#a big hearted mama

[eljeebee]

Sophia went outside and joined the younger girl. Sid only glanced up, before moving to give her space to sit.

“Everything okay, Sid?”

“Sid?” Sophia asked again, her voice gentle.

Sid finally looked up, “Aunt Soph…”

She smiled, “You okay?”

That day, she was feeling out of place with the family. Sure, she’s included in the activities, and everyone makes sure she is. But this time, something deep gnawed in the pit of her stomach. It felt heavy, like her stomach rumbling, and her heart felt like it dropped. She doesn’t know why she’s...jealous.

Should she tell this to her? Isn’t that kind of embarrassing?

“Sid?”

With a deep breath, she confessed, “Aunt Soph,” she started, “please don’t be mad. It’s not your fault, it’s just that…”

“That?”

“I…I feel left out when I’m with the family,” Sid’s voice started to waver. “I’m – I don’t – ugh – this is so hard – look, I’m grateful for you and everything you’ve done for, for taking me in, it’s just that…it’s just that I wish I have a proper family like yours. I wish I have a sibling like Mason, a mom and a dad like you and Uncle Jason, and…and I wish…”

“And I wish my aunt’s here. I miss her so much, Auntie. I miss her. I lost my dad, the dad I knew growing up, then my aunt went on this – this revenge mission and I’ve lost the rest of my family in one night, when I was a baby, all because of vampires, all because of my real dad wanted my real mom’s wealth. I wish I wasn’t born! I wish I wasn’t born into that family – I wish I was born into a family like yours. Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way, maybe I’d be normal. Maybe we wouldn’t be involved with vampires.”

“I’m sorry, Sid, I didn’t know you feel that way.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Sid said, “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for complaining, you did a lot for me. You include me in everything, especially in your bills. Not even your kid. I feel like I’m overstepping. I’ve been thinking of asking my aunt for more money, but I can’t contact her, and I don’t know how to. And I don’t want to risk everyone’s safety…”

“Sid, you’re not overstepping,” Sophia gently pushed Sid’s head to rest on her shoulder. “I’m actually glad you’re with us. I can’t bear the thought of a kid alone, out there, exposed to those monsters. Papa wouldn’t allow any kid being alone, and hungry. He loves cooking and cooks a damn lot. Watcher forbid, the fridge’s going to burst with all the food and other stuff he has in it. But he doesn’t mind. You’re another good reason to cook more. We don’t mind, darling. I don’t mind helping you financially.”

“Really?” Sid felt embarrassed. She wanted to bury her face in the ground. She felt like she had no right to complain this way when she’s lucky to have friends like these. They gave her so much support.

Sophia nodded, “Before Jason and I got married, I won the lottery. With that money, we moved to San Sequioa and started a life there. It helped with the house and the bills, and the equipment he needed to pursue being a chef. Even with that money, I continued to support him by working hard in the business world. We earned. We saved a lot. We’ve set aside to use that on the boys’ college education. It’s our duty to help them through school. Heck, we’ll even continue supporting them even after graduation until they’ve found a stable job.”

She continued, “Point is, that lottery is something that helped us to where we are, and I want to be that something that’ll help you to get where you want to be, darling. I see the way you study hard; I see the way you practice hard on chess. I see you writing something on your phone, and I’m sorry for peeking but please do not stop writing. If you want to be a writer? I’ll support you. With our current state, money is easy return with how we’re comfortable with how we earn it, so I’m confident to use it for you. So please, Sid, don’t worry about it.”

“You’d do that for me?” Sid’s breath hitched.

“You’re family, Sid. Jason told me that he’ll be the one to support you through college and – ”

Sid leaned more on her shoulder, her hand squeezing Sophia’s other hand.

Sophia squeezed her hand back.

“I’m so sorry. I feel so awful, gosh, Watcher, I’m such an awful person, I’m so sorry for complaining.”

“No, you’re not!” Sophia kissed the top of her head. “What you feel is valid. And you probably miss your aunt.”

“I do. I wish she could experience stuff like this with me.”

“Maybe someday! You can visit Granite Falls again with her. Be her tour guide!”

“Thank you, Aunt Soph. Once I graduate from college, I promise I’ll make it up to you and your family.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to!”

“But I want to. As a thank you.”

previous | next

[kathaynesart]

Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.

[threestripeslider]

„Big Mama is too evil to be a mother figure“ this, „Big Mama gets redeemed to be a mother figure“ that, here‘s my concept; Big Mama is a mother figure AND the antagonist, that would be way funnier

her having tea with one of the boys as they‘re upsidedown and tied up by her webs, feeding them biscuits and telling them that murder solves everything as they sigh and repeat that no, Mama, no killing or maiming you know its against our rules

[sentientcave]

Mace of Bakes

Read on AO3

Contains: Non-canon character death (cancer mention), Reminiscing about the army and merc work, Mace deciding on a new path for himself, Community building through food, Self-discovery time for Mace. x Single mom reader (eventually, she's not really in this part) Basically fluff with some sad stuff at the start.

~3.6k - SFW

"Are you happy, Mason?"

His mama looked all wrong, laying in a hospital bed. Mace had never known her to get sick. He'd never thought that she'd get old. In his mind, she was still young the same age as when he left home. It startled him to realize that he was the same age she'd been when he left home. Thirty-eight.

She wasn't even sixty now. Too young to be laying there, all the warmth drained out of her skin, too young for her tightly coiled hair to be grey, too young to be dying.

He itched to get up and do something. Anything. But he'd already done everything he could think of. He'd brought her sunflowers, chocolate from that fancy little place down the block from the house he'd bought her the moment he'd been able to, brought her pretty stationary and a pen so she could write letters to her friends in shaky but still clear script. He'd even prayed. Gone to church and sat down in a pew and bargained with god. The world would be better with her in it, and him gone. If there was one thing he'd learned from his years as a soldier, it was that violence only begat more violence. Put down one enemy, and another popped up in his place. But people like his mother made things better.

She was no saint, of course— Hard to be, in her position, raising a headstrong boy furious about losing his father in some far off conflict he couldn't understand— but she was good. Patient. Dedicated her time to helping her community. Helped kids like him make better decisions than he had. She always picked up the phone when he called, no matter what time of day it was for her. Better that she live, and he die.

But god made no bargains with sinners, it seemed.

"Mason," she repeated, reaching for his hand. Her grip was weak. "Are you happy? Are you living the life you want?"

Was he? Did he even remember what it was to be happy?

The trouble with wearing a mask is that you become more of an idea than a person.

It had been years since Mace really thought about himself. He'd just been a kid, angry and afraid, desperate to get out of his home, out of his city. He was smart, but his grades weren't good enough to get any kind of scholarship. He was athletic, but he wasn't much of a team player, so there was no college team that wanted him either, no matter how big and strong he was already at eighteen. The army was just about the only thing he could use to drag himself up, so he gripped that uniform and held on tight, until his knuckles creaked with the effort. He should have known better, after what happened to his father, but maybe he just wanted to see something of his dad when he looked in the mirror.

(One of his drill sergeants had called him a fighting dog. Mace had grit his teeth and taken it, because as much as he wanted to bite back, it would just be proving the man right. And Mace would take a lot worse than that if it meant showing the whole damn world how wrong they were to dismiss him outright, to decide his fate before he'd taken his first step. But that was the way things were. The way they still are.)

But the thing about the army is that people notice when you're good at what you do. He'd moved from regular army to the rangers by the recommendation of that same sergeant. He earned respect. He'd joined an international task force and met someone who reminded him far too much of himself. Funny how someone from thousands of miles away could look him in the eye and see the things he thought he'd buried. Simon Riley, Ghost, more an idea than a person. And Mace put on that mask, same as Riley's, and they were like brothers.

Until they weren't.

Mace kept the mask though. And the lesson.

He left the army. Joined the Shadows. Joined the Jackals. Worked his ass off anywhere he went. He was efficient, brutal when he needed to be, bold and creative, one of the best.

And now…

Graves had offered him a spot with the Shadows again. But in truth, the soldier's life was wearing on him. He'd bled for his country, bled for money, bled for his homeland.

None of it had made him happy.

The words caught in his throat. "No. But I'll try to be."

"That's all I ever wanted for you."

Things got worse, and she didn’t get better, but he held her hand while she slipped away. Held it together to plan a funeral, shaking hands with everyone who came to pay their respects. It twisted something inside him painfully. All these people that knew his mother better than he did. That loved her, laughed with her.

Who would come to his funeral, if he died right there? A few old war dogs, if word got to them in time. He had few friends. No one would care about his passing the way they did his mother’s.

He stood in the graveyard for a long while after they buried her, staring at the gravestone. Kendra Ward, 1966-2024. She was the best of us.

It wasn’t enough. But what could be?

Her estate was easily settled. Mace still owned the house, on paper, and she didn't have that much else. No matter how much money he sent her, she didn’t like to spend more money than she needed to. He gave the house to his cousin Jessie, since she had four kids and a too-small apartment, gave the car to his aunt, let them split what little jewelry she had between them. He kept her wedding rings, and his father's, since she'd told him that she wanted him to have them, and he took some of the photo albums. He couldn't bear to look at them now, but maybe someday he'd want to.

He thought about staying. It was nice, for a few weeks, to spend time with Jessie's kids, get to know his family again. He'd thought it would be hard to talk to children, but it really wasn't, in the end. It was easy, because all he really had to do was listen, and let them win any games they played.

Still, there was another brother out there he needed to make peace with. One that wouldn't so readily accept that he had changed.

So he went to England.

He didn't expect to see Riley for a long while. He wasn't sure that the man lived in Manchester, if he ever even left base anymore. They'd both become the mask over the years. It wasn't easy to start being a whole person again.

He tried a few jobs on, but they fit like an off the rack suit. He couldn't stand the noise of most trades, didn't have any patience for customers or desk work. Maybe he could move out to the country and be a farmer. The thought appealed to him somewhat, although he knew deep down it was just the fantasy of the life that he wanted. He didn't particularly care for getting muddy, and he didn't know the first thing about animals.

He was walking home when he noticed the Help Wanted sign in the window of the bakery near his apartment (flat, as the locals called it). He liked the place, in part because Sharon, the older woman with graying curls that worked the counter reminded him a bit of his mother, and partially because the smell of bread baking wafted in through his window early mornings, and it was hard to resist the siren’s call.

The little bell above the door jingled pleasantly as he walked in, head nearly brushing the damn thing.

"Hi, honey," Sharon said with a smile, popping her head out of the kitchen. "We don't usually see you so late."

"I saw the sign in the window, ma'am. Thought I might as well ask you about it."

“Our baker quit in the middle of his shift. I’ve been running back and forth all day.” She pursed her lips, taking in the broad and tall expanse of him. “You’re interested?”

“Yes ma’am. Was a soldier for a long time, and I’ve been having trouble finding civilian work that suits. At the very least, I know I’d respect my boss.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. It wasn’t as if she had time to train a raw rookie, but… “Don’t know dick all about baking, but I’m good at following orders.”

Sharon thought about it for a moment. “Can you promise not to quit in the middle of a shift?”

“Figure nothing you throw my way could be worse than desert warfare.”

Sharon grinned. “No, we only do dessert warfare here.”

Mace barked out a laugh despite himself. He’d always loved a bad joke. “Got a bakery rival?”

“Of course. Where d’you think my baker went off to?” She shook her fist at the far wall, laughing. “You’re hired. Can you start now? If I’ve got to mop the floors after the day I’ve had… Well, I don’t want to. Better the young do the heavy lifting, yeah?”

“Can do, ma’am. Just show me to the mop closet.”

He wiped down the little cafe tables and stacked up the chairs so he could sweep, mopped the cafe floor, emptied the display case and bought the wire trays to the kitchen to run through the dishwasher. Sharon was portioning out dough and quickly shaping it and putting it into baskets. He watched for a moment, and then went back out to finish cleaning up the front of house.

When he returned again, Sharon beckoned him over. “Wash your hands well,” she ordered. “I’ll show you how to shape these loaves. This dough’s a little sticky, so you’ve got to be decisive.”

He did his best to mirror her movements. The dough was really sticky, but there was a slight resistance to it, and once he got the hang of the consistency, he was able to produce a ball that Sharon didn’t have to reshape a little before it was tucked into it’s little basket to rise overnight. Each one was better than the last.

It felt nice to use his hands for something productive. This wasn’t much like anything he’d done as a soldier, and it was a relief that he was still able to learn new tricks. That he wasn’t so busted up by everything he’d been through to do something good.

Each basket went on a tray with three others, and then onto a wheeled rack, and soon they’d filled two. Sharon covered them with a plastic sheet (to keep humidity in) and they slid them into the big walk in fridge.

There were a few more things to do, cleaning up the kitchen, but soon enough Mace was hauling the trash into the dumpster behind the bakery while Sharon locked up. She handed him a box of leftovers from the display case, which he accepted gladly.

He ate a chocolate chip cookie on his way back to his apartment, humming. That felt like the right kind of work. Busy enough, quiet enough, and he wouldn’t have to be the one dealing with customers. It was going to be a hell of a learning curve, but he liked the idea of being a baker. The sort of career that his mama would be proud to see him in

He ate a cold sandwich and several more pastries for dinner, then showered and went to bed early, setting his alarm for four am. He stared at the ceiling for a little while, arms tucked behind his head.

Yeah. This would suit him just fine.

The next morning had Mace out in the pre-dawn chill, waiting beside the bakery. He'd ended up watching a few videos on bread shaping while he ate breakfast, feeling a strange apprehension, like a student desperate to cram as much information as possible into his head before a big exam. He really wasn't qualified. He didn't know shit about cooking or baking-- He'd eaten mess hall meals and MRE's for the majority of his adult life. He knew what good food tasted like, but making it was a whole other beast.

He was pretty sure he'd gone into war zones less nervous than this.

Sharon waved at him when she turned the corner a little ways up the street. "Showed up after all, did you? The early mornin' didn't scare you off?"

"No ma'am. Said I'd be here." He followed her down the alley, hands in his pockets.

"An honest American," she said, faking a look of shock as she unlocked the door. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"You just dealing with tourists? Or do you have a vendetta I should know about?"

Sharon laughed. "Vendetta. An American woman stole my son away to Florida. I hardly see him now."

"I've got friends down that way. You say the word and I'll have them ship him back to you."

"Tell them to bring my grandkids too!"

Mace soon found out that Sharon was a great teacher. Funny, when she wasn't bone tired after a long day, and especially now that he wasn't a customer anymore. That polite customer service smile that he had gotten used to was replaced by a wicked grin, and she swore a blue-streak as she gave him instructions and gossiped. He learned more about his neighbourhood in a few hours than he'd found out in his months of living there.

Sharon's husband, Veer came in to open the storefront so Sharon could stay in the kitchen to train Mace.

"Had to take a week of vacation," he said when he brought two mugs of coffee back for them. "So you'd better be worth it! She makes me wear a beard net when I work the front counter." He winked at Sharon.

Sharon just rolled her eyes, her own hair totally secured by a bonnet. "You never wear the beard net, you just wear a mask."

"Perhaps. 30 minutes till open, anyway."

Mason started loading loaves of bread into the baskets that sat on the shelves behind the counter, and Sharon got started on assembling pastries. By the time he was putting out the last basket, the first customers were entering the store.

The display case filled, and then the sourdough for the next day mixed (Sharon said she'd portion and shape it closer to close), and the day was over before Mace knew it. He wasn't certain he knew what to do with himself for the rest of the afternoon (it seemed very strange to get off work by 1pm), but it seemed that he could stand to work on his baking skills at home too.

He went to the shops to buy everything he could think of to stock his cupboards, since they were rather bare, and made cupcakes when he got home, lamenting his lack of a piping bag when it came time to frosting them. They didn't look quite as impressive as he'd hoped they would, but they tasted pretty good-- One of the tips in the recipe's comments recommending "blooming" the cocoa powder with a bit of hot water seemed to be a neat trick. He wanted to try combining it with another tip about coffee bringing out the flavour of chocolate too.

Next time.

He cleaned up and made dinner, and offered cupcakes to his neighbours, feeling strangely shy. He was a grown man, he'd been shot more than once, but somehow knocking on the door of the college girls next door and the old man across the hall and the young mother by the stairs made him break out in a cold sweat, stumbling over his explanation. Why was it so much easier to kill people than offer kindness? There had to be something pathologically wrong with him.

(The part of him that knew he had to be kinder to himself too whispered a reminder that it was just unfamiliar ground. Hadn't his hands shaken the first time he held a rifle too? Hadn't he slunk off to puke his guts up and cry after the first time he'd killed another person? It was just so long ago that he'd forgotten.)

He outran the nerves that evening, as the sky turned dark, and put himself to bed early, ready to do it all again the next day.

The routine was good for him. Weeks passed, and he settled into an easy rhythm, waking early for work, joking with Sharon while he worked, setting himself up with a new project every other day.

(He would have made it every day, but while he was growing very fond of cooking and baking, he didn’t love doing the dishes.)

It gave him time to start going to the gym again, at least. He’d started putting on a little weight around the middle, which he didn’t hate. He kind of liked it, especially when he heard the college girls giggling and whispering about his dad bod. Still, he didn’t want to have to buy new clothes, and he wanted to stay in good shape, and he found he still really liked lifting weights, especially now that he did it for fun and not out of necessity. Even better, lifting weights meant that he got to eat more. So it worked out nicely.

His neighbours started talking to him more, everyone more than a little interested in getting on the list for receiving little treats. Everyone had sort of avoided him on principle before, unsure about the giant American loner that settled into their building, but now everyone knew him by name. They asked him for help when they needed heavy things moved. The girls down the hall asked him to make them a birthday cake (Which he was more than happy to do. He was getting better at decorating all the time).

The old fellow across the hall, Percy, turned out to be a veteran too, and he invited Mace out to drinks a few times with some of his old air force buddies, and he got to listen to the old men swap stories and complain about young people these days and the price of groceries (and drinking with old men was ideal, since he could still be in bed early enough to get plenty of sleep before work). The college girls were Morg and Corrie, and often Kailee, who didn’t actually live in the building but was there so often that she practically did. They were possibly the silliest girls he’d ever met, but he at least partially had to attribute that to the fact that he understood only about fifty percent of what they were saying at any time, between the giggling and the slang he didn’t understand.

They tried to thank him for the baked goods by inviting him over for dinner once. A valiant, but ultimately bland effort. He’d eaten worse, but not in a long while, and they spent half the meal flirting shamelessly. He made a promise to himself in that moment that he would never date a woman under thirty.

The single mother, Tammy, was a lot more sensible, but not as single as he’d assumed. Her friend that came over often turned out to be her girlfriend. The kids were funny, especially the younger two, who took every opportunity to talk his ear off about school and dinosaurs and some youtube video game streamer with a silly name. The oldest kid was in that awkward teenage phase of thinking his own interests were cringe and looking for a new identity that was cool. He seemed baffled by Mace, like he couldn’t quite connect the dots on why someone who looked and sounded like a soldier would be spending his free time doing favours for others and baking.

Mace wasn’t sure if it were his place to say anything, but he hoped the kid would come to understand that what Mace was doing now was a hundred times better than being a soldier. A thousand times more meaningful.

He felt like a new person. Born again, like the last twenty years could be chalked up to a bad dream.

(It wasn’t as if he were ashamed of it. Maybe he should have been. But he’d always been principled about his work. Not everyone agreed with his actions, he’d found himself down-barrel of a once friendly gun more than a few times. But that didn’t mean he would stop doing what he thought was the right thing.)

He was sure that this contentedness was what his mother had wanted for him. He wished he’d listened to her a long time ago.

Of course, as it so often happens, pleasant routines get shaken up. For Mace, it was on an otherwise ordinary day in late November, when Sharon was buzzing excitedly about her daughter moving home.

(Divorced, and with a three year old she would have to take care of all by herself. She’d probably come work the front counter, so Sharon could be in the kitchen more for the busiest season. Didn’t it work out so nicely?)

And the timing did seem good. Mason was glad for anything that would give Sharon more time off. He worried about her overworking herself, and she always complained about not seeing any of her grandchildren enough.

Still, he found himself stopping short, nearly dropping the tray of cookies he’d been carrying when he came out of the kitchen.

“Oh, wonderful,” Sharon said, grinning. “Mason, come meet my daughter!”

And you smiled at him, sticking your hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nice didn’t even begin to cover it.

Title Card made in Canva ~ Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[honeydewedlemon]

the urges…. The parasites…. THE PARASITES.

[partiallypearl]

how many parties do we think the tv!btr boys threw in minnesota pre moving to la

[gay-caesar-truther]

Brutus is crazy touched starved this is known- However I am thinking about how he would react if someone touched him.

If it was a quick touch- Someone brushing his arm, or placing a hand on his arm or shoulder, etc. He'd probably play it cool in the moment, but he's going to be thinking about it all day, feeling the warmth of them burning on his skin as he carries about his business- Once he gets to his tent he'd put his own hand over where they touched him to try and recreate that warmth and pressure.

If it was long contact, someone leaning on him, holding his face etc- he'd probably try and lean into it as much as humanly possible without making it obvious to the other person that he was doing it. Again he's think about it for ages.

Now the big one- If someone hugged him. He'd probably stand there in surprise for a while, processing all the pressure and warmth. Then he'd just slump, like decades of tense got released all at once. He wouldn't hug back, his arms hanging limp at his side, and he'd just kind of stare wide eyed out into the distance. He'd probably cry- but the kind of soft rolling tears that he doesn't even notice until someone brushes them away.

[jadetheblueartist]

I have lil questions about spiders web widens!

Does Frida mainly live in the Hotel or the Battle Nexus (I would assume the battle nexus would have lodging)? And if she lives down in the hidden city would Frida be allowed to sneak up to the surface? Or does Big mama keep her close at all times?

Also is it known to the public that Frida is Big Mama’s daughter?

Alsoooooo is there any lil fun fact(s) you’d like to share about Camille?

Hi, Moo! Thanks for the questions ^^ this was a really well timed ask bc I was thinking about all of these today so yay

This was very long so imma put a cut hahaha

1. So. What I’ve been thinking so far is that Frida (and Big Mama) would live in the hotel. I believe that one room with the lava lamp to be hers, as I’ve probably mentioned before but let’s just pretend I didn’t. But today I was watching “Battle Nexus: New York” and at the end, after the shredder attack, the entire hotel crumbles to the ground. I did not notice this before so unless it’s in the last two episodes that I plan on watching tomorrow, I guess they won’t be living there during SWW? I think they would be almost done rebuilding but would be in an alternate place probably. Mama’s web of resources is quite expansive so they probably will have some place else I’ll figure out the details to later.

When she was an active participant in the Nexus, Frida would have lived there. This was probably several months, but at the point of the story, she’s a couple years retired from the Nexus. Not by choice (though she would have chosen that), Big Mama just felt she was getting too much attention and didn’t want her to develop an ego.

Wherever their new living space is, it probably is in the Hidden City, but Friday doesn’t get the opportunity to roam. Her job is to assist Big Mama, and Frida is a bit of a workaholic. Never leaves her side except for when Mama sends her on errands. Big Mama has quite the hold on her, but it can’t stop Frida from taking an extra second to people watch… she has quite the interest in them.

2. Frida’s public image is a bit choppy. She’s a sort of legend in that not many people know much about her and lots of info seems to conflict. Many know Big Mama has a child- it’s in her name after all- but they can’t often put a face to the child. She grew up around the hotel but didn’t do much apart from her studies. Then once she got to an age Mama deemed old enough to fight, she became known as a warrior and eventually a champion. Once she had proved herself (or really, once Mama felt threatened by the amount of attention Frida was getting), she retired from the Battle Nexus and began her duties at the Hotel. She became known by the other staff members as “Big Sis”- no longer the child they had seen grow up, now a seasoned killing machine. Once the opportunity arose, Frida became Mama’s assistant until it was her main and most important role. When she makes appearances in public, her masked persona is known for her strength and brutality. When she is unmasked, she is the daughter of Big Mama- prestigious and powerful. Very few know the true extent of who she actually is. And wow this is getting long…

3. Hehehe I was just wanting to mention this ^^ I don’t think I’ve discussed Camille’s mystic abilities. In SWW, there is a distinct difference between mystic stuff and the Hamato ninpo. What Frida uses is her ninpo; Camille has had no such luck with ninpo stuff though (being alone for most of her life and all that). She does, however, possess a knack for mystic stuff and has some “natural” mystic powers. I say natural bc it’s as natural as it can be when you were made in a lab.

So first, she has psychometric precognition and retrocognition. That means when she can see the future or past (specifically relating to the individual) when she touches people. This results in her greeting people by just grabbing their faces (“I know more stuff the closer I touch to their head”). It’s not consistent though. For instance, it doesn’t always happen. She may touch someone and get nothing then do it again and oh wow so many visions all at once. She also can’t tell if it’s future stuff or past stuff which leads to lots of confusion.

Second, it’s not an innate power but Draxum taught her a telekinetic spell which is one of the few things she managed to remember from that time. She has the spell running almost constantly bc it’s very convenient and plays into her fighting style a lot.

[setsunasknife]

Do you think Sasuke ever gets incredibly frustrated having only one arm?

I think of when Sasuke and Sakura kissed for the first time, the desire to pull her close AND cup her cheek. Or when they made love for the first time and he struggled with steadying himself with a single arm. Or when he held his daughter for the first time. It is terrifying to hold a baby with two arms, how was he supposed to hold his child with one? Feed her, change her, clothe her, caress her soft face while he lulls her to sleep? How was he supposed to care for their daughter? He deserved to live this way, but again, his choices eat at him when he gazes into his beautiful daughters eyes.

Sakura helps a lot, her medical knowledge providing him with alternatives to care for their child. She taught him holds that both supported Sarada while also feeding her. She was always ready to reposition her so Sasuke was comfortable and didn’t have to worry.

They reassure each other in their parenting, support being what they both needed.

[dragon-spaghetti]

Thinking about my separated au again,, have the O'Neil siblings ;v;

Plus bonus designs: battle nexus champion Leo & foot clan Raph

[kathaynesart]

Hi! Your Frida Hamato design from a while back was really cool - the exposed heart was a really creative idea!

*awkwardly offers fanart*:

I hope you like this!

Ahhh! I never anticipated receiving fanart of my Frida/Big Mama’s assistant, but this is fantastic! So pretty!! Sunflowers are one of my favorite flowers too so this is just wonderful! Thank you so much!

[zimmbzon]

I really want Day to get big mad at everyone.

I want Day to blow up at his Mum and Night and Mhok. I want Day to realise his power and his strength and his right to make his own decisions, to choose his own path, make mistakes, take risks and have secrets.

I want Day to get completely fed up with people using his disability as a way to keep him close, to keep him in check, to keep him reliant on them, to keep him scared.

I want Day to tell them all to get fucked. He might still need assistance with his disability but that doesn't mean he needs THEM. I want Day to up and go stay with Aon.

I want to see the different stages of realisation in Night, Mhok and their mum. Night knows Day is right and he's already acted on this understanding. Their Mum has to know that Day doesn't need her as a carer - she's never home. But Mhok will be oblivious, completely blindsided by Day's words and behaviour.

Mhok who hides from any internal study by focusing on what's outside. He focuses on Day, puts everything into Day. He attaches himself to Day's vulnerability, but he carefully keeps his own vulnerability behind sky high walls.

He kissed Day in a moment of Day's vulnerability, he took strength from it and did the scary thing (but perhaps Mhok's fear was tempered by the imbalance of power that always exists between them). Now Mhok needs to tear down the walls. He needs to make himself more vulnerable than he has ever seen Day. And he has to do it with the knowledge that Day doesn't need him, and Day might not want or choose him. Mhok has relied on his position of power in their relationship, he has keep secrets and made decisions that benefited him whilst telling himself that it was all for Day.

Mhok needs to be scared and alone, he needs to feel the threat of abandonment. He needs to feel like Day did when Mhok pranked him at the beach.

He needs to do the big scary thing, and he needs to do it from a place of powerlessness and respect.

[caiusthecat]

Both these women have done irreparable damage

[leonsliga]

X

[fairiencarnate]

I went to preschool for a few hours to help take all the kids to their kapa haka performance and they did sooooo good!!!!! Was a bit tricky walking them there across several roads and getting them all on stage with as few tears as possible (minus one who was a bit too overwhelmed), but the audience loved them and at least half of the kids were so excited they wanted to do it again! I feel like a proud childless mum 🥹

[ghettogothgoblin]

i really have to unlearn the entire last 15 years of my life