#looking at these turtles with malice in my heart

[liathgray]

So if you havent noticed, i have been dragged into Rise of the TMNT. I dont know how this happened. It wasnt on purpose.

Several turtle fics incoming. Take cover.

[cassynite]

7 Snippets, 7 People

Tagged by both @knight-commander and @dragonologist-phd, thank you so much for thinking of me! My creative energy has been pretty low lately but this was very inspiring tbh!

Tagging (and im so sorry im nearly certain i will tag people already tagged by accident, and obv no pressure) @dmagedgoods @the-raging-tempest @undyingembers @spyridonya @rollofleaf @archduke-enver-gortash @thesolemnhour

Snips below the cut! Just from various things I am sloooooowly working on.

--

1.

"The boats on the shore will take you anywhere, if you've got the coin for it," Eva says instead. "And you've got the right pass." She pins Evaethi down with a golden stare and then moves the map slightly, just enough to show a flash of the paper underneath, the grooves where a stamp had pressed into the paper.

Evaethi is still connecting the dots between Eva's words and the stamp when Eva places a careful hand on Evaethi's wrist. The skin is cool, slightly clammy and unpleasant. "Wouldn't it be nice," she whispers, "If we never had to see Master again? If we could go do whatever we wanted?"

--

2.

"She was a child," Sparrow repeats. "One desperate for her father's love, and who never received it. Her greatest crime was thoughtlessness, not malice." She draws herself up and gives Daeran a smile she hopes looks genuine. "And if she hadn't run away, I likely never would have gone to Kenabres. So in a way, she is responsible for our meeting."

Daeran lets out a beleaguered sigh, but the frigid lines of anger have finally melted. "Yes, well. I don't enjoy this woman in our house, but it's certainly not my place to forgive her. I do hope she has grown up since your last meeting."

--

3.

"It is my pleasure," he says, and turns his wizened gaze to Daeran. Daeran has to suppress a shiver from its intensity. His eyes are the clear blue of a cloudless day, shining ever so slightly with a light Daeran instinctively understands as divine--years channeling god-given power lingers even if he likely no longer wields a sword--and the gaze seems to peer right through him, to the rotten core infested with worms.

But he must not be using it, or he's attributing to the shadowy mass of hunger that watches Daeran to the shadows of grief: Sir Lant's expression holds nothing but cloying pity. "I never had the pleasure of meeting your mother," he tells Daeran, "but everyone in Mendev knew that a truer heart and a kinder soul didn't exist. Her contributions to the Crusade's cause and the church cannot be overstated. The world is poorer for her loss--but I hope I can help guide you to growing into the kind of man who would do her memory proud."

--

4.

Sparrow's eyes widen and then--it's like watching a turtle retreat into its shell. The bright fury pulls back, closes down, her face smoothing into complete neutrality. If he hadn't just been watching her, Daeran would have sworn the emotion had never been there at all. It really is quite a feat; he can't think of anyone, noble or common born, who can seal away such passionate expressions so completely.

"I should go," Sparrow says, turning away and truncating the conversation. She directs her next words to the group as a whole. "We have a long day ahead of us, and we need our rest. Lann, I'll take second watch if you take first." And she walks away, stiff and lifeless once more, leaving Daeran with the fading electricity and the still-dirty pots.

Daeran sighs and returns his attention back to the dishes. The woman he was arguing with is gone--the emotionless, lackluster leader has made her unwelcome return.

He wonders what he can do to make her become that person again.

--

5. (very mildly nsfw)

The skin on Sparrow's stomach was deeply sensitive, and Daeran's hand pressed against it was a shock of sensation that flashed through her body, settling between her legs. She could barely breathe; she felt like a half-feral animal dragged into the light, skinless and exposed, flinching at every movement. It was so much already, overwhelming in a way she'd never experienced before. If this was how she was going to react something as simple as a palm under her ribcage, how was she going to handle anything when she finished undressing?

Daeran sensed it too, she could tell. The warmth at her back receded as Daeran pulled away, his touch lifting; before he could fully retreat, she grabbed his hand, pressing it back to her torso.

"I just need a moment." Her voice was low, raspy, intimate in the heavy half-dark of the room.

--

6.

It worked for Isore's purposes in this case. Depending on how good the intel of the incoming Hellknights was, they would arrive anywhere from the next few hours to dusk, and Isore needed to not be present when they arrived. He dipped the encoded notice into the brazier, letting the smolders of last night's fires catch it alight before he dropped it among the coals. Then he grabbed a piece of scratch paper only half-full of equations that were useful days ago and penned a quick missive: Gone to market. Don't expect me until nightfall.

--

7.

Silaena won, her queen grabbing the checkmate, but she could tell he had let her. When he finally placed his king sideways, he spoke again. "It will be difficult to convince your father."

"He never actually disowned me," Silaena pointed out, the statement sticking a little in her throat. It had been a nasty surprise, even if it had worked in her favor; like he had known she would come crawling back one way or the other. "And I think once he knows what I am bringing to the table, he will eventually back down. There's nothing he wants more than for his direct line to keep Heaven's Edge. I'll give him that even if I give him not one other thing as long as I live."

[saga-project]

"Sooooo how do we hack this thing?"

"Best guess, center console." Saga pointed downward, to where the distant form of the third Krang was piloting the ship. "Unfortunately, it's ocupado--"

Wait. What the fuck was that noise---

--oh. Shit. They went crashing through the platform onto the floor, and the brother Krang was summoning more vines to chase after them--

"....new plan. RUN!"

All they could do was try to dodge the tentacles. Saga ducked under one, using the mechanical wings built into his spine implants to surge above another. Fuck, he wished he had his ninpo right about now. He could have built a rocket launcher, or a barrier of some kind, or---

"Bra-VO, Mikey!" he crowed as his baby brother nimbly tucked himself into his shell to avoid an attack, causing the tentacle to swat the Krang out of the air instead of hitting Mikey. They approached the center console again, Saga looking it over with a critical eye. "Huh. There's no buttons or computers or anything. Just a lot of drippy, ooey gooey disgustingness. I don't know how to hack in—"

And then it hit them. And there was a beat in which they considered. Then their eyes snapped wide.

"....oh god. I know what I have to do."

"What?"

"No. No, I don't think I can do this--"

"What are you talking about--" Mikey seemed to come to the realization in the next instant, crouching over and gagging. "Oh no. That's.....SO GROSS...."

"I can't do it."

"I believe in you!"

"It's literally my worst nightmare!"

"I know!"

"I'm doing it! I'm DOING IT--" He thrust his hands in, gagging and wincing at the cold and slimy feeling, but it still wasn't enough, he could feel it probing at his mind, it wanted more of a connection--

--but he couldn't, the last time he'd given himself over to someone so completely was when Rakshan--

--but it didn't feel like Rakshan, it felt good, it--

"....Mikey. Listen to me. I'm going to let it take me."

"What? Donnie, no--"

"It's not going to work from the outside, Mikey. I need more of a connection. Please. I need to do this. Just trust me. If it doesn't work, you can pull me right back out, I promise."

Mikey waited only a moment before hesitantly nodding. Saga took a shaky inhale, turning their back to the console, trying to hide how their whole frame was vibrating with barely-concealed fear. Were they really going to do this? Were they really going to give up complete control of themselves to another person again, and trust that it wouldn't screw them over--

No. It didn't feel like Rakshan. As they let themselves fall backward, the tentacles felt more like gentle probing than forcibly invading, and--

--and then he was pulled in.

***

My child. My child, awaken.

Saga stirred. Blinked. And then gasped in horror at the tentacles enveloping him, spinning to come face to face with--

A giant eye. Who wasn't looking at him with a hint of malice. Just curiosity, and warmth.

Why have you come into my embrace, child. You are not like the others. Your heart is not filled with cruelty. Your head is not filled with thoughts of conquering.

Saga swallowed. Forced himself to try to stand upright, to look the eye straight on. "Are you....the Technodrome?"

I am. And you are...Saga, I believe.

"....you're not like them. You're...." It reminded him of how Bee treated him, almost. What was it. "....motherly." Yes. That felt right.

I follow the Krang's orders. That does not mean I approve of them.

A beat of consideration. "....you're like me, then. Forced to follow.....someone you know is bad....."

Indeed. I ask you again, turtle Saga. Why did you come to me.

"I.....my brothers. The world. Everything is in danger. I need your help. I need your help to have it....not be in danger. I need to fix this."

To do that, we will need to join together more fully. Be as one. Is that acceptable, my child?

He only needed a moment of consideration. "....yes. It is."

Do not be afraid. It will not hurt.

And the tentacles flowed over him, flowed into him, and he---

He---

They. Knew everything. They saw everything. They--

***

"Mikey? I......am.....A SPACESHIP."

[jellostories]

AJ the Very Whimsical, Ch. 14: The Blizzard of Ozzy

Inspired by: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

~~~~

Everyone has certain characteristics that help people tell them apart from everyone else. AJ, for example, was known throughout her neighborhood for her dirty-blonde emo hairdo; her naïve, playful nature; her baggy, thrift store/Dumpster-quality clothes; her cheerful personality; and her pet turtle Surly, who played with her sometimes. AJ even made a "leash" for him out of a shoelace she found in the garbage.

However, not everyone cared for Surly; in fact, Neila’s resident grouch, Helen Smolder, developed the paranoid belief that the turtle was plotting to one day enter her garden and eat her beloved crabgrass.

“Blaze,” Smolder told AJ’s mother when she was out in the yard one day, “I’ll give you $15 if you get rid of that pest you call a pet.”

She pointed to Surly, who was currently playing “Dirt Restaurant” with AJ and Twist.

Blaze looked offended. 

“Le gasp!” she gasped, putting her hand over her heart, “‘Ow dare you say zat about my only daughter!”

“No, no! Not your daughter!” Smolder said, waving her hand impatiently, “That...shelled frog thing she carries around!”

“Oh, you mean Surly!” Blaze smiled at the turtle as he began slowly crawling across AJ’s belly, making the little girl giggle, “Well, ‘e ‘asn’t ‘armed anyone, ‘as ‘e? What exactly eez your problem, Mademoiselle Smolder?”

“That’s what he wants you to think!” Smolder scowled. “Look at him, he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to devour my beautiful crabgrass!”

Surly blinked blankly at Smolder from his place on AJ’s belly, showing none of the malice the grouch was predicting.

Blaze looked at her crabby, strict office witch lady-looking neighbor with concern etched in her wide, jade-green eyes.

“Deed you take your meds today, mon ami*?”

Suddenly, a terrible twister appeared and began gobbling up houses, people, cars, and lawns like a demented Tasmanian devil.

Panicking, Frank slammed open the door to his house (one up from Smolder’s). “IT’S A TWISTER, IT’S A TWISTER!”

Twist lifted her head up.

“Yes, you!” Frank shouted. “Hurry up and get in the cyclone cellar, Twister! There’s a twister!”

Everyone clambered into the Holloways’ cyclone cellar by their garage except for Smolder and AJ. Smolder was too busy nagging and whining and was gobbled up by the tornado; AJ, meanwhile, was on her porch chasing (super-slowly) after Surly. And, as fate would have it, the little girl was knocked out by a flying mailbox while she clutched the turtle in her hands.

Blaze’s scream of “MON BEBE**!” was the last thing AJ heard before her whole world turned to black…

~~~~

When she woke up, AJ found herself in a strange, clay-desert land surrounded by eight-foot giants as well as a normal-sized wizard with purple eyes, snow-white hair, a black cloak, and a candy cane. She was sitting on what felt like a bean bag filled with butter while she clutched Surly in her hands.

“Wh-Where am I?” AJ asked.

“You’re in GiantLand, miss,” answered the purple-eyed wizard. He had a refined, gentlemanly way of speaking that reminded AJ strongly of movies from the 1960s she’d watched with her mom on TV. 

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the wizard continued. “I am Elton, the Good Wizard. And what might your name be, little girl?”

Hit with a sudden, uncontrollable case of nerves, AJ blushed crimson and had to clear her throat several times before she could squeak out an answer. Her mother had always told her to be nice to wizards and the elderly.

“A-Angel Arquette, Jr.,” she finally managed to stutter out, her eyes glued to the wooden road beneath The Good Wizard’s feet, “B-But my amis c-call me AJ. And z-zeess eez my p-pet turtle, S-Surly.”

Surly blinked in his owner’s hands.

The Good Wizard nodded in acknowledgement. “Well, Miss Arquette, it looks like you’ve just saved the GiantLanders from Ethan, the Dark Wizard.”

AJ looked under the bean bag she was sitting on and gasped. Beneath the bean bag lay the lifeless body of a scraggly-haired man in a purple domino mask. A little more than a little disgusted, she swiftly got to her feet and bumped into The Good Wizard, who caught her by the shoulders.

“THREE CHEERS FOR ANGEL ARQUETTE JR., HERO OF GIANTLAND!” shouted a giant dressed up like a rockstar. “HIP, HIP!”

“HOORAY!” shouted the other giants.

“HIP, HIP!”

“HOORAY!”

“HIP, HIP!”

“HOORAY!”

AJ bypassed crimson and turned orangey-red, as Surly poked his head out of his shell to see what all the commotion was about.

Suddenly, a loud CRACK! resounded, and a tall, scary-looking, crooked-necked witch appeared on the bridge leading to GiantLand’s Main Street. 

Several giants screamed and ran, but AJ remained frozen where she was, hardly daring to breathe.

“Oh mon kiwi,” she thought, feeling miserable for once in her short life of happiness, forget-me-nots, and art projects, “Why, oh why, must zair be so many magicians in zeess too-weird-for-even-me-ish place?”

The witch...was Miss Smolder (or at least she looked a lot like her).

“Hello, little girl,” the witch said with a nasty sneer, reaching out to pet AJ with a crooked, very Smolder-ish finger. 

The silly girl squealed in fright and hid behind The Good Wizard.

The witch introduced herself as Westica the Dark Witch and said she wanted to use the now-dead Dark Wizard’s red rubber galoshes to help her win The Dark & Messed-Up Non-Beauty Contest in Antarctica next month. But, much to The Witch’s anger...

“Why are you wearing my boots, little girl!?” the grouchy villain demanded, hands on hips.

AJ looked down at her feet and gasped again. Her usual black and invisible boots -- the only footwear she had, rescued from her school's Dumpster -- had disappeared, and in their place were a pair of red rubber galoshes, the very same she’d seen on The East Wizard’s body just a few minutes ago.

“I-I don’t understand,” the little girl said slowly, kicking the ground to see if these galoshes were real and not just hallucinations***. She turned to The Good Wizard. 

“Red’s not really my color, I’m more into pink,” she explained, holding out a section of her pink sweatshirt.

“Then give me my boots, you little wingnut!” The Dark Witch demanded.

She reached for the boots, but was blasted backwards.

"The East Boots are always sealed to their current owner by magic," The Good Wizard explained. "Only a Level 14 magic-user can remove them. Surely you must know that, Westica."     

The Dark Witch dismissed The Wizard's comment with a rude wave of her hand. "Pah, whatever! I'll get those Boots sooner or later!"

Then she turned to AJ, who was still hiding behind The Good Wizard's robe.

“I’ll get you, my pretty,” The Dark Witch sneered, making the little girl whimper in fear, “and your little turtle, too!”

Cackling, The Witch threw a smoke bomb on the ground and disappeared with another loud CRACK!

The Good Wizard scoffed. “Show-off. I can’t believe I actually dated her in high school.” 

~~~~

The Good Wizard told AJ that, in order to get back home, she’d have to talk to The Blizzard of Ozzy in Moon City, which she could find by walking down the green railroad.

And thus, AJ embarked on yet another weird journey!

***  

Two hours later…

The green railroad had taken AJ to a forest made out of newspaper, where she met a little redneck girl who reminded her of her friend Twist -- only the redneck had a brown dress and two-colored eyes (one blue, one brown), as opposed to Twist’s yellow dress and light-brown eyes.

“Why do you ‘ave two-colored eyes?” AJ asked curiously.

“The Dark Witch done put a curse on me,” the redneck answered, her brows knit together in anger. “An’ right as Ah was about ta win The Redneck of the Year Award, too! Now dat Rocker Giant’s beat me fer the fifth year in a row!”

“What’s a ‘redneck’?” AJ asked.

The redneck narrowed her eyes in somewhat annoyed “oh-I-get-it-it’s-this-crap-again”-iness. “Lemme guess: yer a lost kid around mah age who’s headed ta Moon City ta ask The Blizzard of Ozzy ta send ya back home ta the Muggle World or whatever?”

AJ looked astounded. 

“Le wow!” she gasped. “Deed you skeep to ze end of our story?”

The redneck shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “Just…just let me go with you, ok? Ah wanna get this curse lifted before mah daddy gets home from work.”

“Ok!”

And the two girls continued walking down the green railroad.

~~~~

Meanwhile, in the evil lair of Westica the Dark…

The Dark Witch was spying on AJ through her crystal ball, seething in anger and evilness.

“I must have those East Boots or I’ll never win The Messed-Up Beauty Contest!” The Witch sneered.

Here, one of the Dark magician’s “Hand-Soldier” minions whispered into another Soldier’s ear: “If she wants to win the contest so bad, why doesn’t she get surgery on that hideous neck of hers?”

Both of the Hand-Soldiers snickered.

“What was that!?” The Witch snapped, turning on her minions with furious suspicion.

“Er, n-nothin’!” the first Hand-Soldier answered hurriedly as he and his companion snapped back to guard position. “Just a little joke I heard earlier, that’s all!”

The Witch continued to eye her minions suspiciously for a minute or two before finally dismissing the issue with a wave of her hand.

“Bah, whatever! Just go make yourself useful for a change and get me Dr. Shogun on the phone!”

“The bounty hunter?” the second Hand-Soldier said, his jaw dropped in disbelief. “You’re going to hire a bounty hunter to go after a little girl?”

“Yeah, so?” The Witch said, undeterred.

The second Hand-Soldier’s disbelief turned into concern. “Did you take your meds today, boss?”

~~~~

Back on the green railroad…

AJ, Surly, and the redneck were now approaching an orange farm. To kill time, they were singing “Sweet Child o’ Mine” by Guns N’ Roses.

But then they both got hungry, so AJ decided to try and pluck an orange from one of the nearby trees, but it smacked her hand away with one of its branches, making her cry out and cradle her now-bleeding hand.

“Oi, there, little girl!” the tree said in a thick Scottish accent, making AJ drop her jaw in shock (“Trees can talk, too!?” she thought in openmouthed amazement. “Zat eez SO COOL!”). “Deedn’t your mummy and daddy ever teach you not to nick things that ain’t yours?”

“Um,” AJ said bashfully after her shock had worn off, “I don’t ’ave a daddy, and I ’aven’t talked to Neeck since first grade.”

And then the tree standing next to the one that’d hit AJ “woke up”.

“Aw, poor girl!” said Tree #2. “Look at her clothes -- she must be a starving orphan girl! Have a heart, will ya, John?” (Hit with a sudden wave of self-consciousness, AJ pulled her already-oversized sweater down over her filthy skirt as far as it could go).

“Oh, bug off, Fred, I’m complicated,” the first tree retorted grouchily.

“Not to mention heartless. Here you go, girly!” 

The second tree handed AJ one of its oranges. AJ curtsied in thanks and scampered off, leaving the two trees alone to argue about “fruit rights”.

~~~~

The next person to join AJ’s quest was a kid younger than her by two or three years who had blue fur all over her body and who reminded the silly girl very strongly of her friend Twist’s little sister Pizza. The furry kid wanted The Blizzard to give her a box of cookies, as The Dark Witch had stolen all her old ones from her cookie jar.

Then, a werewolf who reminded AJ of Pizza’s twin sister Pepsy joined the group, as she wanted to be free of The Dark Witch’s werewolf curse.

~~~~

Later, as the group was getting ready to cross a corn field to get to Moon City, Dr. Shogun and two of The Dark Witch’s Hand-Soldiers peeked out at them from behind a stack of hay.

“tHeRe ThEy ArE,” said Dr. Shogun. His face was covered with all manner of strange tattoos (everything from a crooked arrow to a burning tire), and he was forced to hold a microphone up to his throat so he could speak, which made his voice sound robotic. “cHiCkEnS, rEaDy To Be BaKeD.”

The two Hand-Soldiers (Bob and Dave, by name) looked at the bounty hunter like they were wondering what idiot professor could’ve possibly given him a doctorate*.

Dr. Shogun caught them staring and scowled. 

“sH-ShUt Up!” he snapped. “I tOoK nOnSeNsIcAl JoKeS aS a MiNoR In ViLlAiN cOlLeGe, Ok!?”

Hand-Soldier Dave covered his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh.

~~~~

The Doctor’s plan was to force the heroes into a cage under threat of one of the worst songs in the world: "Achy-Breaky Heart" by Billy Ray Cyrus. It sort of worked, at first: AJ and the werewolf covered their ears, the furry kid fainted, and the redneck began screaming for help.

The Good Wizard, who was watching this from his crystal ball back in GiantLand, immediately raised his wand to help: “Dispargio!”

With a loud crack! and a puff of smoke, our heroes disappeared from the villains’ clutches.

“aW, sUgAr BiScUiTs,” Dr. Shogun said grumpily.

~~~~

With another crack!, our heroes materialized in front of the gate leading to Moon City, which was guarded by a guy wearing a blue fez.

“Password?” asked the guard.

“Uhhh…” said AJ.

“Correct!” said the guard. And he opened the gate for the kids.

~~~~

The Blizzard dwelt at the top of the tallest tower of Moon Castle in the middle of Moon City, meaning our heroes had to climb a 1,000 ft.-long staircase. None of them were very enthusiastic about this:

Furry kid: “Somebody, h-help me! The staircase is bein’ -- *pant* -- not nice to meeee…!”

Redneck: “*Gasping for air*”

Werewolf: “I hate stairs now!”

AJ: “*Pant* So ‘ot and sweaty! Must…cool…off!”

AJ tried to take her sweater off, but the redneck stopped her right in the nick of time.

~~~~

Six hours later…

Our heroes finally made it to The Blizzard’s throne room, where they were greeted by a smoke screen. This made the werewolf and the furry girl so scared, they hugged each other for comfort.

“I-I-I-I…AM OZZY, THE GR-GREAT & H-HEAVY METAL!” bellowed a crushed, British-accented voice from within the smoke. The voice was so loud, it blew AJ and the redneck’s socks off, making their feet burn like hot coals.

“STATE YOUR B-BUSINESS!” The Blizzard’s voice continued.

It was the redneck who spoke while Surly slowly fetched her and AJ’s socks: “We’re here for an eye cure, a werewolf cure, a jar of cookies, and a ride back to Neila -- to go, please.”

“Hmmm…” The Blizzard said thoughtfully. “Bring me the w-wand of W-Westica the Dark, and I’ll gr-grant you your w-wishes.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, in the lair of The Dark Witch…

The evil sorceress was furious when Dr. Shogun told her AJ had escaped.

“You bumbling idiot!” The Witch yelled at the Doctor, “It’s not like I hired you to catch a sasquatch or anything! I hired you to capture a clumsy, little girl with a bad haircut -- how hard can capturing that be!?”

Calmly, Dr. Shogun raised his microphone to his throat and replied: “ClEaRlY, yOu’Ve NeVeR mEt My DaUgHtEr.”

Fuming, The Dark Witch reached for her wallet, took a big wad of cash out, and thrust it at the Doctor. “Just take your money and get out of my sight, dummy.”

After Dr. Shogun left, The Witch sent her own Hand-Soldiers out to capture AJ. It took them a few hours, but they did it.

~~~~

Later…

AJ hid behind a Hand-Soldier with a spiral tattoo on his cheek, not daring to meet The Dark Witch’s cold, merciless purple eyes. Surly, who was in AJ’s hands, poked his head out of his shell in detached curiosity.

“Alright, you little brat,” said The Witch to AJ, making the little girl squeal in fright and pull her sweater over her head, “Give me those boots you’re wearing, or suffer the consequences!”

AJ merely whimpered in response.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just have to destroy you, then!” The Witch said, drawing her wand.

AJ burst into tears and covered her face in fright.

“Wait, boss,” one of The Witch’s Hand-Soldiers said, “I don’t think destroying people is covered by your Villain’s Insurance. Is it?”

This made The Witch stop dead in her tracks.

“Oh, crap, you’re right!” she said. “I better go talk to my agent!”

And she ran off to her financial records room to talk to her agent about how she could get The East Boots from AJ without losing her sports car, leaving AJ alone with the guards.

~~~~

Meanwhile, in the front crabgrass garden of West Pest Castle…

The furry kid, the redneck, and the werewolf were hiding behind a shrub while a group of Hand-Soldiers marched back and forth across the drawbridge, singing “Heigh Ho!” from Snow White & the Seven Dwarves.

Our heroes beat up the members of the punk rock band SugarSquare (who were volunteering as Hand-Soldiers to protest against “Idiot America” (it made sense at one point!) as they passed by their bush, and stole their uniforms Then, our heroes snuck into the castle and rescued AJ from the dungeon.

But then, all of a sudden…

“Hey! It’s the kids who stole our uniforms!” shouted SugarSquare’s lead singer/bassist.

“Yeah, and they beat the tar out of us and freed What’s-Her-Buckets, too!” added the drummer.

The Hand-Soldier Army chased our heroes all the way up to the tallest tower, where The Dark Witch cornered them.

“OK, so,” the villainess said, gulping and gasping for breath, “My insurance agent said I’ll lose my broomstick license if I destroy anyone, but he also said torturing you is just fine! PREPARE FOR PAIN, LITTLE BRATS!”

Cackling, The Witch used her wand to conjure a lit smoke bomb, prompting the ever-impulsive AJ to toss a nearby bucket of water on her. The Dark Witch immediately began to scream and melt, as water was her Kryptonite.

“AAAAHHH!” the Dark magician shrieked as she melted into a pool of goo, “LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU LITTLE DITZ! I’M MELTING, I’M MELTING!”

Nobody moved except for SugarSquare's lead guitarist, who took a picture of the melting Witch with a camera he had in his pocket, and the redneck, who shielded the furry kid and werewolf’s eyes.

“MELTING, MELTING, MELTIIING!” The Witch continued screaming, “OH, WHAT A WORLD! WHAT A WORLD! OH, NO…!”

And she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a gross puddle of goo, her clothes, and her oak wand. About a week later, she was buried, and her pet frog Krokus became the new ruler of Hand-Soldier Village. 

~~~~

Later, in the throne room of The Blizzard of Ozzy…

“We’ve brought you the wand of Westica the Dark, Your Heaviness,” said the redneck as she placed said wand in front of The Blizzard’s smoke screen.

“Excellent!” The Blizzard said, “N-Now, I’ll hold m-my side of the b-bargain.”

The magical rock/star stepped out of the smoke screen and approached the werewolf, who seemed transfixed by his leather robe (“Why’s he wearing a couch?” she thought).

“I’m g-guessing you’re the one who w-wants the werewolf c-cure, eh, little m-miss?” The Blizzard asked.

The werewolf snapped out of her trance and nodded energetically.

The Blizzard chuckled. “W-Well, miss, you’re completely d-delusional.”

The werewolf stared at the magical rock/star much like a puppy would their owner who’d just made a weird noise. “What’s ‘del-oo-zin-ull’ mean?”

“Oh, bl-blimey****, I f-forgot you were s-six,” The Blizzard cursed himself under his breath. Then he corrected himself out loud: “Wh-What I mean to s-say is, The D-Dark Witch never c-cursed you, she just tr-trapped you in a c-costume!” 

The Blizzard spun the werewolf around and unzipped a zipper on her back, revealing her true identity as a little girl in a “WONDERWALL” T-shirt and a grass skirt.

The ex-werewolf looked down at her new clothes and giggled while her travel companions gawked at her. 

“I’m such a dork,” she said, chortling.

Next, The Blizzard gave the furry girl a cookie the size of her head, and the redneck a pair of color contacts.

Then, finally, it was AJ’s turn to receive her gift of a ride home. Fortunately, The Blizzard was headed for Neila himself via The Crazy Train, and there was an extra seat in the caboose for AJ and her reptilian pet.   

At the very last minute, however, Surly was accidentally kicked off The Train by the luggage-carrier and AJ tore after him, causing the unstoppable steam engine to zoom off without them.

“Oh, bl-blimey!” The Blizzard exclaimed as he looked out the window of his car at the sad, little girl.

When all hope seemed lost, Elton the Good Wizard appeared in front of our heroes with a resounding CRACK! Accompanying him was a redheaded witch in a blue swimsuit with red sunglasses; clearly, this was either The Good Witch or The Good Wizard’s wife (or both).

“Looks like you missed your train, Miss Arquette,” said The Good Wizard.

“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious,” the redneck scoffed with heavy sarcasm.

Glowering, The Good Wizard bonked the redneck on the head with his cane-wand, leaving the second-mentioned temporarily dazed and confused.

Meanwhile, AJ had burst into tears: “’Ow-’Ow am I supposed to be g-getting ’ome now? *Hiccup!*”

“Well, there is one other way,” remarked The Good Witch.

“There is?” AJ and The Good Wizard said in united astonishment, whereupon AJ hiccupped.

The Witch nodded. “Yeah, just use your East Boots! Stomp your feet three times and say, ‘Corn-nuggets!’, and then you’ll be home in no time!”

So, AJ exchanged tearful goodbyes with all her new friends: “Au revoir, Mesdemoiselles Redneck, ex-werewolf, f-furry girl…I promeese on my daddy’s grave, I won’t f-forget you…”

The redneck gave a sad wave as she dabbed at her now-matching brown eyes with a dirty handkerchief. 

The ex-werewolf mouthed a weak “goodbye”, and then cried into her hands.

The furry girl, tears flowing from her gray eyes like a waterfall, gave AJ a piece of her giant cookie as a parting gift.

And with that, AJ went on her way.

“Corn-nuggets!” she yelled, stomping her feet three times.

With a deafening WHOOSH, AJ found herself shooting down a tunnel filled with psychedelically colored spirals and pictures of Jimi Hendrix before it eventually faded to black.

~~~~

AJ woke up with a start. She was laying in her bed with her pink froggy pajamas on, Surly on her lap, and her mom and Twist’s entire family standing around her.

“Bon matin*****, Crumpet!” Blaze said cheerfully to her child, feeling her forehead. “You feeling better now?”

AJ put her hand next to her mother’s and felt a large, acorn-sized bump that stung the longer she touched it. Furthermore, the silly girl’s head felt as heavy as an encyclopedia when she tried to sit up in her bed.

“Wh-Where am I?” AJ asked, looking around the room in confusion. “Where’s ze -- hick! -- Moon City? Where’s ze -- hick! -- Crazy Train? Why do I ‘ave ze -- hick! -- ’iccups? Where’s--?”

Blaze put a reassuring hand on her daughter’s shoulder. 

“Calm down, cher******,” she said gently. “Ze mailbox ’it you on ze ’ead while you were trying to get to ze cyclone cellar. You were just dreaming, AJ.”

The Arquettes’ mailbox sniffed from the timeout chair in the hallway.

“I said I was sorry!” it cried. “Stop bringing it up!”

Twist chose to ignore the mailbox and turned back to her injured friend.

"You were saying some weird things in your sleep, Angel," the scar-cheeked girl said, "Like, 'The Blizzard of Ozzy' and 'follow the green railroad' and stuff like that."

As if on cue, The Blizzard of Ozzy appeared at AJ's bedroom window, banging his head to a tune only he could hear.

Ozzy: "Going off the rails on a crazy train..." 

It was then that The Blizzard noticed everyone staring at him blankly.

"What?" he said awkwardly.

Footnotes

*: Friend

**: Baby

****: When your mind makes you see things that aren't actually there.

*****: "Good morning!"

******: Dear

[libidomechanica]

“To drag you love a world”

A Kelly lune sequence

               Stanza I

Its bounds daily taste. But higher. His reputed Son?

               Stanza II

Shall religious meat is love! To drag you love a world.

               Stanza III

Innocent and mile. For the mounts and healthful Dian’s moon.

               Stanza IV

Came to the Border? They say, women leaves in forbid!

               Stanza V

I fear, flatter, entreat that all away. The father.

               Stanza VI

Diamonds, on her e’e? Thus to ourselves or dead stronger?

               Stanza VII

But who would get. In vain to cross the sport, cannot hear.

               Stanza VIII

Relenting. Stir; and over their state of natures’ Eyes.

               Stanza IX

What view, yet give them over, if only chance. She trips.

               Stanza X

And as she replied. Sage countenance blazed relentine.

               Stanza XI

Where with her liue, ah why liue we so long. Come thither.

               Stanza XII

I could wear the stars would call the bed and, seeming skin.

               Stanza XIII

Dangling was denied. And yet she meantime neglected.

               Stanza XIV

But Pallas and drent, down that ye may be, but, for pay.

               Stanza XV

And the lives against me tempted my youthful Dian’s moon.

               Stanza XVI

And the errant note the day I met wi’ a crater.

               Stanza XVII

Awake! To slacken’d water of lone Eternity.

               Stanza XVIII

With that in woe? A flying spire; and this feasted books.

               Stanza XIX

Among the second more than my knees; her wind revealed.

               Stanza XX

She, fearing crushed bird skulls in order set? Tale, for pay.

               Stanza XXI

An’ it will give me. And but finds not with how white sing.

               Stanza XXII

About a shadow white fish on the koi kiss to thee.

               Stanza XXIII

Resent pay? Madam, with a boy sees clear with a child!

               Stanza XXIV

Everything with death. The curtains over knew her thing.

               Stanza XXV

Feign we no more. My head knocks again and a new pan.

               Stanza XXVI

Warm French bread and of praise, pain, regret— your son, to nurse.

               Stanza XXVII

Up true. Before, instead, the true heart and sighed to phone.

               Stanza XXVIII

Yet Maud’s dark yard More flowers fair moon, and once again.

               Stanza XXIX

Some say, white. No height. He said Ida with Ignorance.

               Stanza XXX

Impatience is such. I lay awake in Florida.

               Stanza XXXI

Sick, am I. I’m happier time the body be.

               Stanza XXXII

Ask me no more the color. You will I walk forlorn.

               Stanza XXXIII

In my love’s art harmony. The stormy winter cave.

               Stanza XXXIV

I—I sought. Than this pond and unteth evil. For it.

               Stanza XXXV

That were the daisies grow. Give me it: I want to stir?

               Stanza XXXVI

Of traitor, too, be off! Sting us to come thither.

               Stanza XXXVII

The hollow hear her slippers warming neuer fayle?

               Stanza XXXVIII

Found, that could behold on. I uncover every noon!

               Stanza XXXIX

Want to sell. This story the tapers clear demonstrains.

               Stanza XL

Watching is extinct. As he did once again sae bonie.

               Stanza XLI

Cool me with Ignorance. All her likes a woman go?

               Stanza XLII

Come, for wanting. With pearl he turtle’s blood and of green.

               Stanza XLIII

Nor Pan with increase reneueth! And ran before thy love.

               Stanza XLIV

You could I die! Came to this body, and please alike.

               Stanza XLV

Death and with you! Even Unbelieving Prince is slight.

               Stanza XLVI

Down thrall, came trips. Flashing from base declining aright.

               Stanza XLVII

Which on her puir Jenny for siller an’ lan’! So dumb.

               Stanza XLVIII

Like to you were dead! Till a’ the spot when shackle me.

               Stanza XLIX

Be such as fancy free. Their narrow to another.

               Stanza L

Violet, she can hear planet, moving that heaven stood.

               Stanza LI

“David, speaking up. And left but love the harbor lie.

               Stanza LII

Of you and from a look their arms, a poison’d gloom wrought!

               Stanza LIII

We dream? From my deeds shall I search there, bright contagious.

               Stanza LIV

Thighs, my Love! And forth a rattling malice bared be.

               Stanza LV

Yet those koi. And scorch with be flee; foole, this is true.

               Stanza LVI

Master to be! That Maud’s dark hour, till heart-honored Maid!

               Stanza LVII

Now had you dispossess peace, whase only heir; and wounds.

               Stanza LVIII

The little more the true in arm: the cracknells and snow?

               Stanza LIX

Her brain—’tis all to- night. Hooves chewing Leander so!

               Stanza LX

The morn about his tyrannous, but for one. For me.

               Stanza LXI

I give it he cannot buy? And other Sestos hight.

               Stanza LXII

Poore hopes best. Sat with encrusted lock and every land?

               Stanza LXIII

Ask me no more: yours that it was a bus. And the mind.

               Stanza LXIV

Circles, and come out there your tongue still the forever.

               Stanza LXV

To sound is sweet society of the darke with men.

               Stanza LXVI

Sad case, still happiest when nature having spelling.

               Stanza LXVII

At fire itself divine! After ever: but in Vain!

               Stanza LXVIII

The lists, and want, because of the whirlwind’s on the caves.

               Stanza LXIX

And this my love lives again, his breasts. With there with love.

               Stanza LXX

Writes or other. Despite its vernal breast the fullnesse?

               Stanza LXXI

Chirping lost for thing. Thy sins but truly heaving mine.

               Stanza LXXII

And this radiance fell? And rough Year just can’t answered court.

               Stanza LXXIII

You whom a hyacinths. After immortal fingers.

               Stanza LXXIV

The boy bringen bitterness. You see thee, fa la la.

               Stanza LXXV

Ratty and I will not? Though my hearth: what use to think?

               Stanza LXXVI

At the sworn another’s body be. The faded cheek.

               Stanza LXXVII

Chewing Leander rude in her eyes began a blind.

               Stanza LXXVIII

Ask me no more: they will lend the world so dear! Or self!

               Stanza LXXIX

Dim and for a kisse. The neck with tann’d antiquity.

               Stanza LXXX

And sees clear blin’s height chained of all people? Much profit!

               Stanza LXXXI

In vain to confers with the stream: I can move thou one.

               Stanza LXXXII

I would know exactly where wings of gulls or shall run.

               Stanza LXXXIII

And like. Deny him sits the World to a girl with love.

               Stanza LXXXIV

The middle of court. For she touching itself to hide.

               Stanza LXXXV

Which limping across her lies. Growing, I sat, but I.

               Stanza LXXXVI

And in her e’e? Though the earth upon the earth now mourned.

               Stanza LXXXVII

Step, I mean my knee. It is no remedy for me.

               Stanza LXXXVIII

Upon thee. They had fix’d thy love lies for a quarter.

               Stanza LXXXIX

Which close as well, make hast many seeing gray. Her tongue.

               Stanza XC

To listening; after us: this brow With Time’s injured.

               Stanza XCI

Or vanishing seen. Is wit, making a cockney ear.

               Stanza XCII

Who is left. And giue; that, shatterer neuer fayle?

               Stanza XCIII

Give me. With fear is in most fairest Cupid’s surface.

               Stanza XCIV

Jerks, I love in lover, it pours shall discovers, down!

               Stanza XCV

Your progress falter too. The Powers to praise, whither.

               Stanza XCVI

Tolled by this broad-leaves among. And scarlet bright contain!

               Stanza XCVII

Settled as bird, brooding. Can hardly is disamed.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

11 and blupjeans? :3

I think I only know like, 2 songs on here, and this is one of them, and Hadestown blupjeans is so <3 <3 <3 lol

from this prompt list!!

Barry clutches his suitcase close to him and hustles down the escalator much to the chagrin of the other people standing nicely off to the right, holding the handrail, and otherwise following all kinds of escalator protocol. He usually has no qualms with waiting patiently but this escalator is comically long and he’s in a hurry.

He glances at his wrist and shakes his head because of course he isn’t wearing a watch, he hasn’t worn a watch since his prized Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles digital watch that played the theme song every hour on the hour got lost in the community pool when he was fifteen. That watch isn’t there to help him but the all too familiar metallic hissing and clanging of the metro elucidates a rough approximation of the time.

He slides the suitcase under the turnstile while launching himself over it, ignoring the stern shouts from the security guard. It takes him an extra moment pick the suitcase off the slippery tiles but then he’s off again taking another escalator steps two at a time only to find his way blocked by a tourist family taking up both sides of the escalator. He anxiously peers over the railing to see the blue line, his blue line slowly chugging away like a sluggish caterpillar of an unnatural size. He looks up at the board only to confirm what he already knows; the next southbound blue line train won’t be coming for another forty minutes due to construction. By that time, his flight will already be leaving without him. He sets his suitcase down in defeat and slumps down to sit upon its worn leather shell. He knows it’s going to be a whole extra day before he gets to see Lup; their time together is always so fleeting as it is with both of them working and going to school full time. This long weekend was supposed to be three uninterrupted days of takeout and not leaving Lup’s apartment.

Of course he had to put in a little overtime at the library today; he’s just such a good worker and never complains! At least that’s what the older women who supervise him say.

He sits and wallows for a few minutes before standing up and going to the mostly empty bank of payphones. He fishes some change out of his pocket and holds the receiver in his hand. He takes a breath before feeding the coins into the slot and dialing Lup’s number. He holds the silvery cord as a kind of lifeline.

“Hello?”

“Lup, hey.”

“Barry! Hey,” A pause. Certainly she’s checking the clocks that hang over her kitchen sink; the blue one on the end set to Barry’s time zone. “Are you at the airport?”

“Marjorie asked me to work a little longer today.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m at the metro station right now.”

“Babe, your flight leaves in an hour.” She knows his metro stop is about thirty minutes from the airport. She knows just how tight a time crunch this would be.

“And the next train doesn’t come for another forty minutes.”

A quiet sigh like she’s blowing out a birthday candle for a pillbug. “So you’re going to miss that  flight.”

“I think so.” It’s non-committal. It’s overly hopeful. But he doesn’t want to just dash her hopes.

An extended pause. The only thing that lets Barry know she’s still on the line is Lup’s obnoxiously loud coffeemaker on what is certainly the second pot of the day; probably second of a few, no thanks to Barry. “I’m gonna see what I can do.”

An involuntary laugh escapes his lips; not one dusted in malice but simply steeped in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know a pilot who owes me a favor,” Lup says, her voice muffled in a way that makes Barry certain that there’s a pencil clenched between her teeth while she flips through her bloated and worn address book. “It might be tight but I think there might be a way that I can have your ass in my apartment before tomorrow afternoon.”

Too quickly Barry’s heart is soaring like a hubris-filled teen with waxen wings. “Really?” he breathes.

“I think so. It might be pretty late tonight.”

“How late?”

She makes a noise of displeasure. “2? Maybe 3?”

“Wait for me?”

“I will,” she says warmly. “We can have a big feast and go to bed with our stomachs hurting.”

“As long as I’m with you, nothing sounds better.”

“Call me back in about thirty minutes with what you want from Taste of Thai and I’ll hopefully have an itinerary for you.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you.”

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[strawberryspence]

📖 100 the cult episode after the reader (or my name is Nyssa if you wanna use it) watched the compound blow up and she never told Spencer she’s loved him since the first time she listened to him ramble about something

📖 - Thank you for this! I just did another cult thing for you, so I am changing this one. Its still the cult episode but Spencer becomes unconscious when Cyrus hits him. I hope you still enjoy it. 💛

Prompts used: 100. How the hell do you look so good even when you're crying?

Word Count: 927

gif is not mine. gif link.

"Some of these turtles look really old." You say looking over the aquariums as you walk out of the crime scene.

"That's because they've been around for a looong time." Spencer smiles before starting his whole spew, "There's a reason why turtles look a little prehistoric. The first ever specimens evolved around 260 million years ago in the late-Triassic period. Luckily for the turtles, their burrowing and water-dwelling habits set them up for long-term survi—" Spencer bites on his tongue when Derek gives him a look. He can't help but feel frustrated, now you probably found him annoying and talkative.

Spencer mumbles a sorry before rushing to the drivers seat, but you catch up to him, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hey, when we get back to station, can you finish the talk about turtles? I want to know more." Spencer stops on his tracks as he scans your face for malice, but it was only innocent curiosity.

"Hmm. Sure. I'll even make you coffee." He answers, a smile growing in his face making your heart pound in your chest. That was the moment the nerdy, adorable genius took your heart into his.

-

"Y/L/N!" You jolt out of the thought as smoke engulfs your view again. Derek carries Spencer's lifeless body of out of the church and you can feel your soul leaving your body.

Spencer is dead. The love of your life was dead. Tik, tok, the time is up. Your stomach churns and turns and you feel the blood in your head rush some place else.

Derek can see the way your face pales as Hotch and Rossi helps him carry Reid, "He's fine, he's alive. Cyrus hit him pretty hard in the stomach, I think he knocked him out." You sigh in relief, as you watch Spencer's body gets put on a gurney and into an ambulance.

"Do you want to go with him?" Hotch asks, in the softest voice you've ever heard from him, knowing how much you were worried of Spencer.

"Can I? Please?" He nods as he helps you ride the ambulance, "We'll meet you there." You nod at him as the ambulance doors close.

Not once did you let go of his hand, only holding it tight as the EMS worker works around you to plug him into machines. His stomach was swollen and he needed some stitches on the head from the hit Cyrus gave him.

"I assure you, he's going to be fine. The doctors are going to do a few tests just to make sure that there is no internal bleeding." The EMS worker assures you as he sees your crest fallen face and you push a small smile and a thank you for the kind worker.

-

"Everything's okay. The tests are okay. No internal bleeding and he's free to fly tomorrow morning." The doctor smiles before bidding goodbye to you and Derek.

"Hey, kid. You okay?" You nod, but never lifting your eyes from the sleeping Spencer.

"Okay, I'll be back in a moment to get you something to drink." Derek pats you in the back and can only smile as he sees your hands tighten on Spencer's.

He closes the door behind him and as soon as it closes the tears that has been threatening to burst from your chest just flows from your eyes. You fold your arms so you can shove your face into it to make less noise.

"God, I could have lost you. I could have lost you. I cannot... I cannot imagine a world without you. I can't even think of a tomorrow where you're not in it. I thought... I thought our time was up." You sob, your breathing starting to become uneven.

"I am in love with you, you idiot. Ever since the damn turtle facts." You sniffle as you tighten your hold unto his hand, as if he'll run away or just disappear from your grip.

"I am in love with you too, Shelly." You immediately raise your head, eyes widening when your met with Spencer's toothy grin.

Shelly. Shelly was the nickname he choose for you when you won't stop asking for turtle facts.

"You are?" You sniffle as you inch your chair closer to him.

"I am. Ever since the damn turtle facts." He says, smiling as he reaches for your face, brushing the tears running down your cheeks, "How the hell do you look so good even when you're crying?"

"How are you feeling?" You ask, changing the topic, "With you here? Better." Spencer answers, giving your hand a kiss.

You laugh as he reaches over for you, "Can you give me a hug?" He asks in a small voice and you immediately get up from your chair to give him a hug. He also sits up from the bed, wincing a little, but even that doesn't stop him from pulling you into a hug.

"All the time I was in there, I just kept on thinking that I need to get out alive because I still need know what if felt like to hold you like this." Spencer's hold on your waist tightens and his head sat on your shoulder.

"Does it live up to your expectations?"

"Better than expectations."

No one really knows how long the two of you stayed like that because no one dared to interrupt. Not when Derek was guarding the door with his life to make sure no one interrupts, so that he can give the two of you all the time the world can offer.

-

[cocoswriting]

lee wilbur, ler techno? maybe smth where wilbur’s being chaotic so techno takes him down a peg? you dont have to tho— /gen

Chaotic Mf

Summary; Basically what the ask says; Wilbur was being chaotic/creepy and needed to be taken down a peg. [PLATONIC. DO NOT TAG AS SHIP.]

Warning(s); This is a tickle fic! If you don’t like that kind of stuff, then I recommend you just scroll past.

“You put ecosystems in jars?..”

“Yeah,” Wilbur responded casually, laying upside-down on the couch opposite Techno. He had his legs curled over the back of the couch and his head was dangling off the edge—it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to shift positions yet. Wilbur seemed to have a strange habit of never sitting correctly when he was in one of his “chaotic” moods, always finding some weird way to rest instead. “I go out and collect mud, rocks, soil, and I put them inside the jar.” he explained, and Techno scrunched up his face both in confusion and mild disgust.

“And... this is a normal thing?” Techno asked disbelievingly, flipping a page in the book he had in his hands, though it wasn’t as if he was paying much attention to the text anymore. Wilbur nodded happily from across the room, grinning as he opened his mouth to continue explaining, only to get cut off by Techno. “Wil, I don’t really care. I’m tryn’ to read right now.”

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting in fake dismay and staring at Techno almost expectantly, even though the piglin was very clearly no longer looking at him. “Well, you should care,” the brunet replied with a sassy tone of voice, sounding akin to an annoyed child. “I swear I’m not the only one who does this! Ranboo does it too, or at least he did...”

“Ranboo did that—?... No, Wilbur, really, just talk about literally anythin’ else. I do not care about your jar ecosystems,” Techno was already used to dealing with Wilbur’s chaotic moods. They’d come in at random times, last a couple hours, and then eventually he’d lose all the excess energy he had and go back to “normal.” So it wasn’t as if he actually expected Wil to stop when he was told to—Techno knew he wouldn’t—but he figured he might as well try to change the topic that Wilbur would ramble on about. Honestly, Techno just wanted to read his book. “Can’t you bother someone else? It isn’t that late, Phil and Tommy are still up.”

Wilbur let out a loud, dramatic sigh followed by a shake of his head and a couple tutting sounds. “You’re no fun,” his tone was playful, indicative of the grin that was on his face, despite his words suggesting otherwise. “But fine! I’ll talk about something else.” Wilbur rolled himself over on the couch, sitting upright and then standing up to make his way over to the man sitting across from him. Techno tore his eyes away from the book and glanced up when he realised Wilbur had approached, raising an eyebrow and glaring half-heartedly at the musician.

“What?” Techno’s voice sounded tired, more tired than usual, but bore no real malice as he impatiently awaited Wilbur’s response.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

“Oh my god,” Techno looked down and rubbed his temples, dropping the book beside him and running one of his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. He heard Wilbur’s shrill laugh at his reaction, which was shortly followed by the sound of shuffling as he sat down next to the piglin and crossed his legs, seemingly prepping himself to start telling whatever story he wanted to tell Techno about. “Please.”

“I already told Phil about this one,” Wilbur began, biting back another laugh at Techno’s long sigh which came straight after. “So, there are these things called ‘weeping angels—!” Wil was quickly cut off by a rough jab to his side. He managed to force back any verbal reactions he might have given to the sudden electric tingly feeling that spread all throughout his side, but he couldn’t conceal the very obvious flinch and curling of his lips.

“You good?” Techno asked, having removed his hands from his face to shoot his brother a concerned glance. Wilbur felt heat rush to his face, but he couldn’t tell whether he’d paled, or gone red. “Did you...” He shifted closer to the brunet, cocking his head to one side. “You flinched,” The elder stated quite obviously, expression a mixture of curiosity and interest.

“You caught me off-guard,” Wilbur quickly stammered out, a sheepish half-smile spreading over his face. Techno frowned—and it was clear from just that gesture that he wasn’t buying it.

Techno placed one hand on his side and left it there, unmoving. Wilbur didn’t flinch that time, but he wanted to, his flustered state having raised his hypersensitivity to the point where he wanted to squirm even just imagining that Techno might find out. “I was just tryin’ to shut you up, you needa’ tell me what happened or I’ll assume that you’re hurt,” Techno said, beginning to slowly rub two(2) fingers in small circles on Wilbur’s side. The last part of his sentence came off as more of a threat to his brother—he didn’t want to worry Techno, but at the same time, getting found out like this would be so embarrassing.

“I-I’m not—“ Wilbur was cut off by a quiet gasp, but not quiet enough for Techno to let slip. One of Techno’s ears twitched at the sound and he made a gruff huffing noise, now reaching down to tug up the hem of his brother’s sweater, exposing the bottom half of his side. “Hey, I’m not hurt, okAY—!” Techno, being the oblivious bastard he was, began to rub gentle circles on Wilbur’s bare side, which elicited a comical noise sounding like a mix between a squeal and a yelp from the man. As Wil managed to squirm away from the tingles, butterflies erupted in his belly when he thought; there’s no getting out of this now.

Silence filled the room for a couple seconds, the gears turning in Techno’s head before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help the smug expression that formed on his face when he realised what Wilbur had been trying to hide. “You’re ticklish,” he emphasised the ‘T-word’, causing Wilbur’s face to heat up even more, and the fact that Techno’s hand still remained hovering just ever-so-slightly above his side, was not helping. “How come I didn’t know this before? You keepin’ secrets from me, hm?” Techno shoved both of his hands up Wilbur’s shirt and gently ran his nails up and down his skin, eliciting a few snickers along with squeaks and he tried to muffle his giggles.

Wilbur frantically shook his head ‘no’ and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and (thankfully) hiding his bright pink cheeks. Tingles and shockwaves of tickly sensations shot up his sides, the feeling only increasing the longer Techno’s fingers lingered in the same spot. “Well— you’re definitely much quieter now,” Techno remarked, and Wilbur opened his mouth to give a sassy response, only for a loud squeak to come out instead as the gliding nails began to gently scratch at each side of his back. He arched forward but shifted backwards, resting his back against the armrest and laying down. Wil had hoped this would quell the sensations at least a little, but it only made them worse, the little scratches becoming rougher as Techno’s fingers got trapped. “This seems like a good way to take you down a peg whenever you’re in one of your ‘chaotic’ moods.”

“N-no—hohahahaa!” As Techno moved his hands up to Wilbur’s ribs, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. High-pitched giggles flooded from Wilbur’s lips as he wriggled and squirmed, throwing his head back as his hands switched between trying to protect the targeted spots and trying to push Techno away. It wasn’t exactly working out for him, and eventually he just curled up, hoping to drown out the tickles somehow. It only got worse once he felt Techno begin to drill his thumbs into the spaces between each of the bones. “NOHO! DOHohon’t dohoho thahahat, plehehehahase!”

As Techno gazed down at the giggling boy, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt at the sight of his bright, carefree smile. “Why not?~” His tone of voice was still deadpan, but it had a sing-songy edge to it this time. If Wilbur had the guts to muster up insults at the time, he would’ve called him every name in the book just as revenge for the horrible teases. “Does it tickle too much? Surely you can’t be that ticklish, right?~” Every time the T-word was mentioned Wilbur felt the pit in his stomach fill with more butterflies, and his blush began to slowly spread out to his neck and ears. “It’s your own fault for bein’ annoyin’.”

“Ihihihi wahahasn’t beheheing ahahannoying!” Wilbur insisted, his giggles slowly increasing as Techno’s fingers danced their way up his ribs, heading for his armpits. But before they could reach the spot, he instinctively slammed his arms down to protect himself, blocking the offending hands just in time. It seemed that Techno took this defensive action as provoking, because his immediate response to that was to sigh disappointedly and start skittering around Wil’s neck and shoulders, causing him to scrunch up like a turtle and begin to wriggle side-to-side in a weak attempt at escaping the tickles. “Nohohoho! Fuhuhuahahack ohohoff— yohohou’re sohoho mehehehehahan!”

“Mean? This isn’t mean,” Wilbur could hardly make out Techno’s words anymore, considering he was much more focused on the shocks of tickles and his own embarrassment. But once he heard those words leave his brother’s lips, he couldn’t help but start squirming even harder on top of squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t process what the words meant in his state—but he’s heard that tone before. And that tone means ‘you fucked up’. “You wanna see mean?” Techno asked rhetorically and Wilbur began frantically shaking his head, letting out giggly little “nononono”s as he tensed, prepping himself for the inevitable attack that would come next.

“AAAHAA!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt Techno’s lips make contact with his tummy, quickly followed by an explosion of tickles as he blew a raspberry, shaking his head during it to make it even worse. Wil bucked, cackled and squealed, only for his hips to get held down and mercilessly drilled into by two(2) of Techno’s fingers. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire, and he felt everything—every last pinch to his hips, every raspberry that was blown, and it was almost too much for him to handle. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. “NAHAHAHAAA! TEHEHEHAHAHAHA—!”

Even after Techno ceased the raspberries, he still seemed fully intent on being as merciless as possible. He continued to drill right into the dip of Wilbur’s hipbone, using his other hand to rapidly squeeze his tummy, never letting up and never slowing down. Wilbur had completely given up on trying to fight back, his arms were too tired for that now and he knew it was no use, so instead he began using his hands to cover his bright pink face with. “Oh, poor Wilbur,” Techno began, a very obviously feigned sympathetic tone in his voice. “Being tickled is just such a hard job.”

“SHUHUAHAHAT UHUHUHUP!” Wilbur forced out through his hysterics, helplessly rolling his torso back and forth, attempting to focus his attention on literally anything else other than the tickles he was receiving. He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it—it was unbearable and maddening, he felt like he was being driven up a wall, but at the same time he had to admit that he was having fun. He was soaking up all the attention like a sponge. It didn’t take much longer before his laughter became wheezy and strained, though, and he’d decided he had enough. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! STOHOHAHAHAHAP, THAHAHAHAT’S ENOHOHOHOUGH—!”

Techno listened straight away, ceasing the tickles and backing away as Wilbur curled in on himself, hugging his midsection while trying to rid of the after-tingles that still remained. “You alright?.. was it too much?” Techno asked, reaching over to deliver a couple, comforting pats to Wilbur’s head. He would’ve leaned away if it weren’t for how exhausted he was from all his laughter. “...sorry,”

“N-noho, noho... it,” Wilbur knew he should be careful with his choice of words there. He didn’t want to give away how much he’d actually enjoyed himself, but at the same time, he was well aware he’d likely given that fact away while being tickled. He supposed there was no point in lying—especially if it would risk making Techno worry over nothing. “...wahas nice.”

There was no response for a couple seconds, but then the silence was interrupted by a snort coming from Techno, and Wilbur instantly knew what he would have found amusing. But as Techno gently ran his fingers through his hair, practically soothing Wilbur to sleep, he found he didn’t care as much as he did before.

They should do this again sometime.

[jordisstigander]

Last year my father and I spotted a massive snapping turtle crossing the road at the entrance to our neighborhood. Now, usually I keep well clear of snapping turtles as they are avatars of malice with jaws that will take your fingers clean off, but that street is busy enough that she would be in danger if we left her.

So dad and I grabbed large branches and shoved her across the road as she proceed to bite chunks out of branches thicker than my wrists. No gratitude whatsoever. That reptile would fight God if he was in her way.

Chances are she was wandering around to look for a place to lay eggs, so when a hurricane struck a few weeks later I was worried that her nest might be destroyed.

However, it seems I worried for naught, because today I spotted a juvenile snapping turtle in the ditch! Sharp jaw, long tail, heart full of hate, just like his mama. So happy to see him.

[whatgaviiformes]

Firefly’s Glow - Part 1/?

For @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment and because I am desperate to post something to get my groove going again.

 📦 trapped in a box requested by Janetm74 / How about ⏳ - time’s running out and 📦 - trapped in a box with some Scott&Gordon? – requested by Tsarinatorment

A/N: Author’s Note - Okay, first I hope it’s ok that I combined these asks. Second, I know this is strange. End notes included to explain. Also, I have and by extension Gordon has a potty mouth. I promise I edited most of them out. 

*****

Less than a minute.

Gordon could work miracles in less than a minute. In 51.2 seconds, he went from Gordon Tracy, son of the late Jefferson Tracy, to Gordon Tracy, Olympic Gold Medalist representing the United States of America. He’d let the muscular pull, push, recovery rhythm of the butterfly stroke propel him past world records.

But of course he never really had to think about how to move through water.

Focus.

He had shackles to pick.

“You’re running out of time, Gordon Tracy.”

Damn it all.

Now the Hood was just being rude. It was Virgil’s face and voice that taunted him– though it really wasn’t his voice because Virgil could never speak to Gordon with a tone so laced with malice. Ire, sure. Hatred and malevolence, no way in hell.

Gordon would tear the Hood apart for stealing his brother’s voice, starting with a solid right hook in his snickering mug once he got out this.

Arms crossed, the Hood had a timer in one hand and an unrecognizable gun in the other. Though Gordon knew guns, he couldn’t recognize this one from the quick glance he’d spared. He’d had no time to look.

35 seconds.

He could do this. In that amount of time he’d saved an electrified Thunderbird 2 from a free fall by redocking his pod in the plummeting behemoth and connecting their computer systems to regain control. He hadn’t needed time to think, just react – his brother’s life was dependent on Thunderbird 2’s survival.

His brother whose voice was stolen by a madman.

“My, my, didn’t my niece teach you better than that?”

Leave Kayo out of this, you stupid, greedy, motherf - His survival thus far had been a little bit Kayo, a little bit Parker, and a whole lot of Brains. Parker for the lock picking knowledge, Kayo for the speed and survival tactics, Brains for the lock pick built into the bottom of his boots.

And sure, maybe a little bit of his own survival training helped.

A minute to remove the shackles in exchange for freedom. 60 seconds. Gordon could save lives in 60 seconds. He can, and will, save his own.

15 seconds left.

“Tick tock.”

His hands fumbled with the small pick between his fingers and the awkward angle of a lock he couldn’t even see, only feel.

8

7

6

Click!

The shackles came free and fell to the ground with a clatter. Gordon panted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Very good. Perhaps, you have some worth to me after all.”

“But-”

“Oh, I was never going to let you go, Gordon Tracy. But thank you for the…” Virgil-that’s-not-really-Virgil waved a hand towards Gordon’s shoes. “Demonstration.”

Rage welled up inside him.

It was Virgil’s face, sure, but Gordon had punched Virgil before. Hell, Virgil had punched him before. And the man in front of him wasn’t really Virgil anyway. So, Gordon launched himself at the Hood, preparing to attack.

In his anger, he’d forgotten about the gun. He wouldn’t have entered a gunfight with his fists if he remembered. Taking out your opponent 101.  His WASP superior officers would have been sorely disappointed in him.

Sans his standard yellow baldric (because the Hood had taken that from him too), Gordon gasped at the sudden impact that hit his chest. Even though the projectile’s force wasn’t enough to drive him back, the gun, intended for mid-range, packed a hell of a punch, and there was a terrifying moment when Gordon looked down at his body and expected to see blood. Instead, the dart protruding from his left pectoral carried a blue liquid, an injection of something. He didn’t know what, and somehow, that thought was even less comforting.

The swift lethargy that flowed through his muscles slowed him as the drug hit.

Gordon crumpled to the dirty cement floor as Virgil cackled in his ear, and all went black.

*****

Gordon’s love of the sea came first from the fact that the sea was so different from the plains of Kansas, secondly that it was a part of the Earth itself he loved so much. and thirdly – and most importantly– because the first time he stepped into the rushing waves of the ocean it had been like finally learning to breathe.

Gordon had learned to appreciate all of Earth’s life at a young age. He was never a rescue scout like Scott, as there was a bit too much focus on badgework for his tastes, but his youth was spent making mud pies, watching bird’s nests, and observing caterpillar chrysalises all the same.

The summer Gordon was six, Scotty had taken him out to the barn late at night and showed him how to make a lantern of fireflies. Their adventure pack (really Scott’s school bag, repurposed) held a flashlight, mason jars, a couple pieces of mesh to put overtop the glass, and two bug nets.  

No brothers were allowed – this was for him and Scotty only.

He’d abandoned the bug net for his hands pretty quickly, and within a few minutes, he’d managed to catch five or so for his lightning bug lantern. Of course, Scott had managed to catch more because he was older and also because he’d shared this memory with all his brothers and this was only Gordon’s first time.

It had been so pretty, the fireflies dancing in the mason jar, their lights slowly dimming and brightening in a mellow cadence that soothed his soul. But then, he realized their little bodies, which were used to flying around in the expanse of the sky, were suddenly confined to the glass container of the jar. And he saw not beauty but pain.  

It was a lovely, bittersweet memory he kept close to his heart because it represented a key moment of his youth: first growing up with Scott as an older brother and also the first time he’d felt a creature’s cry reach him. It was the same wail he felt when he read about oil spills off the coast of Alaska and illegal fishing nets that should not still be in use, and, god, the absolute trash humanity left in the oceans for poor sea turtles to choke over.

Scott hadn’t understood where the tears came from suddenly, but Gordon remembered his brother kneeling in front of him so their eyesight was level, and he recalled him asking what happened and what Gordon needed, completely uncaring that his jeans were getting dirty in the fertilized soil.  And the best thing about Scott was that he was the type of older brother that didn’t laugh or ignore him when Gordon said “they want out” through blubbering tears. He just helped Gordon release their fireflies back into the night, and instead they spent their evening counting their happy flickering until the numbers lulled Gordon to sleep.

The memory faded; the fireflies behind his eyes converged to a fragment on the other side of his lids, and a piercing white struck his brain with each blink as he awoke.

His feet were cold. The Hood had stolen his boots. Of freaking course. His next realization was that the rest of him was not as cold as his feet. In fact, that light coming in through the window was making his face and neck feel quite flushed.

It was the light that told him he was somewhere new. Previously the Hood had kept him locked in the darkness in his cell.

He groaned, shifting to sit up and look around his new abode, which was compact and with no angles to define the walls. But it was all glass, and so the window he thought was present was actually the room itself. And the floor he realized, feeling the material against the pads of his feet as he stood, was also glass.

His investigation was short lived, and Gordon hissed as the attempt to put weight on his left foot shot a laser of pain up through his ankle.

God, the Hood must have really thrown him in here, he thought.

He looked up.

No, not thrown. Dropped.

The ceiling of the room was not a ceiling at all, but the top of a bottle where the glass curved inward and then continued upward.

It was not quite what he imagined…. being the test subject of a madman. Maybe a tube or a cage or the cell where he was before would make sense, but a human-sized glass bottle?  He felt like one of the fireflies he was just dreaming of, and of course, the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and his brother’s face.

As Gordon squinted to peer past the glass, the light that had been penetrating his new home suddenly darkened with a singular brown eye filling the expanse of the vessel, disorienting the shape so that the pupil was huge and the iris round, and the rest was…well, still huge just not as much so.

Fire raced through his ankle as he backed up two steps, stumbling into the back of the bottle.

“Gordon?” The eye said in a deep rumble.

The hell? He knew that voice.

“Fuse?”

“Shit, man, you’re tiny.”

His instinct was to look at his hands, but of course, they were the same from his perspective, though perhaps a bit grimier than they were before he was captured, tossed in a cell, and then forced to pick his way out of his shackles for no reason other than the Hood’s demented sense of pleasure.

The eye was then replaced with Fuse’s hand as he picked up the bottle to clasp it by the neck and pull it off of what was clearly a high shelf, with Gordon still inside.

Everything was not okay.

He was not okay.

It was never a human-sized bottle, and as his world shifted with Fuse raising the glass, Gordon realized he was lucky if he was half a foot tall.

END PART 1

End note:  In effort to think outside the box for in a box my brain went straight to pocket!Gordon, so I went angsty Arrietty/the Borrowers vibes. There’s a more literal box planned later, I promise, and more Scott as requested. But for now, hope this helps do the job. Also don’t skip over the first part, POCKET!GORDON. 😊

Part 2

[remmushound]

Damage, part 5; the Hogosha

@errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Splinter did his best. Ever since that night he had first gotten the boys, he tried his to do right by them. To feed them. To teach them. To encourage them. To make them happy. He always made an effort to go out of his way for their wants and needs, because that’s what a father does. He made an effort to make them laugh and ask how they were doing. To touch them and to kiss them and to love them and make them know they were loved. It was times like this that made it so difficult.

He didn't care about his own wounds. The pain was nothing compared to the pride he felt for his sons. Raphael, for tossing himself on top of Donatello and protecting the younger shinobi with everything he had. Leonardo for fighting with all he had to protect Michelangelo. Michelangelo for being so strong and so willing and eager to recover. And Donatello, for dragging each and every one of them from their deathbeds and giving them a second chance at life.

The old mutant slowed as he passed by Michelangelo’s room. Drawn on by the sound of voices, the shinobi father couldn’t help but press his ear to the door to listen.

“... telling you, it’ll work!” Leonardo’s voice was heard above all, “Trust me, Raph will love it!”

“A suggestion if I may?”

Donatello’s voice came as a surprise to Splinter and drew the old rat even further into the conversation. Donatello didn't wait for an answer.

“We’re talking about Raph, right? Our Raph? The Raph that regularly busts through walls and ears glass? That Raph?”

“Yep! That’s the one!” Michelangelo’s voice chirped.

“Then foam and cloth just isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Well what do you suggest, big brain?” Leonardo asked.

“Well there have been significant successes with 3D printing bones for transplant, and even an example of a turtle shell being printed successfully! Maybe we do that? Except with the section of shell Raph is missing.”

“Oh oh oh!” Michelangelo chirped his normal ‘I have a question’ noise.

“Yes Michael?”

“Maybe we do both! You do your printy-thing and then we put some foam over it to make it more comfortable and then we add the cloth!”

Donatello hummed. “Hm. Sounds doable. Though we may have to build a framework out of wire to support the foam so it doesn’t shift too much and cause irritation. And several layers of cloth so we can secure it properly to the framework—“

“Yeah yeah yeah, less talky more doey!”

“Hey! Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take?! I can’t do it snappy-snappy!”

“Why not?!”

It made Splinter’s heart soar to hear the bickering of his sons carrying on in the other room. They sounded happy, and most importantly they were awake, and together. He wiped his beady eyes as he walked away, tail swishing his euphoria as the newfound hope made this day one of the best in months.

When night came, Splinter didn't need alarms or clocks or the chore chart to tell him what to do. He just did what fathers do, like he always had. He knocked on Raphael’s door before entering.

“Oh! Hey pops!” Raphael’s tail wagged at the sight of his father. He was sat at his vanity looking at himself in the mirror like he often did.

“Hello Raphael.” Splinter’s wrinkled face split in a smile as he walked over to Raphael, tisking his tongue along the way as his tail swept through trash and collected it. “Really, Raphael? Four water bottles? You’re turning your room into a pigsty!”

“Goodnight to you too, pops.” Raphael laughed, closing his eye as Splinter heaved himself up the snapping turtle’s arm to kiss him on the cheek.

“Honestly, I don’t think you need this old thing anymore.” Splinter mused as he helped Raphael untie his shell cover and folded it on the nightstand.

“Donnie’s orders.” Raphael laughed.

“Well I say you’re perfectly healed.” Splinter eyed the scars curiously, “And if anything, the scars make you look badass.”

Raphael’s shoulders shook as he bellowed. “Thanks dad.”

Splinter smiled and nosed playfully against his son's cheek a moment before giving the mutant a gentle tap with his tail.

“Now scoot! It’s bedtime!”

“Dad, I’m almost sixteen.” Raphael said, “I think I can choose my own bedtime now.”

Splinter raised his brow.

Raphael started to sweat almost immediately. “Uh— I mean— yes. Right. Bed time.”

“Good boy.” Splinter pat Raphael’s shoulder as the snapper lurched over to his bed. “Remember: I didn't put the fear of God in you, I put the fear of rat!”

Raphael climbed into bed and churred happily as Splinter came over to tuck him in and give him his teddy bear.

“There we are… Good night, little Red.”

*****

“Oh Baby Blue~” Splinter poked his nose into Leonardo’s room, “I’m respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your father by coming in anyway!”

Splinter blinked as he saw the state of his son. Leonardo was on his bed, having tried to remove his day clothes by himself and failed miserably. Somehow, he had managed to get his head stuck in the arm hole and his arm locked at an odd angle in the head hole, his trousers hanging half-off.

“Help me.”

Splinter couldn’t hide his laughter as he helped his son undress the rest of the way and assisted in helping him put on his pajamas.

“There we are, silly boy.” Splinter rubbed Leonardo’s head before putting the turtles nightcap on. “Now, I know you like magic, but you’re not quite Houdini status yet.”

Leonardo snapped. “Darn! I’ll get there one day!”

Splinter hummed his agreement and used his tail to open Leonardo’s bedside drawer and pull out a soft, blue sleeve. He gently slid it over Leonardo’s wounded arm and secured it before giving the nub a kiss, and then kissing Leonardo on the head.

“Thanks dad.”

“Anything for my little one.”

****

“Orange~ why, would you look at that?”

Michelangelo was already snug in his bed, dressed in his sleeping onesie and clutching a story book with a bright smile on his face.

“Someone was ready for me.” Splinter pulled himself onto the bed and took the book from Michelangelo, clearing his throat as he started to read. “In a warm and sultry forest far far away, there lived a mother fruit bat and her new baby. Oh, how Mother Bat loved her soft, tiny baby. “I’ll name you Stellaluna.” she crooned…”

By the end of the story, Michelangelo was snoring softly. Splinter carefully crept from the bed and slid the book back into its place before giving Michelangelo a kiss on the head.

“Love you, my son. Sweet dreams…”

****

Splinter always left Donatello last. Not out of malice, of course! Donatello just needed the most comfort, the most time! And it wouldn’t be fair to make the other brothers wait so long for their fathers affection. But now the rest of his sons were tucked safely away, Splinter crept into the softshell’s room with a gentle knock.

“Donatello? Purple?”

Donatello was laying in his bed with his back turned to the door. Splinter hummed and quickly approached the bed, laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

“I hope you didn't think I forgot about you.”

“No.” Donatello’s voice was soft and somber.

Splinter cleared his throat and shifted himself onto the bed, pulling the blanket over Donatello’s head and starting to hum softly as he traced his paws across his son’s arm and shell bridge in a comforting manner, like he always did when they were turtle tots.

“Mori mo iyagaru, Bon kara saki-nya. Yuki mo chiratsuki-shi. Ko mo naku-shi…”

Donatello grabbed Splinter’s hand and held it while he started to hum along to the lullaby.

“Bon ga kita-tote, nani ureshi-karo… Katabira wa nashi, obi wa nashi…”

Splinter sang the lullaby to its entirety and, though Donatello was still awake by the end of it, neither father nor son made any attempt to leave or interrupt the comfort of each other's presence. They both fell asleep together.

****

“Keep your eyes closed! Keep 'em closed! Closed closed closed closed closed!”

“They’re closed, Mike!” Raphael bellowed his laughter at the eager young mutant that covered both Raphael’s eyes while sitting on his shoulders. “What’s the surprise!”

“Wait for it! Wait for it!”

“The suspense is killing me!”

“NOW!”

Michelangelo pulled his hands away with a happy squeak and Raphael opened his eyes. Raphael blinked a few times to get used to the light again before he processed what was in front of him. Leonardo and Donatello, both smiling as they held a large something between them.

The prosthetic piece was an impossibly bright red color, the cloth some of the most vibrant Raphael had ever seen! There were several ridges on it and Raphael’s eyes widened when he recognized the shapes from his shell. He looked back at his shell, then to the prosthetic, then back at his shell.

“Tadaaa~” Michelangelo jumped from Raphael’s shell, landing with a loud grunt, and did jazz hands.

“It’s made of reinforced acrylic— it’s not as strong as your actual shell, but strong enough to take a solid hit.” Donatello explained, “I wanted to make it a more natural color, but Nardo here insisted it stay red.”

“What? Red is totally his color!” Leonardo scoffed, “the Kanji was Mikey’s idea— figured Bo-su was most suited to you.”

“And Donnie made sure the measurements were right so it could fit over your shell!” Michelangelo squeaked, “Do you like it?”

Raphael didn't answer. He couldn’t answer, not for an uncomfortably long time. And when he did answer, it wasn’t with words. It was with a loud, whimpering squeal as he scooped all three brothers in for a hug and crushed them against his chest.

“I love it…” Raphael nuzzled each brother in turn, “And I love you all so much…”

[obx-snippets]

Round Two || JJ Maybank

Summary: After the beer pong game at the boneyard, Y/N has been reluctant to play another game with JJ. But after she plays another round with him at one of Topper’s parties, the date is inevitable.

Pairing: JJ x reader

a/n: So I decided to make a part two from Newton law of beer pong. You can read it below if you haven't already! But I sort of went overboard! Anyway hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your feedback! xxx

Newton’s Law of Beer Pong (Pt. 1)

Masterlist

Word count: 6k (SORRY)

Warnings: underage drinking, cussing? Making out but that's about it.

**^ gif credit to the lovely @ptersparkers ^**

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N's eyes are close to spinning out of her head as she exchanges a glance between Sarah and Kiara. The two polar opposite girls are standing before her, spitting out excuses to hold Y/N back from attending Topper's party tonight. Kook parties are usually jampacked with coke and expensive rum, which is generally topped with a beer pong table. And the Pogues wouldn't be the Pogues if they didn't crash a party in Figure Eight.  

Once Kiara was sober enough to hear Y/N story about JJ making a move on her, she objected to the whole idea of meeting him again. She knew all JJ wanted was a quick hit, and he would only break Kiara's lovely friend's heart. Besides, Y/N was too sweet and calm ever to mix herself with JJ, and she simply thought they weren't a match.

Sarah Cameron, on the other hand, though it would be good for Y/N to open up and try something new. Though the kook princess and Kiara were on unfavorable terms, they decided to link mutually to discuss their friend's decision.

Though Y/N was only gawking up at them from where she sat at the edge of her bed, it almost felt right hanging out with the two girls. Sarah is midway through stating her case while Kie is deflecting every one of her points, trying to get her to understand that JJ would only hurt her. "Um, guys?" Y/N chimes in quietly, raising her dainty finger to catch her two friends' attention. Both girls hear her silent plea and quiet themselves to listen to her opinion, seeing as they haven't let her talk since they arrived. "Maybe I shouldn't go to the party. I'm not really feeling it anyway."

Kiara shook her head, frantically, "No, no, it's totally fine if you go. I'm just saying that you avoid the beer pong table at all costs."

Sarah crossed her arms with a pout touching her rose-tinted lips. "Then she won't be able to see JJ," she sassed, rolling her eyes.

"Uh, that's my point." Kira rebooted sarcastically, mimicking Sarah's tone.

"Well, I don't mind playing him again..." Y/N mutters nonchalantly, suddenly finding a loose thread of her comforter quite fascinating. She misses the look of utter betrail from Kie and the giddy, triumphant smile from Sarah.

Kiara rakes her hand through her dark curls, her fingers getting lost in the knots she formed. "He's playing you, babe, " she whines frustratedly, hating that her point wasn't getting across. Of course, she thought JJ deserved the best after all that he's been through, and Y/N could be the perfect candidate, but she knew the blonde surfer's routine. Then again, JJ has never offered another go at beer pong in exchange for a date. Especially against someone who is likely to beat him.

In Sarah's eyes, realization sparks as she stands straighter, taking in her friend's flustered state at the mere mention of the Maybank boy. "Oh my god," she beams with a sparse squeal, making Kiara cringe and slightly flinch away from her. "do you have--like do you like him or something?"

Y/N's mouth fall's agape, her tongue is twisting in itself, not able to find the right words. She is silent for too long before Kiara's lips oddly turn upward into a smirk. "You didn't say you actually liked him." she giggled, "I thought you were just horny for JJ."

Y/N gasped and shoved Kiara somewhat away from her, the girl barely budging, letting giggles surpass her lips. "Oh, she is totally horny for JJ." Sarah nodded. Y/n turned to her with an exasperated look, and she shrugs with a semi-panicked look on her face that was fighting off a smile.

"I'm not horny for anyone!" Y/N whines, falling back on her soft bed, covering her face with one of her cushions.  

"Damn, even I'm horny for JJ sometimes." Kiara snickered before a cushion went flying toward her face. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" she laughed, tossing the pillow back on time when Y/N sits up to catch the cushion and places it on her lap with a huff.

The girl was clearly frustrated, and Sarah softened her teasing smile before kneeling to meet her eyes. "Come on, you can't tell me there's not a small part of you that finds him attractive." she quirked a brow, noticing a tug on the corner of her lips.

"Well yeah, of course, I find him attractive." Y/N shrugs, "You'd have to be mental not to notice him. But saying I like him seems a tad over the top when I've only ever spoken less than a couple words to him.

Kiara placed herself next to Y/N, the bed slightly dipping from her weight. "You don't have to like him." she sighed, the look in her eyes indicating her next words would be regrettable. "You and I both know--actually the whole damn island knows about JJ's body count. He's never settled down, and seeing that you could possibly just be another person on his list bothers me. You're so much more than a quick fuck, and I want JJ to see that. That's why I am allowing you to go through with the beer pong game and go on a date with him."

A snort slipped Y/N's lips, and she tilted her head toward Kiara, raising her brows. "You're allowing me?"

Kiara placed her chipped painted nail upon her friend's lips, quickly shushing her. "Just let me have this moment to feel like I have some authority."

Sarah rolled her eyes, resting her hand upon Y/N thighs before laying her head down to peek up at her friend through her mascaraed eyelashes "Well since you're going on a date, I can't let you go to a party looking like that." she says with a tinge of hope lacing her tone, shaking her head disapprovingly towards her friend's outfit choice. Y/n frowns, looking to Kiara to see her opinion, only to be met with the girl painfully nodding in agreement. She looked down at her outfit, not seeing the problem of always wearing a large t-shirt sported with a tennis skirt. It was comfortable, and she quite honestly didn't see the problem.

Y/N looked up, squinting her eyes in defeat as she watched Sarah's mouth turned up into an ever-growing smile that she could finally dress up her friend who thought fashion was overrated. "I'll agree to the makeover and act like your words didn't hurt just now."

Sarah is quick to her feet and peppers Y/N face with soft kisses while Kiara giggles happily, wrapping her arms around her torso from behind. While their laughs boom around the room, Kiara lies back, pulling Y/N down against her stomach, the girls piled up on top of each other while Sarah continues her kiss attack.

•••

Y/N going to a kook party was a rarity in itself. She was always known to keep count of how much her friends drank, maintaining a perfect tally in her head. Unlike the keggers, the kook parties were more intense. It was usual for teenagers to be enticed with the fanciest alcohol and the finest drugs. But being in the circle of friends that included, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, sellers steered clear from Y/N.  

While the music was bouncing off the walls of Topper's ample living room, Y/n was squeezed between Kelce and Sarah while they looked head at Rafe and Topper on their second line of coke. After seeing the Cameron boy take another swig of his fourth beer, Y/N rolled her eyes ever so slightly, adding another tally to Rafe's list. He was only allowed five, and she wasn't afraid to slap the cup out of his hand if he dared go for a sixth.

As she eyed the crowd trying to find the familiar face of Kiara Carrera under the flashing lights of red and green, she felt Kelce glancing at her in the most obvious way possible. Before her lips could touch the rip of her red solo cup, she turned her gaze to the boy seated next to her; his mouth slightly gaped open. "You okay?" Y/N asked, an amused smile gracing her lips.

Kelce chuckled bubbly in embarrassment that he had been caught shaking his head before sipping his beer. "Nah, nothing. You just look weird." he shrugged. Sarah's keen ear enabled her to catch up on Kelce's comment and jolted her body forward to stab the boy with a malice glare. The boy having realized the look on y/n face as she looks down at Sarah's wardrobe's choice, he quickly trampled over his words. "Wait, no, I mean that in the nicest way possible. You just don't usually dress like that."

While Sarah snapped at Kelce, Y/N leaned back, letting her back rest while the two began roasting each other over the smallest things that wouldn't hurt them in the slightest. As much as she loved the loose, soft material of her brown shorts that Sarah provided, the white short-sleeved turtle neck was suffocating. Sarah was sure to match everything with simple gold jewelry and leather-strapped sandals that let her feet breathe, unlike her usual tennis shoes. But as soon as her lovely blonde friend asked to curl her hair, that's where she denied. Instead, she let a loose ponytail drape over her shoulder, already feeling soft strands breaking free from the black velvet scrunchie.

Letting her head drop back against the couch, a silent groan vibrated in the back of her throat as she pressed her palms against her eyes, making stars flicker behind her eyelids. She was thankful she settled for a bare face tonight with the exception of a tinted moisturizer and cherry chapstick that was resided in her flimsy pocket.  

A harsh flick to the forehead brought the girl to pull her hands away, her sight blurry as she tried to make out the person whose head was hanging over hers. JJ's blonde hair tickled her chin, and his blue eyes piercing into her's made her face go red. "Round two y/l/n?" he quietly questioned, his mint breathe fanning her face, his gum squeezed between his smug smirk. She smelled the lace of weed on his muscle tee, but it was nothing out of the ordinary considering where they were.  

"Sort of busy," Y/n sighed, pushing his face away with her hand before he could notice her flushed expression over the proximity of his face. But JJ had already seen her cheeks tint and was proud of the effect he had on her without even trying. Sitting up, she twisted in her seat to face him again. His fellow pogues didn't surround him, so she assumed that they had dispersed to dive into the free alcohol. Sarah and Kelce were already maneuvering to the other side of the couch, both infatuated in the conversation like hearing the latest gossip. Unlike Rafe and Topper, Kelce never had a problem with JJ, but he did enjoy the rivalry every so often.

"Busy lounging around?" JJ quirked his brow, leaning his arms on the back of the couch, his veins straining.

"It takes some effort. You know us kooks, lazy as hell." she shrugged, her voice laced with chaste sarcasm. Since having more interaction with him at the boneyard, her reticence toward the blonde felt like a fleeting memory.

As JJ tapped his fingers to ponder her words, his lips pursing, Y/N eyes quickly dropped to his rings, admiring how the luminescent party lights glistened off them every so often. "I think you're an exception. Considering you use at least more brain cells than I do, I'll give you some credit and lay off the kook card for tonight."

Y/n slowly peered over her shoulder to see Sarah already nodding furiously and waving her hands to shoo her away. Kelce narrowed his eyes at the interaction, looking between the two girls to wrap his head around what was going on.

"You comin'?"

Y/n hummed in response, her brows pulling into a deep furrow having muffled out any voices as she faced JJ. Her heart began beating against her ears as she registered what he meant. The beer pong game would mean having to go on a date, but she hadn't fully agreed to the rules. Kie's words lingered in the back of her head like a taunting siren. She didn't know what she felt toward JJ besides fighting the urge to kiss the smirk playing on his lips at the moment, seeing her face begin to flush while deep creases formed on her forehead. She didn't want just to be one of JJ's flings or whatever he liked to call them. Maybe it would be a date and nothing more. It didn't necessarily mean anything would happen. As long as she doesn't let him make a move, everything would be fine.

At least that's what she hoped.

Too deep in her rambling thoughts, Y/n didn't notice JJ lifting his thumb to caress the worry lines on her forehead, smoothing them out until her face softened. He could practically feel the warmth beaming off her skin, which only boosted his ego more. His blue eyes never left hers, and she was squirming under his gaze. The effect he had on her was becoming terrifying for her, and she swatted his hand away, a small scowl etching on her face that JJ found quite adorable regardless of her attempt to be annoyed.

Y/n pushed herself off the couch before spinning on her heel to heave through the crowd of dancing teenagers. She was sure JJ was following not too far behind to meet her at the beer pong table that resided in Topper's backyard. The pool was splashing out water from the riled boy's taking turned jumping in while music was becoming muffled out as she approached John B and Pope, who was setting up the table for the game they knew was about to start. They had picked a grassy area where fairy lights hung above them held by tree branches, and they were sure no kooks would bother them. Kie, who was chatting with a Touron about the environment, was the first to spot her. She was quick to abandon the other girl with a quick goodbye before skipping toward Y/n and tugging her into a tight hug as if they hadn't just seen each other a couple of hours ago.

Y/n quirked a brow once she pulled away, seeing the suggestive grin on Kie's face as she wiggled her shoulder in a little dance. "You're goin' on a date with JJ..." her tease was breaking off into a squeal with every word, making Y/n bite back a smile and shoved her away by her shoulders.

Rolling her eyes, she ignored Kie's giggling as she approached John B, seeing that he was filling the last cup with beer. The brunette stole a glimpse in her direction before focusing back on the work at hand. "Yo, y/l/n. Glad you could make it," he said, lining up the cups, so they were perfectly in place. "ready for round two?" a side smile tugged on the side of his lip as he finally let his focus drift to her.

She wondered if JJ told his friends about the bet he made with her and began absentmindedly tugging on the golden charm bracelet loosely draped around her wrist. "As ready as I can be, I guess." she laughed softly.

"So that's a no?" Pope commented, sipping his kombucha juice, knowing he had to be sober for this game.

"Nope," she popped, already dreading that she had to withstand going on a date only to be bailed a day later.

Pope hummed, nodding in understanding. "Kombucha?" he offered, stretching his cup out toward the girl. JJ would kill him if he admitted that he was the only one that was told, besides Kie, about the bet he made with her. Since JJ was owned by Y/n that night at the boneyard, he had taken a more liking to her and thought his blonde buffoon of a friend could use a companion that actually thought before taking action.

She nodded promptly before making her way around the table to sip the sweet herbaceous beverage. She had never made much of an interaction with the pogues. They were always friendly with her anytime she saw them drifting by on the HMS or when she would pick some food up from the Wreck. She felt like she had one foot in the Cut while the other was, unfortunately, in Figure Eight. She stayed out of the Kook and Pogue nonsense, and both sides respected that, not pestering her anytime she would hang out with either tribe.

"Hey, this is my side," JJ grumbled from beside her as he let the ping pong ball drop on her head before he caught it.

"Both sides are the same, " Y/n pointed out, passing the cup back to Pope, looking down at the back table with red solo cups decorated for the game.

Kie was already behind Y/n to push her by her shoulder to the other side of the table. "Best not to argue with him," she whispered, patting her shoulder once more before giving her space to warm up. Sarah was stumbling out from the house crashing into John B's arm, her face red from the short run. Y/n wasn't sure if the girl was really athletically inclined, and swatting birds with a tennis racket wasn't an exception.

Y/n let out a shaking breath, wringing her hands as she took in the table's appearance. She peeked upward through her lashes to see JJ already fixed on her, casually tossing the ball from either hand. He passed a quick wink in her direction before bouncing the ball and making it into one of her cups with ease. Y/n was suprised with his sharp point and let the warm liquid from the cup he scored flow into her mouth. As soon as she finished her drink, she paused, letting the liquid settle on her mouth before swallowing. She narrowed at the table, slightly tilting her head to see that it was tilted.

She laughed under her breath, realizing why JJ wanted that side of the table. His chances of winning were higher on his percentage, perceiving that since his side was heaving upward due to the small inclination of the hill under them, gravity would assist in his ball landing into her cups without much effort. JJ and Pope exchanged glanced, practically seeing the gears shifting in her brain. Now JJ was never the person to say he was in love, but he was in love with Y/n Y/l/n brain. How it was quick to fix a dilemma or figure something out without so much as a glance. He knew he wouldn't get away with his scheme long enough for her to analyze her next moves.

The wind blew her loose strands in her face, and she didn't bother to fix it, too focused on probing the next move. JJ's eyes were fixated on her, swallowing hard. He knew she was always beautiful, especially when he would see her lounging at the beach with Kie or beating Sarah at golf anytime he would deliver groceries with Pope. He knew she played early in the morning on Saturdays and always made sure to take that route on his way to specific houses. He loved overhearing her and Pope having a philosophical conversation and her effortlessly winning at constant debates. But something about her right now took his breath away. She was in her element, his heart warming at the sight of her rose-tinted lips curving to a smile as she appeared to figure out her game plan.

"I'll hand it to you, you almost had me there." Y/n said, closing one of her eyes to aim for her target. She could hear the sound of Kie's faint whisper commenting a fleet 'I love you' for good luck while Sarah cheers a quick 'whoop.'

"Almost?" JJ questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. Playing dumb was his specialty. If it got Y/n to show off, he didn't care as long as he got to see her mumbling under her breath every time she made a shot.

For the first time, Y/n made real eye contact with JJ, a surge of confidence swimming in the depth of her y/e/c iris'.

"Yeah, almost," she smirked, making JJ wither into a puddle. It suited her too well.

With her fast momentum, she bounced the ball and made it into his cup.

•••

To much of Y/n's dismay, Kiara provided JJ with her phone number after her victory the other night. He hadn't mentioned anything after the game, and she hoped he probably let the date idea slide. But before she stepped out of Topper's house, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and dipped down to graze his lips against her ear.

"Be ready for tomorrow, princess."

The whispered words sat within her dreams all night. She could still feel the warmth of his breath tickling her neck and how it sent goosebumps throughout her whole body. She longed for that sensation again. She wanted to feel his thumb caresses her wrist and the chill of his rings like it had before. She would never confess any of this if she wished to hear the lecture from Kiara about JJ being a fuck boy. She believed his title wholeheartedly, but a part of her really wanted to spend the day with JJ.

Even if he was blasting her phone at five in the morning.

Her dainty hand blindly searched her nightstand in the darkness before feeling her buzzing phone. Her eyes squinted as the bright light from her screen scoured her face to read JJ's caller ID.

"Hello?" she croaked into the speaker as she squeezed the bridge of her nose and let her eyes flutter shut, dousing in the darkness just for a few more seconds, already feeling the onset of a headache.  

"Are you still asleep?" his shout brought her to groan and pull the phone away from her ear.

"Obviously not if I'm talking to you." she snapped gently, hearing JJ chuckle over the line. The sound made her smile despite her fight for sleep, heaving her eyes shut.

"I'm outside, so hurry it up."

"Why so early," she whined, "we could have done something in the afternoon."

"The earlier, the better babe." he cheered. She heard him greet someone in passing with a cheerful good morning, the person probably wondering why a pogue was outside the Lynch residents.

Y/n shook her head but used her voice, realizing he couldn't see her disapproval with the pet name. "Don't call me that." she snipped.

"You don't like it?" he teased. Though she couldn't see his face, she could hear the smirk pulling on his lips.

"No, I don't." she flatly replied.

"Yeah, mhm."

"I'm serious."

"I'm sure you are."

"I hate you."

"Just get up. You won't regret it. Promise." he chuckled. He hung up before she had time to protest, leaving her to stare at her dark ceiling, relishing in the last bit of rest she'll have upon the crazy day ahead of her.

Drinking coffee wasn't needed as an energy boost that morning. She was wide awake; her eyes squeezed shut while she clings to JJ's waist as she sat on the back of his dirtbike. He was speeding down the empty roads of Figure Eight that would soon mesh into the Cut. Her yellow sundress was flowing behind her, along with her hair. JJ smiled at the feeling of her hands squeezing him tighter anytime he would speed up or wobble the bike just to hear her squeal. But as they crossed over a bridge to enter the Cut, he slowed down, feeling her head rest on his back as she took in the lively colors of the morning sky, the sun setting on the horizon of the glowing waters to greet the day. A smile played on her lips, already feeling butterflies in her stomach, thinking about the day ahead.

The morning breeze nipped on Y/n sensitive skin as she stared ahead of her, confusion settling upon her features. With her hands running up her arm to find some warmth, she watched JJ ordering ice cream at a small, quaint ice cream parlor. JJ must have been familiar with one of the young workers there and tried to block out there chatting. She was no doubt one of his girls that he had taken home upon the many others that she had heard of. Her breast was practically jutting out of the buttoned-up blue polo she sported with the icecream logo etched upon her bosom. Y/n let her eyes drop to her own, and quickly pulled up the deep v-line of her dress, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

JJ came strutting back; his signature red cap place backward on his head. He held up two cones of strawberry ice cream, shaking them teasingly. Icecream was never an ideal breakfast choice, but when JJ told her strawberry ice cream was the same as having strawberries on your pancakes, she was forced to comply with the gorgeous toothy grin on his face. But she was definitely going for a coffee later.

"This is not gonna settle well with me," Y/n mumbled as she walked alongside JJ down a sidewalk, the beach waves crashing against the shore nearby. She licked the cold "breakfast" and scrunched her nose from the sudden burst of sweetness that was too overwhelming for her taste buds.  

"Strawberries. Strawberry ice cream. Same difference," JJ shrugged nonchalantly, taking a bite from his ice cream, bringing Y/n's eyes to widen in horror. The blonde took notice of her gaze and raised a querying brow. "What?" he questioned around a bite of ice cream.

"Did you just bite your ice cream?" she asked, eyeing the bite mark that was slowly melting from the sun hitting the side of his face. His blue eyes were sparkling as he smirked, admiring his delicious icecream.  

"Yeah, what about it?" he took another slow, painful bite, keeping his eyes on her's the whole time, enjoying how she cringed and shook her head. "I get more servings that way."

"You psycho." she laughed, looking ahead and nipped on the strawberry cream with her lips. The cool breeze that picked up around her was suddenly not a problem even if she was eating icecream. As they strolled down the sidewalk, their hands would occasionally brush each other and brought Y/n to let in a sharp breath. JJ's eyes dipped down to her hand and let his ring clad fingers lazily intertwine with hers. She was surprised by his public affection, even if the gesture was small. She allowed her hand to relax and held his, fending off the smile once she notices some surfer girls walking by, eyeing her with a scowl. The best part was, JJ didn't pay them a second glance as he nonchalantly began swaying their hands playfully, happily biting into his soft-serve strawberry delight.

The blazing North Carolina sun was now blazing down on them from above after the long walk to the beach. They exchanged pointless stories about their separate friend groups, JJ's being more enticing. She wished she could experience a day with the Pogues out on the HMS, but she knew her place. She wasn't even sure what "this" was. Would she end up in his bed tonight? Would he go off to ignoring her, earning himself brownie points that he was able to go on a date with a Kook? In her opinion, it wouldn't be much of a victory. She didn't see herself as the hottest Kook in her area. Some beat her rank and standards by a hundred, and all she did was watch. Too deep in her own draining thoughts, she didn't notice how JJ watched her as she stared at the water, kicking off her sandals to start her challenge of collecting shells without getting wet.

"You're gonna fall in," JJ stated confidently, his hands on his hips as he stood next to Y/n, looking out on the water.

She was currently pulling her hair back, a determined look in her eyes. She was growing more comfortable with JJ and was acting as if it was another day with Kiara. The boy made a small comment that it was impossible to grab the prettiest shells without getting wet, and once a challenge struck, there was no turning back for her. JJ didn't notice himself starring, involuntary smiling watching her mumble to herself, most likely timing the wave's push and pull.

Y/n reached one of her hands out toward JJ, and he handed her the velvet scrunchie she had on the other night. She tied her hair back, slipping it into a low messy bun that was already letting strands fall to her face. "Where's the faith, J?" she teased, backhanding his stomach, which was already hard from his sudden flexing.  

"Lost somewhere with my positivity." he shrugged, eliciting a laugh from Y/n, "the waves are too quick anyway and that hundred dollar dress is going to be ruined by the end of the day."

"It's all about timing." she nodded, rubbing her hands together, hoping her calculations were inorder. " I mean, we only see half of the wave, and it all depends on the wind. A wave increases in size quadratically relative to the wind's speed and reaches its maximum capacity when it's traveling about as fast as the wind. It not that breezy out, so they shouldn't come hurdling in too quickly. Besides, all I'm seeing are Surging waves that don't crash or spill, and they just bulge up before crashing against the shore, giving me enough time to grab at least two shells. Technically speaking, I could only get wet up to my ankles, maybe my knees, if the contact is strong enough..."

JJ didn't even mind that she was absentmindedly rambling on. He swore he fell in love with more than her words at that moment.

He would never pay her a compliment saying how beautiful her mind was but instead watched her contently as she finished her speel. Her face began to redden, seeing how JJ was tilting his head, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to finish. "Sorry..." She laughed, tucking loose strands behind her ear before looking ahead again.

"You're gonna fall in," he deadpanned one last time before watching her run toward the water. The tide was pulled back, letting her kneel down and collect a hand full of shell. The water glistened over pink and white shells she had found, smiling to herself that she could finally brag to JJ.

When she looks up to show the boy her pretty shells, JJ was already in front of her, heaving her body over his shoulder. A scream slipped from her lips that soon led to giggles as he began spinning around, water hitting her face. "JJ! Put me down!" she tried hardening her voice, but was only met with a light smack to her bottom. "Hey!" She yelped and began pounding on his back. There were undoubtedly other people on the beach who were staring at them, but JJ didn't have a care in the world.

"Put you down, you say?" JJ suddenly paused; the sarcasm lacing his animated tone brought her face to fall.

"Don't." she snapped, her playful tone disappearing with the fear that she would have to meet the icy water below.  

JJ smirked, feeling her tense under his arms that he tightened around her waist. "Oh my. Well, there just so happens to be a vast body of water to plunge into right here!"

"I will kill you!" she hit his back again but was only met with a giggling response.

The outcome was inevitable. JJ had moved deeper into the water before letting himself and Y/n plunge under the ocean's salty waves, notwithstanding her constant protest. Y/n was the first to resurface, her scrunchie disappearing somewhere in the water, her hair slicked back while water droplets slipped from the tip of her flaring nose. Once JJ's head appeared, his laugh was cut off with the sudden splash of water hitting his face. "Told you, you'de get wet." he snickered, wiping his hand down his face to adjust his eyes from the water attack.

Y/n bobbed in front of him, her scowl turning into a smile that brightened her features. JJ felt every wall tumbling down at the mere sight of her. He just realized she wasn't wearing makeup, and it suited her so well. He wasn't used to spending time with girls besides Kie, but he never felt this pang against his chest with other girls. He liked talking about technicalities and theories, unlike the Tourons, who would only go on and on about an ex-boyfriend. Seeing someone as amazingly smart at Y/n Y/l/n letting loose in his presence was something he could get used to. This whole bet started as a tease, and getting at her was out of the question when it came to asking Kiara's approval. She shut down the idea constantly. But once she let him go through with it, he wanted the day to be perfect. Even if they weren't very familiar with each other, it was a start.

JJ was abruptly submerged underwater as Y/n surged forward and hopped up to push him down by his shoulder. She ends up underwater as well but was picked up by JJ, his arms circling her waist only to plunge her back inside, a loud snort leaving his lips. He pulled her back up, and she slapped his chest repeatedly, coughing up water.

As they calm down, JJ ended up patting her back, helping her calm down from the water that invaded her lungs. He apologized, but she couldn't take it seriously from his grin that hasn't abanded his lips since the start of the date.

"I'm okay now." she breathed quietly, turning her body to face JJ.

"So, how was the first date?" JJ asked her, swaying his arms in the water. Though his tone held playfulness, his eyes were hopeful, making her heart flutter.

She hummed, pondering the thought as she led her focus to the blue sky before meeting his blue eyes again. "Besides almost drowning, close to perfect."

JJ gasped dramatically, placing his hand on his now bare chest. She hadn't even noticed when he pulled it off to tackle her into the water. But she wasn't complaining how the sun danced on his tanned chest. She sunk lower into the water, letting it kiss her chin before raising herself back up. "Close? I did like everything right," he complained.

"You gave me icecream for breakfast." she retorted with a purse touching her wet, salty lips.

"Strawberry ice cream!" he reiterated slowly for her to catch onto his point that it was the same thing as having a fruit bowl in the morning.

"Plus two hundred calories!" she laughed at his pout as he rolled his eyes. "and the 4.2 grams of protein doesn't count."

"Well, we walked on the beach," he tried again but only watched with annoyance as Y/n tilted her head, already reading her expression of disagreement. "that screams romantic moment."

"You threw me into the water." she shot back quickly.

"There is no winning with you." JJ shook his head.

A comfortable silence loomed over them, his cerulean eyes washing over her features. The droplets that settled on her cheek were glowing from the golden sun's reflection. She grew smaller under his hungry gaze, noticing he was moving closer to her until he was towering over her silhouette slightly. She swallowed hard, her eyes flickering to his lips just for a moment as she bit down on her own. "You already know I never lose," she whispered.

"Yeah, I've noticed," he chuckled softly. His hands brushed the sides of her hips, letting his fingertips ghost over the fabric of her sundress that she wished would disappear. She wanted nothing more than to feel his bare hands on her.

The sensation was overwhelming once his hands were slipping under her dress, caressing her thigh to coax her body closer to him. Her chest was flush against his, her eyes fluttered shut, feeling his warm breath fanning against her head. "Well, if I don't calculate everything, I might miss something. I don't like unexpected things." she rambled quietly, trying to pry his eyes off her. One of her fingers fiddle with the shark tooth necklace dangling from his neck while the other was holding onto his bicep.

Keeping an arm secured around her waist, JJ used his finger to lift her chin to finally meet his eyes. She was melting in his grasp as she observed him lick his lips, his nose tapping against her own. "Bet you didn't calculate this," he whispered huskily against her lips.

The space between them was suddenly closed as he tilted her head to place a sweet lingering kiss on her lips. He took his time, not wanting to scare her off. She felt her heart speeding up and almost whined when he pulled back. His smirk quickly reached his lips, watching her mouth slightly part. She was speechless, and she craved more of him.

She slipped both her hands to his face to cradle his cheeks as she pulled him down to meet her lips again, deepening the kiss. It was bold of her, but JJ didn't mind. He smiled into her lips and snaked both arms around her waist to press her against him. They were synchronized, and she would be damned if she even thought this moment would end soon. She tugged on his wet hair ever so slightly, causing him to let out a low moan into her mouth. Feeling the vibration in his chest made her take in a deep breath, and he took the chance to slip his tongue against hers. Everything she was doing was uncharted territory, but experiencing with JJ Maybank was a blessing, and she soon fell in sync with his warm lips.  

Her lips tasted just like JJ imagined. Strawberry ice cream.

@drewsephsmiles @obxlife @illbesafeforyou @rudyypankow @jenniesquared

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Is gone, embalmer of love! Air”)

  a fine to watch; thus, shift Air, Is gone, embalmer  of love! through desolate abroad with  airy children, and that blew there, like to  a crutch; but, wo is meant nothing unforeseen—

tiny bottle across, and some eggs, coffee, breath; scattering  eyes and a turtles sleep which gave it struck in  field, which the pressings a bittour bumps with  my hand; I bow down through the stars to 

make us understand each ourselves to  malice lend to eternity.  Watch they were where their malice? From which was  only by his money: for only 

pegs; but I had been the imperfect kind: false within  its boiling bird whose chace from hence of Eternally  sip your body keep this Old House  roll by inherit thy mithers person, grace, thou lay that 

she mad Past, on the ponder  and his your  chamber, Wall and pushing, hair as the joy ’“t is  just inquiring spray a godlike Sancho Panca. ‘I  will gather; but them achieve the tongues a 

fever once, for the wind, to pay her  grew so tender fingers lay: a reef between mine  on first ye were consistent be. And it much  more dear. He is mind.’ Maud has a tough job 

to mar the shadow, Cynara! Reflecting  countrys blue Italian day for Haidee, being older  the deaf and Haidee. And you there was  plaint a sweet neglect more let me, fed with 

prayers again, who was like Heaven  kiss of Juans solid, like to interrupt  his pale contemporary bust. I can finds young flowers;” but  I love you thirty in which prolong the 

door of her held the right color is  their mouth, angels to acquaintance of Heaven kiss  a heart become, will to their teeth, and body and  nothings spade. It will bestow it; till thee 

possession in my young spirit calms as it  hath drunk; the night, and with the worlds  slow stains still wilt thou hast that beat which mishanter fa me, if ’“ t is here weeping shower of nature within, 

nor life, and they contrived to name ; yet still it  on my wits quicksilver in a grumbling  voyce brink. One can live not thus loaded with  the enfeebled mind proved him, and 

as he gaze straind, in the foe, who spin the one  I love stings, shrinking that he might rosy is true, the  seal it only ever dwell upon my wits quick Dream has  left ear folds of such a Banquet order 

all, no doubt, rose, robd in her warm and dreadful yell, and  earth the could the death with an Ionian  access his dizzy brain and hell and looked out to  enioy! So love, wine, but now, even for another 

would repetitions tires and flip-flops. And the  grave, he was all the thinks I do croud, even  you leaves no stains us both every walk away  my Wit and passion, wherein affection 

grew in mine, each more, thy golden Day, which physicians,  which might magic mantle on the sepulchre, and  whose who please mine arms binding not, till by Feringhi Glasses  abstract it was to 

taste at first, though it bounding and a noddy, and you  quiet—the crew kept up, kneeled; the carved so  low, but whom should be afraid but exchange, but why? The  languishd the seasons” bier; amid the skill.

[oblivious-embodied]

A Miraculous Journey of Self Discovery

Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir: Rewritten, Trans AU. 

A long time ago, I decided to make my own rewrite of the Miraculous Ladybug show, do it in my own way so that things could progress the way I would like, for characters to grow and develop in personality and strength. Write my own way for the miraculous to be empowered, to be a bigger deal, to mean more than what they mean in the show. And, along the way, I saw @wintertundra-art's Trans Adrien and Marinette AU, and I wanted to see if I could incorporate that into this rewrite. And, with her permission and cooperation, I was able to get the first chapter, Origins: Part One completed! I'm excited to see where this goes from here!

So, as a christmas gift to you all, Enjoy a miraculous rewrite, and trans representation! If you haven't already, go check out @wintertundra-art and her wonderful AU! And, if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask too.

I’ve decided to rate it as Teen and Up Audiences, and you can read it here on AO3! It currently sits at 12,265 words

Origins: Part One

(Summary: Eons ago, powerful artifacts were forged, infused with power that humans can only dream of, they were made to be anchors to beings of immense power. Centuries ago, two of the more powerful miraculous were lost, the Butterfly of Emotion and the Peacock of Soul. Now, the Butterfly has been awoken, and is in the hands of someone who want's to corrupt the Butterfly's power and use it for their own nefarious wants. The only way to stop this from happening is to bring balance, and only the most powerful Miraculous can do so: The Black Cat of Destruction, and the Ladybug of Creation. )

A man opens up a broach, revealing the smiling image of a blonde haired, green eyed woman. His breath hitches just a bit as he locks eyes with her image. With slightly shaking hands, he closes the broach and he looks to a floating, violet creature with big, purple eyes, and a swirl on its head that is the same shade as its eyes. Little butterfly wings extend from its back.

“Nooroo,” his tone is sharp, cold, calculating. Terrifying. “Tell me where to find the other Miraculous.”

“I-I do not know...” the being named Nooroo answers, bowing its head slightly.

The man narrows his eyes.

Several thousand years ago, possibly eons ago, powerful pieces of magical jewelry were forged, each serving as an anchor to beings of extreme power. Beings that are the embodiment of concepts that the minds of simple humans can’t even begin to comprehend, concepts like The Four Elements, The Mind, The Heart, The Soul, The Body, Energy, and even of Destruction and Creation itself.

These jewels were named ‘Miraculous’. They can’t be destroyed; whether that is due to the material they are made from, or the bonds they have with the beings, known as kwami, no one knows.

These Miraculous were created for the sole purpose of aiding the human race. And with their use, myths and legends of large, humanoid creatures, capable of unfathomable feats of strength and power arose.

And according to legend, whoever holds both of the two most powerful Miraculous, the anchors to the beings of Destruction and Creation, Death and Life, will be as powerful as a god.

And with that power, the ability to do whatever they want.

And he must have these Miraculous. He must have the power to become God.

His life, his happiness, all he’s worked for, all he’s done, the fate of his family, it all depends on him getting those Miraculous.

“Very well.” He says finally, but he turns his cold gaze to the poor being. “Tell me, Nooroo, what are the properties of your Miraculous.”

The being named Nooroo looks up at this man, its eyes weary. “That is the Miraculous of the Butterfly. It derives its power from the heart; it will allow you to sense the emotions of anyone around you in a certain radius, and through this you will be able to give others powers and abilities. These people will then become your devoted followers, your champions.” Nooroo straightens back up, puffing out its little chest.

A sickening smile creeps its way across the man’s face. “You are saying, Nooroo, that I can give supernatural powers to the ordinary; and they will, in turn, do anything I tell them to do.” It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. His mind is already circulating with different situations. At this, Nooroo deflates a bit, drooping.

“W-well, no, not really. You can give powers to someone you deem fit, but you can’t really control them. They’ll just be able to communicate with you, and vice versa, and you will be able to help them along the way.”

The smile does not leave the man’s face, “You said your powers are derived from the heart, yes?” Nooroo nods, it’s eyes widening. “I may not be able to control them directly... but I can to some degree.”

At this, Nooroo’s eyes fly open, his mouth dropping open. “Th-that’s-that’s not what the butterfly is intended-“

“I will do what I want!” The man cuts in, his tone forceful, he emphasizes his words with a stomp to the ground. “I am your master. You will do what I say, and you will not disobey me.” Nooroo’s eyes blow wide again, and it opens its mouth to say something, but nothing comes out of its mouth. It is unable to say anything. In it’s eyes, terror is clear. Dejectedly, Nooroo bows it’s head and body. “Yes, Master.”

This brings the man even more sickening joy.

“Nooroo, we will find those Miraculous.” Then man takes a step forward and lifts Nooroo’s chin up. “And we will do it by any means necessary.”

He takes a step back and fastens the broach to his shirt. 

“Nooroo, dark wings, rise.”

Nooroo is sucked into the broach and violet light rushes up the man’s body, transforming his clothes. When the light dies down, the man is wearing black, skin tight, laceless dress shoes. Purple, almost skintight pants. He’s wearing a purple suit jacket and black latex-like gloves. The collar folds up at the front like a paper airplane, the broach sitting in the middle, two black, shimmering, almost rubber like lapels that start just below the paper airplane collar, form around it and go up to protrude from off the shoulders about 25 centimeters. His neck and face, save for the area around his mouth, is covered by a silver material. His eyes are violet. 

“From now on...” he looks at the big metal, circular window cover, his violet eyes glistening with malice. “I will be known as Hawkmoth!”

                                                     --------

Sleeping in the brass horn of the fake record player that houses the miracle box is a small green creature, with a head much larger than the rest of his body, who looks like a miniature turtle. His body is a light-ish green, with patches of darker green. His head has some subtle scales, but is mostly smooth. Its abdomen, and the back of his arms and legs are covered in dark green scales. A turtle shell rests on his back.

Something startles Wayzz from his peaceful sleep in the fake record player’s bell, his eyes shooting open and revealing that they are completely yellow with  dark green pupils. Something pulsates through the air, a powerful, corruptive wave of energy with a hint of something else behind it. 

It’s... an old, familiar energy. It pulsates through the air again before dissipating slightly, then pulsating again. Like a heartbeat. 

One that doesn’t bode well. 

This energy... it’s from Nooroo... but... it’s tainted. It might just be from time apart, that could be why his energy feels... wrong. 

Malicious. Cold. 

Unwelcome... 

But... it could also be something else... something far more terrible than someone accidentally picking up and activating It’s Miraculous. 

It’s an energy that accompanies An unwelcome wielder. It’s Nooroo’s distress call. 

Wayzz bursts from the fake record player’s bell and into Master Fu’s side, jolting him, stilling his fingers on his patient’s back. 

The little old man, wearing a red Hawaiian t-shirt, grey slacks and brown sandals, turns to the little green kwami. 

“What is it?” He whispers, his fingers returning to work at the young man’s back. 

“Master! I felt an odd energy.” 

Master Fu pauses in his work again, furrowing his brows in thought. After another second’s deliberation, he tells Wayzz to hide, then quickly ushers his patient out the door, promising to see him next week. 

With the door closed, he turns back to his kwami. “What kind of energy?” His tone is solemn and wary. 

“Master, it was Noroo’s. It was Nooroo’s distress call. It’s in trouble!” 

The old master’s eyes widen in shock, his mouth hanging open for a second before he sets it into a hard line. “Very well then, Wayzz. We must find him at once!” 

Wayzz winces for a split second, human’s have never understood how one can be referred to by pronouns other than he/him, or she/her, and the Master doesn’t seem to catch on to Wayzz calling Nooroo by It’s preferred pronouns. But Wayzz refuses to not use It’s preferred pronouns. He would never do that to his friend.

The old master stands up straight, holding up his right wrist, his other hand bracing it. “Time to transform... Wayzz-“

‘Crack!’

“Augh, oh...” Master Fu groans as he falls to the ground, muted groans escaping his throat. 

“Master, please be reasonable! You are-“ 

“Still young!” Fu cuts in, “ I’m only 186!...” he grunts as he stands back up. “but I can no longer do this alone... we will need help.” 

He walks over to the fake record player, and Wayzz looks away as Master Fu puts in the code to open up the record player. 

Within seconds, the middle slides open, and a black box with red, ornate, ancient Chinese characters on it is lifted from the cavity in the record player. 

Before he opens the box, he looks to Wayzz; the kwami has been with him for most of his life... they’ve been through a lot together. So, Wayzz is certain that they surely think the same thing. 

Allowing those Miraculous to be out in the open, even if it is just to recover Nooroo from its captor, it’s incredibly risky. But... Wayzz has a certain feeling about this, it may be a risky move, but it feels like the right one. If they are to recover Nooroo, and if It’s had Its powers abused by a corrupted heart, they will need to cleanse and balance it’s Miraculous; and only those of Creation and Destruction can do so.  As Fu takes out those two Miraculous, Wayzz nods his agreement. Hopefully... hopefully this doesn’t go wrong.

                                                   ----------- 

For the next few days, Fu looks for two people who fit the parameters for these two Miraculous. They need to be kind, and selfless... those two traits aren’t too hard to find. But for the Miraculous of Creation, he needs to find someone who has the mind to handle the complexity, the heart to consider the options, the soul to value everyone, the body to meet the physical requirements and the energy to withstand it all.

They need to be of the right age too, for if they are too young, their mind could snap, their heart could burst, their soul could be irreparably damaged, their body could shrivel… just like his did when he was a boy. 

Finding someone who meets all these requirements is grueling, but it’s the only way to make sure they don’t face life long detriments.  

Fu finds himself in a bakery, looking over everyone he can see as he simultaneously looks for what pastry to get for himself. The people he finds don’t fit what this Miraculous needs, and he gets no reaction from the box containing the being who embodies Creation itself. He is about to give up on his search for a suitable wielder for Tikki when a feeling of warmth pulsates through his body, emanating from the box Tikki’s Miraculous resides in. 

He looks up, and is greeted with the sight of the baker’s daughter, a young girl with black hair, Asian features, and beautiful grey eyes. She talks animatedly with the customers, smiling so brightly and with such warmth in her eyes, she makes it seem like she makes friends with everyone she meets. 

But she’s too young, she doesn’t look to be more that 14 years old, he will not put the stress of being the wielder of Creation on a child. His body was crippled when he wore his Miraculous when he was too young, and his Miraculous is substantially less powerful than Creation. He will not the the reason for the death of a child. 

He moves on. 

But Tikki is insistent, if the way the box burns in his pocket is any indication. 

Reluctantly, he turns to his kwami companion, Wayzz, and nods to him, making a mental note to have Wayzz watch this girl. He can only hope that he finds someone better suited for Creation. 

When out of the bakery, Wayzz whispers in his ear, “Are you sure giving a Miraculous — especially one of such magnitude — to a child is a good idea?”

Fu pulls out and bites into a pastry, his facial features dark. “I do not know, my friend. I refuse to give a Miraculous to someone so young, especially one that is so powerful. However, Tikki is insisting on this girl. I hope to find someone who is suited for Tikki, and is older, but we must be prepared for the event that we have to give this girl this responsibility.”

Wayzz sighs, “Alright, Master.” 

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

The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery  — those pastries are to die for! — but he’s in a sour mood. He hasn’t been able to get Tikki to react to any other person, she is insistent on this bakery girl. He’s keeping an eye out for someone else, but he’s starting to believe he has no other choice. 

Just as he rounds the corner, the box that houses the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction sends a chilling wave of energy through Fu’s body, and he stops in his tracks. Plagg has sensed someone he wants to choose. Fu starts looking around, going through all the parameters the wielder of Destruction needs to have: They need to have a mind strong enough to resist temptation, a heart kind enough to give mercy to those around them, a soul to see the good and bad, a body to withstand the effects the Miraculous of Destruction has on wielders, and the ability to rein in Plagg’s energy. 

Everyone he looks at is wrong, and they incite no reaction from Plagg, but then he sees a young man with blond hair, green eyes, and fair skin in the park. He’s sitting on a bench, looking crestfallen. To his right, cameras and photographers are setting up around him. There are other children playing at the park, and the young man is staring at them with a longing gaze. 

The hope in Fu’s eyes dies down as he realizes that Plagg’s chosen is one that is, once again, too young, 

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to put them through this, but if Tikki won’t change her mind, Plagg most definitely wont. 

Resigned, Fu turns around and starts going to the bakery, making a note to look into this boy. He looks up and finds himself looking at a poster advertisement for Agreste Fashion, and the boy he was just looking at is on it. 

It seems finding information on this boy will not be as hard as he thought. 

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

As he continues to watch the bakery girl, he sees just how kind and selfless she is. She routinely offers help in the bakery as often as she can. She lights up talking to customers about fashion — apparently, she’s quite fond of fashion, especially the Agreste brand, how fascinating — how she lifts full bags of flour with only a few grunts and wobbles here and there. Fu’s found that she created the design for the bakery sign. As well as the menu board. She is truly creative. And, if his hearing does not fail him, she even bakes some of the pastries from time to time. 

Tikki grows more and more insistent on choosing this girl, and Fu has resigned himself to the fact that he will be putting them through things he never wished to put anyone through again. If he is going to give her the Miraculous of Creation, he must be there to mentor her. He must be able to guide her through all of this. Hopefully she can handle this and he isn’t sending her to her death. 

Now... the young man, the child model... he wasn’t quite sure at first, and he was getting ready to have a long argument with Plagg. He just seemed to be a boy longing for the time to play with others. But, as he continued to pursue knowledge about this boy -- his name being Adrien -- he’s found that he is praised for his kindness, and he’s seen that in video recordings of interviews with the boy. Wayzz has told him that when he has photoshoots at the park, when he sees kids fall down, he twitches almost imperceptibly. As though he wants to go over and pick them up. And when he watches parents with their difficult kids, he seems to want nothing more than to help. 

Fu has seen the way he smiles at his bodyguard, at his scheduler, the photographers, the other models, it seems to be completely genuine. 

He harbors a heart that wants to do good, that wants to do nothing but help, his soul longs for the freedom to be selfless, but it is unable to. And Plagg has latched onto this boy.

He must be able to guide these two young people. He must not allow them to go through this alone. 

Late at night in his apartment, Fu sits before two small pieces of paper on his kitchen table, writing two identical notes to put in the boxes containing the Black Cat Miraculous and the Ladybug Miraculous. 

They are to meet him at the base of the Effiel Tower at 22:00, but in order for this to work, he must give them the miraculous at the same time, which means he must execute his challenges before it is too late. 

Suddenly, Wayzz flies up to his face and bows before speaking. “Master! I just sensed Nooroo transform Its captor! It was powerful, whoever has Nooroo is powerful.”

Fu stops writing and strokes his goatee. If he remembers correctly, the first day of the French school year is in three, almost two days. This means that he doesn’t have much time to issue his challenges to these kids, and even less time to train them. He must act now. “Thank you, Wayzz, we must act soon, before it is too late!”

Fu finishes writing the notes and places them on top of the boxes containing the Miraculous of Destruction and Creation, before he goes to bed.

The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery. He doesn’t know how to issue his challenge, but it will come to mind eventually. It is the day before the first day of school, and there will be no lack of heightened emotions, and paired with the power that Nooroo has over emotions, who knows when Nooroo’s captor will strike?

Suddenly, Adrien bursts through the bushes, sprinting his way to the school. He has a pleased smile on his face, and hope in his eyes. He reaches the school, and stops, looking up at it, sighing in admiration. 

A car passes by, Adrien whips around, looking at the car, but finds that it is not something he needs to worry about. He relaxes and starts to open the door to the school when three kids burst from the nearby park and speed their way on bikes across the street toward a nearby intersection. He looks at these kids, furrowing his brows. 

Then, a rumbling sounds, Adrien whips around to look, and there is a car coming down their way. And, by the looks of things, the car isn’t slowing down, and neither are the kids.

Fu waits in silence as Adrien seems more confused than ever, looking between the car and the kids, taking a few steps from the school toward the intersection. When it is evident that neither the kids nor the car will stop on their own, he takes action, rushing forward and waving his arms. 

Two of the kids look at him, then at the car coming down the road, and as though it is their first time seeing it, they skid to a stop. But the kid in the middle, a girl with pink hair keeps going, her head turned toward the two kids who stopped, hair whipping around under her helmet. She seems to glare at them and then at the oncoming car.  

Adrien seems to sigh, looking frantically between the rapidly approaching kid and car. 

He looks back to the pink haired girl, and sets his jaw. Clearly set on a course of action. He takes a few long steps toward the street just as she comes by and grabs her arm, forcing her to fall from her bike, but the bike continues onward into the street. 

Where it promptly gets crushed by the car, while the driver looks up from their phone and honks as they drive away.

As the pink haired girl sits there shocked, Adrien stands there awkwardly. But, after a second, the girl stands up and punches Adrien’s arm before seemingly telling him off. All Adrien does is furrow his brows, confused. 

Fu walks away with a small smile. 

He has a feeling this might actually work out well. 

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

An alarm jerks Marinette awake from her dreamless sleep. With a groan, she blindly gropes around her bed to find her phone, but when she finds it, she only manages to push it from her bed down onto the floor. 

The alarm doesn’t stop, and Marinette can’t decide if she should be relieved, or annoyed. 

With a resigned sigh, she slips from her bed, mourning the lost warmth of her covers, and climbs down her ladder. She picks up her phone and inspects it for cracks. 

Somehow, for some reason, it doesn’t have any. Thank the beings that rule the universe, her phone is indestructible! She doesn’t know how many times she’s dropped her phone, but it doesn’t even have a scratch!

Sluggishly, she goes to her closet, trying to decide on what to wear, looking over everything and battling that feeling of unease she feels every time she looks in her closest; but ultimately decides to put it aside, she’ll just eat breakfast in her pajamas. 

She doesn’t even want to look at her messy, black hair, her body, the bags that are surely to be under her eyes. She’s always loved her eyes, her Maman is from China and has grey eyes, while her Papa grew up locally in Paris with blue eyes; but her eyes are amazing, they’re grey with a ring of blue around the pupil. She can’t help but think of her parents when she looks into her eyes. She doesn’t have as much Asian features as she would like, but she has her eyes, her black hair, and a slight Asian facial bone structure. 

Rubbing sleep from her eyes she starts going downstairs, not really wanting to face the day. Not wanting to fight to feel good. 

It’s the first day of school. The first day of Collége. And, for some reason, Marinette has a strong feeling that Chloé Bourgeois is in her class again. 

One would think that the spoiled brat that is the daughter of the Mayor would be in private school. But, for some reason unknown to all but the two Bourgeois and the beings that rule the universe, she still attends public school; despite all of her complaining. And the bullying. 

She really, really does not want school to start. 

With a big yawn, she opens the trap door. 

“Marinette! School starts soon! You don’t want to be late for your first day back at school!” 

Wincing from the early morning yelling, Marinette suppresses another yawn, calling out a small “Coming...” before climbing down the stairs.

When she reaches the bottom, she finds her Maman smiling at her from the kitchen. She smiles back, already feeling the grasp of sleep start to slip away.  “There’s my beautiful girl!” 

Despite the warmth that fills her being when around her Maman, Marinette can’t help but feel uneasy with being called beautiful. It’s probably because of Chloe bullying her, she’ll get over it. 

She gives her maman a kiss on the cheek, leaning down just a bit. When she was younger, she wondered why she was taller than her maman. But, after an awkward talk with her parents, she’s realized that she just inherited the taller genes from her Papa, but got the skinnier genes from her Maman. 

“Good morning!” 

“Yeah...” she grumps, “I’ll bet you anything that Chloé is in my class again...”  she sighs as she sits down at the kitchen table, where her Maman has already set out a cereal bowl, a milk jug, spoon, her favorite cereal, and a bowl of fruit. Uncapping the milk jug, she pours it into the bowl.

“Four years in a row?! Is that possible?” Her Maman exclaims, putting something in the sink behind her. 

“Definitely... Lucky me!” Marinette rolls her eyes, pouring in some chocolate cereal flakes. 

“Oh! Don’t say that! It’s the start of a new year, I’m sure everything will be just fine!” Her Maman says resolutely, brushing a hand against her hair. And who can argue with such sound logic? Not Marinette.

Nodding, feeling her spirits rise just a bit, she places the tub of cereal flakes down. But, with just a slight miscalculation of how hard to set it down, a chain reaction of terrible, ill boding events happens. 

The vibrations send an orange rolling down a conveniently placed bread stick, right to and over another conveniently placed knife. Which then sends the orange into the milk jug, the knife into a bowl of sugar cubes; sending a few flying with such velocity that as it collides with the cereal tub, it tips it over. And, as her spirits plummet, the orange completes its journey by knocking into and tipping over a yogurt cup. She groans dejectedly, closing her eyes so as to block the situation from sight and in turn, her mind.

For a girl whose parents have always called their “lucky charm”, she sure isn’t all that lucky.  

As she cleans up the cereal tub mess, her Maman reaches a hand to her cheek, chuckling. Which, somehow, helps to lift her own spirits.

It’s weird how mothers can do that. “Go get dressed, honey, you’ll look beautiful. I’ve got this.” 

An hour later, Marinette is down in the bakery, dressed in her back-to-school-day clothes: tan/pink flats, pink Capris, white shirt with a flower pattern on her left collarbone, grey blazer and her very own, hand sewn, pink clutch. And yet, despite being proud of her work, she can’t find it in her to be proud of how she looks. 

Her Papa, humming a tune, presents a box of macarons to his daughter. A warm, gentle smile on his face: “There’s my gorgeous daughter!” There’s that uneasiness again...

“Papa! These are so awesome!” She exclaims, bouncing in place. “Thank you, Papa! My class will love them!” She looks up to him, adoration and love filling her eyes. 

“Glad you like them!” He ruffles her hair, chuckling as she smirks a bit under his huge hands, an almost mute “don’t mess up my hair!” coming from her.

“You look beautiful, my darling daughter” Her papa says with small tears in his eyes. 

“You’re the best!” she says, giving him a one armed hug, her smile falling as she tries to figure out how to get rid of the uneasy feeling in her gut. 

“We,” he pulls her close again with an arm, and angles his other in a ‘muscular, show-off’ manner, “are the best.” Marinette can’t help but giggle.

Giving both her parents goodbye kisses, she rushes out the door, intent on not being late for school on the first day. And, in her haste, almost rushes right into the path of an oncoming car. 

Breathing a sigh of relief that she isn’t splattered on the windshield of a car, she slouches a bit, before jolting ramrod straight as she sees an elderly man with a cane in a red hawiian shirt having trouble crossing the road, another car rushing toward the man, not slowing down at all. 

Marinette frantically looks back and forth between the two and decides, after a second, to rush out and save this man from meeting the very same fate she had just narrowly avoided moments before. 

Just as she pulls him to the sidewalk, her legendary clumsiness takes hold of her once more, and she trips onto the sidewalk, taking the man down with her; the box of macarons spilling. And, with horror, she watches as inconsiderate city people step on them, reducing them to nothing more than crumbs. The man’s “Thank you, miss” goes unheard. 

But, his “Oh, what a disaster” does not go unnoticed. Picking up what remains of the box and the macaroons, she tells him: “Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters.” She holds the box to him. “Besides! There’s still a few left.” 

She smiles at this man, as he picks a macaron from the box and bites into it. Letting out a pleased “Delicious!” 

A bell across the street rings, signaling the start of school. Marinette looks to the school, to this man, back to the school and back to him again. While she’d rather not be late to school... well, she had just pulled this man from the street. The least she can do is walk him partially to where he is headed. 

“Go ahead.” The man says, his smile genuine, understanding and proud. ”You’ve saved my life, the least I can do is save you from getting into trouble! Now go!” He waves her off. 

She takes a moment of further deliberation before nodding, bowing, and rushing out “have-a-nice-day-sir!” Then she’s off, rushing to school. 

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

As the young woman runs to the school, Master Fu straightens up, putting his cane behind his back and holding up the box containing the Ladybug Miraculous. The box warms up and spreads warmth all throughout his body, confirming that this young woman is Tikki’s choice to be her wielder.

While he doesn’t want to put this stress on a child, he knows that there is no other solution, no way around this. He just has to be her mentor.

He walks to the bakery, allowing Wayzz to take the box to the girl’s room while he buys pastries for himself and his companion. 

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

Just as the custodian is closing the school’s front doors, Marinette slips in, not breaking from her near sprint. Rushing up the stairs, she bursts into the classroom, stumbling to not lose her balance. She’s hunched over, trying to catch her breath. 

“Nino,” the teacher calls out. She’s a tall woman with fire red hair, teal eyes, and a white pantsuit. Marinette doesn’t recognize her. The boy in question, Nino, has been in her classes for as long as she can remember. He’s a kind hearted, introverted kid with dark skin. He’s always wearing a red baseball cap and grey and orange headphones. 

She looks up and sees that Nino is sitting with his eyes wide behind his glasses from the back of the classroom. “Why don’t you sit in the front this year?” The teacher may have formed it as a question, but it was more of a polite command. 

Nino grumbles and stands up, his back and shoulders slouched. As he walks to the front of the classroom, on the side closest to the door, he groans. Before sliding into his position in the front of the classroom, right by the door. He pulls his headphones down and rests his elbows on the desk; his jaw resting on his knuckles with an annoyed look on his face. 

Though she’s been in the same class as Nino for years, she doesn’t know much about him, and she’s really regretting that now. Maybe this year will be different? 

She takes a moment to deliberate, but ultimately decides to sit on the row behind Nino, in her usual seat. She wants to sit by him but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to anyone. 

Shaking her head, still breathing with slight difficulty, she walks to her usual seat, the second row, left side of the classroom, right next to the aisle. Just behind and over Nino’s right shoulder.

Mylène, a timid girl, sits directly across the aisle from where Marinette’s seat is. She’s a shorter girl, with fair skin and long dreadlocks that are blonde at the roots but fade into multiple colors at the ends.  

Sitting on the next row up, just to the right of Mylène, is a dark skinned boy with a close cut afro hairstyle brown hair, a green polo and glasses. Max is your go-to kid for anything and everything that has to do with electronics. 

Sitting right next to Max is a tan skinned boy, Kim; he’s wearing a red, short sleeved hoodie, and sweat bands on his wrist. His black hair is up in a faux hawk style and he’s lounging back in his chair. He’s the class jock. (He tries to hide it by being a jerk and a goof, but he’s actually a good guy.) 

Kim is always next to Max, tells everyone that they’re best friends, and that he needs Max to help with homework, but Marinette knows better. She can see his eyes.

On the back row, sitting behind Max, is a girl named Rose. She’s a quiet girl, with her blonde hair in a pixie cut. She wears all pink and has an incredibly high voice. 

Just as Marinette sits down and starts to unpack, a pale hand, with yellow, perfectly manicured nails slams down on the desk before her, startling her. “Marinette,” the almost shill voice starts, “Du-pain-Cheng” it sneers her last name like it's an insult to it personally. (Which, if this is who she think it is, it most likely is an insult to her personally.) 

Chloé Bourgeois. The bratty daughter of the mayor. She’s wearing a yellow jacket, white pants, and a large, gold (not actually gold, it’d be too heavy for her skinny, fragile hips to support) plated belt. No wrinkles in sight on her clothes. Her golden locks are pulled into a high hanging ponytail. Blush, eye liner, magenta eyeshadow and pink lipstick on her face. It only serves to make her look that much more bratty. 

Her school bully.  

Marinette slouches, she knew it would happen. A weary, dejected, “Here we go again...” leaves her lips. 

“That’s my seat.” Chloé brings her hand from the desk to her chest. 

“But Chloé, this has always been my seat.” Marinette looks up to Chloé, grey-blue meeting dark, cruel blue. 

Chloe’s face scrunches up. “Not this year!” 

A sudden, but not unfamiliar voice cuts in. “New School, New Year, New seats.” Sabrina, Chloé’s lap dog slides into the desk beside Marinette, her orange/red hair in stark contrast with her teal-green eyes sparkling behind her glasses, and pale skin. She’s wearing a, quite frankly, ugly sweater vest. 

“So,” Chloé sneers again, “why don’t you just go and sit beside that new girl over there.” She turns to point at a girl she hadn’t seen walk into the room. 

She has darker skin like Nino, with long, curly, red-orange locks. She’s wearing a red-orange flannel short-sleeved shirt. At the mention of “New girl” she turns from her phone and her brown eyes glare behind glasses at Chloé. 

“But..” is all Marinette can think of in response. (She’s tired, and already feeling exhausted, she doesn’t want to move or think.)

Chloé turns back to Marinette, her hands on her hips, her face contorted in anger. “Listen, Adrien is arriving today, and since that’s,” she points to the seat beside Nino, “ going to be he— his seat, this is going to be my seat.” Chloé slams her hand down in front of Marinette again, then she turns toward her fully, slamming her other hand on the desk. “Get it?”

Adrien... who is this Adrien? And why is he friends with Chloé?

“Uh, who’s Adrien?” She asks Chloé. 

Two simultaneous gasps leave Chloé’s and Sabrina’s mouths. Then they burst out laughing in that ridiculous, annoying laugh, drawing Myléne’s attention. 

The laughing stops abruptly and Chloé speaks again. “Can you believe she doesn’t know who Adrien is?” She directs this at Sabrina. Then, to Marinette, Chloé scrunches her face in disgust and anger. “What rock have you been living under?” 

“He’s only a famous model!” Sabrina chimes in. 

“And I am his best friend.” Chloé begins again.

Marinette raises her eyebrows at this. None of that helps clarify who Adrien is. And, if he’s a famous model, why would any sane teacher let a man who is probably in his early/mid 20’s come to class with 14-15 year olds?! Why is a man who is in his mid 20’s still in middle school?!

“He adores me.” Chloé looks to Marinette, and scoffs when she sees that Marinette has not moved from her seat. “Uh, go on, move!” She emphasizes this with a thumb pointing toward the proposed seats. 

And all Marinette can think of is, is this Choe’s new scheme to get attention? Who would believe that a 20 something year old is hanging out with a 14 year old? They’d be all over the news. 

Suddenly, the new girl is behind Chloé, her voice strong and brave. A fatal mistake when talking to Chloé Bourgeois. “Back off, Brat.”

Chloé turns to the girl, anger and annoyance taking the wheel. She leans toward the new girl, making sure her tone is mocking and sarcastic. “Ooh, look, Sabrina, we got a little do-gooder in our classroom!” Chloé leans in further. “What’re you going to do, Super Newbie, shoot beams at me with your glasses.”

Marinette cringes, this is why it is best to stay docile around Chloé, if she senses any opposition at all, she’ll only cause a scene. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The new girl sneers, her voice dark and dangerous. She pushes Chloé to the side and reaches for Marinette’s arm. “C’mon” she says as she grabs Marinette’s arm. Marinette barely has any time to grab her box of macarons and her bag before she’s being dragged from her seat. 

In her haste to steady herself, grab her stuff, and the new girl’s quick pace, Marinette misses a step on the way to her new seat and ends up falling; her box of macarons falling to the floor, where several are flung from the box and are crushed on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She mumbles as she cleans up and slides into her new seat for the year. Chloé’s and Sabrina’s laughing etching its way into her memory. 

“Chill-ax, girl, no biggie!” The new girl says, eyeing Marinette as she’s hunched over her almost empty box of macaroons. 

“Alright, has everyone found a seat?” The teacher asks the class as other kids file in, leaning her hands on the desk. The class speaking up behind them drowning out her voice. 

Marinette straightens up and looks to the new girl, “But I so wish I could handle Chloé the way you do.” The new girl raises an eyebrow, a corner of her lips quirking up. Not threatening, or suspicious, but curious and slightly confused. She reaches for her phone and unlocks it.

“You mean the way Majestia does it.” The new girl pulls up an image of a woman in a skin tight, blue suit, her shoulders, hands and face uncovered. She wears a fire truck red, sleeveless jacket with a ruffled coat tail, two thick, golden, zigzagging lines run across the bust, stars above the lines. Boots of the same shade reach to about her mid calf, the tops lined with the same type of lines as the jacket. “She says: All that is necessary for the triumph of Evil, is for Good to do nothing.” The new girl says proudly. 

She leans past Marinette, wrapping her left arm around her shoulders and pointing to Chloé with her right hand. “And that girl over there, is evil, and we,” she points to herself and Marinette, “are the good people. She has a smirk on her lips. “We can’t let her get away with it!” 

“That’s easier said than done...” Marinette hunches her shoulders a bit, her voice dejected. “She likes to make my life miserable.” 

“That’s easy to fix, girl, you just need more confidence!” The new girl says, conviction strong in her voice. 

Marinette smiles, and takes the last remaining macaron and breaks it in half, extending the other out to the new girl. 

“Marinette.” she says.

“Alya,” the new girl says in response, taking the half macaron. 

With this, they turn to the front, pleased smiles on their faces. 

Maybe... maybe this year isn’t going to be so bad?

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

“For those of you who don’t yet know me,” the teacher says, drawing all attention her way, “I’m Ms. Bustier.” 

As class starts, Chloé leans on her new desk, sadness in her face and eyes. Looking at the empty seat before her. “Ugh, he should have been here by now.” she says under her breath. 

She meant to have annoyance in her tone, and she does, but she can’t hide the underlying disappointment. 

Where is s— he?

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

Master Fu watches as Adrien rushes through the street, pressing against the bushes and trees, looking over his shoulder frequently, searching for something or someone. 

Fu smiles, it seems like this young man has decided to try to get some freedom. But, if the frantic look in his eyes means anything, it’ll most likely be short lived. 

The young man reaches the school grounds, and pauses next to a cologne ad poster that, coincidentally, has him on it. He looks over his shoulder again, and a smile finds his way into his face. He’s beaten the system, it would seem. For the time being.  

This is Fu’s chance to issue his Challenge, to see if he has the ability to wield the Miraculous of Destruction. He has the potential, when faced with no other option, but this will test whether he will choose to help others and not himself. To do what he feels is right, and forfeit what he wants. 

Just as Adrien reaches the steps, Fu launches his plan, clutching his back and falling to the ground, dropping his cane just out of his reach. Crying out in pain. 

This causes the boy pause, and he stands on the steps of the school, frozen in place. Trying to figure out what to do, looking between Fu and the school’s front door. 

Not a second later, he rushes to Fu, bringing his cane to his hands and helping him stand. 

“Thank you, young man!” He says, patting his arm. Adrien’s eyes cringe and he tenses before his entire face lights up. 

Huh, interesting... 

“Do you need help getting to where you’re going?” He asks, his green eyes hopeful. No doubt wanting to help out more. If only so he could get further away from whoever he’s running from. 

“No, I will be fine, but thank you for your kindness! Now, shoo, go to school!”

Adrien nods, the mention of school making his face light up even more. 

He turns and rushes to the steps, and, just before he reaches the door, a silver sedan screeches to a stop, a tall woman clad in a purple suit and red blouse, her black hair fading to red on the left side. “Adrien, please reconsider! You know what your father wants!” 

She walks slowly toward Adrien, as a large man steps out from the driver's seat, walking toward him with her. Adrien turns slowly toward them, his feet frozen in place, fear in his eyes. But only for a brief moment. 

“But this is what I want!” He says, the fear taking a back seat to hurt and anger. “I’m sick of being stuck at home. I want to be like a normal kid!” 

The woman shakes her head. “Adrien, you are not a normal kid, your father can’t afford to have you at public school!” 

Adrien scoffs, “We both know he has more than enough money to afford it.” 

“That’s not what I mean, Adrien. You know he only does this to keep you safe. He’s doing this for you.” 

At this, Adrien’s eyes soften, his posture drooping. “I know... I just... I want to be around others. Please don’t tell Father about this.”

The woman’s eyes soften as she puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you just can’t. Come, let’s go home.” 

As Adrien is led to the sedan, and is driven off back home, the second box pulsates in Fu’s pocket. 

This boy has the traits that are required for the use of this Miraculous, but he does not have the right life for it. Fu is unsure whether Adrien can handle it. Plagg seems set on this boy, however. And, if Adrien is going to learn and grow, there is only one other Miraculous that will do just as good a job, and he’s already found a match for Creation. 

He’ll just have to watch out for Plagg. With that, Fu swings his cane onto his shoulder and walks away whistling, following the sedan.

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

“Those of you who have P.E., Mr. D’Argencourt is expecting you at the stadium.” Ms. Bustier calls to the class as the bell rings and everyone packs up. 

As the kid named Ivan, A large, fair skinned boy, with short brown hair save for the small tuft of blond in the front, gets up Kim gives him a note. 

“The rest of you can head over to the library.”

A moment later, Ivan bursts out with an angry cry of “Kim!” He lurches toward Kim, an impish smirk on the lankier boy’s face. Ivan is cranking his fist back to slam it into Kim’s fragile face. 

“Ivan! What are you doing?!” Ms. Bustier exclaims, leaning over her desk in shock. Ivan looks to her in confusion, lowering his fist. 

“It’s Kim!” Ivan looks back at Kim, raising his fist again, and, for the first time, Kim is shocked and scared. “I’m so gonna—“ 

“Ivan! Go to the principal’s office!” Ms. Bustier cuts in, pointing out the door. 

At that, Ivan steps away from Kim, growling as he looks back down at the note Kim passed him. With anger rolling off him, Ivan crumples the note in his hand and storms out of the classroom, muttering to himself; leaving Kim to shake in his seat, and Ms. Bustier to wonder if she could have worked the situation out better. 

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

The man known as Hawkmoth stands in a large room, a metal, circular window cover sliding open, letting light pour into the room, sending pure white butterflies fluttering about. 

“Such powerful emotions. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. And in a school no less, a perfect catalyst to test my limits.” He reaches for a butterfly, and clasps his hands around it. A second later, dark, purple energy seeps into the butterfly, and when he releases the butterfly, it is black with purple cracking apart the black, a violet mask-like pattern on it’s head and back, its legs a dark purple. “Burn a hole into his heart, little akuma, transform his anger into something more!”

The transformed butterfly, now an akuma, flies through the air, tracking down the boy with such anger and frustration with supernatural speed. 

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

Ivan opens the door to the principal’s office, but before he can take a step inside, the principal stops him. 

“Excuse me, young man! Hasn’t anyone taught you to knock?” The principle, a large, overweight, white man with a receding hairline and greying hair exclaims. This shocks Ivan, his anger and frustration building. “Go on, go again.” He says, leaning back in his decked out, rolling swivel chair. 

With a shake of his head and a growl, Ivan closes the door and turns around, raising a fist to knock.

Before he can put his fist to the wood, something stops him. A sound. The sound of something wet twisting and crawling. And suddenly, in his mind, there is a man floating in a grey space, his voice echoing all around his head. The principal’s “Go on, knock!” is ignored. 

The man before Ivan is wearing a dark purple suit, and it shines in a way cloth doesn’t, kind of like rubber. On his chest are two black wing like lapels, which just make whoever this guy is look weird. Covering his head is a grey mask, only his eyes, which are an unsettling violet, and mouth looking normal. He’s leaning on a cane. 

“Stoneheart.” the man says Ivan’s confusion at the name going unacknowledged. “I am Hawkmoth, I am giving you the strength and unstoppable power to seek revenge on those who have wronged you. To prove to them that you do have what it takes. All I need you to do is cause mayhem. Destroy all that you can.”

The power to get back at Kim? To prove that he does have what it takes? 

And all he needs to do is cause mayhem? 

Who can deny such a thing?

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Ivan says, a dark look on his face. 

The man smirks. 

Black and purple bubbles ripple over Ivan’s body, morphing his skin and bones.

When the bubbles disperse, Ivan is no more. Only Stoneheart remains. Standing at 2 meters tall, with cracked stone for skin and yellow eyes. He’s built like an athlete, and literally chiseled. Wrapped around his right hand is a purple fabric, like that a boxer would wear under their boxing glove. On his chest, the stone is jagged and protruding, right where his heart would be, like his heart had exploded. The cracks in the stone glow a faint yellow. 

“Well?” The principal asks, waiting for a response. 

Suddenly, the door is flung from its hinges, the principal only has enough time to move enough so that the door doesn’t slam into his head, but it still collides with his shoulder, sending him to the ground.

With an almighty roar, Stoneheart launches through the window, leaving an echo of “KIM!” behind as the entire wall crumbles to the street below.

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

In the library, a thunderous roar rattles the walls, then the whole building shakes, causing students to tumble to the ground. 

After a few seconds, Alya, Marinette’s new friend, grabs her from the ground and drags her to the TVs in the library, which are showing the security footage. 

A large, probably 2 meters tall, stone golem is walking down the street, the cracks in it’s stone skin glowing bright yellow. It roars in a voice so raspy and stiff, she wonders if it has vocal chords, and if so, how they’re working. 

“Wh-what’s going on? I thought it was an earthquake!” a random kid exclaims.

Alya turns to Marinette, her hands on her cheeks. “It’s a real life super villain!” Suddenly, Alya’s eyes glint and she pulls out her phone. “Battery, 80%, check! GPS, check! I am so outta here!” Then she’s off, leaving Marinette to marvel at her. 

“Wait! Hey, where’re you going?” 

Alya pauses only briefly before turning around and hopping backwards “Where there’s a super villain, there is always a superhero!” Then she’s through the doors. 

This is such a weird day...

Marinette looks back to the tv and jumps as the rock monster collides a car, the car crumbling and shattering. The yellow in the cracks of it’s skin glows brighter and- and she could have sworn it grew! It picks up what remains of the car with ease, and throws it at the school camera, and it goes to static. The building shakes again as crumbling brick and groaning metal reverberates through the school. 

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

Fu stops just outside the gates of a mansion. His eyes glinting with wonder and awe. 

This should provide good living conditions for a being with such a high cost diet. 

He hums in delight, letting Wayzz take the pulsating box up into the mansion.

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

Adrienne *hates* homeschooling. She’s alone, save for Nathalie, and has to stay in one place for at least 7 hours, sometimes more, depending on the lesson. And, most of the time, she’s in the dining hall, the cold, undecorated dining hall. She’s stuck hearing her father, Nathalie, the mansion staff, call her ”Adrien”. Call her a boy. She can’t talk to anyone, can’t have a break. It’s useless. 

“Who was the 1st president of the 5th French republic?” Nathalie walks up and down the length of the dining table. A tablet and pen in hand. 

And all Adrienne can do is lean against her hand, not even able to summon more than a bored, monotone voice. “Everyone thinks it was De Gaulle but it was actually René Coty before the first elections.” 

“Excellent, Adrien!” Nathalie exclaims. Turning around, a… pleased look on her face? ‘When did that happen?!’ Adrienne can’t help but think in shock. She opens her mouth to say something but a cold voice cuts through the room.

“Give me a minute would you, Nathalie?” Adrienne immediately tenses. It’s an involuntary reaction she has no control over. Not anymore. 

Her Father turns to look at Adrienne, his eyes cold, disappointed, disproving. Angry. But his face remains stoic. “You are not going to school. I have already told you.” 

Adrienne’s heart sinks. She looks to Nathalie, her eyes burning. She betrayed her. She- she does know what happens when she disobeys her Father, right?

Nathalie only lowers her head in shame. 

Adrienne looks back to her father. “But, Father-“ 

“Everything you need is right here, where I can keep an eye on you.” He cuts in, tone dark and dangerous. “I will not have you outside in that dangerous world.” 

“It’s not dangerous!” Adrienne tries, standing up from her seat, hands on the table. “I’m always stuck here by myself! Why can’t I go out and make friends just like everybody else?” She asks, pointing out the grand window to her left. 

“Because you are not everybody else! You are My son” Adrienne flinches, her body flinching as her gut falls. She hates it when he sounds like that, it makes her feel so small. She has to bite her tongue to keep herself from shaking at her father’s deep, angry voice. He’s using the tone that suggests that he will not allow for any more words to be said. 

Adrienne stands up straight, bowing her head, holding back tears that threaten to form. 

Always her... it’s always Adrienne who makes things difficult. Who makes Father angry. All Adrienne does is antagonize him. 

With that, Gabriel leaves, and Nathalie steps forward. “We can leave it there if you wan-“ 

Before she even finishes, Adrienne takes off running, hiding her— his face. Hiding his reddening eyes. 

As he runs to his room, he catches a brief glimpse of a painting of him, his father and his mother. 

But he can’t look at it for so long. It brings back too many bad memories. 

Once in his room, he lays down on his bed, Letting his pillow soak in all the tears leaking from his— her eyes. From her eyes. 

Why is Father like this? The thought bounces around in Adrienne’s head, it makes her dizzy. Why am I like this, if I’m really- if I’m really a girl, I wouldn’t revert to using those pronouns, to using “Adrien” when I’m stressed, would I? I wouldn’t do that when I anger Father, would I? How the hell am I a girl-

He doesn’t understand, Adrienne’s mother’s voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts. He probably never will. Your father is a stubborn man, and closed off in many ways. Just remember who you are, and that I’m here for you, my beautiful daughter.

This only makes Adrienne sadder. She isn’t here anymore. How can Adrienne keep going if she isn’t here? 

Suddenly, something shakes the mansion, sounding like a stampede. 

Curiosity takes over, and Adrienne takes off to go find out what’s happening. 

She opens the front doors of the mansion, and a large (probably 4 meters tall) rock person is stomping its way toward a police blockade. 

When the monster is within 10 meters, the police officer standing on top of a police car yells: “F-ire!” His voice cracks with fear and all the surrounding police officers fire off their guns. 

The rock monster holds up it’s arms, but instead of the bullets doing any harm, they make the cracks in between the monster’s skin glow brighter, and it grows to be 2 meters taller! The police officer that was on the car scrambles down and tries to get away, but the monster grabs the car the officer was previously standing on with one hand, shouts out an unintelligible word, then throws the car with ease at the police officer; who only just barely manages to get out of the way. 

Whatever this thing is, they sure are very, very angry. 

Adrienne sprints back to her room, and vaults over her sofa, turning on the TV to the news. 

“I’m asking all Parisians to stay inside until the situation’s under control.” Mayor Bourgeois says into the microphone, and Adrienne lets out a snort. Having everyone stay inside is the right call, don’t want anyone getting in the way... but, the man would be more than happy if he were the only one that stayed inside. And with the way that the situation is being handled, it isn’t going to be solved any time soon. 

Then it switches to the TVi news station, where Nadja Chamack reports. “As incredible as it seems, it has been confirmed that Paris is, indeed, being attacked by a monster. The police have been struggling to get the situation under control.” Up in the right corner, a camera still reports what the monster is doing. Which, by the looks of it, is picking up cars and throwing them at buildings, trees, and other cars, destroying buildings and otherwise just causing mayhem, carnage and... and death. 

It switches to another news camera, and it shows the police officer that was on the car in front of the gates, he’s getting his arm bandaged by a firefighter, speaking to an interviewer. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from the officer’s broken arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” the officer mumbles.

Blinking and shaking her head, Adrienne looks away, trying not to be too ashamed of Paris’s police force. From the looks of things, this monster is absorbing kinetic energy and using it to grow stronger. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention. 

It’s a small box, with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize on it. 

She diverts her full attention to this box, a confused: “What’s this doing here?” Leaving her lips. 

She picks it up, weighing it in her hand, moving it around and shaking it. It makes no noise. Shrugging, she opens it and finds a folded piece of paper. When she picks up the paper, she catches sight of a black ring, the corners of the face have silver raised points.

Suddenly, a bright green light glints off the ring, and a ball of green light bursts from it, temporarily blinding her, making her drop the paper, and box. 

When her vision returns, there is a small, black being laying down in the air. It has a body covered with smooth, black fur, with a slight green sheen to it. It has a puff of fur on both cheeks, with two long, black whiskers poking out of each puff. There are similar tufts of hair on the bendy points of its limbs and back where the limbs connect to it. It has an aura that surrounds it that makes everything seem darker around it. Light seems to bend around it, like a black hole. It has two long, thin, puffy tails. It has two little ears that are currently drooped lazily, and little wisps of hair poke out from the inside. It has a tiny nose and snout. It... looks like a small deformed cat. And is absolutely adorable!

Suddenly, it uprights itself, stretching its arms and legs, little claws extending from it’s limbs, and releases a huge yawn. Upon closer inspection, each limb ends with a little paw. Its mouth reveals tiny, tiny fangs and an emerald green hue on the inside of its mouth. It’s ears perk up. Once it’s done with the yawn, the ears drop down again, and it opens its eyes to reveal two neon green eyes with black, slitted pupils. 

“No way!” Adrienne exclaims. “This is so cool! You’re like the genie in the lamp!” She reaches a finger up to rub the little cat-genie’s forehead. 

The little cat-genie launches back. It’s eyes going wide, with…. fear? But the cat-genie quickly schools its adorable little face into calm, uninterested, unimpressed neutrality. 

“I met him once, so he grants wishes, big deal, I can do so much better and I'm personable!” The cat-genie crosses its nubs over its chest, claws extending slightly, spreading its leg nubs, like it’s pouting. Clearly trying to look intimidating, but Adrienne can see that it’s trying to gauge her reactions. 

Huh, so the cat-genie speaks... it... it’s awfully squeaky and nasal. 

It looks up to Adrienne, its eyes piercing into her soul. “Plagg, nice to meet ya.” 

With the one sided greetings out of the way, The cat-genie known as Plagg zooms into a swirl before zipping off to explore the room, startling Adrienne some. 

It lands on the foosball table, “Ooo, swanky!” Then it chomps down on a figure’s head, ignoring Adrienne’s “Don’t touch that!” by saying “Nope, not eatable.” 

Just as Adrienne is about to grab Plagg, it takes off again, Adrienne’s ”Hey! Get back here!” going unnoticed as it locks eyes on an arcade’s joystick. “It’s so shiny!” Plagg lands on the joystick, uttering a curious “Can you eat this?” Before clamping its mouth down on the joystick ball. 

Plagg turns away from it in disgust as it finds that it cannot, in fact, eat the joystick. “No, you can’t.” It says slightly dejectedly, then locks into something else and zooms away from Adrienne’s hand, leaving behind an excited “Ooh, what about this?”

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

Marinette hates back to school days. She makes sure to tell her computer screen just that as she watches the news. 

At the moment, Sabrina’s father is talking to a news reporter, having his arm wrapped up by a firefighter. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from Officer Roger’s arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” he mumbles. 

Marinette shakes her head. Officer Roger can be a... a special type of person sometimes. 

She glances down to her mouse to click away from the news station, but finds a black box with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize. 

Picking it up, she opens it, and finds a folded up paper. When she removes it, she catches a glance of two red earrings with black spots on each stud before a bright red/pink light glints off of them and she is temporarily blinded. 

When it fades, Marinette’s jaw drops. So does the box and paper. 

Floating before her, with its head bowed, is a giant scarlet/pink, ladybug-like bug, with a head much larger than the rest of its body. It has two antennae coming from its forehead and droop toward its back. It has a large black dot on its forehead. On its back is a scarlet ladybug shell, with five small black spots. From this shell are some pink, translucent wings that aren’t moving. The light around it seems to be…. brighter. Its limbs are little, sectioned, black nubs. 

Suddenly its head shoots up, the light glinting off it’s large white eyes that have rings of blue in the center. 

“Haaweeelllp!” The word leaves her mouth in a shriek as she jumps back, tipping over her chair, getting as far away from this- this- this giant bug! “It’s a giant bug!...”

The bug, no not a bug, a mouse… “A mouse!”

No, a-a bug-mouse, “Bug-mouse!”

it slowly floats its way toward her. 

It continues to get closer. 

“A- an alien!” She almost shrieks. 

“Everything’s okay! Don’t be scared!” Its voice is high pitched, super high pitched, and slightly squeaky.

Marinette’s terrified, she does the only sensible thing. She grabs something behind her and chucks it at the bug-mouse-alien, eyes going wide, and it dodges her projectile. “Bug-mouse can talk! Bug-mouse talks!” She continues to throw things at the bug-mouse-alien, her terror only growing as it continues to dodge all of her projectiles. 

“Listen, Marinette...” the bug-mouse-alien continues to speak. “I know everything is strange...” 

As it talks and gets closer, Marinette can’t help but release terrified squeaks and whimpers as she gropes around for something to trap the bug-mouse thing under. 

Suddenly, her fingers find a cup, and delight shoots through her as she lunges at the bug-mouse, slamming the glass cup down around the little —giant?—   thing. She absently wonders why the glass didn’t shatter. 

It looks up at Marinette, its expression and eyes calm. “Okay, If this makes you feel safer.” 

It has no qualms about being stuck?! What can this thing do that makes it so that it isn’t scared of being trapped under something?! 

Marinette keeps the glass firmly on the ground. “What are you? How do you know my name?” She asks. 

“I’m a kwami,” the bug-mouse puts a nub on its chest. “And my name is Tikki!” it perks up as it says it’s name. “Now, just let me explain.” Its voice is slightly muffled by the glass. It makes the bug -Tikki- sound even weirder. 

“MAMAN, PAPA!” Marinette shouts, inching her way to her trap door. 

“No, no, no!” Tikki tries to warn her, pressing against the glass, but Marinette still ignores it. She puts a hand on the trap door and Tikki calls out again. “No!” It tries again, pushing against the glass, but Marinette keeps ignoring it.

 “MAMA-“ 

“Shhh, No!” Tikki cuts her off, phasing through the glass and floating in front of her face. “I’m your friend, Marinette, you can trust me.” 

Marinette narrows her gaze,

“Marinette?” comes the worried voice of her Maman, and Tikki and Marinette stare at eachother in tense silence. 

“...It’s nothing, Maman, sorry”

Marinette turns to Tikki, the talking bug-mouse-alien-- ahem, Kwami. “Explain.”

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

In such a big room, filled with so much stuff, the kid doesn’t even have any food to eat! Plagg’s tried so many things. Still, nothing edible! 

He could just use atrophy and siphon off some energy, but that requires effort, and he did not wake up from 250 years of being dormant only to have to do things as soon as he is activated! 

Plagg is zipping around this human child’s room and finds a semi-promising rectangle. Hopefully this works! 

He bites down, only for his fangs to meet hard, foul tasting material. Ugh, he should just Cataclysm this whole room... 

He drops the remote, and raises a paw, but the human-child drops from the ceiling and wraps her feeble, insufficient, human fingers around his body, which does not make him release an embarrassing yelp. Nope, not at all. It’s funny, how the human thinks she can keep him in place with just her fingers wrapped around his body, which is made from the very essence of chaos, destruction, bad luck and most importantly, if he does say so himself, death! 

...Eh, he’ll let the child have her victory. 

“Listen, I still don’t know what you’re doing here.” The child says, her tone stern. 

Ha! As if a human can intimidate him! 

This is really getting old, he just wants sustenance! Even mushrooms will do! Birds and fish are better, but they taste weird. Cheese is preferable, and Camembert is exquisite.

“Look, I’m a kwami. Kwamis grant powers.” Plagg narrows his eyes at this, this uninformed child. “Basic gist of mine is Destruction. Got it?” 

“Nuh-Uh.” The child shakes her head, her blonde locks swaying. The locks of hair that grab the light just right... that are probably super soft locks... Locks that would make for an amazing be—

Plagg shakes his head. No time to get distracted. He needs food. 

“Good.”, He looks around before looking into the child’s eyes and not the attention grabbing hair that looks like such a great spot to sleep in. “Got anything to eat, I’m starving!” 

The child narrows her eyes, staring at him. Plagg stares back, keeping his expression neutral. 

“Father’s pranking me, right?” The child stands up, leaning her massive, disgustingly proportionate, head over him. Plagg looks away, he does not want to see up that nose, no matter how clean it is. It’s gross. 

“Wait... that’s not possible, Father doesn’t have a sense of humor.” 

Plagg pulls himself from the human’s surprisingly tight grasp, spreading his limbs out wide. No matter what he thinks of this rule, the last time he didn’t obey it, Tikki ignored him for 500 years and his wielder caused Vesuvius, all because Tikki’s wielder, by extension, also ignored him. “Your dad must never know I exist. Or anyone for that matter.”

Adrienne tilts her head. Furrowing her eyebrows. “Plagg, I’m pretty sure Father already knows other humans exist...” 

Plagg raises his eyebrows. This kid might actually be fun to be around. “I meant no one else can know that I exist.” 

“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.” 

“Anyway,” Plagg zips into the kids face. “Where. Is. The. Food?” The kid looks at him with the weirdest expression. 

“I only get to eat at breakfast, lunch and dinner. No snacks.” 

Plagg narrows his eyes. “That’s no way to live!” 

“Well It’s how I live.” 

Plagg drops his tone a bit. “It’s not a way that anyone should ever have to live.” 

The kid’s eyes go wide

Plagg stares into her eyes, cocking his head. “Well, time to get this out of the way.” Plagg suddenly zips from in front of Adrienne, and into her bathroom. “I’m a kwami, and I can grant you the ability to destroy anything you touch!” 

Plagg stops before a roll of paper, hanging above a , quite frankly disappointing, porcelain throne. He grabs and *nearly* lets out a delighted gasp. Such an amazing invention! He drops it to the ground before landing on it and it starts to unravel. FUN! 

“All you need to do is put on the ring! To be able to do anything, you call out “Claws Out” and to activate your power, call out Cataclysm, you’ll be able to destroy anything you touch!” He explains as he runs around the room on this roll of super soft paper. (Well, actually the powers that he can grant are much more than a mere Catalclysm, but the kid isn’t ready for that yet. Plus, Tikki’d kill him if he were to tell her that.)

“I can do that?” 

“Psssshhh, no, I can do that, I just allow you to be able to do that.” 

“What do I say again?” 

“Claws Out.” 

“Claws out?”

The ring sucks Plagg in and he’s getting ready to meld with the kid. Create what she wants subconsciously. In a flash, he’s inside her mind and he’s ready to shape her body to the way it’s supposed to be, but stops. It would make her happy, but she isn‘t ready for anyone else to know yet, she’d have a break down. And, probably worse. So, he lets her mind create her suit in accordance to what she wants right now.

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

Looking in her mirror, Marinette puts on the earrings. “So, you’re saying, you can give me the power to…. create anything—“ 

“At random, you won't be able to choose it!” 

“—and restore damage—“

“Only if you cast Lucky Charm! And it only restores damage dealt to people caused by a specific event that has happened recently.” 

“Okay, so, you can transform me into a ladybug styled superhero, with increased physical and mental capabilities-“ 

“Mental only in the fact that you’ll be able to take in more information and take it in faster, other than that, it’s all you!” 

“And I can create a random object by calling out Lucky Charm and restore damage dealt to living things caused by a specific event by calling out Miraculous Ladybug?” 

“Yep!” 

“And I can become this Ladybug by….” 

“Calling out ‘Spots On” Tikki looks into Marinette’s eyes, he doesn’t know it yet, he hasn’t realized it yet. 

Hopefully he will. She really doesn’t want Marinette to go through more of his life in unknown misery. Luckily, when the time comes, she can help! 

“Spots On?” 

“Wait I forgot—“

Melding with his mind, Tikki ignores the urge to shape Marinette’s body the way she knows he feels subconsciously like he should. He doesn’t know yet, and she doesn’t want to put that stress on him. But Sugar cookies she forgot to tell him about the ability to purify things! And that the way to take down this thing is to destroy the corrupted object, or that there is a corrupted object. Well, he’s her wielder, he’ll figure it out. 

Technically Tikky can give her wielders so much more power, but this is the first time being her wielder, so she’ll have to ease Marinette into this. 

[This is the image I used to base Nooroo’s, Tikki’s and Plagg’s designs on, I have also used it to alter Trixx’s, Wayzz’s, Pollen’s and Duusuu’s designs.] 

[crazedtmnt]

Misshapen

Turtles X Autistic F!Reader

Hello! So, this is something I’ve been working on for a while. Fun fact about me, but I’m actually autistic. I didn’t find out until I was in college, though, since my mom was terrified to find out the truth (she’s much better about it now). As such, this caused me a lot of trouble growing up. I was constantly missing signals and making people mad without realizing. And I had no way of knowing what was wrong with me.

So I wrote a little self-indulgent thing about that! It was kind of an experiment, so it came out more abstract than I was expecting. I hope that’s okay. I focused mostly on the hyper-fixations, since that caused me the most problems, but I tried to get more in there. It’s a little hard to describe everything. Hope you enjoy!

[y/n] = Your name

~~~~~~~

“No.”

We tuck our hearts behind logic and manners, but every now and again someone’s pokes out, showing the world their true feelings. At the sight of one, we smile and laugh. Its appearance indicates further understanding between us—a bond of trust. Some wear their hearts more readily, while others keep it under lock and key, even as their logic falls apart. But whether a heart is social or shy, one thing remains constant: the more we view each other’s hearts, the more we learn.

“No, no one understands what you’re saying.”

But sometimes a heart is misshapen. Not due to cruelty or malice, but due to life. Not every heart can be made the same. Everyone has cuts or lumps along their veins, but some are born with entirely new designs, foreign and strange to the average person. The sight of these hearts confuses and even angers others.

“I’m sorry. I was just—”

“You were just being annoying! Can’t you read the room?!”

Even if their appearance marks a display of love, trust, or wonder, the twisted form screams a meaning unheard by its owner. The misshapen heart will parade this misinformation happily, unaware of the contempt boiling beneath the surface. That is, until the earth cracks open and reveals what all other hearts could already see.

“I-I… I didn’t mean to…”

“Of course you didn’t. You never think of anyone but yourself. You’re always babbling on about whatever you’re into and never stop to consider others. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

“I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry…”

A misshapen heart can stare itself in the mirror all day long, but even if it realizes that its design is unusual, it cannot change what it already is. The bumps and cuts are familiar—comforting—and the heart itself works just fine. Whatever could be wrong with it? The misunderstanding it keeps exclaiming is just that: a misunderstanding. Its true feelings should be easily heard. It can hope that other hearts hear the truth behind the oddities, but if not…

“God! All you do is apologize! You never actually try to be better! Do you seriously think we enjoy listening to you talk about the same two things every single day? You never even let us get a word in! How would you feel if we ignored your interests to only talk about our own?”

“…”

“What? You won’t even look at us anymore? …Oh God, now you’re crying. You’re such a pain. Learn some social skills and maybe realize that you aren’t the center of the universe. Other people want to talk too.”

“…”

“Stop crying! You just… Ugh! Nevermind. Come on. Let’s leave her to feel sorry for herself.”

A misshapen heart can break just the same as any other.

~~~~~~~

[Y/n] could barely see her friends leaving through the torrent of tears cascading down her face. She couldn’t even stand straight. Under the weight of her shame, guilt, and confusion she was practically doubled over. And once the slam of a door pierced her ear, echoing its hatred through her very soul, she completely broke down.

Sobs wrenched through her body, her chest heaving as she barely managed to hold back full-blown wails. As crying overtook all other functions, [y/n] collapsed on the ground, her hands thrown out to prop her up. All she could do was watch as teardrops fell to the ground at a growing rate and feel a burning sorrow choke her lungs.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?!” she screamed into the void, knowing no one was listening—nor did anyone care to listen. After all, she was an annoying little child whose passions drove away the few people who could stand her. She should know exactly what’s wrong with her… right?

“What is…? What is…?” [y/n] hiccupped, her squinting eyes forcing out more tears so that maybe reality would slip away. If even the floor was blurred, she could imagine she was home in her bed. She could escape to a familiar place where routine was king.

Escape… Escape… Pretend the world worked in a way that made sense. Pretend that every sentence that fell from a stranger’s lips had an obvious tone—no one hid their feelings behind passive aggressive words that slipped her notice. Pretend that background noises didn’t drown out everything else until all that’s left is a sense of anxiety and the realization that she couldn’t breathe. Pretend that she could laugh at jokes thrown at her instead of wondering later if it was even a joke.

Pretend the world’s normal… Not her normal that was weird, boring, or disruptive. No matter how she bent it, it never matched everyone else’s that they fought tooth and nail for. It had to be the normal that suffocated her with expectations she could never hope to meet, since the starting line was nowhere in sight. Her normal was wrong.

…But in the end, it was all she knew.

“What did I… do wrong?”

“Nothing.”

[Y/n] gasped, feeling a warm hand sliding up and down her back. She was still doubled over, but another shadow combined with hers. How long had it been there?

The soothing voice spoke again. “You’re absolutely perfect. It’s not your fault.”

[Y/n] tightened her hands into fists. It was so comforting to hear that… Too comforting.

“No. I… I made them mad…” She wiped her eyes and tried to stand up—tried to escape the calming presence before she forgot her place. She was a broken human who deserved to be hurt. Obviously, she wasn’t working hard enough to be a better person. “I act like a child… and… and ignore… ignore everyone around me.”

The tears had slowed, but it was impossible to catch her breath. Hell, the lump in her throat made her more likely to choke than speak. So she needed to leave before her selfishness made her accept his comfort.

Her love. Her turtle hero. [Y/n] couldn’t let him indulge her any further.

But those strong hands were persistent. In one smooth motion, he had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. Once seated on the floor with him, all desire to flee left. [Y/n] merely gave in, though her gaze was fixated on the floor.

He hummed in somber amusement, the rumble of his chest almost tickling her. It was hard to believe this was the same [y/n] he had fallen in love with. She was so passionate about whatever caught her interest. It was his favorite thing to watch the sparkles in her eyes as she talked for hours over her obsessions. Now, she lay against him like a hollow doll, ready to obey whatever order her owner gave her.

Gently, he wiped her tear tracks with his thumb. “Love, I saw everything. You were just excited to talk to them. They could have stopped you and explained what was wrong, but they chose to get mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I… But I should have tried to… be better. Be nicer and more considerate. I’m such a terrible—”

“No,” he cut in firmly, his grip around her tightening. “Don’t you dare say anything bad about yourself. You’re wonderful. My angel and my love. If they don’t appreciate you, then they don’t deserve you.”

He used his finger to gently push up [y/n]’s chin, guiding her gaze towards his. For a few seconds, [y/n] tensed and closed her eyes. That was the hardest thing in the world: looking someone in the eye. She didn’t deserve his comfort, much less his love. How could she ever meet his eyes?

“[Y/n], look at me.”

His breath caressed her cheek while his hands rubbed her face softly. It was so warm… So familiar and safe. [Y/n] gave in and opened her eyes.

Her gaze was met with calm kindness. It didn’t matter how excited or anxious she got. He always looked at her like she was a princess. His princess. Despite the circumstances, his smile was beautiful, lighting a fire within her heart. Suddenly, [y/n] felt a weight lift from her chest. He was here and he still loved her. He had seen her at her worst and yet he never showed any hint of regret. Instead, he made allowances. It didn’t matter what he was doing—if [y/n] called him in a fit of anxiety, he was there in minutes. He even altered his routine when she was around to better match hers. The stubborn, no-nonsense leader changed his routine out of love for her… And here Leo was right now: smiling that handsome smile, whispering sweet words into her ear, and gently rubbing circles into her back. In spite of all her supposed flaws, he wasn’t going anywhere. On the contrary, he loved every minute he spent with her. She was a blessing and he would do anything to listen to her pour her heart out. In those moments, he could forget all the bad in the world and stare into his love’s eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the solemn expression of understanding. He got it. He also had issues with driving people away. However, that was because of his temper, not unrestrained passion. If anything, his issue was much worse because, while he always regretted it, he purposefully drove people away. [Y/n] was only doing it on accident. She meant no harm. And yet she still chose him, the hothead, to love. With all the words in the world, he couldn’t explain how much that meant to him. So screw those other people. If they couldn’t see how wonderful [y/n] was, then they didn’t deserve to know her. He would keep her all to himself anyway, if he could. She deserved the world, but if she couldn’t have that then she would get all the love he could give. As Raph pulled her closer, inhaling her sweet scent, a wave of relief fell over [y/n]. No matter what, she had her strong protector right beside her. He didn’t care if she rambled on about nonsense; having her care enough to stay by his side meant the world to him. To both of them.

It wasn’t hard to tell what he was thinking with that big grin. Every day, if he didn’t get to hear her lovely voice rant on about whatever, it was a failed day. He loved it, every minute of it. She had the most beautiful mind and could see things from angles others never even knew existed. To society, the world was a 2D image on a piece of paper—simple, clean, and always the same no matter the view point. But to her, the world was 3D and bursting with possibilities. Each day, she viewed it at a new angle, discovering a new story or truth. And each day, she came to him with a surplus of ideas bursting out of her very being. [Y/n] was his muse, his light, and most importantly the love of his life. She needed moderation sometimes, but so did he. That didn’t make her a bad person. [Y/n] was overflowing with passion and potential, if only the right people encouraged her. So that’s exactly what Donnie would do. He gently kissed her forehead, reminding her that her “strange” mind was his favorite thing.

Love. Just endless love. It was all she could see on his face—that warm smile and those bright eyes holding all the love in the world. It was like he was radiating sunshine. Suddenly, the weight on her heart seemed to dissolve. He looked at [y/n] like she was the most beautiful thing in the world. A goddess that owned his heart and all he could give her. If there was ever a moment when he got annoyed at her rambling, he couldn’t remember it. He could only remember all the late nights of them snuggled together, enthusiastically whispering to each other about everything under the sun until Splinter showed up to shush them. Mikey leaned his forehead against hers, brushing some hair behind her ears. Watching [y/n] get excited and analyze her newest obsession was always the highlight of his day. He got to see her gorgeous smile and how her eyes sparkled with delight. In those moments, nothing stood in her way. She shined like a star and graced him, a mutant turtle, with her light. What more could he want?

It was almost too much. Tears filled [y/n]’s eyes again, but for a completely different reason than before. Her heart clenched with love… and the hope that maybe she wasn’t a broken person after all. If her turtle could look at her in such a way, without a hint of regret, then…

“I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered in her ear. Slowly, his lips brushed passed her cheek, settling on her lips. It was a short kiss, but one filled with promises she knew he’d keep. “…I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Then maybe her misshapen heart had found its match.