only issue with that theory, is once I realised many women would react to me in a certain way, I tried my hardest to really show them that I did not think of myself as "all that", that they need not feel like I'm some sort of "threat".

I also don't have a single male friend. One guy 'friend', we'll call him H, invited me over "to watch a movie". 'H' kept pushing the time of our meeting back to the point that our hang out had to be scheduled at 8 pm, at his apartment. He ended up asking me if we could kiss platonically. I rejected his advances, and we proceeded to watch the movie. I eventually asked to leave, to which he stated it would be too dangerous to walk back to campus, although he did so often. I had no real choice but to sleepover as our small university town had no Uber and taxi services I rarely used and had no numbers for. He proceeded to ask to cuddle me while we slept. This was someone who I had thought of as my (only) male friend for years.

My first relationship began with my then boyfriend and classmate propositioning me. Throughout the relationship, he would continually call me a "baddie" and say things like, "I can't believe I got the class baddie." It was like I was a price instead of a partner. We expressed far more sexual intimacy than emotional, despite my efforts, and he displayed a completely unserious regard towards our relationship, including flirting with other classmates in my presence. I was not respected, nor were my feelings ever considered, because at the end of a day, I was a means of sexual relief to him, not a person.

- 22 May 2024

#astrology observations #astrology placements #astro placements #astrology notes #astro notes #astro posts #astrology #astrology community #astro community #vedic astrology #astro #astro observations #sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #vedic astrology observations #vedic chart #artists on tumblr

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stayingstromboli · 4 months ago

Text

kissing in the rain ࣪𐙚✧₊⁺

I don’t wanna fight, you’re the one I like ୨୧

(This song has been stuck in my head all week, omg it’s so good. It heavily influenced this, I was screaming along with Lana while I wrote it. I need this song injected into my bloodstream.)

☆TW: angst, kissing, swearing (pls say if theres more)

☆In which matt gets jealous and fights with the reader and then they kiss and make up in the rain

꩜ ✧₊⁺ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

“Matt!”

Despite your best efforts to seem strong, the tremble in your wavering voice was undeniable. Your pleas were barely above a whisper as you stood helplessly, tears streaming down your grief stricken face, watching your boyfriend angrily crash around the room collecting his things. Usually you’d run straight into his arms, but now you couldn’t. Rain hammered furiously down against the window, each drop cutting through the air like bullets. The howling wind shrieked, so loud it was somehow still able to be heard over your sobs for forgiveness.

“Don’t leave”, you managed to choke out between sobs while trailing after him down to the hallway, sprinting to the door to try and stop him from leaving.

The only response you got was a smouldering glare as he shoved past me to get his jacket from the back of the door. His footsteps were loud and aggressive, his breathing even more so as he silently simmered with pure rage His sweet ocean blue eyes were now a mix of fire and ice: filled with upmost fury yet also cold and closed. The look he was giving you bore deep into you, rooting you to the spot as you froze in fear. Not fear of what he might do to you- no matter how angry he was you knew Matt would never intentionally hurt you- but more so of what he wouldn’t do to you. Fear of the words he wouldn’t say. Things he wouldn’t do. Romantic things that only he would ever to do for you: movie nights when you’re feeling down, love notes left on the fridge, the feel of him embrace, the comfort of his words. Things that, despite his worry, nobody else will ever do for you. The thought of life without him was unbearable and utterly terrifying but one you had never even considered until now. However, from the look of his face, it seemed more and more likely.

He didn’t turn around once to grant me with a final glance as the door swung behind him with a crash. An ear splitting silence erupted as soon as he left, growing louder every passing second you were without him. It was deafening. Your misery was suffocating, fogging up your brain, taking over you, engulfing you in a heavy hopelessness. You were nothing without Matt. He made you whole. Why did he leave you? Did he not love you? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What would you do without him?

A sudden clap of thunder sounded through the air, like it was breaking you from a trance. Dragging you out from your state of complete paranoia as worries about Matt’s safety spiralled through your head. What if something happened to him? You would never forgive yourself for having let him go run out alone in a storm. Swallowing the sobs caught in your throat, you rush out into the dark turmoil outside, with no regard for your own wellbeing.

Your white t shirt was drenched as you ran down the road towards the figure you were guessing was Matt. The wind was roaring, the winter cold gnawing ravenously as your flesh. But you didn’t care.

“Stay.”

You called out to him as soon as he was within earshot. Your voice was no longer pleading but firm. Ordering rather than asking.

“Why? If you like that other guy so much why don’t you stay him?”

Matt’s words are bitter, dripping with hurt and jealousy, making your desire to pull him into your grasp even more dire.

“Because I love you, you idiot. You, and only you”

He turns around to look at you dead in the eyes before closing the distance between you two, bringing his lips to yours. The initial soft kiss is broken as Matt smiles in clear relief. He parts his lips, pausing for a second to catch his breath, as he let the sentence he’s been holding back for months escape: “I love you, baby”. He said the words with such earnest sincerity, causing your face to brighten with a smile.

His body pressed against yours, you on tiptoes to reach up to him, the rain dripping off him onto you. His arms tangled protectively over your shoulders in his warm embrace, shielding you from the winter cold. His eyes were swimming with adoration as he gazed down at your face. His soaking brown hair hung across his face, tickling your nose as Matt leaned in planting another kiss on you, only this time deeper. You kiss back with passion, not even trying to hide your desperation as you feel yourself melt into him.

When you finally break apart, the sight of Matt’s bright pink lipstick stained lips provoked a giggle to escape you. You lean up to his face, peppering his face with pecks, and looked back at your pink masterpiece in satisfaction.

“You’re the one I like.”

@dirtylittleheart333

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yiling-laozu-is-loml · 2 months ago

Note

Alright, another idea for you! For the danmei club prompt ask thing:

NingXian, Burial Mounds settlement days, Wen Ning lovingly bullying WWX to take care of himself. Sad eyes/ puppy eyes are fair use, regardless of what wwx says.

Gimme bittersweet. Maybe alpha!Ning? Do sentient corpses still have scents?

Yes they do, cuz I say so. But I am limiting Wen Ning's alpha-ness to just scents, being able to mate/bond and using the bond to feel what his mate feels. No sex for poor dead guy oop. Zilia, this isnt just for Jaq, this is for you too because you're the first person in my orbit who started chanting "NingXian. NingXian. NingXian".

Instead of 500 words, have 4.1k (what a horrible number) words instead!

“Are you alright?” He couldn’t hide the concern in his tone. Wei Wuxian had just come out after his self-imposed heat confinement and he looked terrible. He was gorgeous as always of course, but the Burial Mounds were hard on the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation too. Although the way he looked now was way worse than he usually did which seemed impossible yet here they were.

“I am fine, all good, see?” He assured or tried to. The hoarseness of his voice gave away how long he had been screaming for an alpha who would never come. Wen Ning was seeing alright.

“Sit here, I’ll bring some broth. Heats are already hard on omegas and they get worse if you intentionally starve yourself.” He pushed him to sit on a fallen log and Wei Wuxian startled, a guilty expression contorting his face. Wen Ning had a good idea of the self-sacrificial bullshit going on in the omega’s head that made him so reckless with himself.

When he handed the bowl to him, Wei Wuxian immediately began employing his puppy eyes. Now, Wen Ning wasn’t a strong man, wasn’t one even in life and as an alpha, he really couldn’t remain unaffected by an omega he cared for but this was ridiculous. “Eat,” he said and the omega pouted harder.

“This is too much A-Ning! We could give half of it to A-Yuan, or Popo or-“

“Eat,” he simply said but then decided he much rather keep vigil unless Wei Wuxian tried sneaking away to give his food over. “Want me to feed you?” He asked and Wei Wuxian grinned and nodded.

The smile left his face when Wen Ning took the bowl from him and his cheeks darkened to a rare rosy hue that would have Wen Ning swooning if he wasn’t busy trying to coddle him. He’ll revisit that sight and fixate on it later. Right now, he was going to enjoy Wei Wuxian sputtering about not being an invalid. The omega wasn’t the only one who could turn the tables and fluster others.

“This is ridiculous, I could’ve shared this much food with someone. It's being wasted on-”

“Xian-ge!” He turned and widened his eyes, pouting slightly and Wei Wuxian gulped and clamped his mouth shut. Wen Ning wasn’t above playing dirty and he knew exactly how susceptible Wei Wuxian was to his own puppy eyes. Hell even Jiejie wasn’t above falling for them so who was Wei Wuxian in the grand scheme of disguised manipulation?

“You don’t fight fair,” he whined and focused his attention back on the bowl, as if glaring would make it vanish into thin air A beat of silence passed as Wei Wuxian scowled and then downed the entire bowl in one go, sputtering about radishes and the lack of spice.

There's more ofc, but please go read it on AO3 :D

Please give a round of applause and listen to the song that inspired the vibes and how I went about this fic! aka REFRAIN by Miyano Mamoru!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago

Note

AITA for being a ....homewrecker? (🏝 for later)

I'm not sure that's the right word, but whatever. Basically, I (FtM) met this guy (cis M, we'll call him M) over a year ago and we hit it off pretty quick. It was under extremely unusual circumstances, but for the sake of anonymity, I'll be vague and just say: it was 3 AM, Denny's, T.E Lawrence was involved. Now, I'm pretty wary of most guys who go to my school, given I'm trans and unfit to defend myself for various would-break-anonymity reasons, but M is just the best and is incredibly sweet. Days are easier when he's around, even if it's just through a Discord call playing video games. I started harboring feelings for him pretty much immediately, but didn't plan on acting on them for two reasons:

1) I've yet to be in an actual committed relationship (nobody's wanted to stick around, or we both realized quickly we weren't dating material) and I'm terrified of fucking anything up. 2) ....M has a girlfriend. A super long-term one, at that. Like, they met when they were kids, he's been romancing her for ages, they're going to get married and both openly agree they'd be shells of people without each other. Soulmate shit. She's awesome. She's the sweetest, too. Very thoughtful, and soft-spoken, and so so smart. So, no, I didn't plan on doing anything about my feelings. I'm not the type to hide who I am, so I wasn't going to hide anything, but I certainly wasn't going to DO anything either. That's not my place.

Until, one school break, M comes to me and admits he has feelings. And he's wrecked about it. Tells me I'm the only other person he's really had this for, because it's always been his girlfriend. He's a mess. I thought we communicated pretty well, and we'd both made it clear that nothing was going to happen unless Girlfriend knew about it and approved, because she comes first above all else. (I was the one to say this before him, and he was relieved that I understood.) She is priority. She will always be priority, and I totally get that. I'm just some guy, you know? But the conversation ended with me telling him he should probably let her know about this, regardless of how scary that was, because he's an incredibly touchy-feely guy and if I was her I'd like if this was on my radar. New player: M's best friend. very by the book christian guy. Not at all stuck up, but he abstains from worldly pleasures or something like that! He's cool, we're cool.

Except after break, M's best friend makes a few confusing comments, and suddenly, there's now never been a time when just me and M have hung out since. Girlfriend hasn't acted any differently and is still incredibly warm and wonderful, so I'm pretty sure she still doesn't know. I'm a very giving person and like to shower my friends in gifts, so I was undeterred in giving them both valentine's gifts I had bought them months in advance (extra hand wringing on my part.) Girlfriend was ecstatic, loved her gift, and M loved his too. But then he left to go Cry??? Because he hadn't gotten her anything (I'm the only one with a min $ job). I'm not sure where I stand with him or with either of them, and i'm just so confused. I'm 🤷‍♂️ about poly, but with the way they were raised (see M's best friend for reference), their feelings are more muddy about it. I want to talk to M, but being alone in the same room is impossible. I don't know if M has been intentionally making sure we're never alone together, I don't know if Girlfriend knows, or what M wants, what Girlfriend would want or even what I want, because I don't know what's on the table. I don't even know if we're in the same restaurant. Girlfriend is going to find out. M is way too touchy feely even with "supervision". (Granted, he is with everyone, I'm pretty sure I'm just the only person who lets him get away with it.) At this rate, somethings going to give, and i'm honestly just waiting for it to happen now. 🤷‍♂️

#aita #am i the asshole

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gunnrblze · 4 months ago

Text

Till Death, pt 1

Keegan x Ajax series! This was supposed to be lighthearted and funny tbh but as always, I had to insert decades long yearning and desire and longing, silly me smh. I apologize if any of it’s confusing, I’m not very good with writing scenes of only two people with the same pronouns, so the use of he/him may get a little mistakable with who exactly I’m referring to. Also the writing is just kinda all over the place lol enjoy that.

༄ 1500k+ words, mild mention of dick and ass but no smut (yet?), so mdni idc, yearning in the full definition of the word, sap fest fr

Mornings always came a little dreadfully at first on base. Pushing through the initial exhaustion from the day before was never easy. Especially knowing you’d be doing the same menial tasks all over again.

Something made it a little easier whenever Keegan caught wind of Alex, though.

Alex moved like a body of water, somehow smoother and more fluid than the rest of the clunking boots around them. Keegan knew it was a slippery slope whenever he admired his smile for a bit too long, or the way he felt his heart catch whenever Alex slung his arm around his shoulders.

He knew their erotic jokes didn’t mean much. It was all in good fun, anyway. Hell, all the guys made jokes like that with one another. It didn’t mean anything, unless it did. But Keegan knew it didn’t.

Didn’t. Unless maybe Alex felt it too. Felt his pulse quicken or his pants get tighter around his crotch whenever he saw Keegan crack a rare little grin, or catch him shirtless in the showers after training.

Maybe that was just the thing about the military. You could joke here and slap an ass there with your fellow men, but the second you started dreaming about your lips against his or your cock anywhere but your own pants or fist, it was different.

Keegan didn’t mind too much, though. He didn’t have time to mind. From the moment he woke up above Alex in the barracks every morning, to the moment he fell asleep in the same spot every night, he was busy with everything else that went on.

So if he had to pretend the sound of Alex snoring wasn’t imprinted into his mind already, then so be it. He could push past the fact that Alex was near him practically all day. Slept below him and trained with him, ate with him, worked with him, goofed off with him like idiots. He’d ignore that he could identify the broad man by his scent alone.

And Alex would simply do the same. He would allow himself only a few minutes a day to really think about those deep blue eyes that followed him. To really think about how his own eyes would trace over the bottom of the bunk above him at night, trying to map out the lines of where he imagined Keegan’s body rested on top.

The setup was okay. They were both avoidant enough to ignore the lingering glances and touches. Morning trainings came and went, mealtimes and meetings and daily work flashed by like the hands on a clock.

And they pretended. Pretended that seeing the other hurt in the field or taking on enemies too great a size didn’t tear at their heartstrings when it was all said and done.

This wasn’t a job that allowed attachment. It was too fast moving. Everyday was the same on base, but things moved too quickly to really claim a stake anywhere.

Except Keegan and Alex seemed to follow one another, whether intentionally or not. From basic recruit training to joining Task Force Stalker and becoming Ghosts together, where one man went the other followed.

Just how they liked it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Ajax, rise and shine, pretty boy” Keegan’s grumbly voice would stir the large man in his bunk, tossing over and rubbing the few hours of sleep from his eyes.

“Again with the nickname?” Ajax’s tone was too riddled with exhaustion for Keegan to decipher his true level of annoyance, but he knew the man too well.

“You seemed to dislike ‘AJ’ so we’re just trying to freshen it up, sue me” he answered, giving the man a pat to the cheek and not even trying to hide his smirk before walking toward the door.

“Right, get outta here and make yourself useful, Russ” Ajax retorted with a gruff chuckle as he rose from his bed, stiff muscles and joints already aching. He’d been a marine so long he wasn’t sure if his body was cracking from the exertion, or if every guy in their mid 20s had the lower back pain comparable to an elderly mans.

A smirk adorned his face too though, despite himself. Keegan’s short huff of laughter wasn’t nearly as melodic as it always sounded to him, but it bounced off the hallway of the barracks and right into his eardrums nonetheless, worming its way into that warm, gooey part of his heart that he chose to keep shut up. For the greater good, of course.

Ajax didn’t ever seem to be too deterred by early mornings, despite his initial disdain upon opening his eyes and seeing even the slightest sliver of light. He could make the best out of what felt like the worst. Even PT at 0500 hours, wide smile lighting up the room in a way that had every other soldier wanting to slap it right off his pretty face. His charm felt like a hand around Keegan’s throat, squeezing and squeezing and threatening to cut off his air supply, lest he shut it down before he gets comfortable with the idea of not breathing.

It was like that everyday. Keegan would watch him both up close and from afar, opting to observe everything instead of speak like the other man tended to, apparently. He wouldn’t typically favor being surrounded by a guy who couldn’t seem to shut up, but when it was Ajax’s deep voice that bass lined the walls of the armory while he was cleaning his M40, well, how could one dare complain?

Ajax was too tactful not to notice Keegan’s staring, of course. He wasn’t stupid, too perceptive not to see the way the man’s eyes raked over him, all of him. Deep blues combing over every inch of his being as if he were noticing the man for the first time. It was something he’d done from the days they’d met in basic training.

Keegan’s silent once overs used to deter Ajax from wanting to get to know the man better, assuming he had to have some kind of unspoken issue with him. But Ajax quickly found that Keegan’s voice just didn’t seem to come naturally to the man, maybe it was better for him to look than speak? It didn’t quite explain why he had to look at him like that, he was just thankful that the hot blush was masked on his dark cheeks whenever Keegan’s eyes not so inconspicuously studied the way his uniform stretched around his biceps, or the way the water rolled off his ass in the shower.

It was almost so blatant at times that Ajax felt as if he knew the man had something more going on in his mind. But he didn’t indulge himself in the idea. The idea that these lingering glances meant anything other than Keegan’s keen perception subtly making itself known. The near brooding man looked that same way at everything. From his rifle to his superiors teachings to the landscapes during recon missions, Keegan took in all the details that he could.

But it didn’t stop Ajax from feeling like it was something special. Something that made his heart clench and mind go fuzzy for half a second because Keegan was watching him. He could look at the other privates, watch his back wherever he went as if some pre-installed hyper vigilance riddled his system, but he was observing Ajax.

Keegan’s approach of looking but not speaking seemed to mirror that of Ajax’s. He could talk to Keegan all he wanted, but if he really found himself staring the way his eyes begged for permission to, he’d get lost in the man. His eyes so deep and blue that Ajax didn’t even care how cheesy it felt to compare them to the Pacific.

Mealtimes felt like a reprieve from the rough routine they endured everyday, and Keegan found himself relishing even in the manner Ajax ate in. It wasn’t ever too long before his eyes found their way back to the dark brown ones that would sit across from him. Was he jealous when Ajax would wrap an arm around the waist of the soldier next to them? Joking and laughing in a way that he only wished he could reciprocate? No, he wagered. He just didn’t like Private Brooks and that stupid horse laugh of his, that’s all.

“Gonna eat that, Keeg? You know I’ll take it” Ajax would toss a joking wink to Keegan when his fork shuffled around the mush of peas on his tray. He felt like a damned schoolboy again, swapping lunch trays with his friend whenever he didn’t like part of his meal. But the smile Ajax gave him seemed to make the noise in his head disappear if only for a moment, pearly teeth contrasting against velvety dark skin.

Keegan’s heart thrummed as he walked across base to work, boots clanking on the pavement in time with the muscle that threatened to explode from behind his ribcage if he thought about that damned smile for any longer.

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figuringitoutasigoalong · 1 year ago

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Could you tell us your favorite iteration of raph and why

Oh that's an easy one! That would have to be 2003 Raph!

I mean, look at this boy! Do you see him? Do you see this boy? Do you?

I mean, yes, all of the other versions of Raph are nice too, don't get me wrong. 87 Raph is a funny little dude, who can have a short temper here and there, but is mostly there for the sarcasm and I love it. 12 Raph does have some anger issues, but he also can be very caring and to me is just trying to find a way to balance all the parts of himself out. Rise Raph is a sweetheart and a teddy bear and took on so much. 90s Movie Raph loved life and just wanted his brothers safe and alright and wanted more for all of them. 07 Raph still wanted to do good, and was able to realize and learn from mistakes. Bayverse Raph would die for his family, and was upset when he was left for dead, because he felt like he'd failed them. Even Next Mutation Raph, as goofy as that show was, was still good, sticking up for Venus a couple of times, if I remember correctly. And Mutant Mayhem Raph is passionate and clearly cares about his brothers, he just covers how much with some tough-guy attitude.

But 2003 Raph? Oh, he's top tier to me! I mean, look at this guy!

He's protective.

Like, how many times have we seen him jump in the way to protect a brother, or be outraged on a brother's behalf? There are so many gifsets of him being protective to Don, and that's just one brother. There's so many other instances of him being protective towards Mikey and Leo too! Like when Mikey runs into that other prisoner when they're in the Triceriton prison, and Raph gets in front of Mikey--of all of them--and is ready to fight the dude.

He's got his brother's backs.

I mean, this ties in with being caring, but the dude is constantly backing up his family, and getting upset when things aren't fair or right for them. Look at how upset he got in season four, when Mikey had to face Kluh down again, and the magic was messed with. Yeah, he was ready for Mikey to get taken down a peg or two, because of Mikey's bragging, but the minute it was clear something was wrong, that Mikey was getting hurt, Raph's first words were "That's not right!" And in the City at War arc, even when he didn't agree with Leo's decision to involve them, he still ended up getting Splinter and going back to fight alongside his family.

He obviously loves his family.

Have you seen the affection this boy pours out? Worrying about Don when he's overworking in Return to the Underground. Clearly worried out of his mind when he thought Mikey was seriously injured in The Shredder Strikes. Helping Leo reforge his swords after the Shredder broke them. How upset he was that they couldn't find Splinter after they took out Foot HQ. And there's no way we can forget Tales of Leo. And that's not counting all the little physical things, like touches, helping brothers with things, and just so many small ways.

He's respectful.

Just go watch Touch and Go. Like seriously. Random old lady mistakes him for someone else, and he's all just like "yes ma'am" and "sorry ma'am" and helps her move boxes. Like, he is just the most respectful and I am so, so, so here for it. And it's not just with her. He's respectful with April, with Splinter, with anyone, unless he thinks they don't deserve it, and even then, he'll not go out of his way to be intentionally rude to him, although he's definitely not one to let opportunities slide.

He's caring.

Again, this ties in heavily with most of the above, but he genuinely cares about others. Helping Mrs. Morrison, trying to get Tyler to safety and then helping him get his mom back, being kind to the cat, Lucy, looking after April and Casey, trying to protect Cody, and, again, all of the moments with his brothers.

And yet he's still a goofy teenage boy.

I mean, looking all of this. Noogies, silly faces, pranking Casey with his brothers--he's just having fun! He's still a teenager, still just a kid, but he's got such a complex character and is just so, so, so good!

And we can't forget the SAINW hug. Like, that's a must.

Like this boy is just so well written--I think all of the characters in 2003 are, tbh--and I just absolutely love how complex and deep they make them. This Raph, to me, has layers that the other Raphs either don't have, or were executed not as well. Even with 2003 Raph's hot-headedness, we can clearly see how it effects him, and how he eventually learns to use it, even if it still does get him in trouble sometimes.

Like, 2003 Raph is my favorite Raph, and so far no other Raph has come close, and if I wasn't about to run off to church I'm sure I could articulate why better. But hopefully this'll be enough!

#TMNT #TMNT 2003 #TMNT Raphael #TMNT 2003 Raphael #TMNT 2k3 #TMNT 2k3 Raphael #Answered ask #character analysis #AllyKatie's Analysis #I love this boy okay?#Answered Ask #feel free to reblog

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yakuzacanons · 1 year ago

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I loved your nsfw kinky headcanons I'd love to request some more if you're comfortable!

So, dirty talk during funky time. What do they tell their partner (if they do at all) to turn them on? Who's the pro out of them? What do they like to hear in return?

Last post for the night, sorry for the delay on this one as well! Inbox is staying open since I got so many done today but if I peak above 30 asks I will close it again temporarily. This is a NSFW post so if ur not 18 yet I best not catch u peaking. Good night!

Kazuma Kiryu

Better at showing than telling. Not great at talking dirty if you put him on the spot. However, he does manage to say some pretty sexy things without realizing it. It's doing so intentionally where he gets all tripped up. What can I say, our Kiryu has always been more about talking with his hands.

Majima Goro

Doesn't do much dirty talking, although he will tell you in as few words as possible that he's in the mood. More into hearing how much you're enjoying things. He'll ask if you like certain things. I think he knows that he can just get you in the mood just like THAT so he doesn't need to talk it up.

Akiyama Shun

Sweet talker and he knows it. One of his shining attributes, especially in bed. Never degrading, always very loving and sweet, although he can be a tease to a fault. Loves it when you flip the script on him and do all the seducing. You could say anything and he'd like it.

Saejima Taiga

Doesn't say much and kind of prefers not to. Typically matches how vocal you are, otherwise he's just getting down to business as it were. Curses under his breath a LOT.

Tanimura Masayoshi

He gets too shy to talk dirty, honestly! He will try his best but he gets all flustered, the cutie he is. Like a deer in headlights if you talk dirty to him though, he cannot tell if he loves it or not at first. You could get him to do some verbal cop roleplay though. He's just not great at improv from scratch, give the man a starting point.

Ryuji Goda

For a guy who doesn't typically talk too much, he's pretty good at talking dirty. Does a pretty good job at getting you in the mood just with his words and without touching you at all. Once he's actually in bed with you, he'll talk less the more you two get into it. Conversation is good foreplay for him though!

Nishikiyama Akira

Talks big when it comes to flirting but not the most experienced with dirty talk. Plays off of your energy, so if you're really dominant, he will be more submissive or vice versa. Is pretty good at talking dirty once he gets going, he just has to gauge the mood first.

Daigo Dojima

Like Kiryu, Daigo suffers from a case of being good at dirty talk but mostly on accident and seldom on purpose. The difference between him and Kiryu is he's way more willing to get into it and can become pretty natural at it with practice. Could get into a little office roleplay if you asked him nicely, and by ask nicely I mean beg a little.

Mine Yoshitaka

Akiyama always gets the most credit for having a silver tongue but seriously Mine is actually king of dirty talk. He's legitimately the best at it out of all the boys. Only thing he wants to hear in return is that you're enjoying yourself, preferably a whole damn awful lot.

Tatsuo Shinada

Good luck trying to talk dirty to him because he'll just squeal then melt into a puddle of love struck goo. Don't get me wrong, it does turn him on but he cannot hold that excitement in. You just sound so cool saying it, how could he possibly attempt to match that? He's a bottom like that.

Ichiban Kasuga

Does not understand how to talk dirty. Does not even know what the concept is. He is baby. Even if you explain it, he'll be too embarassed to try! If you talk dirty to him, he just gets immediately and overwhelmingly flustered.

Tianyou Zhao

He's no Akiyama or Mine but he can rank pretty high when he feels like it, emphasis on actually feeling in the mood to talk dirty. He's the kind of guy that has to enjoy the act himself while doing it or it will just feel forced to him. Loves when you do it though. Nothing gets him going faster then you talking dirty to him.

Joon-Gi Han

Surprisingly quiet when he's turned on. Even though it's not uncommon for people to lust after him based on appearance, it takes a lot of pent up energy for him to express that vocally. When he does, it's typically only very short phrases but he makes great use of the sound of his voice. Mostly just wants to hear that you want it as badly as he does.

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boinin · 1 year ago

Text

Broken Hero: Kunigami's journey in the Neo Egoist League

Overanalysing one edgy orange

0. Background and references

This weekend, I read an excellent analysis on Kunigami on Reddit (it spawns things other than fraud allegations and thirst posts sometimes)... and I was not OK as a result.

I'd been building up to writing an analysis of Kunigami's character for some time, and when the hyperfocus kicked in, it kicked in hard.

Come with me to explore how Kunigami's character arc and journey may pan out within the Neo Egoist League. Manga spoilers throughout, including up to the latest chapters (226 at time of writing).

I'd highly recommend reading StarBurstero's analysis (and their other work!) as this piece heavily draws on the points they raise.

All manga panels are sourced from the official translations, due to the possibility of nuance and foreshadowing that may not arise in scanlations.

Like this? Want to reference these points in your own analysis, on Reddit, YouTube, wherever? Go ahead! A shout out to this post is appreciated. (Straight up plagiarism isn't.)

Pre-Wildcard Kunigami: a wannabe hero

Kunigami has his grumpier moments in the first selection (see: him yeeting Bachira, or breaking up fights), but all in all he's a stand up guy. That's clear from his interaction with Isagi in the cafeteria, where they both share his goal-point steak.

Another character defining moment for him takes place after Team Z's victory against Team V. Kunigami doesn't support Kuon's actions, but he is willing to forgive him now that all has been settled. Raichi is decidedly less forgiving. But Kunigami lingers, and helps a bloodied Kuon to his feet. The choice of dialogue is interesting.

We'll advance together. We know this won't be the case. Both Kuon and Kunigami fail in the second selection, and Kunigami is the sole participant that leaves Wild Card.

But nevertheless, this exchange showcases Kunigami's core attitude. He sees the best in people. He values teamwork and unity, even if he shows egotism in relation to his own goals. He's someone that helps others.

2. What canon information do we have on Wild Card?

...just crumbs. Information on Wild Card has been intentionally vague, with only Ego, Kunigami, and possibly Noa knowing what happened.

Ego simply calls it a secondary route for the losers, and doesn't specify whether there were any entry requirements. The pile of bodies and the attention given to hands suggests two things.

Firstly, contrary to my own assumptions, Wild Card was likely open to all participants eliminated during the second selection. Ego threw the losers a bone, despite having a very specific outcome in mind. The vast majority wouldn't have had a hope of meeting the criteria.

Is that cruel? Maybe. But it's consistent with Ego's attitude towards "lumps of talent". He admitted both Chigiri and Isagi into Blue Lock despite their lacklustre performances in high school, on the basis that the programme might bring forth their sealed egos. He was proven correct.

The focus on hands, other than being creepy, hints at ambidexterity being a key deciding factor in the Wild Card programme. Kunigami confirms this above, in a panel from chapter 213.

Kunigami himself refers to Wild Card as a survival battle, where participants had to match Noa's physical specs number for number. He implicitly confirms that he himself got the closest to Noel Noa's physical abilities, thus winning Wild Card.

3. Kunigami's mindset

We're all Isagi in the bottom corner of that last panel, wanting to know more. But Kunigami has yet to elaborate.

In the Reddit post I linked, StarBurstero theorises what's going through Kunigami's angsty little head: becoming the best striker. Not a midfielder, not a false nine - a striker, and only that. The author proposes that, having had to crush and eliminate everyone in Wild Card, Kunigami has limited empathy for those such as Isagi and Kurona, who are remoulding themselves into other roles to fit into Bastard Munchen.

This tallies with how Noa sees himself, in explaining the distinction between him (the world's best striker), and Snuffy (the world's best player) in chapter 223.

As a player Isagi is closer to Snuffy, in terms of his ability and willingness to adapt, than he is to Noa. Isagi is willing to do whatever it takes to participate in the Neo Egoist League, even if this means providing assists or playing in midfield. But he still maintains his dream of playing as a striker.

As different as Kunigami and Isagi are on the surface, they share a dream. Both want to be the best strikers in the world. In that, they're a lot more similar than the fandom give them credit for.

But the conditions of the Neo-Egoist League pose a stumbling block.

There are limited forward positions, not only in Bastard Munchen, but on the national team itself. To nab a starting position for the U20 World Cup, the characters have only two choices: outshine everyone else playing as a forward, or forsake their dream by assuming a different position. They must choose wisely.

4. Resolve versus adaptability: the Bastard Munchen test

Thematically, Isagi and Kunigami are reflections of one another. They are each others "what ifs?" in a sense.

Heroes in the first selection, both Isagi and Kunigami faced elimination in the 2v2 stage of the second selection; Isagi survived, while Kunigami lost. Isagi emerged as the hero of Blue Lock, following the U20 Japan match. At the same time, Kunigami battled to become the "hero" of Wild Card.

Eventually Kunigami joined Bastard Munchen, alongside Isagi. But they're not co-operative teammates as they were before. They're rivals, battling against one another for the role of striker on this team.

Theirs is a quiet competition, secondary to Isagi and Kaiser's more hostile conflict. But I believe there's thematic significance to their rivalry. For this reason, it's interesting to trace their dynamic over time.

Isagi considered himself outclassed by Kunigami in the first selection. Back then, Kunigami didn't the same "goal sense" that Isagi had. He wasn't particularly technical as a player. He relied on passes and his physicality to get the ball and score goals, using his strength to reliably score from a distance. He's still extremely impressive, in Isagi's eyes.

As Isagi sees it, Kunigami's key attribute is his resolve. He trains hard to maintain his physique. He has a clear vision of who he is, and what kind of footballer he wants to be. At the same point in the story, Isagi lacks this. Even at the start of the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi struggles to articulate what his ideal form is as a player, which Noa calls him out on.

It's understandable that Isagi struggles to formulate what his ideal is, because Isagi's genius lies in his adaptability. Throughout the manga, Isagi has been placed into situations that are chaotic, novel and difficult. His approach to football and his abilities have been challenged in every match, and he's been forced to rebuild himself over and over again.

This is what makes Isagi exceptional, in addition to his incredible eyesight and football sense. He's constantly evolving, constantly coming up with ways to beat his competition. No wonder he can't settle on an ideal, when he's been forced to change constantly. All he's certain of is his desire to play as a striker.

5. Chasing strikers: Isagi's journey

Isagi's problem is that he's never been the best striker in Blue Lock. It's his dream to play as one, but purely in terms of his ability to convert opportunities into goals, Isagi is outclassed by a number of players. Rin. Nagi. Shidou. Arguably Barou.

When these players receive the ball near the goal, their ability to put it through the goalposts is simply better than Isagi's. They have the physique, the strength, or the technical skill to outmanoeuvre whatever obstacles are in the way. This is also true of Kaiser: both have metavision, but Kaiser is far better at scoring, as Isagi himself admits. Kaiser is another prodigy, like Nagi or Sae.

Kunigami is also better at securing goals than Isagi is. However, he's not a prodigy, and he lacks Isagi's insane playmaking ability. Nor does he have Ness, Kurona or Yukimiya on his side. Nobody on the team has a reason to support Kunigami or his goal-scoring competence. Least of all, Isagi: his rival for the position of striker in Bastard Munchen, and his antithesis in a sense.

While Isagi assisted Kunigami in the Barcha match, he does so to stay relevant, after Noa threatens to bench them both.

In the Manshine match, Kunigami poaches Isagi's goal attempt. As furious as Isagi is in this moment, it's not obvious that Isagi's shot would have gone in by itself. He targeted the corner of the goal, but the trajectory appears to veer up and left, beyond the goal.

Kaiser alludes to the shot's inaccuracy, and Isagi acknowledges his shortcomings after the match ends. While his eyesight is his "god given gift", he realises that he lacks the physical ability to make his foresight a reality, per this conversation with Hiori.

Who else does he approach?

While he has the wrong idea (seeking Kunigami's advice on becoming ambidextrous), Isagi's dialogue is on the nose.

Kunigami has what Isagi lacks: the physique and ability needed to consistently score goals. Halfway through the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi realises that to secure a position as a forward, he needs to emulate Kunigami in some way. His hard training pays off: his ranking jumps six points between the Manshine and Ubers matches.

Kunigami is a mirror that Isagi looks into and learns from. And like a morphing reflection, their positions are starting to reverse. While Kunigami performed better initially in the Neo-Egoist League, both in training and in the Barcha match, now Isagi is coming to the fore as the strongest Blue Lock player in Bastard Munchen. His performance in Manshine was incredible. His playmaking in the Ubers match so far surpasses it.

If they are intended to be mirrors, then what can Kunigami learn from his reflection: Isagi?

6. Inert hero: Kunigami's arc

Analysing Isagi is straightforward. We have access to his thoughts and development, all the way through Blue Lock. The same can't be said for Kunigami, whose POV was shown rarely during the first and second selection, but not once since his return in Chapter 155.

There's still conclusions we can draw, despite leaning into extrapolation territory.

Kunigami has always trained hard. The Volume 3 omake (Team Z's schedule) alludes to the guy spending every hour he can in the gym.

While Kunigami entered Blue Lock at a higher level than arguably anyone in Team Z, he stagnated as his teammates rapidly developed. He doesn't have a documented awakening, unlike the other Egoist Four characters. The single moment of progression shown was his first goal against Team V, but this was more Kunigami challenging his limits than truly evolving.

My theory is that this goes back to his key attribute: resolve. His formula of working hard and playing consistently has worked so far. Why change?

Other characters like Isagi experienced failures and setbacks prior to and during Blue Lock, but we don't see Kunigami experience anything similar until the second selection.

It's unfortunate that he only experiences a first setback in losing to Team White. Had a moment of failure taken place earlier, the second selection may have played out differently for Kunigami. As it was, this segment of Blue Lock was not forgiving of mistakes. Only players who could adapt and evolve, devour and be devoured, made it to the third selection.

Kunigami just didn't have that adaptability. It's contrary to his nature of working hard, consistently and fairly.

Shidou remarks on Kunigami's resolute nature explicitly after their 2v2 match. It's why he chooses Reo over Kunigami.

Analysis often focuses on Shidou's criticism of Kunigami's heroic idealism, given that Kunigami goes on to reject this himself. But the second point Shidou makes is more important. He's really critiquing Kunigami's inability to adapt and react, not his strength or his motivation. But Kunigami seemingly only internalises the first part.

Failure in the second selection made Kunigami discard heroism as his motivation, in addition to the conditioning forced on him in Wild Card. But Kunigami continues to struggle, even after leaving his so-called naivety in hell.

He came out of Wild Card stronger, faster, and more competent at scoring. It's still not enough to out-do Kaiser and impress Noa in the Barcha match.

If Kunigami took Shidou's words to heart, he might consider his success in Wild Card proof that he can break himself down and be rebuilt. At a minimum, we can speculate that Wild Card consisted of the participants being deconstructed piece by piece, egos eroded and replaced with a drive to become Noel Noa's "vessel".

But in truth, Kunigami already had a lot of the traits needed to become Noa's copycat. Other than developing ambidexterity and packing on even more muscle, the "breaking down" that took place was really the overwriting of his idealism with that of Noa's.

When Ego considers the ways participants may succeed in the Neo-Egoist League, both Isagi and Kunigami are pictured. At the present stage in the manga, Isagi seems to be the fish adapting to his environment and thriving - slowly dyeing the fabric of Bastard Munchen to suit his playstyle.

Kunigami is the one suffocating, unable to breath in this claustrophobic environment.

His core issue - his lack of adaptability - persists. He is unwilling to consider being anything else than a pure striker. In the Neo-Egoist League to date, he has failed to make chemical reactions with anyone.

If Isagi is a universal catalyst, Kunigami is inert. For now.

7. Hero rebuilt: Kunigami, secondary protagonist

Kunigami is an important part of the Neo-Egoist League arc. Not only is he a returning character, but a significant parallel to Isagi. It's no coincidence that they are presented together in many of the panels relating to the arc as a whole.

There's a lot of symbolism in Blue Lock. The panel announcing the Neo-Egoist League establishes Isagi and Kunigami as dual protagonists, with Kaiser as the primary antagonist. The end of the Barcha match really reinforces the idea that these characters are the main heroes within Bastard Munchen.

Isagi has been on a learning journey from the beginning of this arc, starting with his underdog struggle against Kaiser. If Kunigami's journey is a mirror of Isagi's, then we can expect him to encounter his most difficult hurdle later in the arc, leading to an epiphany about his playstyle. At this point, it's fair to conclude this will happen in Bastard Munchen's match against Paris X Gen.

These are my outstanding questions about Kunigami's journey, which I believe the manga must eventually address:

What will be Kunigami's darkest hour: the low point where he realises he must change or die (metaphorically)?

When he overcomes this moment and emerges stronger, like a phoenix - what will Kunigami's true ego be? Will he return to his original heroism, or strike a balance between his past and present selves? Hero and Wild Card, accepting both?

I'm not going to delve much into Question 2. Hero, Wild Card, Dark Horse, Phoenix - all of these could work as a manifestation of Kunigami's ego. The only thing I can say with confidence is that his ego will manifest. This has been the case for each of the other Egoist Four characters (although Isagi's true ego remains in flux). Personally, I'd like to see an ego manifestation that reconciles the personas of pre- and post-Wild Card Kunigami. I trust the writer and mangaka will serve on that front when the time comes.

On question 1, the fandom (and myself) are hyped for a particular reunion. It's hard to imagine a better catalyst for Kunigami's change than the person that sent him to Wild Card in the first place: a literal demon, the manifestation of Kunigami's internal woes.

Shidou is the opposite of Kunigami in many ways, when they encounter each other in the second selection. Although both are strong with imposing physical abilities, Shidou is chaotic while Kunigami is lawful; Shidou abhors dull players, the ones that cannot spark "explosions", while Kunigami sees Shidou as a violent psychopath. Shidou has no qualms in crushing weaker players. Kunigami defends them, regardless of their nature.

But Kunigami has changed greatly since their last encounter. He and Shidou have more in common than before. In Wild Card, Kunigami had to learn how to crush the weak, despite his inclination to advance together. He's had to become more aloof, more violent even, to survive in Wild Card and in the Neo Egoist League. He's more resolute in becoming the world's best striker than ever.

But Kunigami still doesn't know how to explode. He doesn't have chemical reactions with other players. The part of him that valued teamwork died in Wild Card. Compare this to Shidou, who thrives off what he calls explosions. He adores Sae, because their chemistry on the field made Shidou soar. Sae unleashes Shidou's inner dragon.

I believe in facing Shidou, who will form reactions with his supportive teammates, Kunigami will come to realise that he cannot overcome his demons without assistance from outside. He'll realise his heroism was never the issue: it was his lack of adaptability. To overcome Shidou, Kunigami will need a catalyst to create a chemical reaction.

Luckily, Bastard Munchen has the one person capable of reacting with anyone: the embodiment of adaptability. Who better to set the true Kunigami free than his idealogical mirror? The one person who, thematically, has been by his side since the start?

A link-up between Isagi and Kunigami - dual protagonists, reflections of one another - would be an amazing way to round off both Isagi and Kunigami's journeys in the Neo Egoist League. Even better if the final goal against Paris X Gen is the result of their genuine teamwork - mirroring their resentful co-operation during the Barcha match.

I'm manifesting this and I hope you might too. If for no other reason because... can you imagine the look on Kaiser's face if this happens?

Absolute gold.

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If you read to the end, thank you! I'd love to hear my fellow nerds thoughts on this and Kunigami generally.

Further reading: short analysis of Kunigami's effectiveness on the pitch up to chapter 232.

#blue lock #kunigami rensuke #isagi yoichi #bllk #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #blue lock meta #bllk meta #blue lock anime spoilers #bllk anime spoilers #boinin talks bllk #long post #mine

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