#angst gag

[dandorime]

Reginald and Phoenix sit across from one another at an ornate table, each facing an open briefcase. The air is thick with tension. Phoenix is on the brink of a breakdown, his mind racing through the chain of decisions that brought him here, desperately searching for a way out.

He finds none.

Across from him, Reginald looks grim, but somehow a sense of serenity graces his features.

It is the look of a man prepared to accept his fate.

Phoenix: I... I can't do it.

Reginald: You must, agent. It's your move.

Phoenix: Then I forfeit!

Reginald: We both know that won't work. The rules clearly state-...

Phoenix: TO HELL WITH THE RULES!

Phoenix bangs a fist on the table, his face at last cracking into a grimace that reveals the pain welling in his heart.

Phoenix: WHY? Why did it have to be this way?! Why does it have to be you?

The handler is silent. Pensive. Mulling over all the same little ironies as his agent, but far more experienced in the cruel turnabouts of a long life in the espionage field. To his agent, they are still a bitter pill. To the wizened handler, something closer akin to aged wine, but no less bitter.

Phoenix: When I joined up, we were a team. We did this together.

Reginald allows himself a little smile as the memories flit through his mind. Phoenix was naive at the start. Rough. Unseasoned. But he learned fast, by god.

Phoenix: I thought that we'd get through to the end... I thought we'd make it together.

The hurt in his agent's voice still stung him every bit as deeply as the moment he'd revealed his betrayal. It had been a matter of necessity, not a failing of moral conscience. For the greater good. For their only chance at survival. It was fate, not choice, that turned them against each other in the eleventh hour, and fate that now dictated the ultimate outcome.

Phoenix would understand that someday, Reginald told himself.

Someday.

Phoenix: I can't go forward alone, Reggie. Please.

Reginald: You can, Phoenix. You can, and you will. The truth is... you don't need me anymore.

Tears stream down agent Phoenix's face as Reginald takes careful note of the contents of his briefcase, then quietly closes it. He offers his agent -- his friend -- one last smile, hoping to soften the finality of his parting words:

Reginald: It has been the highest honor and pleasure of my life to train you and follow your progress, Agent Phoenix. Let me leave you now with no regrets.

Phoenix looks truly stricken. There is nothing more he can do, no plea he can make. They are being watched, after all.

Reginald: Push the button, agent.

Unable to bring himself to witness the end, Phoenix shuts his eyes tightly and reaches a trembling hand towards the mechanism in the briefcase on the table before him. There is a soft click, then an electrical tone.

"You sunk my battleship."

Cheers and applause erupt from the audience as the Agency Game Night Championship crowns its new king. He is the first in two decades to defeat longtime Battleship ace Reginald Crane, and the rejoicing is no small affair.

Only Phoenix himself is without joy. He hurls the tiny plastic briefcase off the desk and collapses, burying his head in his arms as he weeps.

"You beat him! You did it!"

"I knew he could do it. That's why we couldn't put him and Crane on the same team..."

"Phoenix, you've won!"

At what cost? Phoenix thinks, the words repeating over and over through his tortured mind in the voice of his handler, who swiftly disappears like a ghost into the celebrating crowd.

At what cost...?

[jordanstrophe]

Caretaker groggily awoke bound to a chair. They groaned as they raised their head at their surroundings. The first thing they saw was whumpee across from them tied to a chair in similar fashion. They were gagged and unconscious, blood coated the side of their face and hair.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted, trying to jerk out of their restraints.

"They're alive." Whumpers voice soothed. They stood behind whumpee and stroked the side of their face.

"I admit, their head got hit far too hard. I hoped they would be awake by now. Especially now." Whumper sighed while caretaker stared in wordless horror.

"But worry not! We'll get them checked out." Whumper chirped, pulling a chair next to whumpee, who still didn't move.

"After- you've answered all my questions, of course."

[sageivyreads]

doe eyed and ready to kill

Ghoap x street kitty!hybrid fem!reader

introduction: ok ok the tension is finally building people!! and the beef between reader and ghost begins 😓 as much as i like this part it’s definitely kind of a filler chapter so i can move on to the next main plot point (smut coming soon 😋). tysm for 200 followers! masterlist here

contains/warnings: 2.6k words (un)consensual kidnapping, ‘rough but he means well’ ghost, allusions to drugging, manipulative & pushy ghoap, noncon touching but no sa, reader is awkward & insecure, slight unreliable narrator, brief mentions of piss but nothing sexual about it, slightest of angst & mildest of comforts, quick description of gagging & fingers in mouth, r eats toast & jelly.

“How long d’you think she’ll be out for?” Johnny asks, watching as Simon pets over your hair like a beloved dog. Simon’s gaze is downturned towards you, blinking slowly as he watches your eyelids flutter and close.

“I gave ‘er enough to last ‘till tomorrow morning.”

Johnny whistles quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants. “Talk about a hell of a hangover, huh?”

Your mouth is dry as you wake. There’s something slightly scratchy around you. Under you. You’re warm. It takes all of your energy, and multiple seconds, to pry your tired eyes open.

You’re in a room. A small table stands beside the bed you’re on. A plain, dark wood. Blueish grey sheets. A door to the left and a double closet to the right. You’re trying to conjure some sort of memory, but nothing is coming immediately.

Your arm doesn’t ache so bad. In fact, it feels kind of numb.

A blanket is draped over you. A few, you think. The warmth you feel is from something- someone hot pressed against your back. A naked chest tight against you. You feel a chin on your shoulder, breath against your neck. This feels familiar.

You blink. Your fingers spasm. Your ears flick.

“Mm.. you awake, love?”

Johnny.

Your breath shakes as you feel a crooked nose run up your neck and nuzzle along the edge of your jaw. Your heart beats louder in your ears than his voice does.

You’re still wearing clothes. You can feel his boxers against the back of your thighs.

You know he knows you’re awake, so you hesitantly nod. You can feel your hair is combed and clean. The fur on your ears and tail is brushed. Soft. For the first time in a while.

He peels himself from you, and you can hear him sit against the headboard. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, turning you towards him, and lugging you up against the bed frame with him.

He pulls your limp body into the crook of his arm, pressing his nose against your hair and breathing in before he presses a small kiss to the top of your head. The flesh of your cheek is smushed against the muscle of his shoulder. You smell men’s shampoo. You don’t know if you can move or not. You haven’t tried.

You slowly flex your fingers, then curl them into a fist. You’re tired, but you’re okay. You shift to sit up a little, subconsciously leaning away from him a little.

“Are ya feeling okay?” he asks, “Took quite a tumble yesterday. Still ain’t sure if ya hit yr’head or not.”

Why is he holding you like this? You broke into their home. And aren’t they together? You swear you thought Simon and Johnny were in a relationship before, but now you can’t remember much.

“Tumble…?” you question, lips sticking together as you part them to speak.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t remember? Yesterday morning, when ye were about to leave. You collapsed.” Johnny tells you, squeezing you a little closer. You can’t tell if that was his response to you scooting away, or if he really is clueless.

“..Oh.”

“Yeah, but we got ya all fixed up, didn’t we, Si?”

You frown in confusion, eyes flicking to the doorway where you find Simon lurking, one hand gripping the doorframe. He hadn’t made a sound. Not even the creaking of a floorboard or squealing of shoes. He’s dressed in casual athletic wear as if he might’ve come home from a jog an hour or two ago. You’ve learned he does that every morning, usually around seven.

Simon just grunts like the caveman he is, eyes running over the picture of the two of you.

“Get up. I’m making breakfast.” he huffs, turning and walking down the hall just as quietly as he came.

Johnny sighs next to you, his free hand flipping the covers off the two of you. “Well, let’s not make him wait any longer than we need to.”

He stands, your eyes trailing down his back as he bends over. You watch as he tugs some gray sweatpants over his hips, grabs a shirt from the floor to pull over his head.

“After y’finish eatin’, I figure I’ll rewrap that nasty wound o’ yours, and you can tell me all about how ya ended up that way, yeah?”

You don’t speak, but he doesn’t seem to be looking for a response, anyway. He straightens and turns back toward you, your eyes fixing on his thick fingers tying the strings of his sweats, on the imprint of something against his upper thigh-

You blink heavily, eyes swiftly flashing up to his. He’s smiling at you, but not smugly. More… gentle, than anything. Your voice quakes when you speak.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighs, reaching a hand up to shove some overgrown strands of hair out of his face. “Alrigh’. How about you go on ahead an’ join Simon? ah’m gonna take a piss.”

He turns and trudges over to the connected bathroom before you can respond. You slowly nod to yourself. You feel tired. So tired. You shouldn’t, considering this is the first time you’d slept on a mattress, let alone a bedframe, in years.

You pull yourself to the edge of the bed, legs shaking as you push to stand. The floor is cool against your warm skin. You take a quick scan of your surroundings and don’t find much more than what you’d expect from them. A single, golden brown dresser. Two bedside tables. Not much decor besides a little clutter. Everything’s a little mismatch.

Your feet move as if they don’t belong to you. They seem to know the choreography of their kitchen more than your consciousness does.

Your vision is fuzzy. Your body feels like a rusty engine of a car. Just barely rumbling back to life each time you twist the key, sluggish and old.

Your sense of smell stirs to life before anything else. Slightly burnt toast, you think. Strawberry jam. You sniffle as cold air pinches at your nose, shivering and hugging your arms with the opposite hands.

You flinch and hiss when you make contact with the sore skin beneath the bandage on your upper right arm, shifting your grip lower as you wince. Your slow walk has finally brought you to the kitchen.

Your eyes trail over his face as he slides three pieces of toast on a plate, two on another, and a single slice on the last one.

“Mornin’.” He vaguely gestured around the stools at the kitchen bar. “Sit.”

And once more, your feet guide you before your thoughts do. The backs of your thighs meet a stool as he spreads a vibrant red jam across the piece of toasted bread, most of it golden brown with the crust a little black. He slides the plate with a single slice in front of you.

You prefer raspberry jelly. You don’t like the crust on your toast. You also can’t imagine he’d care if you told him either of those things.

Your fingers shake as they reach in front of you, skin feeling fragile as it touches the brittle corners of the bread. Sharp canines pierce the texture easily, teeth tearing off a chunk and chewing as your tongue slips out to swipe the remnants off of your lips.

He’s staring at you. Has been since you picked up the piece of toast. His gaze fixes on your tongue so vehemently, that you’d think he was waiting for you to open your mouth just to catch a glimpse.

A shiver runs down your back and you shudder, spine curling inward slightly to keep you looking small. Even if you weren’t physically.

“‘ave you brushed your teeth?”

Your face twitches into some expression of confusion, and your hand comes to cover your mouth not so subtly as you place the toast back on it’s plate.

One of the many luxuries you didn’t have being homeless.

“N-no, I haven’t h-“

You’re stunned into silence by the view of him abruptly standing, lips parting in surprise as he curves around the corner of the counter.

“C’mere.”

His hand is on your nape, grip just a little too tight. Again, you feel a sense of deja vu. He pulls you out of the chair and your hands jerk up to commit some sort of action, just to fall flat at your sides. You feel like a snail in comparison to his heavy footsteps.

He walks you to his bedroom and opens the attached bathroom, ignoring the way you nearly flinch at the sight of Johnny- his boxers and sweats tugged down to where you can see the beginnings of a pale appendage. There’s still a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth. His head pops up when the door opens but he doesn’t seem surprised to see you.

You swallow thickly, throat suddenly feeling tiny and clogged as Simon pushes you to the counter. You cast your gaze downwards.

His big fingers seem to randomly grab a green toothbrush from a cup on the marble. It’s clearly been used, has to be one of theirs. You nearly gag at the thought.

He shoves the plastic object into your mouth, his lips twitching at your gurgled grunts as he roughly pushes the bristles back and forth against your teeth.

Your hands jolt up to his offending digits and wrist, halfhearted claws digging into the firm muscle beneath his sleeve.

You try to turn your head away and his grip slips to the front of your throat. Light pressure. Thumb just under your jaw to keep your chin propped up while he listens to the thu-thud of your heartbeat. Your ears flick to the side and lower.

When you finally get a good enough grip to tug yourself away from the toothbrush, neck muscles straining to tear away, he seems amused at the flash of teeth.

“Yeah, bare those pretty teeth at me, love. Let’s see how that goes.”

The expression on your face twists to the closest thing you can get to a scowl. You almost get away when he tightens his grip on the front of your throat enough for you to part your lips in a gasp.

“Enough.” he snaps, so loud you think you can feel your skull vibrate. You nearly choke on the toothpaste, just barely manage to stop yourself from swallowing. Cold fingers tremble in front of you before you lower them to cling to the counter at each side of your hips. Squeezing your eyes shut helps a little and you go still.

“Jeez, Si, didn’t get a good night’s sleep?” Johnny pipes up, and you can hear a rustle of fabric and the groaning of pipes as the toilet flushes. You hear him spit into the sink behind you and the tap run while he rinses his mouth briefly.

Simon ignores him and resumes for a minute or two before he turns and pushes you to bend your upper half over the sink. Gives your tongue an exceptionally harsh scrub before he drops the toothbrush into the sink.

“Spit.”

And when you hesitate, because that’s a weird fucking thing to say, he shoves his salty, meaty fingers down your throat until you gag, nearly retching around his fingers so you expel the toothpaste involuntarily instead of just repeating himself.

Your nose burns.

You’re crying when he releases you, bitterly glaring up at him as he rubs the leftover toothpaste from your lips. He doesn’t let you rinse.

“Way to scare a girl away,” Johnny sighs, shouldering Simon out of the way to stand in front of you.

He cups your cheeks with his warm hands and gently brushes the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s alright, lovely. No need fer the tears. You know he means well, hmm?”

You can’t help the relieved sigh as he touches you, body instinctively relaxing under his heated touch.

You don’t know if it’s your own doing or his when you nod.

“Let’s go finish our breakfast.” he says, moving his hands to your shoulders. He turns you and you pout (frown) the entire time he walks you out of the bathroom. He brings you out to the living area but instead sits you down on the middle cushion before joining Simon in the kitchen.

You huff to no one but yourself, tongue running over your teeth absently. At least you have a clean mouth now. Better than nothing for all the trouble he’s put you through.

Johnny walks back in just as you finish your train of thought, holding your plate and his. He places the one with a half-eaten piece of toast in your lap, sitting beside you and doing the same with his. Your fingers twitch on your thighs.

Johnny slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you a little closer to him. Just like he’d done a few minutes prior when you’d woke up in his bed.

You’re hungry. You know you are. With the way your stomach aches like a crater, there’s no way you couldn’t be. Why don’t you want to eat?

Maybe it’s the whole situation, the way they’re treating you. Like they don’t plan on you leaving. They’ve already started making space for you in their lives. It feels as if they’ve shoved you into the deep end, not given you a chance to catch your breath or dip your toes in. It’s weird.

“Not hungry?” Johnny’s voice brings you back to the moment, as well as Simon joining the two of you on your other side.

He’s farther than you’d like.

Your eyelashes flutter after a moment, and you shake your head.

“Tired.” You rasp, your voice scratchy and your throat feeling swollen.

“m’sure now you regret wasting all that energy causing a fuss in the bathroom, huh?” Simon unhelpfully adds, voice slurred while he speaks with food in his mouth.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t notice with the way he’s shoveling food down his throat.

Johnny releases your shoulders to reach for your plate, ripping off a small piece and getting some jam on his fingers as he brings it up to your mouth.

“Come on, just a bite?”

You don’t respond for a moment.

Eventually, you decide you’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here fastest.

It only takes a nod before he’s pushing it past your lips, a bit more gently than Simon was with the toothbrush.

He ignores the fact you agreed to a single bite as he continues feeding you. The toast tastes slightly of mint when you take your next bite.

“So, after breakfas’ ah’ll rewrap tha’ wound, Simon’s gotta go to the store, I’ve got a game t’watch, I figure you can rest up on the couch with me. How’s that sound?”

You look over at him, red jam smeared over his lips, free hand stuffing food in his mouth nearly just as quickly as Simon. They’ve both got a bad habit of talking while eating.

It doesn’t feel like have any other choice but to nod. Not that you plan on sticking to that. You drift off to a memory earlier in the day when you were in the kitchen for the first time.

When your eyes naturally flit back to the window you’d climbed in the day before, you noticed the dried blood had been cleaned up.

You also noticed the little nob on the top of the window had been turned, sealing the window shut. Probably just because of the storm.

lHowever, it irks you. Even when it was storming, they kept it open for you. It’s only closed now that you’re inside. You need to say something. Confirm that they know you aren’t staying.

Something inside you hushes your thoughts, telling you to keep quiet, you want this-

You urge your unease to the front of your mind.

“S-So when can I leave?”

Do you really want to?

Your head turns to Simon, and he pauses, before resuming his meal.

You turn to Johnny, and he just smiles at you sympathetically, a speck of red on his cheek.

“Oh, love. You aren’t goin’ anywhere. Not in this weather. Let the storm pass and we’ll talk then, yeah?” he says, reaching forward to wipe a bit of toast from the corner of your lip with his thumb.

For the first time, his smile doesn’t comfort you.

You don’t finish your piece of toast.

notes: that little moment of reader struggling with food was meant to show her unease around them and loss of appetite from the drugs, not an ed btw! i admit i have no idea what foods english people eat so take it easy on me ok? if you’re reading this thinking ‘god i just want them to fuckkkk’ me too 😞 in due time. also at what point do i stop using the ‘new writers on tumblr’ tag?

taglist: @lilana56 @angelic-thingys @sweetnightowl @skullcrawler @kxnnxy @lazystorycollector @pagesfalling @honestlymassivetrash @theyoungeagle

lemme know if i missed anyone it wouldn’t let me tag a few people for some reason

me telling u guys i posted part three:

[seagull-scribbles]

[nayrring]

Muzan got that high school girl attitude. Like what is wrong with him

[smallidarityfan]

smallidarity highschool au

came up with this au like actually 2 years ago where it's mainly empires 2 smallidarity centric, with Jimmy as a student council member and Joel as an honours student who doesn't like the way Jimmy runs things around the school.

As payback for the regulations Jimmy put up that Joel thought was stupid, Joel does these elaborate 'The Office' style pranks on Jimmy (specifically) while Jimmy retaliates by trying his best to dig up dirt on Joel. This banter goes on for a while— however Joel ends up doing the pranks less as a statement, and instead more just to see how Jimmy would react... with his comical, cartoony villain yells, and... weirdly cute face....? (YAOI YAOI YAOI YAOI)

very very old au drawings below:

from July 2023

😭😭 joel does NOT look like a highschooler here 😭😭😭😭 (i also wanted to draw angst in the first two ig idk a year later it's pretty cringe [i am still cringe]) (also partially inspired by when I read "Go for it, Nakamura!" and the mc reminded me of joel for no actual reason. or maybe i was just thinking about that manga while drawing smallidarity. idk)

from November 2022:

I think these doodles were genuinely the first instance of me converting from being against mcyt shipping to for shipping LMAOO

[monochromeia]

I want fanworks that really lean into the fanon split-spark twin dynamic for the Lambo twins. I want more than just some shared feelings and communicating telepathically. I want shared emotions that go from mild annoyance to a whole violent breakdown in minutes just from the feedback loop of the bond. I want one of them to suddenly give an idea or something that the other was thinking about bc they didn't even realize it wasn't their own thought. I want them to be seperate but whole, two but one. They're their own people, with their own thoughts and feelings and personalities, but also they can't help but sometimes even forget between themselves which one of them is which.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Do you think if the trolls all came back, like everything in the main comic did happen and they were alive again. Do you think Feferi would actually forgive Eridan? Or want to even be his friend after everything? I don't personally like the erisol and fefertasprite interaction…felt rushed…..so I just wanted to know your opinion if things were different! :)

Yeah, I think they would be! Feferi is one of the trolls who takes dying the least badly (relentless optimism) and Eridan does genuinely feel bad, which means a lot when it's Eridan. I think she really is genuine when she says she wants them to be friends and also that she's really not the type of person to hold a grudge, and like... death is SUPER cheap in Homestuck, it's really not the horrific, irredeemable, irreperable damage that it is IRL - and if you're talking about (Feferi) and (Eridan), then they're both dead (and irrelevent) now, so the score is kind of even.

In general, the fandom - I mean, people in general, really - tend to have difficulty divorcing themselves from other people. We tend to assume that the people and characters they like will hold similar opinions to themselves. This is how people who like Karkat and don't like Eridan can mentally gloss over or even block out their clear, close friendship, or how people who dislike Cronus can end up overlooking that Meenah actually takes his opinion seriously and unironically defends his wizard thing. Feferi really isn't mad at Eridan or upset about dying the way we probably would be, because she's friends with the horrorterrors, relentlessly cheerful, comfortable with death in general, and death is also just not really that big of a deal in this setting. "I'm really sorry about that, that was shitty of me" is honestly probably all the apology she needs, especially if they came back to life anyway.

[pigeonentity]

probably been said before but i think we need another regeneration into david tennant for the bit -- but this time its the master

[jordanstrophe]

"Let me go!" Whumpee shouted, pushing every limit to break out of their restraints. Their hands were tied behind a tree while whumper and their team worked to set up camp. "I don't have what you want. You've got the wrong guy-"

Whumper scoffed as they tied cloth into a gag. They had a henchman hold whumpee's head back as they forced it into their mouth.

"Quiet you. We have a long trip ahead of us and I need my men to rest tonight." Whumper stroked their fingers across whumpee's face as they flinched in disgust.

"Now, if you don't throw a fit all night, you can keep your face in-tact." 

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 5 - The Stain of Guilt

The quiet of the living room was abruptly interrupted by the sound of shifting on the couch.

Mikey’s eyes wrenched tightly shut as he twisted and shuddered into his oldest brother’s shoulder. Squeaked whimpers escaped his lips, as his hands twitched and gripped the air. His plastron rose and fell in between sharp, quiet gasps through his clenched teeth.

“Mghhh….n-no..”

He buried his face deeper under Leo’s chin.

“Ghhhh…don’t…”

His hands unconsciously wrapped around Leo’s waist, striving for safety and comfort. Leo’s still slumbering form slowly leaned further into his shaking embrace. 

“Hhh.. stop.. HhHHh.. Stop…”

Mikey’s heart beat rapidly, pounding from the inside of his plastron. His quiet gasps quickly worsened as he began to frantically choke on each cracking breath.

“...Mgghhh...No…No!...NO!!!!”

Mikey shot up from the cushions of the couch, reaching his arm out to grasp something that wasn’t there. His dazed pupils searched around the room as his hand clasped onto his heaving chest.

Leo’s oldest brother instincts prevailed against his need for sleep as he too leapt to his feet, patting his shell down in a sloppy search for his missing katanas. He nearly slammed into the nearby coffee table in his dazed state.

“-WHHaaaaAAAT?!?! Whaaaaasss wrong?!?!” The oldest brother slurred and shouted as he scrambled to find his bearings, grabbing his phone from the table and holding it as if it were an impromptu weapon over his head. 

Mikey’s ears rang with the fading echoes of Don and Raph’s agonized screams. His heart pounded into his ribs, making him wince and press his trembling hand onto his chest. A pellet of fear fell down into the depths of his stomach, disintegrating the outer casing and unleashing a vile acid into his core. The hand squeezed to his chest shot up to clasp over his mouth as he felt noxious fumes expel a bitter taste into the back of his throat.

Oh crud. 

I cannot throw up in the middle of the living room- this is the ONE ROOM in the lair with a carpet- Dad will KILL ME.

Mikey recalled the time years ago when Klunk, his cat, had coughed up one heck of a hairball on that very carpet. Master Splinter banned her from that room for eternity, and would always chase the tortie out whenever she got close. 

His mind got ripped back from his loving memories of his cherished cat by the clawed grasp of the growing doom climbing its way up.

Swallow. 

J-JUST. SWALLOW!

With a shuddering but stubborn wince, he forced the acid back down his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes by the vile taste and lingering burn in his mouth.

Ughhhh that was so gross.

 I’ll just wash it down with some pizza later.

Both of Mikey’s hands hesitantly lowered from his mouth, planting themselves onto his thighs. His hunched shoulders relaxed, and he took a much-needed deep breath.

Chill. It was just a dream. It was all in your head. You’re fine. Leo’s fine. Don and Raph are-

alive and home.

To distract from the nausea, Mikey watched Leo as the leader blinked the sleep from his eyes and scanned the room for any intruders. His posture quickly tightened into a defensive stance as he gripped his phone with one hand and formed a slightly quaking fist with the other. Finding no enemies in the general vicinity, he began to search through the room, continuing to hold up his phone as if, in the scenario he did find someone, would beat them to death with it.

His search came to an abrupt halt when he turned around to see Mikey.

“W-whoa. Mike, you alright?” 

Leo’s tight fist opened as he reached out his hand to the youngest. Gentleness and concern masked over the tenseness in his eyes, as his voice quieted to a soothing chime in the settling winds of panic. A firm hand landed on Mikey’s knee as the eldest knelt down in front of him to be at the same eye level.

“Mikey. What’s wrong?”

DANG IT. Didn't think of his big brother senses going off...

“I-I’m fine. Everything’s goo-UGH- d.” 

Mikey’s hands shot right back up over his mouth at the feeling of acid creeping up his throat again. He didn’t mean to allow a gag to escape through his last word…When Mikey looked back up to see the eldest’s face, the concern flushed over Leo’s expression had multiplied tenfold.

“-Michelangelo! Are you sick? What’s going on? Do you feel warm? Chills?...” Leo reverted back to ‘Medic Mode’ faster than Mikey could scarf down a pizza, searching over his brother by taking his pulse, craning his neck to spot any injuries, and placing a cool palm on his forehead.

“Hmm no fever- Your color seems a bit greener than normal.. Pulse is a little elevated...” Leo mumbled to himself as he sandwiched the youngest’s face in between his hands. 

“Leo! I’m fiiiiine!” Mikey stated in an exasperated sigh. “I just… woke up weird.”

Leo’s icy irises constricted, peering into Mikey’s soul like they always did. The eldest’s mouth closed and slid into a thin line sitting slanted on his face. His firm palms squeezed into Mikey’s cheeks impelling an actually honest answer. Classic older-brother-speak for ‘You got two seconds to tell me the truth before I beat it out of you’.

Mikey sighed exaggeratedly as he gave in to the icy gaze that had made him crack under pressure for as long as he could remember. He’d never been that great at lying. Especially to his oldest brother who was capable of breaking any poor soul with his patented ‘disappointed mom’ look.

“Ok…fine. I…” Mikey raised his hand and began rubbing at the back of his neck, averting his eyesight from the piercing stare his oldest brother was shooting at him. “...It… it was just a n-nightmare.”

Leo’s laser-pointed gaze fizzled out instantly, leaving nothing but a fallen expression of understanding saturated in remorse. The cool palms surrounding Mikey’s face slowly released their grip, falling and landing onto the fabric of the cushions.

“Oh…I’m…I-I’m sorry.”

Mikey’s aqua eyes searched through the freezing tundra of his brother’s, looking past the dutiful worrying, and finding something far more unrelenting and destructive. The nausea quickly morphed into an unsettled pit of concern for his oldest brother.

He leaned over and placed his quivering hand onto Leo’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault…I had the nightmare.”

“No…I guess it’s not…” Leo whispered to himself.

…not this time.”

Mikey barely caught the last wisps of Leo’s words.

“You can’t control when these things happen, bro.”

Leo averted his gaze to the floor as his muscles all tensed under Mikey’s palm.

No. Stop it.

Mikey tightened his grip on Leo’s shoulder.

“You didn’t know it would happen.”

“...Not being prepared made it happen.” Leo snarled to himself. His jaw was taut, and his eyes began to shine with moisture. Just as a tear was about to fall, Leo forcefully blinked it away as he shook his head and growled.

STOP IT.

“There was no way you could’ve prepared! Being ready doesn’t always keep things from happening!!” Mikey raised his voice with determination. “You didn’t know that would happen to them. You didn’t KNOW, Leo. You can’t be ready for something that you never expected would ever HAPPEN.”

Mikey grabbed Leo’s shoulders with both his hands, and yanked the oldest close, causing a quick yelp to escape Leo at the rough treatment.

“You are an amazing leader, bro. And you worked your shell off to make it so our brothers could come home. You searched for days! You barely ate.”

Leo’s eyes mimicked saucers as he remained pinned down by Mikey’s increasing grip. His breath hitched in weak gasps as his pupils continued to shrink. 

Mikey let out a steadying breath as he relaxed his grip on his brother’s battered shoulders.

“Why are you trying to redeem yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong?”

Leo’s crystal irises became tainted by the stain of guilt in his heart.

“THEY GOT CAPTURED ON MY WATCH, MIKEY.” Leo shouted, clamping his hands onto Mikey’s arms in a death-like grip. “I let them go to the junkyard! I FAILED TO KEEP THEM SAFE!!”

The sermon on Mikey’s tongue vanished as his breath was knocked out of him by his brother’s fury.

“I am their leader…” Leo’s own breath hitched as he let go of his grip on Mikey’s arms and placed his hand onto Mikey’s face. “...I am your leader. I…h-h-have to keep…you all…safe.” Leo’s voice shattered into millions of fragments as he rubbed his thumb over the tears flowing down Mikey’s eyes. 

“You…are my responsibility, little brother…” Leo whispered in choked attempts to keep from crying. “Sensei chose me to lead you. God chose me to protect you. All of you.

...And I failed.” 

“You didn’t. You didn’t fail, Leo.” Mikey brokenly whispered as he flung himself onto his brother, wrapping his arms around the eldest’s neck as they both fell to the floor with a *thud*.

“You didn’t fail.” Mikey tearfully whimpered as he clutched Leo tighter. “We’re all still here, bro. *hic* W-we’re all h-home.” 

Mikey felt the shudders of Leo’s breath and body as the eldest fought to stay together. Strong arms encompassed Mikey, trying to return the comfort. A weak breath filled Leo’s lungs, slowly being let out in an attempt at a calming sigh.

“..Thanks, little brother.” Leo whispered as he nuzzled his face deeper into the brother’s embrace.

But do you believe it?

“But…d-do you believe me?” Mikey asked in a shaky but hopeful voice.

Everything went silent.

“...No. 

M-maybe. 

I… I don’t know.”

SERIOUSLY?!?!?!

Before Mikey could pull himself together to deliver one HECK of a message to his stagnant brother, Leo spoke up one more time. His words were the most quiet they’ve ever been, and sounded like they were almost painful to speak.

“...P-please pray for me, Mikey…Please pray f-for me.”

Mikey’s eyes widened at his brother’s broken voice. It brought him back to the night Don and Raph were taken. 

The night he watched Leo fall apart right in front of him.

Mikey tried to calm his hiccups and sobs by clearing his throat and taking a quick breath.

God wasn’t the only One Who needed to hear this prayer.

“D-dear Lord.. Please h-help Leo. Um..please help him to n-not blame himse-elf. Help h-him to speak truth in his heart. Help him not to b-believe the lies in his head…

…H-help him to remember how much he is loved.” 

Mikey felt the cool sting of tears prickle the skin on his neck as Leo wept softly over his shoulder.

“..I l-love you, bro. Never forget that. N-never forget it.” Mikey whispered.

“You didn’t fail. You n-need to forgive yourself, bro. You need to-”

“- I can’t.” 

“Yes you can.”

“I can’t!...”

“You c-can do all things through Christ Who strengthens you, right?”

“I…”

“You can!”

“I… I-”

“You need to believe that, L-leo. You need to remember you’re already forgiven. What gives you the r-right to refuse? Who are you to not forgive yourself when Jesus has forgiven you for e-everything??”

Mikey held down a pained yelp as Leo’s embrace squeezed even tighter around his arms and plastron. Drips of the eldest’s long-restrained tears unleashed into thin, remorseful threads flowing down Mikey’s neck.

“God can see everything, right?... S-so.. He saw that you couldn’t have stopped Don and Raph’s capture from happening. He knows it wasn’t your fault.”

Mikey wasn’t positive, but Leo’s grip felt as though it would soon draw blood.

“You n-need to trust Him with that.

 You need to t-trust Him with us.”

Mikey looked up from where he laid, wrapped tightly in his brother’s grasp. His tearful gaze rose to the wooden picture frame hanging on the wall. 

Thank You for pulling us all through. Thank You for bringing us home.

Thank You for giving us all a second chance.

“...T-trust Him, Leo.”

That's it for this chapter! :) This was both a treat and a pain to write- mostly because of how I wanted Leo to react to Mikey's words.

Something you should know about each of the characters in my story- all of the turtle's main weaknesses are mine as well: Leo's pressuring himself, Raph's guilt and anger, Don's responsibility and need to be useful, Lotus' weariness to trust, and Mikey's fear and worry for his family. These are all things that I'm sure a lot of other people deal with as well. And these kinds of weaknesses can dig DEEP. They can be so very harmful.

That's why I wanted this chapter to bring to light how we combat our guilt, anger, worry, and fear. We bring it to the foot of the cross. We bring it to God, and give it to Him. We study His Word, and meditate on the truths to combat the lies of our heart. We need to trust Him. We need to trust Him with all of us. Our good, our bad, our past, present, and future. Nothing is out of reach of His forgiveness.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways and He will make straight your paths." ~Proverbs 3:5-6

I pray this chapter touches hearts. I pray it leads others to the light of the cross. I pray it lets them see that they're not alone.

To God be the glory.

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[saintofsacrilege]

i think there should be alternate realities where batman’s robins kill each other. maybe it’s by accident. maybe it isn’t. either way, imagine the angst potential of such a gruesome discovery.

on a less serious note: welcome back cain and abel!

[moonlit-escape]

Aphmau: puppy want a treat?

Aaron: puppy want a fucking break from it all

[specialgrades]

BRO,,,,, THE TRAILER FOR SHIBUYA ARC I,,,,, NANAMI'S BIG, VEINY HANDS,,,,,, I NEED HIM TO CHOKE ME OUT

HIS HANDS LOOK BIG ENOUGH THAT HE COULD LIKE GRAB ME AND PICK ME UP BY MY FACE WITH A SINGLE HAND OH MY GOD I NEED HIS FINGERS IN MY HOLES OH MY GOD

so nice of mappa to give us such pretty necklaces right??? cause got DAMN man puts thoughts in my head...

hate fuck with nanami. he finds you so annoying and so fucking pretty, it scrambles his brain every time he sees you. worst part? feeling's mutual. you fuck with him constantly, and half the time you're flirting with him which he acts like it annoys him. it doesn't. it riles him up and he has to bite back with a slight hitch in his voice.

it's one particular argument that it all boils over with. neither of you remember what it was about, now when nanami has you pinned to a wall by your throat. to anyone passing by he looks pissed, but they can't see the way his pupils are blown and how they can't stop flicking to your lips.

those big hands gripping yours behind your back while he absolutely ruins you from behind, calling you the most obscene names and calling you his. "my little slut, yeah? no comeback, hm? did i fuck the words right out of your filthy mouth?"

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Kidnapped whumpee

Whumper whistled as they pulled into their garadge. They locked up behind them, then pulled a long chain across the door. The windows were covered with thick material and duck tape. It was dark, aside from one dim light bulb.

Banging suddenly came from the trunk of the car.

"Shhhh, patience. I'm almost done." Whumper hummed, tapping their fingers on the car trunk.

The response was frantic muffles and struggling.

Whumper sighed and popped it open to whumpee inside, bound and gagged with a bruise and single tear on their face. Whumper reached down and wiped their face before they could flinch away.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"