#but if they start to deteriorate then there goes my trust

[kikizoshi]

Funfact: whenever I see you complain about BSD having too many plot holes I'm incredibly amused, because I get reminded of a series I followed for about 8 years by now and has only revealed the answer to one of its core mysteries after 500+ weekly chapters. I see that we still have 4 more years before we can call anything in BSD a plot hole.

Ah, yeah, I can see that. And I do like stories that give you plenty of room/time for analysis. For me, whether or not I deem something a likely plot hole at all comes down to how much trust I have in the author.

For example, there are so many unexplained things about Bloodborne, and I love going through all the lore, the various takes, everything everyone's managed to compile—and when something doesn't quite seem to add up, I think that there must be something we missed. Because I have faith in the creators of Bloodborne, and I know they wouldn't put in something without there being a meaning behind it. I've a similar feeling for whenever a character in Arcane acts differently than I would have expected—that I must be missing something, because Arcane is so well-written that character inconsistencies are extremely unlikely. But it's because of my trust in the writers of these works that I can engage with them in that way. I have to believe that there's something there, a deeper meaning behind the contradiction I've unearthed, otherwise any effort on my end is meaningless.

And, with BSD... It's hard for me to explain, but it's just not well-written a fair amount of the time. It has parts that really shine, and then it has... space time sword. And, yes, it's possible that some of the plot holes will come back and be filled later (hopefully not with a retcon), but plenty of them are just lost, floating in the sands of time, never to be seen again. And that's only regarding plot holes—there are plenty of perfectly understandable things that don't make a lick of sense either.

I feel like, with BSD, more characters and new plots are valued over satisfyingly concluding old ones, and the whole story suffers heavily for it. That may be why his shorter, more self-contained stories are so much better, actually.

So, at this point, I have very little trust in Asagiri as a writer, to write a story in a consistent and well-thought-out way, which is why I'm so aggravated with it. Because I've seen/read stories of his that were actually good, but in his long-form, overarching shounen-type plot, he just seems to flounder ever more with each passing year.

But, yeah, TLDR: I do know plenty of stories take their time, but whether I consider inconsistencies plot holes or clues depends mainly on how much trust I have in the author's writing abilities.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Was thinking about your au and realized that whichever neighbour wakes up last is in for a very awkward reunion

Imagine waking up to your entire neighbourhood being in an apocalyptic scenario, and you’re the last to find out about it-

technically the last neighbor is Sally BUT Julie is the last "normal-sleeping" neighbor to wake and yeah! she sure has a hell of a time! i mean tbh it's kinda her And Barnaby? they wake up within a week of each other (the neighbors wake via Pacific Rim kaiju rules) so their breakdowns overlap <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Lifetime: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow

Travis thinks about you all the time when he’s on the road. His dreams are filled with the taste of your honey on his lips and the sound of your ecstasy in his ears. You presence is nothing more than a memory when he’s on the rodeo circuit but those other girls, the belt bunnies, they don’t get a second look.

You’re the only person he trusts with the news that his condition has deteriorated, that he’s now in liver failure. It’s a wakeup call, especially for the man who thought that he was going to live forever.

“I’ve done everything you told me.” He argues with the specialist. “I’ve quit the drinking, changed my diet…”

“That’s just the way it goes.” He’s told in a sterile room with his scans hanging up on the wall for him to see. “Sometimes the damage is too great.”

He flies to Yellowstone that afternoon from Texas because he can’t stand another minute away from you.

“I’m dying.” He tells you as he lays tangled up in bed with you, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “The end, it’s coming quicker than I thought.”

He expects you to leave because this is a burden he wouldn’t wish on anyone. He’s going to get sicker, it’s just a matter of time. It breaks his heart because he offered you a future and now he’s ripping it away.

“You promised me a lifetime.” You whisper against this lips as your fingertips trace along his grizzled cheek. “I’ll take whatever’s left of yours.”

He doesn’t think he can love you more than he does in that moment.

You go on the road with him. You leave behind your home, your job, your life because you want to spend the rest of the time you have together loving him.

When you start to compete for the first time in three years, he’s exhilarated. He’s seen you race in Yellowstone, he’s watched you train the up and commers but he’s never seen you in your element. When you win, there’s a fire in your eyes, a passion that he recognises in his own heart. He’s never felt as proud as he does in that moment. He’s weaker these days but he’s still there to lift you down from your horse when you trot back to the paddock. He can’t express the joy he feels at the sensation of you in his arms as the crowd cheers.

“We should start telling people.” You say as you press a cold compress to the back of his neck after he spends the morning throwing up. “You’re going to have to stop soon.”

He knows you’re right but he can’t face that right now, once people smell weakness on the circuit you’re as good as gone and he wants to compete as long as he can.

It’s when he takes that fall that everything changes. One minute he’s in the midst of wrangling a calf in the centre of a televised arena, the next he’s waking up on the dusty floor in the recovery position, vomiting his guts out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rip demands when he wakes up in a hospital bed surrounded by brightly coloured flowers and helium balloons. He counts at least seven horse plushies littered around the room.

“You know why.” Travis says forcefully.

Rip sighs as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket because yea, he gets it.

“I’m a match.” He says finally. “I got tested while you were out. The docs are getting it on the books as we speak.”

“Rip.” Travis says, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

He knows the repercussions of this surgery. Rip will be out of action for six months maybe a year. Travis has the means to weather that but Rip, he doesn’t.

“You always were a stubborn son of a bitch.” Rip says before he tilts his head towards the glass window. Travis can see you on the opposite side, your arms crossed over your chest as you talk to his doctor. “If you won’t let me do this for you, then let me do it for your girl, let me do it so that the two of you can live a long, happy life together.”

Travis can’t find a way to argue with that because that’s all he wants, more time, with you, with Rip, with all the people he actually gives a shit about.

That evening he calls John Dutton to his hospital room and they begin to make arrangements. Between them they make sure that Rip’s going to be taken care of throughout the duration of his recovery, no matter how long it may take.

It isn’t until the day of the surgery that Travis realises just how terrified of hospitals Rip actually is. He endures the checkups through gritted teeth, he keeps his gaze trained on the TV, switching the channels constantly in an attempt to distract himself. Travis, he’s an old hand at this shit by now, he’s spend the past year in and out of treatment but Rip…

This is the longest he’s ever been inside one.  

“I’m buying you a fucking horse after this.” Travis tells him as he tips his head towards the other man. “An expensive one, a stud. You’ll make four, five grand everytime the thing pops a woody.”

“I don’t want a fucking horse.” Rip tells him as he turns off the TV and gestures to the pony plushie nestled against Travis’s chest, Rip has a matching one that he keeps stroking his fingers over. “What I want is for you to marry that girl as soon as you get out of here.”

“Can’t do that if I don’t have a best man.” Travis remarks as he studies the cuddly toy once more. It looks exactly like his rodeo horse Crash.

“OK.” Rip tells him, tucking his own plushie underneath the crook of his arm. “You pop the question and I’m there, you just tell me where and when.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[animentality]

In response to your post about radfems and men, a few years ago I started going down the radfem rabbit hole, a lot of this came from being in a community of men who actually /were/ psychopaths, along with having a father and grandfather who were too. I have PPD as well, so seeing these men act this way and having radfems whispering in my ear "All men want to kill you, all men want to kill you" was DETERIORATING me like acid. I cannot describe to you the hell I was living in each day due to paranoia eating away at me. It felt like my own spirit was a chain link fence turning into rust.

Then I met my husband, and he completely changed my life. And yes I know women can save themselves, we aren't all damsels in distress, but I honestly /was/ too bad off to just pull myself out of it. Since fear of men was the biggest thing killing me from the inside out, a man coming along and showing me that I can both trust people AND at least some men, seriously subdued a massive chunk of my rage, hatred and fear. And he really goes above and beyond too! Every problem I have had he has helped me to fix, along with showing me how to do things myself. Some people may not like that it was a man who "rescued" me, but I don't owe it to anyone to be an idyllic girl power success story, I owe it to myself and to our son to not be a terrified wreck.

I mean I have always suspected that radfems and terfs were like this.

Like my going theory is that if you believe men are irredeemable monsters who can only hurt other people all the time, you clearly don't have good relationships, with anyone at all.

That kind of mistrust of your fellow human beings comes from a well of hurt and paranoia that you're not addressing properly.

I'm glad you found someone to help and love you, though. And I don't think it's anti feminist to need someone to rescue you either.

what's so wrong with being saved, no matter who or what does it?

nice metaphor with the chain link fence btw. that'll live on in my mind for a bit.

[draculovemp3]

@revenge-of-the-assbutt @firstaidspray @sachermorte thank u for enabling me NEWAY since I’ve been too dead to do any of my own hobbies here’s some thoughts on House & Co’s physical hobbies/lil crafts & such they do in the comfort of their home<3:

House: canonically does a ton of shit like piano/guitar/cooking/so on but In the spirit of him resisting change (At Times!) I think he’s gotten very good if not makes a fun time out of mending clothes🥺…. Didn’t wanna throw away his favorite shirts so it started w small hems+resizings until he looked up more tips online and get decorative w it. Pretty contrasting colors/patterns now randomly laid on his shirts and pants w only the careful eye(Cuddy+Wilson) to notice. If anyone cares

Wilson: gardening. Well as much one can do within his apartments/pretty nonplant friendly homes. He’s not a super greenthumb expert but it always gives him a lil confidence boost when he’s able to grow out spices and herbs & such to use in his cooking ♥️

Cuddy: she seems like a collage-making kind of girlie💗💗 no specific theme in em or anything but she still holds onto the potential self-aid of making vision boards and it’s relaxing for her to go thru magazines/etc + cut out whatever interests her enough to use. Rachel tries and cutely fails to help 💓💓💓

Chase: ironically enough for the prodigal son lol but . He genuinely seems like someone who enjoys spending time in silence/music doing puzzles w 1000+ pieces & such #DWEEB❤️. House once got him a 5000 piece puzzle of a kangaroo or w/e as a joke and he is Determined to complete it. In due time chase…

Foreman: the thought of Foreman crocheting is so dear to me….. he doesn’t rly tell anyone ab it but there’s a lot of half-finished + worn projects as proof around his home. #angsting it sorry but I think he took it up after his mom started deteriorating bc she crocheted too and it was a fonder reminder + sumn they could do together. One yr he gave the fellow ducklings scarves he made as Xmas gift. Not that he told him he made it tho😅#repressed

Cameron: I think she has a moderately sized zen garden on a table somewhere in her home she takes SERIOUS. Changes the lines/circles in the sand periodically, sees what new arrangement of rocks she can do etc etc. Girl that thing is meant to be relaxing!! also colorcodes/sticker-covers/etc her planner like a CHAMP.

Amber: she has the most well-detailed prettiest most concerning-when-read journal/diary everrrr. Dedicates a specific time in every day to it w specific pens of various colors. Some of the recounting even have lil doodles or if she takes the journal out w her she draws her view wherever she is<3 they’re literal chickenscratch but its still fun and fulfilling. It’s a bibleesque piece to Wilson’s Amber shrine btw

Thirteen: she’s hard to analyze for me soz 13heads I do love her #trust… nonetheless I bet she goes to hella dance classes. Partially for the exercise partially for the fun partially for the need to experience Life partially for the women. Heh. She’s rly into zumba, jazz, contemporary classes to be specific.

Taub: ok ok so remember when he did/bought pottery or w/e to convince his wife he was being faithful. I think he’d do it for real as a joke/alibi then be like wait…. This is kinda fun…? There’s no constraints to what he can make + the sculpting reminds him vaguely of plastic surgery work so he keeps it up.

Kutner: I think he draws + writes his own lil comics/zines 🫶 they’re mostly scifi or superhero and more than a lil inspired by his fave preexisting medias . He likes using the crazy cases he’s experienced w House as story inspo. Also he 4 sure runs dnd campaigns so well and fun. Btw

Masters: she’s a suckerrrr for trivia nights my lil nerd wife<3 but um anyway when she wants to relax she Really doesn’t want sumn that can become info overload so in free time she’ll make friendship bracelets, lil shapes/figures out of string, etc. Will someone please give this woman a full on loom to go cray with!!!!

Park: I can see it so clearly . I can see her lil handpainted warhammer and other tabletop game figures so perfectly in my head. She paints more than she actually plays(but she does !). God save you if you touch or tumble them.

Adams: I kinda DGAF about her sorry women… hmm there’s sumn compelling ab her doing blackout poetry plus occasionally full-on written when the inspo hits! started as a boredom thing in her job in the prison w whatever book she brought in then she kept on doing it w more and more written pieces she comes across.

I put so much time into this. Perhaps too much.😭feel free to gimme y’all’s thoughts on this/ur own ideas :3

[chrisrin]

What did bismuth Dirk make Hal FOR?

ALRIGHT! TIME FOR MY SECOND STORY DUMP! We need a bit of context before we get to Hal, so bear with me. (this is a long as fuck post)

SO! Dave and Dirk both come from Homeworld, as all gems do. I'm not super sure on the exacts, as the Alpha Kids are the first ones to leave together and they pick up the Beta Kids later but, we're kind of floating around the idea of Bro being Yellow Diamond or having some sort of equivalent power. Both Dirk and Dave are gems under Yellow, Dirk being a Bismuth and Dave being a Carnelian.

Plot stuff happens, Dirk escapes and at some point comes back to get Dave and now they have a whole squad and all that, yadda-yadda. However, during their escape from Homeworld, something Bad happens and causes Dave to get injured (don't know what it is yet but it's something)

Dave's gem gets cracked but everyone still makes it out okay. Due to whatever the circumstances are surrounding this, only Dave and Dirk know of the status of Dave's gem, Dave starts wearing actual clothing upon getting to Earth to hide his cracked gem, using the excuse that it's cool and he's trying to vibe with the style.

Dirk is a Bismuth, he's been trained his whole life to create weapons of war and things for destruction, and now, faced with one of the people he's come to care about most, it's the one time he can't fix a problem by putting a hammer to it. He can't help Dave, and Dirk blames himself for letting Dave get hurt in the first place, thinking he wasn't strong enough to protect him.

As time goes on, Dave gets worse, and especially after escaping Homeworld, Dave's cracked gem prevents him from spawning his weapon. This means Dave is filled with trauma on top of feeling deeply defenseless, coming from a place where having a weapon on you at all times was the only thing keeping you alive.

Dirk, watching Dave's deterioration, decides that enough is enough and he seeks out Pink Diamond. Upon finding Feferi, Dirk trades in something (A deal? A service?) in exchange for some of her healing material. He brings it to Dave and heals his gem.

So, you'd assume everything's fine and dandy now, right? Surely.

But no, it's Dirk, so it's not.

Dirk looks at this situation and says, "I'm never going to let this happen again" and concludes that the reason Dave got hurt was because he, Dirk, was not strong enough. So Dirk asks, "How do I get stronger?"

At some point during this time, the group is all out doing stuff together and Dirk watches Sollux save all their asses from something. Dirk realizes Sollux is statistically the stronger gem out of the whole group and puts two-and-two together (literally), concluding that what he needs to be powerful is...

Fusion. (do you see where this is heading?)

Will Dirk go and ask Sollux about this? Will he go and maybe ask Roxy, who he trusts? Will he talk to Dave and get his thoughts?

No, of course not. Because Dirk is a little stupid.

Dirk theorizes that if he can splinter his own gem and create an artificially copied fragment of himself, he'd be able to fuse with himself which would avoid having to rely on other people. So Dirk does the one thing he wasn't going to do to Dave. He takes the hammer to himself.

This, as you would imagine, goes fucking horribly wrong.

Dirk creates Hal, who is only a very small sliver of Bismuth. A corrupted gem that can't properly speak, seems to be intelligent, but also fucking hates Dirk.

Dirk, panicked, both because now his own gem is fucked up, but now because he has a little Dude running around his workshop, decides "oh fuck I need to fix this" and tries to fuse with Hal.

It doesn't work. Their fusion isn't stable. They can't fuse back together.

Dirk, having no idea what to do, decides to hide Hal away in his workshop and does his best to lie to everyone. Dave is suspicious, as Dirk starts to wear clothing that covers his gem, but Dave also isn't one for emotional vulnerability so he doesn't ask. Dirk continues to lie to most of everyone, even as his own state gets worse and worse.

Eventually, Sollux realizes what Dirk did. And he's fucking pissed. The lie gets uncovered and Sollux is ANGRY. Remember when Pearl lied to Garnet about the tower and the whole Sardonyx thing? It's like that, but both sides are angry at each other and refuse to apologize.

The rest of the group do their best to take care of Hal, they try to help Dirk fuse properly with him but it's not working, and Dirk keeps trying to force it but they aren't stable.

Eventually, something happens, and Dave gets poofed while they're out on an adventure (obviously Dave can recover, but it's a huge scare for Dirk). It's something Dirk could've easily protected Dave from, but now because he fragmented himself, he's even weaker than before. This is the final tipping stone for Dirk.

He goes to Sollux and apologizes, begging him to help him figure out fusion.

Sollux, resigned, sighs and agrees to help him. With time, Sollux slowly teaches Hal and Dirk how to work together and fuse, gradually helping them become more and more stable until finally they can fuse together and be like normal again.

Even after all of this, Hal and Dirk fused together aren't any more powerful than they were before. But Dirk grew in a different way, learning to trust others and see that not all his problems can be solved by just relying on himself.

Sollux, seeing Dirk & Hal's growth, who have now become a proper permafusion, offers to fuse with them if he wants to try it. Dirk smiles and shakes his head, and says that he'll be happy with where he is for right now, though he wouldn't mind taking it up in the future. Sollux is beaming back, satisfied that Dirk learned his lesson. (and then when shit goes down in the future we have this fucking awesome moment where Dirk and Sollux fuse together for the first time and theyre so fucking cool and i physicall explode)

ANYWAYS THAT'S MY STORY DUMP. LONG-ASS POST I KNOW BUT I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THEM! HOPE THIS ANSWERS YOUR QUESTION!!

[dittomoon]

My elderly cat Amber had to go to the vet today - yesterday she started peeing outside her litter box and was off her food, so I made an urgent appointment.

I don’t know exactly how old she is because her old owners moved house and left her behind - I started putting food out for her and once she trusted me I brought her in, but she was already pushing Old then, and that was about 12 years back.

It’s awful to abandon any animal, but it tears me up with Amber because she’s so sweet - she’s the most affectionate old lady, you can literally fuss her all day and she won’t get enough - she has nothing but love in her and I can’t comprehend how she could be left behind.

Ambers kidney function is deteriorating and there isn’t really anything the vet can do - she’s very very old. She’s been put on painkilling injections, and the vet has suggested we see how that goes - it might buy her a little more comfortable time.

But if it doesn’t help her, the vet has told me it might be kindest to put her to sleep. I just don’t want her to be in pain or discomfort. I have to take her back in a week.

On the plus side, since the painkiller, her appetite is back and she’s been more herself since we got home - I’m just trying to take it day by day, keep an eye on her, and do her what’s best for her even though it hurts. But right now she’s happy.

[kanencrow]

TWDG S4 When they come across another group who is around their age and more put together than they are? And have a female leader? If not that’s okay

Strong Independent Women - The Walking Dead | Headcanon

A/N: Ah, I love the idea! Hope you enjoy! Also, reader goes by she/her pronouns, as per request.

SUMMARY: How would Clementine react to Y/n, who manages a large group that's more organized than her own?

WARNINGS: Weapons.

WORD COUNT: 1090

To say that none of them are impressed would be a blatant lie. Most of the Ericson kids don't know much about how difficult it truly is to have an organized group full of skilled individuals, but Clementine certainly does. Automatically, she gives you her respect, and she tries to make an ally out of you. I mean, why wouldn’t she? When you and your team came knocking on her front gates, she was pretty intimidated at first when she spotted the assault rifles and snipers in your and your buddies’ arms. And then when she found out that you were just wanting to meet the other communities that were near your own, she significantly relaxed. 

“We just moved into an old warehouse just outside of the woods,” you informed, as you handed your rifle to one of the members that stood right beside you. “I was told by one of my guys that there was another community around here. We just wanted to visit and let you know that we’re no threat to you and your people.” 

“Okay.” Clementine crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at you. She somewhat trusted your statement. You didn’t sound very unconvincing, but she still had her reservations. “What’s your group called, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Haven,” you answered, “it’s pretty simple, but it lets people know that we’re not out here trying to harm innocent people.” You shrugged your shoulders, before you rested your hands on your hips and sent the brunette a kind smile. “I’m Y/n, by the way. Nice to meet you.” 

“Clementine,” she replied, introducing herself, too. A weight lifted from her shoulders in that moment, and you even noticed how she visibly relaxed, when she sent you a friendly nod. “Welcome to Ericson.” 

She was quick to realize that you wanted nothing other than to assist and serve. It was refreshing, honestly. Usually, she had to defend herself and her own people from groups that wanted to solely destroy and take. She felt much more confident with her own safety after you committed allegiance to her community. And not long after, the two of you became close. It was bound to happen, though. You both were leaders, just wanting to take care of others, and in turn that made each of you more similar to one another than not. 

There’s a lot of nights the two of you spend together where it just consists of the both of you going over plans for ways to connect your communities together. You have a lot of manpower, practically a whole army, and Clementine has a lot of supplies that she and the other Ericson kids scavenged from the Delta. She tells you of that story, and to say you were impressed would have been an understatement. It put into perspective just how skilled she really was with leading. Honestly, you two quickly became a force to be reckoned with, just because of how knowledgeable each of you were about particular things. 

Usually, most people wouldn’t bat an eye at two women being the leaders of their communities. You guys do get flack sometimes, but it’s quickly extinguished by the one’s that are the most loyal to you. They understand just how powerful you and the brunette really are. Both separately, you each can kick ass, and together, that strength multiplies. That certainly doesn’t go to your heads, however. Just because you have respect and are able to control large groups, that doesn’t inherently make you invincible, and you understand that. 

It does eventually get to a point in life, where the better option would be to merge Ericson and Haven together. The school was starting to deteriorate after a while. Wood was rotting, black mold was forming, and with your group having much better living conditions and a multitude of space, you offered up the option. At first, Clementine didn’t really like the idea. She didn’t want to pack up and move into a place that was completely uncharted to her, but after proposing the idea of a few of her people moving in to test the environment out, she seemed a little more lenient.

Louis and Ruby went to stay at your community for a week, and when they came back, they couldn’t stress it enough to Clementine just how comfortable the building was. Unlike the school, you had generators that provided electricity, water, and heat on those especially frigid days. It wasn’t like you were trying to brag, but with how many people you had, it was pretty easy to send them on missions to find supplies that would truly benefit everyone. Everyone had jobs, and with those jobs, they could make money to buy products for themselves. It was like an actual society, and that seemed to be what convinced your fellow leader friend.

It was hard to say goodbye to Ericson for some of the kids, but they knew it was for the best. None of them wanted to die from the black mold that attempted to invade their lungs. And neither did they want to possibly get crushed by a weak wooden beam while they walked down a random corridor. Not many of them had a lot to pack away, so the move was relatively easy, other than the cold weather that they had to bear. However, when they made it to Haven, they were immediately warmed and wrapped in nothing but kind smiles and heat. 

Your people were welcoming to Clementine’s. Some even befriended each other, and you felt like a proud mother with the brunette, who was particularly amused at the way Louis tried to impress some girl he thought was cute. Even AJ found a lot of friends, too. He was once a kid who felt lonely, but he fell into a lot of close relationships with the other kids around your community. That was what made a certain ball-capped woman the happiest, you thought.

Clementine didn’t lose her leadership, either. You quickly had her become your right-hand, and you thought it was the best decision you could have made. It helped you with your stress and took some of the weight of responsibility off of your shoulders. Even your friends noticed your change in behavior, and whenever you were around the brunette, they couldn’t help but smirk in endearment at the way you seemed to shine just a little bit brighter around her. 

Call it a crush or deep admiration. Either way, it was mutual.

[cdroloisms]

Oh I was just haunted by jmah!Dream’s deteriorating mental state

:C my BOYYY

and it's awful, too, because it's not like Dream is in a particularly good state of mind when the prison starts in the first place. and he's in here because he's terrified (and he's in here as punishment) and he's in here because even though Sam hates him--and he's ensured that Sam hates him, and he's planning to do more to make sure of that fact as well (in canon, c!Dream is talking to c!Sam 'all about exile' in those first few days)--Sam will do his job. he trusts him to do his job. he knows Sam, the man that he's worked with for the last month on this project, on making sure this prison is as secure as it can possibly be, one of the final few people to work with him before the events of the green festival, doomsday, staged finale etc. made sure he'd stand alone, just where he was supposed to. this is a Dream that's already been swimming in the lava before Sam travels back in time.

unlike Sam's betrayal in canon, there's nothing slow about what happens in JMAH. there's no ability for him to cope and go yeah, Sam's being kind of serious, but it's no big deal, yeah, this place kind of sucks, but it's survivable, yeah, there's some mistreatment, but I expected that. in an instant, Sam goes from a predictable cog in the machine meant to keep him alive into a stranger hellbent on torturing the fuck out of him, and he has no idea why. Sam is nowhere near as straightforward as Quackity in explaining what the hell he wants out of Dream--he asks for the book, sure, but also for information, also for complete obedience, also for explanations for things he shouldn't know and punishments for things he never did. there is no promise that the revive book will end anything, for this Dream, and no one to give him anything at all but the Warden.

just ,, the lengths to which this Sam is willing to go, the intensity of his obsession, the way he'd be left reeling with no choice other than to endure and wonder why breaks my heart. Dream has no fucking clue to what end this is all for, and i think he struggles a lot with that. worse than just the torture, perhaps, is the familiarity, the sparks of something that is almost fondness, the satisfaction in Sam's voice when he's gotten something and Dream isn't even sure what he's just given away--and maybe it'd be easier to understand if what Sam wanted from him were any more straightforward, if the desire could pan out as something as simple as sadistic pleasure at hurting him or deriving some kind of gratification from making him submit or wanting power or to eliminate a threat or anything, but all that is clear is that Sam wants something from him and will stop at nothing to get it.

c!Dream and identity is already a finicky thing as well as his whole complex about himself and evil--c!Dream thinks he's a person that does evil things to achieve good ends, but he struggles pretty heavily, honestly, with himself-as-evil and being viewed as evil-and-just-evil and actually being the tyrant-villain-monster-snake-that-just-bites, etc, which means that there is a level of vulnerability here when it comes to how he sees himself and builds his identity and the constant, relentless onslaught of . pain and torture combined with Sam justifying it all by Who He Is Innately and monologuing about how he deserves it all, because c!Dream isn't a person that doesn't think that punishment as a concept is wrong and doesn't necessarily disagree that he's evil either. and again. torture self harm box of mental illness. and part of the problem with a Sam that's fresh from Daedalus and then thrust into kind of the worst possible position of reflecting on those conversations by being in a place where he's able to fall hard on old habits to copium his way out of dealing with anything he personally might have done (because obviously he can just Fix It Now) while also having the additional cope of i-am-godsent-to-make-everything-better BY keeping dream in a box, you kind of get a situation where both Dream and Sam are psychologically in pretty vulnerable places and then you're taking a torture machine hammer to those stress points. so it's fun.

i have no clue if that last paragraph made any kind of sense btw.

but ... yeah. even for any character in any kind of state the insane torture contraption of torture efficiency would be. erm. extremely damaging to one's mental health, to say the least. the only good thing for dream i guess is that sam still has his head too far up his own ass to actually git gud at conditioning anyone deliberately and is therefore still largely skating by By Accident, because otherwise his head would've been even more blendered than it already gets.

[compassionatereminders]

Over the last year and half, the emotional abuse in the abusive household I live in hit critical levels, my health deteriorated completely, I lost control of the OCD I didn't know I had and had been suppressing for years, I became so suicidal that I had to be hospitalized, I decided to burn all my friendships to the ground so I could kill myself. Worst of all, I hurt my best friend so badly and continually for months when she was trying her best to help me that she finally walked away and the rest of my friend group all blocked me in disgust.

They have every right to be hurt and I respect why they walked away. I'm even glad they protected themselves. But I feel like it's not fair to write me off for it. I don't know if that's what they've done, but they did it to another friend of ours who turned toxic because she was going through the worst time of her life. Who she was as a person and who she was for all the other years she was our friend didn't matter to them. They didn't just take space from her but leave the door open for her to come back when she took her head out of her ass like I did, even though it was me she targeted worst. I was hurt and angry on her behalf, and I think that was the beginning of the end of my friendships with them too, because that was when I started getting anxious that they'd do the same to me if I became too problematic. It was the OCD and fear of rejection that triggered that finally ended up taking over my whole mind. But even if it ended up being a self-fulfulling prophecy, I think if they've written me off completely like they did our other friend, they weren't that good as friends.

On the other hand I understand and even appreciate that the last straw was how I treated my best friend. If anyone else had treated her the way I did I would be the first to turn completely against them and hold a grudge for it too. It's one thing to hurt me, but it's another to hurt her. The fact that they all blocked me is a sign that they're caring for her the way I wanted her to be cared for back before I turned into a screeching harpy. I don't expect her to take me back but she's also the only person I trust to not judge me and our whole friendship by what I did at my worst.

Basically, I think the rest of them being angry on her behalf is justified, but if they've written me off on their own behalf they can kick rocks. Which is not a thought I have ever had in my life towards someone I've hurt, mentally ill or not. It disturbs me. Simply putting all the hurt I caused to a mental breakdown feels like I'm side-stepping taking accountability when the mental illness was the worsening of behavioural issues I've had my whole life. I've tried to address them but I didn't know what I was doing wrong, and I tended to blow up my relationships right before I got a diagnosis for each of my psych problems. I can never figure out how much agency I had in my choices.

It's all so confusing and contradictory. Is this more self-victimising? Am I standing up for myself or refusing to take accountability?

I'm really sorry you're struggling and hurting, and my heart goes out to you, but a brutal fact of life is that anyone has the right to cut contact with anyone for any reason, and this is a truth we have to make peace with or at least respect.

[rfaromance]

Rika.

Love her or hate her, no Mystic Messenger player can deny that she is central to the overarching plot of the game.

Depending on your view of her, her major role in Ray (Saeran) After Ending is either intriguing, exciting, frustrating, or infuriating.

Personally, I loved the portrayal, insight, and development in Rika during the RAE. Read below the cut for my Rika thoughts. Spoilers abound for Ray's route, RAE, Rika Behind, and even the Secret Ending. Also, uh, it's a long post. Longcat long.

(If you're interested in opinions on the RAE from a Saeran-loving POV, I'd suggest you consult @marshmallowprotection who pours her heart and soul into her analyses, especially regarding Saeran.)

If you're reading now, I'm assuming you have enough background in the game's lore where I don't need to explain the basics, so I'm going to dive right in.

At the start of Another Story, our well-intentioned but common-sense-challenged MC ends up being personally escorted to Mint Eye. And MC chooses to fixate on Ray and his mysteries and allure, ultimately trusting the not-so-honest rose boy instead of the highly mysterious V, who apparently is not an AI but also should not be anywhere near this cult.

In MC's defense, sometimes it's easier to choose the evil you know versus the evil you don't.

Rika doesn't have a problem with this, initially. She knows that she needs to throw Ray a bone. Allowing him to have a little doll like MC to dress up and pose and control and adore will appease him, and he has a plan to make MC useful for her goals, anyway. It's a win in her book, to keep Ray indebted to his Savior and also the possibility of luring the RFA members to her faster.

But a major distinction exists between Rika in Another Story (AS) and Rika in the original timeline (OS). Much like Saeran's mental state deteriorated further over the extra year and 6 months (give or take) between AS and OS, giving us Unknown, so did Rika's. In the SE, she explicitly tells Unknown that he was a failure and she wanted Saeyoung instead. She no longer valued Saeran's prior contributions to Mint Eye or her mental state--she wanted results now, and she would sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve them.

(Well, almost anyone. Turns out sacrificing V was not what she wanted, after all.)

But her goals are different in Another Story. She's still pursuing her dreams of making people happy by "saving" them from a tainted world of pain, but she's still itching for the personal happiness she has wanted all her life: love.

She wants a loving family. She has never known what it feels like to have a family that loves her, as her earliest memories are in the orphanage, and she was adopted by a vile, hateful woman who cursed her and subjected her to physical and emotional pain, verbal abuse, neglect, humiliation, warped "religious" cult ideas of sin and salvation, and the list goes on.

When she learned of two twin children who needed loving, protective parental figures... she became obsessed. She could save them. Nobody ever saved her, but she could save them.

That delusion of forming a happy family with V and the twins only became worse after Mother Choi's death. (I hesitate to call it a murder, because it was an act of imperfect self-defense, and thus I'd argue it was voluntary manslaughter under USA law. But if we're being technical, under Korean law it's murder under extenuating circumstances. Legal jargon differs across countries.) Having taken Saeran's mother away from him, Rika got the idea that she needed to be his mother now. They would both have a good family now--that's a win-win, right?

This is the Rika we still see in Another Story. That's why she gives him the name Ray, to eliminate his past and all traces of V and Saeyoung, molding him into her obedient, doting son. That's why she dresses him up in layers upon layers and forces him to study hacking, so she can control every aspect of her sweet child. That's why she swipes Ray after she catches wind of his kiss with MC in the garden. She doesn't know or care who instigated the kiss; all she needs to know is that MC poses a risk to her fantasy, her game of house.

So she tortures Ray until he can become her puppet-son again. Except she ends up with Suit Saeran, and for the time being she'll allow that because at least he isn't tripping head over heels for MC.

That backfires too, and when Saeran frees himself of that stuffy suit and allows his body to breathe, once Saeran makes his own decision to abandon those shackles, follow his heart, apologize and atone for his wrongdoing, and break out of his gilded cage with MC... Rika loses it.

She's lost everything. Mint Eye be damned, she's lost her illusion that she will reach a "happily ever after."

So when V blames himself and crawls back to her, not wanting to see her crumble alone, she locks a collar and leash onto him. Honestly, it's the worst possible ending for V. He can't shake his self-hatred and guilt complex, and he feels the need to stand by Rika even as she sends them both on a path of destruction, because he refuses to abandon her like his father abandoned his mother. He didn't even love her anymore, but he wanted to give her the peace that he never could when they were together. This was how he felt he needed to pay for hurting her, even if it meant destroying himself.

Okay, screenshot is a good place to wrap up the backstory and dive into the RAE itself.

I've seen complaints that Rika's character was inconsistent in the RAE, but candidly I think the fluctuations in her goals, emotions, and actions represent her fragile mental state in a phenomenal way. She was highly sensitive and susceptible to emotional influence, whether positive or negative. The seemingly smallest, most trivial events could send her reeling. She clearly has a lot of mental health issues and trauma that have never properly been addressed. Instead she turned to the worst possible coping mechanisms: comphet, making a cult, and brainwashing folks into being your make-believe family.

She didn't team up with Saejoong because she likes the guy. She sees him as a means to an end: getting the twins to live with her in her game of house.

The "he" that Rika refers to in this chat is Saejoong. He's a horrendous parent, but he managed to capture Saeyoung, and therefore Rika sees him as a tool. She also is adamant that the younger twin is "Ray", not Saeran, because the boy she needs for her happy ending is the submissive one with pruned wings, not the independent one who flies away on his wings of love.

If MC tries to inquire into Rika's motivations, she simply says she chooses happiness and to focus on the small joys in life. She's no longer as guarded and high-strung, because she has much less to lose. She doesn't feel the need to be perfect, to be a Savior. She's at peace with herself, instead of constantly seeking approval. Part of that cab be attributed to V's (reluctant) acceptance of Rika for who she is, instead of trying to fix her.

She's trying to be more open and honest, and with that attempt we get a Rika who is less guarded and poised, and rather a Rika whose mask is off and is trying to navigate what it means to simply "exist." She just wants her family of 4 to live "happily" together, and a lot less scheming is required. She almost has the energy of "I'm going to be the fun, cool mom. :)"

I bet she's awful at stacking chairs, though.

Now, many characters AND players have wondered, "Why in the WORLD would Saejoong team up with Rika?" He thinks she's nuts. We know that Rika is using him, and I'd venture that he's doing the same. He knows he's caught between a rock and a hard place, but he also knows that this woman is desperate to take his troublesome bastard sons and disappear with them. She can't exist in public, after all, or she'd risk her secret of being a cult leader getting exposed. It's a weird solution, but he was in no place to refuse her offer. Coerce Saeyoung into making false broadcasts to bolster Saejoong's public image, and then let Rika, V, and the twins run off into the sunset.

A special insight that you only get during the Normal Ending is that Saejoong thought he and Rika were similar, which is likely another reason he was willing to collude with her. And the Normal Ending is the reason that I felt inspired to write this post at all.

On day 3, Rika accuses Saeran of hating her. She's furious that she doesn't have Ray anymore, because Ray needed her and gave her a purpose. Saeran doesn't need her, and that sends her into a panic. But he chooses to be compassionate and to try to sympathize with her.

On day 4, we get this exchange between MC and Rika:

Rika breaks down in MC's arms. She didn't know what love was, and she didn't know how to reach it herself. Her solution was to control, to manipulate, to clutch desperately onto people who showed her even a shred of warmth... but always staying just distant enough where she could withdraw or flee if she felt threatened, or worse, sabotage the connection herself.

She didn't know what love was because she'd never experienced it. Her mother was a malicious, cruel woman. Mika sacrificed and manipulated her. Her priest assaulted her. V did his best, but he kept pushing his ideals and methods onto her instead of listening to her. She kept Saeran through control. She brainwashed and gaslit believers, smooth-talking her way into their minds and pockets. She even kept V bound to her by blinding him; we can only assume he got treatment after his trial.

MC and Saeran showed her what love is. It's about kindness for the sake of kindness, not to curry favor. It's a willingness to step out of your comfort zone to help those you care about. It's being brave when you're terrified. It's communicating in more ways than one, always listening and considering the other's thoughts, feelings, actions, and reactions.

For the first time in her life, she saw love. She saw love in Saeran, who'd lured her and V away so that his lover and brother could be free. She saw love in MC, who'd always been gentle but firm with Rika, expressing genuine intrigue and concern for her. She saw people who didn't immediately demonize her for her worst mistake: the death of Mother Choi.

She's being honest with herself, too, acknowledging and understanding that her actions were wrong. And she starts bawling, because she's been repressing herself, her fears, and her needs for so long. She laments that she yearned for love like a child, but her body was too big now... and that made the void feel larger and emptier.

She finally got the answers she'd been trying to find for her entire life: What is love? And is she worthy?

So when the opportunity comes for her to set Saejoong straight, she tears into him. Now, she only does this in the normal ending. In the good ending, Saeran is the one who talks to Saejoong, says his piece, and gets his peace. Clearly that's the best possible ending for Saeran, because it allows him to put his last demon to rest. Now he can focus on healing and finding happiness on his own accord.

But in the normal ending, Rika shows that she's not just a sob story for MC and Saeran to pity. She's taking their lessons and her new convictions to heart and putting them into action.

And Saejoong truly loses his cool when he hears that the investigation team is coming. He knows he's toast, and so he tries to appeal to Rika one last time: "You know that you'll be going down, too."

To which Rika says: "Yes. It's long overdue."

Rika has a long, difficult road ahead of her, but it'll be a surprisingly peaceful one. She wants to heal. She wants to live a better life. She wants to be honest and true, and that means atoning for her crimes.

But then, she's going to devote her life to love.

The RAE Normal Ending is, in a bizarre way, the best outcome for Rika that Mysme canon gives us. (Because seriously, shipping her off to Alaska to GTFO was the laziest and most unsatisfying ending for her that I can imagine.)

[copyquat]

Having lightcannon feelings so may i present you with:

Random SG Lightcannon Headcanons From Someone Who Has Never Read Official SG Material (aka, me ranting about how these two exist rent free in my head)

-they go to a private school. this is only really important because i really like the idea of jinx calculating exactly how much effort she needs to put in to stay in the same school as lux while doing as little as possible

-jinx is still the smartest person in class though and it kinda bugs lux that she puts so much effort in to her schooling while jinx puts the absolute minimum knowing she could easily have as good if not better grades

-on to more actual relationship stuff lux is a lot less uptight with jinx than you’d expect at least before becoming saviors of the planet. jinx is the only person she knows and trusts she doesn’t have to be the perfect child around and having spent so long around jinx she’s developed a bit of a gremlin side

-she has absolutely asked jinx for help sneaking out to watch a movie or go to a concert and has on a lot more than one occasion been a willing accomplice in jinx’s mayhem

-she has also occasionally been the one to instigate the chaos i.e. she sometimes goes up to jinx like “these assholes deserve it how do we get back at them?”

-auntie jinx is so proud

-their relationship starts to deteriorate a bit when they become star guardians, jinx only joined because lux did and they’re joined at the hip (they promised to stay together “till the end of the world” when they were kids) but lux feels the need to be responsible because of they whole protecting the world thing

-jinx has for the longest time only ever cared about staying with lux but lux having daily training and getting on her case for not taking being a star guardian super seriously is starting to bug her

-lux on the other hand is stressed trying to be the perfect child and the perfect leader and started bottling her feelings up, at times lashing out at jinx cause she’s unfortunately an easy target (she always regrets it immediately if not soon after doing so) and is also maybe having a bit of gay panic when jinx disappears for the first time and she realizes she might like her best friend a bit more than she “should”

-this is not at all made better when ezreal becomes a star guardian and classic jinx jealousy starts to boil up

-on ez i like the idea that while he is interested in lux he eventually realizes “omg these bitches gay” and starts to wingman for them :P

-lux doesn’t realize jinx definitely has feelings for her as well until she has an argument with poppy about how jinx doesn’t care about saving the world. lux insists she does but poppy goes off “no she doesn’t! she cares about you! she joined because YOU did, she keeps coming back cause YOUR STILL HERE, and every time she looks at you she’s got these big stupid lovesick puppy eyes! im sick off watching you two dance around each other just fucking kiss already!”

-lux is flabbergasted at the idea jinx might (definitely) feels the same way but also feels guilty about being the reason jinx put herself in such a dangerous role to begin with

-jinx on the other hand naturally has self worth issues and doesn’t feel she’s good enough for lux and is absolutely terrified of lux not wanting to be her friend anymore

-sometimes after she runs away she has a meltdown terrified that this was the last straw and when she goes back lux will have had enough of her

-but lux can’t ever get enough of jinx though of course. they’re best friends after all and they promised they’d be together forever, till the end of the world…

-some other minor things when lux can get mimi into not a wand form she joins shiro and kuro’s mischief making and is unnaturally fine with whatever the balls of chaos do (i wonder who this is supposed to represent :P)

-i like the idea of vi having purple hair in the sg universe since most characters have different hair colors and i think itd be funny for sg vi and jinx to have swapped their canon hair color hues and also it still fits with her name

-i also like the idea of before vi eventually shows back up into jinx’s life cait is kinda a big sister for jinx

-she’s a local cop and once helped jinx with a panic attack when she was younger and now has a soft spot for her despite her many many trouble making misadventures

-when jinx was moving in with her team she had to carry all her stuff on foot cause she doesn’t have a car and cait saw her and offered to help

-jinx ended up being the first one fully moved in and absolutely rubbed it in poppy’s face :P

[ccaptain]

@aguilareye: 👫👀 ( meme source. )

i. Kaeya consistently gets Boothill bullets every time they meet: even before the Birds and the Bees talk Lan gave him DSFHSJFJ ever since he saw him snack on his magnum ones and was given the Chocolate Bullet, for every travel and stay Kaeya gets him some boxes of those of different materials and size. and gives at least one or more to him when they meet to munch on with his cute happy smile. He attachs a small colorful label on each box with the name of the planet he got it from and the materials they're made of in case Boothill likes a particular one and he has to remember where he got it from to get more for him <3 I like to think that he's unconsciously Pavloving Boothill to associate him with snacks honestly...........

ii. Cathill behavior... my beloved... I see your ''BH hugs Kaeya and rubs his face on his head or cheek before they rest their foreheads against eachother'' that you told me about and I raise you: them developing a little routine where Kaeya tugs Boothill down for a kiss and they nuzzle and join foreheads... and then he puts his arms around BH's neck to be picked up and continue keeping the forehead contact as they move. That, or once he's picked up Kaeya peppers his very handsome face in soft kisses all over his cheeks, nose and forehead and lips. Cathill and Cateya... the perfect match. Granted if they join foreheads as they walk Kaeya will make a little, cute flustered laugh while Boothill will have to coordinate where they're going, so if they fall it's on him DJSAHFHSHF

iii. Them trading voice messages on the phone: I tossed the idea to u like... yesterday^ two days ago?? I just keep thinking about it because as I said it allows them to be a bit more involved in eachother's lives by hearing and commenting on what they hear from the voice note. Boothill fixing himself surrounded by the little sounds of tools against metal, Kaeya's voice underlined by the fizzling of oil as he starts on his morning eggs or is also fixing something in the amusement park or going through books... just them hearing eachother's lives so it feels like they're never too far apart... BH could throw a comment in and Kaeya would be all smug like ''if you're that curious, come see me!'' as an excuse to, in fact, see his favorite cowboy............. them hearing eachothers late at night and BH's voice is just that side of soothing and familiar enough to to make Kaeya's tone begin to get more and more huskier and sleepier until he succumbs to rest as he's in the middle of one of Boothill's voice messages, with his phone laid on the pillow next to him... and it's the best fucking sleep he ever got in years. Them saying goodnight to eachother would just end me in all honesty ;-;

iv. In the KaeHill verse, Kaeya has renounced the possibility of eventually going to forever rest in The End. I thought about hitting you with some meta The Hunt/Enigmata verse but all of my HCs for this meme have been cute, why not add some FEELS to it? The developing bond he has with Boothill has made Kaeya come to the conclusion that he no longer wishes to rest in a meadow of white flowers, no matter how peaceful it could be after his goal is done and over. No- what he wishes is to be at Boothill's side, knowing that they'll both live forever- Kaeya can't and doesn't want to go when Boothill expresses wanting to see him and be with him, and when there's clear relaxation and happiness for his presence. If he goes, there'll be an Enigma-shaped void in BH's life, no more kissing blue tears away, no more solid presence of someone who tells Boothill the truth always and foremost even if it means danger for Kaeya- he doesn't want Boothill to have found and developed a connection and trust with an eternal being that won't die and deteriorate, only for said being to disappear once it's all over and done with. The call of eternal rest is a gentle lull, but Boothill is much more tender and concrete and present- even since he has confirmed to Lan that he considers Boothill his ''mate'', non-specified when as they're all over the place, internally he has renounced the decision of eternal rest to be at his side, when fate brings them together. Mythus may give Kaeya another goal after learning about this decision, but this also means that he'll get to stay at the gunslinger's side for much longer while he accomplishes that. Forever is more bearable when they're together. HEY SHRIMPY. GET THIS. HITS YOU WITH A CURVEBALL OF FEELS

[honeybeeloxs]

LOVERS

Corey Cunningham x Male Reader

Talk about being tired, I am so tired after writing this, not because it was draining but because it's like 4:13 AM while writing this A/N.

SUMMARY:

SPOILERS FOR HALLOWEEN ENDS

You were his first everything. First boyfriend, First kiss, he could trust you, and the first one who was there for him when Jeremy died underneath his watch.

You were his first everything. First boyfriend, First kiss, he could trust you, and the first one who was there for him when Jeremy died underneath his watch. Corey can admit he’s a little obsessed; Y/N had been there for Corey when his mental health was deteriorating, but he can’t stop looking at your pretty face; how your bangs framed around your face made him obsessed. So, Corey and Michael discussed, well, Corey talked, and Michael huffed and stared. 

“I get off my shift in like 10, gotta close it up for Audrey; wanna do something? Like, I don't know, watch a movie, maybe?” Y/N looked through the diner’s blinds as he blathered to Corey over the phone. “Sorry, babe, but I got to watch over the Junkyard tonight,” Corey told you, and you huffed. “Really? But it’s Halloween. Your parents suck big time,” Y/N scoffs “whatever, what about tomorrow? I don’t have to work tomorrow?” Y/N smiled as Corey agreed to tomorrow, his shoulder holding up the phone as he cleaned off some booths in the corner.

Y/N hangs up the phone, adjusts his apron, and rips the sticky note off the register, “Thanks for closing for me! Sorry about it but family emergency! Don’t forget to lock the door and set the alarm. ~ Thank You, Audrey.” 

Y/N rolled his eyes, threw the note in the trash bin, and muttered to himself; Y/N looked out the door and squinted. Was that a man? Who is that..? WHAT is that..? The figure stood at the glass doors, his mask resembling a scarecrow. He questioned himself, maybe he was going crazy, and Y/N couldn’t take his eyes off him when the masked figure started to walk towards the doors; Y/N fumbled with the keys as he locked the doors just in time. He bolts to the backdoor. Shit, you forgot to close them. No one typically locks the backdoor by an alley; no one goes in it. Y/N bolts to the backdoor, knocking off napkin dispensers and trays neatly piled on the counter. Y/N opened the kitchen doors to see the alley’s brick wall, door wide open. He immediately shut the door and locked it. Breathing hard, Y/N grabs his phone and dials the police.

Y/N gets home, changes into a black sweatshirt he stole from Corey, and plops on the brown couch. His eyes grow heavy as he puts on a movie. He ends up passing out 30 minutes into the film. He will pass out before it's over.

Corey pulls up his mask and smiles with his face coated in blood as he watches you snore softly; he finds it cute as you snore in his sweatshirt. Michael tilts his head at you as he watches Corey brush your bangs out of your face. Not wanting to wake you up from your deep slumber, he carefully picks you up and brings you to the sewers with them. 

Corey watches you wake up from the hard concert, and he loves the confusion on your face as you call out for help. Muttering to himself, Y/N grabs out his cell phone and turns on the flashlight.

“Shit,” Y/N says as he steps on the cold concrete, he searches for an exit with his flashlight shining on the walls and sees the masked figure he saw earlier. The scarecrow attacker pulls up his mask and reveals himself to be Corey, “C-Can I go home?” you stutter out; Corey flashes you a smirk. “No, I love you too much and can’t let you go. He walks up to you, puts his curly hair on your neck, and continues whispering to you. Y/N sees Michael and screams; he runs to the supposed tunnel of the sewer that leads to the outside world; Y/N gets yanked away by Corey and thrown around and lands into Michael, who bear hugs him. Corey comes up behind Y/N, and the crimson metallic scent fills your nose as he hugs you from behind.

[skeleton-mischief]

Rus Serrif

You can smoke all you like, drink away your woes, but you can't escape your mind. SF!Red Papyrus, my silly skeleton with dog motifs. Headcanons below!

- Official height is 6'7

- He/They

- Heavy alcoholic

- Plays electric guitar

- Consumes BBQ Sauce

- Unhealthy amounts of dedication for those he loves

- Good friends with Coffee, Stretch, and Cash

- Very touchy and clingy if he likes the person's company, but he's distant otherwise

- Engineer

- Writes as a hobby, but drawing is his secret hobby

- Admires Red

- Curious of people, but he is weary of them. He'll give them a chance though if they show that they're willing to put in effort

- He would often try to be close to Carmine underground. He was desperate and was willing to cause a scene at times

- He adores praise and shows it

- He doesn't like to fight and will divert from fighting unless cornered. The only time he'll confront someone is if someone he cares about is being bothered

- Stingy if people owe him, keeps track of debts and is good at returning them

- He prefers dogs

- Has severe anxiety and attachment issues

- charming, quiet, observant, loyal, carefree, intuitive, lazy, impulsive, cynical, protective, lethargic, nosy, pessimistic, clingy, and untrusting

- He curses frequently

- Has around four rings, usually always wears them

- Doesn't feel the need to tell others he's intelligent, so some monsters and humans assume that he's lazy and stupid

- Not afraid to speak up despite his reserved and quiet nature. He hates seeing someone getting pestered

- He is very flirty when drunk, but still very much respectful

- The most loyal Papyrus

- Slower to trust others, he actively remains neutral with others unless they sway his opinion of them on their own

- Fan of PDA but he's willing to compromise if needed

- Sees Powder, Wine, and Razz as an older brother overtime

- Magic smells like Maple, magic tastes like spiced apple and cider

- Has a bit of a drawl in his tone, his nickname sounding like "darlin'"

- Loves pies and curry, and appreciates his brother for making them

- He knows sign language even if he doesn't remember why, he used it to befriend Coffee

- Can be extremely jealous and protective

- He has a huge sweet tooth

- Has heightened senses

- Will call Carmine "milord" if he thinks his brother is being overbearing and on his high horse. It used to be a nickname he'd call him since he knows it annoyed him, but now it's in a teasing manner and a reminder to Carmine to tone it down

- Smokes with a Zippo lighter

- Has yellowed bone

- Has two golden hip chains that act as leashes for his gaster blasters when they are activated. I thought it would be cool since UF Sans (Red) has his rings count as leashes for his Gaster Blasters and also has gold chains. Design choice babyyyy

- Used to drink and cause chaos for Carmine when their relationship started to deteriorate, but at the same time he was extra clingy and emotional. He would even reach a point he forgot their tension and just was desperate to be close with his brother

- A romantic who can be super sappy with others

- He can be a rude ass motherfucker when drunk if he is pissed with someone, as he is more blunt and would smoke in their face without a care

- Likes fist bumps when greeting friends, and uses a small wave as a greeting instead of a handshake. He only uses handshakes if he wants to test someone

- Calls Chara "Runt"

- Sniffles and whimpers when crying, tries to be quiet but ends up being loud

- He informs Carmine where he goes, and he appreciates when Carmine checks up on after they move to another timeline with the other skeletons

- Let's Coffee cling onto him when in crowded areas, but he'll cling onto others when Coffee isn't present

- would call his lover darling

- Loves to listen, and so he doesn't ramble a lot

- When he is really interested in something, such as a video game, he has to be asked first for him to actually see that someone is willing to listen to him ramble. He gets a little embarrassed and a little shy though

- He doesn't take disrespect for his brother or loved ones, even if he does nothing for someone talking direct shit to his face about him. He's passive aggressive, and finds ways to make them shut up

- He is wonderful at collecting black mail and gathering information about someone. However, he's reclusive and this means that no one is good at figuring out information about him. The closest anyone has ever gotten to knowing about him and the truth about his history was his universe's Undyne, but he destroyed that information before she could find out. Only the Queen truly knows, and this is used against him, which makes him "loyal" to her as a result

Closing Notes: he's so dog motif coded like oh my god this dude has racked my brain and I swear that this skeleton has left me thinking about him for hours before because wow he's so silly but oh my god I need to hold him and let him cry because he needs it. I'm so normal about him.

[bigdvmnhero]

summary:

"They say you'll save us all," the yokai continued. "A lofty fate. Wouldn't you say, ronin?" I don't want it, Mikey thought, surprised by the fierceness of it. Take it from me.

chapter two | prev | ao3

It had been a good few paralyzing months since Leo last answered to anyone, but April would be damned if she let him walk away now. "C'mon, Leo," she called after him. "Calm down."

"I'm calm?" came the bewildered laugh.

But the brisk footfalls ahead slowed, and Leo pulled his sword arm back to slice a platter-sized portal open. Then he shoved his head inside it.

Distantly, April thought she heard a muffled pterodactyl screech of pure, unbridled fury.

A passing soldier broke into a panicked half-jog.

"See?" Leo stepped back, and his eyes were unfazed when he fastened them on her. "I'm great. Just—fantastic." The portal twinkled behind him; in another universe, April would have cannonballed right in, straight into a life sweet as neon punch. "Wanna try?" he offered brightly.

April didn't trust that grin; it had secret blades hidden all over it. Leo's weapon of choice.

Silence, it appeared, was April's. Something Leo had very little experience with it. For all his expertise, he tended to buckle under it in seconds. Starting now.

"You could toss stuff into it too," Leo added, conspiratory. "Just don't ask me where it goes."

April crossed her arms.

"Don't wooooorry about it—it's a Donnie problem, m'kay? Just find something fun to break."

Ten seconds. In the meantime, April mastered her best impression of a rock. Flat and unimpressed.

"Maybe not anything useful though. I kinda love having chairs. Donnie's bunsen burners, though..."

She pitched an eyebrow up—the final blow. Leo sagged like a puppet.

"Fine." He twirled his sword and the portal sewed itself shut. "But don't come looking for me when you're feeling cranky..."

The abandoned subterranean warehouse they called their base offered near-complete protection from the elements, courtesy of Donnie most of all. A tradeoff was the lack of private enclosures to talk shit about little brothers, or even to enjoy a brief mental breakdown under the impossible weight of the apocalypse.

This, April reasoned, was the only reason Leo remained standing, hip-cocked, seemingly unbowed by the promise of her verbal fire. "Listen, alright?" she began—biting back the you dumb little shit her own trigger-happy tongue threatened to fire—she could be zen; remember your training, O'Neil? "All I'm saying is, you can't run your men ragged like that."

"Oh, my fault? I'm running them ragged?" And god, Leo could be such a drama kid when he wanted to be. "Who keeps pulling them out of the field last minute? Who's stuffing them in airships to play babysitter for billionaires doing fuck all to help us, because their butler Miguel just got Kraangified cleaning the fucking—infinity pool, or whatever? Not me. I'm not their leader."

"Well, you sure are actin' like it," she answered, and they stood there looking cross at each other as another soldier squirreled past them. The boy had waved seeing April from the end of the hallway, only to skip past as if dodging hot coals after realizing Leo was standing there too, like a vengeful apparition of god.

Under the dull warehouse fluorescents, Leo was less god, more patron saint of jaded-eyed misery. Some missionary for the church of Stick Up My Ass. And anyway, April's faith was deteriorating, and fast.

Away from the blitz of the battlefield, the civilians' adoring eyes, this version of Leo was a blunted edge. She missed his sharp jokes. She'd never say it, but it was one of the things she envied most about him. Clever-quipped, facetious, all-seeing Leo. Come back, idiot, she thought.

Alone again, she rounded on him. "Didn't we talk about this? Like it or not, these men aren't trained like us. We gotta set our expectations straight. Those guys? They are our fair-weather rag-tag volunteer team. At least, for now. And most of 'em think we're just dumb kids, Lee. They're not gonna fall in line all because we know a ninja trick or two!"

Leo lifted his chin. "Well, if their men are so important to them, why aren't the EPF here? Why are we the ones training them? Even Donnie's supplying most of our arms at this rate. Hell—we're feeding them! Three meals a day, April; like we're some kind of roadside hotel—"

"Rats and sci-fi food cubes are hardly—"

"What am I supposed to do then?" The question was sudden, gummed with emotion, and that was how April knew Leo was cracking. Finally—something real. "Raph's out there, risking his shell each day so no alien overlords breach our border. Donnie's straight up killing himself just trying to keep our base functional, and Mikey—" Leo's throat swallowed the rest. April looked away. Easier to finish the sentence for him in her own mind: Mikey, who phased through the days, seemingly unchanged. Mikey, who never cried since.

Leo dragged a hand down his face. "Meal planning should be the least of our concerns. These guys are eating through our rations—rations civilians are happy to give up, by the way, if it means we can protect them. And I can overlook them being sloppy and untrained—I'll take a little mutant racism, too, sure, why not!" April winced. "But complaining about the food? Come on," and the laugh was wrong all over, barbed with something dark.

April couldn't blame him; it had bothered her too, the way they took hesitant bites of the tough white bread they'd served, half-emptied the cans of beans and dried meat, pushing their plates away, the stuff unfinished, and sure it had been the old same fare they'd been having for the past four months—going on five now—the taste long indistinguishable from dusty cinder blocks, but it was all they had. It was that, or Donnie's nutrient cubes. Or the rats. At least they had options.

People died for those options.

Killed, too.

"I get it," April said, but Leo was shaking his head.

"Do you? 'Cause I'm sick of this publicity stunt the EPF's doing. Calling me and my brothers heroes, then leaving us with what? Psh." He sent a bitter smile skyward that could've melted through the beams. "I'm done."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm not about this puppet leader gig, April. Or the lies, or the sappy radio speeches I gotta do every week to convince the world everything's sunny and great and nice. It's clear none of them care about protecting the little guys." His voice dropped into a hardened stone, the resoluteness in it barely restrained. He stepped close. "Me? I'm ready to do something real, April. Something big. And I need real soldiers out there. In the dirt, with me. With us."

Later, she would regret not telling him of the deep pride she felt for him, at that moment. But in her chest was its twin star—grief, white-hot and insistent. It demanded all of her. "I hear ya, Leo. I promise." She reached for his bristling shoulder. "But you need... you need to give them time. They've lost stuff too, you know."

"Not this," Leo groaned, then turned to resume his march down the hallway. April gave chase. In the past month alone Leo had shot up like an oak tree; it was taking her twice as many steps just to keep up.

"C'mon, Lee. Wait."

He kept walking.

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that." He threw finger guns in the air.

Well, damn, April thought, nobody told me today was Little Shit Sunday, and pulled him by his mask tails.

Leo yelped something undignified.

He was so used to people walking on eggshells around him he'd forgotten how rotten April's big sister play could be, and honestly? That was on him. Six feet tall, and it was still on him.

Leo whirled on her, face twisted in exaggerated affront. Gleefully, April wished she had a camera; Raph would eat this up, like the day Leo's own blade snapped in his face. Never heard the end of it. "I wasn't finished. So! Ready to listen now?"

"Yeah," Leo said. He didn't look happy about it.

"Good. Thought so. 'Cause I was just about to say that yesterday, these guys weren't soldiers. They were just people. Know what I mean? Just dumb, silly people, silly kids, with jobs and hobbies and stuff to look forward to. And now they're soldiers. Y'know what that's like?"

Leo glued his eyes stubbornly on the bare cement wall behind her, but he let his jaw be turned. There was a new notch in his shoulder, healing nicely; April had stitched it herself. Leo didn't cry, but he'd clutched at April's knee the whole time, his grip clammy and white-knuckled. Said, what's a turtle gotta do to get some entertainment 'round here? And, wait, don't use up the thread, Cass's gonna need to change hers out sooner or later.

"Maybe," Leo answered.

"Nah, I know you do," April said—their best friend April now, not war advisor April or whatever role she played to keep them all sane. "Bet you know it better than any of us. Oi—eyes on me. Whatcha thinking about in that head of yours anyway?"

"Well, for one—" he pushed her hand away, but there was something shifting aside in his face, "how the only reason any of those guys listen to me is because of you." When April snorted, he continued. "I'm not trying to flatter you. If you hadn't spoken for us back then, I'm pretty sure the EPF would've gotten rid of us. Bet they're just itching to finish the job."

April didn't like to think about that. "Well, that's 'cause none of you know when to keep your mouths shut. Someone's gotta keep your asses in line. Maybe I will be commander one day, just for that." When Leo didn't seem to toss the idea aside like she wanted him to, she shook his shoulders before the conspiring glint in his eye could manifest into something. "All I'm saying is, y'all stuck with me. And I see you, Leo."

She cupped his cheek again. A long time ago, Leo would've leaned into her hand, basked in her easy affection. Now he turned rigid under any touch.

"I know things are all sorts of fucked right now, but I'm your friend first. Always am. We're on your side. 'Kay?"

Leo's eyes went back to the wall; April turned his face again, patient.

"And your brothers are war machines, sure. But they're your brothers, too." She couldn't help it—she pinched both his cheeks hard. Leo yelped then glowered. April stood her ground; the guy had to be put in his place regularly, or there was just no living with him. "And you're not just their leader. Not to them. Got it?"

"—seriously manhandling—"

"Got it?"

"—yes ma'am, okay, sheesh!"

"And you," April called out, lifting her gaze skyward, "you're not slick. I can literally hear you breathing."

Twenty feet up, hanging upside down from the high ceiling by spidershell-arms, Donnie and Mikey stared back with wide eyes.

In Mikey's arms was a hefty black vinyl bag, nearly twice his size. In Donnie's arms was Mikey. They shared a brief look that belonged to two doomed men and seemed to swallow their tongues.

An eternity passed in stilted silence.

For the first time in his life, Leo didn't get the first word in.

"Oh, mama, and would you look at the time, Dee—we are crazy late for brunch service!" Mikey kicked Donnie into action, and they crawled and skittered and fumbled through the final stretch to the hatch in the ceiling, which Donnie's robo-arms began to dismantle with frenetic speed. "Gotta run! I've got an army to feed, like literally! Talk later, 'kay?"

With a crash, they disappeared in a blur of robo-arms. The hatch fell shut. The echo traveled boldly through the wide enclosure, and, horrified, April turned to watch the way Leo's face changed, realizing it mattered little if she'd given him an earful that day or not; not when Mikey would figure out how to soften up the resistance members in ways Leo couldn't even fathom—all with a bowl of leftover rice fluffed with heat, scallions, eggs—"Eggs?!" Leo repeated—a dash of patience, and good ol' MSG, sweetening the dank underground base with the ambrosial smell of homemade cooking, all made in Splints' trusty rice cooker—and boy did they love that rice cooker. Hadn't that been exactly one of Splinter's lessons to her?

She shook her head with a smile, watching the miracle unfold. That's right, she thought. The fight you win is the fight you don't need to have.

Oh, Splints. She missed him something fierce. Later, she would crack open her old martial arts book to study her own sixteen-year-old writing on the margins, lessons from a lifetime ago trying to save the last great Lou Jitsu dojo. Splinter taught her everything she knew.

Maybe there had been things she'd dropped along the way. But now she picked up that old snakeskin, and remembered.

:::

They'd started off on the wrong foot—but even that was probably an understatement, wasn't it? Before they were violently forced underground, they were garment workers, porters, fishermen, who knew very little of New York and its supposed mutant saviors. To them, Mikey and his brothers were science fiction: green, scaly abominations from botched Frankensteinian experiments.

I'll take it, Raph had said. Way better than "demons." Remember the cult who tried trapping us in salt circles? Yeesh.

Donnie had shrugged it off. Mikey forgave it. Leo called it "a tactical advantage" and nurtured their fear until it grew into something else, something closer to awe.

For months, they shared no language. Nothing but the desire to survive. When Leo first showed the scrappy crowd how it was done—slaughtering a Kraang with nothing but rust-eaten gardening tools, stealth, and a whole lot of attitude—the spell was complete.

Almost.

Leo was used to leading three unruly brothers. But thirty? Mikey watched his brother's patience fray at the edges. Older survivors pointed at Leo's youth, but still Leo pushed, and he pushed hard.

Until they pushed back. Until the EPF started shuttling out their men, and their men let them, in exchange for one night of excess. Until they grew sick of the training, it was thankless work, sick of the drab, featureless cinderblock walls, of the bone-deep hunger, of the congealing loss of home far from the sun and Leo's uncanny asshole motherfucker era—ahem.

Mikey knew what he had to do. One spoonful of that fluffy, perfectly salted rice—and it had to be rice, didn't any of Mikey's brothers know these guys were kin? White bread for breakfast was just never gonna cut it—and the change was near palpable. Homesickness fled from their faces like horseflies. They filed into position, ready for the day's mission. Didn't even roll their eyes during Leo's attack demo of the day.

It had been just like this, once. Communal breakfasts every weekend. The lair smelling blessedly of butter. Mikey stacking each of his brothers' plates sky-high with pancakes, the thanks for the meal, Mikester, the head pats, the way Mikey loved life most when surrounded by all of them.

"By Galileo’s—is that a sugary drink." Donnie sat back on the bench at record speed when Mikey pulled out a Dr. Pepper he'd especially saved for this occasion. "I haven't had sugar in... I can't even say it. It’s too tragic.”

Mikey popped the lid and poured it delicately into his brother’s cup. Then, tongue poking out his mouth, he decided to tip the can over completely, letting it slosh around the sides. "Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

Donnie received his offering with wide eyes. "My cupeth."

Mikey clinked their cups together. "Shall runneth over, brother."

Donnie pulled one, long, hard gulp and considered the ceiling, dazed. He seemed to have arrived at some miraculous realization Mikey wasn’t privy to, like the secrets of nuclear fission, or the flight pattern of small, brown birds. "Huh. Wow." He blinked owlishly at Mikey, like he did at the end of a meditation, then put his cup down. He tapped his chest. "I suppose you may have one." He jabbed a finger in the air. "One!"

Mikey rose from his seat. "Dee…"

"One minute max," Donnie corrected firmly. But he unfurled his arms and smiled.

"One minute!" Mikey lost it. He threw himself into Donnie's embrace, and the bench almost tipped them over; this day was the best. Fluffy eggs on rice, Donnie hugs (twice! in one day!), and a happy resistance, at least for now.

His organic stash would need sorting. The leafy veggies had to be pickled, in jars of brine before winter arrived and frosted the base. Planting the beans would be easy, and easier still—the potatoes. Junior would love potatoes. Cloud-soft and heavenly once boiled. It would be months until their dumpster baby grew out his baby teeth; maybe they all could use something gentle.

And then Donnie stiffened in Mikey's arms, and Mikey knew his time was up.

Leo was walking towards their table.

"Alas, while this was delightful—" Donnie shot upright, "I must bid you farewell, beloved brother, for I have to.... dismantle a gun. Or several."

Mikey mirrored him. "M-me too!"

"You don't possess firearms."

"Well, I could!" Leo was drawing closer, his expression unreadable. "You don't know that!"

Donnie's eyebrows beetled quizzically. "Well, why haven't you shown me then? Do you need an upgrade?"

"An upgra—no! I got my own! Cool fire chain, remember!"

"Angelo, while your fundo is a highly impressive hand-held melee weapon, I would hardly place it in the same category as my own—"

"Donnie!" Mikey panicked. "I think we both agree we have very important things to do! Not here!"

"Right." Donnie nodded hastily. "Goodbye." They moved to part ways.

Something fast and made of steel flashed through the air. It thudded into the table between them, a perfect equidistance.

Leo's katana. The hilt convulsed like an arrow's feather.

Miraculously, Donnie lost his slouch, and Mikey let out an honest-to-god squeak, which could've been dignified if he wasn't seventeen and a half.

In the next second, Leo had apparated on the table across them, his grip loose on the hilt. He made no motion of pulling his weapon out. Instead, he reached over to peer curiously into Donnie's bowl.

"Leftovers? Come on, guys. We're better than this." Leo clucked. "Oh, lookity! These are prime stuff, Mike. Rice and eggs, too?" A long whistle. "Didn't know our desert hideout had a farm now. Why're you two standing there? Have somewhere to be? Sit."

They sat.

"Hi, Leo," Mikey managed.

"Hi, Mikey.” Leo rested his cheek on his palm. "Had fun today?"

"I did! I mean—" Donnie kicked his shin, and Mikey swallowed his story. There it was. Not a lot of people could tell the difference, but Mikey could. There was the resistance's Hamato Leonardo, and there was Leo, who normally had an airy head tone, was receptive to Mikey's puppy dog eyes, and did not fling sharp, damning sentences disguised as innocent open-ended questions, like so.

Donnie stepped in. “Alright Leo, I know our tardiness might've caused a bit of a surprise—“

“Oh, I knew,” Leo answered. “Raph said it’d be a quick detour. Probably super important, though, right?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Mikey said, at the same time Donnie mumbled a vindictive, that snitch, under his breath.

The bowl was poked, prodded, and sniffed in Leo's hand. “I mean, it must be. Important enough to miss morning drills.” Leo pulled his sword free. Donnie winced at the grating schwing. “But hey—at least breakfast is bomb, am I right?”

“The most important meal of the day?” Mikey tried weakly.

Officially, this was the worst; Donnie couldn’t lie to save his life, and Mikey’s resolve was slowly chipping away like paint under Leo’s magnifying-glass eyes.

Leo dipped his finger in the bowl and lifted a grain of rice to the light. It was short grain, firm and glutinous, grown only in the lush countryside. Or perfectly-engineered geodesic domes.

Leo made a low whistle. "Now, would you take a look at this beauty.”

Donnie seemed to understand they were damned. “I assure you, Nardo, it was a careful operation, everything was sourced ethically and responsibly.” To this, Leo snorted. “Alright. So the ethical part is... dubious. But the keyword is alive. Mikey’s safe, our hideout's uncompromised, and we’ve done the honors of feeding your soldiers a meal they probably haven’t had since the world went kaput. I don't see why you’re making such a fuss.”

"Oh, so we're going there? Okay." Leo leaned forward with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Why shouldn’t I worry. Starting with you, Dontron. Shall I count the ways?"

"I am detecting a rhetorical question—"

"One." Leo held a finger up. “You’ve had several heart palpitations during training this week—” Two fingers, “—April found you in the lab two days ago, because you had a cardiac episode from your blood pressure deciding to go skydiving—"

“What!” Betrayed, Mikey whipped his head back at Donnie, whose face seemed to have all the green frightened out of it. "Donnie!"

Leo continued, all three fingers up now, “Not to mention that time you went fucking blind in one eye because of a migraine, which—who knew, right? I sure as hell didn't."

“Ugh, yeah, I know." The Ceo and owner of Genius Tech groaned into his multiple spider-shell arms. "Embarrassing. LOL."

“LOL?” Leo's voice pitched strangely; Mikey couldn't look. "LOL?"

“Laugh out—look, it happened one time—“

"It should be ZERO times," Leo boomed, and the bowls shook as a fist pounded the table. For once Mikey agreed, feeling the first stirrings of understanding with this strange new bristling version of his brother, like the phony amalgamation of every parental figure in their sorry lives. This lasted for about two seconds. And then Leo whirled on him. "And you, Mikey darling, my baby brother."

"And me, your baby brother." The affection in Mikey's gut soured into dread. "And me..."

“Was it fun, doing some last-minute shopping at The Gardens?"

And darn, Leo was good. Too good. But Mikey’s prized hoard was still under the table, hidden behind the shadows and Mikey’s busted knees, undiscovered. Things were still salvageable.

While Mikey kicked the bag further into obscurity, Leo geared up for a Talk. “Honestly, joyrides in the middle of work aren’t for me, but I get it. Really, I do. This apocalypse sitch gets old, doesn't it? Food stinks, too. But it’s way too early in the game to be slacking off. If you wanna fuck off god knows where because you need a vacation? Be my guest. But you better be in the best shape of your lives. Better than ever. Better than me.”

Leo pushed himself off the bench and honest-to-god paced. Meanwhile, Donnie rolled his eyes so far back into his head Mikey was afraid it’d be permanent.

“We can't rely on our mystic powers anymore. I need you guys to hone your hard skills like they're the only tools you've got left. Because they are. People are counting on it." Leo paused to shoot a look over his shoulder. "Donnie-dear, if you don't start taking care of yourself and die a sad pathetic death in your lab, I promise, as your leader I am and will release all your tech to the EPF. Including all your trademark rights."

Donnie looked like he'd faint. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. And Mikey—we need to double down on your drills, and no more skipping out on training with Draxum. You can't razzmatazz out of this one. We need to figure out how to harness all that mystic potential of yours, and your basics are terrible as it is. What did we say about practicing?"

Mikey mumbled.

Leo tapped his ear. "Sorry, what was that?"

“Practice is your friend,” Mikey recited in a flat line. "For we are what we repeatedly do."

That seemed to perk Leo up. "Exactly! So I’ll see you for drills bright and early tomorrow morning.” Leo turned to go. “See? Knew you'd come around. And alright, I don't think your form is terrible, Mike—but you don't have to be doing all things all the time. I appreciate a little creativity in battle, but sometimes a good offense is a good defense."

“Sometimes a good offense is a good defense,” Mikey mimicked under his breath.

Leo froze mid-stride.

Mikey clapped a hand over his mouth with a resounding slap. Donnie, who had a semi-clear view of Leo’s face, turned his gaze to Mikey and gave a brief shake of his head. His flat, dead-eyed smile seemed to say, seeyanara, little brother.

“Leo,” Mikey tried, as Leo's back turned. “I mean—sensei. I mean—my big brother whom I love very very much, you know that, don't you? C’mon. I was just having a laugh, just having a little jokey-joke—”

“Changed my mind! We’ll do drills now, actually,” Leo said brightly. He clapped his hands once. “Twenty one-arm push-ups.”

Mikey collapsed like a Jenga pile onto the table. "Nooooo, not the push-ups! They get so old.”

“Fifty, then." Leo smiled, serene. "Where you going, Dee? You're up too. We’re sparring—and no battleshell tricks.”

“Please, god, why," Donnie moaned, at the same time Mikey begged, "Can I do some backflips instead?”

“A hundred then, lucky you!" Leo walked towards Mikey's end of the table, and Mikey didn't think he was going to do what he thought he was about to, but Leo had a penchant for surprising him. "Whatever that thing is under the table must be so worth it.”

Mikey's brain whited out. “Wait, wait! Don’t touch Donnie’s stuff!” and Leo paused, mid-reach. “He was scared we were running low on coffee rations, s-so we went to get a refill!”

A flicker of betrayal passed through Donnie's face. But he plastered on an unnatural smile. "Aha—whaaaat. Mikey.”

Leo’s calculating gaze hovered between them. But he’d stopped walking—small victories. “Thought we had a month of coffee left," he said, frowning.

"Apologies if I can't keep track of every single thing in this household!" Donnie shot back.

Leo crossed his arms. To Mikey, he barked, “Still no push-ups happening, camarada. You're not getting out of this one. And no magic gateways—"

Without warning, Donnie threw his weight carelessly onto Leo and dragged his bandana sideways so it blinded him. “Sparring!" he screeched. To Mikey: "Gateway, now! I’ll hold him back!”

Mikey needed no further instruction. He dived under the table, snatched his hoard while he pulled the portal open from beyond the verge—that was two mystic incidents today, Draxum was going to strangle him—and dove headfirst into the safe haven on the other side. “Bless you Dee, I will remember your sacrifice!” Baby brother privileges, babey.

:::

Donnie's sole makeshift hospital bed was permanently creaky now, no thanks to Cassandra's frequent visits.

She was in it every two weeks—grinning toothily through a broken bone or twenty. More recently, she enjoyed mounting full productions for her audience of one (1) wrinkly human baby. Donnie was not freaked out by this baby. If he was, it was not because the kid had way too much hair and eyes that absorbed all light or gurgled the way babies gurgled which made Donnie's chest go all funny and turn sideways-weird.

Imagine if I named the kid after another one of those renaissance dudes too, Cassandra cawed, doing jumping jacks on the bed with the kid giggling in her elbow until the final CRACK. They both looked down at the mattress. Now that was extra crunchy, Cassandra said.

Donnie kicked her out shortly.

Not, of course, before fixing the slipshod work she dared call a splint. And stay out! he'd yelled. I don't want to see your face here for at least two weeks, you hear me?

Gleefully, she flipped him off. In front of the kid, too.

Now the bed made a despondent creak as it accommodated Raph's weight. The heft of his new prosthetic confounded him, made him bump into corners, and accidentally crush people's fingers with his brand-new strength.

"Alright, bossman," Donnie sighed. Only 2:30 PM and he felt like he'd lived through a week. "You're up."

Raph managed to lie down. He took one look up at Donnie's world-weary face and smirked. "Chewed you out, didn't he."

"Yeah, well someone had to go and gab."

Donnie got his face squished like a grape for that. "Someone keeps forgetting I'm still the oldest. I may not be your leader, but you guys are still my pain in the ass. Knew you were up to something foolish. So fess up." Donnie made an indignant, muffled sound under Raph's bear hand. "What?"

Donnie gasped as Raph released him. "I was saying, Mikey needs his cooking essentials, and I need mine. We have a mutually beneficial partnership going on. That's all." He pulled his goggles down. "He's also my favorite brother, so." Meant: what Mikey wants, Mikey gets.

"Well, Mikey's going to be the death of you, at this rate." Raph narrowed his eyes. "But it looks like Leo took care of it, whatever that was. If I hear about you mutating any more leafy freaks though—"

Donnie's robo-arms, which had branched off from his shell to get to work on the prosthetic, paused mid-air as Donnie choked. "You dare speak ill of my daughter! Cristina, my beautiful venus fly trap, gone too soon—you will never understand! She was nature's most remarkable survivor, evolved to persist in nutrient-poor environments to fancy a pound of flesh." Donnie's gaze turned wistful. "I was so close, Raphael. Only a few experiments left before I rewired her wetware to develop a taste for vile Kraang meat."

"Nothing about that sentence terrifies me at all," Raph said.

"That is why you are my favorite patient. How was your week?"

Raph's head flopped back on the bed. "Shit. Where to begin?" He talked as Donnie tuned up his arm, telling him about the kid from the dumpster, the only miracle in the last few crappy, mind-numbing weeks; the Tamagotchi he and Cassandra found, still-slumbering in its million light year sleep; new Kraang-free patrol routes, and more secret pathways he'd negotiated with the help of the alliance; a dusty Walkman, a Foo Fighters cassette left in, for keeps.

In exchange, Donnie rambled on about their food supply, his EPF meeting notes, a hoverboard for Mikey, but under wraps for now, the new stealth gear prototypes he'd hoped would pass beta-testing soon, if only he'd more time to collect materials—

"Dee," Raph laughed up at him. “This isn’t one of your roundtable meetings, okay? It’s just me."

Donnie tightened a loose screw under Raph's armpit. "Oh, uh, of course. Lift your arm?"

Raph lifted it. "Oh yeah. Way better."

"Excellent. Your gait isn't as natural as I hoped, but I'll replace the hardware with lighter materials soon."

"Appreciate it, Dee. How'd you find time to get all this stuff?"

"I multitask. Wiggle your thumb?"

Raph wiggled it. "You getting enough sleep, though?"

Donnie laughed, too loud. "Squeeze your fist?"

"Seriously. How're things holding up?"

Donnie peered into a magnifying glass one of his shell-arms slid under his nose and poked around Raph's inner elbow, then fibula. "Truth be told? I'm surprised Earth Protection let us off easy today; then again, I am the brains behind this entire operation. It'd be amiss to threaten their very own arms provider. I should've known Mikey would pull something like this, but I'm just glad to see him—"

“I mean—how are you doing, Donnie?"

“Me?" Donnie blinked slow, like he'd never heard that sentence in that order before. "I'm fine. Can we try some wrist rotations?"

Unimpressed, Raph did as told. The motion was stilted; it couldn't do a full 360. The magnifying glass was swapped for a fine-toothed wrench.

"I'll fix that," Donnie said, then faltered when he realized Raph was still waiting on him, the weight in his eyes undeniable. "What? It's true."

And it was; confessions around Raph were easy somehow. Like how last night, Donnie had admitted thinking he'd definitely hit his rebellious edgy teenage phase under Splinter—heck, even Raph himself—but Leo? Now there was a surprise. And how the cookies Mikey baked Donnie made him break out. Some kind of delayed turtle allergy, and he'd kept eating the stuff anyway. How he both hated and secretly loved listening to Leo's radio speeches, in the secret early hours of dawn when the base and his own brain was still, in need of nothing.

Raph asked him again, but this was one confession Donnie couldn't give up. It was half-formed, bloody, still stuck in the wreck. Donnie couldn't look at it yet.

"Seriously, brother, you should see Mikey—" Donnie began, but the bed creaked like a warning, and Raph was pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I'm worried about Mike, too. But we'll get to him in a bit. You idiots are two sides of the same coin, really. I mean, I haven't seen the kid cry since—"

Donnie dropped his wrench. He stared at it for a moment, then bent to pick it up. When he moved back to his seat Raph's gaze settled on him, kind and all-knowing, with a quiet sort of power that could disassemble any man.

"Sooner or later we gotta talk about this, Dee." Raph touched his head. "'S'not your fault. If Pops was here—"

"Don't," Donnie said. "Please."

Somewhere, Unnamed Baby burst into a fit of giggly baby gibberish; Cassandra needed to hurry it up with a name soon, and it had to be good, or they were all going to have a fifth Renaissance man running around the base. The exoskeleton on Raph's arm exuded no blood-warmth. But it curled around Donnie's wrist like a bolstering force all the same.

Donnie's hands began to shake.

"Donnie," Raph said. "Hey. It's alright now."

Donnie hunched his shoulders in, determined to finish the wiring on the inner elbow. "I'll get better materials soon."

"Don't matter right now—"

"This part right here—the socket hurts when it gets cold, doesn't it? I'll find something more durable before winter rolls in. I'll fix it. I promise."

Raph's flesh arm gripped his shoulder. "I know you will."

Donnie shook his head like Raph didn’t understand. His face felt hot, his own hands numb and not his, like the day he dragged Raph out from under the burning wreck of their lair, around them a bloodshot sky that fishbowled from its own weight. A red blistering eye in the sky, and how he ran. He ran like hell. “And I’m gonna make you the best.”

Raph stared at him. “The coolest fucking arm in the world,” he agreed.

“Damn right," Donnie rasped.

This was a hug; Donnie was sure that what was happening. But the awkward way Raph half-sat up and curled around his slouched shell was still disputable. "But," Raph said, "just for the record? I think this one's awesome, too."

Donnie scrubbed his eyes, feeling miserable. "You haven't even seen the best part," he mumbled, then showed him the secret button where a fourth, extra finger could be triggered.

Raph stared and stared at what had only been a life's dream, until now. Now, the possibilities were opening up. "Shit, Dee. I'll do you proud," Raph promised, lifting his middle finger in the air, and Donnie didn't doubt it. Never could. It was Raph.

:::

Mikey crashed face-first with a muffled screech into a patch of soft, loamy earth, and that was how he knew he was a long way from home. A quiet valley greeted him on the other side of the mystic gateway. Gone were the sparse desert plains, the arid, sun-choked skies. No angry Leo either.

He was lost, but there was that.

And he still had his stash with him.

Victory dance it was. After he grew tired of shaking his shell, he looked around at the landscape properly and nearly collapsed.

"Cabbages?" he cried. The farm was the size of a small swimming pool, with only eight rows of intersecting crops and one house with a thatched roof at the center. Nothing like the mind-blowing stretch of sand at home, or the imposing domes of The Gardens. But it had cabbages. Mikey needed cabbages. These looked a little small, but their puckered faces opened up to him like rosebuds; Mikey knew a miracle when he saw one.

"Excuse me!" he called out. "You have a lovely farm! Would you be able to spare some of your bee-you-ti-ful cabbages? I need it for a dish!"

For my annoying no-fun older brother, Mikey didn't add. He threw the bag down from his shoulder and reached his arm to snag its contents. "I'll trade ya for it? I got the goods!"

A windchime blew. A breeze, barely there, carded through the crops. Mikey could count on two hands the places still untouched by the invasion; the Kraang must have business elsewhere.

"Anyone?" Mikey approached the house. A toy car was on the ground, wheels still spinning. Someone had been here. "Oh, I get it! I'm not with the Kraang, don't worry! Name's Mikey! Just your friendly neighborhood mutant turtle, at your service."

He thought he saw the curtains behind the window rustle. The word on the doorjamb was strange; Mikey swore he recognized that alphabet system somewhere.

"Erm, you've probably heard of us. Or my brother? Leonardo?" Mikey was at the window now. Wild grass crunched beneath his feet. "Bright blue bandana, cool sword, used to be smiley but not really anymore—saved New York? No? Oh, okay. Well, rescuing people's kind of our thing. You could join us! It's not safe out here."

"We can take care of our own." Came the sudden voice, gruff and dark behind the door. The curtains at the window parted. Two small heads poked out, inquisitive eyes studying him. And on their faces: beaks.

Yokai.

Mikey swallowed; there hadn't been a lot to meet, not after the Hidden City invasion. As far as Draxum told him, they had scattered themselves like leaves.

"Please, I insist," Mikey said. "My brothers—we have a safehouse, you'll be protected—"

"Just take what you need and go, kappa," the voice said. We don't consort with humans. We've always taken care of ourselves."

"Well, if you change your mind..." Mikey kicked at a pebble. "I'll come back! I'd draw you a map, but... safety-wise, that's probably not a good idea. So, uh. I'll help myself then?"

Nothing. Silence means yes, Mikey thought, and took his fill. He shook the soil from his hands and called out his thanks before starting down the path; Donnie's trackers would find him eventually, followed by his getaway ride, a speck of purple in the clouds. Donnie always found him.

Twenty steps. Then he paused, considering the sky. He didn't mean to turn back, but the soil there felt acidic and coarse, tell-tale signals that the farm would be barren soon; and if it wasn't from climate change, it would be the Kraang themselves, then what would be left? 

Blowing out a breath, Mikey dropped his hoard by the stranger's doorstep.

"We would've made magic together. I just know it," he whispered regrettably, patting its side like an old friend. Empty-handed, he turned to go.

He could always get more stuff; Donnie had negotiated for him, after all. Before he could get far, a creaky hinge groaned, and the yokai was there, leaning on the door jamb.

"Michelangelo, wasn't it? We know who you are." The stranger towered over him. A tough crocodile snout belied an intelligent voice. "Your brothers, as well. But you... well. They say you're special. Is it true you can summon the sun itself?"

Mikey half-laughed, half-wheezed. "Wh—me?"

The stranger considered him. "They say you're growing to be the greatest warriors the world has ever known. Granted with extraordinary power."

I don't want it, Mikey thought, surprised by the fierceness of it. I never asked for it.

The children were still watching him from the window. "They say you'll save us all," the yokai continued. "A lofty fate. Wouldn't you say, ronin?"

I don't want it, Mikey thought, reaching into the depths of him for a shaky smile. Take it from me. Give me my father back.

He shrugged, then turned down the path, watching the clouds for the telltale signs of his brother. "Just Mikey's fine," he insisted, waving goodbye, and this time did not look back.