#I was completely robbed of what could’ve been

[destiny-in-the-universe]

RC9GN: Thoughts Post-S2 Finale

this show had no right- a cliffhanger?

I have so Many Thoughts on the would’ve-been season three and the other stuff that might have come to be (keeping my paws crossed on the idea of it coming back-)

Now, here’s another set of rambles;

It took me way too long to realize about “the cowboy” in the series- before realizing his importance, I honestly thought he was sort of like, a nudge to the creator? But no, oh my god. I’m genuinely curious on the recurring characters that are meant to be immortal, because there’s also Plop Plop, but specifically about “the Creep” - he’s a messenger, and he clearly knows more than he let’s on. We know he doesn’t really pick the next Ninja, but I feel that he also knows- somehow- who might be a good fit. Randy wasn’t chosen just because

(The outlier is Mac Antfee which… doesn’t make sense to me-? But then again it’s a cartoon- it doesn’t always need to make sense)

Another thing! I seriously wanted a bigger battle between Ghoulian/Evil Julian, the Sorcerer, and Randy- like hello? Also, just- Randy’s such a dumb kid, but to be fair, he’s also fourteen. I kind of learned to read between the lines of what the Nomicon means, though not all of it is that obscure. Randy’s just a little bit dumb /lh (although we all know that boy has ADHD-)

Anyway, back to the battle- I know it’s just a cartoon but honestly, Randy tag-teaming Evil Julian with the Sorcerer was such chef’s kiss, and holy- instead of just returning the Sorcerer into his prison, like I genuinely would’ve loved to see Randy uncovering a new power and the battle lasting longer; getting more and more intense, lowkey Randy getting cornered and then a final defeat- I know this doesn’t make sense now oof but still! I wanted more

I seriously really thought that Julian might’ve been clued in on Randy’s identity as the Ninja but ig I was wrong-

Okay, this- this is actually something I wanted to comment on;

After learning about Secrets of the 9, there’s not just one but nine other realms out there- and I don’t know about you,, but getting a chance to explore what they could’ve been would be amazing.

It’s also interesting to note that, well, we have the Norisu 9 and we don’t really know a lot about them- I’d seriously love for there to be a connection back? Nine seems to be a recurring theme, and I’m sure the logo/symbolism on Randy’s shirt also has its part to play, but anyway- this is mostly my self indulgent thoughts-

(For starters, the nine realms being trials that get harder and harder for the Ninja- like, that would be so interesting and fun and cool to mess around with; like, we have the Land of Shadows - which still has the Sorceress? Could she possibly come back? - but then we could have like, Land of the Embers, or something connected to fire- again, don’t pay me too much mind right now but still, I-

The other thing is the following: hear me out. What if the rest of the Norisu 9 are in the other realms? They’re somehow going to be influencing Randy, because I’m pretty sure he’s got to be connected to them somehow- I’ll cover this better later)

I know there’s not really much of an identity reveal with Randy, nor is it as important as it would’ve been with say, Danny Phantom- but if like, Julian or Theresa knew or somehow Debbie remembered, I think it could add a whole lot more drama. A lot more that I think could be a moving part of the show- and the other thing!

McFist and Viceroy. What’s going to become of them now that the Sorcerer has been defeated? I’d honestly still love for them to be reoccurring characters- not exactly as much foils to the Ninja anymore, but let them be kind of… allies? Or at the very least, I want someone to make the connection that the Ninja’s not literally 800 years old, that they’ve been fighting a literal high school freshman

Honestly maybe it’s just me being self indulgent with the idea of Viceroy adopting and/or lessening full on destruction of the Ninja because again, Randy’s fourteen. (He’s a literal teenager tasked with protecting a whole city from forces of evil that technically exist in another plane of existence- that’s so much for him to bear)

I want Randy to kind of reach breaking point and convince himself he’s not fit to be the Ninja, that he’s got to face off a monster or something that is too strong at first- but please, give me more scenes between the First Ninja and Randy. Giving them parallels would be so, so interesting- and maybe I just want more connections between the pair. Either the First Ninja sees himself in Randy, or- Randy’s a descendant of the Norisu 9

(The same way I’m fully convinced that Howard is a descendant of Plop Plop)

Okay, but also- I want more lore on the Norisu 9? Like, you’ve got this group of ninjas that were meant to take on the Sorcerer, and then slowly got picked off until one of them remained- who exactly were they? They definitely were a clan, and the First Ninja specifically mentions “the ultimate sacrifice” which means there was a major battle and somehow he survived- I’m going to traumatize him so much if I’m going to explore this; and also would there be creatures that are part of Japanese mythology? I honestly want to connect this idea back to the Kitsune OC I made for a previous prompt. I could use this to delve more into the relationship between “Finja” and the Kitsune- and if they knew each other in the early days

Additional Under-the-Cut Information

~ nine realms: different trials and new monsters/villains that the Ninja has to face; more specifically Randy since I imagine the other Ninjas didn’t directly have to face the Sorcerer

(possible connections to the Norisu 9, I like to think that there’s a curse but we’re getting off topic here- this is a story for another time)

~ the history behind why McFist seems to have it out for the Ninja- other than you know, being promised a superpower by the Sorcerer- based on creator details, McFist and Mac Antfee could’ve been friends?

~ other people getting possibly involved with the Ninja- leaning to it being Theresa or Julian, but Debbie remembering and/or figuring it out again could also be fun (provided she doesn’t go blabbing again-); I like to think each of them has specific qualities that would add depth to Randy- you know, if the show bothered to give him development (like Fowlham was supposed to be endgame- and Julian knows a lot more now, hello?)

~ if the Sorceress comes back- Randy and her would have to face off again, and I’m weirdly eager about that-

~ I’m going to stop here- for now. I think I might honestly write a fanfic for this? I’d draw it but since I can’t, well- this is the next best thing

- Mod Danny

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut (like very explicit), minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you and joel continue to see one another, no matter the distance. And finally, you two breach the subject of "what are we".

warnings: joel is still bi in this, minor angst in the beginning, live stream sex, piv, messy titjob, dirty talk, possesive!joel, squirting, a hint of jealous joel, good girl/sir, praise kink

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @trauma-dol 💜 thank you so much for commissioning me, I appreciate it lots!

part two of ravish

There are a lot of things you don’t like. The smell of roasted chickpeas, for instance. While others might find it inviting, it's just an odd scent that doesn't sit right with you. Then there's that annoying feeling of needing to pee right after you've gotten all cozy in bed. The list just goes on. You can think of a million things that annoy the heck out of you. 

However, waiting for someone that you’ve been eager to see for months to arrive at your doorstep might be the thing you hate the most. 

Worry bubbles up within you, and you can't help but sigh as you reach for the phone. Joel was supposed to arrive a good thirty minutes ago. 

Excited to see him, you had spent time chopping up an assortment of fresh vegetables – plump tomatoes, vibrant bell peppers sliced into perfect rings, and red onions thinly shaved and ready to caramelize into sweet perfection.

Besides the cutting board, a bowl of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese sits in fluffy mounds, ready to meld and melt into gooey goodness. Fragrant basil leaves are waiting to be scattered over the final creation. The pizza dough had been carefully prepped and now resting. 

But alas, there’s still no sign of him. 

“Dammit Joel, where are you?” 

You knew you should’ve just picked him up from the airport. You should’ve just ignored his protests and gone. New York is a big city; he could’ve gotten himself lost. Or worse, someone might’ve tried to kidnap him, rob him—sure, he’s a big man, but this is New York City.

It had been a hectic month. After you moved back from your family home, the issue of whether or not the relationship should continue had been a hot topic of sorts. For a while, you both decided to embrace the idea of "not putting a label" and simply being together during your visits. However, that proved to be too complicated. Losing yourselves in each other during every visit didn’t really allow for anyone else to come in between.

Not that you were complaining. You really liked Joel and didn’t really have any desire to date anyone else. Joel had enamored you completely. It was hard to keep it casual when all you wanted was him. But clearly, Joel didn’t want anything serious. He was content with how things were. 

The thought made your heart sink painfully in your chest. 

You tried to visit each other once a month, although most of the time it ended up being once every two months. He still joined your live streams. And when your viewers realized you were more than happy to indulge in JMiller’s requests, they started to get suspicious, commenting and teasing relentlessly. That meant you had to ignore him for a bit, which you hated doing. 

You did enjoy the punishments that followed though. 

A sudden buzz pulls you away from memory lane. Looking down you see a text from Joel, prompting your smile. 

Almost there, honey. You weren’t kidding about the traffic. 

“Dork,” you grin. Your head falls back against the back of the couch. You’ve missed him and now that he’ll be here soon makes you all giddy. Dormant butterflies erupt in your chest. Just the thought of him is enough to excite you. For an entire week, Joel Miller is yours. You had planned out everything. Not a minute will be wasted. Not on your watch. 

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You practically jump off the couch and run toward the sound. When you open it, you’re breathless, the tiny hairs at the back of your neck standing with attention. 

It’s him. 

He’s here. 

His eyes are tired, the crinkles you love to kiss deepening with his wide smile, “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says. “Miss me?” 

You jump towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear the “oomf” that vibrates from his chest as you tug him impossibly close, forcing him to lean over you. Joel’s hands find the dip of your waist, squeezing tenderly, his nose bumps affectionally into the crook of your neck, and heat gathers under your skin. 

“God I missed you,” you say, voice trembling. Desperately you hold his face and bring him to your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the movement dripping with a need for authority and control. You happily give it to him, opening wide. He sucks the air from your lungs and swallows your moans. Slick gathers between your legs, the fabric of your underwear clinging to your cunt and asking for the stretch of his cock. 

Joel guides the roll of your hips, chuckling darkly into your mouth when you desperately rub yourself against the denim. A shudder rolls up your spine. His cock firming under his jeans, “Honey,” he rasps. “Maybe we should close the door first?” 

“Why?” you say with a hitch of your breath. You drag your lips down his neck, nip at his racing pulse. “I know the neighbor wouldn’t mind. He watches my streams.” 

You’d said it without a second thought, which might’ve been a mistake on your part. His muscles grow rigid under your palms, the heat melting quickly like ice under the hot summer sun. “Is everything okay?” you ask, cupping his cheeks and forcing his gaze up. 

His gaze stays on you only for a moment before he drops his eyes to your lips. Your brows furrow at the reaction. His eyes are clear like a sky before a storm. Obviously, he has the question he wants to ask already locked and loaded but refusing to pull the trigger. He lifts his hands, the width of them blanketing yours as he pulls them down. 

“Just tired,” he sighs. He’s saved by the loud grumble of his stomach, the tension breaking. “And hungry,” he adds with a crooked smile. You force a smile and ignore the trembling of your bottom lip. Joel’s tone might be playful but it does little in calming your nerves. Moving away, the chill you feel on your skin is instant. 

“I prepared most of the ingredients,” you say. “I thought pizza and wine?” 

“We’re in the birthplace of the dollar pizza and you made it homemade?” 

You giggle at how comically wide his eyes are. “Well forgive me for not wanting to feed you the cheapest thing available,” Joel’s lips touch your temple, warmth blossoming where his mouth brushes against. “And I thought it would be fun.” 

“It will,” he murmurs. “I’m not used to bein’ pampered I guess. Only Sarah cares about what goes down my gullet.” 

“Hmm I don’t recall saying it was due to the consideration of your health,” you tease, fingers tiptoeing from his arm to his shoulder. He shivers at the touch. “Maybe, I just want to see what these strong hands can do with some dough.” 

His mere grin manages to send ripples of pleasure down your spine. Something dark and wicked crosses his face and you let out a shaky sigh. “Brat,” he teases. 

With a cat-like grin of your own, you close the door. 

Joel stands before the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead light accentuating the contours of his figure. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms that glisten with a slight sheen of flour. The muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin ripple as he reaches for the dough, his biceps forming a subtle bulge with each purposeful movement.

With a focused expression, he takes the smooth, slightly elastic dough in his hands. The material yields to his touch, supple yet resilient. As his strong fingers sink into the dough's yielding embrace, you can't help but admire the way he handles it. His touch is both firm and gentle, his hands a testament to years of construction work that have endowed him with strength and dexterity.

The dough stretches and folds, responding to his guidance with grace. His hands move with an almost mesmerizing rhythm, kneading and pressing, coaxing the dough into a state of perfection. The occasional wisp of flour dances in the air as he works.

You watch, entranced, as Joel's fingers work their magic. The concentration etched on his face, the way his lips quirk up in a faint smile as he loses himself while doing so makes your heart race.

As he works, you find your own fingers involuntarily tracing the outline of your wine glass.

"Enjoyin' the view, honey?" Joel's voice rumbles, breaking through the silence. You quickly set the wine glass down and begin to babble something in response, your words stumbling over each other. But before you can complete your sentence, Joel grips your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your back is flush against his solid chest.

His scent of pine and undeniable masculinity, surrounds you, intoxicating your senses as effectively as the wine you had been sipping. The shift in the atmosphere is palpable, charged with an electricity that sends shivers down your spine.

Joel's hands find yours, and he guides them to rest above the dough, his touch sending a jolt of awareness through you. “I’m the guest why the hell am I doin’ all the work?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his calloused skin brushing against your more delicate touch. Your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his kneading.

Kneading the dough together, you feel a growing pressure against your lower back. It takes a moment for you to realize – his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against you. The realization sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hand drops to your waist, guiding the grind of your hips. You feel him as the dress you’re wearing dips between your asscheeks, clothed cock parting the two gently. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, the tremble of it felt against your back. Your focus has shifted. The dough forgotten entirely. 

“You’re makin’ cookin’ really hard, sweetheart.” 

You manage a breathless chuckle, "Oh, and whose fault might that be, Mr. Master Dough Kneader?"

He snarls into your ear, hot breath causing goosebumps. “You really are bein’ a brat today. Is there a special occasion for that?” 

Honestly, being a brat really wasn’t your objective. It just. . . sorta came out. You reveled when Joel took control, be it face-to-face or during streams. There’s always something primal lingering under his touches, his words. You roll your hips, cutting his breath short, you feel the length of him being dragged down between the plump flesh of your ass. 

“I just want to make you happy,” you say surprisingly soft. When you attempt to rub against him once more, he stops you, both hands now on your waist, squeezing you in warning. 

“You do make me happy,” he breathes out. His voice is deep, slivering down your back. Heat pools between your legs and you lean into his warmth. “Why would you say that?” 

“Forget it,” You hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Worry begins to inflate your chest, heat rising to the tips of your ears and making you short of sight. You attempt to reach for the tomato sauce, making sure to drag the plumpness of your behind against the heft of his cock in order to eradicate the moment. You don’t want him to think too much about it. Or decide that what you have—whatever it is—isn’t worth it. 

The pads of your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the bowl but you can’t reach it. Not quite. Joel turns you over, hands between your waist and the sharp edge of the counter. Frustrated, you fill your cheeks with air and shoot him a glare. “Seriously, it’s nothing, Joel.” 

“No it ain’t,” he snaps silently. “Why would you stress about makin’ me happy?” 

He scoffs at your silence, “What? You think I’m just passin’ the time by comin’ here? That if it’s not worth my time I’ll just leave?” he asks, baffled. Your gaze drops to the granite floor, bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Joel’s eyes go wide, bushy eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Wait you actually think that?” 

You remain silent. 

“Sweetheart. . .” he shakes his head and pinches your chin, pulling your gaze back up. He looks concerned. Remorseful. You try not to think about your pulse skyrocketing under your skin, try to ignore the skip of your heart. “You really think I’m that shallow?” 

“No,” you answer suddenly, the need to defend him to himself burrowing in your chest. “It’s not that. I just. . . I don’t know. I’m confused I guess.” 

“‘bout what?” 

His thumb draws slow circles on your cheek, you close your eyes, heart and chest suddenly light as air. You could float if you had the capability. You nuzzle his hand like a hurt animal, begging for more of his touch. 

“I really really like you, you know.” 

“I really like you too, honey,” you ignore the way his words and smile make your skin prickle with delight. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” 

You sigh, you’re stuck between the constant worry and the comfort he’s providing. Despite being known as a chatterbox, you’re having trouble finding the words. 

“I know that me streaming isn’t. . . conventional but I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t even do private streams anymore,” your eyes flit between his eyes, trying to get a read of whiskey-colored eyes. Fear coats your tongue upon noticing his lips are a thin line—definitely not a good sign. “And well. . . I don’t plan on seeing anyone else either because. . .” 

You melt in relief when his lips finally crack into a small smile, “Because you really really like me?” 

“Precisely,” you say a bit loud and excited. “And of course, I don’t want you to feel pressure but. . . are you seeing anyone?” you clear your throat. “B—Besides me, that is.” 

“Well. .  . sometimes I watch CammingBravo when he’s streamin’.” 

“Joel!” you huff out a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Adoration dots over his face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile. You love it when he teases you. Love it even more when he just stares at you with blatant amusement. The expression doesn’t linger long though. Like a small flame under rain, it sizzles out, his demeanor changing suddenly. 

His brows furrow, a crease you so desperately want to kiss away forming between them. Joel’s jaw ticks, the muscle above it twitching. He inches closer until your foreheads are pressed together, snug. Your heart is beating with rapid thumps, your breath caught in your throat.  

“I’m not seein’ anyone else either,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not planin’ on seein’ anyone else either.” 

“R-Really?” 

He nods, “I want you, sweetheart. Completely. I don’t care what you do on your streams as long as you’re mine when the camera shuts off.” 

Your smile is instantaneous. It’s not like you planned on streaming for the rest of your life, arrangements could be made to make him more comfortable. And you had stopped collabing with Dieter ever since Joel came into the picture—though, now that you knew Joel watched the fallen-from-grace actor’s streams. . . you were getting ideas. 

Joel nudges you with the tip of his nose, smiling, yet still hesitant, “Say somethin’ will you?” 

“So, we both want to be exclusive?” you grin. “That’s what you’re saying?” 

“Reckon, I am,” he answers with a snort. He parts his lips to say more but you beat him to it, covering his mouth with your own. The kiss is long and sweet. It feels like a first kiss in a way, even though you have kissed Joel many many times before.

“Come on now, let’s get these ready and pop them into the oven,” his grin is wide as he pinches your ass, you jump with a yelp and he laughs. When you fix him a half-hearted glare, he only winks. The simple action makes your insides clench. “I’m starvin’.” 

The next day, you take Joel to your favorite coffee shop. They make the best bagel sandwiches and you’re eager for him to try them out. He gets the classic bacon, egg, and cheese, and you order the avocado BLT. You offer to pay, but Joel being Joel, he quickly distracts you by dragging his lips from your temple to your cheek, swiftly taking out his wallet.

You give him a look of pure betrayal. If you were wearing pearls, you’d be clutching them by now. “Joel Miller,” you say, aghast. “How dare you use your charm for evil?” 

His laughter fills the air as he hands his credit card to the barista, his broad chest rising and falling with each boisterous sound. Your lips twitch into a smile as he cups your waist, pulling you close. His lips touch your ear and heat warms your cheeks. “Sorry, honey. I can’t always use my powers for good.” 

All you can manage is a short nod. Your senses narrow on the way his breath ghosts your skin, warm and soft like a summer breeze. For a second you forget about the bagels and the coffee shop, all you can think of is him; his body, his voice, his scent—arousal pulses between your legs. If you were positive the two of you wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, you’d let him take you against this very counter for everyone to see. 

“Come on now,” he teases, reading your expression easily. “I got the goods, let’s find ourselves a good table.” 

Alas, he really was holding a tray in his hands. You have no idea when the barista finished making your order. Either you’d been fantasizing for too long or you had one hell of a barista. 

The two of you stand awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop and look around. You notice a couple of people staring you down, their gazes fixed on you, some of them even being bold enough to do the old-fashioned up-and-down. You quickly divert your gaze and point toward a table right next to the large windows. Frankly, you’re used to the staring. They rarely came up to you since no one wanted to be the one known for enjoying porn. Especially in public. Most of the time they’re harmless. 

Walking towards your table, you cheat a glance at Joel. If he did notice the looks, he didn't say anything. He made no indication of discomfort or anything of the sort. Relief sprinkles over you, maybe the looks weren’t as obvious as you initially had thought. 

Joel took a seat and you sat across from him, he shot you a look before reaching for his black coffee, “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Just as he opens his mouth, you notice someone approaching in your peripheral. You hold your breath, eyes dropping to the bagels. The person, whoever it was, just stands at the end of the table. You feel the stranger’s eyes eating you up. Fuck, of all the times why now? 

“May we help you?” you hear Joel say, his tone the complete opposite of his words. When you look up at him from between your lashes, he’s staring at the stranger, the look dancing on the line of being a full-on glare. You take a slow breath and turn. 

It’s a young-ish man with blonde hair and brown eyes. Your first expression of him is that he seems kind. He doesn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence at all which you find impressive. Even across from him, you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Hi,” the man says kindly. “S-Sorry to bother you but are you Honeysuckle? On Ravish?” 

Joel visibly bristles at that. And, despite your better judgment, it turns you on. 

“Yup, that’s me,” you let out an awkward chuckle. He extends a hand and you quickly take it, wanting this to be done as soon as possible. 

“I love your streams!” 

“Thank you,” you smile with tight lips. “I appreciate your support.” 

“Can I get a picture?” 

Briefly, your gaze flits to Joel, a shadow crosses his face, eyes dark in warning. Your breath hitches a bit, skin prickling, some part of you wishes the hardened gaze was directed at you instead. 

You turn back to the man, “Sorry I don’t do pictures,” he seems visibly heartbroken by that so you quickly add. “But I can give you an autograph if it’s all the same to you.” 

Oh god, you hate when you have to put it like that. It makes you sound so full of yourself. You’re not a movie star. 

His eyes sparkle, “Thank you!” he pulls out a small notebook and hands it to you. “Can you make it out for Alex?” 

“Sure.” you quickly sign your name—well, not your name name but your stream name; Honeysuckle. You add a little heart next to the name and return the notebook. 

“Thank you!” he repeats, his genuine glee spreading in the air and caressing your skin. Your stomach does a small somersault as he walks away, clutching the notebook close to his chest. 

“Well, at least he was nice about it,” Joel grunts, finally taking a sip of his coffee. You’re not sure what to take from his response, or expression for that matter. Is he mad? You don’t think he is. You nearly jump out of your skin when his focused gaze suddenly snaps to you. “You alright?” 

“U-Uh, yeah,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “This kinda stuff happens. Most of the time they don’t say hi though.”

“So they just stare at you like a piece of meat?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” your voice is uncaring. Honestly, you’re used to it by now. It’s not like you had the most respectable job, at least, not according to most people. You can only imagine the comments you would get if you had Instagram, or if Ravish didn’t have a tight-proof system that allowed you to ban people on sight. You reach for your sandwich and take a bite, you chew slowly. 

Joel snarls, “Assholes.” 

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” you smile around your second bite. He seems almost offended by what you said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest. 

“Of course I did,” he huffed. “And why wouldn’t you want me to notice?” 

“I don’t know,” you truly didn’t. “I guess I didn’t want any hiccups to happen right after we decided to be. . . exclusive.” 

“Honey. . .” he gives you the tiniest smile, eyes full of care. “Don’t worry, people starin’ ain’t gonna get me packin’. Don’t you. . . don’t you know my feelings run deeper than that?” 

Joel's words hang in the air, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of reassurance. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he was the source of your worry, the reason for your unease. Yet, here he was, looking like he believed he was to blame for your discomfort.

You lower your gaze to your sandwich, suddenly feeling a weight on your chest that has nothing to do with the bagel. It's not that you doubt his feelings for you, but you've carried the weight of your own insecurities for years, and it's hard to let go of them all at once.

Tears threaten to well up, and you quickly blink them away, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the middle of the coffee shop. You take another bite of your sandwich, chewing mechanically as you try to compose yourself. The flavors of avocado and bacon mix on your tongue, but they seem tasteless compared to the swirl of emotions within you.

Joel's hand finds yours on the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. When you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, you're met with eyes that hold a storm of emotions. Concern, understanding, and a vulnerability that mirrors your own.

"You're not alone in this, you know?" he murmurs. 

You let out a shaky breath. You're not used to showing this side of yourself, not after so many years of self-preservation and guarding your heart and yourself.

"I guess I’m still not used to this yet" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not your fault at all, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with anyone. . . emotionally. I'm sorry if I made you feel responsible."

He leans across the table, his warm hand cradling your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb caressing your skin. "I get it, sweetheart. And you don’t need to apologize. We’re the same in that aspect, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either. Just. . .  know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

You lean into his hand, you’re feeling lighter already. 

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Besides," he mutters, sitting back. “I don’t run away from what’s mine.” 

Mine. 

One simple word. A noun of all things, is what makes you melt in your seat. It’s sobering. Waking you in a way that no amount of coffee ever could. Mine. He said that. You heard the possessive lilt laced with the word, almost daring you to object. You nearly do if you’re honest, shadows dance in his eyes, draw you in like a bunny rabbit sniffing a tempting trap. You want to take the bate. Sink your teeth into that carrot to see how he’ll react, the things he’ll do to prove just how true his words were. 

Instead, you clench your thighs together and propose something else instead. 

“Let me prove to you that I’m yours then,” you say. Eagerness caused Joel's eyes to widen, his jaw betraying his emotions with a subtle twitch. “In fact, let’s show the world.” 

No matter how vivid your imagination was, no matter how long you prepared and checked the equipment over and over again, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for Joel walking through your bedroom door.

You had picked out a form-fitting black button-up shirt for him to wear. The fabric hugged his biceps, the seams barely holding on. The shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest, the buttons doing a better job compared to the seams in holding everything together. However, you were certain if he stretched even a little, the shirt would rip with a satisfying pop. 

That isn't all, though. Your eyes move up from the shirt, your gaze tracing the lines of his body until they land on the striking green mask he's wearing.

The mask is a deep shade of forest green, with intricate gold detailing that seems to dance in the light. Swirls and patterns weave across the surface, accentuating the gilded flakes in his eyes. 

His brown eyes peer out from behind the mask, a slight awkwardness to his gaze that seems to lessen with the hunger of your stare. The contrast between the vibrant green and the warmth of his gaze draws you in like a moth to a flame. The mask frames his face perfectly,  showcasing his strong jawline and the facial hair that clings to his skin.

"I feel dumb," he mutters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “Isn’t there a way you can just make it so that my face is out of frame?” 

The mask had been his idea, he didn’t want to be recognized—rightfully so— and since he still wanted to stream. . . he bought himself a mask. 

Too bad he doesn’t realize the effect it has on you. Only if he could feel how wet you were for him, that’ll surely put him in a better mood. 

“Not really, we are going to be moving after all,” you answer. His gaze drops. “Joel, you look devastatingly hot right now.” 

His ears perk at that, eyes lifting to meet yours instantly. “Really?” 

"Come here," you manage to murmur, your voice laced with a mix of playfulness and longing. He obeys without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a matter of heartbeats. His hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilts your head up. His eyes, those deep pools of honey, lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away.

"Tell me," he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "What's on your mind?"

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to answer, your voice barely more than a breath. "You... the mask... everything. I can’t wait to feel you deep inside. Can’t wait for you to ruin me for everyone to see."

His lips curve into a smile, and he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs against your lips, "Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on leavin’ an inch of you not clingin’ with my come, darlin’.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your lips part with a soft gasp and he slips his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly laps at his thumb, drawing circles, begging for him to press deeper. Heat radiates off of him, suffocating you in the best way possible. Your eyes drop to his crotch, the outline of his cock visible despite the dark blue denim.

Joel grins and shifts his hips closer, teasing you with a promise of more. You close your lips around his thumb and swallow. You’re in a trance. Body and soul bewitched by his presence. Your breasts feel full and heavy, nipples tingling. 

“Go and start the stream, honey.” 

Tingles. All you feel are tingles as you get up and desperately head toward your setup. Your legs are shaking. His eyes burning holes into your bare back. A second later his palm is on your ass, stroking the plump flesh and teasing the elastic of your panties. You sigh, the fabric sticking to your folds. 

With practiced efficiency, you start up the stream, the familiar hum of your equipment filling the room. Almost immediately, comments begin flooding in, your "hive" eagerly joining the live broadcast. The chat scrolls rapidly, filled with excited greetings and bee-themed emojis, a testament to the unique community you've cultivated.

"Hey there, my busy bees!" you greet, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I hope you're all buzzing with excitement, because tonight we've got a special guest joining us."

You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker to the monitor. There he is, Joel, standing just behind you, his presence towering and captivating even though his head isn't visible on screen. The comments explode with excitement, the chat inundated with messages about how good he looks, how lucky you are, and playful exclamations about your "hunk of a guest” and how they can’t wait for him to “pump you full of his come”. A bit crass, but you can’t say you disagree. 

You continue, "But first, let's give a warm welcome to our newbies! Welcome to the hive, where we celebrate all things sweet and sticky." you wink at the camera and bend slightly over, wiggling your ass. Joel doesn’t waste any time moving directly behind you, hands on your waist as he pushes forward, making you feel the heft of his cock between your cheeks. A small moan escapes you, breasts swaying with his shallow grinds. 

“And now, without further ado,” you say breathless. “Let’s start the show. Our guest is an impatient one,” you hear Joel scoff behind you, the voice making your pussy bottom out. “Am I wrong, sir?” 

His nails bite into your flesh, showing you just how much he enjoys being called that. You smile as you stand up, giving one last look to the monitor to check everything is in place, you face Joel. You lean closer for a kiss, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves. He must be nervous. 

But before you can close the distance, he grabs your chin and pushes you back, just proving how wrong you are. Your eyes widen, the pressure he applies to hallow your cheeks emptying the oxygen in your lungs. “Not so fast,” he grunts. “On your knees, honey. Only good girls get kisses.” 

Your insides pulse with a vicious throb. His voice takes on a tone you've never quite heard before. It's deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very core of your being. His voice, deep and resonant, like thunder during a storm and wraps around you like a velvet cloak, warming you. As you slowly sink to your knees, your pulse quickens in response. 

A desperate, hushed rustling fills the room as a zipper is lowered and briefly, you steal a quick glance at the streaming setup, ensuring that everything continues to run smoothly. Joel’s head is still out of view, which you regret because you want everyone to see how good he looks in his mask—

His touch is a sudden and deliberate pull, “Eyes on me,” he growls, the bulbous head of his cock pressing against your lips. His fingers are wrapped around his impressive length, and instead of notching the head between your lips, he smacks your parted lips with it. A drop of precome stains your bottom lip, a string of it following the tip as he holds it above your face. Your eyes are glued to the masked figure above you. Despite the tone and the roughness, they’re just pools of soft honey, internally searching your face for any discomfort. 

Joel begins to stroke himself and with a heavy gaze, you part your lips wider and stick your tongue out for him to use you however he pleases. 

His dark chuckle makes your skin prickle with need. You come closer, dragging your tongue between his balls, nuzzling him sweetly. Joel curses above you and grips your shoulder, holding you back. 

“Sir, please,” you gasp, attempting to get close but his hand keeps you at a small distance. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, “Push those pretty tits together, sweetheart.” 

Desperate and dripping, you press them together with your arms. His cock comes from under, the head piercing your tits as it pushes from between them. Joel hooks his thumb in your mouth and you obediently suck around the digit as he begins to thrust. Neither of you breaks eye contact. 

Joel pushes himself further into you, driving his hips forward. His cock slides between your tits, filling your already open mouth with vigor as he rocks in and out of your ample cleavage. You moan around his thumb, the warmth of his precum dripping over your tongue. 

Your body rocks with each stroke, the pleasure radiating through your chest with each thrust. Your nipples throb with arousal, hard like diamonds, as he slams his rigid cock into your tits. Sweat beads on his forehead and he grits his teeth, “Keep them together,” he grunts as he pulls out, with the head, he smears drops of himself over your heated skin. 

Your eyes roll back at how possessive it is, the fact that everyone is watching already forgotten. “Good,” he says, pleased. He pulls away his thumb and drags it over your bottom lip. “You’re already so dumb for my cock, aren’t you. Eager to show your viewers how badly you want to be good for me hmm?” 

God, the tremors in his voice, that southern drawl. He’s going to be the death of you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, chest heaving. Ignoring the ache it causes in the back of your neck, you lean forward and manage to taste him on your skin. You moan as your eyes flutter closed, your own breath warm against you. “Want to be your good girl again, sir.” 

He pulls away from you completely, heading towards the bed. You stare at him blearily as he takes a seat, only coming to your senses when he hits his thigh, gesturing you to come over.  

Just as you’re about to sit, he stops you, clicking his tongue while lifting a hand. “First strip, darlin’. Turn to the camera,” you don’t miss the way he smiles as you turn on shaky legs, staring directly into the lens. “Have you already forgotten how to stream? My poor sweet dumb girl.” 

His words send you into a haze of submission. Needles stinging your back, you peel off your panties and bra, dropping them to the floor. “Good,” he hums. “Now sit on my lap, spread those legs so they can see how wet you got just from gettin’ her tits fucked.” 

Joel scoots further back and gives you space on the bed to place your feet. With heavy lids, you spread yourself for him—and the people who’re watching at home. Your front facing the camera. To expose yourself in such a way, it’s different compared to what you normally do. You have fun with Dieter but it’s never like this, never as intense. A shaky breath escapes you when Joel places a hand on the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. He’s staring at you through the monitor, jaw slack. Meanwhile, you’re just happy people can see his mask, those brown eyes. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his role forgotten. “Look at you. Fuck,” his lips touch your ear, whispering the rest of the words so it’s only you that can hear. “You never stopped bein’ my good girl. Just sayin’.” 

Your vision blurs with tears and you nod, his lips now on your cheek. He drags his mouth to your forehead and lays another kiss. “Now let’s give them a show.” 

Joel cups your ass as he helps you lift yourself, aligning himself against your sopping core, he slowly lowers you, filling you inch by inch. Your head falls back, mouth agape, you’ve forgotten how big he is, how satisfying it is to take him so slowly. His breath is hot on your nape. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Just like that, show them how good you take cock, honey.” 

 “‘S big,” you slur. “S–So big, sir.” 

He shushes you, lips moving over your cheek. “I know, honey I know,” he licks the salt off your skin. “But you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it.” 

Joel rears up, slowly pushing himself into you. His hands guide your hips to the right angle to let him slide deeper, your soft cries echoing through the air. 

“I am,” you gasp, delirious, his cock completely sheathed inside. “I am. I–I’m your good girl.” 

You twist around, straddling Joel as he takes both your hands and draws you close. His lips crash against yours, and you moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against him. Heaven help you, how can you take him like this with an audience? Images of all the people watching on your live stream dance in your mind, but it makes it all the hotter.

Your body rocks up and down as you ride him, your inner walls clenching around him. You’re panting and moaning, your body shaking as you pump harder.  You feel Joel shift beneath you, his grip tightening as you take him even deeper, arching your back and pushing your breasts out. You can feel his eyes on you, as well as the eyes of the viewers watching you live stream. His cock glistens with your slick, every time you lift yourself, the light catches against it, everyone watching seeing how worked up Joel gets you. 

You can feel Joel's warmth radiating throughout your body as he slides back and forth, gaining momentum as he thrusts harder. You stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering as pleasure overcomes you, your head humming with pleasure. Your body starts to slow, your muscles aching and trembling. 

Suddenly Joel grips your waist, fingertips leaving dents in your flesh. He growls in your ear, drops of spit hitting your neck. “Who told you to slow down?” he pulls your body against him, forcing himself deeper into you. Every inch of you is shaking as Joel's hips slam against yours. His fingers find your clit, drawing gentle, quick circles around the sensitive nub. You cry out, clenching around him. “Look into the camera,” he groans. “Want them to see your fucked out gaze when I make you squirt.” 

Your hands find purchase above his knees, the coil in your stomach tight, it’s too much. Too fucking much. Your head is swimming in a lavender haze, and before you know it, your cunt is pulsing around him, gushing and slowing his thrusts. You hear the faint pitter patters of a rain-like sound. 

You barely register the liquid spraying from you, your body hot and burning while Joel’s fingers continue to move. Your drip down his length and down the inside of his thighs, and he rips another, albeit calmer, orgasm from you.  

“Shiiiiiit,” he drawls. “Shit shit, honey, fuck, don’t move—” he makes a choked-out sound and spears you down flush on his cock. The sounds you make are completely debauched. A series of sir’s dropping from your lips, tongue aching to moan his name. You feel him spilling inside, so much, you think, so much of it filling you up. He’s still throbbing when he pulls out, gripping himself and ringing the last of it over your glistening cunt, drowning it in come. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur as he pushes it back in with the head of his length, you shudder around him. “So full,” you say, eyes dropping where you two connect through the reflection in the monitor. 

“Not done,” he mutters and helps you lift yourself over him, cock slowly softening. “Push it out darlin’. Show them how much there is to keep you satisfied.” 

“F-Fuck,” you let out a whimper, eyelids fluttering as his seed trickles out of you and drips over his length. You feel faint of heart, this probably being one of the filthiest things you’ve done on camera. 

“Good girl,” he says, eyes glued to the camera. “My good girl,” he repeats, cupping your mound and slipping one finger inside with ease. 

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, your body too weak to do anything. He walks up to the stream set up, his eyes flashing toward the camera one last time. “See y’all next time.” he taunts before shutting the entire thing off. 

He throws the mask to the ground near your discarded clothes. 

You don’t know what to think when he climbs onto the bed, mattress dipping with his weight before he pulls you to his chest. He kisses you slowly, taking his time as he tastes you. “Sorry,” he whispers into your mouth. “I think I might’ve gone overboard.” 

“No,” you sigh dreamily, still in a haze. “That was perfect. I—I don’t think I can walk for a while.” 

You let out a low chuckle and he smiles, pressing his lips into your forehead. 

“Well, good thing I’m here then.”  

[five-flavor-soup]

This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.

In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 

But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 

That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 

Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:

Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.

(Added emphasis for my point)

Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 

By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.

And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 

In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:

The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.

And: 

I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.

I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.

Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 

There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.

[novosg]

Who’s Your Friend?

In which Miles’ sister meets a certain punk. And keeps meeting him….Much to her little brother’s dismay.

Ft: The Arachnakids, femMorales!reader,

Fluff, use of Y/N, sfw, written with a black reader in mind(reader is 18, Hobie is 19), 1.8k words, most likely gonna make a part 2

Your brother was Spider-Man.

That was an indisputable fact that had been bared to you over a year ago, not long after you had gotten the call that your uncle had died. Miles had been gone for hours, but when he finally came home he had hugged you so tight you thought your ribs were going to crack. He had practically broken down in your arms, chest heaving as he told you everything.

You knew how much Aaron had meant to him—he was Miles’ biggest confidant. And after losing that confidant, he decided to place his trust in you, another person who took up most of his heart. So, you decided to honor that trust by not breathing a word to your parents about what he had told you.

In the year following everything that happened, you and your brother had grown quite closer, what with him not having to hide such a huge part of himself around you. Though you were away at college for the most part, that never stopped Miles from updating you about the latest things he got up to as Spider-Man. Almost everyday he was calling or texting you about whatever villain he had come across.

All in all, you were quite used to Brooklyn’s more…interesting sights. Whether it be a gang of thugs trying to rob a jewelry store, a reptilian beast crawling up the side of a building being posted all over the news, or a guy whose wingspan was mechanically stretched way too far, you had felt like you’d seen it all.

Even now, you were hardly fazed to see your little brother crawling in through the living room window. You watched him casually, the pencil in your hand coming to a stop as he dropped to the floor, unaware of your presence as he slipped off his mask. He let out a small sigh, glancing around as if to check if the coast was clear.

You were back home for the week, spring break seeing to it that you got some much needed time with your family. Miles was well aware of this, along with the chance of your parents being at the house in the middle of the day was slim to none. Still, he could at least try to be subtle.

“Miles,” you finally said, biting back a grin as your brother shrieked and nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, mask gripped in one of the fists he raised instinctively in front of him before realizing it was just you. He heaved out a sigh of relief as he lowered his hands.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “What are you doing here?”

You raised an unamused brow at him and gestured at the papers sprawled around you on the kitchen island. Though you were technically on break, your professor had seen to it that a project was to be completed before you returned.

Miles took one look at the mess before nodding in understanding. “Right,” he mumbled. “You’re not too busy, though, right? ‘Cause I gotta—”

“Miles!” A voice called from outside the window. Miles winced while you perked up. Someone dropped down from the roof, clad in a suit like your brother’s except hers was black and white with its own twist to it. The colors upon it were so delicate it was if you were looking at a pastel painting. Her face was covered but you could still see the shock in the eyes of her mask (how that was possible you didn’t know) when she caught sight of you. “Oh, I um, is this-”

“Yeah, this is—" Miles started nervously, only to be cut off by another, more accented voice:

“Miles you okay?” Another person, presumably another spider-person appeared, ducking his head down enough so that he could see into the apartment. “We heard a very girlish scream.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, one that earned you a glare from your brother. You could’ve swore you even heard a snicker from the girl. The new face practically bounded into the room, his bright, intricate suit causing you to let out a small hum of appreciation at the amount of detail. You locked eyes and he tilted his head curiously, but still waved politely. You smiled and returned the gesture to which he seemed pleased at.

“I’m fine, guys. It’s just my—” No voice came this time, rather a thud as someone dropped unceremoniously against the windowsill. Your brows furrowed as he climbed in as well, practically towering over the two standing beside him. His appearance was certainly…something. It was flashy, as if he had stepped right off of a newspaper clipping. Or at least that’s how it was until he…shifted colors? He turned pinkish as his hands moved to rest within his pockets, letting you take notice of the guitar slung around him. Not to mention his clothes, with their various patches, rips, and tears screamed ‘punk.’

Like the shorter boy next to him he tipped his head to the side once he spotted you. “Who’s—”

“I could tell you guys if you’d stop interrupting me,” Miles huffed. The guy grew quiet, removing his hands from his pocket to raise them in a placating manner. Miles gestured towards you before saying, “This is Y/n. She’s my sister. And she knows all about the whole…secret identity thing so don’t worry about—"

“Y/n! I’ve heard so much about you!” The girl cried, suddenly invigorated by Miles’ admission, she slipped her hood off and yanked off her mask. “I had a feeling but I wanted to be sure.” You blinked in surprise, recognizing the girl underneath.

“Gwen. I’ve…heard a lot about you too.” You’d certainly seen enough drawings. You cast your brother a knowing glance, which he quickly averted his eyes from.

A loud gasp escaped the shorter male and he too was taking off his mask. He seemed young, around the same age as Miles as he beamed at you.

“You have a sister? How is this just coming up now? It’s so nice to meet you!” He spoke very rapidly, obviously eager to breach the subject. He placed a hand on his chest, dipping his head at you in proper greeting. “My name is Pavitr Prabhakar. But, call me Pav, all my friends do.”

You smiled appreciatively and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you too, Pav.” That only garnered an even brighter smile from him; one that you were afraid would blind you if he got any happier.

The tallest one of them all, and the one who had yet to say anything at the newfound information, scratched at the back of his neck. He looked between you and Miles before letting his hand drop down to his side.

“Well that’s a bloody shock,” he muttered, his British accent causing your head to tilt curiously before he was taking his mask off as well.

You felt yourself physically pause as his face came into view and you hoped you didn’t look as starstruck as you felt.

As his color shifted to something more natural, his dark locs that seemed to come from some inexplicable space were enough to throw you for a loop. He seemed slightly older than the others, closer to your age if anything. On top of that he was…strikingly handsome. With dark skin and lidded, dim grey eyes that were accentuated by the silver piercings present on his face, he had left you stunned.

His nose scrunched briefly as he gave a quick shake of his hair. Once his eyes landed back on you he raised a brow and you reminded yourself to blink. He didn’t point out your blatant staring, but the slight curve to his full lips as he introduced himself was enough for you to internally chastise yourself.

“Name’s Hobie,” he said simply. You nodded but couldn’t help but frown thoughtfully.

“Hobie?” You parroted.

Gwen cut in for him, looking quite amused. “Hobart actually. He just prefers—”

“Hobie,” he concluded. Then, more sarcastically he said, “Thanks though, Gwendy.” She smirked, seeming pleased with herself.

“Got it,” you said softly. You sat up a bit straighter and offered up a smile. “Still, it’s nice to meet you. All of you.”

His gaze rested on you in a way that made you feel almost shy. His lips curled back up into a causal smirk as he nodded.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he replied and you could practically feel your dignity slipping away.

Miles, who had grown quiet as he let the others properly meet you, looked between you and Hobie, his brows furrowed in a way similar to yours as he watched the two of you interact. Whatever he saw was enough to cause him to clear his throat loudly.

“Well, uh, hate to rush, sis, but I just needed to grab some more cartridges.” You turned to look at him but he was already gone, scrounging around quickly for some extra webs. Not even a minute later, he was back in the living room, smiling almost sheepishly. “Got ‘em. Guess we’d better get going.”

Pavitr and Gwen were quick to voice their objections, but Miles paid them no mind. His eyes focused on Hobie, who had yet to look away from you. His gaze showed genuine interest, and the way you were matching said gaze with one of your own told Miles he needed to wrap this up quickly. Gwen followed his line of sight and, after the two of them locked eyes, she gave an understanding nod before heading towards the window.

“Yeah, better get back to it,” she said dismissively, a small grin on her face. “Pav, come on,” she hissed to the shorter boy who let out a disappointed groan.

“Fine. Bye, Y/n! Let’s talk more next time!” With that, he pulled his mask down and leapt out the window before swinging out of sight.

“Agreed. I’ve got so much I want to ask you. Next time though.” Gwen smiled warmly at you as she leaned out the window.

Hobie backed up slowly, head tilted almost playfully. “I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

You felt your heart flutter unfairly and breathed out a soft, “Yeah.” He perked up at that, but was suddenly yanked back by a web Gwen had latched on to his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he grumbled and then they both were gone. Miles followed after them, but stopped once he got to the window. He paused and looked back at you, a disapproving frown on his face.

You rolled your eyes even though your lips quirked up into a grin. “What?” You asked.

He was quiet for a second before saying, “Wipe that look off your face.”

You laughed and called after him, “What look?” just as he jumped through the window. You smiled softly to yourself as you looked back down at your work, mind and heart whirling.

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: heard of hearing and/or partially blind Steve + his parents realizing. Maybe they come home & see how their house has changed to be more accessible for Steve? Or something like that.

HONESTLY THIS ONE HURTED. But as usual, you provide the quality shit!!!! Poor Steve, but also if it ain't hurt/comfort, then did I even write it? Everyone loves Steve. Except his parents. His parents suck. But everyone else? Angels. Hope you love it darling!!! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------------------

Concussions were a bitch.

Multiple concussions in a three year period were a bitch.

But the worst part was when he noticed he couldn’t hear out of his left ear. Robin had been talking to him at work on his left side, whispering about some customer that was walking down every single aisle as if they didn’t know what movies were out, and he didn’t even notice until she switched sides halfway through a sentence.

He pretended it was fine, that he’d heard her the whole time, but then she asked him a question he couldn’t answer. She walked to his left side and said something, and when he shook his head, she bit her lip, fighting back tears.

“It’s okay, Robs. I can still hear out of the other one,” Steve said to comfort her, but also to comfort himself.

If he lost it in one ear, he could lose it in the other, and then what?

She tried to convince him to get a hearing aid, but he didn’t think he needed one.

“Your parents sent you money for medical expenses, use it for this!”

But he couldn’t.

And then he started getting blurry vision in both eyes. The left was rapidly growing worse, and Dustin noticed.

“Dude, you’re squinting. Do you have a migraine? You could’ve had Eddie drive me.”

“Nah, just tired. Trying to focus.”

Part of that was true. The squinting helped him focus a little, but he knew he had to do something about it.

So he sat down with Robin and came up with a plan.

He hated every fucking second of it.

“You get a scan first, we need to know if this is gonna keep getting worse or what permanent damage is there. You get glasses-“

“I might not need-“

“You get glasses. Then you get fitted for a hearing aid.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve rolled his eyes.

But looking back, he was grateful Robin made him do it.

The doctors had been amazed he was able to talk with the damage done.

“Will I lose my ability to talk?” He asked, realizing that not being able to hear, see, and talk was too much for him to deal with.

“I think we can work through some physical therapy type exercises to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m glad you came in now and not a few years from now.”

Robin never said ‘I told you so,’ probably sensing that Steve wasn’t coping well with the news.

They told him he would most likely lose all hearing over the years, and his vision would progressively get worse, though it would most likely plateau and he wouldn’t lose it completely.

They said he needed to do vocal exercises every day, brain exercises as often as possible, and to come back the moment he recognized any change in his speech.

So he lived with the anxiety of not being able to communicate with anyone he loved every second of every day.

Dustin, Will, Mike, and Max had done research for weeks, finding things they could do to help him live in his house alone. Sure, they were there often, almost enough to be considered roommates, but that wouldn’t always be the case.

They would all grow up and leave.

Max had lost her own vision after Vecna, only able to see light and sometimes movement, but never any detail.

The day he got his glasses, she threatened him with murder if he didn’t wear them.

“The more you strain your eyes, the worse they’ll get. Wear the glasses. I’m sure you look just as cute as always.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, but he didn’t want to piss Max off, so he wore them all day every day.

Dustin had found a way to wire the doorbell to the lights in the whole house, so if it rang, and somehow Steve couldn’t hear, he’d see the lights flash three times from any room he was in.

He’d done something similar with the walkie, so Steve would know if someone was trying to communicate with him.

Will figured out a light system for the phone, where it flashed with green while it rang and red if he missed a call that went to their voicemail.

It only worked if he was in the kitchen, living room, or his bedroom and paying attention, but the thought behind it made him want to cry.

He got debilitating migraines frequently, which left him bedbound, unable to even get up to use the bathroom on his own sometimes.

They figured out a signal for his walkie that he could push the button in a sort of Morse code to make sure someone knew he needed help.

If he couldn’t get to his walkie for some reason, Dustin programmed buttons on all the phones: *1 called Robin, *2 called Eddie, and *3 called Dustin.

All of his meds were moved to the drawer by his bed, with a reminder note in every room of his house, just in case he forgot.

Which was apparently another thing he had to worry about: his memory.

The doctors seemed to think he would be okay if he stayed active and healthy otherwise, and definitely needed to avoid another concussion, but they did say he could notice some issues as he got older.

Mike looked up what vitamins he needed to help boost his memory and vision, and increased his iron intake to hopefully stave off some of the migraines before they even started. He put the instructions with his medication reminders all over the house.

But what surprised him most was what happened when his parents came home early on a random Thursday morning.

He was dealing with a bit of a migraine hangover, the day before being a blur of calling for help, reaching for his meds, and Eddie arriving to make sure he stayed hydrated and made it to the bathroom as needed.

Eddie was still here, in fact.

So when he heard them banging around downstairs, his eyes flew open and he looked at a still sleeping, very shirtless Eddie next to him in his bed.

Nothing happened obviously. Eddie just ran hot.

But his parents had already been questioning him a lot about not having a girlfriend in a while and hanging out with “queers” like those two things alone could make him gay.

And if they saw Eddie like this, they would make assumptions.

Assumptions that would get him kicked out of the house that everyone just worked so hard to make accessible for him.

So he got up as quickly, but quietly as he could, ignoring the buzz in his ear where his hearing aid was loose from sleeping in it. He wasn’t technically supposed to, but he didn’t like anyone touching his head on migraine days so it stayed in.

Eddie didn’t budge, and he hoped he stayed that way while he tried to keep his parents busy.

Then the lights flashed and he heard the distant high pitched ring of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” His father asked as Steve ran down the stairs.

“Steven?” His mother asked as he flew past them and made it to the front door.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled excitedly as Steve glared at him.

“Dustin, not now.”

“Why? I saw Eddie’s van, so I figured-“

“Who is at the door, Steven?”

Steve closed his eyes and heard Dustin mumble ‘shit’, before he turned around to face his parents.

His glasses were dirty, but he could see that the looks on their faces were not impressed.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” His mom asked.

“Is that a hearing aid?” His dad added.

“Dustin, I’ll call you later.”

“Answer the questions.”

“I started wearing glasses and the hearing aid after a few concussions that caused a lot of damage.”

“What’s going on with the lights? Do they always flicker like that?”

Steve hadn’t really expected them to care much about him, but it still hurt a little how quickly they became concerned about the house instead of him.

“They’re a visual aid so if I’m not wearing my hearing aid or my hearing gets worse, I’ll know when the doorbell rings.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie said from the stairs, luckily not shirtless.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve’s dad didn’t waste time with pleasantries, he never did unless someone had something to offer him.

“I’m Eddie. Steve’s friend.”

“His friend?” Steve’s mom was hesitant to be obvious about what she meant, but everyone could understand where she was going with the questioning.

“Yeah, or would you prefer if we were boyfriends?”

Steve couldn’t help the snort he let out.

Eddie wasn’t the type to hide himself away, but he wouldn’t purposely make Steve’s life harder.

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I was taking care of him yesterday. It got late so I stayed.”

“Take care of him?” His mother turned back towards him. “Are you sick?”

“I get migraines.”

“We all get migraines, Steven,” his father said as he crossed his arms.

“But we all don’t get the kind that leave us crying and throwing up for hours on end because we can’t even see straight, do we, Richard?” Eddie asked as he walked closer to them.

“I don’t know who you think you are-“

“I told you, I’m Eddie. And as far as I’m concerned, I, and quite a few other people in town, are quite good at taking care of Steve. Unlike his parents.”

“Steve’s a grown man-“

“Yeah, now. But where were you when he wasn’t and got the concussions that caused this?”

Steve could feel his head pulsing, and he knew his migraine would be back at full force if he didn’t rest.

He took his hearing aid out for a bit of relief, the volume of his father and Eddie arguing going down considerably.

He massaged his neck the best he could, knowing that the release of some tension would at least keep the pain at bay until this could be over.

Then, he saw the phone start flashing green.

“What is going on with the phone?”

His mother directed the question at him, but Eddie stopped berating his father long enough to answer her.

“It’s so Steve knows it’s ringing if he happens to have his hearing aid out like he does now. In case no one is here with him and someone needs to reach him.”

“That explains not answering our calls.”

“I think that could just be that you don’t call at all.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve.

“Go upstairs, Stevie,” he said quietly into his right ear. “I can handle them.”

Steve was too tired, too frustrated, too borderline on a migraine to fight.

He walked upstairs, ignoring his father’s protests, his mother’s pleas, and Eddie standing in front of them both raising his voice to be heard.

Everything felt blurry as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes when he made it up the stairs.

His room was dark still, the blackout curtains still drawn closed, lights off, like Eddie had suspected it might be a bad day again.

His pills were on the table, a cup of water next to them. He set his glasses down and took them, trusting that Eddie followed the instructions perfectly.

He always did.

He always took such good care of him.

He came at the drop of a hat, even if Robin was already here. He brought Steve’s favorite soda, insisted it helped with migraines even though it probably didn’t. He massaged the spot on Steve’s neck that always held the most tension, pulled him close until he fell asleep on the couch or in the bed, always on his chest.

He’d been learning and teaching everyone sign language too.

Steve had started learning immediately, and so did Robin, but Eddie had insisted on it too, and started teaching the kids. He’d been showing Max one sign at a time, putting her fingers and hands into the movement so she knew how to do it.

And Steve didn’t think he could love Eddie more.

But he figured if Eddie was interested in him, he would have made a move already.

He could very distantly hear Eddie’s voice saying something, but he wasn’t sure what. With his hearing aid out, he usually couldn’t hear anything downstairs from his room.

He closed his eyes, settling under the blankets so he could try to do what Eddie wanted him to.

He drifted in and out, tired, but not quite enough to fall asleep all the way.

At some point, Eddie had made it back to the room and got in bed, his hand running through Steve’s hair gently.

“Eds?”

“It’s alright, Stevie. Your parents are gone. They won’t be back again for a while.”

“Mkay.”

He let himself drift again, safe with Eddie there.

[nayatarot777]

Lilith In Cancer/4th House

This is intuitive astrology. Meaning that I’m making these notes based on what I intuitively pick up about this astrological point being merged with these signs. Take it with a grain of salt and understand that you might not relate to everything that I get from your placement. 🖤

Astrology Masterlist

This placement evokes Lilith into the themes of immediate family, home, the mother/more primary parent, the foundation of your entire life - so your childhood, what you’ve learned from your family in terms of your emotional make-up, domestic duties, your ancestry, your cultural heritage, your roots, and your ability to nurture yourself or others.

Lilith in this placement usually struggles with severe emotional detachment, and this is due to a lack of emotional expression and nurturing within the family home. Particularly a lack of this from the primary parent who was responsible for nurturing you but didn’t, for whatever reason.

A lot of people may feel like they’re either severely emotionally detached or severely emotionally dependent on others (perhaps towards their family in particular for those with Lilith in the 4th house). The theme of extremes is always present with Lilith.

People with this placement often don’t emotionally express themselves enough due to a pattern of being shamed for their emotional expression from their parent/families, or they’re very emotionally erratic and have strong emotional reactions to things - especially when it comes to feelings of rage and anger. They got used to being told that they were “too sensitive” as children- or they were treated like they were.

These people may also reject domestic duties. Absolutely hating to cook, clean, look after children, and take care of a home. This is most likely because these things were used against them growing up. This gives the energy of women who were used as mini maids, babysitters, chefs, etc when they were just a young girl.

As a result, natives with this placement are usually robbed of their childhoods. And this leads to them being forced into maturing before they should’ve had to, but also showing more emotional immaturity as they get older - because they were never given the tools for emotional regulation. They were basically told to perfect emotional suppression while never actually developing in that area.

People with this placement (especially women), may resent abiding by a traditional feminine role in which they take care of the home and the children, but they shame themselves for that resentment and force themselves to continue down a path of a domesticated lifestyle for the sake of acceptance from others.

This placement also makes me think of people who watched their mother/nurturing parent or caregiver being vilified and demonised for not abiding by social standards - especially the social standards put into feminines/women.

The native may have grown up in a family full of men who’d try to oppress the women within it, only to be met with resistance and rage from said women who they tried to control. Always a battle of the sexes. Or the native could’ve just been taught that “girls/women shouldn’t do [xyz]”.

This sounds strange, but those with this placement are probably demonised the most by people who share the same cultural roots as them.

They might also have issues within the country/city/state that they were born or raised in.

These are the types of people who are either extremely patriotic due to being taught to be so in a very unhealthy way, or they completely reject patriotism. They may have grown up in a patriotic family in which they didn’t share those same views with, and were therefore shamed for it. It’s the energy of someone being shamed after pointing out all of the negatives about their culture/birth country to their parents or family members who act like their nationality/culture is superior to others’.

The native could also come from a family full of people who are known for being the rejected household in their neighbourhood or community. This could also be the case for your ancestral lineage in general - especially regarding the women. They probably had the types of female ancestors who would constantly clash with the expectations and demands of men.

These natives never truly felt comfort or at home with their family members. As if they didn’t actually belong. They were most likely singled out and treated worse than anyone else or most others in the household.

The natives could reject their own emotional needs or be incapable of emotionally nurturing and providing comfort for themselves due to not even knowing what that feels like. After all of the years that they had to suppress what they needed on an emotional level due to their requirements not being met, they don’t even know where to start in relation to healing that. And this is the house/sign of the foundation of you as a person. That’s why natives with this placement can take such a long time to come to terms with and integrate this shadow aspect of their personality. They’re most likely the slowest to do so (aside from 12th house/pisces Lilith).

These natives were treated like the problem-children if they didn’t just obey their parents. If they dared to reject the social and gender expectations that their family put onto them, they were demonised in an attempt to shame them into submission.

The native could’ve had a very emotionally abusive or emotionally dismissive/neglectful mother figure, leading them to have all sorts of issues with women in their lives in general. Especially Lilith in Cancer. You guys most likely experience the most shame and suppression from women who are supposed to be nurturing towards you. Or perhaps just women in general. That can lead women with this placement to either not trust other women or to not like other women at all.

This placement can also indicate the death of a mother or the more nurturing parent too, which could’ve been the reason why these natives lacked emotional nurture. If they didn’t experience abandonment through death, then it was through something else. Perhaps the parent actually leaving physically. Or the parent abandoning the native through substances (for Lilith in Pisces in the 4th house, for example. Or people with Neptune contacts to their Lilith in Cancer/4th house).

[alatusprinz]

yan! genshin x darling with abandonment issues

characters : xiao , albedo , kaedehara kazuha x f! reader

warning : obsessive behavior, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, the very stereotypical traits found in yandere lovers, mention of planned/considering murder, manipulation, threatening, etc. reader has abandonment issues, insecurities, and is wary/distrustful about love and romantic partners in general. < fem pronouns used - bride etc >

諸行無常 - 世のすべてのものは、移り変わり、また生まれては消滅する運命を繰り返し、永遠に変わらないものはないということ。

Shogyou mujou - Impermanence. A phrase that means everything in the world repeats its destiny to to be born and to disappear, that there is no existence in the world that remains without changing . 

[ prior scenario ]

“hey…” you called out to your captor, finally working up the courage to talk to him like you would to anyone else. when your voice broke the silence in the sullen room, his gaze was immediately directed at you. 

“what is it?” you gulped at his curt yet obvious reply, still trying to keep your voice from wavering when you continued onto a subject you knew could upset them or worse. you were displeased by how much you were trembling at the thought, even when there was not an ounce of wrath evident in his voice or face as of present.

in truth, it took you however long you imagine to even work out the confidence to demand such inquiry, it could’ve been days, weeks or even more. you couldn’t have known exactly how long- after all, it’s been a paradox in time since the cursed moment you stepped foot into his lair. you reckon it’s been quite a few months in captivity if not a year already. 

“what do you really want from me, keeping me here?” you saw him open his mouth to respond, but you immediately continued without giving him or yourself time. you feared you would lose your will to speak otherwise, despite having repeated the same question in your mind millions of times. 

“so now you have me in this cramped room at all times within your sight. i barely move or talk… i’m almost kept like… a doll here.” you kept your eyes on him for any chances of extreme anger or outburst while resuming. 

“you see, people lose interest. as time passes, your former shiny doll will always lose its gleam and a new doll will catch your eye. when someone learns a song they adore on zither or harp it won’t matter, the song feels less special once you’ve mastered the flow and rhythm so it belongs to you completely- when the song doesn’t have anything new to offer anymore. you could buy anything and make it your possession, but it will always bore you in the end. it’s a matter of time.” his face remained as blank as ever, still listening carefully to your uncharacteristically melancholic statement today. 

“love that comes from mere fascination or ownership… won’t last.” 

so let me go while you still cherish me. before you decide to abandon me like a used toy. you were ashamed to admit your original motivation of asking him to let you go won’t leave your mouth. 

you would rather bite your tongue and die this very instant than admit to him why you were asking this question after all this time. you tried and tried to repress your feelings, the growing feeling inside your chest that is slowly turning into fondness and familiarity instead of sheer disgust and loathe as you should be feeling. it doesn’t make sense- he robbed you of your everything. everything you learned to be a part of your mundane life, every routine and passion you’ve had (you barely even remember what life was before, but you imagine you could’ve had… those things that made you human.) disappeared like dandelion pappus in the wind. you try, you look at his godforsaken actions he veil and glorify as an act of love, you scoff and ignore and fight with all your will not to bend into his desires as easily. but the crawling, sinking realization you were aware from a while ago ate away at what little left from your pride each moment past. 

you couldn’t pretend like everything was normal anymore, not when every inch of your body, every thought surrounding your brain was his love. you knew your true feelings for your captor now. but you couldn’t possibly unravel the truth he oh-so desperately wants- needs to hear. in truth, you felt yourself fall deeper for his wicked charm every day. it made you physically sick but the way he loved you, the way he touched you and caressed your soul, his suffocating care for you felt familiar now, you craved him, you yearned for his impudence in all its glory, the gut wrenchingly familiar scent of his when you awoke from nightmares. you searched for him, you yearned his presence when he wasn’t around and you were positive he knew it. after all, he was the one who trained your body and soul to his perfection- carved your being, to the point you seemed to be the one chasing him at this point in your mind, the only space you have left to you that's private.

it scared you to bits whenever you thought of revealing your feelings. what if he only liked the thrill of your struggles? what if he only wanted the chase? what if he grew tired of you soon now that you’re all boring and “his”? 

this is how your thoughts finally manifested itself into a question, to test the waters. 

he finally responded. 

and it wasn’t at all what you had expected. 

xiao ( alatus) .

“how absurd.” xiao really could not understand the worries of you mortals. he could swear to the seven archons that he tried, he had asked around, he read words on papers you call “books” that seemingly guide you when you’re lost, (worthless if you ask him, since it didn’t guide him when he needed it the most with you),  he’s spent time observing countless mortals just so he could get a grip on how your restless mind works.

it’s like you seem to confuse him more and more as time passes by, and that was quite the opposite of what he desired. 

“what makes you believe you are as worthless as physical objects?” xiao found no reason in mincing his words, your comparison made him offended, if anything. how could you possibly imagine thinking of yourself as the same value of an inanimate object, or even a melody that’s shared between hundreds or thousands at the same time? the idea of you being shared between countless mortals and being another’s “property” left not only a bitter taste in his mouth, but a dangerous, lingering urge to choose destruction.

the general yaksha was no fool to his vow, he was never to harm or terminate mortals, let alone liyue inhabitants. the lord of geo and his contract would not allow. however, a small voice at the back of his voice whispered- he was a guardian yaksha. he was known, a living legend amongst the nationals, surely nobody would dare stand against an Adepti’s desire. after all, mortals were weak and easily manipulated. he could make sure anyone stay away within a minute of a conversation or a… threatening action. and as much as he does not wish to sever his vows to the lord of geo, he certainly held the nonpacifict solution should the circumstances demand. 

but... keeping you here, away from those who would bring you harm protects both you, his angel and his vow to avoid harming mortals, don't they? it was the perfect solution.

he thought he had made it clear by now- that he adored you more than anything, that never once in his painfully long existence he had laid his eyes on anything, anyone more sublime than you. and your benevolence gave him the bliss of peace he desperately needed, he basked in your glory, your warmth on the iciest nights he was cursed to spend in solitude.

you saved him- you were xiao’s everything. if you were not to remain his oasis, what more could his sorry existence serve for? for what purpose would the vigilant yaksha continue his never-ending agony for, if not for your heavenly smile? he had never required, or wanted words of gratitude before, he upheld his vows to perfection, well aware that he was an entity destined to live in the shadows, just so the light could shine brighter. however, neither of you knew that it would lead to… this, the one night that you recognized him as the vigilant yaksha where you coincidentally entwined your red strings of fate on Mt. Hulao. (god knows how or why you had wandered into the space meant for the adepti, you truly had no memory of the life before him at this moment, no matter how you tried to reminisce).

you were all Alatus had, all he has ever wanted. his hands were stained crimson red for eternity, but you, he would bring celestia to ruin, defy every archon’s wrath, shield you in his arms and face the eye of the storm if that’s what you desired. to keep your hands clean, and your soul stainless for he was already tarnished beyond repair. the least he could do was protect you, his one and only, from the dirtiest parts of the world.

one whisper from your tender lips, and he would be gone, swift as the wind for his newest mission, mind filled with your loving smile. 

“i’ve gave you my word, have i not?” xiao continued, hoping for your understanding behind his stone-cold expression you couldn’t have unraveled. 

“...” you remained silent, to his displeasure, he was forced to continue. you and your mortal perplexity. 

“i’ve sworn to protect you. an oath is an oath, (name). i will remain by your side. vows are to be upheld in perpetuity.” xiao’s monotone voice sounded as still as ever despite his rather melancholic words. 

you, on the other hand, weren’t fully convinced. rather, you didn’t allow yourself to be soothed of your worries precisely because of his nonchalant behavior. there was no way he’d stay… this way for eternity. the perpetuity he speaks of will somehow find its end, your mind convinced.

after all… he offered you his protection, his company and his presence. not… not love. he had never once mentioned the word ‘love’ in your presence, or perhaps ever in his couple millenia of existence had he ever even let the heavy word drop from his lips. and you both knew it was perhaps for a good reason. 

to both of your surprise, he finally learns of your worries when you kept your silence with a frown.  

with a subtle sigh, Alatus approached you carefully as he always did, as if not to scare you away. (as if you could outrun the yaksha, as if your mind would even let you at this point.). he sat down next to you on your cold bed, then reached out to place his trembling hand on yours.

you might not know, but that’s the only act of intimacy he’s aware of to you humans. you couldn’t help but stare at his gloved hands on yours, the leather-like material sinking on your skin and leaving a heavy sensation with absolutely no trace of warmth. in fact, you had never felt much heat from his body before if your memory serves. 

except for the warmth you felt right now, listening to his careful words meant to soothe your concerns. it was almost enough to make you forget the absence of sunlight, the last time you had a deep breath of the fresh morning dew from liyue harbor, the sounds of the city locals chatting away in peace. almost enough to make you forget why you were here to begin with. 

“... if my promise isn’t enough… tell me what to do.” you couldn’t mask your surprise when you heard his words. his hand finally relaxed, yet still cold as ever. 

“ephemeral circumstances. perpetual agony. that’s all i have ever known.” xiao couldn’t believe how uncharacteristically chatty you forced him to be. but if his mundane words could soothe your bitter expression, there was nothing he was unwilling to do. 

“諸行無常. - all worldly existences are impermanent.” 

“...but my oath is eternal. i will spend a millenia… an immortal lifetime proving it to you.” 

“just speak my name. i will keep you…” he wanted to say happy, he wanted to promise you a joyful life. he wanted to say he would love you... but he was a cursed being, doomed with the vexation of the millions that were slain by his bloodied hands. 

“i will keep you safe.” he retracted his arm after his final promise to you, and disappeared without a trace. suddenly, the sullen room looked even darker than you remembered. as if the darkness was all you’ve ever known. 

and yet again, the word you desired- no promise of ‘love’ was mentioned. 

albedo ( kreideprinz ) .

“so it makes you insecure.” you flinched at his naturally curt reply, cutting through where it hurts the most. it was such a familiar answer from albedo, analyzing even verbal communication with utmost composure and sharp perception. his teal eyes appeared to be shining in the dimly lit room, ice-cold stare almost pinning you down like on a leash. 

“you’re struggling with feelings of insecurity and it’s manifesting itself into an apprehensive behavior because you feel like i’d get tired of you once the halo effect wears off.” he continued, all while sitting perfectly still, his posture and gaze remaining as absolute and subtly confident as ever. he had almost never been incorrect about his analysis on you, it’s almost eerie. anything he put his mind to and observed, experimented, hypothesized and concluded, it was more or less on point. and this time too, he didn’t fail to notice your ulterior hidden worries. 

the worst part? you were positive he was already well aware of your true feelings behind your distant exterior. after all, he had never been fooled by your acting, never once. he knew you too well to fall for it, and it made you wonder just how long he had observed you before your captivity. 

“it seems accurate and human of you to have such concerns. after all, the vast population of mankind seems to have a taste for unfaithfulness. enough to make others spend the rest of their existence cowering in fear of betrayal.” your eyebrows furrowed at his unwelcome analysis on your mindset, reading your deepest fears like an open book on his worn out wooden alchemy table. 

“but may i remind you, i am not deeply associated with the majority of humanity to begin with, (name). i’d appreciate if you didn’t see me in the same light as the rest.” his stable voice always tricked your sorry mind into believing the atmosphere was normal and calm. but unfortunately, ticking off the kreideprinz was one of the things you noted to never do again. you could thank your gods that he doesn’t seem too irritated from what you could see. 

“humans are an enigma. physical objects and intellectual creations may have its worth hidden in correlation to who possesses them. however, i do believe i don’t… own you.”

the room was immediately silent after his last statement, all you could hear was your heart thumping loudly in your ear, head feeling heavier on your shoulders each second that passed by. he thinks he doesn’t own you? that was the last phrase you thought you would hear from him. 

“of course i’d like to own your heart, that’s what lovers are.” what we are - both of you knew that was his true intention behind his somewhat vague wording. “is that what you wish to hear from me, dear? that i love you.” his monotone declaration of “love” sent a wave of warmth, and cowering fear to the pit of your stomach. for one, it certainly was what you desperately craved to hear from the chalk prince. you were so, so close to giving into his sweet temptation, his reserved nature, his teal eyes that seem to only look at you, and his cold, yet addictive touch of hands, caressing you like you were the only existence that he cared about.

yet, his cold tone when he confessed the words of love weighed heavy at the back of your mind, how monotone, and… void he sounded. do people usually sound so laid back when speaking such words? you couldn’t know, you couldn’t remember. but you had a feeling it wasn’t quite the case, that he sounded too empty, his promise sounded heavy, yet desolate at the same time. that your heart felt too burdened from his love, not blissful. but if that were the case, albedo was prepared to mold your tastes until you preferred his weighty love, bitter and cold on your tongue. he'd make sure to train you until all you ever crave is his taste.

“... i love you as much as an artificial being could mimic the humane emotion of love, dearest.” he concluded the conversation coolly and with dignity like he always did, he always got the last word. after all, what he wants goes. 

if you happen to disobey… well, let’s just say he was good at getting what he wanted. should he use honey-sweet words, alluring you in, threats, slight or considerable amount of pain and punishment, or make you face a situated scenario that would inevitably push you towards him…

in the end, albedo would have you. - that’s what he had concluded. after all, once again - what he wants, goes. 

kaedehara kazuha .

the menacing, yet melodic giggle he responded with sharpened your senses. you never knew what to expect from him, he could easily shatter your soul and courage with one look of his eyes if that was what his mockingly poetic love demanded of him. 

“love, you never cease to amaze me.” as expected of the bride, the distinguished lady of the great kaedehara clan he intended to continue. every step you take, every sway of your hair in the end, the rounin felt himself fall deeper for your charm, his one and only perfect love. you were absolutely perfect, you had to be. (you were his, after all.)

he approached you with an intimidatingly slow pace, placed his hand on the top of your head with seemingly great delicacy. the weight of his hand on your head seemed like it was pushing you down, further until you were at his feet- at his complete and eternal mercy. in one way, it was the perfect place for you, his docile loving darling. it should come natural for lovers to please and make one another happy. it should come as easy as breathing to both you and him, after all, he himself was at your feet. why shouldn’t you share the same sentiment, the same desire? he would lay down his life, lay down his everything and more. that’s what love is, existing in this cruel world in the name of your lover. 

at least according to what he carved in your mind which you’ve soon learned to accept. 

“have i ever once, made you feel unloved or unworthy?...” his hand travelled down, slowly and gently caressing the back of your head, the side of your neck, and lingered at the same spot while feeling your beating heart. (the heart that beats for him - the sinister thought brought a pleased smile to his lips. ) the silent confidence in his statement sent shivers down your spine. of course he was aware, he had never once denied you of your needs, everything except your freedom was in the palm of your hands. with one whisper of your voice, kazuha would carve out his heart, display it on a platter. he would sacrifice his last breath to caress your lips one last time, excarnate his own being and wrap his warm skin around your shivering body if you were cold. going to extreme length to keep you, his angel dove by his side, is an absolute necessity for him. 

and the ugly truth was, he expected the exact same from you. 

“have i ever left you unsatisfied?” he continued, placing his hands around your neck, not squeezing, but with just enough force of grip for your entire body to tense up in fight-or-flight instinct. too bad neither was an option. 

“like i said, you might get bored-” to your surprise, your speech was interrupted. 

“boredom is not something associated with true love, my dearest. i can promise you that.” his stable and calm voice never once wavered, and said to you with utmost certainty, almost to the point you allowed yourself to believe the honey-sweet temptation of love he presented you with. 

“and if my verbal promise does not suffice…” finally, he wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face into your neck. with a sigh of happiness leaving his lips, he let out a low giggle near your ear. 

“i’ll prove it until the rest of my life, until you believe in my love.”

until you believe me - he whispered, placing a sickeningly tender kiss on your neck. the sensation of his alluring kiss lingered on your shivering skin, your mind left blank and tempted. after all, kazuha’ forte was words. he could spin you around like a marionette, should he want. 

and that’s what he intended to do. keep, worship and adore his beloved doll, lover for all eternity. 

.

[crow-hoards-things]

The Bad Batch Series Finale

FULL DISCLOSURE: This is a vent post. I’m angry and hurt. After I get this out of my system I’ll be more open to discussing the positives of the episode.

Warnings: Ranting, Spoilers

Hooo boy. Okay. I am… less than satisfied?

Quick rundown since I haven’t posted much of anything Bad Batch related: Tech is my favorite Batch member, immediately followed by Crosshair. I’m also a HUGE Republic Commando Nerd (read all the books, played the game, despised Bad Batch as a whole initially because I felt the commandos were being unfairly ignored, can sing + translate Vode An, etc.) and Scorch was my favorite Delta. The Bad Batch grew on me shortly after Season 1 finished up, and I immediately latched onto Tech when I began watching. He’s the reason I watched the first two seasons. (Crosshair + delusions about Tech were the combined force behind watching the final season)

NOW, onto my actual thoughts on the episode, in no semblance of order because my brain is still trying to process, Ft. Cry count:

• Wish Tech was here. He would’ve loved the Zillo being freed.

• “‘Cause I’d do the same thing” no you wouldn’t. Fives would’ve. The you I fell in love with would’ve yelled at Fives about it being a terrible idea and then promptly gone along with it anyway. That said it was a really cute moment and I loved his nonchalant little “come on” afterwards.

• C: “Echo or Omega?” W&H: “Omega” THEY KNOW THEIR GIRL SO WELL

• When Hemlock went to get the operatives I got excited thinking maybe, just maybe we’d get Tech back.

• CROSSHAIR LOST HIS FREAKING HAND!?!? WHAT THE HECK!?! I will never stop being salty about this. He’s been through enough. [Near Tears]

• Rampart sucks

• Nala Se got to blow stuff up and I appreciate that even if I don’t really like her

• I’m glad Wrecker’s okay. He had me scared for a bit. Hunter, conversely, never really did? He’s Omega’s Dad, he had to survive.

• Did anybody else see that one operative whose helmet seemingly had goggles built into it? We had a lingering shot on his helmet for a few seconds and they looked like a red version of Tech’s goggles.

• SCORCH IS DEAD AND YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE I’M MAD ABOUT IT! [First shedding of tears]

• HECK YEAH, HEMLOCK IS DEAD!!! [Tears of relief combined with grief over Scorch]

• I’m so glad Omega hugged Crosshair first. I fully expected her to just run to Hunter, and Crosshair needed that hug.

• Echo’s goodbye was disrespectful. 0/10. He’s family and they don’t even care that he’s leaving???

• SOMEONE IS MISSING FROM OUR NICE LITTLE GROUP SHOT!

• I never really got super invested in the dynamic between Omega and Hunter, but the ending between them was cute I guess.

• We were robbed. We could’ve gotten Crosshair and Wrecker as old men and we were robbed.

• Tech is dead. Like, seriously, really and truly, dead. As a delusional “Tech’s alive guys, trust me” fan, it feels like he just died all over again. I’ll talk more about this later because I’m not over it. [Que sob-fest]

alright, circling back around to my main gripes, in order of appearance:

#1. Scorch.

I hate how they handled him. At first when he showed up I got super excited. That was my boy! In the Bad Batch show!! He’s making an appearance!!! Maybe they’ll do something with the Delta boys!!

Even as the episodes went on and I started to suspect where his path was leading, I consistently would go “Scorch!!! <3” every episode, because that is my boy and I love him dearly.

The levels of offended I am on Scorch’s behalf are not within my ability to express with words. The complete and utter disrespect he was shown over his time on the show is appalling. Why bring him in if you’re going to drain him of all his personality, make him have zero plot relevance, and then murder him?! They could easily have made a new clone for that, as seen by the number of operatives who exist and got 0.5 minutes of screen time.

But no. They brought in a beloved character with 10 seconds of canonical screen time prior, stripped him of everything that made him lovable, didn’t even have him DO ANYTHING, and then murdered him. It feels like a spit in the face and a kick to the gut all at once.

I will mourn. I’ve already cried and I’ll probably cry again. But right now I’m angry and I think Scorch deserves to have people be angry about how he was treated.

#2. Tech

Yes. I admit to having been a “trust me guys, Tech’s alive” person. I will also admit that at the end of episode 13 I wanted him to stay dead because I had zero faith they could satisfactorily bring him back.

My gripe is not with him staying dead. Yes, it feels like losing him all over again. Yes, I will mourn him again. Yes. That sucks. It’s not what’s making me mad.

What makes me mad is how his death was handled.

• It served ZERO purpose narratively other than to up the stakes and make us worry about whether anyone else would die (Spoiler alert: They didn’t. Tech was the only one who died) • Nobody mourned him. No one seemed affected by his death at all. No one cared. I don’t care what anyone says, that will NEVER be okay. • The first actual mention of Tech *dying* was in the finale. Sure, we’ve had name drops and goggle appearances, but actually talking about what happened? One line. One. Freaking. Line.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face, you know? He deserved better and so did we. He was a part of that family and they couldn’t even be bothered to address the responses to his death. He was beloved by many of us and they couldn’t even respect him or his fans enough to treat his death like something to be mourned.

That’s wrong, no matter how you look at it.

[blacklesbothatlovestowrite]

On My Mama Pt. 8 (Oh, how the mighty have fallen)

Tags: @mixedfandxms @shurislover @sweetalittleselfish-honey @desswright29 @cutttteeee @onyxstones-world @katymae12344 @doramilaj233 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @6-noir @khara876 @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @teadah18 @un-deniable-me3 @anayaperry @lppriceisright

-

“Oh, great!” Your mother scoffs, as she downs yet another glass of whiskey straight. She was in a self pity mood.

Nothing had went the way she’d planned. She had no intentions of arguing with you, let alone hitting you. Shed worked on what she’d say when she saw you and everything she’d planned disappeared the moment she’d seed that girl.

She couldn’t stand the girl. Hate was too strong a word for how she felt about that girl.

Why did she have to be there? Why was she your roommate ? Why was this happening ?

God, she thought she could do this but clearly she wasn’t ready. The thought of talking to you again was nauseating. She didn’t have the courage to speak to you and say what she’d planned on saying.

You were so determined to hate her. She didn’t know how to change that or fix it. And what she’d said and done was possibly the worst thing she could’ve ever done. She stooped so much lower than she ever could have.

“You need help.” Shuri says, shaking her head as she stared at your mother.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Your mother hisses, signaling the bartender to send another drink her way. She planned on getting so drunk she forgot about this horrid day even if it was only temporary.

“I shouldn’t be here. Y/n would kill me if she knew I was talking to you but…” Shuri shook her head. This was more important. She couldn’t keep holding this secret from you. You deserved better and she knew that.

“You know Y/n’s always had a thing for you.” Your mother chuckles as the bartender places another drink in front of her.

“It wasn’t shocking you found yourself attracted to her. She’s gorgeous.” Your mother continued as she knocked the drink back as if it were a shot.

“Y/m/n. Stop.” Shuri grinds her teeth. She knew she shouldn’t have come after her. She’d spent quite a few enjoyable hours tiring you out and slipped out the moment your eyes closed and your breathing returned to normal.

“It’s a compliment..” Your mother shrugged. It truly was. You were beautiful, always had been. You looked like the perfect mix of her and your father. The thought making her insides turn. She hated thinking about him.

He’d died so horribly. She felt robbed. She felt as though you were robbed. There was so much she’d planned to tell him before he died.

Guilt swallowed her whole being. She couldn’t face the fact that he was gone. She knew in her head that he was long gone. Dead. Buried. But for some reason she couldn’t let go of him. So here she was like she’d done for so long. Drinking.

She drank every day . Every night. She was constantly drinking day in and day out as if it were hydrating her. Instead she was only damaging herself, something she knew but ignored just to feel a temporary relief.

“You cried that night about wanting a better relationship with your daughter and have done absolutely nothing to make that a reality. You think drinking is fixing your problem?” Shuri’s eyes roamed over your mother’s messy clothing. She had always been so put together but right now she was covered in alcohol and white remnants of what she chose to ignore.

From the look of her messy hair, smudged lips and tear streaked face. It was obvious she’d been fucked by yet another stranger.

She pitied your mother. While she knew exactly where your mother was mentally and emotionally. She couldn’t completely empathize with her. She chose the way things played out. She was the reason her own daughter hated her. She was the reason her husband had died. She was the common denominator in all of the equation and yet there was no accountability or actions taken to improve.

It was like watching. A train wreck, it was truly horrific and sickening but yet she couldn’t walk away or look away. She knew there was nothing she could do to help your mother but yet she felt like she owed it to you to do so.

You lost your dad in part due to her actions whether accidental or not. There was no taking back the actions that let to his death and for that she felt absolutely guilty.

“I seem to recall you drinking like there was no tomorrow and smoking your problems away.” Your mother pointed out, scoffing at the judgment.

“Yeah well. I’m currently working on healing, because I want to be who my mother and brother would be proud of. I want to be who Y/n deserves. She’s had enough disappointment and hurt to last a lifetime.” Shuri corrected her.

“Y/n is incapable of letting anyone love her. She’s never been able to commit to anything or anyone. You won’t change that.” Your mother shakes her head. “I know my daughter. She’s full of so much love but she’ll never show it. I raised her that way because this world is cruel and life is unfair. You’ll never break her.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Shuri responded. Clearly seeing where you got your issues from. You liked to act like you didn’t care about anything or anyone but she knew better. She picked up on how much you cared for people, despite trying to pretend you didn’t.

It’s why you were able to forgive Riri, even if you pretended that you hadn’t. She knew better. The same could be said for when you forgave her. You were a loving and sensitive woman but you refused to show people that side of you.

“You think Y/n will ever love you?” Your mother laughed, tears streaming down her face as she laughed.

“Y/n was right. You should leave.” Shuri declared, walking off. She hated how that statement made her feel. She was unsure of your feelings for her. She knew you liked Riri even if you acted as though you couldn’t stand her.

While you had forgiven her, your feelings towards her seemed unclear. Sex seemed to be the only thing holding you two together and that scared her. Something she’d spoken about with her therapist. She didn’t want to care about another person. She couldn’t deal with losing anyone else but the thought of you not caring for her like she did you frightened her like hell.

The rest of the night Shuri spent at the lab. She hadn’t worked on any research in a while and she had no urge to at the moment which was baffling to her. She’d been so stuck in a constant cycle of being locked in her lab, drinking, smoking and fucking random women.

She hadn’t had sex with Riri since the Bria debacle and she wasn’t so sure she’d go there again. It hurt like hell when she found out she’d been used to get to Riri. She didn’t love Bria, but she did feel close to her. She trusted her, she felt like she was a second to Riri in terms of someone to keep her grounded and who cared.

She couldn’t process her feelings of betrayal, hurt and anger when everything hit the fan. She’d always felt insecure and insignificant. While she’d been uplifted and loved/doted on by her family. Shuri never had true friends until Riri. Okoye, Aneka and Ayo were family. Just as Nakia and Challa were.

Then she’d been in private lessons her whole life, kept inside and monitored unlike T’Challa whom was free to roam all over Wakanda without question. While she was constantly out with family. She never really had friends to socialize with.

She was a huge Outsider social site fan because of her isolation. Which taught her how to be more social and helped her pick up things she otherwise wouldn’t have known about.

She’d met a few daughters and sons of the tribe but people tended to keep their distance respectfully. They viewed the royal family as ‘unapproachable’ not because they were but as a sign of respect. Something she absolutely detested.

Her parents were always so big on being contained in a safe bubble that she often felt suffocated. T’Challa was her best friend, when she’d lost him it felt like a part of her had died as well. He’d known all of her secrets, he was the first person she’d call whenever she needed him.

He was always there for her. He loved her and accepted her when she’d stated that she was interested in women. Even helped her to update her style to fit her, by taking her on several secretive shopping trips. She was a stem. She was both feminine and masculine. She could be girly or be boyish and both were very attractive to everyone.

Bria made her feel comfortable and safe. Seen. She was someone to talk to that didn’t push for her to change or ‘do better’ she simply accepted her where she was in her grieving process. Riri constantly pushed and tried to make her ‘heal’ and at times it really angered her because she wasn’t fully ready to let go of her feelings surrounding the loss of her family members.

She knew that if she let go of her anger, her sadness, her grief… It would mean they were really gone. That she could no longer pretend that things weren’t true. She’d have to accept that they would never come back and she hated to think of that. She wanted her family, needed them.

Riri couldn’t fully understand. She’d lost her father and best friend, but Shuri? Shuri had lost her entire family, her bloodline depended on her and Toussaint. Her children wouldn’t know their grandparents, their uncle firsthand. They would have secondhand memories and stories and that hurt.

She wanted them to know their grandfather , know what it was to be comforted and taught by him. To know their grandmother who was full of wisdom and love, who could turn the saddest and most difficult days into the best days of their lives. To know how loyal and supportive their uncle was. To be able to tell him all their secrets without fear of being judged or reprimanded.

So much would be missed, and she couldn’t fathom how she’d ever fill in those voids. Her family was completely gone, there was no replacing what she had lost. At times she thought about not having her own children at times as she had no mother to go through motherhood with.

She barely had the emotional support needed to give her children all they would need. She was one person.

Bria eased all those concerns and expectations by not making her think of anything but the current moment. She made her feel like she could finally breathe and that was everything to her.

-

The next morning you woke to see Shuri wasn’t there and her side of the bed was cold. You frowned, not liking the fact that she’d left without saying anything or leaving a note.

You shouldn’t have cared but you did. It was the little things that mattered to you. You needed people to care about you. You’d spent so long just having your father care about you.

As much as you warred with your feelings, you still felt good knowing that people cared. You felt lonely and as much as you hated to admit, you felt genuine care with both Shuri and Riri but in different ways.

You still held unresolved resentment towards Riri for what she’d done but it was hard to stay mad at her. You felt this closeness to her that you couldn’t explain.

Stretching, you climbed out of Shuri’s bed and made your way to the bathroom. You used her mouthwash and brushed your teeth with your second toothbrush stored in her bathroom. After washing and drying your face you peed, wiped, flushed and washed your hands.

Walking to the kitchen you smelt food and raised a brow as Riri gestured to the kitchen island with a nod of her head. She set a plate down with powdered sugar French toast, cut up mangos and a homemade mango syrup.

There was freshly squeezed orange juice with the leftover mango juice. She’d even placed cut up mango’s on the side in a small bowl. You smiled as she gave you a fork. The way you love mangoes this was a huge help in garnering your forgiveness.

It was your favorite fruit, top of the list. Any variation of mango from any country. Sweet, or green with some salt or Tajín. You absolutely loved mangoes, no question.

“What’s all this for ?” You asked, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

“I figured you needed a pick me up after yesterday.” Riri shrugged, as she placed two pills by the glass of juice she set out for you.

“Thank you.” You grinned.

She went about the task of cleaning up after herself but you quickly got up and stopped her. She was not going to clean after she cooked. You believed in fairness, if someone cooked it was only fair the other person cleaned.

“I got it.” You assured her, pulling her by the hand to the kitchen island to eat. As you both sat down, you’d shared your breakfast with her.

It was delicious which wasn’t surprising, Riri knew how to cook and really good too.

As much as you wanted to pretend you didn’t like her, things like this made it hard. She was always being thoughtful, always feeding you when she knew you wouldn’t bother. You were an oatmeal or ready made shake kind of girl in the mornings out of convenience and laziness.

“I’m sorry about last night…” You mumble, feeling embarrassed and hurt at her rejection. It still was fresh on your mind.

It was hard to admit you liked her, so for her to reject you when you offered yourself up to her… it felt like a blow to the gut. Friends don’t look at friends that way… She could pretend all she wanted but you weren’t crazy. She wanted you. You thought, you weren’t fully certain and maybe it was wishful thinking but you needed her to want you.

“An apology, wow my food must really be good.” Riri joked, bumping your shoulder gently.

You said nothing and she quickly stopped laughing, and turned her body in the chair to face you.

“I’m sorry for everything I did.” Riri forces you to look her in the eyes, her hand on your chin. “It was despicable and downright cruel. There aren’t words adequate enough to describe how much I hate what I did to you. There’s no explanation I could give because nothing will change my actions or justify them. I was wrong and I am sorry.”

You swallowed. Not many people apologized to you, and you weren’t very big on apologizing either. You felt slightly uncomfortable at the feelings you felt for Riri. Her apology made your stomach have these weird feelings and that scared you.

“I’m sorry too.” You blurted out, the words feeling like vinegar on your tongue.

“You—“

You cut her off by kissing her. You weren’t entirely sure what made you do it but the moment your lips touched, you felt that feeling in your stomach intensify. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. Her lips were soft and smooth.

Riri was frozen in place as you kissed her. She was shocked. She never saw it coming. This wasn’t a vindictive or sexual kiss. It wasn’t like any of the kisses you’d shared with Bria or Shuri. She’d seen enough of them to know. There was no tongue, no urgency to touch her.

You moved away from her lips and stared at her.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” You finally admitted the one thing you were fighting so hard to bury. Riri stared at you in confusion. “And you don’t want to be my friend either.”

It wasn’t clear to you why you felt the need to say that but the moment the words left your mouth, you felt better for some reason. You thought about that saying your dad always said ‘the truth shall set you free’ it felt like you were being honest with yourself for the first time in a long while.

“I like you Arianna. I don’t know why, God knows I have tried to fight it. But I can’t… it hurts me to be mad at you and I hate it. I should hate you, I’ve tried but I just can’t seem to no matter how hard I try.” Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. It was like you couldn’t stop talking.

Riri’s brows raised, she hadn’t expected that. If the kids threw her for a loop, your words were scrambling her brain right now. No one called her by her given name, not many people knew it but hearing you say it made her melt. She didn’t think she wanted you to call her anything else.

“I love you.” Riri blurted, her eyes locked on yours. How could she not? You were an amazing woman. You had so many great qualities, she knew you built up this mean, tough exterior to protect yourself. You were kind and loving, you cared about everyone. Even when people hurt you and you were being mean, you still cared for them.

She loved how blatant you were, even if the words were a bit harsh. You spoke your mind. You were so creative and innovative even though you hid your work and tried to act like it was nothing. There were so many things that made her fall for you.

It was what made her so determined to help you, to heal you. You had so much anger, resentment and unresolved feelings that were holding you back from being the woman she knew you could be. That you deserved to be. She wanted you to be capable of receiving love and genuine affection. Not just sexual affection.

The both of you were so caught up in each other, neither of you noticed the sound of the door opening. Shuri had been listening to your conversation for a while, she felt a pain like she’d never known. It was different than when Bria had used her.

She couldn’t form words. There was nothing she could say at the moment. She couldn’t disrespect you or Riri. She cared for you both, and had so much respect for each of you. She couldn’t even be angry. She just stood still, trying to process her thoughts and emotions.

“And here I thought I was fucked up…” Your mother said, breaking the moment. You looked up to see Shuri standing in the entry way. She had a look on her face that made your stomach turn.

You looked behind her to see your mother, she was a drunken mess. It was a shocking and pitiful experience to see her in such a way. She was normally always put together.

“Why are you here?” You leveled her with a cool stare. You weren’t in the mood for her or her bullshit.

“I wanted to talk about yesterday… but clearly this is more important.” Your mother shook her head. “You can’t fuck that girl.”

There was so much hatred in the way she said that girl. You were instantly on the defensive. Who was she to tell you what you could and couldn’t do? Was this another one of her truth talks where she admitted she fucked someone she shouldn’t have?

You instantly turned to face Riri, already starting to overthink. Riri’s eyes widened as she quickly realized where your mind was taking you. She shook her head. She would NEVER go there. It wasn’t shade towards Shuri because Shuri hadn’t known you or your ties to your mother but knowing you now… she could never do that. Nina was one thing, but your mother? Absolutely not.

“Why is this any of your business?” You turned back to your mother, relief evident in your face.

“She’s your sister.” Your mother said, her eyes full of guilt and resentment.

Shuri stared at the two of you in shock. What in the actual fresh hell was going on?

“What have you been drinking? It clearly needs to be taken off the market because you’re tweaking.” Riri stared at your mother incredulously. She clearly was not ok in the head.

“Y/n… I cheated on your dad with a man I loved more than I ever thought possible. I was in Chicago for a few months. He was my neighbor for the apartment I subleased. It wasn’t intentional, but I couldn’t stay away from him. He didn’t know I was with your dad. Your dad was focused on building his company and school. He barely had time for me, I felt alone. I didn’t plan it, it just happened. Then it grew into something more and I planned on divorcing your dad.” Your mother looked like she was going to be sick.

“Your father found out that I was married and he told me he never wanted to see me again. I wasn’t as known when we’d met but by the end of our relationship I was recognized all over. Our affair had been discovered and I was plastered all over the news papers and magazines. I remember the look on his face when he found out. He couldn’t even look at me. He moved in the middle of the night, I couldn’t find him. He quit working at the garage he worked at. Your dad… he was a forgiving man. He flew to Chicago and he told me he forgave me, that he was sorry for neglecting me and that he loved me. I was abandoned by the man I truly loved and I didn’t want to be alone so I chose to stay with your dad and go back home with him. I found out I was pregnant a month later.” The more she talked, the more your hatred for her grew.

“It made no sense to break your dad’s heart anymore than I had. While I wasn’t in love with him, I did love him. So I made him believe that you were his. Things were fine for a while until your first birthday. I saw your father, he was with a woman that’s the carbon copy of this girl and he was holding a little baby a few months younger than you. I later learned it was his girlfriend and I knew it would have been a mess to speak up so I made sure he didn’t see me or you and I left.” Your mother was crying and you couldn’t feel an ounce of sympathy for her.

“Every time I think you can’t stoop to a new low, you amaze me. You are complete garbage.” You wipe the tears that are leaking, and move past Shuri to shove your mother out of your apartment.

“What was his name?” Riri finds her voice again, feeling sick to her stomach.

“Mecca.” Your mother says, and Riri looks from her to you.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” You say, with a heavy heart. Your mind felt like it was going to explode with all the information you’d learned.

-

Until next time 🫨

[amooree]

┈➤ silence. miguel o’hara x reader

summary - miguel came home around five hours late. you were angry and worried sick, so you decided to help clean him up before doing anything rash.

warnings - angst/comfort, showering together, descriptions of injuries, reader doesn’t know miguels spideyman, a little crying

disclaimer - this is my first ever piece i’ve written and i’m free for critique! ty for reading <3

It was late, 2:45 in the morning to be exact. You had been pacing back and forth in your apartment, imagining the absolute worst. Miguel hadn’t been back for hours, and his shift had ended at 10:00.

Something had to be up.

It could’ve had been anything, that’s what tore you the most. Miguel could’ve been in an accident, or robbed. You couldn’t bare to bring yourself to think about the other options. You quickly shoved the ideas away, trying to be optimistic about the situation.

The door of your shared apartment slowly creeked open — to make as little noise as possible.

You jolted your head towards the door, only to see the tall man who you’d known to love slowly walking in, clearly dishevelled. This man looked completely different from your Miguel. His hair was messy, he was covered in scratches, and he seemed to be in dirty, tattered clothes, which contrasted the clean ones he had left for work in this morning. Emotions overwhelmed you, of course you had been relieved. Though he looked a wreck, he wasn’t terribly mamed, other then a few scratches covering his chest and arms. You had so many questions, but you had no idea where to start.

“Where were you? Miguel, you were supposed to be home hours ago. What happened?”. As anyone would be, you felt equally worried sick and angry. He, to your distaste, walked past you. You turned around quickly, to find him making his way to your bedroom.

“Miguel, I’m talking to you. I’ve been up worried sick for hours, the least you could do is give me an explana-“ “You wouldn’t understand.”

You stood there, dumbfounded. You couldn’t believe what was happening. Miguel O’hara, the cleanest, neatest man you have ever known, has walked into your apartment around 5 hours late, a complete mess. “I wouldn’t understand? Understand what?” You pause yourself for a moment, and breathe, attempting to calm your nerves. Miguel sits down on the bed, and sighs.

“You’re filthy, you’re getting dirt all over the comforter.” Miguel placed a hand on his forehead, and stood up as if he felt defeated. He walked towards you and looked you in the eyes, letting you take in the true damage of the situation. His lip was busted, and there were several scratches and bruises, which varied in severity running across his body. You looked up at him, sighing in defeat, as you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him. He was hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. He would never admit it, or show it out loud, but you could tell.

You walked over to your bathroom, conveniently located adjacent to your bedroom. The faucet turned and hot water started to rain down onto the floor. You gently grabbed Miguel's scraped hand and lead him to the bathroom. His shirt came off easily because most of the fabric had been torn off. You both stripped and entered the shower, letting the hot water hit your heads. It was a comforting atmosphere, a silent one, but a comforting one nonetheless.

You grabbed a loofah, covered it in soap, and started to drag it softly around Miguel's skin, careful around the cut and bruised parts. It was intimate, an intimacy either of you had felt in a while. Even though you lived together, due to Miguel's job, having time together was rare. You washed the dirt off his body, making sure to kiss every cut that lay on his skin. Shampoo squirted into your hand, and you slowly started to lather in it Miguel’s soft, brown hair. He was quite tall, so you made him sit on the shower floor, as you sat on the seat built into your shower. As you massaged his head, you could almost feel the stress leave his body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He simply shook his head, letting some tears fall, which was a shock. He was a reserved man, he kept his emotions behind a wall. You decided to not make such a deal of it though, this was new for him, you were proud. His tears fell, trickling down his defined features, and onto his chest and shower floor. You rinsed his hair, and applied conditioner to his locks. As the conditioner set for a few minutes, you held him in your arms.

“I love you, Miguel. I don’t know what happened tonight, but I’m here for you.” He smiled, and weakly muttered, “I love you too.”. You washed out the conditioner and dried him and yourself off. You both slid on pajamas and got into bed.

Silence. That was all it was for the next few minutes. Sitting there in silence, and mostly darkness, apart from the glistening moon outside of your window. You didn’t know what to do, he was hurt, and you were lost. It was late, and he’d have to wake up to go to work early in the morning. You looked over and kissed his forehead gently, and wrapped him in your arms. As you both were about to fall asleep, you broke the silence, muttering three words. Three words that meant the world to Miguel.

“I love you.”

A/N: Hii, this is my first ever fic, i’m always open to criticism, and i really appreciate that you’ve read this <3

[pricefi3ldz]

pricefield—a jealous max caulfield oneshot

summary; chloe doesn’t expect her teasing jokes to actually make max jealous. but they do.

a/n: this was a random idea i had that i wanted to quickly get out. my bad for any errors, hope you like it!

——

“i think i’ve hooked up with every friend i’ve ever had.” chloe chuckled, gazing against max’s back who was busy robbing chloe of her clothes.

max turned around, raising her eyebrows at chloe’s words. “uh, you cereal?” the joke wasn’t hitting if it was supposed to be one.

“yeah,” chloe sat up on her bed, “now that i think about it, i guess i’m not exactly good at staying friends with people.”

max rolled her eyes, “you never tried anything with me.”

“course i did? look at us! we’re dating dumbass.” she smacked max’s side, making the girl shudder at the contact.

“you didn’t make any moves on me first.”

chloe couldn’t argue with that, since it took max to kiss her first for any progression between them to take place.

“mm thats because you couldn’t wait to kiss me!” chloe teased, biting her lip in amusement as max scoffed in denial.

“not true.”

——

if it weren’t for chloe’s comment yesterday, maybe max would’ve been more chill.

but now, as she waited out behind frank’s rv waiting for chloe, her stomach turned at the sight ahead.

there chloe stood, talking to a girl resembling someone she’d assume was the girl’s type. long blonde hair with purple highlights, tatted arms, and a sick septum piercing. somebody completely opposite of max’s style, but not so far off of a certain old flame who chloe had lost.

shit, she felt guilty for even dating chloe sometimes. the two probably seemed worlds apart, even if they were bonded with their shared memories.

lost in thought, max didn’t even notice as chloe walked back to her side, swinging her arm around her.

“yo super max, what’s with that face” chloe chuckled, leaning in to kiss the girl’s lips which snapped her out of the daze she was in.

“oh you came back” max sighed, giving her a small, yet uncomfortable smile.

“uh yeah,” chloe could sense the weird vibe around max. “did something happen while i was gone?”

max shook her head and sat in the car without another word.

for the remainder of the car ride, chloe tried to get max to cheer up, but max was busy in her head, ruminating over her thoughts. chloe hooked up with every single one of her friends huh? max couldn’t wrap her head around what she could’ve done with this new girl.

for the rest of the day, max felt pretty snappy, but insisted to chloe she was just on her period. not in the mood to talk.

chloe knew max too well for that though.

“so max, you gonna keep icing me out?” she sighed, standing over her while max looked down at her phone.

“i’m not” max mumbled, not making a very convincing argument.

“don’t give me that” chloe took max’s phone and set it down. she pulled max’s head up and pouted. “you’re scaring me.”

max shook her head out of chloe’s hand and looked up at her, leaning back against the bed. “fine fine i’ll stop.”

chloe smiled and sat beside her happily, propping her arm around max who flinched slightly.

“whats this? you don’t even want my touch now huh?” she was half sarcastic in her tone, but also genuinely looking for a response.

“chloe,” max started, looking down at her own hands while she fidgeted, “was that a friend of yours while we were at frank’s?”

chloe raised an eyebrow and nodded, “yeah, her name’s leila and she shows up sometimes. why?”

max stayed silent again, trying to collect her thoughts before she said something that’d make her sound like a possessive psychopath.

chloe’s eyes widened at the realization. “oh shit, you jealous or something?” she smirked, watching as max’s features visibly tensed at her words.

chloe laughed, she knew max was more jealous of a partner than she was, but the pettiness was unexpected—and adorable.

“well if you won’t say anything, i guess i’ll head down to leila’s.” max’s head turned to look at chloe now. “i’m sure she has plenty of words for me.”

max’s eyebrows furrowed, “very funny chloe” except, chloe genuinely found this entertaining.

“oh i know. leila reminds me of that everytime we speak” she taunts, giving max a wink. the teasing would kill max if she heard anymore, so she snapped and pulled the back of chloe’s head in, meeting her lips for a kiss.

chloe made a surprised sound at the sudden contact, feeling the blush that crept up on her cheeks. she was all talk until max’s lips were against hers and she felt her heart melt.

chloe moved her arms around max’s waist, hoisting the girl onto her lap to take some control of the kiss. she dragged her fingers over max’s skin peeking from her shirt, which max clearly seemed to be enjoying.

max was pretty easy to please. give her completely undivided attention, and the girl was content. but only if it happened to be chloe’s attention.

chloe pulled away after a few minutes, gazing at the flush on max’s face before chuckling. “so that was it? you’re a jealous little freak huh?”

max shook her head, noticeably flustered. “i’m not.. but yesterday, you know what you said.”

chloe’s face twisted in confusion as she traced everything from yesterday she might’ve said. eventually, she recalled what she said about her friends and let out a small ‘ooh’.

“oh max, you know i meant that about my past, right?” she spoke sincerely, “after you.. why would i need anybody else?”

max smiled slightly in delight, “well, what i said about you never making the first move on me still stands.” her voice came out thick with embarrassment.

chloe sighed and rubbed her hands along max’s back. “i just didn’t wanna fuck things up with you” a grin crept on her lips, “and you know, it was so hot for you to seriously kiss me.”

max felt another stupid blush painted on her face. “i thought i might’ve forced you into something and you started dating me out of pity.”

chloe shook her head, “fuck no. you’re my girl for life.” she pulled max closer “i’ve had things in the past, but i don’t regret that they’ve led me to you.”

max giggled in delight, “you’re speaking all softie like.”

“hm? you want me to give leila this softness instead?” max lightly smacked chloe’s arm while she laughed at her own joke in amusement. “you can’t lie, that was funny.”

max rolled her eyes playfully in response.

“but seriously, you know i wouldn’t dare to try anything with anybody else, right? i have you, you make me happy as fuck.”

max nodded, feeling finally relieved.

“leila’s cool, but not cool enough for me” she winked at max “you on the other hand, you’re SUPER max” she began to cover max’s face in aggressive little kisses from chin to forehead.

“thanks chloe,” max chuckled, still enjoying the kisses she was receiving “i love you”

chloe pulled away, taking one of her hands from max’s waist to stroke the girl’s cheek. “i love you even more.”

——

not proofread <3

[originalfatfiction]

Project AX3

Tap. Tap. Tap. I was utterly dazed and in a state of total confusion. Someone was at my door, and they were knocking in a very precise nature. It was a constant string of taps with hardly any pause between them. I figured whoever it was would go away after realizing I wasn’t going to answer, but the knocks were persisting, the tone not even increasing in volume. There was no urgency, so I moved slowly, not completely awake. I have to get up, I thought. I reached for my glasses, putting them on my face sleepily. I looked over at my digital clock, noting that it was nearly three. Who in the hell would be at my door at three in the morning? I was suddenly much more alert, kicking off my comforter. I stood up, pulled on a pair of shorts, and ran to answer the door.

“I’m coming!” I called, my mind waking more and more by the second. At the sound of my voice the knocking stopped. They hadn’t been knocking as though they were in distress. It could be the building manager, but in my two years of living here, Bonnie had never knocked this late. Someone could be messing with me. Or it could be a potential intruder. Or it could be a demonic presence. I was making myself panic like I always did. Chill out, I thought. There is probably a simple reason why they’re knocking.

Cautiously, I peered through the peephole to get a look at the culprit. There was nobody there. I paused for a moment, almost certain what awaited me on the other side would bring my demise. I opened the door, and I quickly looked both ways down the hallway of my apartment complex. Maybe it was just some practical joker. I didn’t think there’d be anyone living in this building with the sense of humor of a ten-year-old.

Looking down, I found a note with a key taped to the back. It read, in small, neat writing:

Hello Mr. Kirby,

This is from your neighbor Jomei Tanaka. I live in 707 and I was hoping you would look after my apartment while I am away. Please keep an eye on things, for it is uncertain when—and if—I shall return.

He hadn’t signed his name, just having written the word goodbye.

Why would he just up and leave? Why would he ask me of all people to look after his place? I took the note into my apartment and placed it on the end table by the front door. It gave me a bad feeling, definitely. The nature of the note felt so final, I worried he’d done something reckless. I hoped he would be all right.

I didn’t even know what Mr. Tanaka looked like. I had never seen him. I was pretty sure he even got his groceries delivered. Could I go to the police with just a hunch? Did I need more vital information? I did not want to go rummaging around his apartment this late and get the cops called on me. After about thirty minutes of internal debate, I was starting to get groggy. I would check things out in the morning.

A few hours later I dressed quickly for class, making sure to leave enough time to check out Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. I was feeling guilty about not going to the cops when I first received the note. Mr. Tanaka could be dead in his apartment, and I could’ve made sure he survived. I was once again thinking the worst.

I ate a bagel with cream cheese as I packed my bag for the day. Moving from the kitchen to the living room I grabbed my computer from on top of the coffee table as well as a few textbooks. I had a pack of gum, a couple mechanical pencils, and some other miscellaneous items in the various pockets. Once I finished my breakfast, and was certain I had everything I needed, I headed over to Mr. Tanaka’s. I wondered what he even needed me to look after. His plants? His pet snake? I took in the brass numerals on his door: 707. Unlocking the door caused his alarm system to chime. I worried he might have had it set, but after a few moments of silence I assumed I’d be okay to continue my survey of the scene. I adjusted my glasses and looked around before entering further.

Mr. Tanaka sure left in a rush, or the place had been robbed before I showed up. I stepped over a shattered mug, making my way towards the sofa to set down my bag. His apartment was the deluxe. One of the seven apartments on each floor was a deluxe model. That meant there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. My place was miniscule in comparison, being a one bedroom, one bathroom. What did one man need so much space for? He was probably some sort of swinger. I could imagine wild sex parties taking place in each of the various bedrooms. Maybe he’d fallen for someone just this morning and they had to elope in Vegas. Love was just that powerful! I laughed out loud at the idea of it all. That was far-fetched, even for my imagination. My theorizing was cut short by the sound of a ringing telephone.

It continued to ring as I looked around, frantically searching for its location. It was going to be an ordeal attempting to locate it in Tanaka’s tornado zone of an apartment. I had given myself plenty of time to handle this, but I started to fear it was going to make me late for class. I was a junior at the university not too far from here, studying English.

“Hello,” I said reservedly. There was no response. I’d found the phone in one of the bedrooms, which was a total mess—the bedspread on the floor, clothes all over the mattress. “Hello?” I called again. I had picked up the phone just as it stopped ringing so maybe I had missed the caller.

“Hello, this is Doe speaking.” Her voice sounded like one of those recordings they used for voicemails. “Jomei Tanaka, state your authorization number.”

“Uh, hello, Doe,” I said. “Mr. Tanaka isn’t home, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Can I take a message?”

“No, that will not be necessary. Project will be terminated.”

“Project?” What was she talking about? I wanted to question her, but it was really none of my business. “Doe?”

“Goodbye.” The line went dead. I set the phone down, still trying to figure out what she was talking about. I exited the bedroom, ready to get my bag and—oh my God. 

There was a guy, a naked guy, shoving all of my gum into his mouth.

I froze. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t know if I should approach the mentally deranged guy chewing on a twenty-piece wad of peach bubble gum or if I should just snatch my bag and get the fuck away from him.

“So sweet,” he said. His voice sounded kind of like slurps, because of all the gum, but underneath that was a deep, raspy tone. I looked at him more closely, and he appeared well-groomed. He wasn’t bad looking either, actually really handsome. He was tall, somewhat lean, but incredibly muscular, and had barely any body hair. That is to say he had eyebrows and thick black hair on his head and around his penis, but he wasn’t a Sasquatch. “More?”

“Uh, I’m going to take my bag,” I said gently, in case he really was crazy. He grabbed the bag and held it in his arms. If it weren’t for my computer and textbooks, I would have left empty handed. “That—that’s mine.”

“Your bag,” he said. His whole Tarzan routine was concerning. “Your bag! Your bag has chewy stuff inside!”

“Gum?”

“Your bag has gum! I want more gum!” I had just noticed he wasn’t chewing the gum anymore. He had swallowed it, paper and all. He walked close to me, and I got a little nervous. I took a step back, but he kept coming. He extended his arms, holding the strap of my messenger bag. I couldn’t move back any further, my back against a wall. He’d cornered me, though he didn’t seem aggressive. He put my bag on me, his penis brushing against my hip.

“Uh, thank you,” I said, my face hot from discomfort. He didn’t seem to mind being naked. Where did he come from? I had locked the door behind me when I came in; he couldn’t have gotten in that way. He must’ve already been here. Was Mr. Tanaka actually into some sort of weird sex stuff? That’d be outrageous. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is AX3,” he said. That was not a name, at least not in the traditional sense. “That is what Jomei called me.” He was still in my personal bubble.

“Why did he, uh, leave?” I asked cautiously. My hand found its way to his stomach, which felt as if it had been sculpted from marble. I pushed him back gently, for the sake of my nerves. My brain was trying its hardest to make sense of this. Maybe this guy had done something to Mr. Tanaka. The note could have been a means to throw the authorities off, an absolute forgery. It sure looked like there’d been a struggle in this apartment.

“He left because of me, because I was violent—because I was imperfect.” Once again, I was dumbfounded. Was this his way of admitting to harming Mr. Tanaka? I stood silent, terrified of what this giant could do to me. I glanced towards the front door, determined to escape no matter what. “What is your name?” he asked me audaciously, even though I would have been majorly embarrassed if I was standing in front of some stranger in my birthday suit. His question didn’t deter me from focusing on my escape route.

“Casey,” I said, glancing at him and then back to the door. He repeated it back to me, looking me up and down.

“I like you Casey. You look nice.” What did he mean? Nice, like a good person? That I was attractive? Or nice, like the perfect next victim? I walked gingerly towards the door.

“Uh, well I have to get going. See you later, AX3.” I was going to leave the key here because I sure wasn’t coming back. I’d tell the police everything I found, all my suspicions, and be finished with the whole situation. That was my plan. I hadn’t signed up for this. I could handle houseplants and pet snakes, but this was not something I was qualified for.

“I do not want to be alone,” he shouted, walking towards me. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into his naked body. I felt his stone body against my own, noting that he was very warm. “Do not leave! Casey, do not leave!” He was strong, incredibly strong. I was pulling away, but he was grabbing me harder, his penis touching me more and more, pressing against my stomach. It was like he didn’t even notice. Was he getting hard? No, it had to have been my imagination.

“You’re hurting me,” I said, a little alarmed. He let go of me immediately. I looked up at him, and he frowned heavily, like a sad puppy dog. It was actually pretty cute.

“I–I did not mean to hurt you,” he said. “I am sorry.” When Mr. Tanaka’s note asked me to take care of things, did he actually mean him? Like seriously. Did Tanaka think this was an okay thing to ask a distant neighbor to do?

“It’s all right. I forgive you.” He smiled, revealing a set of perfect, white teeth. “I wish you came with instructions,” I mumbled. He smiled even wider and hurried off into one of the bedrooms. I got to take a look at his perfect, round butt. He sped back into the room and handed me a pamphlet. It was his—care instructions?

I doubted I was going to make it to my classes today. Why would Mr. Tanaka leave someone alone who didn’t seem capable of taking care of himself? I was going to get this guy some help and then email my professors about my wild morning. I was sure they’d understand my absence. This was not normal. The telephone rang again.

I retreated back to where I’d left the phone, answering it quickly. “Hello?” No response. I swallowed, my throat dry. I didn’t like feeling like I was in danger. “Doe?”

“You should evacuate the premises. Leave everything as you found it. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and looked at AX3, who had followed me into the bedroom. He stood perfectly still. I could hear a faint hissing sound.

“Uh, AX3—?” He looked at me, and then I started to feel slightly dizzy. He strode over to me quickly and picked me up. “What—what are you doing—?” My words trailed off. AX3 cradled me in arms, walking quickly towards the front door. He opened it forcefully, breaking the lock in the process. He pulled the door closed before he walked all the way down the hall towards the stairwell. He sniffed my hair as he held me in his arms. I kind of liked him, even if he was nuts. I was still kind of dizzy. “Your hair, it smells like—like sweet!” He was so ditzy, though it was kind of charming. He was probably talking about my hair oil. It was coconut scented. He was still holding me, and though I wasn’t heavy, I didn’t think he would be able to carry me for so long.

“Could you set me down?” I asked. He complied. I stumbled slightly, and he supported me, making sure I had my balance. I wasn’t too sure, but I had a feeling that Doe had something to do with what happened in there. Was she trying to kill AX3? He’d made sure I made it out of there okay and now I had to make sure he was taken care of. I’d help him get into contact with his family, his girlfriend—anybody who could make sure he’d be safe. “Follow me.” We walked back down the hall to my door. I fished around for my key in the pocket of my jeans. I unlocked the door, but not before Mrs. Horowitz saw me with a naked man pressing his flaccid dick into my back. All because he seemed to lack the basic instinct of personal space.

We stumbled in and he followed me into my bedroom. He was like a little duck, well—a big duck. I pulled out a pair of briefs and handed them to him. He put them on, and they rode up his ass. I couldn’t believe I was getting an erection with all that had happened today. He didn’t even try to pull them out from between his beefy cheeks. It couldn’t be helped; they were really small on his large body.

I handed him a t-shirt and that was also too small. The sleeves hugged his biceps and if he moved his arms the shirt rode up on his flat stomach. I walked up to him, pulling at the hem of the shirt, trying to make it cover more of his muscled stomach. I laughed when it wouldn’t stay put. He lifted his arms and once again I tried to pull the shirt down. He gave a husky laugh, smiling at me widely, like it was a game. I was forced to accept I’d just have to look at him semi-nude. My clothes just weren’t going to fit him. 

I wasn’t even at his shoulder, meaning he most likely weighed way more than I did too. I couldn’t see him weighing anything close to 145 pounds. I figured he had some clothes back at Tanaka’s, but with what happened earlier I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return there. He’d just have to make do with my too-tight underclothes for now.

I had set down the pamphlet he gave me when we first entered the apartment. I went to retrieve it. He followed, of course. I stood by the end table next to my front door and he stood behind me.

I could hear him breathing behind me as I read the three lines of text. They were labeled as Vital Information.

1. Do not leave AX3 alone for more than 48 hours.

2. Do not allow AX3 to consume more than 500 calories per day.

3. Do not anger AX3; he has the ability to kill.

That was not very helpful. Hell, that gum he swallowed was most likely over 500 calories. I looked at the back of the pamphlet. It was just a diagram of AX3. He was 6’5” and 230 pounds. I sighed and turned around. There he was, smiling at me dimly.

“Who are you?” I mumbled softly. He blinked at me, looking at me with a confused stare. AX3’s eyes were a very pure, bright blue-gray color that seemed almost electric. God they were pretty eyes.

I had monolid eyes, the irises brown in color, inherited from my paternal grandmother who was Korean. The rest of my ancestry was African. In high school, my best friend dubbed me the “Miniature Tyson Beckford.” My freshman year of college I dyed my hair blond, and I was currently in my blue period, with a bold cerulean fade.

“I am AX3.” He smiled again. “You are Casey.”

“I know who you are. I was just thinking out loud.” I didn’t know what to do with him. Should I report him to the police? Should I just let him stay here? “Do you have a way I can contact your family? Your mom or your dad?”

“I only have Jomei,” he said. It nearly broke my heart. I needed to figure something out, because unless I could find Jomei Tanaka it appeared AX3 would be a stray. “Do you know where Mr. Tanaka went?” I asked.

“Away,” he said.

“Yes, but where?” He shook his head no. Whatever the relationship he and Tanaka had, it seemed to be a rocky one. I hated to keep bringing him up to AX3, but he was the only lead I had. “Did he say when he was coming back?”

“He is not coming back, because he does not want me anymore. Because I was imperfect. I failed too many times.”

“What did you fail?” I asked, trying to figure out who AX3 really was—and I was getting tired of calling him AX3.

“The inspections, the tests. He said I was broken. He said they would kill him if I did not pass the tests. I did not like those tests.” He looked angry, and it was an emotion that didn’t suit him. He had such a happy-go-lucky attitude that this was almost like a different person. Looking at me, he panted ferociously. I stepped back, unsure of what he would do.  He started punching the wall, over and over again. In a matter of moments, he’d punched three holes in my wall. I could kiss that safety deposit goodbye. I didn’t want to yell at him to stop, afraid that would just make him even more upset. “They hurt! The tests hurt!”

“How—how about a cookie?” I asked, my voice shaky, uncertain if this would calm him down. He stopped, looking confused for a moment, then smiled at me. “C’mon.” He followed me into the kitchen, and I took out my cookie jar. They were oatmeal chocolate chip. I handed him one and he put the whole thing in his mouth.

“Can I have another cookie?” he asked, not even done with the first one. How many calories was this? I handed him another and he ate that one just as fast as he ate the first one. I had to tell him no more after the fifth one.

I was sure I broke the 500-calorie rule, but I was trying to satiate him. 500 calories were like nothing at all and he was huge. It baffled me that he would be able to live on only 500 calories a day. He was probably hangry. It was almost understandable he turned my wall into a punching bag. Maybe Mr. Tanaka had been starving him—though if he were, AX3 wouldn’t look to be in such fantastic shape.

I spent the rest of the day talking to him, every so often bringing up little questions about Mr. Tanaka. I found out that he was a single, older man. They’d lived in that apartment together for the last four years. He only let AX3 eat chicken breasts, celery, carrots, cottage cheese, and water.

I had hoped to find out more, but at around eleven I decided to call it a night. I made up the couch for myself and told AX3 he could sleep in my bed.

“I want to sleep with you,” he protested. It had been a while since I’d heard that from a guy. I wanted to ask if he and Tanaka shared a bed but decided against it. “Please Casey.” 

I would never do something so crazy under any other circumstance, but I went with him into my bedroom. He was still wearing the underwear and t-shirt I gave him earlier. I pulled off my jeans and pulled on a pair of athletic shorts. Normally I slept in my underwear, but that didn’t seem appropriate considering the situation. I put my glasses on the nightstand.

We positioned ourselves on my queen-sized mattress and he held onto me. I wanted to push him off, but I didn’t. He wasn’t a bad guy, though I felt like one. He didn’t know what he was doing, and truthfully, I let him in bed with me because I felt lonely.

My ex-boyfriend dumped me out of the blue about a year ago. It was during finals week, and I was completely overwhelmed with essays and projects. I got a text message saying he needed to focus on himself, and that he didn’t have time for a relationship. I was devastated. He was a year ahead of me in school and very popular. The worst part was that I thought everything was fine. We’d gotten dinner the night before and studied in the library together for a few hours afterwards.

I still saw him sometimes in the coffee shop where we had our first date. My freshman year I spent most of my free time there, loving the atmosphere. It was special to me, and that was why I suggested we meet there. Now he was always there, and I was rarely able to avoid him. He always had numerous unsolicited updates about his amazing life.

Before long, with AX3 cuddling me, I was fast asleep.

I woke up around six and looked to my right. Shouldn’t someone have been next to me, or was yesterday a dream? 

No—AX3 was gone. I sat up, reaching for my glasses. Hopping out of bed, I put the aviator frames on my face as I rushed from my bedroom into the kitchen. There he was, drinking milk from the jug.

“You don’t want a glass?” I asked. I looked at my counter. It was littered with food packages. He had finished off all the cookies. He had also finished some leftover pizza, a fruit tart my mother made me, a pound of honey roasted turkey breast. My Cinnamon Toast Crunch was gone, as well as my coffee creamer. I think he’d even eaten a stick of butter. His belly was full-looking, and it was shocking how bloated he appeared to be. I wanted to touch his stomach, like I had yesterday. He brought the jug from his lips. “I am sorry Casey,” he said to me. “Do not be mad.”

The 500-calorie rule had officially been broken, though nothing bad seemed to have happened.

I hadn’t gone to my classes in three days, and I was determined to go tomorrow. It would be Thursday, and my last day of classes for the week. I’d spent my time getting to know AX3, and to be honest we didn’t do much aside from hang out. We watched TV and listened to music. I taught him how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. That evening, as we watched an old Disney movie, he asked me to give him a regular name. I was sick and tired of calling him AX3, and I guess he was tired of hearing it as well. I told him he could choose one and I would respect whatever name he chose. He insisted that I had to be the one to pick it, and I settled on Axel, considering it kind of looked like AX3. “How about Axel?” I asked. He laughed, smiling wide, and repeated the name. He liked it.

The next morning, I got ready to leave for class. It was my only true commitment, considering I didn’t work. My parents paid for everything I needed. They told me that they wanted me to focus on my education. I was a bit spoiled in that regard and it was only because they had a great deal of money.

They ran a genetics lab and had hoped their only child would study genetics as well. Sadly, I ran from science courses, never having an affinity for them. Maybe I should have taken Axel to them, but they’d look at him and see he was perfectly normal and shoo me out of their office.

I told him I would be back in less than eight hours. He was eating marshmallows and I had given up on his care instructions. I’d need to go grocery shopping soon. We couldn’t live off pizza and Chinese food forever. We also had to get him some more size appropriate clothing items. “You are leaving?” His eyes got wide.

“I have to go to school. I’m a college student.” I took the marshmallows from his hands and placed them on the counter. “I will be back.”

“No!” He grabbed me into a tight hug, like that day in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. He was lifting me up, the toes of my shoes scraping against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It started to hurt. “You will leave just like Jomei.” 

He sounded irate, getting more and more worked up. He grabbed harder. He was so unhinged, and it broke me inside to think of what he’d been through to make him this way. Tanaka had really screwed with his head. I started to wonder if he had been abducted as a child. Again, he squeezed tighter and I started getting that lightheaded feeling from a lack of oxygen.

“Axel you’re hurti—I can’t breathe—” He sat me down, looking fearful and apologetic. He reached for the marshmallows, pawing at the neck of his t-shirt. It was probably too tight.

“Please come back soon.”

“I will come back. I promise,” I said. I walked towards the door and he followed. I pushed him back gently and closed the door behind me. I looked down the hallway and at apartment 707 was a man in a black suit. He was balding, and his hair was a snow-white color. This was a white man, so I figured it wasn’t Jomei Tanaka.

We made eye contact and I noticed he was holding an envelope. I couldn’t do anything right this second, but if he was going to leave something there, I was so going to take it as soon as I saw him leave. I left him in the hallway and took the elevator down to the lobby. I went outside and sat at a nearby bus stop.

No longer than five minutes later he walked down the street to a sleek black car and drove away. I ran back into the building, key in hand and up the seven flights of stairs. My face felt flushed, but I couldn’t stop the excitement that began to grow inside of me. This could mean more information for Axel.

I tried to use the key, but it didn’t fit in the lock. How had the other man gotten in here? He didn’t look like the type to pick a lock, but I’d recently learned not to judge a book by its cover. I, however, had no locksmith abilities whatsoever. “Shit,” I whispered to myself.

“What are you doing?” I must have jumped a foot in the air. It was Axel, and he was in the hallway in nothing but my too-small gym shorts. I guess he got fed up with the shirt. I had to buy him some clothes of his own. He seemed—wider. His chest was broad, his pecs sizable and incredibly plush. His nipples were pert and pink, the areolas a bit larger than a quarter. His abs, which had looked to be chiseled by Michelangelo himself, were nowhere to be seen. His tummy bowed out, as if he’d just eaten a large meal. I really needed to make sure he ate less, but he always seemed so happy when he was eating.

“There was a man who left an envelope in there. I have this key that Jomei left me,” I said, holding it up for him to see. “But now it seems the locks have been changed.”

“You want to go inside?” he asked. I nodded. He pushed me aside, and in one swift kick he knocked the door wide open. It was sexy, not going to lie. I looked around the hall, making sure nobody saw us, especially that busybody Mrs. Horowitz. I ushered him inside the apartment quickly, walking behind him.

When I got to look around my jaw dropped. The apartment was back to normal—well not exactly. It was clean, yes. But this was an entirely different place than four days ago. Someone had completely redecorated. Had Doe done this? Was this her getting rid of all traces of the project? All of the furniture was different and there were new colors on the walls. I saw the envelope the man had been holding, picked it up, and continued to look around.

They’d removed all of Tanaka’s belongings. It was like we were in a hotel penthouse. We had to get out of here. What if they had something worse set up than the stuff they used last time we were here? “Let’s go Axel,” I said, looking at the envelope in my hands. He pulled the door closed and we went back to my apartment. I threw my bag down and sat on the couch.

He sat on the ground in front of me in a pose that reminded me of a little kid. He had his legs tucked into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His biceps bulged with muscle, and they looked larger than when we first met. Maybe the 500-calorie rule had something to do with why he was getting so big so fast. He’d definitely grown since moving in with me, which was strange as it had been less than a week. I thought he still looked great, which was a thought I tried to ignore. I had to remind myself that we were only friends, if that.

I opened the envelope and pulled out six folded up sheets of paper. It seemed to be a review of Project AX3 and its terminated status. It detailed what the project was and why it was ended.

Axel was named from birth twenty-three years ago AX3—so he had never had a “real” name. He was twenty-three. There was something odd about knowing his birthday. He was a December baby. I had just turned twenty last month, in July. These documents claimed his mother “donated” him to the study, helmed by Lieutenant General Jomei Tanaka and a Dr. Lionel Lawry. He had been with them his whole life.

They were creating the perfect combatant and had been testing different formulas on him: a growth serum, a muscle developing medication, a brain stimulant which targeted receptors for aggression and rage.

They were being funded by the government. I couldn’t fathom how this was pitched, let alone approved and financed. Doe was a member of the government inner circle who led this and other experiments for the military. She was the one who decided to cut funding for multiple projects, and to terminate this project in particular.

His brain had been permanently damaged by the drug targeted at his frontal lobe. When he gets angry, he can’t control it. They rewired him—his brain. They’ve been manipulating his emotions, trying to make him ruthless, but it didn’t work out how they would have hoped. From what I read, about the tests, he had never been up to government standards.

He could only have 500 calories a day because when he was going through puberty, they tested another formula that would allow him to survive on a diminutive number of calories, in case he was stranded in combat. He’d put on weight more quickly than a normal person because of it; his body didn’t burn the calories properly. I doubted they ever tested long-term what would happen if he did eat more than 500 calories a day, because it seemed to have an effect on the muscle developing medication.

He was a government guinea pig, and they were just going to toss him aside because he didn't fit the mold they wanted. He never got to live a normal life. He would have died if I never went to Mr. Tanaka’s apartment.

Scribbled across the back of the final page was a note from Dr. Lawry. The handwriting was messy, the lettering somewhat jarring. It read:

LTG Tanaka,

This is a complete farce. Does that bitch really think 25 years’ worth of research can just be tossed aside like this? You’ve got to take the boy and get out of here. I fear that they’ve already gotten you both. If you get my letter, you know where I am hiding. Call my emergency number. Get in contact with me ASAP.

He signed the letter L.L.

I must’ve read the entire thing three times before I looked at Axel. When I did, he was smiling at me sweetly, eyes lively and good-natured. “What?” he asked.

Did I look worried? I was worried. What was I supposed to do with him? I didn’t want him to stay cooped up in my apartment for the rest of his life. Dr. Lawry sounded desperate. He must have been to leave this correspondence after seeing Tanaka’s apartment. He had to have been able to tell that things were amiss in there. Did he really think his colleague was just biding his time before returning to the apartment? I bet Tanaka got out of dodge before anyone could put a bounty on his head. His guilty conscience was why he left me the note, to make sure Axel was taken care of.

Axel stood up and sat next to me on the sofa. He put his arm around my shoulder. This isn’t what you think, I reminded myself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“I’m fine,” I said. I looked at him in the shorts. He’d stretched out the waistband and I didn’t think the elastic would bounce back. I only had little underwear, so he was going commando. His sizable penis bulged obscenely, trying to be contained by the thin, purple cotton fabric. “Though I think maybe we should go out and get you some clothes.”

“But I am already wearing clothes,” he said, jumping up. His ass was another problem. It was pornographic. Like my briefs that first day, the shorts rode up his butt. Even if he felt comfortable in next to nothing, he needed clothes because I couldn't take looking at him semi-nude any longer. This was a test from the universe—having the hottest man I’d ever seen living with me, parading around in the nude, and not being able to suck his dick.

I suddenly realized he didn’t even have anything to wear to go shopping for something to wear.

The next day, my day off from classes, we went to get him some things. He put on one of my biggest t-shirts and a pair of my running shorts. By conventional standards, the fit was terrible, but it was all we had to work with. His feet must’ve been at least a size fifteen, but I had a pair of flip flops that actually worked. They’d come into my possession one drunken night and I had no clue how. Had I stolen them? Most likely.

We left out around noon and I wished that I had a car so people didn’t have to see him so—sexy? He had a powerful strut that showed off the sheer size he carried around. In four and a half days, he looked to have put on at least twenty-five pounds. Walking next to him felt good, and I felt lucky to have met him. It felt like a date, and I had to remind myself I was simply helping a friend, like I was all five guys from Queer Eye rolled into one.

I lived close to many shops and we first stopped at a shoe store. I thought a pair of sneakers would be nice. I measured his feet, size fifteen and a half. I told him to pick any gym shoe he wanted. He held up a tiny shoe with a light up cartoon character. I couldn’t help but laugh. I doubted those were made in his size.

I told him to pick again and forlornly he chose a pair of Nikes. I also picked up two ten packs of socks. I paid, and we left the store to try to find some actual clothes. He didn’t get out much with Jomei I assumed. He was amazed by every store we passed and stopped to look in each of the front windows.

After some more shopping, we came to the coffee shop where he-who-shall-not-be-named often hung around. He saw the shelf of cookies and treats and turned to me, face excited and eager. “Can we get something? Please.” As much as I wanted to avoid this place, I just couldn’t say no to him.

“Yeah, let’s get something.” I opened the door and he walked in. I followed. We went up to the counter and I saw his eyes explore the shelf of goodies. “What do you want?” I asked after ordering a large, iced coffee.

“I do not know. What should I get Casey?” he asked me, still staring at all the pastries. They only had twenty different items.

“May we have one of each?” The worker asked me if I was sure, looking towards Axel, then back at me. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” She pulled out a box and began to place one of each inside of it. I took the box and my coffee, along with three milks for Axel, and sat at a small table near the exit. He placed the bags he had been carrying beside his chair. Along with his shoes and socks, we had bought two pairs of sweatpants, three pairs of athletic shorts, a multipack of t-shirts (he chose purple, because they matched his new underwear), and a pair of blue jeans.

He had eaten three of the cakes and I sat watching him enjoy himself as I sipped on my coffee. He was a behemoth and taking him in outside of my living room was bizarre. In my apartment he dwarfed everything, but even in public he took up space in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. He made everything seem so tiny. The milk cartons in his hands looked surreal. The width of his shoulders was intimidating, and the fact that he was still wearing my shirt that didn’t fit exaggerated the muscularity of his neck and traps. He also had a small gut that peeked out the bottom of the shirt, which was more akin to a crop top. I wanted to rub his belly, to feel his beefiness with my own hands.

“This one is really good,” he said through a mouthful of lemon cake with vanilla frosting. “You have to try it.” He leaned forward, extending the dessert to me. “Bite it,” he directed, smiling. I took a small bite, savoring the tart-sweet combination.

“That is good,” I said. He smiled even wider, pleased with himself. I was really starting to like him. He asked if I wanted any more and I declined. He then shoved the remains of the cake into his mouth, smearing frosting on his lips and nose. We needed napkins. “I’ll be right back,” I informed him. I went up to the napkin dispenser by the service counter and grabbed a couple while he continued to eat his food. The 500-calorie thing was dead and gone.

“Space Case!” I cringed at the pet name. I turned to face my ex-boyfriend. “Blue hair, huh?” He smiled at me, though I could tell he was being facetious. He was a fake, all of him, everything about him. But even knowing he didn’t matter in my life anymore, that he had no control over my self-image, it made me feel small. He was a dick—but I still cared about him. I still thought about him. I still had hope that maybe one day he’d say he made a mistake when he broke up with me through text message. “How’s it going?” he asked, sure that I was doing terribly.

“Hey Jonah,” I said, smiling. I could feel myself being fake too. I hated it. “I’m doing great, how about you?” It had always been so hard being myself with him. It was nothing like this with Axel. I didn’t feel so worthless, so insignificant. I felt my hand squeezing the napkins. They’d be too crumpled to use if I didn’t chill.

“Oh nothing, been dating a lot.” He smiled wide, sure I hadn’t been on a date in forever. He reveled in the fact that I hadn’t gotten over him. “I’m just trying to get through these next twelve weeks. I’m graduating in December, a semester early. I can’t wait for graduation. Can’t wait to move out west.”

“Awesome,” I said, feeling that none of the things he said were remarkable. He was a braggart. I knew he just wanted to tell me how great things had been going for him.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” he asked. That was all he really wanted to know. I could lie, but then he’d hassle me for details, and that would trip me up.

“Well, I, uh—um,” I stuttered. Just then Axel walked up to us. He still had some stuff on his face. “C’mere,” I said. He leaned down so I could reach his face. I wiped it off for him, taking in his beautiful eyes for the millionth time.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Jonah asked. Wiping food off of Axel’s face did make us look a bit like we were together. I wanted to shove Axel in his face more than anything. Jonah wouldn’t know what to do with himself, honestly. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t use him that way, no matter how much I wanted to.

“No, just a friend,” I said softly. He set his gaze on Axel and started flirting up a storm. I didn’t even get to introduce them. I didn’t get to tell Axel anything about Jonah. I could tell Axel was over it, and I was worried he’d get upset. Funnily enough, I was the one getting angry. I wanted to punch a couple of holes in something and it wasn’t my apartment wall. I counted backwards from ten, and with each number I pictured something that made me smile.

“You must be an athlete,” Jonah said. “With all those muscles.” He deliberately glanced at Axel’s package, which admittedly was somewhat obscene in my shorts, but it was still creepy as fuck of Jonah to do. Axel looked at him blankly, and I was once again afraid he’d get upset.

“Back off Jonah, he’s not interested.”

“He can tell me that,” he replied, sure he’d won Axel over.

“I am not interested,” Axel said plainly. He grabbed my arm and walked me back over to our table. I glanced back at Jonah, who didn’t look nearly as good as I remembered. He over arched his eyebrows and wore too much cologne. I felt myself smile. Axel had stood up for me.

“Can we go now?” he asked. “That weird man keeps staring at us.” I glanced over at Jonah, his face scrunched up and displeased. His laptop was open, but he was staring daggers at us. Axel still had five or so pastries left, but I was sure he’d eat them at home. We gathered up our belongings and went back to my apartment. I laughed a little bit at the memory of Jonah’s face.

In the hallway I saw the man with the snow-white hair, Dr. Lawry. I hadn’t expected to see him again. He looked at me, and then at Axel. His face registered shock and we walked by quickly. Axel walked close to me, his body pushing mine forward causing me to stumble. He was afraid. I didn’t want that bastard anywhere near Axel. I had to keep him safe. “AX3!” Lawry shouted. “AX3!” Axel glanced back at him, but I told him to keep walking.

“I know that man, he works with—with Jomei,” Axel said to me as I attempted to unlock my door. “He is not nice. He is not nice, Casey.” My hands were shaking, and I was still balancing the desserts from the coffee shop.

“AX3!” he yelled again. “Perro de Presa Canario!”

Axel dropped his bags and turned towards the older man. His entire posture had changed. He looked ten times more aggressive, his hands in fists. Lawry smiled—before Axel lumbered over to him, lifting him off of the ground like a ragdoll. He threw Dr. Lawry effortlessly, the old man bouncing off the wall and hitting the floor of the carpeted hallway.

Axel turned towards me, looking the most frightening I’d ever seen him. This was different from the other times. He seemed removed from the situation, as if acting on a vicious autopilot. All of his muscles looked tense and his nostrils were flared. I backed up slowly. He exposed his teeth, like some kind of dog. It couldn’t have been the same person—the person who loved the color purple and cookies. I dropped the box, covering my face instinctively.

“Palos Verdes Blue,” Lawry shouted. There was a loud thud, and when I peeked out from behind my arms, I saw that Axel had hit the ground. He’d passed out.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted, almost crying. I felt the tears welling up. “What did you do!?” I ran over to Dr. Lawry, tackling him. I sat on top of him, and he smiled up at me. His smug face was infuriating, and before I could stop myself, I punched him. I had never hit anyone before. I didn’t enjoy it, but he stopped smiling.

“Let’s just go inside,” he said, rubbing his jaw. I stood up, heart racing. I looked at him, and then at Axel, who was still unconscious. I grabbed all of the bags and put them inside. I picked up the box from the coffee shop and set it on the end table by the door. Hopefully, the desserts were still edible. Dr. Lawry was only a bit larger than I was, so it took the both of us to drag him inside. Axel was so heavy, we couldn’t put him on the sofa, so I just placed a pillow under his head.

“It seems you’ve been feeding him well,” Dr. Lawry said condescendingly, taking a seat on my couch after removing his suit jacket. I stood a few feet from Axel, hovering nervously. “You don’t know about the 500-calorie restriction, do you? You’ve single handedly destroyed everything Jomei and I have worked for.” He sighed deeply. “How did you let him get so big, so fast? He’ll have to go down to 400 calories a day and be put on a strict exercise regimen if he’s going to get back down to 230 pounds.”

I was slightly embarrassed, like I had messed up somehow. Axel was such a big man, if he wanted to eat who was I to stop him? I looked over at him on the ground, his belly rising and falling as he breathed deeply. Compared to when we met in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment that first day, he definitely was not his usual 230-pound self. I wondered if Axel even noticed. I think he enjoyed being able to eat whatever he wanted more than getting fat.

“No,” I said angrily. “If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to.”

“If he doesn’t, Doe will never reopen the project. We’re too far in to start on a new specimen.”

“Who gives a fuck? You have destroyed a person’s life. You took his freedom, his sanity.” Lawry was talking about him like he wasn’t a person. Like he was honestly just a project. I looked down at Axel, still asleep. “Why can’t you give him this chance to start fresh?”

“How did you come upon AX3?” he asked me, ignoring my question.

“Mr. Tanaka left me a note asking me to look after his apartment.” I sighed. “So, you’re Dr. Lionel Lawry, I’m assuming.”

“Yes, I am Dr. Lawry,” he confirmed. “And you are?”

“I’m Casey Kirby.”

“AX3 has never been around an African-American for such an extended period. It might be worth getting your testimony about your experience. Was he receptive? Both AX1 and AX2 were also white males. Perhaps that’s where we went wrong.” He was rambling, his mind obviously trying to piece together what factors could improve Axel’s chances of passing the government tests.

“Racism isn’t inherent,” I said. “So, unless you taught him to hate black people, he would treat everyone equally.”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “It would still be worth doing some studies.”

“Why did Axel get so worked up? What did you say to him?”

“It was just an activation phrase. We use it to get him to attack. You see, he was a difficult subject, but the only one which survived. AX1 and AX2 both suffered deaths in training.” He narrowed his eyes on me before speaking again. “To activate the attacks, you must say Perro de Presa Canario. To deactivate them, say Palos Verdes Blue. But that’s all irrelevant to you, Casey Kirby.”

This was much more intense than I could have imagined. I wanted to ask more questions, to voice my opinions on the whole matter, but I couldn’t vocalize anything. My throat was so dry. I wanted a glass of water, but I didn’t want to leave Axel alone with this man.

Dr. Lawry broke the silence. “When can I take him?” he asked, before laughing obnoxiously. “Disregard that, I’m taking him as soon as he wakes up.”

“You can’t take him! We’re—you can’t.” I felt nauseous. He couldn’t take Axel from me. I felt selfish, but I liked having him around, and I wanted to make sure he was happy. Even if we weren’t a couple. Even if being in each other’s lives was only temporary. I had to help him be independent. Had Mr. Tanaka treated him like nothing? Like some simple weapon who didn’t have his own feelings and thoughts?

“You’ve had intercourse?” he asked. “He’s too unstable for that, he could kill you. What if he snapped your neck after ejaculation? Or couldn’t control his sexual urges and raped you?”

“How would you know?” I retorted, blood rushing to my face. “Have you studied his sexual behavior? Did he fuck someone to death? You didn’t even know he wasn’t racist until a few minutes ago, you sorry ass excuse for a scientist.”

“No need to get hostile. I would not know how he responds to sexual intercourse. From what I know he is a virgin. We had him masturbate a few times, as a test, but I do know he’s done it without our asking—each time he seems different afterwards.” He smiled, and it felt very inauthentic. “Do you want to, uh—sleep with him?”

“I think you should leave,” I said. I didn’t like him, not at all. He was a total ass.

“I will. As soon as AX3 wakes up, I will be on my way.” He really thought he was going to take Axel. Well, I wasn’t going to let him. This punk ass dude was getting me more riled up than Jonah ever had.

“His name is Axel, which is what he wants to be called, and he’s not going anywhere with you. And to reiterate, I really think you should leave.”

“I’m not going—” Dr. Lawry started, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Get out,” I shouted. “You have no right to take him. He’s not some piece of property, he’s a person.”

“AX3 is government property. You have no claim on him,” he said. “How do you know he wants to stay here? You don’t.” I hoped he enjoyed staying with me. I had really grown to care about Axel.

“I want to stay here with Casey.” Axel sat up on the floor. I didn’t know he had woken up. “I do not want you bothering Casey ever again. Or me.” He stood up quickly, as did Dr. Lawry, who put on his suit jacket.

“AX3, really, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Dr. Lawry said in a calm tone.

“Now I really think you should leave.” Axel looked at me, still somewhat composed.

“Now AX3, calm down so we can go and—”

“My name is not AX3. My name is Axel.” He was getting angry, his eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “Get out!” He lunged over to Lawry and picked him up again. “You—you and—and Jomei.” 

He made a growling sound. I took it Dr. Lawry had upset him. It seemed like he didn’t know the guidelines either. Axel shook Lionel like it was nothing, throwing him to the ground after a few seconds. He knelt down beside Dr. Lawry and began to punch him in the chest. 

“Stop, Axel no!” He’d kill the elderly man, who didn’t compare even a tad to the durability of my apartment wall. I ran over to them, and Axel pushed me back without much effort. I fell backwards onto the coffee table, breaking two of the legs. He had knocked the wind out of me. Axel looked over at me, his face contorted in anguish. He looked back at Dr. Lawry, who was panting loudly, and jerked him up from the floor, dragging him out of the room towards the front door. Axel stormed back in, his breathing heavy.

“I hurt you,” he lamented, which wasn’t entirely true. For the most part I was fine. He hadn’t caused me any permanent damage. “I am broken. I am stupid.” I was still laying on the broken coffee table. He fell to his knees, and I could feel the floor vibrate from the sudden thud. He leaned forward, crying loudly. “Casey, I am sorry. I am sorry.”

I got to my feet and made my way over to him. I placed a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. “I’m okay Axel, really.”

“I should go with him,” he said. “It is where I belong. I do not belong here. I do not deserve this.” I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, and it didn’t seem like he ever really wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted to help. I wanted him to feel better.

“When—when I’m angry,” I started. “I count backwards from ten, and with each number, I think of something that makes me smile. So, for example, uh, let’s say for the number ten I’d think of teaching you to make a grilled cheese. Remember? You put six whole slices in yours.”

“You were right. It was too much for one sandwich.” He started to soften, his breathing becoming regular once more.

“What’s something you’d use for your number ten?” I asked. He sat up, looking at me. His belly rose and fell with each breath.

“Sleeping in bed with you. That always makes me feel calm. Or how you got me all those cakes today. Or when you taught me to dance to Beyoncé.” I felt my face get really warm, and I wished he didn’t make me feel like this. I didn’t want to abuse the situation. I wanted to just be friends.

“That’s ten, nine, and eight. You’re good at this.” He got to his feet, and now he looked down at me.

“Are you all right?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me into his body. We hadn’t ever hugged like this before, the closest we got to one another was in bed. I could feel his penis against my stomach again, but this time he was definitely hard. I didn’t know what to do.

“When Dr. Lawry asked you if you wanted to have sex with me, you never gave him an answer.” I stood in his arms, completely caught off guard. Had he been awake, listening in? The day we met he barely knew what gum was, but now he was asking me about sex? We'd been watching a lot of TV and movies, some of which did have sexual situations. Axel seemed to have a very large capacity for learning new things. He was always asking questions. He loved when I explained things to him. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I thought.

“If I said yes would it make you uncomfortable?” I asked. He hadn’t initiated anything sexual before. I didn’t know if he was gay. Could he even be gay? Could they have made sure that wouldn’t have happened with some sort of pill?

“No, I do not think it would.” We stood silent, his arms around me. I didn’t want to take advantage of him. He was vulnerable, and he’d been through a lot. If we had met through an app or on the internet, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would have made my move as soon as he let me know it was okay. “I am sorry for getting so angry,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “When that happens, I remember it, but it does not feel like me. Something just takes over.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “How about a snack?” He smiled again and nodded. His leftovers from the coffee shop were a little banged up, but they were still edible. He ate them happily, getting frosting on his nose and lips again. I smiled to myself as I went to get him a paper towel, but the thought of Dr. Lawry’s return weighed heavily on my mind.

I knew Dr. Lawry would be back and I knew he’d be coming for Axel. I had been going to class off and on for over a month. I was still doing my work, making sure to get to campus to turn in papers and other major assignments. Every time I left the house, I feared I’d never see Axel again. That I’d return home to my apartment torn apart and my enormous houseguest nowhere to be found.

“Casey,” Axel called out to me from the kitchen. I’d given my friend an assignment for tomorrow’s class and she had gone home. I made my way to where he was. He sat shirtless at the table with his legs spread apart and his belly bulging out in a heavy sphere, relaxing his stomach muscles after indulging in some cookies we baked earlier in the day. His meaty backside filled up the kitchen chair over capacity.

His back was arched and his meaty pecs, which were covered in a substantial layer of flab, jutted out making him look massive. There was no pretending he was the same size or hiding his belly because it bowed out even when he hadn’t eaten, as rare as that was.

His once thin face had begun to fill out and he started to get a double chin. I noted that his cheeks were very red. It was honestly the first time I ever saw him look embarrassed or nervous. He didn’t seem to ever convey those emotions. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Your face is flushed.”

“I am all right,” he said, much more confidently than he looked. He lifted his bulk up out of the chair and made his way over to me at the counter. He looked down at me, face serious and determined. His belly pressed my body back, my butt up against the counter. His stomach pressing me back like that was so arousing.

“I am going to kiss you,” he said, cheeks rosy. Before I had the chance to reply he pushed his mouth against mine. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. He tasted like gingersnaps. His breathing became heavier and I thought slightly about what Dr. Lawry said, about rape and the neck snapping. I knew that wouldn’t happen. Axel would never do that—ever.

He was so warm. I hadn’t had sex since Jonah, and I wanted nothing more than to give myself to Axel. It had been on my mind ever since that day Dr. Lawry bombarded his way back into Axel’s life. That whole conversation made me confront the possibility of an intimate relationship with Axel.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, at least not with my brain. My dick pressed against my jeans making my pants feel really tight. I knew Axel was turned on too, as I could feel his dick on my stomach. He bit my neck, sucking on it, then covering it with gentle kisses. I moaned loudly, unable to control myself. I grabbed his butt, working my way up his back. He’d have a large V-shape if his love handles didn’t pour away from his body, thick and fleshy. He kissed me on the mouth again.

We moved towards my bedroom, stopping outside of the bathroom. “Can we do something?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said. “But what is in the bathroom?” I directed him to the scale and told him to stand on it. I was curious about how much he could put on in five weeks. Up until this point I had never made him weigh in, but I needed this. “Am—am I in trouble?” he asked, his arms covering his middle. He looked at the scale nervously.

“No, of course not,” I said. This was perverted, and I’d made him uncomfortable. What was up with me? I liked a wide range of male body types, but I’d never been with someone as big as Axel was. There was something so erotic about having seen him grow into the biggest, most muscular man that I’d ever seen. I hadn’t considered that he was self-conscious about his body.

“When I do not do well in the weigh-ins, I do not get to eat for a while.”

“I won’t be upset with what that scale says,” I told him, about to be completely honest with him. “Axel, I—I kind of like it. How big you’ve gotten.” He moved his arms.

“You like it, really?” he asked. “I did a good job?” I smiled awkwardly, nodding my confirmation. He walked over to the scale and stood on it. I hit the floor, so I could read the results. 347 pounds. My penis surged, and I felt a small drip of pre-cum.

I stood up, and he stepped off the scale, smiling at me. I’d never been more turned on in my entire life. I pulled him towards my bedroom, and looking at my queen-sized bed, I found it to be awfully small. He pulled off his cotton shorts, which we had purchased on our second shopping trip, revealing a small purple pair of striped briefs. His thighs looked gigantic, larger than my waist. He could hold up a house with those legs.

His ass was beefy and round, an enhanced version of the butt I saw a little over a month ago. His penis made a significant bulge in the underwear and I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. He removed his briefs at the same time I pulled off mine. I stood closest to the bed and he pushed me back, a bit forcefully.

He straddled me, kissing me hard. His hands pressed against the bed on the opposing sides of my head. His forearms were huge, and I couldn’t believe how firm they looked. He was even more muscular than when we first met, but he didn’t go to the gym or anything. He stopped kissing me, looking at me intensely. Once again, I was seeing a different side to him. He was so fucking hot, his lips parted in lust, his eyes staring at me with desire.

I pushed him off gently and walked towards my dresser. “We need some things,” I said as I rummaged through a drawer. I pulled out some lube and the largest condom I had. I had to help him put it on. He said it tickled. Leave it to him to say a condom tickled. I lubed up his dick as well as my hole. I told him what to do and he placed his sizable penis near my ass.

He slid in faster than I would have anticipated, and I gasped loudly. “Are you okay Casey?” he asked.

“Keep going,” I said, face down on the bed. He thrust his ample hips and held onto me with his big, manly hands. He went harder and harder and I thought of what Mr. Lawry said again. Harder. He grunted, his breathing deep. I just hoped I wasn’t too loud, not wanting to alarm him. Harder. Cum shot from my penis in what felt like an eternal stream. I’d never come from just anal before, and definitely not so fast. He was better than—what was his name? Joseph? Johan? Who cared! Axel was still going, and he was getting a little more aggressive. One last grunt and he came. We laid next to one another.

“I love you, Casey,” he said with all the feeling in the world I almost started bawling. “I never knew I could feel this happy.”

“I–I love you too, Axel.” He grabbed me, spooning me. His belly pressed against my firm body. I was still hard, and he was too.

“I did not hurt you,” he said, his face conveying a large, proud smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was a bit rough. Hell, I kind of liked it.

“You didn’t,” I confirmed, returning the smile. He asked me when we could do that again. I laughed and told him soon. I needed at least a couple hours before I’d be able to go again.

It was a night about a week after we’d had sex and it was late. Axel stood up and looked around, wearing a pair of black short-shorts and a white t-shirt. He walked out of the room.

It didn’t appear to be his typical late-night snack or something of that nature. Something had worried him. I stood up too, waiting for him to reenter. I heard the front door slam, and I ran into the hallway, putting on my glasses.

“Axel, is everything all right? Who was at the door?” He was on the ground, doubled over in pain. I saw Dr. Lawry and a small Asian man—Jomei Tanaka. Dr. Lawry held a very large needle in his hands, and it appeared he’d already injected Axel with something.

“How did you get in here? Get out!” I shouted. Axel groaned, still on the floor. I walked towards him and he stood, straightening up. His shirt was ripping at the arms. He was larger, even more so than usual. “Axel, a–are you okay?”

“AX3,” Dr. Lawry said, smirking, “I would like you to fight Casey Kirby.” Axel ripped the shirt open, throwing the tattered remains to the floor. His belly was rounded out, with a slight happy trail. It was large, but perfectly in proportion with his large arms and legs. He walked towards me and I noticed the aggressive stride. I stepped back. He took a swipe at me, but I ducked. I stumbled into the kitchen and fell back. He kicked me in the side, and like that day he pushed me onto the coffee table, it knocked the air out of me. My glasses had fallen off my face.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted at the pair. They had followed the two of us into the kitchen, looking on at us—at Axel trying to kill me.

“AX3, a moment please.” Axel stood up straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. “Well, first off, I would like to thank you Mr. Kirby for looking after my things for me.” This was Lieutenant General Tanaka. He didn’t speak with a thick Japanese intonation like I thought he would, but instead with a New York accent.

“Fuck you,” I said, shaking. “Just get out of here. Just leave us alone.”

“I’m sorry, but that is not possible.” He smiled sympathetically, and it was much more believable than Dr. Lawry’s fake-ass grins. “However, to answer your first question, I have given AX3 a drug Dr. Lawry and I have been working on for the last month. We have hardly slept trying to hurry and get AX3 out of your hair.”

“He wants to be here, and I have no problem letting him stay,” I said pleadingly. Were they going to have Axel kill me? I stood up, finally better able to breath.

“You see,” Dr. Lawry interjected. “He lacked the ability to take direction. Not anymore.” He smiled. “He’s perfect—well, almost. He appears to have eaten his old self. Though, some of his growth seems to be the doing of the injection. That was unforeseen.” He chuckled.

“He’s gotten too big. You can just let him stay here.” Both men laughed. “I’m serious. I already know Doe ended the project. She doesn’t want him anymore. Just change him back and leave. Please.” I was standing near the drawers in my kitchen, butt against the counter.

“We’re sorry, but we can’t do that.” Tanaka looked from me to Axel, a slight frown on his face.

“AX3, you need to knock Casey Kirby unconscious,” Dr. Lawry commanded. Axel walked over to me. I pulled out a knife from one of the drawers.

“Axel,” I said, knife shaking. “Don’t do this. This isn’t you. You’re better than this.” My side hurt from the kick. He grabbed my wrist. His breathing was deep, and I saw his substantial belly shaking. He squeezed harder and I dropped the knife. His other hand around my neck, he lifted me off of the ground.

I was starting to cry; the life being choked out of me. He walked me over to a wall and set me down. I think my wrist was broken. He looked down at me, his face cold. With his massive hand, he grabbed the side of my head. Those electric eyes I had looked into a million times were so cold. They were the last thing I remembered seeing before he slammed my head against the wall.

When I woke up my head hurt, but thankfully it wasn’t too severe. It was early, maybe about five in the morning, but I wasn’t sure at all. The room I was in was very bright, fluorescent bulbs humming above me. I was laying down on the floor of a large cage. I could hear Tanaka and Lawry talking. “We took the boy from his apartment Lionel, now what? You really think we have to kill him?”

“Of course we have to kill him,” Lawry said. “He knows too much. We could never let him live with all this information. Imagine what AX3 has told him.”

“When will we make contact with Doe?” Tanaka asked.

“We’ll run a few more tests, making sure AX3 is entirely obedient, and then we’ll reach out to her. This has to be perfect Jomei. It’s the only way this will work.”

“AX3,” Lawry called. I sat up, looking out at the three of them across the room. Everything was slightly blurry without my glasses. “You must go over to that cage and kill Casey Kirby. Do you understand what I am asking?”

“I am to kill Casey Kirby.”

“Proceed,” Dr. Lawry said.

“I can’t watch this,” Tanaka said, standing. “It’s too much for me.”

“Sit, Jomei,” Lawry said. “This is a perfect test to see what AX3 is capable of. I will need your evaluation of the situation to get the best possible analysis.” I could hear Axel making his way over to where I was being held. I looked around, no potential weapons in sight. Part of me felt that this was karma. I should’ve never had sex with him. The universe was punishing me for taking advantage of him.

He reached the door of the cage and opened it, stooping down so he could enter. He was still in nothing but the black shorts. His thighs bulged with muscle and their size was intimidating. The shorts looked almost painted on. His biceps were unreal, as was the thickness of his neck. How much did he weigh now? Would he use the strength of his legs to smash my head in? Or maybe he’d simply snap my neck. He grabbed my legs and dragged me to the center of the room. I could see Tanaka and Lawry watching intensely.

I flipped over to my back. Looking up at Axel, it was almost like taking in a mythical giant. “Axel, please,” I begged. “You’ve got to snap out of it.” He crouched down over me, grabbing me by my shirt, and slammed me into the concrete. I didn’t want to die like this. I didn’t want Axel to lose his freedom. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

“I love you,” I said, finally crying.

“Ten,” he said, still crouching over me. “Sleeping in bed with Casey.”

“What in the hell is he talking about?” Dr. Lawry yelled.

“Nine. Baking cookies with Casey. Eight. When Casey smiles it makes me smile.” I was still crying, completely dumbfounded by what was happening. He remembered what I told him. He was controlling his anger.

“AX3, kill Casey Kirby. Now!” Axel balled his fist up, punching me in the face, though it probably was not as hard as he could’ve done it. I felt my mouth fill with blood, and it spilled out over the side of my lips.

“What’s number seven?” I asked, hopeful the Axel I’d grown to love was fighting his way out from the controls of whatever poison Lawry had injected him with.

“Seven. Watching funny movies with Casey. Six. Going shopping with Casey. Five. Accidentally ripping my pants and Casey laughing.” He stood up, helping me to my feet. Dr. Lawry and Mr. Tanaka were absolutely in shock. They’d been so sure they perfected their formula.

“This is a failure, Lionel.” Tanaka stood.

“Attack!” Lawry shouted. “You worthless garbage, attack!”

“Four. Dancing with Casey. Three. Having sex with Casey. Two. Hugging and kissing Casey.” Dr. Lawry ran over to where Axel stood. “One. Casey saying that he loves me.”

“You listen to me, you big idiot. You really think this little faggot is going to care for you for the rest of your miserable life. I have raised you since birth. I have given you everything you’ve needed, and you have yet to yield any results for me.” He turned towards me. He had finally lost it. His years of research had ended, and he had basically nothing to show for it. I pitied him, but I also hated him. He wasn’t working with robotics or plants. This was a human being he’d tried to play God with.

“You have ruined everything,” he spat at me, slapping me across the face. There was a moment of silence, and suddenly Axel grabbed Dr. Lawry, and in one swift twist of his arms he snapped his neck. I jumped back at the sound, in disbelief. He walked towards Mr. Tanaka, who back peddled, trying to get away from Axel.

“Axel, no!” I screamed. He stopped walking and looked back at me. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everything is okay. You don’t have to hurt Tanaka.”

“AX3, come here.” He walked over to Mr. Tanaka. “You too, Mr. Kirby.” I walked around Dr. Lawry’s body, feeling slightly queasy. “I think it is time to admit that this project has come to an end. It was doomed the day AX1 died. Regarding your weight, you’ll likely level out and begin to gain weight more normally. At what size that is I am uncertain. On the mice we ran trials with, they often doubled their body weight before they began to process calories normally again.”  

“Okay,” Axel said, holding me upright.

“And AX3—Axel, I mean, we have no antidote for what we gave you, and its effects have not been thoroughly tested.”

“Meaning what?” I asked.

“Meaning if you truly want to take him with you, there are some uncertainties that you will have to face.”

“He can stay with me?” I asked, relieved. I wasn’t so sure what Tanaka was saying was true. He could be biding his time, waiting to gather reinforcements to better control Axel. It was so obvious he was just trying to not meet the same fate as Dr. Lawry.

Tanaka went over to his briefcase, returning with an envelope. “Take this. It contains his birth certificate, social security card, and other government papers.”

“You’re serious?” I questioned.

“Yes, I’m sorry for the trouble. I regret having gotten you involved.” He looked from me to Axel nervously. “And I am sorry for this, amongst everything else, but I have to make sure I leave here in one piece—Palos Verde Blue!” Axel hit the ground. I watched as Jomei Tanaka grabbed his few belongings and rushed from the laboratory.

This chapter in Axel’s life had finally come to a close, at least for now—hopefully forever. I held onto the envelope containing his documentation and smiled. My neck was sore. I sat on the floor next to Axel and rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was even and steady. I was so relieved.

Whenever he came to, we’d find our way out of this warehouse and back to my apartment. I’d ace all my finals and we’d celebrate with a large dinner. He’d meet my mom and dad and all of my friends. I’d finish college and help Axel get started in school or a job. We’d be together, and things would be okay. I would never feel inadequate again.

I was glad I found him chewing on all of my peach bubble gum, naked, and as weird as the project he had been a part of.

The End!

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Controversial opinion: the weakest part of BATDR is the story

There’s no denying that BATDR is a better game in terms of graphics and gameplay. I’ve seen AAA titles with worse looks and design.

But I feel like BATIM was a superior game when it comes to the story.

Characters had no buildup. In BATIM almost every major character got some kind of backstory and buildup before we met them. Sammy had multiple tapes in Chapter 2, Susie had multiple tapes, Bertrum did, even Tom. The only character with seemingly no past was Allison, everyone else was a fully fleshed-out individual. People also sort of assumed that Boris was Wally because of how much character development and backstory Wally got through the tapes. This was retconned later in the books, but at the time of the game we all thought we had a significant amount of knowledge about the characters we meet in it.

When Porter got a character sheet posted on twitter, we all thought he’d be an important character. Instead he’s just... there. Show’s up for 5 minutes, passes on his power and disappears. Blink and you’ll miss him, he had no more screen time than Heidi. The two of them could easily have been replaced by buttons with the sign “press here for new power” and nothing of value would be lost. They have no past, and no role in the story. Compare them to Boris, where the entire plot of chapter 4 is about saving him. He mattered. The fact that he was there mattered.

And it’s not like there was no time to develop the characters. The game has dozens of notes and audio logs, but they all come from random people, who we never hear from again. You could easily replace some of them with memos about Porter’s backstory, or Heidi’s, or Betty’s. A lot of those audio logs are voiced by youtubers and I feel like JDS prioritized giving youtubers guest cameos over making the character they voice actually have a place in the story.

In BATIM the enemies were also thematically linked with the place we met them in. Chapter 2 takes place in the Music Department, so it makes sense that the main character appearing in the tapes would be the Music Director, and he would be the one we’re fighting at the end. Chapter 4 takes place in Bendyland, so the tapes are about a theme park designer and the enemy is that designer in the form of an attraction. In BATDR we have that one spider boss fight, but what is this, why is it there, how is it linked thematically with the rest of the chapter? I guess Shipley got slightly more reason to exist, but the idea of him was introduced in the last 5 minutes. There was no buildup.

Why even divide the story into chapters if these chapters have no underlying theme? Can you guys even remember what each chapter’s plot is about? I’ve watched the playthroughs 3 times and I still can’t, because it all just seems so... random. A collection of random scenes, random enemies, random tapes. This may have been intentional, because the current “master” of the story is Wilson, who has no relation to JDS the way Joey did, but story being bad on purpose, wrapped in 3 layers of irony, is still a bad story.

Finally: the ending felt underwhelming. it’s completely incomprehensible to someone who hasn’t played the previous game. In BATIM, Henry killing the Ink Demon with the End Reel made sense, because we had it explained to us what the ink demon is and how the End Reel works: Bendy was created as a living cartoon, and he has never seen “the end” of the cartoon. Henry also had a personal connection to both Bendy and the end reel, as Bendy was his creation, and the end reel came from the cartoon he personally animated, which was stolen to rob him of his achievements. In BATDR Henry just says “oh yeah get that one random gizmo and it will kill this random demon walking around that we know nothing about” but it didn’t have to be the end reel, it could’ve been anything. Could’ve been a gent pipe, could’ve been a bullet from the tommy gun, and it would’ve worked just as well. There was no thematic setup, and very little personal connection to Audrey.

It’s ok to omit some information that’s available in the earlier installments of the franchise, but that should only go for secondary objects and characters. The ending especially should feel like a natural conclusion of the journey you went through in the game you’re playing right now, not the one before it. It would have made much more sense for Audrey to defeat the ink demon by using her special powers, as those powers were built up throughout the narrative. Instead, it’s like she completely forgets she ever had them, and she’s handed the ultimate weapon that’s irrelevant to her character. Audrey has no connection to the reel, and very little connection to Bendy, as the game doesn’t ever explain to us Joey’s role in creating him, instead choosing to highlight Gent’s role in the experiments and Wilson’s role in separating the two versions of Bendy. It essentially feels like winning the final fight by using a last minute cheat, instead of something you’ve been actively working on and developing throughout your journey.

tl;dr BATDR is less of a story and more like a collection of random “wouldn’t it be cool if..?” moments, with no glue tying it together. BATIM was just better and I hope that the next game will follow the lead of BATIM storytelling more than BATDR storytelling.

[amor-immortalem]

So lesson 40’s here and season 2’s over huh? Let’s complain about it together

I’m simultaneously dissatisfied and satisfied with S2’s ending. I have negative feelings about the hard mode 40-8 in particular.

I feel like if this is actually the original timeline were back in, the brothers should have had a bigger reaction to MC’s return cuz like didn’t Solomon say that we just up and disappeared at the start of season 1 and the bros were a complete mess?

Makes me feel like something’s up- like the brothers’ perception of time has been altered or messed with in some way.

Initially I thought that Lucifer had seen the way his brothers and himself were suffering and wrought with worry for MC being missing so he asked Barbatos to cast a spell on them to kind of ease that by not making it seem so long that MC’s been gone and make it feel more like only a few days to months (or hell maybe he could’ve learnt to do it himself- this is Lucifer we’re talking about here) but now I’m not so sure and maybe we didn’t actually end up in the correct timeline. Or maybe this is all just nightbringer’s influence (cuz remember they’re all about leading others to happiness or something along those lines)

Either way I’m generally not a fan of it- I wanted that big sappy reunion with over the top dramatics with my favorite demons, damnit! I’ve been robbed!

Also where the fuck did Solomon go? he went through the rift in space time with us so shouldn’t there have at least been a small interaction with him when we arrived at the HOL even if it was along the lines of “oh good we’ve made it back in one piece, I’ll let you go inside and have some time to catch up with the brothers on your own. I’m gonna go debrief with Barbatos” or something?

And then there’s Nightbringer- or more specifically, their lack of presence within Season 2. When was the last time they’d even been mentioned in the story(lesson 21? 22? Were they ever mentioned at all after that?)

I know obvious answer is that Nightbringer=Barbatos (is it just me or was Barbs acting kinda… weird? Throughout the lesson??? He had me feeling like ‘this mf knows we time traveled don’t he?’) but anyway it feels like, for a character the game is literally named for, they’re not very important and front ‘n center…

Maybe S3 will be more focused on Nightbringer and whatever the hell’s going on with that weird ass reception from the brothers we got but for now we’ll just have to wait (I wouldn’t be surprised if solmare made us wait until April when the game hits its one year anniversary for S3 just like it played out in the OG game…)

Also also if the devs don’t hurry up and make 13, mephisto, and raphael dateable in S3 I’m going to riot. Lemme give my pretty wife kisses and take her on cute dates and shit. It’s been like 2 or 3 seasons since she was introduced! Whats the hold up?

My thoughts aren’t coherent anymore so I’ll stop but see y’all in April for Season 3

[peculiar0ne]

pretty boy

.•.•.•.•.

steve walked over to the full-body mirror as he finished styling his hair. he peeked up from the floor, awkwardly looking at the little outfit he had thrown together.

see, robin had taken him shopping with her the other day. they were at the jcpenny in the mall, robin trying on different skirts and asking steve’s opinion. she had a date with nancy and she wanted to look her best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“i don’t know, robs. i like them all! but i think nance would want you to dress in something you’re comfortable wearing, don’t you?” steve questioned. he knew robin hated skirts, dresses, anything of the sort. the girl would much rather dress in her old, busted up jeans than wear a skirt.

“yeah…you’re probably right. i’m sorry i’m all panicky.” robin turns to gather all the skirts she had scattered throughout the small dressing room.

as the pair made their way around, looking for something more comfy for robin to wear on her date, steve stopped robin when he saw something he really liked.

his hand struck out in front of her, preventing the girl from going forward. “what do you want, dingus?” she laughed, used to steve’s ‘mom arm’ by now.

“uh…robs..is it weird for guys to wear skirts?”

“what?”

“just answer the question.”

“depends on who you ask. personally, i think it’s pretty cool….why is this relevant?” robin glances over, seeing the smallest hint of a smile making its way onto her friend’s face.

steve’s smile quickly falters, though, as he tries to find the words he wants to say.

“i wanna wear one….” he’s so quiet, his voice almost a whisper.

“sorry, what? you’re super quiet, i couldn’t hear.”

“i said i…i wanna wear one. for eddie. well, more for me. i don’t just wear things for eddie, because that’s just stupid and-“

“you want to wear a skirt?” robin inquires, her tone soft and understanding.

steve nods, nervously glancing at his shoes.

“alright, awesome. let’s go find one!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ that’s how steve found himself in his current position. robin had bought him a cute, black skirt that had stopped at his lower-thighs. he had been anxiously waiting to wear it, and today was a perfect day.

here he stood, steve harrington, in a skirt that he paired with his boyfriend’s hellfire shirt which he had been wearing since the previous night.

he smiled, spinning a little to make his skirt twirl. steve’s happiness could’ve been seen from the next town over.

“stevie, have you seen my-“

eddie paused in his footsteps, jaw dropped.

steve jumped up at the sound of eddie’s voice, not sure he was ready to show off his skirt. he turned, face redder than the stripes on his old scoops ahoy! uniform.

“s..seen what?”

stupid fucking stutter.

eddie opens and closes his mouth a few times, having completely forgotten everything he wanted to ask.

“eds? you’re, uh, scaring me…”

the taller of the two shakes his head, smiling like an idiot.

“wow, babe. you look….wow”

“r..really?” steve perks up a little, biting his lip to keep from smiling. no, grinning.

“holy fuck, yes stevie. where did this come from?” eddie was smirking now, wrapping his arms around steve’s waist and swaying him gently.

“uh..robs and i were shopping…and i thought it was pretty,” steve hums as he relaxes in the older boy’s arms.

“i think you look pretty, babygirl.” eddie trails kisses over his shoulder blades, before resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder.

steve nods, his way of saying ‘thanks’, and turns around in eddie’s arms. he wraps his own arms around eddie’s shoulders and rests his face in his neck.

“how pretty?” steve jokes, trying to gain some confidence.

“so fucking pretty. my pretty boy”

.•.•.•.•.

LOWERCASE INTENDED

thanks @simpforsauron for requesting the ficlet version!

[megaderping]

Late night SALT activated...

Disclaimer: This post is mainly about really aggressive/hostile fans. Disliking stuff is totally valid and curating one’s online experience is important, but... I’m very strongly convinced that the majority of people who vehemently hate Goro Akechi or Shuake to a really hostile degree either haven’t played Royal, haven’t moved on from base game, haven’t maxed his confidant, or really lack reading comprehension. ‘cause disliking a ship or a character? Super valid! Everyone has their preferences and comfort zones. I would never shame someone who genuinely just... doesn’t vibe with it, finds it uncomfortable, and wishes to avoid content or posts w/ the character or pairing. I also completely understand the frustration of wanting Goro content that isn’t ship-focused, since sometimes fandoms can make a pairing consume a character in fanworks (though I’d argue you can have the pair and still give him agency outside of it, at the end of the day, there will always be people who just don’t want it). But when I see factually incorrect arguments like, “Joker and Akechi hate each other,” I just go... “Did we play the same game?” The game where Joker’s greatest wish was to see Akechi again. The game where Morgana outright states that Akechi doesn’t really hate Joker and Akechi himself laments that they didn’t meet years earlier, and if they had, how they could’ve been friends. A game where it’s made very clear that despite the stupidity of going with the revenge plan with Shido and the lives taken along the way, there was still a disgusting power imbalance with Shido, a grown man in politics, effectively molding a broken teenager into being a hitman... And even the betrayal toward the PT- I feel like Akechi’s offer to have Joker join him was genuine as a sort of last ditch effort to get him out of that situation. The SIU director notes how the plan is way too callous even for Akechi, and after it happens, Akechi tries to downplay the dangers of the PT to Shido, suggesting a part of him, even if only a small one, does feel some remorse.

There’s this messy complexity to Akechi and his relationship with Joker and the PT... and people try to strip it of all of its complexities to make it a bland, black and white matter, and it sucks. It feels like those kinds of people want to turn Akechi into a hatesink when Shido is literally right there. And Kamoshida, and Okumura, and many other awful adults in P5. It’s weird how little flak they get by comparison? And I’m biased- Akechi was a character I developed an attachment to as I reached third sem and his character just came together for me. But it’s so freaking annoying to try and search up art of the character or ship on sites like twitter only to find the worst takes possible. Folks gotta separate their personal feelings from the feelings of the characters. The actual canon interactions and relationships are infinitely more compelling than “Joker/the Phantom Thieves all hate Akechi.” I much prefer what the game presents us- with characters like Haru and Futaba not forgiving him, but still sympathizing with his situation and (perhaps reluctantly) being willing to work with him when it’s absolutely necessary. The friction is just so compelling, because even if he’s a tragic person, his actions still robbed them of loved ones. ...but also, President Okumura requested many shutdowns himself and was an awful person, which also adds to the messy complexity for poor Haru.

Anyway, this is just a late night ramble because I went to find fanart and found annoying tweets. Argh.