#drop the poems Mikey

[procrastiel]

We are waiiiting

[oozedninjas]

Heyyyy I was wondering if you could do how the boys realize they're in love with you and how they react to said realization? Maybe even how long they'd take to confess??

Sorry if that's too much in one go or if you've already done it, ily and I love your writing <3

These are technically two requests so I'll just stick to "How they realize they're in love" if that's okay :)

MDNI / Turtle guys are mid to late twenties

BAYVERSE GUYS REALIZING THEY'RE IN LOVE

---

Leonardo:

Once he notices, Leo would carefully consider the implications that come with romantic emotions and reflect upon whether or not he's willing to go through what it entails to give himself to someone.

He would make sure this isn't just a fleeting thing before making any decisions on acting upon those feelings. Once he does, he'll drop little hints that surpass obviousness.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't that he is not brave enough to make the moves; it's just that he assumes that what he has to offer is little and prefers to give you all the signs. This way, if you want a relationship with him, you have the necessary tools to let him see that you do want to be courted.

Donatello:

Donnie's sharp enough to recognize what he's feeling the moment he discerns those exquisite tingles in his chest as something beyond just excitement. Yet, like the reserved creature that he is, digesting such emotions and coming to terms with them is… another thing entirely.

I think he would tough it out for the most part. Often bombarded by intrusive thoughts of a negative reaction on your side if you were to find out. His mind plays tricks on him, making him daydream about delightful dates with you, followed by the voice of mockery asserting that could never come to happen.

He has to be realistic. It isn't logical that someone as beautiful and brilliant as you are would risk being with a non-human creature who's not even biologically compatible with you. No, he's better off as your friend.

Raphael:

He knows what he feels for you; however, he refuses to accept it in his heart (or in front of anyone else, for that matter) because it would be too painful not to be reciprocated. Nevertheless, as his feelings for you grow, so do the desires to protect you and keep you safe and secure. This makes it difficult for him to conceal his true feelings to a sharp, tenacious eye as your own.

If he comes to confess his feelings, Raphael would strive to balance his rough exterior with moments of tenderness, as he recognizes the importance of displaying his softer side to achieve more deepening emotional connections.

Mikey

Mikey's excitement and eagerness to be around you would give him away in the blink of an eye. It's cute because he holds this "We should totally date! Haha, joking, joking... UNLESS!" attitude all the time.

I think he would express his feelings in a joyful, creative form. You can expect an outpouring of artistic expressions: drawings, poems, or spontaneous acts of affection.

I think Mike's the one with a higher rate of emotional intelligence; many lessons he's learned across his journey, and in his adult years, it's easier for him to establish his limits and boundaries. With this in mind, I think he would ponder if it's worth potentially ruining his friendship with you. If the answer is yes, he goes with everything he's got.

[niphredil-14]

hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with having a published writer s/o. I imagine s/o has made Leo a jupiter jim fanfic which feels way too accurate it could be one of his comic books. Or like left little poems for Donnie lying around to cheer him up and discuss feelings with it or Fantasy short story for Mikey?

Oh, how the writer in me loves this request!! (also, welcome back to my inbox! nice to see you again! c:)

Leonardo:

Ever since Leo had found out that his lover could write, he had been begging them to write fanfiction for him. They had most likely been forced to watch all of the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies before they even started dating Leo. But no matter how much he had begged for fanfiction, they had refused. They were just too busy working on the next volume in their series! But little did he know, that in the weeks leading up to his birthday, they had been brainstorming, plotting, drafting, and editing a special story just for him. When they handed him the gift, wrapped meticulously in Jupiter Jim themed wrapping paper, he was so excited! Before even unwrapping it, he knew that he would love it, just based on the look of pure joy and excitement in their eyes. He ripped the paper off, and found a deep blue binder, filled with paper. On the cover was written, "Happy Birthday, Leonardo" in large letters, and below it, in smaller letters, was written, "All my love, Y/N <3" His heart warmed, and he flipped the binder open, and almost squealed in excitement. Jumping over t them, he pulled them into a tight hug. He did not put it down until he finished reading it, and then he would just reread it. After he almost dropped it while on patrol, he asked Donnie to transcribe it and put it on his phone.

Raphael:

He found out early on in the relationship that his partner was a writer, and while he was very impressed with them and their talent, he wasn't much of a reader, so he didn't fully grasp just how amazing they were at first. While Raph could read, it was always hard for him, and he would have to go back and reread paragraphs over and over until they stuck. Out of love and interest in his darling, though, he began to listen to the audiobook versions of their books while he worked out. And he found out that worked for him, and was enjoyable. And though he often found himself wishing that it was their voice reading their stories to him, he knew from their conversations just how awkward they felt reading anything they wrote aloud to people, he knew how much they hated it, how vulnerable it made them feel, so he never asked. How much and often they talked about their work to him varied, though when they did it was usually just them complaining to him about their publishers/editors, or asking for his advice on the plot, or just using him as a fill in for them to perform the rubber duck theory. However, one day, they burst into his room, holding a book, and practically shaking. He had been sat on his bed, and they quickly sat down beside him, with the book pressed close to their chest. Before he could get a word out, they had begun to speak.

"I have a gift for you!" They trilled, they voice high, and sing-songy. A grin had stretched across his face, even wider than it had when they had first entered the room.

"Aw, Babe, you didn't have to get me anything!" He said to them.

"Well, It's not really that kind of gift, so..." They trailed off, and instead opted for just pushing the book into his hands, forcing the knitting needles aside. He looked down at the book, and found their name written below the title. How they had managed to keep the fact that they had published a new book a secret from him was beyond him, and he paused in wonder. "Open it!!" They exclaimed. And so he did, he flipped through the pages until he came to the dedication, and his eyes began to water at what he saw. Typed in a fancy, swirly, italic font was written,

"To my dearest, Raphael, who has given me endless support, love, and inspiration, who's the best muse anyone could ask for, and who's character is better than any I could create, I have written you into these pages so that your essence may be as immortal as my love for you is."

They had all the talent when it came to words, and he was left with only speechlessness as he pulled them into a tight hug, fat tears falling down his face as he buried his beak into their neck, holding them as close as he could.

Donatello:

It had never been a secret that Donnie was incredibly impressive, and taking that fact into consideration, it was no real surprise that anyone, even as talented a writer as his love, would find themselves often speechless in his presence. With their emotions running too high to properly verbalize them in the moment, they would often find themselves writing out how they felt in long paragraphs until they were able to cut down the words into poems, vague and intricate enough to not be fully clear, and yet so powerful as to make someone know exactly the emotion the poet felt while scribbling the words. Donnie had a very clear understanding of their experience with being unable to verbalize just how they felt, as he often experienced the same thing, and resorted to building things as a way to show his love. Which was why he was so moved when he had found their journal. He knew that all of their final drafts were kept on an ever-growing document on their computer, but he never knew just how those drafts came to be final. And yet, there was a pain in his chest as he held the journal, a disorganized mess of thoughts, in his hands, and was able to see their word vomit be carved down into pure art, not unlike a sculptor chipping away at wood or stone, to reveal the heart of their creation. He had known that he was important enough to them for them to gift him some of their poems, but to be able to look at the proof, to be able to hold it, and to touch it, the proof of just how strong the emotions he stirred up within them were, that was a powerful experience. It was as if his brain had completely shut off for the moments that he held their raw thoughts in his grasp, and all he could think of was how impossible it would be to ever completely and successfully express the same level of depth that his emotions had for them. But he knew that he'd be damned if he didn't try. And with that, he placed their journal back down on their desk, and made his way to his lab, already brainstorming.

(I got kinda carried away with Raph's, I'm not sure what came over me lmao. guess i got possessed by some kind of inspiration ahaha)

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter eight

[ chapter eight — 6.4k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven ] "well, now you know what to get me for christmas." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: drugs, insects

the next day, you wake to your customary darkness. outside your window light snow whispers against your window and thick clouds beyond promise there’s more where that came from. you pull a mini pizza from the freezer, crack an egg on top and put it in the toaster oven, call that protein. boil some water in your smallest pot. pull out your favorite chipped blue mug.

the dream did come last night, but its dread was dulled by early waking. you’re grateful for that. this is about as good as it gets, you think: tea on the way, a thick stillness enveloping your apartment, the city outside preparing to sleep while you keep watch. 

but wait, the phone. 

you go into your room and kneel by the bed.

michael’s small box is half-empty now that you’ve put his shirt in the wash, so the nokia is easy to find. when you flip it open, he’s there, waiting for you—one unread text—and in the sleepy silence, a bubble of incredulous unreality balloons and then bursts. it’s not michael.

they all blur into each other like drops of blood in water: you’re crushed to find that he’s still gone, relieved he’s still gone, guilty you were relieved, relieved that richie’s texted—no, happy—no, that’s embarrassing, but you can’t help it. it’s happiness and it’s something else. happiness is the warmth by your side and something else is the radiator.

the message turns out to be a single emoji, the one with the pink tongue sticking out. definitely richie. with no idea what that’s supposed to mean, you try to think of something equally silly. failing that, you pull up wikipedia on the phone and generate random wikipedia articles until you finally come across a fragment that strikes you as too beautiful to pass up. you weren’t looking for beautiful, but what the hell, it’s charmed you. copy, paste, and send.

> it was announced on january 30, 2023, that she will be writing an original poem dedicated to nasa's europa clipper. the europa clipper will launch in 2024, and by 2030, will be orbiting jupiter. limón's poem will be engraved into the craft.

not expecting an immediate reply, you replace the lid on the box and slide it back under your bed, only to hear the vibration of the phone against the wooden floorboards.

reading what he’s written makes you smile. proper punctuation and all, mimicking you. can’t tell if it’s meant to be snide or if he’s just matching what he thinks is your mood. you’ll take it either way.

> must be a bad motherfucker, that limon.

> must be.

> is she your favorite poet or something?

you feel a dissonant twinge of pride and shame. you once had a favorite poet, but that was a long time ago.

> i haven’t decided yet. are you getting better?

> i haven’t decided yet. i had three grape popsicles in bed for my breakfast, it’s kind of hard to argue with that.

> malingerer.

> i’m actually polish.

and so on. 

when he finally says goodbye so he can go back to sleep, you’re still laughing a little to yourself, and you’ve been kneeling there beside the bed for so long that your knees ache.

.

.

.

in the days that follow, richie texts you at exactly the time he’d usually visit. you stand outside like he’s still there, have a couple cigarettes, and enjoy the nonsense even as your fingertips go numb in the cold. once, he sends a picture of a meme so italian that you don’t get it. you obviously weren’t meant to get it, either, so you respond by sending him the middle finger emoji, which he, nonsensically, hearts.

if he needs help, he’ll ask for it, you think. you hope. he seems to be on the mend. anyways, you no longer feel that fear except in dreams, and you stop wondering when he’s gonna text and start expecting it, and then, less than a week later, he shows up. you know this because he texts, where are you?

you open the window and stick your head out into an eddy of snow. sure, you’re glad to see him, but: it’s too fucking cold for this!

he waves.

man was feverish for literally days and here he is in mid december with a hoodie under his leather coat but no scarf, absolute idiot, and so you close the window, go down to meet him, and break the rule. standing there, holding the door open, you say, c’mon. 

he’s surprisingly perceptive. he walks over, but he doesn’t cross the threshold, just pauses in front of you.

i don’t think we can smoke in there, he says.

we can’t, you say, moving back one more step, making even more room for him. or at least i can’t. i don't want to get evicted. my landlady will do it too.

yeah? he says, not moving. you're scared of her?

you shrug. you've moved back as far as you can, you're letting all the cold air in, and there's nothing you can do except say please.

you say, she's like four foot tall and a hundred years old, man. women that tiny that survive that long? you should be scared of them.

as if that was the final straw—though how could it be?—richie walks inside. without skipping a beat and for no reason you can figure out, richie walks inside.

learn my ways, sweetheart, he says, touching his chest and giving you his very best look of ridiculous condescension. old women love me.

as you close the door behind him, you fend off a stray, ridiculous burst of giddiness. it's just the lobby, pale linoleum floors and a single artificial plant by the elevators, but it feels radically different from the concrete outside. no cigarettes, no excuses. he’s only there for one reason.

old women do not love you, you say.

they do!

tina loves you. the rest of them, i don't know.

he snorts. you really don't want to be standing face to face with him for however long you’ve got him, so you lean on the wall instead, and he settles by your side the same way he always does.

when he looks over at you, there’s a hint of sly mischief in his eyes that makes you say, what?

wait for it, he says, and when you open your mouth, he holds up a finger.

you roll your eyes, but you hold your tongue with no idea what this is about, undisguised curiosity, and a readiness to be delighted.

you hear that? he finally says.

wind, maybe, or the distant rattle of a train? nothing special. you shake your head no.

that, richie says, is the sound of the sky not falling. 

knowing he noticed, that’s the worst thing about being told that everything is gonna be okay. it’s also the best thing. you shove him with a bony, solid elbow. i should’ve let you freeze.

he catches himself before he can topple, his smile gone goofy and so pleased. fuckin drama queen.

full han solo style, block of ice.

it was carbonite, not ice. how do you not know star wars?

course i know star wars, you lie. how do you live in chicago and not own a hat?

i have hats. i just also have a car.

uh-huh. if he wants to trade accusations, you’ve got a doozy you’ve saved up till you could turn it on him in person.  i noticed the other day that your place isn’t exactly in a location that makes my place ‘on the way home’ from the beef. 

he’s caught, not sorry. grins. you noticed that, did you.

yeah, i might not be from around here, but i still know north from south, all that shit. 

well okay, sherlock. you wanna charge me with a crime? the challenge in his eyes says it all; he knows you’re not unhappy to find he lied. 

you still need to get a hat, you say.

well, now you know what to get me for christmas.

you’re getting jack shit.

you already know what you’re getting him for christmas. 

.

.

.

kraft’s mac and cheese is a christmas tradition in a two-person slice of your family, and you’re one half of that slice, so mac and cheese is the first thing you think of when richie tells you he’ll be there for christmas eve. 

after that, it’s on to donna’s on christmas day. then i’m gonna kidnap carmy for some ice fishing, he says.

you ever been ice fishing before? you say. 

he splutters. do i not strike you as a, uh, an experienced-ass f—

no.

—fisherman and woodsman, and like—

nope.

—man of the… he gives up. whatever?

do you have a float suit? 

richie exhales smoke and fixes you with a look, annoyed but curious.

i’m carmen fucking sandiego, you say, by way of explanation. of course you’ve been ice fishing, you’ve been all over the world.  

sure you are, he says. he waves a dismissive hand. my buddy’s got all the stuff, we’ll be fine. it’s whatever, i just gotta get carmy out of the city so the only things he ends up killing are fish.

his first christmas since. you don’t have to finish the sentence.

yup, richie says.

it’s richie’s first christmas since, too, but there’s no call to say that. 

lapsing into a companionable silence and shrinking a little closer to the building as the wind picks up, you decide that you’re definitely gonna make him kraft mac and cheese for christmas eve. he wouldn’t take it as a letdown, he'd laugh at the single spinach leaf on top. he’d get it.

.

.

.

on christmas eve, ten minutes before you’re expecting richie to show up, you get a text message.

> need u 

it’s the wrong phone, though. it’s your work phone, and after everything those fuckers have done, they can’t possibly be calling you in on christmas eve. not now. your butter’s already cut, your colander’s in the sink, and you’re stirring the pot of boiling macaroni with a couple takeout chopsticks. they can’t—

the phone starts ringing. you pick up. 

fuck off, you say.

no wait! 

the voice is familiar; it’s kevin, a man so stupid that he once introduced himself to you out of anxious friendliness even though you’ve always made very clear that you don’t want to know anybody’s names. kevin must have you on speakerphone, because in the background, you can hear the telltale sounds of somebody else cursing in a continuous wretched stream. that piques your curiosity.

thirty seconds, you say. keep it clean. meaning, don’t give me names. 

kevin says, we were doing a thing and some stuff happened. 

that’s no use. he kept it a little too clean. you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers. you were doing a thing on christmas eve?

we thought…look, can you just come? aren’t you on call? isn’t this your job?

you tell me, you say. it’s been radio silence on my phone for three weeks and i haven’t gotten paid for almost a month now. 

oh.

yeah, you say, knowing damn well that it’s not kevin’s fault, but more than happy to take this out on somebody. they fucking ghosted me.

sorry to hear that, man, he says awkwardly. 

a thought occurs to you. likelihood of the carusos being involved in some shitbrained christmas eve scheme pulled by kevin? nil.

was this even a sanctioned thing? you say. like, did—

you know what, it’s fine, kevin says hurriedly. it’s basically a flesh wound.

the guy in the background howls, i got shot in the fucking foot!

shut up, howie, kevin hisses. you hang up.

there’s no reason for you to get involved. no orders, no blackmail, and probably no money; plus, your timer is counting down the last minute of macaroni boiling and richie will be on his way soon. 

you pocket your phone, walk back to the stove, and resume stirring. 

no reason for you to get involved. your timer rings out, so you dump out the pasta, put it back in the pot with the butter, add some water and the cheesy powder, stir with an eye for sauce thickness, wait for it to settle you. it doesn’t.

the thing is, there are so many small tricky bones in the foot, and you haven’t had a real surgery challenge in ages. ever since your bosses ghosted you, you’ve just been staying in your apartment, in limbo, seeing nobody except richie and occasionally a cashier. sleeping and waking neither on your old strict schedule nor on a normal daylight one. doing nothing, worth basically nothing. 

so yeah, you text kevin.

> send me the address

then, as quick as you can so you don’t have time to overthink it, you text richie. 

> work emergency, i have to cancel. sorry. 

the response is immediate.

> text me when you get home.

you realize that you’re still stirring, and you turn off the stove. although you give him a couple minutes, richie doesn’t add anything. no joke to put spikes on the soft gesture, no expression of disappointment to make you feel guilty for canceling this late. nothing. text me when you get home, that’s all.

if you were that generous, you’d text back don’t stay up, let him get some extra sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s christmas hell. but you don’t. you want to think of him waiting for his phone to chime, staying awake for you, thinking of you, even worrying. so you react with a thumbs up to his message.

the next time your phone goes ping, it’s kevin sending you the address, and you head for the door. 

.

.

.

you’re sitting on a coffee table beside the old sofa that holds your resting patient. lying on the coffee table beside you are half a dozen grape skittles, the remainder of your christmas eve meal. there’s literally baggies of cocaine sitting on the kitchen table, the tv is playing charlie and the chocolate factory, and everyone involved in this—including yourself—is so stupid that you’re all definitely going to jail. but you’re having one of your good nights.

only drugs compare to the state of pure focus that surgery grants you, and even though it’s always in shit circumstances done for shit people, you can’t help but feel like a serious machine doing all this ad hoc emergency shit. this has to be how athletes feel, after a game. it’s physical: your vision feels clearer, your hands are steady, your body’s slouched comfortable and sated. it was decent work you did, given the lack of fucking everything. you’re pretty sure howie won’t even have that bad of a limp. 

kevin finishes counting your pay and hands it over. you begin to count it again, too—twenty, forty, sixty—and then look up at him. 

what? he says.

you haul yourself up and walk over to the kitchen table, ignoring the cocaine in favor of the scale, on which you place a twenty. it comes up as 0.94 grams when it should be a single 1.0. so you throw your earnings in the sink, get out your lighter, and set it on fire.

the fire alarm! kevin rushes over to turn the tap on and put it out.

you can hear howie calling from the couch, what’s burning? 

kev just tried to cheat me. 

i did not, kevin says miserably, it was a misunderstanding. 

he pulls his own wallet out of his back pocket and starts to count the money, but you take it from his hands, sit at the kitchen table, and begin counting money yourself, weighing each bill as you go. once you’ve taken a hundred and fifty, you stand up and call over to howie, night.

yo, howie says. is my, like. what are the chances they gotta amputate?

that gets you a little, despite everything. howie spent the past few hours thinking he was gonna lose an entire foot, and he was stubbornly proud enough that he almost made it without admitting the fear to anyone. in a way, you gotta give it to him. admiration’s too grand a word, but it’s something like that. 

chances are super low, you say. as long as you follow instructions, keep an eye out for infection, and don’t get hooked on pills, you’re gonna be fine. 

for a second, there’s silence. then: thanks, babygirl.

for that, you take another forty dollars from kevin’s wallet and point them at him. asshole tax, you say.

as soon as you’re out of the house, you can hear kevin locking the door behind you. then he says, goodnight!

i shoulda robbed you, you say. then you start down the sidewalk. it’s bitter cold and you’re not a hundred percent sure you’re headed in the right direction, but just then you feel invincible. 

fuckin jagoffs, say to yourself.

.

.

.

on the train home, the peace and quiet is interrupted by a herd of college girls, twentysomethings all decked out in tinsel necklaces, clearly on their way to a different party, and hitting all the wrong notes in deck the halls.

most days, you’d hate this, but in your current state of satisfaction with yourself and the world in general, their effortless enjoyment doesn’t seem to completely shut you out. they’re so young, and one of them is sitting in another’s lap while a third drapes herself over her shoulder. they smell like spiced rum, they make it hard to be a bitter old crone.

one of the carolers makes direct eye contact with you, and instead of having the decency to keep herself to herself, she extends her hand to you and sings even louder, fa-la-la-la-ing like she’s god’s gift. for a second, you let yourself mouth along, fa-la-la-ing, but then she says, come on, i know you can do better than that! and nope, nope. fuck it.

you try to look away, she yells another, come on! and you give her the death glare. surprisingly, she keeps beckoning to you—they’re stubborn, kids these days—but eventually you win the way you knew you would.

she looks away and whispers in the ear of the lap-sitter. that girl, the tiniest of them all, gives you a look that could sear meat. you could break her in half with one hand tied behind her back, she really has the build of a hummingbird, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping her.

you roll your eyes, lean back with exaggerated deliberation, and get out your phone. 

> i’m home.

you want somebody of your own, you want richie’s reply. but none comes. 

he’s not waiting for you outside your apartment building, either, so there goes that mad hope.

.

.

.

when you get inside your apartment, you kneel to untie your boots and spot a flicker of movement on the floor. it’s a black ant scurrying towards your countertop. with a rising sense of horror, you straighten up and see a swarm of ants, dozens and dozens, maybe a hundred busily moving little black dots, crawling to and from the pot of macaroni and cheese on your stove. your stomach turns, and if you’d had a real dinner, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from throwing it up. as it is, you just gag. it feels like a violation, an invasion, and you’re more outraged about these fucking ants in your apartment—your fucking apartment—than you ever were about getting not paid or cheated or maybe even blackmailed. 

you go into the kitchenette and get the ant spray out from under the sink, then you stand back and spray everything in sight. the whole fucking counter, even though, yes, you cook your food on that, and the stove, and the floor for good measure. fuck them all. 

you should’ve known better than to leave food uncovered in this apartment. you’ve lived here for three years and this always fucking happens. you’d think the novelty would’ve worn off, but nope. it’s still as disgusting as it was the first time you woke up to see last night’s plate covered in black.

today, the spray isn’t working fast enough for you, so you get out a trash bag, put the pot in it, and head out for the dumpster. 

out there in the cold, waiting for the ant spray to do its work inside the trash bag, you remember that you left your lighter in kevin’s house. you tip your head back and look up at the sky. it’s so thickly smothered in clouds, there’s barely a glow of moon. 

yeah, you say. 

after a while, you untie the bag, shake the dead ants off your pot, and throw the bag away. you’d stomp on the ants for spite, but that would necessitate looking at them, and you’ve had more than enough of that. you just head back for home.

you almost make it to the front door, and then you smell it, the smoke.

well? richie says from around the corner. he must have heard your footsteps. you coming or what? 

you walk the last few steps and there, just around the corner, there he is. he has the navy hood pulled up over his head, both his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a cigarette between both lips. he looks at your pot with interest. 

after a second, you say, you’re late.

something tickles the inside of your wrist and you flinch. one last ant has crawled up the handle of the pot and onto your arm; you drop the pot in the snow and shake the ant off you. it lands by richie, and he stomps it dead matter-of-factly. 

it takes everything you’ve got not to start swearing like howie with a shot foot.

merry christmas? richie says after a second. 

merry fuckin christmas. you reach out and take the cigarette from his lips. long drag. you needed that. 

settling beside him so both of you can look out into the night, you hand the cigarette back. and that’s how it is for a while, sharing. the wind thins out, the streetlight across the way reflects in the glass of another apartment building's door.

when your body’s finally calmed down, you look over at him. i got you something.

aw, you didn’t have to, he say, a little curious and not particularly surprised. he probably thinks it’s a joke. 

you hold your right hand palm up, and he takes his right hand out of its warm jacket pocket to mirror the gesture. then you reach into your hoodie and unclasp his gift from your neck. 

the chain is gold. thick, but not so thick that it comes across comical. incongruous with you and with him, the weight of it and the shine, how new it is. when you lay it in his hand, it looks like a golden snake, intricate and flawless. 

after a second, he gives you his cigarette like he can’t both smoke and think about it. then he speaks. 

this is fake, yeah, he says.

hundred percent fake. 

actually, it’s regifted. it was originally one of your boss’s christmas bonus gifts, and given that you pawned all the other christmas bonus gifts to pay rent, you’re pretty sure that the chain is solid gold. it’s for the best that he doesn’t know it, though.

as you watch, he puts it on, fumbling a little with the clasp. looks at it for a second, tucks it back inside his coat. there goes the last 

yeah? you say, after a second. 

yeah. think i like this sugar baby shit. keep ‘em coming, he says. 

you laugh, real, so relieved that he didn’t take it weird, so relieved that you got lucky tonight and he got it the way he sometimes can, acceptance without explanation.

he lets you laugh, and then he says, mine’s better, though.

diamonds?

it’s back at my place, he says. i can drive?

you want that so bad, and you didn't even think to want it just seconds before.

yeah, you say, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out right beside the dead ant, unbothered. 

you want to take the pot up? 

you shrug, crouch down, and cover it with some snow; you’re not gonna leave him down here waiting for you, and you’re not gonna take him up to the horrorshow of dead ants either.

it’s still pretty obvious, richie says.

it’s christmas eve, who’s gonna bother digging in dirty snow to steal a pot?

this is chicago.

this is idle argument as companionship and you know that, but you're impatient. are you taking me home or what? yes, you can hear the double entendre. no, you don't fucking care.

there’s a slight pause before richie says, car’s this way.

.

.

.

in the car, there’s crumbs but not much mess; a coupon for personal pizzas in the cupholder, and that’s it. he must have cleaned.

when he starts the engine, you say, wait, and make an elaborate show of putting on your seatbelt. then you say, okay, now i’m ready.

fuck you, he says, and he’s still smiling when he starts to drive. 

the radio is playing carols dimly in the background, and you don’t hate it. 

you doing anything for christmas day? richie says. 

i’m working christmas, you lie.

seriously? tell your boss he’s fucking barbaric.

would if you could; you’ve already tried to say as much in your many texts, but it is what it is.

yeah, you say. bunch of fuckin jackoffs, right?

jagoffs, he says, over-enunciating, frustration immediate. he really is too easy and he knows it. you’re—

jackoffs, that’s what i said, that’s what you told me—

if you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all. he has to drive with his right hand so he can make chopping motions for emphasis with his left hand, because of course he does.

you say, jackoffs.

you’re killing me. 

and yet you go on surviving. you relent. got everything you need for ice fishing?

richie scoffs in disgust. yeah, but now carmy is trying to bail on me. 

if he’s not gonna say, typical, then neither are you.

he wants to work on the twenty-sixth, he says.

oof.

yeah. like a full planning session, go over the rest of the rollout schedule with the entire staff and like… he rubs his forehead. i don’t know. like we haven’t even gone to christmas yet and he’s already, fucking. i don’t know!

i mean.

he glances over at you briefly.

carmy wants to make the staff come in on the twenty-sixth just to go over the renovation schedule again?

he’s out of his fucking mind.

you already know what you want to say, but you have to double-check it in your own head to make sure you’re not overstepping. you don’t actually know these people.

but also, fuck it. 

you know, you say, you could tell him if he acts like this, syd’s gonna quit again.

he whistles. julie with the big guns.

how i’m built, you say.

yeah, i noticed, he says affectionately. it’s okay. i’ll figure it out.

i know you will. it’s kindness, and you mean it, and you don’t take it back. 

thanks, he says. 

you lean your forehead against the cold glass of the car door and watch chicago going by, all gold and black and white.

.

.

.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in an underground garage. 

you ready for this? this is gonna rock your world, he says. 

diamonds and rubies? you say, unbuckling your seat belt.

you’re gonna be fuckin crying.

diamonds and rubies and pearls?

.

.

.

at the door to his apartment, he says, close your eyes, hold out your hands, and wait here, so you do. when the door opens, you can smell whatever it was he made for his christmas eve dinner with eva. it smells like everything christmas eve should be, rich and homey. you could wait here for, say, half an hour. you could stretch this moment out. you wouldn’t mind.

okay, richie says. here.

when the gift touches your palm, you instinctively pull back. richie swears and catches it. 

it’s hot! you say as you open your eyes.

it’s soup, he says. you want it cold?

you look down. yeah, that’s definitely french onion soup, with a big white and brown patch of melted cheese and toast on top. it’s an echo of what you made him when he was sick. it’s him showing off his work in comparison to your two-ingredient version. it’s unfortunately perfect. there’s no way he knew that you haven’t had anything for dinner except skittles.

it smells like home.

here. you hand the bowl back to richie, but only so you can take off your coat and your shoes. 

there’s only one hook on the back of his door, so you hang your coat overtop his. as you move through his apartment, you take stock: the walls are still orange, but things are a little tidier and there are new drawings magnet-pinned to the fridge. eva’s going through a cat era, clearly. the kitchen lamp is as warm as before, and the cactus by the window has a small red ribbon on it, probably a nod to christmas. 

you sit down at the kitchen table on one of the foldable stools, and richie sets your spoon and bowl in front of you. there’s a half-empty bottle of coors on the countertop behind you, and you take a sip of that. he sits down on the chair to your left, so he’s in your peripheral. he’s next to you.

you can feel it coming.

um, you say.

he glances over, and you can feel that too. what’s up.

don’t be a dick, okay. you say it very low and very flat, not even angry, because angry wouldn’t cut it.

the pause is too long, but at least he finally says, okay.

you pick up your spoon and take the first sip. 

the bit of melted cheese hits first, warm and gooey and salty then the sweet savory richness of the broth, and yeah, okay. it’s happening. your eyes are wet.

you can feel him not saying anything about it, but before it can build up to torture, his phone rings. 

sorry, he says, getting up. it’s tiff.

he must know from the ringtone alone, but you’re not even mad at it, you’re relieved. saved by the bell, another bit of good luck. maybe christmas is real.

uh-huh, you can hear him saying. yeah. that’s— he laughs, and you know from that laugh alone it’s something about eva. yeah, put her on. a beat, then. hey, honey. no. no, she’s right. listen, santa won’t come if you spy on him. the guy likes his privacy, okay? he’s not in it for the applause, he’s not in it for the publicity. pause. well, that’s what the cookies are for. i am being serious, that’s what they’re for. okay. who—okay. he snorts. okay, you got me. don’t tell your mother, though, okay? she really enjoys it. pause. it’s up to you. okay, i gotta go. i love you. hey. i love you. 

that’s more than enough time for you to wipe your eyes on your sleeve, get all fucked up again listening to him, and wipe your eyes a second time. by the time richie sits back down, you’re basically normal.

that sounded like some saga, you say.

this jewish kid at school told all the christians that santa wasn’t real, he explains. and now she’s going around busting all the lying adults one by one. 

you laugh. 

they’re starting young, he says. when i was in school, they always used to make us wait until at least sixth grade before we could go around busting myths.

you’re jewish?

he shrugs. kinda sorta.

you see the opportunity to make another joke about him being zero percent italian, and you ignore it. did eva like the doll? you say instead. 

yeah. i mean, it was a huge hassle, it’s so expensive i had to go halves with tiff, and i nearly had a heart attack when eva said something about kirsten cause i thought i’d got the wrong one— he starts eating again, eating soup and talking, and you don't hate it. which by the way, swedes? have the most boring american history of them all, i don’t know why they’d make a doll about that, but anyways, yeah. she loved it. he reaches across you and takes his beer back so he can drink the last dregs of it. ever since the divorce, we don’t even call it christmas eve, we just call it christmas one and christmas two. as is tradition.

he says the last three words kind of weird. 

as is tradition? you repeat.

tiff and i, we don’t have a bunch of traditions from our parents, so it’s like. we make up a lot of stuff and then we say ‘as is tradition.’ cause it’s not.

i mean, you got two generations involved, so that counts.

eh, he says, drawing it out dubiously. 

i got two-generations traditions, you say.

you didn’t intend to talk about your family, you weren’t thinking about that at all, you were just thinking about richie. but now you gotta sit in the silence as he decides whether or not follow up about your parents.

finally, richie says, you got a kid? he’s doing his best to be cool about it, but his voice goes up a little crazy on the last word.

no, i mean—you’re laughing. i meant me and my dad.

oh, he says, maybe a bit relieved, definitely a bit something, you can’t quite place it. oh.

i used to make us mac and cheese for christmas. with a leaf on top, like lettuce or spinach or something. cause, you know, that makes it salad.

that’s cool, he says flatly. after a second, he adds, less flat, i don’t have any traditions with my dad. i mean, he’s dead, but like before then, we never. so i think that’s cool. 

you hate his dad. it’s a split-second decision, but you feel pretty confident about it.

two generations is all you need, you say. and you got eva. so it’s a tradition. 

heard, he says.

when you glance over, you see the chain catching the light, gold over his dark shirt. he looks at you. you both keep eating.

.

.

.

eventually, you finish off two bowls of soup and a hot chocolate too, courtesy of eva’s swiss miss unicorn package. you feel a bit subdued by the ordeal of being human, but relaxed. 

best christmas ever, you say.

really? richie says, like he believes it and feels bad for you.

god no, do you think i came out a dickens?

what the fuck is a dickens?

you’re illiterate, it’s okay. you look at him. you know that your eyes are a little red, but thankfully you can also see, reflected in his eyes, that he knows you're all right.

thank you, richie, you say. it’s all wrong, you shouldn’t be saying his name and you shouldn’t be saying thank you either, it’s thanks or nothing, but something about the formality feels a little heavier and therefore suited to the day. it’s getting late.

i’ll drive you? he says, and there’s a little extra question in it that you can’t bring yourself to consider. 

you shake your head and get up from the table heavily, feeling a thousand years old. i’m good. 

he gets up, follows you, stands there with his hands in shoved his pockets as you crouch to put on your shoes.

i wasn’t suggesting a sleepover, he says. 

no, of course not, you say, and you congratulate yourself on not making it sound bitter.

unless, richie says.

you look up at him. 

i have so many condoms, he says, deadpan. just. so fucking many. some of them are citrus flavored.

there he goes, saved it.

it’s not just tonight, is it? it’s not just tonight, it’s not just luck, it’s not just christmas; somehow, richie’s become…he’s figured it out, how to be with you. when to show up and when to let you go. not always, but more than enough, and he just. he wakes up and he struggles and he breaks shit and he irritates you and he calls eva and he watches youtube and he goes to bed and he wakes up and he struggles and he learns and you love him.

what a fucking time to find out. you look down and begin tying your shoes again.

you got pineapple flavor? you say.

in what world is pineapple citrus? richie says.

well, tough luck. you back up and turn around to put on your coat. for me, it’s pineapple condoms or nothing.

you’re a real high-maintenance fuck.

you laugh. michael used to like that about you, just how easy you were, or how easy you made yourself. buddy, you got no idea. 

it’s been such a long day for both of you, apart and together. of course you’re getting messy, of course it’s time to go. you zip up your coat, run your hand through your hair. 

let me drive you, he says again.

you wave him off. no, i need to walk. clear my head.

it’s december in chicago, fuckin pitch black— 

i’ll be fine.

it’s christmas eve, are you really gonna punish me for a fucking joke? he says, and you look up, startled; you didn’t know he was upset. in retrospect, you were just focusing on avoiding his eyes, so what did you expect?

i’m not punishing you for anything, you were great. richie. you look at him straight on and steady, so he understands. a little gentle, as gentle as you feel you can get away with. you truly have to go, and there’s no resentment in it. i just need to clear my head. i’ll be fine, i’m always fine. 

you never… richie trails off, eyes you, decides against finishing the sentence. you’re stubborn.

always. you give him a small smile. thanks for the soup.

goodnight.

that should be the end, but it feels unfinished. his blue eyes are alive to the possibilities when you reach out, but you just touch the chain with a fingertip where it rests over his collarbone. his right hand moves a little and you draw back, your other hand on the doorknob at once, already leaving.

.

.

.

two days later, the cops issue a warrant for your arrest. 

.

.

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[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109, @shinebright2000, @scorpiolystoned — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye "Ma" Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter One: Reunification

The snow steadily fell as Jason disappeared into the crowd. He’d done it a thousand times before. The clouds concealed the sunset. It was early December, but the weather failed to ease into the coming season. He lit a cigarette before an open hand struck him in the back of his head. “Thought you quit,” the voice chuckled. Jason sucked his teeth as the crowd on the sidewalk continued to walk around him, stepping on his dropped cigarette. He glanced upward at the gap-toothed grin of his father.

“I didn’t say that… I said I’d cut down. It’s cold out here,” Jason complained. Willis draped an arm around Jason’s shoulder and crossed the street. “Where are we going? I gotta get back before my foster dad calls—.”

Willis shook his head. “Shoulda went to court. They read the letter you wrote, though,” Willis replied. Jason’s eyes went wide.

“The judge read it out loud?” Jason questioned in a higher pitch.

Willis slipped off his jacket before taking Jason’s backpack. “Here, put this on… I liked your letter. Thanks for writing it, Kid. It meant a lot to hear you say something nice. I know I haven’t—.”

“I didn’t think the letter would work, but I thought the judge would assume I didn’t wanna go home if I didn’t send anything,” Jason replied. Willis slipped his coat over Jason and crouched in front of him. He gave Jason the hat off of his head and lifted his chin.

“He could’ve gotten you a decent jacket. Doesn’t he get—? Sorry,” Willis whispered, “Mikey said it’s okay for me to come with you and wait outside while you get your stuff”

“I was—. Wait. Get my stuff?” Jason questioned. Willis carried Jason’s backpack before he scooped Jason under his arm.

“You’re coming home with me, Kid,” Willis smiled. Jason laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed since Catherine passed. “Come on, say it. Say you’re coming home.”

“I’m coming home,” Jason giggled.

“Come on,” Willis replied, “Where’s the excitement?”

“I’m going home with my dad!” Jason shouted. Willis laughed and set Jason down on the bench.

They sat next to each other in stunned silence. “It’s not the same apartment… It’s the building closer to the old theater. Where the cops park,” Willis explained, “I took a parenting class. They said I should explain big changes to you ahead of time. I learned—.” Jason shot Willis a half-amused look.

“I thought it was stupid too… But I learned a lot,” Willis smiled, “I learned I’m an angry parent. I learned that kids respond to this better than shouting.”

A gust of wind blew as a car sped past, and Jason shivered. “Do I really get to go home today?” Jason questioned. Willis leaned over and kissed the top of Jason’s head.

“As of this morning, our case was dismissed… We’re out of the system,” Willis replied, “Hey. Let’s get your stuff.”

Jason held Willis’s hand and walked to his foster father’s building. Willis stopped, and Jason tugged his hand. “I promised Mikey I wouldn’t go in his building. It’s the only way he’d allow me to walk you here,” Willis explained, “Go get your stuff. Go ahead.”

Jason hesitated, still holding his father’s hand, before he entered the apartment building. He jogged upstairs and used his key to enter the first door on the left. His foster father, Michael, sat on the couch by himself. “Where’s everybody?” Jason asked.

“I wanted to talk to you alone. Did Willis talk to you?” Michael questioned. Jason didn’t answer. “I said it was okay for him to talk to you. He won’t get in trouble if you say yes.” Jason stared at him. “You’re going home, Jason.”

“Today?” Jason asked in reply. Michael nodded, and Jason thanked him before rushing to the room he shared with the other boys. He grabbed his duffel bag and left the room. Jason never unpacked in foster homes. So, he was always ready to relocate at a moment’s notice.

Jason lugged his duffel out of the room without speaking to the two boys he’d shared a bedroom with. “It’s okay? I can leave?” Jason whispered. Michael nodded.

“I can walk you to the—.”

“No thanks… My dad’s waiting,” Jason smiled as he walked out the front door, dragging his duffel until he reached Willis. At that moment, their reunification felt real. Jason embraced Willis, crying into Willis’s shirt as the warm reality sank in. Willis rubbed Jason’s back as he held back tears of his own.

“We’re three blocks away from home… Let’s go before I freeze to death,” Willis half-joked as he grabbed Jason’s duffel.

Jason grabbed his hand. “We hold hands now?” Willis asked. Jason frowned. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I missed you.”

They walked to their old neighborhood, and Jason headed toward the old apartment. “Nope. We’re in this building now.” Willis pointed to the building facing the old theater. “This apartment’s way better than our old one. The heater works and the bedroom-. You’ve got a room.” Willis led Jason to the elevator. “Elevator works too. Go ahead. Press the button. We’re on the third floor.” Jason giggled at the sound of his father’s excitement.

He pressed the button, and Willis took him to the apartment. It was clean but poorly furnished, having only a couch and coffee table in the living room. “You can—. You can do your homework here. Then, I got this table in the kitchen from a neighbor. He um—. He makes furniture,” Willis stammered. Jason smiled as he went straight to the window and looked outside.

“This place is great,” Jason whispered.

Willis rubbed the back of his neck, proudly rolling his shoulders back. “Rent-free,” Willis announced. Jason’s jaw dropped as he walked toward the door and put his and Willis’s coat on the rack. “Go get cleaned up… I’ll make you something to eat. Do you still like canned ravioli?” Jason nodded as he unpacked his pajamas from his duffel. Willis started dinner and waited until Jason went to the bathroom to sink into a chair, holding his face in his hands. “Don’t fuck this up, Will… This might be your last chance to make him happy.”

He took Jason’s duffel into the bedroom and packed Jason’s things into empty drawers. That’s when he found their family album. Willis smiled as he set it on top of the dresser. Willis returned to the kitchen, opened a can of green beans, and started drizzling in fresh orange juice and rosemary. He was learning to cook, and a woman at the supermarket explained that the easiest way to start was to enhance canned meals. Then, Willis could work his way up to cooking easy pasta dishes. He turned the ravioli off and put the top on while the green beans cooked. He took a block of cheese out of the fridge and grabbed a cheese grater. Willis wanted Jason to have a special meal, even if it wasn’t from scratch. Jason left the bathroom and patted his hair dry with a towel. “Water’s hot,” Jason smiled.

“No hot water at Mikey’s either?” Willis asked. Jason shook his head. “Do you eat cheese still?”

“Uh-huh,” Jason answered, “Can I have a glass of milk?”

Willis opened the fridge and gave Jason the milk jug. “The dishes are in the cupboard… Hey, Pete? I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m gonna do better,” Willis promised.

“I believe you,” Jason whispered, watching Willis make his plate. Each action was deliberate. He carefully plated the ravioli, topping it with pepper jack cheese and a single basil leaf. Then, he took a small sauce bowl and served green beans with the canned broth and juice. Jason poured a cup of milk for Willis and then himself. Once Willis served dinner, he sat with Jason and wrung his hands. Jason silently said a prayer before taking a bite. “This is canned ravioli?”

Willis nodded, trying to conceal a smile. Jason dug into his ravioli. Willis took a sip of milk. “I don’t drink anymore… I go to AA meetings on Saturdays at seven. It’s by the church,” Willis confessed.

“Do you want me to stop smoking cigarettes?” Jason questioned.

Willis shrugged. “It’s up to you… If you need help, I’ll be here,” Willis replied. It wasn’t something they argued about. Willis knew why Jason started smoking cigarettes, so he tried not to give Jason a hard time. He studied Jason’s face as if he’d never see him again. “I love you. Have I said that yet?”

“I love you too, Dad,” Jason whispered. Willis smiled. It felt good to hear the words in person. Willis never had the words to explain his feelings, but he liked being a father. He loved Jason so much that it overwhelmed him sometimes. It kept him up at night when Jason was a baby. Watching him breathe, tensing at every cough or cry. It never got easier. “I’m proud of you.”

Willis snapped back to the present. Proud. No one ever told him that before. And Willis definitely didn’t expect to hear it from Jason. Willis made all sorts of mistakes throughout Jason’s life. Using the wrong medicines. Getting drunk and forgetting to pick him up from kindergarten. Hitting Catherine in heated arguments. Letting Jason get taken by CPS. Willis wasn’t proud of himself. He’d been ashamed of himself for years… But Jason didn’t give up on him. Jason’s faith in Willis was the only true comfort Willis had ever known.

[little-mouse-gardens]

Incorrect quotes with my rottmnt ocs and the turtles

Ocs : sunny, Marcy, Skye and Angie

part 2 electric boogaloo

Donnie : What if the 'g' in 'gif' is silent?

Marcy, sleeping over at the lair for the night and is cuddled up half awake next to him : Donnie, I’m begging you. Please get some sleep

Donnie : What gif I don't want to?

Marcy : Fuck You

Mikey: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Angie : pink mums, why?

Mikey:

Angie : Were you going to get me flowers?

Mikey:

Angie :

Mikey: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

*it’s the Middle of winter and the turtles are in brumation*

Angie, who came over to cheer him up : Mikey, time for breakfast! Want some pancakes?

Mikey clinging onto Angie like a koala : no

Angie : Mikey, it’s time for lunch! I made some Homemade pizza and breadsticks!

Mikey huddled up under electric blankets trying to tug Angie in for cuddles : nooo

Angie : Mikey, it’s ten at night time for bed-

Mikey, wide awake and instantly dragging Angie into the blanket pile for snuggles and a movie marathon : NOOOO-

Meat-sweats after the turtles defeat him once again while Angie and her sisters witness it, looking right at Mikey : may your marinara sauce never cling to your pasta!

Mikey and Angie who both love cooking nearly trying to claw his face off : EXCUSE YOU!?!? COME UP HERE AND SAY THAT TO OUR FACES MOTHERFU-

Mikey : Angie the kitchen is on fire!

Angie who is half asleep, still has her sleep mask on and it’s almost 3am after a cooking show marathon she and him watched : babe, like…how big is the fucking fire?

Mikey : big

Angie, crawling out of bed : alright-

Leonardo : My hands are cold.

Skye : Here, let me hold them.

Leonardo : My lips are cold too.

Skye : *covers Leonardos mouth with her hand*

Raphael , throwing their head into Sunny's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

Sunny, lovingly petting his head : Prince Charming from shrek could never compare

Raphael , sweating: Sunny, there’s something I need to ask you-

Sunny: Finally! You’re proposing!

Raphael : How’d you know?

Sunny: Raphael , you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Sunny: I even picked it up once.

Raphael : Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Sunny: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Raphael : ...

Raphael : You mean ring bearER, right?

Sunny: ...

Raphael : Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

Side note - sunny loves this big sweetheart with all her heart. Likes to give raph shell scritches because she knows it helps his anxiety, doesn’t even mind the happy stink he emits.

Marcy: *seductively takes off glasses*

Marcy: Wow...

Donnie : *blushes* Haha... what?

Marcy: You're really fucking blurry.

Marcy: I owe you one.

Donnie : That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

Donnie : Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Marcy: I wrote you a poem.

Donnie , already crying: You did?

Donnie : My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Marcy: *accidentally drops her new beta fish and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Donnie : That one. I want that one.

Side note - Marcy loves fish, so her accidentally injuring or killing one literally is her worst nightmare, but not to worry! she and Donnie had a arcade date and some comfort snacks to cheer her up (plus he stole a new beta fish for her)

Marcy: Thank you for not saying "I told you so."

Donnie : When you’re as right as I am, you don’t have to say it.

Marcy: Did you have to stab them?

Donnie: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me.

Marcy: What did they say?

Donnie: "What are you going to do, stab me?"

Marcy: That’s fair.

Skye : You are an absolute fucking dork.

Leonardo, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork!

Skye : *smooches him on the forehead* Yeah, you're my dork.

Leonardo: *is throwing stones at Skye’s window*

Skye : You have a phone for a reason, Leonardo!

*THUD*

Skye : DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

Leonardo: You’re giving me a sticker?

Skye : Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Leonardo: I’m not a preschooler.

Skye : Fine, I’ll take it back-

Leonardo: I earned this, back off!

Skye : My toxic trait is that I truly believe I could win a fight against anybody if I was mad enough. You might have the strength and size, but I have the pure, unfiltered rage.

Leonardo: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.

Skye : Was that place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?

Spoiler alert - she came back with the pancakes an hour later, skateboarded halfway across New York and back to get them for him

Skye : I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Leonardo: But, Mi amor, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Skye : wait….Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Leonardo: Is it working?

Leonardo: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

Skye :

Leonardo: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Mi amor? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?

Skye : 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&M’s

[sskurwysyn]

MASTERPOST

R(A)ISE THE MAYHEM!!

Probably gonna come out at some point in between GDD, but im already dropping the title to warm it's spot <33

DADUESO

Silly Interactions with the whole fam

Leo visiting Emilia

GOOD DAD DRAXUM AU

1st concepts

Mikey doodle page

Relationship with Piel summary

Huggin and munnin redesign

Draxum's mission designs

Clothes don't make the turtle 1/2/3/4

GDD COMIC

Baron Draxum and his sentient weapons [ ··1·· | ··2·· ]

STANDALONES

Poem about Mikey (WIP)

My human designs

Human doodles

Usagi

Usagi + Leo doodles

More doodles

Very short very silly Draxum comic panel

[twoheartsoneclara]

2023 goals

idk i had lots of fun doing this in like what was it.  2020?  or something.  i don’t really have concrete goals for each category i’m just gonna have fun with it, the goals is mainly just a kind of name.  part of it is i’m going to try and write more reviews/critiques/etc. of the art i interact with, which i think is gonna be fun!  :)

books

van gogh: the complete paintings - walther & metzger (1 january - 22 january)

leave the gun, take the cannoli - mark seal (23-25 january)

the family (26 january - )

the lost spells - macfarlane & morris

anne of green gables - l.m. montgomery

anne of avonlea - l.m. montgomery

anne of the island - l.m. montgomery

anne of windy poplars - l.m. montgomery

20 love poems and a song of despair - pablo neruda

outlander - diana gabaldon

a tin box of matches - j.r. armstrong

hood feminism - mikki kendall

natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812: the journey of a new musical to broadway - steven suskin & dave malloy, various others

anne’s house of dreams - l.m. montgomery

films

the irishman (11-12 january) + the irishman: in conversation (12 january)

manglehorn (13-14 january)

mean streets (17 january)

puss in boots: the last wish (19 january)

mikey and nicky (25-26 january)

the mummy (24 february)

the mummy returns (28 february)

tv shows

superstore rewatch (may have started in december of last year idk - 6 january 2023)

a to z (6 january - 7 january)

drop dead diva (7 january - )

hunters s1 (12 january - 13 january)

the bear s1 (17 january)

columbo s1 (21 january - 25 january)

columbo s2 (27 january - 3 february?)

columbo s3 (3 february? - ah heck i don’t know sometime in february)

columbo s4 (idk sometime in february - 22 february)

leverage: redemption s2 (28 february - 2 march i think)

the mandalorian s3 (2 march -

abbott elementary s2 ( picking back up from last year, 3 march - )

andor s1 (picking back up from last year, 3 march - )

music

wednesday, 3 a.m. - simon & garfunkel (7 january)

the sounds of silence - simon & garfunkel (7 january)

parsley, sage, rosemary, & thyme - simon & garfunkel (11 january)

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Your comment about the Bonten timeline and its superficial happiness after seeing a bunch of discussion about whether or not MaiTake will become canon made me think because like

While i honestly would be VERY surprised if we got canon explicitly romantic MaiTake (aka i really don't think it's gonna happen LMAO) it would really make that timeline narratively immensely powerful and just. very beautiful

Because... Michi is finally in a timeline where Hina is alive (and probably permanently this time lol) but still together with him and even set to be married soon. That together with the apparent happiness of his friends presents itself as sometime of an "utopia", just about the best outcome considering their circumstances (that could still realistically happen) and just about everything Michi could've wanted (well ig except being stuck at that store but even then he's in a better position at least? lol)

But it's just... Surface level. And choosing this kind of future would essentially just be running away from reality into a sweet dream

And when and how exactly does Michi come to the conclusion that, no, this definitely isn't the kind of future he wants?

... Only tangentially related but if Sanzu really goes after Koko in the current fight that would really give that one scene much more meaning bc it does sorta come off as "okay random but look at my new designs 🤩" setting a dead flag for your own past self tho.... That sure is some dramatic irony or whatever it's called lol

....i have no idea if any of this even makes sense bc it's literally past 4 and my brain and body are just in an eternal state of ??? but i suddenly had some Thoughts so thank u for this wonderful open inbox and the opportunity to just let them Out bc i swear I'm going insane. Maybe i do miss one thing about HS and it's getting to do fun poem interpretations

Oh yeah I definitely agree with you, we're definitely not getting canon romantic maitake. Hina's been established as the love interest from chapter one, even in the current arc Wakui has been sure to show takehina, he's definitely not dropping it for the ending. (Personally I like both ships so I'm fine with whatever happens).

When Takemichi first travels to the bonten future he only sees the surface level of everything, everything looks good to him because everyone seems happy. That's all Takemichi wants, he just wants everyone to be happy and alive. That's his minimum for it to be a good future, that's why when he thinks Mikey is successfully working overseas he's happy for him.

It's not until he sees the white haired man on TV and thinks Mikey is dead that Takemichi starts to realise the future isn't what he wants.

Takemichi knows Mikey well, he knows Mikey isn't happy without all his friends, he knows Mikey isn't having a happy future which is why he wanted to save him. I think if Takemichi hadn't have searched for Mikey he would've ended up regretting it for the rest of his life. I think he always would've been distantly thinking about what happened to Mikey, it would've ruined Takemichi's happiness in the future. I also think it wasn't a happy future for Draken either. To me he still looks upset over what happened with Mikey, I feel like he has a lot of regrets he's carrying as well.

The second Takemichi found out about Mikey the illusion of it being a truly happy future shattered.

[lizziethereader]

September 2021 wrapup

I actually reread a book this month! And it was so worth it! I hardly ever reread because I just want to dive into new worlds, but rereading Ari and Dante this month (in preparation for the sequel) was such a lovely experience that I’m considering doing it more often. (But truth be told, I’m also scared that some others books might not be as good as I remember them to be....)   Other than the reread, it was a fairly standard reading month (if maybe not my most “productive” one). 

favorite of the month: Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz [reread]

nonfiction reads (1): Drop Dead Healthy by A.J. Jacobs

classics (1): High Wages by Dorothy Whipple

poetry (1): A Potion of Emotion: A Collection of Poems from the Cauldron of Imagination by Mikey G. Swann 

[lluvguts]

stargazing // byler

pairing: will byers / mike wheeler & eleven / max mayfield

genre/warnings: mainly fluff! some soft angst

word count: 2502

summary:  Where the party goes laser tagging for Will's 16th birthday and something happens that Mike will never forget aka that first kiss no one asked for.

n/a: post season 3 spoilers!! you’ve been warned!

March 22nd, 1987

6:37 pm

“Lucas, I don’t even care if it’s Will’s birthday, so help me if you crash this car I’m making Eleven open the gate and feed you to the Demodogs,” Dustin yelled from the front seat of the Henderson’s van with the rest of the group piled in the back.

“El can’t do that anymore, genius.” Max had her hands clasped in Eleven’s lap.

“I have my license, Dustin. Stop freaking out,” Lucas groaned but still reduced his speed by a few miles.

“Lie-sense?” Eleven looked to Max.

“Can we please stop arguing?” Mike hollered over the shouting from the back of the van, as well as Max’s arm stretching across the console to crank the volume louder on the radio.

The party had decided to celebrate Will Byer’s sixteenth birthday in the most acceptable way possible: laser tag. The boys had outgrown Dungeons & Dragons—for the most part—but that didn’t stop them from pooling their money and planning on spending the night shooting each other with lasers and eating junk food like children; if anything it brought back the nostalgia of their middle school antics. The girls, on the other hand, didn’t care for the game as much—although Eleven had a difficult time wrapping her head around the entire idea of laser tagging—and they only went for the sake of Will and to spend time together.

The van slowly turned into the parking lot of the laser tag center and the chatter subsided.

“Is this what you wanted for your birthday?” Mike turned to Will. The other boy gave a shy smile and nodded. No matter how many weeks since they’d announced their relationship to the party and their parents—even realizing it themselves—Will’s affectionate gestures made Mike’s heart beat a little faster, and his eyes linger on the boy’s face a little longer. He wasn’t used to it yet, he’d never been in a real relationship. And his smile is driving me mad.

Will took Mike’s hand and pulled him out of the last row of seats. As he jumped down from the van Mike’s eyes flickered to his shorts. Only briefly. Were they always that..short? His heart leapt from his chest and he looked away, embarrassed, only to find their intertwined fingers. Will caught Mike’s flustered expression.

“What?” he laughed and held up their hands, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Mike said, his face reddening. “Uh, I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry, it’s just all so new-“

“Hey! Birthday boy! Get over here! You too, stupid,” Max called, pointing to the Polaroid camera in her hands while the rest of the group huddled around the front entrance for the photo.

Will smiled up at the dark haired boy and lead them over to the others. Max held the camera out in front of her as the rest of the group filed behind her, grinning. Will snaked his hand over Mike’s shoulders and Eleven draped her arms around Max from behind.

“Cheese!”

“Mike, stop looking at Will, look at the camera,” Lucas snapped.

They all laughed as the light flashed.

“I took a few, so you all get a copy.” Max let the film develop for a few seconds and handed them each a photo. Mike took one and before he slid it into his pocket he showed it to Will, both staring at their cheeky grins. He already knew where he’d keep the photo—on the bulletin board in his bedroom, amongst ticket stubs, poems and sketches Will had done, and photos of the group when they were younger; right next to the many polaroids he’d snapped of Will. A collage of his hazel eyes. His beautiful, bright eyes.

“Cute, Mikey,” Will whispered. Was he talking about the picture? Or him?

Will briefly touched Mike’s shoulder then caught up with the rest of them, leaving him to stare at the smiles on the film, hiding his blush.

7:02 pm

“Boys against girls!”  

“How is that fair?” Eleven hissed, “It’s just the two of us.”

“We can join a group that’s already in there,” Will added.

“You’re all such a headache. Let’s just split it into two groups. Me, Mike and Dustin on the red team. Will, Lucas and Eleven on blue. Deal?” Max counted off on her fingers.

Mike looked around the area as the others went with their teams and pulled on the correct vests and guns.

“Need some help?” Max asked and went to her girlfriend’s side, she was holding the gear in her arms with a startled expression like she was handling a bomb. She giggled as Max guided the heavy vest over her head and adjusted it to her small waist. Eleven watched it all in wonder, then looked up at her face.

“Pretty,” She said to Max and leaned in for a hug, their pink cheeks pressed close.

“See Will? It’s that simple,” Dustin whispered loudly and then chuckled while he watched the girls. Will punched Dustin in the arm and his eyes quickly met Mike’s from across the neon lit waiting room.

Will was about to say something to him, not in words. In his stare. But the booming voice from the overhead speaker filled the room.

“Game begins in five,” The announcer said.

“Alright. I’m going to go with my team. You remember the rules?” Max had her hands on Eleven’s shoulders, staring into her eyes.

Mike tried to make Will look again, but he was talking to Dustin as they headed into a different room. What was he going to say? What was so simple?

Eleven pointed to Max’s glowing chest, “Shoot the red vests. Hide. Be quiet.”

“See? You’ll do great,” Max hugged her one last time and went over to the door, “But, I am going to win.”

“We’ll see about that, Mad Max.” Lucas shouted and patted their shoulders companionably.

A buzzer sounded as the main doors opened; Mike’s team rushed inside to station themselves around the maze. The arena was pitch black save for the neon lights across the carpeted floor and a constellation of yellow artificial stars on the ceiling. He knew that Will’s team was somewhere on the opposite side, lurking in the shadows. Waiting to stake the perfect moment to strike. The visual made Mike’s heart race and he was drowning in worry.

He could only think of Will. It’s gonna be just like that time at the arcade. Just like Halloween. He’s gonna be walking and everything’s fine until someone jumps out and it triggers a memory in his mind. What if he can’t control it, and the figure in front of him suddenly turns into a Demogorgon? Or the Mind Flayer in his head?

Mike crept around the curved bend in the maze and quietly ducked into a dark alcove to think. A shout suddenly echoed and floated up into the air, the resonant cry drifting to Mike’s ears. To anyone else the sound only meant that someone had gotten caught off guard and a laser to the chest.

What if that’s Will? Is he okay?  

Mike sat up slowly, hoping to find Will and make sure he was safe; he turned his head around the edge of the alcove and in the sound of slamming plastic someone crashed into him. He staggered back, registering the face.

“Oh. Will, thank God. I was going to see-“

Before he could get out the last of his sentence Will took the barrel of his laser gun and pinned Mike back against the alcove wall.

He couldn’t speak.

Mike only watched Will draw his lips up to his mouth, frozen in surprise. Will squeezed the trigger as their lips parted at the same time, as though they’d wanted this from the start. He kissed Will back and shuddered when he felt a brush of those teeth along the front of his flushed lips; Mike dropped his gun and grabbed at his face, embracing the startling sensation when Will pressed himself closer, trapping him. Oh God, don’t move. Don’t pull away, Mike pleaded.  

The trigger went off and Mike’s vest buzzed and filled the space with flashing red light—but Will didn’t let go. He just rooted him in place by the tip of the gun, its weight carrying all throughout the plastic front of his vest and into his pounding heart.

Will sighed into his open mouth, making Mike shudder involuntarily before he moved his body away. The air was filled with the sound of their shaky breathing.

“That’s what I wanted for my birthday,” Mike’s heart sped up at his gruff, breathy voice.

Mike reached for him again, “W-Wait-“

“Shhh,” Will whispered and placed his hand on Mike’s face, smirking, “You’re dead, Wheeler.”

He rushed out of the alcove with a smile plastered on his face before Mike could run after him. The vest shook once more, signaling his loss, before the color faded and died. Mike slid down onto the floor and brought his fingers to his hot cheeks. His lips started to burn as the last few minutes replayed in his head, making his breathing turn ragged again and his stomach twist back into messy, feverish knots.

Mike felt the pulse roar in his ears, still staring at the empty space where Will was only moments before. Where he’d just kissed him.

What just happened?

8:49 pm

“Our team,” Eleven started, staring hopelessly out the car window into the night, “Lost.”

“Yep,” Dustin sighed, “That’s what happens when you’re up against the best.”

Mike ignored their arguing and stared out the back window at the stars. They covered the dark sky, too many to count, thousands of glittering and radiant sparks—they reminded him of Will’s eyes. So full of amber light and happiness, no matter the circumstance.

“Hey.” Mike flinched when there was a tap on his shoulder. Any touch from him and Mike turned into a live wire, his lungs forgot how to work and his heart thrashed wildly inside his aching chest. He longed to let Will’s touch linger, to sustain the burning, fluttering sensation.

“Yeah?” He whispered, taking the time to even his breathing before he looked at Will.

His eyes flickered between Mike’s, searching his face. “Was that alright?”

“Was what alright?”

“Back in the arena..you know..”

Mike’s cheeks burned tomato red as he remembered the softness of his lips and quickly murmured, “Oh, yeah. That was really nice Will, I just-“

“What?” He leaned in, as if getting closer would help to understand. Mike’s body tensed at the hurt beginning to show on Will’s face.

“It..kinda caught me off guard.”

Will paused. “Do you want me to ask you next time? If it’s okay?”

Mike nodded.

Will smiled at their bodies, intentionally placed as far apart as possible. “Can I hold your hand?”

He nodded again and Will slipped his hand into Mike’s, letting his fingers trail absently along the front of his knuckles.

“Mike, this is your stop,” Lucas said from the driver’s seat. Will held his hand tighter.

“Could I come too?” Will asked him quietly, “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Mike hid his red face as he climbed over the back seat to the car door.

“Aight. Happy birthday, Will,” Dustin said and waved at the two.

He gave Dustin a shy smile. “Thanks, guys. It was really fun.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Max shouted out the window as the van sped away.

They stared at each other for a moment, in the quiet of the night, standing in front of the Wheeler’s unlit driveway. Until the front door swung open and Nancy was calling from the porch.

“Guess we better go in then,” Mike whispered, caught up in Will’s gaze.

He looked away, grinning. “Yeah.”

9:02 pm

“There’s so many photos here,” Will inspected the cork board on Mike’s wall. When they’d went inside Mike opened the window above his bed to let the peaceful night sounds in, and allow the stars outside to watch.

“Wait a minute,” Will touched a piece of paper tacked on the board, “I drew this.”

“I love your art, Will. How could I not hang it up?” Mike smiled up at him, so full of affection. He’s adorable when he’s flustered. Will muttered something under his breath and his face turned pink.

“Oh, right!” Mike got off his bed and joined his side. He handed over the Polaroid photo from his pocket, “You can pick the spot to put it up if you want.”

Will studied the picture, as if seeing it for the first time. He was close, close enough that Mike could see every detail of his face, see the curve of his lips that had fit so perfectly in his own.

“You’re so cute.” He pointed to Mike in the photo, then tore a piece of tape to hang the Polaroid next to a small drawing. A pencil sketch of Mike, with a caption at the bottom in Will’s handwriting: my Paladin.

“Y-you’re uh, pretty cute too,” Mike stammered. When Will finished hanging the picture he turned around and followed him to the bed, his head tipping up so their eyes met. The air suddenly felt very warm as they sat chest to chest—silent except for the crickets outside—until Will spoke softly.

“Mikey, can I ask something?” His hazel eyes never left his face.

Mike didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

“Anything.”

Will was leaning back on his hands, and decidedly scooted closer. “Can you..hold me please?”

His eyes widened. Will’s request was so gentle that it made Mike’s heart burn for him. The desire to have him in his arms. “Of course I will.”

Mike took his hands and wrapped them around his neck, leaning them back on the comforter, drawing him closer than they’d ever been before. Will nestled his cheek to Mike’s chest as he faced the stars out the open window, his legs eased down to rest snug by his sides.

“Is this okay?” Will asked, tilting his head up so he could nestle into Mike’s neck. His soft brown hair brushed Mike’s skin and sent goosebumps racing up his arms. He closed his eyes and rubbed Will’s back in comforting circles.

“It’s perfect,” He said.

Will yawned. “This was such a great birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh, I had my first kiss.” Will murmured, his fingers under Mike’s neck started to play with his dark curls.

“Tired?” Mike asked, his hands never leaving his back.

“Only a little,” He replied with a drowsy smile against his chest.

He laughed and put a hand gingerly on Will’s face to move a strand of hair. In the minutes that followed he let Will fall asleep while he studied the stars outside, listened to the heartbeat of the boy on top of him, the drawing on the cork-board. The title scrawled beneath.

“My Cleric,” Mike whispered to the stars.

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

Valentine’s Day Challenge [14/14]

Warnings: None

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: Day 14 out of 14. None of the prompts/scenarios are related. This is the last post of my Valentine’s Day Challenge- I hope you all enjoyed it.

Posting: 3:30 PM Each Day

Prompt: Their First Valentine’s Day with Their S/O

Leo:

He had wanted to make you a gift

He didn’t want to have April/Casey/Vern get him a cheap card to give to you and call it a day

No, not this lad

He wrote out many drafts of a letter

Then drafted at least 4 sonnets

Then drafted at least 6 poems

He gave up, then trying to make an actual gift instead of something written

He tried to make a few different things

He borrowed some wood from Raph’s woodworking station to make a couple of carved trinkets

He borrowed some of Donnie’s vinyl mesh to make a messenger bag so you could carry your school books easier

He borrowed some spray paint and a small canvas from Mikey to try to make you a small portrait

All of these didn’t turn out as he planned, so he gave up on them

Valentine’s Day was creeping closer, and he had a blank slate

Nothing

No ideas

“Useless, empty brain!” he would often tell himself

“Wow, washed up. So sad,” Donnie said to him, sipping a cup of coffee

“I’ve got nothing! I’m done!” he groaned

“Hey, you got this. Shake it up, find a new angle.”

Leo chuckled dryly

“And what does that mean?”

“Look around, use anything to your advantage. I’m not giving up on you.”

With that, Donnie left Leo’s room

Leo just scoffed

“‘Use anything to your advantage,’” he imitated. “I’ve got nothing that’s inspiring…”

He looked around his room to confirm his theory

But then, something caught his eye

He saw something on the corner of his desk, and he had a thought 

He knew right then and there what to do

Then, Valentine’s Day came 

He arrived at your apartment and was quick to join you in making dinner

You had also gotten a small cake, which you two shared after dinner

You then gave him what you had gotten

You got him a bonsai sapling and a new blade sharpener- he had mentioned recently that his current one was becoming dull

He kissed you gently

He hesitated before pulling out what he had brought for you

But then, he placed his journal in front of you

“I… I know that I have trouble opening up about my emotions, but I’ve always written them down… I trust you with my heart, Y/n.”

You saw the look in his eyes

He was nervous, and you could see how much it took for him to do this

You hugged him, placing kisses all over his face

He flustered

“Thank you for trusting me.”

Raph:

This guy has everything planned out

He had never been as someone who is a romantic, but boy is he

He’s a sucker for romance 

For six months before Valentine’s Day, he found out your favorite dish

He had never told you his plan, of course

He also found a way to figure out your favorite love songs

And your favorite flowers

(Red Peruvian Lilies- image Here)

So, when he texted you to go to the roof of your apartment building, you were pretty shocked with what he pulled together

He had a speaker playing a playlist of purely love songs that he heard you say “I love this one” about

He figured out how to make your favorite dish from scratch and had it set up on a small table with two chairs

On the center of the table, he had a small bouquet of Red Peruvian Lilies

You were so flustered when you saw everything

“You really did this?”

“Well, I didn’t want to not do something,” he said a bit nervously

You couldn’t help but smile

“I cannot believe you…” you whisper

You approach him and wrap your arms around his torso

He wraps his arms around your shoulders

“I love you, Y/n.”

You just hold him a bit tighter

“I love you, too.”

Donnie:

He had every fine detail planned out

Every tiny thing that one normally wouldn’t find important

(he’s a perfectionist, cut him some slack)

He had turned your rooftop into a place that was equivalent to a movie set

He had his brothers help to install a “ceiling” and four “walls” that were painted to mimic a restaurant, but made sure there was still plenty of airflows

(it would get really warm in there if there wasn’t, despite the cold weather)

He made sure everything was perfect

He convinced Mikey to borrow a record player, then had Casey get your favorite albums

When you got home from work, you texted Donnie to let him know

He responded quickly, letting you know that he was already ready

You quickly got into a different outfit- one ready for a date

You made sure to grab the gift you had gotten him

It was a piece he absolutely needed for a gadget he had been talking non-stop about

When you got to the rooftop, you were shocked

Your jaw dropped, and you smiled

“Hey,” he said

His voice was shaking

“Hey,” you said, still looking around. “This is amazing, Donnie…”

He smiled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it, Donnie. Your mind never ceases to amaze me…”

He gently took the box from your hand and put it down, then taking your hands

You look up at him

He placed one of your hands onto his shoulder, then placed his onto your waist

You two just slow danced around the “rooftop restaurant” 

(as he called it in his mind)

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

You place your head into his plastron

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He kissed the top of your head, grateful to have you in his arms

Mikey:

He is the only one of his brothers who invited you to the Lair

He was able to convince Splinter to let him use the dojo

He set up several strings of multi-colored fairy lights around the dojo

He had printed out every picture you two took together and clipped them to the fairy lights

There were hundreds, so this took him several days

His brothers were almost uncomfortable with the silence in the rest of the Lair because of how much time he spent in the dojo

(Raph would actually go in there to “train.” In actuality, he just wanted to hear Mikey’s voice as he talked to himself- and occasionally to Raph)

Not only did Mikey do that, but he also spray-painted a portrait of the first picture you two took together

And he convinced April to get him a bouquet of roses to give to you

He was actually incredibly nervous before you arrived

He started pacing

He checked your location often, just to make sure you were safe as you walked over

His brothers had never seen him so high-strung

When you arrived, his eyes turned into hearts

You were wearing orange

His color

His heart would not stop pounding

When he showed you his setup, your heart swelled

And then when you saw the portrait he made, you could have married him right there

That night, his brothers had never heard him laugh so much

Neither of you could be happier.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

staring out at a world on fire / complaining about how ugly you think the ashes are

Prompt: Falsely Accused

Sequel to should have run / but i was a prize.

Title taken from the poem Another Rape Poem by Brenna Twohy.

TMNT IDW.

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

(tw past underage noncon, victim blaming, misunderstandings, trauma, flashbacks, PTSD, freeze response, panic attacks)

I'M BACK! Sorry not sorry, got completely derailed with Monster May and Pridewrite. Also sorry, this is not going to be a very nice Raph story--I love the little fucker to bits, but he's a dick sometimes.

____________

He doesn't try to hide. He doesn't have anywhere to go, really, where they won't find him eventually, except-- He doesn't have anywhere to go. Besides, they're his family, and he can't leave them. Won't leave them, not after what happened last time.

Still, when the door opens while Leo's practicing alone in the dojo, when Raph makes no effort to hide his steps as he pounds across the floor, there's a part of Leo that wants to cut and run. His fingers tense on the sword, knuckles whitening ever so slightly.

There'd been a reprieve after the fight. The others had needed medical care and Leo had disappeared, knowing his help wouldn't be welcome. Everyone's doing okay, he thinks--he hopes, he's sure he would have heard by now if it was anything really serious.

He'd done his best to scrub Saki's touch from his body, clean until his skin bled and his head hurt, and he thought he might rub his scales away completely. Then back to bed for a sleepless night, too scared of nightmares to really let himself rest.

Leo had hoped for a chance to clear his head when he slipped out to train early in the morning. But of course, nobody else in the household has slept either. Raph has stayed up all night, jacked up on adrenaline and fear and rage, the anger Leo can feel as his brothers' eyes burn into his back.

Saki's anger was different from Raph's, Leo remembers. Raph burns like a fire, wild and all-devouring, while Saki's is a blade, cutting at the most vulnerable points. Leo had learned to bow his head and roll with the punches, to make himself small and submissive.

His legs tense with a sudden urge to kneel, even though he knows how stupid that is. This is Raph, after all, and submission like that would be seen as mockery, would make him angrier. Besides, it's not like his brother would ever really want something like him, that his brother would ever really hurt him. Right?

At least, not more than Leo deserves.

Raph comes to a stop behind him, lets out a low, rattling breath. Leo realizes he's still holding the training swords and hurriedly puts them away, wincing when the dulled steel rattles as they slide into the rack. He drops his hands to his sides, too scared to turn, too scared to speak, too scared to do anything, but wait.

"What the actual fuck happened last night?"

His voice is dead calm, and cliches always come from somewhere because anger really is scary that way. Raph yelling is something normal, Raph yelling is video games and bickering over the last slice of pizza and the heater kicking out again. Raph calm with fury makes Leo's blood freeze.

Leo swallows, licks his lips. "I--"

"Fuckin’ look at me."

Look at me, chunin.

Leo makes himself turn. Raph stands with his arms crossed, one still bearing the familiar gleam of a crisp white bandage. His left eye is blackened and there are patches on his legs and torso, ugly marks, some of which might leave scars. The circles under his eyes are worse than ever and it's all Leo's fault. All of it.

"Mikey and Donnie are alive, since you asked," Raph says, and guilt scrapes Leo's insides with sharp teeth. "Mikey's still out and Don's sittin’ with him. And you," he looks Leo up and down, lip curling, "Don't have a fuckin’ scratch on you, do you?"

He can't speak. He does, technically, have a scratch, the cut on his knee that he tended to in the shadows of his room. But it's nothing compared to what the others took in the haze and pain of the ambush and they both know it.

"You led us into a trap, that's one thing." Raph's eyes are dancing with a vicious light, like he knows full well how every word is a gut punch. "But that wasn't enough for you, was it? We were dyin’ over there, and you were busy starin' up at the goddamn Shredder like the cover of some shitty romance novel. Like that thing with Alopex all over again, only worse."

The fox's name gives him focus, at least a little. "Don't," Leo swallows. "Don't bring her into this." Alopex went through the same hell he did, even worse in so many ways, but she's strong, she's brave. She never would have crumbled in front of their old master the way Leo did.

"You're right." Raph's voice is mock-consoling. "You're right, aintcha? Alopex ain’t the one who went into a goddamn trance like it was his first battle. Alopex ain’t the one who couldn't be bothered to move or lead or do

shit

while his family was dying around him. 

"I..." Leo coughs, swallows. "I couldn't--I couldn't move."

"Don't give me that shit, I know what a fucking pin hold looks like!" Raph's voice raises in a shout and it's comforting, almost, in its own way. "You weren't even tryin’!"

"I couldn't move," Leo repeats, fully aware of how pathetic he sounds. "I swear, Raph, I tried, but it was like I was frozen--"

"Frozen? Did he hit ya with something?" For a second Raph looks almost hesitant, like he hadn't considered that possibility, and a part of Leo almost panics because as frightening as Raph's anger is, the thought of his unearned forgiveness is something worse.

"No," he admits. "But--"

"Well, then you weren't fuckin’ helpless, were ya?" Raph booms, taking a step forward. Leo stumbles back on instinct, shell hitting the rack. "But you just sat there and let the man who murdered us, murdered Mom, grind on ya like you're a back-alley whore!"

The last word is almost enough to make Leo's knees buckle, his vision going blurry and distant. He'd thought, he'd hoped they wouldn't notice just how Saki was looming over him, just how badly Leo's shamed them and Father--shamed Mother. What would she say if they were here?"Raph," he rasps, the name suddenly impossible to force out. His throat has gone tight, heart trapped and fluttering behind his ribs. "You, you don't...." 

"Guys?" And now the dojo's door is opening again and Donnie's poking his head through, the sight of his purple mask enough to make Leo want to throw up. "Stop yelling, you're going to wake--" He takes a better look at Raph's furious expression, at whatever Leo's face might look like right now.

Disappointment fills Donnie's gentle eyes and Leo wilts, only to stiffen in surprise as he turns to see his brother's glare land on Raph instead. "What the hell are you doing?" he hisses fiercely. "I told you, we were going to talk about this later!" 

"It's later," Raph says, not even looking at him. "We're talkin'." 

"You know damn well that's not what I--"

"Would you have let him kiss you?" Raph's voice is shaking ever so slightly, fear and hurt cracking through the anger, fueling it. "If Mikey hadn't risked his ass to save yours, if he hadn't finally reminded you whose side you were on, would you have let the Shredder stick his tongue down your throat? Treat you like his fucking damsel in distress and carry you back to the castle?"

Why not? I always have before. The memories make him nauseous now, but back then he'd moaned into Saki's mouth, kissed back like...like he was exactly who Raph thinks he is. Who they all think he is, maybe. Donnie and Mikey and--

Splinter. Where is Splinter? He's got to have overheard this with his sharp ears, and he's usually up meditating at this hour. Does he know what Leo's done, how he's shamed them? Has he turned his back on him? Is it worse if he believes Leo has betrayed them, or that he simply doesn't care anymore, simply refuses to hope?

Raph cares, though. Raph cares, and in a way that's better than Splinter not caring at all, like the cold loneliness of Leo's worst nightmares. Raph's hurting, and if Leo does his penance and takes on that hurt like he deserves, it'll be alright. It has to be.

Or so he thinks, until Raph opens his mouth and says, "You know, I used to feel sorry for you. I used to think you didn't want what he did to you."

The world stops. Reality grinds to a halt around him, the shadows of the dojo flickering and rippling at the corners of his eyes. He sways, trying to draw enough breath to steady himself, his lungs squeaking uselessly. His hands twitch, fingers stiff little things locked around a sword or a cock. Helpless. Useless.  

"What." He thinks, vaguely, that the voice must be his, but it doesn't seem to be coming from his throat. It echoes around him, dull as a ringing bell. "What?"

"Raph." Donnie grabs Raph's arms. "For once in your life, I need you to stop  talking."  Raph just shrugs him off, his gaze still burning into Leo.

He laughs, and it cuts through the air with the cruelty of a knife. It's the laugh of Raph at his absolute worst, when his hands are red with blood and Leo fears the streets took something from his brother that they'll never get back.

"Hob told us, sort of," he says, and Leo's numb right now, but later he's going to have to see about eviscerating that fucking cat. "Mikey didn't get it, thank fuck, but Donnie n' Splinter' n' me put the pieces together real quick."

Donnie's face is a sickly-pale green. "Hamato Raphael, shut up--"

Raph smiles, and it's a skull's anguished grin. "I didn't need him to tell me, really. I grew up on the streets, I know what this shit looks like. I saw the bruises, I saw the teeth marks, I heard how hoarse your voice was and I knew it wasn't from deep throatin’ a fucking cucumber. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you looked at you. And I saw the way you walked, 'cause it's really fuckin' obvious when someone's been fucked up the ass for the first time."

Leo can't breathe. He hasn't been breathing right for a while, but now all the air is leaking out of him like a balloon or that robot from Big Hero 6 and he's going to crumble just like that robot, all the air blown out, torn and ruined.

Donnie's talking, yelling, shaking Raph's arm, but Raph is unmovable. Leo thinks of their mother at their bedroom door, letting herself run through rather than step aside. Nobody makes you bleed more than family, after all.

"And I was so sorry." Raph whispers. "So sorry that I'd let myself lose you, so sorry that I had to stand there and watch you suffer like that, because you had to be sufferin,’ because only a spell could make you spread your legs for the devil, right? But who the fuck knows?"

He can't hear Donnie anymore, can barely see him. The world is down to Shredder's hands dragging down his shell and Raph's fire burning into him, eating him alive.

Is that what happened? Did Saki let them go on purpose, so Leo could come home and blow his family apart from the inside out?

"Cause I don't think what happened last night was magic," Raph says. "So, maybe none of it was. Maybe you just went off to have fun with your daddy," (the word is castles of shredded glass built in Leo's heart, the word is hell in his brain), "and then you got bored and came back to us. But now you're bored of us and you're missing your Prince fuckin’ Charming, aren't you?"

It's not true, not true, he's shaking his head until he feels like it's going to fall off. But your body knows, and I missed you, and I love you, back in the haze of Saki's bed, when Leo had been sore and bleeding, when he'd whispered it back.

He is drowning on his own two feet. Mikey might be dead and Splinter isn't here and he can feel a hand around his throat, Saki's hand or Raph's or his own. No, Leo's a whore, he's a liar, and what he's feeling is his own noose, just execution.

"Am I right?" Raph asks, and when did he get so close? Leo blinks, blinks, spots dancing in front of his eyes, Saki's face and Raph's tangled up together. "Am I fucking right? Say something, you--you stupid fucking--" He breaks off like he can't speak either, like he's choking.

Leo tries to answer, he really does, but he can't speak any more than he could move back then. But he tries, he opens his mouth and everything, throat working uselessly, and that's when he realizes that he isn't really breathing, or even trying to breathe.

His body realizes this, too, and then his knees decide to buckle, only this time he can't catch himself. He falls, white and black spinning around him, and the rest of the world cuts back in just long enough for him to hear Donnie screaming his name.

Leo is awake.

Leo is awake and there's an oxygen mask on his face.

Leo is awake and there's an oxygen mask on his face and his brothers haven't thrown him out yet.

Leo is awake and there's an oxygen mask on his face and his brothers haven't thrown him out yet and he honestly doesn't know how long the peace will last, but he's too scared to move or break it, so he just lies perfectly still. He lies perfectly still, and next to him is Mikey, lying perfectly still, also awake, although Leo's not sure the others know it.

Splinter isn’t here. Leo can’t let himself think too hard about that fact or the cracked pieces of him might fall apart completely.

Raph is sitting in the chair in front of Leo's bed with an icepack pressed to his face, over a bruise from where someone--probably Donnie--had clocked him at one point, Leo doesn't know when. He can only see one of his brother's eyes, staring blankly into space.

Donnie's talking to them, hands waving in the air a little the way they do at times. Because of course Donnie has been doing researchin his long, lonely hours while Raph stewed and Leo hated himself. Because if Donnie didn't throw himself at solving a problem with everything he had, every time, he would probably go completely insane.

"It's called the freeze response," he says. "It happens in cases of fear or trauma," he says. "It's an attempt at self-preservation in the face of an oncoming threat," he says. "It's associated with PTSD and cPTSD." "It happens," he says.

It happens. It keeps happening. It might happen again. But--

"You did nothing wrong," Donnie tells Leo. He's not looking at Raph, not acknowledging Raph at all, and that is how Leo knows how angry Donnie is at their brother. His voice is dull and flat and scraped raw, like a landscape after a hurricane.

"You did nothing wrong," he repeats. "Say it to me, Leo. I know you can hear me."

Say it to me, chuunin. Tell me you love me.

"I," He swallows, coughs. "I--I..."

Raph rises to his feet and Leo tenses, just enough for everyone to be aware of it, for fear and shame to crowd in his stomach. He wills himself to relax, but he can't quite keep his fingers from quivering a little behind the blankets.

His brother crosses to the side of Leo's bed, close enough for Leo to touch, and slowly, gingerly, sinks to his knees. It's a jerky little gesture, with none of the grace of seiza. He bows his head and presses his forward against the side of the cot, looking limp and very small.

They stare there like that for a few seconds. Leo doesn't look at Donnie, doesn't want to see the expression on his face. You don't have to, he’d say.

But Leo wants to. He understands, more than anyone else in this room, what anger and hurt and exhaustion can do to you, how your eyes can trick you into seeing what you fear most. And Raph is young, and broken, and so, so tired. Leo can't forgive, not yet, but he can give it a start

He puts a hand on his brother's head, just for a second. It's all he can offer, for now. And the touch--the choice to move--is enough to ground him, to help him finally draw enough breath to speak. Leo straightens up and looks at Donnie with the clearest eyes he can imagine.

"I did nothing wrong." He says it and he doesn't shake and if only part of him can really believe it right now, it's not nothing.

"I did nothing wrong," he repeats, and the air flows through him a bit more easily than before.

_____

I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt and that I didn't let Raph off too easily.

[raph-and-spike]

It’s A Start - Raph x genderneutral!reader

request? yes/no

“Hey!! Welcome to tmnt fandom! I loved your cuddling headcanons 🥺 do you mind dojng a secret admirer Headcanon/scenario? It would be either the boys being infatuated with reader or the other way around, how would they react if someone placed gifts, poems or letters on the rooftop they’ve met? Would they believe it or shut everyone away? Eitherway, feel free to go wild with this one, I adore heartfelt confessions / secret admire / shy scenarios! It’s so cute!🥺 ty and have a good day!”

a/n: During writing this, I decided that I want to make your request as an imagine for every individual guy! I just loved your request so much, I hope you don’t mind!��Also, you didn’t specify pronouns so I made this gender neutral!reader if that’s okay! Enjoy!

warnings: none :)

You liked Raph a lot. But you weren’t sure how he felt, and neither did his brothers; he hid his emotions too well.

You’d observe him, watch as his bright green eyes scanned each row of words in his magazines, contentment settling within him as his facial features relaxed. You’d watch at the entrance of the dojo, the way his invisible eyebrows furrowed and his eyes focused when he sparred with his brothers, as he calculated every one of his own moves.

It was hopeless; one day, you’d even decided to surprise him with breakfast, but he thought nothing of it. He muttered a “thanks”, before his brothers followed the scent of eggs and French toast, fighting over the breakfast buffet you’d just made. You tried to make flirty remarks, saying that his biceps looked bigger than usual, or that he’d done really well on a mission that night. Again, he’d simply brush it off.

You had to get over him, and that meant confessing. But, you weren’t sure exactly how to go about it. 

Who was someone that claimed to know about love?

Mikey.

With a sigh, you entered the kitchen, knowing very well that he’d be in there.You cleared your throat, signaling your presence. He turned around, frying pan in hand as he flipped what seemed to be a pizza pancake. No wonder the kitchen smelt so horrendous. 

“Hey dudette,” he greeted, turning back toward the stovetop.

You walked closer, leaning against the counter. “Urh, Mikey,” you began, “I need...advice on something.”

He grinned. “Well, you came to the right place! What’s goin’ on, homeslice?”

You rolled your eyes before your nerves settled back into your stomach. 

“I’ve got this sort of, well, dilemma,” you fumbled with your fingers. “I like someone.”

His eyes widened. “Is it Donnie??? Or what about Leo??!” he exclaimed, his invisible eyebrows raised in awe. “Wait!! Is it me?!”

“No, Mikey!” you crossed your arms. “If I tell you, will you actually help me?”

He nodded vigorously, clearly intrigued.

You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, not knowing exactly how he’d react. “I like Raph.”

His jaw dropped. “YOU LIKE–”

“Mikey!!!” you interrupted, shushing him. 

He smiled sheepishly.

“I-I don’t know how to tell him that I like him,” you stuttered, blushing furiously.

He shrugged. “Well, you could write him a love letter!”

At this point, you were down to do anything. So with that, you grabbed a paper and pen from Donnie’s lab. After scribbling out words and gaining a major cramp in your hand, you’d finally finished your confession letter to Raph.

You waited for the turtles to leave for patrol before leaving the letter on his bed. You headed home to sleep, though your butterflies had kept you up all night. 

The next morning, you entered the lair, an anxious lump in your throat as soon as you saw Raph punching his Shredder punching bag. When his green orbs landed on you he stopped, straightening out and walking over toward you. You didn’t need to see yourself to know that your face had resembled a tomato, you had been blushing so hard. 

“Hey, uh,” he scratched his neck, “I got your letter.”

Your heart dropped, and you weren’t exactly sure what to say.

“Ya know, I’m not good at this stuff,” he stated.

This had been possibly the first time that you saw Raph nervous and flustered.

“Well, how do you feel?” you blurted without thinking.

He shrugged. “I mean, I like ya,” you watched as he struggled for words.

“Did you, uh, wanna give us a shot?” you asked, suddenly gaining confidence as you realized that he was just as nervous as you were. 

He nodded. 

“Well, this is a start, then, right?”

He smiled, a blush forming on his green speckled cheeks.

“Yeah, it’s a start.”

[parallcls]

WHO ARE YOU?

NAME: ash.

STAR SIGN: capricorn.

HEIGHT: 162cm.

WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME?  rose.

PUT YOUR SPOTIFY ON SHUFFLE. WHAT ARE THE FIRST 6 SONGS THAT POPPED UP?

( note: i don’t use spotify so i used youtube + itunes )

紅蓮華 cover  -  n.flying

eclipse  -  kim lip of loona

sugar skulls  -  envy on the coast

all mine  -  one ok rock

middle of the night  -  monsta x

wonderland  -  ateez

EVER HAD A POEM OR SONG WRITTEN ABOUT YOU?  i prefer not to remember.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED AIR GUITAR?  i don’t think i ever have tbh

WHO IS YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH? wonho

WHAT’S A SOUND YOU HATE; SOUND YOU LOVE? idk if i hate any sound in particular.  i like the sound of heavy wind a lot.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?  yes.

HOW ABOUT ALIENS? yes.

DO YOU DRIVE?  yes.

IF SO, HAVE YOU EVER CRASHED? yes, when i first started driving.

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ?  currently reading heaven official’s blessing vol.1

DO YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF GASOLINE?  yes.

WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU SAW? jurassic park i think? i watch a lot of movies at work.

WHAT’S THE WORST INJURY YOU’VE EVER HAD? ... i got hit by a car, got bitten by a spider after which i turned 7 different colours and found out i’m allergic, and also had severe burns after a hot rack fell on me at work.  yes, i am accident prone.

DO YOU HAVE ANY OBSESSIONS RIGHT NOW? genshin impact & tokyo revengers.  i just bought a mikey keychain to match w my friend who got a draken keychain ehe

DO YOU TEND TO HOLD GRUDGES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE YOU WRONG? probably for a few months to a year at most and then i drop it generally.

IN A RELATIONSHIP? absolutely not.  i’m tired.

TAGGED BY : @goldenloved​

TAGGING : @adornednight   /  @anomalyfated​  /  & you if you want to do it!

[huntresswarlock]

I am so sorry

But also no I’m not

1 for all because I am an evil bastard

Then more specifically

4, 12, 18, 24, 25, 35, 40, 42, 44, 45, 56, 63, 69 for Lady, Harmony, Nomiki, Odonys, Ione and Somnia

6, 44 and 58 for Nik and Valerie

20, 40, 42, 56, 65 for Icarus as well

💞💞💞

under a read more because i cannot shut up about my characters and i won't apologize for that!

most of these will b organized by character instead of by question but since you asked for 1 for all of em i'll put them all underneath it

1. why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

Nik: they found a weird book in a thrift shop and accidentally figured out how to poke Ink-Treader to get certain automatic responses in the form of magic powers, which they swear are totally normal and not the result of a pact (conscious or not) at all.

Nomiki: her mother was a fighter who trained her well, and when she was a bit older she swore vengeance against that which destroyed her world, which she initially thought was the gods but then turned out to be The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar (Eldritch Edition)

Harmony: was always an outdoors-y sort of girl, so druid made sense when she was transported into The School, and then the Dictionfairy of the Summer Reading Court took a special interest in her and gave her some extra stuff on top of druidic powers!

Lady: built to be a… let’s call her a “personal companion,” whose main gimmick was that she is extremely intelligent about a great many things with a perfect memory; hence Archivist. as for the Artificer class itself, that came about primarily when she was working with an inventor/engineer named Rowan Keen, who enlisted her as his assistant in his projects. she learned a great deal about mechanical engineering and building from him, as well as receiving some upgrades like sewing/welding tools in her hands to assist her with this.

Somnia: she is very old (like, 650ish years old) and very in tune with nature already, and then the goddess of sleep saved her life with a drop of her blood, giving her the Stars circle powers

Odonys: they were formerly a Watcher Oath paladin, and took up that mantle because it's what their society set out for them. they made the choice to break away from it when offered freedom by the primal embodiment of chaos, though they have mixed feelings on this because it caused them to be exiled

Ione: she didn't have a choice 😔 nearly drowning unlocked some latent sorcerer powers

Valerie: stunt fighting training baybeeeeee

Icarus: also didn't have a choice, on account of nearly burning himself to death and then taking a deal from the god of fire to work for him in exchange for not dying

Lady

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Chaos Bolt is the meme answer, Dream (to reach out to Rowan) is the sad answer

12. have they ever been in love?

she's not supposed to have been. but. ;)

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a follower, for the time being! she has spent a long time taking orders and fulfilling requests, and though that part of her life is done now, she is still content to leave the leading to others.

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🔥🔥🔥 it's wild and free

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

she doesn't really tell stories, but if requested, she would tell stories about things that happened to her

she likes to hear stories she hasn't heard before

35. which party member do they worry for?

Domino Domino Domino Domino Domino D

40. do they enjoy poetry?

yes! she's not really one for composing it, but it's nice to listen to

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

beautiful, intelligent, free

44. what do they need to learn?

WHEN WILL SHE LEARN!!!!! THAT HER ACTIONS!!!!!!!!!! HAVE CONSEQUENCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

45. how do they hug people?

at 4'11", she's almost certainly going to be shorter than whoever she's hugging, so she tends to go for arms-under-the-shoulders and head-onto-chest. she gives really really good hugs, on account of all of her......... padding.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

caged bird that recently busted out :>

63. what fight has scared them the most?

before she got free will, we encountered some Crown-of-Thorns Starfish (In Space) that knocked her down to single-digit HP. though she wasn't physically able to feel fear at the time, the significant damage was deeply alarming.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Domino: "My dear friend, and a very kind and intelligent woman. I was very concerned for her when I was still under restrictions. Now I am no longer restrained in what I can think or do, but I find that I am still worried about her. She is always so melancholy when she thinks no one is looking..."

Rusty: "Something of an enigma. I only recently learned his real name: Rheneas Dolgoch. Apparently he used to be involved in various criminal activities before being framed for the disappearance of his boyfriend and then taking this portalhopping job for Dr. Horizon. I'd like to get to know him better, and have him teach me some things."

Clifton: "An honest man, with a good heart, and somewhat lacking the brains to think through his actions. Still, he tries, and he is responsible for getting Kinmati's attention with regards to my previous plight. I do wonder if adventuring across the multiverse is the best coping mechanism for the loss of his fiancée, but..."

Harmony

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

the campaign stopped at level 12, but i think she would have jumped at the chance to use Animal Shapes!

12. have they ever been in love?

yes!!!! she loves her girlfriend, Mick, very very much

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

she would describe herself as leading from the back, primarily encouraging others to be their best selves but not exactly telling them what to do

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth), because it's grounding and stable, like her

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

harmy likes to hear and tell stories with happy endings!

35. which party member do they worry for?

she worried about both other party members equally, really, for different reasons. they were both working through more issues than her, so she felt the need to be the emotional glue holding them together and getting them to talk things out.

40. do they enjoy poetry?

not as much as prose, but she likes a good poem or two! especially free verse stuff

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

cheerful, outdoorsy, kind

44. what do they need to learn?

over the course of the campaign she needed to learn (and did learn) when to keep trying with diplomacy and when to fight back

45. how do they hug people?

really really tightly! probably while rocking them back and forth, too

56. what animal do they most relate to?

she turned into horses a lot so....... honse

63. what fight has scared them the most?

the fight with Mr. Ciliary when Mick seemed dead-set on sacrificing herself so that Harmony and Bill could leave scared her quite a bit

69.how would they describe their party members?

Mick: "My girlfriend!!!!!!!! She's so strong and cool and pretty, and she's a really big streamer, I love her!!!!"

Bill: "One of my best friends! He's really smart, and crazy good at fencing. And he takes really good care of Mikey."

Nomiki

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Mending would be really useful for her

12. have they ever been in love?

yes, she loves her boyfriend Ramiel, the god of storms

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a leader, even if she has to strike out on her own

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth) for strength and stability

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

she likes to hear any stories told by her dad

she tells a lot of myths and folktales and fables

35. which party member do they worry for?

Xiro, at least until their fighting training started to pick up

40. do they enjoy poetry?

yes, though she's no good at reading or reciting it, she likes to hear it being spoken aloud

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

big, strong, stubborn

44. what do they need to learn?

nomiki needed to learn how to trust people and open up again

45. how do they hug people?

BIG hugs. huge hugs from a huge woman with huge arm muscles (and later on huge wings). like being wrapped up in a warm blanket in the dead of winter, like the promise of safety from any monsters out to get you. like a loaf of bread right out of the oven.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

cows! pretty, large, gentle, stubborn

63. what fight has scared them the most?

fighting the King of the Storm played right into her storm phobia, so much so that she couldn't even face it properly and mostly dealt with its offshoots

69.how would they describe their party members?

Xiro: "Xiro is my friend, and my little sibling. They're a really good fighter and baker, and they've helped a lot of people.

Muire: "Muire's my friend too. She's crazy smart, though sometimes she can forget not everyone around her is as smart as she is. But she has a good heart."

Odonys

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

being able to cast Zone of Truth would come in handy when dealing with Q'ix, but since they only have two levels in paladin now, they've lost the ability to do so 😔

12. have they ever been in love?

tritons don't feel stupid things like love.

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

follower. second-in-command, sure, but still a follower. though that's been shifting, lately...

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌊 for its adaptability and power

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

they don't really tell stories, but they like to hear the tales of myths and gods and heroes

35. which party member do they worry for?

as if they'd worry about any of their party members, hilarious! the closest thing would be mild confusion about Suvi's tangled concerns for the party's free will

40. do they enjoy poetry?

they've never had the chance to hear poetry, and i don't think they would enjoy it unless it was in the style of an epic

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

solitary, unpleasant, scarred

44. what do they need to learn?

how to exist around others, how to rely on others, what their place in the world is

45. how do they hug people?

they don't.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

a dog, a feral dog to be specific. they even resource guard!

63. what fight has scared them the most?

they have trained hard not to feel any fear when fighting, even on the brink of death. still, being chased by every shark in the ocean did get to them.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Q'ix: "Annoying. Good with their fiddle, gifted with magic, but I don't trust them at all, and I don't know if it's worth keeping them around."

Sloane: "A creature that skinny has no business being anywhere close to the middle of the fight, and yet that's where he is constantly, like Breidr when he gets underfoot. Except Breidr has more bulk. Still, he seems to know what he's doing with that sword."

Suvi: "I wonder if there's even anything underneath all the layers of falsehoods and misdirection she wears. But she has been helpful, and having a cart has come in handy."

Amber: "A woman of few words and strong convictions. I appreciate her presence."

Somnia

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Catnap, so she can cast it on Nemo and Gimmy!

12. have they ever been in love?

Somnia loves her children very much, and loves life, but in terms of romantic love specifically, no. as for the person she used to be before she died and was resurrected? ... also no.

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a follower, mostly. she's old, and she's done enough leading that she's happy to let her kids take the lead.

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth) on account of druid stuff as well as dependability

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

somnia likes to tell the stories of the constellations on whatever world she finds herself on! she has an innate ability to know them and know what they mean

she likes to hear whatever sorts of stories are being told, she's really not picky; it's more important that the story is important to whoever is telling it

35. which party member do they worry for?

Nemo, constantly. they are so young and they've been through so much that she can't help but worry. Gimmy is at least an adult, though he still needs a bit of fussing over.

40. do they enjoy poetry?

i don't think she actively seeks it out, but she won't say no to listening to or reading some if the opportunity presents itself

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

motherly, empathetic, old

44. what do they need to learn?

she needs to learn that not everyone can be saved, or is worth saving, i think

45. how do they hug people?

with that good deep pressure therapy and mom bod

56. what animal do they most relate to?

tortoise, probably. old and slow and wise.

63. what fight has scared them the most?

the fight with the Found Footage when she was knocked out and wasn't sure whether Nemo and Gimmy would be okay without her. though tbh this upcoming fight with the Imago is more than likely going to take the scariest fight spot, at least until we finally face the Broken Lurker.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Nemo: "Oh, my poor little Orion... they're a good child, they really are. But they were surrounded by people who didn't know or care to realize that, and they've thought themself a nobody for so long that it hurts my heart. I wish they could see how many people they've helped just by being themself."

Gimmy: "Gimmy is very dear to me. He pretends like he doesn't care, but I know that he does. I can see it when he works on his little dragon construct, and when we were speaking to Minerva about Nemo's past. He just needs a little bit of help understanding how to be polite and kind to others, that's all."

Nik

6. which party member do they relate to the most?

tbh probably svetlana. they're both big smarties who have Simic roots! they're basically identical!

44. what do they need to learn?

how to care about other people beyond just "what can this person do for me?"

58. what do they think their role in the party is? what is their role in actuality?

they think they're the brains of this operation and the sole voice of reason, but really they're a bit of dead weight because i didn't build them very well

Valerie

6. which party member do they relate to the most?

tough to say because we've only had a couple of sessions of the campaign she's in, but right now probably Ashlyn. just two mean girls against the world!

44. what do they need to learn?

it's actually not a bad thing to be girly or to embrace femininity, it's not a weakness like she thinks she is but can be neutral or even a major strength

58. what do they think their role in the party is? what is their role in actuality?

she thinks she's the only competent member of the party and the fearless leader; she is an asset in fights for sure, especially once she gets some maneuvers, but in reality she is only one piece of the puzzle

Icarus

20. which of the five senses do they rely the most on?

hearing! icarus has always had impeccable hearing and has relied on it a lot when sneaking around

40. do they enjoy poetry?

he does not talk about the angsty teenage poems he wrote when he was younger and didn't realize he was trans. but i think if he applied himself he could be a good poet, and he likes to read and listen to it.

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

selfish, failure, coward

56. what animal do they most relate to?

prior to almost burning to death, he would have said a swan. post-burning... an ugly duck

65. what is holding them back?

what isn't holding him back tbh. he has a lot of issues stemming from being raised to think he was perfect and then tossed aside as soon as he stepped out of line. i think the number one thing though is the image he has of himself as a bad person who does bad things. he used to be a bad and selfish person who has hurt a lot of people; after his near-death experience he became really humble and considerate, but still thinks of himself in terms of his past actions, instead of what he is doing now to redeem himself. what is holding him back is his inability to recognize that he's changed.