#it’s somewhat minor but like…come on LMFAO

[tarteggs]

my yami bakura nendoroid came in today and while setting it up not only did the duel disk break but so did the support stand 💀

[readngandweepng]

afab!leon s. kennedy x top male reader

note: no pronouns for reader but written with a male in mind. not proofread whatsoever i couldnt bring myself to reread this lmfao. reader is kind of both a sub and dom, same with leon. i had no idea where i was going with this so strap in. also sorry to the anon that asked me to tag afab characters i didnt see the ask till now oops :(

leon’s hovering over you, your cock halfway inside him. his hands are on either side of you, alongside his legs that lay on each side of your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. slowly rocking his hips, the tip of your cock brushes gently against his walls. he lets out a shivery breath with every twitch of his hips. your eyes are locked into his deep stare, his blue eyes are hazy with lust. you can tell he’s fighting to keep them open—his eyes glossing over every time your hips jerk into his was indication enough. he could handle this. this is nothing, he can keep his composure perfectly fine. one jerk in particular, however, suddenly lands your cock inside of him completely and he chokes on a moan in an attempt to quiet himself, his eyes shutting momentarily before snapping back open to look into yours once more.

he swallows thickly before speaking, the tension in his voice evident. “that was dirty.” leon’s voice is somewhat crackly, but a welcome change in contrast to the stark silence of your bedroom. the smile he receives from you is irritating. though never explicitly stated, he knows what you’re trying to do. your fingers graze his skin, dancing around his waist, making his stomach cave and his pussy flutter. he internally curses at himself for letting weak touches get such a rise out of him, and before he can spit at you with a snide remark you lift your hips off the bed with purpose, a quick but deep thrust directly against his sweet spot. he almost buckles, a low moan slips from his lips as he grips onto the sheets under his hands. you chuckle, brushing his hair away that was sticking to the sweat of his forehead, revealing eyes that burn with ire. 

“stop it.” he says curtly. his body is completely still, almost afraid to move in fear of what his body would do in response. this kind of unpredictability was foreign, and leon wasn’t about to let you win this nascent fight. 

“why should i?” you say, not even bothering to hold back the same facetious smile. “afraid you’ll crack?” 

courageously, leon moves so that you have to raise your head up to look at him. you can tell the minor adjustment gives leon back some of his lost confidence when he takes your hands off of him and presses them down against the bed by the wrist, using the leverage to lift himself off and back onto your cock at a steady pace. leon is stone-faced, taking you with newfound resolve. breaking eye-contact, you admire his glistening body and the way he ungracefully bounces on your dick. the sight makes you groan, your face hot with reverence for leon and the sight he beholds. you can’t quite pinpoint his goal; does he want to break you? or better yet does he want to break you before you can break him? 

“holding me down is cheating,” you laugh breathlessly and it sends a shiver down leon’s spine, causing him to twitch around you (much to his chagrin). you don’t mean it, but your words make him speed up, your hips clashing together with fervor.

you can see now leon’s attempt to keep himself composed. his breath occasionally hitching, his grip on your wrists tightening when he feels like he’s about to lose it. he sighs deeply, barely able to keep his moans under wraps. his head lolls forward, his eyes shut tight. he’s so wrecked right now you could probably push him onto his back and fuck him until he can’t take it anymore, but you let him have this control, regardless of how fast it’s unraveling with every thrust of your cock inside him. 

“come on, leon.” you coo at him, his head raising momentarily to glare at you before falling forward back into place with a shaky breath. “look at yourself, you can barely keep yourself steady.” he shakes his head, a hand releasing one of your wrists and going over your mouth. with what you can, you lift yourself up to kiss his neck and caress his hip with your free hand. whether he realized it or not, he rests his body against yours and lets his arms wrap around you. his nails immediately dig into your skin as you move him up and down your cock. his face is tucked into your neck, muffling the moans that are pulled out of him when he’s slammed down onto your dick. 

with one last thrust leon convulses around your cock. you follow suit, cumming inside of him. you open your mouth to speak but leon once again slaps a hand onto your mouth, his words sharp but concise, “don’t say a word.” your smile grows beneath his palm and he rolls his eyes, planting an indirect kiss atop his clasped hand. 

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

[jaykesgirly]

Park Jongseong fluff/comfort blurb

bf!Jay x injured reader

warnings: angst? I don't really know but if you get emotional reading this that's why that warning is there. Also mentions of surgery

a/n: this is completely fully self-indulgent and a very niche topic based on my personal experience LMFAO I just needed to get it out into writing so if you don't get the appeal to it or relate or whatever, this was your heads up. I also just do not know how to title this at all so here we go

I can see Jay being very present in terms of helping you recover from a severe injury like an ACL tear (like I said this is very niche). The recovery from that surgery takes months of rehabilitation and those first few weeks are absolute hell to go through. Jay would do his very best to help you in any way, especially when you are still on crutches.

Since you can barely do anything yourself, he offers to take you anywhere you need to be (pretend he can drive LOL), cook for you, clean if you need to, and help you get around the house. He would be very attentive to your needs, often doing things for you without asking since you're passed out on your bed in hopes the pain dies down even the tiniest bit. The constant reassurance this man will give you that it is okay to ask for help (especially if you're the hyper-independent type) is astronomical; he just wants to make sure you know that he is there for you and always will be.

However, sometimes it can get a little too overbearing. You just had most of your life stripped away from you with this injury and surgery, so sometimes it's harder to accept help from someone in response to wanting to feel like things are normal. Not wanting to overstep, Jay will take a step back as needed, but he will never fully leave you to yourself. There are too many emotions running through your head and he doesn't want to leave you alone to dwell on them. Instead, he lets you vent out your frustrations (even if it involves throwing your crutches to the floor) and offers to help in any way once you have cooled down.

Jay will also be there for you if you need a shoulder to cry on. Again, this recovery is difficult, and many emotions come with it. Your life had just been turned upside down for the absolute worst and sometimes you just need to sob it out. Instead of telling you everything will be okay, Jay would let you talk everything out first and then let you know everything you feel is valid. He is your biggest supporter, and he wants to see you push through this injury no matter how difficult it may be. Jay will always be there for you through the angry, sad, and somewhat happy moments of this recovery.

Especially through the rehabilitation process. Once you start reaching milestones in your physical therapy, he will always find ways to celebrate them with you. After the first major one, walking without crutches, he took you to a beautiful park where you two shared a lovely picnic date. Since then Jay made it his goal to celebrate each major or minor step in this recovery, and you were thankful to have such a loving partner to help you through it.

a/n: sorry if this is messy as fuck I genuinely just used this as a way to escape my own thoughts LMFAO but I hope you enjoyed it? I don't even know anymore. also, this isn't proofread so if there are errors it's because I really just word vomited everything.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

[wolfgangevenstar]

hi i think ur the person who made the post about johnny being autistic 😭 and i totally agree as an autistic. i would luv to hear ur thoughts/elaboration on it!!

hi!!! yes that’s me, i’m so glad you asked bc i’ve been wanting to post more about it.

I’m not too great at organizing my thoughts into something coherent though so bear with me 😭

it’s really just based on some minor details that could honestly be interpreted in multiple ways, but i am choosing to read it as him being autistic bc i am projecting heavily onto a fictional character lmao

one thing that stands out to me is the way he talks - a lot of the time he’s either pretty monotone OR his tone is very over exaggerated but he has a pretty blank facial expression,, he also tends to use a lot of the same expressions/phrases (that were likely drilled into his head by kreese) especially when teaching the kids, which brings me to my next point

- the whole wanting to be perceived as super macho/masculine can definitely be read as the way that he masks. Like those are the behaviours he has been taught are acceptable, and if he doesn’t act that way then he’s weak/worthless (AKA the way that he naturally is is unacceptable, so he has to put on a sort of performance for people to accept him) - but then what really does it is that the masked behaviour doesn’t even work bc he can’t do it well enough (as in most people still consider him to be unlikeable/unfriendly) which is pretty much my exact experience with masking. Especially resonates bc those ‘masking’ behaviours were clearly reinforced by Kreese/Sid/the other adult figures in his life, and actually worked really well when he was younger, allowing him to blend in and even be somewhat popular in high school, but then those same behaviours became a detriment in his adult life, causing him to massively burn out.

What’s also interesting to note is that it’s all the nerdy/socially inept kids at the highschool who are the most drawn to him when he starts teaching karate. Like Hawk (the one character who is confirmed to likely be autistic) basically does the exact same thing as Johnny when it comes to masking, he even learns how to do it specifically from him.

Then there’s also his whole thing with Daniel, where they hate each other but are also drawn to each other in some unexplainable way because for some reason they are able to understand each other better than anyone else. Now i also consider Daniel to be autistic/adhd, the difference with him being that he is more successful with masking it. But then when that mask starts to slip, everyone else (aka all the allistic people) in his life can’t handle it, and it causes a rift between them, and then Johnny, his rival, is the only one who really understands what he’s going through (bc we autistic ppl can usually pick each other out, and are drawn to each other for that reason.)

I guess what I’m kind of doing right now is using everyone’s obsession with karate as an allegory for being autistic lmfao.

Also alcoholism is pretty common with autistic people as a coping mechanism.

There are a lot of other reasons, but this is the best i can explain for now. Sorry for taking so long to answer this one 😅 if anyone ever wants to discuss this HC you know where to find me.

[mirror-imaged]

i don't know if i've ever told this story on here but i feel like i should because it's insane and goddamn hilarious in a sort of What. way. but.

i had the somewhat good fortune of finally getting a referral for autism testing, which i hadn't actively been seeking due to not wanting to have the legal complications that come with an autism diagnosis on your record (it's complicated...) but the clinic with the best results kept refusing to get back to my psychiatrist over a period of four months. which sucked but he referred me to another guy for the sake of actually getting results, so i could deal.

i went downtown for this appointment and we ended up in the wrong building, because. the appointment listing was... at the wrong building. it was a four story old house converted into an office space for therapy and it was cool but it was not the right place, so i ended up driving down to the right place after a while and was a bit late.

i was already super anxious due to the lateness, and when we got there the guy was late letting us in too. this guy obviously usually works with younger children and because i was a minor at the time, we had to go there. so we sit down, he asks me some questions about my medical background for context, he asks my dad about my development schedule (which he either was wrong about or obviously didn't remember well) and then he asks my dad to leave the room. he starts talking to me personally and i was not on testosterone at the time, so i got usually clocked as Girl tm.

he asks about my other mental health problems. i kind of go over the list hesitantly, not really wanting to give details for more stigmatized stuff, and when i mention bpd he just. stops me. he asks for more like detail and i give it to him, and i do actually HAVE a bpd diagnosis. my psychiatrist was very supportive of me and my access to help. this assessment guy though, just starts interrupting me and like. telling me i don't actually have bpd because i'm not 18. which, that's not how it works. you don't just develop it the second you're an adult. it's a disorder rooted in childhood trauma. i get kind of emotional pushing back against the claims he's making about my situation and he goes on to say some dumb stuff about how i'm just like experiencing teenage stuff, which i already had experience with from my therapist so i was pretty resistant to it at least but christ.

so after he spends 40 minutes trying to thoroughly debunk my bpd diagnosis and telling me i'd never had psychosis because it wasn't exactly the same as the types outlined in the dsm-v (which, i think he also just had a copy of the dsm-iv in his room. lol) like completely forgetting the human experience is more than a set of rules on a piece of paper. uh. he asks about other psychotic symptoms i'd had, so i start going on about some of the other life experiences i'd had and eventually started opening up about some personal experiences with dissociation that i hadn't been able to talk about with anybody before. he did actually validate those though and somehow had never heard of structural dissociation which is laughable but after this moment where he did something actually helpful for me, he started trying to use that to explain any "gender identity disturbance" i had. which.? was something. like he didn't outwardly say i wasn't really trans, but he did imply it was slightly caused by my dissociative disorder. i don't even know what to say at this point LMFAO

and after that shit went down, in a 3 hour appointment might i add, he finally starts talking to me about the autism stuff. and goes through a checklist on a piece of paper for about 30 minutes total. he calls my dad back in and recaps the entire appointment to him and then after everything, hands me a packet of notes he'd taken and everything we discussed and tells me he's "really unsure about the autism at the current moment and it requires more observation time". MY GUY. THAT'S WHAT YOUR JOB WAS. THAT'S WHAT I WENT THERE FOR. NOT TO GET FAKECLAIMED ON MY BPD AND HALF DIAGNOSED WITH A DISORDER I WAS BARELY THINKING ABOUT AT THE TIME EVEN IF IT WAS CORRECT.

i was pretty fucking pissed by this and went to my psychiatrist a few weeks later with the packet he gave me, kind of like. enraged. and my psychiatrist told me he wanted to take a look at the notes between appointments after we'd discussed what happened, and the next time i saw him after that he told me (knowing me much better than the other guy) that it was some of the weirdest medical reporting and garbage practice he'd ever seen in his entire career. like zero professionalism involved. which was so validating lmfao but holy shit

anyway this is another reason why i hate the medical industry basically but at least it's so batshit i can use it as a fun story. thank you for absolutely nothing

[ticklepinions]

I think there's many problems in the community. But I feel like 2 in particular are merging quite a bit. So before I begin, this is in no means supporting or condoning the negative actions of others, I'm just thinking out loud basically, trying to understand why it's a problem and what not. The "explains but doesn't excuse route" to help me process things. My heart goes out to everyone who has been a victim of gro*ming.

So I've had a discussion about certain words being thrown around a lot. Words that are used as an insult, a word that triggers people immediately and follows with loads of hate comments and the classic kys.

While there is most certainly predators and p*dos in the community. I think there's a secret third option that doesn't really get talked about a lot- if at all. And that's "well intentioned adults". Adults who got the spirit! But execute in very questionable ways compared to people who are more, for lack of a better word, mature in their experiences.

I think I was one of them to an extent, but had some incidents that made me have to make decisions that would have been difficult in the past with my previous thinking (will explain later). Personally, my blog was open to all. And I hear the sfw doesn't mean safe for minors which is so true. But I still let minors follow my blog and that was a choice I own up to. Up until a couple months ago I was somewhat ok with it. Until things started happening that made me ✨uncomfortable✨. I got 13 year olds following me, minors trying to initiate tickle talk in asks/dms, trying to befriend me in ways that were just not great lmfao (trying to comfort me if I made a vent post, or in turn trauma dumping in the DMs). And this led to a LOT of reflection. I didn't want to have this responsibility so to speak, of taking care of children, who I have no previous relationship (/p) with in an online setting. So I changed my blog to a dnf. That's just me tho, I curated my internet experience to suit me after realizing that what I was doing or rather passively allowing before, made me uncomfortable. I didn't engage in the conversations that were initiated, it made me queasy lmfao.

But for *other* people. This feeling doesn't occur. You can have the extreme of being so delusional and enraptured in your own personal gains/pleasure as a p*do. Or... Be the self appointed teacher, parental figure etc. Which is a lot like gr*oming (actually it is a sign of gr*oming). It's such a complex issue in terms of the way some adults could have a genuine desire to help and not harm/manipulate but there's this disconnect where the adult doesn't recognize the harms they're causing unintentionally.

There are adults who don't mind being the educator because that's what they needed when they were a child. And I get it! They want to help. But! We've seen what can happen. And I think the reason some people are hesitant with the whole it "DEPENDS on the context" is that you're taking away their ability to *help*. But they don't realize by shutting down those conversations *is* helping. There are very few circumstances where a 30 year old should be speaking to a 16 year old about sexual topics. And in an online context, even fewer. There are SO many resources online that people can use to educate themselves, you do not have to be the sole educator for those slipping into your DMs.

From experience, minors are very impressionable and still have a lot to learn when it comes to boundaries. There was this time one of my friends sent an ask teasing me and then I got flooded by people sending in their own teases. Minors unintentionally (giving the benefit of the doubt) making me extremely uncomfortable trying to befriend me through "innocent" tickle talk. There are other instances of minors as I mentioned before trying to comfort me when I'm venting. Very thoughtful of them for reaching out and all but also they're endangering themselves. There are adults who would easily respond to them and because the adult themselves are emotionally not stable in that moment, may explain their worries to someone they realllyyyy shouldn't be sharing experiences with, sexual or not. The adult has the responsibility in this situation, as they hold the most power in the dynamic. So yeah I'm gonna put the blame on the minors. Gonna hold the adults accountable. Because it's absolutely not okay.

I always say while intentions are cool and all it doesn't really matter much. The impact, and what your actions will be after the fact, holds much more weight.

It's so frustrating to see the same old arguments pop up in this particular community. And I've said it once before, at our core, seeing the recent discourse and posts from both parties I can see the want to keep minors safe. However, there are some people who don't see how their perceived innocent actions are actually harmful in the long run. Not only for minors but yourself as well. You deserve to have a community your age as a healthy support system. What's not okay is the waters being muddied under the pretense of helping other people. You can't fix people, and it's really not your job to do so as hard a pill that is to swallow.

I'm losing my train of thought so...

TL;DR. While there are p*dos, there are also adults who mean well but go about it in very wrong/harmful ways, and I hope that eventually (sooner rather than later) they realize the harms they caused and work towards bettering themselves.

I also want to recognize the extreme privilege I have talking about sensitive topics I don't have personal experiences of so if I spoke out of place or said something incorrect please feel free to correct me (if you have the capacity to do so). Thanks for reading.

[harmoniaverse]

I guess, based on what your wrote about the mothers, their names would be something like this:

Adelaide: Jolly, Strong Willed

Angela: Serious, Thoroughly cunning

Fiona's mother: Quiet, Somewhat Vain

Mandy: Hasty, Quick tempered

Katarina: Gentle, Good perseverance

Kari: Adamant, Hates to lose

Did I guess anyone right?

Hey, thats not too bad! Honestly i hadnt come up with nature/characteristic combinations for the minor characters like family members. This is pretty good im gonna yoink it thanks :)

Just a couple changes...adelaide would probably be more of a mild or even jolly nature? She likes to have abit of fun :p

And fionas mom isnt vain...she lacks self confidence and is always going with what others say. I just dont know which of the characteristics would fit her best lmfao

[bisluthq]

Hi nat, I don’t wanna sound like a hater but I’ve just been struggling sm lately bc I feel so disconnected to Taylor iykwim? Like she just seems unrecognizable and excuse the parasocialness but like idk I think I just need to separate from the fandom because I just feel she’s so different in the past year and it makes me so sad. Everything just seems somewhat staged and inauthentic. I really loved her and even considered her as my favorite person and lifesaver at some point. But that beautiful, genuine, and talented person that i thought she was is not there anymore. I really saw myself in her at some point and really believed she was a gift to this world with the happiness she brought to people and how she was unapologetically herself, from the intimate fan interactions and public vulnerability and need for privacy she showed compared to other celebrities. Especially the fact that she’s been trying so fiercely to rewrite the history of the past 7 years of her life and is doing a complete 180 on the life she said she wanted is so disheartening to watch as a long time fan. I really thought that rep - evermore Taylor was really her most authentic self but idek anymore. The person she is now is like an entirely different persona and it makes me really sad. I hope she can find herself again for her own sake but i think this is just who she is and who am I to judge that lmao? At the end of the day no person with that amount of money or fame would be relatable. Look I always have to remind myself I don’t know her obviously but I thought I had gotten a pretty good sense from following her the last 12 years. Idk honestly I’m just kinda ranting here but was wondering if anyone else felt like this lately. A lot of my irls and friends have been saying they feel the same disconnect.

Xx anon ❤️

no shade queen and I’m sorry you’re feeling sad but herein lies the problem: “I really loved her and even considered her as my favorite person and lifesaver at some point.” That’s not a fair thing to put on Taylor. She’s literally just some lady lmfao and she’s an extremely talented musician, and she’s hot, and she’s very funny, and she’s a good writer even when it comes to prose, and she’s hardworking as fuck, and she’s apparently quite kind, and she also apparently makes nice food, and she has cute handwriting. That’s all we really know about her tbh. She can’t be our fave person or our lifesaver because like we don’t know her?? It’s not fair to put that on her.

on a very minor scale when I did professional activism/politics and on an even more minor scale on this blog when it was very big like sometimes I felt like I had this responsibility to people to like idk be something for them. And I can’t lol because I’m just a girl who likes to make jokes and write and teach history and drink and recently to go rowing lol. It’s not fair to expect me to be anything other than an interesting essay (in the activism days) or a funny joke (in the blogging days). I can’t be responsible for other shit. Taylor has that on the HUGEST scale and I can imagine how stressful that is and it’s not yk fair. I personally think she’ll get bored of being this public in a bit but she’s having fun rn. She’s got a cute boyfriend and her career is doing stellar and she’s got the I cut down on alcohol glow and shit like let the lady live for a bit. She doesn’t owe us shit. And I’m not convinced she’s a different person, I think she’s just not caring if people see she’s yk who she is - not an angel, not a hermit artiste, just a girl who’s trying to vibe.

I also think for me personally I’ve enjoyed a lot of her recent music so that adds to it. I love Midnights and I love the 1989 Vault and idk I am happy to let her vibe like she doesn’t owe us shit. Far be it from me to tell you to buy her $20 teacups or whatever to sponsor her trips to KC - I don’t lol - but I think it’s deeply unfair to expect her to be your lifeline or whatever like that’s genuinely not on her.

All this said, if you’re not vibing with music or the brand rn that’s okay. Harry Potter was HUGELY important to me in my preteens and into my teens and then as it happened, it turned out that JKR was a really bad person and I reread the books genuinely for science and they weren’t that great like there was a lot there I found actively not okay so aside from how I wouldn’t publicly be a millennial Potterhead anyway probably because I’m not yk that bloody weird I actively disengaged and I asked family and friends to stop buying me Robert Galbraith books and I just like… disengaged. Never watched the cursed child, haven’t watched any of the fantastic beast movies after the first one, never bought any merch again even when it’s a bit cute, just totally cut myself off. That’s MY choice. It’s not JK’s. JK is out there vibing like as she should but I don’t have to support her and she doesn’t owe me shit lol so like yes our moral compasses unfortunately do not align and that’s just the reality so I can be all dramatic or I can just stop buying her shit lol and I’ve chosen to do the latter and I don’t have any bad feelings towards her. We just don’t agree on morals. If you don’t agree with Taylor on morals or even lifestyle that’s also fine but again that’s a you problem not a Taylor problem 🤷🏻‍♀️

hope this made sense and helped although it was rambley.

[echoesofdusk]

Time for the third entry for my 2023 media reviews!

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (GCN) (replay)

I didn't want to write too much but this ended up becoming a wall of text anyways LMFAO

Starting off with my history of this game. I actually first stumbled upon it in 2009 while browsing an online video game shop. I loved fantasy books at the time and Twilight Princess looked like something up my alley, and become one of the reasons I wanted to get a Wii, which never happened. However, I did finally get to play the game in 2012, but instead of the Wii version, I played the GameCube one, which I did eventually end up buying along with with the GameCube and some other games.

At the time, Twilight Princess became one of my favourite video games, although I distinctly remember not feeling it as much once I reached the second half and for all those years I wasn't sure why. I also wasn't too happy with the lack of control over the day cycle, but it was more of a minor nitpick.

My recent Skyward Sword playthrough gave me the itch to replay Twilight Princess, so I decided to pull out the GameCube, now with a dead CMOS battery, to replay it. And boy, that title screen is haunting. Definitely one of my fav video game title screens of all time. (Also, I only realized recently, after over a decade, that the beginning notes of the title theme are taken from the title theme of the original The Legend of Zelda on the NES, it's just a lower key.)

I dreaded going through the beginning of the game but it was nowhere nearly as bad as I had remembered, even though I didn't 100% remember how to clear everything at the beginning.

The twilight sections, albeit somewhat half baked along with wolf Link gameplay, are amazing for the atmosphere alone, but I also love the contrast against Hyrule. The dark pixel things floating up towards the sky and the more electronic music are just great as well as the entire Twilight motif and patterns.

Also I didn't realize how refined the human Link gameplay is in this game, it's really solid.

As soon as I unlocked the ability to transform into a wolf whenever I wanted I actually found the game more fun as it really opens up once you hit that point. I think the reason I didn't feel the second half so much when I first played the game was bc the Twilight sections by that point are gone, and you don't really get that same kind of atmosphere until Palace of Twilight near the end of the game, which is 100% one of my favourite dungeons in the game, and just the entire franchise. The atmosphere, the music, the tension in trying to avoid Zant's hand... it's so good.

And while I do think the wolf Link gameplay is a little bit half baked, I think it's implemented kinda well. I never found myself annoyed by some sections where I had to use the wolf form like in Arbiter's Grounds, Snowpeak, and the beginning of Temple of Time. In all those cases I think the wolf form usage was justified. However, I do think it's shoehorned in City in the Sky where you have to transform into a wolf... to cross gaps... on thin strings, which Link can only do as a wolf. Like come on.

Hyrule Field in this game is often panned for being too big but... I actually like it, although I do have to say, I don't like traversing the Eldin part of it. It has never spoken to me, although Eldin bridge is really cool and iconic, but yeah that specific part of Hyrule Field. Not a fan.

Temple of Time is hands down my favourite dungeon in this game, and absolutely one of my favourite dungeons in the franchise. I love the atmosphere, the music, the gimmick, and the interesting take on what is otherwise a very linear dungeon. I loved this dungeon back when I first played this game and I still love it to this date. The boss is a bit of a letdown however due to how easy it is, but it doesn't sour the overall experience for me too much. I don't mind the goofy bit of it.

I loved Midna on my first playthrough but I think I love her even more now, and on this replay I noticed so many subtleties in her character that went past me years ago. I absolutely adore this character.

By the way... I forgot how goofy this game is. It's dark and edgy, but when it isn't... jesus. This game is REALLY goofy when it wants to be. The first miniboss is a monkey with huge ass cheeks which... you spank. Truly a video game of all time.

Alright so is anything I dislike about this game? A few things actually. As I mentioned already, I find the wolf Link gameplay a little bit half baked. I also have other complaints but most of them are mainly nitpicks, though some are bigger than others. I think one of my biggest complaints for this game is that the developers went a little bit too far to make this game "realistic". Link's climbing speed for one, is egregiously slow. Why are you pursuing realism like this in a game where a guy who isn't mega ripped can very easily grab a running goat and flip it over like it's nothing? Who also transforms into a wolf when exposed to dark magic bc he's the chosen one of the gods and when he finally goes back to his human form for the first time after the wolf transformation he's suddenly wearing a green garb? That's not very realistic, is it?

Link's movement in both forms, while smooth, is a little bit weird at times. It's hard to explain but when you turn him to an opposite direction from where he's facing, he sometimes moves alongside an arc while turning, displacing him. This is particularly annoying if you're standing on a ledge or a small space, and especially so when you're wolf form as he takes up more vertical space than horizontal. The lack of control over the time of the day, and lack of any actual musical instrument for that matter, is also a little bit baffling to me. This game is so similar to Ocarina of Time already, just give Link an instrument!

Horseback combat in this game is... not good, but considering it was the series' first attempt, I can't be too hard on it, especially since I've heard it's significantly improved in Breath of the Wild.

Lakebed Temple isn't terrible but there's a slew of smaller things that contributed to my frustration with the overall dungeon, especially with Link automatically diving into an arc into the water when I just wanted to swim on the surface when wearing the Zora armor. I guess I could just put him in green tunic every time, but I don't want to relive that moment from OoT when I had to open the menu just to equip the iron boots. I also kept wandering back and forth, but that's more on me than anything else. I didn't realize until watching a video that the doors in the central room are color coded. I had no idea about this for over a decade.

Something really interesting I noticed was that this games throws rupees at you. A LOT. So much to the point that your wallet is guaranteed to be full at all times. And if you're playing the GameCube or Wii version of the game? If your wallet is full or nearly full, any rupee you get from a chest is returned to the chest, and it's still displayed on the map so if you have a goldfish memory like me, lol. I'm actually not surprised the game gives you not one, but two NPCs asking for donations, as well as the magic armor. The magic armor at least allows for fun things in the meta, especially when you go down into Cave of Ordeals. This also really contextualizes some game design elements in Skyward Sword, with it giving you material drops and the upgrade system.

As for the graphics? I think the game still looks okay, some scenes still look beautiful while others... aged like milk. It's especially evident in the Wii U version of the game, being higher resolution and whatnot, but I played the GameCube version on an actual GameCube, using analog AV cables (my GameCube is a launch model which also has digital AV out, which nowadays is used for third party upscalers), plugged into a 48 inch flatscreen. While I played the PAL version, I opted for the 60Hz display mode, which produces a little bit of flicker on edges, at least on flatscreens (I've never played this game on a CRT). The resulting blurriness hides a lot of some issues that would be glaring when the game is upscaled, whether it be on emulators or in the Wii U version. I've seen lots of people say that the game looks really ugly nowadays, I don't exactly agree with them as I think some things look amazing, especially considering how low poly some of the models are (no, really, look up model rips and view them in Blender, your mind will be blown) but some things do need a makeover. I'd actually love to see a version of Twilight Princess that uses actual PBR materials, even if it's just a mockup made in Unreal Engine or whatever. And no, not like one of those "I PUT MARIO INTO A REALISTIC FIELD", but a take that sticks to the original art direction but uses more modern lighting engines combined with PBR textures etc.

Overall, Twilight Princess is a game that still holds up all these years later despite a few aspects aging like milk. I actually think it's the most refined pre-BotW 3D Zelda. Skyward Sword, while a fun game which builds on some foundations of Twilight Princess, unfortunately has some really low lows that drag the whole experience down. Twilight Princess has some lows as well, but they're nowhere nearly as low as Skyward Sword's.

I really don't mind that this game is just another take on Ocarina of Time but grander. It's actually the reason I love it.

[lesser-mook]

“Be thankful we only want equality” Be thankful Men give a hoot about you to begin with. (The Folly of Gynocentrism, the luxury of “Girl Power”)*rant

If all men turned asexual tomorrow? Yes, the sex infractions against women would somewhat cease to a degree but so would the privileges & double standards many immensely enjoy at the expense of men BECAUSE men want to have sex with women, BECAUSE men/western first world culture puts women on a pedestal, unearned on women’s part individually, BECAUSE straight men (prevailing number of men) want to have sex with women.

Now, context.

This is essentially an extended response to a very odd-ongoing delusional attitude that (women should takeover) or something / or women did males a favor by only wanting “equality” or what they think is equality but in reality is equal opportunity+ double standards their foremothers DID NOT have, ie. modern women blind to the privilege but got lip.

Hence the issue, thus my confusion.

To Clarify: Nobody specific brought this tangent on, it’s a general address to a cultural problem brought on by propaganda (which is not women’s fault), so what better way to TRY to address it than pointing it out, yet again.

Now the original meme “Be thankful we only want equality” is old, I remember when this garbage or a variant was first on this site. So the Meme is not new but the issue, the attitude inside of it, is still relevant. Same needless attitude i’ve been noticing for the past….15–20 years?

An attitude that did not exist in the 70s, not the 50s-the 80s were fun. The 90s, decent.

Which is appropriate because notice the decline in births in America since the good ol’ 70s, that is not an accident.

But you can’t really blame majority or vocal minority of women & girls for being on this misandry vibe when they’re encouraged to do it with no consequence or challenge:

Hold em accountable? Yes, but I know what’s going on. And it’s not women trying to derail civilization or make men their nemesis, it’s much worse. They’re being used.

Sure some corrupt men create corrupt women, and vice versa but kids aren’t coming out the womb trying to antagonize the other side. This is learned.

And if it’s not taught by the parent(s), it will be taught by the village:

SOCIETY.

Because if these ladies that feel this strongly, if they are about that life, they’d take this energy to Africa or direct it to places where girls are being made to be brides as young as 12, treated like things.

Or the middle east, where things go on that I’m not even going to speak about here.

You know how easy it is to do paperwork, get on a Delta flight & go make a change? But you see, they’d rather save the venom for their homeland where they arguably (for the most part) in many ways have it the best in the world- Where they know them men will just take it.

Example: America. Where they can complain and moan & slander, & cancel, and assault without fear of being dragged out of their house & beaten for treason or something. Or they are allowed to vote, do sports, enter politics, can drive, can marry other women, walk outside by themselves etc.

You see, that reality, will never sink in for most people. THAT’S how good some us have it (men and women) to not even naturally consider that in the first place, how good we have it in the West in general.

The OP of the original meme was probably some misguided teenage girl who thought she was making a point when it just shows that (regardless of what’s really going on above society) some/ too many women are delusional to think they have ANY leverage to say anything remotely close to or resembling a threat:

Not to Dogs, but to Male human beings, the same group of people that can wrestle bulls, form entire sports around violence, directors of the Armed Forces (and made up majorly of males) and can punch holes in walls.

Lmfao, yeah that’s smart, make those people your enemy when in reality all they want to do is protect you, whether if you earned that honor or not, a lot of men will just hand it to you for your attention.

Society doesn’t revolve around women, but it’s pretty damn close.

Yeah, screw that good deal up because you want to be different for no reason. Because message. Because hashtags & likes make you feel good about yourself.

Or more likely, you might have a good point about injustice against women in modern day, but you’re not delivering it how you should (like a visual of a woman *Medusa* holding a man’s head, communicating the overtone of a threat to male-kind), so the message gets muddied.

And the worst offense is the meme isn’t even championing or representing women in 3rd worlds with ZERO rights, not explicitly.

No these are first world spoiled crop tryna tell you you’re the lucky one because they didn’t push the envelope to demand more privileges or outright war on an entire sex, while completely disregarding that they have it better than most; That’s the real issue besides the obvious misandry.

But for real, let’s break down the hypothetical, just for fun, let’s start with some lore:

All the times we see a woman assault a man, nobody panics.

He hits back, he gets swarmed by everyone on some horde bs like out of a Zombie movie:

Pure 100% female privilege. We see it all the time, some more than others on YouTube. It’s funny at first, until you realize it’s not a skit and women are so oppressed they can assault people and be protected from retaliation.

Blatant male expendability communicated in real time, dangerous shit but okay. “Men don’t matter”, okay fine, that’s the narrative —

But you want to talk about Equality? How?

Your foremothers wanted Equality and you inherited a hybrid of opportunity, benefits, & privilege, a protected class status (naturally), you actually measure above most men (exception being elites, those who know the right people & select frat boys) in social hierarchy in A LOT of first world countries. Even the Bible puts the wife’s safety before the husband.

A Buffet line of double standards and benefits with the option to leave out accountability at any chance most could get away with it.

And society has trained most of us successfully to believe that’s the natural order, I mean, I ain’t even hating on it.

You got yourselves a hustle man, it’s fucked up but I get it.

But the part where you lose me-

is some of us are so high on the privilege- you don’t even realize or understand your position in society, how good it actually is, your unspoken value just by being born female, while it comes with many burdens/ some can be considered a curse (I get it), with that said-

some of us/ you don’t even truly get how important womanhood is.

In the process of inflating girl power & female hubris, womanhood is trivialized. Which is why so many adult females act like children and not women.

And for the life of me, that’s not your fault for not being taught how important that is. This is why culture is so important.

When culture is weaponized against the people to drive them apart and distract them, civilization suffers. When culture is used to pass on knowledge, and bring the village together; Civilization thrives.

America forgot what it’s culture was while trying to adopt everyone else’s.

But all I hear is male privilege. The privilege to get DRAFTED and die first…or just die first in any situation. But women getting DRAFTED is/was a debate?

Uhh where’s the Equality? Why is women getting DRAFTED a debate? Physical Training standards are lower for women in the Military (and other fields) but they can still get paid the same per rank?

What about that gap?

I thought you wanted equality, no? So how’s that okay? Where’s the Equality, I don’t see it. I see privilege.

And that’s fine (it’s not okay, no) but it’s fine though, if women are special snowflakes of society, great, that just means they’re also both the community strength of the village (as they always have been) and are now or have become a weak-link of civilization. Why? There’s a consequence to being protected 24/7, consequence of privilege, is liability.

When the risks of dealing with you outweigh the benefits, do not be surprised if men don’t approach you.

Blame your culture for your ruining what good graces you had left, don’t blame males of the masses.

And in fact, if you getting action relied on men making all the moves, maybe it’s time to grow up and if you want something to happen? Like an adult?

You’d be surprised how awkward women are when asking & getting rejected, because most women have zero charisma, why? They never had to develop it.

Hence liability, hence weak-link.

Because if you have to be told you’re “empowered, strong, powerful” instead of just being that.

It reads like society is inflating your ego at any cost to the point where it sounds less like encouragement vs a narrative that you have to be convinced or propagandized that you’re superior- which is what this is really about.

That by itself should tell you the culture you live in is just hyping you up for the sake of hyping you up; The question is-

“why?”

Girls are actually ahead, Women are more educated. And yet boys & men can’t seem to get any love. Despite making up the majority of suicides, but nobody seems to care about that because it’s not a female problem.

That sound like privilege?

Fact is, you’re being played like a chess piece, and it’s been working like a charm.

There’s have’s and have not’s — if society cares about women more than men, fine, let’s all as a collective just admit that and stop this “Equality” bullshit and just concede that men are a lesser priority because women are that privileged. Which is not equality.

Because even in TV, we can clearly see men aren’t exactly honored in America anymore in the overall culture. Sure there’s superhero movies where guys are cool, but that’s pop-culture, another very powerful propaganda vehicle but meaningless in the long term. Vs in the grand scheme of culture where shit matters? Like policy, or how we treat each other in the street? We just don’t care.

Just don’t overlook your privilege to tell men they have it good when you have NO idea what men go through to make sure your malls get built.

And it’s loooooooooooong overdue that somebody said it that isn’t some misguided MGTOW NPC with a bone to pick with women but instead just stick to goddamn reality & being honest before honesty becomes hate speech.

For a young generation of women, it’s pretty easy to overlook how much of society is built on top of males just to preserve you, regardless of what you might contribute or even want to contribute to men or a man in return. Regardless if you’re attracted to men or not.

So finally, hypothetically:

If men were free of their attraction to women like a Thanos snap, ALL of that bias for women would go out the window, women would be shell-shocked at the difference.

Not that men wouldn’t like women anymore, women are people, men & women would still be friends. But that primal incentive to put you first or ABOVE would logically go away, because the source of the desire to treat you special comes from hormones, attraction.

The Alpha females would be able to compete regardless no question, some ladies are built like that even at 16-19 years old. I’ve met some real Valkyries in my time, not enough, but shotty parenting & incompetent society is to blame for that, girls aren’t trained anymore.

But the vast majority of women wouldn’t be able to handle that paradigm shift if men’s sex drive for them specifically just ceased overnight. Some are too used to getting carried by males giving a damn & putting you above them for no reason that you’ve actually earned.

Especially in the dating game, again, some are too passive and expect men to do everything and you’re told that’s “the game” but the only one’s getting played are the men. That’s why it’s called a “game”.

This generation absolutely raised grown-girls and few to no women. No cap. And that’s NOT women’s fault.

I repeat:

While women should be held accountable, it’s equally true that Women not performing as they should, is not their fault- If they weren’t taught to bring anything to the table.

How are they going to do what they were never taught or trained to do? Society failed men and women.

So furthermore, without that hormonal block males can’t turn off unless overwritten by rage, then we’d treat you like true equals, no more special treatment, no more kid gloves, no more female pedos sleeping with 12 yr olds and getting off Scott-free because (she purdy), no more double standards because woman.

Say what you want, hit whoever you want, lie on who you want, send them to jail when they’re innocent but your identity is protected still AND get away with it because you’re born with the right Starter-pack. (Yes all of that is real, look it up.)

Must be nice. But all I hear about is male privilege. I remember at one point #KillAllMen was a legitimate hashtag, #MenArtTrash is a popular one on Tumblr even today.

It’s just amazing how dense we are, while walking into buildings men constructed. Your HVAC systems? Men. Those little holes in the ceiling panels at work? Men. Carpets? Men.

The Sewers? Mainly men.

Point being: Do not take a man’s fuck to give for women for granted. Because if you lost that main advantage in nature or let’s say after the upcoming economic collapse and it’s every man/woman for themselves to get food? And every unspoken social taboo that you rely to protect you when things get tense, all of that gone?

You wouldn’t stand a chance.

Because a female, as an animal, their main advantage beside their organization in communities, direct influence to the children, is ultimately the effect they have on males, the strongest. Men caring about them, wanting them. What’s the primary advantage against men when that’s gone? Do not take it for granted.

Women procure more people, they do not create life, let me expand on that, because that’s another Ego-trip some women seem to get high on and for the wrong reasons:

WOMEN- do not “create life”, Men & Women create life.

Women and men are a co-joined entity, when together they are then a physically complete human that can “create”, which is why both parties can’t create anything on their own.

A woman by herself, isn’t creating anything. If you could spawn a little one all on your own, no seed, just asexual mutation; Congrats sis, you just created life.

As much as we’re made to fight these days, we’re not a separate group, men and women alone are in reality an incomplete model of a human entity.

So the Eve deriving from Adam mythos has some weight to it, separate components, we are incomplete. When joined, life happens. It's almost poetic as it is literal.

It’s why not being with someone bothers most people so much, it’s not entirely insecurity. For while being single is the default state of existence after nothingness; Being with someone satiates your natural want to become a “whole”.

But strictly on a physical/meta-physical level, not being with someone doesn’t mean as a person you’re forever incomplete unless you’re latched to someone. Some people operate better alone, and do not need to be physically whole to be complete.

Some people can become their complete version without another person. But just know, that isn’t most people.

It’s joined together are we in our true form, because we are a co-unit, hence the baby, a genetic big-bang, a new universe, little hands, beating heart, the works.

Same goes for ethnicity, which is why things are better when we get along. We’re not truly separate until we force it to be that way, which is why divisive propaganda like *Civil War 2024* has lost it’s ability to be subtle these days.

Or? The powers that be have realized they don’t need to be subtle anymore.

Women maturate life, they nurse it, they carry, they are the threshold of life.

The only natural threshold of human life.

Men possess the means to allow women to do even that. Men are the Progenitors, the foundation, the beginning. And if we’re not careful, they will be the end of it.

(And I’m not going to specify or elaborate that on purpose, just let that sit on your brain)

Point being: Men are TOO used to being told these days they don’t get a choice, they have no say about the baby, they have no power, deserve less & less, but do more and more for women, she doesn’t have to earn anything of what he has to offer.

Just serve, nod, be quiet, and that’s “As he should”.

I mean, my god, what happened. This shit wasn’t like this in the 90s.

WHAT HAPPENED?!

The century turned and things just switched for the absolute worst. Yeah people live longer, but at what cost.

I’d rather live a good short life than a long dreary miserable one.

This current culture is too blasted comfortable, I swear man some of us lost our minds and forgot what a MALE is.

People really don’t realize how much civilization rides on men getting up and going to work and not asking questions.

That day without women stunt was cute way back when, but if Men pulled that? It would be chaos.

We must stop antagonizing men & lessening their importance in the minds of the collective because we’re so used to Men being used to abuse and disrespect.

And then we wonder where toxic pathetic/ even prophetic Fetishes like Macrophilia aka MacroCreeps aka Giantess aka “Needs positive female Attention ASAP” or “the Boy Desperately Needs a hug from his mother ASAP — “ Fetish

The fetish where woman is god, the giantess represents toxic matriarchy, toxic gynocentrism.

And the popular fantasy is she destroys civilization & gets a happy ending after casual genocide because someone got her order wrong at Starbucks.

Gee I wonder where they possibly could’ve gotten the narrative to form a fetish/cult around male expendability, female privilege/superiority and zero accountability- in a society that revels in propagandizing male expendability, female privilege/superiority and zero accountability.

I just can’t nail the connection.

Just absolutely amazing what some cultures produce because some parents refuse to do their jobs and the culture is that hateful & toxic, so naturally people will then develop mass stockhol syndrome/ fetish turned borderline cult and embrace that hatred & revolve around it.

No child comes out the womb wanting to draw & make videos of giant women/people/ women in general being a curse to humanity.

That’s what a giantess in this fetish is, a burden to humanity. Something the world doesn’t want, a woman with power. Which is not true.

I know what femdom is, I get it. Wanting an assertive woman in general to emulate Alpha Female energy is nowhere close to wanting to be abused, mistreated or Satanic level horrors on a city-wide, sometimes global scale. The difference is GENO-CIDE.

Let me repeat me that:

Wanting abuse and “GENO-CIDE”, clear difference. Oblivion of men, women and children (Yes, these people insinuate mass infantcide seeing as how cities include babies too- Oops, Right?

In fact, there’s a video on Youtube where someone edited characters from a Rom-Com anime in a scenario where they wipe out a city & the editor included a clip from (MY HERO ACADEMIA Season 4) of a child crying in a panicked crowd before being flattened to death.

A human shared that with humanity, full confidence. Why are we okay with this?

“GIANTESS” is in reality a cry for help. And you’ll have people liking the video, and the OP actually plugged in their patreon. Lmfao, I mean, get the bag i guess?! LOL

Pledge for more slaughtered children & misandry, “please support my patreon“

The West has derailed. This is what Gynocentrism created. Mini-Woman worship cults where slaughtering cities & kids is a fetish.

But these same people won’t put this energy into raising their own goddamn kids or making their partners happy.

See, nobody naturally wants to paint women in that light & devote almost a lifetime to it, that shit is not NOT normal, nor healthy.

But that’s the power of propaganda, corruption, twisting the natural order of one’s mind, social-conditioning/programming. The works.

The point of propaganda is to break you without alarming you, re-write you without erasing you.

And it’s a slow burn, it’s never instant. Corrupt breeds corrupt ideas.

“Repeat after me. Woman is god. Men are insignificant. We are powerless before our goddess.“

Which leads back into main topic/real life:

-because as these dropping birthrates in America, Japan, China, etc. show — Men are and have eventually gotten sick of the abuse & neglect and Civilization will suffer for it.

And as macrocreeps seem to glorify: Civilization will eventually collapse, and gynocentrism is a major factor for why.

NOT THE reason. A reason.

Gynocentrism is the sole Mother of the bastard child known as “Macrophilia” but Gynocentrism is not the sole reason why civilization will collapse which is what Macrophilia glorifies over and over again: Collapse of Civilization (Hence why the fetish is pathetic and prophetic: Gynocentrism leads to collapse)

The fetish emulates it’s mother.

But these fetishists won’t catch onto that because they’re too busy salivating over the dead bodies on the floor. Good job there parents.

Not that women having the same opportunities is the issue, but “GYNOCENTRISM”/Misandry are the problem.

Women having a chance to live their/ a life is not the same as society putting them on a pedestal to the point of woman worship which breeds more toxic, more disturbing woman worship (macrocreeps) in the first place.

Human Rights and Privilege/ The Rights of Women vs Woman Worship Culture; They are not the same thing.

That is the (Folly of Gynocentrism): you prop women up for their benefit and in the end, they suffer along with the men they’re propped above. Everyone loses.

You can not treat women like 2nd class citizens/ as things or pieces of meat to summon for sex & dismiss and expect a healthy or sane society for long.

And you can not leave men behind, & dehumanize them to deify women and expect your civilization to last. When your civilization needs men to work to make it work, and to protect it AND the women to survive.

The math is against you, against us all. But it also goes against humanity’s natural instinct as a network, on both accounts which IS WHY the statistics show things are on a decline.

It starts with the family, redefine what normal is, split up women & men, corrupt, divide, conquer, redefine, redefine, challenge norms, abolish roles so now women are confused, men frustrated, destabilize. Destabilize.

Empires fall.

Telling girls they deserve better without telling them to be or HOW to be worthy of that treatment and why it’s their duty to do so, is the folly.

Women do not have obligation or duty, just as America forgot what it’s culture was. Where it’s backbone went.

Just take, take, take and you deserve it because you’re the woman. Some think their personality is what they bring to the table.

Hold women more accountable but stop holding it AGAINST them when they don’t bring enough to the table because society and their parents were incompetent and didn’t train them to be useful in any way.

“Hold them accountable, but it’s not their fault.”

I get how conflicting that sounds, but if we’re going to face this or complain about it, we have to face the issue at the root. The beginning.

Same goes for the males, they’re also not making men like they used to because we’re castrating them, not training these kids to be respectful or skill, just raising them.

Because some of these boys with confidence, just don’t know how to conduct themselves with women, which is what leads to problems, and women not trusting men.

Not enough Men & MENTORS for these baby boys. Just grown-boys trying to raise themselves or remain little boys forever, hence the attraction to schoolgirls & aversion to women.

Grown men in the West that refuse to grow up by rejecting women; who will expect & drive them to step up. And instead cling to “kawaii/cute” culture in japan, a country that has nothing to do with them.

The girl has to be cute or tsundere or whatever the fuck, not mature, not responsible, not a challenge — A challenge?! Hell NO!

Or a 5'000 year old Mage that just happens to look like a 12 year old child with G-Cup breasts and acts like a 6 year old.

Again, the amount of American males clinging to Anime culture just amazes me, ONLY because of the amount of excuses they make for the pedo-content. Then when women start complaining that creepy anime is creepy, then the boys start crying “woke”. NO? Women/Twitter/Woke Culture are not the problem (this time) for calling it out, the problem is WHY DIDN’T YOU call it? Good sir, why didn’t you?

Many retreat to games, fantasy, fetishes, anime where scumbag main characters are rewarded female attention no matter how disgusting they are (convenient, isn’t it?), and then some pull away from real women because the ladies are not just giving themselves away like the waifu’s in their little shows.

This Kawaii/ Cute obsession Japan possesses has also contributed to their own birthrate/sex assault issues but I’m going to leave that alone.

TL;DR — Both the problem and solution of Gynocentrism and this hostility of the sexes starts at home.

Men are so simple and predictable, which is a good thing. VERY low maintenance creatures, very consistent as a whole, with high returns if the boys are trained properly.

(With baby Girls is a bit different, only because society will corrupt their ego differently than boys)

Example (an average superhero movie with a male lead like Spider-man usually teaches a lesson for boys to learn from in a good way, responsibility. Vs a female led movie where the heroine learns that she’s special and that’s her power; narcissism) Very different play on hubris. Both get a power fantasy, but the moral is different.

The fact is an average male will hand you the keys to his kingdom for less than what you’d be willing to offer in return, far less than what he’s willing to give; You’d have to be an idiot to take that for granted.

Doesn’t mean say “yes” to every guy that asks, I know awkward poorly adjusted grown-boys exist, especially today. But keep in mind the position you hold as the woman. Don’t scoff at that because that’s the only experience you know.

Peacetime went to some people’s heads, that’s another situation that happened.

War usually brings people together like an Alien invasion unites Earth. Or 9/11 united New York.

So to repeat my earlier point, when there’s peace, people tend to create problems, artificial chaos out of boredom. Or it’s created for us:

That might soon change and we’re going to see where #GirlPower gets us when shit hits the fan, the alarm goes off across the nation and that DRAFT rolls in.

If that happens (I hope it doesn’t, but it will) We’re going to see just what female empowerment is worth while everyone is looking to men to handle it.

Stay in your lane. Be humble. Be thankful.

While we’re past the point of recovery, it’s not too late to be the exception and possibly build something.

Women have their own struggles, very real struggles, and if they’re a protected class, fine, a village naturally huddles around children, then women, and then men. But we need to be honest about that, and stop pretending equality means anything, some of us need to be AWARE of how good you/they/we have it.

Again, where people lose me:

is they overlook their own good situation to tell dudes how good they have it or have the absolute nerve to insinuate men are lucky women only wanted equality- as if women would try anything and not buckle immediately if men really took them seriously as a threat to that extent, you have no idea how fast that shit would get shut down.

Women as a cooperative collective are a force of nature, they move & direct civilization after it's built. But a single Man with an ambition can start a nation. Men as a collective? Are innovators of frontiers as well as world-breakers.

Get that through your head.

Meanwhile men make up majority fatalities across the board anyway doing jobs that most women refuse to contribute to, but society for a while was trying to propagandize girls into STEM; yet there’s well paying jobs (that need more people right now) women could be working anyway; But nobody is having that conversation though.

Men aren’t god’s gift to the world, they’re lacking hard as well, they’re not 100% victims either. But stop taking them for granted & talking slick just because you’re used to men just taking it and most of what you watch signals that it’s not a big deal vs someone losing their job because they said you looked nice today.

A man’s life/womanhood/baby/marriage/dating/his livelihood/ HIS LIFE for hers is so trivialized nowadays that what a woman should be willing to do to be worthy of that possible sacrifice on his part is not even a talking point. It’s disregarded, thus men.

And that is not going to last forever, and you shouldn’t expect it to; because women would never put with it if it was (and for a time it actually was) reversed- Women would not, and did not put up with it, rightfully so.

[turian]

honestly i have many grievances with the fallout show as a long time fan of the series but i think it's really enjoyable in the little moments. the lore mistakes are GIANT and it's not a leftist game in the way that (most of) new vegas was a leftist game - i have issues with new vegas as well but those are more just a long list of critiques of my favourite game that i think abt all the time. and maybe later i'll make a longer post about my issues with the show and with the series in general. i think that it was somewhat unoriginal because it was trying to cater to people who have never played the games, and while it does a lot of winking at the already existing fanbase, it feels like a show that is trying to be both a reboot and a sequel. it can't do both. i think it also tries far too hard to be grandiose, and also. the irony of it existing as it is, distributed by amazon. the communism lite. the events which are literally impossible given the new vegas canon unless they're meant as a GIANT retcon, which i don't accept. lmfao. it shines when it's just being irreverent dark wasteland comedy.

another point wrt fallout i've been thinking about a lot lately is like... the reasons it may be loved. personally i adore it because my family were displaced by genocide, and as a nomad with that history i really relate to a lot of the themes in new vegas (i also have a lot of issues with new vegas and the way it frames benny's story - he did nothing wrong imo - and just. the racism) but like. watching this show i'm also reminded of the horror of the western genre (which is lampshaded a little in the show but it's like... yall are doing this Right Now, writers). haven't seen westworld and i doubt i ever will but there is something about science fiction western which avoids really touching on the racism inherent to the genre by setting it in the future. and in fallout sometimes i feel like that is where the horror comes from, and again, i don't know shit about westworld. in new vegas some of my fave parts are the parts that lean into and do not shy away from the horrors but i feel like the fallout show like? it really? can't grapple with that shit, because it doesn't really understand it. it's a western and it's not really much more than that, but it's trying to pretend to be deeper.

this doesn't mean i fully disliked it but it's like... seeing that shot of new vegas at the end of the show didn't fill me with excitement lmfao it just filled me with dread! i don't feel like this show should go anywhere near new vegas content. i don't want them to hurt it. it's not perfect by any means and i don't mean to uphold it as that, but. judging by s1 i don't think the showrunners have anything close to the nuance required to measure up to a lot of the obsidian writing.

giant list of grievances aside the protagonists are cute i rly love maximus !!! all three of them are chill but i think he is honestly the most interesting lmfao like... cooper and lucy are very fun but i think they're a little more cookie cutter (not a complaint, to be clear - i do enjoy them). maximus like... was also the least predictable to me and i think his motivations at first, despite being clearly stated by the show, seem sort of nebulous because his performance has a little more subtlety and so. yeah. may he rediscover oysters. + from a screenwriting standpoint it's cute that it ended like. with him and lucy both reaching their goal and realizing "oh shit. this is not the vibe."

also genuinely enjoyed the minor characters and cameos!! genuinely just really wish it wasn't trying to do this much, because like... imagine the same story but a little smaller scale. like. all they'd have to have done to make it all make sense is set it a decade or two later and/or simply not destroy the WHOLE ncr.

+ this detail was so cute !!!

[stnexus]

a toast to you…!

jason todd x black!fem!reader

minors dni, mature audience, suggestive content

summary: jason and his protective nature throughout the relationship amplifies even more when you’re drunk. his desire is not important when you’re under the influence.

cw: language, suggestive content, pretty much fluff, established relationship, one singular smack on the butt, drinking + intoxication, drunk reader, speaks of consent

names used(?): pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, pretty thing, beautiful girl

wc. 2.3k+

tag + note: literally rewrote this multiple times because i was struggling with the wording and pacing. then halfway through the third time writing it i was like this would make a great nye fic. so i started the process of writing it for the fourth time, while drunk (lmao). but ultimately started slacking. then i came along @fic-over-cannon ’s piece which pushed me to finishing, we were literally on the same wavelength i swear — despite our differences in time frames lmfao. there may be a follow up so let me know if you would like a part two. i really hope you all enjoy! i wish you all a beautiful new year’s eve + day.

the cold air of the crisp winter night nipped at your smooth brown skin, snow falling in a cast of white flurry all around you. your eyes felt somewhat heavy as your eyelids drooped — eyelashes fluttering just a bit as you took in the scenery. a pretty toothy grin tugged at your glossed lips. with your head tilted upward, you allowed snowflakes to rain down on you from the night sky. letting them drop down in all their graceful glory and melt into your already-cold skin. the tip of your nose boarding along freezing and your cheeks following suit. though, it did not seem to bother you one bit — your trench coat had long been shrugged off and draped across your arm. something you surely would have been reprimanded for during your childhood.

a giggle full of glee fell from your lips, almost like the joy that followed a child's first sight of snow. it was a melody that jason could never get tired of hearing. he listened intently as he sifted through his keys for the house key. finding beauty in such a place as gotham was your specialty, something that your boyfriend had come to adore you for. you were like a missile, seeking out the light in a dark room. your joy had been buried in studying the little things, then pulling them to the forefront for others to observe. it kept jason balanced and kept him at peace within the realm of gotham.

“now, what could you possibly find funny out here?” jason’s amused question broke the daze you had found yourself in, and he tutted at seeing you bask in the winter air with no coat. although a grin fell onto his face as he observed your happy appearance as he pushed the front door of your home open, the keys in the lock jingling and swaying in the process. a gush of warmth radiated from the gap in the door.

“the snow, jay. it’s beautiful.” you spoke with a slight slur to your words, your intoxication evident on your tongue. the pristine white snowflakes had begun to cling to your blonde-colored fulani braids as you looked at your boyfriend. his eyes took in every movement of your drunken state – vigilant at all times. shaking his head, he pushed the front door open, stomping his black dress shoes against the welcome mat at the front door in order to not track snow into the house.

“so are you, pretty girl. now get inside before you catch a cold to go along with that hangover tomorrow.” jason spoke gently as he grabbed at your forearm, pulling you towards him as he walked you over the threshold of your shared home. “i can tell you definitely enjoyed yourself tonight.”

it was never your plan to drink so much tonight. no, that was not the plan at all when you were told about bruce’s new year’s eve party. this had been your second time attending the event, marking two years since you had begun dating jason. as classical music buzzed around the open floor of wayne manor, you had showed up as quiet as a mouse, shaking the hands of those that spoke to both you and jason. your acrylics played at the emerald-green silk of your maxi dress.

it was not until bruce had spoken to you two that you started to loosen up a bit. taking a drink from his hand as he had welcomed you, then deciding to venture off on your own a bit. jason watched you closely as you admired the manor and spoke with those who approached you. a few times you had been offered more to drink and food as well, and you agreed politely.

jason’s eyes had moved from anyone he had conversed with to you during the party. the bulbs of glowing warm lights highlighting your skin with each movement you made, your dress fell perfectly over you. the cherry on top was that any time you passed by, you left a trail of your signature scent behind; it was like a pathway that he could follow to the end of the earth.

to say he had been stuck on you the whole night was an understatement. he was stuck on you daily — this was something more. he was sure you would drive him mad one day, but he did not think it would come so soon. he shifted on his feet just a bit as he watched the man he had been speaking to bid a farewell, his daze starting to send a wave of desire through him as the night progressed. though he began to push his thoughts down as your pretty eyes began to glaze over due to intoxication — peering at him with a gaze full of adoration.

it was almost twisted, really.

the way he knew you held such love for him. no matter what he had come from, no matter where his faults lied in the past. you had always looked to him like he had hung the moon and the stars — which he would gladly do for you with no questions asked. though, as he heard a small giggle leave your pretty lips, he knew it was time to go. he knew you knew your limits, but he also knew you would crash at some point. then it would be a mess as he tried to get your drowsy self to get ready for bed. 

it had been way past midnight, so guests had begun parting ways. jason watched you closely as you rejected a hand pushing another glass your way. your braids swaying just a bit as you shake your head kindly, the ends of your hair brushing across the cloth of your silk emerald-green dress.

the car ride home was filled with the low sound of the radio. one of jason’s hands splayed over your lap while you fumbled around with his fingers, running your hand over his forearm. his other hand was placed securely on the leather covered steering wheel. he already knew what you were hinting at, but a response of refusal had already begun to brew in his thoughts. it diminished the want that he had felt making its way to the forefront earlier, turning it into absolute nothingness.

your laughter filled the car at random times as you complimented jason a few times throughout the ride. your eyes tracing over his face as he drove, a hand reaching out to brush through his hair at times. the scenery flew by beautifully as you both neared your home. decorations that people had left up after christmas lit up the city.

“but jayyy, the snow.” a whine left your lips in protest as you both took in the warmth of the home. you could hear the locks of the front door slid into place, then felt your trench coat being taken from your hands.

“the snow will be there tomorrow, baby. whining definitely won’t work,” he chuckled as his dress shoes thudded against the hardwood floors as he took them off. watching as you stooped down to take off your heels, stumbling a little as you tried to stand once they had been removed. a gentle yet firm hand was wrapped around your upper arm, catching you swiftly as you were pulled up before hitting the floor. a small yelp of surprise falling from your lips. 

“you’ve gotta be careful, sweetheart.” jason spoke almost sternly with a small frown. pulling you towards him and over his shoulder, he landed a smack on your poked out asscheek. a spill of laughter fell from his lips as he listened to your cheeky protests that followed. he guided you both to the kitchen, sitting you on the marble-topped island in the middle of it.

“we already ate at bruce’s though—” a hiccup cut your words short as you watched your boyfriend drift around the kitchen. reaching into the cabinet to pull out a cup, the glass shining in the light of the kitchen. 

“i’m not getting food; i’m getting you some water. we’ve gotta sober you up.” 

“iamsober.” your words slurred together as your feeble attempt to feign a sober response fell flat on its face. a knowing laugh falling from your lips as your boyfriend’s eyebrow lifted in an amused manner as he filled the cup by using the water dispenser on the front of the fridge. 

“nice try,” jason stated as he neared you once more, hand jutting out to give you the cup. “we’re not going anywhere until you finish.”

“what if i said no?” you bit back jokingly, though the rim on the cup fell to your lips as you began to drink.

“well, we’d be here all night. i’d annoy you until you finished it.” he stated with a matter-of-fact tone. 

“i don’t know if you can annoy me, jason. that might be impossible.” a bashful smile covered your face as you downed the last bit of water in the glass. taking the cup from you and sitting it down, jason found himself standing in between your legs, his hands falling down to rub at your covered thighs.

“yeah?” he spoke slowly as he closed in on you, his face mere inches away from your own. the alcohol that lingered on your breath was still clear to him, and even more so as his lips met your own. your tongue swiped over his lip as if you were asking for permission to deepen the kiss. your hands reached up to play at the hairs close to the nape of his neck. subtle moans fell from your lips and were swallowed by jason, his black slacks beginning to tighten slightly in a certain area at your sounds.

“jason, i want you.” you declared as he had begun to pull away, rejection already seeping out through his demeanor. upon hearing your words, jason took into account once more the alcohol on your breath and the way your eyes held on to a dazed look. as if you were floating. your words were coherent at times but still veered off into a cluster of sounds at other times.

his protective ways are prominent in his actions. knowing you had not agreed to him touching you in your drunken state prior to your outing. your drunken words were of no significance to him.

“you’re drunk. not tonight, pretty thing.” he spoke sternly, planting a gentle peck on your lips as he picked you up once more. carrying you to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. his slacks were still tight in one area as he grabbed at washcloths. making sure to help you secure a black bonnet over your braids. he worked to ignore the cute little pout that sat on your drunken lips as he moved to turn on the shower.

standing in front of you, he dropped the straps on the dress from your arms and pulled it past your waist, watching as it fell in a pile at your feet. reaching for the band of your black lacy panties to pull them down.

“not we gettin’ frisky,” you giggled drunkenly once again. 

“we’re definitely not getting frisky,” jason almost choked in response, grabbing at your waist as you used him for leverage to kick the panties off. helping to remove your jewelry, he ushered you into the shower. “get your drunk ass in the shower, pretty girl.”

looking over himself in the almost foggy bathroom mirror, jason unbuttoned the first three buttons of his black-button up. with a bit of tiredness he let out a sigh as he got undressed, ignoring his dilemma in the process. hoping that it would ease its way down so he wouldn’t have to spend time handling it himself.

the warm white comforter splayed over the bed was like a personal safe haven. you had been covered in moisturizer and other essentials by jason. his hands moving quickly to help you get dressed, tightening around you whenever he felt you were about to lose your footing. your pajamas for the night, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of underwear. the warmth swarming the house left no fear of you getting sick while covered in your usual nighttime attire.

only a pair of dark red pajama pants hung loosely from jason’s hips as he pulled the drawstrings together to tighten the waistband. the bedside lamp and moonlight that streamed through the window were your only sources of light.

“jason…” you hummed briefly as your eyes locked on to him from your position under the comforter. placed on your side of the bed, his side empty right in front of you.

“mhm,” he hummed while briefly letting his gaze fall on you, then back to the jewelry box that he was putting your belongings into. 

“you’re so handsome,” you drowsily confessed once again, your head placed on the pillow below you, eyes following his every move. watching as a lazy smirk graced his lips — a hand coming up to run through his dual-colored hair. his feet carrying him to his side of the bed. 

getting under the covers beside you, jason pulled you close by your waist. setting a kiss on your lips, he let out a hum when you began to kiss back.

“you are absolutely beautiful.” jason complimented quietly. “my beautiful girl.”

“happy new year,” your words fluttered into a muttered mess as you tried to fight your sleep. eyes becoming heavy with sleep as you move your head from the pillow to jason’s bare chest. a subtle laugh left his mouth as he watched your movements and the way you tried to reject the need for sleep as you groaned a bit in frustration. gliding his hand over your side, he tried to coax you into sleeping.

“happy new year to you too,baby.”

it was moments like these that jason found most intimate. the moments where you both stepped into the unknown, like the new year that awaited you. the moments that he got to hold on to you, while you held on to him. as his hand traced over your body and began to soothe you, he listened to how light snores filled the room. reaching with his free hand to turn out the lamp on the nightstand with very little effort.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

It was such a wonderful surprise to see this on my feed today! ❤️

I love soulmate AU's too! I've seen the prompt about the birthdate printed on someone's skin a few times in different fics and I really loved the idea. And I read a Joel Miller fic that used that prompt iforever ago. I'm kinda sad because I can't find it and I remember really loving it, BUT I thought about the fic randomly the other day and I was like... wow, that is so Ben coded. And then I thought, how can I make it even sadder? Oh the reader thought she'd never meet her soulmate ever because he was born a hundred years ago? Oh yeah, I'll do that lol. 😂

And this fic was born! I have never seen a soulmate AU with Ben and I was toying with the idea what it would be like to find out that someone like him is your other half. I mean, we all love him, but we can all agree that he's done some stuff that isn't the greatest... 😅 I'm about to do a binge watch of season 3 to remind me of all the things that I tried to block out lol.

I didn't know you were a part-time English lit professor! I was on the fence wether or not I wanted to make the reader an English professor or a History professor. Honestly, English and History intertwine so often that I figured it wouldn't matter too much and I could get the best of both worlds this way. Plus, I'm toying with the idea of including some quotes from literary works in this fic. But either way, my English major and History minor is about to pay for itself as I write this lol 😂

This is SO effing adorable, and it's for sure something I would've done if I was her, loving history and being a hopeless romantic myself. You really feel her longing and wanting that love in her life, poor thing. 🥺 (She might be in for a rude awakening when she finds out who her soulmate is loll.)

I was literally thinking the same thing! If I couldn't be with my soulmate I would have thrown myself into researching the time period he lived in and imagining what it would have been like. Not to mention I really love the Modern Period of Literature and it was just a happy accident that Ben ended up living during that time period lol

Oh Jeezus, there's always That Guy, isn't there? 🙄🤮 (Not erotic poetry lmfao.)

Girl, don't I know it lol. He's gonna come into play later, because apparently I always have to include a creepy dude in my fics. 😂

Ooooh my God!! What a moment you chose for her to meet him! I can't wait to see where you take it from here... The time jump really surprised me! I like that she's Hughie's sister. It keeps her within the circle of the Boys somewhat, but still off to the side as she does her own thing, teaching.

I really was toying with the idea of when she should meet him, but Ben fresh out of Russia on the revenge train seemed like a great moment. They are going to talk more about this and he is going to try to explain why he walked away, but I also did the time jump because the little writer goblin in my head screamed "MORE ANGST" at the top of it's lungs. 😂

Ooh wow, what a lovely little tidbit of worldbuilding for the soulmate trope. So interesting. But it also gives her a firsthand window into who Ben is/was before she even meets him, which is good. He can't lie or make her believe he's someone he's not when she's literally seen it.

Exactly!! I wanted the reader to have a whole year after she met him "getting to know him" only through her dreams living in his memories. She has experienced his life. She has seen every single intimate detail that he has covered up. She has seen EVERYTHING. He can't cover up who he is, he can't hide behind the bravado and flirting, not when she knows exactly what he's done. This is also when the angst comes in lol. But also begs the question... what has Ben seen about her life? 🧐

Ahhhh yes, you know I love this career change for Ben lol. What an interesting change that Homelander is "in hiding" somewhere, and Stormfront has risen to the top...

I know lol, it's the only career change that I write for him in all my fics because I don't see him doing anything else? Maybe Ben being apart of the Seven? But Ben having a normal job, just doesn't fit. And to me, Ben doesn't seem to be the type of guy to sit around and just spend his money. He's loaded, but I think he's got that traditional American man spirit where he feels like he has to work and provide for someone else.

And yes, something happened to Homelander that will come to light. Stormfront is about to come back into play BIG TIME. Given her *ahem* personal history with Ben... it felt right for this AU.

I have never read your Soulmate AU for Dean, but I am going to add it to my tbr! And I'm so glad you listened to the song! It's one of my favorites, and I really love how you always include a song at the beginning of your fics so I thought I'd give it a shot. Thank you for the inspiration ❤️

There is still some room on the taglist and I will add you! I can't wait to hear what you think of the next chapter and thank you so much for your wonderful comments my friend!🥰

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[danddymaro]

Strum Along | Revenant x fem reader

Reader is a bit of  a masochist /// you’ll see.

Warning if you don’t like choking than just skip this one { It’s basically the whole plot, which if I'm being honest I got from a meme lmfao)

The meme basically goes , “   I'm scared of fighting, because what if they choke me and I cum instead.    ”

Really, Really Crackish type because it’s rather silly, esp how it came to be.

I use some of his quotes in this// 

Don’t know if some of yall don’t keep up with the in story lore, but you should if not ! fanfic is cool, but  Apex has nice stories.  Angela Fazia is a minor character, not a made up one lol.

First POV to Third POV  switching

- This might have a follow up, headcannon type just cause i have an idea of some.

Word count: 5353

Strum Along

Seldom were there moments where Revenant felt...concerned.

No, Perturbed was the word that defined it better. 

He did the scaring off, not the other way around, and anything that had him on the other end was just...inconceivable.

- Truly unexpected.

And after it all went down, he mused that perhaps it was his own fault, because maybe if he hadn't specifically targeted you, he would have saved himself from the rediscovered embarrassment that had found home in him and now had judgment upon his every move.

ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ

- (F/n) was only a small fry to him.

 Truly, She was no one.

She was just  a new competitor that had somehow scraped her way up to victory, allowing her in the same competition as the legends after a handful of losses under her belt, all outweighed by one, glorious one that kept trending in the media and spreading like wildfire. 

Images of her played on the feed, shared by thousands of fans that certainly held interest for the newcomer, as well as expectations.

As he watched her little interviews and interactions during her public welcome, Revenant scoffed, quickly understanding the new legend already, soon becoming familiar with the newest competitor by simply observing.

And that scoff quickly turned into a devilish laugh that filled his quarters.

Because (f/n) was absolutely Beloved by the crowd, and just about everything about her was awfully noble, holding a certain touch that was rather irksome to him.

‘Aren’t you...sweet?’ he thought to himself with sarcasm dripping from his words like venom from a viper’s fangs.

Everyone was cheering her on.

- so, he thought ;

  who better to ring by the neck?

Who better to target than the starry-eyed new competitor that had all the hope in the world sparkling in their eyes, and who had so many dreams and aspirations that it was enough to have crowds fall in love with them for that one, simple feat.

  What would be better than to destroy her, over and over, repeatedly until she was left devoid of what had made everyone love her?

Clearly, she was someone that had yet to be utterly crushed and conquered, and he'd figure he'd do it as a courtesy, 

‘ Considerer it something of a welcome,’ he mused darkly.

After all, it was a bloodsport wasn’t it?

- Might as well get used to it dear (f/n). 

"I plan on getting under your skin, " he voiced out lowly with promise, the moving image of (f/n) that was before him, a sight that was somewhat enticing as it had him coming near the screen, the idle movement of his hand finding purpose as it ghosted over the familiar face.

- So benevolent it was like she’d been saturated in sugar.

he’d stared for what felt like hours, time not holding any significance when he went through such trances.

At the moment he recognized the faint tremors and fails in her voice that occurred every now and then, the bubbling joy she felt nearly bursting through the interview with the chocolate haired journalist he knew well.

He remembered her terrorized expression as Forge’s blood splattered over her face, strings of scarlet painting her during the interview, a terror she more than likely had nightmares of.

A passing thought had Revenant amused as he thought of how she’d react to seeing him again, doing just the same with the precious girl she now seemed to fawn over.

- Would it be enough to drive her insane?

Perhaps, but he really didn’t care to bother, not when it would end things with (f/n) so soon.

“(f/n),” he then lowly uttered.

Silently, and with the same curious glance, he trailed a finger down (f/n)’s face, skimming down her cheek and wondering just how much he’d have to press down to get her to squeal.

- And much more, how much it’d take to draw blood.

“- You have to know you’re trending right now!” Angela informed the new legend, and that made your soft smile brighten, your eyes twinkling in a way that was just so damn....hopeful.

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” you responded back with a small chuckle, clearly nervous, something the interviewer caught onto and was taken in as humility that was welcome. 

“- What’s on your mind,” she pressed on, leaning in with interest while you  seemed quick to let your guard down at the question, because it’d been something you’d itched to say, but didn’t know when to mention. 

Now was a good time, right?

“ - Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all of the encouragement and kind press,” you then added, grateful for such a welcome. “Luckily all I've seen are good things, so I must be doing something right,” you said with amusement, the last bit mostly reserved for yourself, not knowing what you did to earn such a fanbase, but certainly appreciative.

“- I’m just happy to be here,” you added.

 “ That being said, if I'm being honest...the media attention is a little overwhelming,” you admitted.

You could hardly go anywhere without being approached.

The woman sitting across you nodded, understanding as she modestly crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair, her eyes wide with wonder,

“Are you really (stage name)?” she asked with amusement, because, to think the competitor that successfully wiped out entire teams and had, had such a buzz for the last bloodbath was so...nice.

not only that, she wouldn’t have expected it from your appearance and overall serious demeanor you initially presented while in the games.

“ I will confess, and I’m sure I'm not the only one, but I expected you to be … a little different,” the primly dressed female admitted.

 That seemed to hit a funny mark in you as you laughed, mostly because you always did have the feeling that somehow you became someone else when you were out there, that, and that there was much more to you than just the surface.

It also wasn’t the first time you’d been told something similar.

‘-I’m not such a bitch!’ You inwardly mused, knowing that’s what she meant. 

‘My face doesn’t quite fit my personality,’  you then thought with amusement.

“- The one and only,” you said with assurance, “ And you’ll get to know more of me soon, because I'm not going anywhere,” you added with a sudden bravado  that made the woman across you enthusiastic and certainly surprised.

“- We’re all counting on it,” The reporter for the Outlands Journal  encouraged, and if the simulacrum could guess she was defiantly a fan of the newcomer. If he could take a wild guess it’d be that she was also amongst (f/n)’s loving crowd.

“So tell me,” Angela then started, “ - the other Legends,” she then said with a pause of suspense as she crossed her hands before her, her index fingers straight as they pressed to her own lips and narrowed her eyes at (f/n).

“-Your thoughts,” she went on, and the question piqued more interest within the simulacrum.

“- Oh! well, I've met octane before,” (f/n) then piped up, “And he’s a total sweetheart!” she then added, seeming enamored by the encounter, “ we even took a selfie together,” she mused. 

“I honestly can’t wait to see him again, though, I don’t think he even remembers me,” she added, not at all seeming troubled by the fact. 

.

.

.

“So is he your favorite Legend?” (f/n) was asked, and the question had her laughing. 

“ He’s great, and fun to watch too, but no,” She said truthfully. 

“Oh? then who’s your favorite legend?” Angela asked, and (f/n) shook her head, clearly embarrassed, “ Oh no! I can’t,” she giggled, and Rev watched with genuine curiosity, wanting to know.

“Oh I see,” Angela said coyly as she waved her hand playfully, and it only made (f/n) behave even more...cutely.

After even more amusement between them and more idle talk, the brown haired woman then pressed a sole index finger to her lips as a sign of secrecy, smiling beneath the press, “Ok, Ok, we’ll move on,” she assured (f/n), and from there the interview became much more tame. 

“- I can’t wait to meet everyone though,” the (h/c) haired young woman said with anticipation, and the simulacrum’s eyes glowed more.

.

.

.

.

“Don’t worry, We’ll get to know each other, real soon...real close and personal,” he said to himself, all as he tracked her down, watching her every move from the shadows, never too far from her because he had to make sure that no one else took what he’d claimed.

- A new toy, so breakable and untouched by his claws, unscathed by any other.

  What more could he ask for?

.

.

.

.

Every now and then he saw you stop, your eyes skimming over the area, and you looked so much like a frightened mouse that he couldn't wait to pounce on you just to see what true fear would do that little, worried face.

- You could feel it, and he knew it.

In the midst of what was supposed to be calm, you could feel it in the background, that feeling of being watched and hunted.

he knew it, and he let that feeling of impending doom slowly consume you before he decided it was time to give you some answers to the dark unknown you threaded upon.

ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ

Hastily, you closed the door behind you , your (e/c) colored eyes keeping a focus on the outside through the door's partial glass making, in your mind making certain you weren’t being trailed by the third party that had interrupted your last confrontation.

frustration showed on your face as you stood in a readied stance, and you made no attempt to hide it, instead, too concerned over what was trailing you.

"Something is out there..." you whispered to yourself as the hairs on the back of your neck stood straight, the foreboding feeling that twisted your insides not leaving as you took a chance to reload your gun.

- It was strange, something you’d never felt before to such a degree slowly consuming you until it promptly overwhelmed your earlier determination, threatening to crush it completely.

"Someone’s been following me," you added with a sour tone while holstering the weapon, before having a shield battery in hand. 

"I just know it..." you breathed, and that sweet sound of fear in your tone that you couldn’t swallow down and hide gave him a sense of purpose.

- It let him know that you were  just perfect for him.

"since the beginning," you went on, sounding as though you finally accepted it as truth.

 By then you’d grown certain, no longer clouded by denial.

- no longer high on the earlier tenacity that had you believing that somehow, you were untouchable, and that any wall that formed before you was breakable to your will.

.

.

.

Silence should fill you with comfort, but instead, it fueled your dread, and you tensed.

"- You ever get the feeling you're not alone in the room?"  then said another voice, confirming your suspicions. 

And it was then that your heart stopped.

Abruptly, it halted, and you felt yourself lose the ability to breathe for just that second as your eyes flew wide with surprise.

clinging to the ceiling, the red beast watched as you jumped, your wide, (e/c) colored eyes moving left and right as you notably fretted, drawing your weapon with haste, not even finishing charging your shields. 

To your grand misfortune you’d been only seconds away from a full heal, instead, deciding to confront the sudden ambush straight forth with all you had than be vulnerable for a second longer.

 In all of your panic you ran your eyes to what was before you, both left and right before you presented your back to the directions, instead, aiming your weapon at the door you’d just came through as though that was undoubtedly the spot the bogyman waited.

You didn't think to look up at the ceiling, which was an error on your part as you were left to the observance of the prowling mechanical beast who let not a second of your movements go unstudied and unrecorded.

You inched back slowly, each of your steps holding a hint of a tremor, and he made sure to keep the moment stored in his memory bank, reserved for his later enjoyment to it’s full capacity. 

- New prey always intrigued him, and this one had certainly caught his eye.

This one had him greedy.

" You hope you are," he proceeded idly as though he were talking about the weather, all as you continued to wallow in distress, still not knowing where he hid.

 "- But You're not." he then said definitely before he came down, dropping from the top and simultaneously swiping his left hand over your weapon where your grip faltered and you were left disarmed.

As a response you reached for your second weapon but were stopped by his own move which came much quicker.

His large hand caught you by the neck, his fingers pressed down as he picked you up and toward the building's interior wall where you'd run into to recover from your earlier skirmish.

- How ironic, to hope to find refuge in the place you'd soon be slaughtered.

‘How tragic,’ he thought to himself as you silently lamented and cursed at your own carelessness.

Here you were thinking you were safe, foolishly placing the paranoia you  felt as an aftermath of your last encounter. 

All in all, you’d realized it too late, and it was to his pleasure.

Your back was then pressed to the cold surface while your feet dangled off the ground quickly as he picked you up to his eye level and then above, exceeding his actual height as he stood straight at his horrifying tower of everyone else.

 Soon your (e/c) colored eyes met his, connecting as you looked down with a wet gaze, the glaze filled with spite.

- Towards him, and partially to your own stupidity.

You  should have known, you should have, but you hadn't figured that you'd be targeted by the simulacrum. 

You hadn’t even thought of him as you heard the voice speak, and you yet again cursed your own foolishness because if you would have thought of him, you would have considered looking up, knowing the way he moved and stalked.

- BUT 

It hadn't crossed your mind that you'd hold any significance to him. 

After all, you’d only ever interacted with him twice, two times that had been brief.

Two times that shouldn’t hold any significance.

Was it that you had greeted him?

‘ Was it that? ‘ you thought with concern, trying to understand as you squirmed.

- That you had foolishly waved to him before, just before the drop?

You were truly excited; hopeful, and perhaps everyone else could see it.

They could feel it as it radiated off of you, and no one had such a fixation on it as fiercely as the red-painted creature that stood across you, off on the other side of the ship, but with a clear view of you, the only place that could come close to giving him the same satisfaction as right near you and in invasion of your blissful unaware.

As your eyes traveled amongst the rest of the competitors you found yourself looking at one in particular who hadn't broken his focus, even as you discovered him.

Part of you wondered if he was really looking at you, or if he simply happened to look in your general direction, unable to help the sudden connection in between. 

Though you had a feeling of being watched, you couldn’t fathom as to why you’d be on his radar so it was all unclear.

was it just your imagination?

‘Maybe,’ you thought to yourself as, nonetheless, you decided to acknowledge him, just in case.

After all, you weren’t going to be rude.

Your smile was somewhat withheld, though, still holding some sort of welcome as you looked at him, the only legend that seemed to address your presence until then, even if it was in silence.

With the same uncertainty, you lifted your hand up, your five fingers in sight as you opened your palm and waved to him in a sheepish manner before stepping onto the lowering platform, soon leaving you out of sight of eachother.

- only for the time being.

He wondered what ran through your mind as you watched him, as you found him eyeing you.

No matter, 

'Don't worry little skinsuit,' he thought to himself as he glowered at you while you lowered, ready for a jump, not knowing what was to come.

' - You'll get to know me real soon...real close and personal. So no need to be shy.' he mused while standing still, only staring, glaring at you as you left his sight.

Could it be that you simply didn’t know danger?

Were you that  dim-witted? 

- That trusting?

He wondered.

    You thought of your freshest encounter before the attack, and then the one before it, wondering if that was when you’d done something to trigger him. 

Was it that you’d almost run into him way before that?

Was it that during then, you’d been too familiar with him? 

- That you’d chuckled at his response to your carelessness, which, had been a rather morbid line you actually found amusement in?

In your panic you could hardly remember a word other than ‘skinbag’, the term he’d addressed you with, and everyone else, for that matter.

To be fair you thought he was just being...funny. 

you’d assumed he was the dark and dry humor type of guy.

So, what was it? 

Should you not have smiled at him?

Was your mistake to even acknowledge him?

If so, You couldn't help it!

- It wasn’t like you could actually ignore him.

.

.

.

.

“Let me get a better look,” he murmured as he brought you down to eye level, bringing you just a bit closer to the ground, but not enough to have your feet anywhere near the surface.

"There...now You're all mine now," he said with a little chuckle proceeding his words while he executed a small tilt to his head, gleefully mocking you, living for the moment.

Surges of shockwaves traveled through his body and it left him with a nearly euphoric feeling that would certainly bring shivers of excitement to anyone else had they experienced such a sentiment.

Your skin was just as soft and delicate as he’d thought, and the bliss he felt at the proximity was just exhilarating as the warmth you emitted through your flesh was shared to him.

"hahaha...All alone..." he teased, his deep voice echoing in the room, the menacing sneer to it making you shiver in his hand's hold.

It felt like you had a blade traveling down your flesh, tickling you as a playful tease before there would be an inevitable tear through, and you were certain that was amongst the things that would await you if you continued to be at the bot’s mercy.

he made sure not to crush your windpipe just yet, instead, relishing in the terror that he nested in you throughout the game and that would soon, most certainly overwhelm you.

" You're going to die all alone," he pressed on snidely, reminding you of how you’d been left solo on a team event, something that you had in mind throughout the entire time and thought of as a stroke of bad luck.

- Perhaps this was fate.

if it’d all been so well aligned.

You were destined to be at his mercy with no salvation.

"And I'm going to enjoy it," he told you while leering closer, his movements eerie even as the white plate of his cheek gently brushed over your jaw, barley skimming past it.

“every second of it,” he muttered as you looked at him with horror as you took in the words while sharpness meant soft.

No one would be around any time soon, and he gloated in the reality of it while you thought of all the ways you’ve seen him kill.

-And how soon, you’d be on that list.

"Mmm... that smell of yours... “ he then said.

‘Of fear...you reek of it,’ he thought to himself, pleased.

 “It sure is sweet,” he added as somewhere within your fragrance it lingered, making you even more delectable to the red beast.

 “Hmm...Just know that I'm not gonna make it quick..." he then let you know .

It’d be a waste, and much more an insult to consider such a quick end for you with the anticipation he’d festered with, with all of the desire to have you in his hands infecting him.

" No...That would spoil all the fun, " He murmured with a hint of enthusiasm in his tone as he felt your little hands take hold of his wrist as you huffed out, your struggled breaths a sound that felt like music. 

His other hand found your face, his thumb pressing to one side of it as the others felt the softness of your other cheek, all as he released a chilling laugh.

- You were  truly his.

“P-Please...” You said with strain, and his eyes glowed a fierce color, ignited more by the sound.

“Yes...” he hissed, “That’s it...beg for me,” he urged you as your glazed eyes looked into his, finding him and keeping contact right in between half lidded, dark lashes that gently obscured the pretty orbs.

"R-Rev...” you begged, “ I..." you struggled as a soft glow of drool escaped in between your parted lips as you made an attempt to say his name a second time before your (e/c) colored eyes began to roll back.

“L-let go... Please..” you barley managed to say, hardly seeing through the narrow bit of clarity you had that was soon diminishing.

‘If you don’t let go....’ you thought with anguish, knowing what was to come.

His enjoyment deterred as he truly studied you and noted your rather odd behavior that continued as he restrained you.

And If he would have had an eyebrow, it would have risen with question.

He observed as your body heat rose in temperature, his  eyes scanning and capturing the warmth that arose, heavily targeted one specific area that became thickly slickened beneath the layers of clothing you wore, something that left you in an unbearable discomfort that made you wiggle even more.

Your dangling legs crossed, and he could see the straining way you squeezed them together as you then bit your lower lip, the air you struggled to take in through your nose enjoyed slowly, purposely taken in at a slow pace.

 ‘Fuck...fuck...fuck...’ you inwardly cursed, losing yourself.

“Ha...”you tried to say something, but stopped quickly, trying to swallow down thickly before releasing a faint hum, which in truth was a very muted moan.

Your eyebrows were knitted tight, and you made a feeble attempt to stay sane.

- to hold together craps of your dignity.

"Ha...Ha..." you huffed out needily as your hands held on tighter, right before you uttered a word that froze him, making his grip falter.

"Harder..." you breathed, and he made a choked sound, by then realizing what was happening, the fizzled static sound filling the room as he retracted his hand as though it burned.

"Filthy, little meat bag!" he snapped, chiding you and it actually rewarded him with a soft whine far too obscene to be that of a person in distress.

You weren’t begging him to let go. 

You weren’t suffering.

You fell to the ground in a heap, your legs trembling as they bent, picking up to your chest as you pressed them together in discomfort. 

It took you a moment to truly gather yourself, to come back down from the clouds and throughout the time he glared down at you.

The way you looked up at him was wide-eyed and definitely ashamed once you seemed to find some clarity as you settled down from the delirium the lack of oxygen had given you.

As you lay there, ashamed, he stared at you silently for just a few moments before he simply turned away, disturbed, not knowing how to handle how much his face burned.

His open palm attacked the door, the single jut breaking glass and forcing the entire door to fly open before he stalked out, utterly frustrated.

Was he blushing?

He couldn't possibly be reddening, but he certainly felt heat in his face...somehow.

His right hand fell over his face, covering the lower portion of it as he released a rather low sigh.

He couldn't think of anything without somehow circling back to you, and it’d completely thrown him off his game as he made an attempt to leave a trail of dead bodies with whoever crossed paths with him.

It had done little to sedate him, and it was all short lived.

He’d cut through three teams before he was ambushed by a final, and as he felt the ache of the final bullet of his eventual ambush, he wondered how you fared.

With dark amusement he mused over how if you’d lasted longer,  you were doing so with a hidden mess between your legs. 

- That was if the desperate, exited wiggled of your hips and twitches of your legs had anything to indicate.

Meanwhile, you couldn't help but fidget  beneath the attention you got as you were put in the spotlight  when the match was left to one sole contender ; 

you. 

- Champion.

‘Champion,’ you thought to yourself with surprise, the word uttered dryly within your thoughts.

Somehow, you'd made it to champion. 

It should be a moment of celebration, of happiness, and yet, all you could think of was the beast that had attacked you.

His stunning face so inhumanly human, yet... pretty.

He was beautiful, so stunning.

He was painted red, a color he let trail behind him as his claws extended, finding flesh.

You thought of the creature towering over you in such a way that made you feel so terribly small and feeble.

- Much more, powerless as you remembered how only a fraction of his grip felt.

 And he had that voice, that deep, sinister speak that made your knees wobble until they bent and gave out.

That wasn't the reaction you should have had.

That wasn't the one you should have...but your fuzzy mind and heated body had taken the reigns.

Was it strange to be attracted to Revenant?

You wondered with concern, though lighthearted because the attraction you had could have been forgiven if it hadn’t manifested the way it did.

The better question was,

Should you apologize for what happened? 

' Sorry for getting horny while you choked me. It’s something I like.

Shh....It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone.

- By the way, could you do it again?' 

The afterthought being one you grimaced at because not even in theory could you  somehow act decent.

you felt bad, but then again, 

‘Two wrongs don’t make a right,’ you started, ‘But… he was the one that decided to put his hands on me,’ you thought while trying to somehow justify yourself. 

‘I never touched him...I begged him to stop...I think.’

It wasn’t like you’d planned for it to happen, and you briefly wondered if it was just the fact that you liked the squeeze, or that you liked him. 

- or was it both?

You were wrong, yeah. 

But it wasn’t like he was a saint either.

- Again, he’d gone after you first. 

‘It's bad...but I've had awful dreams about you,’ you then added, mortified with how lewdly you thought of him. 

Days after, and then later weeks, you had managed to somehow avoid him, all with the misfortune of yearning for him more, so much so that your eyes had a mind of their own, somehow always finding him.

They gravitated to him even when you’d purposely stayed out of his way, putting distance in between.

Could he read minds? you hoped not.

Because your thoughts held little sweetness, instead suffocating desire.

‘They’re all filthy, degenerate... and obscene,’ you inwardly whined as the thoughts had you shaken with excitement, wanting them all to come true, against all logic, against all sanity.

You nearly salivated and to save yourself from further corruption of the lingering thoughts, you wrung your hands together, nervous, not knowing how you would ever come to face the simulacrum.

- To think you’d scared him off.

.

.

.

Time flew by and before you knew it, you were back on the ship for another match, and as your partner was displayed before you, you felt your stomach drop, sinking low, as, admittedly a small tingle tickled you too.

The bot stood from his seated position, towering over everyone else, moving with his eyes aimed to his little partner who’d silently stepped onto your designated spot, having been the closest to it.

“Look at that... you and me again, alone,” he voiced out, his tone rather snide as he stepped onto the platform, just as it was beginning to lower.

Your eyes were averted, staying away even as he went next to you , and you struggled to stand right, the little wobble in your legs not going unnoticed by your ever so observant partner, especially as he loomed over you.

 Your chin was pointed away from him, but not for long as one of his hands took hold of the lower portion of your face, forcing you to look back at him with little effort.

“What’s got you shaking girlie?” he started, his face only inches from yours , the bot  not having any consideration for your personal space, “ You afraid of me?” he questioned you , and you didn’t know what to answer with.

Yes.

- you were, that was true.

but also, shamefully drawn.

You didn’t want him to kill you, but you did want to get fucked by him.

And there was what happened last time, it was still in your head, it being a memory so cringe-worthy you almost blocked if off as a sort of trauma.

“-Or you excited?” he teased and it earned him a soft gasp from you, not expecting that, not knowing if you should answer. 

Perhaps you’d gotten the best out of him before, with the way he cowered away he could not say otherwise. 

To be fair, you’d surprised him, and had awoken something else within him, something he had trouble accepting when it had been rekindled after so long, and much more so unexpectantly.

-  It was only further proof that while he was now in his current, wretched body, he’d once been a skinsuit.

All in all, even if his body wasn’t the same, it still responded in the same moronic way.

It was a curse, one that he was forced to live with.

You stayed silent, but the heat that rested over his palm was just enough to amuse him and make him feel a little tingle of something delicious.

The feel of your skin was certainly missed throughout the time since your last encounter, as well as that smell so sweet it had him hungry for just a bite of you.

If he had teeth, he’d sink them into you, and he considered a few modifications, just enough to fully enjoy his pretty prey.

He then moved, rounding you before standing behind you, all while his gripping hand stayed in place.

His other arm snaked over your midsection, sitting right across your abdomen, his hand stopping right over your ribs, the little bones in crushing range.

Purposely, he pressed his sharpened ends down to you, lightly gripping your body as he loomed from behind, your smaller body fitting perfectly to his. 

“Hey Partner..,” he said in an awfully sickeningly, pretended sweetness, all while craning your neck as he wanted, forcing you to look down to a rather empty location, one that was skipped over by the other teams. 

“We should land there,” he suggested, and you could hear the smile that existed within his words.

‘There’s nothing there...’ you said to yourself, looking at the lonesome building, your eyes drawn to it with a heavy crease to your brows preformed.

Another thought crossed your mind, and it was that he was certainly trying to get you alone.

He wasn’t one to skip out on first blood, and you fretted over what seemed obvious.

- For whatever reason he wanted you just to himself.

“Why...” you breathed before finding the courage to say more, “Why not somewhere else?” you asked him, bringing your eyes up, but still being unable to see him with how they were posed.

“What?” he sounded, "Don’t want to be alone with me?” he questioned you with a touch of insult present.

“Don’t trust me girlie?” he questioned you as though you had no reason to do so, and you didn’t respond.

“-Hmm...tell me ;  you Afraid of what I'll do to you?” he then asked, and you denied it with a soft ‘ no.’

“N-No,” you admitted, though sounding hesitant in your answer, especially as his hand slid down, gripping you right beneath your jaw and inclining your head back to get you to look at him instead.

Afterward, his hand slowly eased off a little bit while his fingers tenderly strummed down to the base of your neck, the pads pressing down gently, no malice intended, or so it seemed.

Glowing eyes stared down at your own, the short gaze leaving as did his grip, an act that left you with a complaint locked in your chest because you wanted it back.

Against all logic you wanted him back.

“Hmm...Shame,” he grunted, retreating, recognizing a soft whine from you as his arm that rested across your abdomen slid down, his hand grazing you teasingly before it slid off completely.

He could hear your breath hitch before it struggled to find calm, all as he drew farther.

He didn’t argue with you and then left  altogether, the warmth that had melted you both gone within a matter of seconds.

 “I’m going over there,” he informed you, still insistent on his earlier spot, not asking for where you’d go, not giving you any other chance to argue afterward.

“Follow me if you want,” he added dismissively before he launched solo, and sure enough you followed, just as he’d expected, right into his hand.

“Wait for me,” you added, trailing behind him, and even through the comms he could hear the desperation in your voice as you dove right behind him.

- Predictable.

predictable, yet pleasing.

‘There’s plenty of ways to break you,’ he mused, thinking back to how easily you’d subdued to him before, and how quickly you caved at his demand. 

‘And when I'm through with you, you’ll beg me to keep ruining you...’ he thought with the utmost certainty, as well as an overwhelming desire to see it through.

“I’ll follow!” you said hastily, and he merely grunted back, soon landing.

‘Go on... Keep following me,’ he thought to himself, watching as you found ground too, seeing you out of the corner of his eye and noticing the way you seemed to contemplate something. 

 you thought of something, something that had you bite your lower lip, and he chuckled lowly, wondering what it was that you had in mind. 

What did you expect? 

What did you want?

- Maybe he’d be merciful.

If you begged some more, if you knelt to him, and looked at him again in that same ‘Fuck me,’ way, maybe he’ll be kind.

‘Sweet little thing, so easily coerced, and so mindlessly scattered with the right one,’ he mused.

‘Giving in so easily to the devil....clouded by desire...knowing better, but too greedy.’

you approached the building, your hand already on the door before you were stopped by his hand as it gripped your shoulder. 

 With that little tremor in your body that he forced, you looked up at him, 

“Rev?” you breathed with question, your voice soft, a tantalizing way of speaking that had him delighted, starving for more reactions.

Slowly, his hand moved to the nape of your neck, taking hold of it as he pulled you back to him where his chin dipped right between your shoulder and neck, 

“We should stick together,” he advised, his voice low, and somehow sultry.

 “What do you say....partner?” he asked you , and you softly smiled in a bashful way that he mused over.

- How cute.

 You nodded in agreement as his other hand went to your face, his thumb brushing your lips, the thicker flesh a draw his eyes drew to. At the contact  the smallest sound  akin to a little moan left you, and in the pit of his stomach there was a little flutter.

“Good girl,” he praised nearly purring, and you practically glowed with appreciation at such a praise.

‘Do you want more...?’ he wondered. ‘What would you do for more of my approval?’ he went on, the many things he wanted to do to you left on a to-do list.

 ‘ Good girl...Into the shadows...away from all light....away from all hope.

Fall into death’s grip and savor it.’

Lol in a separate post I'll add some of the ways he tries to fuck with the reader because  I see him TEASING the absolute fuck out of her.