#I hate basically all of them so damn much

[elliee3e]

‘pretty when you cry’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘old’ logan howlett x crybaby f! reader

‘don’t say you need me if, you live last, you're leaving —

i can't do it, but you do it best

‘cause i’m pretty when i cry’ — pretty when you cry - lana del rey

summary ;

basically just old man logan & his lil crybaby girl<3

content warnings ;

light ddlg if you squint, piv, size difference, age play/younger & smaller reader implied, corruption kink, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation

old man logan, who both loves and hates having his sweet girl crumble in his arms.

by now, he feels like the only thing he’s good for is ruining. killing. tainting. that’s what he did with you, tainted your damn innocence. and now he hates how big he is compared to you, hates how he always feels like he has to hold back in fear of hurting you, hates how he tries to be gentle with you because you always end up crying in his arms no matter what.

he could be between your spread thighs, scruff brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue works against your heated core, sucking onto your clit whilst you completely crumble — thighs squeezing and trembling around his head, sniffles, whimpers and broken moans leaving your parted lips, tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you pant, the sight making logan pull away as he looks up at you from his glasses, that by now had slipped to the bridge of his nose that you always so badly wanted to kiss.

“baby, baby— hey, look at me darlin’..” he would croon, your sweet taste still clinging onto his tongue as he shifted up to grab your face, watching your pretty glazed eyes full of tears for him: looking up at him. “l-lo..” you would sniffle, voice no more than a broken whimper and it tugged at his heart.

“did i do something wrong? was it too much?” his gruff voice, laced with worry — asked. and god, yes, it was too much: but in the best way possible. you just didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t help the tears that would take over you when something felt too good.

“n-nothing wrong, lo— just.. just a lot..” you would huff, stomach fluttering as logan would sigh at your words: bringing up a rough thumb to swipe your salty tears away: the other gently tugging your panties back up. “damn it, darlin’. givin’ me a damn heart attack everytime you sob like that, makes me feel like i hurt ya.”

“c’mon. let’s just lay together for a while. probably be better for ya, sweet thing.”

old man logan, who, after a while, would begin to understand that his girl just couldn’t help her pretty tears and sobs. it was a part of her that only he got to see after all, and that’s what made it special.

he began to love having that power over you. loved having the ability to be fucking into you, pretty legs wrapped around his hips perfectly, nails scratching along his shoulders and back where you could reach, your desperate moans mingled with choked sobs ricocheting off the apartment walls — your nails leaving cat like scratches that started to heal in a short while as they weren’t deep wounds — but they still made him groan. one of his hands, the one not on your waist to keep a steady grip on you, moving up to grab your small wrist to stop you; his hand wrapping around it no problem. “easy, baby. i’m tryna be gentle here, but you’re really pushin’ it.” he would grunt, bringing your wrist down up next to your head, easily using that for leverage to keep on his slow and deep pace into you.

“gosh, darlin’, don’t go cryin’ for me right now..” he would groan, watching as you sobbed even more, trying to slow his pace more than it already was to scoop you up into his arms, keeping your smaller body cradled in them as he soothed your sobs with gentle ‘shh’s’ — hips still fucking into yours at a steady pace, just enough to have you trembling under him and for your cries to choke up in your throat with pretty moans, a familiar heat starting to build up in your lower tummy as it made your walls flutter around his thick cock. “uh— mmph, gonna.. gonna cum, lo—“ you would whimper, small hands squirming under his bigger ones, his grip only getting tighter on your soft wrists.

“that right? my baby’s gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock like the sweet girl she is?” logan would grunt, using the best of his force to fuck into you just enough to find your little gummy spot, the one that sent shivers through your small body and made you let out a sob that broke off into a moan as you felt your orgasm quickly take over — hips trembling under his, sweet pussy squeezing around his cock as much as it could as your juices leaked onto him.

“fuck, doll.” he would huff, glancing down and pulling out just enough to see your pretty pussy — flushed and dripping for him, your sniffled cries filling the room once more as you tried to recover.

“gonna be a good girl and finish me off now too?”

[babiigirly]

cw: arguing, mc has this red flag, inaccurate, rushed, I don't know what I was writing, not proofread

Sometimes, you're also the one at fault when it comes to arguments, the one who bursts out the most.

Whenever that happens, you two are not on good terms, obviously. You two won't speak to each other for hours and hours, days, maybe even weeks if the fight was really that serious. Funny thing is, you're the one who avoids him and refuses to be in the same room alone with him.

Belphie who scoffs whenever he sees you and notices how you're doing everything you can to avoid him as if he's the one at fault. This demon right here waits until you come up to him with an apology, he won't ask for it, he will wait until it comes out of your lips. He tells himself that he's going to play along with you, but deep down, he misses you so fucking much and just wants to cuddle. He knows you feel the same way and you're just being stubborn. Neither of you will approach each other unless you do it first. You're the one at fault after all, he thinks.

He acts pretty nonchalant and just eats all he wants as usual, but Beel is actually feeling sad that you two haven't made up yet. Unless the fight was really REALLY serious, he'll be the sweetheart he is and try to talk to you after a few days. Otherwise, neither of you will even bat an eye to look at each other and it's unusually awkward between you two.

Asmo is very verbal or sassy about it. He will yell it out loud even in public if he's feeling shameless enough. Something like "I'm waiting!!!" and he means he's waiting for an apology. Most of the time, it fuels the fire and you just hate being with him even more so more avoidance happens. One time, he came home drunk with Solomon assisting him home while he vents and rants about how you won't apologize to him, but he doesn't care about that now and just wants to be with you.

Gets so angry, Satan just wants to thrash everything around but stops himself because he convinces himself that he didn't do anything wrong. He keeps telling himself how he tried to stay calm this time, but it didn't work out with you. Once he notices you avoiding him, he's doing the same thing. He acts like nothing happened even though he feels mixed emotions about feeling so distant to you.

Levi goes to his room and tries not to cry while the heated exchange replays nonstop in his head. He plays his video games or watches anime while being next to one of his favourite plushies or body pillows. He starts talking to Henry, venting and all that. Then he starts missing you, but he will also avoid you and refuse to look at you. He just wants to hear "sorry" and starts self-sabotaging.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it" says Mammon while he paces around his room. He doesn't know why he's the one feeling anxious, but he also kinda knows why. I mean, it's you sooo... And Mammon can't sit still for the rest of the day and the following. He's also pissed that you're the one avoiding him when he just wanna talk about it but he wants you to initiate the conversation. This man can't sleep. He won't sleep.

There was this shocked, disappointed, upset, angry, and low-key sad expression all mixed in Lucifer's face the moment you walked out of the room. He doesn't stop you, but his pride is so hurt especially when you barely show up to him the following days after the argument. He doesn't send you a message, letter, gifts, or anything. He's just there, upset with you but wouldn't say anything. So he's basically doing the same thing Satan is doing. Acting like nothing happened.

Eventually, once you gain the courage to approach him and talk things out, these men are down bad for you and would pretend to consider your apology even though they're beyond happy that you've finally talked to them.

Once you two are on good terms again, expect a bunch of cuddles, dates, clinginess, etcetera etcetera.

a/n: the reason why I have not posted for so long is because of writer's block, as you can probably tell. I'm sorry for this poor quality of work, I promise you that I can do better than this😭 I'm looking for some fics that I've written and are finished or semi finished. I'll try posting those. As for the requests I've received (that I have not yet answered or started doing, please forgive me), I'll get to it soon and I'll do my very best to give you guys what you're asking for.

Also, the Obey Me! announcement and ending has taken a huge toll on me, so bear with me while I continue grieving please lmao hahaha (I'm not ok)

[mindless-existence1]

More sfw Mha boyfriend headcanons

Authors note: Kinda a part 2 but does relate to the other one at all. My friend helped me with the Ida stuff so thanks pookie. Also this is kinda an in-between fic just so then I can keep myself motivated to write the requests I have

Contents: I think like one curse word

Pt1

Mha Masterlist

My Masterlist

Includes: Bakugo, Denki, Ida, and Tokoyami

Ida would schedule times to hang out with you when he's free. Not because he like hates you or smth but he just has a very set schedule he likes to stick to. If you want to hang out outside of the set time then most likely it'll turn into a study date.

Denki is a yapper and he often yaps about you. His poor friends have to deal with him mentioning you constantly. Something completely random comes up and he's going "Oh I remember y/n was talking about that one time, speaking of them..." he's a simple man you loves his partner.

Tokoyami is a drawer I feel. He'd have a sketch book/journal he carries around for sure. In a not creepy way he'd draw yiu a lot. Like a muse kind of way. He'd never show you butbthen you find it and he has to explain how he just finds you so perfect and then after that he shows you his drawings.

Bakugo would definitely not even realize how in love with you he is untill kirishima or someone mentions it and then he's noticing how different he acts with you. Have him tied around you damn finger.

Ida definitely wakes up hella early to exercise and specifically run (obviously). He'll try to get you to wake up early to but often times he wants to wake up way to early. You just kiss him goodbye most mornings and fall promptly back to sleep.

Tokoyami is a poet I bet. Or at least a song writer which is basically the same thing. His muse? You. In his journel/sketch book he has poems along with the drawings. Another thing he's probably embarrassed about bit high key he's just in love. He has so much to say but is too embarrassed to say it.

Denki would love to share headphones with you. I fear his tase in music would either be shit or the best in the planet. If it's bad you help him shape it to be better. He'd love to keep his in during class so then he can think about you isntead of whatever boring thing you are getting taught. Also I fear he'd forget to charge them all the time.

Bakugo is the type of guy to tell you no while simultaneously doing it. Like you ask him "could you get me a glass of water?" "No is already getting up to get a glass" or he'd tell you know and wait all of 15 seconds before doing it for you.

Denki when he gets nervous will let out little zaps on accident. As most the tickle or leave a slight sting but nothing crazy. So for your first kiss he's freaking out, obviously, and accidently zaps you. Face is bright red and he's now embarrassed for the rest of his life. Definitely wants to go die in a hole but when you start laughing and kiss him anyway he's fine.

Tokoyami would also like to share earbuds with you but like I said before his music taste is immaculate. Personally I like Korn and maybe im biased but I think he'd like that band to. And just all around metal/rock bands. But also just good music in general. Unlike denki he'd charge his earbuds religiously. He'd die without his music same bro.

Bakugo after a hard day of training would go straight to your dorm. Somehow he thinks it's way more comfortable then his. He just plop down on your bed before a shower before changing clothes anything. Which would be ew but he'd eventually do all that but first he needs a kiss and small cuddle with his partner first.

Ida would look up relationship stuff. This is probably cringe but like I fear he'd get nervous about his first relationship and then all the sudden he's looking up "how long should you date before you kiss your partner?" Eventually he realizes he just needs to take everything at his own speed.

[theflagscene]

15 Day BL Challenge (part 4)

59. What's a hill you're willing to die on when it comes to BL?

Omg, yes, someone asked me!!!!!

I will die on this hill, fite me.

*ahem*

Cupid’s Last Wish is a good series!

I know there is a shit ton of hate for this series and I have absolutely no idea why. It is a masterclass in physical acting, seriously, it is phenomenal! The story is very basic, because the focus of the series is the character’s journey and self discovery. Korn and Win already knows they’re in love, the story begins with them already knowing that they love one another, they just haven’t acted on those feelings nor have they admitted their feelings to one another. But never once does the narrative act like we the viewers are supposed to wonder if they love one another, that’s not the point of the plot. It’s how miscommunication and grief can blind someone so much that they lose themselves within those feelings.

In the case of the series, Win literally loses himself thanks to his anger. He nearly kills his body and damns his sister’s soul, so he must go on a pilgrimage with Korn to heal his own soul whilst his body is wavering between life and death which could very well take his sister’s soul with it. Korn, his best friend of 22 years and soulmate is the only person who can see him whilst trapped in his sister Lin’s body, because Korn always sees Win for who he really is. And of course we have the conniving mother, a well meaning family friend and a mysterious monk.

This is some of Mix’s best acting, not just as Win since Mix doesn’t usually play such a toxic character. But because for most of the runtime he is playing a male character trapped inside a female’s body, trying to trick everyone expect for three people that he is in fact a woman. Jan is fantastic in the role as well, because when she’s onscreen she must act as if she is a male stuck in an woman’s body with a male’s mind, trying to convince people she’s a woman.

It’s a complete mind fuck! Mix and Jan are fantastic as Win, the way they carry themselves, walk the same, stand the same, take up the same space, speak the same way. But don’t think Earth has it easy in this series either, because he had to make sure he held, touched and spoke to Mix and Jan exactly the same way. So when they edited the scenes to overlap, seeing Jan’s body instead of Mix’s, Earth is in the exact same position with both of them.

Seriously, if you dropped this series, try it again. Watch it just for the acting, because it’s phenomenal.

Also it has what might be the best onscreen reaction to menstruation from a male’s point of view without it being misogynistic, gross or rude. They make some jokes, like Korn not knowing what kind of pads to get for Win when he starts his period, and of course how Win feels having to care for and clean his sister’s body in a respectful manner. How he experiences her emotions, her hormonal shift, the pain of cramps, the way his whole body aches and how sick he feels. Korn is also so caring, trying to help Win through something he’d never experienced before without crossing a line with Lin’s body because whilst it’s Win, his best friend and love of his life, and when he looks at Lin he sees Win in his mind, it is still Lin’s body physically there. And as much as he loved Win, wanted Win, Lin was a baby sister to him and he could not, would not, touch Lin’s body in a sexual manner.

At the end of the series when he admits to Win and Lin’s mother that ‘something happened’ between him and Lin (it was Win, but in Lin’s body) all he meant was that Win had kissed him. Yes, he had kissed Win, shared a bed with Win, but he knew how that looked to people who didn’t know it was Win in Lin’s body. So to keep Lin from being shamed he agreed to marry her, instead of trying to explain to their mother that the assumption she was making about Korn taking Lin’s virginity was wrong.

There are fantastic villain characters in the form of the scheming aunt and uncle. Not to mention the family secret, Win and Lin’s mother facing her homophobia concerning her son, Lin being in love with someone else and of course Korn being forced into a mess that he did not want to be a part of but considering he had been friends with Win for 22 years and loved him more than life, how could he say no?

It’s a beautiful story, it’s funny, well acted and has Mix working with animals!

[afreakingdork]

Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 6

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

I never had @classy-thief do two chapter arts for SunshineMoonshine and so I wanted to make good and get them back for this stunning piece!

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Incarceration, Prison Time, I flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Exploration, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 🧡 Previous

Today was a day of dirty work.

That was all Kendra thought as she threw on something raggedy. There were her pants, given to her after an unfortunate splitting incident that was not to be thought about. They were far too large and needed to be severely belted and rolled. She did the latter of which with a kick of her garish rubber boots. She couldn’t remember which distant relative had forced them upon her, but they fit and tucked easily under the baggy pant legs.

Her top was similarly studious. A sports bra made sense and she threw a ratty version of a college sweatshirt on top of it. It was one of Jase’s that she had stolen and stained beyond comprehension. She wouldn’t necessarily deny she’d done that on purpose, but the logo was hardly legible now. It would act as her guard against bugs and dirt, which was about as much as her half-brother was worth.

She shoved the sleeves up out of her way for the time being and looked at the abysmal state of her hair. Those damn streaks were taking over her head, but she hardly had time to do more than her weekly hair mask. She would need to make time regardless as the purple would eventually be gone and she marinated the when as she pinned the mop up in a messy bun. For the sake of the day, she put it directly on the top of her head. It gave her the comical appearance of a child, but it was a tired appearance she cared little about. She rolled her eyes away from a cloudy mirror and stormed out of her apartment.

No makeup.

Just sunscreen.

Who was she trying to impress?

No one.

The sun was already hot overhead and she glowered at it.

It forced her to wince and she hated it all the more.

She only had to round through a few connected back alleys to get where she was going and her boots squeaked the whole way. She pounded the pavement harder for the sake of it and saw a cockroach to crush. It was a single hop for a satisfying squish and she walked off the guts as she continued on. A fence soon shot up in her way and she ducked through an obvious cut between chain links. From there, there was a set of loose boards to move before she was surrounded by greenery.

She hated it.

She hated the bugs.

She hated the smell of shit.  

She hated that she was somehow honor-bound to help.

The entire community had guilted her into sacrificing at least one day a month to this garbage.

To twelve agonizing hours of weeding.

To mixing dirt and manure.

To picking and rinsing things.

For what?

A meal at the end of it.

A hard day’s work that supposedly paid for itself.

It was an enormous load.

She was taken advantage of.

She had ignored them for months before they got her on a technicality.

Guilt was easy to ignore.

Passive aggressive nonsense.

Aggressive aggressive made sense.

She could openly reject that sort of request.

She basically had until she had gone by an auntie’s place to trade some empty Tupperware for a full set. She had been scraping by at the time and accepted the handouts of her supposed community. It was hard to digest the hypocrisy since the lot of them had done nothing for her in any of the years prior. That should have been enough of a payment, but she still swallowed her bile and her pride. Each exchange event was to get through banter. She needed to select the right dialog or lack thereof to get in and out as fast as possible.

Except, this time she was asked about the garden.

Why hadn’t she been seen there?

Why hadn’t she helped?

And she had mistakenly responded, why would she?

In a momentary lapse, she forgot that the judgment of her company was the reason she was being fed. She’d earned a swift tap from a wooden spoon and a lecture about where the food she was always given came from. It wasn’t just through one person’s hands, but the lot of them; many of the vegetables came from the garden. 

That wasn’t what she was told. 

She had to listen to more. 

The uncle who had the well paying job.

The auntie with the seeds.

The Nenek who made the rice.

The Bang who dropped off the meat.

She had to show up to the garden the next day and do her toil or she wasn’t going to get another handout. She’d been stuck wasting time here ever since. At least she got by on the bare minimum. Once a month and she was off the hook. She used to work more, but now it was one day.

One whole day.

Getting up early.

Out all day.

In the dirt.

She wasn’t made for this. 

She was made to be in a room of whirling fans and coolant.

She halted her thoughts, but not her body.

Those days were long gone.

She was now made for her crappy apartment or shoving bean juice past white collars.

If this were any other hot day off then she could melt in her shitty mattress and scroll endlessly.

No, she was here.

She would do this and be done with it until the next time.

An inoculation.

It was a quick jab to the bicep for temporary resistance.

She was building up a tolerance to something, she thought, as she checked in with a head kakek. The lore of the space said this man had apparently planned the garden after getting tired of his wife lamenting groceries. The prices of what she could get were too high and the specificity of what she needed wasn’t good enough. He was yet another victim of those passive aggressive complaints, but he was painted as a hero.

That was after half a year of him being treated like an idiot.

Kendra was given a pair of gloves and sent out.

The kangkung was ready to harvest again.

She picked up a pair of clippers from a small table and headed toward that bed.

She wasn’t the same as that old fool.

She couldn’t be.

His importance only manifested once the garden produced crops. She, alternatively, would never churn out a useful product for these people. She would never allow them back in after what they had done. They could support her for a lifetime, and she knew for sure they wouldn’t, and it would not be enough. They were yet another sect feeding off the oxymoron of the world. They were a support group that only served the useful and pliant. If you didn’t fit into their automatically generated box, then you were ousted.

The only benefit among her community was that they told you to your face.

Words could be ignored.

They could be blocked.

You could take them and shove them back down someone’s throat when you beat their asinine complaints into submission to prove them otherwise.

As far as she knew, Kakek Elang had never done that.

She knelt before a sea of stalks.

Why?

Did he think the garden spoke for him?

Was his wife that appreciative?

Had she begun to cook in silence?

Was he eating so well that he was sated on that alone?

That had been his goal, she supposed.

He, unlike her, couldn’t stand the jabbering.

He had also had to endure more of it.

He was arguably still flush with it since no one would shut up about the community garden.

All it did.

All it brought together.

All its glory.

Kendra snipped down a line with precision.

She pruned the plants for their worth and revealed the little weeds trying to hide amongst the hallowed ground.

They would be razed next.

Once the soil was clear, they would get another harvest from this fast-growing plant.

None of that mattered.

She was going too fast.

She was just another body.

She was damned either way.

She could mechanize the entire garden if they let her. None of them would ever have to raise a finger again. Everything would be done instantly from weeding to the soil pH levels, but they’d find a way to complain. It would probably be about the taste. The plants would be healthier than ever and far more lush, but they’d make up crap about how the lack of love made them tasteless.

She could work hard. Her body was strong enough that she could do the necessary labor. A quick calculation and she would know exactly how to divvy up a day’s work. She’d harvest methodically, till soil in-between, refreshing seedlings, weed, and water in the most efficient way possible. She would finish what would take the elderly days to complete in a single one, but the voices would inevitably come. She would have done it too precisely, she must have been trying to prove something, or she wanted to get away that bad.

She could completely give up. Bang Herman was a loaf whenever he was here and no one said a word. It always scorched her skin that the men got off easier than her. They could do half the work and be lauded just because they moved 25 lb bags of manure. They were no better than the shit they toted and she could carry them just as well. Only, they never let her. They ripped it from her hands before she even tried. They wondered what they would do if she got hurt while the other Bang they had to do it wore a back brace. It was all a poor exercise because she already knew what would happen if she stopped. That was why she had been forced to work the garden in the first place. 

No matter what she did, it didn’t matter.

So she aimed for the most mediocre performance possible.

She didn’t overachieve and outshine.

She did just enough that no one could criticize.

It worked.

It had worked for months.

At some point she had finished cutting the kangkong and stared at the piles. With a dust to the dirt already muddying her jeans, she got up to get the rinsing baskets. The plants would be passed out of her hands and she loaded them up for that exact purpose. Ibus came out of their kitchens to take them and Kendra scarcely nodded at their thanks before returning to the toil.

She moved to pick all the tiny weeds and cleaned up the beds for their next crop.

She was methodical in doing so. It had taken her awhile to get the pressure to pinch right while wearing bulky gloves. Her hands were meant for the finer work of soldering processors. Now they were used for something patently beneath her. Now she wallowed down in the mud where the cool dirt barely offset the blazing sun. She wiped her brow with the back of her glove and felt a smear across her forehead.

There was something cosmic about it and she couldn’t bring herself to be mad.

Instead she kept working on the planter bed.

Mud was nature’s first sunscreen, she guessed. It was its own form of antiquity that had lost its finer properties. Especially in New York City where it was basically scarce to come by, it felt like a commodity. The parks weren’t oases. They were placating centers of an industrial complex. They gave the illusion of the outdoors so people wouldn’t be driven mad by endless greys of concrete.

They weren’t like the garden which was maximized for utility.

They were decorative.

A waste in that sense, Kendra thought as she wrangled a hose.

She could only use so much water so as not to waste.

Yet again, it was all about balancing actions.

The tight wire never stopped.

It was exhausting.

As intensive as the way the dry soil sucked up moisture.

It was soon saturated and she didn’t allow herself to get swept away.

There was more to do.

She shut the hose off and went to get her next assignment. It was a stepwise process after that. She visited Kakek Elang like he was a save point when in reality he was more like a job board. As if she would never be ready for the larger world, she was stuck doing basic level fetch quests. She supposed she was racking up experience points, but those always seemed to reset. If she had been better about tuning into the griping then she might know why. As it was now, the once-a-month deadline was actually a tedious date and more often decided by when an auntie thought it was about time she stopped by.

It would be simpler if they just stuck her on a damn work schedule like the tawdry slip of paper that was taped to a wall at work.

Even that was often done last minute and she pondered its existence.

For every nuisance there was equal and opposite pandering.

No one did their job.

No one did it well.

They couldn’t all be striving for mediocrity.

If only she could game this system.

Find a backdoor and rewrite its structure.

If it were a simple MMO, she absolutely could. She dazed off in writing the code amongst tending to a bucket of melinjo and forced herself back into her own body. Those weren’t thoughts she was supposed to entertain. Bitching was a fine use of her inner monologue because it was cathartic.

She wasn’t allowed to think of fixes. Even just wondering about the whys was dangerous enough. It led to exactly this territory. With a curling pinch, she picked off the fruit-like buds and dropped them into the bucket that was not so proverbial. It was adding up and she would need to temporarily veer off to dump its contents. It would soon be too full to carry even if the sides of the plastic were nowhere near reached. A failing of cheap containers, Kendra decided, as she readied herself to sit up.

An Ibu tittered happily from somewhere and there was a loud gushing.

Without rolling her eyes, Kendra looked up from the top half of her vision.

A male voice followed which meant someone’s son was probably home for a visit. He would be freeloading no doubt, but that was none of Kendra’s business. She wasn’t particularly interested in meeting anyone’s supposedly ‘nice boy’ and instead hunkered down. This would be one of those afforded moments of banality. She was purposefully hindering her own production for the sake of simplifying interactions.

She wished she had her phone.

She pulled one glove off and thumbed the dried dirt on her forehead.

It came off in little flecks that fell into the bucket and she scowled.

Someone might notice and give her a backhanded comment.

Kendra didn’t care about those, but it threatened her flying under the radar. She plucked up what was actually a spore and turned it over in her hand as if inspecting it. With these ready, there’d probably be a bowl of sayur asem served tonight. She hoped the Nenek making it didn’t use as much tamarind as last time. The sour had been taken to all new levels that only some toothless grandpa had thought was palatable.

“Here! Here! Here he is!”

Kendra looked up for the second time.

They had gotten closer. 

They were close enough to Kendra’s personal bubble that she chanced turning her head to look out.

There was chatter back and forth about the visitor.

It wasn’t a son, Kendra gathered.

He was someone noteworthy though, based on the reaction.

There was bubbling laughter.

“Here! This is my sister.”

“Nice to meet you.” A male voice responded.

One that Kendra knew a little too well.

One that had Kendra calculatedly falling over.

One where she headed in the direction of the voices. 

One she couldn’t quite see the owner of because corn stalks were in the way.

“He is Mikey-angel! Say hello!”

“That’s not quite…” Mikey laughed awkwardly.

“Mikey-angel!” There were loud kissing sounds. “You help so much! Thank you!”

“I didn’t really…” Mikey continued on.

Kendra reached the corn.

She parted huge leaves because her ears must have deceived her.

“Angel is modest!” An auntie tittered.

Though he was mostly obscured, the outline that was unmistakable Michelangelo was standing there.

He looked especially awkward as he tried to explain something to the gaggle of women who were quickly flanking him.

He would be eaten alive.

He had no idea what he was doing.

What he was walking into.

Unless he did.

The thought shot through her like a cold douse from the hose.

This was her block.

These were her family’s friends.

Her apartment was just around the corner.

Mikey was here.

He had never asked before.

He had pretended to be respectful.

He knew where she lived.

She took two crawling steps before she burst from the corn. The plants clawed at her insubordination and she felt the tough stalks catch her bun. Her hair was pulled free from its confines and tossed wildly in the momentum. She was covered in fallen corn silk and surely looked like something out of a horror film when she exploded out onto the walkway flanking the garden. “You!!!”

One of the Ibus screamed.

Another lurched forward and Kendra was struck right over the head.

“Ken-!?” Was all Mikey managed.

“Kendat!!!” The last auntie hissed before devolving into a series of curses.

The others chorused and, while she was nursing an obvious lump, Kendra refused to stop glaring at Mikey.

Mikey watched on with growing distress.

Kendra was soon grabbed and rocked, but she refused to break her gaze.

Mikey was seemingly immune as his hands reached out feebly. “Um, ladies… please…!”

“Ibu!” One of the aunties smacked his hand. “Use honorifics!”

“Ibus…?” Mikey tested the plural he wasn’t sure of.

“With names!” Another shouted before pointing between them. “Ibu Dewi. Ibu Eka and…” She pointed at herself. “Ibu Ade.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend…” Mikey looked between them. “Ibu Ade…”

She nodded appropriately. “Eh! Kendat! Why you’re rude to Mikey-angel?”

Ibu Dewi went next. “It’s not his fault he’s ugly!”

Then Ibu Eka. “We’ve gotten past it. He’s helped! Tell her!”

Kendra flashed red eyes amongst the women before landing on Mikey. “What did you do?”

They quieted, but shared looks.

Mikey stuttered over her appearance.

She probably looked ready to rip him to shreds.

“Well?” She pressed with a foot forward.

“What did I do!? I’m confused! I don’t understand what’s going on!” Mikey squeaked out.

The aunties all burst out laughing.

Falling over themselves, they sought fixtures. Before Kendra could move, they descended on her. They grabbed Mikey too, but he seemed far less perturbed. If it was anyone else, Kendra might have bucked them off. As it stood, these ladies were the representation panel of her meal committee. Even if she was on a better financial footing these days, she relied on the leftovers. Which meant she had to keep some semblance of peace. She hated having to be the one to do so.

“Ibu Ade.” She chose the fairest of the bunch.

“Yes, Dat.” Said woman was also the one who clung the most to her arm.

“Who is this?”

Though not without her faults, Ibu Ade looked to the other women before peering back at Kendra. “Now, Dat, we heard him call to you.”

“He’s gone to the coffee shop. You know I take names to call the orders. We’ve talked about this.” Kendra spoke as calmly as she could.

The other women watched on like vultures.

They would pick up dying weakness if she breathed a hint of exposure.

“Say his name, Dat.” Ibu Ade looked up at Kendra with all knowing eyes.

“Michelangelo.” Kendra tried not to bite the syllables.

“Mikey-angel.” Ibu Ade confirmed to the others.

They cooed.

Mikey exhaled with some acceptance to his new moniker.

“And what did he so graciously do, Ibu Ade?” Kendra prompted after an appropriate amount of time had passed.

“Oh!” The woman finally released her.

Kendra felt like she took her first breath in ages.

The woman shuffled over to Mikey and slapped his chest. “Mikey-angel got the city’s approval! Our garden is secured!”

The women all moved in various states of prayer.

Kendra appraised them and Mikey with a sharp eye.

Mikey’s lips thinned out in a long line.

“He helped with the garden?” Kendra asked.

“Oh, Dat!” Ibu Dewi made a crude gesture. “Of course, he did.”

“He did!” Ibu Eka repeated.

Kendra hummed.

Mikey looked like he wanted to speak.

Kendra waited out the women’s glances and shot him a glower when she had cover.

He kept quiet, but eyed her with a plea.

“He looks strong.” Kendra commented casually before starting to turn on cue. “I gotta get back to the melinjo.”

“He does look strong…” Ibu Ade took the bait first.

“True! I feel muscles!” Ibu Dewi squeezed Mikey’s arm.

“You came by for a reason, that’s right?” Ibu Eka crooned.

Kendra slipped right back through the corn.

Mikey would follow her soon.

She pretended to clean up the leaves behind her and meandered to her full bucket.

Within minutes Mikey was escorted over by Kakek Elang.

He had a pair of gloves in hand and she hid her smirk.

Mikey looked more confused than ever as Kakek told her to direct him in picking and watch him in case he messed up the crop.

She agreed and the older man hobbled off.

A useless chain of command that saw nothing through.

For once it was to her advantage and as soon as the elder was gone, she got right in Mikey’s face. “What the fuck are you doing here!?”

Mikey’s gloves flopped as his hands shot up.

“Those don’t fit!” She seethed at a quiet enough level. “Did they not look at your hands?!”

“I know! What was I supposed to say!?” Mikey huffed like it was a relief to finally be able to comment on something.

“Don’t think you got off from stalking me!” She sent him her broiling rage. “How did you think this was going to play out, you-!”

“Hold up!” His brow ridge drooped. “I did not stalk you!”

“Then explain why you’re here?!”

“I needed calabash!” 

Kendra’s lips tore as she pursed them and, for a moment, she worried about her lipstick. 

She then remembered she wasn’t wearing any. She had none of her usual armor and was  wearing her stupid step-brother’s sweatshirt. In her striping she felt a sense of reality. She had known Mikey long enough that she could identify actual confusion. She didn’t have to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she knew there was more.

He knew her too. She could tell by the way he had concisely answered her question. He cut the fat and told her the simplest truth first. She liked to break apart everything he said and he had opened the door for exactly that. It was now her turn to extrapolate what she wanted. He was aware of his place and she gave him a bit of space by dropping to the flats of her feet. 

“Short sentences, explain everything.”

He disengaged with some exhaustion. “Okay, let’s see…”

She folded her arms.

“I’ve been really into making curries.” He started and his hands moved to gesture wildly. “Curry is so cool. The history is wild and each country has its own version!”

She eyed him for the conjunction.

“Right.” He pointed at her genially. “You can make dudhi basundi in an Instant Pot, but-” He caught himself and thought for a moment before continuing. “Instant Pots are scams. I have a pressure cooker. Same thing, but better.”

She loosened her grip on her torso.

“Dudhi basundi needs bottle gourd. Well, it said it needed lauki, which is also dudhi, but whenever I searched for those I got calabash.”

She let it all slide along with her arms. “The point?”

“I couldn’t find it!” He sent her wild eyes that were a reflection of his memory. “I went to all the specialty markets! The hole-in-the-wall grocery stores! The more obscure the better! It wasn’t even out of season! No one had any!”

She listened.

“Then someone said they knew someone of someone and poof! I’m here!”

He took several steps back with his outstretched arms and twirled.

“A community garden! These are so cool! I love them! Rare produce grown with love! Food cooked right off the vines!” He yelled affectionately and slowed himself to look at her. “I had to get a piece of the action.”

“When?”

He almost asked another question, but thought better of it.

Her lids were heavy. “When was this?”

“Like eight months ago.”

“What!?”

In spite of her exclamation, that made sense.

Even if she was working on orders, she had seen the garden as she walked through it. She could make educated guesses. There was no calabash ready to harvest. Mikey’s details fit a larger picture which gave him credence. She couldn’t remember exactly, but Kendra had remembered that some calabash was ripe earlier this year.

They had certainly eaten enough lauki ki sabzi.

That meant Mikey knew her community since a time well before he saw her at the coffee shop.

What did that mean?

Was this a ruse?

Had it been one all along?

If Donatello wanted to have his last laugh-

She stopped herself.

A full tilt stop that came with an aggravated assault on her memories with Mikey.

She knew the truth.

She knew enough about him to know his ridiculous heart was on his sleeve.

She looked at him.

He was waiting with tepid hope.

That she would believe him.

That she would clear all this up.

She lowered her gaze and took an uncharacteristic breath. “Did you know I was going to be here?”

“No.” He stood a little straighter and looked a little happier. “Can I ask a question?”

She guessed so. “Sure.”

“Are you Indonesian?”

This time she did roll her eyes. “You’re joking.”  

“No!”

“Mikey…”

“I didn’t want to assume!”

“Indoeskrim!?” She threw an obvious hand up.

“Indo-what?!”

“The affogato!”

“The ice cream!” He snapped his finger.

They stared for a moment and both disengaged as coolly as they could.

They only glanced at each other twice to see if the timing was appropriate.

“Keep going.” She told him.

“So I know the deal, I’m in like five co-ops! You do work and get rewarded. Since the guy of a guy I knew had one of the grocery stores, they asked if I could liaison to sell some of the extra calabash crop. I bought some since I was the middle man.”

“You made the dudhi basundi.”

“Curry was on, but like there’s this garden here and I gotta get my hands on more of this stuff. I’m seeing stuff I’ve never seen before!”

“You didn’t steal…”

“Of course not!” He chuffed at the mere mention. “I wanted to work, but they wouldn’t let me! I tried to weasel my way in, but I was boxed out.”

“Really?” That was Mikey’s foul card.

Mutant or not, these people loved a strapping young man that wanted to work.

Mikey’s body language said he felt the frustration.

“Seriously! I think I wanted it too bad! Also I may have insulted someone because I wanted the ingredients more than their version of the dishes, but I wanted to make my own…”

A tiny referee version of Kendra called for play to continue. “Yeah! Insulted is right! You basically said you hated their cooking to their face and that you could do better.”

Mikey gasped loud. “I would never!!”

Kendra popped a brow.

“Okay maybe after I practice, but you tell me that after making ten thousand omurices that I’m not on par with that Kichi Kichi guy!”

“Ten thousand?” Kendra pressed her incredulity.

“Swear!” Mikey crossed an ‘x’ over his chest then almost poked himself in the eye. “It’s a thing about curds and pride.”

“Same here.” She swept a hand around the garden.

“Exactly! I knew I messed up!” Mikey walked a little closer to share his misery. “I couldn’t work here here so I did odd jobs. It was mostly delivery stuff and I noticed something.”

She gave him her ear.

Mikey came close enough to whisper. “Besides insulting them unintentionally, I noticed they were real touchy about the space, I mean look…”

Together they glanced at how the buildings enclosed the lot.

They looked toward the two high layers of fence surrounding the small parts that had a chance of being exposed.

He brought their attention back where it was his brow’s turn to pop.

“This place was off the books. Guerilla gardening, which I dig, but it’s not, as they say, ‘kosher.’”

“Yeah, duh.”

“So I went through the New York rules and regulations to make it not that. Whatever I needed to do to make it legit.”

“You did?” She eyed him.

“I did and hated every second of it!” Mikey puffed out his plastron.

Kendra pushed him with a playful edge.

He swept along with a stumble, but rotated sideways to circle her in a wide arch.

She spun to keep him in front.

When he finally approached it was almost with a purr. “You’ve got mud on your face.”

“Don’t!” She hissed. “They’re watching. It’s bad enough we’re talking.”

He nodded, but still dug into his person. “Permit took awhile. I came by today to say it was approved.”

“Then where is it?” She watched on.

He found a multi-colored scrap of fabric and offered it to her.

She found it dubious, but still used it to blot her face.

Mikey smiled and she snapped the cloth at him.

“They won’t give it to me because I’m not the owner or operator whatever. I needed an address.”

“Use the internet.”

“But…!” Mikey threw up his arms and did one quick spin toward all the buildings. “I can, but which one!? Look how many apartments there are!”

She frowned deeply.

She doubted the many families updated their online credentials. She bet several of the apartments were all under one man’s name. There was also the issue of landlording. The man in question who owned the building had been out of the country for as long as she could remember. If this was a hoax, and Kendra would never rule out the possibility, Mikey was clearly working every possible technicality.

“You got your vegetables. Five co-ops? I doubt you needed more. This all sounds like a huge hassle just to get people to like you…” She spoke in a voice that surprised her with its softness. “Why?”

“This again…” Mikey deflated with some meter of affection.

She sent him a wary gaze.

“This place is amazing.” He approached her again and finally took the fabric from her.

He turned it over in his hand to get a clean scrap and pinched it off.

She scowled at it with readied nails.

He gave her a look that told her to give him a chance.

She stewed, didn’t let up, but also didn’t move.

He took that to mean he got about as much permission he could and was clinical in reaching out to wipe her forehead with little scuffs. 

“I love community gardens. I first found out about them when I was really young. Back when we were eating tossed leftovers or whatever restaurants didn’t sell. Dad was worried about vitamins and kept mentioning vegetables. Each of us had our own idea of how to find them and mine was finding gardens with Leo.”

“So, what?” She leaned into him.

He wiped toward her hairline and picked up some sweat before dropping his arm. “So, I can’t say I’m good with paperwork or county offices or whatever. It’s the most boring thing in the world, but I can say that I have an idea of how to make the process legit. I did that for your favorite reason: just cause. You’re right. It stopped being about the vegetables.”

“You always say that, but it’s never actually that…”

Mikey’s lip pursed and he folded up his makeshift hanky.

“You’re like obsessed.”

“Why were you mad when you first saw me?”

She sort of expected him to shift attention and looked at him expectantly.

“You were extra mad.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Your family lives here?” Mikey ventured.

“No.” She spoke solemnly and looked out at the plants.

She hoped there was some sort of answer among them, but there never had been one before.

There wasn’t one now.

She sighed.

“I do.”

Mikey twitched.

She swept her gaze back to him.

His lips had turned down so sharply that his entire face sagged around his despair.

“Stop!” She smashed her palm into his beak. “Don’t pity me! The neighborhood isn’t that bad!”

“What?!” He caught her wrist and pulled her arm straight down.

Their faces came together from the momentum.

“That is not what I’m upset about!”

“What then!? How is that not pity!?”

“You were protecting your privacy! I wasn’t supposed to know!”

“Exactly!” She could feel herself spittle.

He didn’t react at all other than his eyes growing wider. “You thought I figured it out and stalked you here!!!”

“Not so loud!” Her tongue clicked.

He released and tossed his head away and back. “Wait, no! I’m thinking about it! This looks so bad and scary!!”

She let her head similarly hang. “You take so long to put things together.”

“How was I supposed to know!?”

“I’m here!”

“So?!”

“Look at me!”

“You look like you’re doing yard work!”

“You think I would go more than 5 minutes from home like this!?”

“Don’t pull that!” Mikey puffed up. “Everyone has a down in the dumps day where they don’t care! If anyone could own that, it’s you!”

She was equally flattered and insulted. “I have pride! So, no! I don’t get down in the dumps! I have appearances to keep!”

“For who!?”

“For everyone!”

“Why?!” He reared. “Who cares?!”

“Everyone!!” She descended on him and he had to scramble so they wouldn’t collide. “Everyone all the time! You know how much shit I get about my hair!? How much I’ve always gotten!? The one thing that’s mine!?”

The fight fell off Mikey with each sentence.

“And we’re back to pity!” She scoffed away.

He chased her. “It’s not pity!”

“Then what?!” She tried to turn away.

“It’s self expression!” He curled around her side. “That’s everything to me!”

“Yeah, well…” She stopped with a turned head.

He stood close by. “I trusted your attitude.”

She said nothing.

“You’re right.”

“I haven’t said anything.” 

“No, about it… Well, me… not being so simple. It’s hard to remember everything! There’s so much that goes into a person and it’s hard to remember that’s a byproduct of everything they’ve been through. It’s not just an, ‘oh, I like this thing.’ It’s when you were shown. It’s why you found out about it. It’s how long you’ve had it. It’s the joy you felt the first time. Heck, it could be the bad! It could have been the only good thing you had on a bad day and it’s a comfort. It’s anything. It’s everything… It’s everyone. Even when we’re alone we’re all these pieces whether we know it or not.”

She was slow to glance at him.

He gave her a meaningful look.

She relented the slightest amount.

“I think I like community gardens because they represent what I don’t have.”

Her lips parted to mention all the co-ops, but she thought better.

“Community…” Mikey looked around. “You all have a hand in this. You all care about what it makes, together. The things that grow here are special. This is your heritage. Of knowing where these foods came from. Of making up for how you couldn’t normally get them. Of who knew how to get the seeds. How to grow them. How to keep them alive. How to use them. How to cook them. It’s all passed down. It’s all amazing and it’s… something I’ve never had.”

Kendra watched openly.

Mikey looked a sort of wounded that seemed nostalgic. “I’m Japanese, among other things if my cloaking brooch human self is any indication, and I’m always going to be disconnected from that.”

Her fingers twitched.

“Like dad shared some.” He glanced at her. “He taught us martial arts. He talked a lot about honor and respect even if he didn’t always use those words. When he made us apologize, there were hints, but he left his culture behind when he came here. It became comod… comodo… Ugh, what’s the word for when it becomes a thing to sell?”

“Commodified.” Her body spoke.

“Yeah, that. He had been a commodity for years. The martial arts movies are an ideal, not reality. Though dang… fish and ladders really do work.”

She allowed a skeptical look.

“Trust me. I thought the same thing.” He returned a faraway smile. “But that’s… it. No food. His special dish is green bean casserole! Like what?! He was born in Japan. I know he lost grandma when he was young, but great grandpa tried! From the little I’ve found out, he ate regional stuff when he was young and he just… dropped it. All the food and everything else. I know why. I get it. I get that he wanted to break the cycle. Give us the freedom he wanted, but I always felt… like there was this piece of me missing.”

She looked down her arm.

“And there’s all the ‘hidden underground for years’ thing. We didn’t meet April until we were like ten. Dad gave us the best childhood he could, but it’s kind of a bummer when the only person you can sell lemonade to from your lemonade stand is your dad!”

She turned her hand over to see her palm.

“There was so much world and we obviously dove into it, but I didn’t know it. I knew the commercial side of it. The abridged version and it was never enough. Even when we found out the whole Hamato lineage fate situation, I thought maybe that was what I’d always been missing, but it was more fundamental. I don’t know. Some people would wonder why it even matters, but it connects us. Food connects us. We’re all already connected, but there’s so much more… I’m rambling… I don’t know.”

She moved with creaky hesitation until her hand landed on his arm.

He blinked first at the contact in general and then to the one who offered it. “Sorry. That was a lot.”

She shook her head.

He leaned into her touch. “It’s hard to understand.”

“I’m first generation too.”

Mikey looked at her anew.

“My mom was a missionary.”

His hand moved to cover hers.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “She traveled a lot before she met my dad. They sort of knew each other, but got close when they immigrated in the 90s like most people here.”

He nodded.

She shrugged. “It’s basic stuff. They got married here. Named their kid something they hoped passed, and I took PB&Js to lunch. The classic ‘try not to stick out’ tactic.”

She could tell he wanted to ask more.

She sent him a look that there wasn’t much beyond that. “We had weekly dinners that were close enough to their version of home. I didn’t really notice. To me, that was home. How we did things was normal, but once a week, we were a little different. I figured it was a spiritual thing. I didn’t realize until it stopped that-”

Mikey squeezed her hand and she adjusted her fingers so they were woven in his.

She shook her head. “I didn’t notice until later. Until I couldn’t really go back.”

“Community.” Mikey whispered.

“I guess.” She sent him a frustrated look. “It may look like it’s all gushy support, uplifting each other and emotional crap, but it’s not. There’s alienation. I’m assuming that’s what your dad tried to get away from even without the prophecy or whatever it was you had. People here band together out of necessity. They’ll say it’s to preserve the old ways, but it’s not always that. Some of it is preservation against the world itself. Some of it is shit they need to unlearn. You know how intense the caste system is where my family’s from!? It’s illegal, but try to tell people to replace centuries of tradition! It’s a ruse. They say they’re upholding something, but they’re not! They’ll treat you like shit one second and gold the next depending on how useful you are!”

Mikey’s expression fell.

“And that’s when they’re not crapping over you for not knowing all these supposed ways when they didn’t teach you because they said they wanted to give you a better life! Double standard after double standard!” 

She sent him a crazed look and he returned it with a crestfallen one. 

“But that prejudice… or some form of it. You would know, being a mutant.”

He nodded. “Yeah… from both humans and yokai.”

“Yokai?”

“So like part of me has the American-Japanese thing going on, but there’s also the turtle-mutant thing which is like a yokai-human thing.”

“Yokai is… what you call your animal part?”

“Kind… of…? They’re mythological creatures that are actually real.”

“Like spirits or demons...”

“Yeah, that and folklore. Usually, they’re all those things in history that anyone noticed long enough to tell a tall tale. You can probably assume that’s actually a yokai.”

“Huh.”

“One of my dads is pure yokai so he tries to share that culture, which has a lot of hating humans in it, but that also might be him because I don’t know if all yokai are like that. It can be tough, but yeah… there’s another two worlds thing I’m straddling.”

“Hard.” She sympathized.

He nodded with a bobbing brow ridge. “It’s a lot and totally why I try not to think about it. What’s the point? It’s a thing and man, I hate things like that. Too many parts and too much to worry about. I just want to be me.”

“That is why I wanted to crush the system.”

Mikey’s eyes lit up.

She broke from his hold and put up walls that were albeit shorter than usual. “Not doing that again. Look where it got me. The gardening is whatever. I do the gardening because they make me. I don’t get my meal ticket otherwise.”

She walked toward her bucket.

He hopped after. “Tell me one day? Not all of dismantling oppression is illegal. Fight the power.”

“Stop.” She chuckled and got the handle.

“Wanna share it?”

“I said stop.” She rolled her eyes to him.

“Not that.” He approached her side and moved to grab a portion of the plastic handle. “This. Don’t underestimate our combined power!”

She eyed how he hadn’t offered or pushed to carry it himself.

He did have his advantages.

She slid her hand to one side so he had better room and together they picked the container of spores up. “You talk a big game, but you’re too pure. You couldn’t even correct the aunties about your name.”

“Did you see how happy they were?!” Mikey sent her a watery look.

She brushed it off. “Uh huh.”

He pouted openly as they moved in tandem. “What about your name? They said it differently. Is that how you say your name in Indonesian?”

She flinched and was silent through most of the process of dropping off the bucket and exchanging it for another.

Mikey’s curiosity obviously grew.

When they were enough out of earshot, she allowed a scowl. “Kendat is an insult.”

He jarred.

“They don’t paint it like that, but I know.”

“Kendra…”

“They always told me it meant ‘interruption.’ It comes from when I was younger. I asked too many questions. My dad let me get away with too much. Poor Kendra, she’s annoying, hopefully all those questions mean she’ll be smart. She can get into a good school with all that interest. She’s smart enough to become a doctor...”

They reached the gnetum plants and she put the bucket down.

“It means ‘fart.’”

Mikey’s jaw dropped.

“Interruption.” She seethed. “Kentat is fart. They dolled it up real nice because it sounds the same.”

“And like your name…”

“That they hate.” She put her gloves on with a snap to the weathered leather. “There’s the heritage you want so bad. You tell a little kid that doesn’t know the language one thing knowing full well they’ll never know otherwise.”

“But you learned…”

“Had to. Enough to get by at least.” She pinched off a few spores before remembering she was supposed to show him. “Get them like this and put them in the bucket.”

He followed suit with bare hands.

For a while there was the quiet of berry-like objects thumping against plastic. Eventually they built up a thin layer that morphed the sound into a soft plop of spores against one another. The bucket filled up to about a quarter of the way before Mikey broke and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“I’m so mad… I can barely think straight.”

Kendra said nothing and kept picking.

“That would drive me insane. I want to do something. I want to fix it!”

A handful of red buds trickled into the container.

“But I get that you can’t!!” He groaned. “We were reduced to our colors! I don’t know if his eyesight is bad for what!? Dad still does it! He gave us the masks, I guess, to tell us apart, but it doesn’t matter! And if we ever complained, he got mad at us for trying to correct him and had all these reasons why we shouldn’t, but those kept changing! It was always so he wouldn’t be at fault and he could keep calling us what he wanted to!”

She slowed and smirked right into the leaves.

“Exactly. Ugh.” He shook his head. “Well from orange to interruption, I’m sorry.”

She tipped her head to him.

“Yours is worse, obviously.”

“Yep.”

“It doesn’t help, but I’ll never call you anything like that.”

“Thanks.”

“I like your name.”

She paused for a moment before cracking the first bits of a smile. “I do too.”

“Who picked it?”

“Mom.”

“She has great taste.”

“Yeah… She did.” She glanced at him. “Come on, you’re gonna get an earful.”

“Good thing I don’t have ears.”

“You have ears.” She scolded him lightly.  

“La la la!” He pretended not to hear.

She flicked a melinjo at him.

He caught it and showed her that he placed it in the bucket with grace. “Waste not!”

“Yeah, I doubt that’s a problem. We’re gonna be drowning in sour soup.”

“Sour soup?!” Mikey lit up with excitement. “What’s that? How’s it sour?”

“These, dummy.” She showed him the bucket. “I don’t know if that’s what they’re gonna make. It’s just a guess, don’t get excited. You won’t get any if you don’t work.”

“The community garden cert wasn’t enough!?”

“Would your dad think it was?” Kendra shot him a look.

Mikey was affronted and yielded with a chuff. “Not even kind of.”

“Work and I’ll introduce you to an Ibu that makes really good calabash curry that I bet rivals yours.”

Instead of gawking, he went to work at twice the speed.

Kendra slowed and waited for his first flickers of excitement to die out so she could explain to him how the workload should be handled.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #AENEMfic for updates)

My laptops out of commission again, but my betas keep going @tmntxthings  @thepinkpanther83 and @unrestrainedhotsoup

[franken-shits]

Thinking about punk herstory again...

[arson-09]

i dont think ill ever recover from the pure tragedy that is Touya Todorokis story/life. Genuinely the ending did mental damage to me

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[circus-k]

i think i have to kill someone.

[outlawssweetheart]

Some writers/producers/directors have such obvious personal beef with certain characters, and it’s both hilarious and infuriating. Hilarious because of how pathetic it is, but infuriating because of how shitty they treat and talk about the character.

[area51-escapee]

One of the many hills I’ll die on is my defense of the Girl Scouts if you hear the “girl” in Girl Scouts and immediately assume “well, clearly all they’re teaching them is how to bake cookies and manage a household and become a good wife and mother who stays home and cooks and cleans” then that shits on you yeah some troops aren’t going to be as good as others it all depends on the leadership and resources available but that doesn’t negate the fact that at it’s core it is there to teach young girls valuable skills and it can provide unique opportunities and a nice community for people who may need it

[befuddled-calico-whump]

nothing like hanging out with new coworkers and finding out their number one brand of humor is just Racism 🙃

[trinitea-fics]

I hate when you're very sure you're over something, but then you're awake at 4am and clearly Not Over it yet :/

[arolesbianism]

Thinks oh so hard abt the spiraling upwards clan founders, especially the birchclan founders. Silly lil kitties who's pasts are drenched in blood with the primary regret of not drawing it sooner

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm watching the new Sad Boyz episode and Jarvis has been talking about Fall Out Boy for thirty minutes and I'm juuust. not enjoying it

[gardeninggraves]

watching a reaction video for encanto and immediately exiting out of it when they dont understand isabela as a character and tear her down the entire time during her song is self care