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whaddayadothatfor · 11 months

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Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

#marvel x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #marvel smut #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spider man smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac smut #y/n

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thyming · 8 months

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Some ideas on how to (re-)connect with nature ♡

⭑ Take a walk through the forest or a park, don't use your phone or listen to music, rather listen to the sounds of nature actively. What can you hear?

⛤ Collect some leaves, rocks, pine cones, feathers or anything else that you think is pretty! Maybe use your bounty to decorate your home with it?

⭑ Go touch some grass! No, this is not a joke, let's go feel the grass between your fingers and toes.

⛤ Try to find some flowers and smell them, what can you compare the scents with? Preferably, go outside and find wild flowers instead if bought ones!

⭑ Take a bath in a lake or dip your hands and feet into the water (a river is perfect, too!) Close your eyes and just feel the water.

⛤ Have a little picnic on a meadow, at the lake, in the forest or at any other peaceful spot. It's a date with yourself and with nature!

⭑ If this is an option for you: do some gardening work. Get your hands all dirty with earth and mud!

⛤ Pick some wild flowers from a meadow and make a little bouquet with them. (But please don't rip out the roots!)

⭑ Talk to the trees. Yes, this sounds silly but a tree is a perfect listener and companion if you need to talk something off of your chest.

⛤ Watch the sunset or sunrise. Enjoy this magical moment. How many colors can you spot?

⭑ Get some houseplants and take good care of them every day. (If you have pets, make sure your new friends are not poisonous for them!)

⛤ Observe. What kind of birds, plants, flowers and trees can you find in your environment? What kind of animals can you meet in the forest nearby? (Maybe write your observations down in a notebook!)

⭑ Lay down on some moss, grass or sand and just exist and feel how the earth carries you.

⛤ Go plant some flowers!

⭑ Spend some time in nature without social media (maybe leave your phone at home!)

⛤ Take a walk in the rain and / or dance in the rain.

⭑ Watch a thunderstorm from a safe spot

⛤ Craft a moss jar (these are so cute and perfect if you want some more nature in your own home!)

⭑ Keep little jars or flasks of the elements in your home (examples: earth - moss/earth/sand, water - water from a lake/river or collected rain water, air - a feather, fire - ashes, a used match)

⛤ Be more attentive to your environment: when do you notices changes in the seasons?

⭑ Have a self-love day, because you are a part of nature as well and deserve your own love!

⛤ Try to actively appreciate nature: be more thankful for the food, the water, the warmth nature provides us

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mistydeyes · 9 months

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oh my gosh congrats!!! 1k is absolutely insane and you deserve it!! for the prompts maybe gold and/or uniforms with Price? I have become an excessive price girlie since I followed you and I'm so here for it (and also for how well your write all the boys tbh) congrats again <333

@hxad-ovxr-hxart with the most heartwarming compliments as always! thank you so much for all your support and i'm glad that you've come to the dark side of being a price girl HAHA we love our favorite commanding officer (like look at how he SMILES)

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompts: gold - a small gifted ring as a token of your love and uniforms - they sure clean up well as you look at them in their dress uniform

pairing: John Price x fem!reader

warning: swearing!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

gold

"John, love, you don't always have to give me a gift before you leave," you chuckled as he excitedly entered your home with a small bag. Whether it was houseplants, a boxed set of a new television series, or expensive scotch (one that he made you promise not to drink in his absence), he always gave you a small token of his love. It was a sentimental gesture as it was his way of promising to return home to you. "I think you'll like this one," he said and kissed you gently before joining you on the couch.

He rested an arm around your shoulder as you unwrapped the delicate packaging. You neatly folded the pastel tissue paper and unveiled two velvet boxes. "Now what do we have here," you alluded as John watched you intently. You opened the first box to reveal a gorgeous gold band engraved with an intricate floral design and delicate diamonds. You twisted it in your fingers as you admired the twinkle the ring showed in the warm living room light. "Look on the inside," he whispered as he joined your admiration. You turned the ring and saw he had engraved the ring with, "to come home." You were confused at first at the truncated phrase until John encouraged you to open the other box. You opened it to reveal a simplistic gold band, one more fit for his fingers than yours. To his instruction, you turned the ring and gently read the words out loud. "A promise," you began to say as you looked at him. "To come home," he finished and you were at a loss for words.

You kissed him softly in response and as a token of your appreciation. You placed the ring on your finger and admired it as you fell into his arms. "This is beautiful, John," you said softly, "thank you." He wrapped his strong arms around you and placed his hands on top of yours. As you both looked at the shining bands, you were beaming with love and happiness. "Thought it was time I got you a promise ring," he said and kissed your forehead gently. You wish the moment never ended as you sat peacefully, knowing he would be gone the next day. However, one thought was still on your mind. "At first I thought it was an engagement ring," you thought allowed and you could hear the hearty baritones of John's laugh. "Sweetheart, I'll give you the entire universe for our proposal," he began to say as you looked up at him, "and I'll be damned if I let you unwrap it yourself." You smiled at the words, "our proposal", as you fell more in love. "I'll be sure to hold you to that promise."

uniforms

To date, graduation from the Army Foundation College was one of your favorite events. You loved seeing the smiling faces of family members as they saw the newest members of the British Army. It always reminded you of the moment when you saw your proud parents excitedly wave to you amongst the crowd. However, the constant missions of the 141, meant you were not always privy to attend but miraculously the team had made it home in one piece and you were preparing for the day.

Ghost had graciously allowed everyone to stay at his home and you were trying your best to be a respectful guest. However, not everyone was on the same page as it had been quite some time since you dressed in your service attire. First, you were awoken by a half-dressed Soap complaining his pants no longer fit. "Fucking hell, just squeeze into them," you yelled as you groggily got up. "Curse these thighs," he replied and exited the room. Next was Gaz who always seemed to forget the order of his badges and various medals. You helped to adjust his regalia as you could hear Ghost and Price begin to wake and start their routine. "Where's your silver one, Garrick?" you asked as you noticed it missing. "I don't have one," he replied confidently and you rolled your eyes. "Yes you do, it's the Special Air Service one," you corrected and soon the room was thrown into chaos as he searched for it.

After the two Sergeants were finally dressed, you had the time to put on your skirt and adjust your tie. You gently left your khaki jacket hanging as you went to check on your superiors. You knocked on Price's door as it was the first one at the end of the hallway. "Captain, are you ready?" you asked and he called for you to enter. Despite having the same generic uniform as everyone in the house, you couldn't deny he looked undeniably handsome in the attire. The only exception was the belts. You, him, and Ghost had the signature brown belt and sash that set you apart from the other ranks. From his back facing you, you could see it still fit him well and his face in the mirror showed he had given his facial hair a much-needed shave and comb. He turned to you with a lopsided tie and a dashing smile. "Let me fix that for you," you said kindly and enclosed the space as your delicate fingers adjusted the tie to a presentable position. You couldn't help but notice the expensive cologne he had put on as well as his quickened breaths at your sudden touch. "It's been a while," he joked and you joined in the laughter. "I played mother this morning to the Sergeants," you said while rolling your eyes. "Those muppets," he replied and went to pick up his beret. He held it in his hands as he allowed you to exit down the stairs.

Upon your entrance, you couldn't help but smile at the three prim and proper men in front of you. "Would have never pictured this when were face down in the mud," you remarked and went to put on your jacket. They all laughed and returned with banter as you buttoned your coat and buckled the brown belt along with the sash. You were adjusting the beret on your head when Price walked over to you. "Missed a button, Lieutenant," he remarked and you could feel your breath hitch as he looped the button together and smoothed out your jacket. "Thanks, Captain," you said, hopefully not exposing your small crush on your superior. "Alright, who's driving?" Soap called out and you laughed before following Price and Ghost. "Thanks, Captain," Gaz teasingly said as he walked behind you. "Didn't know blush was part of the uniform," Soap joined in and as you groaned, you hoped that Price was ignorant to their blatant teasing.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #price imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

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grubloved · 11 months

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i see a lot of art filled with plants, like, in the american art scene there seems to be a kind of general movement towards and appreciation of ruined structures being overtaken by nature. offices full of dead computers and leaves. walls with ivy. old factories crawling with new growth. a symbol of degrowth, of new futures that devour and reject colonial modernism, of a refutation of the tyranny over land. it's a nice sentiment.

but consistently im noticing something odd, which is that over and over the plants depicted in art are very familiar -- they're houseplants. pothos. monstera. calathea. zamioculcas. plants growing in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the wrong climate, a mishmash of unrelated folks with far-flung origins symbolizing "natural" retaking of the modern world.

plants, specifically, that are directly tied to the legacy of colonialism. from northern africa. from southern america. from india. plants that were collected as curios during periods of direct imperialism. plants kept as trophies, plants sold at high prices. plants that are "exotic". that are beautiful. that are high-value. plants whose people got no payment for their capture.

they're the plants people in american colonial territory, who lack access to native plant community, see most often -- that is, other than "weeds". and so when these artists reach for the pure idea of plant, the concept of nature, these plants are their only blueprint. dragging with them all of the baggage of hundreds of years of empire.

it's incredible how much this changes the messaging of the image. dreams of ecological participation stained with a creeping theme of alienation from their native biosphere. the thumbprint of colonialism, clear as day. a hopeful vision of the future, kneecapped by its own symbology. hundreds of individual artists so alienated from their own ecosystems that even their fantasy of participation with nature is inextricable from colonialist trophies. trying to imagine reclaiming the world.

#it distinctly makes me sad.#and it's either that or southwestern americans fantasizing about beds of moss and soaring old growth...#birdenest #scraps book #we don't have to live alone!

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halfmoth-halfman · 10 months

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and i wanna kiss you, make you feel alright

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: sickness, established relationship, just fluff A/N: big thanks to @writeforfandoms for helping me figure out what kind of spider reader would be and giving me the motivation to finish this fic!! 💜 if you want to read some fun facts about the spider reader is based on, there's a little blurb at the bottom of the fic!!

You wake with a massive headache, your body sluggish, and legs heavy. You can feel your veins throbbing, fighting against every tiny movement.

It’s your own fault. You should’ve expected this after last night.

(It was foolish to think the night would be easy, but the worst you’d heard of for the first few hours was two muggings and a car thief. You’d let yourself slip into a false sense of security, and that little mistake had allowed Scorpion to catch you off guard.

Still, you weren't one of Miguel's best agents for no reason.

Using your speed to your advantage, you slipped from Scorpion’s grasp and dodged his next swing, taking off across the rooftops in large leaps.

He’s a brutal fighter, always preferring to be up close and personal, and you knew that. You'd let him land a few good hits—let him think he was winning.

He struck again, fist coming at you from the right as his tail swung down. You dropped to the ground, dodging his fist, and rolled just in time for his stinger to lodge into the ground next to your head.

You jumped to your feet, wrapping your limbs around the length of the stinger before the pale green of your suit flexed and the barbs on your legs stabbed into him. Scorpion shouted in pain, dislodging his stinger from the concrete and swinging wildly. The barbs gave you purchase, keeping you attached as venom coursed through your veins, down the barbs, and into his body.

It took a minute for the venom to take effect as he slammed you down into the hard ground, and you forced more out in a moment of panic. It happened two more times before he finally lost control, and the paralysis took over.

Retracting your barbs, you pulled away and stood, his eyes watching you with nothing but unbridled fury. You got to work on wrapping him up in your webbing to be left as a nice present for the cops and called it a night once you spot the flashing lights on the streets below.)

You should’ve known something was wrong by the soreness in your body when you went to bed, but you’d ignored it.

Now you’re paying the price.

You take it easy for the day, not bothering to change out of your pajamas as you relax in your apartment and tend to your extensive collection of houseplants.

It doesn’t go away. If anything, you feel worse in the afternoon, fighting to keep your lunch down. You’re two seconds away from giving up and going back to bed when your watch pings, and the hologram of Jessica Drew blocks your hallway.

“Wow, you look rough.”

“Nice to see you too, Jess.” You grimace a smile, moving around her to head for your bedroom.

“Are you okay?” she asks, following you down the hall, her visage passing through the ivy hanging from the ceiling. She watches you flop face-first onto your bed, body half hanging from the mattress.

“Not really,” you mumble, voice muffled by your pillow. You turn to face her, head pounding so hard you can feel it behind your eyes. “Unless you need me for something?”

"You can barely get up," Jess scoffs, a hand on her hip. "You think you can fight right now?"

"Could always use me as bait," you suggest with a weak smile. "All I'd have to do is lay there, and I'm pretty good at that."

"You're not going anywhere."

It's an order, not a request, and one you greatly appreciate.

But there's still that little nagging voice that makes you feel guilty for inconveniencing someone, so you have to ask, "You sure you can handle—"

"You questioning my ability?" Jess snaps. It's playful, not malicious. A raised brow and confident smirk.

"No, ma'am."

“Didn’t think so. You just take it easy for the day, and I’ll check in on you later.” She taps away at her watch, turning to head back down your hallway.

“Sure thing—” you throw a lazy, slightly painful thumbs up, “—Do me a favor, though?”

Jess pauses, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell Miguel. You know how he gets.”

Jess rolls her eyes, muttering something you don’t quite catch.

“I won’t say anything, but you know he’s gonna find out, right?”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

“Just get some rest,” she laughs with a slight shake of her head before heading down your hallway.

“Yes, ma’am.”

"And stop calling me ma'am!"

Orange illuminates your hallway in quick, vibrant flashes and Jess is gone.

You’re startled awake by the faint sound of plastic rattling in your kitchen.

It’s late, the only light in your room, the pale glow of moonlight flooding in through your window. You push yourself onto your side, body protesting the entire way as you roll to face your wide open door and the silhouette of your plants against the light from the kitchen.

You tuck your arm against your chest, wrists and webs aimed at the hallway waiting for this intruder to make their appearance.

Just because you can barely move doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself.

The kitchen light turns off, and your apartment is encased in darkness. You blink once, twice, three times, and your vision clears, adjusting flawlessly to pitch black. You lie in wait, listening for footsteps and watching for the briefest movements.

The hallway ivy gently swings, and Miguel appears from your kitchen, dressed down in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He walks down the hall, a glass in one hand and batting at the drooping plants with the other.

You let out a long exhale, relaxing into the bed as he waltzes into your room.

“What’re you doing here?” you rasp, voice soft and sleep-filled.

“Jess said you were sick,” Miguel states as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Of course, she did.

“I’m not si–what are you doing?” You watch as Miguel sets the glass on your nightstand, then leans down and crawls over you to settle behind you on your bed.

“Bringing you water?” he scoffs. You feel the bed dip and shake with his movements but have no energy to turn to figure out what the hell he’s doing. “Brought you some soup, too. I thought you were asleep, so I put it in the fridge.”

“I don’t need soup.”

“You’re sick. When you’re sick, you eat soup.”

“It’s not that kind of sick.”

The bed stills as Miguel pauses. A beat of silence before, “How bad is it?”

“Not sure,” you sigh, and the bed shifts again. This time Miguel slides his arm under your knees, the other looping around your torso to lift you up and help you sit up against your headboard.

“Scorpion caught me by surprise,” you explain, watching him pull your legs into his lap so he can roll up the legs of your loose pajama pants and trail his fingers along your skin–a touch you barely feel. “I think I overdid it.”

“How do you feel?” Miguel asks, focused solely on his inspection of your legs.

“Heavy.”

He hums, nodding more to himself than to you. He stops when he gets to your left thigh, giving a sharp inhale.

“Found a small cut. Got a bunch of green and yellow veins around it,” he mutters. “Think your venom might’ve got in.”

Well, that would explain it.

You groan out your frustration, and Miguel rolls your pajamas back down. He turns to you with a small, barely there half-smile of sympathy. “You need anything?”

“Nah, it’ll wear off in a day or two,” you sigh with a sad attempt at a shrug.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I think I know how my own venom works, babe.”

“So stubborn sometimes,” he mutters, shaking his head. You huff out a laugh, using what little strength you have to nudge him with your knee.

“Look who’s talking,” you tease. He rolls his eyes, but you see the corners of his mouth quirk as he fights back a smile. You open your mouth to continue, and hopefully coax out that handsome smile he so rudely keeps hidden from you, but a long yawn stretches out from your throat instead.

“Think I’m gonna go back to sleep,” you mumble, eyes already heavy and sliding shut. “You can go back if you need to.”

“Jess can handle things for a day or two,” Miguel argues, sliding your legs from his lap to help you lay down.

“I’ll be fine, Miguel. I promise.”

“I know you will,” he states, lying down next to you, “because I’ll be here to make sure of it.” He’s using his bossy voice, leaving no room for argument. You'd find it incredibly hot if you weren’t feeling so awful.

“So stubborn sometimes,” you laugh, eyes shut as you pitch your voice lower in a poor impression of him.

“I thought you were tired,” he scoffs.

You peek one eye open, a teasing smirk crawling across your face. “Tired? When I have such a handsome man in my bed? How could–”

You let out a very undignified squeak as Miguel uses his strength to roll you over and face you away from him. You don’t have the chance to argue as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight against his chest to bury his face into your neck.

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d be worried you’d annoyed him, but you know it’s only his attempt to avoid a compliment and hide the redness in his cheeks.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles against you, a soft shiver shooting across your neck. You relent, allowing him the reprieve from your teasing and letting your body rest.

You teeter on the edge of sleep, slowly moving your hand to rest over the arm around your hips and relaxing into the warm body behind you. “Goodnight, Miguel.”

The last thing you hear is a soft goodnight, with the gentle caress of Miguel weaving his fingers through your own.

some spider facts!

✧ this reader is based on the lynx spider, or more specifically, the genus Peucetia!

Using your speed to your advantage, you slipped from Scorpion’s grasp and dodged his next swing, taking off across the rooftops in large leaps.

✧ lynx spiders are known for being very speedy runners and exceptional leapers!

You jumped to your feet, wrapping your limbs around the length of the stinger before the pale green of your suit flexed and the barbs on your legs stabbed into him.

✧ lynx spiders have large spiny bristles on their legs and in many species the bristles form almost a basket-like structure that may assist in confining the prey that they grasp, and protect the spider from its struggles.

✧ now normally, it's the female lynx spiders that will "spit" venom that can cause a type of paralysis, however i changed it up a little to have it come from the barbs just to keep it a little more gender neutral.

You take it easy for the day, not bothering to change out of your pajamas as you relax in your apartment and tend to your extensive collection of houseplants.

✧ lynx spiders are known to frequent flowers, often times using their green coloring to hide along the stalks so they can ambush pollinators

✧ lynx spiders have very keen eyesight that they rely on when stalking, chasing, or ambushing prey, and also in avoiding enemies.

“Found a small cut. Got a bunch of green and yellow veins around it,” he mutters. “Think your venom might’ve got in.”

✧ just a little nod to the green and yellow coloring lynx spiders will often have to help them blend in against flower stalks

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse fics #moth writes

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borathae · 2 years

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“You recieve flowers from another boy and Jungkook doesn’t like that you do. He doesn’t like it at all.”

Pairing: husband!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, domestic Fluff, slight Smut

Warnings: jealous!Koo, whiney!Koo, dom!Reader, mommy kink, talks about cockwarming & edging, allusions to shower sex & sex on an office desk, listen this is cuter than one may think, the Fluff in here just hits right

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: this is just something short and sweet about the aaol!couple. I feel like this is 100% something Kook would do because he’s competitive like that :( haha please they are so adorable, I just wanna smooch them both 🥺💗

Jungkook had his free day today, playing house husband while you were busy with college. Normally the two of would have spend his free day together, going on dates and having way too much sex, but your midterms were coming up and you needed today to study with some of your classmates. Jungkook was very sad about it, but didn’t let it show because he wanted to be supportive. He knows how much you love studying and he would never want to be the reason why you failed your midterms. So he accepted his fate in silence and decided to be your helpful house husband (quite literally husband) for the day.

He cleaned every room in the penthouse thoroughly, did the laundry, stored said laundry away after folding it neatly, took care of your shared houseplants, went grocery shopping and then it was already time for him to start preparing dinner.

He follows a French recipe today. Something with lots of finesse and perfectly balanced flavours. His goal was to impress you.

You text him in the middle of his preparations.

Jungkook turns off the water, abandoning the aubergines he washed before to dry his hands on his pants and reach for his phone. He falters for a second to stare at his lock screen picture. It’s a candid snapshot from your wedding of you and him kissing on the dance floor. His sister took the picture and sent it to him. He loves that picture. Smiling, he unlocks his phone and taps on your chat.

- My Love ♡: leaving campus now, should be home by seven

- My Love ♡: ❤

Jungkook smiles. You don’t use emojis in your texts, but you always make sure to at least send him a heart because you know that he likes getting them. Jungkook appreciates this little gesture so much.

He answers you with a fluttering heart.

- Jungkook: okey dokey ^*^ I'm cooking French tonight ❤

Your answer comes seconds later.

- My Love ♡: can’t wait

- My Love ♡: my best Bunny ❤

"Stop", Jungkook gasps then bursts into uncontrollable giggles as he bounces around the kitchen. He hugs his phone to his chest, bursting in happiness. He's your best Bunny.

Quick! He has to text you back and tell you how much he loves you!

- Jungkook: I love you Mommy *•*

- Jungkook: ❤❤❤

He waits with bated breath for what you will answer him.

- My Love ♡: I love you too Bunny ❤

Jungkook giggles, almost going up in flames from how happy he feels. He spends the rest of his dinner preparations singing happy songs and dancing.

He also ends up changing out of his grubby sweat suit into a blue jeans and jumper combination. A beige apron is keeping it from getting dirty, accentuating his petite waist as a bonus point. Jungkook hopes that you will like his clothes.

He just finished setting up the table when the familiar ding of the elevator opening rings through the penthouse.

Jungkook is tingling in excitement, leaving the kitchen in big steps to greet you by the door.

"Oh, hey there Bunny", you greet him first, flashing him an eye smile. You carry a bouquet of flowers in your hands.

"You got me flowers?" he gasps, then runs to hug you, "thank you so much. I love them", he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

He kisses the spot softly, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume.

"Oh dear", you chuckle, "I actually received them from someone, but you can have them if you want to", you tell him, caressing his lower back.

"What?" Jungkook breaks away, "someone gave you flowers? Who?"

"Hyunjin, you know the boy who's in the same human studies class than me."

"Hyunjin? The handsome one?"

Jungkook watches you shrug off your coat and then slip out of your shoes. You store both in their supposed location. The flowers are still in your hold as you do.

"I don't know. I never really thought about whether he's handsome or not”, you tell him.

"Isn’t he the one who's younger than you?"

"Yeah, that’s him."

"Ah."

So that terribly handsome and intelligent and younger man, who just so happens to call you noona on top of it, gave you flowers. Jungkook doesn’t feel so good about dinner anymore or the evening as a whole. As a matter of fact, he feels kind of poopy.

"Yeah, it was a thank you present because I helped him with getting his notes in order. It’s very sweet of him."

"Mhm-hm yeah sure, it is."

"I just hope they didn’t have to suffer too much on my way home. I'll just quickly put them into water and then you have to show me what you cooked because it smells amazing. I kid you not, I’m so excited. Your cooking’s always amazing, love", you call out as you disappear in the hallway leading to your office.

Jungkook stomps off with a pout and his stomach tight in jealousy. Stupid Hyunjin and stupid flowers and stupid studying. He regrets not saying anything to you this morning. He should have said something and made you stay with him. Stupid supportiveness and stupid Hyunjin and stupid college. He begins plating the food, doing so rather groggily. Stupid food and stupid plates and stupid pots and stupid decorations and stupid Hyunjin and stupid flowers. Stupid everything. Everything is stupid.

Arms snake around his waist then, hands feel up his pecs. Jungkook tenses up, but continues pouting.

"You look so handsome, Bunny. I love the clothes”, you tell him, rounding him all while keeping your arms locked with him tightly, “your waist looks so good in that apron.”

You appear in his vision, smiling at him. Your fingers brush his cheek in a soft caress, your thumb outlines his upper lip for just a second.

“I missed you so much today, love”, you tell him.

Jungkook lowers his eyes. Stupid heart. Stupid, stupid heart being so stupid because it’s being so stupid and jealous.

“I missed you too”, he mumbles and then with a huff of air he rests his chin on your shoulder and hugs your middle.

“Gosh, you’re so cute”, you say, caressing his back, “you know that we have to make up for our lost date today? I want you all to myself for the rest of the day.”

“Me too”, he says. The attention feels good and makes the jealousy a little easier to bear, but somehow it still doesn’t go away. As a matter of fact, it will stay with him for the rest of the evening. Even when later during your movie night you become bored and decide to warm his cock instead while leaving kisses all over his neck. Or even farther down the line when you have reduced him to a sweaty and breathless mess with an edged cock and way too much cum to spare. Or even later when he could finally show off all the cum when you jerk him off from behind as the hot water of your shared shower steams up the entire bathroom and makes his body burn up.

Even when you have long found your snuggle spot under the blankets and Jungkook can fall asleep as your big spoon, there was still a twinge of jealousy in the deepest pits of his stomach.

He did one thing however. He didn’t let it show. Not once. He could have brought it up, most definitely should have, but he didn’t. The evening was just too nice to ruin it with his stupid feelings and you were too sweet to accuse you of something you have no fault in. He regrets it once you have fallen asleep and he is left with his racing thoughts of Hyunjin seducing you with his handsome face and young mind and jokes. At one point he even imagined you and that dude making out in class and Jungkook felt so outraged in jealousy that he almost woke you up just to beg you to never ever to do that. He ended up not waking you because he felt way too silly.

So come the next morning and you leave him with a kiss and a "it'll get late again today", Jungkook feels as if his chance to be honest has long passed. So he kisses you back and wishes you a good day. The part where he also wishes that you wouldn’t meet that Hyunjin guy today, he keeps to himself.

It is almost eight when you come home that day. Jungkook knows, as you texted him. Just as he knows that you will be bringing home two big servings of Rambokki and vanilla ice cream.

"Bunny! I'm home!" you call out.

Jungkook appears a few seconds later, still dressed in his business suit and with the same hairstyle he had this morning. As handsome as always, managing to make your heart flutter.

"Hey my love", he greets you with a kiss, "how was your day?"

"Good, good. I made lots of progress."

"Yeah? That’s great to hear. Did you study alone today?"

"No, it was the same group as yesterday."

"Ah. So Hyunjin was there too?"

"Yup, but only for two hours then he had to leave for soccer practice."

"Ah soccer, I bet he must be really muscular then."

You give him a look, "I can't really….tell…I haven’t really looked at him…that..way..Bunny what's going on? Why are you talking so weirdly?"

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, "nothing's going on. I was just curious”, he explains nonchalantly, helping you slip out of your coat and storing it away for you.

"Okay? Are you sure?"

He nods his head, "yup totally."

He takes the plastic containers of Rambokki from you, carrying them to the kitchen for you.

“I see that you didn’t get any presents today. Sad”, he says.

“Yeah..no, I didn’t… Jungkook are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep, everything’s okay. I was just curious”, he dismisses you nonchalantly.

You follow him, studying him with wary eyes. Something is up. He is acting so weird with all those questions he is asking. It’s not like him to act that way.

"Do you want to talk about something, Kook?" you offer.

"Huh?" he turns, "ah no, I don’t."

You squint your eyes at him in disbelief.

"I wanna show you something", he says and takes your hand, "come with me. It��s in your office."

"Okay?" you follow him, "seriously Kook, what's going on? You’re so weird today."

"Just wait. I'll show you."

He stops in front of your office and turns to you.

"Close your eyes."

“Not until you tell me why you’re acting so weird.”

“No, please close your eyes”, he insists with a pout.

“Fine”, you give in with a sigh, “I’ll close my eyes.”

You allow him to lead you inside with his hands on your shoulders. It seems that he positions you in the middle of the room. Then he steps back, but keeps his hand on your lower back.

"Okay, open them."

You do, having to stumble back in pure shock.

"Holy fuck- what the- oh my god!" you exclaim.

Your entire office is filled with flowers. Dozens and dozens of bouquets, intricately done flower statues, potted flowers. All placed in a well thought through place to make everything work together. They were all big, clearly done by an expert and in the middle of them all, sitting on your office desk in your measly vase are the flowers of your classmate. Placed there solely to be outshined by everything else.

"Jungkook" you press out, turning to him.

He is grinning, carrying triumph in his eyes.

"Isn’t that nice? Now that's what I call a flower surprise. See? That’s how it's done."

This is the moment when everything shifts into place for you.

"Oh my god Jungkook, you’re jealous", you exclaim.

He widens his eyes as if caught red handed.

"No?" he laughs panicky, "I just wanted to surprise my wife, because you’re my wife and as your husband it’s my right to give you flowers? I’m not jealous?"

You scoff, "ah yes of course and it’s not because handsome, muscular Hyunjin gave me flowers last night."

"Don't call him that", Jungkook complains loudly, exposing himself right here and there.

You give him a knowing grin, "see? You’re not at all jealous. Of course not."

Jungkook huffs out air, "fine, whatever", he gives up, "can you blame me when you gush about how sweet he is? It’s not even a good bouquet. Look at it”, he points at it, “pathetic”, he says with a scrunched up nose, “the flowers don't fit together at all and it’s way too small."

You snicker, "oh excuse him and his tiny student money budget. Not everyone has way too much money to spend on flowers."

"Stop defending him", Jungkook whines, stomping his foot.

He is adorable and if his eyes weren’t carrying so much seriousness, you probably would have snickered.

"I'm not, I’m not", you say, grabbing his waist with a certain strength to it, "hey Kook, I’m not defending him. You’re my only one, you know that, don’t you?"

Jungkook pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You give his waist a soft squeeze and lean in to kiss his cheek.

"Hm?" you stress, giving him the fondest gaze ever, "do you know that you're my best and only Bunny?"

Jungkook crumbles instantly, scrunching his nose up and blushing vividly. He sways his shoulder from side to side, giggling cutely.

"Yeah, I know", he says, beaming at you.

“You do? Then tell me.”

“I’m your best Bunny”, he says through his giggles.

“And?”

“And I’m your only Bunny”, he murmurs, hiding his face behind his sweater paws now that he feels way too giddy and shy.

"Good", you chuckle, caressing his sides, "gosh, you stupid noodle why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"I don't know. I felt stupid and didn’t wanna ruin last night because it was so much fun."

"Mhm, I see. Maybe you should have because goddamn Kook, those are so many flowers."

"I know right?" he sounds triumphantly cocky again, "I chose all of them myself. That’s what you get from me. I could do this all day, every day."

You laugh. He is so adorable when he tries to show off in order to impress you.

"Please don’t, we'll drown in flowers if you do."

He snickers, “fine, but if that Hyungjing dude keeps giving you flowers, I have to.”

You know that he messed up his name on purpose.

“Hah”, you laugh, “fine, message received. You stupid noodle.”

You turn to him and twist his tie, keeping one hand on his waist. One tug and he is snug against you, looking at you with big eyes and his throat moving in a gulp.

"Thank you so much for the flowers, Bunny", you tug him down so your lips would be close to touching, "you're such a good boy for me. Makes me wanna reward you."

Jungkook whines, grabbing your waist to knead it desperately.

"Mommy what, what about the Rambokki?"

“What about them?” you tease, knowing very well what Jungkook is trying to insinuate here. You want the same thing. After all, it is an outrage that your beloved husband thinks that you would ever replace him for someone like your classmate. It is your duty as his loving wife to wipe those worries from his brain.

“They’ll get cold”, he says breathily, drawing closer and moaning softly when he feels your hand grab his ass roughly.

"We'll just warm them up later", you say, swooping him off his feet by pressing him against your desk. But not before you swept your classmate's flowers on the floor in a quick movement, making sure that Jungkook saw with just how little respect you did it.

Jungkook moans, falling on top of the desk with wobbly knees and a dizzy head. He spreads his legs, aching to have you right between them.

"First, I’m gonna have to eat you up", you rasp, pulling him snug against you.

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ekingston · 2 years

Note

For the ask game:

Supercorp fic where Lena runs a popular webseries/blog about plants and plant care and Kara (one of her avid subscribers) is absolutely hapless when it comes to keeping plants alive and is constantly asking Lena for help only to fail spectacularly. Lena is *convinced* Kara is fucking with her on purpose, and kinda sorta hates her virtual guts

(Now also on a03.)

Lena isn’t naive.

When she made the decision to set up a discord server for her plant vlog’s followers, she knew there was a possibility things might get messy. After all, even while remaining anonymous — she can practically hear her PR team screaming at the idea of Lena Luthor running her own verified social media account — her comment section has always been 45% earnest compliments and questions from beginner botanists and 55% unabashed thirst over her sexy hands and soothing voice. Lena imagined any possible frustration caused by having to sidestep the occasional untoward overture would be worth the satisfaction she gets from teaching fellow hobbyists to take better care of their plants. It’s nice to feel like she’s being appreciated, for a change, to be allowed to play hero in a small way, different from L-Corp’s high-stakes idealism or Supergirl’s histrionic stunts.

(She still hasn’t managed to set up a meeting with National City’s super-powered alien in residence, but she’s certain it will be any day now.)

Lena couldn’t have predicted that the most aggravating individual on her server wouldn’t turn out to be a persistent suitor, but rather a member of the plant-loving minority.

If the violence this ‘Kvers’ person routinely inflicts on their houseplants can be considered love.

Why are my plant’s leaves yellowing? had been this idiot’s first, innocuous ask. Moments later, they’d followed it up with a picture of the brown, crisp remains of what Lena had only vaguely recognized must at one point have been a vibrant green ZZ plant.

Because it’s fucking dead, Lena had wanted to reply, suggesting instead Is it possible it’s near a window where it gets too much direct light?

My place does get a good amount of sun, Kvers had responded. I kind of prefer it that way. Lena had given her a list of plants that would fare better in those conditions, and hoped that would be that.

But it didn't end there; it’s actually only gotten worse. Kvers is in Lena’s notifications what feels like every other day now with fresh doubts and queries. Why do you even have plants, Lena is tempted to respond half the time, when it’s obvious you’re too much of a moron to even be trusted to take care of yourself?

Are banana plants supposed to tear this easily? comes the next question, combined with a picture of a Dwarf Cavendish that looks to have been ripped to shreds by a wind stronger than the average tornado.

“What the fuck,” Lena mumbles to herself. Some tearing is to be expected, they’re pretty frail, she replies, before snapping and adding I advise placing it a little further away from that jet engine you must have set up in your living room, however in a disgruntled huff.

Kvers sends her only a 😳 in response.

A fresh victim is presented to her a few days later, along with Kvers’s desperate plea of Can this little guy still be saved?

Pictured is the saddest Boston fern Lena has seen in her entire life: it’s bruised grey-brown and beige where it should be a vivid emerald, and when Lena clicks the image to enlarge, she finds herself frowning at what looks like a dusting of frost still clinging to the fronds.

Ferns can recover from freezing conditions but only if their roots weren’t also affected, Lena replies very professionally, her fingers shaking with silent outrage. Though I don’t understand why you’d keep a potted fern outdoors when it’s that cold. She’s beginning to wonder if this Kvers person is a genuine imbecile or an abusive prankster. Where do you live that you’re dealing with these weather conditions in August? she demands.

Oh, um, Kvers replies and then, after a few starts and stops, Southern California.

So Kvers is absolutely fucking with her.

It takes a week before they’re asking for Lena’s input again. This buddy is looking a little rough today, they post, do you think a good soak could help perk it back up?

The miserable money tree pictured is barely clinging to life. Lena peers through the furious red haze descending over her vision and swears it looks like its few remaining leaves are singed.

Lena’s patience has run out. Are you serious? she asks. Did someone burn your building down?

Small kitchen accident Kvers has the audacity to reply.

It’s the final straw in every sense of the word. Lena will not stand for this blatant abuse a moment longer, especially if it’s done exclusively for the purpose of getting her attention. Before she can think too much about it, before her rage recedes, she sends Kvers a direct message announcing she’s coming by for a home consultation.

Where in SoCal are you exactly?

As it turns out, Kvers is right here, in National City.

She’s also a bafflingly attractive — though fidgety — blonde.

Blue eyes widen and pink lips part when she answers the door, her shoulders so broad and her arms so beefy she takes up most of the space in the doorway to her loft. Lena probably wouldn’t be able to see past her, at her endangered plants beyond, if she still wanted to.

But she can tell her loft is well-lit, like she’d mentioned — she’s framed by the sun’s dying rays, her hair and skin golden and shimmering in a way not entirely of this earth.

This explains so much, Lena realizes, relieved. The wind. The frost. The burns.

Her would-be adversary is wearing glasses and her hair is up, and her flustered demeanor seems so awkwardly genuine that Lena wonders if the image this woman projects when she’s dressed in her more familiar reds and blues is the act — if this awestruck, faded-jeans-clad cutie is the real person that’s hiding underneath.

She looks far more human than Lena would have imagined.

“You’re Lena Luthor,” she finally manages to stutter out.

Lena regards her evenly. “Good to finally meet you,” she says, and, dropping her voice a little, “Supergirl.”

#supercorp fan fiction #plant vlog au #supergirl fan fiction #fic by ekingston #who has two thumbs & managed to pen a clean 1000 word drabble for the first time in probably a decade?#👍 this guy! 👍#thank you for the incentive gaby! you’re a gem!#ask meme #deadbiwrites #fan ficlet #1k

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eggoatt · 4 months

Text

annual ferris drawing for houseplant appreciation day ♣

bonus stuff below

flipped ver:

this is actually a redraw of one of my earliest drawings of ferris from 2016. it's remained one of my favorite pieces of them all this time, but theyve evolved quite a bit so i wanted to revisit the idea and spice it up :3 here's the original:

#art #dogyolk #oc #ferris #cw blood #nosebleed #houseplant appreciation day is actually my birthday. this is my yearly birthday post #i usually avoid acknowledging it but. im trying to get over that at least in my personal life bc something something self love

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 years

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Could You Leave Them With Your Houseplants? Genshin Edition

a no question. probably your go to plant sitter if something comes up and you have to leave for a while. you will definitely come home to your plants not only being alive but in pristine condition. maybe there will even be a new leaf sprouting when you come back. responsible, reliable, and you can rest easy knowing if another situation arises where you have to leave your plants will be fine.

- zhongli (did his research the moment you asked. has care guides for each of your plants neatly labeled and organized as to not mix up their schedules) - kazuha (lowkey better at taking care of your plants better than you are and surprisingly in-tune with their needs as if he can speak with them. you often go to him for plant keeping advice. if he told you he could hear the whispers of nature, you’d totally believe him) - traveler (looks at tutorials to avoid killing your plants while you’re gone. your plants are safe) - ayato (didn’t exactly take care of your plants so much as had someone else look after them but hey, they’re still alive so it’s a win) - thoma (watered them, made sure they flourished, sings to them. if you’re dating ayato, he’s the one who looked after your plants at ayato’s request) - ganyu (busy as she si, ganyu made sure to schedule in ‘take care of [first]’s plants’ into her daily tasks and sends you pictures of how they are so you know they’re doing alright) - shinobu (one of her many certifications is certified plant parent. your plants will be thriving and she might even recommend more plants for you to get that help fight off pests or easy to grow herbs and vegetables so you can cook with fresh ingredients)

do not leave your houseplants under any circumstances with these individuals because you will come back to less plants than you started with. if they even remember to water them, they will definitely water them too much. even if your plant manages to recover from the lack of proper care, they’re never the same afterwards. no you’re not being dramatic, plant murderer, you know how your plants are like on a good day and it has been nothing but bad day after bad day since you’ve come back

- scaramouche (hates plants with a passion and thinks of them as hotbeds for pests. he doesn’t set out to kill your plant intentionally, but his bad vibes definitely fuck with it on an emotional level) - childe (completely forgot about it and just text you ‘😬 yo your plant isnt lookin too hot’ when it finally keeled over and died) - itto (bennett levels of disaster got drunk and haphazardly gave your plant hard vodka instead of water. when he bought you a new plant to make up for it, the plant was already infested with mealy bugs though and the infestation spread to your other plants. you are coming back to absolutely no plants) - ei (watering your plants too much and not watering them enough, an eternal constant cycle. a serial plant killer who decides to buy a plant thinking ‘this time will be different’ but it isn’t. you were a moron to trust her with them)

you HAD a plant. now it is theirs and there’s no way you’re getting it back when you return home. they developed an emotional attachment to your plants through the many odd hours of talking to them randomly and getting excited when a new leaf or bloom would sprout on a stem. now your plants have been conveniently relocated to their room and any decisions about said plant needs to be passed by them. apparently you don’t appreciate “little rain” enough. yes, they even named it

- xiao (developed an emotional attachment to your plants and the life they gave off and kinda just... stole your plant by never giving it back despite living together. you just decide to let him have it after catching him smiling softly on its watering day) - gorou (gasped at the sight of your cactus and has never looked back. would probably carry its pot everywhere if he could and his tail wags in excitement every time he sees his - er your- cactus shining vibrantly in the sun)

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gl1tch3doracle · 5 months

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ twilight showers ˖ ࣪⊹

First oneshot, so ofc I had to do the queen of cool herself, Quanxi. I'm absolutely weak for this woman.

➸ Quanxi + !Fem!Reader

➸ Word count; 2,093 words,

➸ Y'know, probably set sometime during part 2, but I wouldn't know when. No major spoilers aside from the fiends.

➸ No content warnings either. Just some hurt/comfort ♡ (Although I would say it's been a little while since I've written something, so it might be a little wonky 'cause I'm rusty). Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Night befallen - Twinkling lights across a rather solemn concrete jungle, all blurred by the flurry of raindrops pinstriping against a benumbing glass pane. From up in your apartment, it all seemed like a well-put-together maze of harrowing misfortunes that seemed to follow almost every citizen of Kyoto. Somewhere down there was a family ruined by a devil attack, a partner mourning their lost loved one, children crying because their friends had been ripped away without explanation. All events that could happen to you at a moment's notice - The coin could flip and land heads up, and it would be lights out before you might even notice.

That was a thought that occasionally tickled your brain. Every few weeks or so, most likely foretold by a day's event. It could've been a devil attack that jostled your mind - or even just a shitty day at work. It always came at night specifically, though, which was absolutely perfect when you were trying to get to sleep.

It was sad to think about, the way people's lives were cut clean on such short notice, which is why you tried not to do that all too often. That wasn't as easy as it sounded, especially when, unlike the others who had to live with their chosen reality, you were pretty safe and well-off all things considered. It manifested in a welt of guilt swelling in your chest, and that was the reason when night fell like it had fallen all those times before, you still slept on and off, swaddled up in your bed.

No nightmares plagued you and no misfortune befell you, because you were wholly safe - Especially when you were wrapped in the arms of your girlfriend. Someone would have to be an idiot to attempt on your life; Devil, human or fiend, it didn't matter, because Quanxi would cut them down with scary proficiency like she'd done so many times in the past.

That was most nights, anyway. The warm feeling of safety and Quanxi would not lull you to sleep tonight. The bed was empty and cold, blankets strewn over the edge, pillows tossed and tucked under your head and over your arm. It wasn't that rare for Quanxi to be stuck deep in the alleyways working, but it didn't make you feel any less lonely.

Outside, the storm grew heavier. The windows rattled.

Every time the rain stuck your window, every time the wind pulled against the structure of your building, every time a piercing howl or screech cut through the veil, you felt yourself flinch into the comfort of your plush duvet. You were safe, that you knew, but it was an instinct in every human to fear devils or something. At least, it felt instinctual for you, because being scared of creatures and beings that craved your pain sort've felt natural.

Although, among the melody of the stormed city, there was another sound hidden amongst all the others. Beyond the furious tapping of the rain, the whirling of the wind, the honks of traffic and whatever far-away noises plagued the world surrounding you, there was one, tiny, sharp sound that ricocheted in your ears. It would've been so easy to miss it, and yet you couldn't help but zero in on it like a homing beacon.

Like the sound of a bird tapping curiously at the glass, similar to a singular dense raindrop pattering against the frame or the friendly waving of your houseplants' leaves drawn to the beaming sun.

Or, even perhaps, if you stretched the idea far enough, like an arrowhead plinking against rain-pattered glass.

You chuckled. That thought was a bit overly specific, although not for lack of reason. However, if it was the arrowhead, it was better to go check, just to make sure.

The floor was startlingly cold underneath your bare feet, enough to make you wince, but not enough to send you back under your blankets. The window wasn't far, after all, a few paces to your left. You could already see her figure staunchly squatted on the windowsill, her back to the wind with her hair whipped back and forth.

Quanxi was without her swords, clean of blood and grime but drenched from head to toe from the storm.

You yawned and cracked open the window, letting her slink silently, almost peacefully, from the rugged weather outside into the comfort of your twilight bedroom.

"Quanxi?" Her name was soft on your lips. She stilled in front of you, mouth drawn into a thin line, twitched downward at the corners. She was an enigma, one you were slowly unwrapping and figuring out for yourself. A mystery that only let her guard for one person, and that one person was you.

She didn't say anything, only shrugged off her suit jacket and wrapped her cold, muscled arms around you, tugging you into an embrace that smelled strongly of men's cologne - Cedar and cashmere, underlined by a tinge of bloody iron and sharp rain. The way she twitched softly, fingers digging inwards as she tugged you closer, twining them into your hair as she sweetly kissed your forehead. Protective, anxious, almost lost seaming.

Also, as you may've mentioned, she was thoroughly drenched - Carrying a sheen of rain, heavy enough to dampen your clothes and chill your skin as well. Usually, you would've laughed at the action, maybe called her silly as she rolled her eyes playfully, cracking a rare smile. But tonight was not the night, tinged with sadness and longing. It was a sense in her eye, and in the way she held you so close and dear to her heart, literally and metaphorically.

You sighed and kissed whatever part of her you could reach - Cold skin dappled with raindrops. Quanxi sighed softly, melting ever so slightly as the heat from your love and the room thawed her bones.

"Go have a shower," You murmured into her. Quanxi grunted.

"Don't wanna." You rolled your eyes and gently shoved her in the direction of your bathroom. She battered her eyelashes at you, pursed her lips and set you with a look that would've made you shake if it weren't for the emphasised pout she gave you.

"You're freezing. Go have a shower," You pointed accusingly at her, which prompted nothing more than a quirked eyebrow. A part of you was more than glad that Quanxi was home again, but another, more tired part of you didn't want to deal with her stubbornness at one in the morning.

"You are not getting in that bed freezing cold and wet," You didn't wait for her to respond, verbally or otherwise, and instead returned to the lukewarm embrace of your bed and blankets. The almost silent pattering of Quanxi's footsteps out of the bedroom, echoing into the bathroom. The spattering of shower water followed soon after, steam billowing out from the door and spilling into the hallway.

You sniffled and rolled over, burrowing your face into the nearest pillow. Time seemed like an infallible concept as you listened to the sounds of rapid water showering across tiles. The repetitive lapping sound filled your senses, a subtle humidity filled the apartment, scents of soap and petrichor pleasantly swarmed your nose. The minutes slipped through your fingers, metaphorically, sleep weighing on your eyelids. You blinked, and it seemed in a moment Quanxi had re-entered the room with a slicked-back mess of wet silver atop her head and a towel in hand.

She blinked once and held out the towel in a silent question. You yawned and slid out of bed a second time that night, following your girlfriend into the bathroom.

Resting in front of the mirror, Quanxi closed her eye in contentment as you worked the water from her hair, patting it down to get the most of the water out. That itself was no easy feat, so, being as tired as you were, you whipped out the hairdryer. It was a loud, ebbing sound in your ears, but you couldn't give a crap as you watched the stress slowly seep from the muscles in Quanxi's shoulders.

"How often do you brush your hair?" You murmured against the back of her head. The brush in your hand was snagged against another knot. If Quanxi heard your question, she didn't make any motion that she would answer it - Instead, her fingers traced over the lace of her favourite choker. Even as you worked the kinks out of her hair, smoothing her silver locks till they were smooth and dry enough that your pillows wouldn't be wet in the morning, you couldn't help but notice that her attention would never drift from the fabric.

Hair dried, Quanxi insisted she would be fine to just slip into some pyjamas. You pointedly didn't point out the gooseflesh skittering up and down her arms and instead kissed her behind her ear before leaving for the bedroom for what you hoped was the last time.

The bed was cold. You sniffled and sighed, pulling the blankets over your head as you scavenged together the various pillows that had been tossed all over the bed. You only resurfaced once the click of the bedroom door opening resounded throughout the otherwise pin-drop silence, Quanxi silently walked in afterwards.

Her shoulders were bare, the only part that way highlighted by the sliver of moonlight escaping through the tumultuous clouds. She cast a look in your direction, eyepatch now removed. You didn't even flinch at the empty hole in her face, but rather, your eyes were drawn to the lace collar still firmly twined around her neck.

Quanxi seemed off. Her fingers brushed slowly over the lace as she pulled a shirt over her head.

"Do you miss them?" You'd spent enough time just watching her, listening to the sounds Quanxi made and studying the way she worked. You could tell when she was disheartened, sad even, in the most minuscule meaning of the word. Even if it did feel like a stab in the dark, the moment she stilled for more than a second settled your thoughts.

"Sometimes. Yes," Quanxi finished getting dressed, suddenly seeming a lot smaller without her loose ponytail. Silver cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, tangled and shining as she shimmied into bed next to you.

You knew about her fiends. They all were important to Quanxi, held near and dear in her heart, especially in death. You'd never met them, but you had no qualms with Quanxi keeping a few pictures on hand (and in your apartment). Perhaps in another life, you would've lived side by side with them, all a part of Quanxi's little self-made family. Your big bed certainly would've been useful in that case, six warm bodies all snuggled up under the blankets on a night like tonight.

As selfish and greedy as it sounded, there was a little part of you that was happy to have Quanxi all to yourself. Still, you just gave her a small smile, tired, and pulled her into your embrace.

Quanxi didn't cry. You didn't think anything in this world could make Quanxi cry, but she was shaking. Small, violent tremors that you wouldn't have felt if it weren't for the fact she was pressed against the pulse point in your neck. Your arms circled her neck, loosely looped around her warmth as your wrists rested gently against the cloth of her choker - A sensation that made your skin itchy, but, with your girlfriend planted firmly in your embrace, you were not willing to move a muscle. It was a rarity that Quanxi let you hold her so openly, so closely, her face pressed against you in such a manner your legs had to tangle together underneath the sheets.

Her breaths rolled over you in uneven puffs, heat against your skin in a way that pleasantly tingled and instilled a feeling of drowsiness. It was peaceful, in a sense of the word, and you were more than willing to let sleep take you. Nestled up against her, head held carefully in your arms with her warmth a constant ebb and flow against the biting chill outside, you couldn't help but answer the lulling call of sleep.

Quanxi pursed her lips, feeling your breath even out below her ear. It felt comfortable, soothing even. Although she knew she wouldn't sleep tonight (she hardly ever did anymore), spending the time listening to the rain outside, the pulsing of your heart all while she tried to bury the memories of her past deep within her subconscious.

#quanxi x reader #quanxi #csm quanxi #x reader #csm #chainsaw man x reader #wlw #wlw x reader #lesbians #give quanxi the soft love she deserves #i really think she needs a hug

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wheels-of-despair · 9 months

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Clown Around and Find Out Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to play a prank on Evil Woman, and quickly finds out just how dangerous that is. Contains: A quiet night alone, a bad idea, an Evil Woman secret, excessive cursing, panic, rage, attempted murder, happy ending. Words: 1.8k Note: This takes place in the fall of 1990.

"She's gonna murder you."

"No, she's not," Eddie grins, admiring his outfit in the mirror.

"Don't you think it's kinda mean?" Jeff asks.

"That's what makes it funny!" Grant insists.

"She is literally going to murder you," Gareth reiterates.

"She is not! It's just a jump-scare, she's gonna know it's me in like a second!"

"You're gonna give the poor girl a heart attack!" Jeff tries again.

"You guys are no fucking fun anymore," Eddie grumbles, picking up the mask he'd found in a clearance bin after Halloween and modified for this very occasion. "I'm outta here."

"It's your funeral, man," Gareth shrugs.

After a few years of living with Eddie, you learned to appreciate your alone time. You loved him with everything you had, but even (mostly) domesticated, your beloved trash panda was still a lot to handle. So somewhere along the way, a night of band practice for Eddie started to mean a quiet night alone with a book or a "chick movie" for you. You'd never admit it to him, but you enjoyed these peaceful nights.

However, about a week ago, you and Eddie sat down with a bowl of popcorn to watch the new Stephen King miniseries.

IT.

You'd both read the book when it first came out and thought it was awesome.

Seeing it in your living room, on the other hand, was not so awesome.

You hated that fucking clown.

The mile-high forehead. The nose that looked like a blood blister about to pop. The fucking fangs. The whole luring-children-into-the-sewer-and-eating-them thing. Nope, nope, nope.

Eddie had watched the whole thing with fascination. You'd focused your eyes on the dusty little houseplant that lived below the TV whenever that thing was on screen.

And still, it invaded your nightmares.

So tonight, your quiet night alone was something of a nightmare as well. It was so quiet, every little creak echoed through the house.

You put on a movie - an old favorite that calmed your nerves for its duration - but as soon as the soothing whir of the tape rewinding ended with a clunk, the house resumed its creaking. You decided to do some laundry, hoping the washing machine would drown out the little noises that kept making you jump.

You gathered the basket of dirty clothes, hauled it to the laundry room, and began sorting. Still too quiet. You started singing the first song that came to mind to combat the silence as you loaded the washer and poured in the detergent.

When you turned to reach for the cap, you gasped.

There was a fucking clown standing in the doorway. Big forehead. Round nose. Frizzy hair. Ruffled shirt with ridiculously large pom-poms down the front. White gloves.

It's not real. Remember when a cardinal flew past you the other day, and you freaked out because all you saw was a flash of red, and you thought of that fucking clown? It's not real.

And then it fucking moved.

You shrieked and jumped backward, colliding with the wall of your tiny laundry room. There's no fucking way out of here. There are no weapons. If you survive this, you're going everywhere with a machete strapped to you for the rest of your life.

It crosses its arms.

Just like you've seen someone else do on occasion.

"Edward Munson, if you don't have that fucking mask off in 3 seconds, you are in for a WORLD of fucking hurt."

The clown throws up both hands in an exaggerated shrug.

It's just Eddie, right? Fucking with his poor little chicken? He'd laughed after you told him about the first clown nightmare, giving you an "awww" and a patronizing kiss on the forehead. It's just Eddie thinking he's funny. Which he's not. He's really not.

"Eddie, I'm fucking warning you."

But what if it's not him?

It takes a leap toward you.

You grab the handle of the laundry detergent - the big value-sized kind in a jug - and hurl it at the clown with everything you've got.

As if it were traveling in slow motion, you see the blue liquid begin to spill from the spout, somehow spreading in every direction; if you lived through this, you'd probably spend the next week scrubbing laundry detergent from every square inch of this room.

The clown ducks and misses the heavy jug, which hits the wall in the hallway and falls to the floor, but still gets doused in blue. It looks down at the liquid seeping into its stupid ruffly shirt, and you reach for the jug of bleach on the floor.

"You think this is funny, motherfucker?"

The clown holds out one of its gloved hands and takes a step closer, and it fills you with rage. If this is Eddie, you're gonna kill him and bury him in the back yard. If it's NOT Eddie, you're gonna kill it and call the cops. You fling the bleach at it, and this time, it's not quick enough. The clown tries to duck out of the way again, but the bottle makes contact with its side before falling to the ground.

The clown bends over with a grunt, clutching the spot where you hit it. Its massive forehead slowly rises to look at you. All you can see are dark holes where eyes should be. You grab the bottle of fabric softener and send it flying toward the clown's face. Direct hit, and a muffled cry from the clown.

You reach for the iron and grip the handle hard. If you die tonight, at least you're gonna take that ugly-ass motherfucker down with you.

The clown grumbles something from behind the mask, but you can't understand it. It stumbles backward. You raise the iron, wishing it were hot so you could melt this motherfucker's face off.

The white glove starts fumbling with the frizzy red wig, then pulls it off. A familiar mop of brown hair comes into view.

You're relieved for half a second, and then you're back to irate.

"You fucking ASSHOLE! What is WRONG with you?!"

"I thought it would be funny," he winces, standing and rubbing the spot on his side where you'd hit him with the bleach. "When did you get so violent?"

When did you get so violent?? You can feel the rage bubbling over again, and Eddie can see that he's still in danger. You slam the iron down on top of the washer, and he jumps at the sound.

"Okay, woah, I'm sorry," he says, backing toward the door. "I didn't think you'd freak out this bad."

You slowly advance on him, filling with fury.

"Stop. Stop." He holds his still-gloved hands up in surrender. You clench your fists and prepare to strike.

He makes his move a split second before you do.

You pounce, and he escapes. The door slams in your face.

"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, MUNSON!"

"I said I was sorry!"

You try the doorknob, but it won't turn. This door locks from the inside. He's holding onto it.

"You really think locking me in here is a good idea?" you seethe.

"You're not locked in."

You smack your hand on the door where you suspect his face is on the other side.

"Hey!" Damn, you're good.

"Let me out."

"Not until you calm down."

"Is it ever a good idea to tell a girl to calm down, Edward?"

A thump comes from the door, as if he's just banged his head against the other side.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would freak you out that bad. You said you had a dream about the clown, and I thought it was cute, then I saw the mask and decided to fix it up and mess with you."

You feel the adrenaline draining from your body at the sound of his stupid voice. You both love and hate this power he has over you.

You sigh and lean your head against the door. "I've been dreaming about it every night," you admit, removing your hand from the knob.

"Every night?"

"Every night."

"Fuck."

You step away from the door and shimmy yourself up onto the dryer, sitting on top with your legs crossed.

"If I open the door, are you gonna murder me?"

"Only time will tell," you deadpan.

The door opens a sliver, and you see puffy red eye staring at you through the crack. He eases it open the rest of the way, but remains in the hallway.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Your life-or-death rush has faded; you're too tired to shoot him the withering glare he deserves.

He approaches you cautiously, still not entirely convinced that he'll live to see tomorrow.

"Take that stupid shirt off."

He whips it off and throws it over his shoulder. The gloves follow.

"Are you okay?" he asks again.

You sigh, close your eyes, and lean forward. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around you.

"I really am sorry," he whispers into your hair.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me."

He hums in acknowledgement and holds you tighter. You rest your cheek against his warm chest for a few minutes, replaying the events of tonight. You'd probably be laughing about this in a few years, and telling this story at parties. But for now, you were just glad you hadn't really killed him. You quite liked this idiot. Most of the time.

"Are you okay?" you ask. "Aside from your slow reflexes?"

"Couldn't see shit in that mask."

"Excuses, excuses. Answer the question."

"I'll be fine," he chuckles. "Just like being back in high school and fucking with the jocks. 'Cept your aim's better. And they never cuddled me after they threw shit at me."

Both of your shoulders shake in silent laughter.

When you pulled away and opened your eyes again, you were greeted by the sight of blue splatters everywhere. Everywhere. How did one jug even hold that much? How the hell did it get on the ceiling?

"Looks like somebody jerked off a Smurf in here," you observe.

Eddie snorts, which makes you snort, and then you both start laughing. And just like that… everything was okay again.

Two Days Later

The Corroded Coffin boys put down their instruments and stood together when Eddie's van roared up the driveway, waiting to hear about The Pennywise Incident. He took his time getting his guitar and approaching the garage, then walked right by them without a word. He turned his back and ignored them while he set up his gear.

The trio closed in on him.

"How'd it go, man?" Grant prompted. "Did she freak?"

"Did she make you sleep in the van?" Jeff laughed.

Eddie turned around and took off his sunglasses with an unamused huff, revealing the black eye the fabric softener had given him.

"Told you so," Gareth smirked.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #for the record? she'd never really hurt him out of anger.#he's flight. she's fight. neither of them would know what to do if she actually caught him. good thing he's good at running.#congrats to me who has grown so desensitized to the curry clown while researching this that i wish i'd found a way to use chucky instead #skarsgard? fine. curry? nope.#in anything #do not like that guy's face

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tangledinink · 1 year

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Chapter Seven of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is out! Just normal teenage boys doing normal teenage things. :) Read it on ao3 or below the cut.

[ prev ]

It had been three days now since they last saw their dad.

On the first night, over and over, everyone kept saying, ‘I’m sure he’ll be home any minute. He’s more than capable of defending himself. He wouldn’t just disappear. Any second now,’ and the only reason that Mikey had been able to get himself to sleep that night was because he thought that maybe when he woke up again, Dad would be back. He wanted to just skip forward to the good part. But then when he woke up, the good part wasn’t there.

The following morning, Mrs. O’Neil was in the kitchen making breakfast, with the blankets all folded up neat on the couch as if she hadn’t slept there that night. April helped set the table, as if this were normal, as if she hadn’t slept on a bean bag in the Lair, as if they were meant to be here and it made sense for them to be carefully preparing for a big pancake breakfast instead of wolfing down bagels and granola bars in a chaotic frenzy, attempting to make it out the door on time.

It wasn’t like Mikey didn’t appreciate it. He did. It was nice, the gentle looks, the backrubs, the hugs… But it felt weird. Alien, almost. And yet, even with things being so starkly different, even with the five of them staying home from school, staying home from activities, in this absolute jarring contrast to their normal routine, at the same time, there were still these moments that felt so… untouched. Leo and April made bad puns when the opportunity arose like they always did. Raph physically picked up and moved them when they were in his way or getting on his nerves, like usual. Donnie took the time to check up on all of his houseplants, watering anyone who needed it. Some memes were sent to the group chat. Leo and Raph got in a fight over the last raspberry popsicle in the freezer.

There were moments where Mikey could almost look around and pretend like everything was normal. Dad just wasn’t home right now, and that was all. There were all these beats and steps that just weren’t colored by this horrible thing at all, in this weird way that Mikey wasn’t expecting.

But just on the surface level.

Because no. Dad isn’t just out getting groceries or meeting with an agent or picking up takeout. Dad isn’t here. And they don’t know where he is.

They had already discovered, on that very first night, that Dad’s cell phone was left in his bedroom. They had obviously all tried texting and calling him about eighty times each, with no response, and eventually found the phone, plugged into its charger on his nightstand. They tried guessing the passcode, but none of them knew it, so they had all looked at Donnie. They said that they would figure it out and pocketed the device. And aside from coming down to care for their plants and grab some banana pancakes, they hadn’t been down from their room since.

They spent most of the first day making calls. They contacted everyone that they could think of. Dad’s agent, his lawyers, any friends or acquaintances he knew. They called each and every one of his dojo locations. Anyone whose number they could find who they had ever known to speak with Dad, they contacted, asking them if they had seen him, heard from him, had anyone idea who the masked guy could be? And over and over they heard, no, sorry. We haven’t seen him. We haven’t heard from him. We don’t know anything about this stranger. We’ll keep an eye out and let you know right away if anything changes. Dead end. Dead end. Dead end.

They texted people, they sent emails, they combed the internet for anything that might be helpful, but they didn’t find anything. The whole group, Mrs. O’Neil and even Donnie included (Mrs. O’Neil, I mean, Carol, made them come. Mikey thought that it was probably because they were nervous about anyone being alone after… you know,) took multiple walks around the neighborhood, the neighborhood next over, and the neighborhood next over to that, looking for any sign of their father.

On the second day, Mikey made posters, and they started hanging those up when they did their walks. Word was starting to spread, and Mikey kept getting texts on his phone-- friends from school, friends from dance, friends from sports, friends of friends… At first, Mikey would reply to all of them. Would say, oh, thank you so much for reaching out, we really appreciate it, please, if you see him at all, let us know… But that rapidly became exhausting. After the first ten, Mikey took to just copy-and-pasting the same message asking them to look, along with an image of the poster he had made. And even just that was exhausting. What was he supposed to say? ‘Everything is horrible and I have no idea how I’m feeling right now, I’m just overwhelmed and terrified-- thanks tho, melting face emoji?’

Donnie got into Dad’s phone but didn’t find anything useful. They sent out emails and texts to every contact he had saved, even though they didn’t recognize half of them, and posted on every social media that he had. All four of them posted on their social media, too. Mikey made a TikTok video reaching out to 350k of his followers. He kept all his notifications on, hoping and waiting that someone would message him telling him that they had seen him and he was okay… but it didn’t come. There was a flood of empathetic comments, of thoughts and prayers, of heart emojis. But nothing that would help them. He and his brothers posted on every Lou Jitsu fan forum that they could find, but they got much of the same there, too.

And now it had been three days. Three days was a long, long time. Ever since that first night, Mikey couldn’t really sleep. He knew his siblings couldn’t, either, and he anxiously fussed over them whenever he could, trying to encourage them to get some rest. Especially Leo. He hardly ever slept even on a good day-- now he kind of just seemed more and more like a wreck as time passed. All of them did.

It was on the third day that Mrs. O'Neil got a phone call. Well-- she had been on the phone on-and-off ever since she got here that first night, making calls and taking them, even more than they had. But this phone call, in particular, went a little like this:

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is she,"

"What?"

"No, I'm sorry,"

"No."

"Yes, I'm absolutely certain. No. No, we're not accepting any interview requests right now. I'm not sure you do understand. With all due respect, I'm not putting any of these kids on TV right now. Yes, I'm quite sure."

"Yes."

"You have a great day, too. Goodbye."

Mikey knew that all four of his siblings were listening, but Leo was the first one to speak once Carol hung up the phone.

"Who was that?"

"A reporter," Carol sighed in response. They had barely exchanged five words and she already seemed exhausted with this conversation.

"What did they want?"

Carol pursed her lips. "They were asking about doing a live interview or bringing you guys on their talk show. I told them we weren't interested."

"Why would you tell them that?"

"Because we're not."

"Uhm. Maybe you're not," Leo corrected, his brows furrowing. "Why the hell can't I do an interview? I can do interviews! I've done interviews before! I'm great at interviews."

"It's not a good idea, Leo," Carol said, putting her phone down, turning her attention back to her laptop in front of her, beginning to type again. Oof. That was gonna piss Leo off.

"Why not?!" Leo demanded, growing pissed off. "I've done interviews before! I've done live shows! I could totally handle this! Besides, we're trying to get the word out to as many people as possible. What if someone saw the interview and knew where Dad was? This could help!"

"This isn't up for debate, Leo. I'm not putting any of you kids on a talk show right now."

"Why is it your decision!? I'm the one who would be on the show! Why don't I get to decide?"

"Because I'm the adult," Carol was just a step away from snapping, but her voice was hard, definitive. "I just said this isn't up for debate. I'm sorry, but it's off the table. It's not a good idea."

Mikey looked nervously at his brother, wondering if he should say something. Raph looked like he was about to, but Leo huffed, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet. "Fine," he hissed in reply, promptly moving to the front door and beginning to put on his shoes.

"Where are you going?" Carol questioned, frowning a bit.

"Gymnastics."

"Leo--"

"I'm sick of sitting around here not doing anything! It's driving me crazy. We have gymnastics practice right now. I'm going to gymnastics. Mikey, are you coming?"

Mikey jumped when eyes shifted to him, floundering for a second. If he was being totally honest, he wasn't exactly in a gymnastics mood, but... he knew that Mrs. O'Neil wasn't gonna let Leo go by himself. And there was no way he was gonna convince Donnie to even leave his room, let alone go to gymnastics practice. Maybe... it would be good? Get his mind off of things?

"Yeah. Uh. I'll come. Let me grab my stuff. Hang on," he said, jumping to his feet and scampering off to grab their gymnastics bags-- packed and ready to go in the hallway, like they always were, like they didn't know anything was wrong.

"Leo, I don't know if this is--"

"I'm not going alone, Mikey is with me. There's gonna be adults there. We'll get a taxi cab home when it gets dark. I'm not gonna sit here twiddling my thumbs anymore. I'm gonna go insane." Leo spoke over her, and Mikey thought privately to himself that that was rather ballsy. Leo must really be upset because usually none of them would dare interrupt Mrs. O'Neil. He hurried to get his shoes on, hoping that they could escape before things got too heated. Sorry April, sorry Raph.

"Ready, Mikey?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

---

April was trying really hard to be patient with her brothers right now, 'cause she knew that they were having a hard time. I mean, if either of her parents went missing, she'd probably be behaving less than her best, too. Raph was clingier than ever, and April had had to talk him off the metaphorical ledge about five times now, Donnie had turned into a total hermit, even by Donnie standards, Leo was honestly being kind of a brat, and Mikey was...

Ugh. God. Mikey. He was such a sweetheart. He was killing himself, April could tell. Even more than she was killing herself right now. She would have to corner him later. Right after she cornered Leo.

And kicked his ass.

Look, she got where he was coming from, but did he really need to tick her mom off like that!? And then leave her to deal with it?! She knew her mom was mostly just worried, (and, okay, maybe also kind of peeved, but April could only kind of blame her,) but that didn't make it any more pleasant. And once she managed to settle her down, she had to deal with Raph, too.

If her mom was freaked out, then Raph was about ready to lose his mind. April half thought he was gonna take off after Leo and Mikey on foot any second now. April sank into the couch next to him, bodily draping herself over his lap to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

"Hey Big Guy," she said, blinking up at him, forcing a half-hearted smile. "How you holding up?"

"Me?" Raph said, just barely glancing down at her before his eyes snapped away again, anxious and flighty. "I'm fine. Raph's fine. How are you holding up?"

God, they were all so predictable. April privately thought that self-sacrifice must be a Hamato tradition. It was simply a question of which one of them could outdo the rest.

"You're a bad liar. You're as bad as Mikey. As bad as Donnie."

"What?!" Raph squawked in protest. "I am not as bad as Donnie! No one's as bad as Donnie!"

"Okay, well, maybe not that bad," April relented. "Leo and Mikey are gonna be fine. They're taking the subway in broad daylight. They're only gonna be, like, ten minutes away. They both had their phones and they already said they'll take a taxi cab home. It's okay."

"I know," Raph said, wrinkling up his nose. "It's just-- I mean. What if somethin' bad happens to 'em? And I'm not there to help?"

"You know it's not your fault, right?"

There was a telling silence.

"Raph. It's not your job to protect your Dad from creepy stalker fans. And you couldn't have done anything."

"I know," Raph relented, frowning a little. And it wasn't that April didn't believe him, but... There was a difference between knowing and knowing. April knew that perfectly well. Raph might be the biggest brother, but she was the biggest sister, and... okay, she wasn't gonna sit here and delude herself into thinking that she could have physically stopped that guy if she had just moved a little faster. She wasn't a martial arts champion like the rest of them, (even if she did have a mean left hook and an even meaner softball swing.) But she hated... watching them fall apart. She hated watching all of them shrivel up under the stress. She hated that she couldn't fix this for them... Or at least make it a little easier.

And she was worried too. Mr. Hamato might not be her dad, exactly, but... this was her family, too. She had known Yoshi since she was five! She used to spend every afternoon after school at their house, and they would spend the weekends at hers. She couldn't even count how many slumber parties and sleepovers they had had over the years. Raph, Donnie, Leo, and Mikey were like her brothers, and Yoshi was, like... her weird uncle or something.

She really hoped he was okay. And that he'd be back soon.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen. They'll go to gymnastics, they'll blow off some steam, they'll come home, and maybe Leo will be less of a headache for the rest of the evening." She said with a sigh. "Maybe he's got a point! You guys aren't used to being cooped up for so long."

"I guess," Raph said, seeming unconvinced, though he leaned back a little into the cushions, slumping a bit. April would take even the littlest victory.

"You could probably use a distraction too."

"Mmm..."

"Sooo... You could paint my nails for me? I'll paint yours back." She offered, raising a brow. He had to take the bait here. This always worked. The boys loved getting their nails painted. Especially Raph, since he was so bad at doing his own. He was okay if he was working on someone else, but if it was a solo project, that right hand just never quite turned out right.

It took a moment, and for a moment April thought he might actually turn her down, but eventually, he sighed and relented. "Okay, fine," he agreed. "But Raph gets to pick the colors this time."

Thank god for small miracles. He could pick whatever color he wanted.

---

Mikey had never noticed how loud the gym was before.

Usually, it didn't bother him. But today? It was just... so much noise. Every thump of a landed flip echoing through the padded floor, reverberating, every shout, every stomp, every clap of chalk on hands... It seemed to travel right through his bones.

He was waiting for it to wear off.

Their instructor had seemed... surprised to see them, especially since they had gotten there a half-hour late, but hadn't protested or turned them away, much to Mikey's relief. Well, initially it had been relief, but now he wasn't so sure. Usually, he adored gymnastics. It was easily one of his favorite hobbies, (tied between ballet, painting, cooking, yoga, hip-hop, and skateboarding,) but there was something... off today. Every movement seemed just a beat behind reality, as if he himself were lagging somehow, like the connection was slow. His head felt fuzzy.

Every second they were here felt so odd. Everyone was just... working. Doing gymnastics. Practicing back-flips and floor routines. Mikey wanted to scream at everyone. How could they all just act like this when their dad was missing? How could they pretend like things were okay and just keep moving through life? Every person they passed on the walk here, every passenger on the subway, the receptionist at the front desk, he wanted to grab them by the front of their shirts and wail to them and explain everything.

How could people just live? How could so many people just not know that their dad was gone and might not ever come back?

Mikey had been working on his high bar routine for almost forty minutes now, and he still wasn't getting it right. Usually, this was easy. It wasn't even that hard of a routine, not compared to some of the other things he had done before. But every single time he made another go at it, he missed a beat or moved the wrong way, his brain blanking out on the next step, and he'd have to start over again, gritting his teeth and telling himself he'd get it right this time. The chalk on his hands itched. He was forming a blister. Blisters had never bothered him before.

His coach was being so patient. So sweet, repeatedly telling him it was okay, he could just try again, but it wasn't okay. He wanted to yell at her, too, that they both knew he could do better than this. But he didn't. He just thanked her and nodded his head and kept going.

Leo was over at the vault. He could see him from here. From what he could see, he was doing fine. He wasn't missing any turns or freezing up or losing his balance. He was doing great. His routine looked perfect. Why was he doing so perfect? What was wrong with him? If the problem wasn't Dad, if it wasn't affecting Leo, then it had to be--

Mikey's hand missed the bar. He never missed the bar. He didn't swing far enough and his hand didn't make contact.

He missed. He fell.

He never fell.

It didn't hurt. They had all this matting for a reason-- for exactly this reason, in fact. There wasn't even any heavy thud of contact, no wind got knocked out of him, he just flopped sadly down on his back on the padding, bouncing a tiny bit, staring up at the bars above him.

He fell down. He never fell down. He missed. He never missed the bars.

He knew he needed to get up. He should try again. If he didn't move, people would worry, or think he was hurt or something. But every time he told himself to sit up, his body didn't quite listen.

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, his older brother's face came into view. He had been expecting a coach. He wasn't sure if Leo was better or worse.

"Well that wasn't very razzmatazz," Leo remarked with a grin, leaning over and offering a hand to the other. "Here, c'mon. I'll help you up."

Mikey sniffled a tiny bit. His body didn't listen when he told it to grab Leo's hand, either.

"I wanna go home," he finally got his mouth to move.

"What?" Leo immediately protested. "Oh, come on, little brother, we just got here. We've still got two hours left of gym time! You love gymnastics. You're not gonna let one little fall get to you, are ya?"

"I wanna go home," Mikey repeated, because he didn't know what else to say. His voice sounded horrible. What was the matter with him? This wasn’t even what he wanted to be saying. He didn't want to talk to Leo like this. He did love gymnastics. This wasn't him! He didn't act this way. Why was he acting this way? He blinked rapidly, hoping that it would help somehow.

He didn't want to look at Leo anymore, so he didn't. But he heard him sigh. He felt the gym mat shift as Leo slowly moved to lay down next to him, until both of them were staring up at the ceiling like silly little animals stuck on their backs, unable to flip back over.

Like...

I dunno, like beetles or something.

"We can go home if you want to, Mikey," Leo said, and Mikey hiccuped softly, wrinkling up his nose.

"Sorry," he bit out. "... We c-can stay if you want. I can stay."

"Nah. It's fine. We should go home," Leo repeated, finding Mikey’s hand and squeezing it shortly. "Sorry. For dragging you out."

Mikey shook his head, sniffling a bit. Ugh, crying on your back sucked. His nose was all full of gunk.

"I like gymnastics," he said weakly, and Leo laughed.

"Yeah, I know. That's 'cause you're really good at it."

Mikey nodded kind of numbly, crossing his arms over his chest, clinging to himself slightly.

"Everyone is acting like nothing's wrong," Mikey whispered.

"Yeah," Leo sighed through his nose. "It's weird, right? I keep seeing people on the street and being like... Oh my god. They don't even know. They have no idea. And, like, I don't even know what's going on with them, either. Like. You know that lady we sat next to on the subway? I kept thinking, I dunno, maybe her dad went missing once, too, and we don't even know. How much shit do we just not know?"

"Leo, what if he doesn't come back?"

It wasn't like Leo was bad at hugs. It's just that he wasn't as good at hugs as everyone else. There was a very clear ranking, and yes, Mikey did keep track, like a reasonable person. At the very top of the ranking, obviously, was Raph. Raph gave the best hugs-- He scooped you up and swung you around and you got all squished and squeezed in the best way possible. Absolutely top-tier. Second best hugs were Dad, because, well, they were Dad Hugs. Dad Hugs had a special quality to them. He really didn't think he had to explain himself any further. Next up was Donnie, not necessarily because Donnie was good at hugging or anything, but just because he was so rarely down for hugs that every time he got one it was special. It felt like he was winning something-- especially since he got Donnie hugs more than anyone else in the family. April hugs were next, because while she gave really good hugs, and she always let him cling to her for as long as he wanted, her glasses could be a bit pokey at times. And then Leo brought in the rear-- not because he was bad at them, but just because the competition was so stiff.

But this was a really, really good hug. Two really's.

The absolute second Leo had him wrapped up in his arms, Mikey just dissolved into sobs, before he even had a proper chance to try not to. He was just so tired of feeling scared like this. If Dad wasn't going to come back, could they just know already?! He hated waiting. He hated not knowing! He just wanted to tear the band-aid off so that he could mourn and then get better. This was worse than their Dad being dead, he thought to himself. He almost wished that he was just dead, and that this could at least be over. Wasn't that horrible...? How could he feel that way?

He was pretty sure Leo was crying, too, but he couldn't really tell for sure. He was clinging way too tight to see anything.

"It'll be alright, Mikey." Leo's voice was muffled, but he could hear him all the same. "We'll be okay. Dad would never stay away from us on purpose. We'll figure it out."

---

They had been getting a lot of takeout since Dad went missing. No one really felt like cooking-- not even Mikey, and Leo couldn't even blame him. He wouldn't wanna cook, either. He barely even wanted to eat. And there was pizza in front of him. That was a big deal.

This was their third Jupiter Jim movie marathon night in a row, but Leo wasn't the least bit excited. He was trying hard to pretend like he cared about which title they put on, to keep up with all the running jokes they had, to pay attention, but his heart wasn't in it. No one else's was, either, he knew. They hadn't even been able to convince Donnie to come out of his room and join them since the first night, much to his frustration.

It was all just distraction. They were just smoke-screening themselves to pretend like everything wasn't awful, and frankly, Leo wasn't even sure who it was benefitting anymore. Clearly not Mikey. He had gotten it back together by the time they started heading home from gymnastics and had made Leo swear to secrecy, insisting that he 'didn't wanna worry anyone.' Leo had told him that that was stupid, that everyone was already worrying anyway, and pretending like he was fine wasn't gonna make a difference, but if he was being honest, he and the rest of the family rarely won any arguments against Mikey, so... 'keep it between them' it was.

It was stupid. He wasn't fooling anyone. None of them were.

And yet here he was, playing pretend right along with them anyway. He was such an idiot.

As was rapidly becoming routine, they all stayed up long enough to watch three Jupiter Jim movies while eating whatever dinner had been ordered that night before everyone headed off to bed, saying keywords and phrases like 'I dunno about you guys, but I’m exhausted' and 'it’s getting pretty late,' etc etc, even though Leo was pretty sure no one was sleeping. He certainly wasn't. And he was really trying. He swore he was, but...

Even under the best of circumstances, sleeping was hard. He had never understood how Dad or Mikey could just fall asleep the way they did, laying their heads down on their pillows and almost instantly drifting off. Sleeping involved so much work, so much effort, that sometimes it just felt easier to call the night a wash, take the all-nighter and go from there. Yes, he had tried meditating. Yes, he had tried Melatonin. He had tried sleep podcasts, white noise machines, drugs, music-- he swore he had tried it all! And none of it fixed the problem. Some of it helped, sure, but nothing consistently guaranteed him a full night's rest. Every night it was just a roll of the dice; a total blind bag. Some nights, he would sleep, and some nights, he wouldn't. It was anyone's guess.

Including his.

He wouldn't have put money on going to sleep that night. But he did.

He had no idea what made him realize that he was dreaming, but at some point, he did. He couldn't even tell you what had been happening before that point, because now, he didn't remember. Had he been outside? It had been cold. It had been dark, and there was water nearby, but he didn't think he had been outside. Somewhere else, but... He wasn't sure where.

But now, he was in their house. Right in their living room. Leo frowned a bit, looking around slowly. It was odd for their house to be this quiet.

He paused, looking at the family pictures hanging on the walls in abundance. Someone had written something on them in black marker, but he couldn't read it. It was in plain English, but he had no idea what it said. He leaned in a bit closer, narrowing his eyes, trying to translate, when a cry ripped his attention away.

"Blue!"

He knew that voice. Eyes widening, Leo whipped around to face his father-- on the ground not more than five feet away, pinned beneath some hulking stranger with jagged horns erupting from their head, their eyes glowing white and their jaws dripping with foamy blood.

"Dad?! Hang on!" He tried to jump forward, to reach out for him, but his legs wouldn't move. Why wouldn't his legs move?! His dad was right there-- right there in front of him! He could help him! He could save him, so why wasn't anything working?!

"Blue!" The same howl tore through his mind, and Leo hissed, clapping his hands over his ears as if that would help. He didn't want to watch. He didn't want to watch this creature kill his father-- he couldn't do it.

This is a dream, he reminded himself. You're dreaming. If you don’t want to watch, then you have to wake up. Wake up. Wake up now!

He could see it-- almost feel it-- his own body laid out on his bed back in the waking world, curled up on his stomach, his cheek to his pillow. He knew exactly where he was. He could see his room. He knew he was dreaming, so why couldn't he wake up? He couldn't get his body to move at all, repeatedly trying to sit up, to open his eyes, to jolt a limb to the side to no avail. The pitch of the screams shifted higher.

"Come on! Wake up already! I know you can hear me!" He cried, gritting his teeth. He knocked his fists angrily against the side of his head. "Move. We have to move!" He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, and he wasn't sure if that was his dream self or his actual self. How was he supposed to tell the difference? "Move!"

Leo startled awake, his head jerking upwards and his limbs splaying outward in surprise. The entire house was quiet. Right... because it's the middle of the night. Because he was dreaming.

He had just been dreaming, and now he was awake. It was fine. He was fine.

Slowly, he sat up, running his hands through his hair with a sigh, rolling his head a few times to try to work the stiffness of his neck. He reached for his phone, knowing it would be plugged in on his nightstand, except... It wasn't there.

Leo frowned a little bit, wrinkling up his brows. His phone wasn't there. In fact, his nightstand wasn't there either. His bed wasn't even there, he realized with a start. He wasn't in his own room. He was on the floor-- the floor of-- somewhere else in the house, he guessed. How the hell did he get here? Had he sleepwalked? That was new.

He noted, vaguely, that whatever room he was in wasn't nearly as dark as he would have expected. There was this warm golden-orange glow blanketing the room like a nightlight, and Leo thought vaguely that someone must have accidentally left a desk lamp on or something, turning to take a look.

He had not been expecting to see his youngest brother floating half a foot above his own bed. Nor for him to be glowing.

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