#when he was very much doing some uh evil shit

[eorzeashan]

Eight: you know I miss having a regular job

Theron: really? what did you do at your old one?

Eight: eh, eliminate people. cover it up. submit the report. rinse and repeat. it was easy, none of this saving the galaxy stuff

Theron, leaning over to Lana: ...I think we've made a mistake

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

underrated genre of character playlist entry: songs a character would relate to because they do not understand their situation, themself, or the song itself well enough to realize it is not accurate (and might well straight up be a callout for people like them). which song is your blorbo's fight club

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[c0nn0rsseur]

Can we take a moment to appreciate Bryan Dechart’s performance as Cyberlife Tower Connor aka Sixty and Sixty as a character? 🤌

Though Sixty and deviant Connor are physically identical (minus their demeanors, e.g. the way they stand and walk, like wow, Bryan, wow) and their voices technically aren’t different from each other, the distinction is still clearly there, at the same time it’s so nuanced too. Sixty sounds condescending, imperious and callous compared to deviant Connor whose voice is empathetic, curious and sincere. I’m not even talking about their lexicon, their choice of words here (there’s of course a difference too). Even when Sixty tries to convince Hank he’s the real Connor, you can hear how he’s failing to sound exactly like his counterpart because he can’t replicate deviant Connor’s voice and speech pattern just so. Sixty’s also being very commanding when trying to fool Hank into shooting the real Connor (Hank even gets irritated because of it). Damn that’s brilliant acting, all hats off to Bryan. His performance in this game never fails to impress me. (I wish there were dialogue for RK900 too, I would’ve loved to see Bryan’s take on his voice and presence.)

Also also I have to mention I love the take that Sixty really was a deviant all along too, an ”evil” version of Connor if you will; cold, calculating and even enjoying the situation he had Connor (and Hank) in. You know, doing all of it because he wanted to, because he liked it. Why else would he deliver a whole ass villain monologue before executing deviant Connor, gloating about how he knows what he is and that he is the obedient, favorite child, plus calling Connor a disappointment (and a disappointment to him especially, like how Connor should care in his final moments that Sixty despises him for not being a good little robot)? AND shooting him several times non-lethally before landing that final shot (if the story goes there), like savoring the situation. Of course he also has to ask if Connor has any last words too. That’s definitely not what an efficient machine would have done to make sure it accomplished its mission. In some outcomes his stalling costs him the victory.

Top that off with the ending where deviant Connor dies but the androids still wake up, Sixty is scared and emotional because he failed, scared to be deactivated because of his failure. Then there’s this scene where he shoots deviant Connor eleven times in front of his friend. After that Sixty takes in Hank’s reaction and even torments him by saying Connor’s death was his fault. Still doesn’t sound like a machine much, huh? More like a sadistic psychopath.

Man, I wish we could’ve seen more Sixty, it would’ve been chilling to see if he went full-on rogue, maybe being Markus’ right hand/attack dog on a leash in the violent revolution arc, maybe with his own agenda of taking Markus’ place and wanting to subjugate humanity. Or maybe deviant Connor could’ve persuaded him to their side by making Sixty to see he was nothing but a tool, unintentionally prompting him to seek revenge and to reduce Amanda and Cyberlife to atoms (not what Connor intended haha). There could’ve even been a redemption arc for him, like in a ”what’ve I done?” type way. You know, a bit of an internal moral struggle. And of course, our fave ”sack of shit” (as Hank so eloquently put it) demanding answers from his maker, Kamski, in a not-so, uh, conventional manner. Let them measure their respective arrogance and wit and see who comes out on top. Or would they team up?

Such a delicious character, so many delicious what-ifs.

[bonefall]

do you have any tips for writing a low empathy character who isn't evil? Or how to make an interesting apathetic character who's a thoughtless sort of evil? These are two different chatacters btw-

I tried looking up examples and stuff but uh. It's been a bit fruitless.

Honestly it's not too hard! Having low empathy just means we're bad at automatically "connecting" to the feelings of other people. You can come to understand it's not even a character flaw once you uncouple the idea that Empathy = Kindness. And apathy, well, that one's a bit more complicated imo.

Low Empathy

In English, it's just unfortunately super common to conflate Empathy and Compassion. To have compassion is to be aware of the suffering of another person, and ergo, want to help stop it. To be empathetic is to identify with and understand the feelings of another person. These are different things.

For an example in action; imagine a medic with a patient whose shoulder is dislocated, and xey'll need to pop that arm back in place in order for the patient to feel better.

A medic feeling EMPATHY for that patient is having an emotional response to what xey're seeing. Xey might have a tingly "ghost pain" thinking about the injury, and xey might feel guilty xey're going to put them in more agony, but also joy because this patient is going to feel much better in just a moment.

A medic feeling COMPASSION for that patient is thinking about how the shoulder must be causing a lot of pain, and knows xey have the skill to fix it. Xey know from xeir own experience that pain sucks and so it is a bad thing that needs to go away. It will hurt a little more for a moment, but then there will be immediate relief.

This is imo, why a lot of low empathy people are "bad at" comforting people without going to Autism College where they give you the scripts of Shit Neurotypicals Say. We're not trying to be selfish when we end up making "comfort sessions" about ourselves-- that's what we think empathy is, because we don't have a lot of it to really know what you want.

Like, doesn't it make sense to you? "I don't know what you're feeling. Here's a similar situation I've been though. I must know what you're feeling-- does that make you feel better? That you aren't alone? I think that's what empathy is, am I right?"

A LOT of low empathy people go into medical fields, the funeral industry, and disaster relief. We often really do want to help people so seek these fields out, or when we get there, just end up not getting burnt out like our high-empathy peers!

Apathy

As for the apathetic character, honestly, I'd suggest thinking about your story's themes. Villains are very special to me and I always try to handle them with care. What are you trying to say is bad to not care about in your work? How does their apathy play into the story you're trying to tell?

A Captain Planet villain is completely selfish, and exists only to benefit itself by exploiting nature in some way. Then the Planeteers show up and punch it in the face. Boiled down to its barest, most simple essentials; "We have conflicting goals and so I will stop you."

Personally I find total apathy to be something not especially compelling in villains, for that reason. Like, if you really don't care about anything, why bother with the trouble of going against the protag? Motivation is meant to be MOTIVATING.

(also ngl I'm on the Shadow As A Hero sort of bandwagon where I find it much funnier for the simple apathetic cool edgy guy to be the funniest person on your tennis team)

Dungeon Meshi has TWO characters who struggle with apathy, and are both antagonists at some points in the story, but never villains. Shuro and Mithrun. The theme of Dungeon Meshi is the beauty and complexity of life, the value of living, and how our connections to others changes the people we are. Food is a metaphor for bonding, self-care, and understanding.

For Shuro, he begins the story as someone who's both been encouraged to bottle up his emotions for the sake of other people, as well as to not actually consider the emotions of those lower-born than him. He's from a very different place than the other members of his party, and this causes friction as class, culture, and sophisticated, refined, weapons-grade autism clashes.

When the woman he loves is eaten by a dragon, he doesn't stop to tell her brother and """childhood friend""" what he's planning, as if they both wouldn't run in and get hurt. He owns demi-humans. He doesn't consider his own needs or the needs of his rescue team of loyal vassals. As a result, he's too weak to continue, losing a fistfight with one of the main characters, Laios.

After this, he connects with him for the very first time, and reaches out to him by giving him an important magic item. There's even a MASSIVE moment where he outright tells Laios that his ability to be so open (read: not have to mask his autism) is something he envies, breaking through that veil of apathy he wears.

The story Dungeon Meshi is telling here is that it is important to value the needs of yourself and of others. Shuro's apathy towards his own needs in a bid to prove his love weakened him. In acting like he was above his old teammates, he never spoke to them like people to smooth out his issues. He's never even noticed how much his vassals love and care for him.

(and the incredible irony is not lost on me, that Shuro's name is because Laios mispronounced it and was never corrected... while Shuro never noticed that Izutsumi had the unwanted name "Asebi" forced onto her when she was "taken in" and made his slave.)

See how that comes back to the theme? Shuro doesn't exist to just "be some asshole" or act like a villain. He has a full character arc that contributes to the narrative.

For Mithrun? I won't even spoil it. Go read Dungeon Meshi. Watch elf depression. We love a king with strabismus.

Anyway,

If you ever need good personal resources on any stigmatized mental condition, I've found it's usually productive to go into the #Actually (Thing) tag here on Tumblr. You can find people posting about basically anything. I found a lot of really good resources on NPD that way.

[tojisblade]

ღ 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆 ༺ ღ ༻ 𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒋𝒊 ღ

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: one moment, you were doing something as basic as taking out the trash (like, literally), the next moment you were getting fucked by a wanted felon who pretty much broke into your place in hopes you‘d harbor him for a few minutes until the coast was clear. who knew the thrill of crime was so exhilarating you needed a quick one-night-stand to come back to your senses? or did you lose your mind entirely and just didn‘t notice in the process of being fucked into tomorrow?

༉‧₊˚. warnings: you literally fuck murderer!toji, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, he calls you princess (like, a lot of times), toji talks A LOT like dude shut up lmao

༉‧₊˚. this was entirely inspired by a scene in the rookie where lucy made up a cover story for how juicy and dim met, it's basically that but with toji

He was in so much fucking trouble. 

Never did he even think the cops were onto him, God, the fucking cops in plain clothes as they were in the same club he was as he was smuggling the poison into some guy’s drink. Now they were running after him, trying to catch him. 

Toji quickly ran into a massive apartment complex as he tried to flee the scene. Looking around to see if there was anyone or any place he could hide, as he still ran. 

It was like fate when you opened the door, purely in coincidence. You were getting out to take out your trash as you saw him running frantically. “Hey, are you oka–“, you started out asking, but got interrupted. 

“Listen to me. The cops are after me and I need a hideout. Can I stay in for a moment until they leave?”, he said, frantically. 

“W-what?”, you stuttered, completely caught off-guard. 

“Fuck, just shut up”, he groaned before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of your apartment. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”, you exclaimed, still not completely aware of what is going on. You had dropped the bag in shock as he pulled you in. 

“Shut. Up!”, he hissed, looking out of the window, just to see the two cops who were after him walking around the apartment complex with their guns drawn. “Shit.”

He looked around, trying to figure out what he could possibly do with his situation before he finally faced you. “Okay, listen. My name is Fushiguro Toji, and I am being chased by the cops out there. I know, I’m just a stranger, but trust me, I am not going to hurt you, despite how this all seem like, considering the cops are after me.”

“Uh… yeah, duh”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Roll those eyes at me again and I’ll reconsider”, he immediately continued. “Do not fucking interrupt me, princess.”

“Fine, talk. You just broke into my apartment, so I do deserve some explanation. Start talking, or I’ll kick you out for the cops to find you.”

“And I apologize for the break-in. I swear I don’t plan on hurting you because that is just unnecessary evil, even for me. I just need a couple of minutes here in hideout so that I can run in peace. Is that okay?”, Toji asked. You were so convinced you had lost your damn mind when you nodded and agreed that he could stay over for a couple of minutes. 

“If the cops knock, I am not here”, Toji emphasized again, making sure you got it. 

As if on cue, there was a loud knock, startling you. You stayed quiet as you pointed at the bathroom for Toji to hide. Your heart was beating so fast, as you went to the door and asked; “Who is there?”

“Police Department. We want to ask you a few questions”, the officer yelled back. 

“Can you please identify yourself?”, you stalled as you checked if Toji had hidden. You looked through the peephole as the cops held up their detective badges before you smiled softly and opened the door for the cops. 

“What seems to be the problem, detectives?”, you asked gently. 

“We are in search of a murderer going by the name, Fushiguro Toji. Black haired, very tall and muscular. Last seen wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He is classified as extremely dangerous. We last saw him entering this apartment complex. Have you seen him, by any chance?”, the officer asked. 

You pretended to think a little before you shook your head. “Nope. I was on my way out to take out my trash so, I was inside the whole time.”

“Alright, Ma’am, please give us a call if you see or remember anything. Would you want us to accompany us with you going outside, in case you don’t feel safe?” One of the two detectives handed you a card with his contact details. 

You nodded at the offer, tagging along as you took out your trash and thanked the officers for the company. “Could you possibly tell me a little about that person you’re looking for? Perhaps that will help me with my memory or something I can watch out for?”

“I cannot disclose any details yet as it is an ongoing investigation, however, the current suspected M.O of the suspect is that he uses poison in his victim’s drinks. So, perhaps just watch out for your drink the next time you’re out partying.”

“Thank you, officers. I can return to my apartment alone, thank you for the company. I’ll uh… let you know if I see something”, you said goodbye to the officers before turning around. 

“Goodbye, Ma’am, have a good night”, they said in unison. 

You quickly headed back, your entire body was literally on fire after that short conversation and the fact that you were literally harboring a felon in your apartment had you shaking to your core. Once you locked your apartment and made sure the cops were gone, you were suddenly pushed to the wall next to the door. “Good. You did great”, Toji had you cornered, smirking at you as you looked at him with big eyes, shocked by his sudden action. 

“Thank you”, you whispered back, not trusting your own voice. His arm was over your head on the wall, cornering you between his huge body and the wall. “You’re not so bad yourself. Out on a murder charge, huh?”

“So, you asked about me, didn’t you?”, Toji chuckled, biting his lip. “Yeah… what about it? You scared?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? But God, it makes you oddly attractive and interesting. So, tell me, what is that all about?”, you ask then, a little smile sneaking onto your lips. “A murder suspect in my apartment, who insists on promising me that he won’t hurt me, hm?”

“Attractive and interesting?”, Toji chuckled. “I may or may not have added some extra ingredient to some dickhead’s drink.” He casually shrugged, eyeing you up and down. 

“So, that was why they said to be careful of my drinks next time I’m out partying, huh?”, you replied. 

“I would never add some additional ingredient to your drink, princess”, Toji taunted before he suddenly leaned in and kissed you. You couldn’t help but immediately melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, as his one hand wrapped around your thigh and lifted it up around his hip. 

The kiss was so full of fire, so much passion and there was nothing but carnal desire and need – it was like the fact that he was a murderer, a wanted felon, flew right over your head. You simply couldn’t care less about it because, fuck, the entire situation was so incredibly hot, the fact that the cops were still around searching the premises was making you feel so tingly. 

“Mhm, princess, you taste so sweet. I wonder if your pussy tastes just as sweet, hm?”, he whispered against your lips, smirking. “Will you let me have a taste?”

“Maybe… but maybe I won’t. You’ve got to earn it, mister.”

“What a tease, princess. But you know what, you shouldn’t tease me, because believe me, I can do better than that”, he continued, before he leaned back in to kiss you once more as you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, your eyes going up and down over his very toned and muscular body. 

And you felt so insanely lucky to think about the fact that his body would be on top of you or underneath you in just a couple of minutes. 

“So, you wanna move this over to the bedroom or are you not that much of a gentleman and just fuck your women against a cold ass wall?”, you giggled.

“Oh, I sure as hell do not keep my women cold and standing, mh? Wouldn’t be so fair if I fuck you into oblivion and don’t give you a comfortable place to come down from the highs I give you, hm?”

“Someone’s cocky. But alas, unfortunately, there has been nothing but talk so far, honey”, you reply, giggling before you squealed in shock as he lifted you up over his shoulder. 

“Where’s the bedroom, princess?”, he asked, voice rough. “Need to teach you how to properly speak to me before I reward you with pleasure you have never felt in your life before.”

When you pointed to the room, he immediately went in and dropped you onto your bed, quickly climbing onto you, practically ripping apart your clothes. “God, princess, you’re so hot, so gorgeous underneath me”, he groaned, lips wandering down to your tits before he wrapped them around your one nipple, sucking and licking over the sensitive nub. Your body arched into him as you let out a whine and Toji smirked, enjoying the way you responded to his touch. 

“Reacting so fucking gorgeously for me, princess. Can’t wait to taste your pretty pussy”, he teased. “Did I earn it, princess?”

You nodded frantically. “Fuck, just get to it”, you whined. 

“So bossy, princess. Such a little slut for the murderer you harbored in your home and protected without knowing what dangers could possibly await you”, he snickered, “Does it excite you? Knowing you lied to cops for me, for someone you don’t even know?” Toji’s lips wandered down your body, slowly reaching your pussy and he pulled your panties aside to lick over your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds as he spread your legs apart with his hands. 

“Fuck don’t stop!”, you cried out, back arching again into his grip around your waist. 

He looked up at you, smirking as some saliva was running down his chin, and he was watching your every reaction. Toji had grown obsessed with how well you reacted to his touch, his tongue over your pussy. “Reacting so prettily for me, princess. Want more? Want me to fuck you? I’ll bring literal heaven to you, princess. If you let me.”

You were nodding once again, fingers buried in his hair as he lowered his head back again to your pussy and you felt two of his fingers against your entrance, slowly slipping in and fingering you slowly. Your eyes widened in surprise, you let out a choked sob as his fingers hit your sweet spot – you cried out as he continued with the constant stimulation. 

“Please, Toji, fuck me, please?”, you whined, attempting to pull him closer back on top of you. However, he was obviously way stronger than you and could stay where he was with no trouble at all. 

“It’s rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating, princess”, he grunted, “let me make you cum first on my mouth, princess, then I’ll fuck you.”

You whined as he increased his finger’s pace, continuing the sweet torture on your pussy with his lips as well and your hips were jolting up as you got closer to your release. A cry left your lips as you begged him not to stop and felt him smirk against your clit, promising not to stop until you came for him. 

It didn’t take too long for him to fulfil that promise. The way everything practically shattered around you had you thinking about the last time you had felt this much pleasure at once. “Holy shit”, you choked up. “That was… intense.”

“Told you, princess, I’ll bring literal heaven to you”, he smirked, slowly climbing on top of you and watching you come down from your high. “Did I keep my promise, princess?”

“You sure as hell did. But…”, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer for a kiss, “if you don’t put that damn cock of yours inside me anytime soon, I bet the cops will be very interested in knowing where you’re hiding.”

“You little minx… don’t worry, princess. I gave you a promise and I intend to keep it. You’re about to have the most intense night of your life.”

As he pulled down his jeans, your eyes widened as you saw his cock’s girth and length. You had already assumed that he was big, considering his big ass ego, but you didn’t expect this. He noticed your hesitation and laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re a wanted criminal, do you think I trust your word?”

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you and I kept that promise. I told you I would bring you to heaven and I did keep that promise, too, didn’t I?”

You considered his arguments and shrugged. He had a good point with that. 

“So, do you believe me when I tell you I won’t hurt you?”

You nodded. 

He smiled softly at you before he aligned his tip with your entrance, pulling your panties aside once more and finally, pushed his cock inside slowly, inch by inch, slowly getting you used to his size. Your back arched when he was buried inside of you fully, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body was basically on fire. 

“You’re so tight, princess, feels so good”, he groaned, waiting for a moment to let you adjust to the stretch. “Can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy of yours.”

“Please, fuck me”, you whimpered, nails raking over his back as he slowly started a tender, gentle pace and before you knew it, he was starting to build a merciless, brutal rhythm, making your tits bounce with the frantic way he was thrusting into you.

The sound of his hips snapping against yours had your eyes rolls back, your legs were wrapped around his waist as you held onto him and you were pleading him not to stop, practically crying and he fucked you so good like you never had been before. 

“Goddamn it, princess, you’re so fucking hot when you get fucked like this. Do you like how I fuck you, hm?”, he rasped, lips wandering over your neck. His hips stuttered as pleasure like he never felt before coursed through his body, getting closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum, princess, where do you want me to cum, hm? On your pretty tits? Or maybe inside of your tight, perfect pussy, hm? Give you a good old load of me and make you feel it drip down your thighs when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall over there?”

His words had your eyes roll back at the visual. “Please, inside”, you whined, sobbing as you clenched around him and finally reached your peak, coming around him again, sputtering in pleasure. “Fuck, Toji”, you practically wailed. 

“Am I keeping my promise, princess?”

“Yes, fuck, you are, stop asking me that and cum in me”, you groaned in annoyance. 

“Still so bossy, princess”, he laughed before he continued his rough pace and shortly after let out a choked breath, hips stilled as he came inside of you. Toji wasn’t moving at all, trying to come down from his high as he relaxed. “Fuck, princess, you feel so incredible.”

“Oh, honey, this was better than anything I have ever felt before.”

“I’m glad I got to prove to you how good I’ll fuck you”, he chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and laying down next to you. 

“Hey, I thought you were going to fuck me against the wall and have your cum drip down my thighs?!”

“You wanna go again?”

“Hell fucking yes”, you snorted and squealed when he got up on his feet and pulled you up before pushing you against the wall, lifting your legs around his waist as he kept you up against the wall and quickly slid his cock back inside of you, fucking you again and bringing you to yet another earth-shattering orgasm and another one. 

And the most exhilarating part of this was that you could hear the detectives through the thin walls, discussing their next move to finally find the guy who currently had his cock buried deep inside of you. 

The one who you had lied to the cops to, making you an accessory to the murder he had committed.

But you couldn’t care less about it, because goddamn, this was the best fuck you had gotten in your entire life. 

[disruptivevoib]

Long Ramble about CCCC and my overall feelings on what the album means and such

Something I find important about CCCC is like.

The fact that all three of them are, in some way, trying.

Heart is emotion, he is prone to himself and being reactionary, in the moment. Prone to the past of learned behavior and trauma. Reactive and rapidly changing. He isn't going to make pure sense because he isn't based in logic or in societal ideals or views. He is an instinctual response to the environment and circumstances. His manipulation is not intentional. He has very little control of himself in the end. Its why Mind talks about claiming to relish entropy yet clearly needing help. But, Heart in earnest wants them to be okay and safe. He believes that Mind's control will drain the life from them. It will make things monotonous and the same. Too much order.

Mind in turn, believes Heart is manipulative with intention. He wants to control Soul or wants to just drag them all down with him into this depressive state. Mind is logic, he is the reasoning out of your emotional instinct. Your inner critique, and when unchecked, that inner critique goes from a guiding hand for your emotion to one that debates and bullies it. Invalidating its responses. Ultimately, though. Mind just believes he is helping. He is doing what must be done and telling the "hard truths" to Heart. And that Heart is being the petty child. Which- I mean. Sort of sure. But Mind is definitely fucking petty and childish. He's stubborn! Prideful! So ofc he is. Admitting you're wrong? No.. why would he EVER do that.. nuh uh.

Which is what makes Light so crucial. Mind asking Heart for help- but also. There is Soul.

Who while ambiguous in purpose, is mostly that background voice. Your inner narration. If Mind is Logic and Reason then Heart is Emotion and Instinct,, Soul is all that lives between it. And he is constantly silenced or spoken over or around. He does not get a word in edgewise until TSE. He may show up in the background occasionally but as much as Heart and Mind claim to want to keep him alive and help him, they also fail to actually acknowledge what he says.

Which is that they both are right and wrong. That this fighting is doing directly what they both feared it would. Soul is desperate by the end. He is angry and resentful because.. well. Self hatred due to intense self awareness and reflection is rather ig. Common. Im not a professional here but from personal experience, you get so tired of rehashing the same shit with yourself over and over. It all feels pointless.

The only out, by the end of it all to Soul is that if they cannot be Whole, whats the point? He is desperate. He does not want to die but he feels theres no other solution.

And. About Whole, Soul throughout the album seems to want that. At the beginning, to be Whole or Harmonious is to be mentally healthy, maybe even "normal" by society's standards. To be able to put a mask over your problems and be, again, "normal". It takes the entire album for Soul to realize that this:

1. isnt possible

And

2. There isn't anything evil or wrong with him for that.

Mental health is a struggle. But you are not evil and should not be othered because you struggle. You also do not need to be fixed for being a little different and people's opinion of you is not what matters most so long as you are happy (and not hurting others. Lol).

Thats what Two Wuv is entirely about as a song. Its a "fuck you. Fuck this! I thought I needed to be this! But I DON'T. Stop telling me who I am! How to be! I'm gonna be me!"

His entire arc is parallel to Heart and Mind's and is crucial in the culmination of becoming yourself again and accepting yourself.

But, as mental health will always be, this period of respite and self acceptance is not always forever. And as life continues or as you lapse back into a depressive episode.. you cannot help but forget what it is like when you're not this way- and hell! Vice versa too! Some people have this disconnect between the periods. Where the things from the depressive state seem dramatic or obtuse to you while you are doing better. And from the other end, you just want to be happy again.. but you get so lost in it all you can struggle to feel like you've ever been happy.

The album is about the human experience. It is about self-sabotage, mental illness, self-hatred and reflection and it is, maybe more importantly about self-acceptance and healing. Having a bit of mercy on yourself. Accepting that you are imperfect and that this is okay. And whatever flaws you may have that need to be mended or worked on, can be. And that who you are, for example, if you are queer, is okay. And no one has the right to take that identity from you! That the internalized ideas of how someone should be are not always correct or right. Not for you, at least. Stuff like that.

[bambisnc]

he's the one that's livin' in my system baby! [02]

pairing : sungchan x reader genre : fluffy roommates au <3 lil angst bc reader is really out here questioning their whole existence (js like me fr) cw/tw : sungchan spills coffeee + reader is freaking out a bit bc of feelings tm + minor swearing + use of caps wc : 1k !!!!!!!!!!!!! everyone cheer and clap for me !!!!!!!!!!!!!

'RING!!!'

you sit up at your desk with a start, head hitting the lamp that you had so thoughtfully adjusted to be right above earlier in the evening. as you check the alarm clock, it's.. 2.59 a.m. already?! shit.. the last you remembered it was barely 10.00 p.m. and you had just gotten ready for a "super intense cram session", to be able get at least a little ahead in preparations for your finals.

that totally worked out well huh?

as your still sluggish mind slowly catches up, you notice a shawl wrapped over your shoulders.. and that candle you'd lit had been blown out as well. hmm.

your suspicions are easily confirmed when you notice a little yellow piece of paper stuck to the wall with a simple "you got this ^^ ♡" on it.

before you're fully able to let yourself swoon at the thoughtfulness of your roommate - it would honestly not be an overstatement when you question how much of a saint you must've been in your past life to be graced with a roommate like him - you hear a concerning clatter from the kitchen which makes you immediately rush towards the source of the sound.

and there stands sungchan, scrambling around the drawers looking for something.. the puddle of steaming brown liquid, coffee probably, indicates that his search is most likely for a dishcloth.

you move up behind his now bent figure as he rummages through the lower drawers, as carefully as you can to pull out one and dangle it in front of him teasingly, "looking for something~?"

"i could've sworn that was not there before?? dude are you sure you're not some kind of sorceress in disguise looking to prey on pretty boys like me?" your close proximity doesn't seem to affect him in the slightest; you however very much are affected. which obviously means you'll yet again hide behind a safe fool proof technique : a teasing remark.

"pfft- is that the best you could come up with? rather basic, no? you need to up your game seriously - when i first moved in, didn't you accuse me of being an evil horticulturist because i got you flowers?"

"hey no you see that was totally valid and besides the jury is still considering that possibility"

"the jury?"

"mhm, the people who said they'll get back to me on r/horticulture."

you have to laugh at this but as you accept your defeat you flick sungchan's forehead slightly, and roll your eyes at his exaggerated whine.

the dishcloth in your hand suddenly brings you back to earth, you know, as compared to how rather over the moon you feel in his company, "wait catch me up on what happened here?"

"ah.. i was making you coffee. i don't support caffeine at uh 3 am usually but i know you really wanted to get done with some of those worksheets of yours so.."

there he goes being all thoughtful again. god sometimes you really don't even know how to form coherent replies when he shows his care for you so, so unabashedly.

"right yeah.. i appreciate that. but you really don't have to sungchan-"

he doesn’t have to. doesn’t have to make you coffee, doesn’t have to stay up for company when you’re pulling all-nighters, doesn’t have to cuddle with you during your pirated show binges, doesn’t have to hold your hand during late night grocery store runs, doesn’t have to share his mint-choco chip ice-cream, his favorite, with you when your spicy ramen starts getting a little too spicy, doesn’t have to comfort you when everything, everyone gets too overwhelming.

“i know. i’m not doing this because i have to - i want to do this for you… is there a problem with that?”

yes, you want to say, yes there is. he’s making you feel emotions you’ve only ever read about in webtoons and fanfictions, and you’re scared of that. you’re terrified of that. “feelings” never lead to a good outcome unless they’re overly romanticized in various media; and this is definitely not a romance novel; nor is this a kdrama. “feelings” lead to vulnerability, to rawness, to your heart being completely exposed, because it’s undeniable that the defenses you’ve worked to set up around it all your life will break down in a single instance, if he asked it of you. you know that.

“..no. of course not.”

sungchan’s face lights up with one of his trademark smiles then, as he directs you back to your room assuring you that he’ll be “right there with your coffee madam <3”

you’re unwilling to leave but you’re also unwilling to stay. you make your way to your desk, mind still a jumble of complicated thoughts, all revolving around him. it’s genuinely shocking how, despite having been in your life for such a short period of time, he’s somehow wedged himself completely and truly in your mind and heart.

-

“what’s on your mind hmm?” you find yourself in a similar position to merely 7 minutes ago in the kitchen, except this time it’s him with his arms moving around you to place your coffee mug on the table, diligent in taking care to avoid your laptop and notebooks.

“nothing much,” another safe, noncommittal response to hide behind, “feel kinda sleepy, still.”

“well, caffeine to the rescue!! but i would definitely suggest getting a few hours of rest.” he still hasn’t moved, his arms now resting on the wood, as he slightly tilts his head to look at you.

for once you decide to let yourself bask in the safety and comfort he exudes, overthinking and complications can, with all due respect, fuck themselves. “thank you, sungchan.” you’re unable to add in the ‘for everything’ so you can only hope he understands. you reach forward for the coffee, nose wrinkling slightly at noticing how hot it is.

and then. he leans in slightly till you can see your reflection in his warm, mocha-coloured eyes and inside you it’s as if 2 separate beings are desperately fighting for attention; one adamant on backing away as far as possible because it’s safe but the other yearning to pull him even closer. both beings are unfortunately unable to come to a conclusion, forcing you to rigidly stay fixed, not unlike a statue.

his voice is barely above a whisper when he goes, with all the devotion and affection you’d imagined in the gazes of every fictional crush you’ve ever had, “you drool when you sleep. it’s really cute.”

a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose and then he’s gone with some sort of a pleasantry but you’d be damned if you could remember even a word of it.

you blink. once, twice.

change of plans, then : instead of studying, you might need to pull out your softest, most sound absorbent pillow and scream into it, “jung sungchan. fuck. you.”

old notes : somewhat of a prequel to the other one? idk it's in the same univ u can fit in the pieces wherever u like also head empty worrying about exams also. sumchango love dive. ty for ur consideration . new notes : its a series now !11!!!! + [series m.list] [m.list]

[moonrisecoeur]

OMG A FEMDOM BLOG THAT WRITES RESIDENT EVIL???

you're a dream come true moon

Thinking about edging or overstimulating re2r Leon till he begs :(( he's soooo the type to babble nonsense while he's in delirium too!! Or the type to start saying unrelated and random maybe corny shit either to get himself to last longer or to distract and get you to have some mercy already!! He's so cute and awkward I love himm <33

“ah.. uh… uhm, ahh,” he mutters nonsensically, and god it’s so cute. he can’t think very much when he’s being edged, “o-oh..” he breathes after you deny him, the high dying down as his body relaxes, disappointed even though he’d never say that. your hand on his cock is anything but disappointing. and he does ask for it, so… it’s his fault when it’s been an hour and a half and he’s literally started to sob into his pillow because he hasn’t orgasmed, “p-please? please please please.. i’ll do anything if you let me cum..”

or

“f-fuck…” he groans, head tipped back into his pillow, and when you murmur a soft, caring, patronizing, can you not take it, baby? is it too much? leon shakes his head to say no and stares up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. all of his muscles are tense and strained and he seems extremely overwhelmed, but… that’s the point, is it not? his cum splattered all over his chest, “please, i… i can’t… i can’t cum again… i think i might die..” he whines, and you just can’t help giggling at him, precious little thing.

no but also the idea that he just be saying stuff during sex to make himself last longer reminds me of something i watched once where it was this guy saying “yeah i used to back in high school think about terrible things to distract myself from the sex so i wouldn’t cum” and that shit is wild. leon probs isn’t doing that lol but he’s for sure saying corny things!! fr he’s not afraid to be corny!! he’s silly little guy all stupid in love!!

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

[antivan-dragon]

Maybe some rope play with the Ghoul? Some popular scenes from the Fallout series usually involve some rope 😵

A/N: Thank you for your message, and this is what my sick mind elaborated from your suggestion. My native language is not English so I apologize if you find some mistakes, I’m still improving :) Warnings: Afab!Reader, Female genitals, No reader physical description, fingering, oral (you receive), rope involvement but not as you expect... maybe (evil laugh), violence, explicit language, mention drug abuse, mention of violence, explicit pun game, explicit sexual content, no beta reader, wrote it in a very late hour with a tired but inspired mind. This is my first Tumblr request in a long time, feel free to let me know what do you think. I accept respectful constructive critiques. Please, don't be mean for the pure desire of it. +18 Summary: Super mutants caught you and they hung you from the ceiling. You might look like a damsel in distress but with a price on your head. Honestly, there is very little of a damsel and very little of distress ;)

You were hanging from the ceiling of a Super Duper Mart, slowly swinging back and forth and cursing, but with a low voice because it wasn’t a comfortable situation for you. Super mutants caught you the day before but didn’t kill you yet because somehow they learned what a price on a head was, and they were happy to use you as bait for the little humans.

The rope around your torso was a tight fit to support you without causing major injuries but as the hours passed, your body started to feel weak and sore, not to mention you were thirsty but not in a million years you would ask a Super mutant for water, nor food.

It was the middle of the night when your thoughts about how to escape that situation were interrupted by some gunshots from the outside. Super mutants gave the alarm and gathered in forces to fight the intruders. According to them, only one little human was trying to fight them. What kind of idiot would fight a bunch of Super mutants alone?

But the fight continued for a long, and they had to use a suicider and a couple of hounds to oppose the threat. Who the hell was that little human was managing to win?

A mix of feelings filled your mind, you saw a way out but were also scared by who was about to break in. If that person was able enough to defeat Super mutants, you had no hopes of escaping. The price on your head was pretty much heavy.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. The atmosphere was heavy as you waited helplessly. The sound of your own heartbeat filled your ears and your throat felt even drier. The store’s main door opened with a creak, as the Super mutants’ campfires cast shadowy illusions, hindering your ability to see who came in.

Step by step, the mysterious figure finally came closer enough to reveal themselves.

“I'll be damned if this ain't the easiest prey I have ever hunted...”

And you stared with a shocked expression, lips opened ajar and eyes wide open. The last creature you’d expect to see at that moment was a lone ghoul. Although he managed to defeat all the Super mutants on his own, it would still be a fantastic opportunity for you to flee. If it was a group of raiders, it would be harder... impossible, and your fate would have been even worse....

It was the idea you were pleased to accept, at least, and so, you started your act.

“Hey! Uh, my savior! Can you please release me before those brutes come back? I- I'm so scared and... and hungry...”

“Cut the shit, princess. Ya know why I'm here and I would release you only if you can turn me human again so, let's talk about business. How 'bout that?”

He used your real name, the one printed on your bounty while he took a chair and dragging it right in front of you. He heavily sat with spread legs, thinking about what to do with you. He would have cut the rope but keeping you bound because it would have been easier dragging your around. However, the power he felt in having you at his mercy titled his senses and so, he decided would have had some fun.

You sighed, it was always the same fucking story, every time someone tried to catch you, there was a specific shithead who wanted to take advantage of you. Getting rid of them wasn't a problem for you, usually, but you were up to your neck in shit at that specific moment.

“What do you want in exchange for my freedom?” You asked in a bothersome manner, with the obvious intention of being direct.

The ghoul raised his eyebrows, pretty surprised by your not-worried reaction. “Uhm.” He murmured, considering your offer. “Do you have any chems with ya?”

“Not at the moment, but I'm sure there's something around this damn place.”

“You're right, too easy.” He moved to bend over and resting his elbows on his thighs. “What about eating you? I’d lose my bounty but you'd be free for sure.”

Of course, he was meaning it literally, but you snapped back with irony, damn your fucking mouth.

“There's only one way to eat me, honey.”

When you saw him silently considering it, you instantly tried to change the cards in the game.

“Oh come on now, I was joking.”

He ignored you and left the chair to reach where the rope was tied, loosening the knot to lower you a bit. The short jump caused you a stomach cramp but your feet weren't touching the floor yet.

“Fuck...” You said with a low voice, mentally preparing yourself to face whatever that damn ghoul had in his sick mind.

When he came back to you, you felt his firm grip on your hips to stop you from dangling around and he turned you enough to position your pussy at his face height. He looked up, watching you from under the brim of his hat with a teasing expression. He could read on your pretty face that you were imagining him eating you out, and probably you were already getting wet at that thought.

“Ask me anything else, I'll see what I can do.” You said with an embarrassed voice, trying to control yourself.

“Nope. I think I’ll take your first offer.”

With those words, he took off your boots and he pulled your pants and underwear down with a sharp move, disrobing the lower part of your body. You bit your tongue to don't emit any sound, but your face was on fire, as your gut and your pussy.

“Now...” He started to speak on purpose to tease you a little more. “I'm the kind of ghoul who kills people to live, the one who eats the worst shit you can imagine and who is kept alive by chems...” He took off his gloves, and his hat and positioned one of your legs on his shoulder. “But I never abused a woman. And since your feet aren't tied up, you're free to kick my face whenever ya want, baby doll. The question is, would ya like me to eat you out?”

You were speechless, realizing only at that moment you were more than happy with what was happening, and you literally asked for it. But your ego was bruised, and you felt like a filthy whore, and you weren't... usually.

“Fuck me...” You said with disappointment as a filler word, but again, he took you seriously.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.”

He broke eye contact with you to smell your aroused scent and he placed his mouth and half of his face against your core without hesitation. He was interested in making you cum but he wanted to make it quick because his already hard cock was asking for its piece of cake as well.

You opened wide your eyes and your mouth, releasing a silent cry of pleasure while his wrinkled lips and warm tongue made their way between your labia, teasing your clit and savoring your taste.

He didn't remember the last time he laid with a woman, but fuck, the whole thing was from another planet. Who knew he would have fucked a tied-up pretty human pussy in the middle of an abandoned Super Duper Mart once Super mutants' den?

You tried to keep control of yourself to don't release any sound in one last illusory chance to keep some dignity. But that damn ghoul knew how to use the tongue, and he was merciless. In an automatic gesture, you moved your other leg on his other shoulder, trying to keep his head against your core, looking for more friction.

He sank his fingers in the flesh of your thighs, making a satisfied chuckling. “Turned out I was right.” He muffled while sinking two fingers up to your pussy. They slipped inside you easily since you were already a mess down there, and when he added a third finger he started to pump vehemently, making you forget how sore your upper body was.

The whole inappropriate situation mixed up with the physical pleasure drove you crazy, and your body reacted much easier than usual, reaching the orgasm faster and harder. He kept you steady while you trembled and released loud moans, unable to control yourself anymore.

“Music for my ears.” He teased while he let you ride your orgasm as much as you could, flooding his fingers with your juice and gradually slowing down.

Your mind was blurred as you caught some air. When the ghoul moved away and your body came back to dangling by your weight, you felt the pain.

“Take me down...” You said with an exhausted voice.

“On my way, but don't relax too much, sweet cheeks. We aren't done yet.”

Hearing his deep, rough voice, caused a rush of adrenaline in your body and your pussy clenched around nothing, as if it was ready for a second round. He loosed the knot to lower you enough for you to touch the floor with your feet, but your legs weren't able to support you. No fear for you to fall, because he already fixed the rope to keep you tied up.

When he came back to you, he had a chair and he positioned it right in front of you.

“What about fulfilling your second request? It could be your ticket out.”

Your tired eyes dropped on the bulge in his pants, and it took a second for you to reply.

“I want some water before.”

“As you wish.”

[joyfuladorable]

Fuck it, here's all my favorite Mikey-centric fanfics!!

There's A LOT + personal blurbs, so they're going under the cut (Mostly AO3, but there are some FFN links, too. Also, besides like the first two, there's no favoritism in the order)

2k3:

Pretend That I Never Left by redstringraven(sirimiri) - Complete/Plans for an Epilogue & Sequel!!

Fic that changed my BRAIN?! If my fanart [1 | 2 | 3] for it is any indicator, lol. I'll say for the umpteenth time that if you're looking for an Excellent Mikey fic with Perfect Characterization, this is IT (and you don't need to know ANYTHING about HZD trust me TRUST ME this fic deserves WAY more love) His swift ride-or-die friendship with Aloy will melt your damn heart!

Dragon of the Sun by ForestWhisper3 - Ongoing

My Other TOP favorite Mikey fic!! Again, fanart [1 | 2 | 3] indicator! Slow Burn(ish) Canon Divergence of Mikey unlocking his Mystic Powers as his family looks on in dismay as they struggle to protect him. The Good Shit!!!

Of Darkness And Light by Bayluff - Complete

OOOOOOO THIS ONE! Very good (also drew fanart for it)! Evil creature literally trying to consume Mikey's lifeforce from within as his family scrambles to help

A Chat With The Titan by secreterces5 - Complete

Mikey has a fun one-on-one talk with the supposedly reformed Bishop in Fast Forward. Mikey vaguely threatening Bishop, HEEHEE

A Simple Act Of Kindness by UlisaBarbic - Complete

That feel when you put your worth in what you can DO and the wish to be Acknowledged and the ONE thing you thought you did right was taken away OOGH AGH OOOOGH

Difficulty Breathing by RealityBreakGirl - Complete

Mikey did not come out of Grudge Match unscathed *smile* Truly one of my favorite 03 Mikey prompts to read about (honestly just check the entirety of the Grudge Match tag on AO3 for a fun time)

"A delivery boy! Uh, or turtle." by LollyHolly99 - Complete

Fic that has the distinction of being the first one I ever did fanart for! Gender Feels for Mikey cuz they're just like me FR!!

What Darkness Most Fears by UlisaBarbic - Complete

OOOGH AGH I LOVE THIS ONE!! Mikey has to save his bros from the clutches of an evil spirit while surviving horrifying monsters and battling a wicked fever!

Michelangelo by ForestWhisper3 - Complete

Mikey through the eyes of his family and how much they respect him and know him UwU

Mikey's Jigsaw by SailorSaysAhoy - Complete

Another awesome gender Mikey fic HOOHAA

Train-Wreck of Thought by halogalopaghost - Complete

When you're so talented you learn how to astral project but you start using it for pranks instead of understanding the drawbacks of said power and that bites you majorly in the ass big time (very good my stomach turned while reading this /pos)

A Brother's Bond by SuperKat - Complete

Mikey gets Real Sick and the fam can't help but remember last time one of them got so ill. OH MAN heartstrings WILL be pulled in this one!!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year by moogsthewriter - Complete

Why can't Mikey ever catch a break during Christmas! A short fic that I enjoy Immensely for Mikey being stubbornly heroic and his family desperately trying to play catch up to help him

Questioning Choices by Mystic Medjai - Complete

Fun day at the beach goes catastrophically bad and the fam has to make difficult decisions to keep Mikey alive. THIS THIS THIS!! If I could pour this into my veins for the perfectly paced plot and characterization...

When It Counts by Kallasilya - Complete

Short fic of Mikey stubbornly and bitterly proving his brothers wrong (+ Don being a good brother)

Favourite Disease by devirnis - Complete

Mikey is forced to save his brothers as his body gradually falls apart from the inside. SO GOOD UGH Mikey being forced to deal with situations on his own always show how far he can Shine!

Nowhere Boy by taizi - Complete

OOOH I dunno how I can summarize this without giving the plot away but just know Mikey pulls through by thinking of his family

To Fit the Crime by T33la - Complete

AHHH AHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHH!! Mikey is accused of Murder and receives his sentence before his brothers can even jump to his defense! Oh the twists and turns of this murder mystery!!

you want to know why i sit and sigh (the night is so young it hurts) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Angel and Mikey bonding over comics and unsupportive brothers So Cute)

imma be real with you (cause i started being real with me) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Leo and Usagi being supportive of Mikey as he struggles to train for the upcoming Battle Nexus fight (and also maybe they flirt with each other a teensy bit)

just a hop, skip, and a jump away by baba_buoy - Complete

Mikey sick fic. Heart melting amounts of comfort UwU

Weak Link by yellowhollyhock - Complete

Sweet fic of Mikey feeling insecure about his place on the team, and Leo going through great lengths to prove him wrong like a good older brother :')

'Cause you are the sun, he is your moon/And though he can't speak, he will thank you soon by naivesilver - Complete

Post-Grudge Match Mikey waking up in the middle of the night bitter and sore and gods damn why's Raph awake, too?

Hunted by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

Mikey wandering the woods alone in the middle of the night and having a VERY unfortunate encounter with hunters

Flipbook by T33la - Complete

Heartfelt moment between Mikey and Don concerning SAINW that makes me want to smash a cinder block against my head /pos

Dramaturgy by Completely_Unaware - Ongoing

Mind the tags! Mikey deals with a Battle Nexus loss in an unhealthy way (UmU)

The Red Means I Love You (Work) by AnonymousCritter - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS! AU of Fast Forward. Mikey isn't saved from the traffickers in time and things spiral from there

The So-Called "Champion of the Battle Nexus" by 0ozero0 - Ongoing

Grudge Match canon divergence where Mikey gets hurt a little more seriously than in canon (but still wins)

2012:

Devil took your hand by moogsthewriter & taizi - Complete

Mikey mind controlled by the Shredder moment!! *laughs through my pain and tears and screaming*

walk with open hands by taizi - Complete

Mikey gets his hands on one of Renet's watches and things go topsy turvy from there (and it HURTS ME)

(un)reality by SpectrumWriting - Complete

Mind the Tags! Dimension X AU where Mikey is captured by the Kraang and is put through the wringer in more ways than one (OWIE)

evermore (Dimension X AU) series by coffeejellyenthusiast - Complete?

Mind the Tags! Mikey was in Dimension X for over a year and he's NOT OKAY

Gravitational Collapse series by Writing_In_Denial - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!! An Incredible it gets worse before it gets better series of Mikey being unintentionally abandoned by his brothers post-series and dealing with some Major Isolation and OOOGH IT HURTS ME SO MUCH BUT I WILL KEEP READING FOR THE EVENTUAL COMFORT

traveling so far to get there by taizi - Complete

Mikey and Raph getting stuck in an empty, post-apocalyptic world and struggling to survive (their BOND IN THIS IS SO SWEET WEH)

Rise:

nice, nice by postergirlsprank - Complete

Short fic of Casey Sr and Mikey bonding after an unfortunate encounter while on a snack run (Hey if you want more context for how this author writes Casey, go read his fic Imperfect Animals too heehoo)

either way, we're not alone by sinaesthesis - Complete

Mikey throughout the years of the Kraang Apocalypse (Lots of Loss and Hurt and Badassery)

going under by redhairedmuses - Complete

Mikey almost drowns during a fight with a mutant

Hyperactive Hypothermia by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

After Mikey's winter wear accidentally goes in flames and a villain-enduced avalanche, Donnie struggles to keep his baby brother warm

that’s where the blood’s supposed to be! by Dragon_Scales_and_Fairy_Tales - Complete

With Raph and Leo constantly bickering, Mikey ignores a very serious injury after a fight with Meat Sweats

Clever Little Dino! by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

Mikey trying to keep a robot pet a secret and suffering the consequences

Vs The World by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

The aftermath of the Kraang strains the family's bonds, and Mikey feels hopelessly alone (and definitely isn't dealing with his trauma properly)

Empathy Amplified by Filsamek - Complete

When you accidentally use your powers to connect with your brothers' emotions then purposefully use them to ease their pain

Sunshine in the Rain by Carnati0n_bl00m - Complete

Probably the first fic I read after watching the Rise movie cuz I wanted to find something Mikey-centric involving Bishop and BOY does it deliver with the additional bonus of Leatherhead!! (also hey look fanart)

A Mystic Connection by rytheoneandonly - Complete

Mikey's mystic powers manifesting and evolving in ways he could never predict (aka Long Fic of Mikey stumbling to figure out why he wakes up exhausted and hurt every night)

The whole world in your corner series by GibbousLunation - Complete

Two fics of Mikey being Mikey and his bros being protective

Better Check Twice by Marz_Zero - Ongoing

Bishop captures a turtle with a bear trap (OW) and is an absolute bastard about it

Come Home Soon by Sherlock_Brolmes - Ongoing

With his brothers unavailable, Mikey (with the help of a former enemy) uncovers a massive conspiracy involving New York and the Hidden City. I LOVE THIS I LOVE SOLO DUO TEAM-UPS!!!! *PUNCHES THE AIR 13 TIMES*

Mikey's Artistic Guide to Dealing with Trauma and Fame by Origami_Nami - Ongoing

Mikey using graffiti as an outlet and accidentally becoming famous

Rook by unorthodoxx - Ongoing

Another Bishop fic of him outwitting the turtles to abduct one of them (Mikey)

Multi/Other:

Mystic Malfunction by VanillaVengeance - Ongoing

Rise Mikey accidentally portals himself to the 2012 Universe and struggles to survive and avoid this other version of his family (with mixed success). The progression of familial bonds in this is just *Chef's Kiss*

The Gauntlet by T33la - Complete

A mix of IDW & 03, a wonderful showcase of how Donnie and Mikey support each other (also, a cool invention and a big rocket and a terrifying near-death experience are involved)

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again) by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!!! Set in its own original iteration, Mikey has been immortal for as long as he can remember, and he's used to his occasional deaths (and revivals). But then his brothers find out... (AGH AGH THIS ALSO HURTS MEEEEE BUT OOGH the comfort and hope of the later chapters is so Worth It)

Whumptober 2023 series by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing?

Collection of Mikey-centric one-shots from different iterations and feeling the HURT (Personal favorites are If Only the World Could Stop Spinning..., Just a Flesh Wound, and Not the Best of Days)

To Know Peace (You Gotta Let Go) by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing (technically)

The Last Ronin Spoilers!! Mikey survives and whisks the new turtle tots away to live on a farm instead of being raised as soldiers. (AUUUUUU THE FEELS!! THE TOTS! MIKEYYYY!!!)

How to accidentally kidnap yourself several times over by Camildeni - Ongoing

Rise Mikey gets captured and accidentally summons other iterations (03, 12, and Bay) of himself trying to get out! They do NOT have a good time!! (but at least they have each other)

the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo - Ongoing

More TLR Mikey being a Dad (and dealing with his trauma sorta kinda)

The neighboring cell by SaltyYagi - Ongoing

2012 Mikey and Rise Leo trying to escape Dimension X together (and bonding)

Bonus Non-Mikey-centric:

Weathered Strings, Tethered Wings by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing

(2003) SAINW AU!!! With the possibility of Don being alive dangled in front of them, the remaining turtles begrudgingly reunite to save him. Drew a cover for this with more art to come! LOVING the slow burn of reconciliation between these bitter old turtles UwU (Bitter Old Mikey my poor Bestie)

Mutant Nightmare by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) The immediate aftermath of Worlds Collide

Hanging By A Turtle by CamsthiSky - Complete

(Rise) Literally the turtles struggling to get out of a deep pit they're hanging over

Shell Game by T33la - Complete

(2003) OKAY OKAY SO!!! OOGH Don encounters something Impossible while prepping a tracking device (for himself) and it snowballs into another Renet-involved time adventure (AND UMMM lots of existential contemplation and a surprise historical guest who's Very Cool)

Turtle Power by halogalopaghost - Complete

(2003) Immediate aftermath of the star ship reactor explosion in Exodus

Disposable by orphan_account (kudos to you wherever you are, author) - Complete

(2003) Bishop captures Don and Mikey and gives them a terrible choice

Dissection by AmevelloBlue - Complete

(2003) So much Comfort after the trauma of Worlds Collide (ie Don's interrogation and Mikey almost getting sliced open)

Find the Road by SillySocks - Complete

(2003) Perfect encapsulation of the family as they cope with Leo's absence while he trains with the Ancient One

Handle with Care by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) April is seriously injured during a mission and has to deal with the turtles distancing themselves from her as she recovers

mind-body problem by hiraethseok - Complete

(2003) April and the Turtles Being Siblings the Fic

Healing in Tandem by Eggstasy - Complete

(2003) Canon divergence of Worlds Collide where Splinter is just a little too late to intervene before Bishop starts sawing into Mikey's shell

Let's Take Ibuprofen Together by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) The turtles swap body and have learn to cope with each other's chronic pain

Not the Face I Know by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) Mikey accidentally makes a wish that changes his family's lives forever (THEY'RE HUMAN THEY BECOME HUMAN AND THE PLOT IS COOL AND ALSO QUEER THEMES MY BELOVED)

The Great Skittle Heist of 2105 by AmevelloBlue - Ongoing

(2003) AU of Fast Forward where the Dark Turtles are babies instead and are very swiftly adopted by the Fam

The Labyrinth by HALFnHALF1 - Ongoing

(Mix of IDW/03) The Turtles wake up separated in a labyrinth with only a mysterious voice in their heads to guide them (and manipulate them)

“You didn’t tell me your extended family was in town!” by BoStaffsAreCool - Ongoing

Post-Turtles Forever. The 03 fam is Just beginning to wind down after the events of the movie and look who's knocking at April's door (the 87 turtles)

[tobiasdrake]

who do you think is the best teacher in Dragonball?

That's a tough question. But I'm leaning towards Mr. Popo.

Our journey through teachers begins, of course, with the Muten-Roshi. Goku's only with Roshi for about eight months so we don't get to see a lot of his teaching, even though other Kame-senryu students are with him for longer. In that time, he's able to instill a very important philosophy in Goku that will guide him through his life.

It's the Muten-Roshi who imparts Dragon Ball's central theme of never being satisfied with yourself and always striving for self-improvement. He went to great lengths to instill that in his pupils - lengths so great that even Roshi questions whether they were truly necessary.

And he does have other good things to teach. Most notably, he's the one who teaches Goku the value of mental discipline and rest.

This well-balanced approach to self-improvement is something Goku carries with him. Part of what makes him so exceptional as a martial artist is that he understands that training and technique honing is only part of the process.

One of the things that makes Goku a great martial artist is that he understands your body needs time to recover and grow after exertion. That is the turtle master way.

But for all his benefits as a mentor, what the Muten-Roshi sucks at is fucking teaching martial arts. In terms of philosophy, he has much to impart. But when they ask him, the Muten-Roshi, the Old Heavenly Master of Martial Arts, to teach them martial arts?

He just gives them bodybuilding instruction. Roshi tells them that this is all the Kame-senryu is: Extensive strength training to become so physically tough that you can knock out a foe with one punch. He is, however, full of shit.

Despite claiming that martial arts is just being really strong, his fight against Goku in the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai sees him pull out all kinds of esoteric techniques and skills to level the playing field against Goku's insurmountable might and analytical brilliance. The Muten-Roshi knows a ton of practical martial arts technique. He's just not sharing.

I'm half-convinced he held all this stuff back on purpose just so he'd have a few aces up his sleeve in the tournament proper. Which even Roshi isn't sure was actually necessary.

His next teacher is Karin, the God of Martial Arts. Karin has some useful wisdom to impart with regard to anticipation.

And he introduces one of the most important items in the Dragon Ball series.

Thank you Viz for the redundant translation of "Holy Hermit Bean Bean". I don't get enough migraines from the dub constantly calling them Senzu Beans. This is the Chai Tea of Dragon Ball.

Goku is with Karin for about three days, and it goes pretty well. Karin presents Goku with a challenging test to overcome, which he must do by getting lighter on his footwork and learning to anticipate Karin's moves.

But for the most part....

It's still just strength training. Tenshinhan's out there learning secret Tsuru-senryu techniques to levitate in the air and nobody's willing to do more for Goku but bulk up his muscles. Speaking of which.

This guy tried to murder his own students because they wouldn't do an assassination for him. Fuck this guy. He sucks. Get out of here!

When you get to the moon, tell Toninjinka that his mochi needs wo-- Oh, wait, the moon's gone. Uh. Have fun in space.

Goku's next teacher would be God. Or at least he would be if God ever bothered to teach him. Which he didn't. Goku has never studied under God.

He made Goku stay at his Temple for three years to prepare for his rematch with Piccolo. But he gave up on that after deciding Goku didn't have what it takes to do what he felt must be done: Kill Piccolo and let God die with him. Goku's soft heart wouldn't allow him to do it.

So he dumped Goku on Popo and went, "You deal with this, I'm busy," and then went off to pursue the Mafuba/Evil Containment Wave instead. Goku's training was a scrapped project for him.

Nonetheless, Goku grew substantially during his time in Heaven. (Look at him! He's so much taller-- No, I jest.) Popo is the first teacher to offer Goku something that isn't strength training.

It's almost like he's never had a master teach him spirit or skills before. It's almost like.

Mr. Popo doesn't offer Goku more strength training. Instead, for the first time, Goku has someone who wants to teach him technique.

This is some of the most game-changing instruction Goku ever receives in his career. Over the next three years, Popo sharpens Goku not just physically but spiritually.

He technically doesn't learn to sense ki here; He gained a rough comprehension of it from drinking rat poison earlier that day. But as Popo demonstrates here, there's a world of difference between "Oh cool I can sense your ki" and "I feel Yamcha's ki 700 km in that direction. He's sitting in his home eating breakfast Wheaties and scratching his butt. Puar's preparing to make eggs aaaaaand now he's a frying pan."

This is where Goku makes the transition from martial artist to Heavenly Martial Artist, and the difference is stark. When he shows up to the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, he's on a whole different playing field.

He no longer experiences reality the same way as everyone else. He's ascended to a higher plane of understanding. All because of Popo, since God abandoned this project and ran off to do his own thing instead. Goku is literally the "Dr. Gero's computer kept working and completed Cell anyways" of martial arts.

Great work, Popo. Gold star.

Kaio is next on Goku's list of mentors. He's working on a bit of a time crunch; Goku only has six months to spend with him. Kaio's training emphasizes two things. One is, of course, more strength training though this time there's an interesting twist to it.

Planet Vegeta's gravity is at least as strong as the gravity on Kaio's world. This is where Goku's introduced to the concept of gravity training for the first time - Something that, ironically, Vegeta would cling to more heavily than Goku. Goku's been doing weight training since Roshi, but the idea of increased gravity as a substitute for (or in addition to) weight is introduced by Kaio.

Goku himself would incorporate this gravity training into his later efforts to more fully master the Kaio-ken on his way to Namek. Speaking of which, that's the other thing Kaio imparts on him. From him, Goku learns the Genki-Dama and the Kaio-ken.

Kaio pretty much became Goku's forever teacher after this point, but we rarely see him do more than supervise. Which makes sense, since Goku officially became a Master himself as of the Namek arc. Though all of Goku's teachers will always be looking out for him, his art becomes truly his own from this point onward.

That brings us to Piccolo.

Piccolo comes from the "My Daddy beat me and I turned out fine" school of shaping young minds. It's to be expected; He was literally Evil Incarnate just eight years ago.

While Piccolo's journey of redemption is heartwarming to see and he does succeed in honing Gohan into a weapon, his skills as a mentor leave something to be desired. He fails to consider Gohan's psychological needs. He builds Gohan's strength and teaches him technique, but fails to grasp that this four-year-old child does not have a warrior instinct to get out there and throw hands with planet-killers.

He throws Gohan into the deep end and Gohan sinks like a stone. Failing to develop his bond with Gohan and offer the kid the encouragement he needs to get out there and do this is a fatal error in his training.

Piccolo pays for this mistake with his life.

Finally, that leaves Goku himself.

As a Master in his own right, Goku has so much to impart onto Gohan. At least, whatever Piccolo hasn't already. As a teacher, Goku is encouraging of Gohan and offers him clear and unmistakable guidance.

He talks things over with Gohan, explaining ahead of time what their goal is and how they're going to achieve it.

Like Popo, Goku's pretty great as a teacher. There's just. One. Small. Problem: He fails to consider Gohan's psychological needs. Yeah, that's right, Goku walks face-first into the same error that Piccolo died for, which is why Piccolo freaks out on him for it.

It helps that Piccolo not only has personal experience making this exact same mistake, but also the wisdom of God now.

Like. It's important to note that it's not that Goku misunderstands Gohan. He knows, intellectually, what kind of person Gohan is. He knows Gohan's passions lie elsewhere.

Nonetheless, Goku sees too much of himself in Gohan, overlooking the reality that Gohan was so gung-ho about training with Goku because he thought he was helping his dad. Despite clearly conveying the mechanisms and goals of their training, Goku never even thought to broach this topic with him because he just. Assumed.

Even though he knew Gohan longed for academia, he assumed Gohan also had the spirit of a martial artist in him. That Gohan was still driven by the same fire that he is, compelled to push his limits and test himself against mighty foes. He makes that fatal mistake that so many parents make, of projecting himself onto his child.

Goku pays for this mistake with his life.

Android 16 is able to salvage Goku's mistakes and make this work, much as Goku once salvaged Piccolo's. And to his credit, Goku learns and is able to offer Gohan the emotional support and direct coaching he needs to finish the job.

I particularly love "Show me the power that we made together" because it puts the emphasis on his and Gohan's bond, rather than Gohan's fighting. It demonstrates the expansion of his understanding of Gohan's motives.

Nonetheless, this was a pretty significant error too make as a teacher so I can't give Goku full marks.

With that in mind... I gotta give it to Popo. Popo took God's castoff dumpster-project, poured himself into it, and gave Goku some of the greatest instruction of his entire career. A+

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just Your Voice...or something

This ficlet is for @stevethehairington's birthday, the best of celebrations to you, Mack!!! I was thinking for some time what you'd like and I was reminded of your small essay about the Little Mermaid. So...have a Little Mermaid Steddie AU.

The sea witch was supposed to be terrifying, that's what everyone kept telling Steve. He'd sell you potions that would destroy your mind. He'd find any loophole to make you do their bidding. He'd cheat, lie, promise the impossible and connect with the spirits of the deepest ocean to enslave anyone and anything.

The thing was...Steve really did need his help.

The second he entered the witch's cavern, he already felt like he made the worst mistake of his life. There was a huge bubbling cauldron, glowing with whatever toxic stuff the witch was brewing, and from the shelves carved in to the cavern walls, tens of tiny creatures were watching, waiting, following his every move.

"Well well well. Prince Steven himself. I should have cleaned."

Steve turned around so quickly his hair created a halo around his head. There the witch was, sitting on the ceiling with their tentacles wrapped around loose rocks, staring down at Steve, turning their head curiously to the side.

"Uh...what are you doing on the ceiling?" Steve asked, returning the questioning glance.

That made the witch chuckle. "Good question. Stretching. Also it gives me a new perspective."

"An upside down-perspective doesn't sound very useful, but whatever makes you happy," Steve shrugged. "Listen, uh...I came here with a request."

"Oh? A request from the prince himself? I will need a right side up perspective for that then." The witch bounced off the cavern ceiling and landed before Steve with almost staggering grace. Only then could he properly see what they - no, he - looked like. Long, flowy hair around his head, dark eyes and a mischievous smile that gave way more credence to the rumors. He too felt inclined to do whatever the witch asked of him. "Hi," the witch stuck his webbed hand forward, "I'm Eddie, the local witch and the perpetrator of every single bad thing that happens around here. Ever had a bad hair day? That was me."

Laughing, Steve took his hand and shook it. It was becoming more and more difficult to remain cautious when the witch was so charming. "Nice to meet you, Eddie. I'm...well, Steve. You alread know that."

"That I do." Eddie moved backwards and crossed his tentacles in a way that Steve often saw humans do with their...not-tentacles. Legs, they called them. "Well then, Steve. What can this measly witch assist you with? Not that I dislike visitors, but I don't get to see too much royalty around here."

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes. Royalty, sure. As if he was anything special to his father, his only redeeming feature were his looks, the golden scales and a beautiful mane of sun-kissed hair, that was it. "Funny. Uh, look. I need legs. Also to breathe up there." He pointed vaguely upwards to the distant surface.

Eddie blinked. "Uh. Sure, legs. Dare I ask why? A pretty lady or something in the land above?"

The prince snorted. "Yeah, no. Look, it's not like you care, but there's this kid up there, he almost drowned. Name's Dustin, I think, and I...shit, this sounds way more stupid than I usually do, but I want to make sure he's okay. He didn't look too hot when I dragged him to the beach and his mom was going crazy with worry. So...yeah. That's why."

"That..." Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it. "That's so sweet I might barf."

Steve shrugged and pointed towards the cavern entrance. "Be my - well, your guest, but you might want to do it outside. So. Legs. How much for a pair of legs? A temporary one?"

Eddie grinned at him, twirling his tentacles some more. It was almost hypnotizing. "Oh, I don't know. Pretty difficult, those pesky legs. All those toes, ten of them, that's a full day's job. I'd say the price is...your voice."

Ah, there it was. The evil streak everyone was talking about. Steve just closed his eyes and nodded, resigning himself. "Fine. Take it."

He expected pain, maybe. Or something touching his face, at least. What he didn't expect was a loud fit of laughter invading his ears, reverbating through the cavern.

"What?" he asked Eddie, annoyed.

"You..." wheezed Eddie, wiping at his face, even if any and all tears would dissolve in water instantly, "you really thought I was serious? That I'd do some evil crap like that? Ah, man. My reputation has to be way worse than I assumed."

Steve's scowl sent him into another fit of giggles while the prince searched for a reasonable response that didn't include punching the witch. Just a little. "Okay then, so what do you want?" he snapped.

One mighty sweep of tentacles and Eddie was next to him, hand over his soulders. His black scales were smooth and surprisingly pleasant to the touch. "Geez, Stevie, calm down. Contrary to what you might believe, I'm not that bad."

"Yeah?" Scanning the walls of the cavern, he noticed the scared eyes of the tiny creatures around. "Care to tell me if those poor, unfortunate souls moved here voluntarily?"

Eddie just snickered and crooked his finger at one of them, inviting it closer. It wiggled in the water a little before slowly descending into his palm. He touched its forehead with a long finger and muttered an incantation. And just like that, in a puff of colorful swirls, floated Chrissy, with her golden hair and forest green tail. "So, Chris," drawled Eddie, "care to describe to prince Steven here how I kidnapped you and forced you to live here with me?"

"I..." Steve was at loss of words. "I thought you left? Or disappeared?"

Chrissy snorted and moved closer to Eddie, finding comfort under his arm. "Yeah, I did both. Because Jason wouldn't leave me alone. I came to Eddie for advice on where I could go, but he let me stay here, in a changed form...for my own protection. Just like the others. Really, Steve, prejudice doesn't suit you." Turning back to Eddie, she nudged his side. "Hey, Eddie, can you change me back? I'll take a brief nap."

Ruffling her hair, he touched her forehead. "Sure thing, Chris. Off to the bed with you." And just like that, she was a tiny octopus again, floating to her shelf.

"Oh wow," breathed out Steve. "I feel like a huge asshole. That's...that's actually really nice of you."

Eddie shrugged, returning to his cauldron. "What can I say. The rumors are useful, it keeps the rich and mighty assholes out. Except for this asshole," he pointed at Steve with one of his tentacles, but there was no venom. "So, legs. Can do, a small spell and you'll change when you exit water, you'll have your tail back when you re-enter it. Just a small warning for you - you'll want to get covered when you get up there. There's going to be...something...where the front of your tail is and humans don't like to see that."

Steve snickered at that. He definitely saw one of those during his trips to the surface and he absolutely didn't want to see that either. He watched as Eddie muttered something weird and deep that sent sparkles towards his tail. "Great, thank you. Uh. So, what about the payment? What do you want?"

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. "Whatever. You want to check on a kid, so it's not like I'm going to charge you something crazy. Two pebbles, a pretty mug for my cavern, whatever."

"Do you like anything from the world above I could bring you?" Steve asked, moving closer to the cauldron. "Since I'll be there. They have a lot of interesting stuff."

"Hmmm...maybe..." Look, mermen normally didn't blush, but Steve could swear Eddie's cheeks turned a bit darker. A strand of his wavy hair floated into his mouth and he started chewing on it nervously. "OK, so theoretically. If you were to find one or two. Apples? Do you know what those are?"

The shame in Eddie's face had Steve laughing, clutching his sides. He just looked adorable, trying not to ruin his cultivated image. "Sure, I know them. They float, but I'll get them down here. You've got a sweet tooth, huh?"

"Not a word, prince," the witch threatened, pulling more and more hair in front of his face. "No one will believe you. Now shoo, go check on your kid and find me some apples."

Steve saluted him. "Shall do, oh mighty witch!" With a single sweep of his golden tail, he was gone.

When everything quieted down, Eddie stayed hunched at his cauldron. He didn't really foresee this day going so...weird. Not bad, but weird.

"You like him."

He scowled at the tiny Chrissy creature that floated in front of him with a smug expression. "Oh shoo with you too. He's going to check on the kid and fall in love with a pretty lady or a princess above, or he's going to toss a half-rotten apple to me when he comes back and will never speak to me again. They always do."

She floated closer and nuzzled under his chin. "I don't know, Eddie," she sighed. "He seemed like a good guy. And he had those eyes. Just wait, I'm about to earn an I-told-you-so."

- - -

Eddie hated being wrong. But when, not even a day later, he found Steve waiting in front of his cavern, a satchel of apples in hand (well, above his head, struggling to keep it underwater) and a wide smile on his face, he thought being wrong wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"Welcome back, your highness," he invited Steve in. "So, how was your child friend?"

Steve beamed at him, his face bright even in the shadow of Eddie's abode. "He's doing well. A bit shaken, but recovering. His mom was really grateful, both to me and you. She sent you this...what did she call it. Token of appreciation from her garden. They should be one of the sweetest types." He handed Eddie the satchel and watched with fondness as the sea witch shoved his hand in, grabbing a beautiful red apple and taking a bite. The look on his face was pure bliss.

One crunch later, Eddie opened one of his eyes and looked at Steve. "Want one?"

"Uh, I..." Steve stammered. "They're your payment, I couldn't-"

Shaking his head, Eddie shoved an apple into his hand. "Don't give me that crap. You saved the kid, you deserve an apple. Now make yourself comfortable. Unless you're afraid to stay?"

Steve laughed and floated closer to Eddie, taking a bite of his apple. "Of you, Eddie? Never."

The crunching of apples was loud in the cavern, but not enough to drown out the quiet "I told you so" from the highest shelf.

(also, I forgot to mention this, but the cauldron? It was soup. Eddie is feeding a full cavern of runaways so of course he needs to cook in bulk)

[biostris]

Hi there! This is my first time asking on your page and I hope your recovery is going well <3 If you’re maybe taking requests for sfw headcanons:

What do you think king dice would be like with a gf (gn is okay too) who’s rumored to being “the wicked witch of the woods” who’s typically described as a stereotypical child-eating evil old lady that lives in a house in the woods when in reality, she’s just a woman who really likes her alone time practicing her spells, making her potions, and generally doesn’t care about the childish rumors about her (bc girlbossing n shit)

If you don’t feel like answering this, pls don’t feel obligated to and you can ignore this if you’d like to. Have a good morning/day/afternoon/evening/night <3

A/N: it took me two years to get to this. But I’m here after a very lengthy depression to deliver.

C/w: possible talk about bones and other stuff, She / her pronouns used for reader

:KingDice x Witch!Fem! reader:

Honestly if you live out in the woods, you probably don’t even know about the rumors being spread. You’re too busy going to the supermarket to buy some out of season spices to begin with! Unethical you know but it’s needed for a spell and you lack a substitute herb

Whispered surround you, despite your obliviousness. “I heard she captures kids and cooks them in her cauldron!” Points out one worried mother. “I heard she works for the devil!” A man speaks out. Soon enough no one is left except the poor cashier who’s shaking in his boots.

Onto KD. You’re simply walking back to the forests edge when all of a sudden THE King Dice manages to bump into you! And uh oh, all those spices are down in the gutter. Since you’re a lady, and one he very much fancies after getting a glimpse of your face, he profusely apologizes.

“I’m sorry lil Darlin! Didn’t see ya there. What’s a pretty thing like you doing all the way downtown?” Casually trying to flirt while trying to salvage some of the spices along side you. Of course you explain your story, and here he is. Graciously offering to buy you any replacements

He is slightly scared but you’re also just too cute that maybe the crazy is excusable this time.

And from then on, he took notes. Brought you flowers ans the traditional gifts of course but he’d notice you using them in odd ways. “Baby doll,” he asks one day. Pointing to the flowers he brought a few nights ago hanging and dried upside down. “You know you can throw those away, right?”

As someone who works for the devil. He doesn’t know much about witchcraft. But whatever his girl needs. His girl gets. And hey, if you’re dating king dice? Maybe, just maybe, you’re not a kid eating devil worshipper like everyone says you are