#and you all focus on the ONE thing they can't control to call them stupid?

[aspirationalpeony]

Finding Beauty

Summary: You accidentally uncover an insecurity of Melissa's one night when you're in bed, and reassure her just how perfect she is. Content Warnings: Lots of body image talk, references to weight, and a brush with misogyny (thanks, Joe). Also, lots of smut. AO3 Link (also contains an author's note!)

Melissa Schemmenti isn't shy.

You can think of a lot of things she is: brave, intense, smart, intimidating, sexy. But shy? No, never. Still...

There are some times when she withdraws from you--almost cringes away, like you've touched some invisible bruise. A wall comes up between you then, and her eyes--their volatile green always so full of close attention and fierce emotion--go sallow and gray and remote. Her chin ducks to her chest. Her smile vanishes.

Then she hides it, or tries: "What, you think I'm an idiot?" she'll say, bluffing, embarrassed, and you'll understand you've accidentally nudged that hurt child who thought she was stupid for years. "Oh, yeah, thanks for your opinion," she'll tell you dryly on another occasion, when you've told her that you love the way her blouse shows the soft curve of her belly, and you'll know she's thinking of all the times Joe and Kristen-Marie and everyone else in her life called her fat.

Those moments are rare at first. Just a glimmer, here and there, quickly forgotten in the early fun of your relationship. Then more. More, because you're getting closer to her. More, because Melissa Schemmenti never lets anyone in, and she's letting you in, and you can see how much that scares her.

In bed, though, you've never seen that version of her, retreating, nervous, afraid. When Melissa has her hands on you, it's heat and lightning. Her confidence is unreal. She initiated your first kiss, not the cautious thing you'd have given her if you were in control; she'd just grabbed your face and gone for it, straining on her tiptoes to meet you and slotting her mouth against hers, and all you tasted at first was the slippery gloss on her lips. Then you felt her tongue, and you melted. You were hers, right then.

There was never any time for you to be timid about it. From the first night you spent together, she just yanked off your clothes and went for it, the same way she'd kissed you, touching you with intent and urgency and focus. Her fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp, her mouth biting and sucking at your clavicle, her breasts pressed hard against yours, her hips rocking, rocking, and you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of her fingers buried inside you, of her lips on your nipple, her cunt riding your thigh, drowning in the mingled scents of skin and hairspray and perfume and sex.

Then, one night--then, she gets shy.

You've always reciprocated in bed with her, but usually after she's put you through a few pulverizing rounds; when you're exhausted and the lights are already low and it takes little for her to come. She usually needs a little lube to help her along ("when you're my age, hon...") but it's not a detraction; far from it. You like trying flavors and letting them mingle with her taste, or slicking your fingers and stroking her so slowly that even with that hair-trigger clit, she can't quite come, not until she's cursed you out to hell and back.

Tonight, though, you're hungry for her; craving in a way that speaks to the long weeks of standardized test prep that have eaten both of you alive with mental load and exhaustion. You need her. You need to have her, in the same way she usually has you, turn her pliant and desperate and needy and make her melt across the mattress. The overhead light is still on when you're peeling her panties down her legs and kissing her belly and hips and ready to settle between her thighs, to lick her until she passes out. Then she squirms. Not in the sexy way.

You look up her body. She's picture-perfect like this, all plump hips and thighs and belly and her crinkle-tipped breasts, so sexy you can't get enough, but she's staring up at the ceiling like she's lying in the chair at the dentist's office.

"Mel?" you say.

She looks down at you and you see the closed door behind her eyes. She's gone shy.

"What is it, baby?" You push yourself up on one elbow and her leg slides off your shoulder. "You okay? You want me to stop?"

Her eyes go back up and search the ceiling. The pink in her cheeks isn't all arousal, you know that. "Maybe we can turn the light off?"

You frown. She loves fucking you with the lights on: lets her map every inch, every freckle, coo over old hickeys and leave you some new ones.

"You know, just, you're gonna be..." She clears her throat. She's struggling, you can see: can't smother her vulnerability with bravado, that old war between honesty and tactical retreat showing on her face. "You're gonna be lookin', and, well..."

"I love looking at you," you say.

"I mean," she says, "at my--you know, you're gonna be lookin' at my pussy, and--"

"What's wrong with your pussy?"

She groans, putting her hands over her face.

You imitate her a little, trying to coax her out from behind those hands, voice tender and warm with humor. "Still works, don't it?"

"That's not what I mean," she says, voice muffled by her palms. "I mean you're gonna be lookin' at it, and I know it's sort of--busted-lookin', I mean, Joe always said, all the guys before him, you know, kinda fucked it up, so it's ugly, and--"

"What?" You gape at her. You know she's really scared, really humiliated, when she peeks at you from behind her hands then swiftly retreats again, burying her bright-red face in them. "You--what?"

"It's ugly," she repeats. "I don't want you to have to... See it."

Something clicks into place. You've had sex plenty of times before--on her terms. That always seemed natural to you; she was older, her personality stronger, and she loved to boss people around. Why not you, too, especially when you enjoyed it so much? But suddenly you're realizing just how stage-managed sex has been between the two of you: moments picked by Mel, lingerie sets under her daily clothes, her toys, her lube, usually her bed, too, and she decides when the lights go off. Rarely anything in broad daylight, rarely her getting off first, except when she'll take your hand and tuck it into her jeans or rub herself on your hip for fun. Usually she wears you out before you ever touch her.

Because she thinks this intimate part of her is ugly? Because Joe told her something--and maybe other people in her life--and it's stuck, about a part of her body that should only bring her pleasure. All that planning so you'd never be face-to-face with a piece of her that might repulse you.

Anger flows down your body in white-hot rivulets. You hate Joe. You're going to rip his stupid dick off. You hate him and every person who ever told Mel something so stupid, like having sex could alter her body that way, could make her look busted, as if there was any wrong way for her pussy to look.

She peeks at you again from under her hands. The look is so un-Melissa, so sensitive and uncertain, that your anger dies all at once. Suddenly all that matters is protecting, loving, that tender piece of her that's showing on her face right now; a little node deep inside that's vulnerability through-and-through, her secret, sensitive heart. The feeling swells inside your chest.

You lean back down and slide your arms under her thighs, slotting yourself back into place, right where you want to be. She makes a little "uh" sound, surprised and uneasy. Now you're where she was so scared to have you, face to face with her cunt. You've explored it before, but in the dark, by feel or in glimpses.

She shaves, but keeps a patch of curls on her mound; it's as much gray as dark auburn, hinting at the real color of the hair on her head. Below is her flushed, swelling cunt. You can smell her, musky and saline. The lips of her pussy are big and plump; they have a natural spread, showing their tender interior like the open petals of an orchid. Her clit crowns them, already reddening. You know from experience how incredible this part of her body is, made for pleasure.

Maybe Joe meant her labia, that they were too long or something. Busted. Fucking busted? You lower your head and rub your face right into her. She gasps aloud and her hands go to your hair, grabbing hard. She's not dripping--won't be without the lube--but she's plenty wet enough for you to know she's turned on, to have slick to ease the way you drag your nose up through her folds and against her clit, making her buck and whimper.

"Oh, shit," she says feebly as you run the flat of your tongue up the same path, flicking her clit with the tip. "Oh, shit--I--baby--" you start to play with those labia, sucking them into your mouth with a hum, one then the other, tasting and feeling, loving their texture, the delicacy of the skin. Then you have to put your tongue inside her, even if all she feels is the drag of it over the sensitive nerves at the twitching entrance to her sex, have to feel her from the inside, velvet walls gripping you hard.

"I, I," she's saying, but you're not paying attention. You can't help it. Everything's focused to a fine point right where your face and her pussy intersect.

You love this part of her. Every part of her, even when she doesn't--all those parts of her body that are soft instead of taut and slim, all the places where cellulite shows on her thighs and her perfect ass, the way her stomach folds into tender rolls, how the delicate skin of her neck records her age--and you love this perfect pussy, how much of her there is to fill your mouth, how sensitive she is, how you don't even need to touch her twitching clit for her hips to buck and her body to writhe.

You drag your tongue up and circle her clit. She arches like you've touched her with a live wire. You moan into her and nose that little bud; she keens. Her hips start to grind, trying to find a rhythm against your face. It's classic Mel, trying to take control. You shift so you can throw your arm across her hips and pin her down and you feel more than hear the way she gasps, your face still bracketed by her soft thighs. Her hand scrabbles at yours and when you offer it up, she grips it hard.

Love you, you think, trying to paint the words into her with your tongue, to make her feel loved in a way she'll believe. Love you, love you, love you... You have mercy and suck her clit into your mouth. The hand still in your hair yanks hard. It won't take much for her to come: get her worked up far enough and Mel barely needs anything to go over the edge. Someday, maybe, when she feels more okay about this, you'll play with that--play with working her up and up and up, denying her the thing that will tip her over.

You suck on her, rock your mouth against her twice, three times, and she's gone. Her thighs close around your head but you can still hear her wail, loud enough to wake the neighbors, voice cracking, going hoarse halfway. You tilt your head and try a few more experimental sucks, feeling the jump of her hips in answer. She starts babbling somewhere over your head, "Baby, baby, I, oh, oh--" and you've never heard her like that, ever, voice faint and airy and desperate, so you keep going. "Oh God!"

She's over the edge again; you can tell by the way her back arches and strains, and that powerful grip she's still got on your hair. You hum into her and she answers with a broken little sound you want to hear every night for the rest of your life. You give her clit an experimental lick--third time's the charm?--but she lets go of your hair and pushes a little at your forehead, feebly, so you take the hint and move back down to slide your tongue back into her.

She's so delicious, so good. You just want to taste her like this forever, tease her and play with her until she can't take it. She's giving you little moans and whimpers from above, but her body has relaxed down onto the bed, the tension wrenched out of her by two orgasms. You can't help it, you give her clit a little kiss before you let go--it makes her squeak--and let her legs slide off your shoulders.

She looks so good when she's just-fucked, her hair damp at the hairline and starting to frizz a little, her face bright red and glistening, a patchy blush showing on her chest. She has a look on her face, though, that you can't interpret, almost like the person sitting up between her legs wasn't who she expected--like you're a stranger. She's panting, staring at you, green eyes full of all that feeling, and a little knot of doubt starts to tie low in your belly. Did you cross a line?

"C'mere," she croaks. You move up the bed. She reaches up to take your shoulders and pull you into her and she licks a broad stripe up your wet chin--her juices, your saliva--and puts her tongue right in your mouth. It's so sudden, so direct and intense, so Mel that you moan aloud.

She wraps her legs around you to hold you securely against her body. For good measure, she grabs your ass, too, and her nails prickle at the soft flesh. You relax against her. You could spend forever like this, right here, cradled against the abundance of her curves, her breasts pushing against yours, her teeth on your lower lip.

You part for air. The look of bewilderment on her face has eased, mellowing into something that's still a little confused, but tender and open, too. She might close up again soon--that's just Mel, and you understand it; she can't be vulnerable for too long, can't let her weakness show. You know there are stories to explain it, and someday she'll trust you enough to tell you all of it; the same way she trusted you, tonight, to hear what she really felt. To let you help, even a little, and make it better.

"I love you," you tell her. Her gaze stays on yours, trusting. "I love you so much." You peck a damp kiss onto her jaw. "And for the record," you add, sliding into your gruff imitation of her thick South accent, deepening your voice to do it, "this thing--" you drop your hand between her legs and cup her swollen pussy, squeezing; she actually squeals. "Is so pretty, Georgia O'Keeffe would'a begged to paint it."

She laughs aloud. You don't know that you've heard that exact laugh from her before, so free and happy. You turn it into a gasp when you thread your fingers into the coarse curls on her mound and gently tug. "Okay, okay," she says weakly, breathlessly. Obligingly you stop; she follows up with a slap to your ass that makes you squeal and laugh.

Her head rolls back onto the pillows. She looks exhausted, as much by the emotions of the night as by the sex itself. Exhausted, but happy. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.

"I really love ya," she says, very softly, like a child whispering their secret. Her hand rubs up your back. "Th--thank you." She says it even more timidly, like you might make fun of her, reject the simple gratitude she's offering.

"It's okay," you tell her gently. Her eyes search yours. You see her smile start there, before it comes to her lips, when you tell her, with all the love in your heart, "You're safe."

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[taboo-delusion]

So, I just discovered something interesting.

This is a bit of a long one, so bear with me. It's important. Seriously.

I just woke up a few hours ago. My meds are starting to kick in. I was having a very serious and genuine, deep conversation (in-head) and it was... beautiful. It wasn't happy, but it was beautiful. Not the point.

Point is:

I had not had a single fucking intrusive thought today until someone made a noise in the other room.

I am so fucking PISSED OFF

Why my brain refuses to realize that intrusive thoughts CAUSED the good feeling to go away, I have no fucking idea. I've known that for almost a year now, yet my stupid fucking subconscious refuses to change anything it's doing

Before I snap my fucking android phone in half and yeet somebody's face into neptune, I thought I'd share the discovery!!!!

Basically:

MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS DID NOT START UNTIL SOMETHING STARTLED ME OUT OF FOCUS

AS I TYPE THIS, I REALIZE THAT INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS -AT LEAST FOR ADHDERS- ARE A SURVIVAL TACTIC.

Elaborating:

When you fall asleep and your heart slows too much, your body does the falling thing to make sure you're still alive.

It's not that intrusive thoughts are *Just* because your brain gets too quiet, It's because your life has never been completely quite before, or -like me- the few times it is quiet, something interrupts. And even if it doesn't piss you off, even if you don't jump like I do, your brain still registers it as not safe.

--

Falling asleep, heart slows a lot-

Body: *Sends adrenaline just to make sure it still actually works.*

Drowning, even mostly unconscious-

Body and brain: *Hold onto that last half-breath even if it feels like you're head is going to explode.*

Going grocery shopping or talking to someone you think is cool-

Brain: *Remembers what it felt like the first time your guardian was indifferent or mean about something that made you happy or calm.*

Things around you actually get quiet-

Brain *Sends a thought you hate just to make sure you're prepared for a sudden problem.*

TDLR 1: Your brain isn't mean on purpose, It's just paranoid and still has a will to live.

Listen. I know I'm just some random dude from a weird blog. But I'm trying to translate, to assist. Maybe somebody else needs this realization as much as I do. I apologize for the yelling earlier. I'm still just as upset, but only at my dumbass subconscious. Now some time has passed, and I have regained self-control.

(I also apologize for the above paragraph, my brain nags for me to do this, but I can't remember why. So:)

I am no psychologist. Here are my qualifications (why you should listen to me):

As my friends call it- "Disturbingly self-aware at all times."

Paranoid Schizophrenic with actual (unrelated) OCD, with years of experience dealing with it- more healthily in recent years.

Philosophy and deep thinking is simply my default. I use metaphors, but everything in this post is entirely literal, ...except the angry threat. (*begrudgingly accepts disappointment*)

I am a fiction writer. I don't know about healing people/first aid, but I know a LOT about how anatomy works, with many deep-dives on the psychology/evolution side.

People irl generally consider me a genius? Idk how to gauge that, IQ tests are irrelevant with this type of... smart?. I've been compared to both Da Vinci and Einstein. So, ...actually that's pretty fuckin' cool- (I AM NOT TRYING TO BRAG! I APOLOGIZE IF IT COMES OFF THAT WAY! I've never put it all down like this, and I'm just surprised and questioning my reputation.)

(Also, I love playing detective, so naturally I call myself Batman XD.)

Autistic; I experience the world, and every situation, from a view without any context.

ADHD: My brain automatically -As a guardian I hate describes- "Can watch three different movies at the same time, all in fast forward, and can keep up with all of them." ... Well, yes, but technically no. Idk if other ADHD people do this, but my brain "connects the dots" so quickly, I end up laughing at jokes I've never heard before the 'punchline', because I've already figured out what you're going to say next.

Now combine all that. I am kicking depression's ass and now I want to help you do the same.

I have only mentioned the relevant things. Please keep in mind that ALL of these have both advantages and disasters. Thank you for your patience and understanding. I am running on four hours of sleep. For the love of whatever, I hope this actually helps someone other than me.

Qualifications are noted because: This is all stuff (and stuff like this) that I am just always casually aware of.

TLDR2: Even if I wasn't trying to help people feel better, Apparently I was born with a nat 20 perception/insight check, so please don't argue that I truly understand what I'm talking about here.

#this is serious #serious #intrusive thoughts #adhd intrusive thoughts #especially adhd #psychology #psychological analogy #human instinct #evolutionary psychology #survival instinct #fighting depression #original content #adhd #it can be done #it can be fixed #mental health #mental illness #mental issues #actually mentally ill #mentally fucked #and still going #so i'll help where i can #and you can't stop me #hope #how to get better #get better #getting better #you're not alone #you're gonna be okay

[icedmetaltea]

Idk who needs to hear this but exercise DOES improve your depression/anxiety/general mood and yes walking for 10 mins does count

Real nutritious meals instead of like. a piece of bread DOES help

Even 5 mins of meditation DOES help, you don't have to completely clear your mind or do it 30+ mins, even short timeframes help a lot just to center yourself

7+ hours of sleep DOES help, it's been scientifically proven over and over, if u want sleep tips I will gladly give em (assuming you don't have any condition that makes it impossible without certain meds or in general)

Going outside DOES help. Go outside for 5 mins even if you hate it. Set a timer on your phone/watch and just sit in the sun, even if it's cloudy, just let the right shine on your skin and breathe the fresh air.

Drinking water DOES help. Nuff said

Talking to people DOES help. Call someone. Call a friend, a family member, if you're in a really bad way call a crisis hotline, if you want some numbers I'll gladly give them. Join a randomass internet chat and just start talking to people even if it feels stupid. Talk. Connect. Humans are not meant to be alone with their thoughts all the time

Cleaning a very small amount counts. If you can't do the whole sink, do 5 dishes. Can't do 5?? Do 3. But do it. Declutter your space and you declutter your mind, but don't overload yourself and make yourself procrastinate till you end up not doing anything at all

If you take care of smaller responsibilities, the bigger ones will feel a lot less overwhelming

There are many things you can't control and are not responsible for. Focus on what you CAN control and ARE responsible for and don't beat yourself up for not being able to do more, you're fine

You cannot "fail" at doing any of these things. If the day goes by and you haven't eaten anything healthy, you haven't cleaned, you haven't talked to anyone, fuck, you haven't even gotten out of bed, there will always be a tomorrow. You can always pick yourself up. You can always grow and better yourself. Just try.

Ask for help when you need it. You're not overreacting. You're not a burden. People would miss you if you were gone

#mental health #Metaltea talks #anxiety #depression

[arvensimp]

your father should know, pt. 2

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x reader, nsfw content, pregnancy, angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1]

thanks for your patience waiting for this part!! also thank you to my beautiful betas for helping me <3

~

You're very grateful to Nemona, for having her nearby back when the doctor first confirmed your pregnancy. As excitable as she is, her Type A personality proved pretty handy in the moment. Yes, she got you home safe and sound, but she was also able to get appointments scheduled for you right then and there for whatever choice you decided to make moving forward.

You were hoping to have Arven with you to help you make a choice on what to do, but... Well, he has other things to focus on, and you're not going to begrudge him that. You won't let yourself think about it any further.

So you sit at your kitchen table with two different appointment cards in front of you to see your OBGYN's office. One is for a termination, the other is to go over...whatever you'll need to do if you decide you don't want to go through with the former appointment.

You have to cancel one of them. The fridge thrums behind you, a monotonous white noise that you wish you could focus on instead of the task ahead.

You press your forehead into your fingertips.

Okay.

Can you do this?

You're a champion of Paldea. One of the most beloved figures of the Pokemon scene in the region. You're powerful, with financial security to spare to be a single mother.

Can you be a mom?

Well...you feel like your Pokemon love you well enough. You love them like babies. Obviously a human is different. Especially if it's yours and...well, yeah. You think you can be a mom.

Lastly then, the question becomes: do you want to do this? At the end of the day, no one is forcing you one way or another. That's one blessing, at least, about being abandoned. Not abandoned. That's one blessing of being independent. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

You think... You think you've been thinking about this for a long time, as you have all the other questions. You do want this. You want to have a baby, your own sweet little one. They'll be so cute. They have to be, given their parentage.

…You try not to dwell on that part too much, but it's a little difficult.

Is it wrong to carry his baby without him? What if he doesn't want a child out there? Well. No. He must not care. If he did, he'd have said something. You don't have to worry about this being a betrayal of trust on your part.

Moving forward, you only need to worry about betraying the trust of the tiny life growing within you.

And...well, that thought gives you pause.

You finally allow your fingers to linger featherlight over your abdomen. You're nowhere near showing, nor can you feel anything substantial or physical there, but... You feel something.

Attachment. Devotion. Loyalty.

You don't know if this little thing is even the size of an oran berry yet, but... You've got a fierce love for it already just after thinking about it a little bit.

If your mind wasn't already made up, that would have made the decision for you.

You’re a mother now.

In the morning you call your OBGYN and cancel the tentative appointment to terminate. You'll be by later in the week to go over needs and expectations.

-

The automatic doors to the league slide open with a swipe of your access card, and stark white greets you. This isn't an easy conversation, and it's one that you can't put off for much longer. Beyond the fact that you'll start showing soon, Nemona has been chomping at the bit to talk about the baby at work and with anyone who'll listen. She's just so excited to be a tía, and if you don't tell La Primera soon, then you won't have control of the news when it eventually breaks.

You sit in the chair opposite her desk, feeling entirely too nervous, your hands clasped in your lap, thumbs twiddling. "Thanks for taking the time to meet with me today, Geeta." You start.

"Absolutely." She responds with her usual, impassive smile. "How can I be of service?"

"I, uh. I need to give you an advance notice of..." You swallow. "Of some need for medical leave."

Your boss tilts her head just slightly to the side, her massive mane of hair shimmering like an oil slick in the florescent light with just the smallest movement. "Oh?" You still can't read her true emotion well, but she's projecting the idea of concern. "Is everything alright?"

You will yourself not to touch your abdomen as you had been doing absent mindedly more and more often as of late. The habit grew on you more quickly than you'd expected. "Yes. I just, uh. Well... I'll be having a baby in a few months, and I know I'll be out of commission for a while."

"I see." Geeta's eyes flick almost imperceptibly down to your hands. Truth be told it's a movement that you would have missed if you hadn't spent countless hours learning to read her for the slightest tells through her battling. You feel a flush burn through your cheeks. Should you start wearing a ring?

"Congratulations and thank you for letting me know." Geeta is smiling at you again. "I completely understand. I'll see about having HR send you all the necessary paperwork, so we can get you all sorted. If I remember correctly, we offer a few flexible plans for expectant parents. Just choose whichever suits you best, and we can go from there." She's already turned to her computer and opened up an email, likely to the HR rep.

"Thank you," You reply, breathing a small sigh of relief. This really wasn't as painful as you were expecting.

"Just... One thing." Geeta adds, not looking back at you from her computer until she continues with a sigh. "We're going to want to keep you away from participation in field research tasks, the Ace Academy Tournament, and Championship testing for a short while."

She raises a single gloved hand in time with your cry of "What?!"

"You and I both know you are more than capable of holding your own, but..." She sighs. "Battling can still be dangerous, and we both know that Paldea still isn't the most well-known for its love of Pokemon. We're still building the league up. You know I trust you, but Arceus forbid something...unpleasant were to happen while on League business..." She pauses, and you nod, already resigned.

"I understand, Geeta. Better safe than sorry. I'd hate to hold the League back in any way at all." It feels weird saying it, but it isn't a lie? Firstly, you obviously don't want to hurt your little tamato berry (that's apparently how big it is now!), but also you genuinely wouldn't want anything to be associated with the League on the off chance that the unthinkable happened. "So... What will you have me do?"

Geeta leans forward, resting her chin in her gloved hands with a frown. "We've always got more paperwork."

-

The rest of the week is spent working closely with Geeta to wrap up your current research assignments that you owe to Jacq. There's nothing terribly dangerous or strenuous in what he'd had you doing, but...

"Are you serious?!" He nearly shouts when you give him the news. Jacq adjusts his glasses and eyes your body up and down in a way that would make you feel far more uncomfortable if not for the fact that you know he's very clearly looking for a bump, examining you in that way that only scientists seem to do without shame. 

"Yup..." You tell him, shifting awkwardly under his stare.

"Well, congrats! Who's the lucky dad?" He asks, clapping your shoulder jovially. 

You swallow. This has been easier to tell your doctor. Jacq is a friend. Your old teacher. You know him.

He picks up on your silence and lets his hand drop from you, going to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably. "Ah... Sorry about that! Anyway," He moves on quickly, turning to the board with his notes. "It's no big deal! You've given me plenty to work with. I can definitely just do data analysis for a while... And maybe one of the other champions can help me with some of the Area Zero research we're looking to do..."

Your heart squeezes. You're usually the one who gets sent into Area Zero. Most other champions don't have the constitution for solo trips or are too busy with other assignments.

You sigh. "Sorry, Jacq. It won't be forever though?"

He smiles back at you warmly. "Oh definitely! Don't worry about it, really! And congratulations! I'm super excited for you. Lemme know if you need anything, okay?"

You give him a smaller smile in response, still not feeling great about it all, and head to the door.

"Definitely."

You haven't even made it back to the entrance hall before you hear another familiar voice.

"Ah! Well, if it isn't one of our most illustrious champions."

"Director." You steel yourself and greet him with a nod.

Clavell catches up with you quickly. "It's been a minute since we've had you in the halls, hasn't it? To what do we owe the pleasure?" He asks, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks.

"Um. Yeah... It has," You say, moving at a bit of a faster clip to keep up with the director. "I was just checking in with Jacq on the latest for his research." 

"Is that so?" He says in that kind way that somehow also feels like he knows more than he's letting on.

You laugh a little nervously. "Yup! Just a check in..." Does he already know? Who would have told him? Geeta? Nemona? That would have been an invasion of privacy, right? "I, uh... I won't be able to be out in the field for a minute, so..."

Clavell raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, still walking. "Should we continue this conversation in my office?"

"Sure?"

It's strange sitting in front of Clavell's desk again, especially like this. You're not his student anymore, yet you still feel like you're in trouble or about to get a lecture.

"So you're stepping back from fieldwork?" He asks you, looking genuinely concerned. "Did something happen?"

"Well..." You wriggle uncomfortably in the plush leather seat. "I'm actually pregnant, and La Primera and I decided it'd be for the best if I--"

"Congratulations!" The director interrupts, rather uncharacteristically. "That's marvelous news. I hadn't even known you were in a relationship."

You look down. "Yeah..."

From your peripheral you can see Clavell adjust his glasses on his nose. "So the father...?"

You feel a lump forming in your throat. This wouldn't be quite as hard if not for the fact that you had just gone through it with Jacq, and you still feel pretty raw about it. "He... Um. He doesn't seem to want to be involved, I guess..."

Clavell clears his throat. "I see... Well. I hope you know you have every resource here at the academy at your disposal, should you ever need anything."

The lump sitting there just above your vocal folds get impossibly tighter, so you just nod, squeezing your hands into fists on your knees.

Clavell tsks softly, standing and moving around. When he offers his spread arms in a hug, you take him up on it.

He won't tell if you happened to cry a little bit.

He's dealt with struggling single parents in his office before, and it's never easy.

-

So you end up working office duty with the League.

It's quiet, mostly, but the offices are nice. Larry gives you the low down on everything you need to know and then leaves you alone. You go to either him or to Rika if you have any questions about certain forms or which things go where.

All in all it's not bad. Not...exciting. Definitely not your preferred way to spend the rest of your life, but... Well, you know it isn't permanent.

Plus, as you get bigger and start having to walk less and waddle more, the ease of a desk job is kind of nice. Far better than riding a dragon at least.

You're sitting at your desk one day when the most delicious smell wafts through the office, and it nearly gets you drooling.

Whatever it is... You...you have to have it. You want it so bad it almost makes you want to cry.

What the fuck...

With a sigh and a bit of a grunt you stand and peak out the door to your office, following the smell to the break room.

Larry spots you from his seat at the table almost immediately, looking up at you from beneath his massive, bushy brows.

"Good afternoon." He shuts the tupperware containing his lunch. "I apologize if the smell was a little strong. I didn't intend for it to be. I can move outside if--"

"No!" You interrupt, entirely too loudly. "It smells really, really good actually." You swallow, eyeing the container reverently. "Super good. Uh... What is it?" Can I have it, can I have it? Let me have it, I want it, I want it, I need it NOW.

"Oh." Larry opens up the tupperware once more, and you actually feel the sting of your mouth salivating anew. "Just some grilled rice balls. Remember the ones from the gym challenge? Same ones, extra lemon."

"...Oh..." Did you lick your lips? You don't know. You may have. All you know is that the food there sounds...so good.

Larry calls your name in his usual dull monotone, breaking you from your craving trance. "Would you like some?"

You're in the chair across from him faster than you care to admit, and Larry smiles a small, tired kind of smile at you.

From then on, he seems to make a habit to bring along extra food to work. He keeps a pint of ice cream for you in the freezer too, just in case you have a day where things feel bad. He says ice cream can usually help with that sort of thing.

In fact, not too long later, he imagines you might be having one of those days. Larry isn't really one to pry. He likes to come in, do work, take his 15 minute break, work some more, take his lunch, work, take another break, then go home. But...with a pregnant lady in the office, he can't help but secretly fret just a little bit. Not in a weird way or something, but he keeps an ear out, just in case.

So when he hears soft sniffling coming from your office one day after you'd come back from some appointment or other he's a little nervous. He doesn't actually want you talking to him or crying on him or something... But you're clearly upset. Not upset enough to just go home, so it can't be that bad, but...

He goes back to the break room, grabs the ice cream and a spoon, sets them both outside your door, knocks gently, then leaves.

Ice cream should help.

That said, he still bristles when you inevitably knock on his door a few minutes later, the spoon in your mouth and the pint of raspberry cheesecake ice cream in your hands.

"...Thank you..." You say miserably around the metal in your mouth, eyes cast to the floor.

"No problem. ...Is it helping?" Larry asks, trying to focus on the spreadsheet he's working on. Stupid pivot tables.

"Yeah..." You come in uninvited and sit in the seat across from him. This isn't really what he was hoping to deal with, but it's fine. He can listen.

Except you don't talk. You just sit with him, slowly spooning more of the treat into your mouth. Eventually Larry hazards a look at you. Your eyes are rimmed red, but you don't look too terrible, honestly.

He sighs but it doesn't sound agitated. "How can I help?"

Now that you've been prompted, you reach into your pocket and reveal several tiny squares of paper, lining them up on his desk.

"Look!" You tell him, the sound coming out kinda wet and sad.

They're...ultrasound photos?

"Uh... Very nice?" Larry asks you.

"Aren't they beautiful?" You hiccup around the spoon.

At that time Rika just happens to be making her afternoon rounds, when she picks up on your whimpering and storms into the office.

"Hey! Is this geezer giving you a hard time, Mama?" She asks you affectionately, rubbing your shoulders.

"Come on now," Larry says, exasperated, as you shake your head.

"I'm just being silly." You tell her, gesturing to the pictures. "They did a little photoshoot today." The sentence is punctuated with a loud sniffle.

Rika scoops up the lot and overdramatically coos over them. She doesn't seem much like one for kids herself, but she's been very nice to you since you've been put on desk duty. She asks how you're feeling regularly and offers you decaf coffee or tea whenever she goes to make some for herself. From time to time she also walks out of the building with you, just making sure you get to a cab safely.

"Yeah, I dunno entirely what I'm looking at, but I'm positive it's cute." She points to a particular splotch on a photo. "Like that? That's it, right? The little bun you got baking in there? Kinda looks like a clodsire!"

"Rika..." Larry interjects, glancing at you. Truth be told he can kinda see the clodsire-ish shape? But he's never actually been one to be able to read an ink blot test, much less something as complicated as an ultrasound.

You laugh. "Wanna keep it?" You ask her. "I had them print a ton."

Rika pockets the photo. "Hell yeah I wanna keep it. I'm betting this lil bean a'yers is basically gonna be the next Poppy, so I'm gonna be its biggest fan from before day 1."

You can't help but laugh again. "Thank you..."

Rika slides a photo over to Larry. "You're gonna be its fan, too, right?" She smiles wide and somewhat menacing, but who's to say if there's any real malice behind it.

Larry takes the picture gingerly from her. "Of course."

And for some reason that has you blubbering wetly all over again.

"Thank you both..."

"Oh, just eat your ice cream..." Larry tells you, and when he says it, it's not harsh or mean. Just kind of paternal, as if the treat will fix your hormones.

"C'mon, Mama," Rika tells you, helping you to your feet with a shocking bit of strength for her lanky frame. "I think Larry can only handle so many tears in one sitting. Let's go give a photo to La Primera, yeah?"

You nod and are led out of the office.

Only then does Larry give a sigh of relief.

He pins the little black and white photo up on his corkboard later. He can't tell anything about what's actually in it. Like what's a foot or a nose or something, but...well it makes him happy somehow. Something about the future and all that.

-

Rika's the first one who feels the baby kick. Nemona swore up and down that it would be her, but it just so happens that Rika's around when you're feeling those fluttery jumbles inside one day. You'd, of course, been feeling them for a while now, but no one else had been able to pick up on it, much to your... Well, you weren't sure if it was satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Up until now, your little potato had only been yours, but when someone else is eventually able to feel it...then it's not just yours anymore, is it? What a strange feeling.

Regardless, Rika had asked if you were down for a light match, just some training between some of your younger pokemon, parts of your teams that you were hoping to train up for the future.

"But La Primera..."

"The Boss told you not to take part in any serious battling. I saw your plan. I'm basically HR here, remember?" She shoots you a wink. "No pressure if you don't wanna, but I know I'd be itching to battle if I were you." It's true... Nemona's been taking some of your heavier hitters out for work outs from time to time, as had Dendra once, but you really miss being in the driver's seat.

You hum thoughtfully. "Lemme go through my boxes and think about it?"

"Sure thing." Rika plops down in your office chair, opposite your desk and starts playing on her rotom phone while you scroll through your boxes.

...You'd been thinking at one point about working out an all paradox team, but that's out of the question right now. You couldn't handle a crazy time-loopy volcarona if it got too wild.

There are a few water types you were thinking about training up, but that also feels unfair specifically to Rika who specializes in ground... Then something catches your eye.

An egg. You don't entirely remember when you'd put it in a box or where it came from, but the growing maternal part of you screams to let it come be part of the family, so you send for it along with a teddiursa you'd caught a few months back.

All in all, the battling itself isn't terribly exciting by your typical standards. You and Teddiursa barely know each other after all, and it isn't quite ready to lend you its full trust, but you know it has sass and spark. The two of you go up against one of Rika's younger wooper, not really battling to faint. Just to have some fun.

The shouting and excitement must do something for the baby though because it jolts inside you, knocking you off balance and kicking the air from your lungs. You stagger a bit, gripping your midsection with an unladylike grunt, and Rika dashes to you quick as a Cinderace.

"Hey hey hey, what's up?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just got sucker punched or kicked, I think? Here, wanna feel? That was pretty strong." It's such a bizarre experience you don't even think about the weirdness of asking Rika if she wants to touch you. She just takes you up on the offer, laying both hands on the roundness of your abdomen.

She stands still like that for a moment, then two, then three before you feel your baby wiggling around again, and her eyes go wide as a jigglypuff's. "Holy shit that's weird," She says with a laugh, pressing a bit against the feeling to see if she can get the baby to respond more. "Hey! You in there?" She says to them. "Seems like you might wanna battle some day. Well, don't let your Auntie Nemona know, kay? She'll never let you go a day without it."

The baby kicks solidly against one of her hands, and she laughs, pulling back.

"Kid's got fire! We like to see it!"

-

"The Kickening" as it comes to be known, kind of creates a silly sort of mock-rivalry between Rika and Nemona for who they think will make the best auntie/tía, which rises to a fever pitch between them when it comes to planning your baby shower. That said, you insist to the pair that you don't want to make any huge sort of fuss. Maybe a small party, no major gifts. You just need some essentials. Things like diapers, maybe some formula, and that's it. You feel like you've been a burden already, slowing down Jacq's research, not able to contribute to the league as you usually do, even unable to train your team as you want.

Nemona vehemently disagrees, but Rika seems to calm her down. "We should listen to the mama on this one." She throws a wink your way. "How about this, Nemona. Why don't I take our sweet girl out for a day of pampering instead?"

"Hey, what?" You and Nemona both cry at once, but Rika is already dragging you to the door, a grin evident on her features.

"C'mon... I'm sure Nems can see herself out."

And somehow it works?

Rika gets you out of the house that morning in your sweats and into one of those cute, trendy maternity stores that you'd sort of been avoiding because you were putting off buying new clothes for yourself when you knew there was still so much to buy for the baby... But then again you also hadn't been buying terribly much on that front either, having only just completed your research and created the list of which products you want.

So you get squeezed? Actually not squeezed. Actually comfortably fit! Into a nice flowy dress that makes you look and feel super cute. Your reflection smiles back at you from the mirror, and you look down to your bump which looks very comfortable and snug as a bug in the shapewear you've got on beneath the dress. You do a little swish for yourself, admiring the way the fabric flows a bit. The skirt of the dress isn't terribly over-the-top flowy, but it's got that nice amount of swing to it.

You feel pretty. Not that you have felt particularly bad lately, but... Well, you hadn't thought much about yourself. You haven't had the time.

Before you leave the shop, Rika also buys you one of those popular L&D dresses that you can wear in the hospital rather than a drab and shapeless gown. It's apparently got all the bits and bobs and holes and whatever that you'll need to...have a baby and look cute doing it? You're not totally sure, but the dress looks nice enough, and the fabric feels soft and cool on your fingers.

Next up on your little day of pampering is a pre-natal massage at a spa. You try to tell Rika that this is way too much, that you can't accept something so fancy, but she just laughs and pushes you forward, tipping your massage therapist before you even go back to undress, telling the woman that you're "a very important woman to the region."

Your therapist is incredible, working away tension that you hadn't realized you developed in your shoulders and lower back. She speaks softly and kindly, with one of those voices that you might expect to hear in an ASMR video. She doesn't even care when you accidentally moan a little bit when she worked out a particular knot in your shoulder that you hadn't realized was bugging you.

By the time you're back on your feet, you feel like you might actually have grown 2 or 3 centimeters.

You waddle back out to Rika with a blissed out smile on your face.

"That good?"

You just nod.

"Good. We're not done though."

Next thing you know you're being taken to a local birthing center where they're starting up a session of Lamaze classes.

Truth be told you've been interested in taking classes like these but were too nervous to sign up since...well, you don't have a partner.

Rika slips a companionable arm around your shoulder.

"Feel free to say no to this if you don't want to, but one of the tenents of their practice here is advocacy for the birthing person in L&D, and I thought you might like that? I can be with you every step of the way, too. If you want, 'course." She sniffs casually.

"Like...you'll take the class too?" You ask, wincing. She's really okay with that?

"Hell yeah. Only if you want though. There's absolutely no pressure. Yeah?"

And because she's Rika, ever casual, you know she means it.

You nod.

"Yeah. This...this should be good."

And it is! It's only an introductory class, and you'll be back over for the next few weeks to learn more, but it feels good to be learning something in a group setting.

You also wouldn't say this if you were prompted, but it's nice not to feel alone. Sure, Rika isn't your girlfriend or your wife, but she makes for a great partner, solid and steady as the ground, funnily enough.

The two of you leave class, arms linked, laughing over what the instructor told the class about stupid things that dads say in the delivery room. 

"Are you here to seduce my wife?" Rika says in a mockingly deep voice.

"Darling, the term is induce." You reply in a similarly silly voice, your tone wavering with the effort it takes not to giggle

"Well, either way, I'm not so sure I like it!"

Conversation falls back to light and easy topics from there as you make your way together back to your place.

"You really didn't have to walk me all this way home, y'know," You tell Rika as you unlock the door.

"Eh, it's fine. Gotta make sure you get home safe and all that." She replies, reaching over you to prop open the door for you to enter once your key leaves the lock.

"Yeah, yeah, precious cargo and all that. Come on in. At least have something to drink before you go."

You flip on the light to your entryway and living room space.

"SURPRISE!"

You screech (and truth be told you might even pee a little, but no one has to know that part).

In your living room is nearly everyone you care about in the damn region, decked out in pinks, blues, and yellows with super gaudy and over the top baby shower decor littering your entire apartment.

Nemona tackles you about as gently as a pregnant woman can be tackled.

"Don't be mad, don't be mad, don't be mad! We all just wanted to celebrate you and the baby, okay?!" She's biting her lip and hopping up and down excitedly.

"Are you guys for real?" You ask, and you're not totally sure what emotion you're feeling in the moment.

"Of course," Rika tells you, slinging her arm over your shoulder. "We all love you, y'know?"

"Actually," Larry speaks up from his seat on your sofa, where he's wearing a soft pink party hat with a tiny yellow puff ball. "I'd like to maintain a friendly working relationship here, but I was outvot--" 

Hassel elbows him jovially in the gut. He's already crying. "Don't worry aboud him." He sniffles, "We're all jus' so habby for you!" Brassius is on his other side, patting his knee.

And maybe it's Hassel? Maybe it's just the entire day's kindness and goodness, but the tears start flowing then and there. Big, ugly sobs wracking through your chest even though you're smiling and thanking everybody.

Nemona and Rika are of course hugging you, but a few others join in on the group hug as well, including Hassel, Salvatore, Saguaro, and Katy.

When you seem to have calmed down a bit (at least enough to form sentences again), Nemona takes your hands. "Here. Lemme show you what we did."

She guides you to the spare bedroom that you kept telling yourself would be the nursery for the baby...and inside... It's like Christmas morning for how many gifts litter the place. It's no longer your spare room for your camping equipment (you'll need to ask Nemona where she or whoever else put that). It's...it's a nursery now.

The crib that you wanted is there, assembled and everything. The car seat/stroller combo you'd been eyeing is also sitting in a corner, and there are so many other gifts, you're not quite sure what to do.

"Do... Do I open them now?" You ask, blinking back more tears. "I need to find stationary!"

"Already gotcha covered," Nemona tells you, notepad in hand. She assigns herself the task of noting down who has gifted you what for thank you note writing purposes later.

As it turns out, the crib is a gift from La Primera herself, lovingly assembled by the leaders of Team Star who leave not long after you thank them profusely. Penny also throws in a state-of-the-art baby monitor that she promises to show you how to use later. The car seat/stroller combo is Nemona's gift.

"I'm telling you, I want to find an engineer or someone who can figure out a way to create a baby side car that we can hook up to Raidon! But no one will take me up on the offer..."

"Yeah, Nems... I believe you..."

Hassel gifts you with a gorgeously refurbished, antique rocking chair with a beautiful swirling design etched into the sides of the arms and the rockers, while Brassius made a tiny mobile that hangs above the crib with little sunkerns and applins dancing in a circle.

"Special commission for a special champion." He tells you with a wink. "Not entirely Avant Garde, but we'll start the baby's art education young."

Larry goes next, opting to give you his gift, so he can politely excuse himself. "I know they're not very fun," He says with a shrug, depositing the massive box of diapers in an appropriate place. "But you'd probably have more fun shopping for fun things than I would anyway."

You give him a quick side hug and release him from his social obligation.

Saguaro's gift, a fancy pink high chair, is actually in the kitchen next to your dining table, near all the pastries that Katy brought for you and everyone. He shows you all of the different adjustments and things on it, but also makes sure that you know where he put the assembly guide which has instructions as well.

At this point, Salvatore is nearly bouncing with excitement to give you his gifts. Firstly, his wife wanted to be sure you got a little baby saucer for the baby to play in, but more importantly. "Baby sign language is the future!" Salvatore tells you, thrusting the book into your hands. "You'll be able to communicate with one another so much sooner than you could with words! Isn't that wonderful?"

Jacq also ends up giving you a ton of baby books, as well as a small bookshelf "To grow their library!" Included are some of those fabric page books that can't be torn or plastic books that can be taken in the bath, as well as some with buttons or finger puppets included. It's pretty clear that Jacq had a blast going through the children's section at the bookstore.

When you open up the gift from Tulip (which was also hastily signed as being from Dendra and Miriam as well) you're a bit confused. "Thank you so much. This is all...skincare and body care?"

"Of course," Tulip tells you in that beautiful twinkling voice of hers. "A good mother is one who takes care of herself, too. You can't pour from a cup that's empty. Remember that, okay?"

You nod and make a silent promise to take her words to heart.

Lastly, Director Clavell approaches you with two different gift bags. The first contains a few books on parenting that he claims were very useful to him "back in the day," and the other....

"'Love Clive?'" You ask with a smile. Clavell adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

"Of course. Your good buddy Clive sends his best regards and wanted to let you know to, ahem, 'Stay cheugy.'"

That gets the younger crowd absolutely roaring with laughter, much to Clavell's confusion, but he lets it slide.

Inside the gift bag is a tiny leather jacket, perfect for a little rocker baby. You stick out your lower lip as you run your thumbs across the tidy stitching. "Oh my goodness..." You hold it tight to your chest. It's so small, and you don't want to cry again, but Hassel's loud sniffling is making it difficult.

Clavell coughs into his fist. "A-actually, you know what, Clive might want to return the jacket..." He tells you, reaching for it.

"What, why?" You ask before noticing that several faces in the room have turned red from folks holding back laughter. You look down at the little garment again and turn it over in your hands.

On the back is a massive sewn-on patch with a winking brown coil and word art that stretches above and below it reading 'Poo Monster.'

"O-Oh no!" You cry, shaking with laughter as the rest of the room bursts out with you.

Clavell, for his part, looks suitably mortified, mumbling about how he had no idea about the art on the back, but you insist it gives the jacket even more charm, not daring to let him take it back.

The rest of the party goes well enough with games and snacks. Dendra and Nemona get a little too intense when it comes to competition, but it's all in good fun.

At one point, Miriam takes you aside and starts drilling you a bit. Nothing mean, but she wants to be sure you're prepared for what's to come in L&D.

She's about to launch into another horror story when Tulip stops her. "I think you've scared our darling champion enough for today, Dearest. This is a party, after all."

Miriam looks almost appropriately apologetic. "Sorry! Was I really scaring you? You know it's totally normal if you--"

Dendra butts in, pulling her girlfriend away. "That's enough for now, ossu!"

You definitely have questions for the teacher next time you and Rika go to class, but you push (don't say push) the thought to the back of your mind for now.

The evening winds down with just you, Nemona, and Rika lounging around. You're sprawled across your sofa, trying not to fall asleep in front of company, a cookie from Katy's patisserie propped on your tummy. Rika is in an armchair, scrolling through social media, and Nemona is tidying up off and on, trying to leave you with as little mess as possible.

"Was it a good surprise, bestie?" She asks you from the kitchen where she's just finished putting away all the extra food you've been left with.

"Yeah... Thank you both. Really. I didn't think I'd want something like this, but it was really nice..." You're teetering on the edge of tears again, so you try to keep from saying anything else.

"Of course, babes," Rika tells you, not looking up from her phone. "You know you got us here every step of the way."

"Yeah!" Nemona shouts from where she'd gone into the nursery to pick up wrapping paper. "Fuck Arven! Who needs that asshole anyway!"

"Arven?" Rika asks. "So that's the sperm donor's name?" She shrugs. 

But you can't help crying at the mention of his name, not when you're already so emotional after everything that's happened.

Rika looks up to see you blubbering pathetically and stands. "Awww... C'mon now. You don't gotta do that. It's okay." She kneels by you, gathering you as best she can in her lithe arms.

"I-It's not his fault!" You whimper. "He needs to go live his life... I-I just wanted to be a part of it... I wanted him to want to be part of mine too..." You put a hand on your tummy. "Ours..."

"Hey!" Rika tells you, holding your wrists. "Fuck him! If he's too dense or too cowardly to want any part of your incredible life? That's his loss."

By now Nemona's made her way back into the living room. "What? Awww no, bestie! Don't cry! I'm sorry I even mentioned him! For real! He's absolute trash! Don't even worry about him and the stupid Kalosian floozies he's probably hanging out with!"

You sob all over again.

"Nemona!" Rika hisses.

"What?"

In the end, the pair of them end up calming you down with stupid PokeTube videos and more pastries.

They spend the night with you, just in case you need anything, but you can't bring yourself to tell either of how much you're craving a sandwich...along with the person who makes them for you best.

-

The last week or so leading up to your due date is, in a word, frustrating. You feel overly warm, overly sensitive, overly achey, and overly oval. You expected phantom contractions, and you were fine with them at first, but at this point it's almost as though you've been having light-ish menstrual cramps off and on for two weeks. That, on top of everything, else just has you nearly constantly on edge. After a day or so of the pains, you called your doctor who took you in, just in case. She assured you that things were normal, that you still had some time left to bake, and let you know to come back when the contractions became more intense and closer together or if you felt something was off.

So you waddled off and went back to life as best you could.

Key words there being "as best you could."

At this point though, you're frustrated to the point of tears, taking walks along your neighborhood, eating spicy foods, bouncing on a yoga ball, doing basically whatever you can think of to speed up your little potato's birthday.

You even drop by the League, but Rika stops you at the door, turns you around and walks you home.

"Absolutely not." She says. "Go rest. Go officially be on maternity leave or something. You're going to pop any second now, and you know it."

"Please, Rika," You plead. "I can't sleep, I can barely nap. I just need... I dunno. I don't even know what I need!" Stupid hormones get you crying again. "I just wanna be done! I don't know what to do with myself... "

"Hey, c'mon..." She tells you, pulling you in for a gentle hug. "You know better than anyone that you're almost there, right? Just... Just wait it out a bit longer. Your little bean'll know when they're done cooking."

"Yeah..." You sniffle into her shoulder. "You're right."

"I know I am," She says coolly. "But also I'm here for you to cry on and complain to any time, okay? Keep me in the loop on every little detail."

The two of you stand like that for a long moment as you try to will yourself back to calmness and go back home. Unfortunately...

"...Rika?"

"Yeah, Mama?"

"I think my water just broke."

-

As it turns out, you'd basically been in labor for the past little while and hadn't realized it, so by the time you and Rika get to the hospital, things start moving quickly.

She has the wits about her to text Nemona to grab your things from your apartment, which were thankfully already pre-packed and waiting in a bag, and within a few (okay, maybe more than just a few) hours, you have a sweetly bundled little baby boy in your arms, dozing softly.

The hospital put him in a little purple hat, but when you initially saw him, during that first moment where they brought him to your breast for that first moment of skin to skin contact, even with his tamped down hair still wet with everything, you could tell... He has two-toned hair.

The resemblances don't stop there, you think, but everyone else who sees him (at least with his hat on) thinks he's your little doppelganger. You're not sure. He looks just like Arven to you, and as much as that makes your heart ache, you're also so overwhelmingly filled with love, adoration, affection, warmth, relief, and utter devotion to this little baby.

You name him Basil. It suits him.

Even though you imagine your number is still blocked on his phone, you text Arven a picture when you and Basil have a moment alone together, just the two of you, later on that day.

He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

There's a near immediate response.

Message unable to be delivered.

#arven fanfic #arven x female reader #arven x reader #arven x pregnant!reader #pregnancy fic #pregnancy// #i think those were all the tags people wanted me to put this under so it could be black listed. please let me know if anyone needs others! #arvensimp kidfic

[belit0]

Madara and Indra tag-teaming the reader? Indra gets called back from the afterlife and takes offense that Madara is almost as good as he is. I love your writing! I binge read it all this afternoon! I'm so happy you write Indra, he's perfect!

Thank you very much for your words! Indra is absolutely my favorite, there is no one who can get to me like him!

I love that you like my work, and feel free to send as many requests as you want! Welcome to this beautiful corner of Uchiha perdition!

This was actually hard to picture, but bc I can't imagine both of them together lol.

I don't think both their egos would fit in the same room🤣.

Anyhow, sorry for taking so long to reply, but here we go!

Why would anyone call him from death, from eternal rest, to bring him to a present where his name is only a legend? Indra does not know, but such is the scene he encounters when opening his eyes for the first time in millions of years.

In his original body, but in his 24-year-old guise, the Otsutsuki awakens in the midst of a ritual. There is blood on his feet, a strange pattern drawn in peculiar intersections that don't seem to make sense, and four men he doesn't recognize looking at him expectantly.

His world spins as he tries to acknowledge the space, and understand he has been summoned to the world of the living again. "Very good... you did it, Tobirama. Now put him back where he came from." A man with long, black, prominent hair speaks with his arms crossed, looking at him with eyes he identifies as his own.

"Of course not. I just brought the most important piece of history we could get, adding I don't know how to release him either." Another jabbers angrily, with strange white hair and red marks on his skin.

"You brought my fucking grandfather and you have no fucking idea how to let him die again?!" A third man shouts in despair, very similar to the first guy, but smaller.

"He's not our grandfather, Izuna. He's our ancestor."

"We should bring our grandfather too, Tobi! It can be a great family reunion and-"

"Why would anyone rouse me from everlasting slumber without apparent reason... I'll get an immediate explanation right away, or else things will get bad." The Otsutsuki decides to interrupt the interaction impatiently, holding his head between both hands and trying to focus his gaze without his eyes hurting. He has no balance to get up from the ground, sitting up and trying to regain control of his body.

...

4 months have passed since Indra was forcibly brought back to life, and all he wants is to die again. People became progressively more stupid, having as idyllic proof this supposed descendant of his who goes by the name of Izuna. The young man keeps pestering him with uncomfortable questions about a life that no longer is, and the Otsutsuki does not know how to get rid of him.

The man who dared to bring him back, Tobirama, still can't find a way to reverse his jutsu, and works tirelessly every day to give him eternal rest again. Meanwhile, Indra decided to confine himself inside the current leader's house, and learn a bit of the current world through him.

Madara Uchiha, his supposed reincarnation, recounts an era of peace where his clan and his brother's became friends. The sole purpose of creating the Uchiha was an endless war against Ashura's family, and apparently, they had figured it out.

Outraged and dismayed, Indra constantly compares his power to that of the current leader and understands they opted for peace because power levels decreased over time. The only thing he and Madara have in common is the darkness of their thoughts, the shape of their hair, and their taste in women.

The Uchiha has a wife alarmingly similar to his own, both in attitude and appearance, and he ponders whether reincarnations are possible. (Y/N), he learns her name is, is both charming and submissive, perfect to his preference.

When the leader disappears for the day to attend to his work, Indra has convenient access to the woman and enjoys her quiet company. There is nothing like an obedient, non-fighting wife, and after seeing today's world, the Otsutsuki understands there isn't much of that anymore.

(Y/N) treats him like a king, attends to his every need, and genuinely respects him. Nothing gets his dick harder than a woman who knows her place.

Madara seems to notice his attraction to her, and after consulting with his wife, they decide to give him a gift of satisfaction before dying again. A night of passion, discreetly catalyzed and planned to perfection.

...

Indra walks through the corridors of the Uchiha house, trying to find a quiet place to meditate. His mind is a mess, he is tired, and all he wants is perpetual repose again. Overwhelmed by his situation, he wanders aimlessly, seeking release somehow.

He decides to try the first room he finds, and as he slides open the door, he comes across an image both provocative and scandalous. (Y/N) shamelessly touching herself while sucking Madara's cock. The Uchiha smirks, grabbing her roughly by the hair and pressing her against his pelvis, forcing her to swallow him completely as she masturbates.

Kneeling with her ass in the air, he has a perfect view of her wet pussy, and how her fingers slide in and out with need. "She looks like she needs help, doesn't she, Indra-Sama?" Madara asks sardonically, leading her to follow an overwhelming pace with her mouth.

"What is this... what are you implying-"

"A little parting gift. Tobirama figured out the formula, and you'll be going home tonight. One last indulgence is impossible to deny, isn't it?"

The Otsutsuki genuinely considers it, relieved for the torture to end and feeling a bulge growing between his pants. There's no denying the sight is beautiful, and that (Y/N) looks both inviting and predisposed to be fucked by whomever she's commanded.

He's never had a threesome, but as long as the Uchiha leader won't touch him, he'll have no problem abusing that beautiful cunt and claiming it as his own.

In a burst of arousal, he walks over to the bed, and with no words to say, makes quick work of his clothes. If the woman is anything like his wife used to be, she will accept being violently and angrily fucked, used as Indra sees fit and without complaining about it.

Positioning himself behind her, he penetrates her with a dry thrust, burying himself deep inside her and listening to her moan being muffled by the other man's cock. "Shit, (Y/N), no teeth, or there will be consequences."

A dark satisfaction runs through his mind at the thought of getting to punish her, to destroy her as he wishes, and his thrusts become brutal to the point of trying to make her lose control of her mouth. The woman cannot continue to move her head, and Madara grabs her by the hair to direct her to the pace he thinks necessary.

Both of them use her holes as they wish, taking her with abandon and making her scream all the way through. Indra will soon return home, and plans to take a good fucking before then.

#uchiha madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #madara x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #madara #indra otsutsuki #uchiha clan #otsutsuki indra #indra #naruto #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader

[canirove]

Granada | Chapter 8

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"I can't wait to move to the summer palace. And to think it's always been there and we hadn't seen it!" Anne said.

"They've probably made fun of us for being so clueless."

"Didi would never do that."

"Didi?" Rowena laughed.

"Yes, Didi. That's how I call him" she smiled.

"Well, I'm sure Ruru has made fun of me. He does it all the time."

"Oh, but that's part of your constant game of teasing the other. It's your way of saying I love you."

"I don't love Rúben."

"Of course you don't, Roro. Of course you don't" Anne smirked.

"What is that noise?" Rowena asked, trying to change the topic of conversation. 

"Men shouting?"

"And fighting. Come" she said, grabbing Anne by the arm and making her follow her.

"Go, Prince Diogo!"

"To your right, Rúben!"

"Harder! Harder!"

"Rowena…"

"I know, Anne. I know" she replied, her eyes fixed on what was going on in the middle of the circle of men.

The two princes were fighting against each other, and they were doing it shirtless, their torsos and arms covered in sweat, their hair a complete mess. And it was… it was like nothing Rowena had seen before. Rúben was like nothing she had seen before. 

She had got used to seeing him shirtless, but it wasn't like this. All his muscles were ready for action, looking more defined than usual, shining with the sweat that covered them. Usually that would make Rowena gag, but right now, she didn't mind it. At all.

And then there was the way he was looking at Diogo. The intensity in his eyes. She was pretty sure that if he looked at her like that, she would faint. 

"Come on, little brother!" Diogo said, encouraging Rúben to attack him. 

"They are going to hurt themselves!" Anne shouted when Rúben crashed his sword against Diogo's, his arms trembling from the impact.

"They are used to it, my lady. They'll be fine" one of the men watching laughed.

"Rowena, do something!"

"I… I…"

"Rowena! Stop drooling over your husband and do something!"

"I'm not drooling" she quickly said, touching her face just in case. If she hadn't drooled yet, she was sure she was close to doing it.

"You know how to fight, how these things work. Make them stop before someone gets hurt!"

"Alright, I'll try" Rowena replied, trying to focus on the fight and not on Rúben's muscles. Though easier said than done, especially now that he was with his back to her. It was… simply glorious.

"Rowena…" Anne urged her.

"I'm thinking."

"Then think faster!"

"Prince Diogo, watch his right leg when he hits!"

Hearing her voice catched them both by surprise, a few seconds passing before they understood what had just happened. But then the cheers of the men got louder, and the fight started again.

"Will it work?"

"If he is clever enough…"

"Rowena!"

"I'm not calling him stupid, Anne. I just…"

"Yes, my prince! Yes!" the man next to them yelled as Diogo took advantage on Rúben.

"He's doing it!"

"Keep going, Prince Diogo!" Rowena shouted, hoping he would hear her. "He's getting tired!"

"You should be supporting me, not him!" Rúben complained while trying to stop his brother.

"Now, Diogo! Hit him with everything you've got!"

"Yes!" the man yelled again when the prince managed to disarm Rúben. "You have a good eye, my lady."

"Thank you" Rowena smiled.

"What the hell was that?" Rúben said as he walked towards her, his chest quickly moving up and down while trying to catch his breath. She had never seen him angry, and it was… scary.

"I was just helping my brother-in-law" she shrugged, looking anywhere but at him. 

"I am your husband, Rowena."

"Didn't know that when we got married and said our vows, we also promised to support the other during training sessions."

"What if he had hurt me?"

"You know his weak points, Rúben. If things had gotten out of control, you would have known how to stop him."

"How?"

"He always shifts his weight to the left, for example."

"I mean that how is it possible that you know how to fight."

"I've been training since I was a kid."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You've never asked me about the things I like" Rowena shrugged.

"We suck at being married, don't we" he laughed. 

"We do" she chuckled, finally daring to look him in the eyes. Whatever had gotten into him after the fight, was gone now, and he was back to his usual self. 

"Why don't you show me your tricks?"

"Now?" 

"Why not? Pick a weapon" he said, nodding towards a table standing not too far away from them.

"Rowena, you don't have to do it" Prince Diogo said.

"It's alright. I can manage him" she smiled. 

"Ready, wife?" Rúben smirked after Rowena had chosen her sword. 

"Ready, husband" she replied with a matching smile.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━            

"She is good" one man commented.

"And fast despite not wearing the proper clothes" another added.

"How did you say she learnt to fight?" Diogo asked Anne while they watched Rowena and Rúben fight.

"Anthony Mount taught her. He is like a brother to her, and one of the most promising soldiers in the country. That's why my mother put him in charge of protecting my brother."

"Who knew the women in that country knew how to fight" the first man laughed.

"She fights better than most men there" the other replied, also laughing.

"Go, Rowena! Beat his stupid ass!" Diogo yelled.

"You are getting tired, cupcake" Rúben said. "Look at the way your arms are shaking."

"Shut up" she replied, trying to focus. She was tired, the sword feeling heavier and heavier.

"Give up, Romina."

"Never" she said, ignoring how he was trying to distract her and attacking one last time. 

When their swords clashed, Rowena's fell from her hands, Rúben managing to put an arm around her shoulders, turning her around and pinning her against his chest.

"Give up, wife. It's over" he whispered in her ear, letting his sword fall.

"It isn't" she replied, twisting his arm and freeing herself.

"Where did you get that from?" Rúben asked, looking at the small knife Rowena had against his neck.

"It is one of my tricks" she grinned. 

"You and your knives" he chuckled.

"I think we have a winner, my prince" one of the men watching them said.

"I think we do. Congratulations, my lady" Rúben said, bowing in front of her when she took the knife from his neck.

"To lady Rowena!" Prince Diogo shouted.

"To lady Rowena!" the men repeated.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━            

"Thank you so much for this."

"Of course, my lady. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll probably go straight to bed after the bath. I am so tired."

"My lady" the maid said before leaving the room.

After the fight, she had asked for a bath with some salts to relax her muscles. She knew that after not training for so long she would definitely be sore the next day.

"That looks nice. May I join you?"

"Bloody hell, Rúben!" Rowena cursed, slipping inside the bath. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my room too" he shrugged from the door.

"How long have you been there?"

"Enough to appreciate how beautiful you look right now."

"I… You… Thank you."

"You're welcome, wife" he smiled. "Now, may I join you?"

"No!" she replied, sinking a bit lower under the water.

"I think there is enough space for the both of us."

"I said no, Rúben. If you come any closer, I'll…"

"Cut me? Are you hiding a knife inside the bath?" he laughed.

"Maybe I am, yes."

"Will you ever tell me where you were hiding the one you used today? On your other dresses I guess you hide them on the sleeves, but you've started to wear our clothes, and there are no sleeves there."

"You'll have to keep looking, then."

"Is that an invitation to make me take off your clothes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's not what I meant."

"Are you sure?" Rúben asked, taking a step closer.

"Stop right there."

"Rowena…"

"And turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around, I'm done with my bath."

"You just went in, I saw the maid leave the room!"

"Then you leave."

"Fine, I'll leave" Rúben sighed. "But one day we will share a bath together, and you'll thoroughly enjoy it."

"I doubt it" Rowena snorted.

"It will happen. Mark my words."

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum Propaganda Post

the epitome of gaslight gatekeep girlboss, made her own kingdom from biomass and rules it as kind of a dictator, this is called out in-narrative. She once made a task force of elite soldiers and when she came to the conclusion they were too violent she literally just killed them all and moved on. Convinced a king to keep his daughter socially isolated all of her life because she thought she'd be too dangerous, and then in that same kingdom nerely started a war because she just HAD to deface their sacred relics out of fear that they'd be turned into weapons.

She's a borderline dictator who fashioned herself a kingdom entirely populated by her own bioengineered citizens. Her first appearance features her experimenting on corpses. She had to care for herself and her brother in a post apocalyptic wasteland immediately after being spawned from a hive mind. She made a family for herself and they betrayed her and now she trusts nobody. She crushed her robot police force into a cube because they were too brutal. She spies on literally everybody. She's been tired for a very long time. She loses control of her kingdom after losing an election because she's too focused on the comet thats about to crash into the world and regains control after the new princess flees when vampires attack. She does everything out of genuine belief she is doing the right thing. She stops spying on people. She's trying to colonise space because she's paranoid the world is going to end. She's constantly aware of every threat to her kingdoma nd her people and wants nothing more than to protect them. She went to war with her own uncle. She's made of candy. She's even a lesbian.

She built her kingdom from the ground up herself after the family she created betrayed her. She's accomplished this though a lot of war crimes and scientific affronts to God. No, seriously. She created life on a whim and discards it just as easily, her experiments are sentient and yet she holds to remorse against killing them en mass, trapping them in a sort of psychic limbo, or straight up abandoning them. She loves to play with life. But she actually does care about her citizens, who she keeps intentionally stupid in order to keep control. She also holds control by spying on everyone, having cameras in kingdoms that aren't even her own, and gps trackers on all her people. She will sabotage and meddle in the affairs of other kingdoms so her own can prosper. She's called a dictator and a fascist on multiple occasions. She pushes the people in her life away to focus on this. And she's gay.

Created an entire civilization from scratch because she was lonely, then surveillance stated the hell out of them. Also did like a bunch of other morally questionable things but the surveillance state is the only one I can remember off the top of my head and I can't be bothered to look anything up right now. Despite this, she's a supporting protaganist who helps the heroes at least as much as she fucks things up for them. All This has lead to the most ice-cold video essay take that she's "THE REAL VILLAIN OF THE SHOW" no, you fucking idiot, she's a Morally Gray Girlboss

#propaganda #princess bubblegum #princess bonnibel bubblegum

[fallenstarzz]

The Kayleigh Day Lives AU - Part 3

Also known as Congratulations, Wymack, it's a boy! He is also already 20 years old and horribly traumatised

So I think that after the banquet Kayleigh goes to some ERC after party to schmooze a bit, maybe with the explicit intention of undermining the rumor of Kevin being better than Riko. Like "do you think I'd let anyone hold MY son back? *Nervous laugh*"

Smash cut to the match between Riko and Kevin

Kayleigh is halfway back to the hotel when she gets Kevin's call. He's immediately locked himself in a bathroom while Jean helps distract Riko.

Now she knows this is BAD bad for a couple reasons. For one, hands have very delicate bones, and full recoveries from severe blunt trauma injuries are hard and rare. Second, there's the fact that this confirms her suspicions that Kevin was being mistreated from behind her back. Third, she knows they won't let her take him to a hospital right now. And last, but not least, it's going to be very hard to get away with double homicide once she gets her hands on Tetsuji and Riko.

Kayleigh has to make a snap judgment if she wants to help her son, in a way that won't put either of them in more danger. She can't trust Tetsuji anymore, so she goes over him.

Now, I don't think she would have access directly to Kengo, but during her years as a Moriyama asset she has amassed enough goodwill she has a few contacts in the main branch. People who are worried about Tetsuji overeaching with his little project.

She calls them and very carefully chooses her words. She says that Riko has dealt Kevin a potential carreer-ending injury and that the best way to control that narrative is going to be playing it off as an accident and taking Kevin out of the public eye for a while, transfering him out of Edgar Allan so people focus on that drama instead of questioning the origin of his injury. She doesn't necessarily threaten going public with what she knows if they don't allow her to take him safely out of the Nest, because she isn't stupid, but it IS implied.

Kayleigh gets half an hour to take Kevin out of the hotel before she herself has to report back. Wherever he's going, she can't come with, as insurance.

That... Somewhat hinders her options.

But, well. David Wymack is in town.

Kevin has found the letter in this universe too, because Tetsuji would have it regardless, but he took Kayleigh at her word when she explained it was for the best that Wymack not know.

This is not a can of worms Kayleigh ever intended to open. But there is a saying about desperate times and desperate measures.

Which is how she ends up picking up Kevin, badly bandaging his hand, and going after the Palmetto State Foxes.

She catches up with them right as they are piling onto the bus to leave. She almost his the bus with her car. It's a mess.

It gets worse once she and Kevin get out, though.

Wymack is alarmed and confused and oh my God Kayleigh what the fuck is your badly injured son doing here.

And she says something to the likes of "First of all, that's OUR badly injured son"

There is a lot of screaming. Dan thinks she's having a stroke. Wymack is torn between confusion and rage. Kevin is going into shock, like, the medical condition. Abby is trying to weave her way to him because someone has to give that boy some actual first aid. Kayleigh's time is running out and she doesn't have time to stand here in this parking lot and justify every questionable decision she has made in the last thirty years. Tetsuji just found out about everything and starts blowing up her phone.

Andrew is crashing from his meds cycle and sleeps through the whole thing.

There is literally no time to untangle any of this, so Kayleigh just tells Wymack that Kevin will explain everything after they take him to the hospital. Preferably in South Carolina because the farther they are from Riko, the better.

No one is happy with this turn of events. It's for certain, though, that things will get a lot worse before it gets better.

On another note, Aaron just won himself like 200 dollars, and it might just be enough to ask that cute cheerleader in his class on a nice date.

#I actually have a written snipet of the bus scene in Dans POV that I might or might not polish and post here too #I would apologize for this part taking so long except that ill do it again bc im still unsure how to write the actual aftg events into this #but anyway. live laugh love. #kayleigh day #Kayleigh Lives AU #im too tired to tag the rest of the characters yall know whos here

[mcflymemes]

THE HANGOVER PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2009 film

it says here we should work in teams.

why don't we remember a goddamn thing from last night?

you're in for a real treat today.

i see guys like you in here every fucking day.

you found the car?

i just wish your friends were as mature as you.

i'm thinking about getting my bartender's license.

you're such a bad person.

you're actually gonna wear that, or are you just fucking with me?

by the way, we're all gonna die.

at least our trip wasn't a total loss.

hey, what's that on your arm?

would you shut up and drive before any of these nerds asks me another question?

this does not seem fair.

do i have any volunteers?

watch it, pervert!

that's not a purse. that's a satchel!

we had a great fucking time.

you're not really wearing that, are you?

we all do dumb shit when we're all fucked up.

why are you peppering the steak?

no chance. cash only.

what the fuck happened last night?

am i missing a tooth?

who does shit like that?

we're not even going to be in the room.

you just have to get to know them better.

this is my favorite part coming up now.

we don't want to call attention to ourselves.

you guys ready to let the dogs out?

it's no big deal.

we call this place "loserville."

you cool with that?

it's where i keep all my things.

trust me, it's not worth the fight.

your language is offensive.

don't let the beard fool you. he's a child.

what're you talking about?

indiana jones wears one.

you are a fucking moron.

you're an idiot.

where the hell are you? i'm freaking out.

let's go, handsome.

i don't think you should be doing too much gambling tonight.

it hurts too much.

i'm not cool with that.

now, it's real simple.

whatever happens tonight, i will never, ever, ever speak a word of it.

listen... uh. we fucked up.

are you sure you're qualified to be taking care of the baby?

who said anything about gambling?

pull yourself together, bro.

suck my dick.

all you got to do is point, aim, and shoot.

why would you go to las vegas?

you don't know for sure?

things got out of control.

i should have been a fucking cop.

seriously. i don't care what happens. i don't care if we kill someone.

i feel weird having to ask you twice.

can i ask you another question?

it's at the corner of get a map and fuck off.

you can do this. just focus.

that's not what you do.

i'm pretty sure that's illegal.

we're getting married in five hours.

if it's what i think it is, it's a big fucking mistake.

i can't afford to lose somebody close to me again.

this isn't the real caesar's palace is it?

i keep forgetting about the goddamn tiger.

it's not gambling when you know you're gonna win.

it's not illegal.

whose fucking baby is that?

you heard me!

i'm on your side!

yeah... that's not gonna happen.

i'm sick of doing what you want me to do all the time.

i shouldn't be here.

where'd you get that cop car from?

boy, you've got a sweet ride there.

don't listen to this maniac.

we're shit out of luck.

how's my hair?

it was a real pleasure meeting you.

what if he got out?

you are literally too stupid to insult.

there's a phone in your room.

oh, how cute.

do me a favor. don't text me. it's gay.

whatever this is ain't working for me.

you might not know this, but i consider myself a bit of a loner.

wait a second. could it be?

i stand corrected.

are you nuts?

i don't know you. you do not exist.

would you please put some pants on?

i hate godzilla! i hate him too!

that was once, and i was out of line.

this isn't your fault.

i'll get you some pants.

remember, what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

right in the nuts!

don't touch it. don't even look at it.

i say we delete it right now.

did you have to park so close?

i met you like four times.

that was beautiful! well done!

i'll hit an old man in public.

i want to find out how i went to the hospital.

we're going to be okay.

that's highly unlikely.

#rp starters #rp memes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp musings #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme #writing prompt #askbox meme #ask memes #rp asks #ask meme #inbox meme #inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #mcflymemes #the hangover #comedy

[ae-neon]

Feyre in mean girls era. Remember when Cady put the vases under the sink and her mom found it? Her mom like "who are you?" Sort of?. Cause her mom sorta work in that area?

Yeah, Feyre is this girl got called to join the popular girls and let the group dissed and bullied her own family because she thought they are right, they are cooler than her, the know better than her. And of course she want their validation. "We wear pink" sort of thing but make it 500 year old fae to bully young human girl sister.

Oh, feyre this kind if sister that ignore her sister if they ever dare to wave her hands at her in the hallway, or join in the cafe. Why? Cuz her group friends dont approve her sister

Yes anon so true!!

I do remember the scene and I need Feyre to also get a "who are you" moment!!

Feyre was never nice - in fact she's pretty brutal. She doesn't care about most people but as a whole book 1 Feyre put her family above strangers and put humans above Fae

Then she gets a taste of empathy in the Spring Court but she doesn't switch sides, she just learns to overcome some of her less kind thoughts

But ACOMAF?? Night Court Feyre is kinda a bitch?? I don't mean her sticking up for herself against Nesta but the way she thinks about other people in comparison to Rhysand and the IC?

Suddenly everything is a competition and she and them have to always come out on top. It results in Feyre's most cringe lines and moments, so much self righteous bs and just straight up arrogance.

And like I said on another post Feyre has to double down on her trauma to have "depth" to match the hundreds of years of trauma porn of Rhys and the IC so she doesn't stick out but sjm can't focus on Feyre's UtM trauma because Rhys is one of the main factors in that

So instead she digs down into the cabin years - victimizes herself and let's the IC pity and "defend" her

[Even though her and the IC need Nesta and Elain's help?? ]

Same with the Summer Court. Same with Spring. Fey/sand could have easily sat down and really talked it through with Tamlin and Tarquin and asked Helion to serve as a mediator and witness but nooooooo...

They're literally so fucking stupid - she was illiterate, got kidnapped to live with a mind controlling freak and then sends a letter 2 weeks later but doesn't understand why no one in Spring believes she's okay??? THINK

It's all about looking cool. That's why Elon is still doing the Mask™ at 500 years old (middle aged man btw - he's closest in age to Helion and Beron) even though he's the most powerful and has been ruling his own Court for more than 400 years since he was 30 years old. He'd rather go there and act like a tyrannical despot and have her act like a sex slave than negotiate or solve problems or run the government

It's all about looking cool and fitting in and that's why Feyre can't even be properly angry when her own subjects and "Family" disrespect her lmaoooo

Night Court is a joke.

SJM's mean girl mentality seeps into the characters she loves and turns them into hypocritical, woe is me, self centred morons

#acotar rant #anon asks #anti sjm #anti ic #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti inner circle

[insomanic-fanfication]

Could I request an ask on how the batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) react to male!reader resorting to drugs after a traumatic event and trying to stop his addiction for them? Like he tries to change for them and even goes as far as to try and tie himself to a chair kind of like the scene from tua with Klaus. (Idk if you do this but I’ve just been thinking about this for a while 😭)

Yes! I do asks along with requests! This is just the first one I have received. I hope this was what you were looking for when sending this ask! CW: Hard Drug use mentioned, a bit of ableism (mostly out of naivety), mental health issues, panic attacks, Reader triggers PTSD.

__________________Answered Ask Under The Cut_________________

Dick Grayson:

Dick doesn't have much personal experience with drug issues, But he's not blind to why someone would feel the need to resort to them. However, he would be very hurt if you thought you couldn't talk to him about your problems. It won't be anger or disappointment, not towards you, but towards himself. He would feel like he failed you in a way. When you tell him you've been trying to stop, he will do everything he can to get you what you need for your recovery. Will be your number 1 supporter. Will also comfort you as much as he can when you do relapse, telling you, 'It's okay, listen to me, look at me,' cupping your face with his hand, his caring blue eyes looking into your teary ones, 'Don't say that, please. You're not back to where you began. That progress wasn't for nothing.'

Jason Todd:

Jason would have a panic attack; he would try to keep it together but couldn't stop his breathing from quicking or the Adrenaline induced by fear. He couldn't; he couldn't lose someone to drugs again; it would break him. Would pull you into a bear hug, his grip almost suffocating, to try and ground himself with tears rushing down his face. When you tell him you're trying to stop, he would also try to help, but more as a guiding hand. He knows it's something you need to do yourself. Will stay up with you all night, holding your hair or loose clothing as you're throwing up. Kissing your forehead for reassurance while you're venting about the things that caused you to start. 'You're not weak for trying to cope with drugs; it's just a part of human nature.', gently holding your hand so you can't scratch yourself. 'Let's focus on how strong you are right now. You realized you didn't want to use them anymore, and you're trying to get better.'

Tim Drake: Tim hasn't had much experience on any side of drug usage. However, he has experience on the mental health side. The feelings of worthlessness, just wanting to escape from your own head. Just wanting everything to be okay, at least for a second. He would do hours of research, analyzing every recovery case, trying to see which helped the most for the most people. It would help you find ways to cope with your mental health problems, so there's less likely a chance of relapse. If you do or something doesn't work, he will get so angry with himself, calling himself stupid, trying to see why it failed, and then doing more research. He would have you get rid of the rest of the drugs when you were ready, having you put the needles or other methods in the correct places. So you can feel that change within yourself, so you can feel more in control. 'I know that was hard, but you did it. I'm so proud of you.' hugging you firmly with his face resting on your neck as you cry, not in sadness but relieve.

Damian Wayne:

Damian, being the youngest, would need more understanding of the situation. 'It's simple!' he yelled, 'Just throw them away and stop using them!? You are in control of yourself; using drugs is just a sign of ill self-control and weakness.' Would throw away your drugs and the method of taking them right then and there. Forcing you to cut cold turkey. At some point, he would vent to Dick about your "Stupidity," and that's who sets the record straight with him. Explaining that isn't how drug addiction works. Dick would get you a medical check-up when Damian told him what happened. Seeing the seriousness, let alone silent boiling anger coming from Dick, would make him realize that he was being an ass. At that point, Damian would isolate himself in his room, disappointed in himself for hurting someone he cared about. He'd sit next to you, a person-size gap between you as guiltlessness fills him. 'I'm..' he paused, trying to find the right words, ' I'm sorry that I did that.' he would continue with eyes still looking towards the ground. 'I didn't understand the severity of the situation; you don't have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know I was sorry for my actions.' After that, he would have his family take care of everything else, and if you let him, he would try to be emotional support.

_____________________________________________________________

Like what you just read? Like and Reblog! That way, I know to make more! If you want to read similar content, check out my blog! Didn’t you see something you were hoping for? Don’t be scared! Send a request! They can be anonymous or have your name attached; It’s your choice. 

  My requests are always open unless said otherwise. For more information, please read my pinned post!

Tags: @n0cturna1-m3 Thought you would like to read this, too, cause I know you love Jason Todd.

#Crow!Answers!Asks #crow!writes #male reader #batbrothers #dc comics #fanfication blog #Batboys #tim drake #Jason Todd #dick grayson #damian wayne

[therunawaykind]

Let me blow your mind - Can't Get Enough drabble

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 679

Warnings: suggestive language, alluding to smut, curses

A/N: Hi Hi so I'm probably away whilst this is getting posted. But as you saw earlier in the week I posted yet another masterlist for another new series that I'm working on called Can't Get Enough. Yes, my brain has been in overdrive coming up with all these ideas. Hopefully, this makes sense when I start posting parts for this story and it all works fluidly. I hope you enjoy it and gets you excited for what is to come.

| MASTERLIST | DISCORD | SERIES MASTERLIST |  GET NOTIFIED OF MY STORIES |

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

Wanda couldn’t help but be happy at this time alone she had sitting in their year's section of the library. Wanda had always chosen times when she knew no one would be around so it would be dead quiet. She’d be able to do, get the books, everything and anything else she would need to be done as quickly as possible, yes her friends hated the amount of time she spent in the library but she very quickly makes it up to them by spending so much time with them frequently. So as she was flicking through pages and books her elbows were propped up on the table and her chin resting against her hands, the sleeves of her shirt slowly started falling down her arms, which teasingly started to reveal one of Wanda’s many tattoos.

Wanda wasn’t so much bothered about the idea of people seeing it because she knew no one would be around at this time. And if by any miracle someone did cross her path she could only hope that she could play it off as her doodling on her arm…like she was for lack of a better word the teacher's pet per se. 

However, no matter how much Wanda tried to focus it was virtually impossible, she just could not get you out of her mind. Your stupid face, how you’d literally do no work, yet still ace every single fucking test. Like…..how is that even possible. Your stupid…..for some odd reason attractive face that she could never get out of her fucking mind. Maybe it was due to the other time you both ran into each other at the library. And how you did not so innocent things to her. How your hands felt wrapped around her body at first, having her backed up against one of the many bookshelves, how your placed your hand over her mouth to quieten her down and how you quickly….far too quickly for her liking had her reach her high.

Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes back into her head as she thought back to then. Was it wrong? Very, Did Wanda care much? Yes and no. She cared because it was you it happened with, but that was the first time in a long time she got any sort of intimacy since her breakup. Did she take care of her needs herself? Yes, she did, but having it done by someone else is on another level. But she also could not care less that it was you because it satisfied her needs and wants. But now she fears she can’t get enough of you

She couldn’t help but groan and place her face down on her book as she clasped her hands at the back of her head. As she tried to get her thoughts under control, a sliver of her tattoo could still be seen by how her sleeve turned up. So what if you were on her mind constantly it meant nothing right……right? Out of nowhere, she heard the door open and footsteps padding her way. She couldn’t help the groan that slipped out of her mouth as she sat up properly and started fixing her sleeve as fast as she could. What caught her by surprise was who had actually entered this section of the library….you.

She hoped to whoever possible that you didn’t take notice of the tattoo that spread around her arm. However, as your steps started to slow as you approached her table her hope dwindled and it was completely gone as you lowered your head beside her ear and whispered “that’s a nice design you got on your arm there Maximoff, didn’t take you for the tattoo kind. But I guess everyone has their secrets.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you walked away from her table, realising that miss Wanda Maximoff wasn’t as pure and innocent as you thought she was. The smirk only spread across your face more as you continued to feel her eyes follow you around the corner.

| MASTERLIST | DISCORD | SERIES MASTERLIST |  GET NOTIFIED OF MY STORIES |

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff au #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fanfic #can't get enough au #can't get enough series

[obsoleteozymandias]

Hi! I saw that your requests were open. So, if/when you get the chance, I'd like to have a match for Twisted Wonderland! This is long, I'm sorry in advance.

I use he/it/xe, I'm vaguely masculine and I call myself transmasc but not sure what my identity is as a whole for my gender. I'm also questioning my sexuality, so anything goes honestly. I'm fine with mostly any characters, but maybe not the first years other than Epel and Ace? I dunno, I don't like the majority of them for some reason. Anyone else is fair game, even the other college(s). Not too picky with it.

I'm 5'10 and chubby, fluffy and short hair, I wear glasses and a knee brace most of the time. My vision is really bad without my glasses. I also have somewhat mediocre hearing, but it's not enough to warrant hearing aids. I'm severely anemic, and I have chronic fatigue. And mental issues, I'll get into those later.

I'm a huge fan of fiction novels. And I essentially have two ends to that spectrum when it comes to my preferences; queer romance novels, and splatterpunk horror novels.

As for other hobbies than reading, I'm pagan. I know it's not technically a hobby, but I do want to mention it. I'm what some would like to consider an "eclectic witch," though I don't focus on those labels. I work with Lilith and Hades(which, given Hades is one of the Seven, may cause some confusion.) I'm also an artist, I like coloring with markers or doing paintings if I have the time. But markers are my primary medium at this time. DND is one last thing I'd like to mention, I'm the VP of the DND club we have at my school.

Other general interests, I'm gonna try and make this short. I like crystals a lot. Also some video games(pokemon is a special interest of mine, for example,) and animes(Black Butler is so far my favorite anime other than pokemon. Pokemon is my favorite as a whole, though.)

For me as a person, I'm pretty quiet. I don't have a lot of friends, but that's not something entirely my fault, because I've grown up with the same people my entire life and not many of them like me because I'm autistic. I'm small town and all that. Not even a stoplight in town levels of small. I've known one or two since preschool, and 20 other kids since kindergarten. My favorite core subject is English, and my favorite elective is Drama or Art. I usually keep to myself unless I'm around the few people that are actually my friends. Which is the DND club, and 3 other kids who are lowerclassmen by a grade or two. When I am around my friends, I do manage to be more extroverted, but it's only around them, and usually because we're doing stupid crap in DND. More of a follower than a leader, would rather be reading than being around people, and while I can't usually concentrate on classes due to my classmates, I still get high marks usually.

I do have PTSD, autism, AVPD, and BPD. I don't necessarily let them control me, but they do give me some personality traits. For example, I'm extremely hyper-vigilant. I can't relax very often. Even the smallest thing can set me off, but not in a temper way. I'm a perfectionist but only for myself. I hate socializing, and I only go to things like dances because my 6-8th grade years were hell due to the pandemic and other personal factors. Also, major parental issues. Not gonna elaborate on that one.

I'm also strangely good with kids. But not just any kind of kids, for some reason. I'm good with toddlers specifically. I can't handle anyone whose over 5 years old, unless they're over 13. So 6-12 years old and I can't handle them.

I do a bunch of volunteer work when I have the chance. For example, despite religious issues I have I do help out at an AWANA group at my area, working with the youngest group of kids there. I also do some work at the hospice thrift store in town.

That was a lot, but it might help you in the long run? I'm not sure if I added too much, but it's too late now. If you do end up doing my request, I appreciate it a lot! But if not, that's okay, I understand. Bye : )

I have mixed feelings about splatterpunk but I have been known to dabble

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Kalim Al-Asim 

Kalim is the kinda guy who is genuinely accepting of everyone and everything. He sees the intelligence and creativity in you and is instantly at your side, talking up a storm, asking you about your day, etc.  

He’s drawn to your mystique, most of all. He wants to know and understand everything about you, though he’ll certainly respect boundaries (he’s learning how). 

I headcanon that Kalim is also a crystal enjoyer - especially ones that distort or change his view of the world. He’ll be bouncing off the walls when the two fo you go crystal shopping, asking you all the names and picking out ones which match your eyes and your skin and - he’ll just take all of them!

He’ll then make you glasses and jewlery with the gems embedded in them. 

Kalim will encourage your creativity, whether through writing or art. He wants to watch you work too, and he’ll fawn over every little brush stroke, so proud to be your S/O! 

Bad days happen to the worst of us, and so whenever you’re feeling down, Kalim is quick to find a way to make it better. You’ll have to tell him directly how to help you - whether that’s letting you be or offering advice, but whatever it is, he’ll put 100% effort and love into it. 

And when he’s down, nothing cheers him up like some quality time with you, cuddling or holding hands (he’s a tactile person). 

You two are very much the sun x moon dynamic <3. 

#twst #oz’s requests #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #matchups #twst matchup #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader

[blackbird-brewster]

Welcome to another instalment of sad trash Jemily head canons! Today's song: 'Light On' by Maggie Rogers.

Rated: General Pairing: JJ/Emily Tags: Angst, open ending WC: 3400 Cross Posted to AO3 - READ HERE

Emily has trouble sleeping. She always has, but her insomnia/night terrors are really bad when she first joins the BAU because it's her first time in active field duty in a long while. and it naturally pings shit about Doyle.

They're coming back from a long case, it's a red eye flight. everyone is sleeping, but Em is just reading. JJ wakes up to use the bathroom and sits back with Em and says something casual like 'oh can't sleep?"

Emily dismisses it like 'haha, no, i never sleep. even if we were already home, i'd probably just be driving around to clear my head'

But JJ actually gets it, she doesn't sleep well most nights either. So she extends a vague invitation like 'well, if you ever find yourself in my neighbourhood in the middle of the night -- just knock. I'm probably up too'

Emily doesn't think anything of this, passes it off as a joke.

But then after Children of the dark, Emily finds herself driving. she's thinking about Carrie and that leads to thinking about Declan and she's NOT going to sleep anytime she thinks of him.

She's been in the car for who knows how long, but ends up gravitating towards JJ's although she doesn't consciously understand why.

And to her surprise, the porch light is on. She parks outside for a minute and remembers the off-hand comment JJ said sometimes last year about always being up late.

But Em realises that was a year ago, it'd be way too weird to knock at 2am now.

So, she goes home.

>>> More Below the Cut

The very next month, Pen gets shot. Emily is worried sick after leaving the hospital. But she can also still feel JJ's hand in hers even though that was three hours ago and that scares her in ways that have recently become more conscious to her, even if she's still trying to deny it.

She goes for a drive.

She winds up in front of JJ's again -- and the porch light is on.

This time, Emily actually parks. She gets as far as the front step before realising she's being an idiot and chickens out.

JJ has never said anything about this stupid vague offer to her ever since that ONE time, it'd be WILD for Emily to show up now.

She goes home and tries to forget about the whole thing.

months go by. Em finds herself in front of JJ's every few weeks in her usual night drive. The light is on every time, but she can never work up the courage to knock.

But in that same period, Emily has finally admitted to herself just how much she likes JJ. They're inseparable at work, she thinks JJ is the most amazing woman she's ever known.

And Emily knows she's hard crushing, but there's no way in hell she's going to tell JJ any of that

The team gets called to Miami.

Will is there. This random redneck guy from New Orleans who JJ laughed about the entire case the year prior. She'd tell Emily how he was hitting on her and stuff and the two of them thought he was so grating.

But now he's here. In Miami.

And the way JJ greets him -- something about it makes Emily uncomfortable.

She watches them together and it's not hard to see what's happening. At some point after the case in New Orleans, they obviously got together.

In a form of self-preservation, Emily pushes JJ towards him the whole time they're on the case. She's trying to get JJ to admit the truth.

But when it's confirmed, when JJ does go after him and make their relationship known - -Emily feels sick

She knew she had a crush, but the moment she sees JJ kissing Will at the end of the case -- she realises its SO much more than a crush.

When the team gets back, Emily is driving all night. She goes through half a tank of gas, just mindlessly driving so she doesn't have to focus on how much this HURTS.

She finds herself in front of JJ's, like she always does.

The porch light is on.

As if she doesn't have control of her own body, she parks.

She gets out.

She walks to the door.

Her hand is halfway to knocking when she pulls away.

She can't do this to JJ, not RIGHT after JJ told everyone she's in a relationship.

She's already turned to leave when the door opens.

"Em?"

She turns around and finds JJ standing there. God, how is she THAT beautiful at 3am??

"I thought you'd never actually knock," JJ says. "Come in."

Emily follows her inside and JJ points to the front window that faces the street. There's a big comfy chair there with a side table full of books.

JJ says, "I've been sitting here every night for over a year. Just waiting for you to actually do it. I left the light on, just hoping one day you'd knock. But you never have."

"No, I haven't." Emily mutters. She's so embarrassed. JJ has SEEN how many times Emily has parked outside of her house and never done anything about it.

JJ smiles and nods kind of solemnly. Of course she knows why Emily's never had the courage. She knows Emily well enough, she knows that Emily likes her. And truthfully, JJ has liked her back for even longer. But Emily never made a move, so JJ thought it was all in her head.

JJ makes them tea, they talk about the case, they talk about the weather, politics, current events, they talk about EVERYTHING except the one thing they both KNOW needs talking about.

Even then, neither of them want to name their feelings.

Emily doesn't leave until sunrise. And for once, she sleeps soundly. She's never gotten better sleep in her adult life.

Over the following weeks, she and JJ have this little middle of the night routine.

And every time Emily goes home, she sleeps for a solid eight hours without night terrors.

It's a miracle.

Then, Will shows up while the team is on a case. He's mad, telling JJ she shouldn't be in the field.

And Emily realises suddenly, that although she's known that JJ was in a relationship with him ever since the case in Miami -- in all the nights they've stayed up together, JJ has never brought him up. And it basically made Emily forget about him completely.

But here he is now, so it's hard to ignore.

It's even harder to ignore their relationship when he outs that JJ is pregnant.

She must have known for a while, Emily thinks. She must have known she was pregnant all those nights they've been staying up talking.

And it makes Emily sick. The unrequited love she's been trying to compartmentalise consumes her and she finds it impossible to think about anything else.

So she goes driving.

She finds herself naturally heading towards JJ's and there's a very big part of her that is SO ready to tell JJ to leave Will. To leave him, because he's not good enough for her. She doesn't have to stay with him JUST because she's pregnant.

Emily is more than ready to admit she loves her. To tell her she'll help in any way JJ needs, if only JJ could give her the chance.

But when she gets there -- the porch light is off.

She sits there, staring at the house, deciding whether or not to knock, but ultimately, she takes the light as a clear indicator this was a mistake.

She goes home. she doesn't sleep. she never sleeps if she hasn't talked to JJ.

Time goes by, it gets less painful to be around JJ now that Will's moved to DC to be with her properly.

Some nights, Emily still finds herself outside the house.

But the light is always off.

She never knocks.

She pushes away how much she loves JJ. She tries to ignore it, to forget it, to get over it.

But how can she when she's pretty sure JJ is the only person in the whole world Emily want's to be with for the rest of her life.

It's gruelling, painful, but Emily is the master of masking her true feelings. So she never says anything.

She never knocks.

She never sleeps.

And years pass. It's not a good routine, but it is a routine. She's so used to her insomnia, it doesn't bother her much. She stops driving by JJ's house eventually, there's no reason to. It just makes her feel worse, so she stops driving to that side of town when she's night driving.

JJ gets reassigned and it makes it easier at least. Emily doesn't have to see her every day. She misses her at work, but it's actually a blessing in disguise because it finally allows her time to get over her feelings.

Emily already wasn't sleeping, so when she realises Doyle is back, it's not too much of a change in her routine to stay up nights on end.

She doesn't drive though.

She spends her nights sitting in front of her door with a gun in hand.

Waiting for him, because she knows he'll be coming for her.

Even if she was out driving instead of just waiting -- it's not like she could talk to JJ about any of this. The team don't know about Doyle or Lauren or Valhalla.

It makes Emily realise that for how much she and JJ have talked, they really never said anything to each other.

Nothing of true substance. And that realisation hurts, because it's jsut another reminder that Emily's feelings have ALWAYS been unrequited.

Any gesture or chat or subtext she's built up in her mind, any hint that JJ might love her too, none of it's real. JJ doesn't even truly know anything about Emily.

Emily realises NO ONE knows her, not really. She's been on the team for four years and she's never let them truly get to know her. It wasn't on purpose, she's just so good at building walls, she doesn't even realise she's built them in the first place.

Before Doyle can come for her, she comes for him first.

Everything goes wrong.

She very nearly loses her life, but by some miracle, she makes it.

JJ escorts her to Paris for Emily to go into hiding, at least until Doyle's arrested.

It's the first time they've spent any real time together since JJ left the BAU.

This time, they do talk though. They really talk and Emily learns so much about JJ and to her own surprise, she tells JJ plenty about herself too.

They still don't talk about their true feelings, but they do connect in a way they never had before.

In Paris, Emily doesn't drive, but she walks. She walks at night to clear her head. It's never quiet in Paris, not really, there's always people bustling around. It's loud in ways DC wasn't, similar, but different.

But she walks, because she doesn't drive and she tries to clear her head most nights.

But she doesn't sleep.

The day Hotch calls her back to DC, the day she sees the team for the first time since they buried her. The first time she sees JJ since Paris, Emily feels so lost.

She doesn't sleep, so she drives.

She ends up at JJ's house.

And she parks, because she sees the light on.

Now that she knows where JJ's reading chair is, she eyes that window and she sees the curtains move.

She knows JJ must be waiting up for her, even though she's a mom now, she's got Will now, she should be sleeping -- but for whatever reason, she's not.

She's sitting there with the light on, just waiting for Emily.

Emily doesn't get out. She can't.

She leaves, goes home, and doesn't sleep.

Six months go by and she never sleeps. Everything is so loud and constant and conflicting and hard.

Her job never felt hard before. She's a great profiler, but ever since she came back, it's all wrong. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the fact everyone looks at her like she's a ghost, because to them, she is. To them, she always will be, in some regard.

She already wanted to leave, but JJ agreeing to marry Will was the deciding factor.

After the reception, Emily finds herself driving. She goes to JJ's, even though it's stupid, because it's JJ's wedding night. What does Emily plan to achieve tonight?

She's surprised, conflicted mostly, when she sees the light on.

It should feel comforting, to know JJ's still there for her, to know JJ's still waiting up for her. But it doesn't feel like that.

It hurts. God it hurts so bad Emily's half convinced she's actually having a heart attack.

It takes her ten entire minutes to recover enough to be able to drive again.

She gets home and doesn't sleep.

She stares at an email from Clyde. An email she's been avoiding for a week now.

She sends her reply and in doing so, she accepts a job in London.

When Hotch calls her to tell her JJ is missing, Emily is on a flight in an hour.

She barely makes it in time, but she does make it in time.

She stays in DC for a week, just to be sure JJ's alright -- even though Emily knows first hand, JJ will never be alright again after what she endured.

Emily finds herself driving her rental car at night. Haunting the same streets she's spent so many nights driving down.

She winds up at JJ's and she tells herself it's just because she's worried about her.

Emily's been living in London for nearly two years now, she's a different woman now. She's gotten over those feelings about JJ, she's really moved on.

But there she is. Right back in front of JJ's house in the middle of the night.

She's only hand surprised to see the light on.

She's a different woman now. She's braver, or she likes to think she is.

So she parks, she goes to the door, she knocks.

JJ answers and they sit in the kitchen all night long.

And when the sun rises, Emily leaves and goes back to her hotel. And she sleeps.

Not that she knows it, but JJ sleeps too. It's actually the first time in two years that JJ really sleeps through the night. Which is unexpected considering what she's just gone through.

But it's true. She sleeps.

Another two years. Emily comes back for a case and she stays an extra handful of days to catch up with the team.

It's really hard for her. Everyone asks how she's doing, is she happy in London, what's it like being the bigshot running an entire Interpol office?

She has a flight back to London at the first crack of dawn, so she doesn't sleep beforehand, in hopes she'll sleep on the plane.

She finds herself outside of JJ's house. There's no light, why would there be?

She and JJ don't really keep in touch anymore. They've grown apart like adults tend to do.

Emily gets on her flight and she spends the next eight hours not sleeping.

The next time she comes back, it's specifically to help out at the BAU.

JJ seems genuinely happy to see her and they go for a drink, they catch up in the same way they used to -- they talk without saying anything. But just spending time with JJ again is plenty for Emily. She missed this, she missed her best friend.

And late that night, Emily finds herself driving. Seeing JJ started to kick up old emotions Emily thought were long gone. And her head is so loud, she just needs to try and clear it. She's sure this feeling will pass, it's just her nerves about seeing the team again after so long.

She drives. She doesn't even pretend like she's heading anywhere other than JJ's house.

She's also not surprised when the light's off. Why would JJ be waiting for her, when Emily's barely a visitor here?

Emily can't possibly know that Will hates it when JJ leaves the light on. Early on, when he first moved in with her, he made a habit of flipping it off every night.

He mentioned it to her at the time, but she said it was just a habit, since she was used to coming home from cases at all times of night. And it was nice to have the light on to welcome her home. (It's a lie, but he believes it)

He always turns it off though, reminding her she doesn't need the light when he's right there to welcome her home now.

There would be random periods of time where she'd leave it one sometimes and he'd always flip it off. It was such a mundane thing, neither of them talked about it. Will just accepted it as one of those quirks that you get used to when you live with someone who does something out of habit and over time, it just became the routine. JJ would leave the light on randomly, he would turn it off.

It was so mundane, it's not like they talked about it. It was just about as normal as JJ closing the toilet seat when Wil left it up.

Suddenly -- Emily's here to stay though. She's taking up UC without warning and the team i shocked, but more so than anyone -- JJ is shocked.

She's shocked because this change stirs up something she had forgotten long ago. Feelings. It stirs feelings about Emily, about all the nights they stayed up talking. And it terrifies her.

She's got a whole life with Will and their two kids now. She cannot be feeling things for Emily.

She doesn't sleep anymore. She tosses and turns and spends most nights going downstairs to read in her chair.

She always leaves the light on when she does, some part of her just hoping Emily will turn up and take the choice out of JJ's hands. She wishes Emily would knock and finally, finally, talk to her and ACTUALLY say something. Because JJ knows she's never going to make the first move, not after all these years.

She never sees Emily's headlights though. Every night she sits and reads in her chair in the front window, with the light on, no one ever drives by.

The thing is -- Emily's a different person now. She loves being UC and she's good at it. It doesn't feel hard like it did after Paris.

And she actually sleeps now. Sleeps through the night with very little night terrors or issues. She owes that to years of therapy and the miracle of SSRIs.

She has no need to drive at night anymore.

Emily has her job, her career, and every once in a while, she'll date someone for a short stint to relieve her loneliness. Those relationships are only ever a temporary fix, she can never fully commit herself to any one person.

Not when she's known for years, that JJ is the only person in the whole world Emily would ever consider being with for the rest of her life. Not that it matters, that ship sailed too many years ago and Emily is okay with that. She's accepted her solitude and in actuality, she sleeps much better on her own anyway, so at least she has that. 

She and JJ find a new way to exist around each other. Mostly, they give each other a wide berth. They don't talk about why, but on some level, they both understand why it's difficult to have Emily back here, back here after so many years of late nights and talking where they never said what they meant.

And for the most part, it works for them. There are still times where one or both of them hint at the truth under the lies. But they never name it outright. They only ever acknowledge it through lingering glances, or vague conversations about the 'what-ifs' and 'if-onlys' of life.

But -- sometimes, after a really difficult case, JJ leaves her porch light on. Just in case. 

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily #cm fanfiction #cm headcanon #my writing

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Hi, I came here because I just saw a post on twitter that said "nobody can hate these characters" and well, Kakashi was in it, and I was surprised that many people who love Sasuke or one of team 7, said they hate Kakashi for his relationship with them, calling him "shit/trash sensei". God I can't believe that there are people who still think that Kakashi was a bad sensei, but I understand even less that they hate him for that and on top of that they say that he is the worst. I'm sorry but it makes me angry and makes me want to fight. So I wanted to know, how do you deal with hate comments about Kakashi? because I got to a point where answering makes me feel bad but at the same time it's hard for me to ignore it, since it seems stupid to me that they hate him for reasons that come from their ass

I deal with it by ignoring them tbh

If someone wants to hate Kakashi for stupid reason’s that’s their choice. No amount of arguing is going to make them see that the things they’re accusing him of arn’t correct.

I’d rather spend that energy writing fun head canons and fic that props Kakashi up as the character up as the amazing person he is. With his actual flaws rather than inflated flaws that don’t actually match with him.

I can’t tell you how to react or what to do obviously, but i can say it is not worth it to fight. People aren’t going to change their mind because you tell them too or argue with them. All i can say is it’s better to focus on things that make you happy

Talk to amazing Kakashi fan’s.

Go back and forth with people who agree with you or at least don’t make you angry when you talk about Kakashi (and other fav characters)

Have fun. You cannot control how others think but you can control who you interact with

[mad4turtles]

Ninja Turtle prompt for your consideration. Things get a bit chaotic at the zoo when a villain gets their hands on a device that allows them to control animals. Things get MORE chaotic when it turns out that it also works on mutants. It's up to the human cast members to put a stop to this. Or whatever nonanimal yokai is feeling up to the task of heroing on the surface?

You know, this was supposed to be a goofy little one-shot. I literally cannot understand how it ended up like this XD

But hey, I enjoyed writing it! Hope you enjoy reading :D

---

In the few seconds she has to get a look at the artefact, April is stunned to see that it's a whistle.

A small, intricate, shiny whistle with engravings shaped in the familiar characters of a yokai spell, but still a whistle. A wooden one that looks and feels easily breakable in her hands right before the asshole snatches it from them, distracted as she is, and shoves her off the Bethesda Fountain.

She tumbles in the air for a hot second, weightless and breathless, before Donnie slams into her from the side, and then they're rolling along the asphalt. When they (and the world) stop spinning, Donnie leans back to look her up and down. “You good? You get the thingy?”

April takes a second to breathe. “I'm good. And no, I lost it.”

Donnie curses softly. Then he curses louder and covers her with his whole body as a tiger lopes towards them with dripping fangs. A circle of vibrant blue opens up between it and them just as it pounces, swallowing it whole before winking out of existence. Another portal opens up over the lake and drops the tiger into it with a splash.

Still pinned under Donnie, April rolls her head to where she'd last seen Leo. “Thanks!”

She can't see him, but she hears the grin in Leo's voice. “No prob. It looks like I just prevented a—”

Donnie lifts his head with a vicious scowl. “Nardo, I swear to god—”

“Catastrophe!”

“You're dead to me.”

“Guys!” Raph grunts. April pushes Donnie off her, and he pulls her to her feet by the arm. She sees the snapper wrestling a blank-eyed grizzly bear with his bare hands, arms wrapped around its neck in a lock as it bucks and thrashes, trying to take a bite out of him. “Can we—whoa!—please focus! We gotta get that stupid whistle!”

“You freaks will never reach me!” the madman crows from atop the fountain, the mystic whistle held high over his head like it's the ring of power or something. His stupid cape billows in the soft breeze over his zookeeper uniform, his plastic crown barely sitting upright on his head. “I am the Animan, the beasts of this world bend to my will! And once my army is complete, no one shall stand in my way! The age of man is over! The reign of the beasts is nigh! Mwahahaha!”

Donnie stares. “Did. Did he say 'mwahahaha'? Are you kidding me?”

April has to agree. Warren Stone has more class, and he's a worm. A freaking worm. 

Admittedly, April can understand where this guy is coming from: animal cruelty is a plague, cutting as deep into the earth as deforestation and pollution, all things that April has and will forever fight for. But this is stupid. Stupid, cliché and annoying. 

She should be studying for finals with Sunita. And yet here she is again, out in Central Park on a Thursday night to stop another ego-maniac with another mystic doo-dad from ruling the world. Or whatever. 

She almost misses when the most exciting thing to happen in a week was visiting her mutant friends in the sewers. Almost.

“Seriously, how did this idiot get his hands on a freaking mystic whistle--?” Leo dances away from a stampeding herd of zebra and deer hell-bent on squashing him. “--from a charity shop?” 

“Humans are just grounded magpies!” Mikey chimes somewhere in the trees. Last April saw him, he was running rings around a pissed-off rhino and his warthog friend. They all agreed to call him Pumba. “They love shiny things! They see a shiny, take the shiny, sell the shiny for ridiculous prices to get shinier—oh shit—!”

“Language!” Raph shouts, now riding the bear like a bull. At least he's having fun.

“No, Raph, the monkeys!” Mikey cries. “They're organized!”

April spins just in time to watch as a troop of monkeys of various species grab and toss a shrieking Mikey into the air, only to be caught by the feet of another as they swing from the lampposts and treetops, throwing him back and forth like a football.

Donnie stares. April drops her head into her hands.

Leo is in hysterics. “Oh my god. Hurry, hurry, before they take him to the singing CGI Christopher Walken—wah!” He's cut off when one of the troop snags him by the arms and tosses him into the air, flailing until he's caught by a hooting orangutang. “Hey, no no no no, get off, lemme go—guys!”

“Oh frick, hang on!” Raph hops off the bear, power smash jitsu's it into a bush—“Sorry, Yogi!”—and hurries after the screaming box and slider still being tossed about like footballs. “Don't worry, guys! Big Raphie's comin'!” 

Donnie rolls his eyes heavenward. “Sigh. Alright, I'm ready for this to end.” He snaps his arm out, his bo crackling with mystic energy as the tip forms into a rocket-boosted drill, smaller than what he'd used on the Shredder but no less devastating. “Hey, Steve Irwin knock-off! Animal activism is cool and all, but some of us have places to be and finals to study for—”

“Hear hear,” April drones.

“—so why don't we call it a night, okay? I am very tired, and not above using lethal force—”

“Donnie.”

“—semi-lethal force to get that whistle away from you! Seriously, will none of you let me shine?”

The Animal man (or whatever) turns with an overly dramatic swish of his cape. “Never! I have the power to rule the animal kingdom in the palm of my hand! You will all kneel before—!”

He stops himself. He looks—really looks—at Donnie now. April can see the cogs turning behind the big dorky frames of his glasses. 

Donnie stares back, marker-drawn brow raised. “Yes?”

“Are you... are you guys all turtles?”

“Uh, obviously?” Leo snaps, resigning himself to having imaginary fleas picked from non-existent fur by a gorilla that refuses to let him go, hugging the turtle to its massive chest like a teddy bear. Its biceps are bigger than Raph's head.

“Aren't you supposed to be a zookeeper?” Mikey shouts from where he's being fought over by Raph and a screeching chimpanzee in a sick game of tug-of-war.

“Yes, we are turtles,” Donnie sighs. “Four different species if you're looking for specifics, being a man of your... expertise—and I use that term loosely—for as I am a spiny soft-shell, Leon is a red-eared slider, Michel is an ornate box—”

“And the big guy is an alligator snapper?” Animan interrupts. He's dropped the showmanship, his narrowed eyes thoughtful.

April feels a coil of dread pool in her stomach for the first time tonight, and she wraps her fingers tighter around her bat.

Donnie must sense the change too. He widens his stance. “Yes. That is correct. Though I fail to see why this is at all relevant to my earlier threat of using lethal—ahem, semi-lethal force to stop your dum-dum plans so we can go home and play video games until our eyeballs melt—”

Animan holds up a hand. The monkeys drop Mikey onto Raph, and the gorilla gently deposits Leo back on the ground. The other animals cease their pointless rampaging, freezing where they stand. The unnatural stillness, the blank whites of their eyes staring into nothing, sends a chill down April's spine.

Okay, she thinks as she shuffles closer to Donnie. Now I'm freaked out.

And then Animan smiles. “I do wonder...” he says slowly, eyes locked on Donnie. He lifts the whistle to his lips and blows.

April winces as a high-pitched, tinny sound echoes across the park, much sharper and louder than the previous times he's used it. She covers her ears. “Damn! Cut that out, you're gonna liquefy my brain!” Gritting her teeth, she turns to Donnie. “Donnie, can you please just—!”

She freezes. Donnie's bo clatters to the ground, useless and forgotten, as he falls to his knees, clutching and all but clawing at his head, hissing and spitting and crying out in agony—

“Donnie!”

She reaches out, then hesitates. This isn't a meltdown—she knows the signs, and for all that it looks like one, this isn't it. No, he's in pain, bashing his fist against his skull like he's fighting something rooting around in there, trying to force it out, and he's growling now, bent forward and scraping at his face—

Then Leo screams.

April whips around. Leo is on his knees, too, hands flapping before he follows suit and pulls at his face, mask tails, the base of his skull. Raph is on his back, teeth gnashing at nothing in distress through his cries, hands pressed against where his ears should be. Mikey is fully sobbing, hands over his eyes as he bashes his head against the asphalt and wails. “Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it make it stop—!”

Rage boils like molten lava in April's chest. She spins to glare at the bastard still blowing into his whistle, a gleam in his eyes that's smug and nasty. 

She's going to rip it off his face.

Bat glowing, mystic energy thrumming through her in familiar waves, April lets out a cry as she charges, arm pulled back—

A solid wall of flesh and bone blocks her swing, the bat bouncing off and nearly braining her in the face instead.

The whistling has stopped. So has the screaming.

Something breathes heavily above her. Slowly, April looks up.

Raph's blank eyes stare back.

No.

“... Raph?” she tries. “Raph. Can you hear me?”

Snaggle-tooth peeking from a peeled-back snout, a deep growl rumbles from Raph's chest, loud enough that it rattles her bones. It's not the comforting sound she's used to hearing in mounds of blankets, stuffed animals and pillows. It's a warning. A threat.

No, please.

He takes a lumbering step forward. And April, nerves alight with a fear she's never felt—not for him, never ever for him—takes two steps back.

God, not again.

“Raph, Raphie, it's me,” April pleads. She looks up (and up) into his eyes and sees nothing, no recognition, none of what makes Raph Raph. 

And his size had never been an issue before—she's known him since he was ten and the size of an average thirteen-year-old human. Watching her little brother outgrow her had filled her with pride, adoration and sparks of jealousy. It's only hitting her now why most thugs piss themselves at the sight of him. He's huge, and when he snaps his jaws inches from her face, stomping closer, he's—he's—

Something hisses behind her. It's her only warning.

She leaps out of the way, a reflex instilled in her through years of living around ninjas, as Donnie's jaws snap shut where her head had been.

She should've known better—she does know better—than to ever turn her back on Donnie. But even then, he's only playing.

There's no playfulness in how Donnie spins on her and spits out another gurgling hiss, teeth bared, body hunched low like a prowling raptor. His eyes are as blank as his big brothers'. He has his bo again, the weapon pulsing purple to the beat of his heart, always in tune with him even when he's not... there.

“Dee?” she whispers. Donnie hisses back.

Another hiss and a chirp. April is ready this time.

She cartwheels out of the way of Leo's swiping claws and backflips over Mikey right as he leaps for her. He goes flying into Raph's chest instead, and the snapper barely budges. He doesn't even look at Mikey. None of them looks anywhere but at April.

Leo's claws flutter, panting hisses through his teeth. Mikey scrambles on all fours, crouching as if rearing for another pounce. Donnie snaps his jaws again in her direction. Raph is still growling.

April stares at her brothers. She hears the real, maniacal laughter of a power-hungry idiot with said power at his fingertips, and thinks, shit.

“I knew this magic whistle was powerful,” the man muses, idly fiddling with the glowing instrument between his fingers as he grins at April. “But I had no idea it'd extend to mutants. This is honestly awesome.”

April takes a page from Raph's book and growls. “What. Did you do. To my boys.”

The bastard has the gall to smirk. “I freed them,” he says. “They walk, talk and parade about the city pretending to be human. They've forgotten their roots, their true place in the natural world.” He throws his hands up and cackles. “I have reminded them what they really are! I have freed them from society's chains! They are no more than the beasts they pretend they aren't inside and out! And I will do the same to any and all mutants that cross my path! I will save them all! And together, we will rid this world of humanity once and for all!”

The animals lift their heads as one and shriek, hoot, screech and roar with his laughter. The turtles throw their heads back and roar with them. It's a haunting sound she didn't know they could make.

Double shit, April thinks.

Then Animan points the whistle at her. “Let's start with you.”

The turtles slowly turn in unison to face April.

To inshititty and beyond. 

And the thing is, April is scrappy. She's won plenty of fights. She beat a legion of girl scouts trained by Cassandra and helped take down the Shredder and a Krang. She's no master by any means, but she's good. 

Here, she doesn't think twice. April turns and runs.

The boys—her boys, her little brothers in every way but blood—run after her. 

They launch themselves at her with reckless, violent abandon like a pack of dogs, hissing and spitting, growling and biting the air as they circle her or try to back her into corners or the edge of the terrace. She barely dodges them, barely avoids their gnashing teeth and swiping claws.

There's no form or grace in their attacks, no thought beyond the one being fed to them: Kill.

They're not trying to fight her. They simply want her dead. 

April has never been scared of the turtles, not even when she first came across them by accident all those years ago. Most can't see past their whole situation, but April did, and she does. This isn't them, they would never.

But there's nothing behind their eyes. Nothing that makes them more than the creatures the rest of the world would see. And to them, she isn't their best friend and sister. 

She is their enemy. She is prey. She is food.

Aril has never feared them. But Leo's claw draws blood from her cheek, and for the first time in her life, she's terrified.

But more than that, she's shaking with fury, red in the corners of her eyes. She's already lived this nightmare, already had to look at the warped face of her little brother right before he sent her flying with a punch that cracked her ribs, already had to soothe him as he wept apologies into her chest in the aftermath. She can't live it again. 

She has to get that whistle and break it, preferably against Animan's skull. But the boys won't let her get close unless they're dragging her carcass to him. She needs backup. 

She can't call Splinter, and the Caseys are out doing mother-son bonding activities (knowing Cassandra, it's probably violent). Who else do they have that isn't a mutant or an animal yokai—?

Oh. Oh hell no. 

April groans to herself. She would rather drink acid or step on a Lego. Barefoot. Anything but him. 

But the boys won't stop. They're fighting it, she knows they are—it's the little moments of hesitation, a blink and a hint of colour in their eyes before the whistle pierces the air and pulls them back under, in the stray tear that drips down Mikey's cheek when he throws her against the tree. They're fighting. Her boys are in there. But they can't break it alone. April can't break it alone. Animan won't stop until they tear her apart, and even then, the rest of New York—the Hidden City, the world—will be at his mercy.

In hindsight, maybe they should've taken this a little more seriously. Preferably before the guy found out he could control mutants, too.

She needs help. But god she's going to hate every second of it.

She scrambles up the tree Mikey had thrown her into and hides in the branches—it'll give her cover for now, assuming the boys have forgotten how to climb. She whips out her phone with shaking fingers and dials the one number she never thought she'd ring, holding the phone to her ear and quieting her breaths.

After a tense thirty seconds, it connects. “Hello? Who is this?”

April swallows her pride. It's for her boys.

“Baxter, it's April O'Neil. I need your help.”

~0o0~

To his credit, Baxter's Mousers work wonders as a distraction.

Cackling like the mad scientist he wishes he could be, Baxter sends wave after wave of Mouser bots after the rampaging animals. April was adamant over the phone that no harm was to come to the animals or the turtles—“And no, you are not taking a tiger home with you, I swear to god!”—but it's more than enough to send them into a frenzy. Not even Animan can control it, no matter how much he screeches and blows into his whistle. If anything, it only agitates them more.

It's too chaotic for April to get close enough to snatch the whistle without getting trampled on the ground, so April follows the monkey's lead and hops across the treetops. It's actually fun.

“Keep 'em busy, Stockboy!” she calls into the comms over the racket. The quality is rusty, nothing like the polished Genius Built, but it's pretty damn close. “I'm goin' in!”

“Rodger that! And don't forget your promise!”

April rolls her eyes. Her heart ached to give up her Switch and lose all her progress on Persona 5 Royal—woe to the un-romanceable Yusuke—but Donnie has wanted to make her an upgrade for ages. And he will, once she gets him back. She'll get them all back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got eyes on the freak. You see the boys?”

“Not yet, can't make them out in the chaos. Maybe they've taken cover for now.”

That's... a concern. Feral or not, they're still ninjas. Their disappearance makes her nervous, but she's so close. The whistle is right there. If she's quick, she can grab it before the boys grab her.

She takes a breath. “Okay. I'm goin' in. Cover me!”

“That's a copy! Kick his ass!”

(The little twerp is growing on her. Maybe he's just playing nice with the promise of a free Switch, but hey, at least he's behaving.)

Letting out a Tarzan yell, April leaps off the last branch and collides with Animan. They roll across the dirt in a tangle of limbs, and April scrambles to grab the whistle. The maniac hisses and struggles against her. Like, actually hisses.

“Give me,” April snarls as she pulls him into a lock Splinter would be proud of, “the goddamn whistle!”

“N-Never! The world will tremble before—ow! Quit squeezing you mean little thing—!”

“Let my family and these animals go, and I won't bite your freakin' head off!”

“Family?” He bucks her off, smashing his forehead against her nose and sending her sprawling, blood spraying. Massaging his throat, her leers at her. “You think those monsters are your family? And you call me crazy! They're turtles, mutants! Humanity shuns them as easily as they abuse god's little creatures. But I can give them a place to belong! I can rule them, and in turn, we'll rule this planet! We—”

“Shut. Up.”

Wiping her nose with her sleeve—she can clean the bloodstains out later—April glares through streaming tears of pain.

“They're more than animals,” she snarls. “They're not monsters. They're more human than anyone I've ever met! They're worth a billion of you, and for all the bullshit and hate they get just for existing, they don't go 'round rantin' about changing the world or rulin' the world or whatever. They haven't 'forgotten their place' in the world, they made their own, and I'm honoured to be a part of it! They don't need another power-hungry asshole tellin' them what they can or can't be, and I don't need some trashy, wannabe supervillain tellin' me where I can or can't belong! That's our choice! And you certainly do get to use ad abuse 'god's creatures' for your agenda! None of them asked for a ruler, they don't need one! If anything, what you're doin' is worse! Also, can we talk about the genocide of the entire human race?! What is wrong with you?!”

She gets to her feet, blinks away the tears and bares her teeth. “I'm not about to let you use my little brothers to kill innocent people or let you live your stupid-ass fantasy! I'm tired, I'm pissed, and I need you to give me the freakin' whistle and let my family go before I break your goddamn teeth!”

Animan stares at her, wide-eyed. April glares back, chest heaving, eyes burning. On the comms, Baxter is silent.

April hadn't planned on expressing any heartfelt truths tonight, but hey. It's been a night.

Animan smiles. “Little brothers, eh?”

“April, turtle at three o'clock!”

Baxter's warning comes a beat too late. April turns, but Leo is on her with a shriek of primal rage.

Shit!

He slams her into the dirt, and stars dance across her vision. His claws pierce her arms where he's pinning them to the grass, spots of blood soaking through her jacket. She bites her lip against a cry, turning her head away as his jaws snap at her nose. His blank eyes bore into her, cold and lifeless. He doesn't lunge for her. Not yet.

“Leo,” April whispers. “Baby, please, you gotta fight this—”

“He's mine now.” Animan stumbles to his feet. Behind him, Donnie, Raph and Mikey emerge from the shadows. “Preach about 'family' and 'embracing their differences' all you want, but they still fell under the mystic spell. They'll always be beasts at their core. Nothing you do or say will change that.”

Leo hisses above her, fangs glistening. April sees herself in his eyes, pale and frightened beneath him. 

A part of her prays he's not conscious behind the walls of the spell. He doesn't need to see this.

She swallows the lump in her throat. “Oh, Blue...”

Animan chuckles, bringing the whistle to his lips. “Farewell.”

The whistle cuts through the air. Leo opens his jaws wide and lunges. 

April shuts her eyes and screams—

“I'll take that!”

“H-Hey what the—?!”

The whistling stops. Silence falls.

April dares to open her eyes. Leo's own wide blues stare back.

“... April?”

April blinks once, twice. “... Leo? Are you... back?”

“Think so.” He leans back, carefully retracting his claws from her arms. He looks down at his fingers, stained bloody red, and pales. “Oh. Oh my god—“ 

He scrambles off her, away from her, and vomits into a bush. April can only watch as she sits up slowly, still trembling, arms stinging and twitching beneath her.

“What the hell...?”

“What happened? Where are we?”

“April...?”

April looks over her shoulder. 

Raph rubs his head, swaying on his feet and blinking rapidly. Mikey is sitting in the grass, looking around. Donnie is on his knees looking right at her, a horror in his eyes she hasn't seen since Raph was taken over by the Krang. He looks seconds away from following Leo's lead and hurling into a bush.

The breath leaves her lungs in a rush that renders her boneless. They're back. They're back. 

“But, how...?”

“I told you,” Baxter's voice in her ear startles her, “I got your back.”

She looks past the boys. In a scene oddly reminiscent of the Lost World, Animan struggles against a small army of Mousers jumping and biting at him, keeping him pinned to the floor. He screams bloody murder as he fights to fling them off. A lone Mouser approaches April with the whistle held carefully in its mouth. Numbly, April puts her hand out, and the little robot drops the artefact into her palm before hopping away.

“I figured you could send the animals back to the zoo using that. You can destroy it afterwards, just in case some other crazy guy decides to go Planet of the Apes on our butts again. You're welcome!”

April stares at the whistle. Another lump, too big to swallow, forms in her throat as her fingers close around the mystic artefact. “Baxter,” she says thickly, “thank you.” 

A short, startled silence crackles on the other end of the comm. “... you're welcome,” Baxter says again, less smug. Then he clears his throat. “Just—don't forget about the Switch, okay? I expect it delivered to the listed address as soon as—”

“Kid,” April says with a watery laugh, “if I had the money, I'd buy you a new one. I owe you that much. Now get going before your parents ground your ass for sneaking out to fight crime. I've got it from here.”

Baxter wordlessly recalls his Mousers, all stampeding back to wherever his master is hiding, leaving Animan panting and staring wide-eyed at the sky, freshly traumatized. How a ten-year-old builds this many robots and keeps them a secret from his folks, April will never know.

“And, um, for the record?” Baxter adds awkwardly, “you... you and the turtles seem like a pretty cool family. Despite how annoying you are.”

April smirks. “Bet we are.”

With that, the connection cuts off. April tosses the comm away, stuffs the whistle in her pocket and rushes to her boys.

They've shaken off the last of the whistles' effects and have formed a circle around a shivering Leo. When April approaches, they jump, startled, and to April's horror, they shuffle away from her. Mikey and Raph have tears in their eyes. Leo hugs himself and stares at the grass. Donnie covers his head with his arms and rocks back and forth.

“... April,” Raph croaks. The poor boy looks wrecked. April can only imagine what he's feeling, taken over and forced to fight his family again. “April, I—we're—we're so sorry, we—are you okay? Did we hurt you, did we—d-did I—?”

Nope, no, absolutely not. 

She doesn't let him finish, stomping the distance between them. They flinch again, but they don't go far as April lifts her sore arms to gently cup Raph's face between her palms. He stiffens under her touch, gaping. April looks deep into his eyes—bright and alive, as they should be and always have been—and pours every ounce of love into her smile.

“It's okay, Big Guy.” She caresses his damp cheeks with her thumbs. “You're okay. I'm okay. It'll be alright now. It's over.”

Raph's face crumples. His giant hands grab her wrists—careful, always so careful—as he leans in fully against her, bumping their foreheads.

“But—but we nearly killed you.” Leo's quiet whimper draws her eyes back to the younger three still huddled on the grass. Leo's still pale, still shaking, blood-tipped fingers twitching and flapping in distress as his breathing picks up. “I—I almost killed you, April! I hurt you, I—oh my god, I tried to eat you—!”

“Shh, no, no baby, you didn't,” April lets Raph go and drops to her knees to pull Leo in for a crushing embrace. He goes limp against her and shudders against a sob. “You didn't. It was the whistle and that asshole who made you do it.” She draws back enough to take Leo's chin in her palm and bring his head up to meet her eyes. “What did we say to Raph all those weeks ago? It wasn't him. Not then, and certainly not now. I know you boys. You would never hurt me. You would never.”

She looks at all of them. Donnie has stopped rocking, lifting his face from his knees to look at her. Her eyes stinging again, she beams at them. “I dunno if you heard my incredibly emotional speech from earlier, but I meant every word. You're not monsters. You're my boys. We're a family, no matter what. Ain't nobody can tell us otherwise, and there ain't nothin' in this world that can keep me from loving the hell out of you.”

It takes a second longer than she'd like, but sure enough, they launch themselves at her for the hundredth time tonight, this time to squeeze the life out of her in a crushing turtle group hug. Even Donnie gets in on it, nuzzling his snout into her tangled hair. She giggles through her wheezing, nosing Mikey's cheek until he's giggling, too. Leo chirps against her chest. Behind her, Raph lets out a soothing rumble.

There, in the centre of her bale, the family she found and made space just for her, she feels safe.

Then Animan groans behind them.

She feels the turtles twitch, their heads whipping to stare at him as he tries to find his feet, dazed and confused. He freezes when he meets their gazes.

The turtles narrow their eyes.

Animan sweats. “... um... shall we let bygones be bygones?”

Raph growls. Leo hisses.

April, however, grins. “Hey, Donnie,” she says casually, craning her neck to look up at the soft shell—they haven't let go of her yet. “Remember what I said about non-lethal parameters?”

Animan sweats harder.

“Forget 'em. Go rip his spleen outta his ass. I'll round up the animals.”

Donnie grins like the Grinch on his way to steal Christmas. “Nothing would make me happier, dear Apricot. However, I believe my brothers also have a bone to pick with this good fellow. What say you, brethren?”

Animan slips on the grass, soaked with his sweat, to get to his feet.

Raph and Leo beam. “Oh, absolutely,” Raph chuckles as they all rise to their feet, letting April go.

“There are two hundred and six bones in the average human body. Why stop at one?” Leo adds, rolling his shoulders. “In fact, why not double them.”

April's pretty sure Animan just pissed himself.

“Aw, don't worry, Mr Animan! Dr Delicate Touch makes house calls!” Mikey chimes.

April turns just as the turtles lunge. She doesn't look back as she gathers up the confused animals wandering the park with a soft blow of the whistle, not even when Animan starts screaming bloody murder.

“Mercy!”

“Nope! You nearly made me eat our big sister!”

“Where the hell do you think you're—get yer pasty ass back here—”

“Dr Delicate Touch ain't done with you yet, I gotta reset your arm—!”

“Sit still! I have to beat you 'til you have a birth of cactuses outta your asshole!”

“That's physically impossible!”

“Ooh, then guess what!”

“Help me!”

April grins around the whistle and leads the animals back to the zoo. Her wild little brothers can wait a bit longer.

---

Reblogs are appreciated!

Feel free to send more requests! I love writing for these boys <3

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #request #my writing #HOW THE HELL DID THIS TURN INTO SUCH A FREAKING BEAST I DO NOT UNDERSTAND #Also i'm not too happy with this but I like the ending XD