#its actually really nice to do little things like this!!!

[7s3ven]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VAGAS STAYS IN VAGAS. simon riley

( just an idea)

I recently watched a movie set in Vegas that had the title (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas) as its motto and I thought it’d be a really funny plot. I’ll use Ghost as a placeholder for now.

But yeah, imagine reader and Ghost (total strangers) get married in Vegas and they’re like “wtf” and they don’t officially divorce so, hey, Ghost actually has a wife on paper. And then Laswell introduces TF 141 to a transferred worker and what do you know, it’s Ghost’s Vegas wife.

Ghost wasn’t known for drinking past his limits. In fact, he barely had any. He wasn’t a light weight in the slightest. He could drink at least twenty large pints of beer and still be fully sober. But, it seems Vegas had fucked him over. He blamed Jonny for convincing the team to take a holiday to America.

He could still taste the fruity cocktails on his tongue as he sat up, rubbing his face. His mask was discarded to the side, lying on the floor. The room was surprisingly tidy as he leaned over the body beside him to retrieve his mask- wait, that wasn’t right.

Ghost let out a grunt of surprise, staring at the person beside him. His gaze immediately landed on the wedding ring that glinted in the dim light. His heart lurched. Had he slept with a married person? His brows creased as he tried to remember what had happened. Who even was this strange woman? He had never seen her before.

Ghost racked his brain for clues until he realized that the woman beside him was the one he had been eyeing all night in a drunken state. He thought she was pretty and he hadn’t seen the ring before.

He looked down at his own hand, eyes widening even more at the sight of a matching wedding band. It didn’t take a genius to piece everything together.

Ghost hadn’t slept with an already taken person, he had fucking married a stranger instead. Well, in the grand scheme of things, that seemed a little better than ruining a marriage because he drank too much.

You stirred and Ghost froze as you opened your eyes, blinking in confusion. “Where am I?” You were just as confused as he was. “Hey, did we sleep together? You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” Your words slurred together. You glanced at the ring on his finger, lurching back. “Oh my gosh! Are you married?! Did I fuck a married person?! I’m so sorry!”

“Look at your own finger.” Ghost grumbled. “Wasn’t married before I met you.”

At least you were a smart one. “Oh… we married each other… um, what’s your name?”

“Simon Riley.”

“Y/N L/N.”

The two of you shook hands, still tangled in the white bedsheets.

“So… what happens now?” You mutter.

“I gotta get to work. Give me your number so I can call ya and we can… figure whatever the hell this is out.”

You hand him a piece of paper with your digits written on it. It doesn’t take you long to get dressed and walk out of the hotel, already texting your friends on what you had woken up to.

Hours passed and then days and finally months. And there was no call from the handsome man you had accidentally married. And there was no chance of even divorcing if you couldn’t get in contact with him.

So you endured it. And whenever your friends asked about the ring, you told them the story of how you had managed to get drunk and marry a total stranger. They found it hilarious.

Kate Laswell was the woman who entirely changed your life, in more ways than another. When you were a teenager, she helped you out of a slump. You owed her a great deal for saving you at your worst. So when she asked you to transfer from your secretary line of work in the military to a special operations unit as their new intelligence operative, you agreed.

She had given a meaning to your life, a well-paying job that could support you, and unintentionally reunited you with the man who was bound to you on paper.

“This is Y/N. Treat her nice.” Laswell says to the four large men towering over you. But you only have eyes for the one with the Skull mask. You could recognzie those vivid eyes anywhere.

He wasn’t wearing gloves, giving you a perfect view of the wedding ring still sitting on his finger. You couldn’t blame him, you still wore yours too for some reason.

“Ey, LT, yer gon’ a burn a hole in the poor lassie if ya keep starin’ like that.” John Mactavish, aka known as Soap or Jonny, said, laughing. “You like ‘er or somethin’?”

“Yeah, I guess. She’s my wife after all.” Ghost grunts. You want to pinch the bridge of your nose. How could he say such a thing without context?

Gaz is the one who makes a fuss over Ghost’s statement. “Wait, you’re married?! And you didn’t invite us?!”

“It was in a dingy church.” You say to fill in the gaps.

“Where?” Gaz presses on.

You and Ghost exchange a look, embarrassed about your reckless actions. “Vegas.” You both say in unison.

You can practically see the cogs working in Soap’s head as he gasps. “Is that where yer disappeared off to? Ya got married to a pretty lass without tellin’ us? How long have y’all known each other?!”

You clear your throat as you hear the quiet sound of Laswell chuckling. Glad to see she finds your predicament amusing. “We don’t.”

“So you married a stranger?” Soap’s eyebrows furrow. “Ey, how come you got married before me?!”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Ghost reminds his team members.

It’d be really funny if, even after that, you and Ghost still don’t divorce. And y’all actually start treating each other like lovers.

Like, yeah, we were strangers and got married in a church in Vegas but we won’t divorce because the married life is actually better than expected. What about it?

Ghost literally brushes off the fact that you guys were strangers. He treats you like his wife, bringing you food and wiping your makeup off when you’re too tired to do so. And eventually, you guys just accept it.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Rosebud

Ryan sighed, leaning against the door to his room. He had been locking himself in here the past few days now, though he knew the weed could easily enter whenever she wanted. Hell, she could probably rip the damn door off its hinges if she needed to. Still, an ounce of comfort was better than nothing.

He slowly slid to the floor, holding Sinna close. The weed had given it to him when he had woken up, a large plush cinnamon roll about a foot and a half in diameter. She had told him that the plush was his to have and hold and name, and he had quickly grown close to the thing. Every time he squeezed it, it released this really nice puff of citrus scent that reminded him of home on Remula, to the point that he had even begun talking to it.

He was definitely a little concerned about his mental state when it started talking back, though.

"Hey Sin, um…am I…am I going to be okay?" He couldn't help but blush a little as he held the plush out, seeing the cute simplistic smiley face on the side of the roll.

"Absolutely, dear! Why, what's wrong?" The voice he pictured was a cute one, very feminine and soothing.

"I…its just…between what happened at class today, and how Luca…how Violet has already accepted her place as a…as a floret…I'm just scared that I'm going to be next, you know? I don't want to be a floret!"

"Awww, but honey bun…you'd make a precious little girl for your Owner!" Ryan blushed at that, shaking his head rapidly but not replying. For some reason, the plush insisted that Ryan was actually a trans woman, like Violet. Which…which was…not what he wanted, nononono definitely not nope nu uh.

"Do you mind if I use that name we talked about, dear? I loved it sooooo much, and it was sooooo cute so see your smile~" He shrugged, looking away and biting his lip, so Sinna continued, "My little Roooooose~"

Rose…Ryan blushed, hiding his face in Sinna at the mention. "ofdgbnokmsfkoghmno."

"Rooooosey poseeeey, its okay. Its okay to be scared. But your Owner loves you lots and lots, and she won't never ever ever let you forget it. Why don't you talk to her a little?" A burst of orange scent around them, and she relaxed…he relaxed?

…she relaxed.

"I…okay. Um…where are you then?" Rose knew who had been talking to her, she wasn't that dumb. But the pretending had helped, in a way. Talking to Sinna the cinnamon roll was a lot easier than talking to Sinaforte the Owner, Second Bloom.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Rose slid out of the way as the lock clicked open, and the door swung inward. Sin smiled down at her, holding the microphone that let her speak through the plushie.

"Let's chat then, Rosie."

[pizzabox-box]

Ah this is cringe as heck for me, but screw it, the last ask you got about a person not feeling much sympathy all for Peppi-No really was great, kudos to the OP of that comment since it really got me thinking, why even if I agree what the dude is doing is awful... I actually feel pretty fucking bad for him XD.

Like, I think we can all agree we've done shit in our lives that wasn't great, and that doesn't diminish the harm done or the fact other people have gotten hurt from our own stupid decisions. I also just think sympathetic villains are so interesting. (when done right, and hell you could argue even if he is the protagonist of the DMW AU, Peppi-No is a bit of an anti-villian) it really makes you think about the fact its so normal for people do try to avoid the consequences of their actions. I'm sure everyone has done something bad and instead of admitting fault have doubled down and tried to save face because they were SURE they could "fix" it without getting hurt from it.

Sure most of the time, (...I hope) its not as bad as murdering a person and taking on their identity... I think there is something really human about wanting to not get hurt, and feeling like shit about regrets we've had.

I think that Peppi-No even if what he doing is wrong, still... I dunno I can empathize. I mean.. he's sooo sowwy 🥺, its kinda pathetic, like a more extreme version of a puppy that just destroyed something important to you. Like "awww... you asshole, you're so cute though but goddamn it..."

I both am loving the angst of this AU and know its going to be so cathartic to see Peppi-no finally deal with his lie blowing up in his face and suffering MORE >:). I feel sympathy yes but I also love angst hehe.

(sorry if that wasn't super well worded? I don't normally send things like these >//>)

I assure you, it’s not cringe! It’s nice to see both sides voice their opinions!

Personally, I’m pretty divided on how I feel about Peppi-no. Part of me wants to strangle him for what he did (and what he might still do*cough* ), but at the same time, he’s,like you said, a sad, pathetic "sowwy" puppy, and I can’t help but feel bad for him.

When he took a piece of Peppino, he may have gained a conscience but not emotional maturity. He’s like a kid who just realized he fucked up in the worst way possible and is terrified of the consequenses. And fear can drive people to do terrible things, after all. Before that, his entire existence was just scrambling around, making pizzas out of whatever he could find: pigs, other clones, pizza monsters. He ended many lives, that but never faced any sort of repercussions. Never got a chance to learn "murder bad" ,

Then he takes a bite out of one of the kind Peppino—bam! Conscience, coherent thoughts, and memories of the guy he killed flood into his head. Can you imagine the whiplash, the shock, the stress? I certainly can’t.

Obviously, I’m not some dough doppelgänger pretending to be someone I killed. That would just be silly… no, really, I’m not.. But I can relate a little to what Peppi-no’s going through.

And let’s be honest, how many of us would have the absolute balls of steel to admit we killed someone’s friend in cold blood? Sure, it’s the morally right thing to do, but… you know. I’m not sure I could. (Once again purely hypothetical scenario)

Peppi-no's actions are unexcusable, he should know better than this by now, but at the same time you can kinda understand why he acts the way he does.

[klunkcat]

Life is short, and I've shortened mine

rise of the tmnt gift fic for the T3 server november exchange, for the very lovely @remedyturtles

Sensei is a character that can actually be so life changing and brain consuming. Very grateful to have the opportunity to play in your sandbox, exploring their headspaces is actually incredible and also devastating.

Note: This is an offshoot from Rem’s “little kid with a big death wish” fic and will not make sense on its own I fear.

title from good bones by Maggie Smith

read on ao3

___

He didn’t ask for this, is the crucial thing. He’d been— not relieved to be dead, because he hadn’t managed to make it yet to where his brothers were, because his kid was still out there fighting for tomorrow. Relieved was too gentle a word, but he’d been something. 

Maybe less tired. 

It was nice to think about, selfishly. He’s been carrying lead weights and anchors at the edges of himself since the moment the world fell, but there’d never been any other volunteers for the job. Somewhere quietly inside himself he’d thought the ending would mean a moment of reprieve. He should have known, though. They’d all been the universe's favorite chew toys for long enough, dying was too nice a bow to wrap around it. 

He really hadn’t asked for this, no matter what the subconscious thoughts he’d hit to death with sticks in the back of his mind said about escaping. Stumbling across the kid— another him, a version of him he’d never gotten to be, that he thinks maybe distantly he shouldn’t have needed to be— he’d hoped he could silently wrap himself in that thick blanket of nothing and fade out at least. Not fuck things up for him worse, but, well. 

Maybe the throughline to being Hamato Leonardo was fate-led curiosity; he’d never learned how to leave well enough alone in either direction. Of course Leo had scouted him out, of course he’d been compelled to try to help the kid float when he should have stayed put, of course. Of course. 

And so, as the classics say, here they were. 

“Can you give me a number, Leo?” Raph’s voice creeps in, all-over earnest and thoughtful in the way he intrinsically is—was. It’s a shard of glass to hear it at all, it’s everything he’s ever wanted. The kid fuzzes out a little and slips sideways a step; oops , Leo thinks. There’s a hard line around not transmitting too loud, he’s still trying to figure it out. 

Could do without whatever that was ever again , the kid thinks, sharp and rattled under the surface.

Leo winces. Sorry, I’m all thumbs over here. Trying to keep quiet. 

Psh, younger Leo rolls his eyes. You’re all one thumb .

The kid turns back to his brother, thrumming still between a one and zero now. He’s scrambling to ground still, to focus. He gives Raph a quick OK sign that there’s no way Raph doesn’t see through. It’s kind of funny to watch his force-fire white-knuckling deflection in technicolor from the outside like this, he’s not sure why he ever thought this worked. 

“That’s okay, that’s fine. Can you give me a number, bud?” The pleading edge hurts to hear. 

They hold up a shaky one, maybe overconfidently. Mikey and Don are in the room somewhere, he can hear them shuffling even with Leo’s eyes closed. The sudden memory of a thousand days where the only rest his littlest brother got was when he was locked in meditation, the way he walked like his bones and joints hurt right up until the end, nearly knocks them both back to a firm zero. 

The kid glares at him, Leo holds his hand up apologetically and imagines zipping his non-existent lips shut. 

They’d been doing better for the last few days. He’d started talking out loud, had been at a solid two a handful of times. He knows the kid’s frustrated and exhausted, he can feel it, especially seeing them slip all the way back. Leo feels a hot well of shame creep up his ethereal throat. 

He knows it’s a push and pull game they’re playing. Wounded leading the wounded, and all. 

It’s still a lot, to think of seeing his family that isn’t his family. Of them knowing he existed and talking to him. Points towards the ‘he should fuck off forever’ category, as soon as they figured out how to get rid of him.

(The kid talked about it like they’d miss him if he left, like there’d be some great love lost— they didn’t know him, though. He’d lived through twenty years of a war they’d never have to see. Leo was not the teen they were missing, the one they were trying to call home, because he’d given that up a long time ago.

Of course he had to leave, this kid had a life of his own to live now. Leo didn’t have anything.)

“ — he was for a moment, just give him time,” Raph’s saying. He forces the kid to take a purposeful long breath in, squeeze his fingers, twitch his toes. Keep him from tipping all the way over into the dark where he’d accidently shoved them. 

“See, he’s back with us,” Raph continues, brightly. The kid groggily radiated all sorts of furious signals like a firecracker popping in several unplanned directions, all different fonts screaming exhaustion and hurt the only way he knew how. Leo’s heart aches for him. Beating himself down for daring to survive at all. 

“Is he?” Don’s voice cuts in haughtily. Leo makes them blink their eyes open, caught out despite the kid’s anger. 

They’re looking for you, bud. Rise and shine.

I don’t care, the kid hisses. Fuck off. 

Okay. Well. Less than ideal. 

“Which one are we dealing with,” Don’s voice hovers closer, half lodged in icy suspicion. He wouldn’t be this closed off for his Leo, obviously. Leo— Sensei smothers a sigh. 

“He’s trying not to  answer the phone right now. So, just me. Sorry.” 

“Is he okay?” Raph asks, concern evident in the dark shadow of his brow. Sensei can’t look at it directly, it’s not for him to feel all the reminiscent grief of a brother that isn’t even his. How he feels about any of this never helps anything. 

“He’s….” He prods the kid and gets an indistinguishable slew of curses and general hypothetical middle fingers back. “He’s taking a break, he’s okay.” 

Don arches a brow back. “I don’t care that we’re forced to take your word for this, just to be clear.” 

“Fair enough. He says, and I quote, bite me, so I think that’s where we’re at.” 

“Ah,” Raph hums. “Well, if you can tell him I’ll be back in ten minutes with tea, I’d love to check in on him then.” 

Sensei nods, relays the message with a garbled hiss as a response. Expected. 

Don stares at him, impassive. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Feral cat radiating protective instincts three counties wide, like always.

It’s… an ache under the skin, to be left alone with Don. He hasn’t forgotten the way Dee’s face would shift in a scowl, he never could, but seeing it played out on a younger face scratches something in him regardless. 

“I want to speak with my brother, if it’s all the same,” Don says, blunt. 

“I’ve been trying to ring him, I promise. Bad morning.” 

Don arches a brow with a twitch to his jaw Sensei knows means he’s attempting to fight off a full on annoyed pout and failing. It hits him sideways to see, funny in the chest. A thousand sense memories, a different Donnie and a different place, coalescing all into one. His Don had gotten really good at not emoting at all near the end, he’d almost forgotten.

Hey, the kid grouses. Who’s flying this plane?

Right, thumbs again, Not-his-Don hovers closer when he blinks back to the front. A frown touches the middle of his maskless forehead. 

He makes himself walk through a few quick grounding steps and breathe in as deep as he can before speaking. “Back, sorry. Uh, Sensei, that is. Leo’s listening though.” 

Don’s still frowning, but he leans back a touch. “He’s making it harder for you to stay here too, isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t think the phrasing of that is fair, but. “Was all me that time, if I’m honest. We’re at a one now though, I’m good.” 

“Is he ?” Don tilts his head. 

Sensei considers. The kid’s not sinking back there just… Curled up, pill-bugging. Radiating furious hurt energy like a solar system all on his own. He’s present enough to tell Sensei to fuck off and focus on Don at least. 

“Think so, yeah. He’s just…” He mimes a snapping maw with his good hand.

Don sighs and rolls his eyes, there’s an edge of anxiety there Sensei can still read as bright as anything. Isn’t that a thought. Twenty years without and this younger Donnie is still under his skin like a part of himself. 

He needs you bud, Sensei tries again, nudging his younger self. 

I’m tired of this , the kid growls back, not-voice cracking all the way through in a way that makes Sensei ache for him. 

Sensei sighs, patting his shell. I know.

Don shifts his weight in front of them, frown deepening as he moves to tap on his wrist guard. Probably texting the family about the general Bad Leo Day, he imagines. He knows how this would go with his Don— the way it would itch at him being unable to instantly resolve whatever problems his brother had. He never dealt well with any mystic issues affecting Mike for the same reasons either. 

There’d always been a thrumming line between them, some unspoken thing; Sensei carried it with him even now, even with the end gone dark. He knows Don’s having a hard time reconciling all the ways ‘Sensei’ is his Leo and is someone entirely different. Managing the fear that his Leo will go somewhere far away inside himself and he’ll only be left with someone he doesn’t know. That he’ll be left alone. 

The worst part about being a twin is when you aren’t one anymore, after all. 

Bad thought. Shit. The pull in the back of his mind grows louder. He holds up a shakier zero. Don’s sharp eyes narrow, tapping something harder on his guard before shifting closer. “Leo?” 

Can you stop being horribly sad for five minutes while looking at my brother? It’s so not helping. 

He shakes his head. “Still me,” the words come out soupy. The kid jabs him angrily somewhere in the back of his brain, uncurled with annoyed concern, which is maybe an unintentional win. 

“Is it— can you ground him?” 

He’s trying; his brain fires unhelpful flashes of the days after. Of the months of searching desperately, of the moment he woke up in the middle of the night with sudden certainty that wherever the other half of himself went, he couldn’t get back on his own. Shit. 

Shit , the kid echoes, less angry with the barely concealed concern. Sensei can feel the dark pit creeping at his arms even as he blinks furiously to stay present. 

“Not him, it’s— sorry, all me again. Don’t think I can stick around.” He squeezes his fist, forces himself to breathe deeper, but it catches somewhere around the middle. The kid slides forward with a flurry of aggrieved panic that sparks through him and sends him back down several flights. There goes that plan. 

Sensei cracks an eye back open and catches a familiar flash in Donnie’s eyes, and yeah— sorry, kid. Lights out. 

The last conversation he remembers having with Don had been about Casey. He was getting to the age where he was asking to follow them out on missions more and more, curious about everything Uncle Tello was up to. He wanted to help, desperately. Itching with the need to be useful in a way they all understood. 

It was different with Casey, though. He knew why it was different.

“We let Mike do this stuff when he was his age,” Leo had said with a sigh. “It’s hard to find good reasons to say no that aren’t just three rounds of my own loud clamoring panic. He should go, he’s trained plenty.” 

Don clicked his goggles, focusing on a project in front of him with a hum. “Mike wasn’t dealing with an apocalypse. He was, at worst, trying to find a new place to tag at Casey Jr’s age, so.” 

“Exactly,” Leo smooths his hand across his head. “But also…” 

Don looks at him, eyes gone big with the layers of lenses so he gets hyper close up patented ‘Tello Eye Roll in high definition. “But also, you’re a mother hen, and he’s talented, and he’ll just sneak out anyways if we keep making him hang back.” 

“Points for you,” Leo sighs again. “Want to make that a daily double?” 

“You remember how Micheal was about being babied,” Don sighs. “So, I don’t know. Let him go on a supply run, something small. A practice version,” Don shrugs, turns back to his work. “There’s that lower activity quadrant we got a ping on last week. I can take him and go get that part we need to fix up the generator.” 

Leo lets out a long breath. “Yeah, that— huh. That could work. He’s always saying he wants to learn more about how to keep things running around here, he’ll be over the moon. Kid asked me last week if I could show him how to do stitches.” 

Don snorts. “Great, soon there’ll be two of you.” 

Leo steps forward, leaning his elbow on Don’s chair to peer over at his desk. There’s a mess of wires in front of him, a plate he’s meticulously soldering ends together on. “Eh, there’s already two of me.” 

“Excuse you,” Don nudges him back with a shoulder. “As the funnier twin, I resent that remark.”

He laughs, lets out a breath. The thrum of Don’s room sometimes settles him, like it’s echoing the place in him where his ninpo sat before. Constant hums of his family flitting through open rooms. 

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid, do you?” Leo has to ask. The variables tripped around each other in hyperspeed in his mind at all times, racing down to the ends of his fingers. Casey’s only thirteen, they’re down too many runners, there’s never any right choices and only Leo to make them.

Don pauses for a second. He flips up his goggles before Leo can wrench the question back into himself, not that it had ever worked before. 

“I’ll keep him safe,” Don says, slowly. “It’s a good call, he’s earned it.” 

“You’re just saying that because it was half your idea.” Leo glances away, embarrassed on some fundamental level that Don had even needed to give him the reassurance. He sighs, squeezes Don’s shoulder quickly as a thank you. Don hums with a smirk. 

“Well? Are you going to teach him? Don’t think we have any oranges to practice on.” The implication rings loudly enough, Casey stitching up real wounds is a foray they haven’t dared make.

Leo waves his hand. “Might be a good idea for the kid to have some medical information in between all the supercomputer nerd things.” 

“Avoiding the question is a bold move.”

Leo deflates, winces. “Yeah. Thought it might make him worry less.” If he could help without leaving the base at all, maybe they’d both relax. A quieter thought, under that: maybe Leo would, if he knew Casey could take care of himself without him. 

Don squints. “It might. Here’s a better thought, his Sensei letting someone else take on the riskier missions for once, hm?” 

Ah, well. 

Leo feigns a wide grin anyways, shrugging. “What can I say, the Krang love me.” 

The arched eyebrow he receives is scathing. He is scathed. He waves his good hand Don’s direction with a huff. “Don’t look at me like that, this is about the kid. Table the psychoanalysis for Mike to take over.” 

“You want Michael to get in on this?”

Good point. He sighs again, shuffling over to a side table and crossing his arms. This is an old argument, the circles of it are worn through and practically scripted. If dear Tello insists, he purses his lips. Round and round they go. 

“I’m faster.”

“Other people are fast enough.” 

“Enough isn’t safe.”

“Letting the Krang learn all your moves is?” 

“Come on, I’ve been fine.” 

The scathing meter ramps up as Don’s eyes pointedly flick to Leo’s robotic arm. “They blast you with enough of their power? How long is that going to be true.” 

“I know how they work.” 

“For fucks sake Leo, the rest of us grew up in the apocalypse too.” 

The rest of you aren’t responsible for it, though , he thinks with all forty old years of packed self directed venom. There’s no point to this conversation, he finds the way out Don wants. 

“Fine. I’ll stay back for the next few, okay? You and Case can do the supply run. April’s been saying she wants to get back out, I can send her with Angel.” 

Don’s steely gaze doesn’t shift, his jaw tense. Usually, this is where the conversation stalls and dies out. World like theirs is lacking in many things, including fuel to burn with. 

“I’m sick of watching you do this,” he spits out, sharp and barbed. It stops Leo up short. 

He nearly says ‘do what’, but he knows his twin. They haven’t gone into any of this since— well, since Raph. Since the mantle of the Resistance became something heavier and lodged in him with anchor weights. Since everyone started looking at him like his plans were god. Since his fuck up ruined everything.

No time for heart to hearts, really.

“Come on, Dee,” he swallows roughly, carefully. “I’m careful. This isn’t about that.” 

“Isn’t it? Isn’t everything you do about that?” 

Leo works his jaw. “It isn’t.”

“When will you stop acting like you have to make up for it, then?” 

Ouch. Leo redirects. “We’re going to win this. It’ll work out, you know it will. I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

Winning the war hasn’t been a tangible thought in his mind in years either; he’s not sure he knows how to do anything but follow the script anymore, though. He hopes he’s putting up a strong enough act.

Don’s hand clenches around his soldering gun, relaxes. “There’s only one you,” he practically growls out, and Leo’s chest squeezes. “If he goes somewhere he takes me with him. Do you get that?” 

He swallows again. “Course I do. I’m not— this isn’t about me, Don. Strategically, until they start catching up to me we have to make them believe I’m their only concern. Promise, that’s all this is.” 

You swear? He almost hears a younger Donnie ask, crouched up in their hideout over Donnie’s gameboy. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, with as much sincerity as he carries with him. He wouldn’t, there’s nowhere else in the world for him to go when everything that matters is right here. 

“You aren’t allowed to pull anything. I’d know if you were,” Don glares. “We need you.” He says it funny, emphasis on both the need and the you all at once, like one of those endless staircase paintings that look different the longer you try to make sense of it. Leo holds up his hands helplessly. 

His twin’s stare pins Leo through for a long moment. He takes the whole half a second of pause to step closer. “Hey, that whole thing— back at you. Obviously.” 

Don lets out a long breath, expression flat and assessing. For a moment, Leo thinks he might say more, but he turns his chair around to continue soldering. 

“Obviously.” 

They’d let the conversation fall lighter, moving to charitable waters. And Leo had let Don take Case out for an easy supply run. 

The last thing his twin ever said to him was lost somewhere behind the distress beacon and the noise of the Krang leveling an entire building on him. He thinks there was a sorry in there, or a be right back to the scared kid he was giving up the world for. 

The part that’s always stung, a burr against his core, is that they never find any sign of where Donnie went. There’s his ninpo, and his bo staff with his fucking mask tied around a bleeding wound on Casey’s arm, the hum of electricity somewhere down the corridors of his mind, and Casey safely bundled and shaking in a propped up section of rubble. His kid is so terrified, asks for Uncle Tello in a quiet whine like he knows.  

He doesn’t remember the mad scramble to get there, the fact that he’d reached so far down into his struggling well of ninpo he’d felt something entirely shatter apart in his hands. The way Mikey had put his own hands over Leo’s, and brought the two of them together all at once. He only remembers the wake of whatever devastation cracks through him once it’s clear they were too late. 

The recording he’d left that Leo couldn’t bring himself to listen to for weeks. 

Leo would know if he died. He would. The light never goes out, but Don never comes home. It’s a loss he can’t name all the same. 

It’s impossible to regather whatever off the cuff words he’d said last, before Don left. Had he said be safe? Had he said he’d loved him? They’d never needed to say it before, but the lack still haunts him. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

‘Be right back’ is a shitty thing to lie about, he thinks wryly.

It’s the first promise he’s ever broken. 

The ache never leaves but there’s no time for grief. He steps outside of himself and into whatever he needs to be, and he chases the corridors in his mind to that safe space Donnie’s ninpo has always rested. The door is closed, but it’s still humming. He doesn’t know what that means. 

“God, stop ,” the kid groans at him. Leo– Sensei blinks back into himself, or— to the place between what constitutes as himself these days. The spot by the tree with just the two of them. “It sucks when it’s you somehow even more than when it’s me.” 

The sludge is still there, distantly. Tugging at him in ebbs and flows. Sensei makes himself breathe out, take a look at the kid. Take stock, soldier. Focus on the problem at hand, deal with your shit somewhere else. 

“Or, here’s a thought: you could deal with your shit at all. Call me crazy, but this ‘shoving all my old man pain in a box and burying it deep down’ thing seems like it’s fucking us both over.” The kid whines, leaning his head back. The irony does not escape either of them, he knows. The Uno reverse is unspoken.

Magnanimously, Sensei lets it slide. 

The kid’s problem is more complicated and knotted somewhere inside himself than he likes to acknowledge, at least Sensei’s is all obvious lines of too-long-losing-wars and grief. It’s all outside. The problem has always been that it’s outside.

Sensei settles beside him, hand on his knees and head tilted up to the still sky. They don’t speak for a long moment, instinctively mimicking the long drawn out grounding breaths in sync. He wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling so strange. Seeing himself from the outside like this, entirely encased in different baggage. It’s hard to think about anything other than ‘he’s so small’, loudly. On repeat. It’s not a helpful thought. 

“Sorry,” Sensei breathes as the sludge lessens minutely along his back. “Should be used to that by now.” 

The kid shrugs. “Is there a way to be used to it?” 

He knows he’s asking for them both. The truest answer feels the most bleak, so he opts for something gentler. 

“I think there has to be a way to think around it at least? Make the brain box bigger. Less likely for the shit in it to hit things.” 

There’s a long sigh beside him. “Sounds exhausting.” 

A long pause. “Would it… help? To talk about it?” 

Man, this little blue. Sensei can’t help the smile that tilts across his heart; he’s so tentative and determined all in one. Still stretching a hand out even though he knows whatever Sensei’s going to say might bowl him right over again. 

He shakes his head. “Nah. I tried once, with my Mike. It’s an old scar anyways.” 

The conversation hadn’t gone anywhere helpful, even with Mikey’s ability to see right inside his brain. They’d both been too tired to argue. 

“I don’t think I could do it,” the kid says, sullenly. Tiredly. He rolls his head to the side to make eye contact with Sensei. “Live without any of them.” 

Yeah , he thinks. He doesn’t say that there hadn’t been much living at all. “You know it's the same for them about you, right?” 

The kid scowls, turns away. “Saying things you don’t mean about yourself seems kinda useless, old man.” 

I mean it about you, though , he thinks. Something twitches in the kid's face. “I had twenty years as the last resort,” Sensei offers. “Changes your perspectives on things.” Or your priorities, really. Whether or not they needed him didn’t change that he was responsible for keeping them alive. 

Or that he’d failed. 

It’s obvious math with the kid anyways. He can see the way the kids brother’s hover, checking in and creeping forward and patiently holding his hand, working constantly to make him feel safe. Twenty years and mires of grief isn’t enough to drown out all the big and small ways he can see how his family loves. 

“What was he like,” the kid turns with a sharper look in his eyes. “Your Don.”

He sighs, lets it roll through him. “Tired.”

He closes his eyes. 

“He was really tired.” 

He’d barely slept, all the way up until the end. Too many defense algorithms to scrub through footage of, supposedly— he wonders now if he should have checked in more. If he should have asked. 

“Yeah,” the kid says, quietly like he doesn’t expect Sensei to hear. “You feel tired a lot, too.” 

Oh . He supposes that’s fair. 

Sensei swallows and imagines the fractured pieces of his heart settling back into their ruins. “It’s funny, he made all the systems in our base use his voice. Had to hear him anytime someone tried to use the microwave. Technically his last words to me were ‘front door compromised’.”

“Yeah. Funny. You ever thought about therapy?”

He doesn’t want to talk about this, it never helps. The rioting part of his core that is four parts missing and agony and one part instinctive need to move forward writhes anytime he lets himself remember any of it at all. As if he does anything other than remember it. 

“Kid—” He exhales. 

The kid turns to face him, frowning with that divot above his brow and his dead set determined set to his beak that screams stubbornness in neon colors. “Listen. I know how— I do the same thing, with my Ang, right? You know, where he doesn’t need all of my… me-ness on top of everything. So tell me the real version, get it out of that slow cooker of a brain so you can stop freaking out every time Don breathes our direction.”

He’s having a weird brain schism, he realizes. The divides between where this kid went and where he himself had walked are so different, sometimes past him feels like a different turtle entirely. A younger one, boiling entirely over with how little he sees himself at all. 

I see you , he thinks, tragically. Pointlessly.  

Sensei breathes out. “There’s not much—” his voice breaks, he clenches his hand around the inexorable pull of that dark space at his edges. The kid sees all of it anyways, doesn’t he? Dancing around it only makes it more his problem, less Sensei’s alone. His throat burns with some memory of tears, it feels silly but the words crawl out of him anyways. “I just. I never got to say goodbye. We never found out if he—” 

But he had to have. It’s so much worse to imagine he had been alive and trapped, that Leo had left him there in that awful world. He had to have been dead because his twin would have broken apart the planet itself to get back to them if he could have. 

His shoulders round forward and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I just, I should have gotten to say goodbye.” 

The kid is silent. A long moment passes. 

Sensei feels a small hand carefully land on his knee. “Sorry.” 

He puts his larger one over the kids, squeezes it. “Nothing for you to be sorry for, kid.” Nothing in this whole wide world. “Whatever my Don was doing, I have to believe he’s with everyone else now.” It makes it manageable, at least. Widens the box in his brain so he can think around it. 

The kid hums thoughtfully. “Can we… I mean, dad talks to our ancestors and things, in the mystic plane, right? He could maybe—” 

Panic wrings through him, ice cold and visceral. Sensei feels the shudder crack through both of them and their tree side hang out waver into darkness. “--right, okay.” The kid gasps. “Bad plan, got it. Noted.” 

“Sorry,” Sensei manages. “I just…” He doesn’t want to know what they think of him. What any of them would say about the world he broke. He knows them, he knows, but he’d been tired for so long before that, and he doesn’t want to know that Don went slowly or painfully. That he’d been waiting for Leo to find him.

Maybe he deserves to know how much he let him down. 

The kid's hand twists, squeezing his back as hard as he can. “Forget it, shit. Grounding, let’s um. Let’s do that and not whatever this is. I hate this, fuck. ” 

They walk through a few start and stop steps, the kids hand tight in his the whole time as they both dig their heels in to stay. It hurts, and Sensei wants to give in. The hand in his keeps him pushing through, cracks through him enough to speak. 

“He, uh,” he clears his non-corporeal throat. “He kept a section of his database specifically for chess games for me. To run on my wrist guard when I couldn’t sleep.” Which was most of the time. Sensei shakes his head. “Kept a file for Mario Party cheat codes, too.” 

The kid stares at the side of his face. Breathing steadier. He can feel it like a brand. “I knew he cheated. Asshole! I knew it.” 

Sensei shrugs, a laugh surprising him as choked off and wobbly as it is. “He rigged up a giant screen once. Told me he was going to come for my crown once and for all, right in front of the entire base. Raph ended up winning.” 

The stare gets more intense. “No.” 

“Swear on my life,” he says. Pauses. “Or, well. My ghost possession afterlife? Don was furious.” 

“Raph never wins at Mario,” he can hear the cogs in the kids' heads freezing in place. Hell has rained ice, pigs have started flying. Raphael, chronically confused at Mario Party mini game rules to a truly fascinating degree, won a video game.

“It’s true,” Sensei laughs. 

“Was it the pity stars?”

“It was the pity stars.” 

“Ah.”

He remembers how hard Mike had laughed at that, just absolute shrieking peels of delight as the rest of his family stared in complete silence. April had needed to drag a completely feral Donnie back to his quarters because Leo ended up crying laughing with him. 

There weren't a lot of those good days after they lost dad. It’s important he holds onto them. It’s important he doesn’t let himself forget even when it’s hard to think about. 

“That’s a relief,” the kid says, leaning back again. “Was starting to think everything about the future was completely and morbidly depressing. Least you had Mario Party.” 

At least they had Mario Party. 

The kid wakes up on his own, Sensei tucked carefully somewhere in the background. There’s a flurry of commotion somewhere out in the hall that sounds a lot like Mikey and Raph, but it’s still and quiet in the med bay. 

Shit, the kid thinks, looking at the clock. It’s definitely been more than a few hours since they fell under. Sensei can see the medical clip on the kid's finger is back in place before he wiggles it off. 

“Number?” Don’s voice cuts in, stern. Flat. Standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room by his desk. 

They hold up a two after a long moment. “I’m fine,” the kid says. Don’s expression doesn’t change.

“Who am I talking to?” 

The kid groans. “Don’t be like that, Tello. He didn’t mean to. Half of it was me, anyways.” 

Don looks squarely unimpressed, but something eases in the line of his shoulders. Relieved not to be talking with the body snatcher, probably, he gets it. 

“He said he dragged you under, it’s been twelve hours. Am I not supposed to think your parasite is making it worse?” 

He’s not wrong either.

The kid radiates frustration at both of them. “He’s not— Dee. He’s been through a lot. Leave off him, alright? I was pissed off, he got his flip switched. I wasn’t making it easier. I’m doing good, I don’t want to be mad, okay?”

Don’s expression flickers, faltering as it always does around their particular brand of pleading honesty. “Fine, I’m not done talking about this but. Tabled, for now. What do you need.” 

The kid thinks for a minute. Water would be good, Sensei nudges him. 

“Would you talk to him?” The kid says instead, startling both Don and Leo. 

Don recovers first, eyes narrowing. “Why.” 

The kid’s brain is a mess of picture show slides, a strange warped retelling of Sensei’s own memories. It makes him wince, guilt rising thick in his chest. He’s gotta get better at locking that down. 

“Look he— he misses his own Don. It’s not the same thing, but he had a rough night. Just shut up and talk to him.” 

“Oxymoron,” Don and Sensei say in sync. The kid glares. 

Kid, Sensei tries. 

No. Not up for debate. You won’t let me tell Casey? Fine, this is my compromise. I’m tired of playing referee. 

Sensei hates the pang of panic that still lights up in his mind at the thought. The kid lets out a frustrated growl. 

Stop trying to leave! I’m sick of it. What if I— what if I don’t want them to pry you out of here. What then? You gonna sit here in this pissing contest stand off with my Don until we die? 

There’s. A lot to unpack there, and not enough of the kid standing firm enough to do it— the conversations knocked them both back swiftly to a one that’s tenuous at best. Sensei didn’t make it so long as a general without knowing how to pick his battles, anyways. 

If this is what you need from me, okay, he relents. 

The kid’s glare is still hot, assessing. He turns back to himself, to the med room. 

Don’s fussing with his tablet, brows twitching and his hand firmly in Leo’s good one. “‘M here, sorry.” The kid squeezes his twin's hand for them. “Just having a conversation, hard to be both places at once.” 

Don’s jaw shifts. “I will refrain from the comments I desperately want to make.” 

“Noted, file that under an IOU.”

Don rolls his eyes. “Scoff. As if I don’t have a mountain of those already.”  

The affection in the kid is warm and strong as anything. He clears his throat. “What if I… what if I asked him to stay. Sensei. Would you be mad?” 

Sensei shoves his own festering pile of guilt and doubt aside as hard as he can. Don’s expression flattens. “Why would you want to do that.” 

It’s your life, Sensei whispers. 

The kid shakes his head. “Casey needs him.” 

There’s another need underneath it, neither him or the kid acknowledge it directly. 

Don sighs, eyes squinting in the vague pained way of his. “I’m supposed to be okay with someone that is not you, taking you away from us when—” He cuts himself off, breathes out sharply. 

The kid stays silent. 

“Fine. Tabled. Get him out here.” 

Sensei slides forwards, patting the kid on the arm distantly and ignoring his grumble about it. He’s bracing himself— he knows how Dee is, in any version of them. Getting his head chewed off would be the easiest way out. 

“For the record,” Sensei starts, with a faint curve to his mouth. “I agree with you.” 

The kid glares. 

Don arches a brow, crossing his arms. “I don’t…. Like you, being here. I’m not convinced you aren’t impacting him in ways that are halting his progress.” 

Sensei manages a shrug. “You’re probably right. I try really hard to stay out of his way where I can, but. You saw yesterday.” 

Don’s jaw works, terse in every line of his body. Sensei remembers how his Don was before Raph. The way he’d gone along with all of Leo’s plans just inherently trusting that his goal was always to get everyone back out above anything else. The way he’d shifted. Their last conversation had been a lot of sharp lines like this; something adjacent to doubt. It still burns, funnily enough, even from a sixteen year old version of his twin who doesn’t know subtlety at all. 

“If I told you I had figured out how to rip you out of him without injuring Leo at all, would you fight me?” 

Sensei nearly laughs, I’d thank you, he tries not to think. “No,” he says with a stronger lilting smile. “I’d just ask that you do it before Case realizes I’m here. He doesn’t need that.” 

Something in Don’s face shifts. “When Leo says you’ve been through a lot, what does that mean.” 

“Ah,” Sensei huffs. “Maybe not a conversation for right now—” He can feel the daggers of the kid’s ire, nonetheless. Sighs. “Krang won where I’m from, Case probably mentioned.”

“And that means?”

He winces. “A lot of things that are hard to remember, mostly.” 

Don’s gaze is assessing. He types something onto his wrist guard. “Any triggers I should know about?” 

You. Raph. Dad. He breathes out. Shakes his head. 

“Fine. Bring him back, please.” 

The kid’s eye roll is something fierce internally, externally it’s too much effort to muster. “Dee. That was barely anything.” 

Don shrugs. “I talked to him, didn’t I?” 

It’s fine , Sensei reassures him. He means that it wouldn’t help, not with the hole that’s been carved in him for years. 

There’s nothing at all in the world for what he’s missing. He should just be better at it. The missing. 

Something stubborn lights up in the kid, a spark he doesn’t think he’s seen in the younger turtle since they crash landed together. Fuck this. 

“Can I ask you something and have you promise you won’t get mad?” 

Don’s brow twitches. “I’m not promising shit.” 

A pause. “Say it anyways.” 

“If you went somewhere,” the kid starts, and his voice shakes like a nervous glance over his shoulder. Sensei tenses immediately. “If you went somewhere, and you didn’t know how to come back. What would you do?” 

Don’t , Sensei thinks, helplessly.

“Wouldn’t happen,” Don says. Not a moment of hesitation. “I wouldn’t let it happen.” 

“What if you didn’t have a choice?” The kid asks. 

He has to imagine his Don didn’t have a choice either, clings to it with everything in him. He didn’t know the kid had seen that, the wilful refusal to believe in any world where the other half of himself would walk away on purpose.

He doesn’t know the expression on Don’s face. He’s seen it before, at the planning table. After missions. He’s never known what it meant. “I’d come back,” Don says, like it’s obvious. 

This younger version of his brother, some spun off worried and sideways Donnie, leans forward and pokes the kid as carefully as he can in the center of his chest. 

“If I still exist, in any universe, I’d be coming back.” 

Sensei swallows. He remembers this; that simple constant of trust, of knowing half himself sat between his ribs and the other behind a desk with a computer screen. He remembers believing it, too.

There’s a hallway in his mind that he goes to, where his ninpo once lived and breathed. A living room where he kept all the lights on. There’d been a time where all the rooms and all the doors had been flung wide open. They’ve been shut for years now. 

“If you didn’t?” The kid asks, voice small. 

Sensei walks through the empty room, hand trailing against the wall of his mind. He hasn’t visited this door, hasn’t been able to think about it around the hurt in him. He presses his forehead to the wood of it, now. 

“If I’m gone, it would never be forever. You’d just have to wait longer.” 

In his dreams, or at least where he goes when the kid is sleeping, the door is warm. 

He sits himself against it, and pretends it's the same as the door being open. To feel his brother existing here at all. 

Sometimes he thinks he can almost hear someone knocking back. 

[zhuoyichenpretty]

ep 24 commentary (brain fried edition)

my head is a little empty after ep 24 tbh!! brain is not braining after all the zyc hurt no comfort (-:

some scattered thoughts here and there, painstakingly corralled like cats out of my vacuous brain and into a list (spoilers):

ZYZ is really emo this episode poor dude like he is having a hard time keeping it together it seems. Every other word out of his mouth is depressing as shit, which is saying a lot considering how depressing he usually is already (': I kind of wanted this episode to pick his brain more, give him room to emote in the aftermath of all that. But it almost feels like the character refuses to be alone, like he might spiral if he has too much time to get in his own head. I'm still so curious to know, though, what he thinks about the state of their promise in light of how far ZYC went trying to save him. “He has us,” ZYZ said to WX. When the time comes, I wonder how he'll reconcile that with what he’s asked of ZYC.

PSJ and Ying Lei bonding! shenanigans! I did laugh thank you guys. Also, not that the team didn't operate separately before, but I really get a sense of how much ZYC held things together with how apparent his absence is. It's obvs heartwarming seeing how hard everyone is working to save him (PSJ especially for me bc I love their mutual tacit trust and respect and all the ways they're alike and different), but ultimately it's still so angsty (':

Kind of love the couple instances where ZYC has been referred to as fragile/weak/of delicate constitution (depending on how you wanna translate it) like that's a very interesting quality to assign to basically the tank of your team. Even if the comments are made facetiously, it just reminds me of how often we witness his mortality, and of course how everything about the styling, aesthetics, and content of the flashbacks to his childhood reinforce a characterization of vulnerability at the very heart of him. I saw someone mention how the Cloud Light Sword responded to ZYC's tears and to that vulnerability rather than brute strength, and I totally agree. I love how this "fragile" characterization plays into the whole fate weapon deal. ZYC's strength is (imo) unconventional, and it is his sensitivity, his compassion, and his deep capacity to feel that the sword acknowledges, resonates with, and empowers. Almost like it protects his tender heart rather than making it something he needs to overcome to get stronger.

One thing I will never get over is how incredibly they styled TJR as baby!Yichen, adult ZYC, and Bingyi. What do you mean this is all from one drama and not three separate productions. Insane. I'm out of my mind with how gorgeous every change in costuming is.

A tangential note is I've seen people mention (paraphrasing very much here) ZYZ's demon form being nicely subtle in its eerie inhumanity and tbh I have a similar feeling even just about human adult ZYC imo. Especially when his hair is down and he's got that thick eyeliner on and we get a close up of his contacts, if you told me from the start that he's half-demon half-human or something I'd believe it. Along the same vein, baby!Yichen reads completely human to me, and Bingyi of course completely demon. Something something the Cloud Light Sword bridges the gap something. This point is unintelligible and not narratively based but I had to make it because I've been thinking "wow ZYC elven" for days now.

Saw a tag about yuanyi getting us through some dark times but man they are PUTTING me through some dark times rn help?/

Been trying to put off talking about the baby Yichen scenes because wow I cried immediately. Well, no, I was like "yay! I love seeing baby Yichen!" and then they crushed me into demon dust lol. And then WX had to tell that absolutely precious story about when she got sick and ZYZ had to go like "actually ZYC was probably lonely as fuck" and yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyway.

Ending on this point so I can put a pretty screencap here: There is so much gravity to just the short scene of Bingyi removing his mask and dropping to his knees with that anguished and fatigued expression. TJR's acting is the gift that keeps on giving (me angst).

so sorry if anything here didn't make sense, i currently have the same thousand-mile-stare as Bingyi the more i think about how this all might end and how long I'm gonna have to wait to find out.

[kirabasai]

beautiful additions. don't hide them in the tags i love them. i was actually discussing w my friend king (he doesn't have a tumblr sadly ik but he has ao3) more abt this earlier so i'm gonna dump some things we've discussed/brainrotted so far.

on the hair, lilia's pink/red streaks are actually dyed LMAO so that might not be a marker. i initially said the marker is the eyes, yuu and lilia's eyes are VERY similar, but king made me see the light by proposing lilia's little ear tufts that look like bat wings.

malleus and silver see it and INSTANTLY make the connection. they actually look similar enough that ppl look at them and go huh, must be cousins and never mention it around them because it never comes up. cousins because who would assume that a third year is a first year's bio dad? nobody! except malleus and silver. they Know. they have the horrifying realization that they're father has bred like oh my god, he actually at some point got someone pregnant. they do NOT wanna think of their dad in that context. they didn't even consider he was capable of it. poor silver has struggle sleeping.

but like, lilia was fucking WILD at some pt man. it's a miracle he doesn't have 20 bastard children running around and this yuu is the only one. he has decades of child support to pay lmao.

we were thinking this yuu was born sometime after malleus hatched (a very rough time in lilia's life), so that time period between malleus hatching and silver being found. accidental fulfillment of the forgotten middle child prophecy lmaoo. but yeah statistically it's most likely for yuu to be a full fae so that's what i decided. king and i had a brief thing where we weren't sure abt the genetics of it, but in the end we decided the bat fae gene is recessive (based on a couple things) so rlly yuu ending up bat fae was luck of the draw and fate fucking w lilia once more. we also decided on her being 142 because that's a nice even number, and based on our eyeballing and at-a-glimpse math of how bat faes age that would make her abt 14 in human years. she got to nrc early because she's good at magic. so technically she is simultaneously the youngest and the middle child if u think abt it lolol

as for yuu's mom, she doesn't give a fuck abt lilia! or anyone/anything tbh. she's out chilling in the twst maldives with a glass of wine in her hand while her only daughter (we at this pt decided this yuu was she based on vibes) was off at school. she doesn't care abt if yuu meets or finds her father because tbf yuu's mom doesn't even know herself— could have been anyone really.

king also suggested giving yuu a neglectful childhood from an alcoholic parent for angst and i loved that. we love angst here. king said its incentive for yuu to be taken in by her bio dad and u know what that's fair. i was already on board before he even said that because i love making my characters be angsty.

this yuu sorta gives me "so self sufficient never even considered there was neglect" vibes. like that's just their normal. in her head it's like, all families are different. and besides ppl cook the meals at home instead of their parents all the time, doesn't see an issue w the fact she started to do this younger than most because her mom occasionally forgot to cook for both of them. she's probably kind of casual about her home life too because she thinks it's normal.

riddle's overblot is probably a culture shock to her because to well adjusted ppl they look and go, oh his mom is a helicopter parent and abusive and probably a bit crazy. YUU however looks at riddle and is thinking is this guy in jail or smth, because she literally can not perceive a parent being like that. literal opposites.

taking the whole school year to find out WOULD be funny, maybe as an offshoot oneshot moment instead of the actual fic though. because sadly and realistically the chances of sebek not being in the room whenever yuu and lilia are with each other until the end of the school year are slim. that, and lilia knows his boys are hiding something from him (malleus & silver still do not know if they should tell him, let alone how to broach the topic)

when lilia is officially introducing malleus and silver to her as her brothers lilia would probably also say something like "hmm, though i suppose if you were to go into technicalities, malleus would be your third-brother" (like half-brother. i strongly hc lilia/reven/maleanor and we also don't know how dragon reproduction works so for all we know malleus could have 2 bio dads. just saying). and it'll b a ??????? moment for all 3 siblings because they do not have the context to know that lilia means third brother as in yuu and malleus share ⅓ dna from him. realistically they all might consider that there's another brother they don't know about, or does lilia mean sebek?? they do not know. honestly it's probably like dad lore.

twst au where yuu is lilia's illegitimate child. lilia had a rough time you know, had a lot of one night stands, doesn't even remember over half of them. totally reasonable. so yuu turns up to nrc and lilia is oblivious because the notion of having a bio child has never occurred to him. but malleus and silver notice. they're staring at yuu suspiciously and then looking at each other like... you see it, right..... that person looks a LOT like dad, right.... like A LOT a lot..... yeah. and yuu is also oblivious!!! yuu's never considered who their father may be. they see lilia and are like oh cool another bat fae, don't see too many of those.

lilia snd yuu unironically bonding over both of them being bat faes w/o ever realizing they're father and child.

silver and malleus are in conspiratorial whispers like. DO WE TELL THEM.

in the end it's sebek who tells them but it's like, complete accident. like oh lilia-sama!!! i was not aware you had a blood child!!! and they're both like. ???? what — but then it processes and they're like, wait. pause. squints at each other. looks in a mirror. PAUSE.

[kyoghurts]

⋆˚✿˖° call it love

pairing. mash burnedead/reader

several realisations are revealed on his birthday, but only one remains a little vague than the rest: he wants to have you all to himself, if only for this moment, why so? who knows, maybe you know the answer. for now, he's content to leave it unsaid, so long as you stay.

contents. fluff. short drabble for his birthday! @seneon i thought it was 11/11 yesterday when its actually today LOL. i love my silly creampuff luvr baby sm.

"what's this?" mash asks as he eyes the paper bag on your hands reaching for him.

you're someone whom he has shared the highest degree of intimacy, if that makes sense. but friends, yes. what he means is to say is that when he met you during chem potion class, he immediately took a liking when you said you love sweets with every fibre of your being. and what sealed this is that you had agreed to be his taste tester for his creampuff self-studies and practice baking sessions.

you're someone he really thinks is cool, but also a little weird for always being so nice to him. weird in a way an inexplicable hand presses against his insides warm and intruding, but he chose to stick close to you still, because the way you treat his creampuffs really takes him out. the way you take your time to bathe in the sweetness melting your tongue. you're weird for making this figurative hand within him engulf him, swelling of really gooey kind of warmth.

it doesn't make any sense, you're friends, but then he wishes you aren't.

and then you're here, giving him a paper bag large enough to stand out if he places it beside his dorm bed, you say, as though it should be obvious, "it's my gift, silly."

"what for?"

"mash. it's your birthday."

"oh."

he says without much thought. because he's too distracted at the faint scent of something sweet wafting his nose the moment he takes the bag. too distracted at the invisible hand starting to roam around inside his chest, prickles his skin, cheeks glowing in pinkish hue.

"i made lots. you can share them with your friend group too."

"no."

"…what?"

your heart dropped nearly in an instant, giving you a fright. he steps closer to you and clarifies, "you made it for me, i can only share it with you."

you're friends, right?

but why does he feel like he wants this part of you only for him?

he takes you by the hand and lead you to the school kitchen, where everything started. you can leave by retreating from his hold, since he isn't putting pressures in his fingers, but what makes him feel like he's on cloud nine is when you slide into each crook between fingers, firm and solidifying whatever this thing thats happening now.

like he's allowed to feel this way, like he's allowed to have you all to himself.

he places the bag at the dry counter, and you momentarily leave his side to grab two plates like clockwork. the sound of clatter fills the silence, yet you feel charged, fuzzy, like there's something hanging in the air you can't quite place. the familiarity of being next to mash in this private, sacred corner melds with the uncertainty of his unreadable stare.

the creampuffs emerge from the bag, lined up in rows, golden and perfect with a light dusting of sugar. mash's heart picks up it's pace, and if you weren't paying attention enough, you can see his eyes go wide in buzzing excitement.

you chuckle, "go ahead. before they get cold."

he doesn’t need further encouragement. picking up a creampuff, he takes a deliberate bite, eyes fluttering shut as the sweetness coats his tongue. he peels his eyes open to find you watching him, a small, expectant smile tugging at your lips. it’s your turn next—you reach for one and take a bite, savoring it just as you always do.

and mash can’t look away.

the hand inside him tightens its grip, a feeling that’s no longer warm but sweltering, and he knows nothing of it. it’s the kind of feeling that makes him want to pause this moment, keep it just for himself. the kitchen, the creampuffs, the way you glance up at him with crumbs on your lips—he wants to lock it away in a corner of his mind where no one else can touch it.

“is it good?” you ask, gaze searching his face for approval.

"it’s perfect,” he replies, the words coming out softer than he intended. he watches as a flicker of something crosses your face—relief, maybe, or something else entirely. it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that smile he’s come to know by heart.

time stretches without presence, without knowledge. the silence passes with your laugh, fleeting and breathy. you say, "you look like you're going to burst." mash realises he probably does—reddened ears and an almost-smile he can't suppress. somehow, he isn't good at hiding what he feels around you, not when it's this strong.

admittedly, and less sheepish, he nods, "maybe i am."

you blink, caught off guard but not pulling away.

he doesn't know when, but as he reaches for another creampuff, this time handing it to you, he knows it's been decided that in this inexplicable feeling in his chest, strange and warm and aching, he doesn't mind. he doesn't mind if this stays undefined, all he knows is that you're here with him. that you want to be in his space, sharing his highest form of intimacy.

he doesn't think about what it means in that brainless head of his. he just lets it happen. he just feels and feels and feels. because maybe, just maybe, he's allowed to.

as long as you're here, he's allowed to feel this way with you.

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[puppyeared]

whatever. go my scarab

ive been watching scruffys pikmin 4 playthrough (go check it out!!!!)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[stellocchia]

All I can offer is this little drabble I've been working on:

Stage Two wasn't the type to get insecure, that's what they told themselves. Stage One had enough of that for all of them. So, it goes without saying that, when they whispered: "You prefer spending time with the others, don't you?" in a voice so soft, uncertain, and quiet that Color almost missed it, they hadn't meant it as an admission of their weakness, but as a statement of fact.

Stage Two knew that, among all of them, they were the most unpredictable, the least trustworthy, and the emotionally flat one. They were exactly what Chara and Nightmare had wanted them to be. A weapon ready to be wielded.

But Color wasn't either of them.

He was soft and kind. He didn't need a weapon, he needed a friend. And, no matter how much Two studied him, they could never hope to replicate the genuine bond all the others had managed to establish with him.

Being empty truly was a double-edged sword...

Color let out a confused sound. "What?". He was undoubtedly stalling. He wasn't the type to soften the blow usually, but maybe that time around he decided to be nice.

Killer could never just decide to be nice.

They knew how to be polite. How to behave respectfully toward all of their superiors. How to bow, and how to use the correct kind of overly fancy cutlery at a high-end dining establishment (they'd been teaching that last skill to Color as well because that guy ate like an actual animal. Face-first into every plate. It was kinda gross).

But actual niceties just didn't come naturally to them. Neither did kindness. They still couldn't understand how Color managed to make those things look so easy.

"I can see it, you'd rather go out and have fun with One, or cuddle with Three. Or whatever freaky shit you and Four have been getting up to" this time, it was no longer a question. However, they did make sure to throw some humor in there just so Color wouldn't think that they were trying to be vulnerable. They weren't.

And they truly didn't know what Color and Four got up to when they were together. That asshole still refused to share any of its memories with the rest of the class. So rude of it!

"But I don't" Color shot back sounding almost offended. "I like spending time with you all equally. All of you are my friend, and I love all of you".

Killer's hands were twisted together into a painfully tight knot. Had Color not been there, watching them attentively, they would have pulled out one of their knives and played with it. Unfortunately, Color never liked how rough all of them aside from Three were with the body. Especially Two.

It was one of the reasons why they figured they must have been his least favorite. They could never listen. They always ended up messing up and not taking care of themselves properly. They barely knew how to be a person and it showed.

"Why?" they were back to whispering. This time they couldn't even try to gaslight themselves into believing that there was no doubt there. They were desperate for whatever sweet lie Color could come up with, and even more so if it ended up being convincing enough to fool them into believing it.

"I know that there is no reason I can give you that you'll believe. So, think about it, if I didn't love you, wouldn't I have found a way to trigger a switch into one of the other stages by now? Or do you really believe me so stupid?". That was a low blow.

Stage Two glared at him, ready to fight that last claim when it clicked for them.

Ah.

Maybe they were wanted after all...

i need more colorkiller and/or color spectrum duo to cleanse my palate

[jadecantcreate]

in the whitchlite carinval. straight up “caking it.” and by “it”, haha, well. lets justr say. My chad

(some gideon exploration & little doodles)

[wayward-sword]

While there is some… Perhaps marginally sobering reaction towards seeing and feeling how ice cold her thinly veiled irritation with his own continued irritation is, it's not nearly enough to fully settle his mood and make him play nice according to her wishes. If anything, her response simply just leaves him all the more confused that she's reacting so personally. Why should his own botherations affect her in any meaningful way to elicit so pronounced of an expression of dissatisfaction?

It's not like his issues with the Traveler had anything to do with her. It's also not as if his overall disgruntled sentiment with the specifics of the circumstances might yet impact his recovery in any noteworthy way. What could he really do about it as he was? He really couldn't make himself any worse for wear than he was already. Did she expect him to somehow fling his own useless body against the rocks as an outlet for his frustrations?

If only, he mused within his own thoughts. It would've been the next best thing to punching something in order to vent.

Damn it all. This irritation at him on her part was only making him all the more irritated, but for completely different reasons. Even if he had grown a newfound appreciation and, dare he say, attraction towards her, what the hell did she want out of him? To completely cater to her own sensibilities? He was his own person, and she was hers.

…Really, all of this only made him all the more aware of the fact that he still knew almost nothing about her, while she, by contrast, knew so much about him by this point from whatever power she had – that ability to see into his past. He cursed mentally again. Yet further frustration came from that simple fact of the matter. She had a leg up on him in that regard, and he had absolutely no ground to stand on (provided he could stand) when it came to her. It almost felt like she expected him to be on her level, and he simply… Couldn't.

Even if they had bonded, even if they had suddenly found some spark in each other to draw them together, there yet lacked an inalienable, mutual regard that wouldn't be established so quickly. These things needed time. Did she… Not understand that much?

There's absolutely nothing he can do with the way she moves him about and adjusts him, so he can only divorce his immediate awareness from her manipulations while he busies himself with these thoughts in the meantime. It's not until the smell of cooked fish wafts into his nostrils that he's brought back to the present, and, even at that, he doesn't necessarily realize exactly what's going on until a skewer with nearly bite-sized chunks of fish is presented before his mouth.

He stares for a moment, as if its a foreign object, before leaning forward ever so slightly and champing down upon it, very marginally pulling it from her grasp and chewing upon it before swallowing it away. Not bad, all things considered, and food was food to him one way or the other. Actually, it might've even tasted a little bit better knowing it was cooked by someone else's hand for him, but—

A pause, his features freezing with sudden realization. He moved a bit more just now, didn't he?

     Though Zech continues to glower at what his fury is at Traveler, Lacie can only sigh. She doesn’t know anything about Traveler aside from her gut feeling when he’s nearby, and it’s obvious that he has a history with Zech. She hopes it abates in time, watching him with concern that it doesn’t worsen whatever condition this is.

Still, he eventually sighed, venting in the only way possible, given how limited he was in movement.

     His remark comes about his annoyance and, quite possibly, her understanding of what it’s like to have someone that bugs him. She can’t really grouse much about it since he’s right; she doesn’t have anyone like that. But, he warned her. If anything, he didn’t bug Zech but more like he “bugged” her. Something about his warning felt familiar, as though she’s heard it before, but she knows it’s the first time she’s met him.

     She lightly shrugs at his comment. There’s nothing she could really do to tell him otherwise.

     His next remark about how it sparked another bit of recovery makes her smile, quite possibly pop a vein.

     ❝I see. I’m glad to hear you’re starting to have more feeling, so—please continue to stew in your anger if you like. I’m afraid I’ll need to check on my fish.❞

     Despite her chilly smile, her ministrations to his hair and face stop, and she gently lifts him up once more. She supports his neck and otherwise limp body with a steady hand until she slips out from underneath him. Then, sitting beside him, she leans him against her, and his large frame leans against her with his chin over her shoulder. Lacie adjusts the pillows so she can lean him back to sit upright. With enough support from the pillows, she sets him back gently against it so he’s now sitting upright against the tree trunk with the support of pillows.

     She covers him back up with the blankets to his stomach before moving away to attend to the fish.

     Fish preparation for consumption took no time at all, and she’s back at his side again, the roasted fragrance of freshly cooked fish wafting in his direction. Lacie sets the fish up into slices and small pieces on the skewer, easy for consumption.

     ❝But, you need to eat—stew in your anger while you chew.❞

     Lacie delicately removes the first piece of roasted fish from the skewer and holds it in front of his mouth, waiting for him to open it. It looks hot enough to be home cooking but not too hot that Zech would burn himself.

[eggbagelz]

They invented a subculture for me it's called loserpunk

[skenpiel]

HI EVERYONE HERES ANOTHER LITTLE UPDATE!!!!!!!! i am in. tha hospital Tha psych ward specifically NOTHING BAD HAS HAPPENED AND I AM UNHARMED!!!!!! but i still feel very bad and i wanted 2 see if i could make some medicinal changes and they wanna keep me here while they do so that i can be in a controlled environment in case i react badly and stuff. and neither of my parents are home so i didnt rlly have anywhere to go except here LOL. anyways im still waiting to actually meet the doctor and then ill have some inkling of how long ill be here. but anyways just wanted 2 let u all know how its going ^0^

[ratatatastic]

lmaoooo maffhew wanting the knot immediately and having to wait for sasha to catch up with that is so deeply funny like. this omega is not subtle and you’re not a stupid alpha babe! can only imagine what benny has to say to maffhew about it once he catches on and stops banging his head against a wall

idiots to lovers is always great but especially when its two people who would be hitched with 10 kids by now if they stopped being dumb for a single second like its that easy and yet...

to me they very much fall around the same time (infatuation at first scent if you will) just that sasha takes some time to get there not because he's dumb (okay he's a little dumb) but in the sense that its like "this person is very interested in me, i can see and recognise that but theres so much cognitive dissonance in my brain right now between knowing that intrinsically and finding that hard to believe so i unintentionally play dumb because obviously i'm reading too much into things it cant be me they're interested in haha that'd crazy but they're being awfully touchy and flirty with me wow"

but also it takes two to tango and we have to acknowledge that and this is when i would love to bring up the ways in which this man decides is the best way to go about that because he is a catholic school girlie... there's so much hilarity to be had here especially because his flirting is very uh how you say... a little ass backwards if you will especially considering dynamics

"I make it a point to keep the door closed when we're alone in a room together! That's basically a clear invitation that I'm down to fuck!!! Im basically asking to be ragdolled on his knot!!!"

and Benny just pinches the bridge of his nose like "I don't know how to explain to you in a way you'll understand that not everyone went to Catholic school."

But saying that Sasha does side-eye the door knob heavily when Maffhew goes over to close it the first time and he starts sweating like he just got dragged into a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven he did not sign up for and he's 13 again and oh god he got paired with a really cute girl, and he hasn't even had his first real kiss yet and-

And then absolutely nothing happens because Maffhew is just waiting with a polite expectant smile (because his work here is done, he did the heavy lifting know it's Sasha's turn) and this is when Sasha's dynamic classes training kicks in and he basically scolds himself for even assuming in the first place because this is clearly a show of trust (correct) not an invitation for extra circular activities (incorrect buzzer noise) and it basically becomes "This Omega really trusts me, I'm honoured especially as Pack Leader that I'm able to be so accepted into such a private space with the inherent knowledge that I will not encroach their boundaries whatsoever because consent is verbal, this is not in any way an invitation to take advantage of them this is deep platonic trust I will guard with my life :]"

and if you listen closely you can hear the lovely sounds of Maffhew bashing his head into a wall about how much of a gentleman Sasha is but also COME ONNNNNN... you know... once Maffhew realises what's happening which (looks at my watch) is not due for another few months really

Battle of wills: unstoppable force (maffhews catholic school understanding of dynamic interactions) vs immovable object (overseas alpha cotillion classes)

And if you think it's an Oh! An overseas dynamic thing! It's not. The Euros are watching the horrible car crash in front of them and doing absolutely nothing about it because it's none of their business, but they will stare at it... maybe judge it a bit but definitely are observing from the tall grass.

and I'm also not saying that luosty lundy forsy and bobby have a current running bet of how long it'll take for maffhew to break sasha in but i'm also not not saying that... luosty goaded lundy in the midst of a gossip session ("It has to be 3 months, right?) forsy happened to be around so lundy turned to him for advice ("7 months.") and maybeeee bobby overheard from all the way over from his stall and puts in his two cents for what it's worth ("6. Captain nice but not that nice. Very impatient." "So 3!" "No. Impatience makes him double the time, and wait longer. 6 months.") (lundy finally settles on a good 5 months because he's indecisive)

And Sasha does eventually pick up everything maffhew is throwing down... eventually... and when he does it becomes more so I want to court this omega the way they deserve I will take this slow and romance them sweetly :) *smash cut to maffhew caterwauling like a cat in heat*

but also once again its not like maffhew is helping sasha in any way this is idiot4idiot and benny would like to enjoy the car crash with the euros but unfortunately that's his soulmate, thats his bestie, his littermate from birth who has been weaned on the same teat as they climbed over each other to get to it, the first girl you kissed in your childhood bedroom because somehow you started play fighting on the bed because she was like i could totally pin you down easy and then she does and you always noticed how beautiful she was but shes even more gorgeous when she's pinning your wrists to your hannnah montana duvet you promised yourself youd changed out before she came over but you forget and well she teased you about it and you cant help but giggle about how perfect this all is and it seems that the natural conclusion to this is to taste the strawberry lipgloss of her lips because whats a kiss between besties huh its tacky and sticky and it tastes like summer and just other apt metaphors to put here about the inherent -isms of their relationship that i nearly cant put to words properly other than girls having fun (they are fucking)

and well anyways benny is watching and he has a lot of things to say about how its been proceeding so far

"You should really use your words."

"I am!"

"Right because smelling like a fucking perfume shop in the middle of October is using your words."

"This usually works with most Alphas okay!"

"Sasha isn't most Alphas."

"Tell me about it." Matthew grouses before he peeks over to Sam, looking up from beneath his eyelashes—the exact way he knows both endears him to Sam but also absolutely miffs him all the same, "Worked on you, didn't it?"

"Oh, is that what we're doing right now? We're calling getting a lapful of a preening O in preheat in the middle of a roadie a normal way to go about these things."

"It worked didn't it?" Matthew reiterates.

"It would work better if you use—"

"Okay! Alright!! I get it!!!" He does not.

like benny here is unfortunately an active listening participant in the going ons of the fuckery if not because hes involved by proxy because of maffhew because who else will hold his hair back as he calls him a dumb bitch you know

[loveandlegacy]

so i agree with you broadly! ig my point is generally that there is nothing that could have happened in that scene itself that would have really structurally solved this issue — i do think there are serious pacing and just general writing issues with the first episode and a half, and so the scene feels unearned because, like you said, we don't really have much context for viktor's motivations now. but i think to me something feeling un-earned is distinct from it feeling rushed on an internal structural level.

like i also did not want (please god i cannot overstate how much i did not want) a shippy anything between them, and i think the actual problem with viktor's story thus far is kind of similar to a problem i have with vi thus far. yes vi and cait have more scenes that lead up to their eventual falling out, but as someone else pointed out, it is pretty weird that we get so little of vi's reactions to things like using chemical warfare in the undercity. like obviously she ends up retroactively justifying that to herself, but we never even see her struggle with that cognitive dissonance or with how it affects her feelings for caitlyn (or with how it's affected BY her feelings for caitlyn), so while i can buy that she would eventually tell herself and also jinx that they did it "to protect people", it's also weird that she just seems to have emotionally arrived there without us getting to witness any kind of prior internal struggle over it.

i feel like it's kind of the same with viktor. i can basically believe that he's super weird and kind of brain broken now, and i can believe that he'd just be like 'bye jayce' and go to the undercity but i wish we had more time leading up to that moment to make it land a little harder. to take your examples, it would have been nice to have prior scenes of just him in the hexcore having Visions or whatever to help clarify why he felt that going to the undercity makes more sense than staying in piltover (or why the hexcore thinks that, if he is mostly possessed/brain-broken by the hexcore), because as it stands it's like why....is the undercity the place he'd go. i guess it's his home but he hasn't lived there for a long time. does he just go because he feels out of place in piltover? it's not super clear. similarly more scenes of him having visions might have helped clarify that his sense of self was slowly dissolving or something while the hexcore took over and that's why suddenly he's so cold and weird. but i maintain that that doesn't make the actual argument itself between him and jayce especially rushed, it's more like we are describing the external moments that might have helped clarify that argument. maybe that's nitpicky but i do think those are different things.

i also agree that it's weird that jayce is like 100% fine with the fact that viktor got basically transmuted into what appears to be a completely new life form, and i wish we had gotten more of the fallout from that after viktor left, but i sincerely cannot imagine what he would have said TO viktor about it in the moment that wouldn't have felt as tropey as what he actually already says, a lot of which feels pretty tropey.

so like lest i come off as if i liked the scene or something, i think it has its own internal flaws (primarily with the lines they gave jayce), but i still think the only actual solution for the scene would have been to have like a whole extra episode where we get to sit with all the characters a bit more either before or after something major happens, and in that case i still think it's not that their scene was uniquely rushed. it's that the first and a substantial portion of the second episodes are pretty clumsily written overall because there is no specific moment in the first like.....60-70 minutes in the show that doesn't feel like it either lacked setup or fallout in some way, so the scenes we do get end up suffering from a lack of more lush context.

im going to say something slightly mean which is that i think there is an imagined aspect of jayce and viktor's relationship that the audience is projecting onto them that actually is not supported by the text itself and that imagined facet is the reason people think their parting is rushed more than the issues with the actual show's pacing 💀

like i do think some of what jayce actually SAYS in that scene feels kind of clunky and unearned and sorta tropey, not because of who jayce is, but because it feels like they had to cut some interstitial tissue for the sake of time constraints, but even if they hadn't had to i cannot fathom that scene being extended more than like....a minute. like what kind of argument are they going to have that wasn't the one that actually transpired?

i think it's pointed that viktor is weirdly emotionally stunted and icy after he was such an impassioned person in s1 and he said everything there was to say anyway, just with a colder affect. i guess jayce could have said "hey viktor wait" like. one more time lol but in general if you take everything we have presented by the text on its face their immediate falling out could never have been that long a conversation because there isn't actually that much to argue about. jayce did what he thought was right and what is the normal human thing to do (broke his promise to save his friend that he loves and cares about) and viktor did not want him to do that. which is literally what they said to each other. very directly.

also it's like...supposed to be cold and sad. i don't think viktor is going to be the sole big bad of the show but i do think that the whole point of what we've seen so far in act i is that the arcane is inhuman and strange and kind of hard to understand and viktor has been partly absorbed into that and jayce is still very very human and full of all his hopes and ideals and therefore not able to grasp the arcane's true nature yet. a like. screaming lover's spat or whatever was not going to happen given the narrative positions that these two characters occupy. it doesn't even happen really between the two characters who are actually lovers — cait and vi have an somewhat equivalently long (so pretty short) moment of disagreement before cait hits vi in the stomach and leaves. anything else would have felt like fanfictiony and cheap imo