#but idk if the non-painful ones are just like. a thing that happens to everyone?

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Weird question time, this time about muscles, so if discussions of cramps, muscle knots, or muscle spasms bother you don't click the read more (warning because my sister gets really grossed out by thinking about blood or muscles)

So I remember I asked y'all about the difference between muscle cramps, muscle spasms, and muscle knots a while back, but I can't remember if I asked how common it is for people to get muscle spasms? Like, specifically, I am thinking about the kind of muscle spasms where it's not painful, a chunk of muscle is just twitching on its own. Is that like a happened once kind of thing for you, a once in a blue moon kinda thing, or a several times a week thing? Or never? (I almost forgot that as an option) Also, have you ever had muscle knots bad enough that moving the limb they are on the wrong way makes the whole limb shake? I'm assuming that's just the muscle knot pressing on a nerve, and it wasn't painful, but it was weird

Almost forgot to mention, asking these questions in the context of no injury to cause the muscles to react, just like an everyday kind of thing (I have been checked for several different muscle, nerve, and neurological issues that could affect muscles, and every doc agrees it's just the electrolyte issues caused by me being sodium georg, so I'm okay I'm just curious)

[dandylovesturtles]

It's time! For Room Fic Part 4 Part B! Of how many parts? IDK ANYMORE

This is the longest part of the fic yet, and it's also the most... talky. But I felt like this was a part of the recovery everyone wanted to see so I thiiiink it's fine.

Content warnings: vomiting, HEAVY discussion of eating issues (including calorie counting, done purely as a recovery mechanism in this fic but still worth noting), mentions of the non-consensual voyeurism that happened in the first part, and as always, anxiety and aftermath of torture

If you're lost, start here!

I'm soooo tired I only proofread like half of this. it'll go through full editing when it goes on AO3

-----

Leo crashes into his room and grabs anything within arm’s reach to pull over himself. The blanket from his bed. A cardboard box, contents dumped on the floor. His skateboard, a beach towel, a plank of wood used to prop up action figures.

He cowers into his claustrophobic, makeshift nest, clutching his ill gotten gains to his chest. He doesn’t know why he bothered, because there’s nowhere to hide in here, and then they’ll…

They’ll do what? It’s his family. And if they’re upset with him for stealing the chips, well, he deserves that. Who is he to take food, when they’re running low already?

That’s what he expected, actually, when the lights flipped on and Raph was standing there. To get yelled at, chewed out, dressed down - the way he’d been waiting for Raph to do this whole time. Why can’t he just do as he’s told? Why does he always make the wrong decisions?

But Raph hadn’t yelled. He ran off. And now Leo doesn’t know what to expect at all.

He assumes Raph went to get their dad, or even Draxum. He waits in his hiding spot, heart pounding in his ears, and listens for the call of his full name, the surefire indicator that he’s in Big Time Trouble. He stole food, food he isn’t even allowed to eat, and when they’re running low, too. He doesn’t know what the punishment is going to be, and the fear of not knowing pulls him deeper into his nest.

He wants to know. He dreads finding out.

Time passes. He has no idea how much. There’s no clocks in here (there hadn’t been any clocks in there), and his phone is on the nightstand, hooked to its charger. To get it he would have to leave his hiding place. And he’s scared.

So he waits and waits and waits. Until his limbs grow uncomfortable and cramped, until no amount of shifting dulls the pain. His heart is still rabbit quick in his chest. (He may be a turtle but call him the hare-)

No one comes for him.

Finally, finally, when his body physically can’t take this position anymore, he scoots out of his hiding spot and gets to his feet, bag of chips clutched in his fingers. He walks to the curtain over his doorway - though “walks” is really overselling it, with the way he pauses for hours between every step.

When he makes it to the doorway, he peeks out.

The lair is quiet. Everything is dark. No one is stirring.

He makes his way back to his bed, and looks at the bag in his hands. He feels so anxious that he’s nauseous. And he can’t eat if he’s nauseous or he’ll lose his dinner.

So he can’t even eat the damn things. The irony would be funny if he could laugh.

He kneels down and fishes around under his bed for a box he knows is there. It’s full of little toys and trinkets from childhood - things he saved from the old lair that he couldn’t bear to throw away, but is too embarrassed to be seen with.

He dumps the contents of the box into the bigger one he hid under earlier. This is more important.

Then he hides the chips inside and scoots the box under the bed.

He climbs back onto his mattress, cringing when the bed springs creak. His blanket is still on the floor, but he doesn’t want to get up and risk making more noise.

So he curls up on his mattress and stares at the wall and tries futilely to sleep.

Donnie’s brand new curtains don’t even help. Maybe that’s part of his punishment.

-----

Somehow, he manages to make it to breakfast. He doesn’t remember who poked their head in to tell him it was ready, or how he picked himself up and walked to the kitchen. He just ends up there.

Mikey greets him with a sunny grin and the announcement that he gets oatmeal today, along with his scrambled eggs. There’s even some banana on top of the oats. He should be excited for the variety, but he feels numb. Still, he smiles as he’s expected to and thanks Mikey and hopes it passes scrutiny.

Draxum comes in, and then his dad. He stiffens up for both, muscles tense while he waits for the yelling to start. But no one starts yelling. Draxum sits and eats and Leo hears him give a reminder to take vitamins. Splinter reads out the shopping list, and everyone scrambles to add last minute items. 

Normally, this is where Leo would be chiming in with all the snacks and junk food he wants, but he knows if he says anything he’ll be turned down, so he doesn’t. He can feel the weirdness of it, but he doesn’t take his eyes off his food to see anyone’s appraisal.

Donnie’s last in; he drinks his coffee fast and tries his luck with adding uranium to the list. He grabs a granola bar instead of eating what the rest of them are having, then tells Mikey to meet him at the entrance in five minutes and leaves. Mikey piles the dishes in the sink, then rounds the table to give everyone a hug goodbye, Draxum included.

Leo smiles when Mikey gets to him. Says, “Have a good day, Mikester.” Swallows down the impulse to grab on and beg him to stay.

He finishes breakfast, then goes to the TV room and settles into the recliner. Raph comes by and pats his shoulder and tells him to call if he needs anything. Splinter hops up and pats his head before following Raph away.

He’s alone now. Alone, with Draxum, who’s currently in the kitchen doing who knows what.

(Leo doesn’t like leaving him alone in there. All their food is in there.)

(Well, not all of it. Leo’s made sure of that.)

He lays in the chair and pretends to be asleep. And he listens. 

To be sure that his brothers and dad are really gone, and aren’t coming back for a forgotten wallet or phone.

Until Draxum leaves the kitchen and moves for the train car he’s taken over as his own.

Until he’s sure no one is watching him.

Then he gets up. He goes to his room. He’s not sure why he feels like he’s sneaking, when he’s obviously allowed to be there.

He makes sure all his windows are covered, curtains or otherwise. Makes sure the curtain over his door is stretched as far as it will go.

Then, as silently as possible, he reaches under his bed and pulls out the box. Opens it to reveal his stolen goods.

He unrolls the top of the bag, wincing at each crackle of the plastic. His eyes dart to the door, to the windows, to make sure no one is there, no one is watching him.

Then he reaches his hand in and grabs a chip in his fingers.

He’s not sure if he should do this now. Maybe he should wait, save this when things get dire. But everyone is gone. They’ve left him alone, with Draxum. What if Draxum doesn’t let him eat, with no one here to step in?

He’s scared of being hungry again. He doesn’t want to go back to that place. 

Just a few, he tells himself. Just a few, and then he’ll stop.

He pulls the chip out of the bag, and takes a bite.

-----

They’re at the local grocery where no one asks questions, basket half full and three minutes in to Splinter trying to decide if the Buy One Get One Half Off deal for frozen dinners is really worth it or not, when it occurs to Raph that maybe they shouldn’t have all left at the same time.

Of course, in normal times this wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, especially with a nominally responsible adult in the lair. But times haven’t been normal for over two weeks now. The thin shell of his little brother, once always the biggest and loudest in the room, now trying to make himself as small as possible, isn’t normal. 

They got Leo back, but it still feels like someone else has him.

And now Raph feels guilty. He’d been so desperate to just get away, from the feeling of being inadequate, from the fear he’d make things worse, that now he’s probably made them worse anyway by leaving Leo alone with a guy he does not like. Raph should have stayed home. Or told Mikey and Donnie to wait until he and Splinter were back before leaving.

(That worries him too, for different reasons. He knows he can’t lock his brothers up in the lair to keep them safe. But he kinda wants to.)

But he didn’t do any of that, and now they’re out and Leo is alone. Raph thinks of the chip bag and sighs. He just can’t seem to make the right decisions. The calculus is overwhelming, and Raph’s always left math to Donnie.

“Hey Pop,” he says, watching Splinter flip his fourth TV dinner over to look at the nutritional information. “Do you think… Leo is gonna be okay?”

Splinter pauses, then gingerly puts the box into their basket. He pats Raph at the knee, and Raph feels the overwhelming desire to be small again. 

“...Yes, I do. It will take time and care, but I think, one day-”

“No,” Raph cuts in, “I mean, do you think Leo is gonna be okay today? I mean, we kinda just ran off and left him alone.”

“He is not alone.” Splinter makes a face, at odds with his words. “Baron Draxum is the most annoying man in the world, but he would not let harm come to you boys.”

Raph rubs his neck. “Sure, but… Leo’s not exactly Draxum’s biggest fan. Especially not now…”

“Blue does not have to like him,” says Splinter airily. “He just has to eat the food Draxum gives him.”

“Yeah, but that’s the whole problem,” Raph insists. “He’s bein’ a huge jerk about it.”

“Ah… I know. I have spoken to him about his… tone.” Splinter waves a hand. “He is trying to be more polite.”

Raph thinks back to breakfast this morning. He’d laugh if anything were funny right now. “Is that why he was all “please” and “thank you” and “sorry” this morning? He looked like he ate a lemon.”

And judging by how distant Leo was acting, he doubts any of it made an impression. 

“It just proves that the man is incapable of being nice!” Splinter chuckles. “Do not worry, Red. We will only be gone a few hours. Most likely, Blue will sleep until we are back.”

“Raph hopes so…”

They continue moving around the aisles, crossing things off their list as they do. It’s normal and boring and Raph thinks he needs that right now. If only it distracted him from the thoughts in his head…

There’s so many questions to dwell on. And the biggest one looms over them all, constantly drawing Raph’s attention back to it.

They’re in the soup aisle when he speaks up again, saying, “Hey, Pops, do you think…” and then flagging out before he can voice it.

“Often,” says Splinter, reaching for a can of tomato bisque. “But at my age, it can be difficult!”

Raph snorts despite himself, grabbing the soup can and passing it to his dad’s fingers. “Come on, Raph’s trying to ask a serious question here!”

“Hm.” Splinter puts the can in their basket. “Then I will give a serious answer.”

“Do you think…” Raph shifts the shopping basket from one hand to the other, and resolves not to chicken out this time. “Do you think Leo did the right thing? Not talkin’ to that Bishop guy?”

Splinter goes quiet for a long time. He points to a can of alphabet soup, the kind Leo insists he’s too old for but will happily eat when he’s sick, and Raph dutifully puts the can in the basket.

“…I think he did the brave and noble thing,” he says at length.

“That ain’t the same,” says Raph.

“I do not know if there was a right thing.” Splinter’s voice is sad, fingers idly stroking one of the soup cans. “It could be that if Blue had talked, he would not be as hurt as he is now. Or it could be that Bishop would have… disposed of him, once they had what they wanted.”

The idea of Bishop “disposing” of Leo steals Raph’s breath. But it’s not like he hasn’t thought of this before.

“April said pretty much the same thing.”

“Oho! April is very wise.” Splinter nods in satisfaction, affirming for Raph once again that his favorite kid is definitely April. But then he looks up at Raph sidelong and says, “But that answer does not satisfy you.”

Raph sighs. “It’s just… what if he thought he had to stay quiet, because of something I- because he thought it’s what he was supposed to do?”

A furry hand lands on his. Raph takes a deep shuddering breath, and uses his free hand to scrub at his eyes. They’re damp, suddenly, and he’s not sure when that happened.

“…I often worry the same thing,” says Splinter, “about all four of you.”

Raph doesn’t know what to say to that. He already knows that their dad would give anything for the four of them to not have to fight; he also knows it’s out of his dad’s hands.

Why can he accept that, but not accept the same for himself?

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for your question,” says Splinter, pulling Raph back to the grocery store. “I want you boys to be safe. But the situation Leonardo was in afforded him no safety. I’m not sure there is a choice he could have made that would have helped him. Still…” Splinter sighs. “It could be the reasons he made the choice he did are troubling.”

“Yeah,” says Raph. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Mm.” Splinter pats Raph’s hand. “Your questions and worries are wise ones, Raphael. Meditate on your answer, and when you are ready, share it with Blue. You will find your path forward together.”

Raph chews on his lips. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess up,” he admits.

“Sharing the truth in your heart is never a mistake,” says Splinter, “so long as you are doing it with love.”

Raph blinks at him. “Pops, isn’t that a line from one of your movies?”

“It is a good line! Very heartfelt.” He picks up another can of soup and tosses it into the basket. “As long as you are talking to Blue with love, you will do just fine, Red. And remember, this is not your sole responsibility. We are all here to help each other.”

It should be self-evident, but the reminder pulls some weight off Raph’s shoulders. It’s not just up to him. Everyone is coming together to help Leo. That’s why Donnie and Mikey are at the scrapyard, to finish making curtain rods for Leo’s room. That’s why Draxum is always researching and scribbling in his notebook, refining his meal plan for Leo’s recovery.

It’s not just Raph against the world. He isn’t alone, and neither is Leo.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Pops.”

“Of course, Red. Now, let’s keep moving or we’ll be late getting back!”

On their way to the checkout line, Raph spots the candy aisle, and a bag of hard, sour candies. He stops, reaching out and brushing the bag with his fingers.

“Mm… that is Blue’s favorite, isn’t it?” asks Splinter.

“Yeah.” Raph pulls the bag off its hook, holding it over the basket uncertainly. “I know he can’t have ‘em yet, but he’ll be able to eat normal stuff soon, right?”

“Right.” Splinter nods. “Put them in! We will hide them until Draxum says it is okay, then give them to him.”

Raph grins and drops the bag into the basket. At least it’s something to look forward to.

-----

Leo is halfway through the bag of chips when the curtain to his room is pushed aside and Draxum is standing there.

He was saying something about the vitamins Leo forgot to take as he came in, the little blue pill organizer clutched in his hand. But now he freezes, taking in the scene: Leo with a handful of sour cream and onion chips, his cheeks bulging slightly, the salty evidence tracking up the sleeve of his hoodie.

He’s crossed the room before Leo can blink. He grabs Leo’s wrist, and Leo cries out, twisting his arm to try and free himself.

But he can’t, he’s weak, he’s so weak-

“What are you eating!?” Draxum bellows. He tosses the pill organizer onto Leo’s bedside table; one of the lids pops open and there’s little plinks as vitamins scatter. “How much of this have you had!?”

He wrenches the bag out of Leo’s grip, and Leo yelps again as he loses the food. The only food he had, and now Draxum has it and Leo is going to-

“This bag is over half empty,” snarls Draxum, waving it in Leo’s face. Leo doesn’t have the presence of mind to defend himself, because he’s still trying to wrench his wrist free. He claws at Draxum’s arm with his free hand, and somehow it gets Draxum to let go; he jerks away with a gasp, dropping the handful of chips to the floor, and at the same time the ones already in his mouth leave painful scratches down his throat and lodge there. Leo doubles over and wheezes in a desperate attempt to get air.

“Are you- Leonardo!” Draxum looms over him, and Leo doesn’t have the strength to flee. He can’t do anything as Draxum strikes him, once, twice, three times on the shell in big, open-palmed slaps.

A white-hot cough rips up Leo’s throat, and he spews the half-chewed potato chips across his blanket, bits of drool and spittle dangling from his lips and tears rolling down his face. He sucks in a deep breath as feeling returns to his limbs.

The hand that hit him moves toward him again, and Leo dodges this time, flinging himself off his bed and into the floor, scrambling backwards to put distance between himself and his attacker.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he shouts, hand flailing for his swords and not finding them. Where did he put them? Where did they take them?

“Leonardo-” 

Draxum takes a step toward him, and Leo pushes to his feet, grabbing for anything nearby to defend himself. But there’s nothing, nothing, where are his swords-

“Leonardo,” says Draxum more firmly, and he takes another step forward. “Stop this, you’re going to hurt-”

“No!” Leo presses himself back against the bookcase on the far wall, the metal shelves biting into the skin of his arms. “No,” he repeats, and a high, manic laugh bubbles through his throat. “You took my food.”

“This,” Draxum shakes the bag, “is all empty calories. This is not going to help your recovery! Why can’t you just do as you’re told-”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Leo spits. He feels stronger than he did a moment ago, pushing himself off the bookshelf and standing on steadier legs, squaring up against Draxum. “Just do as I’m told?” He laughs, a cold sound. “Just like Bishop wanted.”

Draxum stiffens. Something about his expression is… weird. If Leo didn’t know better, he’d almost say Draxum looks scared. “Do not compare me to him,” he says, and his voice is much lower than it was a moment ago. “I am trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Leo holds out his hand, taking a step forward. “Then give me my food back.”

Draxum watches him, gaze unwavering. He holds the chip bag closer to his chest. “I cannot.”

Leo barks out a laugh, high and cold. “I knew it. You’re just lying to me.”

Now he’s the one advancing on Draxum, slow but strong steps, one at a time. Draxum does not move.

“Leonardo-”

“I’m on to you,” says Leo. His voice is a chilly sing-song. “You’re sooo happy to have everyone out of the house. Now there’s no one to stop you from torturing me. Now you can watch me suffer.”

“I do not want you to suffer,�� says Draxum, his tone measured. He still hasn’t moved an inch, even though Leo is right in front of him now, within striking distance. 

“Then why did you take my food!?”

“This is not good for you,” says Draxum. “I’ll feed you a healthy lunch in two hours.”

“Yeah?” Leo shakes his head. “What do you want me to do for it?”

Draxum’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. Tell me.” Leo grins. It hurts his face. “Want me down on my knees? Want me to beg?”

Draxum’s face goes a shade paler. “No,” he says, firm. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” says Leo. He laughs again. “I don’t. I don’t BELIEVE YOU!”

His fist connects with the glass- but it’s not glass, it’s Draxum’s face, and he goes sailing across the room like a rag doll. He slams back first into shelving, and there’s a clatter as Leo’s possessions tumble and fall around him.

He looks at Leo, eyes wide but expression steady, despite the fact that Leo just…

Leo… doesn’t know what just happened.

He shouldn’t have been able to hit that hard. He shouldn’t have been able to hit at all- Draxum should have blocked that, should have fought back, should have… should have…

“...What?” says Leo, and it comes out with a crack down the middle.

Draxum watches him a moment longer. Then he sighs and pushes himself off the shelves, getting back to his feet. He doesn’t come closer. “I cannot give you these,” he says, indicating the bag. “But I will not fight you.”

“...Why not?” Leo asks, because it just doesn’t follow anything he thought was happening here.

“Because I care for you,” says Draxum simply. Like it’s obvious.

“...I don’t understand,” Leo says, because he doesn’t.

Draxum nods. “That’s because I haven’t properly explained it to you. I didn’t think it was necessary… but it was. Is.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, starting to glow red from Leo’s punch. “I’m very sorry for that, Leonardo.”

Leo stares. Draxum is… apologizing? He should be attacking, fighting back, not apologizing!

The adrenaline leeches out of Leo, leaving him sagging in the middle of his room - his messy room, with everything thrown around like it’s in an active war zone. A million emotions are running through him, his dying rage warring against the confusion and the beginnings of remorse, a roiling mix that leaves him feeling sick to his stomach.

…Oh wait, no. He’s actually sick to his stomach.

Leo clamps a hand over his mouth, and Draxum is moving again - more calmly, this time. He drops the chip bag on the floor and grabs the wastebasket Leo has sitting by what could generously be called a desk. He holds it out, just in time for Leo to lose his breakfast and all the chips he just downed.

Leo hovers over the wastebasket until he’s empty, until he’s spit a few times to try and get rid of the taste. Then he wipes his mouth on his palm and looks up at Draxum warily.

“Are you finished?” Draxum asks.

Leo shrugs. Draxum takes that as an affirmative and lowers the wastebasket to the floor by the doorway.

“Why are you helping me?” Leo asks.

“I’ve been helping you this whole time,” says Draxum, and it’s only the exasperation that manages to break through that makes Leo think it’s - maybe - not a lie.

“Why?” he repeats, more urgently. 

“Because you are my son.”

Leo steps back, his knees knocking into his bed. He sinks down onto the mattress, balling himself up until he can wrap his arms around his knees. 

“No,” he says. “Mikey’s your son. Raph and Donnie, they’re your sons.”

A look passes over Draxum’s face. It’s… sad.

“You are my son, too.” Draxum takes a step toward him, then seems to second guess himself and stops. “I know we don’t get along. But the fear that froze my chest when they told me you were gone couldn’t mean anything else.”

Leo stares at Draxum, searching every part of his expression for any hint, any suggestion, that he’s lying. He waits for Draxum to change his tune, to start yelling again, to hit him, to do something.

Draxum doesn’t. And Leo sags on the bed. The feeling of fear with nowhere to direct it leaves him floating.

“I’m going to explain everything to you now,” says Draxum. “But I need to get a few things first. Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?”

Being alone for a few minutes sounds great; Leo needs to pull himself together. He nods.

“Good.” Draxum stoops and picks up the wastebasket, then the bag of chips, and the chips that fell on the floor. “Answer your phone,” he says, “before your brother comes back to skin me alive.”

Then he leaves the train car. It’s only then Leo realizes his phone is ringing - has been ringing.

He scrambles to pick it up, seeing Raph’s name and picture lighting up the screen. Raph, who is supposed to be getting groceries, because they’re running low.

Raph, who apparently didn’t rat him out about the chips.

Leo shakily presses the answer button. Then he takes a deep breath and swallows to try and calm his voice.

Then he does what he does best and starts talking.

-----

“Heeey, bro,” says Leo, and Raph wants to weep with relief.

He’s two full blocks away from the grocery now, headed for the manhole cover closest to the lair. Their groceries are somewhere on the street behind him, and Splinter is held tight in his other arm. When Leo didn’t pick up right away, Raph started moving.

He felt it, after all: not as strong as the first time, not as desperate or afraid, but still there. Leo, terrified and alone and angry, crying out for help.

Leo hadn’t answered the first four calls, and the worst scenarios are still playing out in Raph’s imagination, even though he can hear Leo now.

“Leo!” he cries, and nearly fumbles the phone. He hits the speaker button, lowering it so Splinter can hear, too. “What happened!? Are you okay!? We’re on our way back right now!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says Leo, and his voice is scratchy and hoarse, but trying to be placating. “What are you talking about, big guy?” He sounds shaky, like saying those words in that tone is taking so much effort, and Raph wants to hit something until it breaks. 

“Just tell me what happened,” he says, trying to sound calm and failing. Splinter pats his arm and speaks up.

“We just need to know if you are alright, Blue.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” says Leo, his voice cracking a bit on the last word. He clears his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Raph falters, staring at the phone. Does Leo not know? Could Leo really not feel himself doing that?

He gives his dad a helpless look. Unfortunately, Splinter looks just as helpless. Raph dithers on his answer too long, finally choking out, “Raph just… got a bad feeling.”

“You get bad feelings over everything.”

(Raph wishes he did. Then he would have gotten a bad feeling when Leo went to Run of the Mill on his own.)

“This was just… a real bad feeling.”

“Leonardo,” says Splinter softly, “are you certain you are okay?”

“Yeah,” says Leo, and he doesn’t sound like he’s okay, but like an actor pretending to be someone who’s okay. “It’s… Look, me and Drax got in a fight, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

“He fought you!?” Raph shouts. Someone across the street gives him a weird look.

“Not physically!” says Leo hastily. “Not- I mean- he didn’t- it’s not like he would hurt me, right?”

It sounds a little too much like an actual question, and Raph feels queasy.

“He better not, or Raph’ll hurt him.”

“Red,” says Splinter softly. Then he says, into the phone, “No, Blue. He will not hurt you.”

“...Right,” says Leo quietly. “Yeah. He won’t.”

Raph breathes shakily, trying to quell the urge to pummel a car parked on the side of the road into scrap metal. “Listen, we’re on our way back right now, okay? Just give us-”

“You got the groceries already?” Leo interrupts. He sounds so fragile.

Again, Raph looks helplessly at Splinter. This time, Splinter steps in.

“We’re getting them right now, Blue. Then we’ll be on our way back.”

“...Yeah. Cool. Good.” Leo clears his throat again. “Then… see you guys in a few?”

“...Yeah,” says Raph, at a loss. “A few.”

“Okay. Well. Bye.”

He hangs up. Raph doesn’t move the phone, staring at it long after the screen goes dark and Leo’s smiling face disappears.

“Pops, we’re not really going back for the food, are we?”

“He’ll be upset if we come back without it.”

Raph knows he’s right. He knows that. But everything in his body is screaming to get back to Leo right now, not to leave him alone for another second.

“We can’t all run off and leave him again,” he says.

“Yes,” agrees Splinter. “You are right.”

Raph nods. Then, even though it tears him apart, he turns around and starts walking back to the grocery store. He hopes no one spotted their bags and took them, or they’ll have to start over. They’ll have to leave Leo alone even longer.

“He hated being alone as a kid,” he says.

“I know,” says his dad.

“We shouldn’t have left him today. I knew it.”

“Yes. You were right.”

Raph feels a little mad at Splinter then, that he didn’t think through the consequences. Splinter said this isn’t on Raph alone, but if he’s the only one thinking about the wellbeing of his brothers…

His brothers.

He puts Splinter down, then unlocks his phone again. “I’m gonna call the other guys. They probably felt that, too.”

“A good idea,” says Splinter. Raph nods at the approval, then clicks Donnie’s contact.

Thankfully for Raph’s anxiety, he answers on the second ring. “Hello you are now conversing with Donatello,” he says in a rush, following up with, “What happened to Leo!? Are you home!?”

“No, but I talked to him,” Raph reassures him quickly. “He says he and Barry got in a fight.”

“A fight!?” Donnie echoes. “Aha! I knew he’d turn back to supervillainy one day! You owe me twenty bucks!” A pause, and then Donnie says, “Wait, is Leo okay!?”

“No,” says Raph honestly, “but I think it’s just a normal sort of bad. It wasn’t that kinda fight.”

“Ah. An emotional fight…” Donnie sighs. “But it was bound to happen, I suppose.”

“…Yeah,” Raph agrees, even though he thinks there must have been something they could have done to prevent it. He thinks about the chips again. He doesn’t know what the right thing was, still. “You felt it, right?”

“Yes. It wasn’t as strong as the first time, though.”

“What about Mikey, did he feel it, too?”

“Probably.”

Raph frowns. “You don’t know?”

“I am not Micheal.”

“…So can you ask?”

“I suppose I can text him for you.”

Raph nearly drops the phone. Then he glances down at Splinter, looking for any hint that he’s listening into Donnie’s half of the conversation.

“Why don’t you ask him, since he is right there with you where he is supposed to be!?”

“H-huh? Oh. Oh, yes!” Donnie chuckles nervously. “The buddy system, where he is my buddy, and stays in the same place as me and doesn’t go anywhere else.”

“Right,” hisses Raph. “That buddy system.”

“Yes! Well. He iiiis…n’t with me, but! He is. Here. On the other side of the junkyard!”

Raph rubs the bridge of his nose. “Well, tell him to get back from the other side of the junkyard right now so he can be with his buddy!”

“Yes, I will do that. Right now. And then we’ll be together because we’re in the same place, haha, but I’m so very busy right now goodbye Raphala!”

He hangs up the phone. Raph scowls at it.

“Is everything alright?” asks Splinter, and Raph wants to rat them out, just for a moment, but he ain’t a snitch. Even when he thinks his brothers are being unbelievably stupid.

“Everything’s fine, Pops,” he says, quickly opening his text thread with Mikey.

boy you better get your butt back to D right now or so help me you will NOT like what comes next

Then he gives Splinter a strained smile and repeats, “Everything’s fine! Let’s get those groceries!”

-----

When Draxum comes back, he’s carrying a plastic baggy, a bottle of Gatorade, and a whiteboard under his arm. He requests permission to sit on Leo’s bed, and Leo nods reluctantly.

He sets the whiteboard to the side, then opens the Gatorade and passes it to Leo. Then he opens the plastic baggy and holds that out, too.

There’s crackers in the bag. Leo takes them, a little stunned.

“I can eat these?” he asks.

“They’ll help settle your stomach,” says Draxum. “It’s not good for you to eat too much, but it’s also not good for your stomach to sit empty.”

Leo cautiously takes one of the crackers out, watching Draxum as he does. When no hand reaches to stop him, he takes a bite, chewing slow. He still feels a little nauseous, but the familiar texture and taste of the cracker soothes him somehow.

“Good,” says Draxum, propping the whiteboard on his knees and popping the cap off a marker. “Take sips of the drink, too. You need the electrolytes.”

Leo does as he’s told, alternating bites of the cracker with sips of the Gatorade. His stomach slowly unknots, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

He wasn’t expecting a snack, but Draxum brought him one.

On the board, Draxum has written the days of the week, and drawn out a grid underneath them. Leo eats his snack and watches as Draxum fills each square on the grid with a number.

“Where’d you even get that?” he asks after a minute.

“I borrowed it from Donatello’s lab.”

Leo whistles. “Without asking?”

“I don’t think he will mind.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Leo points at the numbers. They aren’t times, or prices, so… “What are these?”

Draxum lowers the board, turning to look at Leo. “Do you know what refeeding syndrome is?”

“…Should I?”

Draxum shakes his head. “No, there’s no reason for you to have known. I should have explained this sooner, but it didn’t feel necessary. …And I thought it might scare you.”

“Scare me?” Leo repeats. He’s not sure what could be even more scary than the fear he feels all the time now.

“I am not telling you this to scare you,” Draxum stresses. “I am telling you this so you understand what is happening now.”

Leo slowly nods.

“Right. So, do you know that when a person is starving, their body changes how it processes nutrients?”

“Yeah, it’s like, starvation mode.”

“If you must call it that,” says Draxum with a nod. “The body stops relying on carbs and glucose and uses fatty acids instead. This helps preserve the muscles, but causes a severe depletion in intracellular minerals.”

That sounded like a Donnie-level infodump to Leo. He stares at Draxum blankly. “Can you say that again, en Ingles por favor?”

Draxum actually makes a noise that could almost be a laugh. “Alright, think of it this way: a painter wants to use purple, but their purple paints are running low. So they start using red and blue mixed together, which solves the problem of preserving the purple paint, at the cost of running low on red and blue.”

Leo raises his eye ridges. “Is this how you explain stuff to Mikey?”

Draxum shrugs. “He understands art metaphors.”

Leo settles back a little more comfortably on his bed. He munches on a cracker. “It’s fine for today. Think of a comic book metaphor for next time.”

Draxum gives a long suffering sigh and says, “Fine. But do you understand now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. So when a person eats again after a long term starvation event, their body won’t start relying on glucose again right away. It’s still in “starvation mode,” as you called it, and switching isn’t easy. The painter buys a new purple paint, but the color is different enough that they will have to use more red and blue to blend the two together.”

“I’m starting to lose track of the art metaphor here. We added purple, but we’re still low on red and blue, right?”

“Yes, precisely. Your body is low on critical minerals, and those need to be replenished at the same time it is given more carbs to convert to glucose.”

“But I still don’t understand why that means I have to eat less,” says Leo.

“Digestion itself takes energy,” says Draxum. “And the body isn’t using the tools it’s being given properly yet. So it is using more and more minerals without replacing any. The imbalance leads to stress on the body, which has negative downstream effects.”

“So, TLDR, if I eat too much right now, my body can’t handle it and I’ll get sick.”

“I have no idea what TLDR means, but yes, simply put.”

Leo looks at the cracker in his hand thoughtfully. “So all the times I’ve puked are refeeding syndrome?”

“No,” says Draxum with a shake of his head. “That is because your stomach has shrunk, and you’ve overstuffed it.” A pause, then Draxum adds, “Though I believe what just happened was a stress response.”

“I’m not stressed,” says Leo. The look Draxum gives him is not convinced. “Sooo then what is refeeding syndrome if it’s not barfing?”

“The lack of minerals causes severe stress on all parts of the body, especially the organs. This can lead to a number of disorders… including organ failure.” Draxum pauses, like he doesn’t want to say more, but he still adds, “In extreme cases, it can lead to heart failure.”

The cracker Leo is holding slips through his fingers. He feels his pulse speed up, something cold and terrible sliding through him.

“If I eat too much my heart could stop?” he asks, and his voice is small.

“In extreme cases,” Draxum repeats. “If you began showing symptoms, we would take you to a hospital. Even in the Hidden City there is no mystic cure-all for this, but they could at least reduce the stress on your organs.”

Leo shakes his head. His hands are trembling. The words feel like they’re coming to him through thousands of feet of water.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I did not want to scare you,” Draxum says again. “And I did not think it was necessary. Refeeding syndrome is entirely preventable, if precautions are taken.”

It barely penetrates. All Leo wants is food. All he wants is to eat. But now food somehow feels like the enemy. He suddenly queasy again. Should he even be eating these crackers? What is safe? What isn’t?

“Is this forever?” he manages to ask. 

He doesn’t know how to take it, if it is.

“No,” says Draxum quickly. He raises his hand and reaches toward Leo, but Leo flinches. Draxum lets it drop again. “…No, Leonardo, it is not forever,” he says, and his voice is more soft than Leo has ever heard it - more soft than he thought Draxum capable of. “The most critical time for refeeding is the first five to seven days. You are almost clear of the danger zone now. And your enhanced biology may even mean we’re already past it… though I am still being cautious.”

Leo lets out a breath. So it’s not forever - it may even be over. It doesn’t calm the racing of his heart (at least he knows it hasn’t stopped, ha ha), but it does make him feel like he can pick up the cracker again.

“Then what happens once we’re past it?”

“That is what this is for.” Draxum lifts the whiteboard again, perching it on his knees. “Even once you’re out of danger of refeeding syndrome, we’ll still need to build your daily food intake up gradually, until you can eat like you once did. These,” he taps the board with the marker, “are my calorie goals for each meal and snack. As you can see, every day it goes up.”

Leo looks over the counts. They don’t really mean anything to him, but he can at least see how the number increases across the seven days on the board. “How many calories is normal?”

“Based on calculations I have done, going off what I have seen you boys eat as well as my own estimates for your growth, you and Donatello eat roughly five thousand calories a day, sometimes going as high as six thousand when you are particularly active.” Draxum scribbles the number in the corner of the whiteboard. “It’s high compared to humans, but within perfectly healthy limits given your mutant biology and high metabolism. Raphael eats more, and Michelangelo eats a bit less, though not by much.”

“Yeah,” Leo gives a chuckle, “kid can put away a whole large pizza by himself when his blood sugar’s low.”

“Unfortunately, I have seen him do it.” Draxum sighs. “But right now, you are averaging much less.” He taps the numbers. “Our goal right now is to get to where you are eating around twenty two hundred calories a day steadily, without getting sick.”

Leo has never been the math guy, but even he can handle some simple division. “Less than half? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. That is why ensuring that your meals are as nutritious as possible is important.” He nods at the pill organizer. “And why the vitamins are important.”

Less than half as much as he used to eat… It leaves Leo feeling a little dizzy again. Nine days without food wrecked his system this hard?

“Don’t panic,” says Draxum in that soft voice again, and Leo feels a little resentment for how it pulls him out of his ensuing spiral. “You can see that your counts are going up steadily, and as we reintroduce solid food it will get even easier. And this is not hard and fast. Going a little above this is not an issue. And I am constantly readjusting as we go. It will take time before you are… putting away entire pizzas.” Draxum scrunches up his face in distaste. “But in a few weeks, you will be eating a much more normal diet than you are now.”

Leo rubs his hand up and down his arm. “Normal like, I can eat potato chips without getting yelled at?”

Draxum sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you to begin with.”

“Yeah, well…” Leo fishes his last cracker out of the bag and rubs it between his fingers. “I gave you a black eye, so I think we’re even.”

“Hmph.” Draxum almost sounds amused, though he doesn’t let his lips quirk up even a tiny bit. Leo thinks he might be allergic to smiles, unless he’s doing something evil. “Still, I hope you understand the situation now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Leo takes a small bite of the last cracker. Takes his time chewing and swallowing it. “The main thing is you’re going to keep being a pain in the butt for the next few weeks, right?”

“Yes, you’re stuck with me.” Draxum watches him take another bite of cracker, then says, “There’s something else you need to understand, Leonardo. The goal of this,” he taps the whiteboard, “is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

Leo stares at the board, and the calorie counts, all laid out neatly. “Sure,” he says, and he doesn’t feel it.

Draxum hesitates, then taps each row, reading off, “Breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Smaller amounts of food more frequently, to keep your stomach full without overstuffing.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“And this can be moved around. If you eat breakfast earlier than normal, you can have a snack in the morning instead. But you tend to sleep in, which is why I structured it this way.”

“Nine’s not sleeping in,” Leo grumbles.

“Nine is- no, this is not the point.” Draxum gives his head a shake. “The point is, if you want to move your eating times around, we can. The goal of this is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“No, I’m not sure you did.” Draxum again uncaps the marker, then writes across the top of the board five simple words:

If you are hungry: eat.

Leo stares at those words. It feels like a trap, a trick - Draxum’s being all nice right now, but the way he ripped the bag from Leo’s hands…

“I was hungry when I ate the chips,” he says, and it’s a little bit of a lie, but that’s not the point. He watches Draxum carefully, for any sign that this is all fake, and Draxum really does want him to suffer.

Draxum’s brows furrow. “You are not in trouble for eating,” he says. “You’ll never be in trouble for eating. It is just good for you right now to eat healthy things. 

“I know it isn’t fair,” he adds, voice blunt, “but life rarely is.”

Leo studies his face. And the amazing thing is, he doesn’t think Draxum is lying.

“So… if I want a late night snack, I can eat some crackers?” he asks, waving the empty baggie.

“Yes. Or a banana, or some yogurt… If you feel very hungry, you could even eat some egg, or leftover soup.”

“And you’re fine with me just eating… whenever?”

“If you are so hungry you need to eat an extra meal, I just ask that you let me know, so I can adjust.” He taps the board. “But yes, I am. You know the stakes now. I trust you.”

Trust. Leo’s never had much of that from anyone. He looks down at the empty bag and wonders if it’s really true.

“…Is there anything you need right now?” Leo lifts his eyes back to Draxum’s face. “I can get it for you.”

Leo thinks about it. “When did you say lunch is?”

“About an hour and twenty minutes, now.”

“Then… I’m fine.” Leo pushes himself further back on his bed, dropping his trash into the space between them.

“Hm. I will bring you some more juice to drink.” Draxum nods at the pill organizer. “You still need to take those.”

Leo shoos him off. “I will, sheesh.” Now that he knows how important it is.

Draxum rolls his eyes and gets up. He takes the trash, but leaves the white board propped against the wall at the foot of Leo’s bed.

He’s almost to the door when Leo clears his throat and says, “Hey Barry?”

Draxum pauses, hand grasping the curtain. “Yes?”

“Any chance we can skip telling my dad and brothers about… everything?”

Draxum looks back at him. “Trust me when I say that I would like to omit this as much as you… But I am going to have to tell your father, at least.”

Leo groans, letting his head fall back on his pillows. “This sucks.”

“Then I will try to think of ways to make it suck less.” Draxum pulls the curtain aside. “Rest, Leonardo. I’ll bring your juice.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Leo alone.

-----

Raph puts the groceries down in the kitchen, then looks toward the escalator leading down. He should stay and help put everything away, but all he wants to do right now is rush to Leo’s side.

“Go,” says Splinter beside him. “I can take care of this.”

That’s all the permission Raph needs; he takes the escalator steps two at a time and crashes down onto the lower level.

Draxum is there, standing outside Leo’s train car and looking at one of his notebooks again. When he hears Raph, he closes it and looks up.

Raph’s eyes catch on the bruise forming on Draxum’s cheek and eye - it’s just starting to darken, but Raph can tell it’s going to be a plum shade of purple by the end of the day.

“He told me it wasn’t physical,” says Raph immediately. A little dangerously.

“It wasn’t, on my end,” says Draxum.

Raph finds that he believes that, and he can’t help the way his lips quirk up at the news.

Draxum scowls. “Yes, yes, very funny.”

Raph claps him on the shoulder. “Come on, Barry. You know you deserved it.”

“We can debate that later,” says Draxum, dry. He nods at the train car. “He’s in his room.”

“Raph figured.” He locks eyes on the room, wishing he could see past the curtains to know Leo’s state. “When you guys were fighting, he… called for us again.”

Draxum’s expression turns more concerned - nearly imperceptibly so, but Raph knows him well enough by now to see it. “Yes, I know.”

“You felt it?”

“No.” Draxum pulls away. “I have things to discuss with Lou Jitsu. Is he in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Raph wants to know what Draxum saw, but he always wants to get to Leo as fast as possible. In the end, the draw to his brother is stronger, and he steps forward. “Help him put the groceries up.”

“If I must,” says Draxum, and then he walks away toward the escalator. Raph doesn’t hang around to watch, instead hurrying to Leo’s room.

The room is a mess, even more than normally. His action figures are scattered everywhere, comic books have been knocked from the shelves, his blankets are on the floor. Leo himself is in bed, vacant expression staring at nothing Raph can see, and it’s an eerie way to see his little brother, usually never without his phone or a comic book in his quiet moments. 

He clears his throat, and Leo’s eyes flick his way. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.” Leo rouses himself to alertness, like he’d been sleeping with his eyes open. He shifts on his pillows so he can better see Raph. “You guys got the groceries?”

“Yeah, we did,” he assures Leo. He walks in, standing over Leo’s bed. He’d been so anxious to get back here, but now he finds himself trapped in the same place as always, unsure what to say or do.

Leo stares up at him. “…Everything okay, hermano?”

“I came to ask you that.” Raph sits down on the edge of the bed, then startles when something hard falls against his arm. He looks and finds a whiteboard, with numbers that make no sense to him written in neat columns (not Leo’s handwriting), and, across the top:

If you are hungry: eat.

Raph can’t help but stare at those words a few seconds longer. Is this something Leo needed to be told?

Beside him, Leo is saying, “Me and Drax got in a fight, but we worked it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah.” Raph grins, tearing his eyes away from the whiteboard to look at Leo. “I saw the shiner you gave him.”

He’s expecting a grin back; for Leo’s expression to turn mischievous, or cocky. For Leo to proudly take credit for punching Draxum right in the eye.

He’s not expecting Leo to flinch and look away. “I thought he was better at dodging than that,” he says.

Raph falters, not sure how to respond. He knows Leo; his little brother would never hit anyone for no reason, even someone like Baron Draxum. Leo might playfight, Leo might even throw things at them from time to time, but he never aimed to hurt, only to irritate. 

Once again, Raph doesn’t know the right way to approach this situation. Should he try to talk to Leo about this? Is he the right person to try? Would Leo even want to hear it from Raph, who so often struggles with his own anger responses?

(He thinks about the fight again, and feels a rush of shame.)

He’s still trying to work it out when Leo changes the subject.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Leo picks at some fuzz on his sheets. “About the chips.”

That’s something else Raph has been trying to figure out. But now, for this question at least, he has an answer.

“They didn’t have anyone’s name on ‘em.”

Leo’s fingers pause. “But you know I’m not supposed to eat those.”

“Yeah, well… I still wasn’t gonna tell. Raph’s not a snitch.” He shrugs. “Look, I know Barry’s right and you gotta be careful about what you eat so you don’t get sick. But this is still your house, Leo. We agreed a long time ago that unless food has someone’s name on it, it’s fair game.”

Leo actually smiles just a little at that, and Raph feels his heart leap at the sight. It’s not quite a full, big Leo smile, but it’s something. “And sometimes the name doesn’t stop us.”

Raph laughs. “That’s just because I got three little brothers who are a pain in the shell.” He reaches out to rub Leo’s head, and is a little surprised and a lot pleased when Leo doesn’t duck it. 

(It wraps around to concern again, when Leo seems to chase the touch like he’ll drown without it.)

“Listen,” he says, “Draxum gives you any more trouble and you just come tell me, okay? I’ll deal with it. We’ll get it worked out.” He moves his hand down to scratch the ridge of Leo’s shell, right where he can’t easily reach himself. “Raph’s got your back.”

Leo goes tense under his fingers, and Raph thinks he’s said something wrong. But the soft little, “Oh,” Leo says after isn’t upset. It’s just… surprised.

But why would he be surprised by that?

But when Raph thinks about it… when’s the last time he told Leo that? When’s the last time he felt like Leo had his back, too?

Somewhere along the way, he and Leo lost what made them them. Best friends, friendly rivals, brothers through thick and thin. It all got swallowed up by their fights and disagreements. And then Leo was taken from him.

But Leo isn’t gone. Leo is right here.

And suddenly Raph doesn’t know how he’s made it this long without hugging his little brother. He should have already. That should have been the first thing.

He moves the hand that’s scratching Leo’s shell to more firmly grab his back, watching close to see Leo’s reaction. Leo’s eyes flutter closed, like he feels totally safe, and Raph doesn’t waste the trust that’s been given to him.

He lifts Leo up and pulls him into his lap, wrapping his arms around in the safest bear hug he can give. Leo melts into it, his head leaning against Raph’s plastron, his arm coming up to loosely hook itself around Raph’s neck. 

“I gotcha, Leo,” he promises, cradling him close. “I gotcha.”

“I know,” says Leo, but Raph wonders if he really does. Raph hasn’t done a great job of showing it.

He still doesn’t know his answer. He still feels a stab in his heart when he thinks of Leo saying he did what a hero would. But April was right. Leo doesn’t need big emotional confrontations right now. He needs his big brother.

And Raph can do that. It’s the thing he’s best at.

“Hey,” he says, “wanna come watch Jupiter Jim: Venture to Venus with me?”

Leo opens his eyes to squint up at him. “Dee’ll hate it if he misses the sing-along parts,” he says, but now, finally, a little bit of his mischievousness is back.

Raph grins. “What Donnie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Leo laughs then, small and tired and hoarse but there. Raph gives him another squeeze, then stands up and takes Leo with him.

He’s still unsettlingly light, like he was when Raph lifted him from the cot. But there’s a little more of him back.

If they get a little more of him every day, eventually, his little brother will truly be home.

-----

Leo stays in his lap for the movie. He makes no attempt to leave and Raph makes no attempt to remove him.

Splinter brings them lunch around the halfway mark: the alphabet soup they bought at the store for Leo, with bread and more banana for after. Leo complains that he’s not a little kid, but out of the corner of his eye Raph catches him industriously fishing around for the letters L, E, and O. He gets a little, self-satisfied smile on his face at his accomplishment, and Raph has to force his eyes to focus on the screen before he squishes Leo like one of his teddy bears.

After lunch, Leo dozes off. It’s not a surprise, especially given how eventful the morning was. Raph’s just glad it’s actual sleep and not that scary, blank-eyed stare he saw Leo with earlier.

Raph stays there after his arms fall asleep, after the movie ends, after he hears Donnie and Mikey come home (together, at least). He’d stay there all night, but Splinter comes in and puts a hand on his arm. He’s carrying a plate with a snack for Leo.

“Draxum wants to talk to you and Purple and Orange.”

Raph looks at Leo, still curled up against him, and shakes his head. “I don’t wanna leave him.”

“It’s alright. I will be here with him.” Splinter pats his arm again. “Take a break and stretch. You can sit with him after you’re done.”

Reluctantly, Raph gets up. He shifts Leo to the chair as carefully as he can (Leo murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t wake), then looks back at Splinter.

“You’ll be here when he wakes up, right?” he asks again.

(Maybe he’s still a little mad.)

“Yes,” Splinter promises. “I’ll be here.”

So Raph leaves. He shakes out his arms and legs, stiff from holding Leo, then swings by the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen. He can hear Mikey there already.

“-tell us what happened,” Mikey is saying, standing with his arms crossed and face angry. This is the most frustrated Raph can remember seeing Mikey act toward Draxum. Beside him, Donnie looks equally agitated.

“I have told your father what happened,” says Draxum, looking much more calm by comparison, “and we have agreed to maintain Leonardo’s privacy for now.”

“Is it about Leo’s privacy or do you think we just don’t deserve to know?” Mikey snaps. Raph knows that tone, and he knows this is about to turn into a fight.

He steps into the middle before it can. “Hold up, Mikey. Let’s hear him out.” His little brother does not seem happy with that, and he opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Raph refocuses on Draxum. “Tell us what’s goin’ on, Barry.”

Draxum’s eyes move slowly between all three of them before landing on Raph. “As I was telling your brothers, Lou Jitsu and I have agreed not to tell you all the details of what happened earlier, primarily because we are not sure how much Leonardo himself is comfortable with you knowing.”

It stings, but Raph knows he’s right. It’s like the security tapes Donnie chose not to watch. They have to let Leo decide how much they know and how much they don’t.

Still, Raph has his concerns. He folds his arms, mimicking his brothers behind him, and stares Draxum down. “Alright,” he says, and ignores the indignant noise Mikey makes behind him, “but did you tell Pops everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” Draxum repeats. “He needs to know, so we know how to care for Leonardo going forward.”

Raph isn’t as good at reading people as Leo, but it’s not like Draxum is an enigma, either. He doesn’t think the old goat is lying, so Raph relaxes his posture.

“Okay,” he says. “As long as Dad knows.”

“He did something so bad Leo punched him!” Mikey argues. “Leo doesn’t just do that!”

“In his defense,” says Donnie, “Draxum’s face is very punchable.”

Raph snorts at the indignant look Draxum gives that remark.

“Honestly,” says Draxum with a sigh, “all four of you boys are the same… But I can tell you that much.” He looks down, not meeting their eyes now. “I took food from your brother’s hands, before I realized what an error that is.”

All of them stiffen. Behind him, Raph senses Donnie shifting his weight in agitation. 

“You took food from him!?” cries Mikey. He sounds so betrayed. “Why!?”

“I was worried about him making himself sick,” Draxum explains. “But I did not handle it well. I have already apologized to him.”

“You better have!” Ah, there’s Doctor Delicate Touch.

“I have,” Draxum repeats. “And we have reached an understanding… which is what I need to talk to the three of you about.” He looks at them now. “There are going to be some new rules around here, at least for the duration of Leonardo’s recovery.”

“What rules?” asks Raph. “Besides don’t yank food out of Leo’s hands?”

“Well, that is an important one.” Draxum nods. “But we have also decided to adhere to a more strict meal schedule than you do normally. If meals are coming at regular, predictable times, we think this will reduce a lot of stress for Leonardo.”

Raph thinks of the words on the whiteboard. Of the neat rows of numbers. Does Leo wonder when he’ll be fed next? Does it scare him, not knowing?

Doesn’t he know his family would never let him go hungry?

“It makes sense,” says Donnie behind him. “We usually eat whenever we feel like it, but if Leo has to be careful with his diet, having a routine will make it easier.”

If Donnie thinks so, it’s probably right. Raph nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever we gotta do to help Leo.”

Draxum nods back. “Right now, we’re planning for breakfast at eight, or whenever he wakes up, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Leo will get regular snacks as well; smaller, more frequent meals are better for him right now than three large ones. Of course, the three of you can still do what you feel like; if you want your own snack, or want to eat later, you can.”

“Let’s all try to eat with Leo,” says Raph, looking back at his brothers. Donnie nods immediately; Mikey hesitates.

“Will Leo be in trouble,” he asks, “if he eats snacks when you didn’t tell him to?”

“No,” says Draxum. “I have already told him this. If he’s hungry, he can eat; he doesn’t need anyone to tell him he can.”

Raph’s glad to hear that; he knows he wouldn’t have been able to play food police. Mikey seems to calm down at this reassurance, too, and he nods.

“Okay. Then, we’re starting tonight? Dinner at six?”

“Yes.” Draxum seems relieved, that Mikey doesn’t look so angry anymore. “You can help me, if you want.”

“Duh,” says Mikey, and Draxum cringes. “I’ll be here!”

He and Donnie leave then; Donnie says he’s going to finish Leo’s curtains, and Mikey goes to his room. Raph hangs back, watching Draxum.

“You sure you didn’t touch him?” he asks, once he’s sure his brothers are out of earshot.

Draxum looks at him, open, not hiding. “I did not. I acted rashly, but I would not lay a hand on him.”

“…Okay. I believe you.” Raph folds his arms. “But if Leo ever tells me anything different, you know what happens next, right?”

“I do. But I would not hurt him.” Draxum looks nonchalant, despite the conversation. “Despite my best efforts, I’ve grown fond of all of you. I’m here to help him.”

Raph can’t help but smile at that. It’s probably as close as Barry will ever get to being affectionate.

“Thanks, then. For all you’re doin’.” Raph turns to leave. “But don’t yank food out of his hands again.”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

Raph decides to take it.

-----

“Blue…? Are you awake?”

Leo blinks his eyes open to find Splinter peering down at him, a plate in his hand. Blearily, he sits up in the recliner. It takes him a moment to realize he’s by himself now - Raph has gone.

It makes him feel a little sad. He knows Raph still has something he wants to yell about, but there for a short while, it was really nice to just be his little brother.

Now his dad is here, with food. Leo remembers the chart Draxum gave him - breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack - and feels his heart relax.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Very good. I have brought you some more yogurt and fruit.”

“Yippee,” says Leo, tone flat. “I’m gonna be the most regular guy on the planet after this.”

Splinter laughs at that, and it makes Leo feel a little sense of triumph. “Cherish it while you’re young.”

“Ew, gross,” he says, and Splinter laughs again.

Leo eats his snack. The projector skips on the screen, still on but with nothing set to play. Splinter settles in on the arm of the chair and waits until Leo’s almost done.

Then he says, “Draxum told me what happened earlier.”

Leo goes stiff. He swallows his bite of banana around the knot in his throat. 

“Yeah, he… said he was going to tell you.”

“I’m sorry that he was so harsh with you. You are not in trouble for taking the chips. The food in this lair is as much yours as it is any of ours.”

“I know,” says Leo, even though he’s not sure of anything anymore. But it’s what Splinter wants to hear.

“I won’t be leaving you alone with him again.” Splinter pats his arm. “He may be reformed, but he is still stupid, and not at all fit to take care of children!”

“Which is what makes him perfect for a public school lunchroom,” says Leo, and grins when it gets another laugh out of his dad.

Leo finishes his snack. The projector is still skipping. It makes a little clicking noise every few seconds.

“...Leonardo,” says Splinter, and Leo tenses up again.

“Oh no, full name…”

“You are not in trouble,” says Splinter again. Leo wonders why he keeps saying that. “But I have to ask you this again. When you were… with the EPF. Did anyone touch you in any way?”

Leo stares at him. Why are they having this conversation again?

“No. I told you that, remember?”

“I remember. But I have to make sure.” Splinter puts his hand on Leo’s. Leo stares at it. “Did anyone… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

“Uh… besides stay there?”

“Leonardo.” Splinter’s tone is not angry, but Leo still winces. “I understand that this is uncomfortable to talk about. But I need to know for your safety. Did any of them do anything to you? Or make you do something to them? To yourself?”

Leo stares at his dad’s hand. He thinks of getting down on his knees and begging.

“...No.” He gives his head a shake. “They didn’t even hit me or anything.” And it’s the truth.

They didn’t really do anything to him at all.

“...Alright.” Splinter leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Leo’s head. Leo keeps his eyes on their hands and listens to the skip of the projector. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He hands the empty plate over and sinks further into the recliner cushions. He wishes the conversation hadn’t curdled the snack in his guts. “Uh, can we… turn on something so the projector isn’t making that sound?”

“Oh, yes!” Splinter sets the plate aside, then grabs for the remote. “It is aaalmost time for Scorpion Treadmill!”

Leo snorts despite himself. “Sure, sounds great.”

Splinter finds the channel and settles into the chair next to Leo. Leo closes his eyes and listens to the Japanese he can barely understand and his dad’s laughter, and tries to ignore the way his own skin feels slimy.

-----

After dinner, and after his snack, Donnie shows him the new curtains.

The new rods are just as makeshift as the ones from the day before, with the same color and the same details. Leo loves them. He tells Donnie so, and Donnie grins big and happy, and Leo feels happy, too, that he can still make at least one brother look like that.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like them!” says Donnie, for what must be the fifth time. “But seriously, if you want me to add some smart tech to them, just say the word.”

“Thanks but no thanks, Dee. I don’t want my curtains to gain sentience on me.”

Donnie pouts, but it’s good natured. He comes over and sits on the bed next to Leo, the two of them looking around his room. It’s crazy to Leo, how different it looks now. Though, maybe the mess is contributing to that feeling…

“It’s so dark in here now,” Donnie observes. His tone is totally neutral in a way Donnie could never hope to fake, so Leo doesn’t take it as a judgment.

Which is good, because Leo doesn’t know how to explain that he likes it that way. That the dark makes him feel calm and safe. Hidden.

“I could always add more lighting,” he says instead. He has his lanterns and a desk lamp, but he has to admit, some things will be harder without the ambient lights from outside.

“Oh, I can do that next!” says Donnie. “What kind of lighting do you want? I can see what I have in the lab-”

“Whoa, hey,” says Leo quickly. He reaches over and flicks Donnie on his big forehead. (It lacks any force, because Leo is still weak, but Donnie says, “Ow!” exaggeratedly anyway.) “I get that you’re trying to help, but you’ve done enough. I know you must have some battleshell or robot or nuclear bomb you’re dying to work on instead.”

Donnie falters at that. He eyes Leo, the same way everyone does lately, like he’s some kind of timebomb that might go off.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he says.

“What do you mean? I’m super comfy!” Leo waves the sleeve of his hoodie in demonstration. “It’s the lair, Don-ton. Same as always.”

Donnie’s expression goes even flatter. He turns his eyes on the train car walls. “Same as always? It hasn’t even been a year.”

Leo flinches. Right, well… So it’s not the same as ever. But it’s the same as the one he was stolen from, and that’s all that matters, right?

“You know what I mean.” He bumps their shoulders together. “It’s home. It’s where you guys are. I’m totally fine.”

And he means that.

He means it, he means it, he means it.

“...Right.” Donnie is trying to sound like he believes Leo. “Well, if you change your mind about the lighting, you know where to find me.”

“I sure do, hermano.” He bumps their shoulders again. “Thanks, though.”

They sit for a moment in silence. Leo wonders if he should offer a late night movie session, or if he should send Donnie on his way. He’s torn. He doesn’t really want to be alone. But he doesn’t want to bother Donnie more than he already has.

Before he can decide, Donnie’s phone dings. He picks it up and clicks something on his screen.

“What’s up?” asks Leo.

“Oh nothing.” Donnie waves a hand. “Draxum just finally decided to leave. About time…”

“Huh? How do you… know…”

Leo leans over on his shoulder to look, and answers his own question.

Cameras. Of course Donnie has cameras. This one is outside the entrance to the lair from the sewers, and Leo can see Draxum’s retreating back as he heads for the nearest manhole.

“The camera alerts me whenever anyone other than one of the five of us leaves,” Donnie is saying. “It’s part of the security upgrades I’ve been working on.”

“Security upgrades,” Leo repeats, feeling a little faint.

Donnie doesn’t notice, jumping on the chance to infodump. “Yes! I’ve added more cameras, and proximity alarms, and I’ve been working on more upgrades to our trackers, like I told you. Oh, and new security measures for my baby, of course. And once Shelldon’s new body is complete, I’ll integrate him with the system as well, and…”

Donnie’s still talking, but Leo can’t hear it. His eyes are tracking all around his train car - the dark corners, the shelves, the nooks and crannies.

Donnie has cameras all over the lair.

Where are the cameras in here?

-----

For another night in a row, Leo doesn’t sleep.

-----

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A | Part 4 Part B (here) | Part 5 (not out yet)

[queerfables]

Taking away the glass?

Oh gosh I'm actually so keen to talk about this so thank you for the opening!

Context: Responding to akaitsukicat's artwork of Crowley and Aziraphale separated by a glass wall, I said that the reason we're all such wrecks over their kiss is because after 6000 years in canon and 33 years in real life, that kiss was "taking away the glass".

The glass is a metaphor that media scholar Henry Jenkins uses to explain the appeal of slash, originally published in 1993. Here, "slash" refers to queer re-interpretation of heterosexual media, including transformative works exploring those readings.

This is what Jenkins says about the glass:

When I try to explain slash to non-fans, I often reference that moment in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan where Spock is dying and Kirk stands there, a wall of glass separating the two longtime buddies. Both of them are reaching out towards each other, their hands pressed hard against the glass, trying to establish physical contact. They both have so much they want to say and so little time to say it. Spock calls Kirk his friend, the fullest expression of their feelings anywhere in the series. Almost everyone who watches the scene feels the passion the two men share, the hunger for something more than what they are allowed. And, I tell my nonfan listeners, slash is what happens when you take away the glass. The glass, for me, is often more social than physical; the glass represents those aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men, which block the possibility of true male friendship. Slash is what happens when you take away those barriers and imagine what a new kind of male friendship might look like. One of the most exciting things about slash is that it teaches us how to recognize the signs of emotional caring beneath all the masks by which traditional male culture seeks to repress or hide those feelings.

The vid I refer to, inspired by Jenkin's comments, is The Glass by thingswithwings. It's a beautiful vid, sad and hopeful and empowering, with a very moving commentary on fandom history. It was originally published in 2008, which is relevant to understanding the position it takes in the dialogue around queer relationships in media.

Here's thingswithwings' summary of the vid, as it appears on YouTube:

Henry Jenkins, speaking of the Spock death scene from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, said, "slash is what happens when you take away the glass." It has been said, in response, that death also happens when you take away the glass. ie, if you took away the glass Kirk would die of radiation poisoning too; the barrier between desiring men cannot be removed on pain of death. Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative. One of the interesting things about slash is the way it takes away the glass, then puts it back, then takes it away, then puts it back, often pleasurably. I think this is both problematic and powerful. It is problematic because it reasserts the impossibility of the touch (it fetishizes oppression in a negative manner); it is powerful - and good - because it dwells on and thinks about and removes the glass (it fetishizes oppression in a transformative manner). One of the interesting things about mainstream media is that it continues to put the glass back up, no matter how hard we try to tear it down. Queer desiring touches have been, and remain, imaginable but impossible. TL;DR ALTERNATE SUMMARY: THERE SEEMS TO BE SOME KIND OF INVISIBLE BARRIER IDK WHAT IT MIGHT BE

In regards to Good Omens, it's relevant that this entire conversation about homosocial relationships in media takes place within the 29 year period between the publication of Good Omens the book and the adaptation of the story to screen. The vid was created 15 years ago - which is to say 18 years after the book was published and 11 years before season 1 was released - and it talks about realised queer desire in mainstream media as being so impossible that it is equivalent to death. That is the kind of resistance that queer representation in pop culture has been up against, these last three decades.

Crowley/Aziraphale, as depicted in the book, is such a classic example of slash. I've seen some people who read the book in a contemporary context saying they didn't necessarily pick up on any subtext between the characters, and I suspect this is a mark of cultural expectations. Firstly, because the cultural references that the intentional subtext relies on have become obscured over time - see Neil Gaiman's explanation of the "consenting cycle repairmen" line. But more importantly because the audience's frame of reference for unintentional subtext has shifted, too. What is unsayable and which silences are emotionally loaded has changed over time. Even if you are intentionally using a queer lens in your reading, you might not see subtext in the same places that someone would even 10 years ago.

For example, take this passage from the book:

On the whole, neither [Aziraphale] nor Crowley would have chosen each other's company, but they were both men, or at least men-shaped creatures, of the world, and the Arrangement had worked to their advantage all this time. Besides, you grew accustomed to the only other face that had been around more or less consistently for six millennia.

On it's face, this line suggests that the relationship between the two of them is a matter of convenience more than desire. Maybe that's the intended reading and maybe that's how it started or how they justify their association to themselves, but taken together with how deeply they know each other and how they are always each other's first thought in a crisis, suddenly "neither would have chosen the other's company" sounds like an extremely British way to say they care about each other far more than they were supposed to. Plus, this is Aziraphale's take on their relationship, and it plays rather beautifully against Crowley's much simpler expression of the exact same sentiment:

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

To go back to Henry Jenkin's wise words, what we're seeing here is Aziraphale thinking about Crowley through the glass - through the "aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men". If you came up in slash fandom at a time when seeing queer relationships in canon was unthinkable, you probably find it easier to identify the gap between how Aziraphale thinks about his relationship with Crowley and how their relationship actually functions. That gap was where a lot of slash lived.

You might say that the book shows Crowley and Aziraphale watching each other through the glass, and season 1 is them pressing up against it. They're still prevented from showing the full depth of feeling between them, they still hunger for more than they're allowed, but they are reaching for it. We see the history of their relationship developing through the ages. The unsayable is still left unsaid, but we feel the weight of it in everything they do. They come so very close but they still can't cross that threshold.

And then there's season 2. Within the text, Crowley and Aziraphale are not just pressing against the glass, they're actively trying to dismantle it. They're searching for a door to the other side. They're inspecting for weak points where they could cut their way through. And then suddenly they're out of time and out of options and the glass is still between them, and there's nothing they can do.

As the audience, you feel that desperation. You feel that grief. And if you're someone who's been watching the glass go back up on every relationship you thought might stand a chance of tearing it down, it hits hard. You're longing vicariously with the characters, but you're longing for yourself too, to see queer desire made possible. To see queer touch made not just imaginable but real.

And then, with all hope lost, Crowley throws himself through the glass. It doesn't matter that it doesn't save them. They kiss and it changes everything. Queer desire is no longer up for debate. Queer touch is no longer impossible. They kiss and the glass shatters, entirely and irrevocably.

This is why it matters so much that they did kiss, even though the love between them was already undeniable. For thirty years, Crowley and Aziraphale were part of a media landscape that relentlessly reinforced the glass at every turn and flooded fatal radiation through any crack they couldn't fix. In a different context, that kiss would be less vital to affirming their relationship. But in the world we live in, with the specific history that this story has, I don't think anything else could have done what it did. The glass between these characters had been reinforced over decades, in a culture that made the barriers to open intimacy between men inescapable. Their kiss was what it took to break it.

And by shattering the glass, this story has fundamentally rewritten what is possible. It proves the rules preventing true affection between people of the same gender can be defied. Queer people are already becoming more visible in pop culture; we're no longer reliant on slash reimagining queer longing between heterosexual leads. But Crowley and Aziraphale's kiss is cathartic and vindicating in an entirely different way. It turns slash into intentional queerness. It takes a fetishisation of oppression vacillating between problematic and transformative, and finally stands up on the side of powerful, empowering transformation. It confronts the barriers that once rendered this desiring touch impossible, and breaks through them once and for all.

That's what taking away the glass means. That's what Good Omens did.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Today is the 180th day of the war. Almost 6 months since the Hamas massacre started this war. And still, when I came across a video clip of TV announcers broadcasting on Oct 7, 2023 and I heard the words, "hundreds of Israelis have been killed" (even as I know that the number was actually greater than that, something that took time to confirm back in October), it still felt like it just happened, like it's still hard to believe it's real, and not a nightmare that we might wake up from any moment now.

A combined terrorist attack (vehicular and then stabbing) took place over night. A 26 years old Arab man drove his car into 4 policemen, injuring them, one initially was in a serious condition. The terrorist then drove on, stopped by another group of police personnel, where he got out of the car and tried stabbing them. He was neutralized.

Obviously, everyone in Israel has heard about the aid workers killed in Gaza. IDK yet how it happened, what the details are, we're all waiting to hear, just like other fair-minded people are (I'm not talking about the anti-Israel crowd, who have made up their minds before the incident even happened, they come pre-programmed with the belief that everything wrong is both Israel's fault and intentional). For now, it looks like a huge, tragic mistake, based on misidentification in the middle of the night (such mistakes sadly happen. The accidental death of 3 Israeli hostages in broad daylight was an example that it does, and other "friendly fire" incidents that have happened to Israeli soldiers are another. That's war, there's tragically no army with zero mistakes on its record). I am SO sorry for the innocent people killed, and their loved ones. I feel for them, for their pain and loss.

That said, how do I know it wasn't intentional? For one thing, because World Central Kitchen is actually one of the few humanitarian aid organizations that tried to help both Palestinians and Israelis. Which is one reason Israel very much wanted WCK to be a major factor in aiding people in Gaza in the long run, not just during the war, and the last thing it would want, is for these workers to be hurt, and for this organization to stop working there. The other thing is that we know an incident like this might provide enough international pressure to force Israel to stop the war, while our hostages are still held in the hands of brutal rapist terrorists, and while Hamas still exists, and threatens more massacres like the one we saw on Oct 7. What logical country would sacrifice the safety of its 9.8 million citizens (and the 8.4 million non-citizens it sees itself as responsible for, too) just in order to kill 7 random people, who were perceived as helping it, and who aren't even a part of the group that supposedly this country is targeting? It's not a logical call to make. Anyone who thinks Israel did this intentionally, is treating the Jewish state as if it's a comic book evil villain. I wonder why. When a humanitarian aid airdrop accidentally killed at least 5 Palestinians, and at least 18 were killed during another, I don't remember that anyone was quick to say it was intentional without so much as an investigation, or that those responsible for it must be stopped, rather than that they must study what went wrong, and continue while taking precautions that it won't happen again.

In Belgium, a home for Holocaust survivors has been vandalized with supposedly pro-Palestinian graffiti, reading "Gaza free" and followed by a swastika. This is pure antisemitism, very thinly veiled.

Here's a reminder that if Hamas is allowed to continue existing, and ruling Gaza as a dictatorship, that's not just a threat to the lives of Israeli and Jews, it's also horrible news for Palestinians. IDF soldiers found in Gaza documents that reveal how Hamas had tortured and brutally executed one of its own commanders back in 2016, based on the accusation that he's gay. Anyone who claims to be pro-Palestinian, but is silent about the human rights abuses that Palestinian suffer at the hands of their own leadership, is not that at all, they're just exploiting the Palestinians to demonize Jews.

This is 22 years old Dor Almog (right) and his best friend, Amit.

Amit invited him to the Nova music festival, but he had to miss most of it due to an exam he had. Dor planned to study, and then join his friend at the end of the party, but he fell asleep, and was woken up by the sirens alerting everyone about the thousands of Hamas rockets fired at Israel at 6:30 in the morning. "That was the last time I saw Amit," Dor said about the moment his best friend left for the party. "We've been friends since the age of zero." Amit went to the party and was murdered by Hamas terrorists. Dor and the rest of Amit's friends decided to get his tattoo on their body, and that at some point they would travel to India, which was his dream that he didn't get to fulfil. Dor fought to be called for reserves duty in Gaza. He's the only soldier who survived the deadliest incident there, in which 21 Israeli young men were killed, the last operation his unit was supposed to be a part of, before being discharged. When the explosion took place, he was in a building that collapsed, he fell two floors, and the building crashed over him. "I smiled, because I thought I was about to die, and be with Amit again. But then I literally saw a light at the end of a tunnel, and started crawling there." He was kept in a coma for 5 days, to help his body cope, and only 2 days after he woke up, was he told the news about what happened to his friends in the unit. "That was the real blow." When asked about being a hero, he said, "I'll be that when I get back on my feet."

May Amit's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

this is a school a/u idk if u wanna do it BUT, what if the creeps s/o got into drama with smb else and they end up fighting it out. How would the creeps react?

Oh love, when I'm a slut for my own AU that's how you know it's bad. Of course I want to do it!!

CATCHING YOU FIGHTING AT SCHOOL - CREEPS SCHOOL AU

JEFF THE KILLER:

Immediately wants to step in and take care of it for you

Who dares touch his s/o??

But when you give him that glare, he holds off. After this long with you, he knows when you mean business

But if things start to turn against your favor, he's right by your side fighting it out with you

JANE THE KILLER:

Crosses her arms and watches from the side

She's told you! Fighting isn't the answer but she also knows you do as you please

So she'll wait until it's all over to give you a piece of her mind. Expect a verrrryyyy long lecture

If you got your shit rocked, she'll patch you up. If you won, she'll give you a job well done nod but that doesn't stop her from her lecture

NINA THE KILLER:

She's the type to get a teacher/administrator

She meant well! She did! She didn't know you'd get suspended for fighting!

She'll make up rumors about the person you were fighting and of course everyone at school believes it! She knows everyone!

Doesn't know how to patch you up but she'll take you to Jack

KATE THE CHASER:

Doesn't care what you say, she's jumping in

She also doesn't care and will take the suspension for you

"What? No I started it. It's my fault."

Gives you a smile as they drag her away to the office. Worth it beating the shit out of them is all she thought

CLOCKWORK:

Similar to Kate she'll jump right in. But she doesn't bother using her fists.

She pulls a knife and immediately the enemy throws their hands up in defeat

Ain't no one gonna touch her s/o. Not when she's around to stop it

Sorry but if you fight she fights

"TICCI" TOBY:

Loses his fucking mind. It's not like he can feel pain anyway!

"DON'T YOU F-FUCKIN' TOUCH THEM!"

Makes a huge giant scene out of beating them to a pulp. Like Clocky, ain't no one gonna touch his s/o if he's around.

Honestly has to get pulled off of your attacker and probably has security called

TIM/MASKY:

As soon as he shows up, your attacker steps away

Everyone knows Tim's a powerhouse and he doesn't just wrestle, he's a damn good fighter too

Pulls you away and takes your spot in the fight if the attacker keeps fighting once he shows up

He has no problem taking their punches for you. He ends up knocking them out with one punch and walking away with you like nothing happened

BRIAN/HOODIE:

Scoops you up and runs the fuck away with you!

He doesn't like fights and he certainly doesn't need his precious s/o getting hurt

He's so fast barely anyone can catch up with y'all

He's in it for the long run after that. He'll stalk them, record filthy or embarrassing moments and post it for all the school to see. His revenge is slow but effective

EYELESS JACK:

He tries to keep his shit together when your attacker was just verbally berating you. He hates it if anyone talks to you that way

But as soon as they swing something snaps in him. No one expected a non athletic honors student to fight like that

Almost kills them with how hard he's strangling them. It takes you begging him to let go for him to finally do so.

He growls that he'll kill them if they tell anyone about this and carries you away

[desolationcleo]

i've posted about this elsewhere but pearl's relationship with the watchers in the life series is an endless source of fascination to me

like there is So Much going on here and she's just oblivious to it

For one thing, she was on Evo but didn't show up in the death games until Last Life, the second one. The implications hit me like a truck over a year ago and ever since then, not a day goes by that i don't think about it. I've seen a few different possibilities brought up in the fandom and idk which one fucks me up the hardest to think about

She shares their moon motif. Did you guys know she was originally intended to be in the shadow alliance because of this

She's chosen as the boogeyman twice. The first time, there are some... complications.

namely, the endgame begins and grian kills mumbo and the time is now. martyn's hit pretty hard by this. enough to be willing to kill grian about it. but he's a green life, and pearl's not cured, and you can't just reroll for what would seem like no reason to the players.

Whatever happened to Pearl in-universe was probably the Watchers' doing.

the second time comes right off the heels of that stunt Scott pulled. She tells no one, tries to blow up all the remaining non-reds at once (minus Cleo), and only gets one and it's ren and they like ren.

Then she dies, and Scott wins,

And season 3 happens.

And they fall apart. And everyone abandons her. And her dog dies and she's devastated.

And she mcfucking loses it.

She goes and becomes a bad omen. Demoness, Scarlet Pearl, blood moon. She's torturing Scott, freezing herself nearly to death to cause him pain. Chaos and death follow everywhere she goes, the whole server fears her, and she's having the worst time of her life about it.

and she just gets worse and worse. and she WINS. the previous winners have been grian and scott, their two most hated players. for once, for the first time actually, they've got a victor they can stand.

cut to limited life and now she's emulating them without meaning to. i have... no idea what they'd think of the nosy neighbours, if they'd be offended or find it funny or what

and then there's everything relating to the possession incident and her being sent back before she's ready

i can't really think of anything notable in season 5 but yeah Pearl's relationship with the watchers has fascinated me for ages

anyways go watch the end of a life animatic

[sigilmint]

RICHIE!! (for the character ask thing)

Richie Jerimovich 🥰

How I feel about this character

I have a soft spot for characters who are bitter, who push people away so they don't get hurt, who are so so sad inside but who disguise it with prickliness, who kinda see themselves as major fuck ups. Characters who you get a terrible first impression of, who you actively go 'eugh' when they're first introduced. Every time I encounter a character like that, I lean forward and start paying so much attention, because I know they are so fucking sad under all that. Richie was created for me in a lab.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I do think that Richie is queer. I think his relationship with Mikey had an unrealized crush/obsession element to it on Richie's part, and him getting dragged further and further into Mikey's world is what lead to the dissolve of his marriage. I think Tiff realized at a certain point that she was never going to be what Mikey was, to Richie. And I think a lot of his pain comes from not understanding that, not realizing his feelings about Mikey were that intense, not being able to see the forest for the trees as it were.

So all that being said... I actually very much ship him with Carmy. The idea of them meeting each other as real adults after years apart (even though it's not been terribly long, they both went through significant life events since last they saw each other, at the start of the first season) and realizing that the other person isn't just some stupid kid/annoying friend of the family anymore... there's so much there. They build a real respect for each other, amid the yelling matches, and when they're on the same page, they are both so strong. They are front of house and back of house. They have so much complicated history and also they're starting from scratch. They both lost the most important person in the world to them. They need each other.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

Idk what the fandom missed when they watched this show but he and Carmen aren't actually cousins lmfao. I mentioned that ship irl to someone and they made SUCH a disgusted face at me. Childhood friends isn't family, and there's nothing wrong with kissing someone you've known since you were young. I'm honestly so confused how one of the most popular romance dynamics of all time got turned into like, 'pseudo-incest' or whatever like come on people!! It's fictional characters.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Can you imagine how tender and sweet and supportive a coming out episode would be on this show 🥹 Let the saddest man have a day where everyone showers him with love <3

[ummmlife]

Poor, sad, miserable teen!Nanami

Warnings!: post Haibara's death Nanami ; teen nanami ; angst (?) ; fluff (?) ; nanami×reader ; she / her pronouns reader ; reader is Nanami's (check on the translator) senior (aka Gojo's age) ; headcanon, drabble, idk, i wrote. if something doesn't makes sense, my sincerest apologies for not knowing how to speak english properly 🫠

We already know that teenage Nanami was a very pessimistic and unsociable person. While our adult Nanami is an exemplary person who knows social norms well and follows them perfectly, teenage Nanami was not like that. He was trained to be an adult from the young age of 15 (I assume because of Itadori's age).

But what events happened to turn Kento Nanami from an inexperienced (emo) teenager to an exemplary adult?

Tragedies, that's what happened.

In our modern society we know and understand that child labor is something inconceivable and even illegal in many countries, I mean, it is written in human rights. So we could assume that Jujutsu society operates the same way... Hahaha no. Good grief, if that were so there would be no such thing as manga/anime (Akutami you're cruel).

Why would we believe that in a society commanded by conservative and traditionalist elders, who (and this is my thought) surely rejoiced when Japan was a colonizing empire during WWII, would protect children? In this cruel world you learn to survive, and burdened with the curse of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer you have no escape.

So Nanami, against his will and coming from a family of non sorcerers, is forced to settle in this rotten society.

If being a sorcerer is a very low possibility, probably much lower than winning the lottery, it would not be difficult to expect that in a single class there would be one or at most three Jujutsu students. This was the case with Nanami and Haibara. Two kids with completely different personalities and motivations who, by the vagaries of the universe, ended up in the same situation together (and with the same fate awaiting them. Crying).

Nanami, yes, was a pessimistic, introverted, grumpy teenager, but at least he had Haibara with him who, even if he never said it out loud, gave him hope that maybe and just maybe being a sorcerer wasn't so bad.

Hell only knows the pain and despair the death of his only friend caused Nanami.

To be born into a faded world only to meet a rainbow and then have it snuffed out by a typhoon, yeah, it wasn't easy. Nanami could even understand why Suguru Geto, who by the way Haibara was a fan of, decided to become a Curse User. For Nanami himself the temptation was so much, so palpable and easy to choose. But he knew that: 1. Haibara wouldn't have liked it, 2. Following Geto's path would have mentally exhausted him more and 3. He couldn't afford to hurt more fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers.

That is why Nanami was only looking forward to his graduation day, but silently. He wished to simply disappear, not only from the Sorcerer profession but also from this world.

Nanami was lost, mired in depression and no one seemed to care. If everyone was so busy minding their own business then he had to mind his own life as well. Go on missions alone, study alone, fight alone, eat alone, live and wait to die alone.

— "Are you sleeping well? I notice you're more exhausted than before."

Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought, maybe he mattered to someone: his senior.

Another sorceress a year above him, a classmate of Gojo and Ieiri. A sweet and caring girl for whom, at some point when Haibara was still alive, Nanami felt loving feelings for her begin to surface.

— "Yeah... I'm fine."

Lying is bad but worrying others is worse.

Nanami was eating lunch, alone as usual, a sandwich he made himself. Sitting on the stairs outside the school listening to the cicadas and the sound of the leaves on the trees moving in the soft autumn wind. His senior sat beside him, in complete silence, knowing full well that Nanami is not a big fan of social interactions.

— "I hear you've perfected your innate Cursed Technique..."

Still, she tries to dialogue with him. At least a little bit.

— "Yeah…"

Nanami might feel uncomfortable, but the closeness of his senior makes him feel calm, it makes him feel peace.

In a world where children are forced to live and think like adults in life and death situations, the company of someone who is at least a little more mature is comforting.

— "I miss him too, you know? Haibara."

It hurts, it hurts so much. Nanami stops eating as he feels his stomach twist with the memories of that fateful day when Haibara was killed because of a mistake by the adults, they sent them to their death and it was all because of a mistake. Nanami closes his eyes and breathes in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

This has happened before, indeed, it happens every night. Nanami hasn't been able to sleep well since the Haibara incident, having no one to comfort or hold him when he cries his soul out before trying to sleep.

That's why the moment he felt his senior's delicate hands bringing his head to her shoulder to comfort him it completely threw him off. It felt good, warm for the first time.

— "If you keep holding back you're going to end up hurting yourself even more."

That sentence alone was enough to make Nanami completely break down in tears. It was the first time in years feeling comfort from someone in such an intimate and satisfying way.

Nanami cried, hugged and clung to his senior as he had never done with anyone before, only maybe with his mother when he was a child. He couldn't contain himself when he felt her lips gently pressing against his crown of his head, it was like a dream.

— "Can I ask you not to leave?"

It was so embarrassing but so necessary for him to ask that. Her senior's soft and sweet smile was like a gift to his aching heart.

— "I don't plan to go anywhere."

*sobs* Emo Nanami, so cute ‹𝟹 must protect!!!!!

[purpleglitch]

Hi this is a post where I go crazy over stuff I read on c!george's dsmp wiki page 😁👍

Under the read more because it gets a bit long, this is a very unserious analysis(???) ^_^

King george I never moved on from you,,,,,, and he also never moved on from his kingship, I didn't get to add something because of the image limit but in a introduction to a new character much much later in the lore, the wiki says he introduced himself as "the king of the dsmp still" like GIRLLLL, and that days after the dethronement he was asked about his feelings on it and he said he didn't care about it...... so what's the truth.... ☹️

Also pig george I'm crying icb that's a thing in the wiki agshshdhjfjf, he's just a little guy

C!George was so based they silenced him....

Hello, he should've stayed in a team with c!dream since the beginning, they had the same goals hello.... Also underrated lore was politician c!gnf, swag2020 was better prepared than pog2020 but because everyone watched from their povs, george and q were seen as the bad guys. Can we talk about how it was c!george the first one to say the whole thing about wanting the server to be one big happy family, I'm crying

THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING HELLOOOO GEORGE PLEASE LET ME STUDY YOU UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

"George took pride in being king and enjoyed his title" he loved being protected by dream and how he did everything for him, they were both freaks in that arc oh my god.... dorry.

c!george's apathy and carelessness were such great parts of his character I'm so serious. Like on one side he doesn't care about anything so he's going to sleep through every drama, but at the same time he cares about everything so he's going to participate and instigate conflict and he just wants his friends...

I'm not breathing. Can anyone hear me. Can we talk about this. He wanted to visit. Hello. He impulsively went to visit dream. He was angry c!dream was in prison hello. He wanted to go in so badly he risked it all and broke a block from the prison instead of going in and asking c!sam like normal and then he was banned from ever going in

do you think one of the reasons he later was seen standing in front of the prison but never going in was that ban??? I mean, besides the guilt and pain that brought him thinking about c!dream. Is this why on his last lore stream where he dreams about meeting dream post prison and being confronted about never visiting him and george saying he didn't know he could've asked was because Sam threatened him??

That whole stream where tubbo, ranboo, foolish and george were gambling with XD for items could be seen as not canon lore but think about how funny it would be, like so many streams XD is in are so random (mainly because dream wanted to goof around the server without pulling his mc character out of pandora but shhh) they all could be taken as dreams from c!george or other characters like c!foolish

C!DNF couple goals being both stuck in prisons (c!dream in pandora, and c!george in a bedrock box). also the dethronement already happened by this point but dreamXD proclaming c!george the king of chaos is making me cry so much, what's up with cc!dream giving george the king title again..... idk im gonna overthink this a lot

"It was given to George by Dream himself and was George's only highly valuable item." let's take a second to process this- c!george's most valuable item was a non enchanted shield that c!dream gave him, in the image it doesn't show but the shield had the blue brick pattern because it represented the obsidian wall c!dream built around new l'manburg after c!george's house was vandalized. AND IT'S HIS MOST PRECIOUS ITEM HELLOOOOOOOOO, it was the only thing he had left of c!dream and it was his most valuable item over his weapons, beckerson and the netherite armor XD gave him...... ok.

This one is really interesting because the relationship tab is not really accurate with the descriptions lenghts so i find really interesting how they made c!dream's description the longest one while c!sapnap's description was like 2 lines long 😭😭

Ok but this description is so sad, "They stuck by each other's side. [...] But as time flew by, they seemed to get more distant." I don't agree that the dethronement was "spontaneous" because c!dream did say that he did it because he cared about c!george and he didn't want him to keep losing his stuff to assasination attempts and because of the danger of being associated to c!dream... plus the other reasons of c!george not staying neutral to the dsmp faction.

It haunts me that they never got to talk to each other once c!dream got in pandora and their relationship was left like that in "bad terms" because of the dethronement but the way they both thought about each other with c!dream wanting gnf to visit him and talk, and c!george dreaming about dream leaving the prison and being a team together again..... idk c!dnf my doomed yaoi..........

Also cgeorge seeing XD as a stand-in for cdream is the funniest thing he misses him so much he dreamt god looks and sounds like his ex imghjhdkjfhdkfhkghk

"me and the bad bitch i pulled by being whimsy and heartbroken (im scared of him but dont tell him)" -c!george, probably.

again there's stuff i didnt put because of the image limit but reading the wiki was so crazy there was stuff i didnt remember that are now feeding my cgnf brainrot, he's such a silly guy i really like his character :( aaaa feel free to send me asks to talk about him or dsmp lore in general, i probably have bad takes on other stuff but whatever,,, i stay silly

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a  regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

[lumilasi]

"Lone wolf's a Dead Wolf. Healthy Wolf protects the Pack."

Earlier this week, I reblogged a fanart piece for the Mouthwashing game, wondering why it was so popular, as while I had seen the game months earlier, seeing Tumblr get so into it was surprising as at the time, it didn't stand out to me too much when I first watched it. After being nosy and snooping around the tags, I now fully get why it has become such a phenomenon here.

Anyway, the whole thing kind of inspired me to want to make my own lil space crew. I'll be keeping their designs simple though, as I don't wanna stress myself out with this too much; its just a small side thing for funsies. I don't have full design ideas for others yet, but I figured I can at least post this guy for starters. I admittedly don't fully like the poster one, buuuut IDK how to fix it rn so I'll leave it as is.

More info about him below: (under the cut bc ONCE AGAIN my descriptions get far too long....)

The poster's Lone wolf quote is basically Stefan's mantra; it both shows how despite what he may seem like at first glance, he very much cares about the people around him, and how the whole "lone wolf" thing isn't even realistic (and in a way, harmful way of thinking), and Stefan knows that.

When I say "dad" I mean he is the responsible friend who tries to keep most shenanigans at bay - mainly from their tech assistant Mara.

The person yelling for him is in fact Mara

He's bi, tends to be oblivious to people's crushes on him because of a lot of self-loathing caused by what happened. He also learns later on he is polyamorous too.

He met pretty freaky people in prison, but NOBODY was as scary as his current captain, according to him.

His childhood friend has a crush on him, and so does the medic lady. He is aware of Matt's crush on him, but somehow completely oblivious to Cherry, even though she shows it more obviously.... (the Captain and the systems officer find it VERY fun to watch)

Those two aren't competitive or anything about their shared crush, they're both the kind of people that just want their loved ones to be happy and would be happy for either if they got lucky - provided the dumbass would notice either.....

His wolf motif is because of his surname meaning "wolf"

BG STORY STUFF: Stefan wears a gas mask, because of his sensitivity to a common gas type utilized in most spaceships' systems in this story; a special type of non-flammable gas, that unfortunately can cause hallucinations, and in his case, causes bouts of severe aggression/Lack of sense of pain.

-----> The reason why he has an odd reaction is because of some evil scientist shenanigans he had to go through as a kid, unknowingly to him and his mum, who thought the doctors were trying to cure a terrible illness he supposedly had. (They were just testing out brainwashing stuff, you know, usual evil government bullshit)

------> he ended up in prison because while working in another ship, he had a severe fit and killed a lot of his coworkers (whom he already had negative emotions towards due to their shitty behavior towards the woman staff - he was raised better by his mama)

-----> There was a massive riot in the prison he was in, hence he managed to escape.

His friend insisted on helping and got him in the ship; Stefan initially avoided everyone else like plague afraid he'd have a fit, but did grow fond of the oddball group pretty quickly.

Then, during a space-pirate raid, he learned that he can actually recognize this group even in that state, so they aren't in danger from him - plus their captain is a very prepared woman, and had already figured out his history. (She has stuff to knock him out to sleep it off)

[mikkaeus]

house md fic recs — short fics (<10k). hilson + rarepairs

Other house rec lists: long fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one)

highly recommend not skipping out on the non-hilson fics!! scroll to the end for a list of some really great ones. No huddy though because I'm not the biggest fan.

house/wilson and gen fic

I decided to just lump the gen fic together with the slash because really most of them can be read as slash with a G rating. Before we get into the fics, here are some notable authors that have written several house fics. Not all their fics are going to be listed individually, but if I have the author there I've read all or a lot of their stuff and enjoyed it, so I recommend going through their backlog.

otter: Some really excellent prose and great atmosphere. A little soft, a little pensive. And they nail the characterisation and dialogue.

ignaz: im sure everyone has read ignaz's longfic (a modest proposal and its sequel — the one where house and wilson get married so wilson cant testify against house in the tritter arc) but absolutely check out all their other stuff — it's all quality.

bironic: I really enjoy the bit of edge in bironic's fics. It makes them so yummy.

bethfrish: What stands out about their fics is how they peer into all the pointy edges of Wilson and Julie's relationship, thus making them excellent and unique Wilson character studies. Great prose and dialogue that rivals the show's.

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

astolat: if u dont know astolat idk what to say to u. just go read their fics.

blackmare (livejournal / ao3 pseud 1 / ao3 pseud 2 / lj pseud third_owl for slash fics i think) Does really great short fics (mostly gen) that slot into episodes. Like meta but in fic form. All of them are worth a read. Some of their fics are on ao3 but a lot aren't (like nearly all the episodic ones).

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and exceptionally discerning prose that is a pleasure to read.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

***Touch by zulu (<1k) (2007) The number of ways House could embarrass him with touches, Wilson thinks, is practically endless.

Silent Sigh by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Wilson, autumn, melancholy, and House. Second person.

Heartbeats by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Three moments in which House and Wilson are almost kind of functional.

No Pain by bironic (<1k) (2008) House finds a permanent solution to his pain problem and convinces Wilson to give him what he needs. Vampire fic! Frottage! hell yeah.

Also check out the sequel: No Mercy by daasgrrl (3k)

***The Game of Wilson: Six Cards in a Five Card Game by paradisecity (1k) (2006) If you're going to play a game like moving in together, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time. Fun and snappy. Great dialogue.

*we're getting good at this by ad astra dean (1k) Wilson had a migraine. Established relationship. Soft and sweet and realistic esp after 8.19. fuck. Premium hurt/comfort.

**********three more stories by besselfcn (1k) The first time it happens is (New Orleans, 1991 | Albany, 2009 | Augusta, 2012) and they are (drunk | sober | out of time). This fic emotionally obliterated me. I’m obsessed with the format like it’s prose halfway to poetry, so creative and unique and well-executed??? I cried so much. I am UNWELL and immeasurably fucked up about them put me in my grave. (Yeah I said these lists were mutually exclusive but this fic is the exception bc idc)

The Awakening of Wils-Ankh-Amun, Royal Concubine by blackmare, Nightdog_barks, pwcorgigirl (1k) It was a rather unusual 'morning after.' This is hilarious. Reads like a classic prank episode. They're so dumb together I love them.

The One Where House Has Always Been a Woman by thedeadparrot (1k) (2009) Despite the hospital gossip, House is not, in fact, a man-hating lesbian. Genderswapped House but not Wilson.

Gray Morning by starlingthefool (1k) All he remembers is that the transition between a stupid joke and the meeting of mouths was almost seamless. Christmas fic that takes place one year after "Merry Little Christmas" (3.10).

Loser Day Blues by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (1k) February fourteenth is just another day, and another evening in which Wilson winds up at House’s, although — this time — not for the usual reasons.

*indefinable by PaintedVanilla (1k) House can hear Wilson getting ready for bed; he can hear him brushing his teeth, undressing, being unusually quiet. Normally there’s a humming; a breathless energy that House won’t admit to loving about him. He doesn’t hear it tonight. It’s dead silent.

criteria by PaintedVanilla (2k) “I don’t think they know that we’re married.”

***We Live Together in a Photograph of Time by ignaz (2k) Wilson's hair curls when they're fucking. God I'm devastated. The ✨atmosphere✨. This is so in character. And can we talk about the banger title and summary??? I was gnawing my arm before I even opened the fic. Set in s4.

***Things To Do Before You Die by thedeadparrot (2k) In which Wilson turns thirty-eight and a half, thinks about kittens, and doesn't have a midlife crisis. But not necessarily in that order. Prank war with a twist. I’m so fond. Hits all the right cadences with the writing.

So Let Us Melt, and Make No Noise by ignaz (2k) (2007) "You kill patients all the time," House said. "You never stay at work until--" He peered at the clock. "--Four in the morning to make sure they're really dead."

***Curiosity by Namaste (2k) (2006) From Cameron's perspective. Fun character study of her and by extension House and the other two musketeers. Not shippy.

Welcomed Change by JammiesDodger (2k) A cute G-rated getting together fic.

Alone, Together by daasgrrl (2k) Finding new ways to be intimate.

*Keep Your Eyes Wide by deepimpact (2k) There is no specific amount of time passed, no big event, no one thing that Wilson can pin as the catalyst. Obsessed with this. Great atmosphere, excellent prose, and and everything feels authentic and in character. Set pre-season/s1.

***Carrion Eaters by ignaz House, in some indeterminate future or an alternate universe, from the perspective of a new hire. I really loved this story. It's sharp and sad, with great build up.

***Projection by bironic (2k) Remember Ali, that really pretty 17/18 year old clinic patient that was obsessed with House? This fic is Wilson's elaborate fantasy about fucking her, which is of course as much about House as it is her. Post 3.04.

***No Exchange of Payment by otter (2k) The gifts that House gives to Wilson. I adore this. It's about the little things. Otter has exceptional prose and always nails the characterisation, which makes their writing a real pleasure to read.

***All the Effects of Intoxication (3k) by otter This only happens when they're drunk. Just as yummy as that one-line description suggests. I love this a lot — the characterisation and dialogue are excellent and I think this scenario is very realistic for them.

Leave This Harbor for the Sea by otter (3k) House was never the kind of friend who'd help you move, even when he'd had two good legs, not to mention two good arms perfectly capable of lifting boxes. He'd always been the sort of friend who'd stop by while you were packing, make cutting remarks about the failures of your romantic relationships, and use all the half-filled boxes as an excuse to root through your things.

***the growing up, the falling down by riceonrye (3k for the series) Wilson is trying to buy a nice make-up present for his girlfriend, but there’s a guy in the shop with him brazenly shoplifting. Wilson, meet House. This is so good!!! I grinned like an idiot all the way through. It captures the throw-bottles-at-windows side of Wilson so well. A very cute AU of a different first meeting whilst still remaining true to the characters. Don't forget to read the sequel as well.

***never rains (but it pours) by Transformatron (3k) So... remember that episode where House can't pee? I present you some excellently written pisskink pwp. Nails the hilson dynamic, so even if piss isn't your thing, give it a go?

***Blind Spot by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (3k) Wilson becomes blind after a head injury. genfic.

***Four Blocks South of Eden by bethfrish (3k) If you wanted paradise, you're a little off. I loved the tentative, slightly off-kilter feeling of this. Bang on characterisation, dialogue, and use of 2nd person POV (House). Set in s1 — Wilson's marriage is falling apart, and it leads to a night that could be the start of something new.

***Lie To Me by zulu (4k) It's terribly simple. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. Exuberant ketamine summer House!!! Equal parts sexy and heartbreaking. Check out the sequel as well (1k).

Stumbling Towards Something Real by ignaz (4k) House and Wilson on holiday in Mexico. (A flagrant excuse for smut, basically.) I'm soft. In character and well-written.

Goes the Neighbourhood by Dee_Laundry (4k) One month into their permanent positions, the new fellows catch a case on the weekend and have to track House down.

***Easy by GoldStarGrl (4k) James Wilson is the easiest person in his dorm. At McGill. In all of eastern Canada, maybe. A fleshed-out version of their first meeting, as well as an insightful character study of Wilson. Slots nicely into canon, whether you believe in the "wilson has cheated on every wife with house" version or the "they fucked when they first met and never talked about it again" version. I really enjoyed this — they’re beautifully in character, and it's excellent writing.

***A Momentary Lapse of Reason by otter (5k) Wilson and Julie through House’s eyes, from the beginning to the end. Skips back and forth between the past and now. The quiet yearning!!! Also *standing on the table with a megaphone* have i mentioned how GORGEOUS otter's prose is??

*Blow the Candles Out by bethfrish (5k) Another year older, another year wiser, another divorce lurking just around the corner. So good!!! Wilson celebrates his birthday amongst the detritus of his marriage. The prose is really exceptional here. House's dialogue is also especially well done. It's a fun read that holds up well on a re-read.

***midnight rain by GoldStarGrl (5k) Wilson can't possibly know the pain. But he wants to. I am vibrating!!! Set precanon, in the aftermath of the infarction. Infidelity, spanking, hello??? Hot, vivid, excellent characterisation, excellent writing etc etc. A+ no notes.

***Through The Looking Glass (The Male Gaze Mashup) by zulu (5k) "If Wilson didn't know, great. What he didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If Wilson did know, it didn't matter, because if he hadn't berated House for it yet, then it was permission to continue." Interesting character study of Wilson and the way House slots into his life. Imaginative and fun descriptions. I did feel slightly lost at some points but it was still a great read. Excerpt: House tears open every envelope, even those addressed to Occupant, then brings back the well-read contents like a cat offering half-dead moles to its hunting-deficient human.

Empathy, Inc. by sassyjumper (5k) Cuddy hires a company that provides 'empathy training' to doctors. House reacts. Set in an earlier season.

***All's Fair In Love (and war) by Transformatron (6k) House and Wilson are enjoying the last day of their holiday when an urgent call comes through from Princeton-Plainsboro - a medical mystery that only House can solve. And he does intend to solve it, despite Wilson's best efforts to distract him. (Established relationship.) Wilson making House do a case whilst fucking him?? I'm an absolute sucker for this trope and I was delighted to find a fic with it.

A Towered Citadel by Namaste (7k) A differential diagnosis for Wilson’s serial cheating.

***And the Borders of Old Cities Get Redrawn by blackmare (7k) Continuation/canon divergence from 8.02 "Transplant". Ch1 is the most perfect episode tag I am vibrating . The way they fall back into their old rhythm!! House seeking out his touch like a cat and Wilson accepting it, even liking it!! The hints of pre-relationship are so delicious. (This is a rare slash fic from blackmare.) Ch2&3 are also absolutely brilliant!! Great characterisation, pacing, and tension-building.

A Voice in Ramah (Welcome to Holland) by ignaz (8k) Cuddy POV on her pregnancy journey. Diverges from the show. Really well done. ignaz did this topic and Cuddy's character justice. I also particularly liked House in this one.

Singapore by thedeadparrot (8k) (2009) In which the boys go to a medical conference in Singapore, House has a few surprises up his sleeve, and Wilson figures some things out.

*A Helping Hand by bironic (9k) Wilson has an unusually rough day and House decides (somewhat despite himself) to help. Things go further than he planned. A believable foray into non-platonic territory, set in between 2.22 (Forever) and 2.24 (No Reason). What better way to take your mind off your patients than a good-ol handjob between friends? Chuck in an absolutely delicious fucked-up overtone characteristic of them and we're golden.

Rarepairs

Chase/House

***pretty doctor by spqr (5k) AU where Chase is a hooker. House becomes obsessed with him after he off-handedly gives the correct differential diagnosis. spqr is an excellent writer that I've followed across multiple fandoms, and this fic did not disappoint. Well-written, great chemistry, hilarious. I could read 100k of this.

***atonement in the locker room after hours by missaa (2k) robert chase makes two mistakes in one day Tags: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, degradation, God Complex, Catholic Guilt This is just as yummy as those tags make it sound. Someone needed to capitalise on the whole *waves hand vaguely* thing that Chase has going on and by god did this person rise to the occasion. Love the characterisation and the elegant prose, and the structure that flashes back and forth between two scenes. I'm insane!

Chase/Foreman Shoutout to ignaz who sold me on this pairing.

*Pretty Harsh (Confirmatory Testing Remix) by everybodylies (2k) Foreman might have flirted with Chase six months ago for like thirty seconds. Chase can't stop thinking about it.

***Two For The Road by ignaz (3k) For the first ever Foreman Fest, prompt 107 -- "after a break and enter gone wrong, Foreman and Chase are both sentenced to 300 hours of community service, which it looks like they're gonna spend picking up trash on the side of the road." Really solid writing (I mean it’s ignaz), believable characterisation and relationship building. I love them 💓💓💓 just overall a real pleasure to read. Also it's hilarious.

***Eric Foreman Doesn't Take It Up The Ass (But If He Did, It Might Happen Something Like This) by ignaz (6k)

Self-Defense, or The One Where Foreman Teaches Chase How to Throw a Punch by ignaz (1k)

Cameron/Foreman/Chase

Third Wheel Rolling by ignaz He's not jealous, but he's been the third wheel for so long that it's hard to tell the difference. Sexy + great characterisations.

Cuddy/Stacy

***Your Reflection and Mine by Starlingthefool (3k) Sweet, hot, well written.

Amber/Thirteen

***Hate (to the power of 13) by ijemanja (2k) (lj) Porny, with snappy writing and believable characterisations.

Hen Night by zulu (<1k) This is how breakups go. Amber's seen movies.

Release by zulu (1k) Wilson dies on the bus instead of Amber.

Chase/Wilson

Erase by bethfrish (<1k) Featuring a bar and crossdressing. Precanon. Second person, Wilson POV.

Patrick Bateman/Wilson

Just Like You, Only Worse by bethfrish (1k) Ok before you raise your eyebrows at the pairing, give it a chance. Bethfrish is an excellent writer. This fic is really a Wilson character study, and it's an interesting read. Second person POV Wilson, set in s1.

[aetherdoesthings]

Resend of my request because you said so lmao (ima just copy + paste)

Hi, m'back :D and because I love hurting myself, can I request a hanahaki au! Reader x Robin? :))) if you thought the enies lobby one was angsty, that one was just a test. I'm feeling evil to myself >:)

If you're not familiar with what hanahaki au! is, basically nothing changes about the world except there's now a disease called hanahaki disease, and essentially, someone can get hanahaki disease when they have unrequited love for someone. Symptoms of hanahaki disease include flowers growing in the victim's lungs, and the first signs of the disease come when the victim starts coughing petals. The longer the hanahaki disease prevails (it can go on for years), the more intense and painful the coughing can get and can eventually lead to coughing up whole flowers (stem, petals, and all) until the victim eventually dies. (Fun, right? 🥰) Hanahaki disease can only be cured if the victim decides to lose their feelings for someone or if the victim's crush likes them back.

Typically in Hanahaki au! Fics, the victim hides their symptoms in fear of revealing their romantic feelings. In some fics, certain actions can trigger their coughing, for example, if someone mentions the victim's crush's name, or if the victim sees their crush with someone else, they may start intensely coughing at that moment. Although less rare, some fics make the hanahaki disease non-lethal and more of just a life convenience. This is an option you can put as well. I'm not picky. :)

I thought Hanahaki Disease might fit given Robin's Devil Fruit. Reader would have the Hanahaki disease (so reader likes robin, but robin doesn't like her (yet?)) and because I love to share pain, I'll let you decide reader's fate :). Does she let go of her feelings to live, does Robin like her back to live, or does reader die without the chance of confessing?

Take as long as you need :333. Go ahead, break my heart. I wonder if you're just breaking your own in the process as well :D anyways, TYSM ILY 🫶🫶

the day has come, Eneis Lobby anon. the first part of the hanahaki au!reader x robin fic. i don't break my heart writing stuff like this. only robin's past can make my heart break and cry.

forethoughts: ooffff probably gonna be a three parter? idk, depends on how much i write and how much i want to drag out y/n suffering.

notes: fem!reader, modern au!, high school

You hated going to school. You hated waking up at 7 am in the morning, to trudge to school in a uniform with other adolescents that didn’t make your life any better. Sure, it was your junior year; one more year and you’ll finally be done. But you didn’t want to wait for one more year. You wanted to just end school now.

As much as you loathed sitting at a desk looking at the whiteboard while your teacher rambled on and on about the lesson, there was one good thing that came out of school.

Nico Robin.

Another junior in your grade. The popular and extremely unbelievable smart girl everyone loved. She was the center of attention during lunch, where other juniors would swarm her just to have a word, or beg her to help them with their homework. You sat there on the side, watching it all happen, hoping you could be one of them. One of her close friends. It pained you to see so many people who didn’t even give a rat’s ass about Robin and only talked to her for her intelligence. Robin was so much better than her brains or her brawns, even her beauty. She was a goddess in your eyes; in everyone’s eyes, and all you wanted to do was be seated by her side, basking in her beauty and appreciating her smarts. She didn’t deserve to have other juniors crowd around her and leech off of her brains. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would treat her well and treat her with kindness instead of selfishness. She deserved-

A harrowing cough was ripped out of your throat, as you buckled over until it stopped. You stared at the ground, and found a single cherry blossom petal right where your shoes were. You rubbed your throat, searching for a reprieve to the sudden pain you just felt. Was that petal always there? Couldn’t be. There was no way you coughed out of a petal. But it wasn’t anywhere near cherry blossom season… 

You kicked the petal that was in between your shoes, and to your dismay it moved. You weren’t hallucinating. A cherry blossom petal was there, even though it was nowhere near cherry blossom season. You looked back up at Robin, who had disappeared, and so did the entire table of juniors.

It’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m going crazy. I’m just batshit insane. Yeah. That’s what I am. You nodded your head at that statement. While no one was looking, you picked up the petal, shoving it in your pocket as you moved on with your day, pretending nothing ever happened. You weren’t coughing up flower petals, and even if you were, there’s no reason for you to be coughing up flower petals. Who even coughs up flower petals?

History, the one class you shared with Robin. You were good at that subject; history was your thing. Of course it was her thing too; Robin was the biggest history buff ever. She knew how the Earth was created and every single era leading up to now. During group projects, everyone wanted to pair with her, and you were left to work by yourself. 

Class began, and the teacher started to talk.

“Alright, class. Today we will begin working on our project regarding absolutism and absolutist rulers. We’ve gone over a few classes talking about absolutism, and now it’s your turn to present. I will be pairing you with another student, and the two of you will have a week to work on it before presenting it in front of the class. I will be assigning a country to you, and the two of you will choose which absolutist ruler you would like to do. Do I make myself clear?” The teacher announced. Once the teacher heard a chorus of mumbles and agreeing nods, he began to walk through the rows of desks, pointing at students and saying a random country.

“Robin and Y/N, England.” Your eyes widened when the teacher said your name and Robin’s. You looked at Robin, who was sitting in the second row, just diagonal to your desk. She gave you a warm smile, making your insides do a flip. You watched Robin move her stuff next to you, taking a seat by your side.

“Hey! You’re Y/N, right?” Robin smiled at you.

“U-Uhm, y-yeah. Mhm. Yep.” You stammered, your face heating up at the moment.

Robin let out a chuckle at your response, opening her computer. “So, England. Do you have a ruler in mind? I’m open to any.”

“Uh…” You cleared your throat, feeling a strange lump in your esophagus as you pushed it down. This was your chance. To talk to the one girl you never talked to before. Not because you were shy, well, maybe because you were, but because you never had the time to. This might as well be the only time you got to talk to her before she’d get swarmed by her friends and other desperate juniors. Might as well show what you got, right?

“I was thinking of Elizabeth I; I can think of some absolutist traits about her that could be worth a presentation.” You regurgitated each word out. You felt that strange lump again, as well as the urge to start coughing up a storm. You suppressed the urge to cough, as you waited for Robin to reply.

“That could work. Alright, let’s do Elizabeth I. I’ll share a document with you. You can type down whatever you already know about Elizabeth, and we can just add more information as we go, until we have a basis of the things we’ll talk about.” Robin replied. You reloaded your email, suppressing your urge to cough and your surprise at her reaction. That worked? You could just voice your opinion and she’d listen? That was certainly a development.

You opened the document Robin sent you, your fingers moving furiously as the urge to cough became much harder to suppress, the urge becoming much more unbearable.

“Hey, Robin!” A boy walked up to Robin, a big dumb grin on his face. “Which country are you doing?”

“England, Franky. Go back to your partner.” Robin chuckled, brushing him aside. The moment you heard Robin reply, the floodgates burst open. You coughed, as an onslaught of coughing ensued. It felt like you were vomiting, minus the vomit and the strain on your throat. The entire class fell silent at the sound of your cough, all eyes on you. You lifted your head up, removing your hand from your mouth as you let out a deep breath. The class went back to work, quiet chattering ensuing. 

“Are you alright, Y/N? That was quite the cough.” Robin looked at you, her brows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. “Do you need some water?” “I’m fine.” You replied, looking down at your palm. Three flower petals. You balled your fist, shoving them into your pocket as you looked at Robin with a tired smile. “I’m alright, thanks.”

Robin was not convinced at all, but she stopped asking, as she went back to work. “Alright then.” 

Your mind was racing, heartbeat pounding out of your chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck was that? What in the fuckknuckles was that? How the fuck did I just cough up three fucking flower petals? I’m going insane. I’m actually fucking insane.

You spent the rest of class trying to work, writing a few lines just to not raise Robin’s suspicion and act like you were contributing.

Once the bell rung, you shoved your computer into your bag, your body shooting up like a rocket as you darted to the door.

“Wait, Y/N!” You paused in your tracks, moving backwards to face Robin. She still had a smile on her face, but by the way her eyebrows crinkled you could tell she was suspicious of your cough. 

“Yeah?” You responded.

“Message me sometime, alright? You already follow me on Instagram, right?” 

“Oh! Uhm, y-yeah. Sure. I’ll do that.”

“Cool. Hey, get that cough checked out, okay? That’s not a normal cough. Get better soon, okay? We have a presentation coming up.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.” You smiled at Robin, before booking it out of the classroom and out of the school. Immediately, the urge to cough disappeared. You reached your hand into your pocket, staring at the flower petals. You pulled out your phone with your other hand, opening a new browser as you searched for an answer to your symptoms. 

The fuck is hanahaki disease? You thought to yourself, clicking on the link as you read the entire article. Your heart dropped to your stomach, mouth open as you read the description.

You had a crush on Robin. And that crush was going to kill you. 

I just won’t think of her. That’s easy. Then I’ll stop coughing up flowers and I won’t die. That’s easy. You thought to yourself. Oh, how wrong you were. The entire walk back home, your head was clouded with the thought of Robin. The sound of her voice was already enough to make your knees buckle and hypnotized. Whether it was lust or love, she was on your mind. And she’d never go off your mind.

Shit… I have an entire group project I have to do with her… what do I do? Your mind raced for ideas, anything that could work, just so you wouldn’t have to come into contact with her or see her in person.

Nico Robin was going to be the death of you.

But somewhere inside your heart, you were content with that.

[bubbipond]

DFF Finale Spoilers

Random Finale Thoughts:

So in the end, just like Non's script, no one left? That was my take away from that last scene. Phee was able to realize what he was seeing wasn't Non so maybe instead he started hallucinating happier things? Like a life with Jin? But in the end, he's still at that house, still hallucinating, and forever haunted by Non. The guilt, the pain, everything.

Phee's hallucinations were so heartbreaking and not just because Non is dead. But because Phee just kept seeing it and seeing it and blaming himself when he genuinely wishes he could turn back time.

Logically there was only two alternatives for New, prison or death. He stated he had nothing to lose. His whole family is gone and he was completely alone. Logically, who would you rather have killed him? One of the boys that already had Non's "blood" on their hands? Phee was never going to be okay with murder, we knew that from the get go. New absolutely knew that Phee would be unhelpful that's why he could so easily do everything. He spent years with Phee and knows his character.

I think at the end of the day, New needed revenge because he never got to actually help Non in any way. That's why seeing Non and Non saying he did well was important. It was confirmation New needed that he could rest now. He could not have lived life without his family. Even if he managed to kill everyone, what life would he have had? He would have to go on the run, probably leave Thailand, and be lonely. Carrying guilt and pain forever.

Just when I thought the hallucinations couldn't get worse I see Jin's...omg vomit. No wonder New ain't have to actually physically kill anyone himself.

White's end was so unfortunate because he really was just there at the wrong time. He didn't deserve what happened to him.

Idk what to say about Tee...I think if New succeeded at revenge with anyone it's definitely him, my GOD.

Fluke, Por, and Top...um okay...not gonna lie...idc lol

Out this whole series nothing was creepier than that shot of the house. lol

I think the ending is supposed to be a bit confusing in a way. Not like confusing to where it doesn't make sense but I think just as much as Phee questions it, we are supposed to. Was everything in that house a hallucination? Did anyone actually die? Did Tee, Phee, and Jin really live?

Non, baby I am so sorry.

[hkthatgffan]

As someone dying of lupus (it's hard to draw atm due to shakey hands), and is slow with comissions, I never ask for money first, rather than after i finish. And if I don't get it done in 3 months, I apologize and try to give them a free doodle of their choice, no money given to me at all.

Even if I moved slow, I'd always keep them up to speed with what was happening, if I can/cannot do the drawing or give them something small and free to compensate for the months gone by so at least someone gets a little something for waiting.

And if I get it done, then I get my payment (since my health is unpredictable, I like to get paid after. Makes me feel better, to not be paid upfront because it makes me feel better on touching up, asking if changes needed to the art, anything added, etc. Or if my health simply won't allow, at least they'll get something in the end.)

Idk. I just find it rather cruel to leave people in the dark like that. I deal with abuse, awful illnesses litterally tearing me apart, i've lost half if not most my family and had to do artwork or refund/explain if artwork couldn't be completed regardless.

There's no excuse to leave people behind, block, ignore,ghost, and run off with cash.

I've met really rude people in this fandom, and I really wish people would just take five seconds to go "ok here's what's happening, do you want your cash back?" Like it's not hard.

The day of the last few gf episodes, I was in the hospital because my organs weren't working properly and almost exploded my digestive track due to nerve damage,

Yet I still managed to

Let my friends know the art trades will be unfinished and you won't need to give me anything in return (because i always prefer to do them first incase something happens)

Let those who did used to pay me first get their 15 bucks back

All while my insides almost ruptured from gastroparesis 🎉🥳 and my friend died all in the same day i went and stayed two weeks in the hospital desperately trying to apologize for the delay and doing whatever I could to explain my situation and if they needed anything in return/makeup for it.

That's straight up MEAN to ignore and block someone and run off with the cash. There's no excuse.

Even when I was screaming in agony in my hospital bed, I still managed to give a refund or something or talk to the person and not leave them in the dust. :/

I am so sorry you were left in the dark.

OMG, I'm so, so sorry about all you've been through. That is honestly a truly painful and horrible thing to endure I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemies and people who like with you, made me endure some of the worst that I've seen from people in this fandom.

But also you're right. No matter the reason and no matter how long it may be, a person who has accepted a job...be it an art commission or something else, should at the bare minimum, communicate with the person they are being paid to do that for.

The sad thing is that me and everyone I mentioned in my post had been doing things the right way for ages. We gave Kiki-Kit time (more than we should've), communicated to her through the proper channels she had set up, were nice and patient and yet she never responded to any of us. It literally left us with no choice but to call her out...something none of us wanted to do!

That's what really disappoints me about it all. IDC if she was to take another year to finish my commission. It was a non time sensitive comm I just got from her cause it was a chance to support an artist I respected and admired who was going through a rough time and get a personalized art piece from them. But her lack of communicating really has been upsetting. No matter what she was going through, she could have at least made a post or update to us saying things would take time or even just not say an arbitrary completion date and then miss it with months without another update. No one would be mad at her if she just communicated with us better. That's all that this boils down to; lack of communication!

I get upset and apologize if I miss messaging someone back even for a few hours. And I feel even worse if I miss a DM or message sent my way and then see it maybe days later. None of us are after Kiki-Kit or want her to be remembered for this by the fandom. It pained me greatly to make that post. But with all that has come out, it was overdue.

I still believe she can rectify this all if she just responds and agrees to refund or complete comms from everyone still waiting, that's all it'll take. I doubt anyone will wanna buy a comm from her again who are aware of all this, but at least it's better than not responding to people who fucking paid her and are waiting!

At this point personally, I'm getting my money back from her if she does offer it and so are probably everyone else who I've spoken to. It's not something I want to do given the whole reason behind why she did those comms in the first place...but this whole situation has just left a bad taste in us all and quite frankly, we've had enough.

I just hope if or when Kiki-Kit does address this all, she does better moving forward.

[mental-ch-illness]

um i really don't know who to ask about this so i hope you don't mind this here. im in a capital b Bad place rn, not necessarily mentally but productivity-wise i am non-functional. have known i am autistic for years now but recently finally got a diagnosis which opened up new help routes from the govt. i love with and am entirely reliant on my parents. im supposed to be a student but can't attend school bc Fuck Up.

my parents are suffering so much bc of me and are very uneducated about autism and everything is really difficult for us right now. we are a large family and so far treatment for me had cost SOOOOOO MUCH and im still not getting any better. my parents discovered ABA therapy and want to put me through it. they don't understand anything about the negatives they are just desperate for things to get better no matter what it costs on my end (which makes sense since im the one putting them thru this). i know they love me but it hurts a lot knowing how little they understand when they things like "well why can't you just do that" when they learn what masking is (i already do and also it's painful and that's such a shitty solution).

im so scared they're gonna make me do ABA and it's really expensive (you sign up for a chunk of sessions at a time and each one is 8k)(we are NOT RICH) but i can't just refuse because this has been going on for so long and everyone is miserable and im ruining my family. i can't just refuse a potential solution. but im so terrified i've heard the stories of what happens to people who go through ABA and i DONT WANT THAT TO HAPPEN TO ME

im a minor, financially dependent on them, and i love them more than anything so i can't just leave or smthn; they are always arguing and crying and it's always bc of me and i just want to be better for them; but they want me to do ABA

i need advice im so sorry i just don't know what to do at all anymore. should i suck it up and try it? it might break me inside but if it gets my outsides to function properly maybe it doesn't matter idk

I am so sorry you're going through all this. I want to reassure you that your parents very much love you. You are not a fuck up. School is not built for us. It's made to funnel people in structured 9-5 jobs with little support for anyone who can't fit into those boxes. I have been where you are now and I promise you that it does get better. It takes time and hard work— like... a lot of hard work— but it does get better. Hopefully your new diagnosis allows you to have more treatment options and you are able to achieve so much!

As someone who has experience with ABA, I have So Many Thoughts™️. ABA can be useful at teaching life skills, such as sorting, cleaning, safety information, communication, and tolerating overwhelming situations (example: doctors/dentists, school, etc). Personally, I find that it CAN be a great tool... but only in the right hands AND in a properly trauma informed and emotionally responsive environment.

Unfortunately, most people view ABA as a way to control problematic behaviors and increase compliance, instead of a form of theory that allows for a better understanding of the functioning of behavior. Personally, I think it is can be used for very young children or those who have much higher support needs. Again, it should be used to teach basic life skills. Even when that is the focus of a learner's program, it's very easy to get wrong which can lead to traumatization, prompt dependence, and more.

The field of ABA is just like any field of science and will need time to grow and change, but it's not something I can provide my full confidence in at this current. While it has improved in many ways since its early conception (it's kind of hard to get worse than rebirthing), it still has a long way to go. One of the biggest problems with ABA is that it fails to take the experiences of those with Autism into account. It took months of cajoling before I could convince an ABA practitioner to approve a oral stim toy for their client, and within that first week their self biting went from over 100 instances a day to less then 50. The practitioner seemed so shocked that an autistic person might just have a good idea or two on how to help another autistic person. Go figure.

Personally, I would look into Dialectical Behavior Therapy. DBT is known to help those with Autism learn to cope with emotionally overwhelming situations as well as sensory overload. Another really great thing about DBT is that there is often a group therapy aspect to it, which helps those with autism learn to interact positively in social environments with others who are going through similar experiences.

Hope this helps!