#spiny skirt

[bookmothic-dyke]

Dumb weapon idea: blade skirt.

Skirt go spin, enemy go bleed.

#bayblades

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

Do I need more clothes? No, probably not.

But I've got all these squares now. And I did math and adjusted my skirt pattern. And the bodice pieces are already cut out.

And, and... I would have to turn these into an actual quilt if I don't, and I'm pretty much out of materials to do that.

[polygonal-chaos]

I got a skirt finally

I’m so happy

:3

[itsabear]

Someone posted before about trans women giving eachother knives, and trans men don't... and the reply, "Trans men already had knives before their egg cracked" Like... Trans Men already know the violence of perception put upon them. So many of this kind of post directly and maliciously ignore how much... Trans Men already have the knife.

twitter try not to be disgustingly transmisandrist for 5 minutes challenge, failed hard once again.

y'all actually suck ass. what the fuck is your problem?

do you think because trans men discuss problems of a lesser (but still important) variety somehow erases the fact that trans men experience some of the highest rates of rape and sexual assault? or that they have to deal with both misogyny and transphobia, sometimes at the same time? or maybe that they're seen as both confused little girls by one group and gender traitor evil sexist abusive pig men by the other? just to name a few things. you really think so?

[alien-magnolia]

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

[saintjosie]

skirt go spiny girl? Like you invented the term?

not even a little bit!

the “skirt go spinny girl” is in reference to one of my tiktoks which blew up on here and so people recognize me a lot from that video on tumblr specifically.

which is funny cause it actually was not at all super viral on tiktok!

but yeah it’s from this:

[greasy-night-rat]

Joe: Didn't want to wear a dress, but didn't want to feel left out either. Complements don't help even if genuine. Viktor: Crumbled under peer pressure. A lil embarrassed Disco: "Skirt go spiny" Hippo: Feels pretty ^ w ^

[Individuals under the cut]

[zombiecj]

something about egg irl seemed so funky and ironic years ago

Ive somehow discovered egg_irl and im absolutely hate how i relate to like 95% of the posts there

[darkfantasysworld]

My precious pup wanted me to make a longer version of this post so yeah, some credit goes to @davinawritings and if they want me to delete this then I will. This is moreso just my version with my own words and character, same idea though.

F!reader x M!Dragon

It was dark out and you were sweeping the kitchen floor wearing nothing but an apron since your dragon boyfriend, Ignis, preferred it. He wouldn't let you wear anything but skirts, dresses, or aprons around the house, the only times you could cover up were outside during colder fall days and winter, if anyone came by and you were too exposed for the guest(s), or if you were alone outside. You continued sweeping until you felt your boyfriend push inside of you, causing a large bulge in your tummy. You moaned and somewhat fell back against Ignis, his large, heated, spiny cock felt so good stretching you but couldn't properly function like this. "Mm.. little flame.. that's it.." Ignis groaned softly and he pulled you close, holding you in place by your hips. You leaned against him, putting your hands over his much larger hands. You looked up at him, smiling as the broom hit the stone floor, he was twice your size, maybe more. "You know.. you can't be inside of me 24/7, right?" You rolled your eyes playfully, enjoying his warm embrace. "Mm.. I need at least fourteen hours a day.. I spent so long stretching you take every inch.. I worked so hard.. we need this.. I need this.." He murmured against your ear, lifting you a bit and carrying you to bed where he laid down and held you against him, pressing your hips against his. You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance but couldn't help smiling at him. He kissed your forehead and rubbed your side. "Such a pretty gem.." He whispered, planting another kiss, this time to your neck. You smiled, content to stay like this as long as he wants, it's not like you could or even would say no.

You opened your eyes and yawned, Ignis had his wings wrapped around you both, making a little cocoon of warmth with a small hole for his little smoke exhale accidents to escape. You smiled, snuggling closer, small groans escaping your lips as you moved, his cock moving inside of you, the small spines on his dragon cock hitting the best spots deep inside of you, ones a human couldn't even dream of hitting. You planted a soft kiss on his neck before running your fingers along the red scales on his forearm. Ignis' eyes opened and he smiled at you before kissing the top of your head. "Mornin' my precious ember.." He murmured, his hand trailing down to your tummy bulge and rubbing it, making you whine softly. He let out a small chuckle as he slid out of you, making you feel empty once again. He reluctantly moved his wings, letting the slightly chilled air hit your skin as he got up and dressed, murmuring something about hating meetings. You watched him get dressed for a moment before getting up yourself and removing the apron you had on only to replace it with a long sleeve dress and some thigh highs so your legs would be somewhat warm. You knew he hated these weird dragon meetings he had to go to, especially since he had to be away from you which, according to him, left you vulnerable to other monsters like naga, zombies, werewolves, centaur, and minotaur but he had to go, every month he just had to go. You didn't fully understand why but apparently it was a tradition from many years ago. You walked with him into the living room and kissed him goodbye before he left. You walked into the kitchen and picked up the broom, holding the wooden handle for a moment before you began sweeping.

You continued cleaning up while he was gone, blasting music, moving your hips, just having some fun while you swept, mopped, dusted, and vacuumed until noon. You made sure the house was practically spotless before you decided to get in the shower, you pulled your dress off and removed your thigh highs. You checked the water temperature, making sure the water was as hot as you could handle before stepping behind the curtain and pulling it shut. You let the water cascade down your body before turning around and soaking your hair. You began to massage shampoo through your hair and on your scalp before rinsing it, the suds made their way down your body. You began massaging conditioner in your hair, this time letting it stay as you washed your neck and chest, hands roaming your upper body when suddenly two large, clawed hands gripped your waist, digging into the flesh slightly as a familiar size pushed between your slick folds and into your tight heat. You moaned at the feeling and looked up at Ignis. "I didn't hear you come in.." You spoke, your voice soft as you enjoyed the feeling of being stuffed full of cock. "I'm a very quiet dragon." He responded, taking the loofah from your hand and helping to wash the rest of your body. His hand ran along the soft skin of your tummy, caressing the bump from his cock as his hand moved down to your thighs. You kissed his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his hands on you as he washed your body. You leaned against him, his touch was soothing on your skin, his claws gently scraping your skin as he washed your body. You enjoyed the feeling of his hands on your body for a while before they moved into your hair, helping rinse the conditioner out. You helped by turning your head occasionally until he lifted you and patted you dry with a soft towel while his body heated up just enough to dry his own skin. He carried you to the couch and sat down, spreading your legs so you could see how wide he was stretching you through your reflection on the TV screen. You blushed at the sight although you didn't know why since he always did this, making you see yourself spread wide open. Ignis kissed your head and turned the TV on for background noise. You were actually watching the movie when he decided to thrust up into you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you spread open. You moaned and moved your hips in time with his thrusts, enjoying each movement. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as Ignis helped guide you up and down. His claws dug into your hips, you heard him say something but your mind was too clouded to understand what he said as you came. You blacked out as you felt his hot cum flood your insides.

[werecreature-addicted]

Butch bug biker gang..... okay we got mole cricket mechanic, racer spiny mantis, gator isopod, now who else??? Uhhh. Hm... OH rosy maple moth! This one is like, the odd gal out. Poodle skirts and heeled boots, but the emblem on her black leather jacket indicates exactly who she cruises with. Bubblegum bitch type of bad femme who crushes skulls under her heel like they're cigarettes that need to be put out. Always makes sure to leave a big lipstick mark anywhere and everywhere she can reach on you. She wears lots of rings because they make her punches hurt more and when she grabs you for a quick make out it leaves a mark or two.

All the other butch bugs think shes rad and they let her join the crew because she probably has more attitude than all of em 😭 they cant fight w that. Esp not when shes as cute as she is cruel. I bet her bike has barbie pink flame decals.

anon you know i'm a moth fan. High fem rosy maple moth who wears pink leather jackets and does her lipstick in the side mirror of her bike. she's tougher than she looks...or maybe she's not idk. the three to five butches who ride with her certainly are though.

[autogynocrat]

i want to fuck a reddit trans girl i want to press her upvote button until she reddit gold in my mouth skirt go spiny hide her face behind blahaj while i slurp her like a gogurt

[gobodegoblin]

wearing skirt

it goes spiny

ive genuinely never felt so happy

[phytochorion]

Elei

Name: Elei Fafie

Pronouns: She/Her

Order Represented: Bennettitales

Age: Kungurian, Early Permian

Height: 6 centimetres

Eye colour: Dark Green

Magical Proclivity: Water, Wind

Spells: Chalaza Afa, Synangia Fa'afilemu, Interseminal Galu, Ramentum Asiosio

An outgoing and dutiful woman who serves with Sirichai's crew. She's adventurous, straight-talking and short-tempered. Although she isn't related to Kai Namele, she looks remarkably like him, with many assuming at first glance that they're twins. She personally finds the assertion that they look alike irritating and is quick to correct it.

Like Kai, her tresses and wings are made up of tough, spiny foliage, and her crown is a pair of tough cones. They are rounded, colourful and more ornate than his, almost like compact inflorescences. She enjoys weaving and usually wears a skirt made from dry leaves, repurposed after they have been shed by her wings.

She's physically strong and also wields impressive wind and water magic that allows her to summon brief, intense storms, or launch fibrous scales from her own body. Considered the crew's best fighter, she and her lookalike have the responsibility of protecting the vessel, its cargo and of course its other inhabitants from the many dangers of the deep.

[writingreadingandwhateverelse]

The darkness enveloped the small village as Nicolette crept down the stairs. She knew exactly where to step as to not make a sound. She made it to the door and opened it softly, the cool air rushed at her, and she shivered, tugging her shawl closer to her. She confidently walked down the path, she knew exactly where to step even in the dark. She avoided a large tree she knew was coming up and made sure to avoid the Backberrys’s garden, they were awfully sensitive about it. She continued, accidently stepping on a flower, Brutus’s wife would be furious if she knew. Luckily they wouldn’t find out. She wound through the forest with the skill of an assassin. She finally made it out of the village, and she immediately felt free. Free of everything, of the expectation, of her parents, of the pressure, if only for one night. But that was enough. She still had a long walk to go. It was another three miles walk to the very outskirts of the city. But it was worth it. She kicked a rock down the path as she walked, humming to herself softly. This journey was the best part of her week, a time where she got to be alone and do what she wanted, a time her family could never know about. Her parents would be furious, after all journeying alone was improper for a lady and the fact that she was going to a tavern wasn’t much better. She knew her parents would never find out, she was too smart, too careful to ever get caught. She was almost caught once when her brother Charles saw her start to leave the house one night. He asked her where she had been going and she lied saying she forgot to water the vegetable garden. He believed it and was too dim witted to figure out she was lying. Who waters a garden at night? Nicolette chuckled to herself at the memory, her older brother was strong and an excellent farmer, but he was, well, not the sharpest tool in the shed. She however was as quick as an eel, she didn’t mean to brag or think too highly of herself, after all that was unbecoming of a lady, but it was true, she was far smarter than all the boys in her village. However no one actually acknowledged that. Her talents were often used for cooking porridge and tending to the garden. She sighed softly, once again wishing for something bigger, something beyond her simple existence in the village.

Nicolette suddenly yelped, “ow”, as she ran into an oak tree. She was too lost in her thoughts and momentarily forgot where she was. She rubbed her sore head, then looked up recognizing the tree. Its large spiny roots pointed in the direction she needed to go. She was close. She lifted up her skirt and ran carefully as not to trip on any rocks. She did that last time and had to make up an excuse to her parents as to why she was all bruised. She made it to the tavern and stepped inside. The sound of laughter filled her ears and the smell of ale was so strong she could taste it. It was dimly lit and the hearth did nothing for the dark, it only made the room even hotter. She struggled through all of the people, and she tried to get to the counter. A group of drunk men stood in her way, singing some song about a woman. One man wobbled, nearly running into her. She shoved him out of the way, and he turned around but was too drunk to notice it was her who hit him. He shrugged and went back to singing. She finally pushed her way to the counter, and was slightly out of breath. She sat in the chair trying to compose herself. She tied her black, now sweaty, hair back into a ponytail.

The bartender walked over as she tucked a few dark strands of hair behind her ear. The bartender walked over and said, “Ahh Nicolette, almost thought you weren’t coming.”

Nicolette said, “I always come, Thomas, you know that.”

He chuckled and said, “I suppose I do, what can I get for ya?” Thomas knew her response but he always asked anyway.

She waved her hand shooing away the question, “Nothing thank you.”

She didn’t care for alcohol it made one weak and vulnerable. Unaware of their surroundings and easy to catch off guard. Plus it made a person look like an utter idiot. Her father had come home drunk a number of times, he always acted a fool, and her mother despised it. She made him sleep in the stables once, he had blacked out, and woken up in mud, manure, and hay. She had no desire to end up like that. She preferred to have all her senses in good use.

“Are you ever going to order anything?”

She pretended to consider it and said, “no”.

Thomas let out a heavy sigh and walked away mumbling under his breathe. Nicolette smiled to herself, it was always fun to mess around with Thomas, just a bit. She turned her head away from the bar and towards the patrons sitting at tables. She watched drunken men clumsily flirt with women who disgustingly refused their advances. Men played cards, occasionally shouting at each other, arguing over the rules. The whores cozied up to men, hoping to get paid. She reveled in the noise and excitement of the tavern, it was comforting in a way. It offered some form of fun in her otherwise mundane life. She heard a loud laugh and turned in her seat. She saw a group of boys that she recognized from her village. Godrick, the oldest of the boys but certainly not the brightest. Jarl. A rather effeminate boy. And Randal, the youngest, desperate to prove himself. Of course there was their ring leader, Tieran. He was tall and muscular, practically all the girls in the village fawned over him. He always strutted around, his chest all puffed up. As if he was better than any of them. She lived a few cottages down from him, and often was caught up in his antics. What was he doing here? This was supposed to be her spot, all she wanted to do was get away, just for one moment. She watched Tieran burp loudly, which made his friends laugh, and she rolled her eyes. She turned away, she couldn’t get caught. Thieran could tell the other villagers and if it reached her mothers ears, she’d be dead. She looked back at their table when she heard a loud bang and the shatter of glass. She saw the broken glass on the floor and Tieran started at it before he and his friends burst out in laughter.

Thomas marched over and said, “What do you think you're doing you fools? You’ll pay for that.”

Tieran smirked and said, “No I don’t think we will.”

Thomas grew red in the face, “You think you can just go around and break things that aren’t yours? You’ll either pay for it or work it off.”

Tieran got right up in his face and said, “Like I said…no.”

He laughed and yanked Thomas’s hat off. He tossed it to Godrick, and Thomas ran after it, and the boy threw it again, this time to Randal. Nicolette watched as they continued to throw the brown patchy hat and Thomas ran after it. Nicolette stood up and walked over. Her instinct to protect herself left, she wanted to humiliate Tieran, and at least protect a little of Thomas’s dignity. They threw the hat in the air again, and she shoved Jarl out of the way and caught it. The boys turned their heads towards Nicolette.

The fabric was rough in her hand, and there were even more patches up close. She wondered for a moment if she should just throw it away. Instead she handed the hat back to Thomas. Then turned to the boys and said , “How immature are you?”

Tieran glared, clearly upset his fun had been ruined, “Mind your own business Nicolette.”

She raised and eyebrow and said, “Pay for the glass and I will.”

She really didn’t care that much about the glass or Thomas. But the thought of humiliating Tieran was too good to pass up. He was insufferable.

Tieran clenched his jaw, clearly indignant. He said, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Nicolette knew just how to play the game. She nodded, “You're right. I can’t. How about we make a bet instead? An arm wrestle. If I win, you pay for the glass. If you win I’ll do well…whatever you’d like.”

She wasn’t worried about losing the bet, after all she would never make a bet she couldn’t win. She was too smart for that.

Tieran said, “Why should I take the bet?”

Nicolette chuckled, ready to reel him in like a fisherman would a fish. She said, “Because if you don’t, you’ll look like a coward in front of your friends.”

His eyes widened slightly, she knew Tieran would never refuse a bet, especially one from a girl, he’d be seen as a coward. It didn’t take long for him to consider it.

He said, “Alright it’s a deal, but when you lose you have to kiss me, and I’m not talking about a little peck.” His friends laughed and slapped him on the back.

Godrick laughed,”Ha ha. Pucker up Nicolette.”

Rodney, eager to be included, said,”Yeah, pucker up”

Nicolette rolled her eyes at their mocking. She wasn’t surprised by Tieran’s request. She had seen the way he had looked at her. The long stares, the puffed out chest, and the constant showing off. She once saw him attempt to shoot a deer in front of her. He missed by a mile. He was always so confident, so sure of himself, and his friends always backed him up. She relished the chance to knock him down a peg, to humiliate him in front of his friends. She wasn’t deterred by his request, like he expected her to be, in fact, it made it easier to humiliate him.

She smirked, matching his own face, as she stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

He stuck out his own hand spitting on it, and stuck it out. She pulled hers away with a simple,”No.”

The boys howled with laughter, and Tieran mocked,”If she’s afraid of a little spit, imagine how she’ll feel when I kiss her.”

Nicolette had so many comebacks but she reminded herself to save them for later, after his defeat. He had to believe that she was nervous, if she came off too confident, he could back out of the deal. She sat at a chair across from him, Tieran put his arm up on the table, leaning forward. Nicolette followed suit, placing her arm on the table, some sticky substance made it’s way through the sleeve of her dress and onto her skin. She grimaced, this was a nice dress, and her mother would be furious. Nicolette shook her head, reminding herself she had more important things to focus on. She clasped hands with Tieran. She felt his blisters, rough against her skin, from years of working on a farm. She took a closer look at his large biceps and for a moment felt a flutter of nervousness. What if her plan didn’t work? It would be absolutely humiliating if she lost. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, she wouldn’t lose. She had a plan and as long as she followed it she would win.

Tieran snapped, “Are you going to keep daydreaming or are we going to get started.”

Nicolette stared into his eyes, “Let’s begin.”

They tightened their grip on each others hands. His grip was so tight it was turning the tips of her fingers purple. Jarl yelled in his high voice, “Go!”

Tieran jolted his arm to the left and Nicolette had to strain to stop it from hitting the table. Her hand hurt from his pressure and it felt like her wrist was going to crack. She tried to push back but she couldn’t. She was inches away from the table and it was clear he was winning. His left side of his mouth quirked up with a satisfied smirk. His friends egged him on and Tieran pushed down even harder, his veins popping out in his arm, a dark blue against his tan skin. Nicolette's arm was shaking and she knew she couldn’t hold out for much longer. She leaned forward. Close enough to him, that he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. She positioned herself in a way where she revealed just a hint of cleavage. She saw Teiran’s eyes dart low for a moment, but then he looked forward again. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he focused on forcing her arm to the table

She leaned even closer, her lips touching his ear, “Let’s forget about this foolish competition and do something more enjoyable.”

Tieran looked up at her searching for signs of deceit, his hand loosened slightly. She saw a flicker of desire in his eyes. She had him. Time to reel him in.

She smiled seductively, “Come on, I know you want more than a simple kiss.”

That was enough, his hand loosened significantly and she tightened hers. He noticed but it was too late, she shoved his hand to the table with a thud, and she smiled triumphantly. Tieran’s eyes flickered from her to his hand on the table, then back to her, his mouth slightly agape.

Nicolette smirked and said, “I win.”

Tierans friends were silent now. Randal shuffled awkwardly, and Jarl opened his mouth to talk then shut it again. It was clear they didn’t know how to respond to the situation. For the first time, someone had outsmarted their leader. And worse, it was a girl.

Tieran stared at her, not seeming to comprehend what happened, then he scowled and said, “You cheated.”

Nicolette knew this response was coming and she was prepared, “I didn’t cheat.”

He yelled, “You lied to me!”

The entire tavern went quiet looking at him for a moment before turning back to their chatter. Nicolette said, “Would you like to tell your friends what I lied to you about?”

His friends looked at him curiously. Tierans ears turned bright red. He looked furious but remained silent, not wanting to embarrass himself anymore.

Nicolette patted his cheek and said, “Now I believe there’s a glass you need to pay for.”

Thomas smirked from where he was watching and said, “You heard her. Pay up, boy.”

He just stood there and Nicolette teased,”Come on Tieran, don’t be a sore loser.”

He growled from his throat and took out a small coin pouch, filled with coins that he had clearly been saving for a long time. He slowly placed it in Thomas’s hand and the pouch clinked as it fell.

Tieran turned to Nicolette, his eyes were like the fiery pits of hell and they bore into her soul. He said, “You're a lying whore.”

Nicolette smiled innocently, not scared by his intimidation, “And you're pathetic, losing to a girl.”

Randal let out a small and Tieran glared at him. He said,”I’ll get you for this Nicolette, I swear it.”

She rolled her eyes, he wouldn’t dare touch her, the village was a very tight knit community after all. She said, “Yes I’m sure you will.”

She sauntered out of the bar laughing to herself. Tierans face when he lost was something she never wanted to forget. She had humiliated him, would he even show his face at the village? She nearly tripped over an overgrown tree, and awkwardly looked around before continuing to walk. She only walked a few feet when she heard someone running after her. For a moment she was worried. What if Tieran was really coming after her. She bent down and picked up a rock to defend herself. She turned around, raising the rock only to see Thomas.

“Nicolette! Nicolette!”

She sighed but stopped, and set down the rock. She knew he wanted to say thanks but she really didn’t want to hear it. She tapped her leg quickly and crossed her arm. She had to get home soon before someone realized she was gone.

Thomas was slightly out of breath, clearly not in good shape. He said, “I just… wanted to thank you…you didn’t have to…do that.”

She responded,”Your right I didn’t.”

He shifted awkwardly, that wasn’t the response he was looking for. He said,”Right…well drinks on me anytime.”

She doubted she would ever take him up on that offer. But she could tell he obviously wanted her to respond graciously. She decided to give him what he wanted, “I might take you up on that, thank you.”

He beamed, “Have a goodnight, and be careful out there.”

Nicolette walked away and said, “I know, I always am.”

She didn’t bother to listen to his response. She could see the sun peeking through the trees. She had to get home now. The veil of night had lifted and it was time to go. Nicolette lifted her skirt and ran, barely keeping herself from tripping over loose stones and twigs. They cuther legs and leaves tangled in her hair. If her parents found her like this they would definitely ask questions. She ran even faster, gasping for breath. She was close and she didn’t even bother to stop herself from stomping on the Backberry’s yard. She made it to the small cottage she called home and quietly slipped through the door and into the kitchen. No one was up. She took a deep breath, the air refilling her lungs. She ran her fingers through her hair trying to make it semi presentable. She looked down at her dress, it was covered in dirt, and that strange substance from the tavern, it was torn at the edges. She would be in a lot of trouble. That wasn’t the only thing she was worried about. It was the look in Tierans eyes, his promise of revenge, he looked so intense, so serious. No…no. He wouldn’t try that, he wouldn’t dare, he wasn’t that stupid. She took a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts. She was about to head up to her room, hide the evidence, and get some rest before breakfast when a voice said, “Where have you been?”

[mayakern]

I got my skirt last week and was so excited I immediately put in on and spun it. It's so cute and fun and spiny!

aw hehe i’m so glad you liked it ☺️☺️

[witchybluedeity]

Have a couple of designs for yet another au.

Wealth in Family!

Leo - Red-Eared Slider - Mask and wrappings are Gold - Favorite Kimono is the red one, but he'll switch depending on how he feels - Trained with and uses the Bō - Still has the power of portal creation; spins the bō with intent to create a portal to make one - Obi (belt) is his usual blue, Hamato Clan symbol is the same green from the show - Secondary weapon is the Ōdachi/Katana

Mikey - Eastern Box Turtle - Mask and wrappings are Emerald - Favorite Kimono is the light lilac one, doesn't change often but will wear a hakama (skirt) if tempted - Trained with and uses the Tonfa/Sais - Still has the power of mystic chains; they connect to the handles of the Tonfa/Sais with a long, mystically retractable chain - Obi (belt) is his usual orange, Hamato Clan symbol is the same green from the show - Secondary weapon is the Kusari-fundō/Nunchucks

Donnie - Albino Spiny Softshell Turtle - Mask and wrappings are Silver - Favorite Kimono is the green one, as well as the gray Haori (jacket) and Beige Hakama (skirt). He takes the Haori off when working in the lab - Trained with and uses the Ōdachi/Katana - Still has the power of creating mystic tech; handles can extend cover the blade and a tool can come out from the base of the handle itself - Obi (belt) is his usual purple, Hamato Clan symbol is the same green from the show - Secondary weapon is the Bō

Raph - Alligator Snapping Turtle - Mask and wrappings are Copper - Favorite Kimono is the black one, but he'll change if it seems 'too dark' for him - Trained with and uses the Kusari-Fundō/Nunchucks - Still has the power of creating clones and force shields; knocks the base of the handles together to channel the energy - Obi (belt) is his usual red, Hamato Clan symbol is the same green from the show - Secondary weapon is the Tonfa/Sais