#I just know in my bones that shell be the first thing they cut

[d-druxy]

Im honestly lowkey afraid that the P3 Remake is real and that the yassififcation will suck out all of its retro 2000s charm. (plus I just KNOW they wont include femc..)

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

ITS HIM!! MY BOY

LAURANCE ZVAHL’S REDESIGN IS HERE

i’ve been so excited to post this you have no idea

important notes and headcanons:

first and foremost, when Cadenza went missing so did his style. she would usually help him pick out his outfits and when she wasn’t around to help him, he just grabbed whatever he had lying around regardless of if it matched or not.

when cadenza dyed his hair back to its “natural�� color it was a shade or 2 too light so as time goes on you can see it grow out.

he likes having somewhat long hair because he can put it in a pony tail and braid it an stuff.

-this next one is pretty intense so fair warning-

so when he was transformed into a shadow knight, he never technically died. he was grabbed and the shadow lord instructed gene to have him brought to the ritual table and turned. because most shadow knights are transformed before being resurrected, they don’t feel anything. laurance, however, was very aware. he could feel his soul being split in half, his bones breaking and mending themselves, his teeth sharpening, his eyes enhancing. he felt every inch of it and could do nothing to stop it. sasha is still haunted by his screams.

the only thing that got him through his time in the nether and prevented him from being corrupted by gene was that he needed to make sure aphmau was ok and that she made it home safely.

when garroth first saw laurance after he’d been rescued by ungrth, he was sure he was looking at a ghost for a split second.

laurance writes poetry in his free time, sometimes reciting it to cadenza to ask her opinion. it’s usually not great….

when laurance was about 9, both his parents died to to illness. he was forced to the streets and had to resort to stealing. he had been doing this for a couple years when one fateful day he tried stealing some bread from a little girl he’d never seen in town before. she caught him and cheerfully brought him to her fathers asking “can we keep him??” that girl was cadenza.

he hates wearing armor. it’s heavy and clunky and loud. he much prefers to wear normal street clothes much to garroth’s disapproval.

he loves cooking and does all the cooking in the guard station. he’s pretty good at it too.

he has nightmares due to his time in the nether. sometimes he’ll yelp or scream out. whenever this happened while he was living in the guard station, garroth would come into his room to pull him out of it and comfort him after he came to. garroth got hit a lot as a result. gar never minded but laurance still feels guilty.

the darkness on his fingers is due to being only half a shadow knight. the longer a shadow knight lives, the further up the darkness creeps, only stopping once the calling is answered (if you know what i mean) or until it reaches the shoulders/hips.

the tattoo on his palms are the source of all his shadow knight abilities and the scars on his face enhance them.

so… in this universe aaron is not alina’s father… it’s laurance….! he found out about aphmau’s pregnancy the same way he did in canon only this time he didn’t leave out of anger or betrayal. it was because the calling was becoming too much to handle. he loves aphmau so much but as long as the shadow lord lived he would only be able to see her with an ancient hatred in his bones. he feared he’d hurt her or their child so he left for their safety.

aphmau never knew that he knew about their child, but when she went to the nether to find him, he asked her name.

his shadow knight armor isn’t… armor…. it’s more like a shell, designed to look as intimidating as possible and be as sharp as possible. it materializes whenever his shadow knight form pops out or whenever his body thinks he’s in need of protection.

once when aphmau was trying to pull him out of his shadow form she cut her hand on it. she has a scar from it and he can’t look at it without feeling guilty.

every so often his vision goes. usually when he’s extremely angry or stressed his vision will just. go. it normally only lasts a few seconds or minutes but each time it happens he can’t help but think “this is it. this is when my vision is taken from me once and for all.”

alrighty! that’s all i have for now! i’m sorry i know that was a lot but i just love this guy so much you don’t understand 😭 i hope you enjoyed and feel free to add any more larry headcanons you have

next up is very talented seamstress

[redd956]

Worldbuilding Food: More than meets the eye

So, you want to world build food but maybe you don't know where to start, have hit a roadblock, or are just looking for some interesting places to addon to. I've got your back.

Vegetables, Fruits, Grain, Nuts, & Fungi

One of the first things I think of when it comes to food is fruits and vegetables, and the line between them is surprisingly small.

Like tomatoes are vegetables? Pumpkins are fruits but other gourds are not? When does a herb become a vegetable? Although important to classify, don't let it be your main focus.

Start with

How the produce grows

What it looks like throughout different stages of its life

What parts are edible

How most people consume the produce

How the product is harvested

Is it seasonal

What about the produce that makes its growable environment habitable

How it spreads/reproduces

There's many different unique ways fruits and vegetables grow in just our real world, but that doesn't mean you can stop there.

Cranberries grow on vines that actually float on the surface of soggy ground and water in wetlands. Cashews actually grow on the bottom of cashew apple, which is it's own edible product. There's lots of different ways plants can grow, and what they even need to do so.

Some produce even have their own defense mechanisms (which often which becomes a form of flavor to us). Don't think these defense mechanisms stop at protection from predators. Strawberries are an aggressive plant, fighting, killing, and taking over any nearby plant neighbors. Some plants have thistles and thorns, and others are the hard shell or peel we end up effortlessly cutting through.

Try to think of some environmental things in the world your working with that the produce would have adapted to.

I think my favor example of this IRL is sunflowers. They change directions to face the sun, and when they can't find the sun they face each other. Eventually their seeds weigh them down, and which they'll always face east.

Don't forget fungi is edible too, and has it's very own unique properties.

(Don't forget yeast -> bread, you can make up whatever food you want)

Meats & Agricultural Animals

I myself am not a meat-eater, but I understand the importance of animal products to a society. If you world doesn't have it, don't fret. This sector won't just be about meat products, but it will contain a lot of it.

Food and what animals are considered for consumption changes from culture to culture. The same can be said for treatment leading up to their role in society as the food on people's plates. Often times a culture cannot imagining eating an animal they see as part of the family, such as dogs or cats IRL, but other times it's seen part of a religious practice such as cows.

There's a lot of cultural stuff that goes into our agricultural animals, both for work, dairy, textiles, and food.

Here's some ideas to start with

What parts of them are edible and used for food

Do they produce any dairy or egg products

How old do they have to be before becoming a produce animal

Are the animals used for other resources too i.e. bones, fur, skins, skulls, blood, etc.

How much food does one animal make

Typically how are they are killed, if they are

What conditions are these animals kept in and are they viewed humane

What environments allow these animals to thrive alongside the people of your world

What does the animal eat

Now... Let's into some culture and religion

Religion and culture has a major impact on what we eat. Take for instance Kosher, Halal, and more. Historical shortages in food even to this day affect what foods we eat. Culture also affects our tastes. The corn line of the United States is drowning in corn, and yet corn is seen as a sweet treat over seas in many nations.

Harvesting

How the harvesting goes changes a lot about a society, big and small. Think about how terrible a year would go in medieval times if harvest came up incredibly poor, or how wealthy our modern day world would look to those people due to mass production.

Here's some things to think about

What time of year are the biggest and most important harvest(s)

How common are agricultural workers

What would the average person see if they watched people work

What technology/tools are used

What happens if the harvest goes wrong

Do farmers/harvesters get special rights for their role in society

In older societies harvesting and how that went completely shaped how the next year would look. In some cultures the harvesters have been revered, while in other if crossed to far would be expected to tear the country to pieces. Think about the role harvesting plays in your society. What would happen if they striked? Or if a disaster swept the land?

The environment itself will change a lot about what harvesting look likes. Why does this environment work? What are the environmental risk to both the crop and workers?

Are we farming in the water, in the middle of the arctic, underground, high up in the trees?

Exotic Food & Immigration

While establish what the everyday food in the area is, don't forget to pay mine to the opposites. Immigration and trade play a major role in what foods end up on our plate. As cultures combine and mingle so do their food.

Take one look at the United States, infamous for it's large potions, fatty foods, and immigrant culture cuisine. A lot of foods in the United States are the results of cultures meeting to improve and add onto one another's foods, that includes American styles of pizza, tacos, and more.

Even major cities around the world have styles of foods unique to them.

Let's think

What locally seen foods count as exotic

What foods are nearly impossible to get

Is there access to foreign brands/produce

How expensive is most exotic foods

What styles of cooking are being brought in by foreigners

How do people get exotic foods

What foods would the locals not be able to eat due to not being used to it

Try to think about what makes this food exotic in the local area. Maybe it cannot grow in the local environment. Maybe the quality of the food is simply better overseas. Maybe the animal or plant is far too aggressively invasive for locals.

Trade & Transport

Food is both a very important export and import, especially in time of devastation.

Don't forget about exports too, what is your society giving out to the world, and getting back. Not all trade has to be capital based. Perhaps your world simply trades on good or service for another.

Here's some things to think about

What's being exported and imported

Are whole animals imported/exported

How is the trade being done i.e. trains, boats, aircraft, teleportation, etc.

Are there any obstacles to trade

What places are all involved in trading

How is the trade brought to where it needs to be inland

In what ways do these trades improve the lives of locals

Transportation is also super important to where food ends up, and more so in what volumes. How do people get all these produce or animals relocated? What kinds of storage are we seeing to keep things fresh (if health standards are even up to code in your worldbuilding)?

What poses a threat to things in storage? i.e. mold, foxes, animal thieves, disease, etc.

Restrictions

With supply and demand, comes outages, taxes, and restrictions. Unfortunately not everything in the food world goes right. There's natural disasters to come and destroy crops, hostile settlements to block trade, and especially that person who is really bad at cooking but they love doing it so you don't have the heart to say no....

Anyway let's talk restrictions and where they can come from

Wartime

Wartime can cause a lot of original farmers and workers to become soldiers. It also can lead to the large scale destruction of precious farm land, crops, animals, and overall places to cook.

Laws

Perhaps there's a particularly poisonous food, and way too many suspiciously poisoned people. That's when law comes in. There's many reasons for food and drink to become outlawed. Religious reasons, danger, regulations, inebriation, etc.

Siege/Embargo/Thievery

Knock knock! It's the United States here to embargo your random country. Outside factions can always become an obstacle, leading to loss of traveling cargo or straight up missing farmers too. Nothing comes in, and sometimes nothing comes out.

Endangered

Perhaps a common plant or favored animal is running low on populous. Now locals are more so focused on reanimating a dwindling population, more so on eating it.

Sickness

Whether it be hoards of invasive bugs, prion disease caused by cannibalistic animal feed, or sudden inexplicable field of dead corn sickness happens. Maybe something has swept over the land, and no one ever bothered to try to plant said crop again.

Natural Disasters

Natural disasters can not only cause the elimination of entire villages, but accidentally bring in lots of invasive creatures too. Catfish is off the menu for as long as carp is intown.

Straight Up Difficulty

Sometimes a fruit appears once a year, or a tasty creature is a dangerous one to take on in order to eat. It can be difficult getting the right ingredient sometimes. Other times it's new to the market. So much can happen when food is involved.

Preparation & Flavor

Finally all the food in the world is available, but what are we going to do with it.

Make it even better!

I personally find preparation to be the best part of worldbuilding. Now I get to imagine my fictional little people stewing their pots, and kindling their fires. Reflect off of real world recipes, and maybe even write down exact fantasy recipes of your own.

Don't forget about herbs and spices (I see you British people).

You have five basic taste receptors in your mouth: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and savory. They make great descriptors and fun places to explore when looking into what your foods taste like. Smell can play an important role too.

Does it smell awful and taste great, smell sweet and taste bitter, perhaps it doesn't have anything at all going on.

Happy worldbuilding!

[desceros]

For infinite singularity, I was wondering, after Donnie takes reader out of the office through the portal…

What happens to the..crime scene and our psycho coworker? Especially what did the rest of the brothers do?

(Btw love ur work, ur a total inspiration! ✨💞drink water, steal sum sustenance, take care of yourself 💗)

As soon as you and Donnie are through the portal, Leo gets to work. 

Mikey’s in charge of keeping your coworker from doing anything stupid. A task he enjoys greatly, as it means he gets to sit and giggle on the guy’s chest and pretend he can’t hear him wheezing for breath where Donnie nearly choked him. Meanwhile, Raph is sent off to take care of getting the power back on. He’s no Donnie with tech and never will be, but he’s getting decent at stuff like this. They don’t need it, but it’ll make it easier when the cops finally show up to wipe up the mess.

“So, what exactly was the plan here, huh?” Leo asks your coworker. “You get kicks out of roughing up pretty girls?”

“She’s not some random girl. She’s my soulmate,” your coworker spits, vile descriptions of the things he planned on doing to you cut off when Leo gets a foot on the clown’s broken forearm. 

“Wow, that’s so weird. Here I thought she was my brother’s soulmate,” Leo says, waving his hand in the air and watching the rage purple your coworker’s face. “What with the whole can’t stand to be apart and gazing sappily into each other’s eyes thing they have going on.”

“My pure little dove wouldn’t fuck a monster. He’s forcing her.”

“Buddy, I can promise you, first hand account, she did. Also, kind of ironic considering I’m pretty sure you got caught with your hand in one hell of a cookie jar, don’t you think?”

Raph comes back. “Power’s on,” he says, his word the only indication that’s the case since he left the lights off. Better for them, just in case. 

“Good job. One last thing,” Leo says, putting more of his weight on your coworker’s arm and feeling the bones splinter beneath his heel. “What’s TCRI doing sending out hit squads? Last I checked, business wasn’t supposed to be this cut-throat.”

Between heaving breaths of agony, your coworker groans in wretched agony before he just starts to laugh and laugh and laugh. “You’re a funny guy.”

“Right? Everyone keeps saying it’s my brother, but man, I’m telling you, my lines are killer,” Leo says, a grin that’s all teeth slashing onto his face as he grinds his heel into shattered bone. 

“He ain’t gonna talk,” Raph says after a minute more of your coworker just laughing each time he stops gritting his teeth in pain. 

“I can make him do it,” Mikey says cheerfully, a smile that doesn’t match his eyes pulling into place. 

“…Raph’s right. We’re not going to get anything out of him,” Leo says, pulling his foot off your coworker’s arm. “Knock him out and call it in.”

“I’ll find her again,” your coworker grits through his teeth. “She’ll never be able to hide from me. I’ll haunt her forever. Even if it’s like this, it’ll only ever be me she thinks about. Forever and ever and—”

“Ohh, my god, shut up,” Mikey groans, and with a thwack, your coworker goes silent. He then looks up at Leo, tilting his head. “…I didn’t know you believed in soulmates, too, Leo!”

“…Of course I don’t,” Leo brushes off, turning to inspect the security camera, putting his shell to his brother’s gaze.

“Cops’re on the way,” Raph says, and the two watch as Mikey gets your coworker trussed like a turkey. 

“We’ll have Donnie send them the security footage. Doesn’t look like he tampered with the cameras,” Leo says. Cutting a portal, he jerks his head. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Reappearing in the lair, Leo pulls up his phone.

neon leon (6:11 p.m.) hey hermano. everything okay over there? how she doing

neon leon (6:12 p.m.) bud? you good?

neon leon (6:15 p.m.) nerd says whaaaat

Narrowing his eyes, Leo starts to tap out the next message—dude if you don’t answer in two minutes i’m coming over and—before he freezes in place, thinks for a moment, then groans in disgust. 

“Did you get a hold of Donnie?” Raph asks, tilting his head in confusion when Leo brushes past with a wrinkled beak.

“Let’s give ‘em an hour then try again. Fuckin’ rabbits.”

“…Rabbits?”

Mikey pets Raph’s shell consolingly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Wh—B—I’m the oldest?!”

[darkurgetrash]

I'm still a little bit off finishing the next chapter of Lead Me Through the Dark, so allow me to fluff you up while you wait. ♡😘

Spoilers of what's to come below the cut. CW: Suggestive, alluding to sex.

Tav grinned against him, her heart fluttering as his tenderness had her thinking back to the night before: their first step towards even deeper intimacy. It had truly felt like nothing she’d ever experienced; her body and mind acting on pure feral instinct and overwhelming love. Though they had both been clumsy and awkward in their movements, unable to maintain themselves the way she knew was seen as desirable, it hadn’t dampened the experience at all. In fact, she’d been surprised to find she’d liked that aspect of their love making — because that’s what it was, the true definition of making love, even if not in a traditional sense. Besides, if anything, it only meant they had a lot to look forward to.

She’d drifted off to sleep not long after the act, her entire body at peace; fatigued in the most blissful way. When she then woke again, the cool sun shining through a gap in the curtains, the first thing she felt was the heavenly sensation of Rolan’s body: bare, hot, hers. His head was softly rested on her breast, and his legs intertwined with hers as his tail wrapped around her thigh, as had become natural for them whenever they lay in bed together. She’d sighed happily, feeling so relaxed and content that she couldn’t bear the idea of having to leave the bed. 

“Hmm,” she heard Rolan sigh, a happy sound to match her own as he nuzzled his face against her, his rough cheeks warm even against her slightly clammy skin. His hand ran tenderly down her torso, fingers delicately stroking the indents of her hip bones as he opened his eyes and looked up at her through long lashes. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning,” she whispered back, smoothing down his long, wavy hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Hm. Magnificent.”

Rolan’s eyes glistened with affection, his face tilting up to kiss her jawline before settling back down on her chest, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist as he cuddled her tighter. His body was so warm that Tav wondered if she could convince him to be her weighted blanket every night, or, at the very least, agree that nightclothes should be rendered obsolete. 

“Me too.” she exhaled, sighing contentedly once again as she ran her fingers along his spine, counting his vertebrae and imagining herself kissing each one, dreaming of sending shudders through him with every tender touch.

“Allow me to apologise again for my… poor stamina,” Rolan muttered into her skin, planting tiny kisses against her sternum. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded, softly. “I told you, I liked it!”

“I know. But even so, a greater person may have done better than ‘liked’–”

“There is no greater person, silly wizard! I loved it – the entire thing.” She clarified, stroking the shell of his ear. It twitched as she touched it and she noticed his cheeks turning red, his tail clamping tighter around her thigh. 

Just then, a sudden thought occurred to her: were tiefling’s ears sensitive? Tav had, of course, stroked his ears before, yet she’d never stopped to wonder if Rolan actually liked her doing so or if he just put up with it because he knew that she liked it. She paused, taking a moment to take in his expression: smiling eyes, a content smile, yet his body felt tense on top of her, conflicting…

As if reading her thoughts, Rolan opened his eyes and looked up at her, pouting as he furrowed his brow.

“Why did you stop?”

[huskynotwolf]

Metaphor

-song by the Crane Wives

-fanfic by The Crazy Husky

No. 3

(Drums: Impulse)

(This is a project I made for Crane Wives x Life Series. Scott basically enjoys singing here and plans to do a project to sing every song by the Crane Wives. All lyrics belong to Crane Wives, and I own the fanfic.)

Scott was carving a new guitar for Pearl when Impulse barged in.

“Dude, what song is that? That was wicked!” He said excitedly. Pearl, who was sulking in the corner, rolled her eyeballs and snickered. Scott and Impulse glared at her. “It’s called Tongues and Teeth. Thought it would be the perfect one for them.” Scott said, sanding the corner and edges of the guitar.

“I do know how to play the drums.” Impulse said, watching as Scott tune the guitar properly and fiddle with the strings. “You do?” Pearl asked, suddenly appearing behind Impulse. “Oh, yeah. You have any songs about that? That I think I can play to, I mean.” He said. Pearl didn’t say anything for a moment, then said, “I think I have one. One second. You gotta listen to it first. Crane Wives’s songs are real hard.” She said, bounding over to her corner. She handed Impulse a pair of headphones and handed her an iPod.

“Since when did you have an iPod? I though those were all way too old.” Scott said when he noticed it. Pearl giggled sheepishly and watched as Impulse began mock-playing the drums. Scott handed Pearl her newly made guitar and growled, “Break it again and you’re gonna have to buy a new one yourself.”

Pearl looked at the guitar, nodded, then walked over to put it down. Then she went over to her pillow, stared at it for a while then attacked it and reduced it to shreds. Scott winced then saw Impulse give her a thumbs up. She stormed over again, grabbed his shoulders then shook him, saying stuff like, “How was it?” “You think you can play it?” “Do you like it?” Impulse looked shell-shocked, cleared up then said, “Yeah, I think so.”

Pearl went hyper and squealed. Scott sighed, then asked, “Which one?” Pearl abruptly jerked her head around then said, “Metaphor. We’re gonna prank Scar with that one.”

Scott let out a slight smile when he heard that. “Sure. Impulse, get the drums ready. I’ll get the idiot couple.”

~~~

Scott had set Scar and Grian down on two bean bags. Skizz and Bdubs had noticed all their equipment (mainly Impulse’s drums) and had gotten their own bean bags as well. Cleo, who upon noticing Pearl with her new guitar (she spray-painted Tilly on it), had called anyone nearby to watch.

Scott cleared his throat. He gave Pearl a nudge to signal her and Impulse, and they began. Impulse fired up his drum, and Scott began gently singing the first verses. “Uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh~” Pearl began strumming out at the guitar. She knew they also needed an electric guitar, but she just settled on using her normal one (yes, she has an electric one).

“I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors,” Scott sung, while eyeing Scar. “I've gotten good at living on someone else's page. I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments, you can't trust a single thing I say.” Impulse kept up perfectly, like he’d practised before. Scott noticed Grian hide a smile from Scar.

“Uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uhh.” Pearl sung while going at the guitar. “I keep my closet free of skeletons, 'cause I'm much better at digging graves. But I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can't trust a single thing you say.” She then swiped a glance at Scott, and they both continued on, singing together. Impulse hid his sniggers and kept going. “Uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh.”

Scar casted confused glances at the three, but they took no notice. Martyn, in the audience, clapped his hand over his mouth and shook violently, while Skizz glared at him.

“Don't look too hard 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me~” Scott fingered his jacket, like he does when he’s nervous. “~~~” Pearl did her best to mimic the louder voices on the track.

“I've gotten good at making up metaphors. I've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape,” Pearl sung, not giving notice of Cleo, Grian and Martyn letting out fits of silent laughter while Scar watched, way confused than before.

“And all these words are sweet and meaningless. You can't trust a single thing I say.” Scott smiled, knowing that his friends below finally understood the song’s meaning. He knew it wasn’t his, it never was, but being able to preform it, to sing it was a really good experience, and he would keep going. “Uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh~”

“You can't trust a single thing I say (“uh-uh-uh-uhh-uh-uh”),” Pearl sang while Scott played the background sound. “You can't trust a single thing I say (“I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors”). You can't trust a single thing I say (“I've gotten good at making up metaphors”)~”

By the time Impulse and Pearl finished, almost everyone except for Joel, Ren and Lizzie were there, applauding. Skizz let out a whistle while the three who were holding it in the whole time burst out laughing so hard. Grian actually fell over.

“Yeaaaahhh!” Pearl whooped, then hi-fived Impulse. Scott sighed with relief while Scar began questioning Grian and Martyn about what they were laughing at. They didn’t seem to give it in and were both sniggering. Scar finally slapped Grian and it ended up as a fistfight between Scar and winged Grian.

As Scott helped Pearl and Impulse put the his drums back in his room, Scott felt joy surging through him. They could play all of the Crane Wives songs, after all, with Impulse. This would be a massive project, but at least his friends are content with it.

Next

Previous

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 6

Summary: Rory arrives in Urzikstan, meets Gaz for the first time, and reads Price to filth

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, mentions of manipulation, smoking, flirting, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamic, war criminals in love

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.2 k

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 0430 - US Army Base, Urzikstan

The last rumble of the plane's landing gears hitting the tarmac stirred Rory from her less than restful sleep, her eyelids shooting open as the juttering skid of screeching rubber and bouncing shocks caused the shell of the plane to creak around her. Her body clock was completely rattled and left her playing catch up across time zones – that three and a half hour difference could be the straw that broke the camel’s back if a soldier wasn’t prepared. Unfastening her seatbelt, she stood up once the aircraft finally came to a full stop, stretching out her sore back and shoulders after being trapped in the same cramped position for hours. Every bone and joint crunched and popped like rice cereal. Twelve years of this shit and it wasn’t getting any easier on her body. Scooping up her duffel and swinging it over her shoulder, the weight of it cut into her with the heft of a butcher’s cleaver through tender meat. The shoulder injury she had received in Russia never had properly healed, an uncomfortable reminder of the not so distant past and what she was fighting for. 

Weaving through the crates, she stood at the top of the ramp at the tail end waiting for it to lower with the all clear from the crew and pulled out her pack of smokes from the pocket of her fatigue pants, slipping a cigarette between her lips. Amber lights inside started to blink, strips on the ramp lit up shortly after and the loud clank and boom of mechanisms lowering the ramp began to whirr. Cupping her hand around her lighter, shielding the flame from the gust of air blowing past her as the hull opened like a gaping maw, she lit her cigarette and made her way in a steady march down towards the ground below. Her feet back on solid earth with that unwelcome crunch of sand under the tread of her boots. 

“Morning, Sergeant.” Kate stood there on the edge of the tarmac, Rory’s only welcoming party member, her arms crossed over her chest. Unease . She could read it all over the American’s face. Looking like a slapped backside, lips twisted into a grimace, eyes weary – it didn’t take a genius to know that something was wrong no matter how cool a facade the CIA Station Chief wished to present. “You look like you could use this more than I could right now,” Rory said, passing her cigarette to the older woman without hesitation.

Laswell accepted the gift of nicotine and placed it between her lips. “Much appreciated.” Taking a long drag, she breathed out a heavy sigh full of smoke and frustration. “Things didn’t go as planned with Sulaman.” Leading her back towards the base, Kate had that no nonsense look about her as she moved with steady steps. A shock hit Rory like a bucket of ice water being poured down her back and her jaw clenched in response, she needed to know just how bad the situation was. Preparation was key when entering a shitstorm like this. “ Meaning ?” “AQ and their supporters attacked the embassy last night; breached the containment on Sulaman. There were significant casualties, including the ambassador. Alex and Farah are headed to a position to flank the escape route now. Price and Garrick arrived back here roughly an hour or so ago.” “Fucking hell,” Rory muttered, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck, scuffing her boots as she walked. “Quite the time for my arse to arrive, eh?” “Would’ve liked to have given you a proper welcome.” With a brief half grin, Kate handed the cigarette back to her.

In the darkness of pre-dawn, the burning orange tip glowed like a torch as Rory inhaled, unwavering even with the breeze that ruffled through her hair. This was a mess that needed to be scraped off, cleaned up – and fast. Shrugging it off, she continued her even pace with Laswell. “Please, as if I need the bloody pomp and circumstance,” muttering around the cigarette in her mouth, readjusting the strap of her bag. “Just let me get settled and acquainted with the place and I’ll be all yours.”

Giving her a quick squeeze of her upper arm, Kate leaned in, voice kept low. “John is –”

“In a foul fucking mood, I presume?” Tipping her head to the side, Laswell pursed her lips slightly. “You could say that, yeah.” A very careful way of saying he was absolutely fuming but was keeping it under his carefully controlled guise of stoicism. Rory knew well enough that John wouldn’t have let someone like ‘The Wolf’ get away without a reason. With the Captain, it was dead or alive, escape was rarely ever an option and certainly not one given lightly. He must have been forced to cut his losses, preferring to live to fight another day, but she could already imagine the sting that decision left in his gut. She rolled her eyes to the heavens with a heavy sigh and raked her fingers through the roots of her hair before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the few fading embers left to drift out and die in the sand.  “I’ll see to him first then.”

Behind the barracks – out of sight, out of mind – she found John leaning against the wall shrouded in smoke, thick grey clouds of it spilling from his lips masking the furrowed brow and darkened stare while he stood with his arms crossed, looking out over the grounds of the base. Broad shoulders locked in a hunch, nostrils flared – oh yeah, he was definitely pissed . She dropped the stealth and moved so as not to startle him, her steps heavier to alert him to her presence. Her gaze dragged over him, noticing the tenseness in his body. He always carried his burdens physically, it certainly made it easier to know when to tread lightly. “Figured I’d find you somewhere you could be alone but still have your eyes on everything,” she whispered softly. Price said nothing, his eyes shifting to glance sideways, his face blanketed by shadow under the brim of his boonie hat with only the orange glow of his Villa Clara burning to give away his position. It was still dark, the deep navy sky scattered with a million white specks, scenery bathed in silvery moonlight before the sun would finally crack the horizon. “Perfect for brooding out here, eh?” she teased gently, moving closer to lean beside him on the wall, brushing her arm against his. 

A low grumble followed by the puff of smoke was all she was going to get from him. Should have known better than to try and lighten the mood right now . It was always a 50/50 toss up as to whether it would work, but it was the least she could do rather than letting him stew inside his head. “Saw your plane come in,” he said between clenched teeth, chomping down on his cigar. “How was the ride?” “Bit shaky.” The toe of her boot dug at the blue tinted sand, drawing stripes into it. “Nothing I’m not used to though.”

Nodding, he shifted his shoulders against the cement wall as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other having stood in one spot for too long. “Laswell told you what happened, yeah?” John’s voice was rough, hoarse. Too much time spent barking out orders while under enemy fire, his throat left to pay for that. “Yeah,” she breathed, resting her hands behind her back, pressing her fingertips into the abrasive texture of the wall, nails digging at the little divots and chalky imperfections in the construction. “Yeah, I’ve been made aware.” “Fuckin’ cock up,” he snarled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and we’ll sort it.”

The ridges in his brow creased, every line in his face deepening as his nose wrinkled and his lip twisted as he growled, “We had ‘im, Ror.” His finger curled around his cigar as he pulled it from his mouth, punctuating his words with a stabbing motion. “Right fuckin’ there.” Rubbing a gloved hand down his face, he sighed and looked up at the sky. 

Hazel eyes followed blue as he stared at the twinkling stars slowly fading while the sun worked to rise. Out here, away from the city lights and the pollution, every constellation was clear. A beautiful sight when you weren’t in fear of being shot at, bullets whizzing past like angry wasps, it gave a person the opportunity to truly appreciate them. Moments like this in a warzone were rare, even if it was merely the quiet before the storm. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Rory rolled onto her shoulder, turning to face him as she peered under the brim of his hat to look up at his steely eyes. His gaze flickered over to her, blue depths made especially icy after the failure of the hand-off of The Wolf. “Just once –” he grumbled.

A huffed laugh slipped from her as she rested her weight against the wall. “You’re preaching to the choir, my darling.” Pulling the hat from his head, John brushed his hand back and forth through his hair, roughing up the short lengths. “They were organized, AQ’s banner is bigger than just Sulaman. Has a piece of work as his right hand man too – the Butcher .” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Just lucky you weren’t there, sweetheart…” Her gut clenched at that, he was saving her the gory details which meant it was something he knew would have likely triggered her – women and children begging to be saved more than likely. She rested her hand on the back of her neck, something to keep it busy, to hide the tremor that still clung there. “Well, it’s not exactly like you’re without your assets too, eh?” Lifting her brow as she offered him a small grin, Rory tried to change the subject. “Speaking of – when do I get to meet this Sergeant Garrick?”

“That’ll have to wait. Ordered him to get some rest.” “But of course you didn’t take your own advice.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, sarcasm dripping from her words, “Surprise, surprise.” “Bugger that.” He took another pull of his cigar, looking at her from under his heavy brow. “Can’t sleep, waitin’ on word from Farah.” Rory nodded, giving a little hum as she looked out at the horizon in the distance, musing on the exploits of the commander of the Urzikstan Liberation Force. “She’s an impressive one, that one, isn’t she?” 

With a slight smirk, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Do I have to be worried that you’re gonna get tired of me with her around, darlin’?” John asked, shooting her a half-joking accusatory look. Quick to give him a playful smack to the arm in return, she snickered at his jab. “Oi! I’ll have none of that. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, remember?”

John wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in against him, fingers gripping at the side of her, thumb rubbing small circles against her hip. “That’s right, my girl.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he rested his chin atop her head, eyes scanning their surroundings. “No one else for ya, but me,” he murmured into her hair in a low gravel. “Says the man who wasn’t even there to greet me as I got off the plane,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t think I’m forgetting about that, I'm not letting you off easy.” Pulling away just enough to look down at her, his hands wrapped around her arms, his head lowering to meet her gaze. “I’ll make it up to you later, shall I?”

“You better,” she said with a cheeky grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight. “Love you, prat.”

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle as he exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth away from her, his fingers combing through her silky hair as he held her tighter against his body. Ensnaring her in his embrace, pressing her against his bulk as he laid another kiss on her forehead. 

Hours passed and servicemen milled around as the base started to come to life with the rising of the sun. Under a large tent with several long tables and chairs, Price and Rory sat together eating breakfast, chatting and laughing. Their forks poking at scrambled eggs, strips of bacon being torn and savored as they sipped their coffee – couldn’t trust Americans to make a proper cuppa, after all . Cutlery scraped against their trays between conversation when a clearing throat and a pulled out chair broke the comfortable air between the couple. “Sir, any word?” Gaz asked, settling into the seat beside Rory, giving her a friendly little nod. Judging by that introduction, Rory could only assume John had failed to mention to his newfound sergeant that she was even coming at this point, keeping his cards close to his chest, and here she was, some random stranger in fatigues.

“Not yet,” Price said, motioning towards the female sergeant at the table. “Garrick, I’d like you to meet Sgt. Rory Sinclair of the SRR,” he rumbled. “She’ll be joinin’ us for the rest of the mission.” Deep brown eyes fell on her, the young sergeant’s expression softening towards her as she extended her hand for him to shake. She had always painted an unassuming picture, especially when compared to someone like Price. The guise of the ‘Lamb’ still held, despite the world trying to swallow her whole and the innocence having long since faded from her. 

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Gaz replied, treating her to a charming smile as his hand wrapped around hers, grasping it in a firm shake. His hand was softer than John’s, less wear and tear from years of service, fewer calluses and ingrained dirt in the lines of the skin. Still fresh faced with hope in his eyes – she had forgotten what that even looked like until now. “Oh, please, no.” She shook her head, smiling warmly. “None of the formality. I might sound like I have a stick shoved up my arse, but I assure you, that’s not me.” Their hands parted as they both turned back to their meals. “The pleasure’s all mine,” Rory added with a little nod. 

John hummed, “Don’t let the poncy accent fool you, Kyle. This one here’s as hard as they come,” he said, tipping his head in her direction. “Ain’t that right, Sinclair?”

Her attention steered towards the Captain, a smirk pulled at her lips as she cocked her brow. “Thank you, sir.” Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and glanced sideways at the new sergeant appraisingly. It was easy to tell he wasn’t a veteran like her and Price, he carried himself differently than they did – didn’t appear quite so cynical and world-weary, perhaps. He made her curious. “Where’d you serve, Garrick? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “I didn’t,” He said with a soft grin, his thumb tapping against the warm mug of coffee. “I’m not army, ma’am – CTSFO.” Gaz shifted his shoulders a little and tucked into his food. 

Rory tried her best not to show any sort of reaction to this tidbit of information, remaining straight faced as her gaze lifted to meet Price’s, gauging his reaction to her questioning. She couldn’t help herself, knowing it was better to reserve her judgements and that trusting John’s opinion was paramount, yet she couldn’t help the initial bug that wriggled in her ear. “Oh, Police …” She nodded to herself. “Right then,” she said, filling the awkward silence as she prodded at her food with her fork. 

It didn’t help that she had been raised with a healthy distrust in the police, her father being a criminal defense barrister meant that he spent a fair share of his time pointing out the flaws in evidence collection and questioning, pinpointing where things went wrong so his clients’ names could be cleared. It wasn’t fair to the Sergeant to immediately be painted with the same brush as other police officers, especially considering how quickly people were to show bias towards soldiers simply for serving - though in her case, she likely deserved those wide strokes of the brush. “Well, at least you’re used to the whole anti-terror side of things, not completely innocent to all this, eh Garrick?” “Seen my fair share of things, yeah.” His smile remained, not wavering despite her questioning – he carried a quiet confidence. “Piccadilly, now the embassy.” Gaz shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, ending her line of questioning. “It was his intel that led us to the house in Camden Town,” Price added. “You don’t say.” She glanced up at Price before redirecting her focus back to Garrick with a smug little grin. “Got something to prove then, yes?” “Just like you did.” John leaned his head down towards her, looking up at her through his creased brow in a challenge. 

She was pushing her luck and she knew it, slipping into her old routine of reading a person like they were a target she had strapped down to a chair to interrogate, rather than an ally. Zeroing in on the weak spots to tear them down, aiming for the jugular – an unnecessarily brutal reaction upon first meeting someone, but a natural defense she had built up over the years all the same.    “Quite right.” Rory grimaced and had the last sip of her coffee. “Well, nothing wrong with some new blood added to the team, yeah? Was in your position once myself. I look forward to working with you, Sergeant.” She stood up, collecting her dishes. “And if Price trusts you, then suppose I can too.” Patting Gaz’s shoulder, she moved away from the table to bring her dishes over to the dish pit bins. 

Walking away from the mess tent, she pulled the packet of cigarettes from her pocket and made her way over to the designated smoker’s section, tapping the carton against her thigh as she moved. Christ. she forgot how terrible she could be at making first impressions. It was no wonder her father had given up on trying to get her to meet his high society friends and associates, she had no bloody time for any of them and was too quick to nitpick at the flaws – not that she was any better. Pot meet kettle. 

Finding an empty patch of sand to stand in, she slipped a cigarette from the pack and brought it to her lips, pulling out her lighter next, following every step in the smoker’s ritual she had become tied to, the motions becoming just as much of an addiction as the shot of nicotine into her body with each puff. When the heavy crunch of boots – seemingly from out of nowhere – caught her off guard, the cigarette snatched away from her by large, rough hands. “Oi!” Turning to face Price looming over her, he blotted out the sun from the sky as he crossed his arms over his chest, her cigarette held firmly between his fingers. “What was that?” he rasped.

“What was what?”

Met by his stern countenance in response to her feigned innocence, her brows furrowed. “I was just trying to figure out why you picked him, is all. You always have a reason for everything. I was curious.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ror.” He shook his head and leaned down, further encroaching into her personal space. “Might not be a veteran like us, but he has it in ‘im. I can see it. That drive to make things right.” Eyes narrowing, she tilted her head and the cogs turned inside it. “No matter the cost?” His hands wrapped around the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, reacting with a bounce of his heels. “Eventually, yeah.” The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smirk. There it was . That little bit of pride that John couldn’t hide as it bubbled up to the surface, knowing he had Garrick right where he wanted him. 

If a person was to scrape off enough layers on anyone who worked in the world they did, eventually it would be found that when sufficient time was spent inside the life a rot would set in. Casual acquaintances, colleagues, family, friends, lovers – they all fell prey to the same form of thinking, every little nugget of information was a tool to be used. They could be someone that was trusted, and still the ability to exploit them existed in the back of the head. She knew John had a vault of secrets to be used against her, and in an act of mutually assured destruction she could promise the same thing about him – Laswell was no different. They were all in this same boat together, and now, Price had invited someone else to sink into this tar pit trap with them. “I know it wasn’t just his drive you chose him for, John. Every fucking soldier has drive and you’ve got the pick of the litter – there’s always something more. An eagerness, a hunger.” Rory pressed her finger into the thick material of his vest covering his chest. “That’s what you look for. And the fact that he doesn’t have years of military training under his belt? Well, that just means he’s all the more malleable, yeah?” Her self-satisfied smile painted her lips as her brow cocked. “The perfect little protege. He's a blank canvas to mold to your liking.”

“Ror –”

“Oh come on, John. Taking him under your wing, teaching him about how the world really works – or at least according to Captain Price, where the mission and its success is absolute. You've struck gold with this one, eh?” The sardonic grin grew on her face, knowing she had him dead to rights as he glared at her. “Tell me I'm wrong then. Acting mentor to someone who's none the wiser, who never had to go to war. You're in your element now, love.” 

Cold, mirthless blue eyes landed on her and she met him with her haughty smirk. His brand of intimidation had never struck the fear into her it was supposed to – he had other tools that worked far better in his arsenal. She was the rare soul who could stand up to John Price because she knew he was wrapped around her little finger in the end, and just like he had assumed all those years ago in the desert when they were alone together, she had learned to read him like a book despite that unknowable gaze and the things that lurked behind it. “You like the control, John. Always have. I knew that getting into bed with you – it’s no skin off my nose,” she said with a little shrug. “You like being the handler who knows what to say and do to get us all to follow your lead. You say ‘jump’, we say ‘how high’.” 

Shaking her head, Rory mused over the fact that this man’s whole persona had become so intrinsically linked with his rank, the power dynamics that came with it, and the weight he wielded against others – herself included – yet at the same time, the more tied together they became the more she held him by the scruff of the neck over the fact that he wasn’t willing to see her harmed again, to ever lose her. “The feeling of success is strong, but being able to wield failure against someone, that’s all the more powerful, isn’t it?” She scoffed, the smile never leaving her face. “And here I thought you might have turned over an altruistic new leaf.” 

He cut the distance between them, hunching forward, their eyes locked. “Weren’t you the same as him? Gave you a shot and look at you now, my girl. Not a single soul in the world I trust more than you, and that’s sayin’ something.” She sighed, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she lowered her voice, “Well let’s hope you don’t decide to fall in love with him too then, eh?”

“Just you, my girl.” He smirked at her, all the lines on his face crinkling. “That honor’s all yours.” Gripping her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up to look at him as he slipped her cigarette back between her lips. Steely eyes narrowed, flicking from her lips to her eyes, drawing her in with his husky whisper, “Now, be a good girl, and stop pushin’ buttons. Clear?”

Rory’s breath hitched in her throat, but she maintained control of each little reflex and tic. “Yes, Captain . Crystal.”

Pulling the lighter from his vest, he flipped open the lid and held the flame to her cigarette tip, letting it burn and smoke. The glow reflected in his irises as he looked down at her, the predatory gaze lingering for a moment as the fire weaved back and forth as it flickered. “You’re lucky we’re on base right now, you know that?” He husked, flicking the lid shut on the lighter, staring at her for a moment longer than necessary before stepping away and leaving her to her cigarette. 

Now she definitely needed the fag.

[thedo0zyslider]

ITS MY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF WRITING FANFIC!!! Thought I would celebrate by dusting off some of my old rottmnt drafts! Today and tomorrow are turtle story days <3

So for the anniversary, I present to you:

Overtime - 5k Words

After the battle with the Kraang, Donnie finds himself feeling very overwhelmed and out of it. Leo has no problem helping him through it, thankfully.

A03 Link

Donnie sat on the broken ground, slumped in a pile together with his brothers. The Kraang were defeated now, after who knows how many hours of fighting and a pretty big number of near death experiences. Raph had just finished giving them all the most bone crushing hug, which was okay by Donnie this time, not by all his injuries. Now the three of them sat there, recovering, and trying to summon the will to move.

Mikey was still holding on to Raph, as if scared he would leave them again. Which, valid fear after today. Leo was smushed into between the latter and Donnie, somehow still conscious after the final fight. At some point their hands had found each other, as the adrenaline started to wear off, and Donnie was gripping onto his sibling like a lifeline.

As the adrenaline started to wear off, and Donnie slowly came back to his senses, he felt two things. The first was pain, and a lot of it. Everything on him hurt, and it was excruciating . All of his limbs, his shell, his sides, absolutely everything . While Leo and Raph had taken more of a beating than their younger brothers, Donnie and Mikey’s wounds weren’t anything to be scoffed at. He had a good amount of cuts, most still bleeding, and probably some internal injuries as well. If he had to bet on it.

The second thing Donnie felt was the lingering, yet still there, sensation of the Kraang. How their tentacles felt against his skin, the sliminess of it. How squishy it was and how it felt around his arms. The feeling of being mind-melded with those foul beasts.The tentacles pulling him from the ship and the horror of it all. It made the turtle want to lose what little lunch he had left in him.

He suppressed a shudder, and gripped onto Leo's hand tighter.

There were….a lot of emotions running through him right now. Fear of the Kraang, for his brothers, for himself. Still lingering and now displaced grief for Leo. The fear of losing his twin, someone so close to him. The worry for Mikey when the leader Kraang sent them flying down to earth, surely to their deaths if Raph hadn't been there. Every single bad emotion he'd felt in the past twelve hours was there too, all piled and stacked on top of each other like a torture device.

But mostly it was still grief for Leo. Which is why he'd reached for His brother in the first place, and held his hand tight. To make sure he was real, and that this wasn't some cruel dream or hallucination. Please don't be a stress-induced hallucination.

“Donnie?” Leo mumbled after a moment, looking over at his twin. “You okay?” He squeezed his twins hand experimentally, slightly worried gaze boring into the other's skin. He was still worried for his siblings, even though he was probably dazed as hell and just as out of it as they all were. The idiot. He should focus on himself first, not his twin.

Donnie didn't respond verbally, because he couldn't, but he did squeeze his brother's hand back. He buried his head further into Leo's side as well, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh.” Leonardo mumbled, going a little soft. “Yeah, I think I wanna do that too.” He tightened his grip on his brother's hand a little more, hoping the action was as grounding as he wanted it to be.

“Can I keep touching you?” He asked quietly, Raph and Mikey being forgotten for a moment. The other two were still nearby, and were aware of Donnie’s condition, they were just making sure not to crowd him right now.

Donatello nodded once for yes , as they always did when one of them got like this. Two nods meant no , and three meant that you were unsure of whatever you were being asked. The system had been devised years ago, when they were much smaller, and had worked pretty well. If one of them couldn't nod, they would tap or blink or do something else instead.

“Okay…is it the noise?” He asked, brows furrowing. He moved, so Donnie was more in his lap, even if simply existing hurt like a bitch right now, let alone moving . But it let his twin curl better, without retreating into his possibly damaged shell, and hide further away from any light or noise. Oh, Leo had forgotten to ask if it was light bothering him! Dangit

His brother nodded no again, and Leonardo moved onto the next option, other than the light sensitivity one. Donnie was also breathing normally, as far as he could tell. Which was good. So he wasn't having any kind of attack like Leo silently feared, something had just pushed him over the edge and finally overwhelmed him after all. “Do you need silence? Or is it the light?”

It took Donnie a moment to think, to really listen to see if the sound is bothering him. He doesn't open his eyes to test the light, so it's probably not that. Even if Leo couldn't have done anything about the sun, except for hiding him or getting him indoors quickly. After a minute, Donnie shakes his head no once more, and Leo yet again moves onto the next option. Which he will keep doing until he finds the reason for this.

And if there's no clear reason, he'll sit on this stupid island with his twin until he starts to feel better.

“Pain? Something else?” He hums, taking a quick glance of the wounds he could see on Donnie; the medic side of his brain already starting to fire up. Donnie nods twice for yes, and Leo gets his answer. And thankfully it's something that can be solved, relatively soon too if they're lucky.

“Mmm, okay.” Leo chirped, wondering if the pain was in his shell. He had heard something about it being exposed at one point, so it was a possibility. Hopefully, if it was, it wasn’t too bad of an injury. That was probably the case, considering how sensitive that part of him was. “Can you walk?”

Donnie does three nods, saying he doesn’t know, and probably doesn’t want to find out. Or leave his twin’s side. In response Leo just makes his voice sound as reassuring as possible, and promises something that’s pretty impossible right now. “We'll just carry you back to the medbay then!”

“Leo, you're too injured to even walk! You can't carry Dee too!” Raph protests, taking his eyes away from Mikey; who has now gone to inspect the oldest brother’s injuries in return. The Raph Cassum is already starting to form at the thought of the very injured Leo carrying his brother, and the leader can do nothing but sigh at the overprotectiveness. At least it wasn’t misplaced this time.

“One problem with that, hermano , he’s stuck himself to me.” Leonardo huffs, ghosting his free hand over Donnie’s battle shell. He knows it was replaced mid fight, and is now checking for breaks in the material. And if there was a break or two, he would check for any blood and cuts that might be exposed with it.

“Guess Raph’ll just have to carry you both.” The oldest grumbled, already looking prepared to scoop half his siblings into his arms. Mikey looked like he wanted to help as well, and then seemed to remember the state of his hands with a rather large pout. Poor little guy.

“Woah Woah! Are you sure you can handle that? You just had Kraang inside you!” Leo protested, finishing checking the battle shell. There was nothing wrong with it, but Donnie surely had injuries elsewhere. Not that he could see them, nor would he move his brother to do so, but Leo was pretty sure that some blood had been dripping on him slowly for the past few minutes. Blood that wasn’t his own. Fuck.

Raph snorted, and shook his head all determined like. What a big teddy bear he was, truly, especially for the three of them. Though he would never be quick to admit it.. “I've carried you guys home through worse!”

“If you say so….” Leonardo murmurs, narrowing his eyes. He was sure Raph hadn't carried them home through worse, even on the worst days of their childhoods. But arguing with his younger brother was not worth it, especially when they're both injured. That's something Leo has come to realize as of late.

Mikey interrupts their conversation with a loud noise. He bumps shoulders with Raph best he can, all excited over something. “Guys! April's texting me!” He nearly yells out, fumbling with the buzzing phone now in his hand.

“Your phone's still intact!?” Leo exclaimed, a slight smile starting to form on his face. His phone was absolutely broken, even despite Donnie’s expert tech, and had no idea what their other siblings' phones looked like. Probably not in good condition, if he had to bet, and didn't think that Mikey's was any better. “It's like, indestructible or something!”

“Yeah it is!” Mikey says, a smile faltering as his gaze moves back down to his phone. It looks almost…painful to hold it, with all the cuts and scrapes lining his skin. “I can't really…use my hands though.”

“Gimme the phone!” Leo said, making grabby hands the best he could. Well, more like a grabby hand , since Donnie was gonna be holding his right one for the foreseeable future. He was sure Raph could've typed to April just as well, but he was the leader now. And he didn’t want to worry Raph with the responsibility of arranging a meetup, not anymore then he'd burdened his brother already.

“M’kay!” Mikey said, reaching over Raph to hand it to him. The oldest brother let Leo handle the rest of their family, and turned to Mikey instead. Raph went to look at Mikey’s damaged hands, while Leo opened the phone and the messages that had been sent. It was a lot of April yelling at them in worry, so he chose to read only a few that he could give a concrete response to. And ones that would get them all home faster.

Apes: MIKEY!!! ARE YOU GUYS OKAY!?? WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!?

Mikey: HI APRIL this is Leo!! We're all alive. Micheal can't use his hands and Donnie’s a little overwhelmed, plus my whole body hurts and Raph’s like half blind rn.

Mikey: we're on staten island (ew) and Donnie’s clinging to me like a koala. And also we might not be able to walk

Apes: me and splints will come get you in the van

Mikey: thanks. Where's future boy?

Apes: he found us dw

Mikey: okay tyy. See you when u get heree <3

“She said her, Dad and Casey will come pick us up!” Leo said, looking up from the screen. He distantly saw April reply with a <3 of her own, but his focus was already away from the screen for the next little while. “You don’t have to carry us after all Raph!” He went to throw Mikey’s phone back to him, but then remembered the hand problem. Instead he gave his little brother a sympathetic look, and pocketed it himself instead. Mikey just gave a nod, and glared sourly down at his injured limbs.

“Uh good,” Raph mumbled, a little sheepish. “Because I wasn't sure I could do it.” He rubbed the back of his head, and Leo just snorted with light amusement. Good to see Raph back to his typical overprotective brother stuff, even after they had all almost died.

Leo gave an eye roll at that, and looked back down to Donnie. He would let Mikey respond to that for now, he had a younger twin to take care of. “You hear that, Dee?” He muttered, noting how his brother seemed to be listening in, despite his state. “April's coming to get us. And dad.”

Donnie hummed in acknowledgement, and lifted his head up. He was tired of hiding it like a baby. This also meant he had to open his eyes, and readjust to the dying daylight around them. But it wasn’t as bad as the aches and pain and the gross feeling that’s still all over him. He doesn’t really move from where he sits in Leo’s lap, nor does he speak, but he does look around while they wait for April and the other two. Mikey ends up sitting in front of all of them, looking for any matching scars they had from opening the portal. Well, all but Leo, who used to look on with an indescribable look on his voice. Donnie made the mental note to pick his twin’s stupid brain later, because they were all going to have to talk about it eventually. Even if none of them really wanted to…

It’s not long before the Turtle Tank has made its way onto the island, no doubt having to move carefully around all the rubble. It’s really impressive how fast it got there from town, actually, considering Leo had texted April less than twenty minutes ago. But regardless, three familiar figures step out of the massive van; Splinter ends up with Mikey and Raph, while April crouches in front of the wins after basically beelining for them. Casey just stands away, unsure what to do with himself for the next few minutes.

“Is Donnie okay!?” April asks, crouching on the ground next to the boys. She gives all of them a worried look, but especially Donnie, who is still hiding his face in Leo’s plastron. It probably makes him seem more injured than he appears, even to someone as close to him as April. Heh, if she only knew the beating Leo had taken just before this, girl would lose her mind.

“Yeah. Just overwhelmed.” Leo says, making no move to shift the other off of him, not yet anyways. Donnie gives her a wave, and she returns the greeting with a small grin and a wave of her own.

“Oh, okay.” April sounds a little relieved, before quickly turning to go and bark orders at the future boy. “Casey! Help the others, will you?”

“Yes ma'am!” The boy in question responded, doing so with a salute. The gesture looked like it was how he always talked to April, like it was muscle memory for when she told him anything. Another weird future habit they’d have to slowly beat out of him over time, Leo supposed. If he even stayed with them after this in the first place.

Leo and Casey exchanged a quick glance before the latter walks off, and well…it was sure something. He seemed familiar with what was happening, and with the way he never got too close to Donnie; like someone who’d never seen him like this might. He had to wonder if the future version of his brother had these moments in the apocalypse, and how frequent they might’ve been on top of that. He wonders if there was anyone that could help him like they’re helping Donnie right now. Leo really hopes that there was.

“Do we have any medical supplies in the van?” April asked, probably because of the state all of them were in. Nevermind what injuries her and the other two possibly had. Though they surely weren't as severe as Leo or Mikey’s, the wounds were still bound to be pretty bad regardless.

“I think D put an emergency first aid kit in the back.” Leo mumbled, shifting a bit. He sensed April was ready to get them all inside the tank and off this island. To be honest, he was ready for that as well. Also, Donnie was kinda heavy and laying on injured limbs, no offense to him of course.

April nods, and prods Donnie lightly in the leg. The latter rolls his eyes, and pokes her back playfully. “Okay, let’s get him in there then.”

Leo hums in agreement, near relieved to maybe finally have another person’s weight off his fucked up legs. Even though he would do all that again in a heartbeat if he had to, almost dying was just a real bitch. “Are you okay with being picked up, or can you walk?”

Instead of nodding, Donnie just decided to get it over with. He took a deep breath, before forcing himself to his feet. April jumped in surprise, and made sure he was steady on his feet. Though Donnie did have to lean on her shoulder just a little. When he was all good, April reached down to help Leo up.

The other twin took her hand gratefully, knowing he couldn’t really walk more than a few feet. All that stuff about carrying Donnie earlier had been fake bravado, mostly for his siblings sake. So they wouldn’t worry as much, so they wouldn’t know how much of a beating the Kraang leader had given him. That all seemed stupid now, because they could all see the way he was practically carried into the turtle tank like a child.

Once they’re inside, Donnie points to where that supposed medpack is. April nods, and sets both the boys down beside them. She halves whatever medical supplies are hanging around with Casey, and the two of them get to treating the injured turtles. Splinter drives, because other than April, he’s the only one who knows the route home. Donatello goes to curl in on his brother again, still having a rather tough time, despite the now dimmer light of the turtle tank. Though he doesn’t get to stay there for long, as April crouches in front of both the twins expectantly, first aid supplies in her hand. Ones that will have to do it for now, before they can get back to the lair’s medbay and properly treat their wounds.

“Can April patch you up?” Leo asked, moving so April had more room to sit in front of Donnie, but not enough to let go of his twin’s hand. The other still didn’t say anything, just nodded furiously and made a noise in the back of his throat. A very clear yes, considering it was the sensations that were overwhelming him in the first place. “Okay!” April said, her voice calm and steady. Like a real nurse or something like that. Something she’d be good at. “This’ll only take a minute okay? Just uncurl yourself?”

“….ine.” Donnie mumbled. He meant to say fine instead of whatever he’d muttered out, but the f sound had not come out. The turtle was still a little overwhelmed it seemed, even if it was slowly getting better. And by slowly he meant very, very slowly. He was hoping the first aid would help speed that process up.

“Hey, he’s back.” Leo teased, nudging him very softly in the side.

Donnie rolled his eyes and huffed, all his words coming out properly this time. Thankfully, them not doing so made him sound stupid. He hated sounding stupid. “Can it, Nardo.”

“You know you love me!” His twin shot back, a cocky look on his face. If Leonardo wasn’t in pain, he would probably be throwing an arm around the others shoulder, to be even more obnoxious. It was his specialty, after all. “I’m still mad at you, for the record Leo.” April pipes up, having carefully wrapped one of the larger cuts on Donnie’s arm already. She’d taken it without asking, well used to patching up her boy's dumb wounds. The disinfect stung as it always did, but it was better than leaving it open. Donnie knew that, though he still hated the extra flash of pain it brought to him in the moment.

Leo looked down at the tank’s floor, maybe a little sheepish, or guilty. Key word being maybe . If Donnie knew his twin, and he liked to think that he did, he probably didn’t regret that self sacrifice much at all. The dumb-dumb. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I gotta patch you up as well?” April sighed, scanning over Leo’s wounds. The external ones anyways. The tank goes over a bump, probably a piece of debris or something, as April moves onto the several cuts on Donnie’s arms. All either from the falling glass, concrete or whatever else. The others are having a quiet conversation, just like their own, on the other side of the van. Donnie is enjoying the reactive silence a lot more than he probably should, heart still aching from earlier.

“Heh, probably.” Leo hums. Donnie’s hand never leaves his, and hasn’t this whole time, even when he squeezes it hard in pain. Enough to hurt his twin. Yet they both sit there in silent companionship, as they are healed and driven home, surrounded by their big dumb family.

A few hours later, they’re all home and rested. The turtles are all hauled up in the medbay for who knows how long, injuries and broken parts of them being fussed over. April doesn’t leave, standing over Casey’s side as he treats them all. It makes sense the kid is so good at this stuff, since he survived the apocalypse and all. Though eventually Donnie, who’s still not done winding down, requests a separate room. Or at the very least his bed be put further away. He doesn't want to inconvenience anyone while they’re properly treating Mikey and drugging up Leo so he’ll sleep for once, but he doesn’t want the noise to upset him even further. But no one seems to think it’s an inconvenience, and April moves him away from the worst of it, as far as she can.

They sit together for a while, just sitting and laying together, before April has to go home. Her mom is worried sick about her after the recent attacks, and is blowing up what remains of her phone. Three of them do have to basically shove her out the door, threatening to sic Draxum on her, but she does eventually leave. Not without giving all her boys the biggest hug though.

About thirty minutes later, Mikey pops his head in. Donnie is sitting on his bed, humming and drumming his fingers against the sheets when he enters. He knows he needs to sit here to get better, and that logically doing so would get him back to inventing faster. But on the other hand, he hates sitting there with nothing to do or nothing to play with. It was driving him more mad than the lingering sticky feeling was, one that didn’t go away with most of his pain.

“Oh, Donnie! You’re better!” Mikey says, his usual cheerful demeanor a little dulled. Donnie looks over in surprise, not having anticipated a visitor. But he will use this new opportunity to his advantage, because he currently cannot walk very far. And there is nothing within reaching distance that will get the sticky feeling off of him.

He hates asking Mikey a favor immediately like this, but he thinks the other gets it. The youngest brother has his moments too, where the sensations get too much and he needs to scrub them away. Donnie would know, they both found out their least favorite textures through a lot of trial and error over the years. Like, a lot a lot. “Hi, I need hand sanitizer. Please. And something to fiddle with?”

“I gotchu!” Mikey said, and dashed behind the medbay’s curtain just as quickly as he had appeared. Maybe three or five minutes later, he was popping back in. It was impressive how fast the little guy moved sometimes. In Mikey’s arm was Donnie's preferred brand of hand sanitizer, probably straight from his room if he had to guess. There was also a chinese finger trap, probably also from his bedroom, and two stuffed animals as well.

“Where Raph?” He asked, taking the hand sanitizer and finger trap from Mikey as he spoke. He sat the fiddle toy down on the bed, and frantically opened the bottle as quickly as he could. Hand sanitizer, his sweet, sweet savior.

The younger hummed, holding both of the stuffed toys closer to his chest, probably to comfort him, if Donatello had to guess. “Resting!”

“And Leo?” Donnie scrubbed the gel-like substances into his hand, a lot harder than he should. But he didn’t care. It was making the bad and gross sensations go away after hours of suffering, which was all he cared about. As long as he didn’t rub his hands so hard he bled, the turtle would be fine .

“Knocked out on painkillers, behind that curtain.” Mikey said, moving one stuffed animal so he could point. The mere mention of Leo made his brows furrowed in worry, and Donnie filed that away for later. He would have to do a one over on his twins status as soon as he got the chance, if it was worrying Mikey that much. “He’s pretty roughed up, but Casey said he’d pull through.”

“Good.” Donnie hummed, now satfisted with his amount of scrubbing and hand sanitizer applied. He sets the bottle to the wayside as well, and turns hi attention to the toys his brother is clutching still. “Is that one of your stuffies?”

“Yeah, It’s Mr. Snuggles!” Mikey says, holding up an off-colored brown teddy bear the Donnie recognized from their childhood. It was so old the brown was turning a yellowish-orange, and its fur had to be unsoft now, but anyone could tell Mikey still loved it dearly. He holds out the other stuffed toy next, one that isn’t quite as old. It’s a purple rabbit with wiry looking fur, a pink nose, white markings and small beady, black eyes. “I thought you would like Bunbun, because he’s purple.”

“That is objectively the best color…” Donnie hums playfully, as if considering the gift. As if he would ever decline such a wondrous gift from his dearest Micheal. But he does accept eventually. “I’ll be very careful with him.”

“I know!” Mikey smiled, letting his older brother gently take the stuffed animals from him. “Mayhem tried to eat him.” He snorted affectionately, evidently having run into the little dog-mutant-pet thing on the way here. Because April had left her whole dog at the lair again, somehow. Or maybe the weirdo had wanted to stay with them, who knows. “Of course.” Donnie snorted, placing the stuffed rabbit in his lap. It was more soft and less wiry feeling than it looked, which was a pleasant surprise. He hugged the thing closer to his plastron, glad to finally have something softer than the crappy, horrible-feeling medbay blankets underneath him.

“Can I stay with you for a bit?”Mikey asked, shuffling even closer to the bed, and hugging Mr. Snuggles even tighter. “Everyone else is sleeping and I don’t wanna be alone.”

Donnie patted the spot next to him on the bed, feeling a fond smile slip past his lips. “Hop up here, Micheal.” He said, and his brother did just that, getting cozy right next to him, stuffed animal still firmly in his arms.

Mikey leaves, after a few hours of dozing off and goofing around, the best that two injured turtles can. When he does leave, it is to go help Raph and Papa with something. He says he’ll try very hard, even if his hands are clumsy and bandaged. Micheal scurries out, clearly glad to be helpful, and leaves Mr. Snuggles under Donnie’s protection for a little while.

An hour later, Leo is awake. And walking for some reason. Donatello finds out his twin is awake when he’s the next to pull their curtain back, and saunters towards Donnie’s bed like he wasn’t in the prison dimension less than twenty four hours ago. At least he thinks it’s been less than a day, the turtle lost track of time once the invasion started, and had stopped trying to track it towards the middle of their fight.

“Greetings Nardo.” Donnie says, taking in the state of his brother. This is the most injured he’s ever been, period, if the ungodly amount of bandages indicted anything. Holy moly that was…. a lot of bandages. He distantly hoped none of them were dirty, because of how hard they would all be to change. “Sorry for clinging to you earlier.”

“It's fine.” Leo shrugged, Donnie watching as his twin leaned against the side of the hospital bed. “I think I need that, something touching me that wasn't Kraang.”

“Well, I'm glad I could be of service.” He mumbles, and dangles a hand off the edge of the bed. Just like they used to do, when they were kids and one of them had a really bad nightmare. Leo puts his arm in the most comfortable position he can, and takes it wordlessly with a squeeze. “How’re Raph and Mikey? And the others?”

Leo recited their family members' conditions with a hum, telling his twin all the medical stuff he knew the other really wanted to know. “Raph has some eye and internal stuff, just needs rest and time. It's fifty-fifty on if he can use that eye again. Mikey is pretty upset about his hands, and he’ll have to relearn how to use them, but other than that he's okay physically. Casey said he had a lot worse before and that he can recover quickly, Dad just broke, like, most of his old-ass ribs, and April is in the best condition of all of us. Draxum and Cassie haven’t contacted us yet, so I have no idea how they are.”

Donnie took a second to process all of that, committing all those details to his memory for later reference and worry opportunities when something inevitability went wrong, then nodded. “How about you?”

“I shouldn’t be outta bed, but I hate laying there by myself.” Leo says, predictably not telling Donnie about his own condition and injuries. Which was fine, he’d find them out one way or another eventually. Someone needed to make this idiot rest, and Mikey and Raph didn’t have the bullshit wrangling skills you develop by being twins with Leonardo Hamato.

Donnie sits up with a huff, one of annoyance at his brother's carelessness. He’s covered head to toe and bandages, two of his limbs are in a splint, and he’s walking around like nothing happened. Does he want to not heal!? “Dumb-Dumb.”

“I know.” Leo snorted, leaning his head up to get a better glance at his sibling. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit. When're my injuries healing, dear medic.” He responded, looking down at his brother. He went to grab for the chinese finger trap Mikey had brought, knowing he’d need to stim with something to get through this conversation.

“Two or three weeks, give or take.” Donnie lets out a pained grown at hearing that, and Leo cracks an amused grin in response. Enjoying his twin’s suffering, how dare he, truly. What a cruel man he was. “At least you don't have to wait a month like me!”

“Yet you're still out of bed.” Donnie quipped back, giving the other a pointed look. He really wanted his brother to go back to bed, but knew that was a rare thing normally, and probably would be unlikely for the foreseeable future, until he was healed that is.

Leo cracks a smile, one not from joy, but something else. Something that shouldn’t be in his smile, and it hurts that it is. “Painkillers are a hell of a drug.”

“Idiot.” He mumbled, affection buried under the layers and layers of annoyance.

“I know.” Leo’s smiled faltered, and the frown that crossed his face was almost worse.

“Congrats on saving the world, by the way.” Donnie said, but the words sounded dead, even to him. He did mean it earnestly, a little bit. But he thinks the rest of him is still recovering from the…the everything and the feelings he will never know how to put into words. Because he’s bad with feelings.

Yeah. that .

“You're being nice, what's wrong?” Leo says, somewhat teasingly. He knows Donnie is upset, and is attempting the feelings talk. That’s why his tone is light, to make the process easier for his brother. For both of them. Donatello appreciates when he does that, more than he will ever, ever admit.

“I'm tired and thought you almost died, that's why.” Donnie snorted, his grip tightening on his brother's hand again. He didn’t want to ever let go, not after today, not after the prison dimension, not ever. He wanted to keep this dumb-dumb close and never let go, not until he knew they were all okay again.

Leo let a chirping sound escape from the back of his throat, as if he was trying to be soothing. It only somewhat worked, but both twins probably expected that anyways. “Ya know what, that's fair.”

“Stay?” Donnie mumbled, suddenly understanding how Mikey had felt just hours ago. He very much did not want to be alone anymore. He was finding he hated it actually, and probably would for the next little while. Without his family beside him, lord knows where they could possibly be, or if they were okay. Especially Leo.

“I think Raph would kill me if I left.” Leo giggled, pulling his one good leg up to his chest, so he could rest more comfortably. Donnie would let him on the bed if he didn’t have two splints and a scary amount of bandages that needed to be left undisturbed. “So yeah, I'll stay.”

“Thanks.” Donnie said, handing his twin Mr. Snuggles. He couldn’t keep two fluffy companions all to himself, now could he? And their owner certainly wouldn’t want that either!

“Don't mention it.” Leo took the old bear with a bond smile, and hugged it to his plastron, just like Mikey had done. Donnie did the same with Bunbun, and let the now comfortable silence fill the medbay once again, for what had to be the fifth time that day. Normally, he would hate having no sound, but some days, like today, it is nice to just hear nothing. To just be .

Donatello squeezed his hand once more, and Leonardo squeezed it back, just like he always did.

[schizosamwincester]

trick or treat!!!

You ever have that fic that you know you'll never actually bother to write, but you think about constantly? Or is that just a me thing?

Anyway so this fic exists where Sam gets his tongue cut out. And it's great. And the idea of how much that would change everything just will not ever leave my head.

What really gets me about it is a few things. One) the actual basic medical side of it, because that's not really a thing you think about. As in, yes, he can't talk, but which sounds could he still make? (yes I tested this by going through the alphabet and seeing which letters require a tongue) What about eating? I don't know about you, but if chewing and swallowing was as difficult as it would be without a tongue, I don't think I'd ever actually eat enough. So Sam never fully recovers from his starvation in the original fic. Sure, he eats enough to survive, but he's still skinny. To drop a snippet:

Dean still sighs sometimes when Sam gets naked. He'll run his hands across Sam’s exposed ribs, or settle them on his hollow stomach. Dean used to grab Sam's hips when they fucked, but not anymore. Not after the first time after, when Dean grabbed them and felt Sam’s hip bones poking out. Even a year out, Sam's bones still show. He's managed to regain his muscle—enough of it to hold his own in a hunt, at least—but he never got back the fat. He could only shovel down so much of the same mushy foods day after day. He didn't get any thinner. That was enough for Sam. 

Dean is still clearly disapproving. 

Sam knows he isn't as attractive as he used to be. His cheeks and eyes are sunken in. There are no soft parts left of him to grab.

Two) think about how much it changes every single moment of the show's formula. Sam can't exactly pretend to be an insurance or FBI agent anymore. Dean has to do that alone. Sam can't even easily blend in as a civilian — he'll always be obviously disabled as soon as anyone tries to talk to him, and thus attract attention. Sam can't shout his new revelation about how to kill this monster at Dean in the middle of a hunt. They can't even go into diners because Sam is self conscious of how he eats. Imagine: supernatural without diners.

Three) how much more wincestuous they'd be. Sam and Dean are codependent enough as it is, but imagine how much worse it is when Sam has nothing. No one can get to know him now, because he can't tell them about himself. He can't communicate with anyone. The only people who have ever really known him are dead... Except for Dean. Of course he and Dean end up together. Who else could ever love him when he's hardly more than a shell? And of course, because he can't talk, Sam is also deeply reliant on him just to survive.

Annyyyywwwaaayyyyy I have blabbered for a while. The point was supposed to just be me explaining enough to share this sample, lol.

The smart thing to do would be for Sam to wait in the Impala while Dean booked the rooms. They’d done it plenty of times before. It only made more sense to keep it going now that Sam drew attention.  It was just that he already was away from Dean so often, spending too many lonely days researching while Dean talked to victims and families. Dean snuck him in to examine the sites as often as he could, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like it used to be, when they spent every part of the hunt together.  It wasn’t so strange for Sam to stand at the counter while Dean made the reservations. Only one person needed to talk, anyway. If Sam made sure to look tired enough, there would be nothing suspicious at all. The clerk would just assume that Sam was busy trying to stay awake, and that would be that. Occasionally there were attempts at conversation, usually to the effect of “how are you two,” but Sam made do with eye contact and a smile. It worked. Somehow, it always managed to work.  More importantly, it meant more time leaning against Dean, or standing so close that their thighs and shoulders pressed together, or not touching Dean at all but still being able to take in his smell and feel the heat radiating off his body. It didn’t matter what, exactly, as long as it was some proof that Sam still existed. Being silent meant being ignored. Ghosts were more noticed than Sam. Not next to Dean, though. As long as Dean was there, someone knew that Sam was real. Someone cared. 

Well, that wasn't supposed to be this long, but happy Halloween, lol!

[kstewdeux]

@inuvember | Inuvember 2024 | Prompt Kikyo | Ao3

‘...To live is to die. To die is to live. My name is Kikyō. I am a priestess who is unable to leave this world and reach the sacred place. No, that is not entirely the truth. Once I was a priestess. Now I am but a corpse with a cursed, false existence. No matter how much I desire to do good and help others, the truth is I live off the souls of the dead. Pure is impure. Impure is pure. Good is evil. Evil is good.’

There was some irony in this to be sure, Kikyo thought to herself as she turned and ran - senses heightened to the point where every noise seemed louder. The sound of relentless, staggering footsteps echoing behind her, through the deserted forest and its many trees. The moonlight cast long shadows over the dried leaves crunching under foot, the light breeze rustling the barren branches overhead, the-

In front of her, shuffling slowly into view, were figures. At first glance, it appeared to be a man stumbling, maybe drunk or injured. But as Kikyo squinted to see better, her breath caught in her throat and her unmoving heart somehow skipped a beat. The men's skin has a pallid, grayish tone, with patches that look almost as if they're decaying. The clothes were torn, and through the rips, Kikyo could see sickly wounds with skin flaking off, revealing glimpses of bone beneath. Pale, decaying, or rotting skin, with visible wounds, discolored or bloodshot eyes. A head lolled slightly to one side, and as they drug themselves forward, a low, guttural moan escaped their lips.

Despite having just learned it was pointless, Kikyo raised her bow mid-stride and let loose an arrow which simply embedded itself in the rotten flesh. Another. Another. Another. She abruptly changed course and ran faster, harder. More bodies emerging from the shadows. Jagged teeth, coated with dried blood, snapping when she fails to notice a small child in her way. 

Yes, there was irony here, Kikyo somehow managed to think through the pure terror. A massive group was up ahead. There was no avoiding it. The dead were no longer resting quietly in their graves, men and women and children far more dead than-

Something cut through the masses up ahead. A flash of tan. Something gold. A flash of crimson. A short burst of flame.

Something grabbed her wrist and hoisted her into the air.

"Okay and up we go," Kagome's frantic voice breathed in her ear as the girl clawed as her clothes to assist. Kikyo stared wide-eyed at her reincarnation as she managed to settle on the demon cat's back.

"Y-you okay?" Kagome asked shakily - somehow arranging herself to face Kikyo as she checked the undead woman's wrists and arms, "They didn't bite you, right?"

Kikyo believed she made sometime of noise to indicate no and stiffly shook her head. The mass of tan suddenly returned and Kikyo jumped in surprise when the slayer's large boomerang was suddenly there being held at the ready. It was only then that Kikyo realized she was trembling.

The boomerang was swung again and Kikyo watched it go with shell-shocked eyes then wished she hadn't. Hundreds. Hundreds of putrid corpses.

"They're called zombies. I don't why I'm surprised they actually existed," Kagome tried the joke as she ran one hand over Kikyo's cold arm, "There's a whole world of art about them in my time. Everything thinks its make believe but they say the same thing about demons and, well, we know that's not true. Demons are real. Ghosts are real. Zombies apparently are real. Dunno what's next but I'd like it to be unicorns personally."

Kikyo didn't know what else to do with that strange explanation but nod. Well and-

"They are very dangerous. My arrows didn't-"

"Yup, yup, we learned that lesson too. My arrows didn't do squat," Kagome chuckled with the kindest, most understanding yet somehow disturbing smile. Kikyo felt a spike of self-loathing. This girl had every right to leave her to die a second time. Every right to be angry and cruel in this moment.

And yet...

"How does one kill them then?" Kikyo managed to get out. Kagome let out a weary and oddly bemused sigh.

"Aim for the head and do a double tap," she offered as she weakly mimed whacking something hard, "Destroy the brain. Don't get bit doing it," a pause, "They don't seem to like fire so maybe, you know, fire."

Kikyo blinked at her.

"And that works in your time?"

"I'm just going to assume yes because there aren't zombies in my time. So we beat them, presumably, if that's any consolation," Kagome hummed sympathetically - a frantic edge underlying her tone, "They say myths and legends have an origin somewhere, right? Guess this is that origin story. Fun times all around."

Kikyo nodded again because that seemed the thing to do. That and...

"T-thank you. For rescuing me," she offered hoarsely, "I a-appreciate the kindness."

"No problem. Just, you know, for the time being, if you could not try to kill us, that'd be cool," Kagome laughed softly - which struck Kikyo as rather odd. There was something hollow in the girl's eyes too that wasn't quite right, "Got enough problems at the moment."

Kikyo swallowed and did her best to stay calm.

"Is it an illness?" she blinked then tacked on, "And of course. Truce."

Kagome wrinkled her nose and shrugged - the odd look in her eyes exploding exponentially.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure if it's an illness or not. I'd assume yes. If you get bit, then you become one of those things. Unless, you know, the myths got it wrong in which case we'll all kinda screwed right now because that's all I got."

"Oh."

"Eh, we'll figure it out," Kagome giggled with a dismissive wave- sounding a bit deranged and frantic, "I'm sure it's fine."

Sango snorted from her place at the front - effortlessly catching her gut covered boomerang then unleashing it again. Kikyo watched it go again.

"Will they be alright? The ones fighting?"

"Well I sure hope so," Kagome offered with an odd smile and it occurred to Kikyo that the girl might be in shock as well. She swallowed again.

"It will alright," she offered with a weak smile, "I have full faith in Inuyasha, you and your friends. It will be a victory."

Kagome's odd expression faltered and softened.

"Yeah, it will. Thanks. Needed to hear that," she hummed.

Kikyo let out a shuddering breath - which was a rather odd sensation - before looking down at the carnage. Yes, yes, there was some irony in all of this.

"I am very glad I am not like that," Kikyo admitted hoarsely, "Things could always be worse."

Sango snorted again - catching then throwing her boomerang in one fluid movement.

"Ain't that the truth."

[goodlucktai]

Feel free to ignore this ask if it's overstepping, but whenever I have to do something stressful involving my mental health I channel/process those feelings by writing fanfic of my blorbos doing the same thing. So, any thoughts about rise Leo going to his first therapy session post-movie in the Hidden City? Could even take place in the City Lights verse.

x

Mikey is kicking the heel of his foot against the waiting room chair over and over, full of a restless sort of worry. 

It was an uphill battle getting Leo to agree to this in the first place. God, Mikey would almost rather fight the Shredder again then relive that first conversation about it. Being stubborn is a Hamato trait but Leo takes it to a whole new level. 

Thankfully, he is and always has been a daddy’s boy. 

“I have not always been a good father to you,” Splinter finally says, interrupting the beginning stages of Donatello Losing His Absolute Shit Out Of Love. He pats Leo’s cheek gently. “But I am putting my foot down this time, Blue.”

“You’re the medic,” Raph points out. “You wouldn’t let one of us walk around with a broken bone, would you?”

For all that he’s spent the last two years in a state of constant anxiety and frustration, he never lost that softness that makes him their Raph. He still carries it around with him, and hands it out freely where it’s needed, and right now he’s wrapping it around Leo as deftly as a blanket. 

And for all that Leo has this stupid idea lately that he’s supposed to be perfect and self-reliant and never burden his family with anything he could handle on his own, he’s still their Leo. He buckles under genuine affection like a house of cards. 

He puts up one last token protest. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Donnie says, just barely not a snap. “You have literally bullied me into telehealth sessions before.”

He’s not angry, not really. He just cares so much and he can’t get the words to come out right and he wants Leo to do what is best for Leo without arguing about it, even though they all know that’s just flat-out impossible. 

“It’s different,” Leo stresses, well and truly at his emotional threshold. “You deserve—”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done. Everyone knows what he was going to say, what he meant. The tension in the room ratchets up to a solid fifteen on a max ten scale. Donnie starts flapping his hands. Casey looks pale and haunted. Mikey bites down on the wounded sound he wants to make, but Raph’s arms tighten around him like he heard it anyway.

“Yeah,” April says in a tone that lets all of her little brothers know not to mess around, “you’re going to therapy, Leon.” 

Splinter grips Leo’s chin before he can sink into his shell. There’s an ocean of grief in the rat’s eyes that Mikey is worried he might drown in. But there’s love, too. Mountains of it, rising out of turbulent water, steady and immovable and forever.

“Don’t hide yourself away,” Splinter says. Maybe it’s something he would have liked someone to say to him, once upon a time. “We love who you are, even if who you are is someone who is struggling right now. Lean on us, Leonardo. You are not alone.”

So here they are. The latest in a string of failures. Mikey keeps bumping his foot into the chair leg, trying not to stare at the clock. 

This is the longest an intake session has lasted. The first one was about ten minutes, but none of them expected the first one to go well. Leo joked about the whole thing and wouldn’t answer anyone’s questions directly. But he went straight to his room afterwards and didn’t come out until he was extracted for dinner, which said plenty. 

The session after that went on for half an hour, but Splinter—and Draxum, who had come along that time and sat in with Leo’s permission—agreed it wasn’t the right fit. The session after that was another no-go, and then the disastrous fourth session almost shut the whole operation down entirely. It lasted all of twenty minutes and ended in property damage. Whatever was said in that office caused Splinter to go full Lou Jitsu and break the desk, a chair, and the door on their way out. Leo was glassy-eyed and unresponsive in a way that caused actual murder to flash through Donnie’s eyes. 

Leo crawled directly into Raph’s open arms and stayed there, cheek pressed to plastron, to better hear the comforting rumble that started up in his brother’s chest. When Mikey crawled in next to him, his hands opened so Mikey could hold them, but otherwise he just blinked slowly and didn’t speak and it was the worst thing ever and Mikey very heroically managed not to burst into tears but it was close. 

They were kind of expecting him to cite The Fourth Session as a reason why they should pack this whole idea up and mail it far away from them to the next bunch of jokers but he didn’t. He just heaved himself off the sofa without a whine or a joke or anything and shuffled after Splinter out the door. 

It made Mikey feel like a bully. It was for Leo’s own good, but it was clearly taking a toll. Opening himself up again and again for a complete stranger, only to have that trust totally unrewarded and sometimes even thrown back in his face. For someone like Leo, whose guard is constant and unwavering even when the only people he has to guard against are his own family, it must be grueling. It must be awful. 

But if they could just find the right fit, Mikey thinks desperately. If they could just find the right person…

“Hey,” Raph says, nudging Mikey’s arm, jolting him out of his thoughts. “He’ll be okay. Pops isn’t gonna let it get as far as it did the last time. He promised.”

“At worst, we’ll be accessories to murder,” Donnie says without looking up from his phone. He sounds like the idea doesn’t bother him at all, and also like it’s much preferable to anyone making his twin even the smallest bit upset for any reason. “In which case I suggest swinging back around to Session Four’s office and tying up loose ends.”

Raph closes his eyes briefly, looking as though he’s actively making plans to wrestle Donnie into therapy next, and then continues as if the softshell hadn’t spoken at all. “Leo’s perfectly safe.”

“No I know,” Mikey says quickly. In part because he knows Raph is trying to make him feel better, also in part because it sounds like maybe Raph is trying to make himself feel better, too. “I just—we’re running out of names in the Hidden City white pages, you know?”

“I can’t believe they still use the white pages here,” Donnie mutters. 

“There’s still a lot of options left for us to try,” Raph says patiently. “And when we run out of options, we’ll come up with another plan. Don’t borrow trouble just yet, okay?” 

Mikey leans on him, trying to absorb some of that steadfastness for himself, and Raph puts an arm around him, drawing him and his whole chair closer with a short shriek of plastic on linoleum. 

A sudden high-pitched, frantic beeping fills the lobby. A few heads in the waiting room turn, but the yokai behind the desk don’t even blink. 

“Is that the fire alarm?” Raph asks in a polite, I’m-not-freaking-out-but-I’m-about-to tone. 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” one of the receptionists reassures him at once. She’s been nice to them since they got here and her teal face is lined from a long life of smiling. “This happens all the time. We have wards to prevent fire, but they don’t stop smoke.”

“Um, okay,” Mikey says. “But why is there smoke? In a clinic?” 

The door leading to the offices opens and Leo steps out looking slightly scorched and a little bemused. Splinter is nudging him along, looking like he’s aged ten years in the last sixty minutes, and a beetle yokai shuffles after them sheepishly. 

It’s the beetle yokai who introduced himself as Cricket, the clinical psychologist with licenses from both yokai and human institutions who passed Donatello’s extremely invasive vetting process, and the first doctor to somehow last the full hour with Mikey’s most stubborn brother. He’s five foot nothing and his exoskeleton is a pretty coral color.

“What did you set on fire this time?” one of the employees says in a long-suffering tone. 

“You don’t know for certain that it was me,” Cricket replies with a nervous little yank at his wrinkled button-down shirt. 

“Like the entire lounge,” Leo answers immediately after. “It’s amazing, I’ve never seen anyone fail at cookies that hard before in my life, and I live with Donatello.”

“Offended scoff,” Donnie says loudly. 

“It’s a nice gesture!” Cricket says. “I was making a nice gesture!” 

“Whoever left their lunch on the counter in there, I have bad news,” Leo goes on. One of the yokai tapping away at a computer stops, puts her head in her hand, and sighs. Splinter draws Leo down far enough to pat him on the cheek and then heads toward the reception area to do paperwork things. Leo and Cricket bicker their way across the waiting room.

Mikey feels something buoyant and bubbly happening in his chest, like someone shook a can of soda up in there. This is the most Leo-like Leo has been after a session, in all his playful, sarcastic glory. He glances up and sees the way Mikey is vibrating in his chair and laughs. 

“Jeez, Michael, if you needed to go outside and run around the block I would have understood.”

“I’m saving all my energy for giving you the biggest, proudest, love-you-est hug of my entire career,” Mikey says very seriously. 

Leo’s golden eyes get very bright, which is how Mikey can tell that his heart is smiling even if his face folds into something theatrical and performative. “Am I gonna need to clear my calendar?” 

“The WHOLE day, baby!” 

Cricket is smiling at the picture the four of them make, mandibles clicking idly. Splinter is watching too, his eyes impossibly soft and full of the same pride Mikey’s feeling in spades. 

“What do you say, Leo?” Cricket says. “Same time next week?”

Leo tugs at the sleeve of the purple hoodie he borrowed from Donnie that morning. He glances sidelong at Splinter, who gazes back fondly but doesn’t answer for him. Mikey’s on pins and needles, waiting to hear what he’ll say with his heart in his throat. He thinks he can feel Raph holding his breath. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Leo says after a moment. “Maybe we can burn your office down next time.”

Cricket lets out an affronted little clicking noise but he clearly doesn’t mean it, because he sends the clan off with warm goodbyes. The second they’re out the door, Mikey flings himself at Leo bodily, barely remembering at the last second to be gentle. Donnie has his arm linked through Leo’s good one, and Splinter is hanging back to make a quiet, exhaustively relieved phone call to April and Casey, and Mikey keeps saying how proud he is. He can’t stop. Leo’s the bravest person he knows, the best person, and he has to keep saying it or he’s going to explode. 

“Alright, alright,” Raph says, gently disentangling Leo from the bramble of clingy brothers and lifting him up onto his shoulders instead. “Take us home, Fearless.” 

There’s a smile on Leo’s face that’s almost familiar. It’s not the one Mikey knows, but it’s one he’s getting to know. The fact that his brother is here to smile at all is more of a miracle than most people get in a whole lifetime.

Even if Leo never makes it all the way back to that shining boy he used to be, Mikey can think of at least a billion things to love about the person he is right now.

[bbeeohazardd]

on the Doczen train due to Hypnos and Somnus and i started thinking about Builder/Merch Team Forzen again so now this retcon is real

still working on his lore and stuff, current basic ideas under the cut

but so far the current idea is that he was floundering straight out of college when it came to actually establishing himself, very talented and wonderful roboticist, but very mad science-esque/eccentric in personality and young compared to his peers so he got overlooked a lot, then The Pontiff found him and found out about his work in robotics and after consulting Seven he offered Builder a job at the resort as Guy Who Works On All The Contraptions(patent pending)

when he first got the job he was VERY very withdrawn at first when he first started working there, very quiet and staying in his workshop, like he knows he's pretty off-kilter and eccentric and that certain people [hard look at Bahama] already don't like him due to the ResCas stuff so he generally just keeps his head down, probably only really talks to Pontiff when he needs to or when he gets a specific request for whatever the resort needs, keeping his head down to get his job done because hey sure some of the group doesn't really like him, but he's getting paid very well and being given a place to stay for basically free so he's not complaining plus he gets to do what he loves, so pros outweigh the cons

i'm thinking either Pontiff pushed Builder to interact with Seven(or vice versa) or Seven started visiting Builder because "this guy is wayy too much of a shut-in and needs some socialization" or a mix of the two, probably a mix of the two

and then the two probably became fast friends once Seven realized "oh! this guy is insane /pos" after Builder went on a rant about his bone liquefier idea and Builder having that connection and friendship with Seven led to him being able to get out of his shell a bit and start forming bonds with some of the others

he's best friends with Wheels and he has kind of an enemies to friends thing with Bahama, i wouldn't call them best friends but they eventually managed to work out their shit to a point where they can trust each other as teammates

eventually him and Seven start dating and they're the epitome of the ambien wife post, they're so in love and they're insane

n e ways hope you like my guy i'm SO normal about him smiles

[hajikelist]

Bug snacks and holy water sorbet

I realized that there are people who are interested in these but don't go here and don't know the original so I'm including the panels now!

It's hard to do savory things that look like glittery treasure so I got a little creative with it. I actually got some silkworms to fry up. I think the traditional treatment Chilchuck talked about is similar to the Korean style beondegi, but this is more south/southeast Asian street food style. I seasoned it with turmeric for more of the ✨golden✨ vibe but the color didn't really come out. That and hot pepper in the oil and vinegar for dipping really make it pop. I also had lotus chips as a backup for that visual roundness or if I really goofed the bugs. And of course grilled pearl onion necklace skewers!

Considering the jam and the sorbet together, I ended up thinking about shaved ice desserts with beans and jelly and other colorful bits. Used honey instead of sugar and even a bit of honeycomb to accentuate the bug aspect. And it was a good excuse to make ube halaya but that's just a little treat for me

More info and thoughts under the cut!

I made a contraption to try to make ice cream

It didn't work!

I was better off sticking it in the freezer and mixing it occasionally. I used honey in place of sugar, some orange liqueur, and all sorts of beans and jellies. Coconut strings worked for the slime bits and just plain mint. The honeycomb got too cold and the texture was bad, if you're using honeycomb on a cold dish, put it right before serving instead of storing it with the dish. It was a bit too sweet for me, but it sounded like the others liked it!

This was my first time having silkworm and I'm not sure if I overcooked it, but it was good! A hit in this house. It was crunchy and earthy and almost shrimp-y. A bit of that shell/fish bone flavor. Definitely a complex flavor that hits in a couple parts. The onions were tasty but could have been cooked more. It was definitely more visual of an homage than flavorfully.

[yorshie]

I had a question about the weight for the turtles in my personal head canons, and when I started typing out the answer I realized it was a bit long to just sit in the reply section of the post, so I decided to treat it like an ask and make it it’s own little post.

To recap here are the weights in question

Leo: 670lbs (height 6’4”)

Donnie: 680lbs (height 6’10”)

Raph: 720lbs (height 6’7”)

Mikey: 640lbs (height 6’2”)

Please remember these are head canons and everyone is allowed to have difference in opinion, I do not care if you disagree with me as long as you keep it civil- if you have your own head canons about the turtles, cool! I’d love to read them, I think it’s interesting what people come up with and how they get there.

I came by my weight head cannons for the bayverse turtles by looking at two things- weightlifters and the higher end weight scale for Galapagos tortoises.

Arnold was listed at 6’2” in competition and on season (cut) he was billed in at 235, off season (bulk) he clocked in at 260-ish, and all that while being a bodybuilder which means he was more concerned with the aesthetics of the human body and not training necessarily for strength. If you start looking at men that don’t adhere to a strict cut season and train primarily for strength, that number will of course be different.

The other end of that spectrum is of course power lifters which looking at Eddie Hall, who is billed in at 6’3”, and weighs over 310lbs in an interview he did for greatest physique. His wiki page lists his weight between 314lbs-434lbs which I assume is over the course of his career but I know he battled health factors that went along with the weight on his diaphragm and rib cage. The turtles of course, do not have to worry about that.

The upper weight scale for Galapagos tortoises is in the 500lbs and they get up to 6ft long, that shell weighs a bunch not to mention their bones. Granted I do not know nearly as much about the tortoises as I do weightlifting, but even with Donnie being the tallest at 6’10”, it’d stand to reason the weight would be similar and even if their shells were smaller long wise they’d offset some of that with the greater width- well, except for Donnie.- I simply cross multiplied and divided how big I “thought” their shell would be to get a handle on what it might weigh next to that mentioned turtle shell. I came up with Raph’s weight first as the biggest and burliest, and then settled the others around him. I might even tweak them a bit more, as looking at it now Mikey might be a bit low for me.

So yea that’s how I got the number for My Personal Head Canons. I like big turtles. I like muscular men. I wanted a plot point of them having to be extra careful with their weight around humans. I’m a sucker for the big strong men being careful trope.

I know exactly how I got to this here hill lol.

[lampmanliveblogs]

THIS. THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE. STUNNING. JAWDROPPING. GORGEOUS.

You guys know how much I love pretty lights, and this is like… the prettiest light.

Hold on, I gotta go back and rewatch this entire sequence, it’s just that beautiful. The animation!

When Luz and King do their second roar, Luz bounces back from the force, that’s so cute. And then when she flies up, she lets go of Stringbean and catches the butt of the staff and the she and Eda spin around to draw the big spell circle. And then they twirl around inside the circle and cast the spell together. Good stuff, good stuff.

Inside the Archive House, the witch kids and Camila are doing their best to make sure no one gets hurt even as the Tiara Halls begin crumbling around them. And hey, glyphs still work, that’s good.

Aw man, what will Amity say when she sees Luz’ transformation? My guess is she’ll say nothing, because she will be too stunned to speak.

(Future Lampman here: I think I noticed the first time through but didn’t bring it up, but Amity is using a plant glyph and Willow is using a fire glyph. Plants are of course Willow’s thing, and aside from abomination magic, Amity is known to use a fireball spell. They’re using each other’s elements.)

Gorgeous.

…

HOLD ON A MINUTE! How come King and Dad Titan in the In-Between only have three fingers, but the Titan’s skeleton clearly has five?????!?!?!!!!?!?? How???? Okay, uh,,, c’mon Lampman, you’re good at coming up with weird ideas for this kinda stuff…

I guess… maybe… maybe the strange big claws we see on King and Dad Titan’s hands are actually like… some sort of covering over their four fingers? Not sure what purpose that would have, evolutionary, but then again, these are magical beings. Plus, King doesn’t have wings right now, while he’s small enough to use then, but Dad Titan had wings (we can even see remnants of them in the water on The Titan’s right side) while he was WAY too big to possibly use them.

Anyway, time for something completely different.

We can see quite a lot of bones from other Titans lying around. On the left side of the image we can spot a skull (and I think there might be another corpse in the upper right corner, but it’s a bit difficult to tell with the clouds). Not only is there a skull, but there is a pretty large landmass. Which is odd, because didn’t that book King was reading at the beginning of Young Blood, Old Souls say that there were only a few, smaller remains of other titans to be found in the boiling sea?

I dunno, maybe I’m misremembering.

Also, tough luck for anyone who lived on the left arm, your house is now sideways. We can literally see entire villages or towns in some shots, so, uh… the people of the Boiling Isles are gonna have to learn how to build high-rises with cheap apartments real fast, or find some other way to deal with the large chunk of the population that is now homeless.

One downside with this super smooth, super gorgeous animation is that it makes it slightly more difficult to get screenshots in motion that looks good. Whatever, they’re gonna cut Philip Phungi off from his source of power. Callback to season one episode four, The Intruder, where, when asked by Eda where magic comes from, Luz replied ”The heart.”

(Future Lampman here: We have a trio of heroes who crashes into the large body of a monster in order to get inside and take out the core which is the source of its power… am I taking about this scene right here, or am I talking about Chrono Trigger, if you chose to crash the Epoch into Lavos’ shell in order to skip the first eleven phases?)

(Future Future Lampman here: I can’t believe I forgot to mention it, but the music in the background here is the melody from the opening theme. And you know things are hype in an anime when the main theme starts playing.)

Raine is alive! YES! Ha, Belos, you absolute failure! You buffoon! Raine was literally in the midst of things, and you couldn’t even kill them. The only person you’ve managed to kill so far was a powerless human, and she came back strong.

And that is Raine’s Rhapsody/Eda’s Requiem Raine is whistling.

[circus-complex]

Pink Petals and Honey Brown Eyes

Rating: Teen+

Relationship: Feng Xin/Mu Qing

Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hanahaki Disease, Bad Ending, Drunken Confessions, Mutual Pining

General Nan Yang, Feng Xin, had been afflicted with a strange disease since he was ten. It started with simply coughing up a petal or two. [...] Mu Qing had known he loved Feng Xin from the moment he laid eyes upon him. His honey brown eyes and bright smile had captured Mu Qing’s heart.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing are both afflicted with Hanahaki disease. But they don't confess until it's too late

Also on AO3

Full work under the cut

General Nan Yang, Feng Xin, had been afflicted with a strange disease since he was ten.

It started with simply coughing up a petal or two. At first, Feng Xin thought he’d just fallen in the flower bed without noticing.

But it continued. He didn’t dare tell a soul, lest they laugh at him.

And then the war came, and it went away. He was too busy worrying if they would survive till tomorrow to think about anything else.

Mu Qing left, and it returned. Constant worry about how Mu Qing was doing didn’t help, only spurring the flowers on.

He ascended shortly after, and all his mortal afflictions disappeared. And yet, the flowers bloomed year after year.

It wasn’t until Pei Ming caught him choking on the vines that he found out what it was.

Hanahaki Disease (花吐病 Huā tǔ bìng): In which the victim has flowers growing in their body when they suffer from repressed feelings or unrequited love.

✦✦✦

Mu Qing had known he loved Feng Xin from the moment he laid eyes upon him. His honey brown eyes and bright smile had captured Mu Qing’s heart.

But his cruel tongue and short temper shattered any hope Mu Qing had.

Mu Qing could feel the flowers invading with each passing year. Their leaves wound around his bones, their sap melting into his veins. But he pushed each twinge in his heart down. He did not care if his whole body turned to wood and leaves burst from his arms. Perhaps he would look nicer, he could stand in a garden and bring someone a pleasant joy.

Years passed, and breathing came harder and harder. But Mu Qing was a god, and gods cannot die.

But what if your heart shatters to pieces? Can you truly live on any longer if you are only a shell of yourself, if your soul is split?

✦✦✦

The Mid Autumn festival, where the moon shines onto the heavens and wine is passed around.

Feng Xin drank generously. He always did – he held no secrets. He loved Mu Qing, but he couldn’t even admit that to himself.

Mu Qing, surprisingly, was drinking as well. He was on his fifth cup, and his expression said that was just the beginning.

“Hey, General, slow down,” Feng Xin shot at Mu Qing. His liquid gold eyes shone, even in the depths of night.

“No thank you,” Mu Qing took another sip.

Feng Xin shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Mu Qing felt a thorn peirce his leg as Feng Xin walked away. Shit. It was over tonight, wasn’t it?

God, Feng Xin would never love him, would he? He would always drift in and out of Mu Qing’s life, but never stay.

Mu Qing swayed. His vision was going dark. The only thing he heard before he fell to the ground was a faint call of his name.

✦✦✦

“Mu Qing! Mu Qing!” Feng Xin held his body in his arms, “Mu Qing, are you ok?”

Mu Qing coughed, and-

Oh.

Pink flower petals fell from his mouth.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing croaked, “Feng Xin, I love you.”

Oh.

“Mu Qing, I-”

“No, I know you don’t feel the same way. I- I’m going to die, please take over my territory, ok? And don’t tell His Highness, if he ever comes back. Please.”

“Mu Qing, Mu Qing, I love you.” Feng Xin was close to crying. A small crowd had formed, gods Mu Qing would hate knowing that.

“Don’t lie, A-Xin. It’s not good to lie to a dying man.”

“Mu Qing, I’m not lying, I swear, please, believe me. Don’t die, please, please, Qing’er, don’t leave,” Feng Xin sobbed. He was crying now, open, ugly, sobs escaping from his flower-filled throat.

But it was too late.

Flowers bloomed from Mu Qing’s black diamond eyes, thorns pierced his lungs. But no matter how many kisses Feng Xin pressed to his lips he could only taste the sickly sweet pollen. Tears — no, sap — leaked from Mu Qing’s eyes as they grew dim.

Vines took place of his once perfect hair, intertwined with the dull black strands. Even in death, Mu Qing was a beauty rivaled by none. From his throat burst pink flowers, ones Feng Xin would have plucked and given as a gift if only he had known. If only.

It was too late now. Feng Xin could feel leaves crawling in his stomach. Feelings that he thought were unrequited, that he found were returned, but you cannot love someone in death. And if Mu Qing would die because of him, it was only right he did the same. Perhaps they would find each other in their next lives, give each other flowers that didn’t bloom from their own bodies.