#and I didn't even register it as weird until I'd left his office

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all, weird question time again! Is there anyway to word "I appreciate how unintimidating and unthreatening you are being" as a compliment that does not sound at all like an insult? One of my doctors is the absolute best at it, and I genuinely think it must be a skill he's deliberately cultivated, but I cannot figure out how to word it in a way that doesn't sound slightly insulting. Like, it's a good thing! A very good thing, especially in a doctor! But I cannot figure out how to word it in a way that conveys that

[mc-lukanette]

Luka arrived home at his usual time, having biked his way there from school. Stopping short of the path next to the Seine due to the stairs leading down to it, he hoisted his bike up and started walking down.

However, his eyes caught something out of the ordinary from the corner of his gaze, causing him to stop and look over. Marinette was there, sitting right at the edge of the path and staring out at the Liberty. The gangplank was already set up, so there really was no need for her to sit there, but Luka supposed that she felt weird about inviting herself in.

He realized just a moment later that it was strange for her to be there at all. He'd biked home, and Marinette's school got out at around the same time that his did. It didn't add up that she'd be there.

But then, Luka finally caught sight of something he would've rather not seen. Marinette's jacket was resting in her lap, meaning that there was extra skin on display around her arms, and...

They were bruised.

In shock, Luka dropped his bike. It was tumbling down the stairs until it crashed at the bottom, but he barely registered it. Marinette, meanwhile, very much did, her head jerking around to look at the source of the noise.

At the sight of him, her eyes became watery. "L-luka."

He saw another bruise, just barely visible but peeking out from under her bangs.

"Marinette," he breathed, abandoning his fallen bicycle to run to her. He knelt down, wanting to grab the undamaged part of her arm to inspect it, but his hand was shaking and he was afraid to do so. "W-what...what happened?! Who did this?!"

She sniffled again and he immediately felt bad. He hadn't meant to sound so angry, but how could he not be? She was hurt, and—

"I-I did..."

All thoughts ceased. Luka met her tearful gaze, asking breathlessly, "W-what?"

"Please don't be mad," she begged. "There—she was going to win. She was going to get away with everything and I just—!"

"Who?" His voice shook, wondering what drove Marinette to do this to herself. "Who was going to get away with what?"

"L-Lila," she replied. "She—she's a liar. She lies to everyone, but they don't take me seriously because they think I'm just jealous that she's around Adrien. She swore that she'd take everyone away from me, and—" She gasped as she held back a sob, shaking her head. "She was trying to get me expelled, I'm sure of it. I don't have any proof, but she framed me for stealing test answers, then she faked me pushing her down a flight of stairs."

"A flight of..." Luka trailed off, staring down at the bruises as puzzle pieces started fitting together in his head.

"She might've even done something else and I just—I couldn't. I couldn't prove anything but I had to do something, so..." She hugged herself, wincing briefly and readjusting her hands when she accidentally hugged at her bruises by mistake. "I asked Mr. Damocles if he'd heard a fight outside, or heard Lila falling. He didn't, but it wasn't enough, so I...I told him I'd prove that wasn't possible if I really pushed Lila."

Luka started to feel sick.

"I didn't care anymore - I just didn't want to let her win again - so I told him to go back into his office and shut the door, then..."

"You—" Luka swallowed down the thick feeling in his throat. "You threw yourself down the stairs...?"

Marinette could only nod, staring down at the ground in shame. "I...I proved it, at least. He heard me falling. Then it hit me how far I had to go just to protect myself, and I...I left. He didn't even stop me, so I guess he was just... in shock..."

Luka didn't know what to say. The mental image of Marinette purposefully hurting herself - feeling like she had to - and how each bruise had formed was horrible. He shuddered, unable to imagine what it was like for her.

"I-I'm sorry," she whimpered, clearly misinterpreting the slew of emotions he was feeling. "I-I didn't want to, I swear! I—I was just—so much was going on, and—"

"Marinette."

She paused. "Y...yes?"

He adjusted his legs accordingly, opening his arms for her. "I don't want to hurt you by hugging you, but if you need it... you can hug me instead."

She didn't move at first, her gaze darting around him and their surroundings in hesitation. Then, the tension broke as relief took over her expression.

She launched herself at him, her arms wrapped around him while he did little more than grip the fabric of her shirt near her hips. His heart ached, wondering how badly her school life must be, or why she'd be so willing to injure herself for the sake of justice, even if it was her own.

Deep down, he knew the answer, even if he didn't quite realize it yet. He didn't want to think about it; the idea that the girl sobbing into his shoulder might be Paris's superheroine.

Because, if it were true, her life would be even worse, and he didn't want to believe that.

—————

Luka finished looking over her bruises, confirming the severity, then sighed. "I can't believe it went this far."

"It might not be over either," Marinette said quietly, memories still replaying themselves in her head and not matching any semblance of a hopeful future. "I...I know I shocked Mr. Damocles, but it won't change anything."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged halfheartedly. "Lila probably has something else up her sleeve too. This is just a temporary victory. She'll come back, and—"

"What about everyone else?" Luka pressed. "Your friends. They—"

Marinette shook her head. "They all believe her. It doesn't matter what I say. She just lies her way around everything. Adrien told me not to do anything, but I guess she still has it out for—"

"Adrien—" Luka was speechless. "He did what? Told you...? When she was lying to everyone?"

"Yeah. He said that it wouldn't make her a good guy."

"It's not about that!" he argued. "It's about making sure she doesn't keep lying. If he'd just helped you stop her earlier, this wouldn't have..." He trailed off, gritting his teeth at the sight of her bruises.

She hadn't considered that. Adrien had kept protecting Lila, even though Lila was after her. At any time when she was being accused, he could've stood up and told the class that he knew Lila was a liar. It would've been a risk, certainly, but...

I guess his reputation is more important, Marinette thought solemnly.

"If there's any way I can help," Luka began, determined, "just say the word."

"...No," she spoke. "It's...it's not worth it."

"Not—" He bristled.

"N-no no! I mean—" She sighed, rubbing her arm and being careful of the bruise. "What's the point? No one listens to me anyway, I just want Lila to leave me alone and stop getting in the way of my life. I have enough going on as it is!"

He hummed sympathetically at that. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring aimlessly up at the sky as he considered everything. "...Then, do you want to transfer?"

"Transfer?"

He made eye contact again and nodded, his voice more resolute this time. "To another school."

"Oh." The thought never occurred to her. Lila had the class in her clutches, but if she transferred, then she'd at least be left alone. Even if Lila was somehow petty enough to follow her, she could warn the other students in advance, or maybe she'd find friends who were either less likely to believe Lila's lies, more likely to believe Marinette herself, or both. "D-does... could your school even...?"

"I don't know," Luka admitted, "but I'll check. I promise, Marinette; if you want a transfer, then I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

"T-thank you." Then, after a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Can I hug you again, Luka?"

He beamed, already opening his arms for her. She threw herself at him, smiling at the content hum he let out at her touches.

Everything would be alright. She had Luka, and they'd work it out.

[benevolentcalamity]

...

I don't know how to explain this, so I'm just going to dive straight into it.

A small disclaimer: I'm not gonna tag what this is because surely someone knows already, and quite frankly I'd rather not touch the series ever again. XD So enjoy it while it lasts, okay? I also know none of the lore and I don't intend to, so if nothing's explained, complain to someone else.

CURTAINS!

Edit: ALRIGHT FINE

The first thing that greets your eyes is the sharp, jagged pen lines across the paper, making out symbols and numbers you no longer understand. Aware you may have some of the ink on your face you sit up, stretching until your bones pop and your muscles creak. Right when you're on the verge of giving yourself a Charlie-horse do you register the sharp ringing of your phone.

To be more specific it's one of the house phones, because the reception is a bit weird in this county in that it doesn't have the towers very close by to support mobiling.

Now, you don't really care that much about not getting to use your cell for the moment - it's not like anyone called you aside from scams and telemarketers anyway. Even your friends have lost touch, not that it's really their fault or yours. That's kind of why you're here, as your dad being the owner of the contracting company doesn't stop him from raising you.

Yawning, you reach out, picking up the clear pink phone and holding it to your ear. "Hello?"

"[Name]." Your dad's voice has an uncharacteristic lowness, only heard when there's something very important.

"Dad?" You ask. "Is something wrong? ... Are you gonna be home late again?" You don't like when you're by yourself when it gets dark here... The kinds of people that pop out have always given you the creeps.

To be fair, there are freaks in every part of the world, both good and bad. Everyone you've seen when you're on your way home while the sun's going down... just didn't feel right. Like they belong here, but nowhere else - freaks of nature only to be gathered in one place.

"No, I'll be home in about twenty minutes." It's comforting, but you're still confused. "Listen. I need you to go into my office and log into the security system."

Lamenting that you can't travel with a landline, you tilt your head. "Why?"

"I don't know, it- ... Something doesn't feel right about tonight, okay? Just stay in my office and keep an eye on the cameras. Lock yourself in, and do not open the door for anyone. There's a landline in that office, too - I will call you the second I'm home, do you understand?" His instructions are strict, reminiscent of your gym teacher back before you moved.

Swallowing, you nod despite knowing he can't see. "Okay."

"Alright. There's a notepad of instructions in the top left drawer. Get to it, now!" And with that the telltale click.

Well... No room for hesitation, ah?

Sliding straight off your chair you about scurry down the hall, narrowly missing a box with your foot as you go. Everything rocks with your every step, pace quickening until the office's distinct thick black door breaks the mix of coffee and blue. With some exertion you push through it, hurriedly locking every lock on it and grabbing the stop bar. Now most assuredly safe you take a deep breath, looking around and turning the lights on.

The room's a little boring, with file cabinets galore for... Well what do you know? A sneak peek would be ideal. Maybe a little one won't hurt, after all.

Do I dare? Still your feet gravitate towards the inviting cabinet. Beckoned by forces unknown you pry one open that's labeled, innocuously, "Mandela Miscellaneous". Still, what a funny name for somewhere to live. It's almost creepy.

Betraying the rampant curiosity, a deep, biting chill shoots through you the moment you touch the metal handle. One that not only screams in your ear with a bodiless voice that holds no words, but also commands that you do what dad asked you to do. That whatever is inside this file cabinet is not only not for your eyes, but will hold severe consequences. Even a preteen would understand this sort of feeling.

"... Damn it..." You sigh, retreating back to the desk and sitting down. It's a standard comfy black chair, with the exception you can't find the recline control lever. Even the desk is clean, unlike dad's old one back in Pennsylvania. It's completely contrast to the work he does - it's too clean.

Am I thinking too hard? The thought is pushed to the back of your mind as you type dad's password in and open up the camera feed.

Flipping through the monitors, you wonder for a moment if this is why dad was never that keen on tall furniture. Even the cabinets are wider, with the larger stuff just in piles next to them. You're no expert on furniture layout or anything, but it's bothered you since you moved here. Really, the only exception is bookshelves - tall cabinets are a no go.

Rrriiiing! Rrrriiing!

"AAAH!" Jumping out of your skin, your hand goes up in a fist before you note the blinking of the phone's port. Shoulders heaving with a sigh, you pick it up, still flipping through the cameras. "Hello?"

"[Name]?" Dad!

"Yea, dad, I'm here." You can't relax. "Why are there so many locks on that door? It's so heavy."

"My office is safe, [Name]. If something breaks in, you'll be able to stay in there until help comes." Until help comes...? As the air grows heavier, you drag a lip between your teeth. "Listen, do you see anything on the cameras?"

Taking a moment, you flip through each camera again, from the front door to the back yard to the laundry room and everywhere in between. If anything something falls over sometimes, but that's about it.

"No...?" You tremble.

Looking through it all... A dreadful bubbling settles in your stomach. Some sort of shadow upon your shoulders, whispering with cold lips that something is deeply wrong. In mere moments the action of flipping through, to just seeing the normal rooms, is a challenge and a half. Each cycle raises your hair ever more, tightens the twisting in your stomach and the clenching of your ribs.

Something isn't right.

A harsh gulp, and a quick look around the office... No, nothing strange... But what is the dark cloud over you right now?

"Dad...?" You ask.

"I'm still here, babygirl," He responds. "You're doing great, okay? I need you to take a deep breath."

One hand falling to grip the desk, you suck a shallow breath through your teeth, the room feeling as though it'll close in on you at any second. With every ounce of courage you can muster you continue flipping through the camera feed. Swallowing harshly, you jolt here and there from self-deceptive shadows and curtains blowing in the breeze of the ceiling fans.

Is this a drop of sweat on your face, or are you crying? Has the heat died, or has terror taken your warmth?

"[Name]." Dad's voice rips you back to alertness. "Can you hear me, [Name]?" His voice is firm; he knows you're terrified.

"Y-yes." You can't feel your legs.

"I'm almost home, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer." There's a sound like creaking metal in the background, popping your ears. "Do you see anything on the cameras?"

Your lips open to respond, but the start of your voice is drowned out by the camera feed flashing with a notification in the corner. Blinking, you lean closer to the screen and squint, reading the fine text.

Motion detected at front door.

Swallowing, you flip through the camera feed. Ears opening with the doorbell ringing through the audio, you grip your one leg to keep it from shaking. You're far from ready to see whatever's going to happen, but you have to see to defend your house. Harshly clearing your throat, you finally make it to the front door camera.

What you see isn't what you expected. Rather than, really, some grotesque monster, there's a person. Quite an odd-looking person, really... The cameras are infrared when the house is this dark - no need to have the lights on when you're not downstairs - so you can only make out this person being... Well, unnaturally pale, if anything.

The hair is wavy, but crunchy, suggestive it's been a while since they've bathed. Regardless it trails down their back, teased by the occasional movements of ringing the doorbell and trying to peek through the covered windows on either side of the door. Each movement billows the long gown, until they simply settle with standing properly, hands behind their back.

"... Dad?" You ask.

"What do you see, [Name]?" Dad sounds... concerned.

"I... A person...?"

"What do they look like?" Dad's voice is demanding now, urgent - and a whole new wave of nausea passes through you.

"Umm... Long hair, long dress...?" You swallow. "I don't know..."

"[Name]." Dad's voice is firm, but fearful. "Do not speak to them."

A chill in your arms. "What do you mean?" Your gaze is drawn to the phone.

"[Name], listen to me," He explains. "I'm sorry I didn't explain everything when we got here... That person isn't human."

What? "What do you mean... isn't human?"

"If that's who I think it is... [Name], do not speak to him. Don't even look at him, understand?"

Deciding it'd be wise to just switch cameras, the second your gaze falls on the feed you shriek, all feeling shooting back into your limbs.

"[NAME]!" Dad's voice rings in your newfound clarity, your one hand gripping the desk so hard it'd splinter if it weren't actually good wood. "[Name], what's happening?"

What has you so startled isn't that something's replaced that person, but they're still there. In actuality they're - he's - turned fully to the camera, staring dead into it.

Staring right at you.

A friendly smile is on his face, an innocent tilt of the head along with it. Stepping back, he lifts one arm, pointing towards the side. At first you shudder, looking towards the side of the camera, not daring to change feeds. After a moment of ignorance you follow the unnatural thinness teased by the baggy sleeve to the side of the console.

Then your gaze finds a red light - and the word, "Mute."

"... Dad?" You quiver.

"What's happening? Are you alright?" Dad's voice shakes, worry clouding whatever else he could be feeling.

"... How can you tell that I'm 'muted' on this thing?" It's the stupidest thing in this world, and yet you might've fucked all of this up on one oversight.

"... The red light is blinking." Then you both seem to realize. "... [Name]..."

You hurriedly reach to push the button, praying on the one motion that you haven't messed anything up yet. Gulping, you tremble, the bubbling fear in your stomach not as tumultuous, but still threatening to burst if anything more happens.

"Please tell me you're almost home, dad..." You whimper, tears lining your eyes. "I don't know if I can do this..."

"It's okay, sweetie." Now his voice is soft, assuring; finally your shoulders unclench. "I'm turning into the subdivision now. You just wait now, okay? Take a deep breath."

"Are you going to hang up?"

"No. I'm gonna be right here until I pull up. Anything happens, I can give you more directions." He swallows. "You should be proud, you're doing a great job. When you finish school, you'd make a good security person. Preferably not here, though... This town's better left to the pros." That you can get behind.

Turning your gaze back to the cameras, that man's still there. He's swaying side to side, hair swishing like a pendulum, hands at his sides. It's like he's bored, waiting for you to do something, or something else to happen. As though noticing he has your attention again his movement pauses, and he looks at you again.

When the silence is at his heaviest, his lips finally open.

"... Hello." You don't know how to describe his voice. It's comforting, but there's an odd malice deep within. Like a siren's song it draws you in, but go too far and you'll be drowned. "[Name], right? It's nice to meet you."

Huh...?

Tilting your head, you walk the chair back.

"[Name], don't say anything to him," Dad orders.

Swallowing, you nod, managing to turn your eyes away. Bringing up your knees you hug them tightly, dragging a lip between your teeth. Weirdly, there's a relief in the motion, a comfort. At last, you feel like this horrible night is coming to an end. Nothing can touch you, nothing can harm you - nothing can reach you.

"[Name]~" There's a waving motion in your peripheral vision. "Little lamb? Are you not there? It's bad manners not to greet your guests, you know." Then it stops. "Don't be afraid. Just come here, and open the door... I have a housewarming gift for you."

There's a flash, and your head snaps up. Light slowly creeps through the far side of the camera, and your chest heaves at the telltale shape of dad's truck. A disappointed hum from the strange man, and he steps back - and you look at him once more.

Another smile, but this one feels... wrong. "It's okay, little one, I forgive you. We'll meet properly soon, okay? I'll be waiting."

A quick turn, and he calmly strides into the shadows, disappearing in what feels like a blink. The phone beeps as dad pulls into the driveway, and your head spins as you stand from the chair. Lumbering to the door you take down the rod and undo all the locks, managing to pry it open and peer out into the hall. Flicking the lights on, you push off the walls dragging yourself towards the stairs.

"[Name]?!" Dad shouts through the haze.

Your legs give out, and you collapse onto your knees.

"[Name]!"

You're lifted up, and you pull yourself together just long enough to see dad's badge.

"It's okay now... You did great. Good job, kiddo."

[milf-harrington]

more primary school memories i've just unlocked:

i was in charge of making a whole ass plant for our assembly performance once in year 3 and i had to carry that shit to school which was a 20 minute walk and i was like a meter tall

i can't remember if this happened to me or if i was just there when it happened but someone dropped their milo yogurt and it exploded all over the bag rack in our classroom

was fucking around with my friends in the undercover area and [redacted] like fell back onto one of the benches and got a massive splinter in his thigh and had to be carried to the front office and i think it might have been my fault bc whenever i think about it i feel intensely guilty

the iguana invasion of 2012

learning about cyclone safety for most of my school life and then moving down south and basically no one even knew what a blue alert was and i was weirdly convinced all of them were going to die

there were these sick dinosaur toys in the library and i used to just sit in the corner by myself and play with them and i was like weirdly territorial about them

THE GRUG BOOKS i was obsessed with those

at an assembly once when i was in year 5 i could see my mum in the crowd which was really weird on a normal day but we were supposed to do something at the library (i think) so i didn't think much of it and then they were calling out the winner for australian of the month and i absently thought "lol imagine if it was me" and then it WAS and i just fully didn't register it until my friend smacked me

the send-off assembly we had for one of our principals (we went through principals like fire through paper) where the year 7's had built him a throne made out of ties and the speech they gave made him cry (he was a really good principal actually, one of our best)

that same principal once dressed up as a giant chicken during an assembly much to everyones delight

i beat up one of my friends so often he started wearing a helmet as a joke and i'd really like to talk to primary school era me about the violent impulses

me and a friend being one of the few kids left behind for the winter carnival bc fuck sports and we went and hung out in the year 1 classrooms and the chairs were so tiny and the school was so quiet

one of the older kids was messing around on his bike before school and he fell off and broke his arm and that's how the rule about not being allowed at school before 8am was born

OH OH the time my friend/crush/music partner forgot his clarinet in our music room and i spotted it as i left but by the time i got outside he was already on the other side of the courtyard and that's the day i discovered i can shout very loudly when the situation calls for it

sitting in the undercover area during cyclone season, when it would just pour for days on end

oh my god i just remembered once in primary school we were asked to write a sentence and i can't remember like. why we had to write the sentence (whether it was verb practice, adjective practice etc) and i wrote a whole fucking page and a half with an established story line and characters and i got in trouble for it bc it was "supposed to be a sentence theo" but i honestly just think that explains so much about my writing process now