#in practice the chain running from the body to the arm will probably have to be longer to allow for movement but whatever

[voidimp]

bjd concept hehehoo

(dream valley vine head on b4-05 body)

fullbody under the cut bc i havent drawn pants yet

[simplyholl]

Hunted

Summary: Hydra hosts a training exercise for their super soldiers. You can run, but you can't hide from the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Dark Winter Soldier x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. This is a dark fic. Non con. Death.

See my Masterlist Here

You ran as hard as your feet would carry you. You were terrified, shaking so hard you were surprised that you could even move. Footsteps approached quickly, your breath hitches as you make a decision. You could run, but the super soldier could easily catch up to you. Or you could stay where you are and pray that you are hidden well enough that he won't find you.

Last month, Hydra caught your uncle's company trying to take them down. They killed all the men that worked there and captured all the women. They brought you all to cells under their headquarters. They fed you three meals a day, stating you all would need your strength for what they had planned.

This morning, you learned what they had meant. You were all brought out to the edge of the woods. The man in charge told you that they were training their super soldiers today. They would be practicing their hunting skills. A large van pulled up, and out came ten super soldiers. You looked around, counting the women who were with you. There were twenty-three of you. A second van halted to a stop beside the other. Two large men drug out another.

He was chained up, arms behind his back, black mask almost like a muzzle covered his mouth. His dark, shoulder length hair was messy, piercing blue eyes locking on you. You felt like you were going to faint. The Winter Soldier was the most brutal of all the super soldiers. A skilled assassin, he was sent on Hydra's most important missions. He did all their dirty work.

The Hydra leader who brought you outside explained the rules to the prisoners and soldiers. They were going to give you all an hour head start. Your job was to hide from the men. If they found you, they could do whatever they wanted with you as a reward. Bile rose in your throat, turning the contents of your stomach sour. Some of you wouldn't come out of this alive. But if you were fortunate enough to make it until sunrise, you would be free.

The footsteps grow closer, you close your eyes hoping he won't notice the footprints you had left in the mud. Then you see him, the man was tall, blonde hair shaved off. He walked toward the bushes you were hiding in. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide your cries. To your dismay, one escapes anyway. The soldier's head whips toward the noise, across the way from you.

You realize it wasn't you who cried too loudly. The soldier smiles wickedly, reaching for the poor woman who just gave up her hiding spot. He flings her out of the bushes onto the hard ground. More tears fall when you notice that it's Claire, the secretary from your uncle's failed company.

The soldier begins pawing at her as she tries to fight him off. It's no use. He holds her down with one knee on her torso, as he strips off his clothes. "You're my second one today." He brags. "Let's see if you're luckier than the last one. I choked her too hard." His evil laugh echoes through the quiet forest. When he rips Claire's clothing from her shaking body, you take the opportunity to run.

He looks up when he hears you leaving your shelter. "I'll catch up to you next!" He yells after you. The sun has started setting, you take a precious minute to catch your breath. You know if you stop for too long, you'll lose your momentum, or someone could catch up to you. You hear the screams and cries of your fellow prisoners as you make your way further into the woods. You search for a new place to hide, since it would be dark soon.

They could have at least equipped you with flashlights, you think to yourself. That was the whole point of all of this, wasn't it? You weren't meant to survive. Hydra expected the super soldiers to kill most of you. The women who survived would be brought back to the prison, probably made to work for them now that their spirits had been broken.

It was almost too dark to continue, so you took shelter in a cluster of bushes, shrinking yourself as small as you could underneath it. Night fell, and you laid on the cold ground, the horrendous sounds of the others getting caught filled the air. Finally, you rested your eyes. You needed the rest if you were going to make until the morning.

You woke up, sensing someone was nearby. You silently prayed that it was just another prisoner and not a threat. You release the shaky breath you were holding when they leave the area. The dark sky turns reddish - pink and you sigh with relief. It shouldn't be long now. Sunrise was so close you could almost taste your freedom.

You close your eyes, hoping that when you opened them the next time, this torture would be over. Your few moments of peace were interrupted when the blonde super soldier from earlier reached down into the bushes, pulling you up by your hair. Your scream rips through the woods, the soldier slings you back onto the ground, kicking you. "Shut up, bitch. I told you I was coming for you. You're my sixth, and from the looks of it, my last." He gestures to the sky.

He rips your shirt from your body. You try to cover yourself, but he moves your hands away. A metal hand wraps around the soldier's neck, a sickening crunch filling your ears as The Winter Soldier snaps it with ease. The soldier slumps over, his lifeless body landing with a thud.

"Mine." The Winter Soldier states, blue eyes locked on your exposed bra. A cold metal finger slips under the bra between your breasts, tearing it from your body with no effort. "No please! I almost made it. Please don't do this!" You cry, pleading with him. His hands find your breasts, squeezing roughly. His eyes land on your peaked nipples, taking them between his fingers.

He twists and pulls too roughly. When he's finished his assault on them, he reaches for his face, removing the black mask from his mouth. He's beautiful, you think for a split second. His blue eyes and pouty, full lips seemed like they didn't belong on the same man who was trained to kill. "Like what you see?" He smirks, when he notices you staring at his face. He pushes your breasts together, face lowering toward them. He runs his tongue from one pointed nipple to the other. Chapped lips taking one between them, sucking harshly.

He bites down, pulling your nipple with his teeth. You cry out, hands on his face trying to push him away. He chuckles, as you fight him, biting down your torso to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties, discarding them immediately. One thick finger runs through your folds, disappointment evident as it comes out dry. "You're not even wet for me? We can't have that. I won't fit if you're not ready."

You shiver at his words. You didn't want to know how big he was. You had studied the super soldier serum enough at your old job to know that the serum enhanced everything. He brings his mouth down against your core, lips brushing your clit. He swirls his tongue around it, metal arm hooking under your legs to bring you closer. His full lips tug on your clit, you can't help but moan for him.

"That's it, good girl. If you're good for me, I'll convince them to let me keep you." You spit at him, kicking your legs, to push him away. "Why would I want that?" He smiles, because Hydra's gonna kill anyone left in these woods when this is over." You gasp, you should have known. "You didn't really think they would just let you go? You know too much. They will let me keep you as my little plaything though. All I have to do is say the word."

You didn't doubt him for a second. “Stop fighting." He commands, lowering his face again. His nose brushes your clit while he works his tongue inside you. You try to fight back, but he misinterprets your movements. He thinks you're enjoying it now. "That's it." The Winter Soldier suckles your swollen clit, hot tongue lapping up every drop of arousal. You bite your lips so hard; it bleeds trying to keep a moan in.

He grabs your chin, jerking your face towards him. "Do not hold back from me, kitten." His warm tongue drags over you slowly before his plump lips suction around your clit. Your thighs close against his ears as he draws a forceful orgasm out of you, legs trembling as you flood his face. Your moan rips through your throat, earning a satisfied smile from the soldier.

He spreads your legs with one hand, his other freeing his hard cock. You were right about the size of it. You were so fortunate that he got you wet first. You'd be lucky if he didn't split you in half. He plunges inside you, you squirm from the painful way he entered you. "Hold still." He says, holding your stomach down. "I can't, it hurts too much." You whine. The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, lifting you like a rag doll.

He sits on the ground, lowering you onto him. This position was worse for you. He hit even deeper than before. But he could hold you better this way. His metal arm snakes around your waist, holding you close. He bounces you on his cock, your arms wrap around his neck. His fingers dig into your hips as you get used to it and start to grind on him.

Your clit brushes his dark curls as you ride him. "I knew you would be worth it." He grunts. "I wanted you the moment I saw you this morning. I found you immediately. You're not great at hiding, you know. But I waited. I knew it would be better if I let you think you could escape." He chuckles, "You should have seen those other broads, they would piss themselves when they saw me. But I only wanted you, so I left them for the others."

His dark pants rub against your thighs as he fucks into you. You roll your hips, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. "You feel incredible." He moans into the crook of your neck. You scratch at his leather clad back, as the Winter Soldier's mouth latches onto the exposed skin of your neck. He sucks harshly, making sure it will leave a mark. You clench around him as he cums inside you.

His metal hand reaches between you, icy digits colliding with your heat. His thumb circles your clit, causing you to unravel. You shake in his arms, too exhausted to move as he pulls you off him. He takes his shirt off, handing it to you. "Put this on. I don't want anyone looking at my little doll." You take it, looking up at the sun coming up in the distance.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 03

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Featuring Platonic: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

2.6k words

Ch. 02 <- Ch. 03 -> Ch. 04

Class schedule

1st period - Art

2nd period - Maths

12:00 - 1:00 Lunch

3rd period - Biology

4th period - English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00 - Basketball practice.

“You know they’re gonna flip when they wake up,” Dick muttered, arms crossed as he stared down at your limp body.

You looked peaceful for once. That constant tension in your shoulders had finally eased, the nervous twitch in your fingers stilled. Even that crease between your brows—the one that would show up whenever you were thinking too hard or worrying too much—had softened. Sleep smoothed over all the sharp edges life had carved into you.

“They’ll understand eventually,” Bruce said, dismissive but gentle, his voice quieter now.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with a touch far softer than anyone would expect from Batman. Moments like this were rare—when he could just be a father, taking care of his kid.

Without a word, he lifted you from the desk you’d passed out on, cradling you like something fragile. The rest of the family fell into step behind him as he carried you to the Batcave.

"You sure they won’t notice?" Steph asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She lingered near your side, eyes flicking from your face to your arm, then back again.

“There may be some discomfort,” Damian replied coolly, “but it’ll fade. They won’t even realize it’s there.”

His confidence was unsettling—but it worked. Steph nodded and stepped back.

You’d been running yourself ragged for weeks—missing meals, taking late night shifts, throwing yourself headfirst into practice after practice. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. They were worried. Terrified, even. Gotham was dangerous and they couldn’t protect you if they didn’t know where you were.

So they decided to make sure they always would.

In the Medbay, Bruce laid you down gently on the table. For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. You looked so small there, so still. Alfred was the first to break the silence, rolling in a tray of neatly arranged medical instruments.

He cleaned your forearm methodically, the antiseptic smell sharp in the air. The needle was thin, almost invisible. It wouldn’t scar.

As he inserted the tracker beneath your skin, the family watched in silence. A mix of relief and guilt weighed heavy on the room.

They weren’t taking your freedom. Not really. They weren’t locking you in, or chaining you down. For now they’re making sure you were never completely out of reach.

It was the only compromise they could live with, for now.

Once the procedure was done, Bruce carried you again—this time to one of the manor’s guest rooms. He laid you in bed, pulling the covers up with surprising tenderness. He lingered for a second longer than he meant to, brushing his fingers across your temple.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

—————

Jason knew life wasn’t fair.

He was born into the world already losing, already clawing just to stay above the surface.

So maybe that’s why it was almost funny—in a cosmic, messed-up kind of way—that he’s the only one you haven’t met.

Jason Todd. Bruce’s second son. The one who died.

If you’d seen him tonight, you probably would’ve screamed. Or passed out. Or just left Gotham entirely.

And yet, it still doesn’t feel fair.

He should get to meet you. Know you. Love you.

He deserves that much.

With a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, the strands curling under his fingers. He pulls on his jacket, straps his gear in place. The routine helps. Keeps him grounded.

The guns are loaded. The helmet’s clean.

His phone buzzes.

A message from Dick.

<Dick>

it’s done.

Jason stares at it for a moment. Then opens the app.

A single, pulsing red dot glows softly on the screen—your location.

The manor. Safe.

His lips curve into a smile.

You’ll probably never understand why they have to do this. Why it has to be this way.

But that’s okay.

Jason has a different plan—his plan. One the others don’t know about. One that won’t hurt you if you ever find out.

One that keeps you close.

—

The warehouse near the coast was cold, damp, and smelled like rust and salt. Penguin was rumored to be getting another shipment in tonight.

Another bust. Another patrol.

But for Jason, it felt different.

Worse.

There was a brightness to the team tonight. A lightness in the way they moved, spoke, even fought.

Even Bruce and Damian seemed lighter.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

They’d spent time with you. You all Shared dinner, talked, and spent time together.

Jason’s nails dug into his palms, teeth clenched behind his helmet. He didn’t realize how tightly he was holding his fists until a familiar voice snapped him out of it.

“Oh—they were so nervous,” Dick said with a laugh. “It was adorable.”

Jason’s jaw tensed.

“Is that so?” His modulated voice came out low, hiding his frustration.

“They appeared stressed,” Damian added casually, “but with a few more meals, they will grow comfortable.”

Jason wanted to shove Damian into the nearest crate.

Their voices were like nails on a chalkboard.

Why was he stuck on patrol with them tonight?

“You should’ve seen them, Jason,” Dick added, voice all too smug. “You’d have melted.”

That was it.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

The roar of engines echoed through the warehouse walls—Penguin’s men were arriving.

Before Dick or Damian could say another word, Jason launched himself forward.

No plan. No warning. Just rage.

Guns disarmed. Bones broken. Metal clashed and bodies dropped.

Jason tore through them like a storm.

By the time the last thug hit the floor, his chest was heaving, breaths sharp and uneven.

He stood over Penguin, battered and unconscious, fists still clenched at his sides.

Behind him, footsteps.

“Temper much?” Damian drawled, cocky as ever. “You better get that under control before you see Y/N.”

Jason didn’t turn around.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared down at the man on the ground, eyes burning behind his helmet.

It’s not fair.

They got dinners, conversations, memories.

And him?

Nothing.

But they didn’t know everything.

Jason just remembered his plan. A way in they hadn’t seen.

Soon, he thought, as a slow smile tugged at his lips.

Soon, he’ll be closer to you than any of them.

—————

Your eyes flutter open, still fuzzy from sleep. Exhausted from your late night, you instinctively roll over to go back to sleep.

But something’s wrong.

This isn’t your room.

Your blood grows cold, then panic races through your chest.

You rip the sheets off and scramble to your feet, but white dots cloud your vision. You collapse to your knees before you can even reach the door.

Your head pounds, each beat like a hammer inside your skull.

You try to lift a hand to your temple—but you can’t. Your arm feels like it's on fire.

The door slams open, but you barely register it. Tears blur your vision as you cradle your useless arm.

Someone's hands grab your shoulders.

You flinch, looking up—

Dick. Kneeling in front of you, blue eyes full of something like concern.

Damian looms in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Dick asks softly, voice laced with concern. He holds your gaze, waiting.

You look between him, Damian, and your arm. It doesn’t look broken, but the pain is unbearable.

"I—w-why am I here?" you choke out.

Dick smiles. Calm. Reassuring. Too perfect.

"You fell asleep at Tim’s desk," he says, voice smooth. "We tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge. So we moved you to the guest room."

You want to believe him.

God, you want to.

But you know you would never fall asleep here. Not with them.

"...No..." you whisper. Tears stream down your face.

"No?" Damian's voice snaps like a whip. He steps forward, anger flashing in his eyes.

Dick shoots him a sharp glare, silently telling him to back off.

"I wouldn’t do that," you sniffle, meeting Dick’s gaze.

He just smiles again. That boyish smile.

"Then you must’ve been really tired," he chuckles.

Liar.

"Then why do I hurt so much?" you mutter, voice shaking with anger.

Dick freezes—only for half a second—before smoothing his expression again.

"What do you mean?" he asks, dripping with concern.

"My arm," you grit out. Tears blur your vision again. "Why can’t I move my arm?"

Dick blinks, looking almost genuinely puzzled.

"I have no idea. Maybe you hurt it during your game yesterday?"

You stand, backing toward the bed. Every instinct in you screams run.

"Why did I just pass out at Tim’s desk and wake up in agony?" you hiss.

Tim got your number without permission.

He lied to you.

They fed you and 45 minutes later you just conveniently passed out.

There’s no way any of that is a coincidence?

"How are we supposed to know?" Damian snaps, stepping up beside Dick. His glare sharpens, like he’s offended you’re questioning them.

"What did you do?" you hiss, backing up another step. Your hand fumbles on the nightstand until you find your phone, quickly shoving it into your pocket.

"We didn’t do anything," Dick insists, still with that fake calm. "You’re overthinking this."

"Then how did Tim get my number?" you shout, voice cracking.

Dick opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

"I know he didn’t get it from Brandi. He lied to me."

They freeze.

Share a glance.

You don’t miss it.

Caught.

"What was that?" you shout, pointing at them. "I know you did something!"

"I’m going home."

You shove past them, but Damian’s hand shoots out—gripping your wrist.

Pain explodes up your arm.

You scream, jerking back. Damian’s eyes widen as he instantly lets go, staring at his hand like he can't believe he hurt you.

You don’t wait. You run.

Dick calls after you:

"It’s okay, Y/N! I’m sure if you just let Tim explain—!"

You don’t care.

You don’t need an explanation.

You just need to get the hell out.

Twisting and turning through the endless halls of Wayne Manor, you pray you don’t run into anyone else.

Somehow, you make it to the front door.

You slip on your shoes with one hand, heart hammering, and bolt.

It’s still only 10:00 a.m. You’ll have the whole day to hide. To think. To breathe.

The subway ride is a paranoid blur—you keep glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to see one of the Waynes stalking you.

But no one follows.

When you get home, you barely make it to your bed before collapsing, curling into yourself, trying to sleep off the pain and the fear.

Trying to pretend today never happened.

—————

You wake up to the screeching of your alarm. With a sigh you roll over and shut it off.

You dreaded going to school today, the thought of seeing Tim again made you sick. Your arm throbbed, your eyes stung from crying, and your stomach felt ill. but you couldn’t afford to miss a class.

You wonder if the GCPD found Tim’s attackers yet, you silently prayed they didn’t.

With a grown you got out of bed and haphazardly got ready for school.

Looking in the mirror your eyes were so puffy from crying all weekend and your hair was a mess. You splash cold water on your face hoping to ease the swelling, and run a brush through your hair to somewhat reduce your rats' nests. As you finish up the rest of your morning routine you glance at yourself in the mirror— still a mess.

You skipped breakfast today, you haven't been able to keep much food down this weekend.

The subway to school is agonizing. All you are able to think about is bio class, and what will happen when you see Tim again.

You just focus on your breathing the whole ride to school. You don’t have to see Tim tell 1 O'clock today, until then you’ll just have to manage.

Your first two classes fly by, it’s only until Mr Snyder hands you back your Math test.

See me after class. Written in bright red sharpie.

you groan and sink back into your chair.

You were so sure you nailed that test.

You spent the rest of class numb, staring at the clock until it finally rang.

Dragging your feet to Mr. Snyder’s desk, you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

“You wanted to see me?”

He gave you a look full of pity you didn’t want.

“Y/N… I know math isn’t for everyone, but after last week’s test, you’re sitting at a 53. You need at least a 65 to keep your scholarship spot.”

The words barely registered.

Basketball was everything.

Without it, you had nothing keeping you here. Nothing at all.

“You have four weeks to raise it,” he added gently. “Plenty of time.”

You nodded numbly.

Maybe Brandi could help. Maybe you could pull it off.

You had to.

”thank you” you mumble before making your way to Lunch.

Lunch with Brandi flys by, it’s clear she wanted to know all about your time at The Wayne Manor, not noticing the way you stifinined when the topic was brought up. You kept your answers short and vague, avoiding most details.

Brandi had enough stress in her life. And although you two were friends your friendship was still fresh— you’ve only known her for a few weeks, you didn’t want to scare her.

Besides, would she even believe you if you told her? Would anyone?

That’s probably what they wanted, to continue to torment you and have no one believe it.

Did they enjoy tormenting people? Making their lives miserable? Especially when there was a clear power dynamic?

The thought made you shiver.

Before you could think about it for too long the warning bell rang. You froze. Biology was next. You would have to see him.

As you slowly stumbled over to your class you grew more and more nauseous, your legs felt like led, and your bag became heavier. As you rounded the corner and stepped through the door you saw him.

Tim Drake.

He glanced up from his phone and smiled directly at you. His smile was like any other smile you’d give your friend. It was so casual, so normal, it was like Saturday never happened.

You were going to be sick.

You turned around and rushed to the bathroom as fast as you could and emptied your stomach.

After flushing the toilet and rinsing your mouth out you stared at yourself in the mirror.

What do you do?

Mrs. Young hasn’t seen you yet, you could just go home, email coach saying you're sick.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your bag and left.

The ride home was much more relaxing than the one to school. You emailed coach saying you were sick and would see him tomorrow, before plugging in your headphones and listening to music the rest of the way home.

When you got to your building, you noticed cardboard boxes littering the hallway.

Someone was moving in.

You snorted to yourself. Who the hell would choose to live here?

You made it to your door just as a man lugged another box toward the unit next to yours.

He caught your eye and smiled.

“I’m Jason Smith,” he said.

Something about his smile made your skin crawl. Like he knew something you didn’t.

But you forced a polite nod. No reason to be rude.

“Cool. I’m Y/N. See you around.”

You turned to unlock your door, feeling his eyes linger on you just a little too long.

He chuckled under his breath.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Looking forward to it.”

Taglist: @jjsmeowthie @crazycaoticsimp @lilyalone @shycreatorreview @caged-birdies-blog @shrip-collector-of-fixations @wizzerreblogs @c4xcocoa @cxcilla @staarflowerr @itzpeachts @roseytheteacup @nervousalpacalady @buckturd @cat-lover-over-9000 @vampire-oc-lover @00hellohello00 @jsprien213 @endaculi @vanilliona @br0ke-b1tch @tsuniio @hearts4mica

Hey y’all I’m back. I had to get surgery from when I broke my wrist snowboarding and I applied to so many scholarships for collage, I also got diagnosed with dyslexia and dyscalculia which kinda hindered my motivation to write but than I got over it cause I love writing so much, plus i had like 3 drafts that somehow got deleted, i lost a request from an anon which sucks. But I’ve outsourced, now I’m writing on docs than just copy and pasting it. I dont wanna make promises about when I’ll be posting but it should be a lot more frequent now!! Also some of the tags dont work so y’all might have to fix that in your settings.

If y’all have any one shot ideas please lmk I need more inspo!!!

[gliphyartfan]

Curiosity has struck

What would the chain do with part Rito reader?

Like, they got pretty wings

Ooooh, pretty visions in the brain~

I guess since they are part Rito…they are kinda but not similar to the Rito from Windwaker?

(I uh…went on a tangent with this one 😅 a bit long)

No full beak, but maybe a slight curve to the upper lip, hinting at a beak like shape.

Their teeth are sharper than normal, not predator-sharp, but enough to break tougher food easily. (Definitely have a taste for poultry~)

Sharper cheekbones and a slightly more angular face, giving them a sleek look.

Their eyes would probably be large and incredibly sharp, built for spotting details from a distance.

Instead of round pupils, they might have slit like pupils that contract in bright light, allowing them to see far distances more easily.

Buuut unlike Hylians, their night vision is worse. Rito are built for soaring in broad daylight, meaning dim lighting would make it much harder for them to see.

Oooh, Instead of full body feathers like a Rito, they’d have patches of feathers along their arms, shoulders, and possibly down their spine.

Feathers on their forearms would be the most noticeable , maybe extending down the sides of their hands. They could also form a small crest along their hairline or behind their ears, like a subtle crown!

ands and feet are definitely still human like, but nails are tougher closer to talons in durability.

If they have full wings, (like on the back) they’d need hollow bones (to some extent) to stay light enough to fly. This would mean they aren’t as durable in combat. (Long range fighter anyone?)

Feather maintenance would be constant. Molting seasons woud drive them crazy, and they’d need to preen often to keep everything in order. (So Reader maaay be a tiny bit vain.)

They’d be lighter than a Hylian, making them harder to knock over but also easier to carry.

Since they don’t have all the lovely feathers like a full

Blooded Rito, well their feathers aren’t great at keeping in heat, so they HATE the snow and will freeze without proper gear. (Cold day cuddles anyone?)

Rito love music, so they’d probably have a natural rhythm or be drawn to instruments, they also might instinctively perch on high places instead of sitting normally.

Preening feels good. If someone messes with their feathers the right way, they might get sleepy. (Hint hint)

Honestly, with the chain, once they all get close enough with Reader expect constant preening help. They’ll sneak in touches, fixing feathers, gently running their fingers through them as if that’s their right now. (Keep a bunch of their feathers too.)

(Time is weary but amused, Warriors is exasperated, and Legend is just waiting for Reader to take off so he can see how much chaos it’ll cause.)

I’m in the belief that Twilight has AMAZING body heat so on cold days (when Wild isn’t close enough to lend them his cold proof accessories.) he’ll just lift Reader in his arms and enjoy how Reader just buries their face into the crook of his neck.

Sky would be practically vibrating at the idea of flying with Reader. (His loftwing gets a new bestie!)

Wind is jealous but it’s all in good fun. He straight up WILL beg Reader to take him flying whenever possible.

Four (Vio) is certainly fascinated, immediately trying to figure out how their wings work. Do they have a different bone structure? How strong are they? How many feathers do they lose in molting season?

Like Wind, Hyrule would 100% ask if they could carry him while flying. (Honestly if Reader doesn’t get stronger and have more stamina takes to this impromptu flights, I’ll eat my sketchbook)

Now when they get a bit…uh…clingy…

Well they get..worried..ya know?

Reader can actually fly away. They can actually escape them.

They…do NOT want that to happen.

Twilight and Sky are the worst about this, Twi has an internalized fear of Reader bidding him bye and him never seeing her again (I wonder where he got THAT fear 😒)

Sky understands flight better than anyone, so he always knows when Reader is about to take flight. Every time there is an argument between them and he spots Reader tensing before they shot up into the air…it’s not as nerve wrecking as when Reader lets themselves fall off cliffs and let themselves drop for a while before they open their wings. (Sky may not have feelings for Sun anymore by that point but the emotional trauma he felt when she fell and was whisked away still lingers)

Warriors is the most paranoid. He acts casual about it, but deep down? He’s convinced that they’re going to get shot out of the sky. (Reader doesn’t know he thinks that. Otherwise they’d rather offended.)

I think it’s a fear that he can’t protect them up there, so if they got hit…he’d have to see with horror as Reader falls from the sky)

Wild has accepted that one day, he is going to look up and Reader will be gone.

He keeps snacks on him so they have to come back down eventually. (Even if he knows that it’s just a flimsy way to convince himself that he can keep them from leaving. But every time they do come down just for his snacks, it eases his heart.)

Wind is so, so, so jealous.

He desperately wants to know what it feels like. To feel the air in a way only someone with wings can.

Yeah he has his Hyoi pears to control a seagull but it’s not the same as his own body feeling the air up high. For all his control of the Windwaker.

Time and Warriors have to shut down his constant requests for Reader to take him on flights.

Hyrule just thinks Reader is magic incarnate.

If they ever glide down from the sky all graceful like, he might actually pass out.

(He’s having thoughts my guys)

Yet on one hand, he understands the thrill of flying. (Even if he can’t fly like Reader can in his fairy form)

On the other, they are going to die if they keep flying around that blasted Hinox, my god Reader come back here-

Grounding Reader is kinda pastime for the yan chain.

Not that they are very successful.

Time is the most effective. He just gives them a look (same look that gets even Twi) and they sit back down. (With a grumble)

…and Hyrule, be doesn’t even need to move. He’s longed learned to weaponize his boyish charm on Reader and they’ll feel guilty before they make it ten feet.

I doubt the chain enjoy how Reader has an advantage over them. They’re fast, mobile, hard to track. Sky can’t keep up without his Loftwing.

Which means?

They are watching them.

All the time.

Reader is never flying alone.

[eviemonroeer]

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 12

Set during Season 5, Episode 17 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings:

WC: 916

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, and @antisocialfiore

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

To say going to work was hard, was an understatement. After everything that happened, I switched shifts with enough people to make sure Carter and I were only on together maybe once or twice for the whole next month. It was probably childish of me, but I really didn’t feel like being cornered or crying. I was so stupid. I did exactly what Carol told me not to do and now I had lost not just my comfort at work, but probably my best friend. 

That was the worst part. 

              After a long day shift, I was so excited when I finally got home. I cooked a nice dinner and enjoyed a soothing bubble bath and a glass of wine. I actually felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. I threw on my comfiest pair of sweats and spent some time watching episodes of television I taped, before dragging my butt to bed around midnight. I actually was having a pretty good night’s sleep until a loud heavy knock woke me up. 

I groaned and threw the blanket off before practically stomping to the front door. I wasn’t supposed to get out of bed for a few more hours; perks of working a later shift. Who the hell needed me now? As I made it to the door, I looked through the peep hole and sighed, my heart constricting. I knew that back of the head anywhere. What the hell was Carter doing here? 

I undid the chain lock and then moved to my deadbolt, slightly opening the door. “What do you want Carter?” I asked. I would have been madder at him for coming to my apartment if his appearance didn’t suddenly worry me.  

              His breathing was a little rapid and he was pale. He was blinking a lot, like he was trying not to cry, and his arms were crossed as he turned to face me. “Hi.” He said rapidly. “I’m sorry to just show up at your apartment. But I didn’t know where else to go.” 

              “Carter, what happened?” I opened the door further, allowing him to walk in. He began ringing his hands together and pacing. 

              “I was on a night shift ride with the paramedics. Everything was going so well, but then we got this call: a landlord whose tenants were ganging up on him. Lars was stuck outside, and we had to get the guy out of there, so I-I drove the ambulance away. But I ran over this kid. We got him fixed up, but they...... Th-they shot Lars because they saw him driving this morning and thought he was the one who did it, not me.” 

              Carter ran his hand over his face, which was now turning a little red and the tears began to fall. His breathing also was becoming shallower. “Carter it’s okay. Breathe.” Carter shook his head and tried to speak, but nothing came out. “Carter, breathe.” I walked over to him and pulled him over to the couch. I took his face in my hands, demonstrating the deep breaths I wanted him to take. It took a moment, but he finally began to calm down enough to even out his breathing. 

              “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He whispered, his voice breaking. 

              “No one would ever mean for something like that to happen.” 

I wiped a tear away from his face before running my fingers through his hair. He leaned down and put his head on my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck. I let out a soft sigh and laid my head on his. The nerve ends in my body started to fire off as my hands moved down from his head to his back, scratching gently, resulting in a hum from him. This felt so nice, so right. I really wanted to kiss him right then and let the world outside melt away from us. 

              “Wait.” Carter said, sitting up. “I’m sorry I came. I know you don’t want me here. You’ve been avoiding me at work.” 

              I looked down for a moment, biting my lip, before looking back up at him. That wasn’t true. I did want him here. I just didn’t know how to say it and have it actually be meaningful. So instead, I asked, “Do you want to stay on the couch for a little bit?” 

              “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” 

              “I’ll go get some blankets and a pillow. If you want something to eat, you know where everything is.” I went into my hallway closet and gathered the items for him. I set them up for him while he went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. “I’m going to lay down for a little while longer. My shift’s not until later. Just lock the door if you decide to leave.”

              “Thanks Evie. I really appreciate it.” 

              “No problem.”

              I turned and walked back to my bedroom, leaving the door partially open. I got into bed and pulled the covers up around me before closing my eyes. As I started to doze, I heard the door to my door creak open before closing. I froze, trying to maintain the ruse that I was asleep. The bed dipped behind me, and Carter laid down, his cologne the indicator that it was truly him. He wrapped his arm around my middle before pulling me close. I couldn’t help but melt into his embrace, slowly going back to sleep.

              Deep down I knew I was in deep trouble. 

[roanofarcc]

BABYDOLL: CHAPTER SIXTEEN. FROM BAD TO WORSE

jj maybank x fem!routledge OC // read on Ao3

In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.

chapter summary. the pogues attempt to steal back the gold one last time; pope follows the rest of them off the deep-end; walking into a lion's den will almost always be a bad a idea

word count. 2.8k || masterlist

previous chapter < >next chapter

“Here’s the plan,” JJ began, loading the gun in the back of the Twinkie, despite the glare of disapproval from Lottie that he tried to ease with a toothy smile. “We go in there, guns a-blazin’ and make Ward Cameron beg for mercy. We take as much gold as possible, then get the hell out of there.” 

From the driver’s seat, John B. nods in agreement with JJ’s plan. “We the send that shit down the intercoastal and wait for the weather.” 

“When that’s said and done, we exit to Cuba,” Pope finished. 

JJ shot him a look. “Cuba? Nah, man. We go to Xcalak, the jewel of the Yucatán. They’ve got thick lobsters, mangos, and no word for money down there.” 

They all dreamed of an escape to somewhere far away from their problems. Somewhere warm where they could waste their days away surfing, with no threat of the real world knocking on their door. There would be no more treasure hunts, no more Ward Cameron, and no more being undermined or left behind. They’d finish what their dad started, tell Ward to go fuck himself, and live out the rest of their days eating mangos and being best friends. 

Lottie knew that all sounded too good to be true, that the gold would make all of their issues vanish, but she’d watched it happen to Kooks nearly every day. While she braced for a less than happy ending, she went along with it anyone in the off chance that they’d come out on top. To try to think like her friends and brother, hopeful that they hadn’t completely been knocked off the gameboard yet. 

Rich people never played fair; that was how they always won. Maybe it was time the Pogues took a page out of their playbook. The odds were obviously stacked heavily against them, but maybe their lack of reputation to save could help them best Ward. 

John B. parked the van outside the private airstrip, and they raced up to the chain-linked fence that surrounded it. Pope pulled out his binoculars and relayed what he saw happening on and around the Cameron’s large plane that sat on the tarmac. People milled about around it, but it was hard for the rest of them to see what they were doing. 

Ward’s men were hauling boxes of what probably contained the gold onto the plane. Lottie had no idea how they were supposed to get it off of there without being intercepted. 

Snatching the binoculars from Pope, John B. stared through them intently for only a moment before he got this odd look on his face. 

“What is it?” asked Lottie. 

“Sarah,” he muttered, jaw clenched. 

“She’s with him?” then asked JJ. 

Sarah didn’t believe that her dad killed their dad, and as much as they sucked- especially for John B.- it made some sense. It was in the same realm as Lottie, having a hard time believing her dad had been murdered. Sarah probably couldn’t wrap her head around it; it was a big, life-shattering kind of truth. He was her dad, at the end of the day. 

However, would Sarah really flee with their gold? Lottie thought she was on their side, and that she was different. 

“Wait a minute,” John B. said, peering back at the scene. “I-I think he’s hurting her.” 

Lottie grabbed the binoculars from his hands, much to his protest, and got a better look at what was going on. Ward grabbed Sarah, practically dragging her toward the plane steps. Sarah was struggling against him, flailing her arms and trying and failing to plant her feet to keep herself in place. But Ward was twice her size and pushed her up the stairs, blocking them with his body so she couldn’t run back down them. She had no choice but to board the plane. 

Bringing the binoculars down, she handed them back to her brother. “I don’t think she wants to go.” 

John B. was already a step ahead, racing back to the van. He didn’t wait for the rest of them to join him before he gunned the Twinkie right toward the fence surrounding the airstrip, crashing through it. Lottie stumbled back at the chain links broken, making way for the van. They yelled after him but were helpless as John B. raced toward Ward’s plane. 

Dragging a hand down her face, Lottie watched with bated breath as the van sped onto the runway. She knew the only thing running through his mind was to get to Sarah. 

“What the hell is he thinking?!” Pope yelled

JJ shook his head. “He’s not.” 

Lottie reached for the binoculars her brother dropped and struggled to watch as he raced against the Cameron’s plane as it started down the runway. He managed to pull ahead of the plane a good ways before he pulled the van in the direct line of the plane, giving Ward the choice to stop or hit him. 

Her heart dropped at the sight as she watched with white knuckles holding onto the binoculars. 

“He’s gotta stop the plane,” she whispered, something between a prayer and speaking it into existence. Despite losing her dad months ago, the wound of his confirmed death ripped that wound right back open. Lottie couldn’t handle Ward being responsible for another death in her family; he already took her dad, he couldn’t take her brother too. “He’s gotta stop the plane,” she repeated, a little louder that time. 

The plane was so close to the van, barreling toward it before it halted so suddenly, brakes screeching as it stopped only a handful of feet away from the Twinkie. 

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered. They all let out relieved sighs. 

There was a split second of calm and relief before the sound of sirens filled Lottie’s ears. By the sound of them, they were growing closer by the second. 

“I can’t get arrested,” Pope said, panic shining in his eyes. 

JJ followed Pope’s words with, “I’m on probation.” 

“We’re no good if we’re in jail,” Kie said. She nodded her head back toward the road. “Let’s go.” She and Pope took off, but Lottie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the runway, watching as John B. got out of the van and stood face to face with the man who killed their father. What if he tried to hurt John B. again? Just because the police were on their way didn’t mean they’d favor or even listen to anything John B. said. 

A hand grasped Lottie’s elbow, pulling her attention away from the runway. JJ looked like he didn’t want to leave either, none of them really did, but he and Pope couldn’t risk getting in even more trouble, and Kie had a point. Yet, that was Lottie’s brother. 

“He’s got it under control, Lot,” said JJ. “We gotta go. We can’t help him if they catch us.” 

Lottie spared one last look at the distant figures before she relented, letting JJ slip his hand into hers as they followed behind Kie and Pope, running away just before the police arrived. 

Not too far from the airstrip, the Pogues waited at the boat yard, hunkered down between piles of scrap parts and junk. Lottie doubled over, eyes closed, as she tried to ease her anxious heart before it beat right out of her chest. 

They didn’t get more than a moment of peace before a sputtering in the sky forced their attention upward. The Cameron’s plan was hard to miss, flying low right over them as if to rub it in their faces one last time that the Pogues were never meant to beat the Kooks. Their gold rose in the sky with their hope along with it. 

Lottie gave in to her burning legs and stitch in her side, sitting down on the dirty ground with a pathetic groan. 

Kie had a similar reaction, pressing her hands against her face and shaking her head. JJ kicked the nearest thing he could, sending a piece of scrap metal halfway across the yard with a string of curse words falling from his lips. 

Pope had the biggest reaction, much to their surprise. 

He screamed something angry and sad and threw the first thing he could get his hands on against the shed wall as hard as he could. A metal pipe, about the size of a baseball bat, leaned against a pile of junk. Pope grabbed it and just started hitting every breakable object he could find. Glass shattered and debris clattered against the ground with each yell that tore from his throat. 

They all watched in shock as the most level-headed Pogue among them broke down. Kie attempted to talk to him, but Pope had to get it all out of his system, pent-up anger and utter disappointment as their gold was taken right from their hands. They waited until his anger morphed into heavy, uneven breaths before he collapsed onto the ground. 

Lottie moved to sit beside him without a word. Pope squeezed his eyes shut before he buried his head in Lottie’s shoulder, his anger melting into sadness as he started to cry quietly. She sat still, let him get it out of his system. 

“Damn, dude,” JJ said, whistling lowly. “I was wondering when that was gonna happen.” 

Kie sent JJ a glare. “Not helpful,” she said. 

With a sniffle, Pope raised his head from Lottie’s shoulder, cheeks wet and a deep frown on his lips. “I lost my scholarship,” he said miserably. “I walked about in the middle of my interview. Now everything i-is gone. It’s not gonna happen.” 

At his words, Lottie wanted to cry too. 

“You did that for us?” Kie asked Pope. 

He scoffed in response. “No. I did it for nothing.” 

JJ plopped down on the other side of Pope and held out the weed pen he kept in his bag for “emergencies,” offering it to Pope. 

“Welcome to my world,” JJ said. He pressed the pen into Pope’s hand. With slight hesitation, he took it and stood up. Pope was the only one in their group who didn’t smoke; he said he needed to keep his brain cells intact. 

“JJ-” Kie started to scold JJ for even offering that Pope, but he was swift to cut her off, voice raised. 

“What, Kie? He’s right! It doesn’t even matter anymore.” 

Pope stared at the pen for a long moment. Lottie could see the wheels turning in his head before he brought it to his lips and took a hit; she just sighed. 

“You don’t have to do that, Pope,” Kie said. 

“Why do you care?” he bit back. 

Footsteps came from behind them, stopping any conversation. They spun around, worried the cops had found them, but they were met by John B. Lottie was the first to him, wanting to both hug and punch him, but before she could do either, she noticed that his hands were coated in red. 

It looked like he had dipped them in paint and then tried to wipe them off on his shirt. 

Lottie grabbed his wrists, staring at his hands with wide, panicked eyes. It wasn’t paint, but rather blood. The metallic smell hit her nose. “Is it yours?” she asked. 

Slowly, seemingly in a daze, John B. shook his head. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, looking through her rather than at her. 

A million more questions swam around Lottie’s brain, but she couldn’t ask them before the sound of more sirens pierced the air. To avoid being spotted, they all ducked behind a pile of junk that shielded them from sight of the main road. Lottie looked over her brother for any injuries, despite his answer. 

“What happened?” asked Kie. 

John B.’s chin trembled before he buried his head in his hands. Blood smeared against his face, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. 

“Peterkin,” he managed to croak out. “S-She tried to stop Ward. She knew what he was doing and what he did. She believed me. But then Rafe showed up and…” John B.’s sadness shifted quickly into anger as he looked up, roughly rubbing his face to rid it of the drying blood, but it was only smearing more from the blood caked on his hands. 

Lottie untied the bandana she used as a headband and grabbed her brother’s face, carefully wiping the blood from it. It reminded her of all of the times they had cleaned each other’s scraped knees after toppling off their bikes or falling from tree limbs. Yet, it lacked an innocence to it. The blood was someone else's, and Lottie doubted it came from something as simple as a scraped knee or elbow. 

“Rafe shot Peterkin,” John B. said after a beat. 

Lottie froze, nausea welling up in her stomach. She was wiping Peterkin’s blood from her brother’s face. It was her blood on his hands and shirt. 

“Oh, God,” Kie cried. 

Dropping the bandana, Lottie instinctively started picking at her fingernails, allowing the slight sting to keep her from totally freaking out. It grounded her, at least enough. 

John B. wiped his hands with the ruined bandana and shook his head. “I tried to help her. But Rafe started losing his fucking mind even more. I…I had to run. Sarah was trying to radio for help, but I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t even know Peterkin’s alive.” 

No one said a word. They just sat there in tense silence, mulling over John B.’s words. Everything had been for nothing, nothing at all. 

➤

The sun started to set when the Pogues found themselves pulling into the police station’s parking lot in Kie’s mom’s car, since the Twinkie was stuck at a crime scene. 

“What are we doing here?” asked Lottie, looking pointedly at her brother. 

He rolled his shoulders back like he was trying to hype himself up. “Someone’s gotta tell them what really happened at the airstrip.” 

Pope broke out in a coughing fit, smoking a new joint JJ had somehow found time to roll. Pope tried to smoke away his troubles, which clearly didn’t seem to be working because he just kept coughing up the smoke every time he inhaled. Irritated, Kie threw a bottle of water at him, hitting him in the gut. 

From the trunk, JJ leaned against the backseat and patted John B.’s shoulder. “Look man, I’m gonna be real with you right now. You might end up in the lion's den, but you don’t go in there on purpose,” he said. “Just like my old man told me, you should never trust cops under any circumstances.” 

“Your old man’s an abusive liar,” Kie snapped, causing JJ to shrug in response. 

Pope chugged half of the water bottle before he said, “I’m with JJ on this one. Fuck the police. When was the last time they ever helped us?” 

“Peterkin did,” Lottie said. She glanced down at her hands in her lap. She hadn’t stopped picking her nails since that morning, making them raw and red and stinging like a bitch but she couldn’t stop herself. She was scared that if she did stop, she’d fall into that spiral of paralyzing panic. That was one of the last things they needed at the moment. 

Lottie continued, “She looked out for us.” And look where that got Peterkin. 

“They need to know,” said John B. He stepped out of the car and headed toward the station. 

Once he was inside, Lottie slumped against the back seat with a sigh. 

No one spoke as they waited; the only noise came from the quiet hum of the radio and Pope’s occasional coughing. 

It wasn’t more than three minutes later that John B. came barreling out of the police station, yelling at Kie to get ready to drive. They all sat up straight in alarm as John B. jumped into the passenger seat and told Kie to book it. Confused, she threw the car into drive and started to take off out of the parking lot, but two police officers were hot on their tail, running up to the car. One of them grabbed onto the car through the opened passenger-side window, reaching for John B. and demanding them to stop, while the other chased after the car. 

“What do I do?!” Kie yelled, panicked, but it was hardly heard above everyone else’s confused yelling as to why the police were chasing after them. 

Lottie watched the scene with wide eyes before she leaned forward and squeezed Kie’s shoulder. “Just drive!” 

As Kie tried to speed up, John B. opened the car door enough to knock the female officer down to the ground, leaving her rolling against the asphalt before Kie was fully able to speed away. 

“John,” Lottie said lowly, her fingers starting to bleed as she tried to peel away her anxiety. “What. Was. That?” 

He glanced over his shoulder at them, guilt shining on his face. “Ward told the cops I killed Peterkin.”

[randomprose]

“Why.” 

Not a question. A demand. He Tian wonders if, as much as Mo Guan Shan says He Tian always makes demands of him, he’s also aware that he does the same.

“Hm?”

“Why me.”

He Tian ponders at the words as he runs his fingers on the side of Mo Guan Shan’s head resting in his chest. The shorn hair is starting to grow. Mo Guan Shan has noticed. And tomorrow, he’ll probably go to the barber shop downtown, the one he’s been going to since middle school, to get it cut again. Maybe he’ll ask He Tian to come and they can eat at the corner noodle shop next block from the barbers, the one with the really spicy mapo tofu Mo Guan Shan likes. He Tian will drag them to the fancy yogurt store he likes by the station to get his tongue to stop hurting from the mapo sauce and Mo Guan Shan will tease him about his shitty spice tolerance (It’s not! Mo Guan Shan’s Sichuanese palette is just short of demonic!) before heading home to do laundry. 

Or if Mo Guan Shan doesn’t feel like going out, he’ll shave off the side of his head over the bathroom sink himself (maybe he’ll ask He Tian) and they’ll just order takeout. And then do laundry.

“Hey.” A pinch at He Tian’s exposed hip which hurt enough for him to tug at Mo Guan Shan’s ear in retaliation. “Answer the question, you dick.”

“Tch.” He Tian’s hand continues to run through Mo Guan Shang’s hair, down to his neck, to his shoulder, his arm, and then back up. Repeats.

The touch is light and almost absent. Done almost as if just for something to do. Mo Guan Shan knows He Tian is thinking. He waits.

There’s a myriad of answers to that. Chief among them is, well, He Tian doesn’t know really. Mo Guan Shan was just some delinquent who Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi fought once. He Tian helped beat him up and then he saw him again eating a sandwich outside of some convenience store he couldn’t remember what chain now. He Tian was bored. Mo Guan Shan was a good distraction. A fun distraction. He made He Tian laugh. Truly. Genuinely. The type that travels warm through the chest and sits pleasantly in the belly. The type of laugh he has to stifle. And He Tian can’t remember the last time he laughed that wasn’t out of derision or condescension. Mo Guan Shan is a good cook. A really good cook. He Tian never really cared much for food beyond needed sustenance but the first taste of Mo Guan Shang’s beef stew got him craving. To this day, He Tian swears it’s one of the best dishes he’s ever had. Mo Guan Shan needed better friends and maybe at the time He Tian also needed a friend. Mo Guan Shan was strong but he needed saving too and He Tian liked being needed. 

Mo Guan Shan had the eyes of someone fighting the world as if it owes him something. He looked at He Tian like a nuisance and without any expectations. And He Tian liked exceeding expectations regardless if they don't exist so he took that as a challenge.

But it’s also precisely because Mo Guan Shan looked at him without expecting anything. For someone like He Tian that was the most refreshing thing in the world. Mo Guan Shan looks at him and He Tian can just be. And now the only expectations he wants to exceed are Mo Guan Shan’s.

“Your eyes.”

“What?”

“It was your eyes. I liked them.”

“Liked?” Past tense?

“I still do. I like you.”

“My eyes, huh.” A pause. “Why?” A genuine question this time.

He Tian shrugs. “They looked sad.”

“Have you looked in the mirror.”

“Not the same.”

“You liked my eyes because they looked sad.”

“I like sad things.”

“You’re sad.”

“On the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian presses Mo Guan Shan against his side. Skin to skin, half of Mo Guan Shan’s body practically draped over him. He keeps him there and drops a kiss on fiery auburn locks. Smiles against his temple when he doesn’t shift away and just stays there, pressed snug against He Tian. The arm thrown over his bare torso is a very welcomed warm weight. “I am actually very, very happy.” 

Now. Because of you.

“What about now?”

He Tian lets his hand travel lower, beneath the sheet draped loosely over their hips, to grab at soft flesh.

“Oh, I am very, very, absolutely happy right now.”

“Tch.” Another pinch to his side, a light kick in the shins. “Not what I meant, pervert.”

“Eeeh. You love it.” Love me. “Well, what do you mean?”

“Are my eyes still sad?”

A consideration. “No.” He Tian thinks of warm brown eyes welcoming him home with dinner on the stove, thinks of the wicked glint in them just moments earlier looking down at him as Mo Guan Shan rides him, of the euphoric haze in them afterwards when He Tian flipped them and finished inside him. “Not much now, no.”

Because Mo Guan Shan still has his days when it feels like his insides are slowly but surely turning cold, chest heavy and hollow at the same time. They both do. And He Tian can’t pretend he can chase them all away any more than Mo Guan Shan can keep He Tian’s at bay. But best believe He Tian is damn well sure as fuck always gonna try his level best to pull Mo Guan Shan out of it just as he does to him. Every time. 

“Guess you no longer like me then, huh.”

He Tian scoffs—almost laughs—at the absurdity of the mere idea. See? Didn’t he say Mo Guan Shan is quiet the comedian?

“Again, on the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian turns on his side, pulls Mo Guan Shan impossibly closer against him so they’re chest to chest, and slots a leg in between Mo Guan Shan’s. In response, an arm curls tight around his back, a hand pressed between skin and cotton sheets, the other placed over He Tian’s chest, and it’s like slotting two puzzle pieces together. Perfectly. “I really, very much like you. Love you even.”

Mo Guan Shan sighs, tucks his face where He Tian’s neck and shoulder meets. He inhales, revelling in the smell of sex, sweat, and something distinctively He Tian—dark and dangerous and safe.

“Sap.” Because He Tian, Mo Guan Shan knows, for all his faults, never lies. “You said you like sad things.”

“No. I said I like you. Just you.” He Tian says. “I love you.” 

The words are said with a tone of unquestionable certainty. Just like all the other times he’s said them and all the other times they will leave He Tian’s lips. Always. Without question.

In whatever state you are, I will always like, want, need, love, everything you.

Mo Guan Shan just hums, pressing his lips tenderly at He Tian’s pulse one, two, three times. 

He Tian clutches at the palm resting over his heart. It’s all the answer he needs.

[sinfulwrites]

Could u mabe do a nsfw alphabet for asa bc i love my beautiful bug babygirl🙏🙏🙏🙏 +i love ur writing oml

Hello there anon! Thank you so much!!

While my requests are closed, I simply can't say no to a bug man request. I love and value all my fellow Asa enjoyers.

Here you are! I hope you enjoy it!

Asa Emory NSFW alphabet

 A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You won’t be wrapped up in his arms after Asa has finished with you, at most he will lay beside you and allow you to nestle into him. That’s the nicest he can be.

After sex, Asa likes to go over all the marks he left on your skin. Any irritation on your ass or thighs from the spankings, the red bumpy skin along your neck and shoulders from his bites, the scratch marks down your back and legs from his nails. He will run his fingers along them and press into any that make you flinch. 

He will not help you bathe, he will instead order you to. Even if your legs haven’t gotten strength back, he will pull you to your feet and make you go into the bathroom and clean up. All while he watches you.

If he has done enough damage to cause bleeding, he will disinfect the area and bandage it after you have cleaned up. He wants you to scar, not run around with infections. 

You will be locked back up in your trunk afterwards. If you were good enough to earn a bed outside of the trunk, you will be chained to one of the bed posts. Good luck earning such a luxury.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

To Asa, the human body has a lot to love. He is a shameless pervert for boobs, but he also is keen on legs. He is a penis enthusiast, and any man with broad shoulders and muscle can get him going. But when it boils down to it, no matter who you are, you have something he likes. Why do you think he chose you?

Now, on himself, Asa has nothing he could say he liked. Sure, he has strong arms and legs, he has a rather nice ass, some have said he has a nice chest. It's nothing he would write home about.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

In the heat of the moment, he will always cum inside.

If he wants to degrade you, he will cum on your face, or on your back. 

If he's feeling especially mean, he will cum in your clothes and make you wear them for the rest of the day. Don't try and change, it'll only make him do it again, and this time with more consequences. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he was younger, Asa would frequent sex bars. This is where he found his love for BDSM. If anyone were to find this out, they'd quickly be dealt with. Asa doesn't need people spreading the word of how slutty he was in his youth.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You couldn't find someone more experienced in sex than Asa Emory. 

In terms of BDSM, he was practically a master. He knows how to bend someone to his whim without even trying. He knew how to hurt someone enough to make them beg for more. He knew how to make someone throw away their morals and self respect just so he could step on them even more. 

With a long history of sex partners, it's no surprise he is so experienced. If any of his students or colleagues heard about this, they probably wouldn't believe it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As a bondage fiend, any position where you’re bound underneath him is his favorite. 

Being hooked up to a sex swing is also a big favorite.

Without any ropes or cuffs, his next go to is doggy style.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Asa is the poster child for the word buzz kill. No laughing or fooling around here.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Asa is rather hairy under all of his clothes. Arm hair, chest hair, a lovely treasure trail, and of course he is hairy in the pubic area. While this is the case, he maintains his hair, often trimming it up before it gets out of hand. Like a trimmed hedge.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is not romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Every so often, when the mood strikes him right, Asa will jerk off. Most of the time, though, when he is horny he prefers to indulge with another person. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BDSM, and to the extreme. Gags, ropes, chains, clamps, blindfolds, whips, you name it. He has it.

Dom/Sub dynamics are also high on his list. He, being the dom of course.

While he carries himself as a composed, respectable man, he is a shameless voyeur at heart. He tends to lick his lips as he watches. 

If you’re on your period, expect him to be between your legs for most of its duration. Your blood will be a mock face paint for him. 

Asa has a marking kink, and while you won’t be seen by the general public, he likes to remind you who owns you with a bite on the neck. It will bleed.

Asa has a preference for anal. 

Overstimulation is also a big one. He likes to make you beg for him to stop touching you after you’ve had multiple orgasms in a row. The answer is no.

On the opposite spectrum, he also loves to edge you. Make you beg for release. Whichever mood he’s in that day, it’s still pure sexual torture.

Spanking. The more marks on your ass and thighs, the better.

Choking. His hands always seem to find their way around your neck to give it a squeeze. Most times it threatens to be too tight. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Asa prefers to keep his sex contained to his specific space in either his home or his hotel. These spaces are typically decked out to the max with his toys and restraints. He doesn’t like to be far from them.

Every now and then, though, the couch will do. He’s got restraints hidden under it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you are sassing Asa, or simply giving him a hard time, it fuels his motivation to put you in your place.

If you’re on your period, he is like a feral dog chasing a bitch in heat. It’s the most sexually active you’ll ever see him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don’t call him master. Call him sir.

His line is at scat. 

He would prefer it if you did not puke on him. If you do though, it’s not the end of the world. But it’s certainly the end of sex.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

With Asa, you’re the one giving. Your place is on your knees between his legs, and he will make sure to remind you if you forget.

When you're giving Asa head, be prepared for him to grab your head and fuck your throat. It's his favorite.

He will eat you out on your period, though. It’s like a reward.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and drawn out. Sex is not a one and done event with Asa, you will be with him for hours at a time without a moment to rest. Only after he is finished will you get the chance to catch your breath. 

By the time you are done, you will be sore and will be covered in bruises. Don’t forget the bite marks.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies with Asa are very rare, if not nonexistent. As stated, he prefers long, drawn out sessions. One orgasm isn’t enough for him. 

If you’re not his captive, and the mood strikes him, he may drag you into a quickie. It may still be an hour long, though. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Asa loves to push limits and see how far he can take it with you. 

As long as the risk doesn’t include outing himself to the public, he would be willing to take it. 

With all the toys he has and the filthy thoughts in his head, you will be his sex guinea pig, so to speak.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His personal record is five orgasms in one day. 

In terms of endurance, Asa has trained himself well not to cum prematurely, he can practically cum on command. Rest assured, you will have cum multiple times before he has once.

Let that be a gauge of how long sex lasts.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Asa practically owns a sex shop with the amount of toys he has.

Dildos, vibrators, anal toys, BDSM gear, even down to things he has made himself, he has it. And he is not afraid to use them. He will use them.

Asa is not shy to use toys on himself, but that is usually when he is on his own. Now and then, he may use a cock ring on himself with you. Just because he enjoys it. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s borderline torture with how much teasing he will do to you. You will be sobbing and begging before he finally gives you relief; if you’re lucky.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is less of a moaner, and more of a talker. Talking down to you while he fucks you is his go to.

“Look at you taking my cock so easily. Slut.”

“You didn’t even try to stop me. Disgusting.”

While he doesn’t moan, he will growl. Especially when he cums, but also if you do something to disappoint him. If you hear it, you’re in trouble. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This is a man with two jobs; an entomology professor and an exterminator. 

While his extermination job is purely to scope out new victims, it is nonetheless, a job.

While this could lead one to think he is well off, he typically blows all his money on his hoarding- I mean, collecting. 

With his night hobby at the hotel, along with a busy day schedule, he typically forgets to eat and sleep. You’d never know it by looking at him, though. 

Asa hand makes all of his traps, leading one to the conclusion that he is experienced with welding and iron work, along with carpentry and electrical work. He is very handy.

He has a long list of talents one wouldn’t expect. You didn’t think he could knit, could you? Think again. 

This man suffers from several mental illnesses. The trauma of his childhood certainly haunts him and keeps him awake. His horrible insomnia also doesn’t help his mood. 

Thanksgiving is a very bad time for him. You will not be able to find him. Don’t even ask about his plans to celebrate; there are none. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Asa is pretty average when it comes to length, coming to 6 inches. Though he is slightly thicker than the average size. Don’t worry though, he knows exactly how to use it.

Asa is also circumcised. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

While Asa is a sex fiend, it’s typically only on his own terms. His libido is quite low, meaning you will probably only get it from him now and then. Unless the mood strikes. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Asa is never one to fall asleep after sex unless he was truly that tired beforehand. 

You’d never know the answer though, as you’re usually locked back in your trunk after he is done. 

If you’re not a captive, you’re sent on your way once you’re cleaned up. Or he leaves if he is at your place. 

Having two day jobs along with a long night hobby, his sleep schedule is already all over the place as it is. Who knows when he actually fits in time to sleep.

[wizisbored]

wip wednesday sentences for 16/4/25

cw for the offering - discussion of child murder

The Offering @kalira @eriquin @twyrewolf @tamsinswriting @asha10100101010 @kidsomeday

He groans. “Ugh, murder victims are so annoying. Everyone else gets over it but since you’ve got someone to pin it on you’re all revenge, justice, he will never know rest. Like, move on, kid!”

“It happened today.”

“You sure about that?”

Lydia almost answers him, and then pauses. “Why shouldn’t I be sure?”

He shrugs. “Dunno how long we were on the other side for. Time moves different.”

“What do you mean? How different?!”

She looks frantically around the room, and not finding what she’s looking for almost runs into the kitchen. They’ll have a kitchen calendar, right?

“Could’ve been days, could’ve been longer,” Beetlejuice calls from the other room. The kitchen is dark, but still Lydia finds herself to see almost perfectly. There’s a calendar on the wall, but no crossing off of days to indicate what the current date could be. Defeated, Lydia trudges back to Beetlejuice.

“Should probably go check in on Otho,” he’s saying.

The Running Iron @kalira @combeferres-mothematics @stonemaskedtaliesin @rainy-weather-supremacy @tamsinswriting @akumteir

“That’s not much better. I don’t particularly want to be kept around here. They’ve been treating me like a horse.”

He snorts, like that’s funny somehow. But the mood has noticeably shifted, and Beetlejuice doesn’t seem to want to go on with his stories. Silence returns between them, aside from hooves and chains and wheels. By now, Lydia’s coat is almost soaked through with sweat and her legs are aching. She takes the waterskin slung across her body and hesitantly sips at it. She could down the whole thing now, but she’s not sure how long it’s supposed to last her.

“Are they expecting us to get all the way down the line without stopping?”

Beetlejuice shrugs. “Dunno. But if we stop, we gotta start it again.”

Lydia grimaces. “...I think I can last a little longer.” She considers just plainly asking him to keep talking, to distract her from the collar pressing into her flesh, but that feels a little pathetic. She doesn’t want him to think she’s any weaker than she’s sure he already does. So instead, she wracks her brain for another topic conversation. It comes to her when a fly lands on her thigh, and she reflexively tries to swat it with her tail.

“Why did they have our tails cut so short?” she complains. “It feels odd.”

“Apparently tail hair can get caught up in stuff when you’re hauling or dragging farm stuff and really fuck your ass up, but it’s one of those things you only ever hear about happening to someone’s friend’s cousin’s uncle’s grandfather, y’know?”

“I think they told me it was something about practicality,” Lydia grumbles. From the Back of a Blood Red Mare @twyrewolf @thefandomlesbian @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @somefishycat

“You sure you can get us up there?”

“Am I sure I can break you in someplace? Boss, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

In a blink, the cat is a teenager with huge vulture wings curled around her sides. Without a word of explanation she darts behind him and clambers onto his back, arms wrapped around his chest and legs around his waist. And before Ballister can comment on this arrangement, they’ve taken off. There’s a swirling rush of air and a sinking in his stomach, and then he’s being bundled through an open window. He lands on the floor of a room much like the one he slept in the last night, a large cat sitting on his back.

“We’re in,” she announces gleefully.

“So we are. So now we wait.”

For what feels like an age, Ballister leans ‘casually’ against the wall in the upstairs hallway, obscured from the top of the stairs by a grandfather clock.

Bugebroph @auburnlaughter @thefandomlesbian @kidsomeday

With his assurances in mind, she’s barely awake by the time they’re stepping back into her office. He helps her get out of her boots, and then goes to the filing cabinet as she wriggles out of her pinafore.

“Bedtime snack?” he offers.

“Have I got any fried roaches left?”

He comes back with the box and sets it on the mattress beside her. “Here.” He reaches out and unbuckles her mask. She sees him smile, and reach out to ruffle her hair. She leans into it.

“Proud of you, kid.”

Netherborne ch17 on @thefandomlesbian

Lydia finds herself thinking back to the time Takta punched her. “I don’t think he’s allowed to hurt me. That’s already a rule, just in general.”

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Crush On An Archer PT.4

Kate Bishop X f!reader

a/n: Honestly, I know I took forever to write this but I'm proud of myself for coming back and doing it haha. We all know how I can be when I fall off the writing wagon for a bit. Anyways, I think this part was pretty good! Let me know what you think! For those of you asking, there will probably be one to two more parts after this. Most likely one but we'll see if I change my mind. Happy writing!

Word count: 2250

Warnings: Not proofread, drinking

Waiting for 7pm too roll around felt like weeks. You tried watching tv, scrolling tiktok, literally anything to pass the time. You ended up settling on taking a nap to make time move quicker and so you’d have no problems this time staying up a little later. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 and you get up to get ready. You settled on some beige shorts with a black tshirt and a fitted cap to match the shorts. You threw on your chain and rings and hit yourself with a mist of your cologne before you were ready to head out. You had about 40 minutes until 7 when all of a sudden your phone went off. 

“Hey any chance you could come to mine for 7 instead? I ended up having to host the pre game. Sorry about the inconvenience.” Kate said in a text. 

“Sure omw in 10.”

Kate dropped you a pin with her location as a reminder of where she lived and you started to head over. 

Despite the constant texting and good amount of time spent together so far, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You don’t drink often and when you do secrets spill so who knows how this is going to go. You send her a text saying you’re close and as you walk up the steps to her front door the door swings open and there’s Kate with open arms and clearly already tipsy. 

“Y/N!!!!!” She says as her arms wrap around you and her body weight almost completely falls onto you. You’re practically holding her up until she finds her footing. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was down, she was wearing this beige tank top style shirt that was tight to her body with super high cut black shorts. You were practically drooling. 

“It is SO good to see you. Let’s get you a drink. We’re playing some games.”

You walked into her house and around the corner there were about 10 other girls some of them you recognized from the team some you didn’t. 

Kate quickly did a run down of who everyone was in the room for you while cracking a vodka soda for you and handing it off. 

“Do you know the rules of flip cup?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“Want to watch us play one round then join in?”

“Yeah absolutely.”

You sat there and watching a bunch of drunk girls playing flip cup but honestly your eyes were stuck on her. Fuck she was absolutely gorgeous. Her smile felt like it was lighting up the entire room. Every feature on her face was your favorite. Your heart was just melting looking at her and she had no idea. 

“Y/n??” You zone back in. 

“Yeah sorry?”

“You saw how to play. Think you’re ready to join now?”

“Yeah absolutely.”

You played a couple of different drinking games that Kate walked you through for about an hour and a half and had a pretty strong buzz going when one of the girls announced that the party you were going to go to got shut down. 

“Well it’s not too late, we could always just go to the bars instead?” Kate says. 

Everyone nodded in agreement, you were honestly a little relieved because house parties weren’t so much your thing. A bunch of the girls went to touch up their makeup while you waited by the door ready to go. Kate walked over to you and waited with you, of course she’s so naturally gorgeous that she wears practically no makeup. 

“I hope you’re having fun!! I know you don’t typically do this sort of stuff.” She says. 

“I am yeah I’m excited to go to the bar too.”

“Good.” She says with a soft smile as you two stay making eye contact in this dark entrance to the apartment. 

“C'mon you two let’s get going.” One of the girls says as she stumbled between the two of you bringing you back down to earth. 

Everyone was ready to go and you all started walking towards the strip of road with about 5 different clubs and bars on it. Luckily, Kate’s place wasn’t far at all from the area so it was only a short 8 minute walk. After IDs were checked you all headed in, the music was blaring, drunk people dancing, yes you absolutely felt over stimulated and were trying to keep your cool. 

Kate looks over at you and sees the concerned look on your face. She grabs your hand with hers and motions towards the bar with her head. “C’mon let’s go get a drink” is what you think came out of her mouth but it's practically too loud to tell. 

Kate orders the two of you a shot and a vodka cran each as the bartender makes eyes at her, you can feel her grip tighten. 

“Thank you!” you try to yell over the music as she hands you your drinks.

Kate winks at you as you cheers your shots, tap them on the table and throw them back.

“Let’s go dance!” She screams over the music. Her free hand grabs yours again and pulls you to the front of the dance floor right in front of the DJ. The two of you bump into some of the girls you came here with who are so unbelievably plastered they had absolutely no shame in dancing any which way. You however felt shy, although there was copious amounts of liquor coursing through your body you were still sober enough to be nervous. That or the nerves were so bad they were sobering you up. You decide to down your other drink for courage and try your best at dancing. Kate was a natural, she went out with these girls all the time, they practically all had a dance routine created based only on their time drunk dancing in bars. Your second drink was starting to hit a little harder than expected so the nerves were settling and you felt like you could relax and have a little bit of fun. Was the room spinning? Yes. But it was spinning in the best way possible.

You and Kate were jumping around having an amazing time screaming the lyrics to whatever Taylor Swift song the DJ queued up (there were a LOT) when all of a sudden you saw all the emotion drop off her face. She got real quiet and started to stand a little behind you. You look at her confused as you follow her eyeline three people down to a guy who just walked up with his friends. Fuck.

“Kate? Everything okay?”

“no”

“What’s going on?”

“I just haven’t seen my ex since we broke up. I know it was inevitable with us living in the same town and going to the same school and everything but it still took me off guard.”

“Did you want to leave?”

“--fuck no. He doesn’t own the bar. I’m not going to ruin my night just because his dumb ass showed up.”

You see the guy she’s looking at make eye contact with Kate. Fuck is he walking over here?

Kate’s fingers are entangled in yours as she clutches onto your hand behind her back. 

“Hello ladies.”

ick.

“Why are you over here?”

“Woah Kate, no need to be so hostile. I just wanted to come say hi. Why don’t you introduce me to your little friend?”

You could see fire lighting behind Kate’s eyes. She quickly squeezed your hand twice and pulled you around in front to reveal your hands locked together.

“Girlfriend actually.” Kate says confidently as she releases your hand and puts her arm around your shoulders. Your arm naturally fell to her waist and your heart was beating a mile a minute as your hand gripped around her side. 

His eyebrows raise as the two of you hold each other. “Yeah…okay…sure.” He says. 

“I don’t know who you are but you’re making my girl very uncomfortable so I think it’s time you go.” You say with the most fake but hopefully believable confident tone. 

““Your girl” yeah?” he says with air quotes. 

You just raise your eyebrows in response. He scoffs, looks at the two of you back and forth and walks away. A huge sigh of relief comes out of your mouth as you watch him walk away. No way would that have been possible without the amount of liquid courage you downed just beforehand. You snap back into reality as you feel a kiss planted on your cheek. Your eyes widen and your face more beet red than it already was turns and looks at Kate. 

“You were GREAT thank you so much for playing along with me.”

You got a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, arm around her waist. Why did you feel so shitty? Why did it feel like your heart fell out of your ass to then get trampled on? 

You managed to crack a smile out as your eyes looked at Kate with lust and love and how all you wanted was for it to be true while she seemed obliviously happy that it was just you two again.

Her friends came back over to you guys after getting more drinks and Kate told them what just happened as you stood there still trying to process it all and how you felt. The rest of the night felt hazy, you tried to dance with Kate and her friends but fuck all you felt was out of it. That whole thing really fucked you and your night up and it never improved. 

You check your watch, “1:27am”

“Hey Kate, I think I’m going to go home, I’m feeling pretty tired.”

A frown comes across Kate’s face when you say you’re leaving. “Okay…but I’m walking you, I don’t want you walking alone at night.” She says. 

“No, it’s not a big deal, stay with your friends.”

“No y/n, I’m walking you home, you have no say in this.”

You let out a small chuckle and agree as Kate turns around and says bye to all her friends. 

The two of you push your way through the crowd and manage to make it outside and damn fresh air never felt so good. 

“So…how was your first night out experience?”

“I had a pretty good time, yeah.”

“So glad to hear it! I hope you come out with us again soon.”

“Yeah for sure.”

The two of you talked about all sorts of different stuff on your walk home, school, friends, archery, you had some laughs but for the most part you were still feeling really weird about everything that happened earlier and you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding it. 

“Thanks for walking me home…but now I’m worried about you walking home alone.” You say with a chuckle. 

“It’s okay, I can call an Uber.” Kate responds. “Uh…y/n..can we talk about something for a sec?”

“Yeah for sure what’s up?” Fuck. You can feel your heart racing again.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah of course, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, it’s just I felt like we were having a really good time and then after my ex came over and that whole thing you seemed really off the rest of the night.”

Fuck. What do you say? Do you tell her you have feelings for her? Do you shrug it off? One of those sounds a lot easier than the other.

“Yeah! No, yeah of course we are good. Yeah that whole thing was definitely weird but there was no issue.” You say with the fakest smile ever. At this point you were worried she could hear your heart racing.

“You know if there are ever any issues you can tell me right? Like if I crossed a line or something, just be honest.” She says as she takes a step closer to you. 

“Yeah of course. No issues here.”

“Okay good. Because I have really enjoyed getting to know you and I love the friendship that we have…”

Is she just saying that to make it abundantly clear that we are only friends and will only ever be friends?

“...or whatever else we have too.”

You felt a lump get caught in your throat as your eyes were making lingering contact. Heart thumping so loud you can feel it in your eardrums. Your eyes were scanning her face, fuck all you wanted to do was grab her face pull it in and kiss her. Your body is just full of adrenaline, it's practically shaking out of you when all of a sudden you tune back in. 

“Yeah, I love our friendship too.” You say with a big goofy smile and take a small step back from her. 

What the fuck was that?

Kate’s face was fighting back every emotion it was feeling. Struggle was painted across it. She clearly had something to confess that she practically did but you are such a big pussy that pushing her back and away was the only thing you could do. 

“I should um get some sleep.” You say. “Text me when you get home safe?”

“Sure– uh– yeah.” Kate says looking confused as you start backing up towards your door and walk through it. Back against the wall as your head tips back in frustration trying to figure out why the fuck you would do that. 

– End of PT. 4 –

Taglist: @yelenaslyubov @youreatotalposer @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @amcg0605-blog @kassies-take @yelenaswife1996 @wandanatchick @lilroachsworld @inluvwithfictionalwomen @x666hours @natashaswife4125 @onetruwhore @karmasgxrl @hopelesslyfallenninlove @setsuna1415 @swiftdazer @imobsessedwithmilfss @madamevirgo @louisprettybab @splatalia-jumpanova @jediluka @t00manyfand0ms @oohlala666 @kates-abs-slay @scmg11 @uselessgaez @katebishops-simp @d0ingitwithpassi0n @wuwu96 @ar23northlondon-forever 

[kabie-whump]

❆ Whumpcember Day 10: "Let me help you." ❆

Donner's gotten himself caught in a bear trap.

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂꙳

Donner can’t believe how stupid he is.

The forest is blanketed in snow, all sounds muffled save for the sharp gasps for air Donner drags through his teeth. His face is scrunched with pain as he stares down at the steel jaws clamped around his ankle, blood bubbling thickly around the metal. The pain radiates up his body, throbbing and hot. 

He didn’t even see it as he wandered through the woods, hoping to work off some excess energy before he had to sit through a long movie night with the team later. The trap was well hidden under the thick snow, ready and waiting.

“Shit,” Donner hisses, his fists clenching where they hold his own knee tightly. It’s taking all of his self control to not try to yank free of the trap, knowing that he’ll probably just end up losing his foot for good. No, any sane person would tell him to relax, take stock of his condition, and find help without causing any further harm. 

Slowly, carefully, with only a few muffled grunts of pain, Donner lowers himself to the ground. He sits with his unharmed leg outstretched and his other leg bent so he can examine the damage, brushing away red-stained snow with shaking hands.

The trap itself is attached to a chain, which disappears underground. He tests the dirt with his fingertips, finding it frozen solid. He’s stuck.

A crunch of snow nearby makes his head snap up, his eyes flitting around for the source of the noise. He’d screamed when the trap had snapped around his ankle, and he worries now that his screaming combined with the stench of blood have attracted predators. 

But it’s not a wolf or a bear that he finds slowly approaching him from behind a tree, but a man, dressed in thick furs with an axe hanging at his hip.

Donner flinches back, his instincts screaming for him to run, but the trap keeps him firmly in place. 

“Easy there,” the man says, his voice low and cautious. “You’re in a bad spot, huh?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, lowering himself to the ground next to Donner and reaching for the trap. 

Donner yanks his foot back, gasping at the new wave of pain that comes with it. “Stay back,” he growls.

The woodsman freezes for a second, glancing up at Donner’s face, then a little higher to his antlers. “You’re one of those deer-people,” he says, pulling his hands away and holding them up in a placating gesture. “You’re a hell of a lot bigger than your friend. Comet, was it?”

Oh, right. Comet got lost in the woods a few months ago, came back saying that they met a nice old woodsman. This must be him. He’s probably not going to kill Donner right now, considering how good he was to Comet. 

“Just,” the man continues, “Just let me help you, alright?”

Donner nods shortly.

“Alright. This is gonna hurt, but I’ll get you out. Just hold still.” The woodsman inspects the trap with practiced eyes. “Old one,” he mutters to himself. “Springs are stiff. No one’s checked this trap in years.” He glances up at Donner, his expression surprisingly gentle for such a weathered face. “Alright, big guy. I’m gonna wedge this open.”

Donner grits his teeth as the man starts to work, using a crowbar from his pack to pry the jaws open. He brings a hand to his mouth and bites down on his own glove, holding back a scream as the pressure eases for a moment, only to return as the springs resist. It’s excruciating but he does his best to be still despite the all-consuming urge to pull away. 

“Almost…” the woodsman mutters, his brow furrowed with concentration. With a final grunt of effort the trap’s jaws give way and his discards it, immediately whipping off his scarf to wrap it around Donner’s rapidly bleeding ankle. “There.”

“Thanks,” Donner gasps, his head light and fuzzy from shock and blood loss.

He wraps his arm around the woodsman, letting him lift him off the ground and start leading him back the way he came.

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂꙳

Tags: @whumpcember@sapphicccici

[rainbows-fanfics]

Fateful Night (Chapter 4)

Previous Chapter

Summary: Elroy Skellington is finally old enough to join his father for his first Halloween in the human world, but things go awry and he runs away. In his troubled state, the Pumpkin Prince discovers something new that will change their lives, and the world they know, forever.

A fic focused on the Skellington Children.

Pairing: Jack/Sally

--

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, OUR NIGHTMARE. To read the original story, go here.

--

Elroy Skellington kicked a pebble out of his way as he shoved his skeletal hands into his jacket’s pockets, keeping his attention down at his feet. His little brother, Xavier, sang under his breath as he balanced his little body on the stone wall beside him. His sisters all had places to be after school - Mina was in their home library reading books and doing homework, Desdemona experimented with Grandpa Finkelstein in his laboratory, and Adeline was in mom’s shop trying out new clothes and dresses. 

He and Xavier would spend this time out in Halloween Town, seeing what was new and sometimes practicing their scares on unsuspecting citizens. It was all in good fun, and monsters here were so delighted to be frightened by royalty. But lately, he’d been second-guessing his abilities. He * should * be practicing, what with Halloween coming in so soon, but today, certain matters were weighing heavily on his mind. 

Xavier’s happy little voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “They did the moooonster Mash! The Monster Mash! It was a graveyard smaaaash! They did the mash! It caught on in a flaaaash !” 

“Hey, Xavier, what do you think grandpa was like?” he asked suddenly, and the little boy paused in his tracks as he considered the question. It didn’t take long to come up with an answer at all. 

“Scary!” 

He sighed despondently. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” 

They heard something rummaging around the street trash cans and picked up their skulls to see what creature was scavenging. Instead, they found the town’s trick-or-treaters scowling as they dug through discarded wrappers and bones. The little one made himself scarce behind his big brother when they started walking over to them.

Lock, Shock, and Barrel were older teenagers who still sought out candy from residents and pulled tricks on them when they didn’t get their way. His father had warned him that they were troublemakers at heart, and to not follow any advice they may have given to him or his siblings, but Elroy quite liked the trio. They were cool and knew all the best hang out spots around town. Xavier was still a little afraid of the weapons and sharp things they carried around, but they didn’t mean any harm. 

They just knew how to have fun.

“Huh, this is the first time I’ve seen you guys digging through trash,” Elroy brought up with some smugness in his tone. “Trying to find some lunch?”

“Hah-hah,” Lock sneered at him as his tail flicked in displeasure. “We’re looking for something that was stolen from us and probably thrown away.” 

“Have you seen it?” Shock asked as she crossed her arms, looking down at the Pumpkin Prince with her nostrils flared. “Someone took my potion bag and one of Barrel’s chains.”

He held up his bony hands. “No! Usually you’re the one stealing stuff from people.” 

“Only cuz we have to,” the largest of the three scoffed. “Whaddya’ want, kid?” 

Lock was a devil, Barrel was a pale-faced ghoul, and Shock was a tall witch. He admired their rebellious sense of style and attitude. He’d made their acquaintance years ago during one Halloween, when he came across them putting glue on doorknobs and throwing toilet paper on one of the houses in town. In their defense, the owner had run out of candy, so they were only doing what they had to. Trick-or-treating was part of the system, and everything had to be upheld so Halloween wouldn’t collapse entirely. 

He did sometimes wonder why they stuck to such a thing when there were newer kids in town to take their place. But when he learned they lived in a makeshift shack on the outskirts of town, he kind of understood why. Food was hard to come by for them, so they had to take any handouts they could. Even if all they could get was candy. 

“Just passing by,” he shrugged. “Say, you guys got a minute?”

He felt Xavier squeezing his hand desperately from below his knees, and he gripped back to let him know it was okay. Lock, Shock, and Barrel rarely ever messed with them - they seemed to want to avoid Jack Skellington’s wrath as much as they could. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t trick or manipulate them in their own ways. Elroy liked to think he was starting to get street smart enough to recognize when such a thing would happen. 

“I guess we do. You need someone thrown in one of these trash cans?” Lock offered as he gestured behind them. 

“No. Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about the old Pumpkin King. Before my dad, I mean.” 

“Nope!” Shock shrugged, putting the lid back on one of the cans and jumping up to sit on it. “We’ve only ever known Jack.” 

He sighed. “I figured.” 

“I bet Oogie Boogie must’ve known him,” Barrel brought up as he sat on the sidewalk and started picking at his cuticles. “He was centuries old, wasn’t he?” 

“Oogie…Boogie?” Xavier repeated from below, looking between them all. Elroy held the same confused expression as he, and the teenagers paused before snickering at them. 

“Yeah, our dad that your dad killed.” 

“Huh? What?” his phantom heart started racing in alarm. “C’mon, guys, don’t mess with me.” 

“It’s true,” the devil leaned on the wall, grinning with his sharp teeth. “Yeeears ago, Jack unraveled Oogie Boogie and killed all his bugs. We didn’t see it happen, but had to clean what was left in the pit.”

“Brutal,” Barrel added with a smile. 

He scrutinized them. “You don’t seem all that… mad about it, figuring he was your dad..?”

“Eh, he kinda’ was, kinda’ wasn’t,” the witch made a so-so gesture with her hand. “He looked after us, but we had to do all the work for him and he ate most of our candy. We’re glad he’s gone, but it’s weird how you don’t know about the boogeyman.” 

“The boogeyman?” Xavier repeated with worry. 

“Ooh, yes,” Barrel sat up and wiggled his fingers at the small skeleton. “He knows when you’re sleeping and gives you nightmares when you’ve been bad. He also hides in your closet and under your bed, waiting to strike !” 

The little Pumpkin Prince whimpered as he hid behind the eldest’s legs, who patted him on the head to try and console him. He was close to tears just from hearing their stories. The teens laughed at such a reaction.

“At least, he USED to! You have Jack to thank for that one!” 

Elroy’s eye sockets narrowed as he was deep in thought. “Why… did my dad kill him? It sounds like he was important. And scary.” 

“It was this whole ‘thing’ ....” Shock exchanged a glance with Lock, who matched her uneasy expression. “He kidnapped your mom and tried to kill her. And we…kind of helped with that..?” 

He lost his temper quickly, a flame momentarily escaping his mouth in anger. “ WHAT !?”

Barrel held his large hands up in defense. “We were just kids. We didn’t know he would try to eat her!” 

“‘Sides, she was trying to parent us and we didn’t like it. She wasn’t our mom,” Lock scoffed along.

“Yeah, I bet you guys didn’t know what you were doing,” he spoke through gritted teeth. This had all happened in the past, but it still enraged him to hear. 

“Better calm down before you lose your temper like your dad did and you try to kill us,” Lock smiled disparagingly. 

At this, Elroy relaxed his hands and took a deep breath. Is that what really happened? His dad got so angry seeing his mom in danger, and took his anger out by killing the one who was responsible? That…didn’t sound like him at all. He was usually so responsible and level-headed. Had he lost himself in his wrath? 

“Oogie promised us we could have everything we want,” Barrel brought up quietly, his expression falling. “All the candy we could eat, pranks we could pull on anybody, and be in charge instead of getting bossed around. He wanted a scarier Halloween than Jack’s, and we thought that was best at the time.” 

“We… know better, now,” Shock frowned and tugged at the laces of her boots. 

A moment of silence passed as Elroy reflected on their words, realizing this story was deeper than he thought and perhaps this boogeyman wasn’t the best father figure in the world. At least he still had one. Lock, Shock, and Barrel had no parents – no one to look after them. He couldn’t imagine losing his mom and dad and having to fend for his siblings. He felt pity for them, but that was not what they wanted. So he didn’t give them any. 

“Well, I guess we better get going,” he ushered Xavier to his side and waved to the three. “Sorry my dad killed your dad.”

“Sorry we almost got your mom killed,” the girl smiled awkwardly. 

He and Xavier started the walk back to the Skellington Manor. He wasn’t really in the mood to go scaring right now or talk to the citizens. He had so much on his mind now, and the thought that his father had murdered in cold blood was a jarring one. He had to get his side of the story – he refused to believe The Pumpkin King was a killer. If he was the son of one, then what did that mean for him? Would he kill too , someday? 

He shuddered at that thought. 

“Dad, dad! I got something for you! Daaaad!” 

There was a reason Jack Skellington told his children to make their trips to the Town Hall sparse, at least while he was working. It was enough that he once had to juggle skeleton babies and paperwork before they could even walk. He audibly sighed as Desdemona stood on her tiptoes, waving something around to try and gain his attention. He finally dropped the folder from his hands and turned to her, placing a bony hand on his hip as he addressed his daughter. 

“What is it, Desdemona?” he asked tiredly. 

She reached out as far as she could to hand it to him. “I think you’re gonna liiiikeee it~” 

He decided to humor her and grabbed it out of her hand. Indeed, the sight made his eye sockets widen and his jaw fall open. He had not been expecting to see a photograph of his father and mother with a young Finkelstein. He nearly lost his composure at that second, and had to clear his throat before speaking again. 

“ … Where did you get this?” 

“Grandpa Finkelstein gave it to me!” she jumped around excitedly. “He said you could use the memory more than he can.” 

“I’ll be sure to show him my gratitude,” he set aside the small photograph and patted her on the head. “Thank you, mon ange.” 

“I also found your Romeo & Juliet! Now your collection’s complete again! Aren’t you proud of me?” 

He laughed and pulled up a chair to sit across from her, regarding her warmly. “Am I to guess you got that from the laboratory, too?” 

“Yup! It’s so sweet that you gave it to mom. Mina’s reading it now!” 

It dawned on him what was so special about that edition and the exact reason as to why it had gone missing in the first place. “You read my note to your mother in there, didn’t you?” 

She giggled. “Maaaybe. Was it fun sneaking around with mom?” 

“We only did it because we had to. Don’t let me catch you doing the same thing, alright?” 

“Fiiiiine, if I have to.” 

He nodded firmly and stood back up, returning to his work and sorting through files and papers. He could hear the door shut after Desdemona as she left. This was what most of his days looked like when he had to tackle his responsibilities in the Town Hall. He much preferred doing things out in town, like ensuring their decorations were ready and tending to any of the citizen’s concerns and questions. His favorite thing to do was seeing if their costumes were in efficient supply - as he could take a visit to Sally in her shop and get to speak with his wife after a long day. He made sure to take his time with that task in particular, despite the Mayor’s constant complaints about it. 

The short man himself made an appearance as he stepped into the room, looking at Jack’s work and humming in satisfaction at his progress. Then his swirled eye caught sight of the small photograph now sitting on the edge of the table, and he reached out to take it. His face switched the longer he observed it. 

“Oh, my,” the Mayor whispered, which was a rare volume from him. “I think I remember them.” 

“My parents?” the Pumpkin King asked curiously. 

“Of course..! You know, my father was the prior mayor,” he brushed the dust off his badge with pride, his happy face returning brightly. 

“Ah, I remember him! Melvin, right?”

“Indeed! The finest mayor this town has ever seen, besides yours truly,” he boasted. Then his face switched again. “I can’t seem to remember your folk’s names, Jack. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. Most of this town doesn’t even know them, anyway,” he paused as his lips fell, a somber attitude threatening to overtake him. But then the Mayor shoved the photograph back in his face, pointing at Finkelstein in the picture. 

“Look at the Doctor’s hairdo! Can you believe he wore it like that?”

Just like that, the skeleton was laughing again, taking a closer look for himself. “He thought he was such a lady’s man.” 

“Almost reminds me of when I used to have hair,” his coworker bellowed. 

Their duties at the Town Hall were temporarily ignored as they took this time reminiscing over the olden days. Something that would not happen again for a long time.

[theconstellationprincess]

doing some of the regressuary prompts to get the writing juices flowing. this is 12 (Character A is sick but insists they’re fine.) and it's more Scott, because I love him <3

-

"Scott, please just go to bed. We can handle the debrief without you." Jean insists in his head, staring at him intently while everyone piled into the meeting room, freshly showered and changed. Scott sniffles and gives her the mental equivalent of sticking his tongue out, childish as it may be. Jean narrows her eyes at him and he mumbles a sheepish apology as he sits down. One of the mutants they had been fighting had some sort of illness-causing power. Hank was running some tests on Scott's blood now, but based on the symptoms, it wasn't that dangerous, just inconvenient. Nor was it contagious, based on some of what the mutant responsible had said.

Scott stifled a cough as Storm began the debrief. Whenever Scott was incapacitated in any way, she was next in the chain of command to take over. Incapacitated today included having a voice that was hoarse and thick, and overall unpleasant to have to listen too.

Scott tried to focus on the debrief, he really did, but it was hard to listen when every part of his body was yelling at him about how wrong he felt. Scott rarely got sick; he took fantastic care of his body, apart from the stress of leadership. He made sure to sleep at a reasonable time- when he could, sometimes missions interrupted that- he ate well, and he was in great physical shape. His immune system was great, but that apparently did nothing against mutation-induced illness.

That is to say that Scott did not have much practice being sick, and he wasn't sure how best to go about ignoring the warning signs overwhelming his senses. He slouched a little in his chair, popping his ears with a wince as Storm continued to talk. Her voice sounded a million miles away, or like it was underwater. Blurry and incomprehensible.

Jean's hand on the back of his neck startled him, but it was pleasantly cold against his fevered skin, and he leaned into the touch, blinking slowly. He was very warm, and Jean was cold, so it was a no brainier to Scott to shift his chair so that he could lean against her. He could feel her chest rumble as she laughed, and began to sit up to ask her what was funny, but a hand running through his hair stilled him, and his eyes fell half-closed as he leaned into the touch. "You should go to bed," Jean murmured to him, and Scott made an annoyed noise, hiding his face in her neck.

"'m fine," Scott replied, wincing at the soreness in his throat as he spoke. His voice was low and gravelly, and Jean sighed upon hearing it. Storm was still talking in the background, but Scott was hardly aware of where he was, let alone what was going on. Exhaustion pulled at him, as did fevered thoughts, and all he really knew was that he wanted Jean, because she would make him feel better.

Jean hushed him, and he could feel a flash of annoyance from her mentally, but she continued to pet his head, so he ignored it. Eventually, the background noise of voices ceased, though by that point Scott was half asleep on Jean's shoulder. She shook him gently to wake up, and when he made no move to actually get up, scooped him up in her arms, using a healthy dose of telekinesis to boost her own strength.

Scott had half a mind to be complain about it, and he was distantly aware that he should probably be embarrassed to be cradled in the arms of his wife in front of his team, but it was very comfortable, and it made him feel fuzzy in the best way, so he just mumbled something halfhearted and let Jean carry him to their room. She sets him down gently on the bed, and goes through his dresser to find him pyjamas to wear.

"I can do it myself," Scott whispers, swallowing with a wince. He's not sure how much of a lie it is, if he could even stand up right now. He certainly doesn't feel very sturdy, but he hates the idea of Jean having to do everything for him. It's not that he's too proud to admit he needs help- although, admittedly, that might be part of it- it's that he doesn't like to be an inconvenience. Doesn't want to give Jean reasons to leave, because what if one day the negatives of their relationship outweigh the positives?

"I can hear you thinking," Jean says softly to him, setting down Scott's favourite comfort-wear. "So let me tell you this all at once, and you better pay attention. I love you Scott, and when I married you, I promised to be there for you in sickness and in health. You are not a burden to me just because you're sick, and in fact," She kissed his forehead and cupped his face in her hands, "I love when you let me take care of you. So please let me take care of you, okay?"

Scott can feel his lip quiver, but he really does not want to cry, because he already feels awful and trying to cry with a clogged nose and sore throat sounds awful. Instead he kisses Jean's palm and nods, "Okay." He agrees, sniffling a bit. Jean smiles brightly at him, and Scott feels a little bit less guilty.

"Raise your arms for me?" Jean requests gently, tugging off his shirt when Scott complies. He's a bit confused, blinking at her slowly, arms still in the air as she folds his shirt and sets it down next to her. He shivers a bit, goosebumps appearing on his skin as Jean grabs the sweater she had brought over earlier. He is still confused, even as she puts it on him, gently tugging at his arms to maneuver them into the sleeves. Scott opens his mouth to question her after his head pops out the top, but Jean shushes him. "I'm taking care of you. Let me."

And so Scott does. He lifts his hips when she asks so that she could change him out of his jeans into a pair of well worn sweatpants, lets her carry him into the bathroom and set him down on the counter and brush his teeth, comb out the tangles in his hair, and swap out his glasses for his sleep mask. Even though Scott is doing none of this himself, he still feels completely spent when Jean scoops him off the counter and tucks him into bed. He listens to her put around, following the same routine she just did for him, before crawling into bed next to him. Scott feels... small. Jean had treated him like a child, and he had let her, and it had felt really nice, for some reason. It was like his brain was just off, and he didn't have to think or do anything for himself, because Jean was there and she would help him.

Her arms wrap around him, and she presses a kiss to the back of his head. "Go to sleep, love." She tells him, and Scott grumbles but closes his eyes and tries to relax. Even as exhausted as he is, sleep is still difficult with a stuffed nose and an aching body. He squirms, trying to get comfortable while also trying not to disturb Jean. After several minutes of this, he hears Jean sigh, and she gets out of bed. For an agonizing moment, Scott feels his heart drop, because this was it. Jean was leaving because he was too much for her and she hates him and if he was better than she would stay, but he's awful and weak and-

Jean was picking him up again. She must have walked over to his side of the bed without his notice. "Shh, Scott. It's okay, I'm right here. I know you don't feel well, baby, but you need to rest." She coos, holding him against her. Scott wraps his arms and legs around her tightly, whimpering into her shoulder as cups the back of his head.

"I- You-" He hiccups, choking back tears. Jean makes a comforting noise, and starts to sway gently, humming what Scott assumes is a lullaby. She doesn't make any mention of when her shoulder begins to grow wet with tears, only continues to soothe him with comforting words and her gentle movements. Between one moment and the next, Scott falls asleep, completely exhausted.

"Oh Scott," Jean says to herself, tucking him back into bed. He looks adorable even now, flushed with fever and upset. She uses her sleeve to wipe his face free of tears and snot, the shirt already needing to be washed on account of those same fluids having soaked the left shoulder. Once he is cleaned up, she changes her shirt and crawls into bed next to him, smiling when he gravitates towards her. She too is tired, though it is a satisfied kind of fatigue, and follows him off to dreamland shortly.

-

She wakes to a gentle knock on their door, and cringes as she looks towards Scott. Still fast asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, she creeps out of bed and opens the door, giving Hank a tired smile as she steps out of their room and gently shuts the door behind her. "Scott's asleep," She explains upon receiving a confused look from Hank, "I'd rather not wake him."

"Of course," Hank acquiesces gracefully. Hank really is the best of them. "After looking through Scott's blood draws, and managing to acquire some information from the mutant himself in custody, I have determined that there's nothing to be concerned about. He should be recovered in a few days, and his symptoms should be able to be adequately managed by standard cold medications." Jean nods along with his words, sighing in relief.

"Thank you, Hank." She replies, smiling brightly at him. He smiles back, more bashful than anything, and leaves in a hurry. Jean laughs a bit to herself, and instead of heading back into their bedroom, heads for the stairs. She could use some water, and she'll bring a glass back for Scott as well. He'll need to be kept hydrated.

She hears laughter when she passes the main sitting room and pokes her head in, seeing several of the younger team members sitting together in a huddle. "What are you all up too?" She asks, growing suspicious when they all jump apart like they've been caught. Kitty's ears go up to her shoulders as she looks towards the ground for a moment and then back to Jean.

"Nothing!" She squeaks, and Jean shifts her gaze over to Jubilee, who whistles innocently, then to Rogue and Gambit who both avert their gaze, and finally to Kurt. He makes eye contact accidentally. She raises an eyebrow. He freezes, then wilts.

"We were making a- what did you call it Kitty? A college?" He turns towards her, tilting his head.

"Collage." Kitty corrects meekly, fidgeting with the strings of the sweater she's wearing.

"A collage!" Kurt exclaims, looking back towards Jean. "Of pictures when you-" Rogue leaped forward and slapped a hand over Kurt's mouth, faking a sweet smile which she aimed at Jean, who was increasingly unimpressed.

"We were making a collage for Cyke, as a get better soon gift." Jean narrows her eyes at Rogue, but she refuses to read any of her teammates minds without permission. Jean sighs and decides that that problem will be for future her, and resumes her previous task.

When she makes it back to their bedroom, water glass in hand, she's surprised to see Logan standing at the door, which is slightly ajar, looking in. "Logan," Jean says, a bit louder than she means to. He whirls around, claws coming out, though he quickly puts them away. It's hard to sneak up on Logan even at his most relaxed, which meant he must have been in his own head to be distracted enough that she got the jump on him.

"Jeannie." Logan grunts, quickly moving away from the door. Jean laughs a bit, giving Logan a teasing look.

"You're allowed to be worried about him, you know. Scott needs more people looking out for him outside of missions- and on them really." She says the last part to herself, although judging by Logan's amused huff he catches it. "He gets hurt far too often," She complains, running a hand through her hair. Logan makes a vaguely agreeing sound. She can tell Logan wasn't particularly interested in conversation, so she left him in the hall and reentered the bedroom, setting the water glass she got for Scott on his nightstand. He was still sound asleep thankfully. She grabbed the book she was currently reading and crawled next to him in bed, reading it in the low light of the room as Scott quietly snored next to her. She could not imagine a more perfect evening.

[myloveforhergoeson]

October 2nd

Prompt: Apparition

Having the Palm Woods Hotel right smack dab in the middle of Los Angeles afforded the band, their assistant, and friends no shortage of things to do and places to explore. For instance, Big Time Rush had recently discovered a discount movie theater a few blocks from their apartment building, where on Wednesday nights, it was practically cheaper than dirt to catch some old out-of-traditional-theater classics.

Since the air in LA was growing cooler, the chill of October beginning to seep into every little crack of the city, the discount theater had begun a run of older, spookier films; The band and their friends had decided to take advantage of this fact, snagging some last-minute tickets to The Sixth Sense.

As someone with the actual sixth sense, it was hard for Roxy not to take the movie as a comedy. She had to remember to snuggle into her boyfriend's arm at all the scary twists and turns, instead of laughing so hard soda squirted out her nose. But, seeing a movie with James as her boyfriend for the first time was nice - There were plenty of excuses to be all up in his personal space, and the darkness of the theater provided some nice coverage for covert kisses... Until James actually grew interested in the later half of the film.

Judging by the claminess of his hand as she clasped it in hers, he'd been sufficiently spooked by the end. This trait seemed to have affected a few of the other boys and Camille as well, leaving Jo, Kendall, Stephanie, and Roxy to criticize the cheesiness of the film as they made their way home that evening.

Smog hanging thick over the city skyline made it hard to see both the stars and moon as the teens headed down Hollywood Boulevard. Normally, this street was full of hustle and bustle as tourists took a walk down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, dined in the dozens of both chain and local restaurants, and took advantage of all the tourist attractions lining both sides of the street, but it was getting to be almost midnight now, so most of the businesses were either closed or on track to very soon.

That left the band of teenagers mostly to their own devices, chatting about this and that as they passed the darkened shop windows and the last stragglers trying to find somewhere to hunker down for the night.

James' jacket and arm were wrapped around Roxy's shoulders as she listened to her friends chatter on, so grateful for an evening where they got to hang out all together, forget about the stresses of their unconventional jobs, and feel like "normal" teenagers for the first time in quite a while. She pressed into his side as they rounded the corner to take them off the main road and back to the Palm Woods, stealing as much of his body heat as possible.

Crash!

The sound of a glass bottle being smashed against the rocky asphalt underfoot rang out from an alleyway they walked past; All of the hair on Roxy's arms stood. Not a good sign at all.

"What was that?" Carlos wondered aloud, the first of the group to stop and peer down the dimly lit space. Though the entrance seemed to be quite wide between two taller buildings, as they all paused to look, the lines of walls seemed to go on forever and ever, narrowing but never-ending.

It took everything Roxy had in her not to shout, "Back!" the moment Kendall took a step forward, squinting as his eyes scanned the area, attempting to figure out where the sound came from. She was beginning to grow nauseous, needing to hold onto her boyfriend a bit tighter to keep her balance.

"Probably nothing..." The blond replied, hand still clasped in Jo's before she pointed to a dumpster on the side of the alleyway.

"No, look there!"

As everyone followed her finger, they all noticed a large, black dog clawing into one of the trash bags at its base. Its growls were loud enough to be heard even though they were quite far from the animal.

Every part of Roxy's brain was screaming at her to flee immediately, but there was no way to communicate this to her friends without raising suspicion of both herself and the creature.

Camille's arm fell from where she was hugging Logan's waist, facial features drooping. "Aww, poor thing. It must be so hungry."

"We can call animal control when we get home," Roxy tried, tugging on James' arm to try and get her friends moving again. She had no idea what they could be up against, but her mind was fluttering somewhere between the scale of werewolf and hellhound. Neither were good options, nor were nay of the ones in the middle, if they were to get caught with the hungry creature. "They can come take care of it."

If James sensed her unease, he didn't show it. "And just take it to lock it up in the pound? That's horrible!"

"Well, we can't take it home with us! No pets at the Palm Woods," Stephanie reminded them, gripping the straps of her cross-body bag.

"Yeah, but is it worse to leave it here where it can run out on the road and get hit by a car or something?" Logan asked, genuinely, turning to his friends with wide eyes.

Oh, that thing is definitely making it out of a car crash... The person behind the wheel... Not as likely...

The witch needed to do something, and fast before the dog noticed them, but there were too many eyes on the creature for her to make any kind of move. Silently, she racked her brain for anything she could think of to drive the beast away from them covertly, without adding to the strangeness of the situation.

As she looked to the sky for help, it was just her luck the fall clouds had parted, granting her full view of the gorgeous, bright crescent moon above them.

Bingo.

"Woah... Check out the moon!"

Though she couldn't think of any astrological phenomenon that would explain why the sliver of the visible satellite planet was so cool, she saw her friend's heads snap up at her words, pulling their attention from the dog-like creature for a second. With a wave of her hand, a conjuration of amber-colored sparkles shot down the alley, lighting its path like the flame of a candle, before stopping in front of the creature, and forming in the shape of a large man.

Had she traded enough of her energy to make it look like a real man, she'd probably pass out on the spot, so she'd settled for a shadow-like figure appearing by the dumpster to spook the animal.

Her figure raised its arms above its head, lunging in toward the dog and it let out a nasty bark before tucking its tail and running in the opposite direction from the teens down the alley.

It was just her luck Carlos chose that exact moment to return his attention to the dog, trading his view of the moon for a view of the shadowed apparition in the middle of the alley.

"Uh... Guys.." He started and Roxy hurriedly waved her hand again, heart pounding in her chest as the figure disappeared. "Did anyone else see the shadow figure or was it just me?"

Now everyone was looking at Carlos, trying and failing to contain their laughter at his question. Though she felt bad for contributing to the teasing, Roxy needed to blend in despite the blood rushing to her ears, and he was perfect to toss the attention to at this point in time. How had he sensed the figure was there so quickly? It was only present for a few split seconds...

It seemed as though the creature was all but forgotten by the other teens in a matter of moments.

"Don't tell me the movie got into your head that much," Stephanie grinned. Tucking her arm into his, the director was the first to start moving in the direction of the Palm Woods. "There's no such thing as ghosts!"

"No, Steph, I swear-" The boy tried to defend himself, but his friends' amusement only grew. "Something was right there-"

Carlos didn't get another chance to defend himself as the group continued on, vowing they wouldn't take him to a scary movie so late at night ever again.

[saturdaynightghostclub]

The Many Lives of Arthur Llewellyn

You know how sometimes you can look at a person and just know, instinctively, that they came from some cosmic elsewhere? Their face, their clothes, their speech—it all belongs somewhere specific, somewhere other than where they are. Every now and then you come across a time-traveler, an astronaut, a lovelorn Victorian in the body of a twentysomething city-dweller. Your Arthur is one such curiosity, you think. A cursory glance would place him on a street-corner in Greenwich Village, or smoking a cigarette beneath a gas lamp in San Francisco. He’s got that foggy beatnik thing going for him. That he exists among the long-haired, strong-armed Seattleites of 1995 must mean that someone out there in the galactic mist is looking out for you; by all accounts, you should never have met this walking anachronism.

But you did, and against all odds he’s currently sitting at your dining room table and using a set of nail clippers to mend the clasp of a necklace his mother insisted was too broken to continue wearing. He suggested she take it to a jeweler, and her subsequent “Why bother” had riled him up to the point that he insisted on fixing the damned thing himself because, in his words, “Why bother? Why bother buying anything if you’re not going to take care of it? You just throw your clothes away when they get holes?”

“I can feel you staring,” he says now, without looking up. Guilty as charged, you hide your smile behind the copy of Howards End that you’re pretending to read. Maybe he’s a weary ship’s captain, taking meticulous care of what few possessions he has that remind him of his faraway home. Maybe somewhere he’s stowed a pair of red boots, made from fine Spanish leather, for safekeeping until he returns to his aching sweetheart on the shore. Maybe you have an overactive imagination.

Aunt Juley is sick, and Helen won’t come home to the grieving Schlegel family, and won’t she reconsider ending her engagement to Paul? Who cares, when Arthur Llewellyn is carefully slinking toward triumph in the battle against his mother’s gold chain? You turn a page without reading it, your eyes still trained on your boyfriend’s long fingers until, with a soft and disbelieving gasp, he holds the chain up for you to see. The clasp looks brand-new, and even if he did only fix it to spite his mother, your heart flutters with pride—he’s a sensitive one, whether he likes it or not. You happen to know that the necklace was given to Mrs. Llewellyn by Arthur’s father: an emerald pendant, her birthstone. The Llewellyns are not sentimental people (with the exception of their son, that is); according to Arthur, he’s had to practically beg them not to donate his great grandmother’s china sets on more than one occasion. As a consequence, his own apartment is full of antiques and souvenirs he couldn’t bear to see thrown away.

You move closer to him under the pretense of inspecting his work, rising from your chair to stand beside him.

“Very nice,” you say, “are you sure you want to keep going with this teaching thing? I think you’ve got a real future in jewelry repair.”

Arthur tilts his head back to look at you, placing the necklace down on the table. You run a hand through his hair, letting your palm come down to cup his face. He leans into you like a man deprived. You sometimes wonder if his immediate family’s stoicism did a little damage to the part of him that now seems to need your touch like oxygen. “Funny,” he says, “I was thinking the same thing. You think they’ve got good benefits?”

You smile, running your thumb across his sharp cheekbone. He’s been frustrated, you know, in the days leading up to the start of the school year. The school’s curriculum, which he says is “unbearably boring,” leaves little room for creativity, but he’s trying his best. He’s starting his students with The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy this year.

Arthur is flexing his hand repeatedly, probably working out a cramp from his delicate operation with the nail clippers. You perch on the edge of the table, sliding back to a full sit, before taking that hand in both of your own. Slowly, gently, you massage the tension out of his fingers while he looks on in awe. “You want to get out of here?” You ask, “It’s a gorgeous day. Take a walk with me?” He nods, allowing you to lead him out of your apartment and into the midday air, perfumed with lilac and salt.

Your building is on one of those dreadful Seattle hills, the ones you don’t realize are as steep as they are until one day you put on your favorite sundress and realize your calves look absolutely stunning. You lead Arthur up the block, ignoring his halfhearted protests until you’ve made it to the top of the hill. There, he lets his hand go to the small of your back, keeping it there as you continue to walk. After a moment’s silence, he leans over to kiss your temple. “I love you,” he says. Casually, like he has so many times. Like it’s a way to fill the silence instead of a world-bending declaration, like he couldn’t bring you to your knees at any moment with it.

“I love you too,” you say, knowing it carries the same weight for him.

“Can I be so corny for a minute?” He asks, his hand moving gently up and down your back as you walk.

“You can be as corny as you want,” you reply. Never in your life have you seen this kind of earnestness in a man. Never in your life have you even wanted it—never, until you had it.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “I’m really happy,” he says, his voice hoarse, “I’m so fucking happy.”

“Sounds like it,” you tease, nudging him.

“I am,” he finally smiles, “I am. It’s scary though, you know? I’d kind of reached a point where I thought happy was a myth. Or, no—not a myth, I just thought it was something for other people, right? Like, when they’d talk about how happy they were, I thought either that they were exaggerating or that there was something wrong with me, because I didn’t know what they were talking about—does that make sense?”

You stop walking for a moment, turning to Arthur. “You’ve thought about this a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says. You respect his lack of sheepishness. “I’ve had to, you know? It’s like I’m experiencing this whole new facet of human life I didn’t know existed. Like maybe I thought I knew, and you’ve just turned everything upside down.”

You’ve got no choice but to kiss him. There, on the street corner, where it’s nothing short of edenic, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips to his, hard and sweet. He gasps against you in that way that you love, that way that lets you know you’ve taken him by surprise once again. His shock is only momentary, however, and within seconds you’re wrapped so tightly in his arms that he’s all you can feel, all around you.

“Arthur,” you say, coming down off your toes and letting your hands drag down his chest, “if this is all it takes to make you happy, then neither of us has anything to worry about.”

The boy is grinning in earnest now, eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, fuck,” he says, shattering the illusion that he is anything but a west coast twentysomething, “Jesus, honey…”

He’s running a hand over his face now, like he’s trying in vain to wipe the smile from his features. “What?” You ask, grinning something awful yourself.

“I just saw the future, that’s what,” he says, sweeping you once again into his arms, “I saw my entire life in your face, it’s all you. All you, forever.”

You can’t help but to laugh, a stunned expulsion of joy you weren’t expecting to feel. “Oh god, you’re stuck with me then?”

“There was never anything else in the cards for me, to be fair,” he says, “and just to be clear, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Arthur’s a bit of a mystic about things like that—souls and stardust and past lives—it took you by surprise at first, but you’ve grown to realize it’s maybe the thing that makes the most sense about him. Of course your out-of-place, out-of-time alien creature of a boyfriend thinks—knows, if you ask him—that the two of you are cosmically entwined. And you, for your part, know that you would rather die than deny him these little fantasies. After all, it’s you who sees a thousand lives in his face, each more complex and profound than the last. Between Seattle and England and outer space and the Pacific ocean, you find yourself hoping against your own iron-clad logic that the two of you will find each other again after this life (and after, and after, and after).

[shaotie]

Where Loyalties Lie - Ch 11: Another Run of the Mill Day

A freshly mutated baby red-eared slider cried in the black arms of a small, black, fast-moving, flying gargoyle. There was the loud *boom* of an explosion directly behind them, and the infant was knocked away to land on the floor; with the sound of a pained, dying scream filling the air through the fearful cries of the baby turtle laying on his back, as a fire raged all around.

"Leonardo!" a voice called out from somewhere. But the person attached to the voice never appeared, because at that moment a support beam completely engulfed in flames fell right on top of the crying baby.

Or, it appeared to have, but at the last second, a streak of black flew at him with such speed that when a second small, black, winged gargoyle banged into the baby mutant full-force, he knocked the crying turtle out of the way toward a pair of cloven feet, while himself succumbing to the flames.

X snapped awake with a gasp. He had fallen asleep in his booth after finishing his meal, and only woke up because the horrible memory of Draxum dishing out his most recent and cruelest punishment of all entered his dreams, followed by that other dream he repeatedly had since childhood.

The vulnerability X felt earlier that very day when he was helplessly chained to the floor, receiving the worst, torturous punishment of his life - enduring the scorching pang of having his shell burned for the first time ever - was probably what pompted that other dream to resurface.

The helplessness, vulnerability, and fear X always felt when awaking from that particular dream (which was really a memory) was what drove him over the years to train longer than Draxum ordered and push himself harder than his harsh owner demanded, because he was never smart, strong, fast, or good enough...

...and he never wanted to feel vulnerable like that ever again.

It took a second of consciousness for the pain to come roaring back to life, with the burn in the center of his back by far the most unbearable of them all. Worst of all, he knew it was at a spot he couldn’t reach properly when the time came to scrape off the charred, dead scutes; and he also knew that with the mood his owner was in, Draxum wouldn’t help in the usual way after his ninja turtle creation sustained injuries from a fight, by mending the places X couldn't reach properly on his own. So he was left with no choice but to resign to the fate that there very well might be permanent - or at the very least long-lasting - damage left behind on the smooth surface and stylish blue markings as a result.

Despite how extremely severe and serious he knew this particular injury was - far worse than anything Draxum had ever done to him before (he wondered whether his creator understood the extent of the damage or was too blinded by rage to comprehend exactly what he was doing) - X wasn’t concerned about getting an infection, because his superior mutant body was practically impervious to the frailties and weaknesses that plagued yokaikind and the much weaker human species. This included natural resistance to any poisons, venom, toxins, viruses, or anything else that could get into his body and otherwise prove to be harmful or potentially fatal.

Meaning all forms of medications like painkillers and antibiotics didn’t work on his superb mutant form.

X decided now would be a good time to change out of his old cloak into his new one, so he took off the ripped, tattered cape he was wearing, laid it bunched up on the seat beside his right leg, and then put on his new cape before snuggly putting his fox mask on top of his head, and clipping the black piece on his cloak across his plastron, to conceal the burn marks (but mostly for the sense of comfort it provided).

Now he wasn’t sure what to do next. He couldn’t go home to grab anything useful he didn’t have time to get in his rush out, and he wasn't allowed in the Hidden City today, which was the only place where he could buy the work gloves he needed to cover his three-fingered hands. 

Truth be told, even if he could go there, he was feeling far too antsy for shopping right now.

He wanted to do something, and he knew what it was.

He wanted to take out his frustrations over this whole situation by finding someone to antagonize.

X figured if Seňor Hueso was going to kick him out for provoking his neice into causing a scene, or for staying too long, he would have done so by now. So he decided the most fun way to vent his emotions would be to stay put until closing, in the hopes he would still be here when the cute, fiery Yolinda came back.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be right now. He was forbidden from going anywhere in the Hidden City where his owner might be buying supplies; he wasn’t interested in ninjaing around on rooftops and slinking in New York alleys to hide from the humans with the shape he was in; and he knew he had to wait a few days to heal a little before even attempting the arduous task of breaking into Big Mama’s highly guarded hotel to retrieve his katanas. So what else was he supposed to do? Go to the Mystic Library and study? Blah!

Besides, that was in the Hidden City.

The thought of (*cringe*) studying would have left a bad taste in his mouth if not for the delicious aftertaste of 'the world's greatest pizza' he finished before accidentally drifting off.

'Yeah, I'm looking at you Maze of Death. I don't need to try your so-called 'world's greatest pizza' to know you ain't got nothing on Bully's extra creepy supreme.' 

X chuckled to himself over his 'mini rebellion' against Draxum with his poor use of the 'fake' word ain't; which on an average day would have at least gotten him a stern reproof, if not a swift backhand if his boss knew he even thought something so 'disrespectful to the gift of language' Draxum so generously bestowed upon him via his mutation. Although for some reason, his alchemist boss put up with some slang words and expressions, like 'gonna' and 'gotta'.

X didn't want to think about how angry his boss would be over his faus pas with the mood he was currently in, and pushed the thought aside while reaching for one of his five concealed weapons; having made sure to stay within the required amount permitted in Run of the Mill before he left his room.

Sitting flush to the black belt going down diagonally across his sore, burned chest was the dagger he wanted - the one he bought partially because it was a good quality weapon, partly because of the unusual matte finish, partly because the color matched his cloak, and partly because it was a suitable substitute for the limited-edition Kirasuka blade he couldn't get his hands on, that the spicy maroon fox somehow had as part of her collection.

He settled back in the booth, playing with his ‘fidget toy’ to occupy his mind while he waited.

But he didn’t have to wait long before an even better opportunity to blow off steam presented itself, when he heard the familiar voices of Raph, Donnie, and Mikey come in through the front portal entrance.

His brothers.

His brothers he was ordered to kill.

And judging by the sounds of it, this was the very first time any of them had ever been in a yokai restaurant - or any restaurant for that matter, considering they didn’t know what they were supposed to do when they first walked in.

With a big, crooked smile on his busted face, X slid down in his seat to get as much of his exposed head out of sight as possible, and raised a hand to lower the fox mask over his face; before covering the rest of his green turtle head with his big hood.

The antsy ninja turtle’s whole sore body tingled with excitement when his brothers picked the now-empty booth behind his back to dine in - directly adjacent to the one he was sitting in.

The smile on his face was almost as big as the cheshire grin on the white fox mask adorned with gold stripes (matching the color of the trim of Draxum’s 'warrior' outfit, and in the same spots as his turtle red ones). He absent-mindedly picked at the top of his dagger's blade with his fingertips while closely listening in on their conversation.

“That Big Mama is such a sweet spider lady,” Mikey cheerfully commented.

‘Uh oh.’

X’s smile fell.

“And those oozesquitoes don’t stand a chance with my new Bug Slapper out of beta,” Donnie said in a happy, somewhat prideful tone.

‘Ooze-squitoes? I really dropped the ball on that one,’ X thought, referring to his (now lame) idea of calling Draxum’s mutant bugs ‘mutesquitoes.’

“It sure was nice of Big Mama to let us use her webbing to catch those bugs,” Raph said in an upbeat, innocent-sounding voice.

“Yeah, we’ll be rounding up those oozesquitoes for her in no time!” Mikey added in a confident, positive tone.

‘Uuughhh,’ X groaned in his mind. ‘She’s using those poor saps to do her grunt work so she can get her hands on Draxum’s bugs to mutate humans for her Nexus ring,’ he correctly concluded. 'I gotta warn them about her.'

X wished he could blame his brothers for their incompetence in falling for Big Mama’s deception and getting roped in to doing her dirty work for her, but when it came to falling prey to the ‘sweet spider lady’s’ manipulative deception, he knew the sting of betrayal all too well.

Then again…

‘What kind of bozos trust a total stranger!?’

Yeah, this was their fault.

With a mixture of curiosity and disgust over the childish way they talked and behaved, goofed around and teased one another, X eavesdropped in on their conversation all while they ordered, waited for their food, and throughout their meal (that smelled so delicious he was half tempted to get up and grab a slice for himself). But along with those feelings, he also felt a sad fondness for the brothers he never knew, and a longing to be part of their seemingly carefree family dynamic.

They were only teenagers after all.

Like him.

Unlike him though, they had retained their youthful innocence because of having been sheltered from the cold, hard, bitter realities of life. A fact that didn’t escape X’s notice and angered him; because he was afraid their naive, trusting nature would get his ‘action star superhero ninja wannabe’ brothers in serious hot water with their inept vigilante work, and also because he wasn’t a carefree teen, sitting right there with them, spared the harsh cruelties of life that forced him to mentally age far beyond his years.

All of these intense emotions swirling around in his head combined with the anger, frustration, fear, vulnerability and helplessness he felt from being nothing more than what amounted to Draxum’s unwitting anger outlet earlier that day, left him feeling even more antsy than before. So he squirmed and fidgeted in his booth, wanting to lash out at someone and soon.

He kept his left prosthetic leg still but bounced his right knee, briskly and repeatedly tapped his fingernails on the table, and flipped the dagger up to catch it over and over again in his right hand; being sure not to throw it so high it caught the attention of his brothers sitting in the next booth. Which, quite frankly, he figured would have to be pretty high. But why take any chances on drawing their attention before he was ready? No matter how anxious he was to hurry up and take his frustrations out by picking on them (he was really coming to understand the fun behind sibling pranks and banter), he adamently refused to cause problems for Hueso by acting in a way that might cause a scene in his restaurant. So he continued waiting for the right time to strike.

(Picking on Yolinda didn't count, of course, because he could hardly be held responsible for her behavior if she caused an adorable scene by screaming or hurling threats or dumping a whole pitcher of lemonade over his head; which judging by Hueso’s calm, unsurprised 'I'm so done with this' reaction earlier, that wasn't the first time she had done that)

Incidentally, Hueso returned to the restaurant sometime after X finished his pizza and fell asleep in the 'scoundrel booth' to do his usual job of working at the till. He had been watching the interaction with keen interest from the moment the three new turtle customers walked in and Scrubs concealed himself with his apparel and hunched down in his booth. At the moment, he was watching the newest member of his misfit hooligan family twitching and squirming around uncomfortably, clearly agitated by their presence (as far as he was aware) and decided to go deal with them himself after he finished serving the last customer waiting in line to pay.

Shortly after Raph, Mikey, and Donnie finished their pizza, ‘Leo’ (a name X was familiar with because 'Little Donnie' repeatedly called him that in their telepathic dreamworld) was given the opportunity he was itching for when Donnie got up to go to the bathroom by himself.

On his brother’s way past, X looked down to his right to hide the conspicuous cheshire grin on his white masked face, neatly folded his damaged cape, and tucked it away in an inner pocket.

As expected, Donnie didn’t notice the familiar, potentially dangerous cloaked ninja he walked right past; nor did the others when the same cloaked ninja got up and followed behind.

When X went in the washroom, Donnie was right there, back-on to him, heading to either the sinks on the left or one of the bathroom stalls on the right.

X acted swiftly, silently, and instantly. All at once he put his right arm around Donnie to pin his upper arm in place and held the dagger across his throat. He gently rested his left hand on Donnie’s left shoulder; pressed his chest flush against the tech shell on his back that held his bō, and for the final touch, rested the chin of his smiling masked face on his right shoulder to position his mouth beside his ear.

“Better not use any of those weapons in that fancy shell of yours or my hand might slip,” X told him in a threatening tone. “You!” Donnie exclaimed. “Now, be a good ninja wannabe,” X continued, “and throw your wrist tech in that toilet over there.”

He gestured with his head to an open stall they both knew contained a toilet.

“Fine,” Donnie grumbled. He motioned as if to remove the tech, but when X saw Donnie raised a finger to click at the touchscreen - no doubt to short out his prosthetic again - he noticeably tensed the arm and hand holding his dagger, tightening his grip, and playfully warned: “Uh-uh-uh-uh. Try using that smart brain of your for a change and don’t do anything dumb or you might lose a finger or three.”

X had no intention whatsoever of following through on that threat - which was why he added ‘might' - and he was already having loads of fun toying with his brother, even though he only just began.

“Sigh, Fine,” Donnie begrudgingly acquiesced; and X laughed out loud over the way he said the word ‘sigh’ instead of just sighing.

"Something funny?" Donnie grumbled. 

"I'm looking at it," X replied. He watched as Donnie took off his wrist tech, tossed it over the divider into the bathroom stall, and they both heard' *clink, clink, plop.*

"Off the rim! Good shot! You'd make a good puffleball player. Wanna game sometime?"

"What do you want from me?" Donnie asked in an exasperated voice. "I swear I've only got five bucks. Ten tops."

'Bucks? Is that a type of human money?" X wondered to himself. Then he decided now was a good time to get to the secondary point of his visit by warning his brother in no uncertain terms: “Stay away from Big Mama.” He repositioned his head to rest his chin on Donnie’s left shoulder, and with a threatening undertone quietly whispered: “She’s baaad news.”

“Says the creep holding a blade to my throat. For the second time, might I add.”

The masked slider didn’t know if the unusual calmness his brother displayed was a personality trait, coping mechanism, or just plain naivety of not fully grasping the potential deadly consequences of being held at knifepoint.

He had to find out; naturally by pushing his buttons some more.

"My bad, bro!"

X abruptly pulled back and stood up straight with both hands held up at the sides of his head, revealing gaps between the black fabric and the edges of his cloak, that he already knew were too small and dark to reveal he was a turtle.

Donnie immediately spun around, unsheathed his tech bō, and tightly gripped it in both hands to glare with an angry scowl at the ridiculously wide, toothy grin on the masked face looking back at him.

"In absolutely no interdimensionary system, no bifurcated time branch, and by no stretch of the wildest scientific imagination are you my bro!"

X fair tingled from excitement over the way he was so easily able to expose and poke at Donnie's sore spots. He simply had to keep going.

Donnie kept his angry eyes on the caped ninja when X took his eyes off him, to casually give his attention to the dagger - that was now in his left hand and held up prominently in front of his face, where he fidgeted with the blade.

"Oops. My bad again. Not bro," X playfully but threateningly replied, while swiping his index finger down the tip of the cutting edge. He took it off to reveal a short cut with blood dripping down, as an intimidation tactic to reveal how dangerously sharp his dagger was, and to show he wasn't afraid of a little pain (but mostly he was trying to get a reaction). When he did that he briefly glanced up at Donnie's face, to see him looking about ready to completely lose it and unlease all of what he likely had for hidden tech weapons all at once.

And through gritted teeth, Donie angrily demanded: "Stop. Using. That. Word."

'Ohhh he's a control freak, too! And is that a vein throbbing under his mask on that gigantic forehead of his? This is fuuun!'

X resumed giving close attention to his cut and tried again to get a reaction from his 'bro' by squeezing out a droplet of blood with his thumb while saying in a cool, calm manner: "Hey, I'm not here to cause you any trouble. I just wanted to warn you about Big Mama is all."

“Yes, why not trust the knife-wielding crazed lunatic who cut himself and keeps attacking me and my family,” Donnie sarcastically replied as a statement and not a question.

Satisfied with the verbal confirmation that he got Donnie's attention with his minor, self-inflicted injury, X lowered his hands, looked up, and snorted out a laugh because Donnie was holding up one three-fingered hand as though he thought his adversary couldn't count to three on his own. Donnie twitched an eye, put his hand back on his bō, and said a firm: “No thank you. I think we’ll take our chances with the kind spider yokai who recognizes my genius and has been nothing but good to us. Unlike you.”

Oooh, he kept getting under Donnie’s skin, and it was so easy!

'This keeps getting better and better!"

X smiled wildly under his mask when his brother leaned ahead to add a sterned-turned-angry: “Warning noted and dismissed. Now if you’ll excuuse me, I have a complex wrist device made from very expensive parts to disinfect. YOU'RE LUCKY IT’S WATERPROOF!”

X huffed out a laugh over the baseless 'You're lucky' threat, leaned his face in closer to Donnie's, and calmly replied: “Looks can be deceiving, bro. But still don’t believe me? Maybe this will help.”

Donnie looked down when the caped ninja briskly pushed back the left side of his cloak, to see his adversary was revealing the hairline cracks on a small section of his lower carapace (a section that wasn’t damaged by Draxum’s punishment).

“Last time we met up, the 'kind spider yokai' left me with this little memorabilia.”

Donnie’s eyes widened at the sight of the damaged shell and he blurted out: “Your shell's cracked! You have a shell! You’re a turtle yokai!” The gears were turning in the intelligent turtle's head and he raised his eyes to make eye contact, trying to piece everything together like a complex algorithm.

X stared straight into his eyes, let go of his cloak, raised his right hand to show how effortlessly and skillfully he could twirl the dagger around in his fingers while maintaining unbroken eye contact, and factually replied: “Oh, I’m no yokai.”

Donnie’s surprised expression switched to one of confusion and apprehension, and he raised one of his absurdly big, black eyebrows ('Are they drawn on?') while suspiciously asking: “Who are you, why are you warning me about Big Mama, and what do you have to gain from this?”

X tossed up his dagger and caught the handle of the spinning weapon on the descent while saying: “Good man!” He tucked it away in its sheath and in an overly-casual tone, added: “You don’t get something for nothing, right?" *Wink* "I’m just looking out for my fam, bro.”

“Fam!? BRO!? WHO ARE YOU!?” Donnie aggressively demanded. X snickered at the way his brother's right eye twitched again, feeling thoroughly satisfied with how well his teasing took his mind off his own problems, and finished this conversation by raising his hand to push his mask up, revealing the busted lip on his crooked grin and the black eye on his red-eared slider, mutant turtle face.

X's smile spread across his face when he realized Donnie recognized him from their telepathic dream 'playtimes' as turtle tots with the way his eyes widen even bigger than before and his jaw dropped open. 

“Leo!” Donnie exclaimed. In return, ‘Leo’ playfully winked his uninjured left eye at him, said a cheerful: “Catch ya later, bro!” and as quick as a flash the mask went down and the cloak whipped behind his back when he spun around to swiftly disappear out the door.

“No! Wait!” Donnie yelled with an outstretched hand. The bottom edge of the dark gray cloak slipped through his fingers and he motioned to follow behind his long-assumed-deceased brother; but stopped himself with a frustrated groan because his was split between that and his need to get his valuable tech out of the filthy toilet water.

After doing what basically amounted to a little dance, where he stepped ahead only to turn around and step toward the stall a few times; he finally got his head on straight and used a metal Extend-a-Claw (patent pending) to get his tech. Another claw holding a contamination bag popped out, it was dropped inside, and as they retracted into his tech shell he tried to chase after his long lost brother before it was too late.

Meanwhile, when X ran out of the bathroom at a full sprint toward the front entrance portal, on his way past the booth where his two other brothers were sitting, he conspicuously looked at them with his grinning masked face and a playful two-fingered salute.

“You!” Mikey exclaimed, pointing at the caped ninja running away, at the same time Raph jumped up and blurted out a panicked: “Donnie!” “Oh no, Dee!” Mikey exclaimed, giving up all pretense of chasing after the villain to follow behind Raph to the men’s room.

Meanwhile, Hueso watched the whole thing while serving his last customer at the till.

After X rushed out through the open portal, Hueso’s eyes narrowed in anger at these 'yokai' who he thought were causing trouble for ‘Scrubs.’ The big one clumsily ran straight into the one in the purple mask (who was holding a weapon in his hands) when he rushed out of the bathroom where Scrubs had been; and then there was a panicked commotion between the three of them. Unfortunately though, Hueso had to look away at that moment to serve a female scarlet macaw yokai who was a regular here, when she politely said: “Here’s my bill," because he had been ignoring her.

“Thank you seňora.” Hueso took the bill from her hand, told her: “Fifty two seventy,” and she gave him the cash.

“I have to say, this is the best restaurant around,” the parrot told him. “Combining yokai food with human pizza? What a clever idea. My family's been coming here regularly since we moved to New York.” “Yes yes thank you, here’s your change, have a nice day,” Hueso hastily and dismissively replied. The macaw took her money with a polite smile for the busy business owner, and when he looked away from her again, he saw he was too late to evict the three ‘troublemakers’ because they were ‘evicting’ themselves by running straight out his front entrance portal, without paying.

Hueso let out a frustrated huff but restrained his anger as best he could in front of the dining customers as he made his way to the kitchen. Then he very angrily banged the kitchen's swinging ‘in’ door open; and as soon as he got inside he aggressively yelled:

"Bully! We had some more troublemakers in here today! They were causing problems for Scrubs!" 

"Scrubs!? Where are they!? When I get my hands on them...!"

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