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sully-s · 9 months ago

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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 11 months ago

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💗Pancakes for Dinner - Lando Norris

'I wanna eat pancakes for dinner, I wanna get stuck in your head'

As Lando kept checking the time on his phone, he couldn't help but feel worse and worse as the minutes ticked agonizingly by. He had promised to go straight to your place after he had touched back down in Monaco.

As he's thinking about you, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, he can't help but want to teleport to yours instead of having to endure the painfully slow plane journey. He felt like he was missing something, though.

He racked his brains, trying to remember what he was forgetting, but nothing was coming to mind. It was some sort of special day. It certainly wasn't Christmas, or your birthday. It wasn't Halloween or anything, so it... shit.

It was Valentines Day.

It was Valentines Day and he hadn't booked anywhere for dinner like he had said he would. Well, he had never actually told you he was going to, but he had made a mental note to book a table somewhere in advance. And he hadn't.

The guilt he felt was incomprehensible, and he didn't want you getting angry at him because he hadn't. He knew you weren't like that, and you'd probably tell him it was fine and you could just stay in and cuddle, but he wanted to do something nice for you.

He wanted to treat you like the princess you were to him, and he was scolding himself for forgetting to do one simple thing while he was away. He tried to see if he could get anything last minute, but everything was booked up.

He wouldn't even be able to give you your gift since it was at his place, and he was going straight to yours so you could have a couple hours together before you both went to sleep. And, he'd probably be sleeping earlier since he had had a long day of traveling.

He wanted to give you something, at least. Something more than an apology on the day of love. Conveniently enough, he was able to ask for some paper, and he had a pen in his bag. As he started to write, he had to think carefully about what he was going to say.

His mind instantly went into doomsday thinking as the thoughts flashed in his mind of the plane going down, and the last thing he imagined was you. He didn't want to take it too far, either, but he was awful at telling you how he felt.

He could barely tell you how beautiful he thought you always were without blushing and stuttering, so writing the extent of how he felt was a much better option. Telling you was too scary, so he always just said something else.

He read it over and over until the words didn't make any coherent sense in his brain, and he folded it before he backed out and threw it away. Lando thought that this was the best way he could give you what you deserved. The truth.

He finally touched down, and took a taxi straight to your apartment. You had texted him, telling him to come straight in instead of knocking. He had a key, so he could just enter whenever he wanted to.

"Babe? You home?" he called out, dropping his things down by the door and slipping his shoes off. Just being in your apartment alone was enough to take away the stress of travelling.

"In the living room!" you responded, listening as his footsteps approached where you were. You had missed him a great deal while he had been off on his travels, but he was having fun, so you didn't mind so much.

He entered the room, and was relieved to see you just sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket. You weren't ready for a fancy dinner, you weren't looking at him in expectation of some grand gesture. You were simply happy for him to be back.

"God, I have missed you," he smiled, taking a seat next to you and slinging an arm over your shoulders, tugging you snugly into his side. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, just allowing himself to relax.

"I've missed you too," you agreed, revelling in the feeling of being back in his arms. "So, I was thinking for dinner, we could-" you started, but Lando abruptly cut you off.

"Well, about dinner... I feel really bad because it's Valentines Day, and I know I should have gotten us a table somewhere. I wanted to treat you, but it completely slipped my mind and I'm really sorry," he rambled, his grip on you tightening.

"Hey, hey, Lando, no, I was just going to say that I'll look in the cupboard and see what I can make us," you told him, knowing he would have told you to dress up in advance or something if you were going for dinner.

As he had suspected, you weren't waiting for anything, but he still felt awfully guilty. "But I still wanted to take you out and I feel like a shitty boyfriend for forgetting," he continued.

"Lando, my love, I was going to book us somewhere too, since I knew you would have told me weeks ago if you had reserved something. But I figured you'd be tired and you'd rather stay in and relax," you explained, and his heart melted.

It was baffling to him how sweet and considerate you were, but that was one of the many things he adored about you in the very, very long list. "You're such a sweetheart, I swear," he smiled, softly kissing you before pulling away and looking into your eyes.

"I try, I try," you chuckled, blushing slightly. The pink tint that coated your cheeks was one of the most adorable things he thought he had ever seen, and now he was glad that the two of you were just staying in instead of going out. "What do you want me to make?"

"Can we have pancakes for dinner?" he asked, an innocent smile on his face. He had had the same thought earlier, and there was no harm in asking.

"Now that is a splendid idea, my love," you agreed, getting up off the couch and heading through to the kitchen. Lando followed on, not wanting to be away from your side for even a minute. He leant on the counter and watched as you prepare the pancake batter. "Do you want crepes or American?"

"Whichever you prefer is fine," he said, wanting you to get the choice.

"Crepes it is," you smiled, putting the pan on the stove.

"Do you want me to set the table?" he asked, wanting to feel of use and wanting to help you out somewhat.

"You can sit down if you want, you've had a long day," you told him. And just when he thought you couldn't get any sweeter, you just had to ass a cherry on top of the cake. He shook his head, his curls flopping about on his forehead.

"No, no, I'll do it, don't worry," he smiled, kissing you on the cheek and going over to the dining table in the other room. Lando made sure you couldn't see what he was doing as he changed the table layout so you could sit opposite each other.

He took the flowers that you had on the coffee table and put them in the middle of the dining room table, as well as a few candles to create the proper romantic-restaurant feel. He was very proud of himself as he looked at your transformed table.

Once he was done, he went back into the kitchen to see how you were getting on with the pancakes. You were flipping one in the pan as you noticed him, standing in the doorway. "Hey, you," you smiled as he walked up to you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as he rested a head on your shoulder. "Hey," he softly said, just enjoying having you in his arms after being away for a while.

"Do you wanna go get dressed up? Make it like a proper date?" you asked, leaning back into him.

"I like that idea," he said, kissing your neck and letting you go off to your bedroom to get changed. He had some stuff at your place in the wardrobe in the spare room, and it'd suffice for a nice date setting.

He found a pink shirt, perfect for the Valentines Day feel with some slacks. Simple, yet classy. When he came back out, he noticed that you were still getting ready, which was to be expected. He patiently waited, and his head snapped to the door when he heard it click open.

"Baby, you look stunning," he smiled, watching as you walked out, all dressed up. You had done as much as you could in the short space of time, but it was more than enough for him. You had both had the same idea, opting for pink dress.

"You're looking handsome as ever," you smiled, liking the pink on him.

"Thank you, my love," he replied, taking your hand and walking you through to the dining room, the candle flames dancing in the darkness, casting your shadows on the wall.

"Lando, you didn't have to," you chuckled, taking in the room around you. The atmosphere was absolutely perfect, and this was better than any fancy restaurant.

"I did for my love," he flirted, pulling your chair out as you sat. You had opted for the pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, since it was a classic combination. The two of you talked as you ate, enjoying the moment together.

It didn't really matter where you were, as long as you had each other, you'd be happy to spend the time together. You had finished a short while ago, and now he had something itching at the back of his mind. The note he had written you. "Wait there," he said, getting up from the table and going to the front door.

He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out the folded piece of paper he had written on the plane, and set it down in front of you. "You can open it," he said, and you could already tell he was nervous about whatever it was he had written.

For a moment, you thought you were getting broken up with, but you quickly realised that wasn't the case. Lando watched anxiously as you read through the note, your face softening as the tears pricked the backs of your eyes.

'Dear Y/N,

I think this is one of those times where I'm thinking overly negatively, so bear with me. I think that I should probably tell you this, in case there is an accident, and I never see you again. But, on this plane tonight, I'm thinking, honestly, what do I have to lose?

I want to do everything with you. I want to have pancakes for dinner, I want to be the one stuck in your head. I want to watch TV shows with you, and if we're feeling under the weather, we can watch in bed instead of the couch. I want to go out on the weekends and take you to races. I want to get dressed up just to get undressed again.

I'm not trying to be too forward, and I don't want to cross any lines with you, but I think writing this to you is easier than telling you verbally. I can tell you everything I'm feeling without chickening out and changing the topic.

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it. I love you. I didn't want to say too much, but there's no way to skirt around this. I love you. The more I write it on the page the more it feels right, because I'm finally accepting that I love you. I love you so much.

If I'm still in the room while you're reading this, just know I can take it if you don't feel the same. All I want is for you to be happy, even if the feeling isn't mutual. Or if you want to take a step back and just be friends. Or if you just like me a little and not a lot.

I can take whatever it is you feel, even if this ruins everything. I guess that just comes with being in love with the prettiest girl in the world, huh? Anyway, I've rambled on enough, and I'll leave you to think. I love you.'

"You don't have to say it back, but I do really love you," he said, waiting for you to say something. Waiting for you to say anything. Anything at all. "I get it, it might be too soon-" he rambled, trying to fill the silence.

"I love you too," you said, cutting him off. For a moment, he just looked completely gobsmacked, and he wasn't too sure he had heard you right. "I love you too, Lando," you repeated, letting a stray tear of happiness roll down your reddened cheeks.

"You do? You really do?" he asked, needing to hear it one more time as confirmation that he wasn't just hearing what he wanted to hear.

"I love you, Lando. I love you so much," you reiterated the words of his letter. It took every ounce of control that he had not to leap to his feet and scream because the girl he adored loved him back. The prettiest girl in the world loved him back.

"Baby, you have no idea how much that means to me," he beamed, standing up from his chair and rounding the table so he was on your side. He wasted no time in taking you in his arms and kissing you. But he wasn't just kissing his girlfriend anymore, he was kissing the woman he loved.

"I love you," he smiled against your lips, becoming obsessed with the way those words sounded when he said them to you.

"I love you too," you smirked, snaking yours arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply. It was a damn good job that the two of you weren't at a restaurant, because you certainly couldn't do that on their tables.

A/N - And the second Valentines post of the day! I still think I'm shadowbanned, so if you could reblog this if you read this far, that'd be such a massive help! Also, based off Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzy Mcalpine. Love y'all 💗

|masterlist|

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months ago

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Anyone for a luxury doomsday condo named the “Survival Condo,” in a Kansas state-of-the-art facility that houses multiple condo units—from full-floor homes to penthouse apartments.

Leading up to the bunker is a private driveway armed with a guard to protect the imposing structure from any unwanted visitors. (That's the CEO, Ron Hubbard.) The bunker itself, Hubbard explains, is only minimally visible at ground level, where a camouflaged shell that is designed to withstand a 20 kiloton nuclear warhead sits behind large fences.

The staggering 20,000-square-foot structure has impressive doors built to withstand 8 tons of weight, and there is indoor and outdoor parking meant to accommodate armored vehicles.

The 15-story structure can house up to 75 people in multiple condo units that occupy either half or full-floor spaces.

The full-floor layouts are designed for 6 to 10 people, and the half-floor layouts are designed for 3 to 5 people.

This is a decontamination room where gas masks, radiation scrubs, and biohazard scrubs are available, along with stockpiles of large batteries, including two submarine batteries to further power the bunker.

There is a large pool with a waterfall and slides inside the structure.

Two Caterpillar diesel generators can run the whole facility, and doors that work in tandem in a lockdown situation open and close, room to room. Everything is bulletproof.

“Our objective when first approaching this project was to leave no stone unturned and to ensure that every detail, from safety, feature, and function to style, comfort, and luxury … every aspect of this endeavor had to be just right.”

Inside the common areas of the underground condo building are classrooms for children, a shooting range, dog park, game room, a movie theater, a fully stocked pub, and a workout room. Should health issues arise for any of the condo’s inhabitants, they need only visit the on-site medical and surgery center, and even an indoor climbing wall.

https://www.realtor.com/news/unique-homes/luxury-doomsday-bunker-kansas/

#underground bunkers #luxury doomsday condos #underground condos #house tours #home tour

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englishotomegames · 2 days ago

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Love Cult by Nochi Studios is now on Kickstarter!

"Upon receiving visions of doomsday fast approaching, Meridian is left with one mission before time runs out: to reverse the world’s fate by summoning love through the forbidden art of divine matchmaking.

Skilled in an arcana of her own, Meridian’s answer lies in the heart of the mystical Lapis cards, as she consults the cosmos to inspire new love connections across the city, which has been overtaken by astral gods peddling their own twisted notions of love to their believers.

With the astrals’ targets set on her, Meridian must ensure that those who believe in her magic will be guaranteed an everlasting love, no matter the otherworldly obstacles awaiting. For as she sees it, a true love as foretold by the stars is simply the only way to stop the doomsday clock... and the key to a most amorous salvation."

You can try the demo or support the Kickstarter here!

#love cult #nochi studios #otome game #otome games #upcoming #support #trial #kickstarter #crowdfunding

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theresattrpgforthat · 14 days ago

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Any low improv TTRPG's? as in low on the GM part, i would like to try some and see how it compares as I'm part of the improv scary crew

THEME: Low Improv Games.

Happy holidays folks! I'm going to try and get the last recommendation posts of the year out quickly, so you might get some more rec posts in the next two weeks!

As for this one friend, I tried to mix things up across game and genre, so I hope you find something you like!

Tunnels in White, by MeatCastle GameWare.

Old money siphoning new money from every corner of your city. An aging mansion, quiet and worn. An old corporation shifting its gaze from development to development, always hungry, always growing.

A warehouse bearing the name Singleton Solutions, small and unassuming in one of a hundred industrial parks like any other, takes in truckload after truckload but never sends anything out. It’s the same for the people. Sometimes, they arrive in towncars, other times in shuttle vans. None come out. Ever.

What you know is something strange is going on inside that warehouse and you are determined to discover what it is. What you cannot know is where and how far the mystery may take you.

Tunnels in White is an adventure for Liminal Horror, a modern-day horror OSR game about normal people being subjected to terrible things. A good number of adventures and mysteries written for these games come with locations, maps, factions, enemies and consequences for you to use as needed whenever your players enter a new location or attempt something dangerous.

I’m really interested in the use of these adventures for various OSR games, as the adventures seem to be what have most of the meat, rather than the rules. If you really want these games to sing, you’ll want your players to create characters that fit the kind of adventure that you’re presenting to the table - in this case, perhaps your characters all have loved ones who have gone missing recently. Once your players have character buy-in, they won’t need much prompting to delve deeper into the mystery, and the fact that Tunnels in White doesn’t have one single “correct” solution to the main problem means that your players’ actions will mean all the more.

I think I see this module as a stepping stone towards improv in that it gives you options to choose from, rather than a singular railroad to follow. What you’ll get out of this is a location that feels logically consistent and real to the players, while the story that happens will feel organic, and heavily dependant on what the group decides to do.

You can find more modules for Liminal Horror in the Tales from the Void Liminal Horror Jam.

The Doom of Macbeth, by leozingiannoni.

Famine. Execution. Oppression. Supernatural longevity that no one seems to quite understand or question. As King Macbeth’s reign approaches its 100th year, your knights receive a revelation in a dream.

It does not have to be like that.

As an answer to prayers and cries, the god Lugh reveals to you the alternative realities that could be, if Macbeth is not allowed to move on with his coup. You wake up to 100 years in the past, before you were born. What will you do to stop this horrible future?

The Doom of Macbeth is a deep-dive into one of the most iconic plays of all time, where you fight your way to avoid a future that seems inevitable. Using the Doomsday Clock mechanic found in Arc:Doom by momatoes, you simulate the feeling of the play creeping upon your characters, and must fight against it— or towards it.

Using a narrative that is familiar to the GM and the players might be another way to enter a game without having to worry too much about improv. Even though this setting is only the size of a brochure, you and your crew can lean on your knowledge of the Scottish play to make things happen the way you want them to. In this version of the game, Macbeth succeeds in becoming a mad king, but you know that this can change, if you tweak the story.

One more thing: I think you might need Arc, by Momatoes, in order to play this game.

Kiss Me If You Can, by sdunnewold.

River is a notorious international art thief and cat burglar. Jules is a well-respected special agent in charge of art crimes. Jules is determined to find and bring River to justice. But maybe along the way… they'll kiss?

Kiss Me If You Can is a simple print and play two player cat and mouse romance game that you can play in under an hour. It features two unique decks of prompt cards, one for each character. Each turn you play a prompt card, answer its questions, maybe talk about a famous artist or painting, and get a little closer to justice and/or love.

Another two-player experience, Kiss Me If You Can feels very similar to games that are Descended from the Queen, in that the bulk of the game revolves around drawing cards and answering the prompts provided. You’ll come up with locations, personal motives, and reasons for your characters to end up getting closer to each-other, but the cards provide a lot of direction, so I don’t think I’d necessarily classify it as improv. If you want a cute romantic story about a will-they-won’t-they scenario, you might like Kiss Me If You Can.

Exalted Order of the Mystic Moose, by Jacob Marks.

The Mauvewoods. You can’t hope to see the crown of a mauvewood tree from the ground. It took a day just to climb to the top of the oldest trees. Look past the undergrowth and ghosts can be spotted on the old lumber paths. Every ghost you see used to live in a mauvewood tree. Knock on a healthy tree, and you just might hear a hollow wooden knock in answer.

This zine details a forest, a town, and a dungeon, all intended for use with the tabletop roleplaying game: Cairn. Explore a forest full of lumberjacks, maple syrup, and strange ghosts. Delve into an old mansion sinking into a marsh. Confront the Exalted Order Of The Mystic Moose.

Cairn has a few editions now: the link I’ve added to this entry is for the 2nd edition Warden’s Guide, and you can check out Yochai Gal’s creator page for both the Player’s Guide and the First Edition. This adventure has oodles of locations, three main factions, and a 20 room dungeon for your players to explore. Cairn feels like a very traditional fantasy game at its roots, but the Exalted Order of the Mystic Moose feels like like a unique take, with some flavour that feels very Boreal Forest to me.

Like many OSR adventures, this isn’t a linear adventure - instead is a series of connected locations and a broad description of things that are happening when the player group shows up. The setting has a natural conflict that is happening separately from the players’ choices or decisions, which will make the setting feel more real and important to your play.

If you want to explore more adventures for Cairn, you can check out the A Town, A Forest, A Dungeon Jam!

Totally Killer, by bloodygorgeous.

When you were kids, all the girls—and, certainly, some of the boys—wanted a Chrissy, the only fashion doll to give Barbie a run for her money. Chrissy was designed to be the woman every girl dreamed of becoming: stylish, smart, independent, and, most importantly, a total smokeshow. For a while, shelves exploded with Out of This World Astronaut Chrissies. Protect and Serve Policewoman Chrissies. ’80s prom queen Totally Killer Chrissies. Chrissy could do anything, all while her boyfriend Ben waited at home. Chrissy could have it all. Decades later, as Chrissy fever descends again on Deep Lake, a murderer stalks the night. The police have their theories, but only the Latchkeys suspect the truth: that this killer has long legs, an unstoppable smile, and a passion for fashion. Chrissy has come to life, and she’s come to slay.

Public Access is horror-mystery found-footage style game that relies on pre-written mysteries to give the table an organic approach to role-play. While typically PbtA games are considered very high in improv, I think the mystery format of these kinds of games takes a lot of weight off of the GM’s shoulders. Typically these mysteries provide a very strong starting point, introducing the table to the mystery and some key characters to look to for hints and clues. The GM is also provided with a series of clues to drop into the game where relevant - perhaps a headless doll is found where one of the victims went missing, or a mysterious silhouette lurking in the distance.

These kinds of games also typically come with some kind of track to help monitor both the progress of the latch-keys as well ask heighten the stakes to encourage the story to keep moving. In other games, I know that this track is called the mystery clock. I’m not entirely sure what Public Access uses, but the core rulebook looks to have quite a bit hidden within its pages, so I’m confident that it contains everything you need to run your first game.

You can find more mysteries for Public Access in the Degoya County Public Access Jam.

Auctōrātus, by M. Allen Hall.

You know why you are here. You are not a criminal. You are not a slave. You are an auctōrātus, a volunteer, and you will be paid well for your performance. Make sure your mech is ready. Select your components. Charge your batteries. Be prepared for the fight of your life.

Auctōrātus is a 1- or 2-gladiator game of mechs vs. monsters. The 3 files include the one-page (2-sided) rules sheet, the character sheet, and the map of the arena.

Battle monsters over six rounds to win the tournament. From the lowly Scale Wolf to the monstrous Crescent Wyvern, you will need to carefully choose your mech's components if you want to survive.

Featuring a diceless, zero-luck mechanism, Auctōrātus is an experiment in tabletop combat. Since this is a one or two-player game that focuses primarily on strategy, you might find a lot of satisfaction in simply immersing yourself in strategy. You can play the game solo and manage everything yourself, or play as two players who take turns playing the monsters in each person’s respective arenas.

A Good Plan Never Fails, by Deric Bindel.

A GOOD PLAN NEVER FALLS is a one-shot, gm-less roleplaying game for 2-5 players focused on infiltrating a TOWER and making off with THE GOODS held within. The group builds up with a tumbling block game, with each move taking everyone closer to collapse or success!

Over the course of play, everyone will create a member of the Crew from a set of Archetypes and receive a special Secret Agenda, dictating how they get their BONUS. You'll be bulding up the TOWER, dictating each obstacle and how you overcome them. When the TOWER inevitably COLLAPSES, it's time to shift from the HEIST to the GETAWAY!

A really strong feature of pulp-action genre games is that they’re typically heavily inspired by movies, like heists or cons. This means that the game has a pretty familiar structure, such as the infiltration or the getaway. You can rely on the hallmarks of these genres when playing these kinds of games to fill in the blanks, and it’s easy to figure out what happens next because the game builds each phase onto the last. In the case of this game, that means that the first part of the game, building the tower, leads into the second part, when the tower collapses.

Kill Him Faster, by Korvidae Games.

On May 8th, 2068, scientist Elisabet Rosenzweig answered the most pressing question in science fiction – “what’s the first thing you would do if you could travel through time?” - by killing Hitler. It took her precisely 5 years, 137 days, eight hours, and 12 seconds.

Fifteen years later killing Hitler is the hottest sport on the planet. The record stands at two weeks.

Competitive games are another great structure for play groups that want to build on something without needing a lot of heavy improv. In Kill Him Faster, the game is divided into three phases: pregame, game, and post-game, each composed of press conferences, the competitive portion, and interviews. There’s various additional phases for a longer game, including Trade Day (where athletes swap teams) and off-season vignettes, which allow you to slow down and focus on individual characters.

If you want a taste of the game before you buy, you can get the rules preview here.

Other Notes

A Complicated Profession by Always Checkers Publishing has a lot of guiding questions and a very structured order of play, and follows reformed bounty hunters running a cruise ship.

Tournament Arc, by Biscuit Fund Games, focuses on sports competitions, which may provide a structure that is easy to follow, as well as a more collaborative experience.

If you like what I do and you'd like to send me a token of your appreciation, I have a Ko-Fi page!

#low improv #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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sadcoms · 1 year ago

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i adore how protective nine is of rose but i also think what is regarded a lot of the time as ten not caring about or valuing rose in the same way is him having more faith in her. it’s kind of like when people complain about rose not challenging ten the way she did nine when they’re just much more on the same page in s2 because they know each other better, so she doesn’t really need to.

in theory, ten could have yelled at rose in the idiot’s lantern for not waiting for him when she confronted magpie. but he doesn’t, he loses his mind trying to save her (VERY nine) and also acknowledges that her observation was spot on. the whole “domestic approach” line gets attention but i have never really interpreted his intention as being to insult her; in some ways, i feel her reaction is a holdover from nine, who did put down the idea of domesticity (and also actively manipulated her into leaving her mum in world war 3 which never really gets mentioned).

and of course, rise of the cybermen is a parallel to father’s day. the doctor starts out harshly talking to her the way he did when he was nine, forbidding her to see her father, but then he gives in when she just looks at him. which is exactly what he does that in father’s day too of course.

like, why do you think she refuses to be sent away in doomsday, another direct parallel to parting of the ways? she’s saying she’s not a kid anymore, that she already made her way back to him once before. she can’t be protected from the hard choices anymore and she won’t be, because she understands everything that it means to be the doctor’s companion. you never see it on-screen but clearly sometime between tooth & claw and doomsday she asks about what happened before he regenerated; she has to learn that she is the bad wolf, especially when she is to continue her journey of turning into nine in s4 and making hard choices. ten wouldn’t have known that, but it’s a mark of the respect and faith (he believes! in her!) that he stops protecting her from the truth.

#ninerose is so special and i get why people may prefer s1 over s2 because it’s TIGHT #but like…there’s a reason why the romance in s1 is kinda paternal lol #nine probably would have let the devil survive to save rose #or would have needed her to yell at him to make the choice #ten said i choose delusion and being in love and was RIGHT #doctor who #timepetals #ninerose #tenrose #s2 is so much better than people give it credit for tbh #like. direct link between rose looking into the heart of the tardis and ten killing the devil #they’re both insane and they’re soulmates #and then she got stranded on bad wolf bay and KNEW she could get back. some how some day #dw meta

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hotheadedhero · 29 days ago

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The Velvet Weaver - Part 1

A/N: So, I see the occasional meme or story about Spiderman/Tmnt crossovers and it reminded me of a fic idea I had from years and years ago. After all this time, I have finally decided to write it

Michelangelo x Reader

Warnings: quite dialogue heavy (I haven't figured out how to do it effectively yet so sorry), sickeningly sweet reciprocated feelings, because, yes, I can write something other than angst, I swear

New York City: resident to a colourful array of personalities and no stranger to weird occurrences. Although, weird may be putting it lightly. You’ve bare witness to many peculiar happenings all across your beloved home, some scarier than others, the most terrifying of all being the attempted alien raid last year. It felt like a real-life doomsday; an end to everything and everyone you hold dear to you. People were ready to accept their fates but the strange spacecraft disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. No one knows how. Any explanation curated by the news agencies and the police may convince the citizens but you know better, you have your theories. Or, you have one theory: New York has a group of secret heroes. It sounds far-fetched but it isn’t that different from your current circumstances.

Just before the attempted invasion, something bizarre happened to you - something spectacular. Granted, that’s not how you felt about it at first but you like how things have turned out for you and this given name, ‘Velvet Weaver’. You were a bit dubious about the paper's choice of vigilante name at first but it made sense; you took inspiration from the spider that bit you, giving you your powers, and incorporated velvet accents into your hooded jumper. It was actually rather cute for a spider, sporting a ladybug design on its back. At the time of finding it dead in your shirt, you wanted to burn all the clothes you were wearing but you rather feel bad for the little creature now. Who knew that all it would take to overcome a mild fear was to be bit by one and gain powers?

Safe to say, your hometown has seen its fair share of oddities, so you’re willing to bet a gamble on not being the only crime fighter in these streets. You take care of the day and these theorised mystery heroes the night. It’s as though you’re a team. Granted, a team that’s never met each other but you’re doing the same job, fighting the same fight - share the same ideals as far as you can tell. Assuming you’re correct in guessing that there are multiple of them, you would love to meet them all someday. There’s a reason for the mask, the hidden identity, but it’s isolating. If there are people out there who understand, maybe it won’t feel so lonely anymore. Until you cross paths, however, you’ll just have to continue this little solo act of yours.

The alarm on your watch beeps, signalling the end of your vigilante-ing for the day. As good a time as any. With the flick of your wrist, you connect to one of the many buildings that litter this city and propel yourself into the air. Your other hand extends to shoot another stream of webbing, this to and fro exchange allowing you to swing above the crowded streets effortlessly. Gliding through the air, the rush of wind against your body is invigorating, a reminder that you are alive and free. The city sprawls beneath you, a tapestry of lives that fit into the system, one you used to be a part of and now look at you. Whilst everyone is down there, you get to enjoy the spoils of being up here, watching it all turn into a blur, honking cars and chatter fading into the background. You smile behind the mask when kids point out your swinging form and jump around with unbridled joy. This really is a great job. If not for saving lives then at least for the happy stomps of children that look up to you.

As you approach the pizzeria, you catch a glimpse of the neon sign flickering - Pete’s Pizzas. You land gracefully in the alleyway just to the left of it, your heart still racing as you quickly scan your surroundings. The streets are packed with people enjoying their spring break, laughter and conversation filling the air. You take a moment to catch your breath before quickly wiggling out of the shoddily crafted clothes you dub your hero costume in exchange for your uniform, feeling the weight of your dual identity settle comfortably on your shoulders. It’s a juggle, especially with college, but something needs to pay the bills and last you checked, ‘vigilante’ isn’t a recognised career choice.

“Velvet Weaver,” you whisper to yourself, a corny smile creeping onto your face. “Hero by day, pizza delivery girl by night.” Somehow you feel like it should be the other way around.

Shoving your costume into your rucksack, you dart into the pizzeria, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully. The familiar scent of melted cheese and spices envelops you, a comforting reminder of your second- no, third life.

“Hey, just in time!” your boss, Peter, calls out, his hands dusted with flour. “We’ve got a big order for the downtown crowd. Think you can handle it?”

“Do I think I can handle it?” you echo quietly, moving your hair up and out of your face and winking. “You can count on me.”

He only shakes his head at your typical enthusiasm, setting the last box to this tower of pizza for you to take. You’re going to have to drive carefully if these stand a chance of remaining intact. It isn’t as though your moped skills need a check but times like this make you wish you had a car just for the convenience. One thing at a time, girl. You have enough going on in your life without worrying about passing a driving exam.

Stepping back outside with your hoard of cooked dough, you glance up at the skyline. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the city and you can only hope that the people of New York are making the most of it for those who can’t. You quickly pull out the order slip; the address is familiar, one you’ve delivered to before many times. That’s ideal. You can cut through the better-known shortcuts to avoid the rush. If only you could master the art of swinging whilst carrying pizza. You’d be there in no time.

With the chosen route, you manage to miss most of the nastier traffic spots, getting to the building with some time to spare. As you step into the bustling lobby, you exchange pleasantries with the doorman - a gentle spirit whose oak-ish appearance still has you stumped for his age - and he greets you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, Cecil, how many have they got up there this time?” you ask as you walk past him, being mindful to raise your voice enough for his hearing aid.

“Count your boxes again and take a guess,” he remarks satirically and slowly, although smiling enough that the wrinkles on his face almost cover his eyes. It reminds you of one of those dog breeds you can never remember the name of. “I’m surprised the floor hasn’t fallen through from the sheer mass of them.”

You snicker and raise the pizzas in your grasp. “Let’s hope these aren’t the last drop to the dam then, yeah?”

Fond of the joy you bring to his monotonous job, he quietly laughs with you before you have to disappear off into the elevator. When you reach the desired floor, you trudge along to the apartment in question, having it committed to muscle memory. You knock on the door, albeit trickily with the boxes, and it swings open to reveal a group of college students, laughter spilling out into the hallway. As they hand you the cash, you can’t help but feel a part of their joy, if only for a moment. It’s a fleeting connection, but it’s enough to remind you that while you may be a masked vigilante, you’re also just a young adult trying to make a living. This tightness in your chest threatens to throw you off your rhythm but you shake it off. The night is still young and you can already feel the pulls of the shadows calling you back into your other life, but for now, you embrace the slice of normalcy, knowing that soon enough Velvet Weaver will return to the rooftops, ready to face whatever challenges await her.

With a few deliveries under your belt, you make your way back from the next one, the city lights begin to twinkle around you. It’s looking to be a good shift, steadying into a quieter night with bigger gaps between each order. Just as you arrive back at the pizzeria, Pete’s gotten off the phone, slumping into his next batch of dough. Uh oh. You recognise that look all too well and it takes all your might to not cackle at the poor man.

“And who might that have been?” You know the answer but it’s always fun to question in your sing-song sort of way.

“As if you need to ask,” he grumbles, rolling out the base and saucing it. “It’s that little admirer of yours.”

The smile stretching out your cheeks only makes him groan louder and he hides himself in his task. This particular admirer he speaks of has been a faithful customer since before you started working here; one of Kevin’s regular drop-offs that somehow turned into yours. Shift patterns change around from time to time. What are you to do?

Dramatically, you fall into the nearest wall, draping an arm over your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Oh, Pete, my oh-most favourite boss in the world, do we not have your blessing?”

He raises a floured brow and points at you with the ladle, flicking drops of sauce on the counter. “You’ll get my blessing when this guy stops askin’ you to meet him in weird locations, not to even mention the fact that you ain’t once seen his face. I don’t like it.”

Well, he’s got you there, no point denying that. Despite the laughter you’ve shared with this one customer, not once have you seen what he looks like and he always orders his pizzas to be brought to run-down buildings. You’re also almost certain that he’s using a pseudonym, too. Who in the 21st century is called ‘Michelangelo’?

You would be worried about having some weirdo stalker on your radar if you didn’t think you could handle yourself. You know you can. No question about it. And even after everything, even if there are still doubts in the back of your mind, your “danger sense” as you call it - the title is a work in progress - has never once gone off around him. It only ever rings in your nerves when someone intends to inflict you harm. With all that said, he’s really just a sweet guy: playful flirt, very complimentative, a good spirit, plus he’s one of very few who gets your humour. One may or may not say that you’re developing a little crush on him but that’s strictly confidential, much like most of everything else in your haphazardly organised life.

“I’ll be careful, Pete. You know me,” you say, attempting to sound more confident for his sake.

Pete knows that you’ll do what you can to keep safe. That isn’t the problem. It’s everyone else in this damn city he doesn’t trust. He grumbles again and reminds you about speed dial for the hundredth time before you can disappear again with the order and scoot off. You know he worries and that this all comes from a place of care. You almost wish you could tell him about your abilities just to calm his nerves but chances are he’d only become more concerned seeing as you put yourself in harm's way every day. All the more reason to live a life of secrecy, not only to protect yourself but those around you, too.

The location looms ahead, its cracked walls and broken pillars giving it an eerie charm, but you brush off any lingering doubts, reminding yourself that you’ve faced far scarier things in your life than a creepy building. Besides, your instincts have never let you down before. You park your scooter just outside of the half-reconstructed car park, finding the irony in not using it, and carry the boxes the rest of the way. This must have been one of the structures that got damaged during the alien fiasco. Weird. This guy has chosen a few of those for these drop-offs, now that you think about it. A harmless coincidence, or does it mean something?

“It’s pizza time.”

Your voice echoes around the piles of work sand and concrete as you step further into the mouth of the ground floor. It’s a strange phrase and you’re not entirely sure how it started but it’s become the calling card to announce your arrival. One of the support beams has a small hunk of money beside it, so you walk over there and place the boxes down on a slab of concrete just to the right.

“My pizza hero!” you hear him bellow with excitement, making you smile.

“Ah, well, you know me,” you say casually, “just saving the city one slice at a time.”

You hear him laugh as you crouch down to collect the odd assortment of change. It’s part of the routine: he remains hidden and you pick at the chump change he’s left out for you but you don’t mind. A paying customer is a paying customer. You’ll be more shocked the day he chooses or manages to use something larger than a 5 dollar note.

You haven’t even had a chance to count it before you hear him speak again, “Sorry, babycakes, I’m a dollar short this time round.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure I can make an exception for my favourite customer,” you muse, leaning back against the pillar.

“You’re the best!” He shifts around behind you, and it takes a lot not to peak around and see him. “You sure I can’t make it up to you, though?”

“Can I see you?” you suddenly ask, not having a chance to think before the words blurt out of your mouth. Knowing that he’s just on the other side of this concrete beam is pulling at your curiosity more than usual. It takes a hot second until you realise and you breathe out a casual attempt at laughing it off. “I promise I’m not the superficial type.”

Despite how rude you feel, he’s quick to respond in his usual jovialness, “Aw, what? I was told this would be a blind date.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s what they meant when they called it that.” You shake your head but you’re not offended by his attempts to hide the true nature of his secrecy. That would make you a massive hypocrite. “But, hey, who am I to get into other peoples’ business? I’m sure you got your reasons.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll have that extra dollar next time.”

“You better,” you joke, pushing yourself off from the tall, grey column. “Have a good night, Mikey.”

He wishes you the same and you leave a little slower than usual. Every time you walk away, you’re reminded of that Greek story about Orpheus and how he couldn’t look back at his wife until he left the underworld. It makes you wonder if, like that story, you would risk losing a faithful customer - someone you consider a friend at this point - by merely chancing a glance at him. You’d hate to tarnish these interactions over being nosy, so you prod along and scoot off, preparing for the rest of the night ahead of you.

Bright, blue eyes watch you whizz off and make a quick grab for the boxes before having to disappear, too. With each interaction you share, Mikey becomes more guilt-ridden. Personally, he sees no problem with revealing himself to you. It isn’t as though he and his brothers haven’t got human allies at all. Okay, so you may have a shock to the system but everyone gets over that eventually. Much like with everything else, however, his brothers’ words are final. “Keep anything about your identity to a minimum,” they’ll say, “and don’t eat all of the pizza!”. Right. If they didn’t want him to eat it, they should collect it themselves rather than leaving the leg work to him. At least, that’s what he would have said - all changed when you blessed him with being his favourite pizza delivery girl. A very pretty one at that. Even where his brothers warn him to be careful, he can’t stop himself from stealing the odd glance when you don’t notice.

You’ve only ever and continue to be friendly with him. He always tries in his best efforts to make you laugh during the short encounters because he reckons you just have the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. The guy falls more and more in love with you every time you talk. That’s why it kills him a little more each time when he can’t just walk out in front of you and say, “Hey, it’s me,” with a big grin and open arms. Even as he jets back home on his board, twirling through various sewers, he tries to think of ways that this can happen.

Namely, he thinks about how the humans he and his brothers befriended became their friends in the first place. They met April after she was caught up in that subway station - an indirect save but a save nonetheless. Vern, granted, was via her and Raph trying to save his brothers from turning into green mulch. And then Casey after he helped April with those Foot soldiers. All instances that have something to do with danger and being saved. Are they only allowed to meet people under those circumstances? He doesn’t want to wish danger upon you. Not ever. It’s just one of those times where he kinda, sort of, maybe wouldn’t mind if it meant finally being able to reveal himself to you. He could totally rescue you and finally ask you out on a date! No more eye-sore buildings or abandoned warehouses.

The mutant slumps back into the couch when he arrives home and exhales lethargically. Living in the dream world there, Mikey. For now, he’ll just have to make the most of those few minutes he gets during each delivery. This pizza, however, will not be savoured the same way. He flicks the TV on and dives into the beautiful disc of flavour, barely catching the string of cheese off his lip when the news broadcasts its latest interesting scoop.

“... back on our ‘Velvet’ hour, New York’s very own costumed crusader has done it again, this time preventing a public bus from falling off the Brooklyn Bridge after a massive crash.”

Mikey leans forward in his seat as the screen cuts to a scrappily recorded viewing of the very events from earlier today. Sure enough, The Velvet Weaver is swinging around the side of the bridge, performing impressive acrobatic abilities, and shooting a sticky substance from her wrists to create a large blanket of webbing, preventing the bus from toppling over into the water. Heroics is one thing but he loves how this chick does it in style, truly taking claim to friendly badass in his opinion.

“And to think, her efforts are still unrecognised,” the reporter continues when they show her again and the camera pans out to reveal their guest, the head of the New York Police Department. “Chief Vincent, despite what you’ve said in previous press conferences about the dangers of this figure, The Velvet Weaver continues to prove that she is a guardian of the people.”

“With powers that can’t be mitigated whilst she roams around doing as she pleases. Police officers go through years of education and training before they are entrusted with people’s lives, yet this girl thinks she can handle that responsibility because what? She’s strong? She can climb on walls? One of these days, she’s going to mess up. What then? We can’t guarantee that she won’t go into hysterics, or even what will become of our people when that happens. We could have a super-powered breakdown on our hands. Either she can come quietly and reveal herself under peaceful pretence, or we will have to bring her in by force. For the sake of civilian safety and resources, we’d like to avoid the latter.” She then turns to face the camera, addressing it directly. “I believe I am being more than generous with these terms. The choice is yours.”

Chortling mockingly, Mikey blows raspberries at the TV and kicks back into comfort with his next bite. “Kinda hypocritical.”

“There’s nothing hypocritical about it,” Leo says as he comes for his box of pizza. “She doesn’t have just cause to be responsible for innocent lives.”

“Someone sounds jealous.” Their red-clad brother joins in, sharing a glance with his youngest as he takes part at the expense of their leader. He’s not particularly keen on this self-proclaimed protector of the city either but poking fun at Leonardo is much more fun.

“Jealousy has nothing to do with it, Raph. She’s a kid playing dress-up, not thinking about the repercussions of her actions.”

“And here I thought we were the only ones.” Donatello is the last to come for his food, leaning back in his chair with a slice. “That hypocrisy you were talking about, Mikey?”

“Yeah! What makes us so different?”

Leo’s head bloats up with the oncoming headache and he pinches the space between his eyes. Why do his brothers have to be so argumentative when it comes to these things? They know as much as he does why this is a problem. At least, he knows that Raph and Donnie do. He shouldn’t always have to be the one to spell it out.

“We are a team. We’re trained, we make plans. We don’t just rush in without thinking. She’s got no backup, no structure. It’s dangerous.” His fingers jut out with every reason he has to give, and he knows he could give plenty more. “She’s just out there acting on impulse, and that’s reckless.”

“You’re just mad because she doesn’t follow the rules.”

“Rules are there for a reason, Mikey.”

“Well, I think she’s cool,” he continues to defend, even when the other two don’t. He knows any word on his side was just at their leader’s expense, and when his brothers leave the debate completely, he mumbles to himself, “It’s nice to know we’re not the only crime fighters out there, ya know?”

Sure, there’s the police to consider but they’re more hardstrung on the do’s and don’ts than Leo is. What a shock, right? The only exception to the rule is how the chief has allowed them to continue protecting the city as they have done for the last few years. Maybe the same could be true for this new hero on the block if they can just talk it over. He has hope for that possibility. After all, there are a lot of questions he’d like to ask her. She must have a cool origin story or something.

Mikey is halfway into his pizza when his brainiac brother’s computer starts blaring. Guess that’s enough of lazing around. They’ve got some action for the night! Although, talk about bad timing. He hasn’t even had a chance to finish off his food yet. No time like the present, ay?

___

Honestly, I could have kept it as one part like I originally planned but it's become a longer story than I first intended, hence, I gotta break it up a bit

I'm going bed now

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