#I expect a lot of fanfics

[morallygreyandone]

Just like that

One fucking tweet derailed destroyed destabilized damaged the entire nashuri fandom on twitter

Now

I will unleash it here

LOOK AT WHAT HE IS WEARING

LOOK

SHURI WAS WEARING SOMETHING SLEEVELESS AND LONG TOO

WHAT DOES THE BRIDE WEAR??????

RYAN

RYAN I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE

SHOW YOURSELF

COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR

[starcurtain]

Potential Phaidei Crumbs

Some more possible Phaidei crumbs that I've been thinking about and haven't seen people discussing yet:

First, in the very first scene with Mydei, there's this one odd line. It's a tiny thing, but nothing in a character's first appearance is accidental, so...

Mydei starts griping, telling Phainon that the people of Castrum Kremnos as a whole will not accept him. Presumably he actually means this in a general sense, aka "The Kremnoans won't accept any other hero; Kremnos won't become allies with anyone."

However, something I haven't seen many people note is that Mydei's very next line is:

"As the successor of Kremnos, I am not able to act independently on such matters."

This is a weird statement, right?

Saying "I am not able to act independently" basically implies that there is a desire to choose differently than his people. It's not "I would never act differently than my people demand." It's not even "I don't want to act independently"--it's "I am not able to." Wording the statement this way actively suggests that Mydei has a different stance than Kremnos itself--that if he had the power to act independently, he might make a different determination than his people expect.

Or, in more direct words: He would accept Phainon if he had the choice.

The dev team is very careful about the first impression that characters make in their debut appearances in the game. Choosing to deliberately reveal to us that Mydei has a different opinion of Phainon than the rest of the Kremnoans might is a strong signal for Mydei's characterization--deep down, he is very different from other Kremnoans--but, even more importantly, it tells us instantly that Mydei thinks more highly of Phainon than other people from Kremnos do. (Even if he also thinks Phainon is a mannerless heathen who lacks hospitality lol.)

Okay, okay, but that's just one little line. There's another thing I wanted to point out too, and that's actually Miss Castorice...

I've seen a lot of people suggesting Mydei/Castorice, Phainon/Castorice, and even Mydei/Castorice/Phainon, but for all the fandom's shipping (and everyone should feel free to ship what they love; your ship is valid, fam!), I actually kind of think that...

Castorice is a bit of a Mydei/Phainon shipper herself.

Although Castorice is of course just a good person who is doing what she can to help Okhema, she also is quick to assist Phainon specifically to save Mydei, quick to try to keep Phainon calm because that's what will help him get to Mydei quicker, and she just brings Mydei up out of the blue to Phainon several times throughout the story.

It's Castorice who halts Phainon's ascension ceremony to ask where Mydei is, because she expected him to be there for Phainon.

It seems to be a given for Castorice that if Phainon needs him, in Phainon's most important hour, Mydei should obviously be with him. She knew Mydei would come.

Even before that, when Phainon was feeling down, Castorice admits she doesn't know how to comfort Phainon herself, and instead... brings up Mydei to comfort Phainon???

Girl thought Quick, how can I raise Phainon's self-esteem? and Mydei's nickname for Phainon was the first thing that seems to have come to mind. 😂

She really said "You're not lame, Phainon; Mydei thinks you're a hero!"

Okay, being more serious--even putting shipping aside entirely, it's just overall clear that Castorice perceives the close comradeship between Phainon and Mydei (probably moreso than Phainon himself) and understands how important having that close friendship is to Phainon, who seems to have nothing else left outside of the Chrysos Heirs at all.

She seems to be able to tell how much Phainon needs people in his life who believe in and can stand beside him, and seems to have clocked that Mydei is definitely one such person. The game tells us players clearly that Castorice is an incredibly perceptive person who is sensitive to the feelings of others, and part of that includes her continuing to verbally recognize, throughout 3.0, the support Phainon gains from his close connection to Mydei.

I think this is just another cool touch--but also maybe another subtle nod from the devs. Castorice won't even let Phainon have a single scene where Mydei isn't mentioned lol.

And finally, one last crumb based on a pet theory...

"As I've Written"

We don't yet know who is responsible for actually writing the character profiles in the "As I've Written" book--although the rewards section is called "Author's Recompense" and the player get rewards for "composing sagas," alongside the interact button being "Write Story," there's actually an entire achievement teasing the fact that the Trailblazer doesn't know who actually wrote the book:

It's not remotely written in a style the Trailblazer would write in, and it also contains information the Trailblazer (at least currently) has no way of knowing at all, like the details of Castorice's backstory.

At this point, the real author could be anyone. But I feel like there's a few things pointing in favor of the idea that the real author might be Phainon. It could also be Anaxa or Cyrene or even Mem too, but hear me out...

First, the book's design is reminiscent of Phainon: the book features prominent sun/moon symbols, has the same blue-white-gold color palette, and even the design at the bottom of the book resembles the design along the front of Phainon's coat:

The book also seems to be strongly foreshadowing that someone is going to lose their way, step onto a dark path, or end up making a terrible mistake.

In Tribbie's chapter:

In Aglaea's:

And of course in Phainon's chapter, where the foreshadowing is strongest:

If this "one who has lost their direction" and "lost themself," the "flawed hero," are all references to Phainon, then the book over and over again seems to be--for the player--foreshadowing Phainon's downfall. Or, from the other perspective: This is a record written by someone who has witnessed (or experienced) the downfall and knows what is coming.

There's also the fact that while Phainon's chapter is written in third person, the narrator occasionally slips in some hints that they know what's going on in Phainon's mind:

And there's also this moment from Mydei's chapter:

We already know that this is not how Mydei behaves around people he doesn't know. When Mydei isn't familiar with a person, he doesn't banter with them--he doesn't even bother with them. He barely speaks directly to the Trailblazer the entire 3.0 plot, for example! He doesn't remotely seem like the type of person to sit down at a table and drink with someone he doesn't know.

We also know that he's already scolded Phainon several times for trying to act like an expert in Kremnoan legends:

(Thank Streetwise Rhapsody from Youtube for these screencaps because I forgot to screencap it myself lol.)

And the icing on the cake:

The exact phrase "amateur historian" again.

To me, this all but confirms that the "true" author of the "As I've Written" chronicle is probably Phainon, which finally brings me to the actual Phaidei crumb I wanted to discuss all along:

Mydei's story is listed as chapter 10 of the book. Yet for some reason --even though we get the book only after completing nearly the entire 3.0 questline, when the player has definitely met Aglaea, Castorice, and Tribbie already--Mydei's story comes first.

While Castorice, Tribbie, Phainon, and Aglaea all share the same memory crystal, Mydei has his own separate memory crystal, not shared with any other character, and it is given to the player first, before anyone else:

Phainon really said "My man is more important than the rest of us combined."

Tribbie is chapter 1. Phainon is chapter 7. Aglaea is chapter 9. But for some reason, we jumped all three of those characters to present chapter 10 first. Theoretically you could say that it's because we went to Castrum Kremnos and fought Nikador? But, story-wise, was Mydei the most important? The Trailblazer met Phainon and Tribbie first, got to actually play Aglaea for a sequence of this story, and traveled alone with Castorice. Mydei is the character the Trailblazer actually had the least connection to in the whole 3.0 storyline, so it doesn't seem that the story is truly what determined the order characters' chapters were given to us.

At the end of the day, in a book that seems it could be written by Phainon (from the future? the past?), Mydei was given special treatment and came before anyone else.

I'm just sayin'... the devs don't do things on accident.

[fistfuloflightning]

I’ll never get there, but if I put the work in, maybe I’ll get close enough that I can chase just behind perfection — and have a front-row seat as you achieve it.

Chapter 20, Cultivate by @neonghostcat

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[epicfirestormer]

[wistfulpoltergeist]

Learned something new today from the rendering in EEVEE. Look at this beautiful man! btw meet Luigi ;D

The model and textures belong to Crystal Dynamics*

[justanothermachine]

Sonic Hater Club

also slightly different camera angle w/ more glitter?

[irenespring]

Me: This fic needs plot.

My brain: Okay, I understand. The fic needs more wallowing.

Me: No. We need to cut back on the wallowing to get to the plot so this doesn't like three more weeks to write.

My brain. Got it, got it. The fic needs Wilson to have free time so he just walks around and contemplates. Nice long chunk of Wilson's depression and trauma.

Me: No. Not at all. It needs less time reflecting on the past.

My brain: Understood. I have the solution. The fic needs...flashbacks.

Me: Okay fuck it. Fine.

[sweetmapple]

💅feeling a type of way

[ominousvibez]

ectoberweek 2024, day 1 | graveyard shift

AO3

Victor is a janitor working a late-night shift at Axiom Labs. One night, he encounters Phantom.

A/N: Decided to try an outsider POV for this. Idk, the thought of a janitor working a late night shift kinda just stuck with me. Okay hope you like it xoxo vibez

Victor Hathorne is usually pretty content with his job.

It’s not exactly a fun job, or a particularly exciting job; but it pays the bills, and it pays pretty well. The hours are shit— 10 at night to 6 in the morning—but Axiom Labs makes up for it in generous benefits, including dental!

Victor hadn’t been to the dentist in seven years before snagging this position at Axiom Labs, and it’s a miracle he only had three cavities since.

The work is simple, janitorial duties. With most of the Axiom Lab staff leaving before Victor even arrives for his shift, it leaves most of the building to himself to clean. Four stories, technically, but he doesn’t have access to most of it. There are some higher-ups in the janitorial team that deal with the restricted areas. And they’re a team, of janitors—not something Victor ever imagined being a thing before starting at Axiom—so he’s not technically the only one working late hours, but he’s still usually alone.

Which is fine with him. He brings headphones and an old, busted MP3 player with him to work at night and he listens to music. Occasionally he’s able to find an audiobook to (not-so-legally) download to the MP3, so he isn’t just blaring loud rock/techno music for his entire eight hour shift, and he’s been actually reading books, surprisingly.

It’s a simple, easy job. Something that has helped him get a slightly less shitty apartment and a marginally better life. Not the best job, but it does what it needs to be done.

One night changes that for Victor.

The Head Custodian (what stupidly official name for just their manager) is in their break room already when Victor arrives one night. He’s not late. It’s about nine-forty, the usual time he clocks in, but the appearance of Ravenna Jones is only slightly alarming. Slightly intimidating. He doesn’t interact with her often. She’s usually in her office and doesn’t work the graveyard shift, only staying to eleven or midnight at most.  

She’s sat at the table in the breakroom, looking over a clipboard. There’s a lot of numbers and things listed on the papers, but it isn’t something Victor can easily read. Not just with his dyslexia, mind you, but it’s also upside-down to him. Not to mention—not really any of his business.

“Mr. Hathorne?”

His head snaps up as he sets his bag in the locker. He stiffens. “…Yes?”

A million thoughts go through his mind. Is she going to fire me? Am I going to be fired? Did I forget to clean something last night? Sure, he occasionally came in a little buzzed, not like any of the other janitors are much better than Victor. He’s usually the only sober one of the normal staff.

“Alexa James is not going to be in today.” Ravenna starts. “Well, for a while, actually.”

“Is-- is she alright?”

“Yes, she is fine. Maternity leave.”

Oh. Oh! He remembers, faintly, Alexa saying something in passing to him the other night. They’d been successful with IVF treatments a while ago, and her wife was due soon. The baby must have come. “Oh, that’s… Great. Good for them, I mean.”

Ravenna looks up at him from her clipboard, nodding quietly. “Yes. She will be gone for a while, and we will need someone to take over her position temporarily. You’re the only other staff member in our department who can fill in for her while she’s gone.”

“M-Me?” He hadn’t even been there for a whole year yet. The entire situation is very surprising. “I mean, Bill’s been here for years, can’t he…?”

Ravenna shakes her head, pushing her chair back to stand up. As Head Custodian, Ravenna never has to dress in clothes that are meant to get dirty (like Victor), so her pencil skirt and blouse are clean, tidy, and professional, and she brushes off the dust on her skirt. “Bill has a criminal record. I know that Jefferson comes in too high every night for his shift. And Kallie, well…” She shakes her head, trailing off. “Your background check came up the cleanest.”

That’s not surprising. For such a refutable company, Axiom Labs does tend to… take their chances on some people with sketchier backgrounds, mostly for the grunt work like graveyard shift custodian.

Still. It’s a lot more responsibility to be suddenly thrust into.

“Um, I’m, uh, not sure—”

Ravenna pays him no mind, continuing. “George usually arrives about eleven-thirty, according to his time-clocks. He’ll be the one to show you around tonight on B-1. I’ve got a new ID badge for you so you can access the floors you need to. Pay attention with what you do tonight, because George won’t show you anything tomorrow.” She explains, pulling a new ID badge and lanyard out from under the pile of papers on her clipboard. How that worked, Victor really had no idea. “Alexa is on maternity leave for the next eight weeks. If you do well during this time, there may be a permanent position open for you in the meanwhile.” Ravenna finally looks at Victor for the first time, her brown eyes staring directly into his. “That is, if you’re up for it, Mr. Hathorne.”

Up for it. Well—to be honest, it doesn’t feel like Victor’s being given a choice in whether he wants to do this or not. He takes the new ID badge—it’s the same as his current one, but less faded, at least he didn’t have to re-take the picture—and tries to force out a smile. It feels like he bares too many teeth with it. He nods, too. It feels weird and awkward. “Uh, I guess, I guess so.”

“Perfect. And like I said, George usually arrives around eleven-thirty, so in the meanwhile, work on your usual areas.”

Of course. Unfortunate that he doesn’t even get a break for this.

Ravenna makes her way to the door out of the break room, but she stops, her hand resting on the door knob. “Have a great night, Mr. Hathorne. And, oh—I suppose this goes without saying, but that NDA you signed when you first worked with us applies especially so on the basement levels.”

Right, right. It’d made sense that he had to sign an NDA, especially given the fact that Axiom Labs tends to work with experimental technology, but Victor had thought he wouldn’t be dealing with those floors, like, ever. But, somehow, it ends up finding a way to being his problem. Just his luck.

~~~

It’s night three of his new “job”, and it doesn’t feel any less unsettling to swipe his ID in the elevator to get access to the basement floors. Floors. The building was bigger than he was ever told—three different basement floors, specifically for research and development with secret projects and technologies up the wazoo.

Most of it dealing with ghosts.

Victor isn’t a religious man. He’s probably closest to some sort of pantheistic agnostic at this point, after all the ghost nonsense had started the same year he’d dropped out of college and moved back to what was supposed to be just a small city in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. It’d changed a lot, not just with Victor’s own personal beliefs, but the entire city had been literally uprooted and thrown into hell? At some point? He’s not even quite sure what happened, he’d been a little too high that day and also slept through half of it, but apparently the ghost boy, Phantom, had beaten some guy and saved the day.

But it’s safe to say he’s pretty indifferent to ghosts, at this point. They tended to leave most of his life alone, attacking through the city at night while Victor is scrubbing away at floor tiles and bathroom mirrors and chilling (mostly) during the day when he’s sound asleep in his apartment. They tended to stick to the downtown areas more; they’d attacked Axiom Labs before, too, but that had only ever been during the day.

He sighs, listening to the rock music crescendo on his MP3 player as the elevator finally dings for B2. George had gotten off at B1 already, and B2 was Kallie’s area. Now it’s Victor’s area.

It’s a lot more than he’d expected. He still doesn’t have access to all the rooms in the building. A few are locked off with “Authorized Personnel Only” signs in big letters on the door. He’d tried swiping his card through them once, just out of curiosity, but it didn’t work. Whatever. Victor doesn’t want to know what’s going on behind those doors. Possibly clandestine deals with the U.S. Government, those weird people always running around in white suits. Ghost Investigation Ward, or whatever?

Victor wished he didn’t have to care about those idiots but they’re worse than the Fentons. They keep sending people—living, breathing, human people—to the hospital from either their reckless driving or their horrible aims. At least with the Fentons, their inventions didn’t do more than stain clothes or leave nothing worse than a carpet burn, but those government pricks have more powerful weaponry that hurts. Victor remembers when Bill had to call off after he’d been caught in the crossfire of a GIW agent and Phantom on his way home. He was stuck in the hospital for a week, and the government wouldn’t pay him anything.

Taking out his ID again, Victor swipes it at the main janitorial closet on B2. Thanks to the government funding, at least, there’s a cleaning supply closet on every single floor. He doesn’t have to lug his usual mop and bucket setup from his usual floor all the way down to B2. Supplies are neatly color-coded and organized in this closet, and Victor tries to keep up with it as best as he can. Kallie’s incredibly neat and detail-oriented. He doesn’t want to mess with whatever system she’s got going here, especially since Kallie will be back from maternity leave, of all things, and will be a little more stressed than normal as schedules shift and fix themselves.

His MP3 player plays a Humpty Dumpty song next as he grabs a mop and a bucket, looking for the right concoction of chemicals to make the sudsy potion that leaves the floors sparkling clean. He knows what to mix and what not to mix—no accidental mustard gas creation here, folks— but Axiom Labs gets high quality stuff and they want it all used, all the time. Floor polish, soap, sanitation—everything. He grabs the soap first, pouring a bottlecap worth of the fluid before mixing it into the bucket until it starts to sud up. Once it does, it’s pretty easy. He hooks the mop handle under the bucket and rolls it out into the hallway, ready to start his shift.

Halfway through mopping, though, a crash echoes through the hallway, and Victor jumps.

His MP3 player stops working. There’s a fog in the air as he breathes. The temperature plummets, and the light fixtures flicker.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Of course there’s a ghost on his floor. Actually, wait, no, it’s not even his floor, it’s Kallie’s floor, and with how Axiom Labs and the government are working together, why should he even be surprised that a ghost is down here, at this point? Victor groans as he pushes the bucket out from the center of the floor, digging into his pocket for his phone.

Protocol, protocol, protocol…! He remembers the training. B.O.O., or whatever they’d called it. Something cheesy. Back out, organize, and what was that last thing…?

His phone turns on, but there’s no signal. Or Wi-Fi.

Of course.

He’s barely able to pocket his phone before he hears another bang behind him, and a loud curse from around the corner.

Victor freezes. He knows he should get out of there. Ghosts never really meant anything good, in his experience. Especially in a building like this, which was armed with anti-ghost technology developed by Axiom Labs, some by FentonTech, and all paid for with government funds. The building had been incredibly tricked out since the first ghost attack, so Victor didn’t think he really had to worry.

But. But. Curiosity killed the cat, and Victor nervously pokes his head around the corner to see who’s there.

Is that… Phantom?

The ghost is floating a few inches off the ground, one gloved hand sizzling from something. He’s not dressed in his usual garb. His white boot are gone, replaced with steel-toed combat boots, and it looks like a black hoodie was thrown over him to try to hide some of his glow. But with his floating, it’s still obvious he’s a ghost.

“No, Tuck, that didn’t work either.” Phantom says, holding one hand up to his ear. Probably to a phone, or communicator. Hopefully not to a ghost that Victor can’t see. He laughs at something. “Oh, yeah, sure, like an ID card is just going to appear out of the blue for me.”  

What is he even doing here?

“I can try to go under, but I bet they’ve made sure to ghost-proof the floors and ceilings of that room, too.” Phantom adds, sighing. He pauses for a beat. “No, you guys wait outside, I don’t want you getting too involved with this. Yeah, I know, but I don’t want your faces plastered on wanted posters all across the city! It’s bad enough with me—" It devolves into an argument.

Phantom is here. That’s not normal. Phantom tends to avoid the Axiom Lab building like the plague. Most ghosts do. Maybe they can sense something that humans can’t. Maybe they just don’t want to deal with the ghost-hunters that are often in the place during the daytime, and they don’t have a use for it. But Phantom is here. Why is that?

Victor does believe Phantom is a good guy. Er, ghost. He died young, too young—even though photos can’t show ghosts that well, this isn’t the first time Victor has seen Phantom in the non-corporeal flesh. The way that baby fat still clings to his cheeks is obvious. Phantom died young. Everyone in Amity Park knows that. Most think he’s trying to do good, at the very least; be the hero for everybody else that he never had. It’s noble.

But Axiom Labs isn’t the bad guy.

… Right?

“Yeah, yeah, Tuck. I get it. Give me some time to think. I might be able to—” Phantom glances around, before he locks eyes with Victor, and stops. “—Um. Lemme get back to you.”

Shit, shit shit. Victor jumps back from the corner. Maybe he didn’t actually see him?

But a cold tap on the shoulder from behind gives it away. Victor tries to hide the shock as best as he can, but he still jumps a bit at Phantom’s sudden appearance behind him. How did you even…?

“Hi! You’re not gonna kill me, right?”

“U-uh, no, I’m just a janitor.” Plus, you’re a ghost, aren’t you already dead? Victor wants to add, but death always seems like an inappropriate topic to discuss with a ghost.

“Great! Good. You’re not going to call any back-up, either, are you?”

“I—um—” If he could, he probably would. But also, it’s just Phantom. And also, he can’t, probably because of Phantom. He does feel himself pale a bit, though, and he nervously pockets his phone again.  “N-No.”

Phantom nods, floating back a bit. Victor’s a little jealous of that. He’d love to float whenever he wanted. But he’s quite content with the beat of his heart and his feet on the ground right now.

“Awesome. Cool. Do you have an ID that could get me into the central room, there?”

“I don’t think I have the clearance for it.”

“Hm. One sec.” Phantom taps at his ear again. “Tuck, you still there?”

A beat of silence. Victor can almost hear a response, but it’s too quiet and muffled to make any specific words out.

“Yeah, I got an ID, but it doesn’t have clearance. Can you…? Okay, yeah.” Suddenly, Phantom is holding Victor’s ID. He doesn’t even remember giving it to Victor. “Good now? Cool! Thanks.” Phantom starts floating back into the direction, with Victor’s ID in hand. “Just need to borrow this quickly, concerned citizen!”

“I—I will, uh, need that back—" Victor starts to follow him. There’s an odd, calming aura around Phantom. Or maybe he’s been hypnotized. He doesn’t know. The older folk of Amity Park always say Phantom is manipulating and hypnotizing the younger people. Are they right? Probably not. They can’t even figure out how to print a document properly. But they might have a grain of truth to it.

“Sure, right after—” Phantom swipes Victor’s ID on the card reader. The card reader immediately explodes into flames, which Phantom quickly freezes over. The door does, somehow, slide open. He sheepishly passes Victor’s ID back. “Uh. Sorry. You might need a new one.”

It’s singed. The printed picture of Victor’s face is completely covered in ash and soot, and one corner of it is melted, now.

Victor shakes his head, pocketing it. He watches Phantom enter the center room. It is the one room he’d been the most curious about. No windows to try to peer through, a steel door, state-of-the-art security clearance… What could be hiding there? He opens his mouth, not hesitating to ask his questions. “Phantom, what are you—what are you even doing here?”

Silence. Victor hesitates, before stepping through the doorframe.

There’s a lot of anti-ghost technology scattered about. It definitely looks like a laboratory in there, but more like a mad scientist lab than what Victor had been cleaning on the higher levels. Vials of glowing green liquids lined the walls. Ectoplasm, by the look and smell of it. It’s radioactive, am I even safe to be in here?

With Phantom’s nonchalant attitude in the room, Victor assumes he’ll be okay for now. The ghost has some wild protective instincts over anyone living in Amity Park, which does rarely come in handy sometimes (like the time the town had been taken to hell. Yeah, that thing Victor somehow slept through most of).

“Ah. There you are!” Phantom grabs something from one of the tables gently, pulling the thermos off of his belt loop. It’s a small orb, about the size of his palm, and it’s pulsating with a faint turquoise glow. He uncaps the thermos, and doesn’t even press the button on the side, just sliding the orb into the tube and closing it tightly. “Sorry I took a bit, Ember, I’ll get you back to the zone pronto.”

Ember? Like, the singer?

“Phantom, what…?” Victor trails off, before getting another look at the room. There are vials of ectoplasm, but there’s also a faint trace of it on the walls. Like something had been fought in the room. It had been violent. Eventually subdued, but the glow on the walls, barely visible under the glow of the left-on computer and the ghost in front of him, looked like blood splatters. It’d been violent. Too violent.

And that orb—it’d been the only thing to survive.

Phantom doesn’t respond.

“Phantom?”

“I should go, before you get fired.”

“But wait—what—who was that? What… what happened in here?” Victor might be dyslexic, he might’ve dropped out of college, but he had a deep, sinking feeling in his gut that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The air felt like it’d been sucked out of the room, and replaced with imprints of what had happened. It was almost… painful.

Eventually, Phantom speaks. “Under the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Acts, any creature found to have traces of ectoplasm in their blood is legally seen as a non-sentient entity that needs to be captured, studied, and destroyed. The Guys in White don’t have any lab set up in Amity, so they take advantage of Axiom during the day.”

Captured.

Studied.

Destroyed.

“Look, uh, mister.” Phantom breaks the silence again. His voice cracks a bit. “I should get going. Um, if anyone asks, I possessed you for this, okay? Then, at least, you won’t get fired for this.” He laughs, nervously. “Thanks for the help, though.”

I didn’t really help much, Victor thought. He hadn’t even really handed Phantom his ID card. But, then again, Victor didn’t really stop him, either.

“S-Sure.” Victor eventually stutters out.

And, just like he’d appeared without warning, Phantom disappeared, leaving Victor alone in the lab with his thoughts.

~~~

His resignation papers were on Ravenna’s desk by the morning.

[not-poignant]

Baldur’s Gate 3 - 31/? - Palmarosa - Astarion/Raphael

Title: Palmarosa Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Raphael Tags: (Check AO3 for the full list) Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Deals with a devil, Contracted sexual slavery, Bad BDSM etiquette, PTSD, Communication issues, Flashbacks, Trauma recovery and Retraumatisation, Dark and disturbing themes, Blood consumption, Minor character death, Canon typical violence, Dominance/submission, Top Raphael, Bottom Astarion etc.

Summary: (Set post-game / end-game) The love of Astarion’s life has disappeared to go live in the daylight with the druids, and Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him in the end - love, sunlight, the option to kill thousands of people and become a near-god…

Raphael knows Astarion’s desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down, and he’s become too cynical to care about how much of a good idea it is to give his body to a devil for a month or two, because really, comparatively, how bad could it be?

Palmarosa (Baldur’s Gate 3) - Raphael/Astarion - 31 - Galbanum and Self-Loathing

In which, after the ritual, Astarion tries to kill Raphael with his bare hands more than once, is healed, and then rages against the contract and his invisible shackles, after which Raphael reminds him that Astarion walked into this and signed the contract himself. So Astarion tries to kill him again. Also, some comfort.

[justaz]

merthian getting up to mischief and having to hide from their pursuers and doing the whole “no one notices the couple kissing against a wall” move. initiated by mithian btw.

[sarahlancashire]

tagged by @airesgay, thank you <3

Rules: Shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the 10 first tracks, then tag 10 friends to do the same

good luck, babe! by chappell roan

wrong again by kirsty maccoll

working for the knife by mitski

head over feet by alanis morissette

over my head by fleetwood mac

dreaming by blondie

please, please, please let me get what i want by the smiths

wedding bell blues by the fifth dimension

think about me by fleetwood mac

my life would suck without you by kelly clarkson

tagging @alisonscotlock @juliewlters @moxyphinx @elssbethtascioni @pea-green @tevos @lizmitches @notprincehamlet @majoris @luthqrs (feel free to ignore!!!)

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 47/Epilogue: Mikey Done Good

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev

It has been a month since Mikey's second rescue from the TCRI.

The lair is bright again. There is laughter again. Everyone smiles and jokes and has fun again.

It's a home again.

Casey Jones Jr. smiles as he works to tidy up the lair, moving the empty and flattened cardboard boxes over to a side tunnel so they can be placed in a dumpster later. Usually, none of them mind the clutter or the mess from moving, but they're having guests over tonight and Casey wants to make a good impression.

Speaking of, CJ gets a notif from the security system that April has arrived. She waltzes in moment later, smiling brightly.

"Whattup, family!" she yells loudly, announcing her arrival to all who didn't get the notification. "It's your favourite person! Apriiiiiiiiiiiiil O'Neil!!"

CJ rolls his eyes as Donatello and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 come out to greet her.

"Hey, April!" Donnie responds, quickly fistbumping her in greeting. "How was class?"

"Pretty good. My report got an A, so I'd think I'm a shoo-in for the competitive writing finals this year. I heard the winners get to intern for Channel 6!"

Donnie rolls his eyes and smiles.

"You always did like the news."

"Congrats, bromigo!" S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 cheers, activating a few streamers and confetti, much to Casey's annoyance at having to clean the hall again.

"Where's everybody else?" April asks, glancing up and down the halls.

"Raph is still getting the dining room set up," Donnie says. "And Mikey's making dinner."

"Mikey is?" April asks, eyes wide, yet nowhere near as wide as her smile. "He's cooking again?"

"We've been practicing a few recipes," Casey announces proudly. "He felt confident enough to try making some of the food tonight."

"Lemme guess... pizza?" April chuckles as she follows the others into the living room to help Raphael set up. "I can't wait for another Mikey original! So, is everybody coming tonight?"

"My mom said she'll be here in a bit," Casey answers as he starts wiping down the table for the fourth time. "Agent Bishop and Honeycutt will be arriving within the next fifteen minutes, I think."

"Pops and Draxum are still waiting for Leo to wrap up his appointment. They're cuttin' it close, but Leo promised to be on time," Raph says as he carries a stack of plates into the room. "Which means he'll be fashionably late again."

Donnie sneers.

"You'd think a guy who can make portals to any place on earth would understand how to be punctual."

"I still can't believe it's been a month," April awes. "Everything flew by so fast!"

"And it doesn't help that the one day at the TCRI felt like a whole week," Raph groans. "Hey, who's in charge of silverware?"

"I got it," Casey offers, running into the kitchen and returning a moment later with the cutlery. "So, Mikey made pizza, Raph made breadsticks, and I made salad."

"I brought mini shish kabobs and dip," April offers, holding up a tupperware with grilled veggies on skewers.

"Sounds great! Mom mentioned bringing brownies..." Casey recalls, "Bishop and the Professor offered to pick up drinks, and Master Splinter and the Baron said they'd grab some Yokai hors d'oeuvre from the Hidden City vendors. So I think we'll be good!"

The group continue to set up the dinner table just as three more guests enter from the subway tunnel.

"I HAVE ARRIVED!!!" Cassandra yells loudly, waving her hockey stick around like a crazed chimpanzee as she runs.

Cass rushes forwards and wraps her arms around CJ as tightly as she can. He reciprocates with a laugh.

"ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ," Fugitoid remarks as he and Bishop walk in next, "ʙᴜᴛ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴄᴀʟᴍᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀ."

"Hey, Professor!" Casey greets with a smile. "You're looking good. New upgrades?"

"ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄɪɴɢ. ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ʜᴇʟᴘꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ…"

"Anything for a fan of my work," Dee jokes. "And you've brought drinks. Any flavourless juice?"

"Sorry, just sodas," Bishop says, holding up a few grocery bags filled with large liters of name brand seltzers.

"We can't expect you to be perfect all the time," Donnie grumbles.

"Where's Mikey?" Bishop asks.

"If he heard Cass's war cry, then he should be here any second --"

Almost on cue, Mikey comes bounding out of the kitchen at full speed, pouncing at Cass and zipping around her waist and shoulders in excitement like a hyped-up cat. He eventually perches just above her shoulders, chirping excitedly and giving her a noogie. She laughs as she reaches up and pulls him down, matching his energy and nooging him right back.

Mikey laughs before releasing his hold on her and running over to Bishop and Fugitoid, reacting much more calmly and rising to stand on two legs for them.

"Hi, guys!" he says, a smile growing across his doughy and flour-caked face.

"ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴍɪᴋᴇʏ!" Fugitoid greets. "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ."

"Thanks! I'm all patched up now, see?" Mikey says as he enthusiastically shows off the large scars on his abdomen and neck. "My only complaint is the physical therapy's boring; but it is helping me to get back into my old hobbies!"

"I see you've taken up cooking?" Bishop asks, pulling a small chunk of sticky dough off Mikey's face.

"Oh, yeah. Whoops! I got a little carried away... but the pizza should be done in a while! Just enough time to talk about stuff and wait for the rest to get here! We can catch up!"

"Yeah, how's it going with the whole TCRI business?" Casey asks as he takes the brownies and sodas into the kitchen, the rest following after him and Mikey.

"Going really well," Bishop nods with a smile. "Which is surprising, considering everything. You'd think an evil corporation would try to hide their misdeeds, but what with all the leadership gone, everyone's turning on each other and revealing the truth!"

"Seriously?" Raph asks, eyes wide. "That's awesome!"

"Why haven't we heard anything about it on the news?" April asks.

"I doubt the local police will let any kind of news about a failed government study get in the public eye," Bishop sighs. "But they're handling it pretty well. Most scientists want to plea bargain, and from what I've heard the TCRI will be completely and permanently shut down within the next few days. Not just the sites stationed in NYC, but all over the globe! Then there's proceedings, court hearings, lawsuits from disgruntled employees for harassment, assault, and unfair work environments, just to name a few."

"Sounds like you have your hands full!" April laughs, moving aside as Mikey skirts behind her to retrieve a bottle of tomato sauce for the pizza.

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ!" Fugitoid chimes in. "ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴄʀɪ ɪɴ ꜱʜᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇꜱ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ!"

"And that's where you two come in, hm?" Donnie asks with a smirk.

"I think it's time we rebuilt the Earth Protection Force from the ground up," Bishop nods. "Make it the way it was supposed to be. Something we can actually rely on."

Mikey smiles brightly at the agent as he shreds the cheese over the pizza dough and tomato paste. Though in his distraction, he accidentally spreads the cheese onto the countertop rather than the pizza itself. He hastily scoops up the cheese and sprinkles it back wherever it looks needed.

"Well, you're perfect for the job!" Casey beams.

"And I know a few girl scouts who would be VERY EXCITED to help!" Cass exclaims, forgetting her inside voice for a moment.

"I'll take that under consideration," Bishop responds with a roll of his eyes. "I could use some extra help. There are a lot of bad guys out there..."

"Speaking of," Raph slides in, clearing his throat. "Any updates on a certain 'you know who' and her location?"

"Abigail Finn is still incognito," Bishop sighs. "Though, Donatello's facial tracking system and security measures have helped us to keep a few tabs on her. But she's staying discreet, keeping a low profile and avoiding anything illegal. Which is good."

"Just give me a reason to annihilate her," Donnie whispers to himself. "Or to at least let me go semi-lethal..."

"Have you made any attempts to arrest her?" Casey asks.

"We... considered it," Bishop sighs. "But we felt that it would be better to let it slide. If we did make any attempts, you can bet she'd try to twist the truth and reveal everything she knows about you guys."

"So essentially, you're at a stalemate," Casey grumbles.

"Pretty much. We know dirt on her, she knows dirt on us. So long as we stay out of each others' ways, we're fine."

"ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ?" Fugitoid asks.

"Mostly helpin' with recovery," Raph answers. "In different ways."

"ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏɪɴɢ, ᴍɪᴄʜᴇʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ?"

Mikey sighs as he shoves the pizza into the oven. Not a begrudging sigh, but more of a 'where do I start' kind of sigh.

"Well... it's been a lot. First was the whole bedridden thing. Then the physical therapy started. Case was a HUGE help with that, he's an expert on it! And after that... it was a mix of stuff. My memory's gotten better, thanks to Draxum's mystic goop. He said by the rate I'm healing at, all my memories should be back by the end of the month!"

"ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ!" Fugitoid remarks, though the 'mystic goop' comment flies right over his head.

"Yeah... but it's not always easy," Mikey admits. "I have some bad days, a few relapses. Sometimes I still forget names and call one of my brothers by their life-colour instead. Sometimes I talk in the third person instead of the first. Some days I can't talk at all! Walking is... still wacky and tough to get used to. I'm comfortable doing both two legs and four, but I'm faster on four. My vision still acts up, but I've learned to control it a bit better. Dee and I have been training it to shift on command instead of in reaction to light! All in all, adjusting is weird."

"I bet," Bishop nods.

"Wildest thing -- pun intended -- is the whole 'animalistic traits' junk that happens. Like, I still don't get some social cues?" Mikey admits. "Like most people shake hands, but I'll smell or sniff a person first. Most people hug, I climb on them and wrap my whole body around them like a snake. I'll growl if I'm angry. Sometimes I bite when I get startled. Stuff like that."

"Don't forget that one week where you kept making nests all over the lair and storing food in your room," Donnie chimes in.

"I'm just glad you haven't tried to mark your territory or anything," Raph jokes.

Mikey gives him a joking side-glare before continuing.

"Well anyways, it's been weird and confusing but I'm doing a lot better now. I'm really happy again! Which, I'll be honest... surprises me sometimes. The nightmares aren't as constant. They happen, and sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. But my family's there to help whenever. I didn't think I'd be this happy this much for a long time... But here we are!"

April starts tearing up out of joy and goes to hug Mikey, who laughs and hugs her back.

"ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʏᴇᴛ?" Fugitoid wonders.

"One or two," Mikey shrugs. "Though Raph would rather I wait a little longer. I'm kinda glad I kept the mutations, they really help with tracking and stuff -- and the looks on the villains' faces when I start climbing the walls is priceless!" Mikey cackles.

"ᴀɴᴅ… ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ?"

"Not as bad," Mikey explains. "Practically gone. Sure, Instinct pops up every once in a while. He really likes to talk during fights and junk. But Raph's been helping me out with him."

Raphael smiles proudly at the mention.

"Therapy's been good too," Mikey continues. "It helps to just... talk it out with someone."

"You've been doing therapy?" Bishop asks in pleasant surprise. "With who? A human therapist?"

"Actually, there's a Yokai clinic in the Hidden City," Mikey smiles. "Draxum recommended it to Leo, and Leo recommend it to all of us."

"Ohhhh, so is that the appointment Casey mentioned?" April asks.

"Yeah," Mikey says with a grin. "I'm really happy that Leo took the initiative to go, that was huge for him. And he's doing a lot better, too!"

Mikey continues to explain their experiences with their therapists as he works with the pizza, pulling it from the oven and sprinkling garlic and herbs into the crust before setting it back in for a few more minutes...

"Leo's therapist has been giving him tips on how to improve his mental health, gain more self-worth, and deal with his own intrusive thoughts. He said I'd like talking to them, so I went in for a sort of trial run. It was... a little awkward at first. The initial couple of sessions were just us getting to know each other and my therapist asking about my family and some hobbies, which I kinda didn't expect at first? I guess I figured that we'd jump right into the issue... But the more we talked, the closer we got and the easier it was for me to open up about my traumas and problems. So, uh, there's that!"

Mikey chuckles as he checks on the pizza again. Five more minutes, maybe... He sighs as he leaps onto the kitchen counter and perches there.

"So, I guess this is our new normal," April notes. "Everything seems to be all wrapped up for the most part."

"Except for one thing," Cassandra grumbles. "The blue turtle and his fathers aren't here yet! I want to eat the pizza already!!"

"It's not even out of the oven," Raph scolds.

"I'LL EAT IT WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Cass shouts, pumping her fists. "I'LL EAT IT STRAIGHT OUT OF THE FIRE! IT'S NO MATCH FOR ME!!"

"Uh-huh, suuuuuuure," April jokes.

"When is Leo getting back, though?" Mikey asks.

"By my calculations, he'll be here in the next three minutes," Donnie declares. "My tracker says he and Papa and Draxum just left the Yokai clinic and should be getting their contributions for dinner right about now."

"Great! They'll arrive just in time for the pizza..."

The group continue talking about whatever they can until Leonardo's portal illuminates the outer room. Warm welcomes, questions on how the session went, how Leo's doing, what Draxum has been up to, and so on until everyone decides that they are starving and sit themselves down for dinner.

The group catch Leo up to the discussion through the salad and appetizers. He huffs at the mention of Dr. Finn. Draxum catches the others up on the recent finishes to his home and how Huginn and Muninn have come back to work for him again.

Fugitoid pretends to eat the food, which causes Casey Jones to snort his soda through his nose and the entire table laughs, even John Bishop.

Mikey uses his mutated tongue to snag an hors d'oeuvre off of Leo's plate when he isn't looking. Splinter sees and snickers loudly, which alerts Leo to Mikey's second and third attempts.

The pizza comes out a few minutes later, hot and ready. The crust is a bit warped and has strange knots, the cheese is mismatched and looks odd, and the toppings are strangely arranged. It's the wackiest-looking flatbread the world has ever seen.

Yet when each guest takes a bite, they are wonderfully surprised. It is quite possibly the most delicious pizza in the world, despite its flaws and outward appearance.

"Mikey, you made this?" Leo asks with shock as he chows down on the slice.

Mikey nods as he eats his own cheesy triangle.

"Wow, dude! This tastes awesome!"

Mikey's smile stretches across his face as Leo pats him on the back.

"You did good, Mikey! You did really good."

The End.

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[rigginsstreet]

*alexa play he had it coming*