#oof this one hurt

[mangosimoothie]

Chapter 14: 𝕽𝖊𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖔𝖓 (8/8)

Loving you is such a cruel devotion

@hauntedtrait

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transcript:

JASPER: Mistress…

ATTICUS: Oh, good! I’m absolutely famished – fetch me a blood bag, would you? There’s usually some lurking just outside, hoping they can convince the bouncer to grant them access in exchange for their lives. 

JASPER: I offer you myself. 

ATTICUS: And I, once again, deny your offer. Your duties as a Familiar are too important to risk unnecessary harm. 

JASPER: What if I wasn’t your Familiar? ATTICUS: You would give up the opportunity just to sate me? JASPER: Yes. I would give you…anything. Mistress, I love you.

ATTICUS: Why yes, of course. 

JASPER: I mean I – I’m IN love with you. 

ATTICUS: I am very aware of that. It’s no concern to me, as long as it won’t impede you from your work.

JASPER: That's…but you…the song! 

ATTICUS: The song…? Ah, I see. The Charm I’ve inherited from my mother is both a boon and a curse. When it comes to matters of the heart…I have had many hearts that many have owned. Some died with them, some ran with them. But now, I have given all I am to the one true keeper of my heart. I simply have none left to spare.

JASPER: Ryan wants you to get rid of me, doesn’t he.

ATTICUS: That he does. And I believe it may behoove you if I trust his judgment. 

JASPER: Was this all just…some kind of sendoff? ATTICUS: I felt you deserved a parting gift. Please, enjoy the night to its fullest. 

JASPER: Thank you, mistress. I will.  

MORTAL 1: Can I pleeease get in?? I’m on a shitton of molly, so my blood will be like, extra fun.

VAMP BOUNCER: Begone, pest.  MORTAL 2: What the fuck, how’d that guy get in?! MORTAL 3: Oh my god, do you think that’s Attica Riot’s new Familiar??? MORTAL 2: Holy shit, that’s so cool.

JASPER: [SCREAMS!!!]

[thefixeraa]

what does your heart look like ? answer : iced over , out of the sun . your heart is very lonely isn't it ? is your fortress of ice self - made ? are others afraid of you , or are you afraid of them ? are you afraid of hurting them , or of being hurt ? vulnerability and connection can be frightening . but that's no reason to shy away from their light , to tuck yourself small into corners , to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling . you will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw .

tagged by : loml @arkhameir <3 tagging : @gunslingcr / @charmedslugs / @parieur + @comunita ( for gunnel ) @priestbit / @ropairi + anyone who wants to do the thing <333

[nsomniacsdream]

Oh shit, my childhood. Ha ha.

Ben Jennings

“The opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is enough.” —Dr. Wess Stafford

[collectingmuses]

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

_______________________________________________

After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

[larrylimericks]

17Oct24

What joy these five names used to carry: Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry. Now we ache to the core — A strange new OT4 Signed, “Louis, Zayn, Niall and Harry.”

[stevebabey]

steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

[partycatty]

bi-han > returning without him

reader is the wife of bi-han but is crushed to find out he sided with shang tsung

notes: womp womp

masterlist <3

•being the long-time wife of bi-han

•kissing him goodbye before he heads out with his brothers on a mission to gain intel on the construction of the soul beacons

•you're a ninja of the lin kuei as well, a more than capable fighter on your own. with no elemental powers but all the strength you'd need. liu kang just did not ask for your aid this time around for reasons unknown.

•tending to your own homely duties as well as being the temporary grandmaster for the lin kuei in your husband's absence though you don't need to do too much as he's already trained them to near perfection.

•so incredibly excited for his return, sure to make your living quarters even more perfect than it was before he left. you find yourself smoothing the sheets down each time you pass by.

•the ninjas utter excitement as well, hoping that quan chi and shang tsung's toying with souls ends soon and things may return to peace.

•but then the portal opens, and you only see your brother-in-laws, one of which bearing a new, thick scar down his face. they look solemn. you know immediately.

•to betray his clan is one thing, but to betray his spouse and brothers... how could he be so evil, when he was the symbol for protection? perhaps, he only sought to protect himself. perhaps you... weren't enough for him, and the thought tears your chest open.

•scream-sobbing in tomas's arms as kuai liang rubs a hand around your back, neither one of them saying much because they're fighting back devastation of their own.

•they partially hold themselves responsible for not being able to stop bi-han from siding with evil, but they also know deep down he was a corrupted leader with malicious intentions, which you turned a blind eye to in hopes that he'd become a better man.

•you sit by the pond with the brothers, staring blankly into the still water. you ask, hoarsely, if he showed any signs of hesitation. you take their silence as a no, which makes your sobs burn your chest.

•you channel this disappointment into anger, and anger into hatred as your punches become harder and kicks swifter. the lin kuei disbands and reforms into the shirai ryu, and the brothers offer you a spot at the top alongside them.

•your life becomes completely engulfed in taking down your husband and those who wish to spread evil. you're hardened. some of the ninjas even say you've become as cold as sub-zero. you would've been proud of this before, but now it feels like the deepest, sharpest insult.

[leupagus]

James Earl Jones, Actor Whose Voice Could Menace or Melt, Dies at 93

[niinnyu]

The guy

[exasperatedoctopus]

Bajoran: I love my cardassian (derogatory) son and would never do anything to hurt him despite his Evil, Evil roots and inherent badness due to being a cardassian

Sisko, a Dad: Your fatherhood has been Revoked, please proceed to the nearest runabout

[i-have-a-mouth-so-i-must-scream]

Cross Guild Angst

🦅🗡️🤡✨🚬🐊

Currently stuck in bed due to a bad cold (clogged up nose and skull splitting headache), and just going through my old playlists.

Listening to a male cover version of Charlotte Lawrence's "Joke's on You" and my mind immediately came up with a Cross Guild Polycule angst scenario where Croc and Mihawk did/said something that triggered the clown's insecurities real bad and deeply hurt Buggy. So bad that it left the clown feeling like their whole relationship is a lie and that it's all just a big joke at his expense 😢🤡.

Que Buggy's heartbreak and quiet resignation that nobody will ever want or truly love him for him. He bottles up all his emotions and turmoil, and just accepts that reality.

So, slowly and steadily, Buggy starts pulling away from the both of them emotionally while acting like nothing has changed, so that when the shoe comes down and his so called lovers come clean about the whole situation, how they only needed something to entertain themselves with, like toying with him and his emotions, the fallout wouldn't hurt him as much as they think it will.

Basically Buggy going all, "Haha! How silly of me! No one could ever possibly want me! I'm a cowardly failure and a hack with no redeeming qualities! It was real dumb of me to ever consider these two powerful and handsome men would even consider loving me! lmfao!... It's okay though!... I just should have seen it sooner... Silly me lol..." 🤡😅😂🤣😄😌🥲😢💔💔💔

Unbeknownst to the Star Clown, Crocodile and Hawk Eyes have slowly started to notice that something was up with their clown. Their interactions were getting colder, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore, he stopped bothering them at all but, when he does it's strictly for business, his expressive eyes have lost that warm sparkle that he had for them and worst of all, any private time they have with him seems almost... detached, in some way (no devil fruit pun intended).

When they ask (confront) him about it, the clown just laughs it off like it's some hilarious inside joke between the three of them. They brush it off as Buggy being dramatic and everything just carries on like nothing happened.

They don't realize until it literal months later that what they did/said caused him so much grief that his insecurities flared up so bad that he started believing that they never did love him in the first place. That they were that cruel to use him like that.

By then, Buggy had quietly moved all his stuff back into his private tent and had stopped sleeping with them altogether.

He was still Buggy the Star Clown. Loud, flamboyant and overly flashy Emperor of the Sea... but he wasn't their Buggy anymore.

All in all, I just wanna see those two goons unknowingly fumble the bag and have a total "Oh, shit!" moment and scramble to get their heartbroken clown back.

[curtain-caller]

Coming in hot with more fight-or-flight content let's fucking go

[gayvecchio]

Frannie, you are in over your head. Meaning? Meaning, guys like him don't marry girls like you. That's fairy tale. And girls like you get hurt, and guys like him don't even know it, and that's life.

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: technical child endangerment / ]

Y’know every time I see the turtle tots playing with their original weapons I’m always flabbergasted that Splinter let Leo have a literal sword as a small child.

And then left him unsupervised with it.

Like, at least the others had blunt weapons (though still dangerous in their own right, especially Raph’s blunt tipped sais) but Leo’s katana are so easily lethal that it’s a miracle he seemed to be a natural with them. Because, if he wasn’t a natural then…oof.

It’s at least a good thing he only got one sword at first and not his usual two. Splinter would’ve needed to count his lucky days because OOF.

[daemon-is-perfectly-unhinged]

klaus and hayley being the blueprint for daemon and rhea part III (tw: blood, got or hotd level of blood)

@syndrossi