#Hollywood is literally replaceable.

[nihil-ism]

Now would be a good time to remind the world that there are literally other countries in the world producing movies and shows outside of the US of A.

[nolouisprotested]

now who told them we wanted a twilight tv series 😐 they better pull the plug on that shit right now

[delicatefury]

Look. I have literally no horse in this race when it comes to the WGA/SAG Hollywood strike. I do not watch enough TV or movies to be affected and I’m not a part of the industry. I really haven’t cared.

As a lawyer and orchardist, however, I am now utterly entranced by the fact that some Universal Studios exec thought it was a good idea to cut down city-owned trees in the middle of summer.

There is no way to get around the absolute clusterfuck they have brought down upon themselves.

First, the ownership question. These trees are not owned by Universal. They’re the City of Los Angeles’ trees. That means the responsibility, and the right, to maintain them belongs to the city government. If you want to touch city property like that, you better have their permission. If not, you’re looking at anything from fines, to replacement/maintenance costs, to jail time.

Now, I don’t know LA, and I’m not licensed in California, but a lot of cities also require permits for any massive trimming like that that can affect public property (like the roads and sidewalks).

Second, they have zero excuses that can even remotely minimize the trouble they’re in. Anything that justifies that kind of pruning at this time of year would have likely required the full removal and destruction of the trees.

Because that level of pruning? You don’t do that in summer. You absolutely do not do that in summer unless the trees are dying or infested with something. Why? Because summer is healthy growth time. Summer is when your trees need all the energy they can get so they can grow and strengthen their branches and roots.

It’s also when they’re susceptible to diseases. Various bacteria, fungi, and insects strike during the summer and can cause severe damage. By trimming those trees so severely, not only are there a ton of gapping wounds for diseases to enter the tree, they’re now stressed by trying to replace that lost growth, which makes it even harder for them to survive any further damage.

Basically, Universal Studios might end up accidentally killing the trees. Which will make everything so much worse.

So, yeah. Now I’m invested.

[hello-nichya-here]

Did Sia insult topic of autism somehow?

Oh honey, it's sooooooooo much worse than that.

Sia wanted to make a movie about an autistic girl that manages to connect to people/feel safe and confident through music. So far, nothing outrageous, just a simple concept that would obviously put Sia's music front and center while doing something nice and educating people on autism.

There was controversy about her not casting an autistic actress as it would have been nice representation, but she could have totally gotten away with that since, come on, hollywood hasn't even figured out Rain Man isn't exactly true to life, they're not ready to have an autistic person playing an autistic character. Baby steps.

The real problem started when Sia started promoting the "charity/support group" that was helping "educate" her on the topic to make the movie. The "charity" in question was Autism Speaks - which is absolutely HATED by the autistic community for things like:

1 - Spreading the myth that autism is a mental illness that one can develop/catch like the freaking flue and potentially be cured of, instead of a neurotype, aka something starts in the woomb and cannot be "cured" because to do that you'd need to replace someone's entire nervous system, which is impossible.

2 - Using that myth to get outrageous amounts of money from people so they "search for a cure" - that doesn't exist and will never exist because curing autism is biologically impossible, AND despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of autistic people don't even want to be "cured" (plus, since said "cure" would essentially mean giving the person a new brain, it leads to the question of "Would I even be the same person, or would that just kill and replace me?")

3 - Using the myth of "We don't know what causes autism" (we do, it's genetic) to, of course, get MORE money from people so they can "do research to find the missing puzzle piece" (if you ever see autistic people complaining about a puzzle piece being used to represent the condition, that's why, it was started by Autism Speak's massive disinformation campains).

4 - Falsely "confirming" things like soy milk cause autism with one of the world's most ridiculous "research", losing only to "vaccines totally make kids autistic, buy MY vaccine instead, guys, I am totally not an unbelievably biased person, it's ALL the other doctors/scientists lying to you. GIVE ME MONEY!"

5 - Pushing the narrative of "autism is inherently a tragedy" to distract from the fact that all the money they waste on stupid shit could be used to help autistic people and their families. Instead, they focus on creating more and more panic, making parents in particular despair even more - to the point that one of their "awareness videos" includes a mother talking about how she wants to murder her autistic daughter and then kill herself... while sitting right next to said daughter.

6 - Promoting ABA "therapy" - which was created by the same guy responsible for the attrocity that is gay conversion "therapy." Both have led to unbelievably high rates of confirmed PTSD and suicidal ideation in patients (victims), and ABA in particular has been compared to literal dog training. Very fitting since it was created by a guy who famously did not believe autistic people truly counted as thinking, feeling human beings, and said as much several times. Despite that, it is still praised by some utter bastards because "it makes the patients act less autistic when they're not crying in the corner or trying to jump out a window"

So yeah, working with these guys is a genuinely horrible thing to do since they're basically a scam/hate group pretending to be a charity - and people were STILL willing to give Sia the benefit of the doubt, since Autism Speak uses all their resources to make sure they're the first thing people see when looking up how to help autistic people.

Lots of Sia's fans, both autistic and allistic, warned her repeatedly, politely, that she needed to supporting them IMMEDIATELY as their goal was the exact opposite of the one she claimed to have - aka raise awareness through an accurate portrail of autism. People were even kind enough to name organizations like ASAN as replacements to help her fix any damage done to the project.

And instead of being a decent human being, Sia decided to cry on twitter about how the mean retar-I mean, autistics were bullying her even when she was so kindly using them for her vanity project.

Because yes, that's how the movie turned out. An unwatcheable piece of garbage, with the autistic "character" being so fucking bad even the people who actively use "autistic" as insulted being offended on our behalf - and of course, she was used just a prop to show how awesome Sia's character was.

Seriously, it was so bad the actress playing the autistic girl was sobbing in between scenes because she knew how it was horrible and she didn't want to insult anyone, but Sia is literally her godmother and helped her career by putting her in nearly all her music videos so she felt obligated to go along with it.

So yeah, fuck Sia and fuck Autism Speaks.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

This 1953 Muntz Jet convertible underwent a three-year custom build under previous ownership, and it was purchased by the seller in 2021. The car is powered by a fuel-injected 5.7-liter LT1 V8 engine paired with a four-speed automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end, and it is finished in Apple Pearl with a white Carson-style removable top over gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery. Features include custom bodywork, an Art Morrison frame, power-assisted steering, four-wheel disc brakes, airbag suspension, Painless Performance wiring, and more modified and fabricated details. This custom-built Muntz is now offered with a copy of Rodder’s Journal magazine featuring a story on the build and a clean California title in the name of the seller’s business.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The steel, aluminum, and fiberglass body is mounted on an Art Morrison ladder frame that was boxed and finished in semi-gloss black, and the floor was raised 3″. The exterior was repainted in a Sherwin Williams two-stage Apple Pearl mixed by the late Stan Betz. Features include a chopped Duvall-style windshield, 1950 Chevrolet headlights, dual Appleton spotlights, 1951 Ford Victoria side windows, and a white removable Carson-style top fabricated to match the height of the chopped windshield. Additional equipment includes color-matched rear fender skirts and chrome bumpers. Wear from fitting the top is noted on the rear deck.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Steel wheels sourced from a 1976 Dodge measure 15″ and are mounted with Cadillac Sombrero-style covers and whitewall tires. A matching spare fitted with a BFGoodrich Silvertown tire is mounted within a rear-mounted Continental-style chrome carrier. A Mustang II front end accommodates power rack-and-pinion steering , and the car rides on an electronically-adjustable Air Ride Technologies airbag suspension system along with 2” lowered front spindles, Strange Engineering tube shocks, a rear Panhard bar, and front and rear sway bars. The seller reports that the front control arm bushings were recently replaced.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Braking is handled by GM G-body-sourced calipers matched with Ford Granada discs up front and Ford SVO-specification calipers and discs at the rear.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The cabin was customized by Jim’s Auto Trim of San Diego, California, and features Glide bucket seats and a rear bench trimmed in gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery, along with matching treatments for the dash trim, headliner, and door panels. Additional equipment includes a 1952 Lincoln steering wheel mounted to a shortened Lincoln steering column, gray cut-pile carpet, and a Pioneer stereo housed within a custom center cubby.

The engine-turned “Hollywood” instrument cluster houses Stewart Warner gauges consisting of an 8k-rpm tachometer, a 160-mph speedometer, and auxiliary readings for fuel level, battery charge, oil pressure, and water temperature. The five-digit odometer displays 25k miles, though total chassis mileage is unknown. A Lokar pedal assembly was fitted during the build.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The Corvette-sourced 5.7-liter LT1 V8 features a polished fuel intake manifold along with billet aluminum valve covers, and additional features include an Opti-Spark distributor, a Griffin aluminum radiator, and a wiring loom sourced from Painless Performance Wiring. A set of long-tube headers are connected to a 2.5″ exhaust system equipped with dual Dynaflow mufflers. The seller reports that the oil was recently changed.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Power is routed to the rear wheels via a four-speed 4L60E automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end with with 3.55:1 gears and Strange Engineering 31-spline axles. Additional photos of the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components are presented in the gallery below.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The car was featured in issue #36 of Rodders Journal magazine

[lamuradex]

Okay. Here are the things about The Count of Monte Cristo I adore, but I am certain adaptations will get wrong without having watched any adaptations.

Edmond's father being a major motivator for his revenge. Films, for brevity, mainly seem to focus on Mercedes and his ruined marriage. Thanks Hollywood.

Villefort having no connection to the other people who betrayed Edmond. One of the most tragic elements is that Villefort is actually about to save Dantes, right before he sacrifices him to save himself. I'm aware of at least one musical that has Villefort conspire together with Danglars and Fernand. I love the songs but that bothers me.

Caderousse. I can imagine some versions cut him out as superfluous. The musical seems to replace him with Villefort. But he's the fourth conspirator! And the first to fall.

A whole bunch of the subplots. Do the films need all the stuff with Monsieur Noirtier? Maybe not. Is Monsieur Noirtier the best character in the book? I think so. He's the most magnificent bastard in the plot.

The Morrels. Again, is it strictly necessary? I don't know. But, again, is there the scene where they reveal Monsieur Morrel's last words were to remember Edmond Dantes, making it my favourite scene in the book? You bet your ass!

Seriously, so many subplots I can see them cutting, but each one pays off in some way. Vampa, Franz, Eugenie Danglars, the Abbey Fariah's book

That scene at the end where The Count goes back to the Château d'If is beautiful

Adaptations will try to give it a happy ending, getting him back with Mercedes or something. But that isn't the point of the book.

Only a handful of characters get out of the book happy. And most of them have gone through hell first.

Also, The Count never actually fights anyone with a sword. He could, he's apparently lethal, but he never does. He's about to once, but then Fernand fucking panics when The Count puts on a sailor suit.

He literally leaves the room, gets changed, and then comes back in a sailor's uniform. It's so extra and I love it. And Fernand loses his shit! Understandably.

The whole revenge plan is so extra, so complex, so convoluted, there is no way you could adapt it all into a film.

And all because Edmond knows the Abbey Fariah wouldn't want him just killing them. Because that would be against God.

So instead he unleashes hell on them!

It's classic "No, I didn't kill them. They're just trapped in never ending misery for the rest of their days. So it's fine."

Bleed them dry of money, out them as a criminal, introduce poisons to his wife and introduce his illegitimate bastard to society.

I can see why you could never truly adapt this book.

Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it.

[loneswaggingranger]

Also to the people in Youtube comment sections typing things like, "Oh, these Hollywood writers are have been putting out bad content these past few years - they don't deserve higher pay." The literal reason why episodic material on streaming services read like cringe is because writers aren't treated fairly. They aren't paid enough, they're being forced to produce content in a short amount of time and on top of ALL of that, companies are seeking to cut costs by replacing them with AI-generated writing. The answer is right there in your argument, Kyle.

[eggroll-sama]

THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF THE LI

This is purely self-indulgent and just based on stuff that makes me go, “it’s them!” when it’s unrelated to them. But here you go and hope you like it. To make it sound more accurate, I replaced the nouns to fit Touchstarved cast.

AIS

Tyler Durban and Edward Norton from the FIGHT CLUB— “How much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight?” “Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer,” “Only after you’ve lost everything you’re free to do anything.” “We are the same person.”

The song, ‘I Remember You’ from ADVENTURE TIME— “I can feel myself slipping away, I can’t remember what it made me say, but I remember that I saw you frown, I swear it wasn’t me…And I need to save you, but who's going to save me? Please forgive me for whatever I do, when I don’t remember you.”

The punk from FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF. I can just see Ais at a police station, giving advice to a pretty stranger, and end up making out with them.

This scene (warning: graphic violence and gore) from ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD. It’s just so Ais and Princess-coded

VENOM, enough said.

KURAS

The murder-mystery film, THE DA VINCI CODE. I feel like Kuras would love the movie if it existed in his world since it’s canon that he likes trashy murder mysteries.

The song, ‘No Good Deed Goes Unpunished’ from WICKED— “[MC] where are you? Already dead, or bleeding? One more disaster I can add to my Generous supply…No good deed goes unpunished. No act of charity goes unresented. No good deed goes unpunished. That’s my new creed.”

GONE WITH THE WIND— “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” This line was controversial when released in 1939 because swear words weren’t normalized. I feel like Kuras, like this movie, rarely swears but when he does, the whole room goes silent and you know shit’s about to go down. Also according to the RSS radial chart, Kuras has low empathy plus maxed out strength high wisdom, damn at some point that man might legit not give a damn-

MAQUIA: WHEN THE PROMISED FLOWER BLOOMS— “you smell weird, you smell like the sun;” “If you fall in love, you will truly become alone.” Contextually the line is about how an immortal should never get too close with mortals because they'll one day they’ll die, and it fits Kuras a lot.

HUNTER X HUNTER 2011—“[MC] you are light. Sometimes, you shine so brightly, I must look away. But even so, is it still ok to stay by your side?” I love the idea of an angel heavily associated with the sun (Prometheus, likes sunny days, radiates heat), finds someone that is the light of their life.

ONE PIECE— “I have seen the future of this country. And it is destruction. As long as [the Senobium] remains here, this country can never be cured, because even if medical technology progresses, even if [alchemical] research continues… there is no cure for stupidity.”

OPPENHEIMER. After I watched the movie all I could think about was Kuras doing the blank eye stare at the end of the movie.

LEANDER

Goob from MEET THE ROBINSONS (he’s literally just child Leander in the modern world ;o;)

Michael Scott from THE OFFICE— “I wanna be married and have 100 kids so I can have 100 friends and no one can say no to being my friend,” “it’s not about the horniness, it’s about the loneliness”

The painting, Death of Sardanapalus, by Eugene Delacroix. King Sardanapalus palace is besieged by enemies and he decides to commit suicide after he learns of the army’s defeat, but not before ordering his men to destroy all his favorite possessions- wives, horses, pages, and dogs. He’d rather his valuables all be destroyed than his enemies own them. King Sardanapulus selfishness is humane, but the extremity’s he would go to keep what is his is monstrous.

GASTON from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST— Gaston and Leander both have similar vibes. They’re both trusted and well-liked by most people, viewed as heroes, are human but are monsters on the inside, overconfident, attractive, has a possessive streak, hangs out in bars, nice singing voice. The main difference is that Gaston doesn’t try to act like a nice guy like Leander Fake ahhh

The song ‘Burn’ from HAMILTON— “Do you know what [Vere] said when we saw your first letter arrive? [He] said, be careful with that one, love, he will do what it takes to survive…Do you know what [Kuras] said when [he] read what you’d done? [He] said, you’ve married an Icarus, he has flown too close to the sun.”

Michael Corleone from the GODFATHER.

Sampo from HONKAI STAR RAIL— I barely know anything about Honkai Starrail, but I was going to an anime goods store with my friend and one look at him made me think of Leander. My friend gave me a run down that he betrays you for money and runs away and unironically I could see Leander throwing us under the bus.

VERE

This scene from the movie, MALENA. Vere is heavily desired by men and women alike, but his flirty and fickle personality is just a front to protect himself. And he hates how people see him as a pretty face or someone who needs saving from the Senobium. Tbh Malena herself just reminds me of Vere’s problem of how being pretty is a double edged sword. People see you’re pretty, so they feel threatened or idealize you. You feel extremely lonely bc people are distracted by your beauty and won’t try to understand you intimately. So you either own it and be alone OR assimilate and have friends. Vere is the former.

Madonna-Whore Complex. This article explains it pretty well, “The Madonna Whore Complex (MWC) is a psychological complex often perpetuated by heterosexual, cisgender males which places women into two categories the “Madonna, a woman who is pure, virtuous, and nurturing, or a “Whore,” a woman who is deemed as overly sexual, manipulating, and promiscuous. The dichotomy of MWC creates a rigidity that limits women’s sexual expression, agency, and freedom by defining their sexuality into one of two categories.” Vere is the latter.

Ymir from ATTACK ON TITAN. Both of them were self-proclaimed deity, was caught lying (presumably), and paid for it. Their personalities are similar too except Vere masks himself through innuendos.

The song, ‘The Red Means I Love You’ by Madds Buckley— “The red on my face is matching you. And goodness, you're bleeding, what a wonderful feeling. You're down and you're pleading, my head is just reeling. The red means I love you. Tasting your blood means I love you.” (I can’t see Vere becoming a yandere because he’s already deranged)

MHIN

Another line from ONE PIECE —“Someday I will become too much of a burden. Someday you’ll betray me and cast me aside.”

SHUTTER ISLAND— “What would be worse, to live as a monster or die as a good [person]?” Mhin hates monsters ironically since they are one, and I could see them nearing the time limit where their curse becomes permanent and decides that maybe it’s better to die with their humanity than live forever as a monster.

The Beast from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. I already said this in another post but like IMAGINE THE AU. AHHHHHH

Felix from LAST LEGACY but more depressed.

Disclaimer: we don’t know much about Sen or Elyon yet so I don’t have much.

ELYON

THE GREAT GATSBY— “…can't you see who this guy is, with his house and his parties and his fancy clothes? He is just a front, a gangster, to get his claws into respectable folk…(to Elyon) We're all different from you. You see, we were born different. It's in our blood. And nothing that you do or say or steal... or dream up can ever change that.”

SEN

Unfortunately I don’t have any for Sen. Her design reminds me of Frankenstein’s creature tho.

BONUS:

MC

This scene from SHAPE OF WATER. MC falls in love with a monster and trying to save them from danger. MC knows that they are also an outsider, a monster. Being with the LI’s feels like they were finally accepted for who they are, regardless of their curse, so they can’t abandon them— “When they looks at me…the way they looks at me, they don’t know what I lack. How I am incomplete...and now I can either save them or let them die.” I think this quote can also be interpreted as the players choosing a route, essentially dooming the other players if we don’t choose them.

Famous line from 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU— “but mostly I hate how I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” The fact that us as players will keep coming back to them, replaying their routes even though they killed us, and obsessing over them. Yes they suck but we still love them.

This quote from Green Mile— “ I’m tired…I'm tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with.” I think this quote really emphasizes how touch-starved MC is, and how alone they feel from being betrayed by people they cared about in the past (also sparrow name drop ^-^)

[pyrory]

sellbot cog redesigns!!!! :D thought process + extra design deets under the cut! (waning: its very long LOL)

cold caller: loosely based off of their tto trading card! rotary phone because uhhh. duh they call people, big pointy nose resembles icicle, elongated eyes / eye scopes? idk lol resemble allan. the shape of the receiver is supposed to resemble earmuffs almost? + little teefies

telemarketer: this is probably the most. vague design LOL but they're an auto-dialing machine! specifically based off of the one from the simpsons coz it.. felt fitting idk. i definitely took some liberties but they have a speaker mouth, an indicator bulb for a nose, and the cassette portion is their eye ^_^

name dropper: this was one of the harder names to translate into a design since it doesnt have any ties to any physical items / ideas? so i ended up just building upon their base design. the glasses and bun give them an uptight secretary vibe + gave them more droopy features such as a longer nose and hoop earrings to replace the old ones

glad hander: not much to say about this one. HAND!!!!! my original redesign for this had their eyes on their palm while the fingers sat on top but. idk. it felt more fitting for their hand to be in a fist while the eyes were on the fingers. it makes their middle finger look like a nose

mover & shaker: shaker -> salt & pepper shakers. ez pz. the lids look like little hats too

two face: this was a little tricky coz i like the double face look they originally had. but double talker already has that model and i think it fits them much more than it does two face. i cycled through a few different ideas but eventually ended up with this, inspired by the mayor from the nightmare before christmas & the way his head operates :P

mingler: nothing changed. literally perfect. mingler is peak cog design. just tweaked their colors and gave them a stronger head + hair shape that stands out against the others

mr. hollywood: same with name dropper & mingler, they have a vague name thats hard to interpret BUT the og design was already so good there wasn't much to change Anyways. i was subconsciously inspired by Something while designing them but i dont know what, i guess 50s celebrities? also inspired by ernesto de la cruz from coco!

as a general rule of thumb: i stuck to the same color palette for all of these designs (except for the blue in cold caller & two face. obviously) in order to communicate the fact that they're from the same department. for the more human cogs i tried to separate different parts of the head using color & lines (forehead, cheekbones, chin, nose, etc) in order to give them a subtle robotic look but you can't really see it lol... i tried to keep their GENERAL head shapes but some of them wandered a little far

+ i actually made palettes for all of the cog departments to work on if i ever want to make more redesigns! i'll stick them here since they're on topic

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

[tsurangaconundrum]

season 7 dash simulator

edlundite

so do we think these latest winchester murder sprees are gonna be in the next books or nah

dickromananti

My Taylor Double Theory

disclaimer: first of all i want to be clear. i would never call for violence against someone, and do not want anyone to act on this information. I also do not believe in stereotyping and I am not trying to "put down" famous women.

gaylors dni!

Read More

biggersons-official

kids these days are all just turslucking and turfucking. whatever happened to turducken you used to love turducken

couldtransitionsaveher

catgirlkeyboard

richard roman enterprises slack simulator

coworker one: whoever is getting rid of my bottles of borax is so fucking annoying i literally need to clean things

coworker two: did anyone see the turducken is back in the cafeteria again

coworker three: who all stoned on that job

coworker four: last night we got a shipment of an animal bone. who locked up the warehouse after we need to have a conversation. this is important please reach out immediately

coworker five: Hi guys! This weekend is my bi-annual LARPing festival. The set up in the park is really awesome and if you want to check it out feel free to ask for the Queen of Moondoor! :DDDD

tiktaalic

peach simulator Mutual 1: why tf are borox stocks plummeting…….. Sorry for job posting again but ive been looking at these numbers for 30 minutes

Mutual 2: Anybodyy been keeping up with the taylor swift double (dswift) theoury. Ithink it might hold a lot of weight to be honest

Mutual 2: Like ive watched a lot of theory videos and i dont believe she’s weird because she’s gay and I dont believe she’s weird because she’s autistic I think she’s weird because she got replaced by a double whodoesnt know how to be human

Mutual 3: the other day when i was processing my mice spleens i read the shipping label and it literally goes to roman enterprises? lol what?

Mutual 4: people complaining about my chemical romance selling out. acting different. um i think i know more about gerard ways sleep habits than you do genius.

Mutual 5: was at knitting night when literally half the group brought up turduckens again? not to have food aversion but what are we talking about

Mutual 6: I love to hear my american friends talk. Turducken. Ford. Dick Roman. You are living in a hollywood movie. thank god you unserious country nothing better than cultural exchange

Mutual 6: Though to be clear Merlin has had a much more impactful effect on the Australian psyche than any of this politics you people have on the news.

Mutual 7: did anybody want to watch that the horrifying documentary about yellow cedar trees going extinct because of the emissions from the poultry farms

Mutual 8 : i love our beautiful world :)

reginamillsofficial I think the worst part of the true crime fandom is the ppl who want to fuck Sam winchester. The sideburns alone

Biggersons-official Everyone come in to try our new Turducken™️ today! It’s a real hoot! Only a .03 percent chance of hyperadrenal cannibalism!

pizza biggersons-official coming for Denny’s crown omg

glowcloudstyle AND NOW THE WEATHER

#wtnv #i ship it #dennys x biggersons

biggersmons when you get paid biweekly. Week one. Turducken. Week two. Ice soup

calamitysong Biggersons again Biggersons again Biggersons again

eduardosaverin7 Eat a vegetable!

calamitysong I keep forgetting :(

[jewish-vents]

Don't ever forget that Israel's shitty government(s) has always been just a convenient excuse. Israel has done terrible things but it's never been about that. The moment goyim realised we were still alive (Insert Dara Horn quote here) and could fight back and be capable of wrong like all human beings, we became the enemy. We became the enemy when they realised we aren't just some sob story that they can cry about. Even if Israel had the best government in the world, they'd still hate us. Why? Because they want us to die at the hands of the Muslim extremists. They want us to die so they can cry about how oppressed we are and then die of guilt because all they ever do is feel guilty and let that control them. That's why they "care" about Palestinians and even Romani people. They see Palestinians as inherently weak, as they previously viewed us. They view them as inherently innocent and victims no matter what hence the fetishisation of their violence which then results in the extreme Hamas support that we are witnessing. They basically switched us out for Palestinians, hurting both groups. The Nakba replaces the Holocaust. They view Palestinian history the way they used to view Jewish history; as Palestinians being inherently unlucky and being violently oppressed for no reason all the time (I remember seeing goyim talk about us being treated badly in most countries and being "unlucky" and treated as this common boogeyman, many years ago).

Why hate this group? They've never done anything wrong! Is the way that they think. Now they see that we are human beings which means we are capable of doing bad things makes us evil and the Worst. I cannot stress this enough: Israel would always be seen as bad no matter what. Even if the history was different, the message is clear: JEWS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE MIDDLE EAST. We are meant to be slaughtered in Europe and that's it. I remember this "activist" tiktoker I used to follow. He posted a tiktok about how Germany should be split into two: one part being Germany and the next part being Israel. The logic is simple here. We are white Europeans and that's it. Additionally this removes the guilt of everyone else, especially the Middle East which prouldly supported Hitler. He even met with Muslim leaders.

According to everyone we must politely die without any inconvenience. The fact that the Nazis were portrayed as white worked in our favour. They pretended to care then. But once they realized our enemies, the ones who hate us so much they need to kill every single one of us and wipe up off this earth the same way they describe zionists and israel to be, were brown, they showed us who they truly are: they chose the brown side. We transformed into evil white people overnight. Why do you think almost every Jewish celeb has been accused of being a zionist? It's because everyone's becoming nazis. I don't use that word lightly. They're literally discovering that many in Hollywood are Jewish for the first time. They didn't care before. But they do now. It's angering them. They're thinking: why are so many Jews in powerful positions? They'e starting to think: this is not normal....the Jews are responsible for everything bad! Except they get to hide behind the word zionist. As a result Josh Shapiro gets singled out and had a reduced chance of being VP. Why do you think so many of them are now saying "Zionists control the media/the world/etc"? Because they're having their nazi phase (well here's to hoping and wishful thinking lmfao). How is this any different from white supremacists who angrily scream about how we control everything? Every time a big world event happens or anything happens tbh we get blamed by the progressives. We're getting blamed right now for white supremacists going on rampages throughout England. How dare they?! They use the words pogrom and nazi every second to describe what is happening in England right now. How dare they take our words and use them for everyone but us and then say we are the real nazis and the one and only evil in the world. And we're the colonisers?!

Lastly I cannot get rid of the bitter taste of irony. They are trying to paint Israel as the ultimate evil and the things they lie about Israel reflect what everyone has done to us. But they'll never see it because we're the ultimate oppressors.

Marilyn Monroe converted to Judaism and Muslim countries banned her movies. Muslim countries have historically banned Holocaust movies. If you want to see real ethnic cleansing and genocide look at what the Jewish populations of Arab countries have been forced to experience.

We cannot afford to be trembling Jews with shaking knees. We must stand up for ourselves. No one else's gonna do it. All we have is ourselves. And our small but amazing allies of course. But it's limited. We need to support each other harder than ever. A Jewish American woman didn't feel safe as a Zionist abortion advocate. She then created her own space for Jews/Zionists. Of course gentiles harassed her. But our love will always be stronger than their hate. It's hard but stay safe. Have a weapon if you must. There's so little of us that they can overpower us as we've seen countless times especially recently. We need to fight back. We cannot afford to be cowards.

LOVE YOU ALL

.

[is-solarpunk]

Accessible solarpunk

If a better future isn't for everyone, then it's not a better future. Therefore, solarpunk have to be accessible. If it's not possible, solarpunk strives for accessibility.

It may be hard to imagine accessible infrastructure while living in a place deprived of it. For some, it may be hard to imagine infrastructure being both accessible and beautful, particularly if only instances when accessibility is brought to attention are places that were originally inaccessible and fixing methods are visibly jarring. It's understandable: imagination, like everything else, is trained. But solarpunk is, if nothing else, at least an exercise in imagination.

Let's talk about some ways to train this imagination.

Urban activism / Accessibility activism

Self-advocating accessibility activists are marvelous invaluable source of mental imagery. Their goal is literally to explain what they need, how it looks like and why is it important. (And then to finally got what they need.)

They can provide you not only with images of accessible infrastructure in modern urban architecture, but also with mental checklists allowing to assess accessibility of whatever environment.

Traditional architecture of extreme environments

Maybe you aren't interested in modern urban architecture and want to explore something different, like ways of living integrated into extreme environment. Understandable, but it's not a reason for them to be inaccessible.

It's generally a good idea to check traditional architecture of people who lived in such environment for centuries. With few caveats tho:

It should go without mentioning, but never believe Hollywood about how space works and how people are living. It's not even their fault most of the time: cinematography is about creating story and a feeling, while accessibility is often about an avalanche of interconnected details.

Cross-check perspective, zoom in and out, compare wide panoramic views and close shots. Most popular photos are usually those with most dramatic and unusual proportions, which isn't necessarily reflected in experience of daily life in those settlements. For example: some of most widespread photos of Pueblo settlement suggest a high wall of houses built almost vertically on each other, with ladder as primary communication route and no stairs in the sight. In other views, they seems much more accessible - but those photos, as less scenic, are also less widespread.

Check type of construction, who uses it, how often and for what activities. If roof of the house is defacto daily room, it should be safe for elderly and little children to use. If there's only a narrow ladder to the roof, you may discover it was primarily used as a drying place for fruits and reed, and needed to be accessed once a week at most. Routes to the distant foraging spot used at a certain time at year needs different level of accessibility than routes between neighbouring houses, and that's okay. But it would be weird to use them as full replacements.

Pay attention to details.

Temporary disability

Having a broken arm with a generally able body is different than having a broken arm with a previously chronically ill body, and both of them are different than just having one arm, and all of them are different from having to deal with really heavy package. But they have some similarities.

By all means, use these similarities to train your imagination!

[britcision]

Anyway I need y’all to put the pieces together between studios wanting to own the rights to background actors’ faces forever and using the faces of dead celebrities at new events

They want to pay extras for a single day of work and then deny them work for the rest of their lives, along with their entire profession

What do you think they’ll do to the stars?

It’s the age of digital necromancy, and if the studios get this you’ll never be able to trust a video again

You think it’s bad now? They want to make it exponentially worse as an exciting and groundbreaking opportunity

The actors aren’t just supporting the writers (although frankly they should even if this wasn’t the case)

The studios are coming for their fucking faces and bodies, to be used forever

It is literally their stated intent to stop paying these people once they’ve been recorded once, and replace them with AI

Because that’s what’s good for the economy; less jobs

[theriverdraws]

Minor rant: one tiny thing that annoyed me on the reboot's theme song.

(I actually still enjoy the reboot because of pure self indulgence. They could just animate the Warners on silent shorts doing nothing for hours and I would eat it uppp).

Now, the reboot isn't perfect by any means, and there are more stuff that slightly bothers me, (again, I'm very easy to please) but one thing that just really tickles my brain in the wrong annoying way, is replacing "Dot is cute" with "Dot has wit".

..why?

I understand there needed to be changes from the original that didn't age well, which is why the sexual harassment jokes had to be taken out obviously, and Hello Nurse couldn't appear anymore. (I'm still pissed they couldn't just, do something else with her character instead of taking her out. But this reboot wasn't the first or last to do this kinda thing, so I'm not gonna complain too hard about that).

But Dot's character was never itself a problem?? She was never treated lesser than her brothers in anyway, shape, or form. She wasn't less zany, or less smart, or less annoying than any of her brothers. Wakko is the more naive of the three, even.

Dot being cute is part of her character, and I don't think that's inherently sexist. It's the "little cute innocent character is actually a MENACE" trope. If Dot was a cute little boy instead, it would change literally nothing. But despite all of that they just had to go "gIrLBoSS beam" because that's true feminism according to hollywood. Girls can't be hyperfeminine anymore.

I don't mind the show's jab at sexism because it's just social criticism right, it was always in the show so I don't really care. And her ""feminist songs"" don't bother me, I like them a lot. The suffragette one was cool, and the cartoon spin on it made me very happy jsjen (it even got reposted on Twitter on the #standwithanimation tag), and the First Lady one is just a history song, a common Animaniacs move, nothing to complain about it there. (The one promo of the social media on Dot going on an unwarranted feminist speech of being more than just cute was so forced tho. SHE CAN SHOW IT WITHOUT SAYING IT. Y'KNOW.. LIKE IT ALWAYS WAS??)

But it's just this one thing that makes it sounds like "oh, we're so woke, we fixed her so good" when there was nothing to fix about her character in this way specifically??? GIRLS CAN BE CUTE AND SMART, IT'S CRAZY I KNOW.

[tangledinink]

raph fans come get y'all juice. chapter four of i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now? is up! read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

Okay, fine, he’d admit it. Dad was acting weird. 

Like, weird weird, not regular weird. Their dad had always been weird, which Leo had always chalked up to 1.) him being their dad 2.) him spending time in Hollywood. But this? This was off, even for him. 

Last night, he spaced out in the middle of one of Mikey’s stories, and Leo still wasn’t sure if he had literally fallen asleep with his eyes open or if he had just accidentally astral projected to the Twilight Zone or something. Of course, they had all then proceeded to say the most absolutely asinine, insane shit that they could think of in an attempt to goad a reaction until Mikey finally managed to snap him out of it by throwing some lentils at him. The day before that, he caught him rifling through that old shelf of weird knick-knacks that none of them were allowed to touch, muttering to himself the entire time like some crazy supervillain. Like, dude, had some ancient ninja ghost replaced their daddy, or what? ‘Cause this was getting freaky. He had kind of just thought Donnie was overreacting, but maybe he was onto something…

He hated it when Donnie was right. It happened annoyingly often and he could never admit it, lest he risk his twin’s ego becoming even larger. There’s only room for one egomaniac in this family.

“Think we can corner Dad on the train ride home and find out what’s happening? That way he won’t be able to run.” He said, casually, inviting himself into his twin brother’s room and tossing himself down on their bed.

 Donnie pulled his eyes away from whatever robotics project he was currently tinkering with in order to glare at his brother, spinning around in his desk chair.

 “Groan. Do we have to? That sounds unpleasant at best.”

 “Hey, you started this in the first place. And you agreed to the plan,” he countered, pointing accusingly at the other. “You don’t get to back out now.”

“I’m not saying that I’m not worried, or that I don’t think someone should talk with him. I’m just saying that I don’t want to do it.” Donnie defended.

“Bummer. You’re participating.” Leo deadpanned. “Between you, me, and Raph, we might have half a chance. And if not… Well. We’ve got the big guns waiting at home.”

 Donnie shuddered a bit. The Doctor.

 “I don’t know. Based on historical data, there’s about a 76.4% chance that Dad will attempt to bodily throw himself out the window of a moving train if we try to talk to him about his feelings.” 

 “Do you think we can find a train car without windows?”

 “I’ll do some research. I’m sure there are specs available online...” Donnie sighed, turning back around to face his desk and pulling out his phone.

 Leo hummed softly, knowing that Donnie would, in fact, actually do that, whether or not it was realistic.

“I’m serious, Donnie. We actually have to talk to him.”

“I mean, yeah, sure. I am too. But what the hell are we gonna say?”

“Ugh. I don’t know! You’re the one with a therapist! And you’ve been seeing her for how long now? Shouldn’t you know how to do all the talky-feely shit by now?”

“I’m autistic.”

“So?”

“You should get a therapist.”

“Off-topic,” Leo muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is, like, weirder than he usually is. Like… Something is for real wrong. It’s kind of spooky.”

“It’s Mikey.”

Leo scoffed. “It’s not Mikey.”

“Yeah, it is. He started being weird right after Mikey lit himself on fire.”

“Mikey didn’t light himself on fire, Dee.”

“Well, he clearly did something . And Dad keeps looking at him like he thinks he’s gonna combust at any moment. There’s a very clear pattern of behavior, Leo.” He insisted. “Also, you don’t know what the hell Mikey did, either, because we both know he wasn’t just playing with matches in his room.”

“He might have been.” Leo huffed. “That kid is way more fucked up than we give him credit for. Remember in the fourth grade when someone destroyed his science fair project?”

Donnie shivered. “You don’t just forget something like that, Leo.”

“Exactly! Playing with lighters is totally within the realm of possibility.”

“There’s a difference between enacting violent but justified revenge and doing simply dangerous stuff just for the fun of it.” Donnie countered, glancing up at the other through half-lidded eyes. “Plus, he’s used to all of us doing dangerous stuff for the fun of it! Dad wouldn’t react this way if he was just worried Mikey was gonna hurt himself. He deals with worrying Mikey is gonna hurt himself all the time. Nor would he let Mikey get away with this with nary a punishment if that were truly the case. In the very least, Dad doesn’t think the event was the result of Mikey just ‘playing with lighters.’”

“Oh, so what? It’s magic? His notebook magically caught on fire?” Leo challenged dryly, giving his twin an unimpressed look.

“Of course not. I’m a man of science.” Donnie scoffed. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, but, admittedly, I haven’t been able to intuit exactly what the cause was just yet. My investigation is still ongoing.” He sighed. “... But maybe Dad thinks it was?”

 Leo paused for a moment, rolling the thought around in his head, frowning a bit.

“You think Dad thinks Mikey magically caught his notebook on fire?” He questioned, raising one brow in doubt.

 “It’s possible,” Donnie said, shrugging. “We know that he’s superstitious.”

 Leo hummed softly, his hand automatically moving to spin the small silver bracelet on his wrist, running his fingertips across the smooth edges of the blue crystal in its center. One in a set of five. He supposed that that was technically true… ‘Superstitious’ wasn’t really the first word that would come to mind if he was trying to describe his father. It wouldn’t even be in the top ten. But slapping actual good-luck charms onto each of his children did kind of automatically sort him into that category, didn’t it?

 He knew his dad had a small altar in his room, and they would occasionally celebrate, or at least acknowledge, Japanese holidays that he had grown up with. But they didn’t have any other charms or amulets in their home, at least not that Leo knew of, just old knick-knacks and trinkets that lived on shelves or in closets. They had never gone to a shrine or temple or church or anything of the like in their lives, and he had never heard his Dad pray before. But the bracelets? He had always been really invested in that. Leo literally couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t all worn them. He had told them since they were small that they ‘kept them safe ,’ and it had been a hard rule their entire lives that they weren’t to be removed.

 It was the kind of thing that Leo was pretty sure people would think was weird if he brought it up-- so he usually didn’t. He used to think it was weird, too, honestly, and kind of dumb. I mean, they were just bracelets, right? So what did it matter? But he remembered the one time he had tried to take it off when he was around seven. Even now it was absolutely vivid in his brain every time he thought about it.

 He hadn’t been trying to rebel or make trouble or anything, he had just been bored. He forgot exactly where they were, but they were waiting in line for something at some building with lots of desks and people milling about, discussing boring things. And there wasn’t anything to do! He had exhausted all viable options for entertaining himself: Annoying his father. Annoying his brother. Annoying his other brother. Annoying his other other brother. So he had basically run out of ideas.

 He hadn’t even taken the bracelet off. I mean, not all the way. He was just messing with it, kind of yanking it up and down his wrist, and seeing if he could wiggle it up his hand over his knuckles--

 But god, he remembers the way his father’s voice sounded when he caught him, biting out his name like it was painful. He remembers the look on his face, and even now it makes him feel small.

 Not because his dad was angry. But because he was scared.  

 He had never seen his dad look that way before in his entire life. Like he was about to watch the entire world crumble down around him. 

 It was scary. His dad was scared, so he got scared, too. He shivers a little bit at the memory, his frown deepening. They had left shortly after, and Dad had assured him at least twenty times that he wasn’t mad, and he was sorry for scaring him, and it was okay, but that he couldn’t take the bracelet off. It was important.

 Leo and his brothers had kind of decided after that that it probably was important and that they really shouldn’t take them off. Leo wasn’t entirely sure if he completely believed now that they actually ‘kept them safe’ or whatever, but he had certainly believed it then. And besides that, clearly, their father believed it, and that alone was enough for him. It was too small to really get off now, anyway. They had grown enough that Leo doubted he could wriggle his way out of it even if he wanted to. It was a small miracle that Raph hadn’t busted his with how damn beefy he had grown, but hey, he wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

 “Okay. Fine.” Leo conceded. “So, Dad thinks Mikey has magic hands, or whatever. What do we do about it?”

---

The train ride over to the swim meet was relatively calm, filled with idle chatter and conversation. Leo, Donnie, and Raph had met their Dad at the station after school, and they spent the trip discussing the new leaf Donnie's Monstera was growing, the most recent viral street magic video Leo had seen, and the latest funny thing Raph's swim kids had done. Raph attempted, unsuccessfully, to prod their Dad into sharing as well, but the most he got was information about the latest reality show episode he had watched. Their Dad wasn't always the biggest sharer, but usually, they could at least get him to discuss the state of his Dojos, any new acting prospects, or celebrity gossip. He loved celebrity gossip! But not today-- the conversation stayed squarely focused on his three sons.

 Still, it had been pleasant, even with the slight stirring of anxiety in Raph's stomach. They were all busy more often than they weren't, so it was always nice to get to spend any amount of time together. Their pops didn't always attend all their various sporting events, recitals, or other competitions-- it just wasn't realistic. There was only one of him, after all. But they were getting towards the end of the season at this point, which meant that all the 'important' events were beginning to crop up on their calendars. Their Dad hated to miss those-- even if they did go pretty much every year. He always said he wanted to ‘brag about how talented his children were.’

 The sports center was just a short walk from the train station, and Raph glanced down at their father as they made their way into the bustling lobby. "You know where you're goin', pops?"

 "Yes, yes, of course. I could give tours of this place." His father joked, his frame shaking with his laughter. "You boys know how to find me if you need me. Now, go and have fun. And also, kick some butt!" He encouraged with a toothy grin.

 "You got it, pops!" Raph assured, smiling wide in response, herding his two younger brothers off to the locker room. Usually, they'd come here with the rest of their team. Rather than traveling with their Dad, they'd travel with the other kids and their coach. But this was the city-wide meet. Qualifiers only-- which thinned out the crowd. Raph knew there were other competitors from the Mad Dogs Swim Team around here somewhere, but until they could hunt them down, it was just the three of them. Luckily, this was far from their first rodeo.

"Dibs on Candy Locker!" Leo yelled.

"Leo, no one else wants Candy Locker," Donnie said.

"Do not touch the Candy Locker!" Raph shouted.

They did this every year.

The infamous Candy Locker.

  Raph, Leo, and Donnie had been competing in swim since they were eight and seven, respectively. And every year since then, all three of them had qualified for city-wide. And every year, city-wide was held at the Aquatics Pavilion at the Ithaca College campus. And every year that they came here, since they discovered it their very first time, the Candy Locker remained.

 It was basically a historical landmark at this point, and Raph was continuously baffled that it still persevered. There were rows and rows of shiny slate gray lockers in the changing rooms, free for whatever visiting athlete to use while they competed, just big enough that you could fit a swim bag in there if you really put some muscle into it, all labeled and neat. Typically, you would open a locker without a padlock, and there would be one of two things there. One: someone else's clothes and bag. Someone already took this locker, but is playing it fast and loose and trusts no one will steal their shit. That's cool. Stealing ain't the Mad Dog way. Two: An empty locker. Sweet, free locker. You can shove your shit in there. But at the Aquatics Pavilion, there was also a third option.

 That option was a faded yellow pillowcase filled to the brim with about two pounds of Halloween candy. 

 The running theory was that someone had stashed it here ages ago, forgotten it, and it had just been there ever since, therefore transforming Locker 336 into ‘Candy Locker.’ Raph wasn't sure if the staff at the school truly just weren't aware of it, if they just didn't feel like dealing with it, or if they too respected it enough that they couldn't bring themselves to destroy it. All he knew was that Candy Locker was forever, and a fixture of the institution. 

 He also knew that every single year, without fail, Leo tried to sneak chocolate out of Candy Locker. 

"You can't use Candy Locker. Leo! It's not open for use! It's Candy Locker, and it needs to be treated with respect!" Raph yelled, giving a low groan of annoyance as Leo just barely glanced back at him, just for a moment, this absolutely feral look of excitement in his eyes, and darted off, breaking away from their small group. Dammit. 

 All of Raph's little brothers were fast and small and nimble. Raph always felt a tiny bit awed when he watched how they moved-- weaving about obstacles like minnows swimming upstream, dancing and darting about in a way that always looked effortless. Raph was fast, too, and he was far more acrobatic than the average high schooler... Don't get it twisted, he was perfectly capable of back-flips and cartwheels. But small? Small he was not.

 It was tough being a big guy sometimes. I mean, he didn't dislike it by any means! He loved being large enough that he could see over crowds and keep an eye on everything. He loved feeling strong and powerful enough that he could plant himself in between his family and any kind of danger, and feel like a wall-- an immovable object. He loved being strong, relished the rush of pinning his opponents to the ground beneath him without any effort and smashing his way through obstacles.

 ... But with size and strength comes responsibility. Wait, was that the quote? Something like that. The point was, if he ran after Leo, he'd mow half these kids down.  And he didn't wanna hurt anyone or anything. He knew better than that.

"Raphael."

Raph's father knelt down next to him, his voice gentle, but nudging, demanding to be heard. It took Raph a few moments, but eventually, he glanced up at him, peeking shyly at his father from behind his hand and uncurling from the small ball he was rolled into just the tiniest bit.

 "Raphael, did you hit Leonardo?"

 He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded a tiny bit, sniffling loudly.

 "And bite him?"

He nodded again, drawing his legs up to his chest and hiding his face in his knees.

 His father sighed softly. "Red, we cannot--"

 "He pushed me first!" He bit out, and he could feel his face burn even hotter than before, all muddy with shame and anger sloshed together. "H-he was being mean, and, and he wouldn't leave me alone! And I wanted him to stop!" 

"I will talk to him, Red. But just because he pushes you does not mean you can push back. Or hit him, or bite him. You are bigger than him, Raphael."  This brought a fresh sob tumbling through Raph's chest, despite his best efforts. His father sighed again before slowly sitting down, holding out his arms.

 "Come here, my son." 

 Raphael rolled over onto his hands and knees, crawling into his dad's lap and burrowing his face into his chest. His dad's arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight and rocking the two of them back and forth. And for a while, they just sat like that, quiet and still, hidden away in the hallway closet.

 "Is Leo okay?" Raph eventually mumbled, not picking up his head.

"He will be alright," Dad confirmed. "But you did hurt him quite a bit, Raphael."

"Sorry." He whispered. He wiped at his face with balled-up fists, hiccuping a few times. His mouth tasted salty, now, from the tears, but it still tasted bitter from the blood, too.

 "...You did a very good job coming to get me right away." 

 Raph hummed a tiny bit in response, but he didn't say anything beyond that. He wished he could fold himself up even tighter and hide. He wished he was so small he could fit in between the floorboards. He wished he could disappear.

 "You know, your gym teacher is very impressed with you, Red." Dad eventually began to speak again. "He told me all about how wonderfully you do whenever he sees you. You're bigger and stronger than the other kids in your class," He continued, and then laughed. "And I think that is very cool! And it makes me very proud to hear about how well you have done."

Raph finally dared to peek up at his father again, wiping some of the tears off his cheeks.

 "But I know it can be hard to be strong sometimes. It is a lot of work, being big and strong! You have to be careful with others around you, even if they're not careful with you back. That is very difficult!" He said, his hand moving in slow circles up and down his child's spine. "But I have seen you many, many times be big and strong to protect your brothers, and keep them safe, and to help them." He said, keeping quiet for a moment before exhaling slowly through his nose. "... Can I share a secret with you, Red?"

A secret? His eyes widened a bit, and he immediately nodded.

"I have been thinking that perhaps you boys might be ready to start learning proper martial arts at the dojo." Raph let out an audible gasp, his entire body perking up with excitement. Actual for real kung-fu and karate and stuff?! Not just blocks and poses!? "But I am a little worried that your brothers might hurt themselves, or fight with each other if I teach them." 

 Oh. Raph hadn't thought of that before. He frowned a bit, his brows suddenly pinched with worry. He hadn’t ever considered before that learning martial arts could actually be a bad idea. If he learned martial arts with his Dad, what if he just hurt his brothers worse? 

 "But I know how much you all want to learn. And I can already see how much potential you all have." He continued with a soft smile. "So I was hoping that you could help me. I don't like that you and Leo got into a fight, or that he got hurt... But now I know that you know what it feels like to hurt someone that you love. And that it doesn't feel very good, does it?"

 No... It felt horrible. He furrowed his brows, frowning before nodding a bit.

 "So I think that means that I can trust you to help me with teaching them how to be careful and strong at the same time, and keep them safe. Do you think you could handle that, Red?"

 Raphael swallowed hard, feeling this wet lump form in his throat. All the tears from before welled up in his eyes again-- even though he didn't wanna live in the floorboards anymore. His dad still trusted him that much? Even now, after he messed up really bad? He tried to tell his father 'yes,' but his lips were wobbling too much for his tongue to work right, so he just nodded as hard as he could instead. Yes-- He wanted more than anything to help protect his little brothers, no matter what. ‘Cause even when they made him so, so angry... he still loved them so, so much.

 "I thought so." Dad laughed, kissing the top of his son's head before ruffling his hair lightly. "And I know we will not have any more fighting like this. And no more biting , Raphael. We have talked about this. If you want to bite something, I will get you something else that is for biting. But it cannot be people! Understood?"

 Hiccuping a bit, Raphael nodded again. Somehow, he wasn't even upset to be scolded this time. And he knew that he had said he wouldn't bite people before, but this time he really meant it.

 "Good boy. Now, I am going to go check on your brothers. Do you want to stay here a little bit longer, or do you want to come with me?"

 Raph took a long, deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat so that he could find his voice again.

 "I wanna see my brothers."

 "GET BACK HERE, LEO. DON'T MAKE ME COME AFTER YOU." He shouted, and was completely ignored. "Donnie--"

"Not involved." Donnie immediately replied, not looking up from his phone. 

 Raph groaned, trying to pick up the pace without taking out any bystanders, muttering repeated, "Pardon me's," and "'Scuse me's," as he went.

 Leo really wasn't that far ahead of them-- He wouldn't completely ditch them, but he did get far enough ahead that he was already breaking into Candy Locker by the time Raph rounded the corner, his face set into a deep scowl.

 "Leo. Don't you dare." 

 "Look! Untouched and beautiful as ever!"

 "Leo, do not eat the candy ."

"Wow, and they have all our favorites, too..."

 "They are at least eight years old! At a minimum , Leo!" 

 "Oh, pshhh. As if I haven't seen you wolf down two-week-old leftovers before." Leo scoffed.

 "Remember that time he ate beef jerky out of the trash?" Not helping, Donnie.

 "It was right on top! Practically untouched!" Raph protested. "And that's completely different! Plus, eight years is, like, twelve times longer than two weeks is!"

 "That math is not correct..." Donnie mumbled under his breath.

 "Chillax! I'm not gonna eat any of the candy." Leo said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

 Oh, thank god.

 "I just wanna have one. To like... put on a shelf or something. I bet Donnie could make a little pedestal for it."

 Dammit.

 "One year." Raph said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just one year. I just want us to leave Candy Locker in peace... for one year . It's a sacred space, Leo!"

 "Mmmm..." Leo pursed his lips, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, I mean. I see what you're saying, but... I'm pretty sure no one is gonna miss, like, one Tootsie Pop."

 "Stop messing with him, Leo." Donnie chided, cracking open a locker nearby, tossing his bag down and shucking off his jacket.

 "Okay, okay. Fine. Because I'm an amazing brother, I will refrain from interacting any further with Candy Locker until after the meet." Leo declared, slapping the locker shut again with a flick of his wrist and a satisfying metallic clack. "But know this, Raphael. This isn't over." 

 Raphael scoffed, rolling his eyes, glaring at Leo as he yanked open his own locker. He loved his brothers dearly-- he did. But they were really lucky sometimes that he didn't just snap their necks.

---

At this point, Yoshi had a pretty good handle on these types of events, and he knew well enough how to navigate. He knew exactly which corner bounced cheers and shouts about the least, knew just where all the vents, pumping in warm air to prevent all the swimmers from freezing their butts off, were hidden, so they could be avoided, and knew the best seating arrangement that allowed for minimal soreness the following day. Metal bleachers weren’t exactly easy on your back, after all! Armed with years of experience, (plus his cellphone and earbuds for when events did not feature his sons and he got bored,) he was fully committed to making it through the meet and focusing for the entirety of it. Had he made any progress on the whole Hamato Ninpo thing? Well, no, not exactly. Which was. Ah. Worrisome. But, now was not the time for that!

He was quite excited to watch his three eldest sons kick ass and take names, as per usual. 

He said 'hello' to a few of the other parents that he knew and made some polite small talk, settling down to watch the meet. Warm-ups were already done by the time he was all seated, and he could see his boys and the rest of their team from where they sat across the pool; audience members sat on one side, and competitors on the other. He watched them doing much of the same-- making conversation with each other and their teammates, checking their phones, and cheering whenever anyone they knew was in the water. 

 All in all, everything was fairly normal and expected. Yoshi still struggled a bit to keep himself focused, and not think too deeply about all the worries in his head, but it wasn't as bad as it had been lately... It had been nearly a week now with no further incidents, no questioning from his children, and no spooky prophecies or visions from his ancestors or anything like that. So he was beginning to wonder, or perhaps more accurately, hope that maybe it had just been a fluke. Just a one-off event rather than the beginning of anything trying. Maybe his family was fine, their identity and secrets were safe, and nothing further was going to occur to jeopardize that-- they could just continue to live in peace just as they had been.

 He watched the twins get up from the bench for their next event, shedding their hoodies and towels in favor of goggles, only to get waved over by an official. The two wandered over and joined him and what appeared to be another parent. He couldn't hear what they were saying from where he was, but the conversation soon became animated-- Donnie's arms crossed over his chest, Leo talking wildly with his hands, and worry immediately began to blossom in his chest. He had just gotten to his feet, beginning to make his way over to the group when the discussion seemed to dissolve, his two sons walking away visibly upset. Yoshi met them halfway. 

 "What is going on?" He immediately questioned, his brows knit together, forming wrinkled creases in his skin. He could see Raphael straining to see from his side of the pool, a similar expression on his own face.

 "Ugh. It's nothing." Leo huffed, a scowl set on his face, his hands on his hips. "Some Karen or whatever is just mad that we're gonna ruin her kid's record or whatever, so she talked the officials into drug testing us."

 "Which is obviously a complete waste of time and resources," Donnie added in, rolling his eyes.

 "She's just gonna embarrass herself when it comes back negative. As if we need any steroids to clean up shop." Leo declared, a small, sly grin growing on his face, offering out a hand to high-five his brother like, ‘Sick burn, right, Dee?'

 His brother accepted, slapping his palm firmly. "Indeed."

 Yoshi had broken out into a cold sweat, feeling as though his entire body had turned into stone, freezing him in place.

 "O-oh. A drug test. Yes, how silly..." He mumbled, forcing a grin on his face. "How. Uh. How exactly... Does that work? Is it going to take long? I would hate for the, uh, the meet to be held up...!"

 "No, they're just doing a rapid test." Donnie hummed. "Obviously it's going to be a smaller panel than they could achieve with a proper lab test, and not achieve quite as accurate or varied of a data set, but it should only take five minutes or so. I understand they're fetching the technician now, and then it should be as simple as collecting a urine sample to use. It can only reveal a 'negative' or 'positive' result rather than any more detailed variations or anything of the like, but of course, this isn't a concern for us, since we already know neither of us is using any drugs. It's actually a very fascinating process--"

 Yoshi wasn't listening anymore, because all he could hear in his ears was his own voice screaming TURTLE PISS TURTLE PISS TURTLE PISS.

  Logically, the test did not have the capacity to give such information. Donatello had just said that there were only two possible test results, positive or negative, and his purplest son usually knew what he was talking about regarding such things. So, reasonably, he knew it could not possibly come back ‘Mutant Turtle’. And rationally, he knew that his family had been under further scrutiny in the past and come out on the other side just fine. This did not ease his panic. It never did. 

Insurance cards? Check. Paperwork? Check. All four children? Check. He went over his list for the fifth time in his head, glancing down at his kids, two on either side of him, as they approached the office. Right... Yes. He had everything he needed. 

 So why didn't he feel even the least bit prepared?

 He had gone to such lengths to ensure the success of this plan. He had accounted for every document that would need to be forged, had crafted an elaborate story to explain his disappearance, and had paid dearly for the five bracelets that concealed his and his sons' mutant identities. He prepared for every possible threat to their new identities, and did everything he could to allow the success of their new lives.

 It wasn't like he didn't account for this. He knew that it would be an obstacle, and he knew that it would be one that they would have to face. That didn't stop it from being terrifying.

 The doctor.

 Despite all the paperwork he had fabricated, he knew that they wouldn't be able to avoid going to the doctor forever. Even if he falsified records indicating his sons were up to date on absolutely everything and in perfect health, this would only buy them a year or two before they would be due for a visit, or risk being barred from enrollment in public school. And even if he somehow avoided this, too, what if one of his children got sick? Or injured? Was he to simply keep them at home and deny them medical care? 

 No, no. He wanted his kids to have a normal life. He wanted them to be able to do things like go to school and play in parks and make friends with other children... and have proper medical care when it was needed. He wanted them to be vaccinated, to be screened for problems, to have regular check-ups and be able to go to the hospital when they were hurt. He desperately wanted this.

 But jesus christ, this was terrifying.

 "Are you ready, boys?" He asked, glancing down at his children once more. He was trying to keep his voice level and his body language calm, but he could tell that his sons could sense his anxiety. His heart broke a little when four pairs of big, horrified eyes looked up at him and they shook their heads.

 "Ah, where are my brave boys?" He questioned, nudging them ever so slightly, beginning the walk into the office. He held Mikey and Donnie's hands tightly so that they wouldn't be able to tell he was shaking. "Do not worry. I promise that Dr. Davis is very nice. Nothing bad will happen." He assured.

 The boys didn't seem too convinced. He wasn't either, truthfully, but he marched them inside anyway.

 It had been over a decade since he had last been inside a doctor's office, and even longer than that since he had been to a pediatrician. Yet somehow, it felt like nothing had really changed. Colorful wires with wooden beads strung on them stuck out from a brightly-painted table in the middle of the room, in sharp contrast to the faded burgundy chairs lined along the walls. Children's books and Highlight magazines covered every available surface, which Donnie immediately took to reading. There were a few other parents with their children as well, but the Hamatos were in no mood to socialize. After speaking to the woman at the front desk, Yoshi got to work filling out a literal stack of papers. He was so nervous, he messed up at least three different forms, and had to sheepishly request new copies.

 And then they waited.

 The longer they sat, the more the collective anxiety seemed to mount. Yoshi couldn't help the scenarios running through his mind over and over, each one ending with a doctor or nurse shrieking in horror and calling Animal Control--

 "Dad." 

 Yoshi blinked back into reality, looking down at his youngest son, pulling at his sleeve with tears in his eyes.

 "Dad, I wanna go home," Mikey whispered, leaning in close to him and sniffling a bit. "I don't wanna see the doctor." 

 Quite frankly, Yoshi was inclined to agree with his kid, to pick them all up and walk out right this very minute. But he suppressed the urge. 

 "I know, Mikey. I do not like seeing the doctor either." He admitted, scooping up the preschooler to hold in his lap. "But I promise... Dr. Davis is very nice, and, ah, I will not let them do anything bad to you... I am sure everything will be fine...!" 

 Before he could continue his, quite frankly, horrible pep talk, a nurse poked her head into the room from the back. 

 "The Hamatos?" 

  "Yo. Dad. You good?"

 Yoshi paused for a moment before he returned properly back to the present day, glancing over at his sons and giving a nervous laugh, which then dissolved into a cough. 

 "Ah! Yes, of course! I am perfectly fine! Why wouldn't I be!" He wheezed, and his sons exchanged looks.

 "Papa, honestly, it's fine. This will take ten minutes tops, and again, I assure you that neither Leo nor myself are engaging in any kind of recreational substances." Donnie said.

 "Yeah! All we gotta do is piss in a cup." Leo added in. "And then we'll be all set. It's just annoying. Here, why don't you sit down, watch some Netflix or something-- I know you like Netflix-- and we'll be back in a bit, okay? Just chill." 

 "Right. Of course. I am... very chill." Yoshi insisted, even though he could feel his hands trembling a bit. Gah! Stupid traitor hands! Stop it! 

 "Surrreeee," Donnie said, taking him by the arm and slowly leading him back to the bleachers, sitting him down and patting his shoulder. "We'll be right back, alright? Nothing to worry about." 

---

"Alright, you should be all set." Dr. Davis hummed pleasantly, offering a gentle smile to her latest anxious parent. "Everyone looks great! Healthy weights, nothing scary going on... We'll send you home with some literature and referral information for Donatello. I would recommend considering getting in contact with them if you can, especially since he's gonna be starting school soon, but beyond that everything looks fantastic." 

 "Yes-- thank you," Yoshi said, forcing a smile, shakily accepting the new stack of papers that the doctor handed over.

 Nothing had gone wrong.

 Well, a few things had gone wrong. Mikey and Raphael had both cried when they got their shots. Donnie had a small meltdown after being repeatedly touched by people he didn't like. And Leo had punched a nurse in the gut for upsetting his brothers. 

 But their bill of health came back clean. No mentions of turtles, mutations, cold-bloodedness, or reptilian features of any kind.

 They made it through. They would be okay.

 "... And we'll see you back in about five weeks for their next booster series, okay? Jacklyn up front can get you all scheduled!"

 Yoshi pursed his lips slightly, his mouth suddenly feeling rather dry.

 "... Ah. Yes. Of course." 

---

The concept of buoyancy was built upon that of displacement; the idea that two different forms of matter could not occupy the same space. Archimedes once theorized that water, a liquid, would be pushed aside by a solid mass, but an object of an appropriate weight, density, or shape could ensure that the displaced weight of the water was greater than the total weight of the object, therefore ensuring it to float. This is, of course, connected to the concept of forces. Gravity is a downward force that acts upon all objects; when an object is placed in a fluid, that fluid must supply a force equal in magnitude but opposite in direction to the gravitational force for the object to float. Scientifically speaking, it was all a matter of density and mass, and every action that one took in the water, as well as every action that the water had in response, could be explained through a series of formulas and equations.

 ... In a non-scientific sense, however, water was safe and soft and inviting. Water would make room for you, no matter who you were or what you were doing. Once you got in, it would change itself to make exactly enough space for your body. Water was fluid and changing, soft and gentle when you moved softly, hard and firm when you moved harshly. In the water, the way you move changes. The way you see and hear changes. Perception itself shifts.

 God, Donatello loved swimming.

 Even just swimming laps was great, but a race only heightened the experience, engaging every bit of his body and mind and encouraging him to push. From the moment the buzzer went off and he dived from the starting block, ( push off with your legs, you're going for distance, not for height, hands together, smooth entry point, ) to the lap down, ( head down, no breathing except for when you absolutely need to, arms go back and glide over the water-- imagine your fingertips skimming just over the surface, no unnecessary movement, just enough for the maximum propulsion forward with minimal effort, ), the turn at the wall, ( watch the floor, see the blue tile end and the white begin-- you know the math, count it out, at five you duck, chin to your chest, arms together, kick off the wall and get as much air off that sucker as you can, ) and the sprint back, ( kick from your hips, not your knees, no reserving energy, it's just a fifty, this is a ‘dash,’ so dash -- )

 Every second of it he was engaged, and every second of it he adored the experience. He didn't even slow down when he approached the wall, ramming into it at full speed and using his outstretched hands to stop himself and trigger the timer that stopped the clock. They didn't have to worry about slowing down. They wouldn't run into anything. Their own hands and the water would catch them. 

 Sucking in ragged breaths, he looked to his left, and then he looked to his right. Leo was right behind him, but as he glanced up at the display board on the wall to check his time, he grinned widely. He had more than a five-second lead over him. More than enough to qualify for Regionals-- not that he had been worried. Leo was well within the range as well, just as expected. The three of them always went to Regionals. And Donnie was quite pleased to note that the kid from Lane 4, the child, he and Leo had deduced, of the woman who demanded they be tested, was significantly behind the two of them. Sure, his time was good enough to qualify for Regionals, too...

 But it wasn't anywhere near as good as theirs. Haha. Suck it.

 One by one, all of the racers joined him at the end of the lane, bobbing about in the water and holding onto the pool edge or the lane lines, everyone out of breath and filled with adrenaline. He shook the hands of his two lane neighbors, congratulating both of them on a race well run, and once the referee blew his whistle, he clambered out of the water, hoisting himself up back onto dry land and moving to rejoin his twin.

 "Killed it." Leo said, though breathlessly, ("if you're not struggling to breathe by the end of a race, you're not doing it right," their coach often said,) offering a fistbump, which Donnie reciprocated.

 "As expected." He said, grinning wide as the two of them made their way back to the bleachers. 

 "Leo! Donnie! Nice!" Raph called as they approached, tossing them each a towel to wrap around themselves, each beginning to dry themselves off, peeling goggles and swim caps off their heads. "Good time! But, uh, what was with the--?"

 "Some lady made us do a drug test," Leo explained, waving a hand as if to dismiss Raph's concerns. "It was dumb, we both passed, it's all good now. Just annoying."

 "A drug test?! Seriously?!" Raph said, scoffing loudly. And admittedly, Raphala was no stranger to similar situations. Donnie recalled he had been accused of taking steroids or faking his age more than once in his various sporting exploits, but it typically wasn't taken as far as to actually test him. Donnie thought, vaguely, that he was almost surprised that Raph wasn't subject to the same treatment as he and Leo were today, but he supposed it did make at least a bit of sense. Raph was big-- he was tall and visibly muscular and powerful. People looked at him and expected him to excel in athletics.

 He and Leo? Not so much. Leo was only 5'5", and he himself barely passed 5'3" without his boots, much to his annoyance. They were both lean and clearly athletically inclined, sure, but they were both much smaller and slimmer than their older brother was. People looked at them and were often surprised by their respective sporting resumes. Especially him.

 "Yes, yes, it was an unfortunate waste of everyone's time." Donnie agreed. "But to no one's surprise, it came back completely spotless, and we were able to proceed without issue and completely destroy absolutely everyone, in your face Karen, thank you very much."

 "Is that why Dad's been freaking out?" Raph asked after a moment, raising a brow. Donnie followed his eyes to steal a glance over at their father on the other side of the pool, looking much better than he had before they received their test results, (both he and Leo offering him thumbs up from across the way once they had been cleared, and watching him sag with relief,) but still seemed a bit shaky.

 "Yeah," Leo said, wrinkling his nose. "I thought he was gonna pass out for a second there when we told him. He was sweating so much, it was disgusting."

 "He doesn't seriously think you guys' would come back positive or anything, does he?" Raph scoffed, frowning a bit, and Leo shook his head.

 "Nah, I don't think so. But you know how scared he is of doctors."

--- 

 Dad always got like this whenever they had an appointment.

 'This' meaning, of course, 'Visibly and overwhelmingly anxious and frightened, absolutely filled with dread and horror.' 

 They were all kind of used to it by now.

 When they were little, it would sort of freak them out, because every time they had to go to the doctor, he had to come with them, and he'd be in a state of near-panic the whole time. And if Dad was freaking out, then they should probably be freaking out too, right? Looking back, Leo recognized that he was always trying to hide it, but quite frankly, he did a pretty shit job at it. Now that they had gotten a bit older, however, collectively exiting elementary school years to enter junior high, they more-or-less recognized that Dad's doctor-induced panic was really more of a personal thing, and not necessarily something that they needed to worry about themselves. Leo still didn't really like the doctor, and he kind of doubted he ever would, but he wouldn't really categorize himself as 'afraid' any longer.

 Their Dad? Not so much. 

 The four of them had been long aware of the little note on the calendar in the kitchen, the sacred piece of literature that controlled all their lives, dictating that at four o'clock on this date, their dear father would be summoned to the doctor's office. And they knew that, of course, like he did every time, he would totally freak out. And, just as predicted, he had been an anxious mess all day, pacing around the house, mumbling nonsense to himself, (something about them being ‘onto him’ and ‘rat blood’ and other completely meaningless jibber-jabber.) 

 But this time, they had a plan. They absolutely could not continue to watch him like this. Everyone was in place. Leo looked across the living room, nodding to Raph. Raph glanced at Donnie, who checked his watch, and likewise nodded an affirmative. Mikey put down his sketchbook, getting to his feet, and the four of them, following his cue, fell into step with each other and filed into the kitchen.

 Mission: Save Daddy From the Horrors was a go.

 "Hey Dad," Mikey began, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leaning into him slightly. Raph, at the same time, got to work preparing a pot of tea-- Donnie fetched the cream, Leo was on sugar duty. "So, we were thinking. Maybe we could come with you this afternoon?"

 Their father startled slightly, immediately moving to glare at Mikey with suspicious eyes. "What?! Come with me? Why would you want to come with me to a doctor's appointment?"

"Well, we were just thinking, it might be a nice, uh... family outing!" Raphael offered with a shrug, chuckling nervously and looking to the side. "And maybe we could, I dunno, get frozen yogurt on the way back?"

 "And we could watch that game show you like on the way over. With the mystery shrimp?" Donnie suggested. 

 "Plus, I mean, I've been meaning to get some acting tips from you? Not that I need them, obviously, but..." Leo added, placing a cup into his father's hands as he narrowed his eyes. 

 "... You boys are... up to something..." Dad mumbled, looking between the four of them with a slight frown. 

 "Up to something? No! Of course not!" Raph insisted, and Mikey placed a hand on their father's shoulder.

 "We just want to spend more quality time with you! As a family! Don't you want to spend time with us, your loving sons?" He questioned, batting his eyes. "Plus, we can get frozen yogurt! We know how much you love frozen yogurt, right?" 

 "Yeah, what they said," Donnie said. 

 "Pleaseeeee?" Leo went in for the kill, offering a dramatic pout, poking his lower lip out as far as it could possibly go. Mikey joined in shortly, combining their powers to reach near-dangerous levels of puppy-dog-eyes.

 "... I suppose... If you really would like to..."

  Score. They were in. Goal: minimize anxiety and get their dad home from the doctor's office in one piece for a change. And if they got some frozen yogurt in the process? What was the harm in that? As far as Leo was concerned, so long as they could manage to get their Dad through this appointment without totally freaking out, that'd be a win. And, if things went well, it would be that much easier to convince him to allow them to accompany him to future appointments, too. 

---

The rest of the swim meet went about as expected. Donnie easily got the best times in every event he participated in, and all three of them, plus a couple of their teammates, made it into the upcoming Regionals. Trophies and ribbons were given out in the end, which they had all immediately passed on to their father, ‘cause he was more excited about them than they were and would surely figure out a way to find space for at least some of them at home. Raph physically wrestled an ancient Twix bar out of Leo's hands, and once his little brother finally cried for mercy and swore to leave Candy Locker alone for the remainder of the trip, he unpinned him from the ground and allowed him to get back up. Normal stuff. 

 It wasn't until the train ride home that things got kind of weird. 

 About fifteen minutes in Leo started giving him these looks. Looks that said, ' go on, say something.' So Raph started giving Leo ' no, you say something ' looks. After some back and forth, they both tried to give Donnie looks, but Donnie completely ignored them in every sense of the word, pointedly refusing to look up from his phone as he discussed the process of coding artificial intelligence to their dad, who clearly didn't understand anything they were saying, but to his credit, was doing his best to nod along. 

 After losing a silent game of rock-paper-scissors played at knee-level, just outside of their father's field of vision, Raph cleared his throat, leaning over slightly.

 "Sooo, Pops... You been... sleeping okay?"

 "Hm? Oh, yes! You know I am always out like a light after my before-bed snack!" Dad replied easily with a chuckle, and Raph frowned, ‘cause he could tell just by looking at him that that was a lie.

 "Uh-huh. Right." Leo scoffed, not buying it. "That's crazy. Because, no offense, but you look kind of like garbage. And like you haven't so much as touched a pillow in, like... ever." 

 This immediately earned him a smack to his forehead.

 "Garbage?! I will have you know that I was voted Hollywood's ‘Sexiest Action Film Star’ five years in a row! No respect!"

 Leo whined loudly, rubbing his forehead and mumbling "ew," under his breath, but Raph knew it was all for show. Dad's infamous ‘Karate Chops’ never actually hurt. Though it could be that Leo was more hurting from the psychological damage of hearing their father refer to himself as ‘sexy’ than anything else...

 "I concur-- ew. And as fascinating as this factoid that you've cursed us with is, father, it doesn't really address the fact that you've clearly not been sleeping." Donnie remarked, still not looking up from his phone screen. Raph knew he was listening, though. He wasn't typing, no video was playing. He was fully engaged with the conversation. Just needed his barrier.

 "Yeah, if anyone is qualified to identify an insomniac, it's me!" Leo added in.

 "What we're trying to say is," Raph jumped in, hands held out and a nervous smile on his face, "Is just, uh. That we're a little worried about you, Pops. I mean. You've seemed kind of, uh, out of it... since..."

 "Since that thing with Mikey." Leo helpfully supplied, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 Raph noted the slight twitch in his Dad's left eye. 

 "What thing with Mikey?" Dad feigned.

 "Uh, the thing where he started a fire in his room? That thing? Ringing any bells?" Leo pressed, with a tone and a look that said 'yeah, nice try.'

"Oh, yes. That." Their dad said, waving a hand dismissively. "We have already discussed this, boys. The important thing is that Mikey was not hurt, and Purple, I know you are upset because you are not allowed to start fires anymore--"

"It's not about Mikey, Dad," Raph interjected. "It's about you! You've just... you've been acting... weird! And it's been nearly a week now! And-- and if something's goin' on, we wanna know!"

 "Nothing is going on." Their father immediately denied. "I already told you all. That was simply a freak accident, and it is not anything worth worrying about. I am fine! It is nothing you need to concern yourselves with."

"Dad, come on. There's obviously something bothering you!" Raph pushed a little harder, despite the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach, feeling like a soda can in a washing machine. "We just wanna help. Come on, don't you trust us--"

 "Enough." This time it was Dad who interrupted, his voice harder now, firm and definite. Raph flinched slightly. "I already said it is none of your concern. I am fine. I am perfectly capable of handling this, and I do not want any of you involved!"

 Raph opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but was surprised to find that there were no words. So he closed it again. He glanced over at Leo and Donnie, but they had about the same expressions on their faces as him. 

 "Please, Red." He heard the sigh in his father's voice, and he sounded softer now, tired even, and placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder. Raph glanced downwards, his eyes following all the knobs in his father’s fingers, the wrinkles in his knuckles. He didn't want to look at his face, because he knew that if he did, he would see him as an elderly man rather than Dad. He hated it when that happened, when he fell into that headspace... Just seeing people as people, just looking at them for exactly what they were, with all the familiarity and memories stripped away from them. "Just let me take care of this. I have everything under control." 

Raph frowned a bit, not entirely sure if he believed him.

 "We have a good life, Raphael. I need you to let me keep it that way." He said. "And to trust me enough not to get involved. Please."

 He didn't look at Leo or Donnie this time. Something in his gut was screaming at him that this wasn't the move. The words Dad was picking here felt... off. But the way his voice sounded... He swallowed thickly, and then slowly nodded. 

 "Yeah. Okay, Dad. We trust you."

Far beneath the city, below the concrete, below the subways, below even the sewers, the world eventually became city again-- Hidden below the oblivious humans above. At the edge of this city, a small vine grew from the soil, slow and silent, just at the seam of a brick wall. Ever-so-carefully, the vine grew and expanded, pushing itself upward, dark and veiled in violet veins. 

 The vine pressed itself up against the stone wall, curling unnaturally upward, and a bit of stone cracked in response, falling away to the soil below.

 The vine pushed further.

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