#I have learned my lesson from this btw

[l3irdl3rain]

and now for the Persephone update!

We were doing her work up that needed to be done prior to her Purdue appointment. Took the radiographs and Hey! What the fuck is that!? Sent them to a radiologist who said it’s chronic pulmonary effusion.

Now you may be wondering, how long has that been there? I don’t know. What’s causing it? I don’t know. Why isn’t she showing any symptoms? I don’t know. Will it worsen? I don’t know. Will it eventually start to negatively effect her? I don’t know. Will it change the treatment of her thyroid tumors going forward? This answer may surprise you: I don’t know.

For now I’m going to proceed with taking her to her initial Purdue visit and see what they say about the thyroid tumors. I’m worried they won’t be willing to do anything without doing a work up for her pulmonary effusion. And I’d love to pretend I’m the richest person in the world but I’m just not.

As always, I will keep you guys updated. But as of right now we’re proceeding with her Purdue visit on the 30th as normal.

[cozylittleartblog]

diversity win your spam emails are queer

[periwinkla]

I live for Trucy trying to make Franziska laugh with her tricks...

Suggest blue! 💙💙💙

[anhonestdaysworkcomic]

i've done so much research on medieval farming and all it's gotten me is more questions

[nerice]

DO you have hair pics from the metallic pink era? Sounds divine!

(speedruns my ask backlog) i unfortunately don't!!!!!! :(( was notoriously camera shy during my teens due to all the. self harm lmao & this was pre-smartphones (well. 2010 but i was poor) but if you want 2 recreate the look i can tell you the secret recipe: be 14 with no idea how tf hair dye works. have a friend slap (1) package of regular blond on ur dark hair that needs at least 3 for its length and then use the metallic pink (might have been more metallic red, actually, given the time) this is nothing. looks like shit. have ur mom freak tf out about it and try to salvage it by just slapping two more packs of the metallic dye over the mess you made. THIS SUDDENLY BECOMES THE HOTTEST LOOK YOU'LL EVER HAVE bc due to the weird half-taken blond on top it turned into this absolutely sick light-to dark redpink gradient. i tried to recreate it a year later when it had grown out a little but it never looked as nice as that happy accident. it did get me into a longterm relationship tho so absolutely worth lol

[fiendishartist2]

eaten from the core and out to the skin– mp100

Reigen strutted through the halls of Salt Middle School, passing empty classrooms and bustling club rooms at a brisk pace. As he turned an unfamiliar corner, he schooled his worried expression to something closer to irritation. Reigen was on a mission and he couldn't let any weakness show. He came upon the door he was directed to by the woman in the main office.

He entered with a hand on his hip, suit bunching up at the action. Reigen surveyed the small office, eyes catching on the cheesy inspirational posters and self-help books. He wrinkled his nose, ah, a guidance counsellor. Oh god, Mob, what kind of trouble did you get yourself in this time. Speaking of Mob– Reigen spotted his student sitting in the only other chair in the cramped office. His shoulders were brought far up to his ears and his head was hung low. Whatever they called him in for, Mob sure was taking it seriously.

Whatever, Reigen thought confidently, we'll be out of here in no time if I have anything to say about it.

The woman that had called him in sat at a cluttered desk that took up about a third of the small room. She smiled widely, brushing back her black bob behind her ear. Her elbow nudged against one of the many stacks of paper littering her desk.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Reigen. Please, take a seat." He obliged, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Would you mind telling me why I was dragged out of work to be here?" Mob hiked his shoulders higher, curling in on himself. His flat fringe cast a dark shadow over his face, covering his expression. Reigen thought he could see his lip wobble out of the corner of his eye, however.

"Ah- apologies, it was at Shigeo's request. I'm sure he didn't mean to interrupt." Mob asked for me instead of his parents? Reigen narrowed his eyes, lips pursing in thought. Mob never asked Reigen to pick him up from school unless something was really wrong. Last time this happened, Mob was trying not to blow up over the black eye some kid gave him. That day, Reigen had to keep reminding himself that a 26 year old man beating up a 12 year old middle schooler was definitely illegal. Now, seeing the way Mob's face was painfully schooled, like he was just barely holding it together, Reigen felt the same urge to hunt down whoever had done this.

He took a steadying breath, cracking a placating smile, "No, it's alright." Some of Mob's tension dissolved, "But, I do want to know why you called me." He tried, making sure to keep a pleasant tone. The last thing he wanted was to get Mob all worked up about whatever it was he did.

The guidance counsellor smiled, although it was fake just like Reigen's. Just a gesture meant to put the other at ease. She cleared her throat politely, picking up a file from under her elbow and sliding it across the table to Reigen. He leaned forwards, eyes scanning the page.

He landed on a few scribblings in pen that read 'lunch hour', 'truancy', and 'physical altercation' before she interrupted him.

"Shigeo was absent from all of his classes today and was seen by another student loitering in a club room during second period mathematics. As well as-" she picked up the paper, reading with a light hum, "-Ah, here– during lunch hour, Shigeo pushed a classmate, resulting in a dislocated shoulder." She read it off so stiffly, like a judge reading a list of crimes out to a jury. Reigen resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her seriousness. That's what Mob was in here looking like he was on the verge of breaking down for? Skipping class and pushing a kid? Reigen had done much, much worse in his school days– this was practically nothing.

Holding in a scoff, Reigen hummed sympathetically.

The counsellor sighed and put the paperwork down. She levelled Reigen with a tired stare, "As this is the first time I've had to discuss Shigeo's behaviour with a parent or guardian, I'm not going to punish him." Reigen's face softened before he could stop himself and she pounced on the opening, pressing her lips into a thin line. Or maybe this game of social chess was all in Reigen's head and she was just emoting like a normal person. Either way, she continued, "However, due to school policy, I still need to come to an understanding with Shigeo."

Reigen nodded, "Of course," he went on the attack, "I'm sure Mob didn't mean anything by his actions. Sometimes he just gets overwhelmed and-" his good natured smile slipped as Mob joined the conversation.

"I meant to push him. I'm sorry…" He whispered, hands twisting around each other. C'mon, Mob! I'm trying to vouch for you here, just don't say anything and I can get you out of this scot-free! he screamed internally. Unfortunately, Mob never had figured out telepathy, so Reigen's pleas went unheard.

"I skipped my classes too, on purpose." He continued in his soft voice. His warbly confession felt wrong, twisting itself around Reigen's stomach. This was all too serious, why was Mob getting so worked up over nothing?

Reigen swallowed the questions that crawled up his throat in favour of clawing the conversation back to normalcy. He patted Mob's shoulder forcefully, nervous laughter bubbling out of him.

"Such an honest student I have! As you can see, he's much too well behaved for trouble-making. So really, we should just let this whole thing blow over, huh?" Reigen boasted in his salesman voice. Despite directly contrasting Mob's incriminating words, he hoped she would believe him over his student by confidence alone. Judging by her unamused expression, it wasn't working.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reigen, but multiple students admitted to seeing the fight at lunch. Now, Shigeo," she turned her attention to him. Mob didn't even look up from his lap.

"Why don't you explain to me why you were absent from class?" Reigen crossed his arms, turning to his student as well; he obviously wasn't getting them out of there any time soon. And, he was actually kind of curious about that too. Mob wasn't a perfect student by any measure, but he hated getting scolded and was too polite to break any rules anyways. It was really out of character for Mob to skip a whole day of classes.

Mob didn't react. Reigen couldn't be sure he even heard the counsellor's question at all. The boy sat so still he might have even been holding his breath.

Just as she got ready to try another approach, Mob sucked in a sharp breath, "...I don't know." His voice shuddered. Reigen's mood curdled instantly– Mob was definitely lying to them. There was nothing to lie about in the first place; sure, skipping class was against the rules but it wasn't egregious and it certainly wasn't uncommon. A bead of sweat rolled down Reigen's temple.

"Were you bored in class? Maybe you wanted to meet up with friends or get an early lunch?" She listed off the most common excuses bolder delinquents gave her. She hummed, leaning her chin on her entwined fingers, "How about an emotional reason? Did you feel upset in class and needed to take a walk?" She probed gently.

Mob curled imperceptibly inwards, holding his shoulders tighter to avoid reacting. But, Reigen spotted his clear sign of guilt: Mob's hands were gripping his knees with white knuckles.

"I'm sorry. I don't know." He replied robotically, voice getting flatter as Mob's distress grew. Uh oh, Reigen realised suddenly, this is bad. Mob really doesn't want to talk. He rubbed his clammy hands on his thighs, readying himself to step in and stop this situation from escalating any further.

Before the counsellor could say another word, Reigen went on damage control.

He hummed in surprise, drawing his phone from his suit pocket. In one fluid motion, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. He made a show of clicking the 'answer call' button.

"Spirit's and Such Consultation Office. Reigen Arataka, greatest psychic of the 21st century speaking. How can I help you?" He nodded along to the silent client on the other end of his fake call, "Hmm… an important job, you say? Please, calm down sir, of course I can handle it."

As he dialled the theatrics to 10, Mob spared his mentor a glance. Reigen trained his eyes on the wall, only so that he wouldn't break character once he spotted the dried tear tracks running down his student's red cheeks. Reigen widened his eyes dramatically, letting his mouth fall slack in mock horror. His imaginary client was describing quite the gruesome scene.

"Oh wow, that is very serious." He mumbled just loud enough for the counsellor to catch it. Reigen held back a smirk as she let out a worried hum.

Standing from his seat, Reigen straightened his tie, nodding again, "Stay calm and get to safety. My disciple and I will be there as soon as possible. How many victims did you say this spirit claimed already?" As he spouted a bunch of concerning nonsense, Reigen gestured for Mob to follow him. He scrambled out of his seat, thankfully used to Reigen's antics enough to understand the scheme he was pulling.

"Oh my-! Is something wrong?" Reigen flicked his eyes to the counsellor rising from her desk, a hand on her chest. This time, he let his satisfied smirk free, facing the door. Dramatically, he clicked his phone shut. In his grimest voice he could muster, Reigen put the final nail in the coffin.

"Yes. I've just gotten a call about a violent spirit terrorising innocent civilians. It's serious- life or death, you see." He reached for the door handle, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this meeting short. I'm sure you understand." With that, Reigen threw the door open, steering Mob out of the school briskly. Sure, it was one of his more reliable lies, but it didn't fool everyone and Reigen would rather be caught dead than have to own up to lying straight to someone's face.

Once they were outside the school, he relaxed. Reigen clapped his freed student's shoulder with a relieved grin.

"Alright, Mob, let's get out of here. What do you say to an early dinner? On me." Of course, that would mean Mob's paycheck would be lighter tomorrow, but it's the thought that counts. Money doesn't grow on trees after all.

Reigen stopped his stroll when he realised Mob wasn't following. Instead of falling into step with him, Mob was still standing in front of the school, his face buried in his hands as his shoulders jumped up and down sharply.

Reigen rushed over to him, hovering around his crying student. He floundered; Mob hadn't cried in front of him in what must have been years. He hadn't cried in front of anyone else in much longer.

To his surprise, Mob tipped forward until his forehead rested on Reigen's chest. Reigen froze before placing a tentative hand on the top of his student's head. Gently, he patted down his shiny black hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked. Mob mulled it over for a few minutes. Reigen didn't mind; he knew that Mob needed time to think about what he was going to say. Mob had always been a quiet kid and when he wasn't lost in thought, he was speaking his mind– even if the things that came out of his mouth were terribly blunt. So, in the middle of the day outside of the school they had just ran out of mid-conversation, Reigen and Mob stood as Mob collected his thoughts. Reigen really hoped no one would spot them.

"He poured milk on my head." Is what eventually wrestled it's way out of Mob's throat. It was mumbled, like he was both scared and ashamed of the admission.

Reigen didn't understand the gravity he was giving it, but sometimes Mob was just sensitive about violence. No matter how tame or justified.

"The kid you pushed?" Reigen prompted. Mob just nodded, "Well then, I think he deserved it. Serves him right for being a jerk."

He thought that would be the end of it; Mob would wipe his eyes and give Reigen a faint, grateful smile, and then they would be off eating mediocre ramen at the cheapest place in the city. Instead, Mob unfurled a bit, grabbing Reigen by the front of his blazer and burying his face in his chest as he choked and sputtered.

"Woah, kid!" Reigen wrapped him up in a real hug, confused at Mob's sudden clinginess, "Mob, calm down, you're hyperventilating." He struggled to keep the panic out of his tone. Mob shook his head frantically.

"Okay! Okay, Mob, just breathe," Reigen shushed, rocking them back and forth slightly in their hug. He hoped it was comforting, he wasn't very well versed in hugs. Mob wasn't usually touchy like this.

He felt a few teardrops soak into his shirt before he collected himself.

He ran a hand through the back of Mob's bowl cut, "It looks like you got most of it out, but you probably want to get properly cleaned up, huh? How about I walk you home and-" Mob shook his head again.

"You don't want to go home?" Reigen took the resounding silence as a yes, "And you probably don't want to go to the office, right?" Nope, alright, last resort, "Okay, what about my apartment, then? You can get cleaned up and I'll order takeout." He sweetened the deal, "And we can watch those action shows you like?"

Mob thought about it; it had been a while since he had been to Reigen's apartment, but he remembers it being pretty cozy. He liked hanging out there when he was younger and his parents needed his boss to act as his pseudo-babysitter. Reigen always tried to make his few stays there fun. And although 'free' dinners were regular with Reigen, Mob was really hungry from missing lunch to hide in the Telepathy Club room. Takeout sounded like a dream at this point.

"Mhm." Mob hummed.

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

Reigen gathered his haphazardly folded pyjamas, placing them in Mob's arms. He shot the boy a smile, but Mob's eyes were glued to the ground, glazed over with a distant frown on his face. He took the clothes with a quiet thank you, padding into Reigen's small bathroom. The door clicked behind him loudly in the silence.

Reigen sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand. Maybe he should get into something comfier as well.

The shower started as Reigen dug around for anything remotely wearable. I hope I didn't give Mob the last of my clean laundry… Just then, Reigen pulled a crumpled sage green ('barf green' a particular spiky haired kid jeered in his mind) tracksuit from under his bed. It didn't have any obvious smells or stains so it was passable in Reigen's book.

He jumped into bed, relaxing into the pillows and dragging his laptop towards himself. As he sent out emails and filled out his calender with upcoming appointments, he heard the shower shut off. A few minutes later, Mob shuffled out of the bathroom, wet hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks red from the hot water (or from crying, his brain supplied unhelpfully). He was fiddling with the hem of the oversized sweatshirt Reigen gave him. It went past his hips and the sleeves pooled at his wrists. The pyjama pants he wore had to be rolled up at his ankles and cinched tight around his waist. Reigen didn't like he frail he looked.

Reigen pulled out his phone, rummaging through all of the random papers in his desk for a takeout menu. Just as he sat up to move to his couch, the mattress dipped next to him as Mob settled on the bed. He pulled his knees to his chest. Wordlessly, Reigen handed him the menu.

Once they had their food ordered, Reigen pulled up a new tab in Mobgle, quickly searching through suspicious websites for good quality rips of Mob's favourite shows.

"Cover your eyes, I don't know what kinda ads will pop up." He reminded Mob, chuckling. His student just hid his face in his knees.

Soon, they were huddled around Reigen's laptop, eating their dinners and watching TV. The show was in pretty good quality, but even then, Reigen had no idea what was happening. As he watched the flashy fight scenes, he wondered why kids even liked this stuff. It was just guys yelling at each other and blowing shit up with magic. He realised that might be a bit hypocritical, remembering the magical girl cartoons of his childhood. Kids like to watch other kids wear colourful outfits and fight with superpowers.

Reigen cringed; after seeing what that mentality did to real children, he couldn't watch the show without feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Or maybe it was the two bowls of ramen he ate…

The credits played softly, some woman singing about friendship over quiet piano. Reigen collected their leftover bowls and chopsticks, taking a quick three-step trip to the kitchen to throw out their trash. He stretched, wincing at the way his back popped way too loud to be healthy. As he made his way back, he realised Mob had paused their show.

Reigen hesitated at the side of his bed, before perching on the edge of it next to Mob. He reached out and patted his knee, silently imploring him to talk.

"Shishou-" Mob started, face crumpled in a way that looked painful, "I'm sorry for bothering you." He bowed, "I caused so much trouble today for no reason. I made you come to my school when you could have been working."

Reigen shook his head harshly, "No, no! No, Mob, you didn't bother me. You needed my help back there. What kinda shishou would I be if I didn't get you out of trouble, anyways? Besides," he cracked a smile, ruffling Mob's hair, "I don't blame you for skipping class after what that jerk did."

Mob ducked his head down, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"That's not… why I skipped." He whispered. Reigen stilled.

"No?"

Once again, Mob was tense. He was pulled so taught, he was shaking. The room held its breath for a minute or two as Mob collected his thoughts.

"I wasn't feeling well this morning. I had a nightmare- uhm- about school."

Reigen hummed softly, not wanting to break whatever spell made his student want to talk about what was bothering him.

Unfortunately, Mob held his tongue, falling silent again.

"What happened in your dream, Mob? You can talk to me, you know." Reigen prompted. Mob's face was blank, but his breathing came out in short bursts, revealing the emotions boiling just beneath the surface.

"Do you remember when we had to- to help that possesed girl?" It didn't make sense; why did Mob look so scared?

Reigen nodded. Of course he remembered that awful job; he remembered how he had to sit and watch his disciple put himself in danger while he could do absolutely nothing. He remembered getting in a cab to go home and how Mob refused to look him in the eye the whole ride, but glued himself to Reigen's side. He remembered how jumpy he was and how unstable Mob's powers were for a whole week after. Now, three weeks later, Reigen was just glad they got out of there without incident and they could put the whole thing behind them.

"Asagiri? Yeah, what about it?" Reigen replied flippantly.

Mob flinched.

"When I was in her mind with…" He was staring at his feet, gaze worryingly distant. It looked like he wasn't even present in their conversation– like he was only talking through himself from somewhere else.

"With Mogami," he mumbled the psychic's name, "I was in there for a long time. I think it was longer for me than it was for you."

Reigen stayed silent, rubbing small circles on Mob's knee with his thumb. He hoped his small reassurances were enough to clear that fog from Mob's eyes.

"Um- it was months, actually." He confessed. Months?! How could he have been there for months? It took only half an hour at most for Mob to exorcise Mogami. Reigen barely bit back his questions.

"That world I was in, it was…" he paused, struggling to find his words, "Shishou, you didn't exist and my family didn't either a-and-!" His grip around himself tightened. As his aura spiked, his hair started to float, revealing wide, scared eyes underneath.

"Everyone hated me– Minori hated me and Ritsu didn't care about me and all of my classmates thought I was awful-" Mob couldn't breathe. All he could see as he squeezed his eyes shut was Minori's malicious smile. The smile she gave him when she picked on him, called him names, cornered him in the halls, poured milk over his head. Cold sweat dripped down his face and it was like he was back there, his own blood gushing from his head and over his cheeks. It felt like dying.

Meanwhile, Reigen was getting more confused with each confession; what was this other world Mob was talking about? What does he mean he didn't exist? Were they still talking about Mob's dream? What does this have to do with Mob skipping class?

"I'm sorry, Mob, but I don't really get what you're trying to say?" Reigen said gently. Mob's eyes opened and he startled like he forgot Reigen was even there.

"M-Mogami," again he said it in a hushed tone, "He made a world in Minori's mind. It was like my life here but- but none of my friends were there. And I think my family wasn't either because... I lived alone." He didn't mention how Mogami took away his powers. He didn't know what he would do if Reigen found out what he did once he got them back.

"Minori…" Mob scrubbed his palms over his eyes, drying the tears springing up against his will "She always targeted me at school." 'And everywhere else,' was left unsaid.

"I don't know why, um– why she hated me so much, actually. One time…" His hands twisted in his borrowed sweatshirt, right above his stomach, "She spilled a carton of milk on me. On purpose." He confessed in a hushed voice.

Reigen's heart clenched. So that's what he's so upset about, he thought, relief flooding through him. Just as he started to make up a speech about how that job was over and he was safe, Mob continued speaking.

"A-and I was scared of going to class because…" The cups and plates in Reigen's cupboards started to rattle, "Be-because-" he flinched as a something shattered in the distance, phantom pains sparking on the skin of his cheek. Reigen paid the ruined dish no mind. He barely ate out of them anyways.

"My teachers they would- uh. If I got a-a question wrong… they hit me. Um- hard." Mob's words oozed shame. He hung his head, cheeks flush with humiliation.

It's not everything, Mob knew. It would probably never be everything, if he was being totally honest. Six months of pent up frustration at the world, crushing loneliness, and a hopelessness so all encompassing he thought he would choke on it every day couldn't be voiced in a single conversation. All Reigen needed was context right now, Mob told himself. There was no need to worry his shishou with details of box cutters and cats and the cackling laugh of high schoolers.

He threaded his fingers in his flowing bangs, "I know it's not real," he reassured himself, "But it's still so- it makes me feel so-" he floundered, mouth popping open and closed.

"Scared?" Reigen supplied weakly. This whole conversation made him feel like that, actually; scared and weak.

Mob finally looked him in the eyes and the open desperation could have made him cry. He opened his arms and Mob fell into him.

“I had a dream about it last night…” he croaked, “I co-couldn’t calm down all day. I was scared of hurting anyone s-so I hid in the club room instead of going to class.” Mob’s voice broke, “I’m sorry.” He whispered. Whether Mob was apologising for breaking the rules or for keeping this a secret from Reigen, he couldn’t tell.

Reigen tucked the boy's head under his chin, wrapping his arms around his small back. Small because he's a child. A child you failed to protect. He counted with Mob, trying to get his breathing under control. Reigen tried to stay present but his own distress was mounting by the second, stirring in his chest and making his heart race.

How long did Mob say he spent in that hellish world? Months? Reigen tightened their hug with shaking hands. Mob was trapped in Mogami’s manipulative illusion for so long with no one to turn to– not even himself it sounded like. Reigen was almost glad for it; he didn’t want to know how Mogami would have twisted their relationship. He didn’t want to think about what kind of irreparable harm he could have caused.

The thought of himself raising a hand to Mob in the same way his teachers had was enough to make him nauseous.

After what could have been hours of hushed voices and panicked sobs, Mob’s aura calmed down and Reigen’s apartment was finally still. Reigen held his student long past the sun setting, no matter how much his back protested the action. He rubbed circles in Mob’s back, talking about anything and everything until he slumped against his chest, fast asleep.

He was in the middle of a rant about the proper way to season pork when the peace was broken by his ringtone. It was muffled, tangled in the comforter they both sat on. He rifled through the blanket's folds, digging out his phone and flipping it open. The time blinked back at him.

"9:13 already?" He mused under his breath, hitting the answer button.

Before he could start up his customer service greeting, the woman on the line cut in.

"Reigen?" Mrs. Kageyama demanded, relief lacing her concern. Reigen's eyebrows rose.

"Oh, hey, Mrs. Kageyama." Reigen answered dumbly. She forewent her usual correction of the formality and rushed into the reason why she called.

"Is Shige with you? He was supposed to be home hours ago and he hasn't been answering his phone." Her tone was scolding but the frantic pace she spoke with gave away her anxiety. Reigen looked down at Mob's slowly rising and falling back as the boy dozed. He still clung to Reigen's middle in a tight grip, sitting up despite his exaustion.

"He's with me. Sorry for worrying you, I didn't see the time." He pinched between his eyes, "It's been a long day, if I'm being honest. Shigeo's asleep right now, but I can get him a cab or something if you need him home."

Mrs. Kageyama answered slowly, a warning just under her words, "Did something happen?"

Reigen winced.

Lying to Mob's parents wasn't something he loved doing- they already put so much trust in him with their son and violating that trust made his skin crawl. They could also be pretty intimidating when they wanted to be, especially his strict mother. What had happened on the Asagiri job was horrible and keeping that from Mob's parents didn't sit right with him.

On the other hand, Mob seemingly hadn't told anyone else about it yet. If his student wasn't comfortable telling his parents about Mogami, then Reigen had no place doing it for him.

"Nothing drastic. Just a bad night's sleep, I think," he stretched the truth. "He's hanging out at my place." Reigen let out a hollow laugh, "Don't worry, he's been fed. We were just eating ramen and watching TV before you called."

"I wasn't criticising you, Reigen." He could hear the smile in her voice as she teased him, "I'm sure you boys had lots of fun. Just make sure he hasn't been cursed or whatever it's called."

His smile strained. Sure, Mob hadn't been cursed by a spirit, but another kind of heavy presence hung over him. This was something they couldn't just exorcise in a second– something that would follow him around for the foreseeable future.

"I'll have you know, Mrs. Kageyama, I'll be 30 soon. I wouldn't exactly call myself a 'boy' anymore." Reigen joked weakly. It was hard to keep his festering guilt out of his voice.

She hummed sarcastically, "Goodnight, Reigen. Let me know when Shige wakes up." Reigen agreed and quickly hung up. He snapped his phone shut as quietly as possible, letting out a sigh into the remaining silence.

Judging by the time and the heavy weight of Mob's head on his shoulder as the boy slept soundly, Reigen was sure he wouldn't be getting back to Mrs. Kageyama anytime soon. He shot her a text saying just as much.

Gently, Mob's fists were released from the sides of his tracksuit. Reigen tucked him in, slipping off of the squeaky mattress. He nabbed his laptop from where it lay forgotten next to Mob's head, settling onto his couch and resting it on his stomach. The couch was way too small for Reigen to sleep on, but he could handle his ankles dangling off the arm for one night if it meant Mob would sleep peacefully in turn. He reached around under his coffee table, finding a thin fleece blanket with a triumphant smirk he didn't really feel. It also didn't cover his feet.

Reigen fell into a restless sleep, passing out in the early hours of the morning with his clunky laptop pressing into his gut uncomfortably.

The only solace from his endless nightmares, was the soft, steady snores of his student filling the air in his apartment. Everytime he woke, stomach roiling and berating himself over how badly he had failed Mob, he was comforted by that noise.

Part of Reigen knew that it was probably because the boy was exhausted after the day he's had, but a smaller, softer part of him wanted to believe he put the boy's dreams at ease. The thought that Mob felt safe and cared for, at least for now, in his presence warmed his heart– no matter how much he tried to deny it.

Reigen dialled Salt Middle School the next morning, calling his student in sick. He and Mob spent the day walking through parks and eating mochi, instead. They don't talk about their conversation last night, but Mob leans into his space more than usual and Reigen makes sure to smile at his student more; when they part for dinner, Reigen ruffles his hair and Mob huffs out a faint laugh, not bothering to duck away from his hand.

[wild-at-mind]

Was talking to my partner last night about that thing my mum used to very well meaningingly do...she knew I had a lot of trouble making friends so whenever she heard about another kid about my age who was having trouble making friends she would try and arrange for us to hang out. I feel like the problem with this strategy is that kids who have trouble making friends are usually very, very awkward, and do not possess to social skills to alleviate the awkwardness of someone else. So you end up with two kids who are both being awkward at the same time and neither is able to help the other feel less awkward. I joked to my partner that you would have to introduce the kid who was not good at making friends to kid who was really amazing at making friends, which obviously in real life is not very workable (the concept of ‘pity friends’ is a not great thing for anyone). My mum is very kind and caring, and I know it must be hard for any caring parent to see your child fail socially over and over and be horribly upset about it. She did what she could. But kids in this position are more likely to stay in any friendships they do make even if those friendships are actually very unhealthy and are harming them. That’s what happened to me, she introduced me to someone when I was 12 who turned out to be very controlling and cut off my ability to make friends with anyone else. I will never know if without this person I might have formed actual friendship connections in my teens. They did a lot of harm to me and it’s really difficult to talk about that because they were my peer and also had been through some horrible things. I just clung on tighter because I saw how the world shat on my friend from a great height, like it does all kids who have experienced traumatic family breakdown. And yet in the end, my presence probably only made things worse. It doesnt do any good to harm yourself to try and save someone else, no matter how much you care about them. I really did care about him and I wanted to help and I couldn’t because the problems were vast and societal. I broke contact with him finally when we were adults, I assume this affected my mental health very much but I don’t know because I have no context for what my adolescent development would have been without him in my life. He used to say that needing people was weak, and so I believed it. (He obviously needed me at more than a few times but that’s neither here nor there.) But in reality, we all need people. We need friends and social connections that give us reciprocity and love. I do have friends now but sometimes I feel like I form connections too strong with some people who aren’t reciprocating. I may have mentioned this on here before but we talk about unrequited romantic feelings but not about onesidedness in platonic feelings, and I wish we did. When I’m in low times there are certain friendships that I mourn (absolutely not the one described above fyi!!) even if it’s been years, or I’m still in them and the other person thinks it’s fine but I feel so lonely for more closeness with them. I’m sure someone would helpfully tell me this is all normal but when you talk to people about this stuff, you can tell they don’t feel anything even slightly similar and are bemused. I don’t know what the solution is except to go on about it in writing so that’s what I do. And I don’t know how to help kids make stronger friendships or help a kid with no self esteem choose between being friendless but sticking up for themselves, or being in a damaging and harmful friendship.

[jackpotsadmon]

shit like kizuna and distant blue sky are going to be the fucking death of me man

(long kizuna and pokemon rants in tags + a lot of emotional rambling and spoilers)

[trashcreatyre]

Did I start getting really emotional after being like "I wonder if anyone's done an arminian miku yet" and looking it up? No. Not at all. (Lie)

[littlebirdy0301]

guess who’s finally gonna really try so super hard to learn how to drive :)

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law on touching and being touched

It won't be a perverted post despite the title lol. But I won't stop your imagination, be free!

There's this funny theme going on with Law and Luffy in particular that picked my interest.

Luffy touched him first.

And he later returned the gesture, much more awkwardly.

Again, Luffy grabbed him angrily first.

Law made sure to return the gesture. (btw he also does it with Zoro, who was the first one to wrap an arm around him at post-Dressrosa feast. In Wano Law has no problem grabbing Zoro and shouts at him angrily. Again, it was Zoro who initiated the touch first).

Law grabbing Luffy to teleport them makes Luffy react in a curious way, you wanna know why?

Because it totally feels like this moment. Both Law and Ace, right after getting uncuffed, grabbed Luffy in same way to get him to a safer place. Ace-Law parallel in relation to Luffy kills me. The whole Dressrosa arc's plotline between Luffy and Law is just Marineford Went Well This Time. Ngl I kinda hated Oda at first for that. Now i dig it.

He didn't seem to like that. Luffy says "Let's all get along well!", but Law thinks alliances don't have to "get along".

Mistranslation here. What Law says here, being so surprised, is "nakayoshi ka?!" which means "you two get along?!" or "you two are buddy-buddies?!". It's a callback to Luffy declaring that Law and Strawhats crew should get along (he uses same word then, nakayoku-get along), Law learns here that Luffy's crew indeed "gets along well". You can interpret it whatever way you wish, but I will use it this time to put this scene into context:

The same gesture Luffy did to him before, but Law didn't return it to Luffy - that's because they're not crewmates. But he takes the lesson to heart and "gets along" with his own crew. Omg I can't believe i'm writing it, I make Law sound like this completely awkward adult who doesn't know how to be friends with people.

But bear with me, the shit is only starting. If you don't want to have feels I reccommend you just laugh at it and stop reading here. I digged up a feels landmine by accident. In-depth study starts below!

It's also a possible callback to the "reassurance" Law got from Cora-san. "I'm counting on you to escape" and Law did. He counts for his crew to steer the submarine well in similar manner.

Law's family didn't seem very touchy-feely, so please keep that in mind as well. He's got limited experience with touches and the few touches he did get familiar with were either taken away from him or brutalized.

Law getting patted on the head lovingly by his parent.

Next time this loving gesture happens, he gets thrown from like two-floor building into a pile of garbage.

And then he gets lied to that everything will be fine. We all know it wasn't.

Do you still wonder why he hates being touched on the head?

The sister touches his face gently while showing child Law support and compassion, reminding him not to despair, someone kind will help him.

Corazon doing the same gentle touch to the face while crying for him, thinking of all the pain Law had to experience. Indeed, the world sent Law someone kind. And Law lost him and blames himself for that.

Law holding Lammy's hand while lying to her that it will be alright. He never does that gesture again to anyone.

The sister holding Law's hand.

"Don't come closer! Don't touch us! We will get infected!" even doing the barrier gesture (I guess that's why Law doesn't get along with Bartolomeo). I used only few examples, there is much more, I just couldn't bear posting them all. Anyway, Law's got the message, his touch is unwanted. The body and mind remembers this.

Similar shit said at the auction in Sabaody about Fishmen, we don't see Law's reaction to that, but we can guess already that it was for sure triggering. Those people talking are sitting not that far away from him.

Ever wondered why Law throws people when teleporting? Besides the fact he avoids making contact with anyone unless they initiate it first, because that trauma is still strong in him ("Stay away! Don't come closer!"), there is one other possible reason:

Wonder no more! He does it to people because that's how people treated him as well, even people who apparently loved him.

Now that I have ruined the "Law is just an awkward unsocial nerd" joke for you, let me offer something to warm your heart a bit in exchange:

Corazon made sure to touch Law a lot and hold him in his arms, despite being often clumsy about it. I think he understood Law's trauma about being touched and his fear to touch or approach anyone, and tried to help him overcome it.

Being hugged and trying to return the gesture. Corazon's efforts did bring some results! But it only works for very few people, Law is still wary of people he doesn't know well. He expects to be unwanted and acts uneccessarily cold, distant and unapproachable because of that. But if you scroll back to the beginning of this post, you can see that he is trying his best to overcome it as well, one step at a time. Some things just can't be rushed.

And hey, at least he seems to be actually relaxed and almost like he *enjoys* being carried around. You think it makes him look uncool? Definitely. But suddenly it feels like Something Important, kinda intimate in a way and not just a silly comedy moment. It's a sign Law relies on people when he lets them carry him and that's why he doesn't protest.

Sanji is like "Why are you relaxing like that?! Get off!!" Finally, it makes sense why Law makes such a sour face here. Sanji should be grateful for the rare privileage after all! Anyway, this is anime-only extension, in manga Sanji actually doesn't tell Traffy to get off and Law chooses to scramble by himself, which doesn't taint the fragile trust those two just shared.

For those who made it to the end of this post, have I ruined Law's comedy moments for you forever? Because I sure just did that for myself.

I could also add one more cute thing from One Piece World Seeker Law's dlc, but I will let those interested to discover it by themselves!

I'm also amazed by the consistency of this theme. Both manga and anime never forget that touch is seemingly a big deal for Law.

[dropsnectar]

Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad. 

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands. 

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face. 

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures. 

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition. 

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well. 

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine. 

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study. 

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard. 

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then. 

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink. 

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you. 

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high. 

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms. 

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up. 

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment. 

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper. 

You’d been played. 

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp. 

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.  

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in. 

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good. 

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind.  The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive,  and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

 The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

 You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below. 

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid. 

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight. 

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma. 

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you. 

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in. 

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil.  It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed. 

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality. 

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds. 

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts. 

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent. 

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way. 

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought. 

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason. 

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled. 

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Octorio x Octo Mer Child reader but reader lost a tentacle in a barracuda incident and is now insecure and doesn't want to come out of their hiding hole and punching the octorio with their other tentacles when they try to get reader out?

(Btw love your writing!🫶🏼)

Nemo Child Reader | Yandere Octotrio

It’d be the same as Octo - Merchild that’s scared of Octavinelle except this one has the scars to prove it

But what about a Nemo-like Reader

Who was injured by a barracuda when you were developing in your egg

But you don’t remember that so you don’t really care about it now

All that remains is your little tail that has a deformed fin

But that doesn’t stop you 

When the Octatrio proposes taking you on a swim 

“So you’re from the sea?”

“Yup I think I haven’t changed in a looong time.”

“If you’d like we’re going to the Coral sea for break, would you like to come?”

“Oh yeah!” 

“You can’t go too far okay?”

“Okay!”

they just aren’t prepared to see such an obvious scar

You’re such a little young fish

And you have no fear of them even as they dwarf you in their forms

“Whatya guys holding your mouth open for come swim with me!”

“Uh…Right…”

“I’m surprised they can swim as fine as they do.”

“Oi Clownie-(Y/n) did you lose your fin to a shark or what?”

“Floyd!”

“It’s okay it’s actually a super cool story!”

They’re actually worried that you’re not more afraid 

And that’s what they’ll decide to begin teaching you to be afraid

“Okay (Y/n) you’ll have to tell me what do you do if you see the creature on the card coming towards you, okay?”

“Mmm okay!”

“Now this.”

“Jellyfish?...Maybe a big hug?”

“No. What about this one?��

“Oh yeah he’s a friend of my dad’s so hug too!”

“Oh Sevens.”

Despite priding the deep on being their teacher for their lessons about survival 

They’re not letting you get the same lessons

“Ne Jade wanted me to teach you about running but now we’re just playing tag!”

“Is that so bad? I’m having fun.”

“I would be if you weren’t so slow. Why aren’t you faster? You know little guppies like you get eaten real easy.”

You’re obviously not fit to learn the same way they did

So they’ll get you an anemone

A perfect little way to keep you protected 

But that’s only in the sea when it comes to things on land you’re none the wiser

So they’ll be your anemone 

“Should that student ever say that to you again I want you to come to the Lounge.”

“But I can’t buy anything I’ll just get in the way.”

“No you won’t. I’ll personally handle who ever bothers you. Big Brother Jade promises you.”

“Mmm okay!” 

Moving you into the Octavinelle dorm posthaste

You’re so oblivious they’ll have to just take care of it 

Don’t you know they’ll protect you best

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

What if...Agatha and Rio raised a child together

THIS IS how I cope 😭

Taking request btw

TORN

The air crackled with magic, a familiar sensation that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the same energy that pulsed through your veins, a legacy passed down from your mothers. You were a witch, born of two powerful beings: Agatha Harkness, the enigmatic witch. and Rio, the charming and mischievous witch.

Growing up, your life was anything but ordinary. You spent your days flitting between Agatha's secluded cottage in the woods and Rio's bustling dead realm, a world of shadow and death. Your childhood was a tapestry of contrasting experiences: Agatha's strict lessons in magic, her insistence on discipline and control, and Rio's playful chaos, her encouragement of your wild, untamed magic.

It was a constant tug-of-war, a battle between order and chaos, between the light and the dark. You loved both your mothers fiercely, but their conflicting natures created a chasm within you, a constant struggle to reconcile the two halves of your being.

One day, you found yourself standing on the precipice of that chasm. You had been practicing a powerful spell, one that had been passed down through generations of your family. It was a spell of immense power, capable of manipulating time and reality itself. But as you channeled the energy, you felt a surge of fear, a sense of dread that gripped your heart.

"Stop!" a voice boomed, echoing through your mind. It was Agatha, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and anger. "That spell is too dangerous. You're not ready."

But Rio's voice countered, a playful whisper that tickled your ears. "Don't listen to her, darling. Embrace your power. You're stronger than you think."

Torn between their conflicting advice, you faltered. The spell began to unravel, the energy spiraling out of control. You felt a surge of panic, a sense of impending doom.

"I can't control it!" you cried, your voice filled with desperation.

Agatha's magic surged around you, a protective shield that contained the spiraling energy. You felt her presence, a comforting warmth that calmed your racing heart. But as the spell subsided, you felt a cold dread settle in.

"You've made a mistake," Agatha said, her voice laced with disappointment. "You've crossed a line that you shouldn't have."

Rio's voice was softer, laced with a hint of sadness. "Don't be so hard on her, Agatha. She's still learning."

You looked from one mother to the other, their faces etched with a mixture of love and concern. You were caught in the middle, a pawn in their unspoken rivalry.

"I just wanted to be like you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I wanted to be powerful, to control my destiny."

Agatha knelt before you, her eyes filled with a deep sorrow. "You are powerful, (Y/N)," she said, her voice gentle. "But power comes with responsibility. You must learn to control it, to wield it with wisdom and compassion."

Rio reached out, her hand resting on your shoulder. "And don't forget, darling," she said, her voice laced with a mischievous twinkle. "It's okay to be a little wild, a little chaotic."

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, a mixture of sadness and relief. You were loved, by both your mothers, despite their differences. And you knew that you had to find a way to bridge the chasm within yourself, to embrace both the light and the dark, to become the witch you were destined to be.

The journey ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and temptations. But you knew that you weren't alone. You had your mothers, their love and guidance a beacon in the darkness. And you had your own strength, your own magic, a power that pulsed within you, a legacy of both order and chaos, a testament to the love of two extraordinary women.

[hotheadedhero]

Ok question how would the tmnt bros (all 4) react to someone having a crush on them, and they confess, but the turtle rejects at time... but later on he realizes no wait I actually do like them!

But theres already been like a good month or more since the confession and their crush has been sorta avoiding them by hanging out with the other turtle bros and though still being polite, they avoid like being alone with their turtle crush and try to act like they don't have a crush still(but they do)

Sorry if I didn't write the request right! and thanks for your writing I love how you write the turtles!

Frothing at the mouth. No words. Speechless. Thank you so much anon! This request is absolutely amazing and tugged at my heart in all the good ways, you beauty. So glad you like my writing tyty <3 Apologies for the wait btw :] I might have meddled with the idea a bit depending on the turtle but I hope this is the kind of thing you were hoping for! May even make a part 2 continuation because there was just so much to write, this was really a lot of fun so thank you again :P I let fate decide which version to base this on and we got Bayverse!

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret

Warnings: bad language, grovelling turtles for their idiocy, angst with this in mind, oh these boys are some real idiots

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Turns you down as gently as he can but it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It may sound calloused but he's a ninja, a mutant, a protector before anything else and that includes being someone's boyfriend. With a constructive discussion on the matter, he can only hope that you understand his position. You assured him that you did.

So, then, how is it that he barely gets a conversation in with you these days? And why does that fact burn a hole in his stomach? This pit, although metaphorical, weighs down heavily on him. Assumably, he’s missing one-on-one with a friend until it truly occurs to him just what exactly is going on. There's a lesson to be learned here, he's sure - a saying that goes around as if taken from an ancient script: you don't realise how good you have it until it's gone. You're not gone perse but you make a point of avoiding him individually. As well-mannered as you try to be, he's noticed and he's noticed the hurt in his belly that comes alongside it.

He thought things were okay, that despite the rejection, you would still be able to comfortably continue your friendship without any issues. It seems he managed even to fool himself. Being so caught up in what it means to be one of New York's self-acclaimed protectors, he was completely absentminded to the feelings that had been bubbling up inside him all along. No wonder he's been losing focus on his training as of late. He has attempted to try and talk to you about it but to no avail. Has your heart really been that broken?

For once, he doesn’t know what to do, or what decision should be made. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Who's the one person he can turn to at a time like this? Come on. Who else would it be?

"Sensei, you know better than anyone that our position comes with complications. That we as ninjas are sworn to certain oaths.” 

"Yes, the duty of yourself and your brothers is indeed a heavy burden. Responsibility comes with risk and consequence as I am sure you are well aware of by now.” Splinter watches his son bow down as he thoughtfully strokes his beard.  "However, sensei, rat, master; alongside all of these things, I am foremost a father who wishes to see his sons be happy. You're in love, are you not?"

Leo’s attention quickly turns up from the floor to his master. How had he figured it out? Must be that parental instinct. Either way, he’s thankful for that in some respect. It makes this easier. Less complicated. 

The turtle nods and breathes out, "I am, Sensei."

"That's what I thought." His father lays a hand over Leo’s shoulder before it taps him against the side of his head. "Now, what are you waiting for? Talking to me isn't going to change the situation."

Splinter is right. It's high time for him to get out of his funk and strategise the best way to make amends. He can only hope he isn’t too late. 

Raphael

Rejects you thinking it was some sick prank curated by his youngest brother or something. There's no way you have a thing for him. He's a mutant and you're a human. How could someone actually be in love with a freak like himself? That's why he blows up in your face when you attempt to pour your heart out to him. Whatever joke you thought would be funny, isn't. 

He may have taken things out of proportion. This much is made obvious enough by the poorly thought-out excuses you make just to avoid being alone with him. Yeah, that's right, he thinks. You should feel ashamed for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that, for trying to mess with him. He's standing firm on his self-assurance. Don't think for a second that he's going to lose sleep over what he said that day.

However, life has a very funny way of playing its own game. It all comes to fruition when you're laughing with the leader of the brothers. When your hand landed on his forearm, Raphael was struck with something fierce. The shot of jealousy to his heart almost takes him for a wild spin but he disregards it for typical Leo/Raph rivalry. Until that night, anyway. This man is tossing and turning in bed, ruminating on that sickly feeling in his chest; losing sleep over it. No. Surely not. He isn't in love with you. This isn't something that's been in the making for however long now. So what if you managed to calm him down quicker than anyone else he's ever known? Big whoop if you used to make a point of checking up on him when no one dared to go near him. It’s no big deal that you’d hype him up and cheer him on before each mission. 

Fuck. He's been in love with you this whole time, hasn't he? Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was probably the only chance he had at something close to normal in his life and he trampled over it like it was nothing. That's assuming it was even genuinely meant from your end to begin with. He still has his doubts all things considered. Either way, he can’t just sit in bed and wallow in his head all night. He needs some air. 

"What crawled up your shell and died?"

Great. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet. Not that this city knows the definition of either word but that isn’t the point. 

"Not now, Jones. I ain't in the mood."

Casey's head rolls against his shoulders and he sighs, "Hey, if this is to do with (Y/n) ignoring you, what do you expect? 'Can't just make someone cry and expect things to be okay after without an apology."

Raph's mask slowly descends and hoods over his eyes, those of which are now staring down the detective.

"Oh, shit. You didn't know?"

No. No, he did not. He really made you cry? Why would you-? Ah. Two things smack him up the head at this moment: you meant every word of what you admitted a month ago and he is an absolute asshole. Despite already living in the sewers, he feels like the scum of the Earth.

That's it. No more holding back. No more being chicken. He might have ruined his chance but he can at least try and make things right by you.

Donatello

Aloof. Absolutely aloof and utterly clueless to the fact that you were even trying to admit your feelings for him. Yet, the way that the whole situation plays out makes it seem as though he had denied you. His head is usually stuck in a book or on one of the many screens that litter his quarters. What can you really expect of him? Unfortunately, this isn’t something that comes to mind nor is taken into consideration when you attempt your casual proclamation. With his eyes glued to his computer, his inattentiveness could only be read as uninterest to which you find it’s probably best to withdraw yourself. 

In the weeks to come, it still doesn't even occur to him that you were confessing. The only thing that dawns on him from your weirdly abrupt absence is how strange it feels without you around. You still engage in your regular visits to the lair but are always elusive to his corner. Had he missed a memo? He can't quite place a finger on your change in behaviour. Then he realises just how much he enjoys and misses your presence. Even just how you'd pass by his little section of the lair and do something as small as asking him what he's working on. The small details should always get their chance in the spotlight but he managed to miss them when they were right there in front of him. When you were in front of him.

Subsequent to this steady progression of fluttering heart palpitations upon the thought of you and his drying throat when he tries to speak your way, he decides to take some action. At least, that’s the plan he has in his head. You hardly look his way, so he needs to find a way to gain your attention. There must be some way. With somewhat of an idea in mind, he dials a number through his computer and lets it ring. 

The other side of the line picks up and there’s a voice. “If this has anything to do with goons, aliens or whatever trouble you guys have gotten yourselves into, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Relax, Vern. This is something that entirely requires your expertise without life endangerment. I need to ask about women,” Donnie confirms, cutting right to the chase.

There’s a pause. "What-?” Another longer pause and then an inhale. “Can't you just ask one of your brothers or something?"

Yeah, right, because his family of sewer dwellers are so well-equipped for this matter. Even asking for Vern's aid is pushing the boat a little but it's better than nothing - a baseline structure of what to expect is all he needs. The internet would probably be more reliable but it doesn’t include that vital real-world experience.

"You engage in frequent courting. By all accounts, you're the only person I know who has enough field experience to give advice."

This might be giving Vern too much credit but this is a surefire way to get what he wants. Feeding a man's ego can accomplish many things. Call it manipulation of the circumstances if you will but no harm done. 

"You know what?” There’s a brightness in his tone, an uptilted cadence in Vern’s rhetorical question. Bingo. “You being the smart one has never been more accurate, Don. Alright, I'll help you."

The notes he takes are unfathomable but he wants to make sure that everything is thought out with careful precision. That's not even taking into account that he needs to muster the courage to ask you out in the first place.

Michelangelo

One would think that this guy would be jumping with unparalleled joy to have someone confess their feelings for him but he's got eyes for someone else. April O'Neil is his one true babycake, his angel face, the first love he had ever known. He turns you down in the friendly way one would expect him to if not a little cocky. Who wouldn't want a piece of the MC Mikey? There aren’t any hard feelings though, right?

Well, no but the sting that follows is still too much for you to handle. Too much in fact that you decide it's best to recoil into a shell of your own and spend less time with the loveable terrapin. Such a shame as well considering you're missing out on your regular gaming sessions together. It probably sucks big time to be rejected but he meant no harm by it. He thought you could still hang out as you normally would. Perhaps you just needed some time. That’s what he reckoned until the days turned to weeks and those weeks to almost two months. 

He’s subjected to playing bystander when you hang out with his family, barely getting a chance to have a word with you alone. If this treatment is good for anything, it gives him a chance to spectate and watch how you interact with those around you rather than directly with him. He recognises how much he adores that sparkle in your eyes, the playfulness of your tone when you crack out jokes with his brothers, how you light up the entire lair when you make your presence known. There is this unshakable spirit within you that he somehow never noticed until a few days prior when you took the liberty of playing an incredibly bold practical joke at Casey's expense. Man, this turtle's heart sored higher than it ever has before, which is saying something considering he had to jump out of a plane once.

Well, colour him surprised. He was so sure of himself that New York's favourite journalist was the only one for him but it seems he was wrong. Oh, man. He's feeling pretty bad now. He can surely make up for what happened though, right? Hopefully. There's only one way of finding out but he has one thing he needs to do first before talking to you.

"I'm sorry, angel face. My sights have been led astray. My loyalty shouldn’t be doubted but it’s for someone else now.” 

The way Mikey is knelt down, head lowered with April’s hands in his own is a perplexing sight if not curiously amusing. His feelings and the pronounced “dibs” on the reporter have been no secret but his recent infatuation with you hasn’t been much of a secret either. Not to her anyway but she likes to think she’s good at picking up on these things. 

“Just know that you'll always have a special place in my heart,” he finishes, ending the overly dramatised display by holding a fist to his chest. 

"Considerate as always." Her expression is somewhere between humoured and endeared, fighting the shake of her head at how adorably ridiculous this turtle can be. "Thanks, Mikey."

Now that's out of the way, he can go into this with a clear head. Although, the only thing really going into this is going to be all of his heart.