#comfort after a bad day

[o-vera-nalyzing]

look i know the most likely option for why kipperlilly hates riz specifically is that he like has amazing grades and good friends and is one of agueforts faves while like chronically skipping class and breaking the rules (and laws) but i also have 18 stupid ass reasons i wrote down from rewatching s1 that i think are funnier

[natelia-aldelliz]

After the Chicago mission ! (Soap probably asks Ghost to close the curtains after that)

[pastafossa]

I love you guys. I hope you know that.

Like.

Ok so I posted the new TRT chapter the other day. Obviously. And I had to force myself to do it, to click that final, 'post' button because at that last moment, this big wave of imposter syndrome hit (that had already hit on and off as I'd started working on the chapter again). And it was just this cycle of, 'It's been like 6 months since you posted a chapter or anything other than a couple one-shots and you're out of practice, I bet it's bad, it's probably terrible, I bet everyone's left and no one cares about this thing you love so why do you? What if no one likes it, you're gonna drop this and everyone's gonna god 'wtf is this, pasta? what happened?'' And so I forced myself to post it, took my meds to ensure I slept, and then kinda just bunkered down and slept/hid because I was halfway convinced that all the trauma in the previous six months had just bopped any ability I had to write.

Instead I got this outpouring, of just like, 'WELCOME BACK' and people telling me they're happy that mom is ok (which made me cry but in a good way) and they're sorry Cato passed away (more tears, but comforted tears), but also delightful jokes about the funny lines I put in or screaming over that romantic line or about missing Jane and the dynamics and comments about being eager for the next chapter, and how now I can be one of those AO3 authors with those notes of 'yeah my life blew up so I was delayed, but hey I'm back!' which... yeah. And much like when I first started TRT, I didn't... really expect that at all, and it's made me really emotional.

So if you've dropped into my ask box or the comments or the replies, seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, because the excitement and love and just you all being the best little fam and continuing on this journey of TRT with me - a journey that has now included both Matt and Jane's journey, and a real life journey through a pandemic, a huge move, a passing of two of my pets, my mom's hospitalization and recovery, some heart issues, the cancellation and resurrection of the show, me meeting Charlie Cox and getting him to hold a red thread, my first wood carving event, etc - and I know I say this a lot, but you all really, really help me keep going when things get hard. I'd write TRT for nothing, I would, because I love this story and I intend to see it through, but ya'll just... I love you all tons. I'm hoping to get through the asks and fic comments and replies in the next few days, but I just wanted you guys to know that.

[skoulsons]

Thinking about winter and their physical affection and now literally none of these happen under happy circumstances.

[satorisoup]

people will think im ordinary until they say one (1) thing about tmnt and all of a sudden im explaining the entire lore starting from the 1990’s movie & why donatello is the best turtle i fear… T^T

tag limit fights me… i must yap… please listen… SOB </3

[luck-of-the-drawings]

oh the dread, oh the worry! you love your sister so much and you need to know shes okay. you trust her but you cant trust the world, and more than anything else you cant trust yourself

[ohitslen]

Part two of the thing and uuh also final one

Of this interaction. Because this is far from all I can give, my brain almost imploded from all the ideas

[cheekblush]

took myself on a little shopping trip yesterday in the city where i used to study in hopes of lifting my spirits but by the end of the day i felt so disheartened. wandering the same streets 10 years later and not much has changed. i’m still the same lonely unlovable girl.

[general-cyno]

trying my hand at some post timeskip zolu (somewhere in the aftermath of fish man island's main events) and ugh. I love them so much they're so fun to write

[jrueships]

Paul George on Stephen A. Smith’s Kawhi Leonard jab: “I didn’t like that moment… Kawhi wants to play… We exhausted a lot out of Kawhi this season. So at some point your body breaks you down… I didn’t appreciate that moment. I know I laughed because the situation was lighthearted, but deep down it was like you gotta let that go, Stephen A.”

Paul George, knight in shining armor

[factorialsotherfandoms]

There is a strange path which Philza finds while out exploring one day. It winds between the trees, and it is set along its side by flowers - not poppies, not Tallulah's flowers, but flowers.

He hesitates at it for a while, but eventually decides, why not? He may as well just take a peek.

Around and around the little path goes, until eventually it leads him to a little house.

No sharestone.

Odd.

Still... He makes sure his scythe is ready and his armour intact, and pokes his way inside.

Just a little, empty room, with a very obvious elevator inside.

It's a trap - it has to be a trap - but curiosity killed the crow and Philza takes it anyway.

Whatever he had been expecting down the elevator, it is not what Philza finds; from a quaint wooden room to a large area, not unlike the election dinner arena. It is entirely underground, however, the glass replaced with stone, and the stone decorated with buttons.

The stone floor, too, is decorated with buttons.

Or pressure plates, to be more exact.

A great, great many pressure plates...

Philza's eyes trail up from the immediate, to what should perhaps have been the more obvious; where the stage was before is a plinth. On that plinth is a bed, and strapped to the bed lies the struggling form of Forever.

Forever, who vanished into the Nether, and has been missing for weeks.

"Forever!" he calls, to no avail.

There's a knife attached to some sort of redstone contraption very close to Forever's throat, a bloody line already drawn across it.

Blood in his hair, too, matted and dirty. Torn clothes, bruises and cuts and ugly looking burns covering his body, and yet Philza is drawn to the knife at his throat, and the blade at his neck.

He looks around for a clue, desperately for a clue, and finds only arrow traps in the walls.

"Forever!" he tries again.

This time he earns his friend freezing up, going completely still, angled just perfectly to see where something has burnt away the skin across half of his face.

Philza's heart drops through his stomach, but he has to stay strong. He might not have control of the situation, but if Forever is going to get out if this… If Forever is going to get out of this, Philza has to keep his head perfectly level.

"Forever, look at me." He orders.

It takes a moment, and the indescision is clear across Forever's face. After a moment he does, however, turn his head to the sound.

"You're doing well," Philza tries to soothe as well as demand. "Now just stay still, and open your eyes."

"Phil?" Forever's voice trembles.

"I'm right here," Philza repeats. "I'm right here, just open your eyes."

Forever does as he is told, and Philza does his very best to keep his swearing quiet. The eyes that greet his are terrified, bright and scared and the pupils are uneven. He doesn't even know if he is recognised right now, with the signs of a concussion so very apparent on Forever's face.

"It's going to be okay," he promises, forcing his voice to stay calm. "We're going to get out of this."

They so fucking aren't. Anywhere Philza could step is a pressure plate, and any one - maybe more - of them will swing the blade at Forever's throat. From others, arrows. From others still, perhaps poison.

If he had his wings, if he could just fly, he could save Forever.

For now... He isn't quite sure what to do.

"Don't move," Philza instructs, trying to keep things simple. "I'll get you out, just don't move."

He's pretty sure it would be impossible, but he says it anyway. One slip, one movement, and Forever is dead. A knife through his throat, whatever.

And with the Federation as it is... Philza does not trust them not to have forced him to respawn on the bed in which he lies.

"Philza?" Forever asks, voice desperate and confused. The Portuguese that follows is too disjointed for the communicator to follow, so Philza just gently shushes him in reply.

"It's okay," he says in a voice reserved for eggs and panicking teenagers. "It's okay, I'll get you."

He can grapple up to the ceiling, then maybe float down? But the ceiling has buttons on it, and he's not sure it will work. Chorus fruit, perhaps, but it could equally land him on a pressure plate. He looks up and around, searches his backpack, checks his things... Takes a photo, looks at that for clues. Whatever the solution is, it is not obvious.

In the end he has to make a choice.

Still Philza hesitates, until he looks up, and sees that Forever's eyes have slipped shut.

The panic tips over, and he cannot hold it down any more.

"Forever!" he screams. "Forever! Look at me!"

Forever's eyelids flutter, but do not open. Philza curses and screams and yells encourage, but no matter what he does...

Forever manages to crack his eyes open for a moment, whatever he tries to say too quiet and too slurred for Philza to make out.

"Shit, okay, um," Philza looks desperately around for any sort of key.

There isn't one.

"Don't move," Philza asks of him. "Trust me, and don't move."

Philza does not deserve Forever's trust in that moment.

He's given it any way.

The only option he has, in the end, is to step forwards.

The first pressure plate does nothing.

Neither the second.

He doesn't like his chances so he steps to the left a little - still fine.

On gut he keeps slowly approaching, knowing it is inevitable his luck will not last.

It does not, of course, last.

Philza can only be thankful that the arrows in the walls turn to him, not to Forever, tearing through his armour and nestling deep.

He sees the shooter reload, breathes against the pain. Forever's eyes have slipped shut again, and his body has gone limp, and Philza does not have the /time/ to do anything other than suffer the pain.

Step. Step. Step.

Another trap, this time lava starts pouring in from the edges of the room.

Step, step, step, faster now, get Forever and /get out/.

It's the last pressure plate before he can jump to Forever's side that brings hell down upon them; a blade shoots through the bed Forever is laid on, piercing through his chest. Too far to the right to hit his heart, but the blood and the lung and - and Philza can see how Forever /barely/ reacts, even to that.

He doesn't chance the final pressure plate - he jumps over it instead.

"Forever!"

As soon as he is past the worst of it, he runs over, grabbing Forever's hands. He only holds them for a second, just long enough to squeeze them, before he starts unbuckling the straps keeping him to the bed. Somehow, somehow, despite the blade through his chest and the concussion in his eyes, Forever manages to look at him.

"I knew you would come for me," blood drops from his lips as the slurred words struggle to be heard.

"Fucking moron, getting yourself trapped like this." Philza pulls free the last buckle, then looks at the blade.

He doesn't know if potions are going to cut it, and respawn... Respawn is not an option, when he doesn't know where Forever will end up.

There's not much else to try, though; Philza pours potion all over the wound, then ducks under the bed. It's not too hard to disconnect the mechanism, and then all he has to do is...

Forever /screams/ as Philza pulls.

As soon as the blade is free Philza pulls himself back out, slamming one hand to press against the wound while he grabs potions in the other.

"It's okay, it's okay, you're okay," he promises, all he can do between the blind panic himself.

It's not okay - even concussed and bleeding to death Forever can tell that, even blind with panic as his backpack straps slip from his grasp for a moment Philza knows that.

He still pours a potion down Forever's throat, and more on the wound, and begs his lady not to take his friend away.

The winds twist and turn and when Forever passes out Philza cannot pause to worry about the concussion because no matter what he does the wound still bleeds. The potion should have healed it; there must have been something on the blade because no matter what he does, Forever still bleeds.

He bleeds less, and less, but still bleeds.

With one shaking, bloody hand - the other still trying to treat the wounds - he manages to turn his communication's location to public and yell for help in the chat. He does not know if anyone sees. He does not know if there even is anyone to see, he can only bring a potion back to his hand and continue pouring it.

The wound is smaller now, Philza thinks at least most of the internal damage might have finally healed, but the external... The skin is still gone, and the blood is still blood.

Philza is an Angel of Death, not of Life, but he does his best regardless.

Somehow, he stops the blood pouring from Forever's chest.

But more drips onto is suit and

oh

the blood is his.

Some of the arrows came dislodged in his panic, others fell, some just left space from the start.

Philza sits heavy on a bloody bed, rests a bloody hand on Forever's bloody chest, stares as bloody drips hit a bloody plinth, and the lava pools all around.

His awareness narrows until he cannot feel the panic, or the pain, or the adrenaline in his veins, only the delicate rise and fall of Forever's chest beneath his hand and that quiet

drip

drip

drip

[break. This should be a new chapter but I'm taking pity on tumblr]

Philza does not know how long it takes for them to be found, only that Forever is still breathing when they do. Not awake, but breathing.

Family voices swear from the doorway, there is the sound of water buckets placed down, a thousand other sounds he has trained every part of himself to pick up on because knowing those sounds means the difference between life and death.

He does not look up, he does not even think he can. Some of his wounds have closed up now, but others still continue to drip

drip

drip

Someone tries to lift his hand from Forever's chest. He does not know who it is, where they are, but he moves all in a start. He does not even think, he just throws himself over Forever - protect protect PROTECT - and twists to hiss at the offender.

It's only Baghera, wide eyed, hands raised in surrender.

Only Baghera...

Philza backs off, only to freeze again when he sees his blood drip down, mixing with Forever's now drying blood in the gorey pool.

Someone takes Philza's hand.

"Stand down," a voice says. "We're here to help."

Philza must check out for a few moments, because the next thing he knows he is sat, hugged in Bad's lap, the other surprisingly warm beneath him. Someone - Etoiles, he thinks - is dabbing a potion-dipped cotton wool bud along a cut on his cheek.

Shakily, Philza raises a finger to it. He is allowed to - the dabbing turning to his arm instead - and he finds a graze from a clipping by an arrow.

Huh.

He doesn't remember that.

"You are back with us?" Etoiles asks.

"I-" Philza glances around, trying to place himself, and- "Forever?"

"Baghera and Cellbit are looking after him," there's a swish of a tail against cobblestone, though Bad will always deny it. "He'll be okay."

"What happened, bro?" Etoiles pulls out a bandage, wrapping the wound on Philza's arm. "We just see a call for help and then this!"

"I..." Philza's gaze travels back to the entrance way.

"Maybe not just yet, Etoiles, he's still in shock."

"It will help."

"There was a weird building out here, so I thought I'd take a look," Philza frowns slightly, looks at his hands as he tries to remember. "It was... Trapped. And Forever was in the centre. I think... He was already injured, all chained down like a gift. I couldn't... I- look under the bed."

Etoiles does. Philza does not see his expression, and does not bother to pay attention to what Etoiles tells those treating Forever. He just... leans a little harder on Bad - earns an "oof" - and clings to one of the arms around him.

"Cold," is all Philza whispers.

Bad's arms tighten a bit.

"Guys," Bad calls. "I'm gonna get Philza back to the Order!"

Philza hisses.

Cellbit pauses, then, "we'll meet you there shortly."

"Before you pass out on me," Bad whispers to Philza and, okay, maybe Philza feels a little bit bad about that.

He doesn't want to make more problems. He just wants his family, and as he can't have his family, he wants to be sure his friends are okay.

"Favela," Bad reminds him.

Right, yes, warping.

His hands are shaking as he pulls out his warpstone, and Etoiles eyes are definitely worried as he watches the two leave.

---

As soon as he reaches the Favela, Philza has to grip the warpstone for support. A moment or two after Bad's arm crosses his back, providing what support he can.

They don't say anything until Philza is sat on one of the beds in the infirmary, a blanket around him and a mug of... something in his hands. He doesn't drink it, just holds it, and Bad seems willing enough to squirm on the chair while obsessively reviewing security footage.

Philza, honestly, cannot blame him.

"Forever will be fine," Philza says, trying to convince them both. "He always is."

Neither of them glance at the bed that has been Forever's so many times that they just leave it decorated with Richarlyson's art these days.

"Drink up," Bad says.

Begrudgingly, Philza does so. Worse, he feels better for the sweetened, warmed milk. He still keeps the blanket, and clings to the warm cup, but the cold is a little more tolerable now.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions?"

"What? And take Cellbit's fun away?" Bad cocks his head to one side. "No, we have enough details for now. Once Forever's up and about we'll worry about that."

"Might take a while," Philza frowns at the thought. "Idiot has a concussion, and a bad one at that."

"Ah, fudge," Bad switches to his communicator, presumably messaging the people left behind. "Maybe before then, then."

"Maybe."

They lapse back into the quiet as they wait for the others. It takes another five, maybe ten minutes, before they stumble through. Forever is, somehow, on his feet - if supported from both sides by Baghera and Cellbit. Etoiles quickly abandons the trio to come sit next to bad.

"You good?"

"Better," Philza tests the shoulder he knows got an arrow in it. "Stings like a bitch."

"Weakness potions do that, yes," he agrees.

Philza's eyes glance to Forever, also sat on a bed and offering a shaky smile and a shakier thumbs up.

"Idiot!" Philza calls over to him. "Don't let the fu-dging bear stab you next time!"

Forever just laughs, coughs up a little blood to Cellbit's panic and Baghera's eye roll, "but you came for me anyway!"

Nobody in the room is impressed to learn that Cucurucho had something to do with this. Philza can see their minds whirring, but everyone has the sense to restrain from saying it aloud.

"Always will, dumbass!" he replies.

Bad cuffs him on the knee for that. Forever, though, gives him a lopsided grin, ended only by the flinch as Baghera forces some drink or another on him.

By the time he is done with it, Forever looks about exhausted all over again. Reassured they let him sleep, though Baghera, Bad, and Cellbit all agree to take turns watching him for the night.

Head injuries, and toture, and all that.

"I guess I should be heading home then," Philza says as they work it out. "Thanks guys."

He tries to stand; Etoiles grabs him, and sits him back down.

"You're staying," he says. "You are not allowed to do that again. And, this way, you can see when Forever gets up again, no?"

Three other pairs of eyes seem to agree.

Philza is too tired to argue; he lies back down.

"Sorry for scaring you," he says, instead of a goodnight.

"Scaring me?" Etoiles replies, though he does not deny it.

"You've got nothing on this idiot," Cellbit provides. "At least you texted and didn't get kidnapped."

Bad just pats Philza's head, then wanders over to give the same to Forever, and then heads out to get some sleep before his Forever-sitting shift.

"Night," Philza pulls the blanket over his head, and pretends he doesn't hear the quiet talking all night.

[arrows-and-ace-thetics]

For anyone else who may need to hear this today:

You will find people in your life who exactly what you can give is enough

You are allowed to set boundaries, you are allowed to not give everything

Looking after yourself means you can give more in the long run

You are enough

[oklotea]

I wish I never made eye contact with you.

RAAGHHHHHHH LET'S SEE THIS THING REACH 13 NOTES!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOHOOOOO THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOU WHO ARE HERE I HOPE Y'ALL ARE HAVING A GOOD EVENING!!!!!!

TROLLS NOIRE AU BY THE AMAZING @artroc-ity !!!!! READ COLD CASE OF MY HEART TODAY!!!!!!!!!

[martinskiseyes]

.

[puppyeared]

adhd comix

[poisonouspastels]

Thinking about Rana introducing Groda to other people bc she has to be forced to socialize eventually. And like, Groda meeting Sunny eventually and immediately clocking that he's missing an arm and trying to subtly tug on Rana's shirt almost instantly while being very clearly panicked but still trying to hide it. And Rana eventually pulls her aside like "What?? what is it?" "You didn't tell me he was missing an arm!!" "...Why would that matter?" <- understandably getting the wrong impression from this "Because I've seen it before." "Oh."

And that was the day that Rana learned Sunny's arm was ripped off by Groda's Warden at the worst possible timing.