#like she figures it out as being creepy EARLY and just plays along to get the fuck out

[inkskinned]

i haven't been back to CT since the accident.

which is to say I hate driving in CT, every time i have to go through it to get to NYC i spend the whole time holding my breath and hoping nobody acts stupid. there are exactly 2 things in CT worth preserving: rein's deli and the mystic seaport museum - and that second one only because my grandpa loved that shit.

now, i am not particularly familiar with the specifics but it just feels like CT is not an appropriate place for a christmas tree farm. when i got The Call, Roger on the other line called it "your standard CTF" and i had to say my what and he said "you've never heard that? CTF? christmas tree farm? CTF? - or haha, if you're woke, maybe holiday farm? haha".

i hung up after that for like 12 minutes just to take a deep breath and do a 10-minute meditation so i don't peak my blood pressure. and then i said sorry my phone died and ignored him talking while i googled. oregon has the highest number of CTFs per state. most firs and standard christmas trees are in zones 4-7 and CT is mostly a 6 state, so actually maybe i was just being biased against CT when i assumed you simply can't grow the spirit of christmas down there.

i like the name balsam fir and i keep repeating it to myself. i didn't know there were so many species of christmas trees. meanwhile Roger is still talking a mile a minute. "you don't gotta come in with force but really stick it to 'em. that's what Kevin and Herb taught me - none of that nice-guy stuff, okay? we're talking quick-and-easy. get in, hand 'em the folder, get out. it's efficiency that's the matter here."

i tune him out and then eventually get the pleasure of hanging up.

I only really work for this stupid place because i need insurance for my fucking laundry list of chronic "hysterical woman" issues (EDS, POTS, PCOS. probably something else with a fun acronym, why not). i fucking hate it here, except that it's actually been, like... fine? since the top 6 account managers kind of (i guess) disappeared - including my 2 bosses, Kevin and Herb.

most of us are just like, still doing our job. we still have meetings. there's less weird jokes. the meetings are much shorter. we just present our stuff and go home. so imagine how i fucking feel getting in my stupid honda civic and driving the 3 hours down from boston to bum-fuck just to... check on the boys.

i grew up on a farm, so im not too surprised when the road suddenly turns from "gravel" to "makeshift" to "shut the gps off, it's just confused at this point." no worries. a guy in a torn flannel drew a picture for me at the last gas station. he had leaned over and sniffed a little while sipping his Dunks. they got good trees.

they do. after a little white picket fence, suddenly the entire road is swarmed by them. firs on all sides like a coat. red twine marks off alleys of pine; cute little bows shine on the top of many. bells and white plastic deer and each branch dusted with glittering pristine snow. ornaments and little santas peeking out of present boxes.

i lean over the steering wheel and glance upwards. "aw shit. it's fucking cute here." in my passenger's seat, TERMINATION OF ACCOUNT is a red folder. i don't feel fucking good about this. i don't want to fucking do this. there's a freaking hand-painted sign saying family-owned! with handprints on it and tiny little names scrawled under it. jesus christ(mas). i'm 1000% going to hell for doing this.

on the other hand, Jen was one of the 6. like, losing the men was fine. but it is weird that jen never came back last month. i'm like, too feminist to feel okay with that. obviously yes quit your job and walk out but like - she had a life before she left. apartment and everything it sounds like.

i give up trying to bump my car over the potholes and end up walking the last 1.2 miles. it's been getting warmer these years, which i hate - but it's a lot colder here than i expected. the weather app said 54F. it feels maybe 21. the smell of snow warns me before i glance upwards - sure enough, decadent fresh flakes come tumbling down.

aw fuck. if it was gonna snow i should have put my windshield wipers up. i nestle closer into my jacket and pointlessly check my out-of-service phone for the 125th time. i realize only now i fucking forgot the folder in the fucking car.

the little house-barn-store is too close and i'm too cold at this point, so fine. the whole thing is covered in warm white lights and cute decorations. old christmas music is coming out of speakers placed at the end of the tree aisles.

i practice what i'm going to say. hi. i'm with Herrington Asset Management. we have sent, like. a lot of representatives. what did you do with the 6 entire human beings that came down here.

wait, why am i just now realizing our acronym is HAM? okay, so i'm going to say -

a man with a bright smile and a red flannel comes out from behind a work shed, wiping his hands on a rag. he's pretty, the way men can be pretty sometimes: rugged and approachable, blue eyes, 5'oclock shadow. he fills out that flannel well. "didn't hear ya come in, my apologies! what can i do ya for?"

i'm with HAM and I'm here to shut down your CTF. "hi."

"hi." he smiles wider. "welcome."

"um..." i sniff a little, feeling stupid. i keep thinking about my parents and how fucking hard it actually is to keep a farm. like, they say it a lot in movies, but it's genuinely like really very hard. fucking A, man. I don't want to do this.

he squints at me. "you from around here?"

i try not to bristle - is that because i'm fucking hispanic and allowed outdoors in CT - and suck in a breath. "no, i, um..." i decide to tell the truth. "a guy at cumby's told me where to find ya."

he laughs, and the sound is a sonic boom in the stillness. "that'd be Ron. he's a looker, huh? no, i recognize all our regulars, is all. don't recognize you."

HAM is located in Jersey and i work remote, so i take a second pass at radical honesty. my yoga teacher would be so proud. "i'm from boston, actually. just swinging through."

"oh? for real? laurel's from boston - she's my fiancée. how 'bout that. small world. can you believe - she left the big city for a dunce like me and now i get to marry the best lady around."

i do the little appropriate chuckle you are supposed to do when someone you don't know is also from the same major metropolitan area that you are from. also, that's extremely sweet to say about his partner. i am a sucker for wife-guys. "no kidding?"

"how are you liking conneticut? it's beautiful this time of year."

"it's..." fine? "more snow than i expected. weather said clear through 'til like thursday."

he offers me a warm hand. "i'm nick. what brings ya down here?"

i can't remember the name on the account. maybe it's in her name. and didn't i just say i was passing through? i flash him a smile while i think of the easiest way to warm him into the idea of shutting down his personal business. fuck. "um, just had some stuff to handle."

"that time of year, huh?" at my noncommittal smile, he waves a big, meaty paw. "come inside, i'll getcha some hot chocolate. laurel just made cookies."

he leads me into the store part of the building, and i stop for a second to pick up a tiny ornament shaped like a cottage. okay, this shit really is very cute.

"christmas really is the best holiday of all of 'em," he sighs. "wouldn't you agree?"

no, that's halloween. "sure," i say. i hold up the ornament. "this is nice." i glance around. "this is all... very rustic."

"sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, ya know?"

oh i really fucking hope he doesn't know i'm from HAM. literally that would be such a vibe killer. "very rare," i agree.

i follow him into the back. i pause at the green velvet-rope stanchion that blocks off a hallway presumably leading into the "house" portion of the building. "oh. i can stay out here...?" because i am not going into this man's house. alone.

"don't be silly." he wraps his arm around mine like a gentleman and i almost scratch his damn eyes out, except i'm genuinely so fucking shocked by the boldness of the action that i just sort of follow him down the hallway. "i won't letcha leave without a cookie."

he walks me into a simply stunning kitchen. the ceiling skyrockets into a beautiful, tinseled roof. the living room folds out to the left of the kitchen island. a fire is roaring, and a massive christmas tree winks cheerily at me. outside the huge windows, the snow peacefully rests in perfect layers.

well, there's part of their money problems. they need better insulation because paying for heat in a building with this many windows has got to cost an arm and a leg. nevermind how much dust must collect on those exposed beams. why do people design houses like this - have they never cleaned?

also, they need to stop spending half their budget on christmas decorations. surely not every surface needs to be frosted with pottery barn items. it is dangerously close to a modernized cracker barrel in here. i wander into the living room, trying not to be jealous of the casual wealth.

nick stands next to me and chuckles. "this kinda weather always makes me want cookies. but that's what laurel's here for, i guess."

"you have a pretty place," i say, because i am clearly staring.

"oh, i don't know. needed a woman's touch." he winks at me and goes behind the granite kitchen island to wash his hands. "you shoulda seen it before laurel."

"oh yeah?"

he nods. "had some money troubles. 'course, she is an angel and organized a whole fundraiser. mind you - she's only been here but a second when she does. i proposed to her right then and there."

i can't help it. i genuinely fucking love that. "that is incredible," i say. "how precious to find love like that."

"she's my answer to all life's problems. truly."

"honey?" a warm voice greets us and a lady comes around the corner, one hand in an oven mitt. "do we have a customer?"

i stop moving.

her hair is darker now. her smile is wider. something opens a pit in my stomach and i fall through myself. i put my hand on my stupid useless phone and take a step backwards.

"oh!" her white teeth shine. "hi there. you're not from around here, are you?" she picks up a tray of cookies. "i recognize all our regulars."

the man laughs. "rob is tellin' on us again." she laughs too, tinkly and high and beautiful.

of course she doesn't recognize me, we're remote and don't work on the same accounts, i was never high up enough -

nick gives her a little slap on the back that makes her stumble. she laughs and wipes a little bit of flour on his nose affectionately.

maybe i'm not being fair. she could have legitimately found love and dropped out of our shitty job. he wraps his arms all the way around her and buries his nose in her hair. "my girl," he says.

"i'm laurel," she smiles at me. "i'm his fiancee. come inside, let me getcha some hot chocolate."

he picks up a cookie from the counter and waves at me. "i'm gonna go whack on a tractor for a few minutes, but i'll leave you in the capable hands of my beautiful christmas girl," he promises. "warm up, and then let's go back out there and pick you out something nice."

i force a smile at him and at her and watch him leave. i do not move. i stay perfectly still, like an animal. because here's the thing: her name isn't laurel.

maybe she's conning him?

i stare at her. she doesn't seem to notice, instead taking a bag of white icing out of the large, beautiful fridge. "how are you liking conneticut? isn't it beautiful this time of year?"

"jen, what the fuck is happening."

she arranges a single gingerbread man on her countertop and starts icing him. "how are you liking conneticut?" she repeats. "isn't it -"

"it's beautiful this time of year," i say.

"christmas is the best holiday of all," she sighs, "wouldn't you agree?"

"sure," i say. i put the phone in my pocket. i stand up straighter. "i am really just..." going to leave now. maybe i should try subtlety. "don't i know you from somewhere?" like, ya know, work?

the cookie is too hot and the icing is melting as she draws the outlines on the gingerbread. a bead of sweat trickles down her nose. "i'm from the big city," she says. "but now i am going to be married to the best man around. i'm his beautiful christmas girl."

"right, but which big city?"

"i'm from the big city. how are you liking conneticut?"

there is ice in my gut. i am getting the pure, foreboding sense of fuck that which i am pretty sure is genetically engineered in me. in spanish we call it espookies. i try to make it look casual while i walk closer and closer to the exit. i pretend to look at the decorations closely. "i'm just wondering because your partner said you're from boston?"

she laughs. the cookie icing is pooling on the counter. "sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, wouldn't you agree?" she pushes the gingerbread to the side and starts working on the next one.

it's hot in here, i realize. too-hot. sweat licks down my back. i watch it slide down her neck, down her arms.

she outlines a melting gingerbread man. "what brings you down here?"

"i had..." i feel my voice crack. the hallway back into the store is within a few steps at this point. "...some stuff to handle."

"that t-"

"that time of year," i finish for her.

she stares at me. the icing has burst out of the bag and is melting down her wrists and over her apron. "doesn't this weather make you want cookies?"

i put one heel into the hallway, trying to back up as subtly as possible.

she looks up at me. icing melts over the counter. "doesn't the weather make you want cookies?"

i'm so close to making a bolt for it. but when i look at her and the icing and her perfectly applied lipstick i just fucking can't. my heart breaks for her. i need to at least fucking try.

"jen - laurel - whatever," i hiss. "i don't know what fucking happened but - we need to fucking leave." i glance behind me. "jen, this isn't fucking okay. whatever he's doing to you - we can get out of here. call the cops. something."

"it's beautiful this time of year."

"jen. come on girl, i will put you in my fucking car. but we got to go. i don't know if it's like a cult thing or -" i hork down a breath and feel dangerously close to crying. "please."

"doesn't the weather make you want cookies? that's what i'm here for!"

i take another step backwards and a hand comes down on my shoulder. when i jump, nick is back, and laughing.

"sorry about that." tucked under one arm is a huge ax. nick wipes his hands on a rag. "low on oil. you get a cookie from the missus? that's what she's -"

"balsam fir," i blurt. "i'm looking for a balsam fir."

he puts the axe over one shoulder. "oh? i love balsam. good choice. didn't expect a city slicker like you to know much about christmas trees." he lets out a laugh and so does she.

sweat is beading down my back. "i grew up on a farm," i feel my voice come out creaky and high.

he laughs again. "when you came in, i thought - this lady is corporate. you know how we take to that."

"money troubles," jen says from the kitchen. "we had money troubles."

my lips feel dry. i manage to slide by him, closer to the store. i force a watery smile. "oh. no, sir."

"they come in with a folder, talking about our CTF. i said i've been doing this for years."

my heart is slamming against my chest. i take another step down the hallway. i throw a look to jen.

she opens the oven and sticks her head inside.

"you know," nick says. "the firs are out by where you left your car."

i didn't tell him where i left my car. "oh, great." i say. "must be a sign." i take another step. and then another. i feel the weight of the velvet rope behind me and jump a second time.

"from the big city" jen says, her voice muffled by the oven. "how are you liking conneticut? this place needed a woman's touch."

at the other end of the long hallway, Nick swings the axe to come home in his hands. "it needs a woman's touch," he says.

yeah, absofuckinglutely not.

i turn and bolt, wiggling past the rope, stumbling into the many, many ornament displays. above me, white christmas rings out while i run-walk through wreaths and bobbles and reindeer. tears prick at the side of my eyes but being raised on a farm teaches you the professional art of being incredibly good at a panicked run-walk.

behind me, i hear nick pacing the store. the rope must have slowed him down. he's bigger than i am - he doesn't weave through things as easily. thank god.

i throw myself against the front doors and burst out into the chill and immediately feel a cough in my chest. the snow whips through the air. i dash past handmade right this way to holiday cheer! signs and tinsel. behind me, like a ghost, nick stomps his way ever-closer. i dart into the thickest part of the trees, hoping he will lose me in the snow and branches.

"you're from boston, right?" he shouts. "my ex was from boston. small world."

i dart across the wet snow and almost slide on the black ice underfoot. fuck fuck fuck fuck i cannot run a fucking mile in the cold. see above multiple chronic reasons for this. my bones and joints are already fucking hurting as i try to shimmy my way through the boughs, alternatively running and hiding. if i survive this, i wont be able to move for like a week.

if. good fucking lord. if.

"it's a nice place," he calls. i can't locate him in the whip of the snow. "it just needs a woman's touch."

thankfuckinggod im used to snow and blizzards because otherwise i would be utterly fucked. i try to keep any amount of calm in my body while i manage the slide-waddle of running on black ice - the backwards lean and body-tilt that i've practiced many times over farmland. the kind of tilt-run that is only possible if you've done it before. thankfuckinggod i'm not a city slicker - the trick isn't to rush.

but fuck it would be nice to rush right now!

over the speakers, white christmas restarts. i fork my keys through my fingers into a sharpened fist. i pause only for a second to pick up a particularly swingable gnome and then i keep fucking running. my chest feels like liquid fire. i can't stop coughing. christmas trees rise up on all sides of me. i can't get a breath down. the air feels like a fire hose. every step i take fucking echoes. go go go go go go.

i dart, he laughs, i freeze. i dash my way forwards. a branch cuts into my cheek. my nose is full of the smell of pine. my hands are sticky with sap and i'm covered in green needles.

i keep going. if i fucking die on a christmas tree farm i hope i poison all of the trees and end christmas. i run and hide and run and hide. i have no idea where that fucker is but i am not going to be caught relaxing for a moment.

my knee makes a particularly sharp turn and i know for a fact i've just done some serious damage. i slap my hand down onto it and hide inside the branches a particularly thick tree, trying to catch my breath for a second.

a family owned! sign winks up at me. the little handprints are the names of children, but the big ones say Steve and Piper. the date on it is from this year.

i simply do not have the time to care about that. i shiver through several calming breaths, trying to force my body back into running. i stumble into a clearing and recognize it as the road i took in.

something loud and banging starts and i know in my bones it's the sounds of a tractor starting up.

my heart drops and i seriously think about just laying down on the ground and letting him run me over.

except there is my car, blanketed peacefully in a white layer. i should have put the fucking windshield wipers up.

what-the-fuck-ever. my hands are shaking too much. i just need to get inside the fucking thing and go. i will ruin my suspension but i will take every pothole dead on if i must.

the tractor lights slice through the blizzard, heading right towards my car. it bounces jovially over the snow and potholes, unhindered.

nick is on the back of it, swinging his axe, laughing.

over the hum of his engine he calls: "how are you liking conneticut?"

Sending my most reliable corporate staffer to Connecticut to shut down a Christmas tree farm. Wish me luck

[wenclairfamily]

Literary Essay: The Evolution of Wednesday Addams

Many would like to believe that the famous Wednesday Friday Addams (yes, Friday is her official middle name) simply leaped onto the TV screen fully formed one day as the dark goth icon that she is... but the path to get there is a little longer than one would believe.

Wednesday Addams was created by New Yorker artist: Charles Addams. It's hard to say with absolute certainty where exactly Charles Addams got his inspiration for Wednesday. It certainly didn't come from anyone in his family, as the famous Addams Family creator had no siblings. However many individuals that have done extensive research on Charles Addams' life (including myself) would like to believe that the Addams Family characters were inspired the dark imaginings he had while walking by creepy houses in his home neighborhood of Westfield, New Jersey; along with the local cemetery he spent a great deal of time at alone as well. Preserved local police records also report that young Charles Addams had a few minor rough encounters with the law growing up, so his own anti-establishment nature obviously influenced his characters as well.

A June 1940 drawing of Charles Addams would feature an early proto-Wednesday image of a young girl full of woe trying to having a seemingly normal childhood in a dark gloomy world. Four years later though: the Wednesday Addams we all know would first appear in the New Yorker as the daughter of Morticia, and the sister/partner in crime of Pugsley.

In her earliest appearances: Wednesday was typically never seen doing anything outside her home alone. If she wasn't receiving wonderful affection from her father, she was often out having play time with her brother Pugsley (albeit, their version of play time involved torturing and harming others in their community). Like Charles Addams himself at a young age, Pugsley clearly had a very mischievous side in his early appearances (with Pugsley himself predating Wednesday's first proper appearance). Although upon looking at their early appearances together, one must wonder... did Charles Addams initially create Wednesday just to be a play mate for Pugsley? Or rather... could it be that Wednesday Addams represented the sister/ friend/ partner in crime Charles Addams always wished he had as a boy growing up? It's something we may never truly know for sure.

Originally none of the Addams Family characters were well defined individuals. They were just creepy and cooky recurring characters that Charles Addams drew for the New Yorker. However when it came time to turn his characters into a TV show, Charles Addams wrote up a definitive bible for the Addams Family. It was here that Wednesday's name was finally confirmed, and also that she was more of a solemn quiet girl. She was also described as being imaginative and poetic... although it would take us a few decades to truly see that side of her. However Charles Addams did claim that Wednesday had six toes on one foot; something that hasn't been shown on screen in any modern Addams Family media... yet...

When the 1964 Addams Family TV series premiered, Wednesday Addams was played in live action for the first time by actress Lisa Loring. In this early incarnation, Wednesday was portrayed as a very happy and polite girl who just so happened to ejoy dark macabre activities (such as chopping her dolls heads off, playing with spiders, and seemingly being familiar with seances). Despite the series reportedly not having the bite that Charles Addams had intended (mostly due to how much dark material 1960's TV censors would allow), Wednesday Addams immediately became a recognized pop culture figure.

Despite a decline in Addams Family media in the following two decades after the original TV series ended, everything changed with the 1991 Addams Family film. This time: Wednesday would be portrayed by Christina Ricci, who would give us a unique once in a generation performance. Whether it was to differentiate Wednesday from her typically upbeat family, or it was to give us an unusual goth girl going through the moodiness brought on by puberty: Christina Ricci's Wednesday gave us the iconic goth girl who was cold, deadly, direct, and the definitive outsider who could accomplish any dark task she set her mind to; all the while always refusing to conform to societal norms. It was a performance that not just moody grunge/goth teens of the 1990's could gravitate to... it was a performance that anyone of any generation who has ever felt like an outsider could relate to.

What made Christina Ricci's performance more fascinating though wasn't that she was just a one note gloomy girl. It was the moments where she would show small amounts of emotion (or the very few moments where she displayed great emotion) that informed of us what really made her mind tick. It's a type of balance very few actors of any age can master. After portraying Wednesday in just two films, other actresses would portray Wednesday in future live action projects and additional movies. Meanwhile, more teenage girls than we could ever count would eventually play Wednesday Addams on stage, when an Addams Family musical (that had previously been a Broadway play in the 2000's) would become the most performed musical in American high schools across the USA in the 2010's. Despite many passionate and well meaning portrayals though; there had yet to be one actress that could top the definitive performance Christina Ricci has given us... until 2022 came...

Enter Jenna Ortega. It's hard to give unique praise for this epic once in existence performance at this point. Whether it was the writing, or legendary director Tim Burton's direction, or it was just all thanks to this actress; Jenna Ortega's portrayal of Wednesday Addams in the super hit: Wednesday TV series, has now become the ultimate definitive portrayal of Wednesday Addams. Jenna Ortega literally did everything that Christina Ricci did right in her portrayal years ago, and somehow pushed that perfection even farther. The deadpan expressions, and the subtle ways Jenna Ortega displays Wednesday's limited and almost conflicting emotions is a fascinating portrayal for the ages. Wednesday Addams is supposed to be an emotionless girl who fails to connect with others... and yet there is so much you see in Jenna Ortega's portrayal of Wednesday every second she is on screen.

If anything, all of the best parts of what made Wednesday Addams who she is over the decades have been finally distilled into her character in the current streaming series. Her solemn and poetic side Charles Addams first wrote of in the Addams Family character bible is finally fully realized in this show. Wednesday's dark hobbies from the 1960's series are still very much part of her character and back story. Meanwhile the extremely dark gothic style Christina Ricci introduced to the character in the 90's is also built upon and expanded in the new show.

Even Wednesday's relationship with new fan favorite character: Enid Sinclair may have ties to Wednesday Addams' early beginnings. As was said near the beginning of this essay: Wednesday Addams may have been inspired by the imaginary sister or friend that a lonely Charles Addams wished he had while growing up; someone that would always be there by his side as he got up to all kinds of crazy schemes. Fast forward to all these years later: similar to how Charles Addams gave his inner Pugsley the companion he always wished he had, the new Wednesday TV series has provided viewers Enid: the kind of loving companion that so many of us would secretly admit that our inner Wednesday would give anything to have. So in many ways, the new ideas and passion surrounding Wednesday Addams now are not so different than the ideas and passion that brought her into existence in the first place.

[xf-cases-solved]

i've been doing my xfiles rewatch, but i've also been watching twin peaks for the first time with my partner (v weird that i haven't seen it before bc it's very much My Type of show, but w/e), and silence of the lambs was already my favorite movie. so since my personal aesthetic is apparently very specifically honed in on creepy and weird early 90s entertainment centered around fbi agents, here's a collection of random crossover thoughts i've had while watching these things, in no particular order:

-twin peaks, xfiles, silence of the lambs, except all the characters are shifted one plot to the left, so you have mulder and scully trying to figure out the death of laura palmer, clarice assigned to the xfiles division, and dale cooper having to make a rapport with dr. hannibal lecter

-separate thought: if mulder and scully met dale cooper, mulder would be absolutely delighted, and scully would want to put his head on a slab. this would just make mulder more delighted

cooper would be very pleasant to them both, but would find mulder's lack of self-care unsettling. mulder would be trying to talk about the case when cooper would interrupt him to tell him to try the mulberry pie and take a moment to savor it

he would also be able to follow scully's reasonings and would know all the references to scientific studies she makes, and would be like, "very clever! you're very intelligent!" not in a facetious way, he'd mean it genuinely, but then he'd still insist that his dream will lead them to the killer and she'd want to rip her hair out

-cooper to m&s, apropos of nothing: so how long have the two of you been in love?

-scully would not enjoy twin peaks. too rustic, too weird, too many affairs to keep track of

-mulder would love it for all the reasons she hates it

-if clarice and scully met they would get to know each other carnally, obviously. msr can still exist, but mulder has to be ok with being cuckolded by special agent clarice starling

he can watch sometimes, if wants ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-agent crawford would have one (1) conversation with mulder and would immediately write him off as insane and never talk to him again

-crawford and scully would get along fine

-clarice and cooper would be buds, bc even tho cooper is fucking weird, he would be very enthusiastic about how clever she is, and would talk her up constantly, and clarice would appreciate the validation and kindness (besides, she's pseudo friends with hannibal lecter, cooper's idiosyncrasies are nothing in comparison)

-hannibal lecter wouldn't be able to manipulate mulder, but he wouldn't be that impressed by him either. it would be a mutual disdain. they could potentially have a hannibal/will graham-esque relationship but eh

-as badly as a "quid pro quo" scene between scully and hannibal would slap, i can't imagine scully giving hannibal anything to work with. she wouldn't stick around to play games; she doesn't have time for it and would never be able to regard him as anything besides a monster

mulder would agree to take on the puzzles, and hannibal might give them to him, but he'd taunt him and send him on wild goose chases more than he does with clarice, bc mulder doesn't have anything he particularly wants, but he is vaguely curious to see if he can figure it out. (mulder WOULD figure it out, but only with the addition of scully's analysis and theories, not hannibal's direction alone)

-hannibal would not talk to cooper lol. cooper would figure out who buffalo bill is anyway, tho

-nobody at the fbi in the xfiles universe would know how to handle dale cooper. skinner especially would be very -squints- about it, bc he'd get results, but would just be so fucking Weird™️ about it, but in such a different way than mulder is weird

-the lone gunmen would be very sweet and protective over clarice. they would be very confused and vaguely unsettled by cooper

-clarice would be skinner's dream agent bc she would listen to him and value his input and rarely punch him in the face or hold him at gunpoint

-while i can picture clarice getting the hang of the xfiles, i have trouble picturing her in twin peaks (tho, do note that i haven't seen all of it so mb that would change)

-this isn't a headcanon so much as a v obvious observation, but they are all so fucking hot, what the fuck??

-final thought: dale cooper, clarice starling, dana scully, and fox mulder = dream blunt rotation

anyway those are some of the things i think about in my spare time

the end

[magicaldogtoto]

Rise and Fall of a Magical Girl (Chapter One)

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Magical Girl, Prequel

Pairings Featured: Yachiyo Nanami/Mifuyu Azusa

Major Characters: Original Characters, Yachiyo Nanami, Mifuyu Azusa

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None.

Summary: Prequel to "Yachiyo Nanami and the Fashion Model." Written as part of @magireco-minibang.

Years before the Wings of the Magius rose up to save Magical Girls, three veterans patrol the streets of Shinsei Ward; a small team, but it's better than being at each other's throats. Then one day, they come across two newly-contracted Magical Girls: Yachiyo Nanami and Mifuyu Azusa. The discovery of two younger girls causes a chain reaction that will change the hierarchy of Magical Girls for years to come.

Ruriko Tsugaru turned to face the figure that had just landed next to her. “You’re late.”

Marta made a face. “Sorry… I had to finish an assignment for tomorrow.” Marta played with one of the two braids that her yellow hair was tied in. “I thought you had a photo session earlier.”

“I made a point of ending it early,” Ruriko said. “My supply of Grief Seeds is running low, and I need to replenish it.”

Marta pouted. “Mine are low too; we can share what we get, right?”

Ruriko paused. “If it comes to that.”

“Great. Now, where’s Takako?”

“Right here.” A third figure stepped out of the dark. Takako’s pale face was framed by her long, dark hair. Her expression was blank, as always. Unlike Ruriko and Marta, Takako came from Mizuna Ward, and so took a little longer to get to Shinsei. Her arrival coincided with a chill in the air.

“Great.” Ruriko took out a red Soul Gem. “Let’s go hunt some Witches.”

Marta took out her yellow Soul Gem, followed by Takako taking out her own blue one.

“I got something,” Marta said. “Follow me!”

Shinsei Ward this time of night was peaceful. Most girls would have been asleep by now, but not Ruriko and her team. They ran down an alleyway, following Marta as she traced the Witch’s magic.

“It should be somewhere around here,” Marta said, stopping by an abandoned building. No light shone from it.

“Looks creepy enough,” Ruriko said. Takako just looked up.

They made their way in, using their Soul Gems to light the way. All around them was an oppressive darkness, and the moon was obscured. They found a flight of stairs and made their way up, avoiding the discarded trash and loose stones that now littered the steps.

“Ugh,” Ruriko said. “This whole place is…”

“Abandoned?” Takako offered, her quiet voice seeming even louder than usual. “It’s the kind of place a Witch would hide.”

Ruriko made a face. “They could pick cleaner places.”

“If it’s too much for you,” Takako said, “you can wait outside for Marta and me.”

“What are you implying?”

“You two…” Marta sighed. “Save it for later; the Witch is right above us.” She pointed up to a bright light. It resembled a circle, with strange runes on it, and flickered like a neon hologram.

In a flash, all three girls had changed into their Magical Girl forms.

Red energy arced off of the scythe that Ruriko swung out from nowhere. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll scout ahead.” Takako stepped beside her. Her katana was drawn, its blade made of pure ice. “You two can follow me.”

Before Marta or Ruriko could protest, Takako leaped into the entrance, disappearing.

“Always looking out for herself,” Ruriko muttered.

“You promised you’d try to get along with her,” Marta said, stepping close to her.

Ruriko grit her teeth. “I know.”

Marta put her hand on Ruriko’s shoulder. “We need more people to hunt Witches, remember?”

Ruriko looked away. “I liked it better when it was just the two of us.”

Marta frowned. “We’ve been over this before, we needed an extra person. Besides, you know me: I’m no good hunting Witches, not like you. Takako can even help things out.”

“I get it,” Ruriko said. Her face softened a bit. “Still, I’m glad I met you…”

Marta smiled now. “Come on, we can’t leave her alone.”

Ruriko nodded, and the two of them ran into the Labyrinth.

Immediately the darkness of the abandoned building was replaced by bright neon colors all around them. Ruriko took a moment to let her eyes adjust.

She blinked once, then twice, and when she opened her eyes the third time, a neon-colored Familiar with the body of a bird and the head of a small man rushed at her.

She barely had time to react before the Familiar exploded in a flash of light, following a loud bang.

Ruriko let out a sigh. “Thanks,” she said, turning to Marta.

Marta just nodded, her pistol still showing a trail of smoke from its barrel. Marta’s Magical Girl costume consisted of a skintight, yellow shirt with gloves on her hands. She had a yellow miniskirt on, and tights over her legs, with yellow shoes covering her feet. Her Soul Gem glowed on a detached collar around Marta’s neck, resting over her collarbone. Her outfit also gave Ruriko and everyone else a generous look at her pale cleavage.

“Takako can’t be far from here,” Marta said, letting her arm rest by her side with the gun still in her hand. She didn’t see the other Familiar skulking up behind her.

“Duck!” Ruriko cried out. Marta turned and yelped, too caught off guard to blast it. She ducked out of the way, letting Ruriko swing her scythe as an arc of red energy cut the Familiar in half.

“Careful next time,” Ruriko said. She turned and began running further into the Labyrinth, Marta right behind her. Realistically, Ruriko shouldn’t have been able to run with the kind of shoes she was wearing. And the long dress she wore–reminiscent of something from medieval Europe, complete with a white ruff around her neck–should have slowed her down. But, being a Magical Girl, any issue like that was nearly nonexistent. Her red Soul Gem glowed on a choker around her neck.

The Labyrinth was like a long, dark tunnel full of neon lights and neon Familiars that flashed around them. Ruriko did her best to cut a path through them, while Marta used her pistol to blast wherever she could. Along the way they could see faint traces of frost and ice–signs that Takako had been there.

Minutes later, they came across a neon-lit archway, leading to a dark area.

“That must be the center of the Labyrinth,” Ruriko said. She gripped her scythe and ran in.

The first thing she saw was the glowing pyramid at the center. It was immobile, but Ruriko could sense that the pyramid was the Neon Witch itself.

Marta remained behind Ruriko. “It’s huge,” she said quietly.

“If it’s not moving, then it’ll be easy to kill.” Nearby, they heard a low roar, followed by a crash. She looked in the direction of the noise.

Takako was there, wielding her katana against a Familiar that resembled a lion with the head of a man. Her Magical Girl outfit’s sleeves billowed in the force of the Familiar’s roar. It looked like a traditional kimono, save for the fact that the top was open and hanging onto Takako’s bare shoulders, while the inside had a sleeveless top that exposed a bit of her pale back. She swung her katana again, knocking the Familiar back. She didn’t wear her Soul Gem on her collar like the others; instead, it was a blue gem on the hair pin she wore.

Ruriko landed beside her. “Need a hand?”

Takako looked aside at her. “I can do this,” she said. She concentrated; suddenly the giant Familiar’s feet were frozen in ice, holding it in place.

“If you say so.” Ruriko took her scythe and slashed at some incoming Familiars. Near her, Marta began blasting a few with her pistol, causing them to explode one by one. After slashing her eighth Familiar, Ruriko turned to the large pyramid.

She gripped her scythe handle. It couldn’t be that hard to kill this Witch, especially one that wasn’t mobile. She glanced back at the other two girls.

The one who kills the Witch gets the Grief Seed.

She took a step forward, only to turn back when she heard Marta scream. Both Marta and Takako were backed into a corner, the sphinx-like Familiar bearing down on them, its feet no longer frozen.

“For the love of…” Ruriko turned around and ran back. “Hey, pussycat!”

The sphinx turned, just as Ruriko leaped into the air, red energy crackling along her scythe’s blade as she swung. The red arc of energy flew at the sphinx, striking it and causing a small explosion. When the smoke cleared, it was still standing, only now it was bearing its teeth and glaring at Ruriko.

Ruriko for her part just smirked. “Here, kitty kitty…”

The sphinx began to step towards her, only for another arc of red energy to appear and hit it on impact. The sphinx didn’t see it coming, and soon was reduced to ashes.

“They never see it coming,” Ruriko said. “You two stay there; I’ll get the Witch this time.”

She prepared to leap at the pyramid, when Takako opened her mouth. “Why do you get to take the Witch out?”

Ruriko turned back to her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” Takako continued, “I got here first. If anything, I should take out this Witch.”

Marta cringed.

“You got the last Grief Seed we found! It’s my turn!”

“I thought we agreed first come first to kill!”

“When did we do that?”

“C-come on!” Marta said. “We can settle this fairly.”

Ruriko looked at Marta. So did Takako.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Takako asked.

Marta looked sheepish. “Rock… paper… scissors…?”

Ruriko glanced at Takako. Takako seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Fine,” Ruriko said, “let’s make this quick.”

They pounded their fists on their palms. Rock, paper, scissors…

“I win!” Ruriko said, triumphantly holding her rock up to Takako’s scissors.

Takako scowled. “Fine,” she mumbled.

Ruriko looked at them one more time, before running to the pyramid. It seemed that strange sphinx-like Familiar was the sole guard of this Witch; it was now defenseless.

She leaped into the air, swung her scythe once–twice an arc of red energy flew at the apex of the pyramid.

One explosion later, the Witch was gone and the Labyrinth was fading back into the darkness of the abandoned building. On the ground lay the blackened form of the Grief Seed.

Ruriko was blown back by the force of the explosion, landing on her feet with the grace that only being a Magical Girl could offer, her red hair still blowing in the wind.

On the ground, a lone Grief Seed rolled by her red shoe. She bent down and picked it up.

“All mine,” she said, holding it up under the light of her Soul Gem for the other two to see. Her Soul Gem’s red glow was already dimming because of the magic she had used up, but with the Grief Seed closeby, the light regained its usual glow.

Seeing the expression on Takako’s face, Ruriko put the Seed away. “Oh come on, it’s only the first Witch of the night. There’s sure to be more.”

“I could have killed it,” Takako said. “I had it under control.”

“Is that why you were cowering in a corner when we found you?”

“Look–”

“I-it’s okay, Takako-san, we’ll find another Witch and you can get the Grief Seed from that one.” Marta did her best to give an encouraging smile, her golden eyes darting from Takako to Ruriko.

Takako sighed. “Fine, then.” She turned her back to them.

“I’ll be waiting outside, let me know when you’re ready.” Takako’s footsteps echoed as she made her way out the building, the glow of her Soul Gem traveling like one of those ghost fires people saw in the countryside.

Ruriko scowled after her. Marta noticed this, and grabbed her hand.

“You promised,” she said.

“Sorry,” Ruriko replied. “It’s just–agh–I can’t stand her sometimes. I would have preferred if we were just enemies.”

“Then we’d be fighting over territory and Grief Seeds. That’s no better. You know how Magical Girls fighting each other tends to end.”

Ruriko said nothing, before letting out a sigh. “I know. It’s better if we’re a team.”

“Still,” a chipper voice cut in, “there’s only so many Witches and Grief Seeds going around. Conflict is inevitable.”

Both girls looked around, trying to find the voice.

“Behind you.”

They turned. A small, white creature was looking up at them with beady red eyes. It resembled a cat, but with a longer set of ears coming out of its first pair, with golden rings around those. Its expression was blank, and when it talked, its mouth never moved.

Ruriko spoke first. “Kyubey, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” Kyubey replied, scratching his ear with his hind leg. “Good job taking out that Witch. You three sure have been doing a good job keeping this ward safe.”

“Well, we don’t have much choice, do we?” Marta asked. “The Magical Girls older than us are no longer around.”

Ruriko grimaced. “That’s true.”

“It can’t be helped. You Magical Girls have an important job to do, after all,” Kyubey said. “Without you, the Witches would have laid waste to humanity by now.”

“I just wish it didn’t have to be that way,” Marta said sadly. When Ruriko and Marta had started out as Magical Girls, they had known more than a few older girls who taught them how to hunt Witches and collect Grief Seeds. One by one, each of those girls met terrible ends. Most were killed by Witches, while others just vanished one day, and were presumed to be dead.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be,” Kyubey chimed in. “There are many examples of teams of Magical Girls, all over the world and throughout time.”

“Still,” Ruriko said, “if one of us did die…”

Marta squeezed Ruriko’s hand, and her voice trailed off.

“That’s not going to happen,” Marta said. “Right?”

She stared right at Ruriko, and Ruriko had to nod. “Of course not.”

Marta smiled. “I’m going to go ahead and check on Takako. Meet us outside when you’re ready.”

“Okay, then.”

Soon it was just Ruriko and Kyubey alone in the building.

“You three do make a good team,” Kyubey said. “While you can keep it, anyway.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were quietly wishing for our deaths.”

“I’m just stating the facts. The three of you are getting along in years; not to mention that younger Magical Girls will be contracting, too. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll all be struggling for Grief Seeds.” He looked away from Ruriko.

“Besides, even I can sense the tension between you and Takako. I wouldn’t underestimate that girl, she’s been through a lot back in her old ward.”

“She may have hinted at that before…” Ruriko said. She wasn’t super aware of Magical Girls from Mizuna Ward, but she imagined it had its fair share of challenges.

Ruriko grit her teeth. “That’s not going to happen,” she said out loud. “Not for a long time at least…” she added under her breath. If there was one thing she believed in, it was holding off the end as long as she could.

Kyubey swished his tail. “If you say so,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Good luck hunting tonight.” He walked into the shadows and vanished.

Ruriko felt a chill go down her spine. As much as her powers were given to her by Kyubey, she could never shake the creeping feeling she got whenever he just vanished like that. He was like one of the bakeneko–ghost cats–her grandmother in the countryside told her about, and it freaked her out more than she wanted to admit.

She used her Soul Gem to guide her back to the exit.

*** “I want you to take these fruits to your mother.”

Ruriko was only half-awake when her aunt dropped the orders on her. She hadn’t even had her morning hot chocolate.

“Wha–?”

Her aunt looked at her. She was a pretty woman, Ruriko had to admit. But at her age, she was starting to have lines and wrinkles on her face. Ruriko wondered what it was like, having a younger niece living with you who was also in lots of magazines and ads.

Her aunt put her hands on her hips. “You heard me,” she said. “You need to go and give these fruits to your mother. I picked them for her.”

Ruriko froze. “You want me to go to Daito?”

“That’s where your mother lives, yes,” her aunt said flatly. “And it was where you were born too.”

“I know where I was born, geez,” Ruriko said, putting her mug down. “I have to go to the agency today. They need me for some new shoots.”

“Yeah? And what time are you supposed to be there?”

“... Three in the afternoon.”

“Then that’s plenty of time to go to Daito,” her aunt said definitively.

Ruriko pouted. There was no point arguing with her aunt, she knew that. “Fine, then.”

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to go prepared. She stuck to her usual dress for the day; a nice pink blouse and black dress pants. But she put a dark brown coat over her body and grabbed a hat that matched. Lastly she remembered to grab her sunglasses, to hide her face more.

She sat in a corner of the train as she went from Shinsei Ward to Daito Ward. The change in scenery from the train was noticeable. The shiny glass and steel buildings of Shinsei gave way to the stone and rusting ones of Daito. The Eastern side of Kamihama always did feel more rundown than that of the West. That was probably why her mother could afford it, raising Ruriko all on her own for the first twelve years of her life.

She got off the train and was immediately assaulted by the pungent smell of the ward. Kamihama outside had that kind of city smell, but it was more offensive here. She pinched her nose for a moment before heading out in the direction of her old apartment.

Some kids ran by as she made her way slowly, doing her best not to draw attention to herself. She passed a store selling magazines, not really paying attention to it, until something caught her eye. She stopped and glanced at it through her sunglasses.

It was a fashion magazine; even better, it was a magazine with her on the cover. She inspected it, looking over how fair her skin looked, the contrast between it and her red hair, and how her figure looked in the bikini the photographer had gotten her in. She suspected some editing had been done–some editing was always done when it came to modeling–but overall it didn’t look like they had to change much. It would be a few more years before she started getting wrinkles, after all.

Ruriko smiled, satisfied with what she saw. Absentmindedly her mind wandered to the next magazine. This one had a young girl on the cover–she seemed elementary aged, with blue hair that matched her blue eyes, cut into a bob cut. It was a photo in a formal dress that emphasized the girl’s cuteness, very different from the sensual adult vibe Ruriko’s photo gave off.

But the other girl, she was new. Ruriko shrugged. The modeling industry was always getting young girls every day, ready to replace the ones who were no longer in vogue. And with the current population of the planet, it would no doubt never run out of girls who wanted to make money off of pretty.

She was so caught up in her thoughts while looking at that girl’s photo, that she didn’t hear the voice next to her.

“Excuse me,” the voice said, “are you Ruriko Tsugaru?”

Ruriko tensed up. Doing her best poker face, she turned and saw a teenage girl looking at her.

“What was that?” she asked, pretending to not have heard.

The girl held up the magazine Ruriko was on the cover of. “This girl, Ruriko Tsugaru,” she said, pointing a finger at the photo’s chest. “She’s a famous model. Are you… her? You have the same hair and complexion…”

“Oh… well…” Ruriko scrambled to find the right words. “I… I get that all the time.” She let out a small laugh, ignoring the bead of sweat that was forming on her head.

“So you aren’t her?” The girl put the magazine down, and seemed disappointed.

“Of course I’m not! Why would a fashion model like Tsugaru-san want to be in a crummy place like this?” Ruriko gestured with her hand to the street.

“So you live here?” the other girl asked.

Now she was just getting personal. Ruriko sighed. “Yes… I do.”

“You have some really nice clothes though.”

“Well, they say dress for the job you want, right?” Ruriko pretended to feel a vibration on her phone and looked at it. “Oh dear, I’m late for an appointment. Excuse me.”

She left before the girl could make any protest. Ruriko walked briskly down the street, and even took a few detours just to throw any followers off.

A half hour later, she arrived at her mom’s apartment. It was just as rundown as she remembered it. She walked up the flight of stairs, to the floor that her mom lived on. She remembered running along these stairs, trying to play with some of the other kids. What were their names again? She couldn’t remember.

Her mom had been beautiful once; she saw it in the pictures around the apartment. She didn’t really know her dad; he left before she could even recognize her own reflection. So it was just her and her mom, and they barely made it through the years.

Then her aunt–her mom’s older sister, who had made better decisions in her life (and would never let them forget that) came in and said she could help raise Ruriko, give her a better living situation while Ruriko’s own mom got her life together. That was how Ruriko ended up in Shinsei Ward. Her aunt got her better clothes, sent her to a better school, it was great.

Then some agent for a modeling agency bumped into her one day, and it got even better. Then she met Kyubey, who had promised to grant her one wish. Whatever she wanted most. Growing up in a crappy apartment seemed like a distant dream.

A dream that she had to occasionally wake up from whenever she had to drop by Daito.

Ruriko stared at the door, the bag of fruits in her hand. Her free hand reached to knock, then stopped.

It had been a while since she had seen her mom in person; what was she even going to say? What would her mom say?

A door nearby opened up, and a woman peeked out. She glanced at Ruriko. Their eyes met.

No, Ruriko thought. I can’t be seen here of all places! She hurriedly wrote a note and left it in the bag, before dashing as fast as she could down the stairs.

*** “And… there.”

A flash of light blinded Ruriko, but she was used to that by now.

“Very good!” the photographer said. “Now let’s try this…”

Ruriko followed the photographer’s lead, getting into whichever pose she was told to be in. Whichever clothes they suggested for her. By the time everything was done, Ruriko was sweating under the hot lights, but she was relieved to have finished another photoshoot.

“You’re looking really good, Tsugaru-san,” the photographer said as he looked over the photos.

Ruriko sighed and let out a weary smile. “That’s great to hear.”

“It’s amazing that you look good even after all these years.”

Ruriko’s smile vanished. “What was that?”

“I’m just saying, you look really good at twenty.”

“I should hope so!” Ruriko turned aside so he wouldn’t see her frowning. “Is that all for today?”

“Should be. It was a pleasure working with you again.”

Ruriko excused herself and headed off to change back into her own clothes. Outside the changing area, she heard some people passing by.

“She was pretty back in the day, but these days… I wouldn’t know.”

“Pfft, just try staying in this business after twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five? Try twenty!”

They laughed, and Ruriko felt her stomach sink. They probably weren’t talking about me, she thought to herself. But someone somewhere probably was.

She was about to step out when another figure peeked in. Instinctively, Ruriko yelped and covered herself.

“S-sorry, I’m looking for my friend!.”

“Don’t you know how to knock?!” Ruriko said indignantly. She finished getting dressed and stepped out.

“Sorry,” the girl apologized again. She looked at Ruriko with her big, teal eyes. She appeared to be around middle school, and had long, white hair with two cowlicks on top. She wore a purple school uniform–the uniform of Mizuna Girls' School.

The white-haired girl blinked. “Hey, aren’t you…”

Ruriko looked at her. “Aren’t I…?”

“I’ve seen your face before. You’re Ruriko Tsugaru, aren’t you?

At that, Ruriko perked up. “Oh! Yes, I am. You know about me?”

“I do,” the girl replied, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Azusa… Mifuyu Azusa.”

“And you said you’re looking for your friend?”

Mifuyu nodded. “My friend’s a model, too. I said I’d meet her here when she was done with her photoshoot.”

“Is that so…?” She wondered who that friend would be. Maybe she had seen her somewhere before…

“Hey, can you answer a question for me?” Yachiyo suddenly asked.

Ruriko came back to the present. “Sure, what is it?”

“How do you… you know… stay modeling for as long as you have? My friend she… she wants to survive as long as she can.”

The eternal question. Ruriko remembered wondering the same thing when she first started. She thought for a moment about it.

“If I had to give any advice,” she began, “it would be that you have to really want this. And not let anyone get in your way.”

She let the words settle and allowed Mifuyu to take them all in.

“I… see,” Mifuyu said. She nodded. “I’ll be sure to let her know. Thank you.”

Ruriko smiled. “No problem.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Mifuyu said. “I’m sorry, but I need to find my friend now.”

“Of course. See you around.”

Ruriko excused herself and headed back out. She found herself thinking about Mifuyu and her friend, how it must be to be so young in the business again. It must have been nice, having your life ahead of you.

***

It was evening again when Ruriko met up with Marta and Takako again.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marta said, “I had to finish something for tomorrow.”

“It’s okay,” Ruriko said. “Are we all ready to go hunting again?”

She looked at Takako, who nodded quietly. Marta summoned one of her guns.

“Ready.”

Ruriko looked over the edge of the roof they were on, overseeing the city. “Hopefully we don’t run into any trouble tonight.”

They ran and leaped over Shinsei Ward’s buildings, following the magic trace of a Witch that they had latched onto. They came to a dark alley, where they found the Witch’s Labyrinth and entered it.

Ruriko blinked as she was assailed by a blinding white void. All around her was nothing but pure white, with only a few black squares dotting the ground. It reminded her of a chess board. Ahead of them, in the distance, a dark sun–or was it a moon?--rose up, just a huge, black disc that loomed over the Labyrinth.

“This time,” Ruriko said as they made their way in, “we should stay together. We’re supposed to be a team, okay?”

She eyed Takako. Takako looked at her, and turned away.

“Team,” Takako repeated. “Got it.” She summoned her katana, while Ruriko drew out her scythe and Marta cocked her gun.

Immediately Familiars swarmed them, strange, spindly humanoid shadows that crawled out from the dark squares that dotted the Labyrinth’s white void. The three girls got to work. Ruriko slashed at whatever she could, while Takako did similarly with her katana. Marta remained behind them, but used her gun to blast any that came from above. More and more Familiars came out from ahead, and the girls cut their way through the Labyrinth, heading under large, black archways that seemed to be pointing the way closest to the center.

They entered the center of the Labyrinth, and immediately had three Familiars headed their way. Ruriko took out her scythe and made short work of them.

“The Witch can’t be far from us,” she said. “As long as we stay together we’ll…”

Takako suddenly leaped away and ran to a corner of the Labyrinth, hacking at Familiars crowded away in a corner.

“Hey!” Ruriko cried out. “Where are you going?!”

Another Familiar crawled towards Takako, who was too caught up hacking away at the Familiars that were in front of her. She didn’t even see it sneaking up on her…

With a red arc of light, Ruriko cut the Familiar down. She turned to Takako.

“What are you doing?! You could have gotten killed!”

Takako stared at her. Suddenly, she turned and pointed.

“I was trying to save them.”

Two Magical Girls were in the corner, backs together and with their weapons out. From their size Ruriko could tell that they were young, little out of elementary school. One was a girl with a blue bob haircut, and a headdress on. Her outfit looked like a blue formal dress with some armor on her chest, and she held a halberd in her gloved hand. She seemed the more timid of the two, but had a gray furry outfit with two gray hair accessories on her head. She was cowering behind the blue-haired girl. In contrast to her wide-eyed and timid demeanor, she held a gray chakram in her hand.

“What the…” Ruriko stepped closer to them. “How long have you two been here?”

The blue-haired girl spoke first. “We were trying to hunt this Witch.”

Ruriko took a closer look. She did a double take at the white-haired girl. It couldn’t be…

“Azusa-san?” Ruriko asked.

Mifuyu blinked. “How do you…?”

“It’s me, Ruriko,” Ruriko said. “We met earlier, at the agency.” It wasn’t too surprising to not recognize her; aside from her new outfit, Ruriko did notice how her hair became a brighter sheen of red when she transformed.

Recognition crossed Mifuyu’s face. “It… It is you!”

Behind Ruriko, Marta had begun shooting at the Familiar, trying to help Takako. She could hear the gunshots and the sound of steel blades on Familiar flesh.

“I never would have guessed you were a Magical Girl,” Ruriko muttered. “And at your age, too…”

Mifuyu gripped her chakram. “It’s a… a long story.” In front of Mifuyu the blue-haired girl cowered, looking over Yachiyo’s shoulder. Her big, blue eyes looked up at Ruriko. They seemed colder, more serious.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

Mifuyu looked at the white-haired girl. “This is my friend, Yachiyo Nanami. I told you about her earlier.”

Ruriko nodded at the blue-haired girl. “Hello, Nanami-san. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Yachiyo said.

[bricommissions]

Hii there!! *slides in* I also wanna join the matchmaking soo here I am!! I am a 17(soon 18 in a few weeks) yr old who uses they/them, I don't really have a preference,, and uh I'm one of those losers with no friends who have nothing to do in life and is an anti-social, just too scared to make friends yk... like what if they find me creepy/weird, but sometimes I have random people to do book recommendations with!! I think I'm used on being alone but I kinda want a friend tbh, and online I don't have that much friends too, but it's (not) fine since I use playing videogames + any of my hobbies as a distraction, I guess I tutor some of my classmates/people online sometimes since I'm bored and they probably have better chances on actually moving forward in life, but if possible could I get paired with book enstars and genshin? Thank you in advance aaa

hello hello, thank you for sending something in and a happy early birthday to you :D

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE . . .

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

FOR ENSEMBLE STARS : HIIRO AMAGI !!

hiiro is a very kind & open-minded young man who would have no problem becoming your friend right off the bat. he wouldn't find you weird at all !! he likes to learn, so i imagine you both meet when tutoring some other idols your age with their schoolwork. he's eager to learn, & he's easy to work with since he understands your method of tutoring. you don't realize he considers you a friend until he tells you as much after a study session. hiiro tells you that he enjoys spending time with you & receving book reccomendations. he tell you that not a single book you've reccomended has been boring to him & that he's lucky to have a friend like you.

the alkaloid leader picks up on your boredness when running into you outside of a tutoring session one evening. he remembers that you told him you enjoy video games, so you introduce him to several games you like per his request. you both develop this habit of playing video games together after working on schoolwork if he doesn't have plans with alkaloid. those moments together allow the both of you to grow much closer !! it wasn't too present before, but the more time you spend together, the more you grow nervous in a good way to be in hiiro's presence. i'm talkin' butterflies. you think he feels the same way because of the redness that matches the hair on his cheeks whenever you tell him that you're grateful for the time you spend together.

it's hard to hold hands while playing video games, so hiiro starts placing his hand on top of yours during tutoring sessions whenever you're comfortable with it. he may or may not have received advice on romantic crushes from aira shiratori. through various hobbies, you become nearly inseperable because of how enamored hiiro is with you; he doesn't think a single negative thought about you. when you two start dating out of the blue because of a heartfelt confession from hiiro, everyone is happy for the both of you. your relationship is comfortable & full of pure love !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

FOR GENSHIN IMPACT : CHONGYUN !!

i think the both of you would be able to connect deeply on the front of not wanting others to perceive you in a weird way. you both don't want to come across as creepy for different reasons. as for chongyun, it's mostly because he's associated with the act of exorcising evil spirits.

for the purpose of story, let's say you live in liyue. you made unlikely friends with xiangling a while ago & she notices the two of you had quite a few similarities over time. the chef figured you two would get along swimmingly, & that you did !! you were able to connect about several things since you both fear that people find you creepy. because of that, you will both reassure one another since you Understand that struggle. chongyun grows quite attached to you since you are the one who understands him best besides his best friend & aunt. he spends a lot of time with you.

you've offered him book reccomendations on books about spirits & he always thanks you profusely, reading them from cover to cover rather quickly. he ends up pulling you further into the friend group composed of xiangling, xingqiu, & himself. xiangling points out how chongyun seems to treat you differently than he treats his friends. that's where it all starts, because apparently xingqiu is giving chongyun romantic advice from the best romance novels he has read so far.

the exorcist ends up asking you on a sweet date to eat amongst the qingxin flowers in the mountains. you cook a meal for a picnic with him in chef mao's kitchen with xiangling's aide. she's the best at hyping you up !! you both enjoy the food with the sunset & breathtaking view ahead. that won't be the last time the two of you share a pleasant date like that !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

THANK YOU FOR READING !!

if you're the person that sent this & are unsatisfied with the results, feel free to shoot me an ask or im !!

if you'd like to receive one of these yourself, they are still open at the moment. please refer to THIS POST if you're interested.

if you liked my writing, please consider commissioning me !! it is my only source of income at the moment. i offering writing commissions such as custom character x reader fics, comfort character emails, ship fics, & more <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[foxingpeculiar]

FF16 blogging: about to head off toward Twinside with Goetz. Spoilers up to that point.

I figured out what was nagging at me about Byron. It sounds like whoever’s voicing him is doing a John Cleese impression. Not a complaint, just an observation.

Okay, so I was wrong—that wasn’t Joshua/Ultima, that was apparently Harbard. But he also refers to Clive as Mythos and generally seems to be clued in to what’s going on, as does Barnabas. But how do they know what they know (and, again, how did Cid recognize Ultima) if there’s apparently no record of it, “nor even the conspicuous absence that would suggest concealed information” (Tomes)?

It’s clear that Clive is some kind of perfect vessel—that’s why he can absorb powers from other Eikons, plus Ultima basically said as much, and that “you were created for this purpose.” But by whom? My gut says Annabella has something to do with it, and maybe Olivier is some kind of second attempt or something? I still don’t know exactly what their end goal is, though, although it’s clearly… y’know, not good.

Did Kupka see Benedikta (naked, naturally) because the crystal was fucking with him, or was he just kind of totally losing his shit at that point? Might be a small distinction, but might be significant. Also, the way Harbard talks to him like a pet during their exchange in the dining room is suitably creepy.

So, I’ve mostly been avoiding reading anything about the game, but one of the few scraps I’d picked up was that the Titan fight was one of the hardest ones. And I got through the first phase like “pfff… he hit me like once, that was NOT hard.” Then there were two more phases and things got kinda nuts. I managed it in one go, but ended it with like 1/4 health and no Firelight. I did laugh cos like, twice during that fight Ifrit either cuts off his arms or smashes his hands. Like that’s a thing between the two of them.

But I’ve still only died a few times. And like 5 of them were to the Atlas hunt, the first S-rank hunt and the first one where I’m like “maybe I’ll come back to this later.” I was fighting him at level 33 (he’s at 45) and I can allllllllllllmost get him, but not quite yet.

Okay, what’s with the Medicine Girl? Cos she’s shown up 3 times now, and is on Vivian’s “persons of interest” chart off by herself. So there’s something going on there. But she only ever just passes by really quick so I don’t know what they’re doing with her.

So Dion is the queer rep here. Okay, good to know. And damn if Joshua doesn’t know how to make a dramatic entrance. Olivier becoming Emperor… well, I can understand why that would make zero sense to Dion on a couple of levels. But if there’s a “second vessel” type long-game being played here, then yeah. Still seems early to make that move, again, the kid is like 6, but go off, I guess.

I am very excited about the Enterprise, even though the quest-trilogy to get it built was a little sidequesty. I suppose it’s about having a moment with the characters, but when it was making me choose between Otto and Gav (I warily picked Gav), I was like “oh shit, is one of them going to die or something?” And was real nervous for a minute, until he started getting on with the “sappy shite.” Chose Jill over Tarja (whom I like, but c’mon) and hell yes I’ll split some soup and a pie with you girl, that sounds awesome.

The most interesting sidequest so far has been the one I got from the Alliant Reports dude re: Quentin. Cos, first, you get some of his backstory (fuck the system, take direct action and slit some throats), but moreso because it remains unresolved. When the quest ended, he was preparing for “war” and the next time I was in Lostwing for something, it was being evacuated. That and, at the point I am now, I’ve acquired some quests at the Hideaway that are the first ones I can’t just immediately go wrap up, one at a time. It won’t let me go anywhere but along the main story path for now, so I have to let them stack for a second and deal with them later.

Which is kind of an indication that the sidequests, like the Eikon fights, are getting more sophisticated as the game goes on. And that’s kind of interesting.

Okay, Mid’s lifeboat speech was fun, that bit with the flowers on the wind off Cid’s grave reminded me of the intro to FF8, and Goetz is a little TOO excited about coming along on this one. But let’s see what crazy thing happens next.

[cassandrasimplex]

CW: creepy predatory dude vs teenagers story, teenagers win unscathed, flawless victory (starts in fourth paragraph) (not counting this warning) (Dee Snider is the hero-in-effigy, not personally present and definitely not the yikes part)

Straying almost but not quite completely from the topic here...

My all-time favorite compliment I've ever received was a time I was in a corner store and the cashier looked up at me, messy long brown hair and black leather jacket, and just blurted out, "Oh my god, you look just like Joey Ramone!"

He immediately started apologizing because that's not something it was considered kind in the mid-90s to say to someone presenting as female. I just asked him to stop apologizing and not ruin the moment for me, and I've treasured it for decades.

But my second favorite compliment... was accidentally being compared to Dee Snider. Or, kind of, tricking someone into it.

I was sleeping over at a friend's house at the time. We were both in high school, somewhere around 15 or 16 years old. Her mom smoked, her dad smoked, she smoked, and her parents knew she smoked... but there was some weird house rule about her not underage-smoking in front of other underage people in front of her parents, or in front of her parents in front of other underage people, or something. I dunno. I think it had to do with her dad being a lawyer and needing to pretend he didn't know.

So anyway, that's why we snuck out sometimes at night or in the early morning and walked down the street to a playground, in our pajamas, so she could smoke.

And there we were, a couple of decidedly underage girl looking people, in pajamas, sitting on a swingset at a neighborhood playground, when some very middle-aged dude walked up and started talking to us. Extremely awkwardly. Talking about how pretty we were. At four in the morning.

(This is, I promise, as gross as the story gets. "The princess doesn't get eaten by eels at this time.")

The guy was trying to figure out who to compare me to so I would feel flattered, but clearly didn't know (or didn't feel he knew) enough about teen pop culture or Young People Those Days (the 80s) so he just said, "You remind me of that singer. You know, that band? What's the name of that band?"

And then he paused, waiting for me to fill in the blank for him.

Now the weird thing about being autistic is that there's a lot about social interaction I Do Not Grok, but because I've never grokked it instinctively, I've spent a lot of time consciously analyzing it. So there's this weird side effect, where even though I still don't pick up on things allistics think are glaringly obvious, I DO pick up on things they think are cleverly hidden from everyone else's view.

Which is why I could immediately tell that this guy had precisely and exactly NO.FUCKING.BODY in mind and played that whole "Golly gee gosh, that name has just completely slipped my mind" game, assuming that whoever came to MY mind would be someone I admired and wanted to be compared to. And one thing a lot of autistics learn early, or at least earlier than most of our peers, is malicious compliance. So I played along.

"Which band? I don't know who you mean. Can you tell me one of their songs?"

He did not expect to start a conversation about music. He'd expected me to immediately blurt out whoever I thought was really pretty and wanted to be like. He had no idea what to do when I switched gears to, uh. The actual topic of conversation he introduced. He started fumbling around, trying to be as vague as possible. "Uh... Woman? Girl? Something Girl? Or no, wait... Sister, maybe? Something Sister? Or is 'Sister' in the name of the band? I just... I can't quite bring it to mind..."

"Sisters of Mercy?"

This irritated him. I liked irritating him, so I just started throwing out every band name I could think of with "Sister" in it, and a few I made up.

Finally, I got to "Twisted Sister?" and for some reason he jumped on that like it was the last life boat leaving a sinking ship. "YES! Twisted Sister. You look just like their lead singer! What's her name again?"

"You mean Dee?"

"Yeah, that sounds right, Dee. You look just like her."

And that's when my friend and I lost it. We were laughing so hard she almost fell off her swing. I managed to gasp out something along the lines "...never thought I'd be told I look like Dee Snider" and when I added the last name, dude finally figured out that he'd slipped up.

He started insisting he meant Swing Out Sister, which is weird because I look (and looked) nothing like Corinne Drewery. It was just such a weird "Hello kids, I also am a fellow kid" kind of moment, especially because my friend by that time was pissed and kept trying to get him to name one single Swing Out Sister song and he had no idea. But he couldn't really get a full sentence out by that point, because every time he got three words into a sentence, I would just yell "I LOOK LIKE DEE SNIDER!" and collapse into laughter again.

Eventually he got really mad that these two actual literal children wouldn't follow the script for whatever gross fantasy he was trying to play out, plus he was worried that my shouting "DEE SNIDER!" at four in the morning would wake up neighbors and call attention, so he stomped off.

My friend and I were pretty much too young to really have felt like the situation was genuinely dangerous (me more so than her), but looking back with the perspective of intervening decades, it still gives me shivers.

Anyway. My second favorite compliment is the time I tricked a guy into telling me I looked just like the singer for Twisted Sister and found out that Dee Snider's mere name is my own personal talisman versus creepy gross dudes with an air of vaguely threatening assault.

I have not, since then, ever found another opportunity to yell "DEE SNIDER!" instead of, you know, "help!" or "I don't know you!" or any of the other things people tend to ignore as not their problem when a child or woman-looking-person shouts them in a panic. But I've always known I have that in reserve.

I LOOK LIKE DEE SNIDER.

[linde121]

It is once again spooky season, that wonderful time of the year where I must distract myself from the upcoming winter by immersing myself in pumpkin desserts, fall colors spooky aesthetics, and Gothic horror.

So with that in mind...I found myself watching The Invitation (2022).

Overall it was enjoyable to watch, it definitely nailed the aesthetics and the campy horror aspect, the acting and filming were great, and I would recommend it for anyone looking for some Gothic horror.

But that's not the reason I'm writing about this movie. I'm writing about this movie because it fell just short enough of its potential that it's taken over my entire brain.

The Good

Like I said, there was some really good filming. The shot where we learn of Mrs. Swift's death via her body being draped over Evie's hiding spot, the hands on the canopy, the Just A Chair scare, the focus on the nail clipping and filing in the spa scene to heighten the tension...

And, of course, every movie is improved by having a character in a bloodstained wedding dress power walk out of a burning mansion.

The Bad The Missed Opportunities, ie The Real Reason I Can't Stop Thinking About This Movie

Since this movie so aptly demonstrated with Mrs. Swift's death that you don't need to actually show the violence to get the horror of it across--which was pretty integral to the original Dracula--it's frustrating that they had two extended scenes where maids are trapped and preyed upon so early in the movie. It doesn't leave room for the creepiness to escalate, and it takes time that could have been used to develop some of the many underdeveloped characters in the movie--including the maids in question. We would have gotten the creepy/horrifying gist if they showed the first scene, then gotten the butler sending the other two down into the cellar and doing his Latin chant as he walks away. Or just escalated the horror more slowly, with giving the maids enough personality that both we and Evie notice when they disappear.

Speaking of which...yeah, there were quite a few characters who were underused in this movie.

I understand that this is Gothic romance, and thus the Walter/Evie relationship gets the most attention in the movie's limited screentime. However, given how big of a role family plays in the story and how searching for it is so important to Evie's character...it would've been so much more in line with the movie's themes and made the eventual reveal hit so much harder if that focus was instead given to Evie's relationship with the Alexanders. If this movie really wants to play to its Dracula origins, then Dracula's at his most effective when he's a mysterious offscreen figure, and the focus on family instead of romance would've made this movie more unique.

This movie has a lot of characters, and of course they can't all be given focus, so instead of having three different families with a bride from each one, they could've just had one family where for some ritually significant reason there needs to be three brides. Then there's still that urgency for Evie to become a bride and the movie can do double duty with Viktoria and Lucy being both brides and Evie's hoped-for family.

Also with Viktoria and Lucy...it would've been so much more interesting for the nice, sweet bride to be secretly sinister and doing her best to keep Evie in the dark, while the catty hostile bride is trying to trip Evie's red flags and get her to leave while she still can.

The other minor change that could've emphasized Evie's relationship with the Alexanders would've been to have Oliver lure her in slowly. Like, they have their first introduction, then there's a time skip/montage where it's clear they've bonded, then Oliver invites her to the wedding. This would've had the bonus effect of making it much more understandable for Evie to accept without the invitation raising any red flags.

To go along with the "family" theme...I think that the ending was meant to resolve the movie with "family of choice" > "family by blood", with Evie and her friend Grace teaming up to hunt vampires. This would've been so much more effective if Grace were more present throughout the movie--as it is, she's such an underutilized character that the only reason we know her name is because it shows up on Evie's cell phone. I don't like to say "well, they should've been more derivative of this other story", but I've also recently watched and loved Get Out and Crimson Peak, which both were horror of the "protagonist is lured to creepy home by a seemingly friendly/well-meaning connection, only to turn out to be the last in a series of victims in a ritual/scheme" variety. Both of those movies managed to make the Friend Back Home important, so I'm just saying, The Invitation could've done something to make Grace's inclusion at the end feel like more of a payoff.

The maids would've been good candidates to emphasize the "family of choice" thing too, either instead of or in conjunction with Grace. Evie could've bonded with one or several of them, enough to notice when they're getting picked off, and have at least one survive and join her at the end of the movie. On a final, more nitpicky, note, I cannot for the life of me figure out what the deal was with everyone's lifespan/powers, and I don't believe this was ever fully explained in the movie. Since Mr. Fields killed Evie's great-grandfather and Mrs. Swift was friends with her great-grandmother, they've got to have their lives extended in some way, but they don't appear to be vampires. Are anyone from the families vampires, apart from the brides? What about the Harkers?

The "This Movie Was Blatantly Trying To Tie Itself To Dracula And So I'm Allowed To Judge It By Dracula Standards"

Glad to know this movie's accurately depicting just how ridiculously ~overdramatic<3~ Dracula vampires are.

Since one of the more problematic aspects of Dracula is how it's tied into this imperial British cultural anxiety over "~foreigners~", the fact that the creepy elements are tied to the British upper class is a welcome, subtle twist on the original story.

I am not amused at how a Mina and Jonathan Harker showed up as Dracula's minions. Are they completely different characters, or did this movie honest to God turn the protagonists of the original novel evil as an Easter egg?

[poisonouswritings]

oh did y'all think we were done with the creepy Pokédex scenarios?

no we ain't

There's so many creepy Pokémon and I feel like that needs to get explored/played with more

TW: mostly just stalking, heat exhaustion, don't worry no one dies (I'm not that mean)

Gn!reader, kinda long

You thought that after taming Dialga and Palkia (and Giratina) that the space-time distortions would stop. When it became clear that wasn't the case then you figured they'd at least be smaller, or bring weaker Pokémon or something.

You were wrong.

They aren't getting stronger persay but there are new Pokémon. Ones you only vaguely recognize from old research. Ones you completely forgot existed. Ones that no one in Hisui has ever seen or will ever see again.

You know that you're lucky. Not only do you have the unique position of being the closest thing to a Champion that this region has - meaning you have plenty of allies who are willing to give you information - but you have knowledge of the future.

If your MC was the protag of D/P, you had to learn about other regions' dangerous Pokémon as part of your Champion duties. If your MC was just a normal person, you probably learned a few things in school and other things through word of mouth.

It's that knowledge of the future (well, that knowledge of space-time-related Pokémon) that's led Adaman to call you to the Diamond Clan settlement.

It's the summer months, and the Crimson Mirelands isn't exactly known for it's pleasant weather this time of year. You show up early in the morning with the hopes of getting this over with before the sun hits it's zenith and burns the land. You aren't particularly optimistic but hey, at least you'll get to see one of your friends

You set off on Wrydeer, needing the speed. It's only seven in the morning or so and beads of sweat are already pricking at your forehead. You're decidedly Not Pleased™ but there's nothing for it. Maybe if you get this done fast enough, you can invite Adaman to the Cobalt Coastlands?

Adaman in swimming trunks?? It's enough to spur you onwards

You bring Wrydeer to a stop once you reach the first set of torches that mark the entrance to the settlement. The Pokémon vanishes in a familiar flash of white. That's teleportation for you. You idly wonder if the deer is going to kill time in the shade beside a pond, snacking on dewy grass. Vibing.

Wow you're envious of a deer.

You shake your head and roll your shoulders, hand drifting down to the two canteens on your hip. You've got Samurott with you in case you need more water, because you trust him to be cleaner than the toxic-sludge-filled-bogs that are spread throughout the land, but you'd like to avoid that if possible.

Waiting for you on the edge of the settlement is not just one clan leader, but two

Irida in a swimsuit? Oh you have to get today's issue resolved fast.

Irida explains that since these are space-time distortions, she oughta come along. Plus the Icelands have been getting similar outcroppings of foreign Pokémon so she wants to learn everything she can as fast as she can.

Can't argue with that. You're just happy you get to go out with your friends.

So the three of you set off. There's been a few reports of unfamiliar Pokémon wandering around. Most of them are at least recognizable to you;

A circle of metal that ominously rattles. You're pretty sure that's Klefki but it's significantly funnier to think a ring of keys just gained sentience

A bag of trash that you think is Trubbish

A giant angry pinecone that is, respectively, Pineco.

Pokemon are weird sometimes

Anyways none of those particularly worry you. It's the fourth sighting that has you on edge because you're not even sure it is a Pokémon. The reports keep calling it a plant of some sort. The issue is it's there one day and gone the next. What concerns you the most is that Rei and Akari have sworn they've seen the things moving in the dead of night, creeping through the shadows in a little group. Luckily the kids were smart enough to run but

Someone less Pokémon-savy might not be so lucky. There hasn't been any reports of people going missing but that doesn't mean much. It's only been a few days, and missing reports don't usually come in until at least week. And there are smaller villages, bands of travelers and the like that pass through these lands and can't be accounted for. Either way the situation puts a knot in the pit of your stomach.

So here you are with Adaman and Irida, trying to track down 4-5 plant/Pokémon/things.

And the Mirelands? It's big. Even with Adaman's knowledge of his homeland there's still so much ground to cover. And with the sun creeping up the sky and the temperature steadily climbing, you and Irida really don't want to stay out here any longer than you absolutely have to

Adaman suggests you can save time by splitting up. You know your way around pretty well and since the Mirelands is pretty flat, even a fool like Irida should be able to sweep her area in a reasonable amount of time.

Irida rolls her eyes and punches his shoulder. He yelps and rubs the spot but he's biting back a grin. You hide a laugh behind your hand. These two get along much better now but they'll probably always tease each other like this. You wouldn't have it any other way though.

You're not thrilled at the prospect but it's just the Mirelands. The Pokémon here aren't that strong. Adaman lives here so he knows what he's up against. And you've personally seen Irida hold her own in a battle. You all agree to meet back at the settlement by sundown. And you make them both promise that they won't intentionally pick a fight with these plant/things. All they're doing is gathering intel and reporting back to you.

You just don't want either of them getting hurt

Irida gives the both of you a small pouch of Oran berries and tells you both to be safe.

Since you have the help of noble Pokémon, you have the biggest slice of land to cover. With Braviary you soar over the land. Lady Sneasler helps you scale steep edifices. Basculegion lets you cut through rivers. Ursaluna sniffs out hidden goodies so at least you won't be going home empty-handed. And Wrydeer leaves clouds of dust in your wake as you tear through the plains.

It's Hot. You feel woozy. You sip on your canteens and resist the impulse to drain them dry. Or is it better to drain them and just get as much energy as you can now? You aren't actually sure. Why is your Survey Corps uniform so sweaty and heavy and itchy? Eventually you have to take a break. You find a decent enough tree near one of the ponds in the Holm of Trials. You bring Wrydeer to a stop and hop to the ground, giving him a few pats on the side. Sweat runs in rivulets down your face. You glance around. Adaman is taking everything north of the settlement, from the Heath to the Brava Arena. And Irida is handling the east, from Lake Valor to the Droning Meadow. You're out to the southwest, about as far from them as could be. So you undo the belt around your waist and tug off your uniform, leaving you in the tank top and shorts that you always wear underneath.

You set your uniform on the branch of a tree and settle - stumbling a bit, the temperature is leaving you light-headed - under the shade, pulling out your ArcPhone to check the map. You make a mental list of the places you've checked - The Solaceon Ruins, the Scarlet Bog, Ursa's Ring, you've been across the land. Could the Pokémon have left through another space-time distortion? It's possible. But you don't want to be wrong about this

A chill runs up your spine. It's like a sixth sense, something you've developed since coming to Hisui. So you open your eyes and glance around. Is there something targeting you? You don't see anything, but... You suddenly feel vulnerable. You feel like you're being watched. You pop Samurott out of his ball. He stands guard while you get dressed. He seems uneasy too, but neither of you see anything.

Just trees. Trees and plants. So why does something feel so wrong?

You summon Wrydeer. Your body feels feverish and heavy but you push yourself onto the saddle.

You return Samurott.

You set off back across the plains, still feeling ice creeping up your spine.

No matter how fast you run, swim, or fly, you still feel like something is watching you.

And you still feel unbearably hot.

You get back to the Diamond settlement a few minutes after sundown, but at least there's still light out. You're still burning up. Adaman is waiting for you with a grin. He points out that you're late as he tosses you a fresh canteen. You roll your eyes at his laughter. Drain the ice cold water. It's a welcome relief but you still feel pretty sick. You're so hot that you're starting to feel a chill. You ask where Irida is. Adaman snorts and points out that she's never cared about time before, so why would now be any different?

The two of you stand around for a few minutes. He points out how red your face is and teasingly asks if you're blushing. You aim a light kick at his shins but your leg is too heavy. He must notice because he reaches into one of the pockets of his haori and hands you a bottle of pink-purple liquid you've come to recognize as the Diamond clan's unique brand of medicine. You tell him to save it for Irida, knowing how sore the snow-loving girl will be after a day in the blistering sun. Neither of you found anything but you both felt like you were being followed.

The last rays of sunlight finally slip away. A tense silence falls over the both of you.

Irida is twenty minutes late.

Adaman pulls out his pouch of Oran berries at the same time as you summon Ursaluna.

Sniff...sniff... Snort!

To be honest, you normally don't use Ursaluna that often. But it's times like these you're thankful for the bear.

You and Adaman hop on and Ursaluna takes off. It isn't the fastest runner. It takes you nearly fifteen minutes to reach Droning Meadows.

Ursaluna slows down. You must be getting close.

You slide off the bear and walk along beside it to wake yourself up a bit. You keep your fingers tangled in rusty brown fur to stay standing, trying not to let on how dizzy you feel. Adaman stays mounted, scanning your surroundings.

Shadows. There are so many shadows. The stars above are so bright and clear that it's easy to see the dark shapes on the rocky ground. Shapes that are moving. Not your shapes. Adaman dismounts from Ursaluna. He doesn't see anything. But you can both see shadows. You send the big bear away, knowing it won't help much in battle. You feel like you're being watched.

Oh. You're not.

But Irida is.

You know how much Irida hates the heat. You should have seen this coming. You feel even worse than before, seeing her sprawled out in the dirt with sunburnt skin. How long has she been laying there?

How long have those things been surrounding her?

There's six of them. Each around four feet tall. They've got thorns running down their arms and legs. At first you think it's a hat that's pulled down low over those sickly yellow eyes, but a second look tells you it's actually part of their bodies. They are... Pokémon. It isn't until you finally see them that you realize what they are

Cacturne.

And they're all circling closer to the unconscious Irida.

Surprisingly it's Adaman - never one to waste time - that acts first. He throws his Pokéball right in the nearest Cacturne's face. Leafeon emerges in a brilliant flood of light and immediately begins scratching.

The other Cacturne start to run. You grab two Pokéballs and open them both. Samurott - you frantically tell him to cool Irida down - and Decidueye - who flies sharply forward and uses his claws to scratch at the nearest enemy. You run after them, blood rushing in your ears.

The heat of the day has sapped your energy too. If it wasn't for Decidueye's flurry of fast attacks, the Cacturne would probably be all over you. You know it as soon as you look one of them dead in the eye.

But what would they do? No time to think. Now that the sun has set, the air is starting to turn a little cooler. But it's not enough. There's a gnash in your stomach and a cramp in your thigh as you narrowly roll out of the way of a Pin Missle. It tears the back of your uniform. The sound of ripping fabric echoes in your ears.

You're lucky that Decidueye is so well-trained. Even without your orders direction he goes about beating the wild Pokémon back. There's a familiar crack of thunder as a space-time distortion appears nearby.

You grit your teeth, suck in a breath, and run. Your muscles scream in protest but you press on, letting out a loud whistle to Decidueye as you streak past. You stumble a bit. The Cacturne turn and face you. Decidueye blocks their way to the already-unconscious Irida, so you're the next easiest picking around here.

Pounding footsteps follow you.

You rush head-long into the distortion and throw yourself into a path of tall grass. You cover your mouth, pulse slamming way too fast in your ears. The world spins around you but you can't tell if that's from exhaustion or the peculiarities of this area.

The Cacturne enter. The other wild Pokémon, those brought forth by the rip in reality, don't pay them any mind. You can barely see them from where you're positioned.

Your eyes shut. You struggle to open them again. It's hard, so hard,,,, you're so,,,,, tired an,,,,d y,,,o,u ju,,,,s, t w,,,an,,t ,,, to sl,,,,,eep,,,,,,,

,,,,,,

You snap awake. The Cacturne are surrounding you in a circle that's gradually tightening. You really don't think you can run anymore so you just close your eyes again.

Another crack of thunder.

Cool air. Yanma buzzing. Murkrows cawing in the distance. Claws lightly brush against your shoulder.

With Decidueye's help you get to your feet. You still feel sick but the night is getting cooler. You reach the others. Adaman had Irida's feet slightly inclined, and Samurott is alternating between blowing cool mist in her face and using hid flippers to fan her. You sit down next to her, catching some of the mist when the wind blows the right way.

Adaman tosses you the potion again and this time you accept it gratefully. It's disgustingly bitter but, hey, it works. At least you don't feel like you're about to pass out anymore.

He asks you what it was the Cacturne were planning. You look down at Irida and shrug, carefully brushing a few loose strands of hair off her forehead. Her skin still feels too warm, but she's probably a lot better off than she was earlier. She responds just slightly to your touch, mumbling something half-lucid under her breath, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

You really don't know what those Cacturne wanted.

But you're glad you didn't have to find out.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 16

Chapter 1     Chapter 15

Marinette blinked as the room around her slowly came into focus.  She tried to bring her hand up to rub her head to help alleviate her pulsing headache but her hands weren’t responding.  It felt like there was a weight on them.  Or like they were being held down, bound.  Marinette’s eyes flew open and her heart started pounding as she searched the room for the akuma.  She looked at her hands and silently cursed to herself.  Not only were her arms bound to the arms of a wooden chair, she saw her own naked hands instead of her distinct red suit.  

She groaned and looked around for any clues to where she was being held and what the akuma might be.  If she could figure out their powers, she might be able to figure out how to get out of this.  She stopped when she saw a man in a green suit making his way toward her.  She blinked a few more times taking in his suit and hat.  “Is that… are those question marks?  Are you a question akuma?” she muttered out in French.

The man tilted his head at her.  “You’ll find English is necessary if you want to get out of this one alive, young Wayne.”

Marinette stared at the man a few more seconds, letting his words settle in her head as things started to click in her mind.  She wasn’t in Paris.  This wasn’t an akuma, because there weren’t akumas anymore. She and Adrien had defeated his father. She was in Gotham.  She had been on her way home after a disastrous dinner at the Wayne’s. This was a Gotham villain, not a Parisian one.  This was the Riddler.

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief before her face scrunched in frustration.  “Are you kidding me?  Are you kidding me right now?  You had to do this right now?”

“Oh, I never kid about riddles.  Now, is not the time to panic, Little Lady,” he taunted.

“Oh, you have no fucking clue.  Now is most definitely NOT the time, but you made it the time,” she hissed at him.  “Do you have ANY idea how bad my week is going?  My night?  Do you? Do you have any idea of the trauma and nightmares I’m going to have to deal with already?  And that was before you forced me to witness your suit in person. And can you comprehend the mental and emotional cataclysm I’m already going to have to endure?  And you’re pulling this shit?  Now?”

“I’m just going to ask a few questions and then it’ll all be over and then you can have your little mental breakdown,” he jeered condescendingly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to lunge at him, but her chest was tied to the chair, holding her back, and she’d never hated rope more than she did in that moment.  She growled and glared at him.  “Oh thank you for the permission.  And for the record, it won’t be little.  It’s going to be a monufuckingmental breakdown.  Thank you very much.  Granted it isn’t everything on Earth is destroyed but me and one other person, who caused it in the first place, level of bad.  But I think I’m justified in needing to take a fucking second to think and process. A second I’m not going to fucking get now am I?  Because of you.”  She turned her head to the side in frustration but her eyes got caught on a small red light.  Her mouth dropped open.  “Are you recording this?” she yelled at him.  That complicated things considerably.  Now she needed to watch her words.  Now she needed to make sure she didn’t expose anything.  Well that just sucked even more.

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a game show without an audience, now would it,” he purred.

She scowled at him.  “By all means, record this to watch later.  Most people aren’t looking to get bitch slapped as hard as you’re going to get so publicly, but to each their own, I guess.  But, consent is a thing and next time, keep me out of it.”

She strained against the ropes holding her hands to the chair arms.  She glowered at him when they proved too tight for her to move her wrists.  “Also, it’s already not much of a game show.  If you have to knock out people and tie them down just to get them to play, either your show sucks or your host does.  Or in this case, both.”

“Now, now,” he snarled, his smile considerably more strained than it had been before.  “We’re just testing the newest Wayne to see how you’re going to fit in.”

“I could have told you that without all this,” she glowered.  “But you wanted to be a big man and ask a question.  So ask your little question.  Be a big man putting a bound, petite, non-native English speaking woman, in her place.  Although if that’s what it takes to make you feel like a man, that’s one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever heard.”

Riddler seethed at her, attempting to keep his face neutral, but failing spectacularly.  One of the Waynes should be afraid of him.  He had been hoping the new one would finally give him a Wayne that cowered in fear.  Instead, he got yet another feral child.  He gripped his question mark staff tightly, fighting the urge to hit her with it.  It was too early to start.  She’d get her punishment soon enough.  He looked up with a grin.  Very soon.

He looked back at her with a sadistic smirk. “Fine.  I’d hate to keep a lady waiting.  Perhaps first I should start with the stakes.”  He moved closer to smile in her face.  “Think well on your answer young Wayne, because for every question you get wrong,” he pointed up with his staff, “a knife falls.”

Marinette let out a deep, annoyed sigh and looked up to see a series of knives tied to the ceiling right above her seat.  She sighed and gave him a flat look. “Really?  That’s the best you could do?  You realize what I’ve been faced with before, right? Or did you not do your research?”  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You look like a man who never does his research.”

Riddler sidled up to her in a step, his face a few centimeters from her own.  “We can start by testing out the knives if you’d prefer.”

Marinette leaned her head back.  Even if she couldn’t talk him out of making one drop, it wasn’t going to get her.  They would miraculously get diverted just enough to miss her.  Luck could be a bitch when it was against you and he’d left too much up to chance.  “Already changing the rules of the game?  What were you saying about a good game show?  Guess you really don’t care.”

“Fine!” Riddler screamed.  He walked away a few steps and turned back to her with a malicious glint in his eyes.  “Let’s start slow, shall we?  Starting in 1881, this hall brightened Paris’ nights while darkening its satire.  What is the name of this baby of Salis?”

Marinette stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Her face went slack.

Riddler leered down at her, his face breaking into a creepy grin at her apparent inability to answer his question.  “Oh, how sad.”  He gave her a mock pout.  “Looks like the new Wayne isn’t so smart after all.  What do they see in you anyway?  Can’t even answer a simple, easy question.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  Marinette finally burst out.

Riddler frowned at her.  Instead of the fear he expected, her voice was incredulous and angry. “That’s the question, if you can’t answer…”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  That’s not a… You’re the Riddler.  That’s not a riddle!  That’s a… are you okay?  Like, seriously.  Are you okay?  Because I think… You know what?”  She took a deep steadying breath.  She opened her eyes to give him a serious look, completely devoid of fear, leaning more towards concerned.  

“I think you need a break.  I think you need to take a bit of time to reassess, refocus, and recenter yourself.  Then you can come back and be the Riddler I know you can be.  Because this,” she tried to motion toward him, “this is not it. That is... that isn't a riddle!  That's trivia!  You inaccurately named, evil Alex Trebek!  This would be a perfect opportunity to say I’m in Jeopardy, clueless asshole. So disappointed right now.”  She shook her head in disappointment, refusing to even look at him.

Riddler seethed at her, his face turning red with anger.  “Look either answer the question or…”

“THAT’S EXACTLY THE PROBLEM!” she screamed at him. “It’s a question, not a riddle.  And you missed a golden opportunity to ask a follow up question and saying it’s Double Jeopardy.  You missed the obvious pun!  This is why I say you need to take a break.  This isn’t you.  You’re better than this, I know you are.  I’m just… I’m worried about your mental health.”  She gave him a concerned look.

“If you can’t answer…” he snapped at her.  He gripped and regripped his question staff menacingly, leaning toward her with a snarl.

Marinette rolled her eyes at the attempt at intimidation. “Of course I can answer.  I’m from Paris and you’re asking about Le Chat Noir? Of course I know the answer.  Let me guess, your next question is about a ladybug,” she chirped, widening her eyes with false excitement.

Her face dropped the false sweetness and turned back into an aggravated frown.  “That’s not the fucking point.  My point is you interrupted my fucking abomination of a night for this bullshit and you’re not even on top of your game.  So I not only get shoved into the spotlight, against my will, by people violating my and my parents’ privacy, forcing Mon… my father to ramp up plans for my introduction.  Making sure my family and I knew we weren’t safe and exposing me to this bullshit along with the other attempts on me since it happened.”

Her frown turned into a disgusted sneer.  “And I was actually afraid for a moment because I thought you were an akuma, but you’re really just an underprepared asshole. It’s insulting frankly.”

Riddler swung his question mark staff at her catching her across her cheek.  He grinned at the blood trickling down her cheek.  Marinette glared up at him but refused to let a grunt of pain pass her lips. “Next question, hopefully this one is more to your liking.”  His eyes took on a malevolent glint.

Marinette’s eyes flicked behind him.  He smirked at her inability to make eye contact any longer. “No,” she interrupted, a smirk forming on her own lips.  “It’s my turn.  I have one for you.  It’s actually in the form of a riddle, if you think you can handle that.”  The Riddler growled at her and moved closer to tower over her threateningly.  “What lights up the day with black against yellow yet lights up the night with yellow against black.  It brings hope to those who see it yet marks your demise.  What is it?”

Riddler narrowed his eyes at her and backed away to get some space while he thought.  He looked down for a second, searching the ground as though it might hold the answer for him.  He suddenly looked up, his eyes bright with realization.  “A signal!” he exclaimed, jumping with excitement.  His face suddenly fell realizing the words that passed his lips.  

He spun around just in time for Signal to punch him in the jaw.  Riddler stumbled back falling backward on his ass.  Signal stalked toward him, eskrima sticks out and ready.  He kept his eyes on Riddler but raised his voice so Marinette could hear him.  “You alright, Ma’am?”

“I’m fine.  Just pissed,” she grunted.  She focused on her bindings, trying to figure out a way to loosen them enough to get out.

Signal smirked and gave a short nod.  “Preying on young women again?  Not a good look for you.”

“Penguin and Scarecrow both tried and couldn’t get to her.  I did,” he said defiantly, his chest puffing out even as he was slumped on the floor. “Penguin got to the museum too early. Scarecrow got to the hotel too late. But me?  I plan better.”

“And got a verbal bitch slap the likes of which Gotham has never seen for your trouble.”  Signal shook his head in mock sympathy and regripped his sticks. “Publicly.”

Riddler sneered at Signal.  “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Marinette called from her seat.  She pointed at him threateningly with her now miraculously freed right hand.  “Next time I’ll do it physically too.”

Signal grinned proudly and snorted at her comment. Riddler growled before looking back up at Signal with an angry scowl.  “Looks like this show has come to an end.  But we’ll be back after a short break.”  He hit his staff hard on the ground and a gas started emitting from it, obscuring Signal’s view.  Signal backed away and rushed over to Marinette, uncertain if the gas was dangerous.

He pulled out a knife and quickly sliced through the remaining ropes and helped her get free.  “Can you walk?”

Marinette started sprinting toward the exit.  “I can do better than that,” she called over her shoulder.  “You just going to stand there and let the gas get you?”  Signal smirked and followed her out.

She grunted as her shoulder rammed into the doorframe when she miscalculated the distance.  She silently cursed how long it was taking her brain to recover from having been knocked out.  Now out of the room she stopped running and rubbed her head as if willing it to kick back into gear.

“You sure you’re okay?” Signal asked catching up to her.

Marinette couldn’t see his eyes under his mask but the bottom half of his face seemed to be contorted in concern.  She grumbled noncommittally in response and rubbed her shoulder.  She looked around them quickly.  “You sure this is a safe way out?  He has to have had help.  I don’t see him doing his own dirty work.”

Signal nodded.  “He did have help.  But, so do I.”  He nodded behind him.

Marinette craned her neck around him to look behind him. She cringed as she saw Red Hood kneeing someone in the face.  The goon fell limply to the ground, unconscious before he hit.  Red Hood looked up and ran over to them as soon as he spotted her.  “Pi… uh… pretty impressive mouth,” he stuttered.  He looked over her closely as he could without touching her.  His eyes zeroed in on her cheek.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds missing the incredulous look Signal tried to give him.  “Um… thanks… I think.”  She blinked a few more times before frowning.  “Yeah, can we not talk about my mouth, please?”

Red Hood choked on nothing and shook his head, leaning away, as if trying to get away from the idea.  “I meant your att…” he shook his head again and looked back at her. “Not a problem.  Let’s never talk about it again.  Are you okay?  Did he hurt you anywhere else?”  His eyes scanned her again and stopped at her wrists.

Marinette rubbed her wrists self-consciously. “No…” she started.  “I mean!  No he didn’t hurt me anywhere else.  But I am okay,” she rushed out when she saw him tense up at her words.

“Where is he?” Red Hood growled, still staring at her wrists.

“Got away,” Signal answered.

Red hood rounded on him, his entire body tensed for a fight.  “What do you mean he got away?”

Marinette stepped between them and pushed Red Hood back gently.  “He released some kind of gas.  He got me out of there before we found out what it did.  Seems like a good move considering how he got me in the first place.”

Red Hood looked down at her for a second before looking up to Signal with a nod.  He remembered seeing the gas dissipating when they finally caught up to where she was taken.  It had looked like there was enough to knock out an entire city block.  Definitely overkill, but spoke to Riddler’s desperation to be the first to kidnap her.  “Idea which direction he went?”

Signal sighed a heavy sigh.  “I didn’t see which way he went but it had to be out the west side of the room, but that’s all I got.”

Red Hood nodded and touched his com.  “You got that?”  He paused for a moment listening to whatever was being said over his com.  “Yes, she’s fine.  A few rope burns and a cut on her cheek, but seems okay other than that.”

Signal nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you have family we can call?”

Marinette shook her head absentmindedly, the strain of the night starting to hit.  “No, I can call my brother.  He’s probably terrified about me.”

Red Hood seemed to freeze.  “Just… the one brother?  You… aren’t you one of the Waynes?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and her face paled.  She plastered a smile on her face. “Right.  Yes.  Of course. I… I meant my one brother was with me at the time.  Yes. Yeah.  The Waynes are my family.  I’m a… I’m… Yeah, I’m a… Wayne,” she barely managed to get the word out of her mouth.  It felt wrong and foreign on her tongue.  She smiled wider at them.  “But you don’t… you don’t have to bother them.  They’re all busy.”

“Yeah, looking for you,” Red Hood answered back sharply.  “They’re the ones that called us.  They’re terrified right now.”

“I think they’d want to know,” Signal urged gently, his voice heartfelt and slightly pained.

She let out a bitter scoff before she could stop herself.  She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally berated her still drugged mind for letting that slip out.  “I meant,” she started loudly, “I’ll inform someone.  They’d want to… hear it from me,” she finished quietly.

Red Hood took a breath and moved closer to her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders.  “I promise you, they’re worried about you and they would want to know. They’d want to make sure you’re okay. They’d want to make sure you feel safe. They would want to protect you. In fact, I’d expect to see a lot more of them over the next few days.”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer but got interrupted by the police breaking into the room.  Marinette pursed her lips and seemed to let a calm come over her.  Red Hood looked harder at her change as the police led her off to take her statement.  No, it wasn’t calm.  It was a numbness, an absence of any feelings.  His face contorted into a scowl.  Exactly what Adrien had described.  “You get that,” Red Hood snapped into his com.  He waited a few seconds before shaking his head.  

“That’s a fool’s bet,” Signal scoffed.  “Of course she’s not going to.  She might send a text.  And even then I bet it won’t be much.”

Red Hood listened for a few more seconds before he shook his head again.  “I’m not taking that bet either.”  He watched as Adrien just stopped himself from tackling Marinette in his excitement to see her again.  After what looked like a worried conversation, he saw Adrien pull her into a tight hug and Marinette melt into it.  “We need to fix this and quick before B does anything else to completely destroy any chance we have,” Red Hood snarled.  He turned and started grappling away.  “I’m going rogue hunting.”

Chapter 17

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

[domesticloki]

Thirsty Thursday

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Description: You are trying to have a teams-conference from home. Your husband Loki however, has other plans.

Word count: 1150

Warnings: smut, teasing, teen content, implication of adult situations

A/N: After the fall of the TVA a Variant of Loki managed to survive Thanos’ attack on the Statesman. After the events of Infinity War, he met you, and finally got his happily ever after. This is a story of that ever after.

You were ready for your teams conference. Taking a sip of your coffee, you placed it on the floor next to your desk. You had learned this the hard way,- after spilling it on not one, but two laptops - because early mornings, your innate clumsiness and a cup of coffee made for a terrible combination.

You heard Loki whistling in the kitchen. He had returned from driving the kids, and was undoubtedly readying his breakfast by now. He had taken the morning off and wasn’t due for the office until noon. You tried to focus on the melody. It sounded so familiar but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You glanced at the time. The meeting would start in 12 minutes and you were browsing through your papers, double checking that you had everything you needed, when the whistling grew closer and Loki appeared in the doorway.

“How long was your meeting again?” he whispered and you flung around in your chair.

“About an ho….ur… what?” There he was, your husband, casually leaning in, peeking through the doorway, stark naked and sporting the cheekiest grin imaginable.

“Loki, what is… what are you doing?”

“Oh this, I… I spilled something, no big deal,” he said, casually brushing his hands against his chiseled chest.With a sly look he traced one of them down his abs to finally rest on his hips, being sure to draw your eyes downwards with the movement. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you had to admit it was working. 

Flustered, you peeled your eyes from his naked form back to your papers, and to the clock that so unrelentingly ticked closer to the start of your meeting. You cleared your throat and began:

“Well, I put the laundry away yesterday so you should have a fresh suit in the upstairs closet, the dry cleaner was able to get the bolognese stain from the coller, but you really should take off your jacket before you start to… “ Loki had stepped to you and leaned over, swirling your chair to face him. His face was so very close and his musky scent filled your nostrils. He moistened his lips with his tongue. “Feed… the… “ You were having a hard time concentrating and your eyes were drawn to his lush lips. He didn’t let you finish your sentence. 

Leaning in for the kiss he pinned you against the chair and hungrily pulled your lower lip between his. Parting his own lips, his tongue darted out, moistening your lips in the process and finding your tongue, barely brushing against it, before again letting it slide back into his own mouth and his lips continued the movement, sending shivers down your spine. His lips parted from yours but he stayed, hovering over you, his face so incredibly close to yours. 

“Right… I mean,” you cleared your throat. “I have this… I have to... “ You could barely hold a thought.

“Of course you do,” Loki whispered and moved to kiss your neck despite having acknowledged your urgent work matter. You moaned and closed your eyes, enthralled by the sensation of his wet kisses along your neck. You pressed against the chair, feeling your resolve weakening by the second.

Suddenly you were returned to reality by the familiar sound of a teams call. You instantly moved to push Loki away, but in your effort to dodge his amourous engagement, you rolled your chair and backed straight into the coffee cup that spilled, flowing and staining the study floor.

“Shit… I… Loki, please,” you drew your chair forward and Loki unwillingly stood up and looked at the clumsy mess.

“I’ll take care of that, don’t worry.” You were trying to frantically find a piece of tissue, a shirt, anything to throw on the floor to soak up the coffee.

“Just answer your call, don’t worry,” he stated and disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you breathed while grabbing your headset and pressing the call open with your mouse. You were visibly flustered as you answered and tried to put on a professional face, while checking your image through the camera. Your background was set as the official corporate background, masking the mess around your study that was not limited to the liquid on the floor next to you.

“Hi, yes, I am here,” you answered as your boss went on to check that everyone was connected.

Loki had returned to the room, keeping his distance as he walked, to keep himself just out of the frame. The background detected slight movement, but you were happy to see that his naked form had not popped up on the screen. He bent down next to you with the set of towels and started to mop up the coffee. You tried to focus on what was being said, but suffice it to say his naked form was somewhat distracting. You found your gaze falling on his incredibly muscular shoulders and your lips parted…

Suddenly the sound of your name drew you back to the conference call. “Sorry, what was that?” you said breathlessly and cleared your throat. Your co-worker continued to expand on the question as you tried your best to hold your attention on her. 

Loki realized your flustered state and grinned. He had finished with his clean up of the floor and decided to address the tiny spec of coffee that had spilled on your leg. You were wearing your office clothes, sans stockings, and Loki started dabbing your leg, moving the rag enticingly slowly upwards to your knee. He decided to finish his cleaning by running wet soft kisses starting from your knee upwards onto your inner thigh, slightly lifting your skirt to gain access. You were positive there was no coffee there.

“Yes,” clearing your throat “I have those figure-...-es right…” clearing your throat again “here, excuse me, I seem to ha-aave something in my,” coughing “throat, so sorry about that.”

Facing the camera and smiling what was most likely a very creepy Stepford wives smile, you pushed Loki away. Had you been able to do it, you would have shot him a look that could kill. From the corner of your eye you saw him smiling mischievously as he mouthed: “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He stood up and started to walk away, and then your face shot red with embarrassment as you saw, very clearly, your husband's bare bottom flash on your screen for a fraction of a second, before it disappeared into the background. Your heart was thumping out of your chest, looking at the tiny videos on your screen, looking at your boss and co-workers and clients to try to figure out if they had seen Loki’s muscular backside in all its naked glory. 

“Yes, go on,” your boss said hurriedly. Obviously he hadn’t. Most everyone seemed busy checking the slides presented and had not noticed. But then you saw your co-worker Linda biting down on their lips, obviously trying not to smirk. Oh she was going to have a field day with this.

“Yes, “ Linda continued, “explain the big asset question and please, if you could, give ample details.” The laugh almost escaped you, but you managed to disguise it as a cough, once again collecting yourself and apologising yet again to your boss, co-workers and the clients.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, but you knew better than to check the text from Loki, which would undoubtedly be a display of some of his naked body parts. The Scorpions started playing upstairs and your face flushed with anticipation. You heard Loki singing along to the chorus.

Tease me Please me No one needs to know...

This was going to be a loooooong meating.

[bioodorange]

||The Pastas At The Beach||

this was originally like an entirely different post but ehhh this ways better!

disclaimer Im setting this like, at a beach with a boardwalk and such next too it? Public beach, small time vacationing!

and that they conviently like..pass as human

I hope you guys enjoy!! remember too check out my announcement board!

taglist: @frozensriracha @creepy-bi-day @capricornartistsstuff @krayolacolor

Jeff the Killer

Jeff doesn't really do much at the beach

The salt water irritates his skin and he burns easily, doesn't want too deal with it

Spends most of his time asleep

Hogs all the damn towels by sprawling out all over all of them

Gets sand over everything that they brought with them

Forgets how wind works and it gets everywhere

When its time for some of em too go get food, he always fucking goes

Wants too walk around and do something, and maybe not get blamed for all the fucking sand when everyone sits back down

He wears one of those like protective long sleeved shirts? and red swim trunks that are just somewhat obnoxiously bright

While getting the food he has a brilliant idea

Befriends the fucking seagulls

Lures them back too their umbrellas and just vibes with his bird army

atleast he's not alone anymore?

Ben Drowned

first off I know like he doesn't go swimming

but imagine if he did

his fucking goggles get filled up with blood

gets weird ass tan lines from the blood on his face like, when he's not swimming

has too wear the goggles when he puts on sunscreen-

ok ok thats it

fucker wears like mountain dew swim trunks

and those arm floatie things despite not going anywhere near the water

He tries too sit around Jeff but that gets boring fast-

Just walks the fuck off without telling anyone, on a journey for adventure

Will spend literal hours sitting underneath the boardwalk until someone finds him

After that they get him like one of thise beach toy kit things

Sally's nice enough too fill the bucket with water too, so they can make sand castles and stuff

She walks along the shore line with him, gets pretty shells too

Also if Ben were too go in the water

He's a fucking shark magnet with all that blood-

But don't tell him that, he won't come back too the beach

Ticci Toby

Toby is very excited too go to the beach

He didn't get out much as a kid

Siked as hell too get in the water

Drops his stuff off as soon as possible and runs right into the water

And thats when he realizes he can't fucking swim

Awkwardly flaps his arms around until a wave moves him along too back where he can stand

Everyones kinda confused when he comes back like "?? You were so excited, what happened?"

"I can't swim :(("

Cody volunteers to teach him right away, like the great brother he is

The thing is Cody is a horrible fucking teacher

Another few minutes of Toby getting owned by some waves and Cody just screaming stuff like

"Use your arms Toby- no not like that how I showed you- no I'm not going too help how are you supposed to learn-"

That's when Kate drags him back too shore and Doby and Brian teach him instead

In a bit he learns and ends up having a lot of fun

I feel like Toby would really like boogie boarding?

A lot easier then surfing but still a good time

Also they have too tie a red scarf around his arm so they don't loose his ass in a crowd, or in the water

Third Base

so far, Doby's the only one on this list who actually came prepared

I feel like he'd use one of those face lotions that has SPF 30 in it already?

Smart enough so he doesn't have too smear sun screen around his face, can just use the spray stuff and get going

Also has shoes and sunglasses too go with each like swimsuit/outfit he brings

Mans is put together

Really likes collecting shells and stuff

Walks with Sally, shows her how too find them

Wakes up kinda early as it is? So its easy for him too go too the beach early and find the shells before the tide pulls them back out

It's one of his favorite times, actually

The suns just rising, a few shops are opening, only a handful of people are on the beach

Does it everyday as his "alone time" before everyone else wakes up

Spends most of his time with everyone kinda relaxing?

I can see him really liking those beach volleyball games

Or just playing frizbee in the shallow water!

Really, really enjoys making sand castles

Builds a moat and everything so it stays up when the waves start coming closer

X-Virus

Cody, another kid who never got much beach expierence

But acts like he did

Buys one of those waterproof, phone lanyard things

Forgets too fucking close it properly

Doesn't have the first idea of what seagulls are like

"Oh come on buys its fine-" gets fucking owned for his cheesestick

Lowkey scared of them after that

Refuses too eat on the beach after that

Sits with ben under the board walk and curls around his chips

Spends most of his time in the water

Wants too see how far he can go before the lifegaurd calls him back

Finds it funny as shit too just slowly go deeper while grinning at them

Until a wave slaps him in the back of the head

And then he gets scared of the deepwater too

After he looses Swimming Coach privellages gets really fucking salty and sulks on the beach

Kate takes pity on him and walks around the boardwalk with him

But he also didn't know you have too reapply sunscreen after you go swimming

Gets really really bad sunburn

Jeff, Ben and Toby take turns slapping it whenever he gets too cocky

Masky

This is gonna be a Dad Tim one, fight me

Really has no idea what the fuck is going on, but still manages too keep everyone together?

Tells the same story, atleast twice a day, about the killer wave that almost took his shorts off

Gets in fights with seagulls whenever they get realitively close too the group

Also buys one of those crappy beach wagon things too put their stuff in

Buys a mug and cheesy beer koozie

Doesn't enjoy the beach that much but gets excited too go?

Ends up sitting down for most of the time unless he gets dragged on walks

Might just kinda walk until the water is at his knees and just kinda stand there, and nod a little

Giving mother nature his approval

He takes Sally out and holds onto her stomach, lifts her up over the waves whenever they come

Asks her what she can see, before he drops her back down

Tries it with Ben, gets kicked in the gut-

Favorite time is when it's dark and they go

Not for a long time, just a few minutes too walk along the shore before it gets dark

Hoodie

Designated photographer

Is supposed too be taking photos but mostly gets footage of the stupid shit that happens

Like Jeff not being able too figure out the dishwasher or Clockwork wrestling with her dresser where only half the drawers worked

Just kinda sits back and watches things go up in flames

He's the designated like playlist guy too? On the drive over, whenever he got bored just

"Hey what song should I play?"

And watches chaos ensue

His vacation is watching everyone else have a bad time

Makes up for it though, saves them a shit ton of money by making dinner every night.

I feel like he genuinely enjoys late nights on the beach, like Tim

Gets some beautiful photos of the water, and people taking walks that he's pretty damn proud of

Maybe once or twice he'll join Doby for a walk too get pictures of the rising sun

Likes getting small things from the gift shops

Shark teeth, maybe a cheesy snowglobe

Something silly but nice too remember the trip by

Eyeless Jack

first things first, ya know those double-lens glasses? Like you flip up the sunglass part and theres normal lenses underneath? Someone gave him those

But their are crappy eyes painted on the normal lenses

He's very confused but its just ridiculous enough for him too like

The beach isn't his favorite place, I HC him as nocturnal and most things are open during the day

He takes too the rides and crappy carnival games that are open late at night

He can't see everything super well but makes up fun things for himself

Enjoys going on rollercoasters that he has no idea what the hell the drops look like

Fucking hates bumper cars

Can't tell where everyone's coming from or when

More nerve racking then fun

Whenever they go to the beach beach he just kind of chills

Akwardly curls up on a towel because he's big as shit

Where ever they stay he walks around, uses his echo location shit too find out all its quirks

"This walls more hallow then that one- those support beams in the lobby are doing a very shitty job of keep things together"

Loves sitting out on the balcony and just smelling the salt air, listening too people laughing and the ocean waves

Just the small details a lot of people miss

[aerial-jace]

This started as me trying to think of something to write for a KestrelJay fic, but thanks to @mallowstep enabling me it became a full-on Po3 + OotS AU. I present to you: Po3 + OotS but the powers don’t come with a prophecy attached AU. Alternatively: Po3 + OotS but Jayfeather willingly became a medicine cat out of delusions of grandeur.

The only reason I’m deleting the dark forest part of the conflict is so I can use the powers but still have this AU be about an entirely new interpersonal conflict that doesn’t cross over with that whole thing

Jaykit figures out very early on about his dream powers, using it to hop across the dreams of his littermates and others in the nursery. Growing up he hears lots of stories about dreams and prophecies and medicine cats and the rest, so naturally he gets really excited about this special power and gets it into his head that he’s destined to be the next medicine cat.

(He can’t see in dreams on this one. He knows he’s actually dream hopping and not just dreaming of the others in the nursery because he’s very insistent about asking others what they dreamed about. The other kits are impressed but no adult gives him the time of day with it.)

Hollykit, ambitious little furball that she is, also gets it into her head that she’s going to be the next medicine cat. When playing in the nursery, the arguments about it are endless.

Lionkit’s concerned because if both his siblings become medicine cat apprentices, does that mean he’s gonna have to put up with that meanie Berrypaw all on his own? 3:

As they approach apprenticing age, Leafpool notices the two siblings are very much serious about wanting to be her apprentice. It’s at this time that Jaykit starts to brag about his dream hopping ability as if that’s going to guarantee him the position. Hollykit, meanwhile, is trying to help however she can.

Leafpool very much thinks Hollykit would make a better apprentice, she sounds much more helpful to have around and she thinks someone should really check Jaykit’s growing ego.

The day of their apprentice ceremony comes and Jaypaw is fucking pissed, like in canon Lionpaw goes to Ashfur, Hollypaw to Leafpool, and him to Brightheart.

Brightheart and Longtail are really trying to be helpful and encouraging here. Longtail even sort of came out of retirement just so he could assist them outside camp. But Jaypaw’s just being a brat and it makes all three miserable. He won’t listen to instructions, he rushes everything just so he can go pester Leafpool, when out on patrol he will try to sneak away, he is very rude to them, etc.

Lionpaw tries to be a supportive brother, trying to give Jaypaw encouragement and tips, reassuring him that he can grow up to be a great warrior, convincing Ashfur to let them train together, and so much more but he’s just met with the same scorn and aggression that Jaypaw has for Brightheart and Longtail. Doesn’t help matters that Lionpaw is just good at this, reinforcing Jaypaw’s belief that this is not his special destiny.

Hollypaw is trying her best, but like in canon she just struggles a lot with memorizing and identifying herbs and of course being grossed out by actually treating injuries. She also tries to extend an olive branch to Jaypaw, only to be met with scorn and particularly harsh insults. He also tries to butt in whenever he has the chance. Leafpool’s getting really fed up with all this.

This whole thing lasts for like a moon to a moon and a half and the whole of ThunderClan camp just doesn’t have the energy to deal with Jaypaw anymore. The general stress and just in general being so worn out give Jaypaw the perfect in to enter Leafpool’s usually more tightly guarded mind. She originally thinks the little brat has just been so annoying she ended up dreaming of him but when he turns up the next day and recites her whole dream to her, she sighs in defeat.

She’s perfectly aware that she shouldn’t reward him for wearing her down, but this has gone on long enough. She’s seen Hollypaw and she knows it would be better for her to swap mentors now. And if StarClan has given Jaypaw this power, she’s not about to go trying to prevent his destiny. She knows better than to piss them off.

Jaypaw is an immature, smug little shit about this whole thing, and Leafpool knows she has her work cut out for her in regards to nipping that in the bud. At the very least he’s obedient now and very eager to make up for lost time.

Their first night on the apprentice’s den, Hollypaw and Lionpaw begin to bond over complaining about their dickhead brother. It’s extremely cathartic and even though they’re keeping everyone else up they don’t mind either. They needed that release as well.

Hollypaw quickly learns that Lionpaw is very good at this warrior thing, way better than she’d expect with how behind she is. They figure out Lionpaw’s got a power as well, and while Hollypaw’s initially concerned he will turn out a dickhead as well, the experience of Jaypaw keeps Lionpaw humble. At least when not around Berrypaw.

It’s Jaypaw’s first half moon gathering and he can’t help but bounce with excitement. He’s excited to meet everyone and share tongues with StarClan and to be announced officially as Leafpool’s apprentice and all the rest. As they meet the others he finds that the other two apprentices are not being as friendly as he’d expected. Willowpaw is downright angry at him for costing her a friend, while Kestrelpaw is polite but distant. They’ve both been warned of him and seeing them both act so coldly really hurts Jaypaw.

(While all of this is happening, LionBerry is going through a rivals to lovers arc in the background. And of course we all know Hollypaw is massively gay for Willowpaw.)

Jaypaw is really lost on what to do. He wants to make friends with the other medicine cat apprentices, but he’s just not got the social skills for this. He thinks invading their privacy in dreams is a good idea, kind of forgetting everyone and their mother know of his power and that most people find that creepy.

It takes a while, but seeing his desperation to make friends, Kestrelpaw starts to open up and Jaypaw is massively emotional about it. They bond as friends and over time they get Willowpaw to also open up. The three become really close friends and they encourage Jaypaw to fix his relationship with his siblings.

When Hollyleaf and Lionblaze get their full names, Jaypaw starts to reach out to them. They’ve seen Jaypaw becoming more humble and minding his own business over time, so they’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But it still takes time for their relationship to be repaired.

Willowshine and Kestrelflight earn their full names and Jaypaw couldn’t be more proud of his friends. Him and Kestrelflight begin to date (using those handy-dandy dream powers they don’t even have to meet physically!) and he starts to relay messages between Willowshine and Hollyleaf.

It’s around this time that Flamepaw, the token straight of the medicine cat gang, shows up. He’s basically the reverse of that whole “Everyone has a gay cousin and if you don’t it’s you” thing, which becomes really apparent with how his gay cousins dominate the conversation at all the half moon gatherings.

(For the sake of the joke, his siblings are bi. He only learns this after telling them about how gay the half moon meetings are.)

When Jaypaw earns his full name, Leafpool names him Jaystorm because of how much of a handful he was as an apprentice and as a reminder to not fall back on those old behavior patterns.

Jaystorm announcing his full name to his siblings and showing healthy pride in his accomplishment is basically the end of his arc regarding repairing his relationships. They’re now all equals in the eyes of the clan and they get along pretty well. They’re his preferred escorts whenever he has to go out of camp and they’re glad to spend more time with him.

Fast forward to the time of OotS, Jaystorm notices fairly early on the signs that Dovekit also seems to have special powers and begins making plans to ensure she and Ivykit aren’t driven apart by ego and jealousy like he and his littermates were

Dovekit, thankfully, starts showing interest in becoming a medicine cat while Ivykit doesn’t. Come their apprentice ceremony, Jaystorm maneuvers to have himself be named the official mentor of Dovepaw and Hollyleaf the mentor of Ivypaw.

(Leafpool’s still around or something. I deliberately also omitted the fire scene and the parentage reveal drama. But she’s just not a character I’m interested in and sidelining her is for the good of the story.)

Having someone with partial medicine cat training mentoring Ivypaw means Jaystorm can very easily make an excuse to have her as part of his escort when herb gathering. Ivypaw, of course, complains endlessly about it, but she finds it nice to have time to spend with Dovepaw.

Under the guidance of the three, Dovewing and Ivypool grow up to be well adjusted adults who deal with the whole powers thing very maturely. All five of them are very close to each other, to the point the three almost consider those two as honorary little sisters.

(It’s fine, Cinderheart ends up having Fernsong with a completely unrelated tom. Lionblaze is too focused on his husband Berrynose to have eyes for anyone else. It fixes the incest, even.)

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled. 

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow. 

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb. 

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*. 

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy. 

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on. 

Wait, what? 

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment 

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE. 

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that… 

“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he? 

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on. 

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more! 

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one. 

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along 

Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long 

[cornacopicimagines]

after hours│t.h

pairing: professor!tom holland x reader 

words: 6.9k (hehe nice)

warnings: swearing, PURE FILTH, sir kink, rough sex, masturbation (male & female), exhibition kink if you squint, spanking & sort of public sex.

summary:  It's wrong, y/n tells herself. She can't help it though. She can't help fantasising about him. At the other end of the class, Tom tells himself to stop staring at her. It's creepy, he thinks. Neither one knows of the mutual pining that is until tension bubbles over. 

a/n: I’m back bitches! I'm still a fucking sinner and this is such a cliche, I'm so so sorry

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n sat at the desk. Her eyes never left Mr. Holland. Her attention never left the way the veins in his arms bulged when he picked up the massive textbook, never left his perfectly gelled hair and how it sat atop his head like it was crafted to from the day he was born. Perhaps I should start typing the notes that were on the board, she scowled to herself.

She feels dirty, almost ashamed of her crush on him. She hates herself for falling into a stupid cliché that had been so easy to avoid all these tireless years. y/n doesn't know why she has gone back to a love-sick teenage girl fantasising about a boy who she'll never even get to touch. A boy that so out of her league, he wouldn't even had the faintest idea that she exists. That doesn't stop them though. y/n still finger fucks herself to an orgasm that no boy has been able to give her in her 24 years of life, all the while wishing it was his cock instead of her fingers. If Mr. Holland knew what she did to herself under the influence of him and his stupidly handsome face, he would be disgusted. This she knows for a fact.

This isn't what she thought she would be doing, in all honesty. She is a semester away from graduating and she never wanted to be stuck in a perpetual state of wanting someone so unattainable it's not uneasy, it's borderline unethical. She truly believed she would have ancient married professor that sound like their legs deep in their coffin. Instead she got a literal Greek God as her Psych professor.

She knows that she's not the only one of course. y/n has met 10 other girls in her class that probably write god awful poetry about Mr. Holland's liquid bronze eyes. She can't blame them, if she could write shitty poetry about him, she 100% would. y/n not angry either, she knows out of the 120 students (110 of whom are girls), are probably all in the same predicament. She sometimes gets dirty looks from them when Mr. Holland address her by her first name.

Perhaps that's something she should consider; he calls her y/n not Miss y/l/n or just simply Miss. It's different, it's endearing and when he has a raspy voice, it's so fucking hot.

"y/n," a voice called out, she shook herself out of her haze, "are you still with us?" Mr. Holland was no standing over her. His cologne surrounding her, intoxicating her. y/n gulped softly before turning her eyes to his.

"Yes, sorry sir," y/n replied quickly, trying her hardest not to stumble over her own words or even let the blush run to her cheeks.

Mr. Holland smiled warmly, "that's good, I need at least one of you listening," the class erupting in laughter, "I would prefer it to be one of the brightest." That though got them quiet. y/n sunk into her chair in embarrassment. The blush she had been fighting rose to the surface, making her even more adamant not to look up at him but alas she couldn't.

In that small fleeting moment, she caught something in his eyes. She couldn't define exactly what it was. Whatever it truly was, y/n knew teachers should not be looking at their students in such a way. It made her even more lightheaded with admiration.

The lesson continued on as normal for another hour. Mr. Holland described the outline for the next assignment, it seemed short and sweet. Write a 2-thousand-word essay on the effects of unintentional recreational drugs during early childhood. y/n had to laugh at the way Mr. Holland phrased it. It was as if he had never touch pot in his entire life, to be fair, y/n wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't. Most of the girls in his class groaned at the mere mention of actual work and not an hour and a half session of pure toe-curling orgasm material. Now that she thinks about it, that would be a wonderful way to spend her Wednesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.

Of course, y/n was in another word during the last minutes of the lesson. Unable to focus on anything other than the hint of a tattoo peeking through the underlining of his shirt. She was working so hard to distinguish what it was that she had completely missed the end of the lesson and the dozens of people walking out.

"y/n, what exactly are you doing?" Mr. Holland's voice asked above her. y/n almost jumped in her seat, but she stayed completely still. "This is the second time today, should I be worried?"

This though made her jump out of her seat. "No of course not sir!" She defended as she rushed to place her things away. "I was just off in wonderland today."

"Are you sure there is nothing distracting you?" He asked.

Yes.

"No," she replied hurriedly.

"You know you can tell me if something is," he reassured her.

Yes, of course. Let me just tell you about how you are distracting me by always wearing the hottest casual suits every lesson and giving me the wonderful fantasy of tearing it off you.

"I know that, it's just been my busy schedule," y/n lied through her teeth. She's a broke college student with hardly any friends or real other assignments. "I am just working really hard, you know?"

Yeah, working really hard to imagine you pounding me into next week!

With that last thought, y/n knew she needed to leave before she exploded with embarrassment and arousal right there in front of him.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are totally allowed to change the topic of the assignment if you feel like there is something that strikes a chord with you," Mr. Holland smiled brightly.

Fuck! Did he have to look so gorgeous even when he's trying to be dorky and supportive.

Mr. Holland noticed the shocked look upon y/n's face and immediately retracted his statement, "I promise I won't fail you, if that's what your thinking." He explained. "I really enjoy your work, you're a gifted woman with a real talent and I don't want to see it go to waste with my shitty assignment."

y/n turned her attitude around. He was stumbling over his words. It was kind of cute and endearing, like everything he does. She smiled warmly at his compliment.

"Sir," she spoke softly. It came out a lot mouseyer and somehow sexual than she would have liked but she refused to back out of her statement. "I can't wait."

She didn't say another word but simply slung her back over her shoulder and made her way out of the class. Tom followed her figure in complete and utter shock. He praised whatever god watched over him for the small mercy that was having y/n's back turned to him to witness his immediate blush cover his entire freckled face.

Tom never let his eyes leave her. He just watched her waltz right out of his classroom, he bit his lip at the sight of her perfectly cupped ass in her jeans. Through-out the entire lesson, all he could think about is how her tits would bounce as his dick thrusted up into her little cunt. Just the thought made his cock spring to life.

He stared up at the clock. He had to be in another lecture in 10 minutes, he had to teach another round of student without her pretty face in it in 10 bloody minutes. Sadly, it wasn't enough time to imagine cumming over her said face. He fidgeted until his painful erection was safely hidden.

God, you are such a fucking creep, Holland. He thought to himself.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n really didn't want to be doing this.

She really didn't want to have to walk to the library in a mini skirt she had when she went through her cringy hoe phase and a low-cut tank top she only really wore to bed at 8 at night. Luckily before she left, her roommate gave her a full can of pepper spray and a pocketknife. A handle tool for when you looked like a prostitute.

She had no choice. It was laundry night and she had to get her assignment out of the way, or she would never finish it in time. She wanted to kick herself for letting laundry night fall on the only night the library stayed open until midnight. It was a perk for sure but not when you had nothing to wear but pink neon rags.

y/n pushed open the library door and relieved herself of the anxiety of being abducted by the greeting of Harry. He looked familiar but she couldn't pinpoint where she had seen his face before.

"What cha doing here?" he shouted. Quite contradictory for a librarian. y/n grinned when she saw his dorky face at the counter. That is until he caught wind of her outfit, or lack thereof. "Got a late shift at the strip-club after this?" Her face fell.

"I hate you," she played along, her arms slumping on the cold desk. y/n looked around the library. It was basically empty, with the exception of the middle-aged teacher grading a stack full of papers. Poor bastard, y/n thought. "Got one for me?"

"You're going to get me fired if I do this again," Harry huffed, he banged his head against the keyboard in frustration.

"This is the last time," y/n explained, "I pinkie promise." She lifted her hand over the counter and waved her pinkie finger in Harry's face. He stared up her than move his eyeline to her finger now just touching the tip of his nose. He groaned loudly as he took her finger in his.

"There is a ton of empty booths, choose one and don't make a sound," Harry told her angrily, y/n simply clapped her hands in celebration and skipped off. She chooses the booth in range of Harry, in hopes that maybe he will distracted her and she won't have to do her work because she's too busy goofing off.

y/n dropped her stuff in a huff. Her back slumped into the curve of the chair and the desk covered her body happily. She placed her earphones in and played her favourite study music. She was in absolute heaven.

The assignment was kicking her ass, but she was determined to do it. Mr. Holland seemed genuinely excited for what she would write about if she did decide to change the topic. Now though she's regretting not letting Mr. Holland's hopes down.

She could find hardly anything online and even if she did it was by some random SJW on Tumblr. That's what lead her here tonight. In hopes that maybe some privileged white asshole with a degree would have some sources sighted to help her. Unfortunately, she was having trouble with that too.

It was now 11:30pm. She had been at this god forsaken table for two and a half hours now in an endless pursuit of bullshit. y/n had half a mind to give up and just suck his dick for the grade like other girls would in this situation. y/n had to remind herself though, she is a gifted woman with a real talent that should not be wasted on something shitty to please the masses. Did she just quote Mr. Holland?

She caught eyes with Harry in her block, who had two pencils stuck up his nose in an attempt to cheer her up. It did for the most part. y/n wanted to play along but it had seemed someone else had walked through the door at that very moment and Harry threw the pencils out. Harry's face lit up with red upon the arrival of this mystery person. y/n was interested in who this mystery person was. That is until she saw his face.

Mr. Holland walked up to the library desk in a fit of laughter. His hands smacking the counter and his face contorted in a wide smile. y/n instantly ducked under the table. She could faintly hear their conversation. It just sounded like muffled words until her name popped up.

Jesus Christ. Not now. Not tonight. Why of all night to run into his must it have to be tonight. Maybe I should make a run for it now, bust out of the wind-

"I know you're under there y/n," Mr. Holland's voice sung above her. It was too late now. Any escape plan that her mind frantically tried to rationalise was long gone by this point. Slowly, y/n retreated from her hiding spot to face him. He had his normal outfit of a tight t-shirt paired with a decorative tie and slightly lose pants. This time though he had a long burgundy coat draped over his shoulders. He looked like a painting. y/n smiled sheepishly.

"Hi," she said simply. Regaining her seat from before and fully appearing in front of him. "I had no idea you would be here this late," she tried with conversation.

"Harry's my brother, I have to drive him home before leaving myself and he just wanted to work the late shift tonight," Tom laughed to himself and he turned around and waved at Harry. His brother waved back guiltily. "You know, I could say this same to you," he smirked at her.

"I am working on your assignment, sir," y/n responded quietly. Tom's eyes lit up at that and he rushed to snatch the papers off her desk and into his hands. Much to the disapproval of y/n.

"Oh good, you've decided to change it," Tom sounded almost relieved as if he trusted her judgement more than his own. Worse of it all, he decided to sit down next to her. Even taking off his coat, making his biceps bulge through his shirt. His eyes flicked through what she currently has. His eyebrows raised in shock, "I have to say, I was not expected you to decide to do something about the female orgasm and its effect on the psyche," his voice was an octave deeper than usual. y/n could feel her arousal building.

y/n couldn't decide if he was just being friendly or if he was trying to send a deeper message. Either way, she decided to take action. "Well, with the number of women being unsatisfied I thought it was an appropriate topic," she snatched the papers out of his hands, "but you wouldn't know anything about women being unsatisfied would you sir?"

Tom sat there in astonishment. His cock stiffened against the restraints of his jeans, he has only been in her vicinity for 5 minutes and already she has him hard as a rock. It was times like these that he wished he could just leave all his determination to fuck her over this very desk at the door. Regrettably, he couldn't.

"Well, that just ruins the surprise," y/n sighed delicately. Her fingers flicking through the pages of her useless book. "Either way, the resources are complete shit," this time her sadness was real, and Tom snapped out of his lust-ridden haze.

"Did you really expect a man to know mostly everything of something that is so cardinally female?" Tom smirked as he closed the book on her and pointed to the photo of a wrinkled old man. He was the author of a stupid book and to be fair, he looked like he would write this type of book as well.

"Damn, I knew I was doing something wrong," y/n hissed. She had been spending her entire night trying to piece together information from a man who can only give her half the story.

"The book on the top shelf is one on the chemical effects of orgasming in females by a female," Tom leaned in and whispered in her ear. His hot breath wafted of her skin; it was enough to send goose bumps over her entire body. y/n turned her head to face him, their lips inches away from each other. If they didn't have Harry watching them like a hawk, they probably would be out of breath from lip-locking. Instead, y/n nodded and got up out of her seat, making sure to give him a stunning view of her tits through her tank top. He wanted to audibly gasp but kept in inside. It didn't help with his situation downstairs any more than the last few minutes have.

Slowly, she walked over to the bookcase. Her eyes scanning the endless rows and she made sure Tom had enough time to enjoy the deep red thong underneath her skirt. Finally, her fingers coiled around the book and brought it down to her. Tom couldn't believe his own eyes. He was so under her spell. The way her top hugged her curved and let his eyes completely drink in her breasts. How her skirt was pulled up to her waist, allowing the flushed skin of her ass to be visible to him. He wonders how a woman like her even exists and yet she takes a seat next to him, absolutely unaware of his throbbing manhood. Begging to be touched by her, to be taken by her, by anything to do with her.

"Thank you, sir," she almost purrs to him, Tom's struggling to keep it together. He afraid the next thing to slip out of her flawless mouth, he'll cum straight into his pants when he would rather cum into her.

"Anytime," he responds just a dark before getting up. Hiding his clearly hard cock behind his briefcase. "I'll see you in class?" He already knows the answer, but he just wants the last bit of assurance from her.

"Of course," she smiled warmly. With that Tom basically books it, he's frantically making sure he's well-hidden as he quickly bends over the counter.

"I'll come back to pick you up in 30, I forgot some paper work back in my office," it's so fast, Harry almost doesn't have time to translate it before Tom's out the door and rushing down the hall.

At one point, he basically running to get to his office. Feet tapping against the concrete as he continues to see nothing but flashing images of y/n. It blurs his vision and he's so desperate. He considers using a spare supply closet but know he will only get complete privacy in his own office.

He finally gets there, after what seems like an eternity of running. He checks the hallways before entering. He drops all of his things at the foot of the door. He even has the decency to hang his coat upon the rack. Tom slowly walks over to his chair. It's a rough leather material and usually he would refuse to do what he's about to do in here, it will be stained with the memory but at this point. He got no fucks left to give.

He crashes down. His back hitting the material he hates so much. He doesn't think he's got time, but he still does it slowly. His belt drops next to his and he undoes the zip slowly and the cold air hits his dick. He hisses at the feeling but proceeds anyways. Tom pulls the rest of his jeans and boxers down his legs and kicks them across the room. His hand takes his dick, slowly rubbing the head. Imaging y/n's fingers dancing over it, spreading the precum over. He uses his palm to envision her own stroking up and down in an even motion. He can't help but moan. He can't help but softly call out her name.

He so entranced that he doesn't recognize the following light footsteps approaching. He's so into her non-existent touch that he doesn't hear the door peacefully squeak open. He's so in love with the feeling he doesn't feel y/n walk around the room to get on her knees in front of him.

She's in glory of his movements. Watching him stroke his much bigger cock than her masturbation version has her in a hurry to get her own panties off her body and across the floor. She's sure she's dripping onto the wood below but she does have single care in the world. Tom has his head thrown back in ecstasy as his hand starts to speed up, that's when y/n decides to go for the kill. She licks a long strip up his shaft. Her hands stabilizing him by placing them atop his bare thighs.

Tom almost jumps out of his chair. He had no idea she caught him in the middle of something so vile and wrong. Better yet, she had caught him with the tip of his dick around her perfectly glossed lips. He doesn't get to say another word before y/n's hands begin massaging the bottom of his manhood. It's slow to begin with, it's almost if she's easing him into it. Her cheeks hollow out to allow his length into her warm mouth. It's incredible. Tom can't help but buck his hips up into her throat causing her to gag slightly. It's a sound he wants more of.

His hands ball her hair into his fist. With the faster her movements become, the harder he fucks into her mouth. They sync up almost instantly. One of y/n's hands leave his cock to fuck herself. Tom's mesmerised by the way her fingers act as a replacement for his dick. He's certain he's not going to last much longer.

"I should be d-doing that," he whispers through grunts. y/n lifts her head to smile at him, still letting her free hand jerk and pull bringing him closer the edge.

"I know," she responds, just as quiet. Her mouth reconnects but Tom quickly snaps his hips up into her. Her muffled moaning vibrated against his cock as he fucks her mouth. It's the hottest thing he's ever done. He tugs and pulls at her hair, y/n's edging him on. She's exquisite, it's like she's mastered this and has allowed him to chance to feel how fucking beautiful her little mouth can be.

Like it's effortless, he comes. Without any warning, he is shooting hot stream of cum into her mouth, filling it up. Tom swears he's seeing stars but can't bring him to call out her name but instead bites down on his hand so hard he's afraid he's drawn blood.

y/n releases him from her mouth and is from an actual porn Tom spent his teenage years watching, his cum leaks from her lips and falls down on the curves of her tits. It's a sight he was to remember forever. He wants to grab his phone and click so he will get to look at her covered in his cum for the rest of his life but alas, he's still regaining his bearings.

"Tastes better than I would have expected," y/n giggles as she brings the liquid back up to her lips and swallows. There is no way this woman gets better; he thinks to himself.

"Sweetheart-," he begins but she beats him to it, her gets back on her feet and plants a sweet kiss upon his lips. He can taste himself on her lips, it's addictive.

"I wanted this," it's almost as if she read his mind. He doesn't respond but he simply looks at her, his hand coming up to twirl a strand of hair that has fallen in front of her face.

y/n pulls away from him, walking over the pile of discarded clothes and bend to pick up her soaked underwear. She gives Tom a look, he's so close he can smell her juices from his seat. Her pussy look like a paradise waiting to be exploded by him, but he keeps his hands to himself. y/n paced herself over to the coat hanger, her folded panties in hand. She places them in the left pocket with a devilish smile upon her face. Tom had now place their rest of his clothes back on and had joined her.

"I'll get them back next lesson," y/n grins. Tom nods quickly, their feet fumbling under her back hits his office door. She's trapped in between him, he smells of pure sex but she's committed to her idea. He bends down to capture her lips in his with a forceful kiss. It's hungry and needy. She wants it so badly to give but she pulls away. "My roommate is waiting for me outside."

"We'll finish this," Tom whispers as he opens the door for her. It sends shivers down y/n's spine. It's not a promise, it's an order.

She grabs the rest of her things and heads off. Almost in a sick turn of events, Tom watches her bare ass strut away from him. Just like the last lesson, except this time all he can do is imagine him face fucking her. It's a beautiful sight.

━━★✼☆｡

The three days leading up to class where probably the slowest 72 hours both of them had ever experienced. A constant detail of pleasure from the night before. So when the fated day arrived, both parties didn't know what to do. Tom debated just staying home, though he couldn't deny he so desperately want just another taste. He thought, if he didn't show up, all his guilty conscience of a student giving him the best head he's ever had in his life would simply disappear and he would go back to being a normal teacher. y/n, too, thought of skipping this class for a completely different reason. Perhaps she had got a surge of confidence after hearing her professor call out her name while he touched himself or it could just be the pure scandalous nature of it all. Either way, she wanted to stay cooped up with a blanket while she watched him unravelled. No matter the psyche from the both of them, they went.

y/n stood outside the classroom for a good 20 minutes, unsure of what she should do. Should she go in now and fuck him in the small window or wait and play with his emotions? She hadn't realised how fast the time had went until she saw other student's start entering. It was now or never and unfortunately it was going to be now.

The room was smaller than y/n remember when she stepped in. It seemed more wide the last time she came in here. Of course, the last time she came in her, she hadn't sucked Mr. Holland's cock.

Her eyes landed on him in a matter of seconds. His back was turned to her as he wrote on the massive blackboard in front of him. y/n could see his muscles flex as he tried to reach for the duster above the board. She bit her lip as she thought of her nails digging into his back as he fucked her. It was a fantasy she had to push to the side.

Tom could practically smell her once she walked in. It was her normal perfume that had been intensified 10 fold. He refuses to turn around, afraid that if he did all his good heart nature would go out the window. Tom could hear the faint clinking of the heels of her shoes walk up the stairs. He so desperately wanted them to come right back down.

"Okay, as you know, you're assignment is due in 2 weeks and this is going to be the only time I will answer your questions," Tom's voice boomed. He hadn't got a lot of sleep since that night and he didn't particularly want to do this but he considered himself a kind professor, so he had too.

He turned around and saw the entire class' hands go straight up in the air. Including y/n, though hers was a little lower. Her eyebrow raised and a small smirk painted on her lips. There was no way in hell he was answer whatever question came out of those pretty lips. She looked even more exquisite than when he last saw her. A tight t-shit that had a stained 50's logo on it and a pair of tight black jeans, he knew as soon as he spoke to her, he would loose all control on himself.

So he never did, constantly dodging her. Answering every single question, even if half of them were if he was married or worse if he was free Friday night. He will admit, seeing y/n get frustrated every time he passed her to talk to another young female student made him just that tad bit excited.

It was an hour and a half of pure tension. Sure, no one else in the class could feel it but they 100% could. She never felt more out of control and for some reason, she despised it. He kept ignoring her, kept refusing her, kept defying her. It was infuriating, that she wanted to take fate by the hair.

She waited, until every single soul had walked out of the door. She waited until the last gaggle of girls had finished their blabbering to Tom before she starting to strut down the stairs. Tom refused to meet her eyes even when he knew that's all she did. Glare at him as she stomped past him desk to the classroom door. He heard it lock.

"I wanted to ask you a question," she almost spat, "sir."

Tom straightened himself before swivelled around to meet her. She was so livid with him but he knew deep down that all she wanted from him was to have the white chalk from the board rubbed up her back from him pinning her down.

"Fire away," he responded exactly the same. She stared at him for a moment before strolling towards him. She made sure to swing her hips every other time. She noticed his eyes on her, finally she was getting somewhere.

y/n pressed her chest upon his heaving one. Her face lifting to meet his. They stayed like that for a good minute, just pondering. They listened to each other's heats thumping against their rib cages. They both desperately needed this.

Never taking her eyes off him, y/n snaked her hand around the side of pocket of her coat, smiling once she found what she left. Her soaked red thong, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"I wanted to ask if I was every going to get payback?" she giggled softly. Tom knew she was playing a game but he had no idea which one it was.

"I don't think I understand," he stammered, she strutted away from him until she met the edge of his stainless desk. Her fingers gliding over the wood ever so slightly. She turned her head to look at him. She had a rawness in her eyes; lustful, a sinner's stare. It would be a look Tom was never forget for the rest of his life.

y/n suddenly jumped on the desk. Her ass moving the papers to the side as she slowly started to unbutton her tight jeans. "I think you do," it was almost a hiss but he only heard the desperation in her voice. "I want you to make me feel all the things you did that night."

Tom almost fainted just with that until she dropped her jeans the floor. She had come to class without any underwear on and her wetness was dripping onto the desk. Tom was sure was in heaven but he didn't want to believe it.

He got on his knees. His hands palming at her soft thighs. Tom didn't need another incentive, he didn't need another spur-on. Tom licked a single strip up her folds, y/n bit a moan back. It was like tasting ambrosia or doing cocaine for the first time. He needed more, so he went back in again, this time it was rougher. His fingers gripping at her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth as he devoured as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Her hands tangle themselves in his floppy curls, she tugs harshly on his scalp as he adds a finger into her warm entrance.

Tom's never felt like this before but he doesn't care. He's sure people can hear her soft but frantic moaning from outside, but he doesn't care. He'll never look at his desk the same way but like everything else, he doesn't fucking care. Tom curls his fingers in the perfect spot inside of her.

"Just like that," y/n calls out, her hair now sprawled out on the desk. "I'm going to cum sir."

Tom feels her walls contract around his fingers as he pulsing faster, her back arches and she trying so hard to force her cries back into her throat. It's a sight he wants to from above, it's a feeling he wants to feel inside of her. So, at the last minute, he retracts everything. His tongue leaves her throbbing clit and his finger, which are glistening with her slick, slid out of her.

y/n can't hold back to whine that leaves her left from the loss of his god-like tongue and fingers. "What the fuck Tom?!" she's angry with him, she wants to tell him off but before she can do it. One of his hands captures her wrist and slams them against the desk below her, pinning her to it. She whimpers at the sting of pain.

He's right above her but she can't see a single thing below her. "Look at me," he tells her sternly, she does what's she is told instantly. "You can't talk to me like that sweetness," y/n knows there is a venom behind his words even if she speaks in a melody. "I'm not your fucking boyfriend, you don't call me that."

Without any warning at all, he pounds right up into her. y/n almost spasms out of Tom's grip from the wave of pleasure. Tom doesn't move at all, he stays nuzzled inside her. It's agonising, almost painful for y/n. Having his perfect cock not jamming into her tight cunt. It's torture.

"You understand that?" he peppers kissed against the nape of her neck, she's about to cry out, she'll do anything. She nods her head frantically, hoping it's enough. It isn't. He keeps his hips locked tightly against hers. "Words, sweetness."

"Yes," she responds. She can feel him frown against her skin. He pulls right out of her and rams right back in, causing y/n to scream out in pleasure. "Y-yes sir," she corrects herself and with that, Tom starts a pace. It's slow and tantalising, he watches amazed at how her pretty folds swallow him up with every thrust. It's magnificent.

He wants to savour this moment forever. He wants to fuck her brains out for every waking moment of his existence.

"Sir, go harder," she moans below him. Her wrists bruised from his gripped, but the pain just only contributes in her overwhelming amount of pleasure. His thick cock is so much better than her fingers, no matter how many she adds.

Tom obliges and starts to really pound into her cunt. It's raw and ruthless, he's calling out her name now. "Fuck sweetness, you so bloody tight," he purrs, y/n can't respond through her chant of curses. "You're little cunt was made for me, it was made for me to stretch it out."

The dirty talk elevates her, y/n's not sure how much longer she'll last. His filling ever last inch of her. She can feel her tits bounce every time their skin collides. Her wrists are finally let free as he begins to clutch at her naked hips. It's an experience she's never felt. The sound of skin slapping and their combined gasping and cursing are the only thing she can perceive to hear. If there was a knock at the door, y/n knows she would have no idea about it.

Perhaps, it's the pure excitement and morality of this whole situation that makes them both feel like they're on cloud nine. Her arms snake around his waist, her hands move with every rough thrust into her. She's gripping onto his back through the material of his tight shirt. Her nails clasping on the contracting muscles. She would have left his back red and sore if he didn't have the damned t-shirt on to protect him.

"Fuck," she curses as he started to hit an area inside of her, she never knew existed. "Just like that sir, I am going to cum," she moans, her forehead against his. They lock eyes again, this time though there is no linger feeling of want or romance. It's just sex. Dirty, hot, intense fucking.

She's the first to come undone. The fire now transformed into a raging wildfire spreading across her entire abdomen. y/n throws her head back in ecstasy, her whole vision goes black and she has to bit down against her hand to stop and inevitable pornographic scream to jump out of her mouth. Her other hand clutches his neck, pulling him closer to her.

Tom follows shortly after, his thrusts become sloppy and erratic but never easing up. His cock twitches inside of her before he shots the hot white liquid all inside of her cunt. He pressed his lips against her as his attempt to stop his moan as well but he continues to call out her angelic name against her lips. Once, Tom pulls out of her, he watches in awe. The mixture leaks out of her hole and then pools on his desk. He's so in love with this woman it hurts.

"I have never cum that hard in my entire fucking life," she giggles, pulling her top down her flushed tits. As he too, starts to redress himself, he simply stares at her. Watches her retrieve her jeans from the floor and slip them up her bare ass. He spots her shove her panties back into his back pocket, not before she scribbles something down on a torn piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. She nuzzles her face in the crook of her.

"I'm giving you a reason to come make me dinner and then fuck me again," she explains, "I put my address in there, so hopefully you can't get lost."

"You sure about this," Tom asked hesitantly, y/n now swivelled around to face him. Her warm palm caressed his face.

"I wouldn't have just done that if I wasn't," she places a soft, tender kiss to his cheek. "Make it a Thursday though, my roommate will be out on those nights," she told him as he grabbed the last of her things and unlocked the door. Tom grins warmly as she makes herself presentable for the last time. "I would clean that up if I were you," y/n laughed, pointing at the obvious mess all over his desk before quickly exiting.

As she wobbled back to her dorm, she wondered what article of clothing she should leave out on their next escapade.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: this is gonna flop, i just fuckin know it 🥴 anways i hope you enjoyed my fic that has ended my hiatus. see you (hopefully) soon 🥺

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

————————————————————————————————

shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction