#I had to write the second part

[veinsfullofstars]

“Any more stupid questions?”

Bonus live reactions to being saved from a Dark Matter ambush:

Started 07/13/24, finished 07/27/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. | Kintsugi AU Masterpost

[brainmuncher]

Many years ago, in a different country, a set of twins were born. In another room, a runaway league of assassin also gave birth to a baby boy.

To punish the runaway, a hit was put on their newborn son. The assassin silently traversed the hospital and grabbed the baby from off the cart as the nurse was distracted.

After successfully securing the child the assassin ran off into the woods behind the hospital. They grinned to themselves as this was their first mission and glad to have made such a great success. Preparing a dagger in one hand they raise it above the child to strike when...

The wristband on the baby twisted to look at them, and with horror, they read the last name 'Grayson'.

They kidnapped one of the Grayson twins...

In a panic, they threw the baby into the woods and fled back to the hospital. But by the time they got there to kill the real baby they were sent for it was too late. The runaway assassin and the child were gone.

Meanwhile, two ectobiologists scour the woods behind a hospital on their honeymoon. What better way to celebrate marriage than with ghost hunting in a new country!

Then they hear the sounds of crying... suffering spooks! Is that a baby? Well we already have our daughter... why not give her a new baby brother :)

Dick notices that Talia gives him a weird look whenever she sees him. It's one that he has never seen her wear towards any of the other bats, so it bothers him.

Then one day after Damian and him defeat an assassin sent to kill Damian Talia shows up and says something that makes Dicks blood run cold.

“I'm so glad that you're the Grayson twin that hadn't been killed.”

[twilightkitkat]

Part 4 of thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@ramblingautisticman @desperatelyneedcoffee @di-abolical @bladenbrush @animaniac1017 @amethyst-loves-bucky @lookimjusthereforthevibes @insantfishsoup @mischievous-thunder

---

They arrived back at the mansion in a haze.

By the time the other X-men arrived, the man who'd kidnapped Logan was long gone. He'd disappeared without a trace, and taken The Wolverine with him.

Apparently the fucker had planned this, considering the other X-men all encountered problems right when Wade, Logan, and Other-Logan had faced off with him. He was smart, using technology and some of his stronger underlings to hold them off long enough to make a clean escape.

The worst feeling was realizing it had been premeditated. He clearly set up a situation where he'd be capable of taking Logan—distracting the other X-men and making sure an ability restraint collar was nearby.

Moreover, he'd known that Wade's Logan was different from this world's Logan. He'd had plenty of openings for all of them, so it was clear that his choice to target his Logan was intentional.

(Did Wade lead Logan to his doom? Was he responsible for Logan's kidnapping if he indirectly brought him here, right into the open mouth of a hidden predator?)

The other X-men had tried to track him to no avail. When they returned, Charles tried to locate him using Cerebro, but he couldn't get a signal. The villain had even planned for that, probably using some rip-off Magneto helmet.

It made Wade want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Other-Logan hadn't left his side since they'd returned. He'd kept a steady hand on his back or arm wrapped around his shoulders, grounding him. Wade wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was the only thing really tethering him to reality at the moment. The only thing stopping him from devolving into a full-blown panic attack like he had the second Logan left his sight.

(The X-men had found them there, curled up together on the ground. Logan was stroking Wade's hair and murmuring quietly, an arm protectively wrapped around his back. Wade was rocking back and forth slightly, a hysterical look in his eyes.

Logan had glanced back at them and jerked his head, signaling for them to leave. When a few hesitated, he damn near snarled as his arm tightened further, nearly crushing Wade in his grip.

They'd left them alone after that.)

Wade, for once, was silent. He couldn't keep up his typical stream of banter and crude humor when he knew Logan was in real danger. He stared off into the distance, barely registering anything around him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw people frantically running around. Relaying information. Shouting orders.

It all felt hazy. Like he was in a dream, witnessing everything unfold but unable to control it. His focus was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere all at once. He heard little tidbits of information—urgent whispering and confused reactions as the X-men tried to plan their next course of action—but he couldn't really hear anything.

It was like sand. He could feel it between his feet, vaguely, but if he tried to grasp out and focus on one area of information, he felt it slip through his fingers. Everything was blurring together—people formed into little blobs of color, and actions registered in his brain like a lagging computer.

He felt lost, for lack of a better word. Like he was drifting, waiting for the moment where he'd wake up and this would all be a dream. Waiting for the moment he could curl up next to Logan and reach out to cradle his face and finally fucking kiss him like he should've done ages ago.

Nothing was real. Everything was too real. Reality shattered into tiny little shards that buried themselves into his skin and made him bleed out until he was just a bloodless, lifeless, husk of a person.

(Wade just wanted to go home.)

---

Logan groaned, eyes flickering shut again as the bright light assaulted his eyes. Fucking hell, he thought, what did I drink to get this fucked up?

As he drifted into consciousness—slowly, as if his body was against the very idea of waking up—he became a bit more aware of his surroundings.

The place was unfamiliar to him. It looked clinical, almost like a laboratory or hospital of some type. Full of pristine white walls and beeping monitors and technology he was far too old to know the purpose of.

...Did I end up in a hospital, somehow? He figured his healing factor would kick in if he ever managed to drink enough to do serious liver damage, but maybe he'd overloaded it.

He tried to remember how he got here, what in God's name would possess him to drink like a sheltered Christian girl gone wild at her first college party, but his memory was hazy. Out of reach. He would try to grasp onto the tendrils of a vague image in his mind, only for them to jerk out of his grasp at the last moment.

He tried to sit up, to ask where the fuck he was and how he got there, but he slammed back on the table with a huff. He glanced down and saw he was strapped to it, tight leather straps binding his chest and arms and legs.

This probably wasn't a hospital, then. Good to know.

He tried struggling against the straps to no avail. It only caused them to chafe uncomfortably against his muscles.

The old-fashioned way, then. He unsheathed his claws and—

—What? Why weren't his claws coming out?

He tried clenching his hands into fists again and focusing on them. Trying to activate the signal that caused them to slide out of his knuckles so he could slice away his bindings.

Nothing.

He was starting to get anxious. He'd been calmer, before, knowing that he was practically unkillable and nobody would be stupid enough to try to kidnap him. He always had an easy out, whether it was regeneration or slicing his surroundings up.

He struggled harder against the leather, uncaring of how it left red marks imprinted on his skin. Wade would probably have a fucking field day if he saw Logan right now. He could already his voice in his head, cooing at him, "Awww, did peanut have a mishap with some bondage? How kinky. If you wanted to try it out all you had to do was ask."

Wait. Wade.

Where the fuck was Wade? What happened to him?

If Logan was here, did that mean Wade was trapped somewhere nearby? Or was he still at home in their apartment, blissfully unaware that Logan had been taken. If he realized Logan was gone, would he come to save him?

More than that, if these guys had a way of stopping Logan from using his claws, what could they do to Wade? When Wade inevitably came looking for him (he would, Logan knew he would) would he be prepared to deal with whatever they were using? Or was he under the influence of it right now?

Logan renewed his struggle with ferocity. He needed to warn Wade. Figure out if these fuckers had him or were targeting him and kill them. It was starting to burn now, to dig into his skin and twist until the layers peeled apart and he began bleeding.

He glared at the wounds. He wouldn't let a little blood stop him. He'd broken out from worse restraints before, weakened state aside. He didn't know who the hell took him, but they were idiots for only using a material as flimsy as leather to trap him. Even metal wasn't enough to hold The Wolverine. All he had to do was wait for the bruises and raw skin to heal and he'd keep going, working with persistence until his bindings were worn down.

Except he wasn't healing. He stared at the reddened skin, waiting for it to go back to normal. Nothing happened.

He felt the rawness of it in full. Felt the way it burned against the leather, aching for release. Felt the way it protested against the friction.

It wasn't going away.

Shit.

Something told Logan this was going to be harder than he thought.

---

"I brought you a glass of water," Logan cleared his throat awkwardly as he entered Wade's room, setting the cup down on his nightstand.

"...Thanks," Wade mumbled. Now that he thought about it, he guessed he was thirsty. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

He picked up the glass of water and held it in his lap. He stared down at it, willing himself to drink but unable to move. All he could focus on was his own reflection in the water, a mangled mass of tumorous flesh that was barely held together by his skin fibers.

He kind of looked like a wrinkly avocado had an orgy with a pack of raisins and a vat of acid and spat him out. Or a sea sponge decided to have human offspring that got burnt in a forest fire. Either way, he looked freakish. Like a monster.

(He was a monster, wasn't he? Just sitting here while Logan was out there, unable to do anything. Useless as always. The only thing Wade was good for was comedic relief, and he wasn't even managing to do that right.)

"Are you gonna drink that, bub?"

Logan's voice startled Wade, tearing him away from his spiraling thoughts. He nearly dropped the glass of water, but managed to grab it in time. He gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. If he applied any more pressure, he was pretty sure it would break. Shattered into glass fragments that would dig into his palms and the soles of his feet until he was as torn up on the outside as he felt on the inside. It was a tempting thought.

"Hey, Wade, can you hear me?" Logan waved his hand in front of Wade's eyes, a concerned expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I was just checking in to see if you're gonna drink the water or keep staring at it like a mirror."

Wade grimaced slightly, but finally managed to lift the cup to his lips and take a sip.

And fuck, he was thirsty. As soon as the first bit of water hit his throat it was like he couldn't stop, like he finally registered how dry it felt. He gulped down the water hungrily in one go until none of it was left. He sighed in relief once it was gone, setting it back down sheepishly.

Logan looked at him, and Wade could practically see the gears turning in his head from how his stare burned into Wade's skull. He was considering something, going to open his mouth a few times before closing it, until he finally seemed to settle on something to say.

"You miss him, huh?" That didn't come out nearly as nice as Logan thought it would in his head, if his frustrated look was anything to go by.

"What gave you that impression?" Wade remarked drily.

"No, I mean—" Logan cut himself off and took a deep breath (he seemed to do that around Wade a lot) before speaking again, "You care about him. A lot."

Wade looked up uncertainly. Where was this going? "...I do," he reluctantly replied.

"...What would you do? If something happened to him, I mean?"

"I'd hunt down the fucker who dared to lay a hand on him and disembowel them. Tear them limb from limb. Burn them alive. Torture them in a slow and agonizing way until they were begging to die, and then keep going until there was nothing left of them," Wade's eyes sharpened for the first time since Logan had disappeared. His glare was fierce—a promise of unimaginable pain if anyone dared to lay hands on what was his.

"You'd do that? For him?" Other-Logan looked vaguely shocked, but at the same time hungry. Desperate to know more.

"I'd do that and more. I'd tear this fucking world apart if that's what it took to find him." A declaration. A promise.

"Why?" A breathless whisper.

"Because he saved me. Even if I was the one to haul his ass up and out of that goddamn bar, he saved me. He's the one who still chose to save my world even if he didn't know if he could save his own. He's the one who chose to sacrifice his life so I could go back to them. He's the one who held my hand to fucking Madonna as we beat the odds and both lived because we had each other."

"He..." Logan began.

"He's the one who accepted my shitty olive branch and came to my apartment. He's the one who made my stupid depressing bachelor's pad feel like a home. He's the one who goes with me on all of the grueling, hard missions and watches my back so we can take turns sleeping. He's the one who helps me walk Mary Puppins and goes grocery shopping with me and cooks me dinner that doesn't make me want to throw up. He's the one who—" Wade's voice cracked.

"Wade..."

"No, let me finish. I need to get this out. He's the one who wakes up next to me every morning. Who makes the days where I want to tear off my own fucking skin tolerable because at least I get to be beside him. He's the only one who looked at my disgusted, fucked-up shriveled ballsack of a face and didn't flinch. When even Vanessa did. He's the only one who saw me and still accepted it. Who stayed when I asked."

Tears began to fill his eyes, "And now he's gone because of me. He got taken away before I got to fucking tell him that. Before I could thank him properly for everything and tell him that I want him to stay forever. Now he could die thinking I left him behind on purpose, when all I've wanted to do since I met him was keep him close. I just... I wish I had the courage to man up. To tell him how I feel."

"How you feel?" Logan's eyes were dilated, and he darted out his tongue to lick his lips.

"Yeah, tell him that aside from the buddy-buddy partnership we've had going on, I wanted more. I wanted him. Entirely."

"In what way?"

"I wanted to fucking kiss him and never let go. And now... now I may never get the chance. I spent so fucking long agonizing over it, thinking that if I made a move I could ruin everything. And now it's all ruined anyway. And I don't even know if he feels the same."

"...What do you mean, you don't know if he feels the same?" Logan's stared at him, blankly.

"...I don't know if he returns my feelings? I know you're a little slow, Wolvie, but do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"You're being serious right now." Logan deadpanned. "You actually can't tell?"

"Can't tell what?"

"Look," Logan sighed. "When we get him back, just tell him how you feel. I doubt he—I—would react as badly as you're fearing."

"...How would you know?"

"Because I'm him. And there is no way in hell I wouldn't love you too." Logan's voice was firm, a fierce determination in his eyes.

"What?" Wade stared at him, dumbfounded.

"If I lived with you—hell, even if I didn't—in any universe, as long as you were the same person. I'd love you. I know it."

Wade laughed wetly. "You're just saying that. Because you feel bad for me. Because you don't even know if we're going to get him back and you're trying to reassure me."

"No, I'm not. I mean it."

"Yes, you are. Logan, you're—you're a hero. You're the X-man. You're fucking righteous and angry and strong and the image of peak masculinity. If testosterone had a human embodiment, you'd be it. You're meant to be in love with Jean Gray or some other woman who's kind and smart and pretty. Who completes the picture for you. Not me, a morally ambiguous mercenary who looks like they got dipped in the deep fryer at a McDonald's."

Other-Logan grabbed his face, suddenly. Leaned in until their foreheads were touching, until their lips were just inches apart.

"That's not true," he whisper-growled, "Why do you get to decide what would complete my picture, huh? Maybe instead of a boring pretty girl, I'd prefer a mouthy fucking mercenary who can't seem to wrap his head around the concept of self-worth. What if that were true instead?"

"Then I'd call you fucking delusional and a horrible liar," Wade retorted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Is this delusional, then?"

Logan's lips crashed against his. Wade just barely had time to open his mouth in shock and then Logan's tongue was pushing its way in, scraping past his teeth and tangling with his.

Logan's arms slid around his back, grabbing onto his waist, and Wade leaned into the touch against his will. Logan pulled back for a moment, barely long enough to breathe, and then dove back at a deeper angle. Wade groaned, deeply in the back of his throat, and wrapped his arms around Logan's neck, digging his fingers into the hair at the base of his nape to yank him closer.

Wade began kissing back with fervor, pressing forward to swallow Logan's lips too. He pushed him over and Logan tumbled onto the bed with him, landing on his back as Wade pinned him from above. It felt good. Good in a way he'd long forgotten kisses could feel, since his mutation.

Wade felt like he was floating, like he was having an out-of-body experience. There was no way this could be real: him, making out with another version of Logan while his was kidnapped. It sounded like the plot of some shitty Wattpad fanfiction. (Or Tumblr, if he was being generous.)

Logan's arms slithered further down his back as Wade moved to grip his shoulders, leaning in impossibly closer. He felt a heat begin to coil in his gut. (Really? Now, of all times? With him, of all people?)

Finally, after one last searing kiss, he pulled away. He had to. If he kept going, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from crossing a line that he didn't think he could return from. (Wade may be insane, but even he had limits. And fucking the spitting image of the love of your life while they're getting tortured is one of them.)

"That was..."

"Intense?" Logan supplied.

"Yeah. Intense."

Wade sighed and flopped down next to Logan, running a hand over his face. If he focused, he could still taste the faint hint of whiskey. Figures, he thought, I don't know what else Logan would taste like.

"Do you believe me now?" Logan's eyes met his again. They were prodding him to look closer. To see the honesty and vulnerability and affection he felt. For Wade of all people. (If this was how Other-Logan felt, how did his own Logan compare?)

"Would be kinda hard not to," Wade let out a breathy chuckle.

"Thought so," Logan smirked.

"My Logan... he..."

"Probably feels the same. Wait, no. Scratch that. He definitely feels the same."

Wade snorted. "Fitting that I'd only realize it when he's in peril. The character development of an action comic book character can only be spurred by action, huh?"

"The hell are you on about? Comic books?"

"Don't worry about it," Wade dismissed him with a flick of his hand. "Stupid reference. You wouldn't get it. The point is that I believe you. If—when I find my Logan, I'm going to tell him how I feel."

"Gonna man up for once?"

Wade punched his shoulder, holding back a laugh. "Shut up. You don't get to say shit about manning up with half of your personality is just acting like a gigantic kitty cat."

"I do not act like a kitty cat."

"I bet you fucking stare in the mirror each morning and style your ear tufts to try to look like one. You capitalize on it, don't you? 'Oh look, I'm The Wolverine! I run around acting all mainly all while practically wearing cat ears like a middle school girl would to a Halloween Dance—'"

This time it was Logan who punched him. In the gut. Hard. (Ouch.) At least he didn't pull out the claws.

Wade's laughter trailed off, a more serious expression overtaking his face again. Logan noticed the shift in demeanor, judging by how his posture tensed slightly.

"Hey, Logan, you—"

"It's fine."

"But I didn't—"

"I know what you're gonna say, bub. And it's fine. I can deal with my own feelings, despite what you think I'm a bit more mature than a middle school girl running around in cat ears," Logan gave him a half-hearted smirk.

"But you said that you..."

"I did. And I do. But I know that while you may like me, who you really love is him. You're just chasing after the image of him, the closest thing you could get while he was away. The second best option," Logan's smile fell into more of a grimace.

Wade glared at him and then grabbed his face. Logan startled slightly, but met his gaze. "Stop that. You're not just a 'replacement' for my Logan. You're your own person. He's not you, and you're not him. You're right, I do love my Logan, and in some ways, you do remind me of him, but you're not him. I know that and I knew that when I first met you. So stop being self-deprecating and thinking that you aren't good enough just because I have my heart set on someone else."

Logan blinked at him, owlishly, eyes widening slightly. Then they visibly softened. "Christ, Wade. You really are one of a kind. This is gonna be harder than I thought."

"Love triangles are a bitch," Wade supplied. "They're a lazy writing device by authors who have no better plot points than introducing unneeded romantic tension."

"Yeah, well, I have plenty of experience dealing with them. It won't kill me, or I'd have died by Jean and Scott's hands a long time ago."

"Old."

"Shut it."

Wade's eyes lowered slightly. "My Logan... he's gonna be okay, right? I mean, obviously, he's strong as hell—you should know considering he's a version of you—but do you think he's holding on? What if he's scared? Or hurt? Or—"

"He'll be okay." Other-Logan's hand grasped his firmly. "We'll find him for you. I promise."

And just for a moment, Wade shut his eyes and let himself believe it.

---

Logan groaned in exhaustion as his head fell back against the table. He'd been struggling for what felt like hours without any progress. His skin felt tender in a way he'd never experienced before, raw and bloody and torn to the innermost layer.

It was then, just as he'd tired himself out, that the doorknob rattled.

Logan tensed up immediately, eyeing the door warily. His senses felt dulled under whatever type of drugs they had him on, and he was unable to pick up any useful information through his other senses like he normally could.

(It was vaguely unnerving, not being able to smell or hear people from the other room. Even if was overwhelming at times, it was his normal. It was like being able to see colors his whole life, even if sometimes they were blindingly bright, and then having the ability stolen from him. Suddenly becoming colorblind. It felt like a weakness. A disability that he'd never learned to live with.)

A man stepped in. He was a patchwork of human and futuristic robotic parts. He looked vaguely familiar, in a way Logan couldn't quite place.

"Ah, I see you've awakened," the man looked at him coolly. "That's good, it means my dosage was correct. How are you feeling?"

That voice was familiar, too. It sounded almost like—like—

("We can do this the easy way or the hard way.")

Suddenly, everything snapped into place. Like a part of his memory that was temporarily offline finally connected to the Internet. Like a piece of his brain slotted back where it was supposed to be.

"You're the asshole who broke Wade's communicator and kidnapped me," Logan growled accusingly.

That's right. He wasn't in his own world right now. He'd followed Wade here after not hearing from him for nearly a month, only to get separated again by this fucker. He must be in this guy's villainous lair, then.

"So you remember. I take that to mean that you're feeling better," the man said as he smiled at him politely.

His eyes were devoid of any light or real emotion. It sent a shiver up Logan's spine. The asshole probably got off on the power trip of acting all calm and collected while his victims panicked.

"What do you want with Wade? With me?" Logan snapped.

The man hummed to himself, sifting through a selection of tools sitting on a tray beside the table. "With the Deadpool variant? Nothing. With you, on the other hand..." the man trailed off, seemingly searching for something. His eyes lit up in recognition as he grabbed a vial off the table. "Here we go," he murmured under his breath, sounding pleased.

"Now, back to what I was saying." The deceptively pleasant tone had returned. It felt formal. Corporate. "You see, an interesting phenomenon happened not too long ago. One I think you'd happen to know quite a bit about."

"Stop stalling."

"Now, now. Patience. You see, normally, when timelines begin to unravel, they die out. It isn't a pleasant process. Things begin going wrong: people disappear, things swap places, rules of the world begin bending. It's almost as if the very fabric of the universe itself is collapsing."

"Your point?"

"And yet... that didn't happen to your universe, did it? Or, the Deadpool variant's universe, to be accurate. Oh, no, even after an anchor being in your universe died and it was destabilized intentionally, your universe recovered." The man spun an object that resembled a syringe between his fingers.

The man continued, "Such a curious thing... a universe being able to recover from the brink of collapse. When I heard of it, I thought it was just a fable. A tall tale. And yet, when I looked into it, can you imagine my surprise when I found out it was true? That it was possible to replace an anchor being?"

For some reason, those words stuck out to Logan. Something big was going on. Something very decidedly not good.

"It's a revolutionary idea. One that had never even been attempted before. ...But here you are. Physical proof that an anchor being can be replaced. The only successful anchor being transplanted between universes throughout all of history."

"What does that have to do with you kidnapping me?" Logan wished this guy could just get to the fucking point. The worst part of these types of monologues was the anticipation, the not knowing what to do next until he had enough information to try to roughly throw a plan together.

At least Wade was safe, if this guy wasn't lying. It made Logan feel slightly better to know that they didn't want anything from him. (Directly, at least. Logan knew that Wade would get involved in this one way or another, whether this villain thought he was relevant to his plan or not.)

"You see," the man stopped twirling the syringe. It rested between his index finger and thumb. "My universe isn't doing too well. Our anchor being died a few centuries ago, and the effects are beginning to catch up to us."

Logan's breath hitched.

"I think you'd be interested to know that our old anchor being was a Wolverine. Just like you," the man smiled tightly at him. "Everyone was lost on what to do until I had a brilliant idea. We can just... replicate Deadpool's little experiment. Using the one and only person who's proven himself capable of molding to be an anchor being for another universe."

His blood ran cold. This was significantly worse than he'd thought. This monologue insinuated that he not only had the capability of dimensional travel, but also the advantages of technology from several hundred years in the future.

"So we lured you here. Stirred up just enough trouble for the TVA to take notice and send out their favorite little mercenaries," the man spoke flippantly. Arrogantly. "Unfortunately, you didn't show up at first. What a pity. We could've met sooner. Luckily, I figured that you'd pull up to the party if your little partner got stuck."

"I refuse."

"What?"

"I refuse," Logan repeated. "I don't care what you say. I'm not going to go to your world and act as an anchor being there."

(Logan wouldn't. No matter what. Not after he'd finally found a home worth fighting for. One that could very well become unstable and collapse without him there to protect it.)

"You seem to misunderstand," the man spoke conversationally, "I wasn't asking you."

"And you seem to misunderstand," Logan snarked back. "I wasn't asking either."

The asshole merely chuckled. "You say that, and yet you'll change your mind."

"How? Are you gonna beat me up? You think I haven't seen my way around the torture block before?" Logan mocked.

"No, no. I have something better than torture." The man's smile turned razor-sharp, contorting his face in a way that would've been comical if it wasn't so horrific. "Do you remember how... disoriented you were when you woke up? How it took a second to regain your memory?"

Now that he mentioned it, that was odd. Logan figured he'd sustained some type of concussion because his healing factor wasn't working properly or that it was a side effect of whatever anesthetic he'd been on.

"You see, in the future, abilities are much more advanced. And so are the tools you can create with them."

"...And?"

"And one of those handy tools allows me the privilege of altering your memories. Permanently."

What the fuck.

"What you saw before was just a glimpse of its abilities. I can erase memories, yes, but I can also rebuild them. I won't have to force you to come with me to my world, I'll make it so that you'll come willingly."

"You insane piece of shit," Logan muttered.

"I think I'm quite psychologically sound, actually. If I forced you to come with me, you'd never stop trying to escape. I've seen the wills of Wolverines from other universes, and it's not to be trifled with. Additionally, your friends and the TVA would never stop looking for you."

"Damn right, I'll never stop trying to escape."

"—But, if I can make you come willingly, then that fixes all of the issues. Not only would your emotional ability to forge the bond as an anchor being be heightened, but you'd cease your escape attempts. You'd be able to convince the TVA that you want this, that you choose to stay willingly. And, well, you know consent laws."

"Pretty sure brainwashing isn't protected by consent laws, bub," Logan retorted.

The man kept talking, "The TVA has a lot on their plate. If I managed to make it impossible to undo, they'd let it go. That version of you would be long gone, anyway. Nothing left to save. They'd let me have the scraps so that they can keep their little documentation of you going."

Logan wanted to argue, but that did sound like something the TVA would do. They might be allies right now, but at its core, the TVA was a capitalistic, ruthless organization hellbent on efficiency and stability of all timelines. They'd cut their losses where they had to.

"Now," the man seemed to be content now that he'd finished his monologue, "let's get started, shall we?" The man walked closer to him, holding that same damn syringe he'd been fiddling with before.

Logan fought the urge to thrash again, his muscles coiled tightly as he instinctively plastered himself as far back against the table as he could. As if that would help.

He began putting on gloves, "I do have to come clean before we start. I know I implied I wouldn't torture you, but that was a bit of a lie. Do forgive me. While the formula I have is effective, we're running a bit short on time. And the results can be sped up when accompanied by some... psychological reprogramming.

That didn't sound good.

"Nothing too bad. I suppose you'll live up to your name as an animal, though, considering we'll have to train you like one. To not disobey orders. Or ever think of leaving," the man fastened a mask to his face. At least followed medical hygiene regulations.

"And you know how animals are," the man walked over to him, preparing an area on his arm by wiping it with alcohol first. Logan tried to thrash, but he merely tutted and pushed him down with his inhuman strength.

"They learn best through pain."

The ice-cold liquid flooded Logan's veins. It felt like he was freezing and on fire simultaneously. It caused him to let out an aborted yell before his throat closed up as his vision went black.

As black spots invaded his vision, he just barely made out the silhouette of the man as he retrieved a sharp, metal object.

And then he was gone.

[fatedroses]

More than just the Demon.

[erinwantstowrite]

personally i think the trope of "said something i wasn't supposed to while high on pain meds at the hospital" only works if it's smth actually incomprehensible. down with this trope. that and the whole "speaking out loud but the narrator doesn't know they are" trope. you should legally have to tag that i think. i know this usually happens for characters that would never admit something otherwise but actually there are a billion reasons someone would admit something they wouldn't otherwise. for example: someone else has a bomb-

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[omegalomania]

we do not know and might not ever know the full story behind mania and the circumstances under which it was produced but we know enough by now to understand that there was a lot of strife and frustration involved in the way it came about. the band has been clear on this much. the divisive reception upon release didn't help any. and we know the last time that happened with folie, it led to that record essentially being forgotten and aggressively sidelined for years afterward. the roughness of its reception was explicitly one of the things that patrick especially cited as difficult for him to look back on, and one of the reasons it took so long for him to embrace those songs again.

it took mania five years what took folie a full hiatus and double that time.

this too is healing.

[sigsfigs]

jane of all trades

@professorfcknmoriarty

[nightviator]

OK so hear me out. I'm going to tell you how I think they could make the subway scenes without making lila and Five a thing, and also having a really good character arc and making them show trauma signs. It's a bit long.

Like five would be as traumatised as he deserved to be from last apocalypse, having flashbacks and etc. Lila would see what he experienced to end up as the assassin he was and would think about her parents and the way she wanted to kill him because of her family but ended up being ungrateful for having one. And they could have great character arcs.

Lila and Five go to that subway. Five sees that thay lost the way to go back home and is really frustrated. Actually he is using that anger to hide the fact that he is scared. Traumatised. Because he has seen it all before.

He was there before. Lost, without power to help his family. He is scared. That time he had handler and there is now no thing such that. What if he has to wait another 45 years to go back to his family? Does he even has that mental capability? What if he dies before getting the chance?

He really is scared. Scared because all of the thoughts he had in that past apocalypse are coming back to him. But this time it really was his fault. He can't tell that he is a kid just saying no to his father (not that he could use it to convince himself before, the guilt was too much). He can't say he had no idea of what time travel can make. He had promised himself to never do such a stupid thing ever again and he did it. This time he abandoned his family when he knew they were in a bad state.

So he is scared and angry at himself and at lila and everything and ptsd and stuff and stuff and. Lila sees it. Lila can see what made the murder of her parents, the murder of her parents. She can see how traumatised he really was. And she wants to help. She was responsible in this because she wanted to be more than just a wife and mom and she kinda made him to come here.

But as the time passes five is in a way worse situation. He is loosing it. Also the one who wants to help him is the daughter of handler. Five is so paranoid. What if it was all a plan? What if he never really ran away from the first apocalypse and is still working for commission? What if this is mind games of handler? And if not, what says that Lila can't be another handler? The ones that find you when you're at your worst and try to act like they want to help.

So here we have paranoid Five and Lila who wants to help and understands how truly traumatised he is. She is also scared that Five may run away when she is sleep because he can't trust her now,and because of that she has to always keep an eye on him.

This makes him even more sure that something is up with Lila. And when they go to that very first apocalypse, he goes to his young self without paying attention to gun to make sure that its not all just memories made by handler and he is truly seeing this and the things he experienced after season 1 were real. He is gets shot and lila is the one who saves him.

She is like:"you fucking idiot!!! What are you doing?! You literally were the murder of my parents and now you're acting all crazy and are about to get both of us killed?!"

And he looks at her, yelling that he NEVER wanted those to happen, and just for the first time cries because he thinks all of the things he has done was because of handler but also thinks he is making those up to feel less guilty of being a murder for such a long time and also coming to this subway but at the same time he is paranoid and etc etc.

Lila sees how much guilt he had and also feels bad because does she really miss her family? If yes, why wasn't she more grateful this time? Why did she ran away from them then?

And she sighs, tries to stop nagging at such a situation and adds a mental note to make him go to therapy once they are out. If they are out. So he is all tired, and she goes to help him with that wound, and he just stares at her, disgusted and shocked and saying that don't you DARE to touch me.

Lila is so confused buy apparently this made Five really believe that Lila is just like handler and is trying to use him and make him feel like he needs her just to get closer to him. Is he going to let someone else touch him? Even go near him? Absolutely not. No. No way.

So he runs away, and she barely makes it to not miss the subway by using his powers. Five is there, bleeding but still refusing help. He is about to die, and then she won't be able to copy anything and will probably stuck here forever, and she is the one who made this happen. Such a selfish person she is, thinking about herself in this moment when five is DYING, she thinks.

And when they are both at the last level of disappointment, the subway finally stops in were they wanted. Home. Their home.

It's been such a long time, 7 years.

Lila jist picks Five, running out. Five survives and Lila has a emotional hug with Diego (who wanted to fix everything) and her children and they sob and they talk and they really fix problems.

And then one of the siblings makes a comment on Five, saying how stupidly he trapped himself in a thing related to time again as if he is addicted.

Lila is about to just rush and kill that person. She yells that none of them never really cared about how traumatised he was and she realises she was like that too.

Anyways, Five wakes up and siblings are ready for emotional support and things go back to normal or at least a bit good. And him and lila have such a iconic friendship.

Also Diego tries to be the good brother that he told that Five was. Because Five deserves good brother too.

Also, you want romance? Throw a scene when he finds Delores or human Delores there and wants her so badly but Lila has to stop him because they should go and Five just hates this because he thinks she is just using his love for his wife like handler. (Got the human Delores idea from another tumblr post that I can't find now.)

TADA!!!

BETTER PLOT!!!

....damn I wrote a LOT. I may make it a fanfic-

So... yeah. Love to know your thoughts too, because we are all so angry.

[robiinurheart33]

Part 2

This time, it happens in Alaska. (TW for depictions of gore!!)

They’re hurt and injured, escaped just by the skin of their teeth. They’ve been hastily given the coordinates by Laswell, and barged into the quiet atmosphere of the bunker. The air tasted stale and unmoving; every surface covered with a thick sheet of dust. Soap could see the particles in the air, sunset shining through the windows, creating a strangely nostalgic picture that tickled the base of his skull.

Soap looks back at Ghost, who’s in the process of slamming all the locks on the door. He then looks back down at the wound spilling over the cracks of his fingers tightly pressed against his side, and watches as he takes a deep breath and more blood starts to spill over in morbid curiosity. He hears the blood dripping rhythmically on the wooden floor. Soap isn’t quite sure if it’s due to the stim sticking out of his thigh, but he can’t feel anything at the moment, which probably isn’t good.

I’m disturbing the peace. He thinks deliriously.

“—Soap!”

“Mmh?”

His eyes meet auburn ones, wide and full of barely concealed panic. Oh, there it is. He suddenly feels incredibly dizzy, world splitting into two pieces.

“I’m-” Soap gagged, crumbling to his knees. He’s glad there isn’t anything in his stomach right now, because it would’ve been really embarrassing to throw up in front of his supervisor. He feels hands all over his body, tac vest dropping heavily to the ground. Soap hears a loud thump onto the floor, a hand pulling his shirt up. Sorry for disturbing your peace. He apologises to the house, eyes rolling up as he hears one last shout of his name.

Soap wakes up to the sound of screaming. Which he realises with oncoming horror that it’s coming from him. Blinding hot pain sinks its claws into its sides, soap letting out a strangled gasp. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

“Hh- nggh-” Soap tries to shape the words in his mouth, but all his brain can focus on is the blazing pain at his side. He gives up, wheezing as he looks down to see Ghost pouring antiseptic across his wound. Ah. That’ll do it then. He tries to keep his mouth shut for ego purposes, somehow finding the time to try not to burden Ghost as much as he knows he is. He fails, obviously, grinding his teeth together as groans rip their way through his throat. Panic seizes up his hands, his eyes blown open as he feels wetness drip, drip, drip.

Ghost moves with ever loving speed, holding Soap down as he steadies a hand with a needle and thread. He can’t help but thrash his body away from Ghost, chest heaving. He’s saying something but Soap can’t hear anything else at the moment through the ringing in his ears. The white light burns through his retinas, forcing him to close his eyes. Hurts, hurts, hurts. It hurts. He lets out another strangled gasp, needing to consistently get oxygen in his system or he would pass out again from the pain. Soap throws his forearm into his mouth, biting down on it while his other hand claws on the floor beneath him, stilling his body for Ghost to patch him up.

Soap kept almost slipping under, Ghost tapping his face a couple times to keep him conscious as he feels the needle pierce the skin of his abdomen over and over again. As a kid, whenever Johnny’s skin got cut on his finger, he used to flex it to watch the cut open and close, feeling the strange sensation of nerves doing their job. Now, the sensation increased tenfold as Ghost pulled on the string, closing him back up again. He could feel the lines of sweat travelling down his neck, tracing the length of his spine. His hands slipped as he rubbed them over his face, labouring wheezes slowing down as Ghost placed the gauze and wrap around him.

When Ghost pulled his hands away however, Johnny’s hand shot out and grabbed his in a clammy hold.

“Stay.” He whispers, voice cracking.

Ghost looked at him for a moment, sunken eyes meeting pained ones.

“… You got it, Johnny.”

He sighs in relief, hand slipping from his wrist. He allowed himself to fully relax, as if the throbbing in his head and the wet feel of his wound went away. He could rest. He can rest. Please, can he rest?

“Rest, Johnny.” He slips under.

6

[vulcanette]

jaws from the ritual at denver summit; november 23, 2019;

🎥: angelus

[alexandriaellisart]

So now i have migraines apparently 😭

[imadhatt3r]

It's a late Friday evening in Midorijima, and that means that it's time for the weekly Benishigure meetup at the Black Needle. It's always a good opportunity to meet new members, get drunk, and have some fun with the other guys you'd usually miss due to conflicting schedules. Today's meeting is a bit more special- Aoba decided to join in, which he doesn't always do. He's the boss' boyfriend, but he's not officially a member himself- he has, however, gotten close to the gang in the time they've been together, so everyone just treats him like an honorary Benishigure, which both makes him happy, in a way, and annoys him to no end, given all the attention he recieves and the fact that he's a subject of never-ending jokes and bits (in a friendly way, of course).

Everyone's a bit drunk by now, laughing and toasting for anything that comes to their heads, no matter how small and insignificant. Koujaku is smoking a cigarette and sipping on his sake, taking it all in and quietly enjoying seeing the people he brought together. Aoba had a bit to drink too; He rarely does, but something tempted him to drink today- perhaps a desire to join in and fully enjoy the atmosphere was stronger than his usual convictions.

The conversation turns to relationships, as it always does at some point when a group of drunks congregates.

"Wait, how long have you two been together? Like, a year?" One of the Benishigures asks as he turns to Aoba and Koujaku. "That's pretty impressive, I gotta admit- it's probably the longest anyone stayed with Koujaku"

He barks a laugh, like he was suprised at how funny he found his own joke. Aoba looks at Koujaku with suspicion, but he only responds with a grin and a sly look in his eye- completely unmoving, cigarette still held in his teeth.

"You thought about tying the knot yet? I'm telling ya, if you managed to keep him around for a year, that means you gotta have something special going on."

"I doubt any shrine would be willing to do the ceremony for two guys." Aoba rolls his eyes. He's mostly trying to convince himself; Both he and Koujaku are respected in their local community, so he has no doubt that their potential union would be honored. He thinks that this whole "being in a relationship with a man" had sunken into his mind by now, but in moments like these, he really worries that he will never internalize it fully.

"Since when do you need a shrine?" The Benishigure snorts dismissively and waves his hand around with no grace at all; His eyes have a spark in them that already tells Aoba that he came up with something only a drunk could make up. "You're already with your friends and family, right...? And everyone's wasted on sake...? All we need now is for the lovebirds to smooch." He grins. "I can even be your official, if you want"

He raises his mug, beer and froth sloshing with his uncoordinated movements and begins to chant "KISS! KISS! KISS!", his yell echoing through the bar. All the other members at the table quickly abandon whatever they were talking about and join in, not knowing what they're cheering for, but knowing that it's paramount to see their leader and his boyfriend make out at the table this instant.

This unrest finally rouses Koujaku. He knows that Aoba doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, and especially not when he's being goaded into doing something by a bunch of rowdy, drunk dudes. He usually trusts his men to know when to cool it when it comes to teasing Aoba, but it seems like alcohol might've clouded their judgement.

He grabs his cigarette between his slender fingers and opens his mouth to speak. Before he manages to make a single sound, Aoba is pressing his lips against his, tasting the smoky flavor of the kiss. The room erupts in cheers, and the clinking of glasses and mugs raised in toast adds to his overwhelmed state.

In a way though, Koujaku is oddly gleeful about it all; He never expected to get married, or at least not like that- when he was younger, he'd probably imagine a serious, grim ceremony where he's forced to marry a girl he never saw before, one that was chosen by his father in order to strenghten their family's position in the criminal underword. Nowdays he has no family he could invite to such a ceremony, but the Benishigure are the closest thing he has, and he loves them like he would his own blood, so getting married while listening to their howls and cheers is probably how he'd like it to go anyway. As for Aoba... Being able to be around him in any capacity was a dream come true; Koujaku knew that he himself is never going anywhere anyway. But thinking about Aoba pledging his loyalty to him with such fervor, and in front of so many other people... He's just happy he's not a crying kind of drunk. Instead, he chooses to cup Aoba's head with his free hand, gently rustling the short, stiff hair right at his hairline.

On the next day, Aoba doesn't talk about the kiss, but when Koujaku tries to talk to him about it, he can see that Aoba remembers it all happening by the way he stammers, badly puts on a facade and downplays the whole event. Koujaku just laughs; He knows that Aoba needs to process it- he knows him well enough to know how he behaves after events like this, and Koujaku is, if nothing, a patient man. Besides, Aoba was always adorable when he was in that part of processing something, so he really doesn't mind.

Benishigure who are "in the know" sometimes call Aoba "bride" to mess with him, or ask Koujaku to say hi to his "wifey" from them. Mizuki finds out from them through rumors that the Black Needle hosted their very first wedding/reception when he happened to have a night off and he can't live that down. As for Aoba and Koujaku, they don't really consider themselves an officially married couple, but the bit is nicer to carry out than they thought- jokingly talking to eachother like an old married couple comes to them more naturally and is more fun than either has expected.

[nights-flying-fox]

Mystic Sickness Part 1

This is based on @turtleblogatlast 's post about mystic sickness idea :D Hope you like it!!!

Word Count: 2178 ☆ Fandom: rottmnt ☆ Warnings: a brief mention of throwing up, nothing else i can think of ^^ ☆ AO3 Link: N/A

 Raph has had his bad mornings. He had been sick from overworking too. With how he felt today, he could tell it was a mix of both.

 

 Except it turned out there was more than that. It must be, or else why would a clone of himself stare at him like that?

 

 Raph yelped as he fell from the bed. "What the-?!"

 

 His copy didn't seem to care. It lay on his bed, not even looking at Raph. The turtle blinked in confusion. That was definitely his own ninpo copy. Why was it here, and why was it moving like that? Raph tried to focus and control it, just like he always did, but he failed. The copy still lay on the bed.

 

 He stared at him. Raph was too tired for that, not to mention how early it was-

 

 "AH-"

 

 Raph turned around. "Leo?"

 

 There was nobody else in his room though.

 

 "Is this some sort of joke?" Raph grunted. "If so, Raph's going back to bed and leavin' you to deal with today's plans alone. All day."

 

 "RAPH NO-"

 

 He turned around again, looking everywhere searching for his brother. Again, nothing.

 

 "I am really not in the mood for pranks-"

 

 Suddenly Leo appeared in front of him, "RAPH HELP I-" and disappeared.

 

 Raph looked at the empty spot where a second ago his brother stood. First his own copy, now Leo. What was going on?

 

 "RAAAAAPH!!" 

 

 Raph groaned, “WHAT IS IT DONNIE?”

 

 “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOUR COPIES DOING?!”

 

 His copies? Raph glanced at his copy on his bed before leaving his room and heading to the living room. He had many ideas, most of them nonsense considering his tired and hazy mind. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this:

 

 Many copies of himself running around, accidentally breaking some stuff, some sitting in random places... Donnie was standing at the other entrance, looking tired and angry. Pissed off even.

 

 He noticed Raph looking. “Dear brother, may you explain what is going on during such an early hour that you have decided bring out a whole army of yous?”

 

 “It is not me...” Raph mumbled as he walked towards Donnie, not being able to look away from the chaos going on in the room.

 

 “They are your copies though. Can’t you control them?” Donnie pointed out. “Genuinely asking. I am too tired to be salty.”

 

 “I tried but it is not working.” Raph tried again, failing. Then gave his full attention to Donnie, “You are tired too?”

 

 “I suspect I have caught a cold.” He nodded.

 

 “Me too. I’ve been feeling down since I woke up.”

 

 “Groan. It better not be some sort of illness.” Donnie said.

 

 “As long as it is not rat flu, it will be okay.” Raph reassured.

 

 Donnie shuddered. “Rat flu. Let’s forget about the failure and move on to our current problem.”

 

 “Cold or them?” Raph asked.

 

 “...” Donnie stared at nothing before answering. A usual sign of Donnie being sick. “Yes.”

 

 “Okay, okay. Sickness. Leo has the most knowledge about this.” Raph said out loud. “I’ll go and ask him.”

 

 “Mhm.” Donnie had already begun walking towards the kitchen.

 

 Raph started walking towards Leo’s room, ignoring the messy hallway. Since when did they have all that stuff and who was responsible for this mess? Probably his clones... When he reached to the room, “Leo?” he called. He received no reply. Raph didn’t bother asking again. He walked in, not caring about Leo’s upcoming protests. Except there was none because Leo wasn’t in there. “What?..”

 

 Oh. Right, he had seen Leo for a second in his room for a second. He had appeared and disappeared as if teleporting. But Raph didn’t remember seeing his katanas. He glanced around and saw the swords near his bed on the ground. He was right.

 

 What did this mean?.. What was going on this morning?? Raph began getting annoyed with whatever was going on. Not to mention how anxious he started feeling not finding Leo in his room. Where was he?

 

 Maybe he was with Mikey. Maybe they were doing some stupid prank.

 

 Raph a bit faster from before left the room and began walking towards Mikey’s room. Normally Mikey would be up, making breakfast. But if he and Donnie were right, he should be in his room resting. As he stepped into Mikey’s room, he hopped to see him and Leo doing some sort of mischief.

 

 Instead, he found Mikey levitating, golden chains around him, asleep.

 

 “What the shell?!”

 

 Mikey yawned, blinking. “Mmmmmorning Raphie!” He smiled, being the morning person he was. “Is there any possibility you let me sleep a bit more?”

 

 “Mikey, you are flying.”

 

 “What?”

 

 “Look around, Mike.”

 

 Mikey did. In a second his expression shifted from confused to shocked to excited to panicked. “I AM FLYING!”

 

 “THAT’S WHAT I AM SAYING!” Raph yelled. “GET BACK TO THE GROUND NOW.”

 

 “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO!”

 

 “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!”

 

 “Boys, what is all this yelling for?..” Raph heard Splinter’s voice come from behind. Then he heard a gasp. “ORANGE WHY ARE YOU LEVIATING?”

 

 “I have no idea.” Mikey answered. He noticed the chains around him, “Oooh I also have no idea what these are but cool.”

 

 Raph took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. First things first. Pops, have you seen Leo?”

 

 “Uh- no. No, I haven’t.” Splinter turned his attention to Raph, less surprised and more worried.

 

 “Mikey, did you see him?”

 

 “Nope!”

 

 So Leo was lost. Don’t panic Raph. He is probably somewhere around here, he thought. “I’ll text April.”

 

 “Red, is everythin—”

 

 Suddenly, just like how it happened in Raph’s room, Leo appeared in the room. He looked very puzzled, tired, annoyed, and a bit panicked. Before Raph could be sure, Leo disappeared again.

 

 His voice, however, was heard from another room. “COME ON!!”

 

 And then from another room, they heard him again. Raph couldn’t make up the words but he sounded irritated.

 

 “Was that Leo?” Mikey asked.

 

 “Yes.” Raph answered, still very confused.

 

 “Where did he go?”

 

 “I don’t know.”

 

 “Boys, what is going on?” Splinter sounded serious.

 

 Raph sadly didn’t have a proper answer. “That’s what I am trying to figure out.” He sighed. “Can you check Donnie? He is in the kitchen and said that he felt sick too.”

 

 “I will be waiting you two there.” Splinter nodded. “I’ll look around for Blue on the way.”

 “CAN SOMEONE—”

 

 Leo’s voice came from his room.

 

 “—HELP ME—”

 

 This time from somewhere closer.

 

 “I think I can handle him.” Raph said.

 

 Splinter smiled, “I’ll make you chicken soup.”

 

 “Thanks Dad.”

 

 As Splinter left, Raph reached for Mikey. Grabbing his blanket, he pulled him closer to him. Mikey watched him with sleepy eyes. “Raphie, can we sleep more?”

 

 “No, Big Man. We need to help Leo first, and then we need to eat something.” Raph said softly, walking out of the room meanwhile. Mikey huffed but didn’t protest. Raph decided to find Leo following his voice: “Leo? Where are you?”

 

 “RAPH! Bathroom—” Suddenly his voice was cut. Then continued from somewhere else, “Never mind. I-” Another pause. The Leo calmly yelled, “I’ll go insane.”

 

 “What’s happening?” Raph shouted.

 

 “I keep teleported-” “-without wanting-” “-to every second.”

 

 “That sounds bad.”

 

 “You don’t say-” “DONNIE IS THA-” “THAT WAS MY MUG!!”

 

 At least Leo didn't teleport out of the lair.

 

 "I think we should call Draxum." Mikey hummed, somehow unbothered.

 

 "Wha- why?" Splinter's reaction hadn't changed even after everything. 

 

 "He knows about mystic stuff." Mikey said lazily. It reminded Raph of how he was when he had eaten one of the poisoned pizza puffs.

 

 "You think this is because of a mystic problem?" Raph asked.

 

 "I know it is because of a mystic problem." Mikey confirmed. 

 

 "How?"

 

 "Can't you feel it? Hm?"

 

 Raph wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel. Donnie leaned towards them, goggles on his eyes. "He is right. There is something wrong with our mystic energies." 

 

 "I'm calling Draxum." Raph announced. 

 

 "Already on it." Donnie interrupted. He, from out of nowhere, had found his phone and was calling the yokai. 

 

 "Please tell me you're solving this." Leo appeared next to Raph, not looking good.

 

 "We're calling Draxum." Mikey smiled.

 

 "Oh good, because I- hrk-" 

 

 Luckily before he could throw up, he disappeared. 

 

 "We need you here. No, we didn't put the world in danger. We aren't dying either. No, we aren't calling you so you can cook us your new abomination. Abomination as a strange creature made of food, i.e. Sloppy Joseph. No, I'm not talking about your food. Yes. There's a problem with our ninpo. Okay, goodbye." Donnie put the phone on the table. "He'll be here soon." 

 

 "Good… Donnie, what's that?" Raph pointed at the tech that wasn't on the table a second ago. 

 

 "Ah. A piece for my new project. Why?"

 

 "When did you bring it here?"

 

 "...I didn't."

 

 "What do you mean I didn't?" 

 

 Donnie raised a brow. "I didn't bring it here. I was thinking about it and it appeared." 

 

 "Appeared?"

 

 Donnie shrugged.

 

 "Since when do things appear when you think of them, Dee?" Raph questioned.

 

 "That's a talent of mine, dear Raphael. My ninpo is very unique in comparison to yours–" Donnie began explaining.

 

 "Since when do they appear without you controlling them?" Raph corrected his own question.

 

 "Ah. Yes, that would be… since last night." 

 

 "And you didn't think of telling us?" Raph was losing his patience, to be honest.

 

 "I didn't think it would be a problem." Donnie admitted.

 

 Raph wanted to break the table. "You thought it wouldn't be a problem." He repeated. "And what if you accidentally create something deadly?" 

 

 "Come on Raph, he creates something deadly all the time." Mikey chimed in. "Like pipe bombs." 

 

 "Mikey, don't!" But Raph was too late. A pipe bomb was formed next to Donnie's mug. 

 

 "None of us is dumb enough to use a pipe bomb, we will be fine." Donnie stated. Then took a sip from his tea. 

 

 Raph wasn't sure about that. He trusted his brothers, but he also knew how much of a trouble they could be. 

 

 Leo appeared among them again. "Dee, I'd suggest you not enter your lab." He said tiredly. 

 

 "Nardo, what did you do to my lab?" Donnie looked at him with a mixture of horror and anger.

 

"Adiós." He made a peace sign and disappeared again.

 

 Donnie immediately opened his phone to check the cameras inside his laboratory. Raph could see the fury in his eyes. Maybe Leo was lucky to be teleported every second, now that he got on Donnie's hit list. 

 

 Splinter put bowls of chicken soup in front of them, "You boys look terrible."

 

 "Thanks." Raph sighed.

 

 "You'll feel much better after my delicious soup." He said. "Now, only if Blue could join us…"

 

 The soup was warm and smelled delicious. Raph couldn't wait to taste it. He would already, if he hadn't noticed his copy coming in. Ninpo Raph walked towards them, stood by them, then took the pipe bomb and ran.

 

 "What the-?! HEY STOP!" Raph got up and ran after him, leaving Mikey to float again.

 

 He chased his clone back to the living room, but it was hard to catch yourself. Especially in a room full of yourself. He stopped, trying to find which one was the right clone. When he did, he was leaving towards the bathroom. Raph didn't waste time following him. Before he reached him though, someone made his copy trip and fell. 

 

 "This yours, Boss Man?" Leo asked.

 

 "Yep." And with a punch, poof the copy disappeared. "Thanks."

 

 "Save me some soup." Leo said before getting teleported again. 

  

 "I will." Raph sighed, taking the pipe bomb from the ground. He could hide it in his room for now. Then go back and drink some soup so he can focus on the situation better when Draxum arrives. Perfect plan.

 

 He quickly walked to his room, found a nice place to hide it, and proceeded to grab his mask and stuff. Then he remembered the transceivers Donnie had put on their gear. They could use this to communicate with Leo! If only Leo can stand in a place for a moment. Raph still thought it was worth a try, so he went to Leo’s room to get his stuff as well before returning to the kitchen.

 

 Donnie had dozed off on the table with a few weapons and tech things that Raph didn’t know their names around him. Mikey was still floating, also sleeping. He seemed to be fine though. Splinter was enjoying his own bowl of soup. Raph sat down and finally tasted the soup. It was delicious, as always, even though it wasn’t warm anymore.

 

 “Did you boys mess up with somebody evil again?” Splinter asked Raph.

 

 “No, we were training and patroling the past few days.” He answered. “That’s what I don’t understand too.”

 

 “Hmm...”

 

 “Don’t worry, Pops. I am sure it is something Draxum can explain. Then we can fix it all at once and then rest.”

[batfossil-fr]

my two cents on the everlux drama

am I a fan? no, but keep in mind I haven’t been a huge fan of any ancient breed. I have a number of issues with their design but it doesn’t involve the concept of being a grub kinda dragon or how fat they are. mostly it’s just that all their different components feel a bit jarring when all put together so I find them kinda cluttered.

but on the other hand, I’m used to being disappointed in ancients for entirely different reasons. I’d SO much rather be disappointed that they went a little too cluttered for my tastes than getting the same “this ancient could pass for a modern easily” that we’ve gotten so many times already

so good on staff for trying something new, I hope we get more attempts like this. maybe the first one didn’t hit for me but there’s always more chances. there is also a lot of valid feedback that I really hope the artist(s? might just be Undel) receive, but this wasn’t just an everlux issue (don’t get me started about fathom M and aether M and undertide M and)

and I hope the next breed is even fatter

[good-beansdraws]

Mutual left this tag on one of my Fuuta analyses and yeah...

Part two of "Fuuta’s central theme is invasion of privacy and he has extreme anxiety over being watched, so it's interesting that we get to pick him apart and see all his worst, most private thoughts" :(