#please please read responsibly

[nimble-stuff]

Attempted Rape || Donnie - Blue Raspberry, Part III “...I want you to live a long, long life with scars to remember me by.”

FANDOM: ROTTMNT Blue Raspberry, Part I Blue Raspberry, Part II Also on AO3

@badthingshappenbingo​

<< PREVIOUS || NEXT >>

PLEASE CONSULT CWs UNDER THE CUT

CWs (Please read in full)


- Attempted S/A. All characters involved are teenagers. The event is not glamorized and is discussed and described as something reprehensible. It doesn’t go beyond the attempt. - A character who is a teenager briefly reflects on their sexuality and sexual experiences. The descriptions are vague. If any of this subject matter is upsetting to you, I urge you to please, please put yourself first and read responsibly. General Author’s Note: I'm sorry this took so long! I was extremely sick for a few weeks, and on top of it writing this was very, very difficult and emotionally taxing for me in a way I'm not sure I can properly articulate. I didn't want to shy away from the reality of peer-on-peer sexual violence between teenagers, but at the same time I tried to write in a way that's respectful to the subject matter. I'm scared that I didn't accomplish that in the end but know that I had to do a lot of staring in the mirror. I remember seeing a lot of things when I was a teenager that deeply bothered me so I had to go digging deep into those repressed memories! Man I really did go to a rough high school.

---

Donnie lost track of his brothers hours ago, but their absence wasn't a concern this time. He was hacking the sound system to play his preferred playlists. This sight would have been unthinkable before the Krang invasion, but nowadays, the world was all kinds of weird. It was a blended yōkai-human teen party in the Hidden City, and technically, the Hamato brothers were crashing it, along with most of the party-goers crowding the mansion. He didn’t know who the host was, only that when he and his brothers had heard about the event through the grapevine, they couldn't refuse.

“C’mon, we’ve never gone to a party before!” Leo begged Raph.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please, please?” Mikey grabbed Raph’s ankle and was dragged along the floor.

“I desire a night of debauchery!” Donnie shouted.

“We’ve had parties before,” said Raph.

“Yeah, with just family,” said Leo. “That’s boring. This is a teens-only event!”

“You know some moron is gonna bring alcohol, and we’re underage,” Raph said with satisfaction, as if that settled the matter.

“We won’t touch the stuff,” said Mikey.

“I just want to show off my dance moves,” said Donnie. “I have no interest in intoxication. For the moment.”

“Raph, this is our chance to do something normal teenagers do,” said Leo. “We’re not gonna be the weirdest ones there, and there are already yōkai, so we don't have to use the costume excuse.”

“Please, please, please!” Mikey begged.

Raph rolled his eyes with a sigh and caved. He came along as their chaperone, but when Donnie last saw him, Raph was showing off his diving skills to the crowd and drinking a whole carton of apple juice without pouring it out.

The party was wild, even by teenage standards, and, in line with Raph’s expectations, it was pretty obvious that someone had handed out alcohol at some point. Yōkai teens knew how to go crazy, which was attributable to the looser laws of the Hidden City. The humans who tagged along for the event poured in through a portal in the living room and would probably be too hungover in the morning to remember anything. No one seemed to know who the host was, only that the mansion could fit five lairs, and the music made ears bleed.

Donnie leaned over the balcony, catching a glimpse of Leo, who was surrounded by a crowd of both humans and yōkai. He was spinning a hilarious anecdote, and the audience was roaring with laughter. The sight was surreal, almost like a peek into their lives if they went to a regular school. Leo was basking in the attention, and it stirred a satisfying warmth in Donnie's chest - something akin to pride. After everything they'd been through, Leo deserved to have some time off.

"Hey, there you are!" Mikey hopped up onto the balcony with a flip, perched on the rail and swinging his legs. "I've heard this song like, five times now, and I know it's one of your favorites," he said.

"What a strange but welcome coincidence," Donnie drawled.

"So you're not hacking the sound system, forcing everyone to listen to your tunes?"

"Gasp! You dare accuse me of music-related crimes?!"

"If I were, would you consider committing a music-related crime in my name?"

"...Depends on what kind of reward I could expect."

"How about free hugs?"

"Psh, those cost nothing. Literally, that's why they're free. What else you got?"

"My unending gratitude and love."

Donnie rolled his eyes. "I suppose I could provide a free sample...okay, Miguel, name your request."

"I'm Blue."

"Absolutely not."

"Donnie, if you play I'm Blue, I guarantee that Leo will start dancing to it! It'll make him happy, it'll make me happy!"

"I'm thinking of rescinding music requests."

"Donnie, I'm begging you! I need to hear it!"

Mikey latched onto his arm and shook. Donnie groaned. Only for Mikey.

“You’re lucky you’re my favourite brother,” said Donnie.

“I am?!” Mikey asked. “Do you mean that, Dee?!”

“Nevertheless, I am going to make myself scarce to somewhere quieter to get away from it.

Donnie put on I’m Blue, and no sooner had the singer started singing about a guy living in a blue world when he saw Leo bob his head. He said something else that made his audience laugh. Then the chorus started and he was dancing so horribly that Donnie averted his eyes. Mikey whooped and egged him on.

“I’m not related, I’m not related, I’ve never seen him before in my life, we’re not even the same species,” Donnie chanted under his breath.

He retreated inside the house, away from the raunchy partygoers and deafening music. While Leo entertained the guests, it was an excellent opportunity to do some light snooping. After all, it wasn't every day that he got to sneak around in a yokai mansion. The house resembled a human home, albeit with more mystical objects and scientific marvels lying around. Donnie wondered if the host's parents knew about the party.

His feet crunched on discarded snacks as he mapped out the house. His scans picked up an abundance of abnormal energy signatures, which he could analyze later as a perfect late-night activity. Donnie found himself in an empty office with large windows overlooking the party. The room was deserted and untouched by the partygoers. It was an impressive office, all things considered, with bookcases populated by rare books and an impressive portrait of a moth yokai hung over a fireplace. A self-congratulatory self-portrait, perhaps. Donnie scanned the books and found most of them uninteresting. However, some appeared to be printed fan fiction, which he took photos of for blackmail material.

As he turned to leave, the beats of "I'm Blue" died down, and he took two steps before someone cranked his arm behind his back, and something sharp jabbed into his neck. Donnie struggled, half-expecting to hear one of his brothers burst out laughing, telling him he was too jumpy.

Instead, he caught a whiff of the scent of blue raspberry.

Donnie glimpsed the person holding him reflected in the portrait's glass. Kendra flashed him a wicked smile and said with casual flair, “Hey, Donnie.”

Donnie plunged into ice water. He fought and pulled; she wasn’t strong, he could still pull away—Then he looked in the reflection and saw that it was her bionic pinky finger jabbed at his throat, transformed into a sharp knife.

Kendra’s reflection grinned horribly and she shoved him into the waiting arms of Jeremy. Stupid, he was so stupid. He’d felt eyes on him during the party and assumed they were from the other partiers, should’ve known the eyes of the enemy when they were trained on him. Should’ve felt Kendra’s stare anywhere. It was a unique sensation, a cold prickle that climbed up his spine, and he hadn’t recognized it.

In the year since he’d last seen Jeremy, he’d gotten taller, broader, stronger. Donnie was ready to fight, but Kendra had caught him off-guard and his senses hadn’t caught up yet, and Jeremy seized him in a hard arm lock from behind. Donnie’s feet lifted off the ground as he fought back, then couldn’t without threatening to snap his bones in half.

“Geez, I can’t believe you were right,” said Jeremy.

“Of course I was right,” said Kendra. “I knew the moment I saw your stupid ass brother that you couldn’t be far behind.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, they’re all stupid,” said Donnie.

Donnie kicked Jeremy’s shin. No reaction. Jeremy pulled Donnie into a full-on hold, grabbing him from under the armpits and locking his hands behind Donnie’s head. His lower body flailed in the air, trying to land a good kick at Kendra as she gawked with wide, adrenaline-fueled eyes.

“Kendra, can we just go?” It was Jase’s voice. Jase stood by the door, looking nervous and off-balance. A light insult in his direction would be enough to push him over.

“Ugh, why are you always such a fucking coward?” Kendra demanded. “Christ, I’m not letting this go this time.”

“Oh, how long are you gonna hold a grudge?” Donnie demanded. “Not to mention, you owe me!”

“Owe you?!”

“I saved your life! I could’ve left you to the Foot Clan.”

“That doesn’t count, Donnie. Besides, I could’ve done the same.”

“Kendra, I think we should really just go,” said Jase. “His brothers are literally right outside.”

“Yeah, and too busy being show-offs to care.”

“What are you doing here, Kendra?” Donnie demanded.

“What the hell does it look like? I was just enjoying the party until you came along. I could practically see your forehead over the heads of the crowd.”

“I knew I should’ve killed you when I got the chance.”

“Well, you fucked that up. Hey, nice stick, by the way. Is it new? I liked the old one better.”

Kendra picked up his bō, twirling it with the haphazard care of someone who had never handled one before. Sweat formed on the back of his neck before Jeremy's hot breath dried it up. The familiar buzz of anxiety clouded his thoughts, and he watched Kendra examine the smooth wood of his bō with an unflinching stare. A few hundred pounds of dismay dropped into Donnie’s stomach.

He knew the look on her face, knew her well. He recognized the satisfied smirk of Kendra cooking up a new way to be unrepentantly evil, knew the smirk that grew into a toothy grin, creating a deep cleft in Donnie’s chest. His breathing increased, but his throat constricted, barely allowing oxygen to fill his anxiety-filled lungs. He felt like he was about to drown on dry land.

“Oh, I got a horrible idea,” Kendra announced, and she laughed, darkness gathering in her eyes. “Damn, I might actually be evil after all. Jeremy, keep holding him.”

“Kendra?” Jase said.

“Shut up, Jase, and watch the door.”

“What are you—”

“I said watch the fucking door!”

Jase turned and did as instructed.

“Ever the good little follower, huh?” Donnie rasped out. He could taste the bitterness on his tongue.

Kendra tightened her grip on Donnie's throat, forcing both him and Jeremy to fall to the ground. Donnie's panic reached a fever pitch, desperate to escape her grasp. In his frenzy, he would have gladly hurled himself through the nearby glass window. In the very peripheral of his vision, he saw Leo surrounded by his posse, ignorant of what was happening. Donnie couldn’t fathom how Leo’s world was expanding when his was ending.

Donnie clawed at Jeremy’s arms before he locked up his arms, facing him towards Kendra. Her hand touched Donnie’s hip. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but the room was pitching. Dread punched into his gut and released chilling adrenaline. Donnie screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would lock out the sensation of Kendra pressing against him, pressing against his knees, pressing them apart—

He realized what was coming, what she wanted. Humiliation. It wasn’t enough hurting him. Exposing him. She wanted everything. His identity. His dignity. Shutting his eyes amplified her presence, made her wretched touch burn on his skin like she was holding it against hellfire. No matter where he went, what he did, Kendra could insert her presence into it, blow her breath on his cheek. Donnie pressed his cheek against the shoulder of Jeremy’s windbreaker, digging his nails into his palms until hot blood ran down his wrists.

“Kendra—” Donnie’s voice stumbled, struggled over words, wound them up tight. He didn’t recognize his voice. He wrenched one leg away from her, pressed his calf up against her sternum. “Kendra, think about this—”

“Keep begging, Donnie, you know I like it,” said Kendra.

“Kendra, please—”

Liquid ice pumped through Donnie’s vein. He froze, despite every ounce of willpower screaming at him to fight. Kendra’s hands were a curse that nullified his body, made him dizzy with fear. She pushed his calf aside and ran a cautious hand up the length of his long legs. Extending her bionic pinky finger, she transformed it into a small knife, not even big enough to cut vegetables. Only enough to cut him.

He thought for a horrifying moment that she was going to slice his shorts right off. Although she didn’t, what she did do was nevertheless awful. Kendra insert the blade into the meat of inner thigh and carved.

Stars went supernova in the black of Donnie’s eyelids. He decided to keep them open, the lesser of two evils. At least with his eyes open he saw what was coming, see what Kendra was doing. He bit his tongue on the pain, then couldn’t hold back anymore and cried out, jerking his leg until Kendra held it steady with crushing force. Maybe he could still fight, kick her while she was distracted, bite Jeremy on the arm, but his body froze, couldn’t and didn’t move.

“Kendra,” Donnie said.

“Relax, I’m just marking my territory,” said Kendra.

“Just kill me.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Donnie. On the contrary, I want you to live a long, long life with scars to remember me by. In fact, I hope you meet the love of your life, so they can see this and know that I got to you first.”

A sudden spike of pain made Donnie jolt. Kendra drove the blade in deep, slicing with the confidence of someone who wanted to make the scars last. Against his better judgment, Donnie looked down and saw the outlines of bleeding letters.

His chest was heaving, but he couldn’t intake oxygen, and he had little choice but to rest his head against Jeremy’s shoulder and stare at the ceiling. Raph’s awkward sex talks flooded back to him, and despite his confidence in the power of science, he couldn’t—he wanted to remember what Raph had said, what had Raph said about this? Just say no? No, he’d said to fight. Donnie’s body wouldn’t cooperate, he couldn’t even though it should be so, so simple to crush Kendra’s head between his knees and throw her off. Raph made it sound so easy.

He’d never thought about sex before, not seriously. It was a biological urge, a distraction to be dealt with behind closed doors. Donnie had never—well, not with someone else. He ran through the process in his mind, struggled to remember Raph’s awkward sex talks, realized that technical knowledge didn’t make up for lack of experience. Shit, Kendra was turning him inside out.

Donnie made a strangled, awful sob when Kendra moved onto his other leg. He felt he might pass out. He needed to breathe yet his chest was cluttered with heaving cries. His face was wet. Donnie couldn’t tell it was sweat or tears. Both tasted salty. His gaze travelled and locked with Jase standing by the door and he was looking at him with open fear and Donnie had to pull his eyes away with shame.

“Hey, Jase, get a picture of this,” Kendra said.

“I…” Jase was holding onto the doorknob with white-knuckled strength.

“C’mon, don’t be an ass!”

“I gotta go.”

Jase bolted out the door.

“Fucking typical!” Kendra huffed. “Fine, I’ll do it myself. Take a good, long look, Donnie.”

Donnie stared at the ceiling panels. They were a deep onyx, almost reflective.

“I said LOOK!”

Kendra seized him by the back of his neck and forced his gaze down, at the words she’d written, one on each inner thigh. Donnie could barely read them through a watery film and he watched tears make a long journey from his eyes to the floor.

---

“So I said, ‘You really shouldn’t play too much faith in atoms.’ And so Donnie—that’s my stupid brother—he was like, why not? And I said, ‘Because atoms make up everything!’”

Leo’s audience, a collection of both human and yōkai teens, some drunk, some not, roared with canned laughter, although the joke was pretty terrible even by his standards. For the moment, Leo didn’t care. He was in his element, a true extrovert’s paradise, at the centre of a gaggle of people whose names he didn’t remember at a party at an address he couldn’t recall. It was the epitome of the teenage experience, a night of mindless debauchery and Splinter didn’t even know where they were.

It was liberating. Living in the sewers often felt like living in a prison. Sure, they had the Hidden City to retreat to, but Leo liked sunshine and crowded beaches, and not getting stared at, and it was hard to replicate the feeling of the sun on his face when the Hidden City was so deeply entrenched underground in more way than one. He wanted to go to movies without wearing a disguise, and sometimes—though he would never admit it—he even wanted to go to school.

But tonight, the human and yōkai teens around him didn’t care about that. They didn’t care about appearances, or who lived on what surface. No one cared and the freedom tasted mesmerizing.

The crowd was still in the middle of laughter when Leo caught an unexpected movement out of the corner of his eye and his smile caught. A hand grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I know you,” Leo said, turning to the new face.

It wasn’t new, though. It was Jase.

“You need to help Donnie,” said Jase, before Leo could say anything.

“What?”

“You need to help Donnie.”

Ice crystals formed in his veins. The audience was still laughing over nothing. It didn’t matter anymore, the popularity, the stories, the stares of admiration. He thought about Donnie, about Jase. About the common thread that linked both of them together.

Where was Donnie?

It had been a while since he’d seen Donnie. He scanned the balcony where he’d last seen him and saw nothing.

“Where?” Leo asked.

“Office, second floor.” Jase pointed to the house. “It’s on the left—”

Leo was running before Jase could even finish his sentence. He didn’t even take the stairs, just crawled up a pillar and over the railing of the balcony. There was only one way Jase would be here. Donnie hadn’t sent out an emergency distress beacon, but Leo hit the one on his belt, anything to get Mikey and Raph’s attention when he couldn’t spare the time to go looking for them in the crowd.

He shoved past some party-goers and ran.

---

Kendra's fingers seared hot on his throat as she gave his windpipe a tight squeeze. Black spots erupted in Donnie's vision, pulling him into the void. He tried to decide if being unconscious would be better, but Kendra took that away from him too and loosened her grip for him to breathe. Perhaps that's what she wanted—for him to remember.

"Jeremy, do you want to go first, or should the stick go first?" Kendra asked conversationally.

"I'll go after the stick," said Jeremy.

"Just don't get pissed if you get a splinter."

Kendra reached for his bō, and Donnie desperately wanted to fold together like origami paper, to hide small, vulnerable fissures growing wider and wider in his flesh.

BANG.

Hope literally broke down the door.

Leo looked like a saviour when he stepped over the threshold, a long-awaited hero here to slay the dragon and rescue him. Donnie gasped out his name, "Leo!" and watched in satisfaction as angered surprise appeared on Kendra, hardening her, tight with fury at the interruption.

Leo froze. He took in the sight in front of him - Jeremy holding Donnie from behind, Kendra between his legs, his bō in her hand. They all just stared for a long while as Donnie watched everyone calculate their next move.

Something horrible happened to Leo's face. Stormy rage gathered and exploded. He drew a katana in a single move.

He and Kendra were two gunslingers at high noon, and Kendra held up her bionic finger at the exact same time. A powerful blast ripped through the room, and Leo leapt to the side to avoid a white hot laser beam. Kendra must've taken his advice about the heat sink. The arms holding Donnie let go. Jeremy was gone. Donnie scrambled back, crying out, and then - glass shattered. He glimpsed Kendra standing in front of the broken window, and their gazes caught in the moments before she leapt out. When they did, she smirked something awful and blew a kiss.

By the time Leo got to his feet, Kendra and Jeremy had both leapt out the window, both with katanas drawn. Donnie saw the intention in his face to pursue them, to leave him.

"Leo?" Donnie said, unable to keep the hysterical note out of his voice. "Leo?!"

The call worked. Leo rushed back to Donnie.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" Leo exclaimed. "Donnie, are you alright? Holy shit!"

Donnie didn't get time to answer when Raph barrelled in through the door, followed shortly by Mikey.

"What the hell is going on?!" Raph asked.

"Raph, I need you to take Donnie home," said Leo. He sliced a portal through the wall. "Mikey, you're with me."

"What? What's going on?"

"Take. Donnie. Home!"

No argument, no leeway. Donnie's senses were alight with panic, and he saw Mikey and Raph's eyes flick to the blood pooling on the ground beneath him. He saw the argument die in Raph's eyes as he scooped him off the ground and they dove through the portal.

---

They lost the Purple Dragons so quickly it was almost comical. Leo spent what felt like an eternity leading Mikey around the area surrounding the mansion, searching for any sign of them, but came up empty-handed. Kendra had made a speedy escape, and when they returned to the party to find Jase, he had also vanished. He had enough of a conscience to call for help when Donnie needed it, but apparently felt guilty enough to make himself scarce when Leo started looking for him. It was as simple as that.

Leo couldn't stop trembling. He felt like a newborn child, bombarded with sights, sounds, and sensations, his senses screaming at him from all sides. He felt like he might be sick. He felt like a failure.

He had failed Donnie. He had made a silent promise to never let this happen to Donnie again, and yet it had occurred right under his nose.

"Leo?" Mikey said.

Leo looked up. He and Mikey were lingering outside the mansion's gates, where he paced, restless and eager for action. His katanas were out, but he couldn't seem to keep a firm grip on them.

"Leo, what happened?" Mikey asked.

He hadn't told Mikey what happened, hadn't told him what he saw, only that they were looking for the Purple Dragons. He didn't need to know the rest, didn't need to be subjected to what Leo had witnessed. Donnie wouldn't want that.

"Leo, what happened?" Mikey repeated.

"You don't need to know," said Leo.

"But something happened to Donnie, right? And the Purple Dragons were involved?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

Leo didn't have an answer he desperately wanted to give Mikey. He paced back and forth on the street, restless, desperate to take action.

“Do you know where Kendra lives?” Leo asked suddenly.

“No?” said Mikey. “Donnie would know that. Should I call—”

“Don’t call him, for fuck’s sake!”

“Leo, you’re scaring me a little here. What’s going on?”

“It’s not important. What’s important is tracking down the Purple Dragons.”

“Leo, look around us. They got away.”

“They didn’t! We just need to look a bit longer—”

“We’re not gonna find them like this! We need Donnie’s help.”

“No, we’re not involving Donnie! Not in this, not with anything to do with those fucking psychopaths!”

Breathless, Leo leaned a hand against the wall and rubbed his eyes. Mikey set a hand on his shoulder and let out a long sigh, resigned.

“We can’t do anything here,” said Mikey. “Let’s go home and see what’s happening.”

Leo didn’t want to face what awaited them back at the lair. He didn’t tell Mikey that, but Mikey must’ve seen it in his eyes because he squeezed hard.

Leo cut the portal into the wall a little more ferociously than he intended, and the cool sensation of stepping through it wasn’t relieving like it usually was. He had to let Mikey push him a little to step all the way through, and when he did, it was to yelling.

The common room was always a mess, but it looked like a bloody hurricane had ripped through in their absence. The crimson trail ended at the open doors to the medbay, where Raph stood with his hands up, and Splinter was off to the side with long lines of stress cracking his face.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Donnie screamed from the medbay.

A drawer of medical equipment flew over Raph’s head, scattering across the floor with a metallic clutter. Splinter turned to Leo and Mikey.

“Blue, what is going on?” Splinter asked.

“Donnie, you need to let me check you for injuries—” Raph ducked as a scalpel flew out. “Geez, Donnie, I’m not trying to hurt you! It’s Raph!”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t CARE!” Donnie yelled, voice cracked and broken. “I don’t care, just stay away!”

“Donnie’s resisting treatment?” Leo asked. The question had a dual purpose. Dodge his father’s question. Try to lighten the mood.“He always was a bad patient.”

“Leonardo, what happened?” Splinter asked again.

“The Purple Dragons happened,” said Leo.

“What?”

Leo peered around the corner. He’d seen Donnie at his worse, seen him throw tantrums and lose his shit, but this was a whole other level. It was full on ugly-crying, eyes looking past and not at Leo, a wild animal kicked into survival mode. Crimson ran down his legs, but Leo scarcely had time to look before Donnie seized a chair and lifted it over his shoulder, ready to swing. A full body-tremble running through Donnie made the chair shake too, made him unsteady on his feet.

Injured animals were the most dangerous. Leo didn’t want to see where the blood ended, to let his mind go to the worst case scenario. He wanted to huddle in a corner and cry, but when he caught Raph’s look, he saw that he was near tears. Helpless. Raph had done all the tending, all the caring when they were growing up, when Splinter was too lost within himself. It was Leo’s turn.

“Donnie, stop throwing things before you take someone’s head off,” Leo said.

“Leave me alone!” Donnie screamed.

Leo leapt out of the way to avoid getting smacked by an airborne chair. Donnie then seized another.

“That’s the last chair in the room, Donnie,” said Leo. “If you throw that, you’re out of ammo.”

Crazed, Donnie swung the chair, prepared to strike, tears running down his face and dripping off his chin. Leo slid into the room.

“It’s just me,” said Leo. “We’re home now. I know it’s really tempting to throw furniture at this face, but please don’t.”

Donnie swung the chair, grazing Leo.

“Donnie, I’m gonna take the chair from you because you might hurt yourself.”

Another swing. Leo caught it that time, held the chair tight as Donnie fought against him.

“Don’t!” Donnie demanded. “Don’t!”

“Donnie, focus! It’s me, your stupid brother Leo! You’re at home!”

Donnie let out a loud sniff, stared at Leo’s chest. His body was shaking so badly that Leo felt it rattling through the chair.

There was a long moment that pushed past the incoherent terror in Donnie’s eyes. He looked away, ashamed, stared at the blood on the floor, the chair in his hands, the way Leo took the chance to grab firmly onto his hand, the sweat, the silent hum of the overhead lights, Raph’s rapid breathing from behind Leo.

Donnie’s hand was clammy and cold to the touch, and Leo remembered the morning they’d first brought him home after he’d first been kidnapped by the Purple Dragons, how he looked like another being, how much this Donnie in front of him looked like the strange being he’d watched sleep in a beanbag chair in the living room for five nights straight.

Donnie’s shoulders stooped low, and Leo would never be able to tell if it was his willpower giving away or simply the weakness taking over when he pulled the chair out of his hands and set it aside.

“I don’t want to—I can’t, I just can’t—don’t touch me!”

Donnie turned from him, holding his face in his hands like it was enough to hide him. Leo watched the full-body tremor start in his brother’s midsection and radiate outwards, down his legs, destabilizing him. Donnie didn’t seem to be breathing. Leo’s eyes lingered on the blood running freely down his legs.

“Donnie, I’m gonna help you over to the examination table,” said Leo.

Donnie smacked away Leo’s hand. It stung something awful in more way than one. Leo gave him a moment, and moved slow-steady to take Donnie by the arm. Donnie burst out in a crying fit, a horrible sob ripping out of his mouth to fill the deathly quiet of the medbay.

“Relax, Herman,” said Leo. “It’s just your favourite brother, Leo. I’m helping you to the examination table.”

The twelve foot walk to the nearest examination table might as well have been a marathon. Donnie’s knees jolted and threatened to buckle. But he kept going. All that mattered was that he kept going, with gentle coaxing from Leo, until finally he was settled on the edge of the bed and pressing his palms hard onto his ears.

Leo had forgotten entirely that everyone else was watching nervously from the door. It was only when Donnie was seated and not throwing anything that they stepped in.

Leo’s eyes passed over the source of the blood: some deep cuts sliced into his inner thighs. Donnie caught him looking and pressed his legs tight together.

“We need to stitch those up,” said Leo. “They’re pretty deep.”

Donnie smacked Leo’s hand away.

“Goddamn,” Leo said, a little more shortly than he intended. “I’m trying to help!”

“I…I can…” Donnie huffed out. He did something that looked like it took a lot of effort. “I can do it.”

“No, you fucking can’t. You can’t even hold your hands still, let alone hold a small, sharp object.”

“Leo?” Raph said.

“In a minute, Raph. Okay. Okay. We’re gonna stitch you up, Donnie, then you’re just gonna…you’re gonna rest while we figure this out.” Leo fumbled through a few drawers for the suture. His hands were no more steady than Donnie’s. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Leo, I need to talk to you outside,” said Raph. “Now.”

Raph was staring at him with alarmed eyes. His phone was in his hands.

Mikey hopped up on the examination table next to Donnie, and, unlike Leo, Donnie didn’t resist when Mikey slid their hands together.

The common room felt ice cold when Donnie and Raph stepped out. Splinter was sitting just outside the medbay, also starring at his phone with the most haunted, horrible look Leo had ever seen.

“Leo, what the hell is this?” Raph asked.

Raph held out his phone to Leo, showing a series of photos sent from an unknown number, though Leo didn’t have to have one to know who had sent them. It was a series of pictures of Donnie. Graphic ones. He wasn’t naked in any of them, but that didn’t make the sight any less disturbing. Kendra had taken photos from the most disturbing angles possible, and the words carved onto Donnie’s inner thighs were perfectly visible.

They read: KENDRA’S SLUT.

Leo fought to keep his stomach in his body. After a moment, Raph gently shook his shoulder.

“Is this what you saw?” Raph asked.

Leo nodded.

“Did you see how far—”

“I think I stopped it before it could.”

Raph scooped Leo into a hug and squeezed hard, lifting him off the ground. They held each other for a long while, silent, and he looked over the crook of Raph’s elbow to Splinter. He was staring, lost, at his own phone, and it didn’t take long for it to click together.

That bitch. She gained absolutely nothing from this, nothing except tearing Donnie down.

“How many people do you think she sent this to?” Raph asked.

“Too many,” said Leo.

Leo ducked back into the medbay. He didn’t hear what Mikey was saying to Donnie, but the intonations were soothing and hushed.

“Donnie, do you have your phone?” Leo asked. “Mikey, I need yours too.”

“Why?” Mikey asked.

Leo plucked Mikey’s phone out of his hands. Donnie was slower to respond, squinting at Leo, holding his phone protectively.

“Why do you want it?” Donnie asked.

“I just need to see it,” said Leo.

“But why?”

Leo snatched it away without an answer, and it was a good thing he had; Kendra had spammed Donnie with texts. With photos that made Leo want to puke, disturbing angles, close-ups of the words, then a series of very long and graphic texts describing what she would do the next time they met.

“She took pictures, didn’t she?” Donnie asked.

As much as he wanted to lie, Leo couldn’t. Donnie deserved the truth. “Yeah, she did.”

Donnie took two breaths, holding in oxygen between them, then he finally looked away.

“I want Dad,” said Donnie.

“We really need to stitch up those cuts,” said Leo.

“I want Dad.”

It hurt a little. It felt like a rejection. It wasn’t. Leo still felt the hurt skewer his guts, at the way Donnie refused to look at him or Mikey.

---

Raph’s fist slammed into solid brick, cracking a gaping hole that radiated out, a cobweb of their collective trauma. Mikey shook all over, fists curled, arms rigid at his side, and Leo wanted to go up to him and pull apart his fingers to get him to relax, but didn’t want to break him more than he already had and everything felt broken already and he didn’t want to be the cause of more hurt.

Leo felt like a failure. After what had happened with the Purple Dragons the first time around, he’d sworn never to let it happen again, never to let the Purple Dragons interfere with their life, never let any villain to mess with his brothers in the way they’d messed with Donnie. Although he knew intellectually that this was all unforeseen, that he shouldered no real blame, that didn’t make the horrible, crushing weight on his shoulders any less bone-breaking. He saw it reflected in Mikey and Raph, too. Saw white light glinting on Raph’s moist eyes.

“Why didn’t you catch her, Leo?” Raph asked.

“Because she’s too damn smart for her own good and because she had a head start,” said Leo. “Don’t you think I would’ve caught and beat the everliving shit out of her if I could?”

“How could you possibly lose her?!”

“I wasn’t gonna leave Donnie alone! What, you wanted me to leave him bleeding on the floor?”

“I’m just sayin’ if you’d used your portals—”

“I was surprised! You’re not saying anything that I haven’t already told myself a million times over.”

“You should’ve let me chase after them too. If the three of us worked together, we could’ve caught them.”

“You’re too slow on foot, Raph, you wouldn’t have been able to catch up.”

“Apparently you’re not that fast either.”

“Stop it!” Mikey stepped in, voice sharp. “This isn’t about pinning blame on who didn’t do what, and it’s not about your big fat egos! It’s about Donnie. Check yourselves.”

The argument closed down fast. Mikey was good at that.

Splinter emerged from the medbay, looking stressed but focused, and locked eyes with the three of them.

“Purple is fine,” said Splinter. “He has no injuries aside from those cuts.”

“Dad, how far did it go?” Leo asked. “Did he tell you?”

“You appeared before anything…Well, your appearance was timely.” Splinter squeezed Leo’s hand. “Could you boys look after your brother while I am gone?”

“Wait, you’re going after her?” Leo asked.

“Yes, and before you ask, no, you cannot come. I told that girl what the consequences would be if this happened a second time and I intend to deliver.”

“What’re you gonna do? Are you gonna kill her?”

Splinter was quite a moment, thinking. “It…feels wrong to kill someone so young no matter how horrible she is. I will not hurt her…No, I am going to ruin her life, and I will start by speaking with her parents.”

“Ouch, she might wish you’d killed her after that,” said Mikey.

“Dad, let me come,” Leo begged.

“Your spirit is strong, my son, but your brother needs you here,” said Splinter. “Let me handle this.”

There was no room for argument, only a tight, claustrophobic corner where Leo tried to dredge one up and found none, and he realized that he didn’t want to leave Donnie’s side, that he would do anything in that moment to protect Donnie, and that going after his attacker wasn’t the only way to do that.

Mikey slid into the medbay. Leo glanced inside to find Donnie dressed in sweatpants and his preferred purple hoodie pulled far over his head, staring at his hands and flinching away when Mikey came too close. Donnie glanced up, and his and Leo’s stares caught.

Leo blacked out for a moment, and when he came to, he was in his room, grabbing the doorframe for support to steady his breathing. Raph was right behind him, his shadow swallowing him whole.

“It was my idea to go to that stupid party,” said Leo.

“Leo, I’m real sorry,” said Raph. “I’m sorry I yelled, I shouldn’t have—I…I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean any of it. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You think Donnie feels that way?”

“Of course he doesn’t. You stopped her before it got worse, and Donnie’s safe now.”

“I should’ve been there faster.”

“Leo, you got there fast enough. Don’t punish yourself like this.”

“…God, I’m doing just what Mikey said not to do: I’m making it all about myself. How do we fix this, Raph? How?”

Raph didn’t have the answers. Leo realized that none of them did, that it was pointless to go grasping at something that didn’t seem to have them.

Too often in the past, Leo had gone looking to Donnie for answers. How to solve a problem, how to fix something broken, how to win the unwinnable. Now Donnie didn’t have answers either and Leo was adrift in an uncertain sea, the harsh tide battering his broken body on jagged rocks. There was no answer, only the vague sense of a great injustice, and the knowledge that there was very little he could do to mend the cracks left behind.

---

Leo slept restlessly on the couch for a few hours, plagued with nightmares and the vague sense of being unsettled. He felt as though a monster was living under the couch, poking through the cushions with pins and needles, and he ached far too much when his brain convinced him to wake up fully.

Splinter still wasn’t back. Concerning, but not surprising. Leo knew he could take care of himself but he shot out a message to him anyway. It was early morning, and he knew that April would be getting up pretty soon, and suddenly he wondered if Kendra had sent any photos to her as well. Leo shot off a text to April asking her to call him first chance she got and hoped to God she would see his text before anything Kendra might’ve sent her.

Donnie wasn’t in the medbay, but Raph stood guard outside his open bedroom door, leaning on the frame and staring inside. Donnie was at his computer, hands clutched firmly around a controller, headphones on. It was typical Donnie-speak for ‘Don’t-even-think-about-interrupting-me,’ a warning sign to keep others away.

“How’s the brainiac doing?” Leo asked Raph, voice low. “Did you talk to him?”

“I tried,” said Raph. “I tried, Leo, I tried for an hour and he shut me out. Then Mikey tried, and Donnie yelled at him.”

“He yelled at Mikey. Mikey?” Leo massaged his forehead. “Alright, guess it’s Leon’s turn.”

“Don’t take it personally if he gets upset, just…just drop it if he doesn’t want to talk.”

“I can handle it.”

Donnie didn’t stir when Leo pulled up a rolling stool beside him.

“Are you winning, son?” Leo asked.

No answer. Not even a snark or a side eye. Even though Donnie’s attention was on the game, there was no real sense of focus to it, only muscle memory. He was playing Terraria, building a tower that was far more asymmetrical than Donnie typically liked to build.

“Donnie?” said Leo.

“I’m busy,” Donnie said curtly. At least his voice was normal.

“Get un-busy.”

“I formally apologize for all the trouble that has been…I mean, I’m issuing a formal apology.”

“You didn’t cause the trouble, Dee.”

Donnie didn’t answer him. “I’m busy, can’t talk.”

“Donnie, we didn’t talk about what happened the last time the Purple Dragons were in the picture, and I can’t let you slide away again.”

“That was by design. I’m not discussing this.”

“I don’t care you you talk to, just that you talk to someone. What—What about April?”

“Why the hell do you think I’d go over this with April? With anyone?”

“So, what? You’re just gonna repress the shit out of everything and not deal with it?”

“And here I was worried that I would have to explain it in excruciating detail.”

“Donnie—”

“Discussion over.”

“Can we just—”

“Over.”

Leo looked, helpless, at Raph, hoping he could swoop in and fix the problem. Raph couldn’t though, this was beyond even Raph. He didn’t know how to break the wall Donnie rapidly built between them. What was he going to do? Bring a sledgehammer down on it? Rip the controller out of his hand, rob Donnie of the choice like Kendra had tried to rob him?

Donnie’s hands were shaking on the controller. He paused as if taking a breath in a marathon, taking in air.

“Can I do anything?” Leo asked. He couldn’t be sure if he was asking for himself or for Donnie.

“…Moon Lord,” said Donnie.

“Huh?”

“Moon Lord. I need to fight the Moon Lord to get…I need more materials. Grab a controller.”

“Sounds like a four-turtle job.”

Donnie’s head dipped a little. His eyes were wide, unseeing.

“Feels like we could use two extra hands if we’re gonna go ham on the Moon Lord,” said Leo. “Teamwork makes dreamwork, am I right?”

Donnie nodded and didn’t stop. He set his controller down and squeezed Leo’s knee, rubbing a sleeve over his eyes. Raph gave Leo a thumbs up and left to grab Mikey, and when he was gone and when Donnie pulled back his arm, his eyes were perfectly dry, devoid of the miserable ache that had been there before. Wherever it had gone, Donnie had burned and buried it in a place that no one, not even Leo, could hope to touch.

[embraceyourdestiny]

to any americans who feel "paralyzed" and "dont know what to do" to help with gaza:

reading a fucking book. i beg of you.

in a time of knowledge suppression is it your duty to arm yourself with knowledge.

read about americas occupations in the middle east.

read about 9/11 from outside of america and see how they inflicted senseless harm and violence to countless amounts of people and have been suppressing your rights for the past 2 fucking decades.

read about any of the countless wars from the past 30 years. especially from a civilian's. and the victims and survivors' perspective. listen to the horror stories and do not plug your fucking ears as to what your country is doing.

and read about fucking gaza and palestine and keep up with what is happening no matter how "sad" or "uncountable" you might get.

dont look away from this.

you dont have the right to be comfortable during countless active genocides.

if you're knowledgeable, you're powerful, and our current state doesnt fucking want that.

you have the power to change things if you open your eyes and scream to the world.

wake the fuck up.

Edit: please check the reblogs there are readings and ways to help

[trans-androgyne]

Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?

That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.

Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.

Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[elodieunderglass]

[teaboot]

if ur a murderbot nerd now do u have any fun opinions abt it yet?

Oh my goddd you have no idea

I really, really, really like Murderbot because it comes at life with this perspective we don't often see that is very real among people who have already been through traumatic experiences, who developed skills and abilities to suvive that were once useful but no longer have context- that search that traumatized people go through to recalibrate and reorient ourselves in a world where we no longer really need those things to survive.

A bit personal here, but my own issues personally involved a lot of psychological abuse that made it difficult to trust my own perceptions of reality, and as a result I found I was very easy to lie to and manipulate.

To handle this, I became obsessive over writing things down, cataloging details and making notes of things as they happened- I'd carry recording devices and make audio recordings and stay up late at night to transcribe what they'd picked up, read those over and over again to reassure myself of things I wasn't certain about.

While doing this, there were others close to me that I felt responsible for, who I had to protect from others and protect myself from at the same time. Life was about two things: Evidence, and defusing threats

Over time, I learned to trust myself as my memories matched what had been recorded where their narrative didn't, but I never really kicked the habit. Like Murderbot, I had added something to my own programming that reassured me I was safe, that I was in control of myself, that I couldn't be mistaken or crazy or broken or used.

I'm only on book two, but already I see myself in Murderbot again. No spoilers here, but when I left home- left that dangerous context- I didn't need to repeat these patterns to survive anymore, but I still did, because I didn't know anything else anymore. It felt safe, comfortable, knowing knowing that the past couldn't repeat itself, because I'd written that flaw- blind trust in myself-  out of my programming and replaced it with something else.

Still, though, I'd become something specially suited to thrive in a very specific environment. Nothing else felt right like followinghigh-risk situations, like witnessing and watching and recording and knowing I had proof of the truth where others might not.

People took notice. I wound up in security by accident, but's an environment that I thrive in due to the same patterns and behaviours I originally developed when I had no other choice. I climbed the ladder pretty quickly, once supervisors caught on that my reports were the most accurate, most objective, most factual, detail-oriented and timely. I keep others and myself safe and prioritize public safety above all else, and I perform well under pressure

Now I'm in a position where I often wonder, do I enjoy this job, or is it just what I'm good at? I have a set of skills now, but do I have the option of choosing not to use them? What would I be, if not this? Could I be anything else? Can Murderbot be anything else?

It has a set of skills that set it apart, make it different, special. It does what it knows best. But is it free? Does it want to be? What does it want? Does it have to do what it was built to do? What if it didn't?

I know what I'm good for. The idea of deliberately leaving what I'm good for for something uncertain, that I might hate, that I might be useless at- the choice to give up what was so important to me for so long and become deliberately obsolete?

Let go of my entire purpose? The only thing I know, that I fit so well into but don't actually know if I enjoy? Now that I can choose? Now that enjoyment is a luxury I can afford to consider?

Yeah, that resonates.

I like the Murderbot series so far because it feels the way I feel: Like the most significant and formative part of my story, the part where I became what I am, has already happened

And now I have to just. Keep going

Into... what?

It feels absurd. Like a microwave giving up on reheating food and deciding to start a life around abstract dance.

So, uh. Yeah. It's really very wild to see this same philosophical-ish dilemma I've been digging over in the back of my mind and in therapy for the last forever laid out so plainly in a genuinely exciting and enjoyable story like this. I feel much less alone, and I... kind of really need to see how it resolves, I think.

So, uh. Yeah. Read Murderbot, I guess

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Game night results (from this poll)

Character selection inspired from extraterezi's post!

[starflungwaddledee]

from: @starflungwaddledee to: @post-it-notes7

message from santa: "happy holidays post-it-notes! 🎄🥳 i know you very politely only wished for a few modest things- characters high fiving, or struggling in christmas attire- but i hope you'll still enjoy this given that i kinda went the opposite direction entirely! i'm an enormous fan of your work and most times you post anything i wind up browsing your art tag from tip-to-tail in enraptured delight. as such, i thought it was only fair i give back something a little more significant in gratitude for all the joy your work has given me. i knew i wanted to do a comic, so i was thrilled you already had a whole storyverse for me to work from!! this scene seemed the most obvious choice (chapter 8 of "wishful thinking" on ao3) given that i enjoy a dramatic fight scene 😂 i tried to stick as beat-by-beat to the writing as i could and worked in as many details as possible; i hope it'll be fun to see it envisioned this way! merry christmas! ~starflung 🎀🔔 "

[exaltior-a]

Personally the amount of people who are either "Jake is a stupid himbo" or "Jake is actively malicious" blow my mind. No, Jake isn't stupid, and he's not evil. He's a sixteen year old who is implied to have a mental disability and/or brain damage (it's not exactly clear, Caliborn claims they have the same developmental disorder and Dirk iirc worries that Jake hit his head too much, I guess you can take either with a grain of salt but I digress), and has not had meaningful real life interactions with other human beings in years. He is in the wrong for his actions, but it feels. Purposefully ignorant to claim he's just stupid or just evil for them.

He's socially stunted. He wants to emulate heroes in movies but lacks self esteem and experience. If the alpha kids had enough time to be more fleshed out (and let's be real, if Hussie cared about Jake) this might have been explored more thoroughly. He'd never had the opportunity to learn how to cope with a relationship, how to communicate his needs, or understand that he can't control how other people perceive him like he can through a computer screen.

He doesn't know healthy boundaries because he's never had to use them, and this goes both ways (allowing his friends to sexualise him and treat him like an object, as well as constantly complaining about his relationship with Dirk to Jane) Like yeah he does run away instead of communicating with Dirk and yeah he does dump all his problems on Jane. I love Jane, but one of her problems is her bottling up her feelings and people pleasing until everything blows up. She should have told him off much sooner, and while he was being a dick, it was partly because she allowed him to feel like it was okay to do, since she never told him it wasn't after the first few times or when she was starting to get aggravated.

His problems with Dirk are a little more complicated because we're never actually shown their relationship or how it broke down, but from what we can gather, Jake felt overwhelmed by Dirk's intensity and decided to ignore him rather than tell him try and avoid confrontation but leading to Dirk being frustrated and breaking up with him. Dirk claims he feels like he bullied Jake into a relationship, and though I personally think that's him making it seem worse than it was, it does mean that Dirk probably was trying to go too fast. I've best heard it is Jake being an introvert pretending to be an extrovert.

This is not to say I don't think people can't dislike or even hate Jake, but it's like. Idk. Misinterpreting a character and disliking that version of them is a little redundant to me.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Just to clarify my thoughts (since I've had a number of people ask me about it) re: Job and cursing God. There's a big difference between cursing God as used in Scripture and how we generally would think of cursing at God today.

Cursing someone, in the Bible, has a lot of depth to it. It's not just saying "screw you " in anger, it's got a sense of forsakenness to it. It's the opposite of a blessing, a removal of blessing. If the blessing is presence, your face shining on the person you're blessing, then a curse is absence. In some translations, Job's wife tells him to "renounce God and die," which I honestly think makes a lot more sense to modern ears.

Job says a lot of unpleasant things to and about God in his anger and grief. So do the Psalmists. A number of the Prophets. So can we. God can take it if we come to him with honest expressions of our emotion, including those not-so-nice ones directed at him. I don't think there's anything wrong with getting mad at God and saying, "How dare you, you bastard" when you suffer unjustly. You can say much worse, I think, without sinning, though I don't feel particularly inclined to give examples. But as long as it's an honest expression of your heart, I think you're doing exactly what prayer is for. You're presenting him your heart with an open hand. He can use that. Opposite of love is not hate but indifference, etc.

Job doesn't renounce God. Neither should we. But I think when you're truly suffering, you're gonna have those feelings toward God either way. He'd rather you address them with him directly than try to avoid them. Cursing at God in the modern sense is actually a great way to keep the relationship strong and not end up cursing/renouncing him in the Biblical sense.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Mark Oshiro confuses me a little bit not going to lie. In the press tour for the first book all they ever talked about was how Nico is their son and Will is fine I guess. Then they said like 2 weeks before TSATS came out that they didn't understand Will's character at all and it's one of the main reasons why Will has so little POV.

Possibly unpopular opinion but I don't think it's a good, encouraging sign when the writer admits to not really caring about the deuteragonist or not even having a sense of how to write them...

Yeah, no. If you have no interest in 1/2 of the POV characters of your book, you REALLY shouldn't be writing it (or at least, not have that be a main character). Especially when the main way TSATS could have been improved is if it was primarily Will-centric instead of Nico-centric. Will basically had next to no established character prior to TSATS! He was practically a blank slate! But all the new stuff we got for Will in TSATS was so clearly disinterested and had no regard for his previously established traits (or the established timeline/canon). Which is annoying because fleshing out Will would have been the PERFECT opportunity to actually incorporate a lot of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in as a sensitivity reader, which was the ENTIRE REASON THEY WERE BROUGHT ON AS A CO-AUTHOR!!!!

As TSATS stands, there is no reason for Mark Oshiro specifically to have been the co-author instead of someone else. It's so clearly just a PR move from RR following the huge backlash Rick received due to his response to criticism on how he wrote Piper and Samirah (and Reyna and etc etc). This was immediately following Rick saying he wasn't going to write what would become TSATS because "it [wasn't his] place to." Most of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in either weren't relevant at all to TSATS or written very poorly (to downright offensively) in TSATS, so either Mark Oshiro wasn't doing their job or was not able to do their job for some reason, but either way it basically makes the theoretical justification for Mark Oshiro being the co-author/sensitivity reader irrelevant.

With Will, it was HUGE fanon back in the day for him to be trans. Trans!Will and photokinesis!Will were basically the two biggest headcanons for him (both largely popularized by Cherryandsisters). We know Rick is aware of this old fanon because he canonized photokinesis!Will. If we had gotten trans!Will, that would have been great! And then made sense why we specifically got a trans co-author! (Instead, if anything, TSATS canonized Will being cis.) If we had gotten Will being latino, that would have been amazing!!!! And also then made sense as to why they chose Mark Oshiro for the job as a latinx author/sensitivity-reader, versus potentially choosing an Italian co-author since Nico being Italian/Venetian was emphasized so much in the book (and done poorly! Yknow what they could have done to fix that? GOTTEN A SENSITIVITY READER FOR IT)! Based on the themes and focuses actually present in the book, it would have been most logical to get a queer, neurodivergent, Italian co-author or sensitivity reader who specializes in those three topics at least. But we didn't! So why was Mark Oshiro chosen instead when they only specialize in one of those topics? PR reasons. It's blatantly entirely PR reasons and no actual thought or care was put into this book (or, likely, TSATS 2 either).

It doesn't help that we're also actively being told that the published version of TSATS was a rough draft. Or that their editor blatantly isn't doing her job. Or that "The Sun And The Star" was the working title that they just kept cause they didn't bother to make an actual title. And that the final version is full of explicitly last-minute scenes that weren't checked over at all (the final Bianca scene, for one). Or the ACTIVELY ADMITTING TO SOURCING IDEAS AND INFORMATION FROM FANS! That last one is kind of important because at this level of publishing that is a HUGE no-no for legal reasons. You can get into a lot of trouble for that and there is a reason why it is Ye Olde Fandom Law to never try to pitch your ideas or headcanons to the source creator(s) and keep fandom separate from the creators. There is a REASON why Rick Riordan is so distant from the community these days and it's for PROTECTION AGAINST LEGAL REPERCUSSION. Mark Oshiro being the exact opposite while also ACTIVELY ACKNOWLEDGING sourcing concepts from fans does not bode well! It has to do with copyright stuff.

It's just. So. Sighhhhhhhh >->o <- me lying on the floor about all of this. It's sad being able to see the glimmer of what could have been at the very least a decent book underneath all this. If anyone involved in the process had actually cared just the tiniest amount.

[lemonlimestar]

how it feels trying to tell a batfam fan that tim isn’t morally gray

[inklessletter]

But Steve... Oh, he's a Prism

🌈💎🌈💎🌈

Art for the amazing, dangerous, captivating fanfic of Prism by the impressively talented @thorniest-rose and @azrielgreen

Thank you so much for trusting the process with us, babes.

[Please, if you're curious about this fic, read under the cut, I've got an important, spicy message for you, love]

I want to tell you how sexy warning tags are. Like, they're an instant turn on, you know? All those words, a foreshadowing of what you're going to see, a cue for your own safety, and triggers and pleasures. A hint of the future, a crystal ball. Knowledge: that's so goddamn sexy.

This fic is impressive in many, many ways, and the authors know as well as I do how hot warning tags are, and that's why they made a full chapter of them.

Please, read them before you dive into this story. They're there for you to read, for you to enjoy. Treat yourself and read them. You'll do such a good job if you do, really. So good, because if you read them then you're taking care of yourself and you're being responsible and that is... god. That's even hotter.

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[kaelidascope]

Midnight Menagerie Chapter 19 is LIVE

**SHAKES UH OH DOGGY BAG OF TREATS**

This aint an April Fool's joke folks. This chapter is DARK and I wish I was kidding but I'm not LOL

The second biggest chapter I have ever written for MM is LIVE!

Please please please mind the content warning on this one guys. From here on out, we're getting into the darkest segments of the story. Every negative tag will be relevant. For the sake of spoilers, I'll only label the extremely graphic scenes. ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN! CHOO CHOO

[itspileofgoodthings]

Actually Pride and Prejudice is much more about change in perspective / how things come across than it is about Darcy becoming a wildly different person at the drop of a hat, I say for the umpteenth millionth time.