#shattered puzzle extras

[iru-doodles]

AWWWW THANK YOU <3

the bois love the gifts :D

(btw sorry its hard to read but raph is giving misa cookies back <3 thank you again!)

[thevoidisscreamingbackatyou]

WAHOO ITS THEM!! finally finished this lil side project lol- might do more characters in the future, we'll see akdbaksn :D hope yall like!!

[iru-doodles]

:3 hope you have a good timezone!! good luck!!

Dee doesn't have uranium, but he has scrap! here you go!

@tmntseparatedaucompetition

[acid-ixx]

〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the Delico daddies with a s/o who makes toys for the kids?

It was around lunch time when [Y/N] arrived for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, visit to the nursery. Dali was always happy to see them. No matter the circumstances.

He excused himself to go check on their meal, then after Dali came back into the nursery to check on his sons. Of course, [Y/N] was there, looking after them in his stead. Along with a new guest to their little enclave. “Who is this then?”

Raphael looked up from his new, crochet bear at his father. “[Y/N] said they made it for me.”

“They did, did they?”

He looked over to his partner who smiled bashfully. “Well, I had the extra yarn.”

“Of course.” Dali replied knowingly. Touched that they would make something, by hand, for his son. “He will need a name though. What shall we name him?”

“Hmmm…Bernard?”

“I think you mean Bear-nard.” And Dali laughed at his own joke.

“Look Papa look! My doll has a lace dress just like me!”

“Mine has a pretty hat. Papa, can you get a hat like this for me?”

“Eh..?? Didn’t you just get a present Elena?” Henrique reminded his daughter as the girls gushed over their new dolls.

One of the nice things about seeing one of the premier doll makers in the city, was that the girls got all the new doll designs before anyone else. Sometimes Henrique thought they got more out of his relationship than him. But when he looked over at [Y/N], in awe of their beauty and the way they beamed when the girls got so excited over their new creations, he knew that wasn’t true at all.

“I actually designed this hat from one my friend did for her new couture line. Shall I see if she can make you one?”

The girls, of course, squeal for joy. Loud enough to pierce Henrique’s ears. “You’re spoiling them….”

“I know,” [Y/N confessed, “but I can’t help it.”

“I know what you mean.” He agreed, seeing their excited faces. “You girls will have to be extra good until you get your hats though. No funny business from here on out.”

“Ok!” They chime together while fussing with their dolls. Like perfect little dolls themselves.

“I have a gift for Theodore.” Dino arched a brow at [Y/N]’s announcement over tea. “I would like to give it to him after dinner.”

Dino sighed. He cared for [Y/N] but their professional hobby in making children’s toys was just…odd to him. What need did children have for toys when there were perfectly good books around? “Theodore does not need toys. He needs things that will stimulate his mind.”

“I agree. That’s why I made him this.” A small box, seemingly out of nowhere, was then placed on the table. Different woods aligned in an intricate pattern. “It’s a puzzle box.”

‘A puzzle box? Interesting.’ Dino thought as he moved to inspect it.

“The goal is to get all the same shades on the same sides. It’s a manner of mathematics, memory, and dexterity to get it to align properly.” Dino scoffed at [Y/N]’s explanation. How hard could it be? “So, may I give it to him?”

His fingers play with the shape and moving pieces. Getting them to move with ease and slot into their new spaces. “Hmmm…I suppose.” This did seem challenging, and any Classico would thrive on a challenge.

By the time dinner came around Dino and the puzzle box could not be found. Both were locked in his office. His fingers gripping the toy so tight it might shatter. “How do you solve this damn thing?!”

The clock in Gerhard’s office struck 9 o’clock and he put down his evening scotch to get ready for bed.

He felt it was important to get a goodnight sleep. In order to keep a sharp mind and foster good health. A virtue he hoped to instill in his son.

As he walked down the hall, Gerhard heard noises coming from his son’s room. Nothing alarming, but louder than the usual quiet of the house. When he got to the door he opened it, just in time to have a small toy cannonball hit him in the chest. “What’s all this noise?!”

Angelico sunk back into himself, a fretful look on his face as he looked at his father. Not sure what to say. “Don’t blame us.” [Y/N] answered in his stead from their place on the floor. “You’re the one that walked directly into our enemy line of fire. Friendly fire is almost a given at that point.”

Gerhard grumbled at them and looked at the toy soldiers all over the floor. “What is all this?”

“[Y-Y/N] got them for me father.” Angelico answered.

“Yeah. And you’re scuffing up my paint job with those heels.”

He looked down to see he had accidentally stepped on one of the toy soldiers; too distracted by projectiles to notice his mistake. Luckily it wasn’t broken. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

“You could stay you know.” [Y/N] offered. Starting to move the left flank up to their makeshift river. “We could use someone for the rear platoon.”

Gerhard looked at Angelico, who looked up at him so hopefully that his hands nearly trembled. And Gerhard gulped. “Well…just for a little while. Then you have to go to bed. And clean this up.”

His son grinned but nodded eagerly before moving his soldiers as well. Gerhard knelt down next to [Y/N] and moved a couple of pieces in an effort to play as well.

By the clock struck 11 o’clock, the three of them had constructed a navy battle as well out of paper boats, and no one near ready for bed.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet. 

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you. 

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor. 

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

[iru-doodles]

IN ALL HONESTY AUTHOR IS HAPPY STIMMING A LOT RN :3

Shattered Puzzle

By: @thevoidisscreamingbackatyou / @shatteredpuzzlerottmntau

Iteration: 2018

Where You Can Find It: Tumblr

Summary: Draxum and Splinter raised Mikey and eventually Raph. Leo lived on the Hidden City streets until he was 8, when Hueso hired him. And Donnie was raised by Big Mama!

[boredflautist]

quotes that keep me alive

"all the people are fake, they're made out of metal. But I like you, and that is not fake" -young royals

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." -song of achilles

"No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see you again." -turtles all the way down

"I want to be with you. If we have to keep it a secret then... So be it, if thats the only way... But no more secrets between us. I love you" -young royals

"Why does the word 'love' from you hurt me so damn much?" -Only Friends

"I've always thought Ray was my 25th hour, my extra hour. But the truth is, everyone has the same 24 hours in a day. And within Ray's 24 hours, I'm not part of it. I'm not that special." -Only Friends

"If I'm gone, I won't be anyone's burden anymore, right?" -Only Friends

"You were wearing corduroy, acting like a poster boy" -poster boy by Lyn Lapid

"I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion" -song of achilles

"Tell me every terrible thing that you ever did, and let me love you anyway" -edgar allan poe

"The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you... I can't breathe. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do? I will do anything that you ask." -anakin skywalker

"If changin' my clothes would make you like me more, if changing my hair would make you care, then I'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut myself to slivers" -jigsaw by conan gray

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me." -heartstopper

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you." -revenge of the sith

"The truth is what I make it. I could set the world on fire, and call it rain." -red queen

" But isn't it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idolize them as gods or dismiss them as animals." -paper towns

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'I love you'" -somethin' stupid by frank sinatra

"Tell me it isn't true. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me. " -shatter me

"I do want to be your friend. I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend." -shatter me

"The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies" -shatter me

"'Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare for you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me,' He says, meeting my eyes again. 'It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.'" -shatter me

"Everything's a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win." -inheritance games

"The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive." -the last olympian "You think I didn't fight the same fight? I halfway convinced myself that as long as Avery was just a riddle or a puzzle, as long as I was just playing, I'd be fine. Well, joke's on me, because somewhere along the way, I stopped playing." -the Hawthorne legacy

"When you're ready, if you're ever ready, if it's going to be me - just flip that disk. Heads, I kiss you." His voice broke slightly. "Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something." -the Hawthorne legacy

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here" -william shakespeare

"But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all" -10 things I hate about you

"It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone" -footnote by conan gray

"You made us past tense," I said, my voice cracking, "not me." -betting on you

"Because when they write the history of my life, I want it to include you" -red white and royal blue

"My life is the crown, and yours is just politics, and I will not trade one prison for another" -red white and royal blue

"Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I'm fucked because I can't stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you. Does it even matter when, as long as it changed between us?" -fourth wing

"Oh darling all of the cities lights, never shined as bright as your eyes" -car's outside by james arthur

"I would rather lose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over again, then I'll do it. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it." -iron flame

"Because pain in the body quiets the pain in your head. It feels good - like a kill switch for your brain" -kill switch

"Then take your punishment like the pathetic creature that you are" -cruel prince

"Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." -cruel prince

"If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure." -the wicked king

"I hate you. I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else." -the wicked king

"Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can." -the wicked king

"She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." -the queen of nothing

"By you, I am forever undone." -the queen of nothing

"Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you just. Just come home." -the queen of nothing

"I wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows" -they both die at the end

"For what it's worth, I doubt I will ever like anyone else in the world as much as I like you." -book lovers

"I'd never thought about my favorite color before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing" -powerless

<3

if you've made it to the end good god please get some sleep

[joeliz99]

Unspoken Connection- George Weasley

Description: After leaving Hogwarts, (Y/N) and George Weasley develop a unique and deep friendship that soon turns into something more. One night, their feelings for each other push the boundaries of their relationship. Will they embrace the new dimension of their bond, or risk losing what they have?

Warning: Slow burn, friends-to-lovers, after war fic, grief, mentions of death, smut implied, major fluff.

Word count: 2588

______________________________________________

The power of appearance demanded immense willpower and concentration. It was a skill (Y/N) thought she would have mastered by now, after years of practice. Yet, standing in the middle of the desolate Diagon Alley, she realized there was still much work to be done when it came to controlling her thoughts.

Carrying her heels in hand, the young woman sighed with annoyance as she walked towards her shop. If she wasn’t able to get home due to distractions, she might as well spend the night where she worked daily, brooding and selling potions to all sorts of consumers. Softly glowing chandeliers illuminated the street where she dragged her feet, feeling the tiredness spreading throughout her body. Her vigilant eyes scanned every corner, ensuring her solitude and safety. She almost managed to ignore the big, flashy Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stall just a few shops away from her own. However, a second glance shattered her attempt when she noticed the lingering light within the joke shop.

In any other moment, she would have continued walking and minding her business, just as she had planned. However, contrary to her intentions, (Y/N) found herself halting in her tracks and veering toward the entrance of the building. She attributed this deviation to perhaps the two or three drinks she had that night or an unexpected surge of curiosity. Nonetheless, she saw nothing wrong with ensuring everything was alright. It took merely a fleeting moment before she decided to continue on her way. But before she could take a step, she glimpsed a tall redhead navigating the aisles with a few items in hand. Her heart skipped a beat, an unwarranted nervousness suddenly washing over her.

She certainly didn’t want to appear nosy, though truthfully, she was. Hastily, she turned and began walking toward her intended destination once more. However, the same man spotted her through the window, detecting her presence immediately. George set down his things on the shelf and hurried to the door.

“(Y/N)?” Her feet froze, and she muttered under her breath as she turned toward him.

“Hey…”

“Hi…” He regarded her with a puzzled expression, noticing her attire and the shoes she carried in her hand. “Is everything okay? What are you doing out here so late?”

“Mhm…” (Y/N) smiled casually, sweeping a few strands of hair from her face with her free hand. “I’m headed to the shop. Just wanted to catch up on some work. You?”

“Stocking up the inventory.” His gaze lingered on her for a few more moments, now at ease knowing she was fine. “Special occasion today?”

“Yeah. Draco’s wedding.”

“That’s nice. You must have been the reason for some distraction.” George offered a cheeky smile, eliciting a similar response from her. “You look radiant today.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me walk you to the shop then. It’s not safe for you to be walking alone at this time of night.” He barely got the chance to take more than two steps before she interrupted him.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’m okay. In fact, do you want an extra pair of hands? I can help if you want.” He raised an eyebrow, a puzzled but mocking look on his face.

“Didn’t you just say you were going to get on track with some work?” The girl’s eyes widened, almost feeling faint from self-shame.

“Right, yeah. I totally forgot about that. I should get going then.” George chuckled, rolling his eyes as he watched her turn away.

“Hey, I never said no! Come in. I wouldn’t mind having your company.” (Y/N) attempted to maintain her composure, ignoring him in an attempt to salvage whatever dignity she still had. Her resistance only prompted George to follow her, taking her hand and coaxing her into the shop. Before she could protest, he placed a couple of items in her hands, instructing her where to put them.

Despite having felt exhausted mere minutes ago, the girl began bustling around the shop, climbing and descending stairs, shifting boxes, and rearranging shelves, with George ensuring her dress didn’t catch on any edges. Since his brother’s passing, he preferred to spend his time alone. He found solace in working in silence, functioning better when he had no distractions. However, with (Y/N), it was different. He enjoyed, could almost say loved, having her around during everyday moments. They seemed to effortlessly understand each other’s needs and worked together seamlessly. Some might call it a natural fit, and to an extent, it was, but it was also the result of the considerable time they’d spent together, getting to know each other over the past few years.

After a while, (Y/N) settled on the first step of the stairs, sighing as the ache in her feet became increasingly noticeable. George glanced at her, abandoning his task to approach her.

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” He observed how her hands attempted to alleviate the discomfort. “Why don’t you come upstairs? I can grab some ice packs for that. I might have some medicinal balm too.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll fade soon. Besides, I should be leaving. You must be tired too.”

“Nonsense.” George extended his hand, which she accepted not long after, prompting her up. He led the way to the fourth floor, where the Weasley Twins had settled since opening their shop. Upon opening the door, he gestured for (Y/N) to take a seat while he retrieved the items he had offered. Once he returned, she thanked him and immediately used them for relief.

“Would you like something to drink? I can also rustle up some snacks. There must be something edible in that fridge.” Without awaiting her response, he headed to the kitchen, eliciting laughter from (Y/N) as she watched him from the sofa.

“Why are you even thinking about food? It’s like 2 in the morning.”

“What do you mean? This is the perfect time for a snack!” He peeked out of the fridge. “How about fried eggs and toast?”

“Sure.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

George took out the necessary ingredients, adding seasonings and miscellaneous items he found while cooking the eggs. After a few minutes, she decided to help, ensuring he didn’t burn the toast while he was engrossed in the other half of the meal. As everything neared completion, she grabbed the first two plates she found, while George rummaged through his cabinets for a bottle of wine.

“I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/N) nodded, engrossed in making the meal more presentable and finding two glasses for the wine. George took longer than expected, but when he returned, both burst into laughter as she noticed he was wearing a suit that seemed about four sizes too small for him.

“I figured since you look so elegant today, I had to play the part too. How do I look?” He did a careful turn, trying not to tear his pants or sleeves. “I wore this for the Formal Dance at Hogwarts. I think I still rock it.”

“You do.” She beamed, getting up and approaching him after fetching her wand. “It just needs some small adjustments.” With a flick of her wand, George’s suit transformed before their eyes, fitting him comfortably and perfectly. “That will do.” He smiled, glancing down at her. “You look very handsome. Good thing I don’t have to share this sight with anybody else.” His face reddened upon hearing that, laughing shyly as he offered his arm for her to take, leading the way to the kitchen where he offered her a glass of wine.

“Cheers.”

“What are we toasting to?” She inquired, mirroring his gesture.

“Whatever comes to mind. Doesn’t have to be anything big.” (Y/N) chuckled and clinked her glass with his as they began their meal, engaging in a conversation that constantly shifted from one topic to another.

“So, how was Malfoy’s wedding? Did you have fun?”

“I did. It’s actually the first time I’ve been to one.”

“Really?” He glanced at her, surprised, while (Y/N) took a sip of her wine.

“Yeah… You know, I’ve always heard about the beauty of being a part of something like that. But I never truly understood until now. It almost makes you want to experience it too.” He smiled lightly.

“Do you see yourself marrying someday?”

“I don’t know… Honestly, I’ve never envisioned it. But that could be a result of being raised to be comfortable in solitude. It’s not that I lacked love or anything. But, you know, we’ve talked about this before. I suppose that could change if it feels right with the right person at the right time. What about you?” George paused, contemplating his response, uncertain of the best way to answer.

“At some point, I did consider it. I’ve witnessed that type of compromise in my family my whole life. But I guess circumstances have changed. I’m just not sure if that will be part of my plans in the future.”

“Why not?” (Y/N) queried, curious about his perspective.

“Ever since Fred passed away, it doesn’t feel right. I don’t see the joy in experiencing things that my brother will never have the opportunity to experience too.”

“I never really got the chance to know Fred personally… But I feel that, above all else, he would have wanted you to find happiness in every aspect of your life. He’ll always be part of your life just by you existing and loving him as much as you do.” George glanced at her, a pause hanging in the air, before clearing the table.

" Ever since Fred passed away, it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t see the joy in experiencing things that my brother will never have the chance to experience."

" I never really got the chance to know Fred personally... But I feel that, above all else, he would have wanted you to find happiness in every aspect of your life. He’ll always be part of your life through you existing and loving him as much as you do." George glanced at her, a pause hanging in the air, before clearing the table.

" Maybe you’re right, but we’ll never know that now." (Y/N) chose to stay silent, understanding it was time to shift away from the topic. Instead, she got up to help clear the mess from cooking, despite his protests.

" You should stay here tonight." George’s statement confused (Y/N), prompting him to elaborate.

" You haven’t slept at all, we’ve had a couple of drinks, and I don’t think you’ll be able to get home safely."

" I’ll be fine. It’s one thing to visit for a while; it’s another to intrude on your personal space."

" It’s not intruding if I’m the one asking you to stay," he asserted firmly. " It’s settled. I’ll take the sofa tonight. I imagine you’ll want to change clothes. Let me find a towel and some clothes for you."

" George, wa—" Her words trailed off as he vanished and reappeared with the items.

" Here. The pants might be a bit big, but they should do the job."

" Thank you." (Y/N) accepted everything gratefully. " But you really don’t have to sleep on the sofa. I’ll be fine wherever."

" You can’t expect me to do otherwise, (Y/N). Go on, don’t worry." He nudged her playfully toward the bathroom, prompting her to follow his suggestion.

Once alone in the small space, she removed her accessories and let her hair down, reaching for her dress brooch to slide it down. However, during the process, the zipper got stuck, and despite several attempts to fix it, she made little progress. Frustrated, she tried lifting the dress up to remove it from the top, but that didn't work either. Growing more exasperated, she paused for a moment before doing something out of character.

“Hey, George,” her voice was raised slightly to get his attention. “Can you come here for a second?”

It didn’t take long for him to appear, knocking on the door with a look of confusion. When (Y/N) opened the door, he turned his eyes to the side to respect her privacy.

“Everything okay?”

“No, not really. My dress is stuck. Could you help me, please?”

“Uh, sure.” After fully opening the door, he took in the sight of her messy hair and the look of frustration on her face, as she held the dress in front of her. “Turn around.”

The girl did as told, sensing his hand brushing her hair away. George's large hands worked with the zipper for a moment before managing to fix it and unzip the rest of the dress, leaving her back completely naked. He deep swallowed, making an effort to focus and maintain some distance between them. George wasn’t sure whether it was the wine’s influence or just utter desire in his body, but he allowed himself to trail her back with his index finger, going from the hollow of her lowest part to her shoulders and finishing on her neck, (Y/N)'s skin crawling in an instant.

-There you go…- 

His voice came out as a low murmur, a product of their proximity and the charged atmosphere. (Y/N) turned around, murmuring a soft thank you. George nodded, his gaze lingering on the familiar features of her face. She noticed his scrutiny and, moving a little closer, found herself drawn to his lips. Her feet rose, giving George the sign to lower himself to level her height, sneaking his arm behind her back and lifting her easily, removing any effort from her part. With her hands still holding her dress, (Y/N) took the lead, brushing her lips against his in a gentle touch. She lingered for a moment before pressing her lips to his again, this kiss lasting just a few seconds. As if it wasn’t enough for either of them, George dared to kiss her with more intensity, bringing one of his hands to her neck and slowly tangling his fingers on her messy hair. Their lips intertwined with an ease as a result of the memory of kisses they had exchanged before. She felt as if she could melt in his arms, and he seemed more than capable of doing anything to keep her close.

The moment continued to intensify, both feeling the heat and desire when their hands started to wander more, and the kiss got messier. Even when they didn’t want to stop, (Y/N) felt George taking a step back, his lips swollen and his breathing fast.

They stayed silent for a moment, recognizing what they had done, yet there was no trace of regret between them.

“It’s best if I give you some space… I’ll see you outside,” he said. The girl nodded, still at a loss for words after their intimate moment. He offered her a final smile before stepping out of the bathroom, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water to steady himself.

With a heavy heart, (Y/N) stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over her as she replayed the moments of intimacy in her mind. After finishing, she went to George's bedroom, lying down and noting his scent lingering on the pillow. Meanwhile, George was in the shower, struggling to clear his mind and not let thoughts of her overwhelm him.

How could you not want more than that? The desire for a deeper connection lingered, unspoken but palpable, as they both lacked courage to express it.

[emmyrosee]

Dabi is better as a memory.

He told you from the beginning to never fall in love with him, it was dangerous and too risky for you to do. He’s loved very seldom times in his life, love was a sham and nothing he was willing to provide for anyone, lust being the quick and easy patch for affection he’d occasionally need.

You were broken when he’d found you. He liked it like that. You were quick and snappy and rude to him, but it drove him more and more wild each time you’d bite. He’s a creep, he liked the way you sent him glares and eye rolls at his flirts.

He liked the way you’d finally caved, the way you’d given him plenty of fight rather than submit to his deviously dominant ways, making him work at every little demand you had to keep you satisfied.

But then you fucking did it.

You fell in love with him.

It was a slow slide, he knew it from the subtle ways you’d act from the nonchalance of first meeting; your arms clinging to him a bit more when he tries to leave, setting up an extra plate in case he came in for dinner- he might’ve done it all of twice, but you accidentally let him know you did it all the time.

Then it became him wanting you, craving you, desperate for the way your fingers weave his hair and grip at the root when he’s got you in euphoria. Eager to curl behind you under warm sheets. Rub your sore back and dodging a swift smack when his hands may wander.

But the he moment you’d let him in, take him and his ugly love in every crevasse of your soul, he knew he was in too deep. Dabi knew that emotionally, there was barely room for himself in his rotten heart.

He’s not so criminal to take and corrupt yours.

You’re good. You’re too good. You’re so good it hurts him, so good he can’t stand coming over some nights, so good that you could have any person with a pulse who you wanted, yet you chose for the absolute ugliest the world had to offer.

He can’t do that to you. He feels the way you try to cling to him for warmth when he first comes in. He knows you hate saying no to your friends invitations to hang out when he’s over- they never liked him, but to be honest, he wouldn’t spit on any of them if they were on fire, either- but it always meant you were missing out. The way you patch up his wounds and scars at ungodly hours of the night, it’s not worth it.  He sees the way you look at him after a fight, eyes swelling with tears he had no right to conjure onto you, and the way you creep towards him in a desperate plea for forgiveness you never had to beg for- even if he made you.

For a man with nothing to lose, except for you.

You’ve had enough of his lonely love, even if you don’t know it yet.

Even if it’s the hardest thing Todoroki Touya is going to do, he needs to leave you as heartless and loveless as Dabi could.

He needs to leave you. Shatter your heart into tiny pieces where you hate the mere reminder of him, where someone new can take the patience you deserve to puzzle the shards back together.

It has to hurt you. Nothing less than the worst to make you hate him more than he hates himself. 

The light from your alarm clock is dark, but he can just barely make out the red lights of 03:24; a little later than he wanted, but you were so warm, so comfortable he didn’t want to wake you up.

You toss an arm over his torso, and he cringes because he knows it’s the last damn time. Your cheek nuzzles into the scarred skin of his chest, and even if he knows he shouldn’t, slender fingers gently stroke the warm skin of your shoulder. 

You’re so fucking perfect when you sleep, your mind and body restoring the heartbreaks of the day.

He sniffs the air for courage. He blinks up at the ceiling he’s already killed countless spiders off of, the dark remains dried on the plaster. Your blankets never felt heavier, weighing him down and drowning him like rocks tied to his ankles.

All the while, next to him, you grunt in your sleep, resting easy.

He looks at the clock, brows furrowing in frustration as he’s already spent three minutes doing nothing.

Fuck. It’s time.

Before he changes his mind like a fool.

His head pounds as he takes the agonizingly slow sit up, the darkness of your room just barely mapping out a path he can take to sneak out the fastest. His arm slips out from under your head, and he lets out a tight breath when you roll onto your stomach.

With a soft sigh of relief and a nuzzle of your hair, he pulls the blankets higher on your shoulder so you keep warm, his rough hands smoothing down your back to soothe you into an impossibly deeper sleep. You smell sweet, you always do. Dabi prays to whatever entity to at least allow him to keep the memory of your addictive aroma in his mind.

He balls his hands into fists and stands up with haste, grabbing his jacket and trying his hardest to tiptoe silently out of the bedroom.

A floorboard creaks. The gods clearly don’t want this to be an easy task.

“Touya?” You whimper, and he winces at the familiar name that passes your sleepy lips.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Whe’ ya goin’?” You ask, voice still drunk with sleep and warm against the cold air, and he furrows his brows and snarls internally at the knowledge that you know he’s leaving for somewhere.

He wanted this to be a simple band-aid rip, a quick flurry of anger and tears, before succumbing to your scorn for his mere soul.

“Goin’ to piss,” he lies, shuffling back over to the bed to plant a kiss to your temple. “Go back to sleep.” He hears you hum happily, and you curl deeper into the pillows. He grits his teeth, fingernails biting into his palms as he lets out the quietest and most genuine “I love you,” he can muster. It’s not something he says often, but he may as well say it before he leaves your life for good.

“I love you, too,” you murmur back. You don’t ask or tease him about the random confession, nor do you seem to question it, and he decides to use that to his advantage. He takes one more long, selfish inhale of your addicting scent before working up the courage to push up and off the bed, long fingers scooping his coat once again before tiptoeing down the hallway.

Trembling fingers find the small amount of stationary next to your fridge, and he scribes a small little note so you can have the smallest bit of closure. He hates doing this at all, but it’s for the best.

Keys in the mailbox. Didn’t want someone comin in to steal you.

Im sorry. But you’ll be happier.

TT.

He tries not to imagine the way you’ll crumple to the floor and cry. He tries not to imagine the way you’ll spend days pleading, asking yourself what you did wrong when he knows it’s all his fucking fault. He doesn’t want to think of how you’ll now put every guy who wants you against him; he knows you’ll always put him on the highest tier.

He’s done so much already.

His shoes lay long discarded by the door, and he gnaws at his lip when he toes them on. He heart aches for you, the life you could’ve had, and he can only pray to whatever will listen that you can go back on the path you were supposed to take before he crashed into your life.

Until then?

He hopes you can despise him for doing this to you half as much as he does, himself.

He toes on his shoes. Takes one more longing look up the stairs. He shrugs on his coat and takes the spare key to lock up. 

He walks down the driveway that you’ve run down to greet him so many times. He places the key in the mailbox he helped fix when little rat-ass kids hit it on their bikes. He takes another look up into the window the peers into your room where in a few hours, you’re going to sob and shake and plead and scream and ask the air why he’s gone and if he ever even cared, where you’re going to call him the most obscene names and taint every single memory you share with your heartbreak.

He soaks it in.

And then he walks down the street.

And he doesn’t look back to see the light in your room suddenly flick on.

-

@reverie-starlight IM NOT SAYING I RLLY WANT YOU TO READ THIS FOR ME BUT-

[iru-doodles]

HOLY STARS WHAT NOW

oh my stars i am in SHOCK TYSM FKABFKWVFOBWLCBWKFBWKD

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH YOUR ART IS SO GOOD SO TO GET 3RD PLACE???? I AM DYING SCREAMING HAPPY STIMMING SM

THANK YOU

CONGRATS EVERYONE ELSE BTW!!!! i will now be spending the next hour scrolling through all this amazing art fjsbdksbd /gen

ALSO THE ROYAL AND STAR AWARD ARTS???? GORGEOUS IM IN LOVE

ALSO ALSO ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZEE!!!!!!!!!!! SENDING U MANY WISHES AND CAKE :D

@shatteredpuzzlerottmntau @rottmnt-brainrot-hours @zenomorph-racoom @mintghostko @sariphantom @bellaizumi13 @queko @galaxitix @nickelodeon (we want more RISE of the TMNT!) @netflix

WINNERS FOR THE #DRESSATELLO DTIY CONTEST! LET’S GO!

.

.

To our grand prize winner! Private message me what you would like for me to draw!

[iru-doodles]

so uh *cough* i actually did Not plan to do this but here it is!

i have never done a dtiys in my life please forgive me

@rise-april-art-challenge hope u like it <3 i love ur comic and art and tysm for doing everything u do to help rise!!!!!!

@nickelodeon Hello! Please consider making a Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles season 3; there's a huge fanbase and I've loved interacting with everyone in it :) We'd all love to see a third season! Thank you!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

The Last Breath

Warnings : dead dove do not eat, descriptions of drowning, reader is suicidal, depression. No death, light at the end of the tunnel

Not proofread. Experimenting.

Pairing : Geto x reader, Nanami mentioned indirectly.

It felt like everyone was moving on except you. Like you were frozen in time, frozen, like a dragonfly in the amber of his eyes.

You hadn't said anything as he explained gently, always gently, because he was never an unkind man, that he had fallen out of love with you. How compassionately he spoke to you, like he had still cared, saying he would look out for you, that you would be a part of his life no matter what.

And all you could do is sit there, staring at him, looking at the face you loved so dearly, still loved, in fact, and feeling your whole being shatter and collapse when you realized he wasn't looking at you the same way. There was gentleness there, born from the familiarity of being together. But the spark was gone.

What else could you do but ask why. Beg him not to leave, because honestly, what would you do without him? All these years together, you learning how he takes his coffee in the morning, tying his tie before he left for work, leaning against him as you watched TV together in the evenings. He has no answer. He loves you but is not in love with you.

He says he'll move out, you're the one who found this place after all, so many years ago when you had been looking for a place to live together. And just like that he erased himself from your life. The bed was so cold and empty. Sometimes you'd desperately grab his pillow, smell deeply, remnants of his cologne, his shampoo vaguely lingering on the fabric. What were you supposed to do? Lost, like an extra puzzle piece that didn't fit anywhere.

As he moved on, you pretended, drawing a veil over yourself, fooling everyone. Then one day he announced he's getting married.

Married.

He had found happiness. And you… Were wasting away over him, suffocating, drowning, dying, like someone had opened you up and pulled out your organs one by one.

You're not sure how you ended up at the bridge. But looking down into the cold, chilly depths, you felt nothing. In this world, where you belonged to nobody, what else was left to do? You were the problem. Different, misfit, outcast, undesirable, unwanted, rejected.

There's relief when you jump and feel nothing under your feet. Your body hits the water, and you offer no struggle, no resistance. They said most people feel regret after they jump but you didn't. There was nothing left for you. You plunge, deeper and deeper, the freezing water entering your nostrils, filling your lungs and it was searing agony but at the same time you knew it would end soon.

All you remember is the blond of his hair, the richness of his laugh, and feel yourself losing consciousness. Not a bad way to go. Comfortably numb, you sink into oblivion, feeling more peaceful than you'd ever been these last few years. The chill was a part of you now, almost welcoming, the closest thing to a lover's embrace you'd experienced in a while.

“Holy shit. No. Cmon. No. Don't die.”

Was there someone under the water with you?

“I've got you. Oh fuck please no.”

Something was wrong. The atmosphere was getting warmer instead of colder. You were heading for darkness and somehow there was light now. Had it happened? Was this the light everyone spoke about?

You're laid out on something firm and wet. Hands press down rigorously on your chest. You feel frantic lips on yours, blowing air back into your waterlogged lungs.

“Breathe damn it. No you can't die.”

The male voice sounded vaguely familiar but you hadn't heard it in years and struggle to place it. More rapid thrusts on your chest followed by the lips again and this time, as though a magnetic force had awakened in you, your soul retracts back into the body, eyes flying open as you retch and cough, water making it's way from your body to the outside.

A sigh of relief, and you hear someone collapse into a heap on next to you, gripping your body and rolling you to the side to help you vomit.

Weakly, you suck in a breath, wondering how on earth you were alive then finally catch a glimpse at your rescuer’s face.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing at first. Was it an illusion? Maybe you really were dead. Otherwise how could this be the reality?

“Geto?” you manage to rasp.

He looks at you, the panic on his face lessening slightly.

“Yeah. What the fuck were you trying to do?”

[fanfoolishness]

When You Wake

Written for the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts "Hold still" and "Don't avoid the question."

Hunter wonders what he will tell Omega after she wakes up from her injuries. Set during Plan 99. Angst, grief, overall sads. ~1895 words.

---

“Please, CT-9901. Hold still,” AZI said. Hunter knew the medical droid’s voice was meant to be soothing, but the words were like shattered transparisteel, tearing at his ears.

Hunter took a deep breath. Tried to listen to the droid. But his eyes kept darting to where Omega lay huddled limply on the bed, still unconscious. Wrecker sat at her bedside, trying to remain strong for her. But the brace around his neck, the slump of his shoulders, the raggedness of the rise and fall of his chest all showed he was barely doing better than she was. 

“Why won’t she wake up?” Hunter asked in a hoarse voice as the droid continued placing a sturdy wrap around his chest.

“She will,” AZI said. “You must give her time. She experienced a concussion and pulmonary contusions. She will recover, but even with my care recovery is not instantaneous. All of your injuries are serious, and will take time to mend.”

Hunter bit his lip as the droid finished wrapping his chest. Between the extra support and the medication the droid had already given him, the pain was finally receding. 

The physical pain, anyway.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about the fall. Don’t --

“Am I good?” Hunter muttered.

“Yes, CT-9901. You will make a full recovery with appropriate rest. Would you like me to stay in here and continue monitoring Omega, or --”

“Go. Please.”

Hunter exhaled heavily. The droid had saved them; Hunter didn’t know what would have happened to Omega or Wrecker without AZI’s work, but Hunter couldn’t stand looking at him and his cheerful demeanor a moment longer. 

“I will be waiting in the bar, should anything in her condition change.” The droid hovered out of sight, his servos buzzing and grating. Everything felt too loud right now, too sharp, too much.

Hunter stiffly got to his feet, resting a hand briefly on Wrecker’s back for support. Together they looked down at Omega, neither of them able to speak.

Hunter shuddered, remembering the sight and smell of her little cap, soaked through with blood. Luckily AZI had been able to stitch the wound in her scalp and clean her hair, though Hunter could still pick up a faint whiff of dried blood in the thick, close air of the back room. 

How could she look so calm right now, like nothing had happened?

When everything had happened?

Wrecker painstakingly stood up, face twisting with effort. “Here. You -- you should sit with her. I’ll go.”

Hunter looked into his brother’s face, seeing puffy, reddened eyes. “But what do I say to her? When she wakes up?”

Wrecker shook his head, tears threatening again. “I don’t know. I can’t -- don’t -- don’t make me.” He grimaced, looking past Hunter as if seeing something far away. “She won’t wanna see me. I could’ve stopped him, Hunter -- I could’ve saved --”

Wrecker, get him up here!

Hunter reached out a trembling hand. Laid it on Wrecker’s shoulder. Shook his head. “No you couldn’t,” he said, voice dull and empty. “And neither could I.”

---

They’d talked about it once, days before their first mission.

Tech glowed. He scribbled his thoughts on the walls, plans a dozen times over, a manic burst of ideas. There were plans where Hunter infiltrated, where Wrecker smashed or exploded, where Tech used the Seppies’ own droids against them, where Crosshair set off a chain reaction with his mirrors. They strategized long into the night, nearly giddy with making up more plans: some of them insane, some of them just good clean fun blowing up clankers. 

Until Crosshair swiped Tech’s datapad five hours past lights out, scrolling down idly and then looking puzzled. “You haven’t gone over this one. What’s Plan 99? There’s no details, nothing else, just the number.” 

Tech grabbed it back. “Ah. It’s -- it’s nothing.”

“Tech, it’s always something with you,” said Hunter. 

“Yeah. Don’t avoid the question,” Wrecker said, yawning. “Unless Plan 99’s going to bed an’ getting some shut-eye. These plans are fun, Tech, but I’m never gonna remember ‘em all.”

Tech frowned. “Very well. You recall 99, our fellow defective clone.”

“Old 99,” Wrecker said, his eyes going soft. “He was a hero.”

“He showed those regs a thing or two,” Crosshair said, nodding respectfully. “But what’s he got to do with our plans? He’s been gone a long time.”

Hunter sighed. “I think I know what it means.” He gave Tech a long look. “Self-sacrifice, is it?”

Tech nodded. “We are soldiers and clones. Statistically speaking, it is highly unlikely that we will die of old age. I had thought that discussing it now might bring down the mood, so to speak, so I had not mentioned it before.” He looked around at them, the smiles from a few minutes ago all faded. “I see I was correct.”

“You all can be emotional about it if you want,” Crosshair scoffed. “But I wouldn’t miss any of you.”

“Bantha shit,” Wrecker said, punching Crosshair in the shoulder. Crosshair winced, rubbing his shoulder hard and scowling. “You’d miss me the most, and you know it!”

“That is irrelevant, if the mission requires it,” Tech said. “As it well may, in service of the greater good.”

“Look, Tech, don’t tell me the odds,” Hunter said. “Let’s just do our best to get through the war. This squad is something special. The regs might call it being defective, but I call it being better. That’s how we’re gonna get through this war -- being better together. So that means Plan 99 should only be the ultimate last resort. Understood?”

“Understood,” Wrecker and Crosshair said.

“Of course,” Tech agreed, blinking and adjusting his goggles. “I have no desire to implement Plan 99. It is only that it is a possibility that must be considered.”

---

A possibility.

An eventuality.

Hunter sat in the chair, his skin crawling, his mind blank hissing static.

Omega still lay unconscious, her heartbeat pulsing faintly, a soft rhythm he could sense beneath her gentle exhalations. The rhythm was slightly off from what he had attuned himself to on countless nights on the Marauder, its pattern disturbed by injury. But AZI had said she would be waking up, and soon.

What could Hunter possibly say to her?

He sat there, desperately hoping she would wake up and be all right, desperately hoping she would stay asleep. If she kept sleeping, he wouldn’t have to see her face when she woke up and realized Tech was gone.

She breathed in. Breathed out. He reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek. His hand froze, and he pulled it back.

He closed his eyes, but then there was Tech’s voice in his mind, resolute, determined, resigned. When have we ever followed orders? 

He couldn’t dwell on that. Couldn’t listen to it again. He reached out, opening his senses, desperately seeking distraction. Anything to keep the memory from playing back again and again. His leg twitched, jittering up and down as he opened his senses as fully as he could.

The room air pressed in on him, warm and stuffy and suffocating. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek, having slipped past his bandanna. The whine of Cid’s neon lights in the next room buzzed and prickled in his ears. He took a deep breath of the warm air, pulling in the smell of stale alcohol, crumbs of Mantell mix ground into the floorboards, hints of blood and sweat and body odor of a dozen different species. 

The floor in the hallway creaked, the sound consistent with someone stopping at the door and looking inside the room. Hunter didn’t bother turning around to see who it was. He knew it was Cid, between the pattern of the footfalls, the pitch of the creaking, the metallic scents of Trandoshan pheromones. His nose twitched, picking up a difference in Cid’s scent. Something was off with her pheromones, but he didn’t know enough about her species to guess what it meant. Maybe it was worry for the kid. Maybe it was regret. Maybe she was just hungry. 

He didn’t know, didn’t care. The slow heavy footsteps started up again, kept going down the hall.

His hand slid to his gauntlet, unsheathing his blade. Twirling the blade had become a habit long ago, as unconscious and automatic as Crosshair chewing his toothpicks or Tech scrolling his datapad. He hesitated, the blade’s weight and heft wholly familiar in his hand, and yet something seemed off. 

He twirled it lazily. No, nothing was wrong with the knife. He picked up the rhythm, blade spinning dangerously between his fingers -- 

Kriff. The blade clattered to the floor, narrowly avoiding slicing through his glove. It rattled him, looking down at it laying between his feet. 

Nothing was wrong with the blade. It was wrong with him.

Hunter picked up the blade, shoving it roughly back into his gauntlet. What was he doing? Stupid distractions when he should be thinking about Omega. About what he could possibly say to her.

I’m sorry, kid. We couldn’t save him. Nobody could. (But what if Wrecker had been able to get him up in time? What if we’d been faster getting out? What if we’d waited for backup?)

I’m sorry, Omega. Tech knew it was the only way.  (Did he? He was a genius. He should have figured something else out! How could he have fucked up like this? How could he leave us like this?)

I’m sorry I failed him. And you. And Crosshair. (Crosshair should’ve come with us, should’ve left the Empire when he had the chance. Then we would’ve never gone to Eriadu. This is his damn fault, all of it!)

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better leader. I’m so sorry, kid. 

(It’s on me. All of it. All of it.)

The pain roared within him, but it wasn’t the pain of broken ribs and torn muscles. It went deeper than that, dug itself deep into the very heart of him, emptied him out of everything but guilt and loss and disbelief. It took his breath away. He wrapped his arms around his injured chest, fingers digging into his sides, squeezing hard enough that the physical pain broke through again. He threw himself into it, drowned himself in the way his body jangled and ached.

He panted, grimacing. This he could deal with. This he could live with. But the emptiness, the awful truth that Tech was gone -- how was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to help Omega through it?

Hunter slumped forward, releasing his grip, taking a deep, jagged breath. His head swam.

He didn’t know how to do it.

He was going to do it anyway.

Hunter swallowed, nodding, and sat up despite the way his body protested. He watched Omega resting, her young face forgetful for just a little while longer.

He’d be there for her, no matter what. His resolve hardened, and he thought of sunny days on Pabu, the sound of waves on the beach, a town of people who did not practice war. He thought of childhood, something none of them had ever known. 

He hadn’t been able to save Crosshair from himself or the Empire.

He hadn’t been able to save Tech.

He’d save Omega if it killed him.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, kid,” Hunter whispered. “I promise.”

[iru-doodles]

i hope this works idk how this works please

let the sep!boys fight!

not expecting much lol, i'm a very smol sep!au- but good luck to everyone who enters!!!!!!! :3

if we do make it in, there will be bribes every round btw. i love my children enough to do it <3

WELCOME TO THE TMNT SEPARATED AU COMPETITION

Or the TMNT Sep AU Comp

Let the separated boys fight. Any iteration is welcome and so are crossovers as long as one turtle is raised separately from the others. If the creator does not wish to be included, put in an ask you will be removed!

Submissions Open!

GO WILD!!!

inspired by all of the tmnt polls going on like @tmntaucompetition @rottmntpeepawpolls @tmnt-crossover-polls @whatinthefuckingninjaturtles and plenty more

[mayashesfly]

Never Again

Vox hadn't returned.

He has yet to have gotten a word from that noisy picture box ever he since....

There was a tense atmosphere in the Entertainment District despite how everything seemed fine. The broadcasts was still there but Vox wasn't.

Where's Vox?

Didn't he tell him that he could've escaped?

Where's Vox?

The other residents avoided the Radio Demon as he paced around the place, no amount of twirling his cane around removed this incessant need to do something. Anything.

But do what?

Vox is missing.

He's gone he's gone he's gone he's goNE HE'S GONE HE'S GONE HE'S GONE—

Vox is missing.

He hadn't returned.

Surely, he was fine.

He was capable and smart as much as Alastor loathes to admit it.

Surely he wouldn't have fallen by the hands of those– those— little cretins.

The electricity in the air was wavering as his magic sputters out completely. Vox was taking in too much electricity than his body could handle. Frying his body to the limit as he fends off their attackers.

He hates how powerless he is.

Feeling the wavering ambient static in the air, the unspoken distress between the two of them as Alastor could only stare, gripping the pathetic replacement of his actual cane in his hands.

"I–" Vox's screen blacks out for a moment before returning to normal. "I think that should be the last of them"

His screen was dangerously dim when Alastor practically drags him away to a safer spot despite the tingling sensation under his skin from the contact.

"No more time for dilly dallying, picture box. We have to go"

His voice was clipped as interference screeched in the air. Vox's breath shuddering as he allows himself to be dragged away.

Both of their minds ran miles a minute as they try to puzzle out the best place to go in this dizzying bright place. Alastor's ability to meld into his shadows was one of the things he could still rely on despite his current limited capabilities, yet those stupid little weaklings were smart enough to ensure the entire place stayed completely illuminated.

The light wasn't even coming from electricity! No, they even went the extra mile to get light crystals from the other Rings instead.

If they were, Vox would've already shattered the damned things and Alastor would've fully reigned destruction on those little idiots thinking they can take down THE Radio Demon.

It still puzzled Alastor. How easily Vox could've escaped whenever he wanted. At least— at the start.

He was able to jump into the electronic locks preventing them from proceeding before he opened them up for Alastor so he could pass through. There were also countless of cameras, even if they weren't Voxtek, that Vox could've traveled through in insane distances.

Yet he stayed.

For him

Alastor swallowed the lump in his throat as the taste of iron floods his mouth.

Their pursuers had wisened up when they realized the Media Demon was helping out the Radio Demon. Self destructing the cameras they had used while completely cutting out the electricity in the area so Vox couldn't absorb even more.

It made it even more difficult for Vox to jump into those annoying electronic locks to open them up for them.

And now he....

The first time he left, he did it for himself.

The feelings and revelations that propped up because of Vox's confession had overwhelmed him.

And he couldn't bare processing them so he ran away.

The second, he left because he was injured. Vox had done a number on him even when he laid there broken and in pieces.

It had shocked him when that annoying little moth had joined in. Antenna being nicked by his tentacles as he tried to end this once and for all.

Before he felt the burn of the chain around his neck.

Again and again, it seemed like he left for himself or another reason whatsoever.

But never once has he left for Vox.

And this time he may never again.