#also they were terrible at answering their question prompts today

[seekingthestars]

shua and vernon's radio show is absolutely delightful, like an entire hour of them rambling about ice cream and going "BROOOOO" "BROOOO!!!" and vernon saying he always wanted a toothpaste-flavored dessert, it's perfection

[dotster001]

Hi i don't know, if your requests are still open, if not you can ignore it or do it whenever you want.

Just readed your prompt, when reader suddenly passes out with Vil, Jamil, Floyd and Rook. I was wondering, if you could write something similar for Malleus, Lilia and maybe the teachers Trein and Crewel?

(I'm happy you enjoyed those! And I hope you like these too!)

Part One Part Three

CW:Burnout (obviously), mental breakdown/trauma in Trein's part, spoilers for Vargas training camp in Trein's part, injury in Crewel's part

A/N: I've said this in my pin post, but I age up characters to actual college age, because I am in college, and didn't realize until a few months in the characters were not. Everyone here is. 18+ If it makes you feel more comfortable, imagine this as a grad school situation.

He's been pouting a lot lately. Which for a normal person wouldn't be a problem, but Mal's pouting usually meant that the weather was bad as well. He was pouty, because whenever you had time in your incredibly busy schedule to see him, you still had to be working on your homework. With everything Crowley had you do for the school, you had to share your "dragon time" with your "homework time". But your boyfriend looked very cute pouty, so part of you wasn't too upset about it.

Until the day you were so busy with something that you hadn't eaten or slept in over 24 hours and just…collapsed during dragon/homework time.

Malleus immediately panics. He assumes you have had a heart attack and died (Mal…college students are unlikely to have heart attacks)  Once he finds a pulse, and sees your breathing, he scoops you up and teleports to Lilia faster than he has ever teleported.

He's sobbing as he answers Lilia's questions, not entirely certain that this wasn't something he did. Lilia easily is able to figure out what has happened, and goes to make you some soup for when you wake up. Malleus is too relieved to think about the fact that while Lilia's soup will have loads of protein, it might send you into shock. In the meantime, he puts a cool cloth on your forehead, and caresses your cheek.

After you wake up and barely survive the soup Malleus spoon feeds you he tucks you into his massive comfy bed (you can't tell me he doesn't have the fluffiest comforters) and then…vanishes.

From here on out, everytime you get a task from Crowley, it's already finished by the time you get around to it. It's weird, but it means you have time to keep homework separate from "dragon time". Which makes a certain fae very happy.

Lilia has spent years learning how to care for humans, especially since most of them *cough* Silver *cough cough* Y/N are not good at caring for themselves.  While his recipes are terrible, he is right in some ways about making sure to get all your nutrients. While it can feel a little patronizing sometimes, he is right that you need sleep. While he is a little unorthodox in how he has fun, he's right that you need to have leisure time and do things you enjoy.

What you don't know is that behind the scenes Lilia has already been having regular arguments with a certain Crow about your workload. When two fae fight, it's never good, but you don't have to worry about what's going on.

Azul and the tweels get called back home out of nowhere, and now you're in charge of all the paperwork that he is usually in charge of handling, both for the lounge and for the other Housewarden's. Lilia sees less and less of his sweet human, and he's suspicious part of it is because you are avoiding him, knowing full well he would make you take a break.

He has to admit, your avoiding skills are actually pretty good. So he's not actually there when you collapse. And he's furious. Especially when he finds out that Crowley also decided to add his own paperwork to your ever growing pile. He only knows you collapsed when he hears some randos gossiping about how "the prefect collapsed running laps today, and the idiot duo had to walk them to the infirmary." He's immediately flying to the infirmary, powered by his pure rage.

He knows it's not your fault, especially since you have nothing to your name in this world, so it's easy to manipulate you into this position. So he does his best not to take his anger out on you as he watches you sip apple juice that the nurse gave you, while you do your best to keep your eyes open. Once he is certain that the nurse has things under control, he kisses your forehead, and asks you if you want him to bring you anything.

While he's out getting you a treat, he makes a stop at a certain Crow's office. From here on out you don't see a lot of him. You are a little worried that Lilia may have killed him, but everytime you ask him, he giggles and messes up your hair, before telling you how silly that is.

He's harder on you than he is on most of his students, partially so that no one can claim favoritism, partially because you are just so far behind in history (having it not be your history) that he has to give you extra work and lessons to catch you up. But as a trade off, he tries to be a step ahead of Crowley whenever he can. There's little that happens in the school that he's unaware of, so he's usually able to protect you from his foolish boss.

Until you get sent to the training camp with the sports clubs to assist Vargas. He's furious about this last minute decision, that Crowley conveniently forgot to tell him about, and he's even more angry when he later finds out that you were "kidnapped" and then immediately had to fight a creature in the mines. 

Naturally, your mental health is not so great after the trip. He's starting to see it on your face when you both hang out, and even if he didn't, your work for his class is deteriorating, if you even turn it in at all. 

Then you break down one day when he asks you about it. He can't understand a word you're saying as you sob and yell and shake. But he's pretty sure he has the idea. You've been pushed too far. He sends Lucius to fetch a nurse or counselor , or heck he's sure even Sam would have something to help you relax enough to just breathe. In the meantime, he wraps his arms around you and tries to walk you through breathing exercises, while whispering some praises to you that you can't comprehend in this state, but appreciate all the same.

After someone gives you a potion that helps you relax a little, he leaves you to rest on his office couch with Lucius in charge, and he holds a meeting with the rest of that staff about what's not appropriate to put people through. (Essentially it's Crewel and Trein yelling at Vargas and Crowley about trauma and what their job is supposed to be) 

This never happens again. You continue to have extra work from Trein, but he always ensures he makes time to help you, or give you a soothing tea if he thinks you're starting to drop back into the bad mental state. If you do, he holds you close, and says nothing, while allowing you to spill whatever is plaguing you. 

Prior to him dating you, you had denied his request many times to financially sponsor you. Now that you were together, it was harder to come up with an excuse for him not to. So he'd purchased Ramshackle and renovated it. He'd taken up the expenses for your schooling and food (after much argument  he'd also taken up Grim's) and after several discussions about the future of your relationship, he'd begun helping you through the process of becoming a citizen in a world that had no proof of your existence (a pain and a half, but there was nothing he wouldn't do for his beloved pup). In doing all this, he'd made it very clear to the Headmage that he had no hold over you, and therefore couldn't coerce you into anything.

Divus knew he was a fool for leaving you alone for a week. He had assumed that Crowley had nothing on you anymore, and that he could go help a smaller fashion designer that showed a lot of promise get their career off the ground. At first he was only going to be gone for a week, but it quickly turned into two, then three. He should have recognized the tension in your voice when you'd asked him over the phone when he thought he'd be back. 

When he finally returned, he thought he'd surprise you by showing up where he knew you'd be hanging out with your friends. He'd bought a ring for you that he was particularly pleased with, and he wanted you to have it as soon as possible. His plan was dashed as he watched you collapse into Howl, who immediately started to panic.

With a clear voice Divus took over the scene, picking you up and carrying you to his office where he had all manner of potions. As he pressed one to your lips, he noticed a cast on your arm. He'd ask about it later. 

When you woke up, you wrapped your arms around him, and whispered how much you missed him. He asked what happened, and you tell him how you broke your arm in yet another overblot incudent, and had been working like crazy for Crowley to pay off the medical expenses. 

You've never been scared of your lover. But his eyes were practically glowing with rage, and now you were starting to wonder if you should be scared. Divus does not accept cruelty to animals or humans. And, he keeps his receipts. It's not long before there's a pretty hefty case and Dire is removed as headmage for coercion and endangerment. After that, there aren't any more overblot incidents and the students seem more mentally healthy. How about that?

He decides to wait to give you the ring until you're fully recovered after everything. But he's certain when he asks you the question that comes with it, you'll have an answer he likes. Especially when you nuzzle into him so sweetly while you nap in his office.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll

[byeoltoyuki]

love me

↳ Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / friends to lovers

❧ Warnings: none

❧ Words : +2k

❧ Summary : A stupid dare leads to something else.

prompt: “You’re not my favorite person today.” “I’m not your favorite person on any day"

❄︎

Seungmin pushed the door to your room, looking pissed as hell.

Oh oh. Someone was in trouble. That someone was definitely you.

You should have known that giving Seungmin the spare key to your place was a terrible idea and that there would be a day you would come to regret it. Back then, it seemed like a bright idea. After all, he was your best friend and you were a lonely, young woman, who on top of that lived alone. What if you got murdered in your sleep? There would be nobody to find your body. What if you broke a leg or worse and wouldn’t be able to open the door? Obviously, you had been dramatic when you made the decision to give him the key, but who cared.

Well, unsurprisingly, that day had come.

It wasn’t in your intentions to give him a reason to use it. Not really, at least. But maybe disappearing on him for one whole week was another bad decision of yours. Another poor decision to be added to the very long list of bad decisions. You couldn’t really blame him for using it, in the middle of the night while you were busy watching a drama, trying to distract yourself from overthinking.

“The hell you’re doing here?” You screamed and almost threw your laptop from your bed, too shocked seeing him in the middle of the night.

Seungmin’s frown only deepened. He couldn’t believe that he was worried for your well-being while you were enjoying yourself. Instead of answering your question, he approached your bed in silence, studying you with dark eyes. You were truly in trouble and wished you could hide from him.

“Let me ask you a better question.” He said, “What’s wrong with you?”

Now that was a loaded question. Just like you had a long list of your bad decisions, there was also a list of what was wrong with you. On top of the first list was definitely the fact that you were dared to kiss your best friend. On top of the second list was probably the fact that you had been incredibly confused about your relationship with Seungmin ever since.

Flashback

“Why are we playing this dumb game again?” Seungmin asked for the second time. He looked at you, half bored half annoyed. You should have known that playing truth or dare would only put him in even sourer mood – he didn’t want to be here in the first place. While you enjoyed improvised parties with your friends, Seungmin hated it. The only reason he came, was because you begged him to come with you.

“It’s only dumb because you have things to hide.” Jisung smirked and gave him a knowing look.

Jisung was definitely feeling brave tonight, you thought to yourself. It was a well-known fact that Seungmin could be a tad violent with his words, but apparently tonight it didn’t matter. Not to Jisung at least.

“But don’t worry, you’re not the only one.” Jisung blew him a kiss, unbothered with the death glare he received from Seungmin.

You, on the other hand, was curious. You didn’t think you had anything to hide which made you wonder who in this room had secrets. You studied Jisung - nope, couldn’t be him, the boy didn’t know how to keep things for himself even if he tried. Your gaze slid to Minho. Now that could be a possibility, the man was a tomb, you believed that even under torture he would never spill his secrets.

“My dear, Y/N,” Jisung interrupted your trail of thoughts, his smirk growing so wide it truly troubled you. Whatever he was about to do or say, you would regret it. “Truth or dare?”

When you first started playing this game, you felt pretty confident. Now? Not so much. Maybe it was because of Jisung’s smirk, maybe it was because of Minho’s and Jiah’s attention on you.

“I don’t think I’m ready to spill my secrets.” You started thinking out loud.

“Because you have secrets?” Seungmin snorted beside you which earned him a strong nudge from you.

“I’ll go with the dare.”

Jisung clapped his hands in happiness and yet the glint in his eyes was pure evil. Damn, was he hoping you would choose the dare?

“I dare you to kiss Seungmin.”

“What.” There was no way he asked something so dumb. Something you had never considered doing even for a joke. Apparently, Seungmin didn’t think it was a funny dare either; his body tensed beside you and he clenched his fist.

“Or you can drink this.” Minho pushed the disgusting mix of alcohols towards you. It was death disguised in a drink.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the drink and your friends, weighting whenever drinking this was worth it. No, you thought, you were too young to die because of a stupid game, Seungmin was right. You slowly turned your head to look at your best friend, studying him for a moment. He told you he didn’t want to come. He told you he didn’t want to play and yet you stubbornly fought him until he said yes. Now you regretted it and wished you had listened.

“Shit.” You thought to yourself, slowly panicking. What were you supposed to do? You didn’t want to do something he would disapprove.

Seungmin was the one to put you out of your misery. He sighed, resigned. There was no escape. “Get on with it.”

“Are you serious?” You whispered completely stunned.

Instead of replying he gave you a long look that meant only one thing: stop testing his patience. You hesitated; it should be just a game and yet you couldn’t find the courage to kiss him. It was silly, really, you knew it. Seungmin, however, chose to end your misery, he too, didn’t want you to drink the lethal cocktail. He gently took your hand and give it a tug.

“Come on, Y/N.” He whispered, fully ignoring your friends who were clearly enjoying your misery.

Seungmin didn’t let go of your hand as your leaned closer to him, your eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his lips. It was just a dare, you told yourself. A stupid dare and nothing more. And yet, the moment your lips brushed his, your whole body came alive, tingles spreading through your body. Feeling braver, you pushed your body against his, making it easier to deepen the kiss, to feel more of him. It was disconcerting how nice his lips felt against yours, how this kiss made you feel alive, how nice it was. You were kissing your best friend and instead of not feeling anything, you were feeling it all.

Back to present

“Nothing. I’m doing perfectly fine and you’re interrupting my peaceful night.” You ended up saying, trying to sound as convincing as you could but you were doing a rather poor job.

Seungmin wasn’t convinced. You expected as much but still hoped he would let it go. Instead, he studied you, a deep frown on his face. “So you’ve been avoiding me just to piss me off?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you! Why would I?” You protested

“Okay, you weren’t. Then, mind to explain why you had left all my messages on read? Why you declined all invitations to go out? Worse, you refused to go to our weekly library tour. I had to go alone, like a loser.”

“I-“ You opened your mouth, wanting so badly to defend yourself, but he was right. You had absolutely nothing to say in your defense.

“You?” Seungmin knew there was something bothering you and yet you refused to talk about it which frustrated him. There were no secrets between you two; the two of you had always been awfully blunt, not minding hurting each other’s feelings and yet here you were, holding back.

“Y/N.” It was your last chance to come out clean, you felt it with the way he said your name. A warning. But did it work on you? Definitely not.

“Stop it, Seungmin.” You pleaded, “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You’re a horrible liar.” He snapped and grabbed your ankles. He yanked you with so much strength, you shrieked. Seungmin settled between your legs, trapping you between his body and the bed, giving you no choice but look him in the eyes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. There was no escaping anymore – you were doomed.

“You’re not my favorite person today.” You pouted

Was it you or it was getting too hot in your room? It had to be you, and definitely not because his presence was affecting you. It was definitely not because your own body was reacting to his closeness. You were too aware of him.

Seungmin was not impressed. He huffed and flicked your nose playfully which made you only whine and wriggle under him in an attempt to set yourself free. Without success.

“I’m not your favorite person on any day.” He observed you for a moment, weighing his options. He wasn’t stupid, he had a pretty clear idea of what was bothering you, but he wanted to hear you say it. “Fine. Want me to guess?”

You shook your head. No, you did not want him to guess; Seungmin was very perceptive, too perceptive for your liking.

“No? I’ll do it anyway.”

You groaned and nudged him with your knee. Seungmin, instead, leaned closer, face dangerously close to yours, eyes sharp, watching you. Whether it was because of his proximity or because of the way he was looking at you – you gulped.

“I think you’ve been avoiding me since the party and because of the stupid game.”

Shit. He knew. Of course, he did.

“I think,” And he dared to smile, a very wicked and playful smile, “you’ve been avoiding me because of the kiss. Did you like it, Y/N?”

You did. Too much. You found yourself staring at him, at his pretty nose, at his pretty kissable lips. You could joke all you wanted about him looking like a puppy, but right now he looked like a predator observing its prey and he was definitely having fun.

“Come on, Y/N.” He grabbed your chin, his grip gentle but firm. “You’re usually so good with words.” His gaze slid to your lips, leaning even closer, his warm breath on your lips. He was slowly driving you crazy and he didn’t know it. “Say it.”

Saying yes would be so simple and yet you couldn’t muster the courage to say it. Such tiny word, yet so powerful. What if your admission would change your relationship? You refused risking your friendship just because you, terribly, wanted to kiss him.

Seungmin tsked, getting frustrated with your lack of reaction, but he wasn’t one to give up so easily. “Did you finally stop seeing me just as a friend?”

“What?”

He ignored your question, but at least his smile was back as you finally reacted to his words. “Because if you did, I’ll be finally able to show you how much I love you. I’ll show you every day just how much I care for you. If you let me.”

Seungmin had the gift of leaving you speechless. This time was no exception. His confession echoed in your head, in your heart. Seungmin, your best friend, was actually in love with you.

“You like me?” You finally asked, so stunned, you had to make sure your mind wasn’t playing some tricks.

Seungmin laughed at that and straightened up. He knew, he had all of your attention, now. “I do. I’ve been in love with your sorry ass for two years now. I think Jisung was done with watching us, that’s why he made you do the dare.”

And here you thought, you were good at figuring people out. Apparently, you were not. How did you miss the signs? But more importantly, what were you supposed to do? Clearly, the kiss made you think more about Seungmin, about your own feelings. Did you love him? Did you want a relationship with him?

“You’re overthinking right now.” Once more, he saw right through you. “It’s okay if you don’t know how you feel about me. I can wait.”

You knew he would. Seungmin was the patient one between the two of you, but he was also a fighter – given the chance, he would fight for his love.

Slowly, you reached out for him. You pulled at his arms, making him fall back on top of you, giving you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck. “Can you kiss me?” You asked instead. “Just to be sure.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Seungmin chuckled and didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as he claimed your mouth hungrily, passionately. He had been dying to do it again – now that he had a taste, it was the only thing he could think about.

And you? You realized with his lips devouring yours,  it wouldn’t be hard to fully give yourself to him. Body, heart and mind.

[udretlnea]

The Interesting Inazumans

Prompt: Inspired by this post

A/N: I love writing shenanigans. Also, happy birthday to me AND I’m quite excited to play Honkai Star Rail; I meant to have this up earlier, but I lost motivation 75% of the way through and that was quite annoying to deal with. Furthermore, this is more or less set-up for what I have planned next. Nothing too exciting I’m afraid, but think of it this way: if I kept writing exciting action scenes, then it would slowly lose its charm. Thus, it’s better to space things apart to keep things interesting. (By the time of writing this, my birthday will have passed.)

Words: 1386

Part two to, “An Idealized Image”.

Tags: @iruiji , @kamiyadidi

Kamisato Ayaka stood on the sidelines watching Yoimiya and Itto with confusion and interest; Kuki Shinobu merely looked down in shame, a hand covering her eyes. Heizou was standing on the side as well, looking at the beetle battle with interest and a hint of amusement. Gorou and Kirara were barking and hissing at each other, respectively; Kokomi tried to calm him down to little effect. 

The scene was pure chaos. Truly, this was an embarrassment to your pride as the Divine Overseer; nothing could make you feel worse.

Two weeks since your arrival

It hasn’t even been a month, yet you are beginning to get accustomed to your new life as “Divine Overseer”. You were resting on your bed, recovering from your sword training with Ei.

Let’s recap: After waking up in Chinju Forest and observing your appearance, you walked all the way to Inazuma City; when your stomach growled, you grabbed the first edible thing you saw which just so happened to look like raspberry, but yellow. Nobody paid attention to you when you arrived; the ones that did notice usually stared for a little and then went about their day. That suited you just fine since you couldn’t come up with a backstory to save your life.

You wandered around the city, eventually making your way to the Statue of the Omnipresent God. You felt drawn towards it, like something was calling to you something deep inside of you.

Then, Kujou Sara appeared behind you before you could get a chance to examine it further. With how much you suspiciously resembled a divine being you were brought into Tenshukaku. After answering some rather fascinating questions thank goodness they spoke something similar to English because you were dead if they spoke Japanese about a being called the Primordial One and passing a blood test you still remember the awe you felt when you bled silver instead of dark red you automatically were given a room in Tenshukaku.

The news spread like wildfire until even those from Watatsumi came to profess their faith and wishes. At first you felt unworthy of such a title, and who could blame you? You were some no-name nobody who appeared out of nowhere; not that you weren’t ungrateful for this cover, but still, if they ever found out the truth they’d probably have your head. Best to keep it to yourself for now. 

According to your individual research, this “divine overseer” was charged with making preperations for the return of some being called the Primordial One; they sounded quite important from the title alone. You weren’t terribly worried, not when you had an entire nation to assist you in this endeavor.

You adjusted to this sudden schedule rather quickly, in no small part thanks to Kujou Kamaji being assigned to help ease you into this…fascinating position. You were given a routine to follow: Calligraphy in the morning, bow training with Sara in the afternoon, and learning how to wield a sword with Ei at night. You didn’t know why you had to wield a weapon, let alone know how to fight with one, but any knowledge is useful and who wouldn’t want to know how to wield two weapons?

Your eyes began to feel heavy, and before long you drifted off to sleep.

Okay, the domain’s ready. Dropping it in 3…2…1…now.

Hey, update. Apparently Honkai Star Rail’s releasing later today. We’re not gonna finish in time.

…Okay. That’s bad, but we do have a protocol for that.

Understood. I’ll execute it now.

/////

The next afternoon, you found yourself sipping tea with Ei. Normally, you would be practicing shooting a bow with Sara, but the entirety of the Shogunate seems to have been gaslit by the sudden appearance of a new domain. It just appeared near Tatarasuna in Kannazuka Island. With it being so close to Kujou Encampment, Sara was the first to be informed and quickly led an investigation of the area.

All of this, Ei told you as she poured another cup for you, was because all of Narukami had dreamt the same thing last night: A dream involving you.

“Oh…I see. Did they say if they remembered any details?” You press gently, but Ei shook her head.

“Nothing clear. However, Kujou Kamaji has stated that the only consistent thing each person remembers is of a person whom they recall has hair as white as snow and yellow pupils…”

“I see…” You finish your tea rather quickly, earning a mean look from Ei. You set your cup down and cross your arms. “Then…I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“To take control of the situation, gather members for an exploration team, and then plan for the exploration itself,” you casually stated. You stood up from the mat and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Ei asked. You heard a mixture of concern and confusion in her voice, despite her attempt at hiding it. You turned your head to address her.

“Huh? I thought my plan would have informed you? I’m going to go find some willing volunteers to explore the domain.”

/////

It took an additional amount of time than you would’ve liked because Ei argued it, “wasn’t the Overseer’s duty to attend to such trivial matters when she could get a servant to do it”. Some back-and-forth banter later and a compromise was reached: gather some of Inazuma’s Vision holders plus some adventurers from the Guild to create an exploration team with.

A couple days later, the meeting was held inside Tenshukaku in the main room where the Shogun usually resided; Ei went to the Grand Narukami Shrine to speak with Miko, but she reassured you she wouldn’t take long.

Something you kept telling yourself even as Arataki “Numero Uno” Itto gave a come-at-me gesture to Naganohara Yoimiya; the two engaged in an Onikabuto battle then and there to decide who would accompany you, which begged the question why did they have Onikabuto with them?

Meanwhile, Kamisato Ayaka stood on the sidelines watching in confusion and interest; Kuki Shinobu merely looked down in shame, a hand covering her eyes. Heizou was standing some way off, looking at the beetle battle with interest and a hint of amusement. Gorou and Kirara were barking and hissing at each other, respectively; Kokomi tried to calm him down to little effect. 

The scene was pure chaos. Truly, this was an embarrassment to your pride as the Divine Overseer; nothing could make you feel more ashamed.

And then the doors opened. Almost comically, everybody paused to see who had arrived. They were basked in the light so only their silhouettes showed; then they casually strode forth, revealing a blonde female with a flower in her hair and a white haired…fairy(?).

“Uhh, Paimon’s confused. What’s going on here?” asked the white-haired fairy. She looked at each and every Vision holder. “Why are you all acting so out of character?”

“If you ask me, this bonehead over here is acting like himself.” Shinobu crossed her arms and glared at the oni. 

“Oh! Lu-Lumine! What an unexpected surprise!” Kamisato Ayaka put a hand on her chest. “It’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other…”

Lumine? You mean the same Lumine that managed to defeat a dragon, help stop a god that could command the ocean, and abolish the Vision Hunt Decree? You think to yourself with a growing sense of horror. Oh great, they’re definitely gonna judge me harshly. Somebody kill me now.

“Hello Ayaka. It’s nice to see you too,” she said plainly yet with a friendly tone. Then she put a hand to her chin. “But Paimon’s right. What happened here?”

“Well…you see, we all arrived here when the Divine Overseer put out a request to help with this Domain…” Yoimiya began.

By the time Yoimiya finished the explanation, everyone had cleaned up their act and was now kneeling on the tatami mats; they faced you with a neutral expression as if they hadn’t engaged in shenanigans earlier. The firework girl took a spot next to Kamisato Ayaka. Lumine stood in the back, and Paimon floated beside her. 

At last, you can get to building a team. You pray that nothing bad would happen.

Excellent. I think we can let it go here. Come on. It’s starting soon.

[thosehallowedhalls]

glorious or terrible, benevolent or full of wrath

Book: Crimes of Passion

Pairing: M!Trystan Thorne x Emma Rose (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mention of kidnapping and rape in Greek mythology, stroke, death

Word count: 800

Summary: Demeter doesn't always go to hell for Persephone.

A/N: I know Demeter doesn't actually go to the Underworld, but I'm heeding Elliott's word and taking liberties. Submission for @choicesmaychallenge24 (prompt: Demeter). Title from The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K. Jemisin.

The Drunk Tank echoes with the pleasant sounds of laughter and conversation, the voices of the people she loves reaching Emma even in the relative seclusion of the bench. Content, she takes another sip of the wine she stole from Trystan, then looks at him when he speaks again.

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but… I think your father would be happy with how you handled yourself today.”

Reaching out, she covers his hand with hers. “He’d be happier that I had you helping me out.”

Trystan laces their fingers together. “There’s… something else. Something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

She raises her eyebrows and gestures for him to continue.

“It’s about… your family.”

“You mean my mother.”

“Yeah. You’ve talked about your father, and I know you’re close with your uncle. But you never mentioned your mother.”

Slowly, she pulls her hand back. She ignores the way her skin misses his warmth. “Has it never occurred to you that there’s a reason for that?”

“It has. But…” He brings himself to a halt when she stands. “Emma, wait.”

“I need some air.”

She slips outside through the back door, confident that the others didn’t see her leave. She doesn’t think she can handle their concerned questions. Not right now. But she’s not surprised when she feels Trystan walking up and stopping short of reaching her side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Clearly it’s not. I’m sorry. Can we pretend I never asked?”

It’s tempting but… She sighs. “My mother walked out on me and my dad when I was six. I never saw her again.”

He inhales softly. “Emma. I’m sorry.”

“She told my dad she would call me as soon as she found a place. She never did.”

“Do you know where she’s now?”

“Dead. A stroke when I was twenty-one.” She shrugs. “My uncle found out through mutual friends and told me. I can’t imagine why he thought I’d care.”

“Didn’t you?”

She shakes her head. “You know, I had a Greek mythology phase when I was growing up.”

Unfazed by the non sequitur, he answers without a pause. “Don’t most kids?”

Her lips curve in a smile. “Maybe. There were so many myths that I loved. But I hated the myth of Persephone.”

“I don’t see much to love in the story of a god kidnapping and raping his niece.”

“That’s not it. Also, I prefer the versions where she has some agency, thank you very much. But that’s not what I hate. It’s Demeter.”

“Why? Demeter goes to… Oh.”

“Yeah. Demeter goes to extreme lengths, to Zeus himself, in order to rescue her daughter. God, that made me so mad. Why did Persephone get to have a mother who would go to hell for her, and I couldn’t even get a mother who’d want to see me?” She fixes her gaze on the metal trash can glinting under the alley lights. “Not all Demeters risk Hades to get Persephone back. Some of them just… couldn’t care less about Persephone in the first place.”

Trystan rests a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Emma, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I know this without a shadow of a doubt. It’s her loss.”

“Maybe.” She pushes her hair back. “You know, I didn’t care when my mother died. She wasn’t my mother, really. She just provided me with half my DNA.”

“Why do you feel guilty about that?”

“I don’t.” She blows out a breath when he remains silent. “All right. I don’t feel guilty, per se. I just… I guess I feel a little guilty for not feeling guilty. If anything, it was a relief to finally get that closure.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I know. Worked through all of that in therapy already. But…”

“It’s a sore spot.”

“Yeah.” Soothed by his understanding, she finally turns to face him. “Sorry I turned a celebration into a venting session. But it’s your own fault for following me out here.”

He laughs. “Leave it to you to turn it all around so it’s my fault in the end.”

Her lips twitch. “I’m just saying.”

“Do you want to stay here? We don’t have to go back inside.”

“No.” She squeezes his hand briefly. “We’re celebrating tonight. She doesn’t get to take that away from me.”

He brushes his fingers against her cheek. “Good.”

They stand there, eyes locked, until Tuppence comes bounding out. Laughing, Emma leans down to stroke her head. “Come on, Your Highness. You too, Trystan. I could use another glass of wine.”

“Fine. But you get your own this time.”

The door clicks shut behind them. The stars glow invisible in the sky, the only witnesses to a conversation that lightened someone’s heart.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #5, awkward

Read part one (using the prompt “box”) here

Read part two (using the prompt “familiar”) here

Read part three (using the prompt “fall”) here

++++++

Some of you anticipated or suggested this or possibly wished it to happen and with today’s prompt, well, it was sort of inevitable really.

Time for some (sort of) testing! Here we go…

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Four

“Ah, I see.” John nodded wisely.

(John did not. But he supposed a successful salesman should never ever admit that he had not understood one word of what the client had said.)

Sherlock hummed appreciatingly. John is so clever, he thought, understanding me even I don’t.

“Position in, erm,” John fake-cleared his throat, “of the bed is very important.”

John scratched his neck. God, this was so awkward. All these verbal slips. Thankfully the customer wasn’t fazed by his terrible blundering. Maybe he hadn’t even heard because he was currently focusing on stroking his right hand lovingly over the silky covering of the bed. Up and down. In circles, too.

Sherlock sighed. “It’s so smooth.” (Wishing he could be able to stroke the skin on John’s neck.) “I like how it feels,” he added and wondered if John would be this soft as well.

John, jealous of the bed once more, wished he could swap places with the lucky furniture. The beautiful man caressed its fabric as if it carried a lover’s skin.

Suddenly the client stiffened the index and middle finger of his right hand and forcefully stabbed them into the mattress. Multiple times.

The boxsprings creaked a tiny little bit. The sound was deafeningly loud in the silence of the bed shop.

Both men stared transfixed at the moving fingers, deeply lost in thought. How seamlessly they glided in and out of the mattress. And in. And out again.

(Actually, they were both thinking about lube. Albeit being applied in different scenarios.)

“It’s delightfully rigid.” Sherlock panted a bit due to the physical exertion. (It was a mental one, in fact.) “But the creaking of the boxsprings could be bothersome when I turn around in the bed.” (Meaning while having sex.)

“Does your bed often creak when you turn in it?” New beads of sweat had formed on John’s fore head. (Having imagined turning in snych with the customer.)

Looking down, John realized that he had also mimicked the gesture, as in stiffening two of his fingers while stabbing at the air. (His hand had been perfectly steady while doing so.)

John quickly shoved his hand in the pocket of his trousers in an effort to hide the evidence. (What his still rigid fingers found in there was some other kind of evidence.)

“I’m versatile in my positions.” Sherlock blinked, slightly confused. Was that the correct answer to John’s question? (To be clear, Sherlock did not lie. He was versatile in bed. Verily so.)

John coughed. “Yes, well, that’s only a matter of choosing the correct set of boxsprings according to the distribution of body weight on the mattress.”

John congratulated himself on coming up with this brilliant answer. Being alert in tight situations had always been his forte. (Inside his trousers John was alert and tight, too.) It sounded absolutely logical and also offered him a most welcome opening to finally ask the question that had burned on his tongue for some time.

“Would there usually be more than one person using this bed on a daily basis?” Oh yes, very smart and artful like the good old Three-Continents-Watson, John mentally patted himself on the shoulder.

Staring at John, Sherlock said, “No, currently it’s just me.” (Hoping this would change soon.)

Feeling bold about heading into the right direction, John risked inquiring further and took a dare. “You don’t have a boyfriend, then? Which is fine by the way.”

“I know it’s fine.” Sherlock huffed, “Or it would be if I had one.” Like you, Sherlock added in his mind.

The first bead of sweat finally dripped off John’s fore head. He felt hot (and bothered) and a wave of intense longing threatened to wash him away. Let me be the one, he pleaded internally.

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[rainisawriter]

Made With Love – Shibaman (PSF #10)

PSF Ficography | H&F Flash Ficography

Genre: Fluff, romance, slice of life

Prompt: Love of my Life (@flufftober) / Leaves dancing in the breeze (Fall Flash @slumberpartybingo)

Word Count: 5,249

Pairing: Reader x Shibaman

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

If someone had asked you a year ago if you believed in love or soulmates, you probably would have said no. It just wasn’t something that ever crossed your mind, mostly because you just didn’t have the time. Between dealing with Kuryu trying to destroy Sword, then Housen and Oya going at it… It kept you pretty busy. 

Things had been peaceful for several months now, though. Well, as peaceful as it could get at a place like Oya. There were still daily fights and arguments, but nothing that couldn’t be easily solved with a few punches.

With nothing else to worry about, you spent a lot of time with Tsuji, making fun of people’s poor fashion choices in magazines, and with Shibaman, listening to his favorite artists and talking about music in general.

If someone asked you to pinpoint when exactly it happened, you wouldn’t be able to answer because you simply didn’t know. You don’t know when you fell in love with Shibaman, you just knew that you had fallen hard. If you were being honest, it took you a long time to even realize it.

You started to feel nervous around him, worrying about how you acted or the things you said. You were afraid he would look at you differently. There were also the physical effects he had on you. Every time his eyes met yours, your heart would race. Hearing his voice never failed to make you feel calm and happy. His touch set butterflies free in your gut and when he spoke your name, you felt like you were melting.

You thought you were sick or maybe even allergic to him. It was so foreign to you that it was jarring, so you started to avoid him. He didn’t like this, of course, so he confronted you about it. You had no idea how to explain what you were feeling, at least not until Tsuji intervened.

He had noticed the change between the two of you – and he wasn’t the only one, either. To your surprise, Shibaman had been experiencing the exact same feelings. He loved you, too, so you started dating to test the waters. It was awkward as hell at first. It felt as if something had changed between you and you hated it.

It took a while, but you finally figured out that things didn’t need to change simply because you were a couple now. It took time, but the two of you soon fell back into the familiar groove you had sat in throughout your friendship and it was amazing.

Shibaman was the love of your life, you realized. All you wanted was to be near him and for him to be happy. You would do anything to make him feel loved, to make him realize how special he was to you. 

With his birthday and Halloween coming up soon, you wanted to do something special because, this year, the two of you were more than just friends. It took you a while to figure out what you wanted to do and you weren’t even sure it was a good idea. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, though, so you knew you had to at least try.

You could only hope your efforts wouldn’t be wasted and that he wouldn’t hate it.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Ready to go?” Shibaman leaned toward you from where he sat on the couch, a smile on his lips.

You offered him an apologetic smile. “I actually have plans today…”

The two men exchanged a surprised look before Tsuji questioned, “Don’t tell me you’re cheating on us.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you stood up. “No, never. I do need to get going, though.”

“Where are you going?” Shibaman stood up, reaching for your hand. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, you can’t!” You replied quickly, making his brow furrow. You mentally cursed yourself, scrambling for a believable excuse. “My cousin is coming into town today. I… haven’t seen her in a long time and she’s not really a fan of guys, so…” You mentally cursed again for choosing such a terrible lie.

Whether he believed it or not, he didn’t question it. “Be safe. If you need me, call me.”

“I will, I promise.” You cupped his cheek, pulling him down into a soft kiss that stole his breath away. “I’ll see you later.” You smiled at the two before rushing out of the room, unaware of the worried look the two exchanged.

It took a while for you to reach Housen, mostly because you were paranoid that the boys were following you so you took the road less traveled. The students looked at you strangely when you entered the school, but they knew who you were and had no desire to fight you. Housen and Oya had long since squashed their beef.

“Excuse me,” you called out, tapping a boy on the shoulder. When he turned, you recognized him instantly. “Ah, Sawamura!”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see Yuken. Can you take me to him?”

“Yeah, sure,” he motioned for you to follow before starting down the hall. “What do you need to see him for?”

“Ah, well…” you rubbed the back of your neck, offering him a sheepish smile. “It’s a bit personal.”

He hummed, giving you a playful smile. “I hope you’re not going to confess. You know he’s dating Meg.”

You laughed at the thought. “I would never betray her like that. Besides, you know I’m dating Shibaman.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Does he know you’re here?”

You frowned, lowering your gaze to the floor. You felt bad lying to him but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

“That’s a no, then,” he replied softly, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Sawamura.”

He led you toward a classroom on the first floor, sitting at the back of the school. The Four Heavenly Kings, along with a bunch of seniors, were crowded around the room, watching two students try to take down Jinkawa. The keyword there being try.

“Wait here,” Sawamura told you before moving farther into the room. Yuken was sitting at the back of the room with his girlfriend, the two watching something on his phone. Sawamura leaned down to tell him the situation, pointing over at you.

Yuken met your eyes and you smiled politely, waving your hand at him. Meg leaned to the side to see around the large boys standing between the two of you, a grin on her lips as she waved at you.

You waved back before forming a heart with your hearts. She pretended to catch it, holding it against her chest before both of you started laughing. Yuken shook his head, pressing a kiss to her cheek before standing up and approaching you.

“What can I do for you?” he inquired, a charming smile on his lips.

You glanced at the group of men gathered in the center of the room. Most of them were focused on the fight, but a few were sending you curious looks. “Can we talk somewhere more… private?”

He quirked a brow, glancing at the other boys before nodding. “Sure. Follow me.”

You followed him outside, taking a deep breath of the cool autumn air. “I need your help.”

“My help? Shouldn’t you be asking Oya?”

“This isn’t a problem they can help with,” you frowned, glancing around to ensure you were alone. “Is it true that you know how to crochet?”

Yuken scowled, a hand on his hip. “I told Meg not to tell anyone that.” 

“So, it’s true then?” You gave him a hopeful look and he nodded. “Please teach me!”

He hummed curiously, folding his arms over his chest. “I expect diligence. No slacking off and no excuses.”

“I understand. I promise to be a good student!”

Yuken considered this for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Give me your number so I can text you when I get everything set up.”

“Thank you so much,” you grinned.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

For the next two months, you visited Yuken every few days to learn how to crochet and begin working on the sweater you wanted to make for Shibaman. You chose the softest yarn you could find, using black as the base color. It took a while for you to decide between cats and pumpkins, but you finally chose both.

In the center of the sweater would be a jack-o-lantern with a cat leaning the upper half of its body on top of it. You also planned to add a witch’s hat. You could clearly see the design in your head, but it was much harder to bring to life than you had anticipated.

“Damn it,” you cursed, scowling down at the design before you. The jack-o-lantern was misshapen despite having redone it about twenty times. If you couldn’t even get a pumpkin right, how in the hell were you going to get the cat done? You were getting frustrated, especially since his birthday was quickly approaching.

“Don’t get frustrated,” scolded Yuken, peering at you over his glasses. “It’ll only make the stitching look worse.”

“I know,” you muttered, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You carefully undid the stitch before trying again, slower this time, but it still came out looking funky. “Ugh! Why is this so damn hard?!”

“I did warn you that this pattern wasn’t beginner-friendly,” he tutted, sitting back in his chair as he worked on a pair of mittens for his girlfriend. Unlike your creation, his was pristine and well crafted, clearly made by a professional.

“Maybe I should have hired you to make one instead of teach me,” you sighed, sliding down in your seat. 

“You’d regret it.”

“Huh?”

“You chose to learn how to crochet because you wanted to make something for the person you love, right?” He quirked a brow at you. “You wanted to craft something with your own hands, your own heart, to show him how much he means to you. That is the soul of crocheting – making things with love for the people you care about most. The feeling simply doesn’t transfer if someone else makes it.”

You frowned at the sweater in your hands, taking in his words. “You’re right, but… it looks god awful, he’s going to hate it. What was I thinking? Shibaman is into fashion and hip-hop, why the hell would he want a crocheted Halloween sweater? I’m so stupid!” You groaned, hanging your head.

Yuken scoffed, sending you an offended look. “If he’s not grateful for your hard work, then the problem lies with him, not you. Taking the time to crochet something for someone is the ultimate form of love and respect! And if he disrespects that, I’ll kick his ass myself!”

“You’re really passionate about this, huh…”

“Everyone needs something to be passionate about.”

“I thought that was fighting.”

He clicked his tongue. “Other than fighting. Come on, you need a break before you ruin the yarn.”

You set the sweater carefully in its box, closing the lid before following the male away from Housen and toward the local café to grab some lunch. The woman at the counter greeted him cheerfully, so you assumed he came here often.

Yuken sat down across from you, folding his hands on the table. “Tell me honestly, why did you choose to crochet a sweater for him? There are plenty of gift options that may be more… suited to his tastes.”

“Why?” You frowned at the table, scratching your cheek in thought. “As soon as I thought of the idea, it just felt… right, I guess. This is the first time we’re celebrating his birthday and Halloween as a couple, so I really want it to be special. I wanted to make him something myself because…”

“It feels more personal?” He guessed, quirking a brow.

“Yes.”

“The fact that you chose crochet over all other art forms tells me that you understand the craft at its base level. As long as you understand that, then no matter what you craft, no matter how imperfect it may be, it will be perfect in the eyes of the one receiving it.”

You didn’t feel entirely convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“You’re the crochet expert, I guess.”

“Just… don’t go around telling people that, alright?”

“Sure, sure.”

While the two of you continued talking, Shibaman and Tsuji just so happened to be passing by. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to glance over, but his eyes fell on you immediately, widening in surprise. You had told him you were going to help your cousin get settled into her new apartment outside of Sword, yet there you were, sitting in a cafe with Housen’s Odajima.

Tsuji paused when he realized the taller male had stopped walking. He followed the male’s gaze, removing his glasses with a frown. “They are definitely not cousins.”

Shibaman frowned, feeling frustration and pain settle in his gut. Though he wasn’t fond of the idea of you meeting up with other schools, that isn’t what bothered him. Why had you lied to him about it? Why weren’t you honest with him?

Tsuji glanced at him, nudging his arm. “Don’t jump to conclusions. We should confront -”

“No,” Shibaman shook his head, beginning to walk away.

“No?” Tsuji quickly followed him, brow furrowed. “Don’t you want the truth?”

“Of course I do,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn’t want to demand answers from you, though. He wanted you to come clean on your own. “Don’t say anything about this.”

Tsuji had an idea of what his best friend was thinking, though he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. “Fine, I won’t say anything,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Baby,” called Shibaman, slipping his hand into yours as he leaned closer to you. “Do you want to go see a movie?”

Tsuji glanced up from the magazine he was reading. “My uncle just recently started working at the theater. He can get us in for free.”

“Oh, uh…” you rubbed the back of your neck with a frown. “I’d like to, but…”

“You have to see your cousin,” guessed Shibaman, his jaw tensing as he turned his gaze toward the wall.

You could feel how tense his body was and you didn’t notice the way he tried to subtly shift away from you. Guilt pooled inside your gut. “I’m sorry…”

He nearly asked if you really were sorry, but he bit back the question, pulling his hand free as he stood up. “It’s fine.”

You weren’t dumb. You knew this man like the back of your hand and you knew it very much was not fine. He wasn’t the type to speak his mind, though, and preferred to bottle things up until he simply couldn’t any longer. It was obvious that he was getting fed up with your cousin and you constantly ditching them.

Tsuji stood up to follow but paused when you called out his name. He quirked a brow at you but you could tell his usual friendliness toward you was gone. He didn’t like it when his brother was upset.

You quickly shut the door in case Shibaman was still close by and you lowered your voice. “I know you’re mad at me -”

“That’s an understatement,” he scoffed, having to bite his tongue to stop from mentioning the cafe. 

You chewed on your lip, having an internal debate with yourself about whether or not to tell him. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell Shibaman.”

“I can’t promise that.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed from behind his colored glasses. “If you’re hiding something from him, he deserves to know.”

“And he will,” you promised him. “Just… I need a bit more time.”

“Time for what?”

You glanced at the door before leaning toward him. “I’m working on something for his birthday. It’s… taking longer than I thought it would. I didn’t want to lie but I want it to be a surprise.”

Tsuji felt surprised by this information. Why hadn’t he considered that you might be planning something? He felt a bit dumb for not thinking of it sooner, but he also felt a bit hurt that you hadn’t confided in him sooner. “You should have told me.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry…”

He sighed deeply, bringing his hand to his forehead. “I’ll see what I can do, but you better hurry up. He knows something’s up and he’s getting impatient.”

“I know…”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Come on, you got this!” cheered Meg, staring at you with a grin.

“Just a little bit more,” encouraged Yuken with a nod, leaning toward you. 

“Hurry up, you’re so close!”

“No, don’t hurry up! Don’t rush it now!”

You looked up from the sweater with a scowl, sitting back when you realized just how close the two of them were to your face. “Can you two give me some space?”

“Oh, are you having performance anxiety?” snickered Meg as she sat back down.

You scoffed, muttering under your breath, “Anyone would with you two breathing down their neck.”

“Hey, we’re just trying to help.” Yuken sat down as well, arms folded over his chest. He was watching you intently, his shoulders tense as he watched the way you were stitching the last bit of the sweater.

Meg noticed this and laughed, resting her hand on his arm. “I think you’re more tense and you’re not even the one making it.”

“Of course I am! This is the creation of my first student.”

“Your first student?” she grinned, quirking a brow. “Does that mean you’re gonna take on more?”

Yuken said nothing, though he’d be lying if he said the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. He enjoyed teaching you more than he thought he would, despite how frustrating you could be at times.

“Yuken’s Crochet studio,” you snickered, glancing at him. “Got a nice ring to it.”

“Focus,” he scolded, refusing to admit that he did like the sound of it.

“Alright, keep your panties on.” You did as he instructed, focusing on the last few stitches. A few tense moments of silence ticked by. “There… it’s done.” You stood up, holding up the completed sweater.

It was far from perfect, the cat looking a bit derpy and the pumpkin still misshapen, but it had its own unique charm to it. It was one of a kind, made with all the love you held in your heart for Shibaman. That made up for the imperfections.

“What do you think?” you questioned nervously.

“It’s super cute,” smiled Meg. “He’s going to love it!”

Yuken nodded, giving you a proud look. “I have to say, I wasn’t confident that you would stick with it until the end.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you did and I’m proud of you.”

You chuckled, feeling happy at the praise. “Thank you, Yuken-sensei.”

Yuken put his hands together in front of him and bowed, deepening his voice. “Now, go out into the world, my pupil.”

Meg snorted. “What voice is that supposed to be?”

“Yoda.”

“That wasn’t even close.”

“I tried my best,” he pouted, pulling her into his arms.

You carefully folded the sweater before placing it in the box and securing it with an orange ribbon. “His birthday is tomorrow… wish me luck.”

“You got this,” Meg smiled, offering you a thumbs up. “And if he doesn’t appreciate it, Yuken will kick his ass.”

Yuken nodded, pushing up his glasses. “I won’t stand for anyone disrespecting such a sacred art.”

“Thanks, guys.” You offered them a bow and a grateful smile before scooping up the box and heading home.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this nervous, your heart racing within your chest. You were honestly tempted to just drop the gift off and run away, not wanting to see his reaction, but you knew you couldn’t do that. It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted to make up for avoiding him lately.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of his house. His older sister was the one who answered, looking tired. “He left already.”

“Eh?” your brow furrowed. He had always waited for you to arrive before heading to school so it was strange that he had gone ahead of you. “O-Oh, um… thank you.”

“Oi,” she called out, eyes narrowed at you. “He’s been moping around lately. If I find out you’re the reason, I’m gonna kick your ass.” And then she slammed the door in your face.

You scowled in frustration, though you weren’t sure if it was more toward her or yourself. You knew you were the cause and it pissed you off despite having done it with good intentions. Surely he would forgive you… right?

Holding the box to your chest, you rushed toward Oya high, keeping an eye open for the pair as you went. You entered the broadcast room with a smile, expecting to see your boyfriend sitting on the couch, listening to music. It was Todoroki who sat on the couch, though, reading one of his books.

Tsuji stood up when you entered, a frown on his lips. “He had already left when I got to his house this morning. I have no idea where he is.”

“Oh,” you frowned, chewing on your bottom lip. You thought about it for a moment before carefully setting the box beside Todoroki. “Can you make sure he gets this please?”

“Of course,” Tsuji offered you a smile, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. It did little to help, though.

“Thank you.” You offered him a bow before turning and leaving the room. Without Shibaman there, it felt pointless to stay at school so you decided to just leave.

Rather than go home, you chose to go for a walk around town to clear your head. The wind was chilly, making you retreat farther into the jacket you were wearing. It had originally belonged to Shibaman so it was quite large on you and it still faintly smelled of him. 

A light misty rain started to fall from the cloudy sky, feeling cold against your face but you didn’t mind. The rain was peaceful and helped you relax whenever you felt stressed. It wasn’t heavy rain, anyway, so the likelihood of you catching a cold from it was slim.

Despite how peaceful and quiet the world around you felt, you couldn’t stop thinking about Shibaman. Where was he? Was he okay? Was he mad at you? Or was he just hurt by your lies? You wished you could find him and explain everything, but you knew he didn’t want to be found. He wanted to be alone so he could sort out his own feelings.

That was fine with you, you just wished it hadn’t fallen on his birthday. Today was supposed to be special for him, to be free of worry or want. You had royally screwed that up, though.

With a sigh, you plopped down on the wooden bench inside the makeshift park. Honestly, you weren’t even sure it met the qualifications to be considered a park because it was just a small strip of grass with trees planted at each corner. A sad-looking swing set sat in the middle, the metal rusted and worn.

You doubted it was safe to use, though there were few things within Sword that were. The city’s entire aesthetic was danger.

You slid down on the bench as thunder rumbled softly overhead, leaning your head back so you could stare up at the sky. The tree to your left was completely bare, its leaves scattered across the ground like discarded newspapers. The tree on your right, though, was still clinging to a few of them, as if desperate to not let go.

The wind picked up and they finally broke free, dancing gently through the air as they made their way to the earth below. It was such a simple thing, but it brought a smile to your lips. 

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You stifled a yawn as you approached your apartment, reaching into the pocket of the jacket for your keys. You hadn’t intended to spend the day at the park but time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and, before you knew it, the sun was setting.

To your surprise, Shibaman was pacing back and forth outside the building, running a hand through his red hair repeatedly. He looked distressed which alarmed you.

“Shibaman? What’s-“

As soon as he heard your voice, his head snapped up. In just a couple long strides, he reached you, throwing his arms around you until you were buried in the warmth of his chest. The smell of pine and cologne filled your nostrils and you smiled, fingers curling around the black t-shirt he was wearing.

“Where have you been?” He huffed, trying to control the light tremble of his voice. “I’ve been worried sick!”

You frowned, pulling back so you could see his face. “You’re the one who disappeared. You had already left the house by the time I got there and you weren’t at school, either.”

“My sister made me go pick up some food from the convenience store,” he scowled, clearly still annoyed by this. “I told her I was waiting for you but she wouldn’t stop bitching about it. When I got back, she told me you had stopped by.”

Thinking about it, it did make sense. She’s never liked you, even when you were just his friend, claiming that you were a bad influence on him. When you started dating, she didn’t try to hide the fact that she thought you weren’t good enough for her baby brother. 

“When I got to school, Tsuji said you were looking for me then you left. I looked everywhere for you.” He cupped your face, brows punched with worry. “I thought… I thought something happened.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, love,” you told him softly, resting your hand over his. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did. Many times!”

“You did?” Your own brow furrowed in confusion as you reached for your phone only to realize it wasn’t there. You had forgotten it this morning in your excitement to get to Shibaman’s house. You offered him a sheepish, embarrassed smile. “I, uh… I forgot my phone.”

Shibaman scoffed in disbelief, lowering his head until his forehead met your shoulder. The tension was slowly leaving him now that you were safe and sound in front of him.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you told him softly, running your fingers through his hair. “And on your birthday, too.”

He chuckled, arms encircling your waist so he could bring you closer, bringing his forehead down to meet yours. “You’re safe, that’s all I need.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, pressing your lips to his. “Stay with me tonight?”

He hummed, claiming your lips again. “Of course.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Baby, wake up.” Shibaman pressed a kiss beneath your ear, arms wrapped protectively around your waist. 

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled tiredly, leaning into the warmth his body offered.

He chuckled, turning you over so you were on your back looking up at him. “You said that five minutes ago.”

“Did I?” Your brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I’m gonna stop by my place to grab something,” he told you softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll meet you at school, okay?”

“Wait, I’ll go with you.” You forced yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I’d rather keep you away from my sister,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” He put his finger beneath your chin, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You watched as he left the room, listening to his footsteps fade before the front door opened and closed behind him. Despite wanting to go back to sleep, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for the day.

It was much colder out today than it was yesterday, the sky covered by light grey clouds that made it seem more like the afternoon than early morning. You didn’t mind it, though. The cold was a welcome change from the warm weather of summer and spring, plus it gave you an excuse to steal more of your boyfriend’s jackets.

When you got to school, you were surprised to find the boys gathered in the courtyard, snickering and laughing. Curious, you made your way through the crowd, eyes widening at what you saw.

Shibaman was leaning against the building, arms folded over his chest and eyes closed. There was a slight furrow to his brow as he tried to ignore the teasing he was receiving. The reason for this teasing? He was wearing the sweater you had crocheted him.

It fit him perfectly, showing off his toned body while still being comfortable to wear. It was warm, too, easily blocking the cold wind. When you looked at the design, it felt childish to you and you felt guilty for not just making him a regular, solid sweater.

“Did you get that from your granny?” Teased one of the older boys before bursting out laughing, his friends following suit.

Shibaman opened his eyes, narrowing them at the male.

You swallowed down the nerves and embarrassment you felt, stepping forward. “I made it…”

“You did?” snorted the male. “No wonder it looks like trash -“

A fist slammed into his face, sending him flying back into the crowd with a cry. Shibaman straightened up, fire in his eyes. “Don’t you ever say that shit again or I’ll kill you.”

The crowd grew tense, their previous jolly demeanors changing to one of fear. It was easy to laugh at him and not take him seriously when he was wearing that sweater, but it didn’t change anything about how strong he was or how protective of you he was.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, lowering your head. “I didn’t consider how Oya would react. You don’t have to wear it.”

He scoffed, resting his large hand atop your head. “Of course, I’m gonna wear it. You spent months working on this, didn’t you?”

You nodded, tugging lightly at the material. “It was my first time crocheting. Yuken did his best to teach me, but… it could have been better.”

Realization flashed across his face as he remembered seeing you at the café with said male. Everything made sense now and his heart was filled with warmth and love for you. “I love it.”

“Really?” You sent him a skeptical look. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. If I didn’t like it, I’d be honest.” As badly as he wanted to kiss you, he couldn’t bring himself to do so with the crowd that was still gathered in the courtyard. PDA was not something he enjoyed. “I love this sweater and I love you.”

You searched his eyes for any hint of a lie but there was none. “You really like it?”

“I do. Thank you, baby.”

Your eyes lit up, happiness filling you. “You’re welcome!”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Bella ran a very successful yet niche meta account on tumblr with hot takes about various forms of popular media called, TheCarnivorousBellaMeta?

Well.

This wouldn't happen.

The Caveat

First, Bella's canonically bad with computers. This isn't her fault, it's 2005 and personal computers for normal people is only just starting to be a thing. She notes having an ancient computer at Charlie's house that she has little idea how to use and prefers not to use. Otherwise, Bella prefers to read books in her free time as well as get chores like cooking and laundry out of the way.

This is not a girl who's running a blog (especially not tumblr as either tumblr doesn't exist yet or else is in its infancy in this time period, if anything she'd be on LiveJournal).

But let's say Bella is an avid blogger with a LiveJournal account.

What's she posting?

I'm sorry, anon, but her blog is not TheCarnivorousBellaMeta.

I imagine Bella's blog is tasteful quotes from Jane Austen's works, tasteful quotes from people who make her feel intellectual, reblogs of famous paintings she doesn't recognize, and maybe, maybe, dissertations on why Loki is a poor blorbo who never did a wrong thing in his life. (It's the wrong era, but I suspect Bella would be profoundly into Reylo, Loki's Resistance, and maaaaaaybeeee Johnlock).

Point being, her takes would be well worded, but given they're what a thousand other people are staying on the site and prompted by nothing she's probably not that popular.

I imagine there's also a few posts of "today I made enchiladas. They were delicious" as she feels the need to fill her tumblr.

Bella's hot takes are people's normal takes and I would expect her blog to reflect as much.

Alright, We'll Pretend

Let's pretend that Bella's the same person except for some weird reason she's running a blog that feels like it's being run by an alien (because to Bella it is).

The beginning of Twilight is essentially unaltered as we're assuming Bella is still Bella, she just runs a blog (not sure what her hot takes are, exactly, but we'll not go into that). She goes to Biology, Edward acts weird, Edward leaves, Edward comes back and acts weird, she nearly gets hit by a van, Edward acts weird.

The difference is in the part where Edward has decided he must know everything about her. Given that he's watching her unbeknownst to her, he sees Bella on her ancient computer updating her tumblr blog "TheCarnivorousBellaMeta" with such things as whether or not Itachi really does love his brother or not or whether Snape is Good or Bad (TM).

Edward is fascinated, as he is with all aspects of Bella, and methodically goes through not only every post she's ever written but every public interaction she's had with other anonymous internet denziens.

From this, he's able to more easily narrow in on Bella's likes, dislikes, how she views the world, and how she might view him.

Edward, who is trying to ignore Bella in public, gets a terrible, tempting, awful idea. He makes up an online persona: AlbrechtWithTheWilis (this is an obscure reference to the ballet Giselle, the tragic storyline being one he associates with Bella as, though she doesn't know it, she's being tempted to join the realm of the dead) and starts interacting by giving a very in depth comment making it clear he's read many of Bella's posts and deeply considered them.

Bella's surprised and deeply flattered. While she's a popular niche blog, she doesn't get these kinds of comments often and er she has a lot of posts on a lot of things. Only a lunatic would read through all of them. Bella responds that she's deeply flattered and moves on.

Edward doesn't get the kind of interaction he was looking for as Bella doesn't reach back out to him and instead answers questions like "What if Itachi was a walrus? Would he murder his entire family then?" (The answer, by the way, is yes).

Edward ends up having to ask questions himself, carefully prepared questions based on what he's seen that Bella will both enjoy and will provoke deep thoughts about herself and the world.

To his mounting anger and frustration, he waits weeks, and instead sees five iterations of "What if Itachi had pink hair?", "What if Itachi was actually in love with his brother for real though?", "What if Sasuke was secretly Itachi?", "What if Naruto was a hallucination of Sasuke's?" answered and none of his very insightful questions.

(This is in part because they're too insightful, they require a lot of thought whereas the others do not, because Bella's never heard of the source material Edward's mentioning or else has no hot takes, and because Edward is following his question with five paragraphs of what he thinks and how what he thinks is absolutely the right answer. Clearly expecting hot take Bella to agree with him.

Bella does not.

So, she doesn't answer and feels increasingly weird about this Albrecht guy. Seems kind of like a smug elitist, clearly trying to impress her, doesn't he?)

As it is, he's prompted to read through Naruto to see what the possible draw is, and he can't figure it out as it's weird foreign cartoons to him. Bella doesn't even have Naruto on her shelf! He searches but all he can find are classics, typically English, like Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and Dickens.

There is, in fact, no mangas or animes on her shelf despite Bella referencing these materials near constantly.

She clearly knows it intimately, per her blog, but where is the source material she's even drawing from?

Worse, in real life, she gives no indication she has this blog. At first, he thought of this positively. Bella has a +1000 following on her blog but has not allowed it to get to her head or affect her daily life, except it makes him feel like all his efforts to get to know her don't even matter.

Edward starts giving her a shake down in real life, dropping little hints that he knows about her online persona. Bella tries to brush these aside as AH HA HA HA HA, I'M NOT A TOTAL NERD WITH HOT TAKES ON THINGS. "Naruto? What's that?" She gets increasingly disturbed that Edward is... trying to publicly humiliate her? Despite Edward being super hot and mysterious, Bella finds herself less and less interested in him.

You all know how this eventually goes: Bella gets eaten by Edward.

[debb987]

TEB Part 2 - Prompt Writing

Below the cut is an example of how Prompt Writing works for this second part of the story. Hope you enjoy the read! 🤗

Prompt: Does Raph know about Angelo’s and Leon’s arm-marks?

Prompt: What’s the “risk” of the alters dividing into clones?

Example of Prompt Writing (2.3K Words)

“What happened?” Raph asked, not for the first time, nuzzling at the odd marks on Angelo’s arms that twisted and grew like roots of an old tree. All the way from the tip of his fingers to small shoulders, the swirling lines crossed over each other at random intervals. Leon had similar markings as well, although his were less curly, looking more like dry, cracked paint.

His questions about what happened in his absence were always met with just a general gist of things — we focused on a way to find you, then a way to reach you! —  and whenever he tried to delve into the specifics he was mercilessly redirected to other topics. Raph hadn’t been able to insist much about it, with his mind scrambled as it had been these past few days, since Mind Raph had been busy catching up on everything he had missed.

But today it was oddly quiet. Not a peep from Mind Raph, Puffs, or Savage, as if they all had gone behind the scenes and past a sound-proof curtain, leaving Raph alone, truly alone, at the front.

It felt odd, like something was missing. But it was also advantageous, the way his mind cleared for real for the first time in days.

Raph was carrying Leon and Angelo, trying to prepare for the oncoming Lair Games. Angelo was in his arms, while Leon was riding behind Raph’s head since “Mike had hogged up that spot for long enough already.” His brothers had playfully bantered for a while before settling in their current spots.

Raph had figured this would be as close to private space as he could get, at least in the short term, and thus asked the question that had been nagging him for days now.

“What happened?” Raph repeated when he didn’t receive an answer, this time raising his free arm to pat Leon’s thinner wrist, which he could feel resting over his head.

“These were…” Angelo rubbed at the marks of his arms, a sad but overall unrepentant smile growing slowly.

“These?” Leon shoved his forearm right at Raph’s eyes, which made him kugh! in surprise. 

He could feel Leon shifting in place, moving past his shoulder until his annoying brother was sitting on Raph’s now-extended arm. The slider leaned backwards so Raph could see him gesture with grandeur at his own forearm.

Theatrical, definitely hiding something. 

“These are like tattoos now! The design is cool, right? Pretty great? Anyone would be jealous of them? Look, listen—  look and listen,” Leon stressed when Raph opened his mouth to interrupt, a single finger raised in both warning and request. “I can come up with a different story every time someone asks in the Hidden City! Last time I talked with Huesos I told him this one was from when I fended off a shark—”

Raph huffed with frustration, shaking the arm Leon was sitting on until his brother fell with an undignified “hey!”. Once his brother was standing on his own two feet Raph rested a hand on a thinner shoulder, staring firmly down at him.

“I’m not asking for made-up stories. I wanna know what really happened,” Raph glanced down and stared at the marks heavily, because they looked like…

“Leon, these… these are scars, aren’t they?” Raph guessed in a soft whisper.

They looked like the ones adorning his own arms, the scars hidden away by bandages. When compared to his own, the ones on his little brothers looked newer. They were, definitely, the result of a very extensive injury.

Raph had been so, so afraid. Afraid that something bad would happen while he was away, when he couldn’t protect his bale. He had been terrified at the notion of something terrible happening to his family, at the concept of failing them again, that someone would die again, that he wouldn’t be back on time to protect— 

“I’m telling you they’re kinda cool,” Leon insisted, feet shifting slightly in place.

“These are because of me, Raph,” Angelo answered softly, making a gesture for Leon to drop the act. The slider pouted slightly but did remain silent, stepping closer to preventively pat Raph’s shell comfortingly. This couldn’t be good news. “It’s something we discovered about my own ninpo.”

“Your ninpo… hurt you?” Raph asked softly.

“We didn’t know it could, that’s the thing about discovering new stuff, right? Kinda like— ehm, well, not sure if that’s changed here or not, but before you… got here,” before you got lost, sounded more fitting in Raph’s head, even if Angelo obviously tried to approach that topic delicately. “You were also kinda new to the whole clone-thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Raph nodded slightly. “I still don’t— don’t know how it really works.”

“You had clones up and about when we arrived here, though?” Leon asked with interest, still patting his shell. The pre-comfort meant Raph wasn’t going to like their answer at all, it wasn’t reassuring.

“I don’t know how— it just happened, and I can’t recall… why. It felt odd, like something was wrong.”

Like he was not really himself. Like he was incomplete, missing pieces of himself that were very important for his own integrity. Like Raph had smashed their system as if it were a porcelain plate against the floor, and the clones were all the biggest shards, and they had fallen somewhere out of reach and Raph would never be able to glue them back together into a usable plate.

If Mind Raph hadn’t arrived when he did… called the clones back where Raph couldn’t, he wasn’t sure what he would have done to be whole again. Maybe he wouldn’t be whole again?

“You didn’t feel like that when we fought the Shredder,” Leon’s voice had gained that edge he used when he was digging at something out of concern. A mix of his medical voice and his confident spokesman pose.

“It was different,” Raph admitted. “The clones I made when we fought the Shredder were weak, dispelled at a single blow. I wasn’t trying to make them strong, cause the Shredder was a lot stronger and faster than us… the clones were just distractions, and all of us— we all were in each of them?”

Did that make sense?

 “System-wise?” Angelo helped, and Raph sighed in relief at being understood.

“Yeah. We all— the whole system, we were in each clone, when we fought the Shredder. With the Krang it was… different.”

He was left alone, stranded, out of place. He had been missing pieces from a puzzle that would not show a complete image ever again.

The risks of dividing our consciousness are too many. Puffs’ cold, no-nonsense voice had said that once, and this time Raph inwardly admitted there may be an ounce of truth in that warning.

“We can try it again, this time together,” Angelo offered, patting Raph’s plastron softly. “So we can help if something goes wrong.”

“Yeah, being together makes the risk lower,” Leon agreed pointedly, which made Angelo nod and rub at his own arm tellingly. 

The gesture brought Raph back to his original inquiry, and he huffed an annoyed growl.

“Wait, stop distracting Raph!” He chided, letting Angelo down so he could take a knee in front of them both. He was being serious about this! “Your arms. What park of Mike’s ninpo caused this!?”

“Oh yeah,” Leon snapped his fingers as if just remembering, even though it was obvious he had been kinda hoping Raph would fully forget about his original question.

“I could feel your ninpo,” Angelo smiled up at him warmly, and the spike of frustration dulled down. “Even from so far away, apart by whole dimensions, I could still feel your shield Raph. It blinked in and out of existence, but it was there.”

Raph looked at his unoccupied arm, the memory of warm, hopeful nights resurfacing. The orange glow of slithering chains that had stayed with him until he fell asleep. “Your chains…?”

“Yeah. I tried to wrap them around your shield every time I could feel the red come up.”

“But it stopped after a while,” Raph said sadly. “I could— I could see your chains Angie, wrapped over my ninpo’s shield on my arms… they were tiny, like cute little snakes. They were warm and comforting.”

“Can snakes ever qualify as cute and warm?” Leon muttered lightly.

“It brought us comfort too,” Angelo chirped softly, in higher spirits. “It helped Dee a ton so it brought us some hope too, ‘cause previous to that it was like searching for you in the darkness with nothing but a light torch. With the chains making a path, it was like turning on the light that led to the door! Your door!”

Angelo looked at the verge of tears, like he was reliving that shake-grounding relief all over again, and Raph churred and brought him close to his chest, so he could rest his chin over the youngest’s head.

“You found Raph,” he reminded, transmitting the feeling that everything was fine, it was alright now. They were together again.

“Yeah,” Angelo chirped an acute sound, relief somehow mixed with deep sorrow. “It was— the day I couldn’t connect with you anymore was so, so scary—”

“Something pink suddenly popped up,” Leon took over the story as Angelo delved into incoherent, discreet sobs, and Raph sat down to cradle him comfortingly, extending an arm towards the slider too.

“Pink…?” Raph prompted confusedly.

“Apparently the Krang of this place. It was like a brick wall between our worlds, Dee’s portal machine couldn’t get past it, even after he managed to lock the destination. So we found the right door, but couldn’t open it.”

“But I could,” Angelo admitted softly, patting at his chest in silent request for Raph to stop hugging so strongly. “Your ninpo didn’t feel as strongly anymore, but the red appeared like a dying candle, and I— I tried to reach it. I was focused on reaching it. My ninpo charged up like it never had before, and I felt the need to extend my arms so I did.”

“There was an outline of a golden circle sparking in front of him,” Leon added, making a circular motion with his arm. “It was working, I could feel it. But the more power Mike poured out…”

“The more the lines grew,” Angelo admitted sadly. “It felt like frayed nerves, kinda. But I was so close to opening it, I didn’t wanna stop there.”

“Dee was sleeping for the first time this century,” Leon rolled his eyes with concerned but fond exasperation. “So I didn’t wanna wake him up. I turned on the machine, so we could use that power instead of Angelo’s. The lines were growing past the elbows though, so I grabbed him too. Something— I guess instinct told me that would help.”

“It helped with the strain, yeah,” Angelo admitted, making a gesture so he could hug Leon for comfort too. A hug within a hug, like a Matryoshka’s doll, was Angelo’s favorite way of comfort. Raph churred louder at the familiarity. “But after a bit the lines started to grow on Leon too.”

“In the end it was too much and we had to drop it,” Leon shrugged, like it wasn’t important. “But the lines didn’t disappear.”

“Kinda like frayed nerves, yeah. Moving our fingers was kinda rough for a while,” Angelo admitted, opening and closing his palms as if marveling at his own capacity to do so.

Something in Raph shivered at the implications. “How bad it was—” 

 “But we found something that could help us in the Mystic Library!” Leon interrupted Raph’s question with a cheerful chirp. “Cassandra helped draw the healing ritual, considering Angelo couldn’t, and it worked perfectly!”

Leon escaped from the youngest’s grasp, giving Raph a mischievous look right before hopping on a shoulder, returning to his original place right behind Raph’s head. “Look at this! Marvel at my Three Star Hurricane!”

He felt the familiar, harmless but incredibly annoying slap of wet — eugh! — palms over his cheeks and the top of his head, and Raph complained a disgusted “LEO!” as he growled and grabbed one of the offending arms to flip his brother off him.

The slider laughed, unrepentant, fingers wiggling, arms wailing as he landed on his feet effortlessly. A demonstration of just how well he had recovered.

“Oh yeah, nothing hurts anymore!” Angelo reassured, demonstrating his arm’s mobility in a less-annoying way by hugging Raph’s arm strongly. “We’re ok now Raph.”

It didn’t change the fact that this had happened because of him, because they had tried to find him so desperately. If he hadn’t gotten lost in the first place—

We wouldn’t have met our other little brothers? Mind Raph interrupted with what felt like a quirked eyebrow, and Raph’s concern at the unnatural silence in his mind dulled upon hearing the familiar voice. There’s no point in regretting something we had no control over. We did the best we could with what we had. Isn’t that enough?

Raph let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders relaxing minutely. The injuries on his brother’s arms had healed fully, leaving only scars in their wake. A permanent reminder of old pain and hurt, just like the one adorning Raph’s own arms.

He used said arms to pull both, his least and his most annoying brother, into a hug. 

“Sorry you got hurt,” Raph said softly, trying not to cry. This was all he could do. He hadn’t been there to help them avoid it, hadn’t been there for their recovery… he was just here now, witnessing the aftermath of their efforts.

“It’s not a big deal. We love ya’ Raph-a-la-la,” Leon let Raph squeeze him hard, for once not complaining about the lack of personal space and oxygen. Raph really couldn’t ask for a kinder brother.

“We can have sleepovers to paint over them?” Angelo suggested, the familiar spark of chaotic creativity entering his gaze. “Customizable tattoos!”

It was not the first time his little brother offered that, considering he had liked to paint over Raph’s scars when he was little. The tradition had been lost after Raph grew uncomfortable with it, after he finally gave his brothers the general gist of what had happened with Draxum. After Angelo finally got to know what had caused them for real.

Raph hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of little Mikey painting art in his arms, looking at him with that understanding, sad look that was much too old for his real age. 

“Yeah, we can make a game of who comes up with the best designs, huh? Spoiler alert, it’s gonna be me,” Leon closed his eyes and gestured at himself like he was royalty, which made Raph snort.

He glanced at his bandaged arms. Raph didn’t like looking at his scars. He didn’t like it when others saw them either, because something always changed in their gaze, in their expression, in the way they treated him afterward, and Raph didn’t like dealing with it, he would rather not think about it.

“Yeah… I guess we can,” Raph admitted hesitatingly.

But looking at Angelo’s beaming face, the tearful nostalgic laugh as memories of the times they had spent together in their childhood resurfaced; Raph couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

~~~~

If you wanna return to the post explaining how Prompt Writing works, click here!

If you wanna return to TEB Master Post, click here!

Thanks for reading, see ya' around~ dEBB987

[sybill-the-seer]

Loved

Read on AO3

Summary: Harry didn’t know much about his parents growing up, but in the wizarding world he learns something very important about them.

Note: Not my best writing imo, but it was a slow day at work today, so I whipped up this little thing. @hinnyfied’s fic “Fireside” has me all in the feels thinking about Harry getting to know his parents.

Disclaimer: I have used some direct lines and quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

Prompt: hate/love

His parents hated him.

Harry was sure of it. If they hadn’t hated him, why would they have left him here? He had never known his mum and dad, but Aunt Petunia had.

Aunt Petunia said they were irresponsible.

Aunt Petunia said they were drunks.

Aunt Petunia said that if they had loved him, they wouldn’t have driven while drunk with him, a baby, in the car.

Harry had no proof to the contrary, so it must be true. Aunt Petunia had known them after all. Uncle Vernon too. Harry didn’t know anyone else who had known his parents. Perhaps they hadn’t had any friends — he certainly didn’t.

Sometimes Harry liked to think that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were liars. They lied to Dudley sometimes, after all. They told him all sorts of things that Harry knew weren’t true: that Father Christmas was real, that Dudley was a sweet angelic little boy, that Dudley’s school teachers had nice things to say about him, that Harry was a freak…

Well, Harry wasn’t so sure about the last one, but he liked to hope it was a lie. Strange things did tend to happen around him, but perhaps it was just coincidence. Perhaps Harry just had very, very bad luck.

His entire existence at Privet Drive was bad luck after all.

Yes, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon lied about some things, but it was hard to believe the things they said about his mum and dad weren’t true. Not when they had known them and Harry hadn’t. Not when Harry couldn’t think of any reason for them to lie about them. And especially not when Harry couldn’t think of any other reason for why they seemed to hate him so much.

His parents had been terrible people.

His aunt and uncle hated them, and hated him too.

His parents had never loved him.

And if they hadn’t loved him, who else possibly could?

Harry felt the familiar ache in his chest, the cold sensation that seemed to creep up on him, enveloping him completely whenever he came to this conclusion. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and stared harder at the spider creeping up the cupboard wall, wishing for sleep to claim him. ____________________

His parents hadn’t died in a car crash. At least, that’s what Hagrid told him. Being murdered by a dark wizard was terrible, but he supposed it was still better than what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had told him. At least now he knew for sure that they had lied — and that meant they might have also lied about his parents not caring about him.

Harry had started to come to terms with the fact that he might never know for sure how his mum and dad had felt about him, but was content with what Hagrid had told him. Until he found the mirror.

Green eyes looking back into his with the most tender expression Harry had ever seen. Brown eyes and dark hair, a broad smile. Tears of happiness leaking from his mother’s eyes as both his mum and dad looked at him with pride and joy in their faces.

They loved him.

Harry pressed himself against the mirror, staring at them hungrily, wishing he could fall through the glass and into their open arms. He would live with them in the mirror forever if he could. ____________________

The Philosopher’s Stone was safe, and he was alive. Professor Dumbledore was talking to him in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was answering his questions good-naturedly, and Harry was determined to ask him everything.

“But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?”

“Your mother died to save you,” Dumbledore said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. “If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign...to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin.”

Harry could hardly breathe. The ache in his chest was back, but this time it was different. A powerful mixture of grief and love as he had never felt it before seemed to have gripped him, and he couldn’t seem to look Dumbledore in the eye.

They loved him.

The mirror had been one thing, but hearing Dumbledore confirm it out loud was certainly another. Nearly eleven years of doubt and hurt couldn’t be vanquished with a few simple words, but in that moment Harry could almost feel it leaking out of him, the remains of some toxin that had lived within him for so long, invisibly eating him up from the inside.

Dumbledore’s simple words were hardly simple at all, Harry thought, if they changed everything. He was glad Dumbledore looked away as he dried his eyes on the crisp hospital sheets.

Later, when Hagrid handed him a handsome, leather-covered photo album, Harry became overwhelmed once again.

“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos ... knew yeh didn’ have any...d’yeh like it?”

Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid seemed to understand.

Note: The fact that it's canon that little 11 y/o Harry gets emotional hearing his parents loved him always gets me in the feels. Someone give that baby a hug <3

[plothooksinc]

Assuming you don't have an excess of NRFTW prompts already, mayhaps a missing scene of Mikey confronting Leo about that "Don't kill yourself for a corpse" line? Because I just *know* he had a lot of feelings about that, diversion or no. 👀👀

Me: That should be pretty straightforward Me: ...only now I want to address some other stuff, so-- /17 pages later

The Jupiter Jim figurines that April had put on the bedside stand were gone, replaced by a tray of Mikey’s paints, and Draxum’s (lab? Secret lair? He insisted it wasn’t a castle--) place was dead silent.

They were moving today. Donnie had declared their new residence-to-be hygienically and structurally sound enough to begin the shift over, but Leo was still benched. And Mikey was also benched—unfairly, as far as he was concerned, but Draxum had pushed for him to stay out of the heavy lifting.

(“There’s being able to lift a pound or two, and there’s being able to shift furniture and boxes. It’s a world of difference,” the old goat had said patiently. “Yes, you’re doing much better, but don’t try your luck.”

“But I can use my chains, they won’t weigh—”

“Ahhh, yes. Your chains. With your mystic energy. And what have we said about using your mystic energy?”)

Donnie had told him outright to be thankful he had an excuse to sit this out. But it was Raph who mollified him by pointing out that leaving Leo here entirely on his own probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas. Both because he was still hurt and might need help, would be feeling kind of useless and in need of morale—and because a lonely and bored Leo was often a dumb Leo, and if he would listen to anyone and just stay put, it was gonna be Mikey.

And fair. Sometimes Leo definitely required a Delicate Touch.

Today, he’d apply one of a different kind.

Leo’s shell was a mess of fibreglass patches and newly sealed cracks still fragile in some places—Donnie had come up with a thin protective cover for the bulk of them, but the whole look wasn’t pretty and his brother was self-conscious about it. Not that he’d said as much, but the fact that he pulled the blanket right up over it even when it was warm spoke volumes.

Also, Mikey’s fingers itched every time he looked at it. He wanted to make it look awesome. Hence--

“Give me some suggestions?” Leo said. “You’re the artist.”

“Could do a cool dragon?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that was noncommittal. He thought Leo would like a dragon. Mikey frowned. “You know I’ll paint whatever you want. I don’t care what it is.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, that’s way open to abuse.”

“I’m serious!”

“Hmm.”

And he was quiet again. This time, Mikey frowned at him. Was it time for morale boosts already? It seemed a bit early--

“Hey.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking abooout… how I can abuse your mad painting skills?”

“Leo.”

“Seriously, what if I got you to draw, like, a terrible cartoon of Barry falling off a roof or something.”

“...really?”

“You did say anything.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I mean sure, if that’s what you really want.” Though it was such a cheap shot he didn’t think Leo even tried with that one; it felt more like misdirection. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with him you wanted a reminder painted on you, but—”

“Oh pizza supreme, ew.” Leo shuddered, mashing his face into the pillow. “When you put it like that—”

“So what are you thinking about?”

“Rude.”

“Answer the question, Leon.”

“Ruder. No privacy. Maybe I’m thinking that I miss pizza.”

“You get some tomorrow.”

“What about now?” he whined.

“Leo?”

“Miguel.”

“Do you not want me to paint your shell?” Leo hesitated, and Mikey squinted at him. “We don’t have to.”

“...it’s not that,” Leo muttered, muffled by the pillow. “I do, but…”

Time to pull out the big guns. He flopped onto the bed next to him, offering his best puppy eyes and trembling lip when Leo shifted to face him. “Do you think I’ll do a bad job?”

“What?” Leo pulled back a little, looking panicked. “Of course not! You’re amazing, I just—”

Mikey grinned at him cheerfully. And then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

“—who taught you how to weaponise that, seriously.”

“You did.”

Leo swallowed a laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

His brother held out a hand, beckoning, and Mikey obliged him by taking it. Leo instantly turned his hand over, pushing gently along the joints. “That hurt?”

...oh. That’s what was going on. It said a lot that Mikey hadn’t even thought about injury stress; his arms had been behaving themselves for days now. It was possible, he guessed.

On the other hand, he hadn’t painted in weeks. He missed it. And he wanted Leo to like his shell. So he pulled back, deliberately shaking his hands out and wiggling his fingers, smiling wryly as Leo winced. “Promise I’m good. In more ways than one, baby!”

“Yeah, but what if it starts hurting halfway through?” Leo made a face. “Then I’ll be stuck with half a dragon or something and probably, like, the lamer part. There’ll be a dragon’s ass on my shell and everyone’ll make fun of me.”

Mikey sighed, seeing the whining for the thinly disguised concern it was. It was touching, but he could feel the annoyance starting to bubble up. Of all of them, Leo was the one that generally didn’t baby him. He managed a smile. “We do that already.”

“Shh, let me live in denial. Anywhizzle--”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t ready,” he said, sharper than he intended. (Probably because that wasn’t entirely true—okay, he hadn’t given any thought to it before this, but after reflection, he was pretty sure--)

“You sure about that?”

Leo said it...lightly. For the most part.

Maybe Mikey just imagined the strain underneath, or maybe it was because he was already riled, but the doubtful look on his brother’s face made him bristle defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Leo paused. “Nothing, I’m just kidding around.”

“You sure about that?”

And this time Leo frowned at Mikey’s mocking tone and shifted gingerly to face him more directly, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Whoa, okay, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just… making sure.”

“Why?”

“...you seriously have to ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” Mikey said flatly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the protective sheet. He just wanted to paint. “I’m more than okay. I’m fine, Leo.”

“Annnd you’ve said that before.”

“I—” He paused.

(“Fine! Just fine. You?”

“Fine. Just fine.”)

Again, oh.

(“You’re both liars and I don’t see why you bother.”)

Mikey let a breath out. Sure, okay. He still felt tetchy about this, but Leo had a point. But it took two to have that conversation, and if they were gonna talk about recklessness--

--and oh, for the third time. He got it now, why he was so hair-trigger irritated. There was a ninja damned elephant in the room.

One thing at a time.

“It’s just painting,” Mikey said finally, voice even. “It’s not like I’m using any kind of mystic mojo and I can stop any time it starts to hurt. I can paint something that can be done in pieces, no dragon asses necessary.”

Leo blinked at him, and then mustered up a lopsided smile. “I dunno. What if dragon asses are my thing?”

He could take that offer for what it was; Leo attempting to walk their conversation back from an edge. For a moment, Mikey was tempted. He just wanted to do something nice for his brother and artistic and prove he could still--

Still paint. He could. He had no trouble at dinner, no trouble lugging Dad’s casserole, and now Leo was making him second guess himself when Leo was absolutely the biggest hypocrite in the room for this kinda thing.

“...Angelo?”

And man, now his brother wouldn’t even let him second guess himself in peace! Rude. He leaned forward to rummage through his paints, voice flat. “What.”

“...hey.” Hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, belittle you, that’s not what this is about.”

“That’s a big word for you.” As soon as he said it—heard the snap of his words leave his mouth—Mikey cringed. Especially as Leo stilled on the bed, then sank down into the pillows again, face blank. Okay, he didn’t deserve that. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t be a brat.

So he gave an overly long, dramatic Mermista-style groan and flopped back down on his back next to his brother. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… I’m frustrated. It’s been a while. And you were the last person I expected this from!”

“I get it,” Leo said quietly. “You got stuck here on babysitting duty, you’re already feeling left out.”

“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.” He hesitated, stretching his hands up to link behind his head, voice innocent. “Um… I was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to paint your shell that for a minute I lived in a world where mystic backlash didn’t exist…?”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Mikey grinned a little as Leo raised his head to glare at him. “You did not just apple juice meme at me.”

“I sure did, Leon. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Ask you nicely to brain yourself with a pillow,” Leo said grumpily. “I’m keeping count, you know.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They lay there in companionable silence.

“I was looking forward to it, too.” Leo said after a while. “I mean, I even let you put the sheet down. It’s only after that we—look, we both forgot, okay? And then I panicked, because I’m not meant to forget that kind of thing. What if you get hurt because I encouraged you?”

“Hmm.” Okay, that was a fair, kind of dumb but standard Leo reaction. “I kind of get it, except for the part where you’re not responsible for my life choices.”

“Yeah, but I’m enabling them. Raph would—”

“Raph would get exasperated at me for pulling a dumb stunt! This isn’t like… being out fighting bad guys and for some reason your plan means I have to hurt myself painting.”

“Close enough,” Leo said, barely audible.

Mikey shifted up onto his elbows, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mmf.” Leo dropped his face back into the pillow. “Sorry. Forget it, I’m just—”

“Oh no, we are not forgetting it, son.” Mikey sat back up again, folding his arms like a disapproving parent. “Seriously? Are we doing this now?”

“Can we go back to the part where you were going to paint, like, something easy and—”

“Hell no. Leo.” Mikey poked him in the shoulder-- the good one, because he wasn’t a complete jerk. “I don’t remember any point where you had a say in my portal choices. Oh, wait! Yes I do! And your say was dumb and I ignored it—”

Leo blinked at him, baffled. “You-- what? I never—”

“Aha!” Mikey pointed at him triumphantly. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re responsible or you’re not, which is it?”

“No, I’m seriously lost,” Leo said blankly. “Putting aside the whole responsibility or feeling guilt or whatever, I get it, we’ll come back to that (maybehopefullynever) but when did you ignore me? I don’t remember saying anything to you about portals.”

For a moment, Mikey was just. Speechless. Because he could infer two things from that, and he hated both of them. One, that Leo had absolutely talked about his portals, just not with him. And two…

“You don’t remember,” he said, irritation shifting into genuine anger. His voice rose with every word. “The warehouse? That cheap action hero line you threw at me while you were hanging like so much netted roadkill? ‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’ Seriously!?”

Recognition dawned on Leo’s face, and he mouthed something silently—a sentence that he recognised because it had been on Mikey’s mind, on and off, that he’d muttered to himself in the bathroom sometimes, that he couldn’t decide whether it was a cool line or something Leo needed to be slapped for, and that he’d decided to maybe just try and let it go until Leo--

--did this. Forgot it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Don’t kill yourself for a corpse.

“Mikey,” Leo said faintly, and a helpless, placating smile twitched at the corners of his mouth for a moment before it faded under Mikey’s glare. “That was just stalling.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “That wasn’t a-- I thought you knew! Do you really think I’d just encourage you to throw my life away when help was very clearly gonna be on the way?”

Annnd there it was. Because yeah, actually. Leo had put his finger on it precisely without meaning to, and Mikey surged up off the bed. “You’ve done it before, Leo! Once is maybe stalling, but this is a pattern, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“Don’t whoa whoa whoa me!” Mikey bared his teeth. And his next words were pitched high and dramatic, hand to forehead. “’Don’t kill yourself for a corpse!’ ‘Casey, when I get to the other side, close that door!’ Actually yeah, now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, I—”

Oh.

Oh, shit, way too far. Leo flinched as if struck, but he stayed staring at Mikey, eyes dark and shoulders hunched. Making himself small like he deserved it, when Mikey had been trying to point out his arms weren’t his responsibility. Good job, going the exact opposite direction.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

In a perfect world, Leo would blackmail him with threats to tell Raph about his swearing at this point. But his big brother said nothing, watching him in deathly silence.

Mikey covered his face. He was angry. He’d crossed a line. And for a long, yawning moment, he held still, hoping Leo would—snap back at him, or shove him off the bed, or be just as much a jerk back, like he’d been with Raph before the invasion, or that time at the pizzeria, or--

It was so quiet.

Oh, pizza supreme. “Leo,” he said, muffled into his hands. “I’m--”

Leo laughed, and Mikey snapped his head up in mix of confusion and dread, because that was not the correct response. But Leo’s giggling was brittle, and while he was lounging on the pillows like he was so entertained, he was staring past Mikey like he wasn’t there. Something curdled in his gut. “Leo…?”

“You can’t have it both ways, mi hermano,” Leo said, and his tone was so absolutely curated smartass that Mikey cringed. “Either I’m responsible or I’m not, which is it?”

“Don’t,” Mikey said tightly, “Throw my words back at me.”

“Why not? Seems to be a common thing today.”

“You know it’s not what I meant!”

“Seems we got a lot of that going around, too.”

Leo’s humour faded—what there was of it—and now he just looked tired. He shifted awkwardly onto his side to face away from Mikey. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re gonna have to tell Raph you weren’t the best choice for the whole morale thing. He’ll understand.”

Words chosen to hurt. They lost their bite when delivered so expressionlessly, and Mikey swallowed against a stupid, stupid desire to cry, because now he was angry and frustrated and guilty and a little heartbroken, and dammit, this was so important, he couldn’t let it slide, but he…

...kinda got why Raph and Leo were at each other’s throats all the time.

He wasn’t going to be the same.

“I have three doctorates,” he muttered.

And waited. For Leo to snort, to cut him down and say sure, and I have a medical degree. With stickers. Which makes it better than yours.

But Leo said nothing. After a moment, he hitched the blanket up to wrap over his shell again, and that felt more like a dismissal than anything else.

Mikey curled his hands into fists. Clenched them hard, just because he could. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, not like before. “I have three doctorates,” he repeated flatly, “And I probably should be taking my own advice, huh. You want more words thrown back at you? I’m not yelling at you because I’m mad. I’m—I’m freaking terrified, Leo! Because you nearly died like three times in the last couple weeks, and two of those times you just kind of… leaned right into it, and I don’t—don’t want there to be a fourth time—”

“You think I do?”

Leo’s response was barely audible, but his head had tilted back just enough for Mikey to know he was paying attention. And man, it was getting harder not to just burst into tears, but then Leo would probably either have to shift into comfort mode (and everything would get derailed) or he’d ignore Mikey entirely and that would feel worse. He compromised by flopping back onto the bed, curling up against Leo’s blankets, and found his voice again. He’d say what he had to say first.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “That’s why, okay? I just—you just seem to keep going for the option that gets you dead lately. You can’t do that to us.”

“I mean, apparently I can,” Leo murmured bitterly. “Seeing as I’ve done it twice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“...I don’t know what I want you to say, either.” Nothing felt right.

“Okay, here’s a start,” Leo said flatly. “If you think I’m trying to throw my life away—”

“No!”

“If you don’t think that, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not! I’m—” His voice cracked, and Mikey bit off another curse under his breath. And then went fuck it and vanished into the cool dark of his shell, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Leo’s back any more. So Leo wouldn’t turn and catch his tears that were falling without his permission because he cried at the drop of a hat and--

“I’m just scared.”

There was a pause, and a creak of the bed. And a long silence.

Mikey sniffled as quietly as he could.

Another creak.

Then Leo’s voice sounded closer, a little more gentle.

“I had a nightmare about you.”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh-- I kind of know?” He remembered the details vividly enough-- the warehouse, Sister Krang snapping his neck, way awful. But this was after the warehouse, so--

“Raph told you?” Leo said in confusion. “I mean, I never gave him the details...”

--that wasn’t right. Mikey peered out from his shell to see Leo peering back, and his brother gave him a tiny smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was encouraging. “No, I, um… remember how we mind melded at the warehouse? It kind of stuck around during all your fever dreams.”

“Oh.” Leo frowned. “I don’t really remember those.”

“Good,” Mikey said fervently. “Don’t. They’re awful.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He sank back into his shell, but he felt a little better. Leo wasn’t being so cold. He hated it when Leo was cold. “So this was another dream…?”

“...yeah. It was a while ago, right after you showed me your arms that first time. Before… Raph.”

Oh, right. Before everything went to hell. (Again. Hah.)

“I dreamt about you opening the portal,” Leo went on quietly, “And you were trying to save me, and you kind of… just broke apart. Shattered to pieces. And I had to watch that, and the portal closed, and I-- I was stuck and you were—”

Oh.

(If he had a nickel for every time he’d thought oh in the last ten minutes--)

“I didn’t want to be there, Mikey. I promise, I really, really enjoy, you know, being alive. I love you guys! I’m not secretly harbouring a death wish, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter.

“But that terror—it goes both ways, you know?”

He felt Leo lay hands on his shell and try to lift him into a hug.

Which was… very sweet until reality kicked in and he popped back out in alarm just in time to see his big brother go pale.

“Oh my god, Leo!” He scrambled out fully, wiping at his face before he helped Leo settle back, and he couldn’t help the faintly hysterical giggle. “You really are a dumbass.”

“...I did it on purpose to get you to come out…?” Leo’s voice was wheezy, and he gave Mikey a watery smile.

“Liar.”

“Okay, you got me.” He wilted against the pillows. “But not about the important stuff, okay?”

“Idiot,” Mikey muttered without heat. He patted at Leo’s shoulder. “Need meds?”

“...nah. It’s actually not too bad, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” He paused. Argument maybe averted, but… he wasn’t done. He could just do this a little less meanly. Especially if Leo was willing to talk to him.

“I do believe you,” he said after a moment, because that was important.

“Okay, good.”

“So… you did the whole heroic cool death wish line because you were scared I was gonna get hurt?”

Leo huffed in amusement, but his tiny smile faded. “Mostly, yeah. I was trying to buy you time. And my first attempt just got you hurt more, so… I went the rage route.”

Oh yeah. Leo asking for permission to treat his wounds. That had gone poorly, to say the least. Mikey smiled weakly. “Well, you picked a winner. I got so mad at you.” He still was, but it felt a little better, to pick at this.

“Yeah, well, the Bubblegum Bitch ran on murder and spite. I figured she’d love to see us screaming at each other. And…”

He hesitated.

“And?” Mikey prompted.

Leo closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I could handle watching you open a portal to... that place. Not with the damage it did the first time. Not ever again because of me. I’m not the only one who nearly died here, y’know.”

Mikey frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t try that with me, Mikey.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. Took a deep breath, because he wasn’t going to yell again, and this was… a softer kind of hurt. He got it. He was starting to get Leo. So he had to continue.

“You think I could handle watching you die because I didn’t open one?” He was proud of how even his voice was. Hah. The doctor was back in session. “You said it yourself, terror goes both ways. Stalling can only go so far. By definition!”

“Okay, at this point we’re gonna end up going in circles,” Leo said dryly. “They’re both valid points, okay? But if you can understand why you risked your life in there, can you get why I’d do the same?”

“...because we’re both idiots?” he muttered.

Leo snorted a faint laugh. And Mikey finally grinned at him, before sobering. Because…

“What about before?”

Leo’s face shuttered blank so fast he almost regretted asking.

Almost.

Especially as the look broke a moment later under a lazy smile, which set his teeth on edge. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, little bro.”

Okay. If he was gonna be like that.

“Mhm, mm-hmm.” Mikey nodded, shifting enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, and pretended to write into a notebook. “Patient very sensitive on this subject, a little too late on deflecting comment and accompanying I am full of shit smile…”

“Oh, for-- you can’t doctor me, you don’t have your stupid doctor glasses.”

“Patient deflecting more… by making… immersion-breaking jokes—” He broke off and mimed looking over a pair of imaginary glasses at Leo and grinned cheekily through the churning in his gut. Two could play at this game. “All our stuff is packed. You’re gonna have to pretend, bro.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo said flatly, smile gone. “I’m not in the mood for imaginary doctors today. Can’t you just be Mikey?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Mikey retorted, voice still even. Never mind he probably still had drying tear tracks on his face. “Because apparently you can’t talk to Mikey.”

“I can talk to you just fine!”

“Without babying me.”

“I’m not—”

“Or lying. You know exactly what ‘before’ I’m talking about! I mean, how often do you throw yourself through one way portals, anyway?”

“As Dee would say, approximately never, because I can honestly say I’ve never thrown myself through a one way portal in my—”

Mikey slammed his hand down on the bedside stand so hard his paint bottles shook, two of them outright teetering and falling off the edge. Leo flinched back, sentence unfinished, his expression frozen somewhere between jackass and terrified.

“Really?” he hissed. “You’re gonna deflect now by splitting hairs?”

Leo blinked, mouth still hanging open for a moment before he collected himself. “Very professional observation,” he said faintly, voice shaking. “You should write that down in your imaginary notebook! Also, I’m pretty sure therapists aren’t meant to terrify their patients. You could lose your imaginary license and then where would we be?”

Mikey stared at him, face dark and arms folded. “And now you’re deflecting by pissing me off.”

Leo held his stare for maybe three seconds before he broke and rolled away—gingerly, clearly painfully—to face the wall again. “’m sorry. I really just wanna… I don’t know. Get my shell painted. Can we talk about this some other day?”

Mikey sucked in a breath, loudly and obnoxiously, because he wanted Leo to know he was angry. Then he rolled to collect the bottles that had fallen to the floor. The red one hadn’t been closed properly and he winced at the flecks on Draxum’s carpet. Maybe they could claim it was blood. He’d probably be less outraged, all things considered.

He knew as well as Leo there would be no other day. If this didn’t get talked about now, he’d be looking forward to Leo making sure they weren’t in the same room alone together for weeks. He was angry enough he wondered spitefully for a moment if he should beat him to it and ignore his lying ass like a--

...like a wound up little brother who was easily riled by someone who knew exactly which buttons to press. Sure, Leo would feel like shit about it, but Leo would also be relieved. Dodged that therapist bullet, right? Enough time would pass it would be too hard to bring up again.

Until the next time he pulled this stunt. (Leo wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine freaking lives--)

“Was there really no other way?” he asked bluntly.

Leo hunched in on himself with a faint hiss, and Mikey sat there behind him, his arms full of paint, and wondered how far to push. He wanted to know. Leo had said there was no death wish, and Mikey believed him about his reasoning in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for how Leo shut him down immediately when he asked more directly, he’d have let this go. There was something he was missing.

He had to push the right way, though. Demanding answers from a traumatised person was, okay, maybe not the best strategy? And Leo was absolutely traumatised, no matter how many shit eating grins he’d thrown over the last few weeks while being half dead. (And then half dead again.) He’d come back out of Mikey’s portal a complete mess and hadn’t talked about it since. Krang Prime had been terrifying before his only target had been his brother.

And Leo had deliberately locked himself in with a murderous alien because…

Hero moves are totally your style.

...because that’s what heroes do?

Bullshit.

“How’s your hand?”

Leo’s question took him by surprise—and hurt besides, with how colourless his tone was. Mikey frowned at him before he looked down at his hands, and—right. Probably losing his temper and hitting furniture wasn’t very, uh, wise. But he flexed his fingers, answering in a subdued voice. “Fine.”

...he had an idea. Take a page out of Leo’s book, lure him in with less threatening subjects. Mikey paused, biting his lip, knowing this could also backfire-- but if it did, it would be less devastating than the direct route. He could try again later.

So he sighed. “And… fine. I’ll let it go.”

“For now, huh.”

“...forever, if you need me to. I just—wanted to understand,” he said, turning away to start stacking the paint bottles neatly on the dresser again. “I know we weren’t there to help, and I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologise for that,” Leo cut in sharply. “You got slammed into free fall and nearly died. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

“But Raph had to come after us and you were alone.” And that hurt to remember. His hands trembled. “And then you didn’t even warn us. You didn’t even say goodbye. You just jumped straight to—”

“There wasn’t time for anything else,” Leo whispered. “At least, I didn’t think there was. Okay?”

--that was progress. Mikey leaned forward eagerly, ready to push for more detail-- and then hesitated. He’d just said he would let it go.

So he made himself shut up and sit there quietly, hands in his lap, fingers curled inward so he didn’t fidget.

And waited.

“...Yeah, I keep thinking now about other stuff I might have been able to do,” Leo said finally. “And like, it’s all maybes and what ifs and maybe none of it would have worked and maybe some of it would have, but there wasn’t any time, and I’m not-- I mean, it’s easy to come up with stuff after. I still don’t know if I could have made a better choice. Okay? I just did… I did what I had to. It wasn’t some grand gesture or, like, ‘oh no, this is all my fault, I’ll throw my life away to fix it,’ it was-- we’d never get another chance, and I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.”

…

Right, so there was a lot to unpack there.

“You think the invasion is your fault?” he asked cautiously.

“Not… really,” Leo said, and Mikey wished he’d turn around again so he could see his brother’s face. “Like, you know, I get it. The Foot and the Krang are more to blame for this than me, but I was stupid. So there’s fault, and then there’s responsibility. If I hadn’t messed around and lost the key, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I guess I don’t know that for sure?”

That sounded very much like someone had already had a go at him about this. His money would be on Donnie. What Mikey wanted to know, though, was whether Leo really meant it or whether he was just rattling off someone else’s argument.

“You also got the key back,” he pointed out, and Leo snorted.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “At Raph’s expense.”

Mikey winced-- okay yeah, wrong tack to take. There was a lot he could say there about the fact that Raph was also capable of making his own choices, and he already knew Raph would prefer the whole temporary possession and scarred eye and shell over a dead brother. Just as he knew he would never, ever convince Leo of that, because they were all the same in that regard. It was hard, watching someone get hurt trying to protect you.

So hard. Mikey knew.

“Did you…” He paused, swallowed. Curled up on the bed itself, his shell to Leo’s, knees up to his chest. Maybe this was easier. “Did you think you had to make up for it? Is that why?”

He wasn’t sure if Leo’s soft huff of amusement was a good or a bad sign. “I already said. No death wishes.” His tone was more gentle than cutting, so that was hopeful. “Not on the alien ship, not in the warehouse. Just let it go.”

That wasn’t actually an answer to the question. Guilt could make you do so much stupid shit, and Leo still wanted him to drop it, which means there was more to this--

I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.

Mikey blinked.

“I need an oh jar,” he muttered.

“...yeah, because that makes sense.”

“Leo,” Mikey said evenly. “What did Casey say to you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Leo responded with genuine confusion. “Okay, that one you really are gonna have to narrow down—”

“About the future he came from.”

And from the way he heard Leo’s breath stutter to a halt, Mikey had his answer.

---------

He waited. Long enough to hear Leo unfreeze, breathing slow with just the faintest hint of shakiness. Long enough that he finally evened out, and Mikey kept still while he did it, not even touching him, back to back. He wanted to-- wanted to kind of turn and latch onto Leo and hug him, but from this angle he’d end up hurting a whole lot more than he’d help, so… in the end, he just gave him space.

Somewhere down the hall, one of Draxum’s clocks chimed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Dumb question.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. Will you please talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Leo was barely audible. “It’s over now, not gonna happen. We just need to look after the one person it did happen for.”

“I think Casey’d disagree.”

“Casey has enough on his plate.”

“Well, he’s not here right now anyway. If there’s no point, why don’t you tell me?”

“Already covered that I don’t want to.”

The thing is, just by not telling him, Leo had basically confirmed for Mikey some pretty obvious key factors. This time he deliberately quashed the irritation at the thought of being babied. He got it. He did.

“So,” he said slowly, eventually, “I’m gonna assume you’re trying to protect me. Or us. From horrible, terrible, no good, bad future knowledge. Am I right?”

Leo’s silence was confirmation enough.

Mikey took a deep breath. Okay. He had it now. He hoped. (He also didn’t hope, because it was so bleak, but--)

“You know,” he said quietly, voice deliberately oh so casual, “When someone, like, drops in from some futuuure timeline—add reverb—to change the course of history, it kinda means that whichever future he came from is a lost cause. That much is obvious, you know?”

Silence.

Mikey sat up, glancing down at the huddle that was his brother.

“I know Donnie dies,” he said, and watched Leo flinch. He knew how Donnie died. That part, he would leave out just in case. “Raph woulda died before all of us. April—”

He stopped. The point was made and he was being cruel enough already. “I know I was still there at the end. So were you. Because we were the ones who sent him here.”

“Yeah,” Leo said quietly. “You opened a portal through time. Pretty amazing, bro.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly. “I know, right?”

“Be more amazing if you’d survived doing it.”

He’d figured as much, but hearing it still sent a sliver of nausea through him. And if Leo had known that much, the nightmares about Mikey shattering would just have been icing on the cake. And--

And--

“Everyone died,” he said, eyes wide. “Everyone. Except you.”

The way Leo tried to curl into himself at that could not be healthy for his injuries. This time Mikey did reach out, both hands patting at his brother’s shoulder tentatively before he latched on, trying to discourage the pretzeling. “Lee—”

“I know.”

“It didn’t happen!”

“I know!” Leo snapped. “Because I made sure it couldn’t!”

Mikey let go-- half startled by the outburst, half taken by surprise when Leo threw him off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Also not a good idea because Leo had barely managed standing earlier, so what the hell he thought he was doing-- but apparently he was content to sit on the edge of the mattress, using his good arm to keep himself propped up, his entire body curled away from his little brother.

Well. Too bad. Mikey crawled over the bed to sit next to him. And when Leo didn’t move away again, he huffed and wormed his way under that arm, offering a better support. Leo was rigid against him, but he didn’t flinch or try to push him away, so.

Win. Such as it was.

“I get it,” Mikey whispered.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Yeah… I don’t get that part.”

“Because it’s—” Leo broke off, darting a look at him before he turned away. “It’s all I could think of. I made a big speech about how we could change the future after all, and then when you guys got knocked down, all I could think was that we’d tried so hard, and we still lost, and—and I thought-- I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was, but it was stupid and—”

He hadn’t heard Leo stammer around the point like this in a long time, and Mikey tipped his head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Leo’s. “s’not stupid, bro. Like—it’s a high stress situation, y’know? D’you think me or Donnie or Raph were coming up with super logical plans while we were raining into Staten Island? You know how that place drains your smarts away.”

That got a laugh out of Leo, at least, a half hiccupped one, and he shifted a little closer. He didn’t relax; Mikey could feel the tension practically vibrating through him, and he knew what was coming. He could probably cut to the chase now and sum it up for Leo in points so he didn’t have to.

He waited. It was better that way.

“I just...didn’t.” Leo said finally. “Didn’t—want to go through that. You know, I wasn’t being heroic or a martyr or whatever, I was being a coward, okay? Because Casey told me everyone died in the future—everyone—and I thought: if we lose here, I’m gonna have to live that future. You know, twenty years in a war we’re gonna lose so slowly, watching everyone die one by one until I’m the only one left, and I was terrified and I can’t—I can’t, Mikey, if it’s a choice between me and literally everyone else, you can’t ask me to watch everyone die—”

And his voice cracked and Leo shut up, and Mikey carefully shuffled up onto his knees and curled his arms around his brother’s neck and held on. Leo planted his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, shoulders trembling.

But when he spoke, his voice was small, but very dry. “This is gonna be real painful in about thirty seconds, just warning—”

“Then shut the hell up and get back on the bed, idiot.”

Leo sniffled, voice even tinier. “Yes, Dr Therapist, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t tell the others?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“’kay. Good.”

Leo turned away, shuffling back onto the bed to collapse onto the pillows. Mikey hovered, not really sure what to do next. Did he leave him alone? Give him space? He’d normally just drape himself on Leo’s shell, but that wasn’t exactly a good idea, so--

The question was answered for him when Leo waved a hand in his general direction, looking for a limb to grab, and Mikey helpfully gave him an arm-- and was yanked down beside his brother who curled around him like he was a teddy bear, hiding his face again. Mikey wheezed, a faint mix of relief and amusement. “Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this—”

“Shh,” Leo said, muffled and sodden-sounding. “Therapy’s over.”

The face against his neck was wet. Mikey held still for a moment, swallowing against his own tears, and then gave a small sigh, putting a hand on Leo’s head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess it is.”

---------

They lay there for a while. Mikey was perfectly content to be used as a teddy bear and kept his mouth shut, letting Leo get it out of his system, running his thumb over the ridges of the blue mask as his brother shook apart so quietly. As if he were ashamed of letting go. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was crying on his little brother. Mikey supposed that was breaking some kind of sibling hierarchy or some shit. Whatever.

He hadn’t really meant for the afternoon to go this way—it was kind of the opposite of a morale boost—but if this was the weight that his brother had been carrying around, better to deal with it now. Especially when nobody else was around to overhear.

(...he wasn’t really sure the others shouldn’t know about this. But unless it became an issue, for now, he’d do as Leo asked.)

“You’re not a coward, you know,” he said, much later. He doubted it was hours. He’d only heard Barry’s clock once. But Leo had stopped his ninja stealth crying into the crook of Mikey’s neck, so it was time.

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Don’t mmm ’kay me.” Mikey poked him. “I’m serious. I mean, what do you think a hero’s motivations are, anyway? They’re not doing it for the sake of looking all fancy for the camera. Or if they are, they’re not really a hero. They’re like-- that guy from Megamind, what’shisface, the Nice Guy—”

“Hal Stewart.”

“Exactly. And they don’t run around thinking, like—” He let go of Leo for a moment to air quote, even though Leo hadn’t resurfaced, not really. “’Egads, what is the most noble thing I can do at this exact point in time?’ Real heroes aren’t like… comic book heroes.”

Leo huffed a little against him. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally vulnerable right now or I’d have to throw hands.”

Mikey grinned. There he was. “Better keep you emotionally vulnerable then.”

“A supervillain move if I ever heard one.”

“That’s me, baby! I’m so lucky I have all these moral brothers to guide me to the side of the light.”

“Plus Donnie.”

“Oh yeah, plus that guy. I guess.”

This time, the huff sounded more like a laugh. Mikey snuggled in closer, gave him a moment to relax, and then made his next point, as softly as he could.

“Why do you think Raph protected you?”

He felt the jolt go through Leo at that—felt a little guilty, it was kind of an ambush—but his brother was only rigid against him for a moment before relaxing again by degrees, and Mikey was relieved. Leo’s brain was online. And when Leo answered, he sounded more confused than upset.

“Because he’s a big brother? Because he saw me screw up and he didn’t want me getting hurt?”

“Mhm, mhm. Scared for you, right? Would rather take the fall than watch you get skewered?”

“...yeah.”

Oh, the guilt laden into that word. He couldn’t do much about that, except maybe push him and Raph together to talk it out at some point. “I see. So Raph’s a coward?”

“Wait, what?” Leo pulled back to stare at him in affront, eyes swollen and mask damp and not bothering to hide it in the least. “Raph’s the bravest one here, why would you—”

“My, my. Would you look at those double standards.” Mikey tsked at him, and waited for the penny to drop. And Leo was just as smart as Donnie, in his own way; it took him a bare second to frown and lean back, squinting at him, mouth half open like he was trying and failing to come up with an argument. “It’s not cowardly to protect the people you care about. It’s, like, the opposite. You did it in a really reckless way and yeah, maybe there was a better way, but if anyone tries to accuse you of cowardice, I’m gonna throw hands. That includes you, bee tee dubs.”

Leo blinked, and Mikey could practically see the calculation flashing across his expression. He wasn’t surprised when Leo all-out pouted at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Picking on an injured turtle when he’s down.”

Mikey gave him a flat look that said I know what you’re doing.

Leo’s pout turned into a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll keep any such thoughts of cowardice to myself then, wallow in them when your back is turned—”

Mikey swatted at him with a glare. “You won’t think them at all! Leonardo—” And paused as Leo’s smile sharpened into a grin, his reddened eyes bright with genuine humour. “Ohhh, someone’s feeling better! Good.” He smiled sweetly back, then pushed Leo’s face away from him with a hand. “But for serious, you might be kinda dumb sometimes, but you are like. The bravest coolest brother—”

“Mmm, I still think Raph is the bravest. I humbly accept coolest, though.”

“I’ll allow it.” He watched Leo another moment, then pulled away to scramble carefully over him for the bedside table, reasonably sure the crisis was over. “You still up to painting?”

There was a pause. Leo’s face screwed up hesitantly. “...you sure? I mean, not because of your hands, but—”

“We still got time.” He flipped a paintbrush up and deftly spun it between his fingers, giving Leo a pointed look. “And I hate not finishing an art piece once I start.”

“Have we started, though?” Leo said mildly. But he was already obediently shuffling back onto his stomach, propping the pillows up beneath his elbows.

“Therapy is art.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct.”

“I’m the one with the doctorates, shush now.”

“But you’re—”

“Uh-buh-buh-buh—” Mikey settled by Leo’s side, bonking his head gently with his brush. And time for one last ambush question. “Leo. If we’d still been up there with you at the end, do you think it might have gone differently?”

To his great relief, Leo didn’t even flinch at that one—he merely tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. Mikey gave him time, fishing through his bottles until he could find the right colours to make the mix he wanted.

If he was holding his breath a little, well… that wasn’t important. Turtles could hold their breath for a very long time.

“Hard to say,” Leo said softly. “But I’d like to think so. I mean, I could barely get him through the portal on my own. But the four of us definitely had him off balance for a while there, right? If we were all still up there… I mean. Let’s face it. We’re so much stronger together.”

Mikey sighed with relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leo about the death wish thing, but hearing it summed up like that made him feel a lot better. Especially when Leo frowned and twisted to catch his eye. “You better not feel guilty about that part, by the way.”

“Guilty? Nah.” He did a little, but Mikey also knew they’d done their best. “Bad that you got left on your own, yeah. We’re a team! It was hard...you know.” He smiled a little weakly. “Not being up there with you.”

“It was hard watching you fall.” Leo relaxed, letting his head drop onto the pillows. “Don’t tell him, but I was so glad when Raph got on the line, even if he was mad at me. It meant you guys had all got down safely.”

“He wasn’t mad,” Mikey pointed out.

“...I know. Bad choice of words.” Leo took a breath, sighed it out, sounding sleepy. “Scared.”

“Scary day.”

“Tell me about it. Wait, on second thought, don’t.” Leo waved a hand at him, not looking up. “Better idea. Tell me what you’re gonna paint instead.”

Yeah, time to change subject. Mikey hummed thoughtfully at him, leaning down off the bed to collect his tray. “I’m thinking… flowers.”

“Flowers, huh.”

“Yeah.” He traced dark edges of Leo’s repaired shell with the very tip of his brush, watching his brother carefully to see if it bothered him. When Leo didn’t move, he shifted back to mix paints. “They’ll be great at masking the damage, and if I have to stop for any reason, it won’t look weird. I’m thinking, hmm… marigolds, petunias… what’s a good red flower that isn’t a rose…”

Was that too pointed a comment? Probably. He grinned, counting the seconds until Leo lifted his head again, shifting to squint at him with suspicion.

“...red, orange, and purple?”

“Yeah,” he said innocently. “Great colour combo, don’t you think?”

“I feel you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Of course I am, dummy.” Mikey smiled at him. The sweetest, most sunshine smile he had at his disposal. “It’s a reminder that we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Leo stared back at him with an expression that was—just for a moment, probably against his will—fragile.

Then he turned sharply back away to stare at the wall, giving a snort. “More like you’re always on my back, you mush-dispenser.”

Mikey bit back his laugh at that. Leo could have that one; let him save some face, just this once. “It’s not too late for a dragon’s ass, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Barry could be riding on it!”

“Mikey—”

“And throwing you off it to your doom—”

“Oh my god, that’s low, you monster—”

“Actually I think it’s high, it wouldn’t be much of a doom otherwise, c’mon, Leo, keep up.”

“I’m gonna duct tape you inside your shell and play you like bongos for a week straight.”

“Looking forward to it! I’ll mark my calendar!” But Leo was shaking with laughter now. Mikey tapped the end of the brush on his shell in warning, and Leo obligingly tried to keep still, switching to a yawn instead. “I would never, don’t worry. Tired?”

“A little.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“...kay.” Leo snuggled into the pillows without arguing, and his next words were heavily muffled and more a tired mumble than anything else. “Lvvyou.”

Mikey paused. Then smiled a little, putting a hand on his shell for a moment. “Lvvyou too, bro.”

“Oh, shush.”

He cackled at that, but said nothing, listening to Leo’s breaths even out.

He knew Leo pretty well—enough to wonder how much Leo still hadn’t told him, diverting with jokes and sassy comments about wallowing in cowardice. But this was a start. And a relief. If nothing else, Leo had been genuine about his motivations, both at the warehouse and at the portal. Terror and love, nothing more, nothing less. Mikey flexed his hands out, testing them one last time, looking at the fading welts still criss-crossing up his arms.

He could relate.

[babygirl-diaz]

Samtember Day 05: Fishing | Camping

818 words | Rated G | @samsseptember

((I chose camping for this prompt and made it a bit of an au))

Sam swung side to side on the hammock with a book in hand, his twin toddlers on either side of him, and a look of concern on his face. He wasn’t actually reading the book. He was instead busy watching his husband trying to put together the tent and failing miserably at it. 

“I got this, Sam,” Steve had insisted. “You just go ahead and read to the boys.” 

And so Sam did. “Do you need help?” He asked around 10 minutes ago. 

“No! I can do this!” Steve replied, a little angrier than he probably intended to sound. 

Sam put up his hands in surrender and went back to reading until the kids fell asleep. Sam loved his husband with all his heart, but the guy was terrible with directions and more stubborn than necessary. First, he got them lost while driving, and now Sam’s city-boy husband was trying to put together a tent he clearly did not know how to put together. 

Sam could see when the tent left Steve exasperated and close to tears. But he still didn’t ask for help. Stubborn to a fault. So Sam took pity on him and carefully got up, which obviously woke up the twins. They stared at Sam with their big brown eyes. “Boys, do you wanna help Daddy put together the tent?” He asked them. 

“Yes!” the boys said together and scrambled to get out of the hammock. The older one, Riley, almost fell, but then steadied himself and went over to Steve. Sam put James on the ground before getting out of the hammock himself. 

“Eight hands are better than two,” Sam told Steve, who looked like he was ready to protest once again. 

Steve sighed, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. “Fine,” he mumbled. 

Between the four of them (more like the two. Riley and James got bored after 2 minutes and started chasing each other instead), they put the tent together with a lot of help from YouTube and a minimal amount of crying and screaming. 

They spent the rest of the night playing with the kids in the lake and then reading to them until they fell asleep, asking more questions than either Sam or Steve could ever answer. 

Sam got out of the tent and went to sit by the lake, a couple of feet from them, and look out at the dark night sky. It was so peaceful here. Such a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of their daily lives. Sam enjoyed being Captain America. He did. But sometimes he wished he could just take a break. 

A couple of minutes later, he felt something on his shoulders and looked up to find Steve putting a blanket on him. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Steve asked as he sat down beside Sam. 

Sam rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, as he said, “I’m not a camping guy, but I sure do wanna start now.” 

“I can’t believe I turned you into a camping guy,” Steve teased. 

“You didn’t, city boy. But this trip sure did.” 

“Hey!” Steve huffed, offended, but then laughed. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I should have asked for help. I just wanted to be the one to do this, you know?” 

Sam looked up at Steve and frowned. ‘Why?” 

“You’re Cap, but you’re also so much more. You can do so much more. But my identity starts and ends with that damn shield. It’s been 7 years since I retired, but I haven’t been able to make anything of myself.” 

“I thought you enjoyed being a stay-at-home dad,” Sam said, worried. 

“No, I do,” Steve was quick to assure him. “I love being a stay-at-home dad. I love looking after the two rascals. But I also wanna be able to put a tent together, you know?” Steve ducked his head as he added, “I’m not making any sense, am I?” 

“No, you are, babe,” Sam told him. “Let’s make one thing clear. You are much more than that shield. You are a dad, a husband, a goddamn pillar of our Delacroix community. Just because you can’t put a tent together, doesn’t mean that you’re any less. Today, your sons saw you asking for help when you were stuck and you know they learned?” 

Sam stopped and looked at Steve, who shook his head. 

“They learned that it’s important to ask for help when you can’t do something by yourself. Kids are visual learners and now when they get stuck on something, instead of trying to figure it out on their own, they’ll ask for help.” 

Steve said nothing for a while, but then he grinned and said, “Why are you so smart?” 

“You really scored yourself a deal, didn’t you?” Sam joked. 

“That I did,” Steve replied and captured Sam’s lips in a kiss. 

[starres-stuff]

Day 6- Halcyon FFXIV Write 2024

Halcyon: denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful.

“Do you believe a person can be described as halcyon,?” 

It was mid-afternoon, in the middle of summer and the twins had met for lunch at the cottage. Once they had finished their meal, they moved their conversation outside under the old oak trees, their shade, the most superior compared to any other found in the yard and conveniently out of sight of Viviane’s prized Gridania mint crop that Dimitri had recently killed by accident.

“Why, yes I do. The word does translate to joyful and carefree. Those summer days of youth.” The Sharlayan had packed his pipe with his favorite cherry-scented tobacco and was lazy leaning back again at the base of one of the trees, his shoes tossed somewhere to the side and his sketchbook in his lap; long tendrils of reddish-brown hair blowing on the wind. 

“What if you lost your youth to unfortunate circumstances?” Viviane was one tree over from her twin, a clove-scented, moko-laced cigarette sending tendrils of smoke out around her. 

“Well, that depends on how you define Youth. Some would say youth ends when we are old enough to be considered adults. I think youth is a state of mind and not tied to a singular age bracket. I worked with a woman at the library well into her fifty-second summer and she was far more a youth than some seventeen-year-olds I knew from school. She told me once it was her way of staying young.”

Viviane considered this for a long moment, a drag drawn from her cigarette during this time was exhaled in a series of smoke rings, some of which were looped together; it was one of her favorite tricks to distract people or prompt them to comment on how they were formed; ring inside ring. 

“It would be the summer when I met Clement.” Her eyes closed as the breeze ruffled her hair. “It was a lovely summer, despite how rocky we first were in admitting our feelings to each other and the fact it took until Starlight for either of us to act on them, it was the most carefree summer I ever had. I simply felt alive, and it has never faded since. Today when I woke up, curling around him felt as good as the day I first read his cards at the Path.” A small giggle left her then and her cheeks flushed brightly. “That was my thirty-first summer. So I do suppose your theory could hold water in my case, I was much older.” Vi then pointed at Dimitri “Your turn.” 

With the spotlight on him, Dimitri began clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his eyes even closed for a while as he mulled over when the halcyon period of his life had been, and then took a few more drags from his pipe before he finally answered. “It would be this cycle I do believe. See growing up in Old Sharlayan was, as you know, terribly regimented,; especially as the adopted child of a member of the Forum. I was also the oldest of their children. Patience was not born until I was seven summers old and the youngest, Nicodeme, was not born until another seven cycles after that.” A smile appeared on his features then, as if these two times were at least fond memories for him but like always Viviane took note of the moment that smile vanished from sight and Dimitri’s seriousness returned. 

“They were kind parents I will say that, even though they were strictly authoritarian in mannerisms, what belongs to them is theirs, hence why they chase after me even now at thirty-three summers old. They like feared me finding out the truth while I was here like I have and hating them for it, which I do right now. Eventually, I will have my say of course..” Viviane lifted gracefully from her spot then, gliding over to the tree where her twin sat, and plopped down alongside him, reaching out a single finger to poke him right in the ribs with the tip of her nail. 

“Tell me why this cycle is the one then, forget the past if it is not important to the question, dwelling there will only bring you pain; something I know all too well.” There was a fair bit of sympathy in Viviane’s eyes when he turned his head, while he had never been treated as poorly as she had been he knew that he had his demons he faced day to day; often in the bottom of his silver flask filled with whiskey. 

“Because of Laurent. The things I have experienced with him. I have been able to be myself for the first time in my life Vi. I don’t have to pretend like I did in Sharlayan for anyone's sake anymore. I live in the middle of nature now, not a City. I see a future when I am around him when I look into his eyes. I have found peace with him. We can exist side by side, we have no expectations of each other. We both want to see the Star, explore it together and I still believe that the day will come when we settle in to just grow old together.” It was a lot for him to say, more than he would usually say about anything so private to him but when he saw Vi’s head nodding in agreement he couldn't help but question it “And it seems you agree, why is that?”

A soft laugh came from the Songstress, as she opened her silver smoking case with the etched Sunflower on top and she took out another of cigarettes to smoke. “Because when I first met you Dimtri you had a larger stick up your arse than an Ishgardian Count on the matters of State, now that stick is gone and I like to think it is because Laurent pulled it out and broke it over your head.” 

Dimitri’s eyes crossed as he looked at her, he tried to think of a rebuttal but none would come and then finally he just laid his head back against the tree and a low rumbling chuckle came from deep in his chest. “Touche, Sister, Touche.” 

[yanderu-deredere]

the m in may stands for marriage

a/n: here's the second one for today and then the next one will be written in a few mins but will be published tomorrow. aren't yall glad i queue these up for yall? if i hadn't, i wouldn't have posted anything during my absence LOL

if you've read the chapters published today abt the cannibal yanderes, then you'll know what this drabble is abt LOL i hint at it so now u can imagine it but with u!

oh also ill have theirs and the werewolf yanderes profiles published today so look forward to that! and then ill edit the posts so that the profiles will finally be linked! huzzah!

warning: gender neutral reader, mentions of gore, implied violence

prompt: day seventeen ★ deep cleaning the home

casimir fiala ★ emm fiala

When Casimir mentioned that Emm wasn't the most organized person in the world, you had thought that just meant that she left things lying around sometimes or something.

You hadn't imagined it would be something like this.

The garage was a mess.

There were two of those big tool cabinets and there were shelves everywhere but, even with that, stuff was just scattered places.

You could barely see the floor since it was covered in various sizes of wood and various lengths of metal bars. There was just entire cork boards with seemingly no purpose just laying there.

And the machines! There was no order to the machines at all! Drills were on the floor, there was a chainsaw in the corner, some of the heavier machines had been pushed to the centre, some were against the wall.

Even worse than that were the blood stains. Some were smudged like someone tried to clean it hastily and others looked like she just left it there without thinking.

The only part of the garage that even had a semblance of order was the area where Emm parked his motorcycles. You figured that was just because she needed a clear area to wheel them in and out.

You felt Casimir cup the side of your head before he pressed a kiss to your temple "Thank you for helping me with this."

"So, this happens--"

"Once a month? Yes." Casimir pulled a roll of trash bags seemingly from no where and ripped one out

"The mess or you cleaning it." You took it, a fearful look on your face.

The tired expression on his answered your question.

Still, you couldn't help but think that, if this was something you needed to do for both your wife and your husband every month, you didn't think you'd mind too terribly.

[bitterkarmaa]

*KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR*

WHY HELLO THERE I HAVE COME HERE TO DAY TO ANALYSE A CERTAIN PIECE OF YOUR WRITING

Lets begin:

---

Oh, how his mind drags him on, teaching him the steps to a dance he already knows, but loathes all the same.

“KC!”

Eclipse stiffens for the hundredth time today, eyes growing wider the deeper he falls into the memory.

“KC! YOU CAN’T LET THEM DO THIS!!”

His systems begin to overheat, vents coming in quick, short intervals that do nothing to prevent his impending panic.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

He doesn’t hear the door click softly open, doesn’t hear the footsteps that approach him.

“Let him go.”

A hand reaches out to him, hesitating to touch his shaking shoulder.

“LET HIM GO!”

---

SO THIS. LETS TALK ABOUT THIS.

My first thought? This was the point when Eclipse was being taken away to be decommissioned.

Clearly this happens after the Big Incident (i'm assuming Eclipse was blamed for a child or persons death) and the final two lines (Let him go) were spoken by KC who at the last minute chose to try and reach out to save Eclipse.

NOW THIS RAISES ANOTHER QUESTION - did KC believe also that Eclipse had commited a terrible sin, or was it holding back from interfering because of fear for its own existence? Maybe simply shock? Stuck in a state of processing that didn't quite click until he realised they were taking his son away to be literally killed?

When KC menrions Eclipse being stuck in that room (maybe the same room Eclipse had such panic over in the first fic?) was that room the same one Eclipse had been confined in before being inevitably decomissioned?

ALSO if i'm not mistaken, KC is the reason Eclipse managed to survive right? My guess is he was too late to stop Eclipse's chip from being pulled but he mayhaps did a murder of the humans and somehow managed to recover Eclipse's AI (either via backup or restoration from lingering code that survived)

I HAVE SO MUCH BRAIN WORMS OVER THESE TWO ASHDFS anyways that's my thoughts for now i'm gonna go back to reading your drabbles and fics so i'll be back if i get any more wormys ;D

(Side note: someone should 100% get Eclipse a toy wolf it would be very fun to see how he reacts to that - also did mr howls survive? Imagine if maybe Rays finds it during one of his raids in a storage room/lost and found ashdj or maybe he finds a different plush that is similar! BUT THEN AGAIN maybe KC still has the original somewhere himself? WHO KNOWS!)

DING DING DING WINNER

I’ll answer these to the best of my abilities without spoiling too much :)

Q: Did KC believe Eclipse was at fault for The Incident?

A: For a while, yes. It struggled to find evidence that proved Eclipse innocent, and since it abides mainly by logic it didn’t really have any reason to assume the best of Eclipse, despite being his father.

Q: Was the room KC mentioned the room Eclipse was placed in prior to his decommissioning?

A: Yes. That was the room.

Q: Was KC the reason Eclipse survived?

A: Yes. It made it in time to hold him as his physical body shut down :( he then grabbed the remnants of Eclipse’s chip and scampered away.

Q: Did Mr. Howls survive?

A: YES! Mr. Howls is still intact, if a bit worn. KC has him and makes sure that the fabric doesn’t deteriorate too fast since it’s such a yucky room that it stays in.

I AM SO GLAD MY BRAIN-WORMS ARE CONTAGIOUS <33 they have AT LEAST 60% of my brain rn

Also, if you or anyone else finds other dialogue prompts, or perhaps makes a few, even, feel free to request them with either past or present KC and Eclipse! I will write so much for these two right now istg

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Hi :D

From the post-argument prompts, may I request "feeling guilty so you perform an act of kindness (ex: making them their fave food) as an indirect apology" for Vax and Kiki in Grow with the flow? (Or another setting if you prefer)

Thank you <3 <3

feeling guilty so you perform an act of kindness (ex: making them their fave food) as an indirect apology  check out the grow with the flow au!

Pink roses, for gratitude and appreciation.

Her father always warned her against starting a business with her significant other. He told her all kinds of stories about the fights he and her mom used to have about the farm, about what kind of feed to buy and what farmer's markets they were going to hit and how much of the fields they should let lie fallow each year. He always said it could ruin a marriage, a business.

Turns out cancer'll do that just as well.

So Keyleth never took those words to heart, because she and Vax just work so well together. She's a perfectionist and he's a doer. He asks all the right questions and she articulates the answers so well. She has the knowledge, and he knows how to package it up into something that will be helpful to their audience. It just...works.

Blue hyacinths, for peace.

And okay, maybe just because something works doesn't mean it can't be worked on. Maybe she got used to how easy things have gotten, the steady push and pull of their routine. Maybe she got too comfortable, too reliant.

Maybe she started taking things for granted.

And that's why she's so mad at herself, why her shoulders bear the permanent hunch of shame. She knows how hard he works, how much of himself he pours into each podcast episode and livestream and Instagram post. He is, frankly, the genius of the operation, and she can barely look herself in the mirror for forgetting it, for letting the annoyance creep up into her tone when he told her he just couldn't edit today.

Pink carnations, for saying "I'll never forget you."

Because she also knows how he struggles. She sees it on the mornings it takes him a few extra minutes to get out of bed, or the days he stares at his running shoes, unable to bend down to put them on. There are so many things that are just harder for him, harder in ways she'll never understand, and though her own anxieties act as barriers in their own way, she knows she walks through the world with an ease that sometimes eludes him.

(Sometimes, in her own perverse, weird way, she wishes she could reach into his brain, poke around and reconfigure things until he loves himself the way she loves him, until he looks in the mirror and sees with startling clarity all the ways in which he is wonderful, remarkable, perfect. More than that, she wishes she could go back to this morning, before she put a megaphone up to all those terrible voices only he hears, echoing their death rattles until they became the cacophony he couldn't escape.)

Lily of the valley, for rebirth.

She's spent the last four hours getting it right, picking and placing and pruning until the bouquet says all of the things she should have said in the first place. When she's finished, she sits on their recording loveseat and waits, chewing anxiously on her lip, avoiding Simon's judgemental stares, but she can only wait so long before her bouncing leg bounces her right up out of her seat. She grabs the flowers and a jacket and heads out into the dusk.

She finds him where she knew he'd be. When she walks into Gilmore's, the man himself is behind the bar, polishing some glasses. Keyleth sidles up, eyes on the farthest booth, where a familiar head of black hair sits alone. "How many has he had?"

Gilmore gives her a reassuring smile. "Been nursing the one since he got here. Taking up my best table, too." And Keyleth knows well enough that it's not a complaint.

When she slides into the booth across from him, she lets the flowers do the talking. (They're so much better at it than she is.) Wordlessly, he picks it up, spins it around, takes stock of which ones she's included. (He knows what they mean. He's a much better listener than she'll ever be.) He presses his nose into a lily. It is so lovely against his skin.

She waits. There is chatter in the bar, but it fades to static as she watches him. He looks so tired. How did she miss that this morning? He sets the bouquet on the table, reaches across, and holds her hand.

White tulips, for forgiveness and renewal.