#he's been going through so much

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 40

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 37, part 38, part 39

Steve’s not at work today. Dustin went to Family Video to see if there was anything new, the rest of his friends at the arcade down the block. But Steve isn’t here. Robin is, but he isn’t.

“Where’s Steve,” he asks. Urgency in his voice.

“Called out today, something came up.” There’s only confusion in Robin’s voice. Like Steve not being here is something normal. “Why?”

“Is he ok?”

Steve doesn’t call out for no reason. Dustin’s seen him be here slipping pain killers under his sleeve while he has a migraine. Turn the lights off in between customers and close the blinds. But he was still here.

It’s only been three weeks since “the big one.” Another one couldn’t have happened this soon. Nancy would have told him if he had one. She promised him that she would. Unless she doesn’t know about it either.

How much does Steve hide things when it goes wrong? How many layers does Dustin have to search just to find answers? How long will Steve have to be in pain for him to realize that it hurts other people too?

“Yeah, he’s fine. Like I said, something just came up.”

Dustin doesn’t believe him. Fine means nothing. Fine could mean blood draining out of his face and falling on the floor. Fine could mean trapped in bed because moving seems impossible. Could be stuck in a loop of panic that won’t stop, no matter how hard he tries.

Fine with Steve almost never means fine. Dustin knows that.

He turns on his heel and heads out of the store. He walks down the street to the arcade, to his bike that’s chained up outside.

The wind almost knocks his hat off, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care when his walkie crackles in his backpack. A faint voice asking where he went. It doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is the spiral in his mind. The belief that if he can’t see it, then he can’t know it didn’t happen. Faces of death molding together into one. All warning him of what could happen. Of what did happen. Of what should have happened if the luck ran out.

A tear catches on his lip. The saltiness the only reason he knows that he’s crying. Vision blurring as Steve’s house comes into view. As he drops his bike onto the grass and struggles to find his key. Hand shaking so much, he has to steady it with his other just to get it in the lock.

“Steve,” he yells when the door opens. Running upstairs, not bothering with taking off his shoes. “Steve.”

His bedroom is empty. A made bed with nothing else. He isn’t here. He isn’t stuck there.

“Steve,” he calls out again. Hearing his voice bounce off the walls, echoing. Drawing out his cries for a seconds longer than it should. Emptiness surrounding him.

He runs back down the stairs, calling out again. Nothing again.

A list forms in his mind, and he checks it off. Steve’s car was in the driveway. His shoes are by the door. His keys are on the table. His bed it made. There are dishes in the drying rack.

He has to be fine. He has to be ok. He has to be.

“Dustin?”

There Steve was. The final check off his list. Standing straight, looking like he slept. Put together. Alive. He was alive.

Dustin crumbles. The panicked sob breaking out of his chest. Steve rushes forward. Holds Dustin upright as his knees start to bend. Push the hair out of his face and ask him if everything was alright. If he was hurt. What happened.

“You.” Dustin can’t voice himself properly right now. He means to say, you’re ok. Or maybe something else. Maybe place the blame on him for making Dustin like this. For making him come all this way.

He gets brought to the living room and forced to sit. Until the breath evens out, actually fills his lungs. Until the tears dry on his cheek. Until he’s calm again.

A cold glass gets pressed into his hands. He drinks the water. Returns to normal.

Steve is sitting next to him. Alive. Perfectly fine. Nothing is wrong.

“Your radio was going off like crazy,” Steve fills the silence. “I told them that you were alright, where you were. You scared the shit out of them.”

Bold words coming from him, Dustin would say. If he could. If his mouth would cooperate with him.

“Do you want to tell me why you biked here?”

Dustin takes a deep breath. Feels the stretch in his chest. The relief as he releases it slowly.

“Why weren’t you at work?”

“That’s what this is about?” Steve doesn’t mean for it to come out the way that it does. The apology of his face says that. “I called out. Eddie has his physical therapy appointment today and Wayne has to go to work right after. He can’t move that much after therapy, so I took off to help him.”

“Oh.”

It was so normal. It was so normal, and he blew it out of proportion. He just panicked. Saw something that wasn’t right and immediately went to the worst. Right back into that hospital room. To all those times before.

Steve turns to him. Face full of concern. Full of worry. “Dustin, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“No one tells me anything,” he exclaims. “I have to find out everything from someone else, or days, or weeks later. I never get told anything by the person themselves. I’m always the last to know.”

“Dustin-.”

“No. I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of you saying that it’s not my thing to worry about. Because I do. No matter how hard you think you shield me from it, I worry about it. Every day I wake up and wonder if your head is killing you. If when I see you later, you’re going be how you were before, or a ghost of yourself. If I’m going to look at you push yourself for my betterment. When I know that you’re in pain.”

Steve looks at him like he doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, Dustin wouldn’t give him the chance to. He’s not done.

There’s so much he needed to say.

“You’re like a brother to me, Steve. You’re family. I don’t know why you think you can just get away with hiding this from me, but you can’t. Because I love you and all I’m asking is to know what is going on with you. Is that such a big thing to ask?”

Before Dustin can take a breath, Steve hugs him. Holds him close, sniffling. “I’m sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Sucks, right?”

Steve snorts. Pulling back. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He leaves the living room, going up stairs and returning with a small book. A planner. He hands it to Dustin, motions for him to flip through it. Its pages are filled with notes. Some days are blank, some are overflowing. There’s a mix of different hand writings.

“Every time I get a migraine, I write it down. The severity, if I had to take any pills. If I called out from work, if I went home early. On days when it gets really bad, Robin fills it in. She writes down what I eat and when. If I was nauseous, if I left my bed at all. Everything.”

Dustin lands on three weeks ago. To the day after Eddie came home. That day was marked at an eight. The next day a nine. The one after that, also a nine. Then an eight. Then it went down slowly over the next day.

“It started after Starcourt, when I got them more frequently. The doctor suggested I keep a journal for a few months, to make sure nothing else was going on. That it wasn’t getting worse. I’ve kept one ever since.”

“This,” he points at the date. “This was the big one?”

Steve nods. “It’s the most painful, lasts a few days. I get then about once a month. They average at three days, building in the days before and then being really bad, before going down again. The bad days is what we dub ‘the big one.’ I don’t really count the build up to it, because it’s normal. Until it isn’t.”

None of this was normal. To most people, this wasn’t normal. But it was to Steve. He walked through life like this. Where he can’t go a week without a migraine. Or even just a small headache. This was his normal.

“I can’t promise I’ll always tell you when they happen. When it gets bad, I can barely open my eyes, let alone want to speak. But, if you really want to know, I keep this on my desk. You can look at it anytime.”

It’s everything he wanted, right here in his hands. Worse than he was thinking, but he knows.

“Thank you.”

Steve nods. “I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I really didn’t want you to worry about it. And I didn’t know how much it was affecting you. I would have told you if I knew sooner.”

The front door opens, Wayne calling out that they were back. There’s shuffling in the hallway. A muffled argument. A slammed door.

Steve sighs. “Give me a minute. Then I can drive you home, ok.”

Dustin nods. Closing the book and running his fingers around the corners. They were all going to be ok, he tells himself. They were all going to be ok.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[songthursh]

Alright, I will start with this one then - everything starts with the glorious revolution and everything starts with the night watch 🌸

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I *need* to get pregnant by him.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ffsg0jo]

related to this ex-boyfriend toji post

toji broke up with the reader btw. he saw how all the nights (and days) alone were affecting you, how your smile was slowly but surely dimming down. he wanted to be selfish and hold onto you; you were the closest thing to love he could find after his wife died, and he so desperately wanted to be with you forever.

but he could see that megumi was slowly becoming the only reason why you stayed. you loved them both, of this, he was 100% certain. that's why you tried your hardest and put up with all his shit. but it was breaking you, and that, in turn, broke him.

so he proposed you both broke up and you agreed. exhausted and heartbroken, you stupidly agreed. you didn't want to give up on toji and megumi, you loved them with all your heart. megumi did nothing to you, and you always visited him and spoke to him after the breakup. but you had become a glorified baby sitter with little perks in that relationship. maybe some distance from toji would be healthy.

[excali8ur]

Weird dream.

[benevolenterrancy]

(Unseen Academicals, Terry Pratchett) I think Shang Qinghua and Ponder Stibbons should have tea and compare notes about somehow accumulating so much behind-the-scenes power by doing menial jobs no one else wants that they could basically run the show if they wanted...

meanwhile we have Shen "meh good enough" Qingqiu

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[egophiliac]

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, THE NEXT BOOK 7 UPDATE FOR THE JP SERVER IS SET FOR MARCH 1ST.

HOW WE FEELIN LADS!?!?!

AHHHHHHHH NOOO I'M NOT READY, I thought we'd be getting the fourth anniversary first and then Sebek's birthday and then maybe some more episode 7, I didn't -- I didn't think it'd be Friday --

oh god and they're rerunning the story cards, they didn't say this was the final part but it feels like...maybe the penultimate chapter? could the end of episode 7 finally be looming in the distance?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO

[domsaysstuff]

Okay so this idea has been rocking around my empty skull for some time now just we know that Eddie can be a pretty mean DM and a shithead and I've been thinking abt romances in D&D and how it would work in Hellfire

And I had this thought that Eddie would like be "no romances!!" to the Corroded Coffin group (before the kids joined) and they're like why? and Eddie just to tease them says that he doesn't want to pretend to fall for their smelly ugly faces

Which just motivates them to try and seduce like every character that Eddie introduces for a fucking month and it leads to the creation of the rule: Every romance/seduction directed roll must be rolled above 15 to succeed AND if Eddie decides that the attempt is particularly bad the roll is with disadvantage

The Corroed Coffin boys are obviously teasingly like ohhh so we get an advantage if it's good?

"Doubt that would happen boys, but sure, if you make me, Eddie fucking Munson, to blush like a fair maiden then you'll get the advantage on the roll"

They try, they really do, but all the CC boys succeed in doing is killing off all of their party in three sessions and Gareth who is a little shit is actually rolling his third character (because the consequences of a failure are fucking brutal) by the time Jeff and [unnamed freak] give up

After that they know better (except Gareth who still sometimes does that just to annoy Eddie and be a little shit) to try and then the kids join Hellfire and Eddie has even less of an desire to flirt with fucking Wheeler, Henderson and Sinclair (they're baby children!!)

But the kids are a little shits too and they see Gareth being a little shit so they copy

It ends badly for them, they gripe about Eddie being unfair because like "all three of us have girlfriends Eddie and you don't so we clearly know more about romance then you do" Dustin not only gets a flick on the head for that but his character might have ended up being put into situations™ throughout the session that are "totally unfair!"

But fair to say all of Hellfire knows the rules and all of hellfire knows that no matter how well they try and how smooth they are (they really aren't ever smooth) Eddie will not blush or even consider they attempts as "good", the best they got was "tolerable" (Lucas got it and he's still very proud of it, as he deserves okay?), Eddie is impossible to fluster and so it's just is this fun thing they sometimes do when they feel particularly like little shits

And that's it about it

Until Vecna and all the upside down shit and the surprising friendship of Eddie and Steve happens

And suddenly Steve Harrington is not only sitting but playing D&D

Everything is going actually pretty good and Dustin practically vibrates out of his chair at how proud he is of Steve for how well he is doing so far and then

And then Steve tries to flirt with a pretty bard

Dustin deflates, he is ready for the absolute disaster that is going to fall upon Steve, he makes eye contact with Lucas - both of them ready with "it was actually a pretty good line tho!" at the tip of their tongues to defend Steve's decisions, he doesn't know Eddie's special rules after all and it would be funny to see Steve fail, sure, but it's Steve's first game and the kids wanted it to be good for Steve so convincing him to play again would be easier

But now Eddie is going to absolutely rip into him and Steve will never want to play again and-

"Roll with advantage" Dustin gasps, audibly, loudly, the room is silent, except for Steve who's very unaware of the chaos he just created and just rolls the dices, his usual confidence in place

And if someone looked closely - and all of the hellfire is fucking looking - Eddie Munson has indeed a light blush on his face

[fatedroses]

I offer the frankly hilarious scenario of zenos and estinien having to work together (probably because of tataru) and a little bit of headcanon-ing I have in regards to the one main issue they run in to when theyre a duo.

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[turtleblogatlast]

No but like every time I think about Splinter and what he had to go through just to keep the boys alive, my heart hurts for him so badly. Is he perfect? No not at all, but none of them are and by god does he love his sons.

The fact that all of them are alive, and grew to thrive despite the circumstances surrounding them is a testament of how much Splinter loves his boys. He raised four babies following the most traumatic time of his life, all alone with nothing but the sewers to house them (to hide them.) I feel like he’s not given the credit he deserves for all he’s done.

And I get that it’s easy to hold up his flaws and faults when it comes to parenting, I myself like looking into them because flawed characters are super interesting and said flaws make them more realistic and engaging, but he tries, and again, so many others would have given up on the boys or failed along the way but Splinter didn’t.

He’s their father, for all his faults he did his damndest to make sure they survived.

[topnotchquark]

Nico saying that Lewis gives his daughters boxes of presents every Christmas just got caught in my mind.

Imagine you were a mixed race boy born in Hertfordshire, different from everyone else around you. Bullied in school, being raised by your father to compete in a sport where money is very much of essence and you and your family do not have a lot of it. And then you meet this other boy who comes from the kind of life you dream to live one day. You're friends and fierce competitors. You find solace in each other. You visit Monaco for the first time with your friend, dreaming up the life you will have when you make it, when you beat out of the mould that the world thought it could capture you in.

And then you two grow through the ranks and you're at the pinnacle of your sport and you have what it takes to win and the world recognises that you can win. And you win. You win with your friend and fiercest competitor by your side fighting with you for those wins, and this fighting ruins something something that was valuable to both of you when you were still innocent and unsullied by life.

But despite everything that went into the doing and undoing of this relationship, you still realise that this person you once called a friend has a life and family beyond your bitter dynamic. He has children, and children need love and affection and good memories. And you're a better man now so you understand that. So you make sure the kids get gifts on Christmas. And you make sure of it every year. Afterall, if you met someone you loved deeply when you were both kids, wouldn't you feel a pang of nostalgia when they had kids. Wouldn't you try to extend the warmth that you couldn't find for your friend to his children. Afterall, whatever happens during childhood basically remains with you forever.

[crowsgrudge]

fionna's world being represented by a dandelion makes so much sense ... they're weeds. yet people make wishes through them, changing their whole meaning from something meant to be destroyed to something hopeful.

dandelions are also resilient and it makes sense that something associated with them would. you know. perservere despite the destruction caused by the scarab.

but ultimately i think what REALLY made me tear up over this is that dandelions are really boring plants. when you're a kid you blow on them and make your wish but they're not eyecatching or anything but still, fionna's final wish was for her old world to still exist as it was when she left it (> plain and simple. boring even).

like the moment she realized she would lose her friends, and that her friends might forget each other if the world got its magic back, she immediately decided she didn't want it and I think that ties back to the dandelion metaphor so well... like, do you really need magic to be real to find it everywhere? or can you turn something boring into something magical?