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justanormalseagull · 3 years

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I wrote a little Fallen London AU, Welcome To The Fallen Frontier

It hadn’t been long since Victoria had moved to Port Avon. Her husband had decided to move them here in hopes of finding a trove of souls and striking it rich. She supposed it was fine, but she hated leaving her friends and family in Port Prosper. Her husband had found no issue in making friends with the locals, he went out to the pubs and drank until any hostilities were forgotten and he was taken in as one of the fold.

Victoria, however had not been so lucky, she saw the way they looked at her in the streets, disdain and hatred thinly veiled through the shadows of bonnets and hats. Husbands would usher their families away, and shop keepers would refrain from making small talk as soon as she walked in. They treated her like a stranger here, and she had never felt more alone. She was no longer Victoria here, now she was Mrs. Clarke, the strange wife of that nice treasure seeker who just moved in down the street. People made no effort to get to know her, and after a few attempts of her own she’d stopped trying as well.

She rarely went into town anymore, preferring instead to spend her days in their homestead making quilts, embroidering, and tending to her small rose garden out front the house. Her husband either spent his days in the ruins or in the alehouses, so much of her days were spent alone. She pretended not to mind, but in honesty her days were lonesome, and she longed for companionship.

With a final knot, she finished her current patch she was adding to the quilt, a sort of orange floral pattern, and reached down to grab her next square, but alas, to her dismay, she found her basket empty. She would have to make her way into town tomorrow and buy some more patches at the general store. Her chest grew heavy thinking of all the eyes that would glower at her from the shadows, those stares of disapproval, as though they were looking through her and judging her very bones. Shaking her head to clear it, Victoria took a deep breath. Going into town was near torture, but if she wanted to maintain her sanity in isolation, she needed more fabric squares.

The next day arrived, and while Victoria had wanted to go early in the morning to avoid the gaze of the townsfolk, her dread had made her drag her feet, and it was near noon by the time she finally slunk into town. The streets were crowded, and she could feel every eye on her. Quickly, she walked towards the general store, and ducked inside, eager to avoid the bustling crowds, and preferring instead the quiet disapproval of Mr. Taylor, the owner of the shop.

“Excuse me Sir,” Victoria stated, in an attempt to gain the shop keep’s attention. He ignored her and continued shelving and re-shelving items behind the counter, his back to her all the while. “Sir if you don’t mind, I’m looking to purchase some quilting fabric, I’ve run out of what I brought with me.”

He didn’t turn around, or even pause in his shelving, but nonetheless Victoria heard his gruff and reluctant voice ring out through his small store, “Out of stock.”

“Out of stock? What do you mean you’re out of stock?” Victoria asked desperately.

“Means, I’m out of stock,” He answered in a short voice, “Ain’t got none here, don’t intend to order none.”

Victoria was stunned, she had spent so long working up the courage to come into town, and now even her efforts were for naught. Suddenly, she grew very aware of the other patrons in the store. She had been so focused earlier on her goal of buying fabric and going home that she hadn’t noticed how quiet they all had gotten when she entered the shop, but now she was keenly aware at their disdainful glares. Victoria shrank a little in her place, but couldn’t find the motivation to move, all she could think about was getting the fabric squares and going home, she had one mission, she had to accomplish it.

Working up her courage again, she managed to squeak out a few words despite the oppressive atmosphere in the room, “Some, fabric…squares?”

At this, Mr. Taylor whipped around and brought his face very close to hers, his eyes aflame with rage, “I do not have any Mrs. Clarke,” He spat out her name as though he was trying to rid his mouth of filth. “And since you don’t seem to be looking to purchase anything else, I suggest you leave,” his eyes narrowed at her in challenge.

Victoria’s eyes stung, and she glanced around the room, hoping for someone to come to her aide. The other patron’s eyes met hers, but there was no kindness in those eyes, only hate and vitriol, she thought she saw few looks of pity, but surely that was her imagination.

Blinking sharply, Victoria turned on her heel and ran out of the shop. However, here she was in the open, more eyes stared at her with disdain and judgment, she seemed to shrink while the world grew larger, the eyes staring into her very soul, judging her as though they were the heavenly choir themselves. Her breath came short and fast, heart threatening to leap right out her chest. Her gaze darted in every direction. Hoping, daring for an escape, somewhere she could hide from the prying eyes, and judgement of the world around her. She wanted to go home, she wanted to go back to Port Prosper, but she couldn’t, but she just wanted to go home, but she had to stay, but-

Her frantic thoughts stopped for just a moment as she noticed a shaded alleyway not too far off, tucked between the butcher’s shop and a local pub she’d heard her husband mention once or twice. She glanced around quickly, they were all staring, she needed to escape, needed to get away from the oppressive glares of the town’s folk, the eyes that always seemed to follow her. With barely a second thought, she darted into the alleyway and ducked behind a barrel, shielding herself from the relentless scrutiny of the street.

She willed herself to calm down, they weren’t looking at her anymore, their eyes were pointed elsewhere, she was fine, she was fine, she was- The tears came hot and heavy, a wail threatened to escape her throat but she bit it back, determined not to draw any more attention to herself. Victoria felt so small, but she found herself wanting to become smaller, to shrink away from her tears and emotions. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her face in the fold of her dress, and let the tears come unbidden.

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She’d lost track of how long she’d been in the alleyway. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been a few hours. In between her sniffles and sobs she tried to take deep breaths. In, out, in out, but it seemed to be of no use, as much as she tried to calm herself, her body kept shaking and while she might feel calm for a moment, her emotions would drag her right back into sobs again after mere seconds.

So consumed was she in her sobs and trying to control her emotions, that she barely registered the other figure now standing in the alleyway. She didn’t even notice until it draped a quilt over her shoulders, sat next to her, and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. Victoria jumped at the touch, surprised, and shocked out of the spiraling darkness she had been facing up until that point. Someone was sitting next to her. Someone had cared enough to- was this a quilt?

Looking up she noticed the figure next to her, they were taller than just about anyone she had met, even taller than most men. The dusty lavender dress they wore appeared somehow ill fitted yet perfectly suited at the same time. As she slowly moved her gaze to meet the surely judgmental stare of her visitor, she was met instead by a cream-colored veil, dangling from their bonnet. There were no eyes to see, there were no eyes to meet. But she knew those eyes were still there, still judging. Victoria looked back to her feet, embarrassed to have been caught crying, but held fast by the warmth of the quilt around her shoulders.

They sat like that for a while, neither of them saying a word, the mysterious figure keeping a gentle hand on Victoria’s shoulder. Eventually the veiled stranger spoke, “Feelin’ better hon?” Victoria was slightly surprised, there was no judgment there, the voice was smooth and high pitched, it reminded her of honey. Startled into silence, Victoria just nodded.

“Would ya care for a cup’a tea? Ya still seem a might spooked.” The voice offered, devoid of judgement, as though it were simply stating a fact. Victoria, thought for a second, she didn’t know this person, but she was so tired now, and the blanket was so warm, the voice so comforting. Perhaps a cup of tea would do her good, it couldn’t make her feel worse could it? She nodded.

The woman, or at least Victoria thought it was a woman, stood up slowly and dusted off her dress. When she was done she offered Victoria a hand to help her to her feet, which Victoria accepted, still clutching the quilt around her. They walked a little ways down the alley until they came across a quaint wooden door, surrounded by plants and climbing ivy on all sides. The woman knocked, thrice quickly, a pause and one more pointed knock, another pause and she opened the door.

Inside Victoria was greeted by all manner of greenery and crafts tools. The room was large but made small by the placement of the shelves, giving it a disorganized but cozy atmosphere. The shelves themselves were filled with quilting squares, yarn, and embroidery thread of every color. Yards of fabric hung between the rafters, creating a comforting roof of familiar patterns. Scattered around the shop at seemingly random intervals were plants of every shape and size, some she recognized, others she didn’t but everywhere she looked her eyes landed on at least one piece of greenery, often times more.

As she took it all in, the mystery woman gently lead her to a small table near the fireplace, and sat her down in a chair, “Wait here a moment dear, I’ll fetch the tea, will you be alright by yourself?” the words pulled Victoria back to the moment, and she nodded in response.

Victoria tried to wait patiently and politely, but it wasn’t long before her eyes once more began to wander, drawn by the cacophony of colors and patterns. She zeroed in on some of the fabrics draped from the ceiling, Herr eyes drifted from bolt to bolt, some cream colored fabric peppered with small pink roses above her, a lovely blue gingham off to her right, and there, nestled near one of the back corners, the perfect strawberry pattern she needed to complete her quilt.

She had been so focused and enamored with the comforting tent of linens, that she had neglected to notice the sound of soft footsteps coming up behind her. She did not, however, neglect to jump a little out of her chair when whatever was behind declared a rather loud greeting in what had been a rather quiet room. “Bless my stars and call me a fool! Hearth didn’t mention nothin’ about no guests!”

Victoria whipped around in panic and fright, mostly fueled by the adrenalin from the sudden encounter, but she soon calmed; if only a little when she was met with a near identical figure to the one that had brought her here, save for the fact that this mysterious woman seemed to have more a penchant for pink, as it was the primary color of her wardrobe. She tried to glimpse a face beneath the rose-colored veil but couldn’t make anything out.

“How many times must I tell you not to spook our visitors?” rang out a voice from the doorway, as the woman in purple returned carrying a ceramic tea set.

“Sorry there, Hearth, ya know how excited I get when we get someone new in the shop,” the pink clad figure stooped down and turned her attention back toward Victoria, “I didn’t spook ya too much did I?” Victoria, with her voice still lost to shock, could only shake her head.

Sighing, the other woman set the tea set down on the table, wrists curving inward unnaturally, “I suppose introductions are in order,” She straightened up and gestured to herself and her companion, “I am Mrs. Hearth, and this is Mrs. Bloom, we run this here shop together, and service women of all sorts, in places ‘round the High Wilderness. Often times ladies find themselves here on account of needing wool, or linen, or seeds for a garden, but every so often a lady might find herself here needing a little bit more.”

At this Mrs. Bloom nudged Victoria’s arm playfully with her elbow, and almost sent Victoria to the floor with a strength one would not have attributed to a woman her size, “She’s talking ‘bout you, sugar.”

Victoria was taken aback by this revelation, what did they mean when they said they “service women of all sorts” and what exactly did it mean that Victoria herself apparently needed more than a bit of fabric?

Mrs. Hearth glimpsed the slight panic in the eyes of her new guest and deduced that something had been misunderstood, it continued, “Some ladies find themselves less in need of material goods and more in need of…,” she paused looking for the right words, “companionship and camaraderie. We also offer that here Hearth Blossom Market. We pride ourselves on being not just the best home goods emporium every side of New Winchester, but also on being a gathering place for women who need a little friendliness in their lives.” Pausing, she turned to face Victoria, “Does that sound like something that would interest you?”

Stunned she looked around, not fully sure what these strange women were offering her. Were they inviting her to be part of some exclusive club? What if it was all a joke? An elaborate scheme to humiliate her and drive her back to her little homestead outside of town? She wouldn’t put it past the townsfolk, they had already taken the time to humiliate her and make her feel unwelcome. She sipped her tea, a smooth chamomile with rose hips, and was taken in for a moment in its mild sweet and floral aroma. Suddenly she was back in her childhood home, breathing rapidly and unsure of herself, when her mother gently pressed a warm cup into her hands, and urged her to sip a tea not unlike the one she was drinking now. Her mother’s arms closed around her in a warm embrace, and she felt like she belonged, and she was loved. Victoria closed her eyes as the gentle melody of her mother’s humming sent calm vibrations through her body, and through the air.

The memory faded, and she was returned to her position at the table in the fabric shop. She noticed that the clock on the wall had moved forward by at least 10 minutes, she had been lost in the memory of better days, long since passed. The time for a polite answer to Mrs. Hearth’s question had faded away while she was lost in her daydream, but neither of the women seemed particularly concerned by Victoria’s prolonged silence. Mrs. Bloom just sat nearby, staring into the fire that had, at some point, been started in the fireplace, and Mrs. Hearth sat across the table, demurely sipping her own cup of tea.

Mrs. Hearth was the first to notice that Victoria had emerged from her stupor, carefully she set her cup down with naught but the tiniest clink. “How are you feeling dear?”

Victoria opened her mouth, ready to express her concerns and anxiety, ready to refuse their offer and walk out of the store. However, she found that she could express none of these emotions for they were no longer true, she was still uncertain, but yes, she felt much calmer than she had mere minutes ago. She replied hesitantly, “I’m feeling fine, I think. I’m still not too sure about all this, but I feel alright. “she paused, feeling like she had more to say, “Thank you for the tea.”

Underneath its veil, Mrs. Hearth smiled, a sharp toothy smile stretching from ear to ear and splitting it’s face in two distinct halves, “Think nothing of it dear, and as for our shop being a gathering place, I assure you nothing untoward happens here. Think of it as a girl’s club if you will. A few times per month we hold meetings here in the parlor, where we’ll serve tea and some nibbles, and allow women such as yourself to find a bit of home no matter where they are, “ Mrs. Hearth paused, wondering if now was a good time to bring up the matter of the small fee they required of each of their guests, “If you’d like, why not drop in on our next get together? Just be sure to bring an interesting little tidbit of scandalous chatter. When are we holding it again Bloom?”

At this, Bloom who had been sitting mostly quietly and only a little fidgety, piped up, “Why I reckon it’ll be this Saturday at right about 2 in the afternoon!” turning to Victoria she added, “Oh, please say you’ll join us! It is a right good time!”

Victoria pondered her options for a moment. It didn’t seem as though there was anything suspicious happening here. It seemed to be just like any other get together amongst a group of women, like a book club or tea party from the sound of it. She supposed there would be no harm in stopping in come Saturday, but “What about the folks from town?” she asked, “None of them like me very much, and I don’t think I’d much enjoy spending an afternoon with the lot of them.”

“Don’t worry about that darlin’,” Mrs. Hearth assured, “These little get togethers are for a certain kind of woman, we pick our clientele very carefully, and I can assure you that you shall not be made a fool of. We do not tolerate that kind of behavior.”

She’d run out of excuses, if this gathering weren’t anything suspicious, and she wouldn’t be made fun of, what did she have to lose? Anyway, it did sound rather intriguing, and she wouldn’t mind having a few friends. Taking a deep breath, Victoria nodded, “Yes, I supposed there’s no harm in it. Can’t promise I’ll stay for long though.”

Mrs. Hearth nodded, “That’s quite alright dear, just do what you can,” picking up the tea pot she offered, “More tea?”

Victoria shook her head this time, “I really should get going, it’s getting a bit late and I’m sure my husband will be wondering where I am.” If he’s even noticed I’m missing, she thought.

Mrs. Bloom deflated slightly, “Oh that’s a real shame,” She tilted her head towards Victoria, “But we’ll be seein’ you again come Saturday right?”

“Yes,” Victoria replied somewhat cheerfully, “I suppose you will.”

“Is there anything else we can do for you hun?” Mrs. Hearth inquired.

“Now that you mention it,” Victoria glanced over at the fabrics, “I originally came into town to buy some fabric for my quilt, and I think you have just the right one over there, the one with the strawberries?” she pointed in the direction of the fabric that had caught her eye.

Mrs. Hearth turned around to see which fabric it was she had pointed to, “Ah yes! That’s one of my favorites, let me pull it down for you.” She got up and walked over to the bolt, before proceeding to cut it into perfectly sized quilting squares and wrap the small stack with a neatly tied ribbon with a practiced precision. She offered the package to Victoria, who reached into her skirt pocket, before her eyes went wide.

“I’m so sorry,” Victoria’s voice came out high pitched and wobbly, “I-I thought I’d tucked the money away in my pocket b-but it doesn’t seem to be there,” she lowered her head and tried not to cry, she couldn’t even accomplish the one task she set out to do.

She felt a hand on her chin, tilting her head up to look at the veil of Mrs. Hearth. “Child, there’s no need to worry, it’s ok. Here take this, “Mrs. Hearth thrust the package of fabric into Victoria’s arms, “and don’t worry about payment just yet. Ok darlin’? Just make sure to bring us an extra juicy bit of chatter on Saturday?” She wiped away a tear that had escaped Victoria’s eye.

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Mrs. Hearth and Mrs. Bloom stood in the doorway to their shop and waved at Victoria as she left, heading for home. When at last she disappeared around the corner and was lost to their sight, they stepped back inside.

“I think that went quite well,” Mrs. Hearth remarked, removing it’s veil and helping Bloom to do the same. They gathered up the tea set and brought it over to a small couch in the far corner of the room, hidden away by shelves upon shelves of fabrics and plants. Bloom stopped momentarily to check a few leaves that had begun to yellow, before plucking them swiftly and shoving them into it’s pocket.

“Ya think she’ll come back, Hearth?” Bloom asked, staring deep into Hearth’s pitch-black eyes and taking her place at the far right of the couch, lounging with it’s legs on the upholstery and elongating to reach the other side, narrowly avoiding hitting it’s head on the ceiling in the process.

Hearth poured two cups of tea, one plain, and one with 4 cubes of sugar, and, after giving it a look to make some room, sat down next to Bloom on the couch, keeping the plain tea for itself and offering Bloom the other. “I do, Bloom. Or at least I certainly hope so.”

There was a moment of silence before Hearth took a sip of it’s tea, sighed, and buried it’s fur covered face into Bloom’s shoulder, taking care not to hit Bloom’s face with it’s large ears and nearly melting with contentment in the process.

The two Curator’s settled in for the night, shifting to fit perfectly into the space left by the other. Each with their own book to keep entertained, slowly sipping on their tea, reluctant to get up for refills and simply enjoying the company of the other. Hoping against hope that they’d been able to improve the life of one lonely woman, and gain both a customer and friend, But for now none of that mattered, the shop was closed for the day, the firelight cast strange and comforting shadows along the walls, and they were together, which made every moment they shared a cherished one.

#fallen london #fallen london AU #Fallen frontier #fallen london fanfic #cottagecore #cute spacebats #Asexual characters #aromantic characters #Both Mrs. Hearth and Mrs. Bloom are aro ace and in a QPR #QPR #Mrs. Hearth #Mrs. Bloom #queerplatonic

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allthethingamabobs · 4 years

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family sticks together, bruh

Notes: I was re-watching the Bay-verse movies and suddenly got irritated at the no last name thing at the end of the second one. April O'Neil was right there. Their ride-or-die, their badass older sister, their hogosha. So here's my first contribution to the TMNT fandom. I literally wrote this in half a day, so if you see any writing errors all I gotta say is...my bad. Enjoy the found family fluff!

Rating: G

Also on AO3.

April figured it all started with a package hastily stuffed in her mailbox. It was barely small enough to fit, wrapped in that tough paper-cardboard material, and took a few careful pulls to get out. She couldn’t recall ordering anything recently, so the least she could do was try not to destroy what was most likely her neighbor’s mail. But when she flipped it over for the addressee, she was surprised to see “Mikey O’Neil” on it.

April and her “childhood pets” had been reunited four months back now, and it continued to throw her life upside down. A happy upside down, though. Those two names together were doing a number on the loner habits she’d built up since her father’s death. Apparently, all it took was four mutant teenagers and their father to start breaking down those walls.

She snapped a photo of the package and sent it to Mikey as she walked up to her apartment. Her phone lit up with a video chat request seconds later. The boys were just like any other teens when there weren’t bad guys to fight—they loved texting (on their one-of-a-kind turtle phones), sending her snaps, and video chatting whenever they could. April supposed that 15 years alone in a sewer could make one a little starved for new attention, and she was always happy to talk.

One of Mikey’s eyes filled the screen first, and then his grinning face when he pulled back. “You got it!” he hollered.

There was a thump from somewhere behind him, and Leo yelled something about peace and quiet when meditating. Then all she could see was a blurry carapace as Mikey quickly escaped to some other part of the lair. “You got it!” he cheered again, down to a whisper-yell.

“Sure did,” she answered with a smile, while making sure her apartment door locked behind her. “A little heads up would be nice, though. People do steal packages.”

“Man, that would’ve been no bueno. It has my name on it and everything.”

She shrugged—it was New York, what could she say. “About that… Mikey O’Neil, huh?”

He brightened. “Yeah! Makes sense, right? You’ve always been family even if we got separated for like, way too long, and who wouldn’t want to be a badass O’Neil?”

“Hm.” Her smile was fond even as she bit her lip to keep herself from doing something dramatic like tearing up. “You make some excellent points.”

Mikey nodded, seemingly proud of his reasoning. “You get me, April. So when are you gonna come hang out?”

“Not until tomorrow at least.” She set the phone on the counter as she turned to mess with the oven dials. “I’ve got to eat, and then a grimy bathroom and donation boxes are calling my name.”

Two weeks ago, a great aunt she hadn’t talked to since her father’s funeral had passed away and apparently left her succession rights to a New York miracle: a rent-controlled apartment above a quiet antique store. It was a dated unit and still smelled a bit like old people, but she was making it work.

A whine came from her phone. “Aw, shell… Oh, hey! We could help! Four mutants and a human are better than one!”

“That’s sweet, Mikey, but I’ve got this.” Plus, she was starting to pick up the brother’s dynamics. That visit would devolve into complete chaos in no time, given the cluttered mess. There were a lot of breakable objects she was still in the process of either packing up or donating.

“Your loss, Ape. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up close to the camera again and whispered dramatically, “You’ll bring the package, right?”

She snorted and leaned over so he could see her face. “Pinky swear.”

“I don’t have a pinky, so I’ll have to believe you. Bye, April!”

The screen went blank, and April had a glimpse of herself in the reflection. She had to admit… her smile looked a lot more genuine these days.

In work news, however, life had been a lot of sucking up to Bernadette and the team after getting her job back, so she didn’t get down to the lair until late in the evening. Entering through the water system wasn’t exactly ideal, so they’d built a biometric, heavily enforced door as an alternative. Leo spotted her first as she shoved her way in and waved from where he was cleaning his katanas.

The new lair seemed to change every time she visited—more light-up signs or beat-up furniture appearing—and she still felt a little guilty for being the reason behind the move. The guys had assured her that they didn’t blame her, and they were having fun with the tall ceilings and tunnels in the new space. Splinter had even claimed one to start a bonsai garden.

“Hey, April! How was your day?” Leo called, carefully setting his weapons aside to get up.

“Not too bad, mostly research on some detox craze—”

“April!?” There was a crash from the back where they had set up a gym area in an upper opening. Mikey came tumbling out, almost right on top of where Raph was exiting the lower tunnel, and he gracefully avoided retaliation. “You got the goods?”

Leo shot her a confused frown, and she answered with a fond “don’t ask” look before rummaging in her bag to pull it out. “Yes, Mikey, I have the goods.”

Mikey bounced over and pulled her into a quick, bone-crushing hug before taking the package out of her hands. He ripped into it and pulled out a gaudy gold chain that looked like it once belonged in a 2000’s music video.

“Bling, bling!” he crowed and threw the shell necklace off to be replaced.

“Wait a minute, is that what was so important you had to order it?” Donnie said as he and Raph joined the group. “That’s such a waste of money!”

“Some ninja you are,” Raph snorted. “You can see that ugly-ass chain from a mile away.”

Leo hummed at that and then frowned. “Mikey, did you even ask April if you could send that to her place before you ordered it?”

Said turtle shrugged. “I knew she wouldn’t mind.”

The others seemed to erupt at once.

“Except it’s an unknown package being sent to her place, especially with the Foot Clan knowing her association with us—”

“Even worse, it’s inconsiderate to just assume—”

“Even worse, Leo? What kind of bullshit is that—”

April was an only child (well, not so much anymore), so she wasn’t used to how quickly one small thing could turn into a full blown argument. If pushing got involved, then 6-foot mutant turtles or not, she would break up that fight—yup, there’s the shoving.

“Guys, GUYS!” April moved forward and intercepted the beginning of whatever as they all avoided bumping into her. “It’s fine. You can have stuff sent to my place, I don’t care. As long as I can get it down here.”

It took a little more convincing to assure them that no, they were not imposing on her, and then they seemed excited about this new opportunity. Apparently, they’d had to scout out addresses before and sneak the package away before the occupants realized. Obviously, this was much more convenient.

Steadily, they all started to order stuff online (with what money or credit card she had no idea) and have it sent to her place. Parts for Donnie, books for Leo, and though she only felt it through the packaging, yarn for Raph. At first, Mikey was the only one who used O’Neil for the address. Then something changed, and they all started to use it too. A package of tea addressed to Splinter O’Neil gave her a small laugh one day. Raph had been the last to address himself as O’Neil, always so stubborn, and seemed almost shy when she delivered it.

April knew she was very biased on this, having seen them as teeny-tiny babies, but her little-big brothers could be pretty adorable sometimes.

---

The last name thing had come up with Splinter one day as they sat in his quiet bonsai garden, enjoying some tea while the boys burned off energy around the rest of the lair.

“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything, but I’ll admit it’s… nice. My dad was really all I had for family, so it was just us and then me for so long. It’s almost like this has all… I don’t know, come full-circle? If that makes sense?”

Splinter smiled and reached out to lay his hand on hers.

“I was not lying when I said I modeled my parenting after your father. One way or another, you both cared for this family, and you know we consider you a part of it.” April nodded, a little choked up, and grasped his hand. He’d said it himself, but she wasn’t ready to fully relive how Splinter felt so familiar, so comforting.

“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle. “Michelangelo has quite enjoyed having a last name, and I think the others were a bit hesitant before they saw that you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not, I’m all for it,” April laughed, wiping under her eyes. “Now there’s more than just me to make the O’Neil name proud.”

---

One other thing she had discovered about being a big sister to four trouble-prone teens: full names were extremely effective.

“Donatello O’Neil!” she shouted the second she stepped into the lair, and all movement ceased. Leo balanced on one foot, mid-throw, Raph was mid-swing across the lair, and Mikey had an orange soda titled towards his face, where it slowly dripped down his front.

A weak “Oh, shell” came from the direction of the lab, and she stormed over. A taunt from Mikey followed but was quickly cut off with a grunt. Donnie was hunched over his desk, head turned slightly to look up at April’s furious approach.

“Why the hell did I just find a tracker in not one but all of my jackets?” She reached into her pocket, grasped the tiny devices, and tossed them on the desk. “I almost had a panic attack thinking I was being tracked by someone else. You know that’s been one of my worst fears ever since the Shredder, and we’ve talked about privacy and emergency plans, Donnie. I have a panic button on my phone, and I gave you permission to track it when absolutely necessary.” She let out a frustrated huff, pointing at the trackers. “What. Are. These?”

He’d sputtered a bit and avoided her eyes as she spoke, but he finally looked up when she stood silent, waiting for an answer. His shoulders drooped, and he wheeled back from his desk to face her. Even sitting, Donnie was only slightly shorter than her.

“Contingency plan,” he finally bit out. “Phones are most likely the first thing a kidnapper would get rid of to avoid tracking.”

“Wh— kidnapper?” That caught her off guard, and the tension in her shoulders released a little. Was there a new danger she didn’t know about? “But who… Oh.”

Movement on his tablet drew her eye, and the footage there followed a shady van that looked very familiar.

The Foot Clan—because an organization that big could still survive with their leader in jail for a year now—had disabled her turtle-approved security system and ransacked her apartment a couple of weeks ago. The cameras from across the street told them that and how the intruders had missed April coming home by a mere 12 minutes. They had obviously been searching for something specific, and she eventually realized it must have been the box of notes from Project Renaissance. Luckily, they had been stored in the lair for safe keeping.

After coming home to that mess, April called Donnie right away and started packing up her necessities. All four of the turtles had met her at her usual sewer entrance, and they formed a tense detail on the trip back. She worked out-of-office that week as she laid low in the lair and waited for the all-clear while they doubled up her apartment’s security. Splinter and the boys were good about giving her space when she was working, but she could still feel the hovering and worry. The guys had been in and out more often, Splinter always had some tea ready for her, and she just knew there had been many hushed conversations out of earshot.

Sure, deadly henchmen being in her apartment had freaked her out, but it had really freaked out her new family. April held her own against all of the weird shit they got dragged into, but there were always reminders that she did not have a shell or ninja training; a sprained ankle, one small concussion, too many bruises to remember, and even a few less inches of hair when it got singed in an explosion.

She looked between the tablet and Donnie, but now he held his gaze steady. “The Foot know where you live, and you refuse to move. This was the best way for us to always be there when you need us.” His voice was even, calculated, but his hands were clasped tightly and one foot tapped insistently.

Oh, her sweet, overprotective boys. Under all that bullet-proof shell, they were all just teenagers who had five people in the world to call family, and they did not take that for granted.

April sighed and turned to sit against the desk, holding out one hand. Donnie took it and held on, grip tight. “It comes from a good place, Donnie, but you have to tell me about these things. Trust goes both ways, okay?”

Leo, Raph, and Mikey were hovering around the entrance to the lab, and she gave them all a stern look to reiterate her point. “I know I don’t have a shell, but I am scrappy, stubborn, and awesome at running in heels.”

“Way better than the Jurassic World chick,” Mikey piped up, and Raph lightly punched his arm.

“You’re damn right,” April answered, smiling at his effort to lighten the mood. “So I appreciate the worry, guys, but you need to talk to me. I worry, too. You might forget, but you’re not invincible.”

“Better off than you,” Raph grunted. This time Mikey punched him, not as lightly. “What, it’s true!”

April sighed. “Come on, Raph, you know muscle isn’t everything.”

“No,” he grumbled, “but you got us. Whether or not you like it, we can take the hard hits.”

“What he means to say,” Leo said, shoving Raph back with his shoulder, “is that we were worried, and we didn’t think you were taking the threat seriously enough.” Donnie’s hand gripped hers a little harder, and she looked back to see him nod in agreement. “We are sorry about the secrecy, though.”

April sighed. “Fair point. You know I love you guys,” they perked up at that, “but having back-up is kind of a new thing for me. It’s habit to go solo, and it’s habit for you four to be a team.”

She held out her other hand. Leo was closest, and he took it with some hesitation. “Still a learning process all around.”

Mikey eagerly grasped Leo’s other hand and then Raph’s, refusing to let go even as Raph gave a shake, so they were all joined. “Family sticks together, bruh.”

---

The O’Neils had been a thing for awhile now, but writing it down was very different to actually saying it outloud. Mikey had no trouble claiming his new last name, and had even dubbed some pizza monstrosity he concocted from as many toppings he could get as the “O’Neil Special.” For the others, it took some time to say it—at least when she was around to hear.

Eight months. Donnie had been talking a mile a minute about a phone meeting set up with an award-winning engineer currently teaching at NYU. He’d been given 30 minutes to ask her all the questions he wanted. April had kind of bullied Vern into setting it up with his new connections, and Donnie had asked her to be there for moral support. She assured him it was all going to go great and to just make the call already. His shoulders went rigid under her hands when the call connected. “Hi! Hello, uh, this is Donatello O’Neil, I got your number from Vern? The Falcon?” She squeezed his shoulders in comfort, grinning proudly for many reasons.

One year and 2 months. Raph had been playing a one-on-one basketball game with Donnie while April refereed. Even as the self-proclaimed muscles, Raph was agile, and he did a quick maneuver around Donnie to score a perfect 3-pointer. “And Raph O’Neil makes the shot!” he whooped, doing a quick victory dance. He didn’t seem to realize it, but April certainly did. She felt warm and fuzzy after that, so she let him get away with traveling a couple minutes later.

For Leo, it just hadn’t come up yet. Although, one day she’d been stress cleaning their mess of a kitchen, and opened one beat-up book in curiosity to see “Leonardo O’Neil” neatly written on the cover page. That was enough for her.

Then her amazing family had finally gotten the acknowledgement they so rightly deserved.

“To you, brothers. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo.” Chief Vincent paused. “Last name?”

The guys all glanced her way, and April didn’t care if her eyes were a little watery at Leo’s answer. “O’Neil.”

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse #tmnt bayverse #april o'neil #tmnt april #fanfic

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dem-obscure-imagines · 5 years

Text

The Familiar

Thackery Binx x Reader Prompt: Some of y’all asked for some Binx around Halloween time but I couldn��t write any since I was busy with school, so I’ve just had this floating around in my head since like October. Apologies. Warnings: None? Word Count: 2.2k

You’d decided a long time ago that you weren’t a great witch. It wasn’t that you were an evil one, no, you tried your best to keep the balance. It was just that you were...as your mother put it, rather inexperienced. You hadn’t had much time to hone your skills yet, and your magic was far from fully controlled. You weren’t good at brewing potions or casting spells...overall, you were kind of a mess, but you meant well.

And that, Thackery figured, was probably the reason he had stumbled upon your house in the first place. He knew well after his couple hundred years wandering through the streets of Salem, that any witch worth her hexes needed a familiar to keep her on the right path, so your familiar is just what he became.

Now, nearly two years later, you were curled up on the couch with your knitting. It wasn’t a particularly magical project you were working on, but you’d been told by your mother that crafting something with magical hands often increased its magical properties. You figured that must be the case for something like this, something that took so long to make.

You heard Thackery’s paws pad across the wooden floor and into the living room, where you were settled.

“Are you a bit cold? It’s rather cold in here.” He noted. How he was able to tell, all covered in fur like he was now, you’d never know.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, I am.” You agreed, setting your knitting to the side and manifesting a spell in your hand. It was a little one, so it didn’t require nearly as much thought or focus as it had for you a few years ago, but it still required a free hand or two. You watched as a little flame grew in the palm of your hand and then, with a flick of your wrist, you banished it to the fireplace, where the logs caught nicely, beginning to warm the big room of the old Salem house on the sea.

“What are you making?” Thackery tilted his head and watched as you picked up your project again. His sharp green eyes fixed on the string and you could tell it was taking every bit of his consciousness to resist the urge to play with it. Cute, you decided.

“Scarf. It’s going to get colder soon.” You reminded him quietly, as though the orange trees outside weren’t a reminder of the fact. Halloween had come and gone uneventfully, so you were safely on your way through November, trying to balance your magical studies with all of the hobbies you had, this being one of them. Well, that and bonding with your familiar. Although, the last of those things wasn’t too difficult. You knew he was pretty fond of you.

“Right. The weather tends to do that, doesn’t it?” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be Thackery Binx, after having lived through so many seasons and years and decades and centuries. Time really didn’t mean anything to someone who’s immortal. It was sad. “Oh, don’t be sad for me, love.” He cooed, looking at the expression on your face. Your bond with him did many things. One of them was letting you tap into the other’s emotions from time to time, not that he didn’t know you well enough to be able to tell.

“It is sad, though, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But you shouldn’t be sad for me. Someone as precious as you shouldn’t waste time on being sad.”

You couldn’t seem to explain your racing heart, nor the way it warmed your insides when one of his little paws rested on your working hands, stilling them in their places. He looked up at you with those emerald green eyes. “It’s okay, really, it is.”

Your next words were quiet. Had it not been for his acute senses, you doubted he’d have been able to hear you at all. “But it’s not, though.”

Thackery sighed, lowering his paw as you started to put your knitting away and instead picked up the remote for the TV. You pulled your blanket up higher over your legs and gave your thighs a pat, inviting him on. He gladly curled in your lap, warm and purring when you pet him behind the ears, making sure to find his favorite spot.

“We’ll figure it out,” he reassured you between fits of purrs. “Someday…”

“Yeah,” you mulled through thoughts, biting your lip. “Someday…”

***

Your next day of adventure brought you to one of the only genuine witch suppliers in town. It wasn’t hard to imagine that a place like Salem seemed to foster a lot of tourist traps as opposed to genuine places. You’d had to weed through a lot of them the hard way, using some pointers from your mother to steer clear of the ones filled with nothing but nonsense and shiny things.

This one, however, was run by one of the older witches in town, a kind soul who always gave you a discount on books and potion ingredients. She also had very good advice from time to time, so you figured she might have the answer to your question.

“Information on familiars, eh? I do believe I have a few tomes on that. This way, dearie.” Elzabeth led you down the shelves in the front of the cozy little shop. “How is your little Thackery doing these days? Staying out of trouble?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Chased a bird the other day, but aside from that, it’s been business as usual.”

“You usually bring him here. I was surprised to see you alone.”

“I’m working on a bit of a gift for him, actually. That’s why I need the spells.”

She smiled, and when she did, her eyes seemed to twinkle. “I was wondering when you’d come here looking for something like this, actually, once you realized what happened to him.”

“Yeah, it’s really sad.”

“Very sad. He used to wander in here all the time before he found you. I think he was sort of always looking. It just took him a while to find a witch he could count on.” Your heart melted at that. A witch he could count on.

“We’re a good match, him and I.”

She handed you a thick leather book with a wink. “I think so too.”

***

Thackery sat bolt upright the second he heard your keys in the door. You were late. You were never late, but today you were. The cat had been worried. He was about to hop through the cat door and go looking for you.

“Sorry I’m late, buddy. Traffic was rough.” You explained, walking through the door holding a big brown paper bag with one arm and holding your broom in the other hand.

“You flew.” He tilted his head, eyes fixed on your vehicle of choice.

“It was windy.” You amended, plucking a dead leaf out of your hair and holding it up as evidence. ‘

Thackery nodded, but he still wasn’t quite convinced, his green eyes narrowing in suspicion. You walked out to the table and set the bag down, unloading your goodies. Some groceries, some ingredients to restock your brewing stash, some more yarn, and a smaller paper bag that you didn’t unload. Instead, you waved your hand over it, sending it to your room.

“What was that?”

“Some books.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Oh, alright.” Thackery hopped up onto the table and then onto your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against yours, a little way to show you how much he missed you. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

***

That night, long after Thackery went to sleep, you set to work. Elzabeth’s shop wasn’t the only place you had stopped that afternoon. You had made another quick place to a store called Familiars R Us, where you picked up all of your favorite treats for Thackery. Today though, the only thing you’d gotten him was a shiny new collar.

Cracking open the book of spells from Elzabeth’s, you flipped to the page you wanted, gripped the collar, and murmured the incantation scrawled on the yellowed paper. The candles around you flickered, flashed, and then blew out, leaving you sitting in the dark clutching an enchanted object. Steam rose off of it and your hand burned holding onto it, so, cursing, you set it down to cool off. You figured, or hoped, that when you woke up the next morning, it would be cooled off enough to put to use…

***

By the time the sun came up, you were already in the kitchen, toiling away at some useless luck potion one of the boys in your class was paying you to brew for him. It would work, yes, but at the end of the day, it was meaningless. It did, however, distract you from what was coming ahead.

“You’re anxious,” Thackery announced, hopping up to sit on the counter before even touching the breakfast you’d laid out for him, eggs and sausage, one of his favorites. “Everything alright, love?”

“I’m good, yeah.”

“Well, that’s not the truth, now is it? I know you’re not nervous about the potion you’re brewing, judging that it’s liquid luck.”

“I’ll explain it to you as soon as I get this bottled up, alright?”

“Okay.” He settled, hopping to the table to eat off of his plate.

You ladled a few bottles of love potion out of the cauldron before flicking your wrist to put out the flame. You could probably sell the leftovers to the Potion place next to Elzabeth’s. Satisfied with your work, you set the bottles on the counter and then joined Thackery at the table and picked up your fork.

He stopped eating, looking up at you eagerly.

“What?”

“Explain yourself, witch.” He teased.

“Well, I enchanted something last night and I’m nervous to try it out is all.”

“Oh. What did you enchant?”

“A collar…” You pulled the artifact from the pocket of your cloak and set it on the table. He looked it over before looking back at you, a question waiting behind his green eyes.

“You’re not trying to mute me, are you? If I was annoying you, you could have just said something.”

“It’s not that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “I love the sound of your voice, Thackery, you know that.”

“Is it for me? I suppose I should have asked that first.”

“It IS for you. A...belated birthday gift of sorts, I guess.” You took a few bites of sausage and eggs, waiting for him to say something more or ask what enchantment you had put on it. That would probably be an important thing to ask. You were guessing he didn’t ask because he didn’t want to get his hopes up. You felt the anxiousness manifesting in him, too. “I can help you put it on whenever you’re ready.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours when he answered, “I’m ready.”

So, standing up, you helped clasp the brown leather collar around Thackery’s neck. And then you waited. Not even a second later, he groaned in discomfort, hopefully a good sign. Then, he mewled, hopping off of the table away from you, hiding himself behind the large round wooden structure.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” You asked after a few concerning moments of quiet. You moved to peek around the table, but you were stopped by the sound of a voice, and a head of sandy hair rising up from behind it. Large hands and human fingers gripped it, pulling himself into a standing position.

Any question you had was silenced at the sight of him. It had worked. Holy shit, it had worked. A black sweater was draped over his frame, and a pair of ripped blue jeans adorned his long legs. Thackery looked up at you with wide green eyes before surging forward and collecting you in his arms, pressing a long and desperate kiss to your lips, followed by three shorter but equally desperate ones.

The breath was sucked out of your lungs, your knees going wobbly at the fiery passion he instilled in you. He pulled away and studied your features, analyzing, although he was more than capable of just feeling your emotions through your bond. There was no regret or disgust or anything, only warmth and swirls of surprise.

“H-how did you-?” He pulled you against his chest, long fingers combing through your hair.

“Elzabeth came through. She’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to your hairline, exhaling a long breath with his lips against your skin. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re...you’re okay with...your cat kissing you?” He was having a bit of trouble wording exactly what had just unfolded.

“Well,” you tilted your head, pretending to consider it, “I think I’d like it if he did it again.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Thackery grinned and tilted your head up to his, connecting your lips once more.

#thackery binx #thackery binx x reader #thackery binx imagine #hocus pocus #hocus pocus imagine #fluff

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ua-momo-archive · 5 years

Text

the halloween ball | afterparty.

Grinning evilly and spurred on by Setsuna's urgings (and the alcohol in his cup), Monoma not so carefully climbed up on top of his favorite chair, standing up on the arm rests.

"ATTENTION EVERYONE!!! YOUR KING IS SPEAKING!!!" he shouted out, lifting his scepter as proof of his power. "ANYONE WHO WANTS TO PLAY A ROUSING GAME OF TRUTHE OR DARE SHOULD GATHER ROUNDE!" he paused. "And grab a cup or two if you haven't, because we want to make this interesting."

Did he just... pronounce extra 'e's...

Yes, he did.

"TO THE KING!!!!" Setsuna cheered.

"Well I didn't vote for you," Kaminari snarked, half-lifting his glass.

“No king of mine...” Sero muttered.

"YES! YES! TO ME!!!!" Monoma agreed with a haughty laugh. "Aahaahahaaa!!!"

Momo can't help but laugh at Monoma's declaration: he's always been on the dramatic end, and it's interesting being able to finally witness it in person. She makes her way to the drink table to get another drink before moving to sit with the others.

"So... it's spin the bottle? Again?" Kaminari asks.

"It's truth or dare... with a bottle. It makes it indiscriminate," Monoma explained in that same all too cocky tone. He sat down in his chair, sprawled across in a kingly fashion. "Because I am king, I will decide who is first to go..!" he said, spinning his red cup around as if it were a goblet before he pointed his scepter at Kirishima. "You! You will be our first victim! Mwahahaa...!!!"

Climbing over Tetsu's shoulder, he made his way over to Monoma, smashing his lips against the other guys'. It didn't last long though, as he reeked of alcohol and didn't want to hurt the boy.

"...?!?" Completely, completely caught off guard, Monoma blinked rapidly as he was kissed, placing his hands on Kirishima's shoulders for when he pulled away. "Th... thank you, Kirishima..." he said with a winded laugh. "Ah, you were actually supposed to... spin the bottle and try and dare someone though, haha...!"

"What a mad banquet of drunkenness.." mumbled Tokoyami, bracing himself for the start of the game.

"...what" Kirishima looks around and thinks for a second, and goes back to the bottle. The bottle finally stops spinning, he span it pretty hard and went for way too long. It landed on... Todoroki. "Truth or dare Shooo?"

Monoma snickered at that. "Shooo..." he repeated in a ghostly echo…

Todoroki looks shocked, the alcohol stopping him from really keeping his straight face. He cleared his throat. Truth or dare, huh.... well this was the first one.... and he wasn't a fuckin pussy.... "Dare."

Momo's a little taken aback when Kirishima just gets up and full-on kisses Monoma, and that's when she kind of realizes this party is about to get really hectic really fast. Still, she knows that she should hold her tongue and let them carry on---after all, it would be interesting watching Shouto potentially make a fool of himself in front of everyone.

Kirishima had actually zoned out a bit there, but he zoomed back into reality for a split second (he's ascending) to tell him the dare. "I dare you tooo................. borrow a dress from someone and walk up and down the room like a suPERMODEL!!!"

Tetsu slowly takes his phone from out of his back pocket.

Setsu QUICKLY took her phone out. She was recording all of this.

Momo chokes on her drink. She's about to take her phone out but realizes that doing so probably wouldn't be good for her reputation--and even when tipsy, she knows that she has to care about that. At the very least, she figures she can just ask Tetsutetsu for the video later.

And then it hits her: Shouto needs a dress. She feels herself stand up and step towards her ex-boyfriend, the cheap cotton fabric emerging from her skin as she does so. "Oh, Shouto," she slurs, voice a little too sweet. "Don't worry, I've got you covered."

When she finally comes to a stop in front of him, she tosses the neon purple-orange-yellow fabric at him. It's short, a strange conglomeration of spandex and cotton and some kind of... yarn-like material that she's sure she's only seen in old knitting magazines. The dress itself will probably only barely cover Shouto's ass. She feels herself smile. Really smile.

"Oh my god," Monoma faked a gagging sound at the sight. Jesus christ, it was ugly…

"Oh..... fuck. " Todoroki gets up and looks around. And then Momo offers him a dress. That she made. And oh god, is it disgusting. "Do... do you want me to get naked or..." He sighs and takes off his jacket, tossing it back onto the couch, hoping it doesnt get ruined. He takes the dress with a huff and leaves the room for a moment, coming back with the dress on. If he knew how fucking small it was he wouldn't have taken his pants off for this. Damn it. He was too drunk for this shit. He needed to be drunker.

Deku stifled a laugh. “Todoroki....I’m so sorry.”

Shinso barely held back his laughter when he saw the dress Momo pulled out for Todoroki. This was going to be something he could never live down.

Tetsu looked away from them and tried to hide his laughter behind his hand.

Shoji laughed under his breath. “Getting a bit risqué already.”

A small, amused smile graced Tokoyami's features as Momo offers her 'help' to Todoroki. This was already interesting.. not that he had expected any less.

He walked back out, dress on, ass (basically) out. "I hate this. It's itchy. How did you fuckin… make it itchy?" He walks back, just as he was dared, and groans the whole time. When he's done strutting he sits down. "Can I change? This was... an awful decision."

"Todoroki, you look beautiful," Shinso said, now fully snickering behind his glass. He'd get his when it came to him, but for now it was funny.

“It fits your slim figure, Todoroki!” Deku cheers.

Momo doesn't bother to answer his question--she just laughs. It sounds a little hollow, and a part of her feels like she's going to regret this in the morning, but she can't help it: "You've done so much to me, Shouto, the least you can do is keep the dress that I took the trouble of making you."

"Fuck all of you." Todoroki mumbles, taking a very big drink.

"Yes, as king I decree that you have to keep it on for the rest of the night,” Monoma snickers.

"Fuck you especially, Monoma."

Momo just grins at Monoma, mouthing him a silent "thank you for this."

"You're welcome~" he mouthed back with a wink and a blown kiss. ... Hoo... alcohol…

Tetsu naturally took a SHIT ton of pictures.

....................................................................

The dares continue, but Momo finds that she’s hardly paying attention to any of them. She knows that she should have probably stepped in to stop some of this before it had gotten too extreme. But she's too busy relishing in that feeling of glory of making Todoroki suffer literally one hour ago. She figures that she'll let the chaos continue. She's on break. Homegirl's needed it.

....................................................................

Momo had, for the most part, been zoning out during all of the shenanigans; she has to, really--it's the only way the naturally responsible part of her character would be able to let these things continue. However, at the sound of Shinso's voice--and calling her name, nonetheless--she's torn out of her reverie. If she wasn't worried about how the others would perceive her, she'd easily reply to him with "truth." But she has the feeling that doing so wouldn't be very cash money fun of her, so with a shaky deep breath, she responds, "Dare."

Dare? From this girl? Shinso hadn't been expecting that. Thankfully for her, he wasn't as terrible as Sero was. He bounced a few ideas around in his head, though it was hard to think with Monoma's lips all over his shoulders. "I dare you to be Monoma's pet cat for two minutes."

“You piece of—” Deku snarls and lunges for Monoma suddenly, with force enough to knock Shinsou straight off of him. Grabbing him by the collar he pulls and drags him out of the room forcibly, not wanting to disturb the game.

“We’ll be back,” Deku grunted behind him before SLAMMING the door behind them.

Shinso fell back onto the floor and let out a groan. He watched them both go outside and heard the door slam, but couldn't bring himself to follow. "Scratch that. Be his pet when he comes back inside. If he comes back inside, that is."

"But Will He Die Though,” Kaminari wonders aloud.

"Honestly he kinda deserves this ass whooping," Tetsu said between coughs.

"Steel Knight's got a point," Kaminari said casually.

Momo... Wasn't sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that. She turns a bright shade of red at Shinso's words and--even though she doesn't have anything against Monoma--a piece of her hopes that Midoriya just really beats his ass so that she doesn't have to embarrass herself in front of all her peers.

... An amount of time passed.

Getting back felt a little awkward now, since he knew all eyes would be on him. But Monoma shuffled back into the room, looking... ruffled... though less bloody and bruised as one would think, considering Deku's anger. In fact, he looked nearly exactly the same, though his costume was a little worse for wear. He headed straight for the drinks, taking a shot of the first bottle he saw. "... So, what'd I miss? Hah..."

Tetsu ran his hands through Kiri's hair, massaging his head. When he heard Monoma walk in he couldn't help but snicker. "You have fun getting your ass beat?"

Monoma only raised an eyebrow, then shrugged a little to himself. "Beat, fucked, same thing really," he said loudly, fixing the way his hair was mussed, before he retrieved Kirishima's glass of water, handing it to the drunken boy. Considering his appearance, it really was impossible to tell which had actually happened…

It was probably a little unrealistic, but Momo had kind of hoped that Midoriya would have fully taken care of Monoma. But, at the very least, maybe he could have forgotten about her little dare? She feels herself shrink in her seat, face still painfully red as she tries to make herself as small as possible. A part of her can't believe that she was high on a power rush just because she got to make Todoroki a dumb dress--like, if this isn't karma.

Todoroki gave Monoma a confused look. He pulled at the dress that he was still wearing, for some reason, as it agitated his skin again. "You're alive. That's a shame." He looked into his empty cup. This was... the ......he lost count after 4. Could be sixth time... could be seventh... fuck. Fuck. Wow, fuck. He had no water. He had no intention of having water.

((If only he could MAKE a form of water))

"It is a shame, isn't it..." he replied in a low voice before slapping Todoroki on the ass after noticing just how short it was again. That was a good bit of revenge... Courtesy of Momo, wasn't it? Her name sparking pleasantly in his head, he glanced over at her. "Weren't we supposed to do a thing...?"

Todoroki jumped, snapping a short "Hey-the fuck," at him. He hated this dress. He hated it. Well. Monoma slapping his ass wasn't half bad-no. No he hated it. Despised it. Loathed. Any other words...? Whatever.

Momo's still flushed a bright shade of red when Monoma turns his attention her way--though she doesn't miss the ass slap he gives Todoroki beforehand. Momo makes sure to pay attention to that.

Even though it's embarrassing, Momo's still a woman of her word--however damning that word may be. With a soft sigh and a deep breath for her own encouragement, she saunters over to where Monoma stands, leaning into his chest and purring. "M-Meow?"

"...Oh?" All the breath nearly leaving his body, Monoma only nodded as he swallowed tightly, then took a few steps back until he was sitting down on a chair again, hand on the small of Momo's back to guide her forward. It was like everyone else in the room had disappeared... "Pretty kitty," he finally said with a little laugh, raising his hand to cup her cheek, before he lowered his fingers to rest on her throat. After a drunken moment of concentration, he was able to somehow make a collar materialize in his hand using her quirk... and promptly fastened it around her neck with a sloppy smile. "There you go~ now you're mine, ahaha~"

Momo's touch-sensitive.

It's something that she's come to realize throughout the entirety of the week, especially thanks to the kiss game that had been going around in the class. She's been pretty careful with her movements since then, but Monoma's always made it a little... difficult for her. Momo leans into his touch when he fastens the collar onto her neck, purring into his ear. Momo then acts like a cat for two minutes like she was dared to.

... It's a very long two minutes... that Monoma enjoyed very much... ... The collar was a very good idea…

Now that Momo could stop being a cat, she awkwardly clears her throat and spins the bottle. Her face is still flushed a bright shade of red as she feels everyone's eyes on her. When the bottle stops spinning, she asks, "T-Tetsutetsu, truth or dare?"

"Dare of course!"

Though it would have been fair to assume that Tetsutetsu would have picked dare over truth, Momo hadn't really had the time to think of a creative dare for him to do. She had been pretty busy during the last two minutes or so. Scrambling to come up with something that's at least semi-responsible so that she doesn't regret it in the morning, she finally says, "I dare you to drink at least six more cups of water! B-Because it's important to stay hydrated, especially when people are drinking like this!"

Of all the crazy dares that happened today, he was kinda expecting the worst. But he guessed he also should've known this was Momo he was talking about. "Well, alright!" He was gonna get up and get it but with Kiri sleeping on him, he didn't want to risk the chance of waking him up. He felt Kaminari smiling against his shoulder and looked over at him. "Don't laugh! Can you please go get me some water bro?!"

Kaminari laughed. "Yeah, sure thing, bruh." He pulled himself up to get some cups and hurriedly returns with two cups of water. "CHUG CHUG CHUG! Be back with two more, so you better be quick!" With that, he scurried off again.

Tetsu was confused at to why Kaminari was trying to turn this into a speed thing, but if he were to back down from a challenge.... could he really call himself a man?! He grabbed the two cups of water from the blonde and immediately tried to gulp all the water down before Kaminari came back with more.

Kaminari waited while Tetsutetsu down the second glass, set down the third and fourth, and then ran back to refill the first two. "Yeah, CHUG!" he called back.

As he handed off the two empty cups to Kaminari, he picked up the new ones and began to chug them down also.

Kaminari returned with the final two, and then sat down cross-legged near Tetsu, as he continued to chug them down, waiting expectantly for when he could return to hugging his arm.

When Tetsu had finished drinking all the water that was brought to him, he slammed the cups onto the table for dramatic effect, and let out a deep breath. "Thanks, Kamibro.."

Kaminari scooted back towards him. "Nooooo prob, Tetsubro," he responded, then curled sleepily back up against him, resting his head sleepily against his broad shoulder.

Tetsu wrapped his arm around the blond's waist, holding him close.

And for Momo… the rest of the night passes by like a blur.

#{pffffffft remember when this happened literally over a month ago LMAO}#halloween.txt #uarp #diary.txt #para #Monoma Neito #Todoroki Shouto #Shinsou Hitoshi #Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu #{these are just the snippets of the rp that were relevant to momo elajrwl;rek}#{obviously there were a lot of characters at the party #so i'm only tagging the characters that momo directly interacted with for simplicity's sake}#friends.txt

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